#Thank you for the first commission Hubba! <3

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Sticky Solution

my first writing commission for @hubbabubbagumpop featuring everyone's favourite ship Fiddstan!

Fiddleford's work with Stanford has gotten him into trouble with his boyfriend Stanely. Now Stan is rightfully upset. Can Fidds find a way to make it up to his boyfriend?

(Also on ao3!)

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Fiddleford gave a sigh. He knew that today would be difficult, but that didn’t prepare him for dealing with it. Before him, sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen was a very obviously pouting Stanley Pines. A plate stacked high with pancakes stood in front of him, syrup lovingly poured on top, and despite that he still made sure to turn away from Fiddleford every time the southerner tried to make eye contact with him. 

Fiddleford flipped another pancake and hummed to himself. Stanley always was a tough nut to crack. Even getting the stubborn man to confess to having feelings for him felt like trying to wrestle a pig while covered in grease. The man was all flirtatious to hell and back, not even being cornered had him confess. It took the combined effort of Stan's twin brother, Stanford, along with Fiddleford to get Stan to finally confess his feelings for Fiddleford. 

When Fiddleford had come to Gravity Falls to help Stanford Pines with his research on [redacted] he hadn’t expected to fall in love with his employer’s brother. This added a spanner to his schedule. Normally Fiddleford wouldn’t have minded losing most of his free time to work on the project. That was before he would find himself leaving Stanley’s warm bed in the early hours of the morning for the cold basement of the shack. Odd working hours would normally not be an issue, however, when one is at a restaurant with his boyfriend, you don’t normally want to be dragged out for some lycan-moth research.

It was one thing after another, and Fiddelford could see it on Stanley’s face. Their first dates were full of racked nerves, awkward banter and playful teasing. Now Stanley could hardly muster the effort to suggest leaving the house, lest he have to drive home on his own again. It weighed heavily on Fiddleford’s chest knowing that his choice of his work over his love had lowered his Stanley’s cheeky grin to a sour frown.

Fiddleford tightened his grip on the frying pan before flipping the last cake into a plate next to the stove. He put away his apron and joined Stanley at the table. The other man was still giving him the cold shoulder, but this didn’t discourage Fiddleford. He knew that wounds this deep would take time to heal, and having been raised on a farm, Fiddleford knew a thing or two about being patient.  

“Are you enjoyin’ breakfast Stanley?” Fiddleford asked.

“Is fine.” Stanley said bluntly. He didn’t look up from his food. 

Taking the hint Fiddleford finished eating in silence. He finished his breakfast and left the room. He wondered how he could get his boyfriend to speak with him again. It wasn’t until he confronted him in the living room about his behavior that he got a chance to properly speak with Stan.

“Stanley, I've been trying to make it up to you all week.” Fiddleford said, throwing his arms down. “I know you’re pissed but you could at least talk to me.”

“You’re damn right I’m pissed Fidds. Three months. Three months we’d been saving up, planning, fuck we even got those stupid suits for that restaurant.”  Stanley threw up his arms. “And then you just fucking left me. For what? Some stupid fairies?”

“I…” Fiddleford stared at the floor.

“And this ain’t the first time Fidds.” Stanley continued, his voice growing louder with each word. 

 “You’ve been running to Ford all the time. When we’re in town, when we’re having lunch.” His eyes began to well up with tears. 

There was a moment of quiet as Stanley tried to catch his breath.

“Do you know how shitty it is to wake up alone in bed every day for a month?” Stanley let out a pathetic sniffle.

Fiddleford felt weak in the knees. His cheeks were burning and there were hot tears starting to form under his eyes. How could he have been so blind. 

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry Stanley.” Fiddleford said quietly.

“Yeah? And?” Stanley stared him down. “Just cause you’re sorry don’t mean you won’t go back to work. You’ve been saying sorry every time but that doesn’t change anything, does it?”

Fiddleford gulped. “Can I have a second chance? Please.” he raised his gaze to meet Stan’s. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

“Fine, sure.” Stan sighed. “‘S not like things can get worse.”

****

Fiddleford paced around a clearing not too far from the shack. With the awkward tension between both twins, he needed the time alone to gather his thoughts. Plus the fresh air was something he was sorely missing. At least that was the plan, however as he was walking out the door, he was cornered by Stanford who handed him the shape-shifting alien they had found a few months back and had taken in as a pet.

“Shifty needs some fresh air.” Stanford said quickly before disappearing into the basement.

Fiddleford sighed and carried the slimey sprog in the baby harness that the three of them had bought for it. On his way out the door Fiddleford grabbed a newspaper for Shifty to read and scurried to the nearest clearing in the woods.

“Okay, so Stanley needs something big to cheer him up.” Fiddleford said, tapping his chin. 

Shifty made a squelching noise. Its harness was taken off and left on a rock so it could move but couldn’t escape. Beside it was the newspaper. It would flick over a page every so often, making baby-like giggles at the bright colours it saw.

“Right, and I can't just do that overnight.” Fiddleford gesticulated as he spoke. “Can’t grow a tree in a day, but I have to try.”

“Bekh.”

“Ugh, you’re right. Even if I give him a date to end all dates that won’t mean anything if Ford comes running. And that’s not considering future endeavors.” Fiddleford sighed. He walked over and took a seat on the rock next to Shifty.

“Coo-Woo!” Shifty cheered. It had turned a page of the newspaper.

“What are you even saying.” Fiddleford shook his head. 

“Coo-Woo!” Shifty repeated. They stuck their tiny arms in the air.

Fiddleford picked up the shape shifter and took a look at the page it was staring at. It had a picture of several clowns with sharp teeth and brightly coloured blasters chasing after some people. On the other page was an advert for some promotional decaffeinated coffee. “Killer Clowns from Outer space?” He read.

“Cloon…” Shifty tried repeating after Fiddleford. 

“Well, he does enjoy clowns. If that recent home invasion arrest is anything to go by.” Fiddleford said under his breath. “Plus this looks schlocky as anything. But how do I deal with Stanford?”

“Stafford!” The shape shifter cheered, wiggling in Fiddleford’s hand. 

“You know, you might be onto something.” Fiddleford looked at the shapeshifter, an idea forming in his mind.

 Xxx

Stanley held his armrest in the car with a white knuckle grip. It wasn’t unusual for others to drive cars. In fact many would argue that that was in fact a normal part of real life. However, there was a difference between other people driving in different cars, and someone else driving his car. But Fiddleford had promised him that this was important, and despite their argument, Stan couldn’t say no to his boyfriend.

He was so distracted by Fiddleford driving that he hadn’t noticed where they were driving to. It wasn’t until they had parked and walked past the sign listing the films playing at the cinema that he pieced it together. 

“Killer Clowns?” Stan smirked. “How’d you know I wanted to see that?”

“I’ll never tell.” Fiddleford winked.

“Well you probably drank some science juice from Ford’s lab and read my mind.” Stan dug his hands into his pockets while fiddleford paid for their tickets. “Speaking of the nerd, you said you found a way to stop him from cutting our dates short. Wanna spill the beans on that? Or is that also part of your magician act?”

“We’ll see by the time we get back.” Fiddleford promised. “Now lets see how many snacks we can pocket without having to pay.”

“God I love you.” Stan said, following Fiddleford with a spring in his step.

Meanwhile, back in the shack. Stanford was laying deep asleep at his desk. His usual coffee mug had been spiked with decaf. However, the reason he truly would not be able to move was the shapeshifter, sleeping on his lap like a cat. Weighing him down with the weight of a thousand suns.