#don’t cry over spilt milk when there are three cartons in the fridge and you are able to obtain more

[worstloki]

You are not immune to the whims of the many nor the few

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Worth It

My half of an art-trade with @calista-222. I hope you like it! They were cool with pretty much anything but then suggested a Stan O’ War fic and I just had to go for it! I love seeing how the Kings of the Sea are doing out on their dream boat!

If any of you are interested in an art-trade, hit me up! More information can be found here!

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan opened his eyes, but it took him a minute or two to truly wake up, and then a few more minutes to figure out what woke him. His back was sore, but that wasn’t what pulled him from his slumber. There was no disturbing light or sounds. No storm that rocked the boat and no sense of incoming danger.

An echo of voices. It wasn’t fair to call it a nightmare, because there was no “plot” and no real fear, just a lurching feeling that something was wrong, a deja vu feeling from the end of summer.

“It’s me! Grunkle Stan, it’s me!”

“It’s all gone.”

“I KNOW my grunkle is in there somewhere!”

“Stan has no idea, but he did it. He saved the world. He saved me.”

“We saved the world, but what’s the point?”

“... you’re our hero, Stanley.”

Stan sighed to himself. Many other voices had plagued his sleep, but those stuck out. He can still remember what he was thinking and feeling that day. First, confusion. Just mild confusion with no real panic. Then a bizarre what-did-I-walk-into feeling, like he was invading something private. When the stranger in the suit hugged him he automatically felt compelled to do something, but he had no idea what and no one was asking him to do anything. That wasn’t true; they were begging him to remember. But remember what? Did he forget something important, like an item at the grocery store, or a task he had to accomplish? It didn’t seem likely, all he really knew was his own name, and that was only because everyone around him called him that. Then when they were in the house he finally felt comfortable, the first real feeling like he belonged, and then right before Waddles jumped on him he had a strong sense of regret, but for what? 

It was no wonder that by the end of the day he was exhausted and fell asleep with his family clinging onto that old armchair. Forget fighting an unholy demon, that rollercoaster of emotions was enough to knock anyone out cold for days.

Stan, now fully recovered and with all of his memories (all of the important ones, anyways), still occasionally had to live with the consequences of his actions, like unpeaceful night of sleep and the sickening feeling that his family’s suffering was partly his fault. Sure, Sixer made a deal with the triangle in the first place, and yes Mabel traded the rift away, and yeah okay Stan only agreed to it because he believe it was the only way (and because it was just too easy), but the fact that he caused those kids and his brother so much pain really stinks.

Oh well. What was it that Ma used to say? No use crying over spilt milk? Hm, milk. Stan threw off his covers and decided to get up and have a midnight snack. He popped his back and then glanced up at the bunk bed above him, then shook his head when he found the bed empty; Ford was elsewhere on the Stan O’ War II. Stan slipped on his slippers and pulled on his robe before leaving the small bedroom for the main area on the boat, the living room, dining room, and kitchen all in one small, confined space. 

Sure enough, sitting at the dining table with books and journals before him was his nerdy twin brother, with an empty cup of joe by his side. Most of the light came from the moon outside, leaking in through a window, and a bright lantern on the table. Ford looked up at him and gave him a concerned look. “Everything alright, Stanley?”

The old conman shook his head. “Yeah, just gettin’ a midnight snack.” He opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of milk, checking to make sure it was still fine to use before fishing out the pot to heat it up. “Want some warm milk?”

“Thank you, but no thank you. I’m in the middle of a good train of thought and I would rather not disturb it with drowsiness that would lead to sleep.”

“Geez, Poindexter, you do know that humans need sleep to, I dunno, not end up dead, right?”

Ford chuckled and wrote something down in his journal. “Yes, I know. I swear, once I finish this I’ll go to bed.”

Stan just smiled and whisked the milk in the pot. “Fine, whatever. But if I have to pull your sorry butt outta the Arctic ocean again, you’re gonna…” The younger twin was interrupted by a distant cellphone ringing, a cheerful tune. He hurried back to the bedroom with his brother closely behind him. It sounded like Mabel was calling and she might need help. Just in time, Stan picked up his phone from the nightstand and answered it, putting it on speaker so Ford could listen. “Mabel, pumpkin?”

“Hi, Grunkle Stan!” Her cheerful voice rang.

Stan could breathe a little easier. He and Ford heard from those kids at least three times a day via text messages, e-mails, and phone calls, but usually their calls weren’t at three in the morning. “Hey there, sweetie. Whatcha up to?”

“Nothing, just missed my favorite old guys in the whole world.” Mabel said, and it sounded like she was being honest. No nightmares and she needed counselling, no bad boys giving her grief, no girls making fun of her. She truly was calling just to call.

“We missed you too, pumpkin.”

“Hello there, Mabel.” Ford called as they walked back to the main room to make sure the milk wouldn’t burn. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah! Waddles got to come to school today! My art classes needed a good muse and I volunteered Waddles! He got to roll around in front of the whole class and just be cute while he painted and sketched or whatever everyone felt like doing, and he loved it! Our teacher even gave him potatoes! He had so much fun!”

“Course that fat, naked jerk would love all that extra attention.” Stan sneered as he whisked some honey into the milk. “How’s your folks liking him?”

“Dad loves him! Says he makes the perfect football-buddy! Mom was unsure about him at first, but now he follows her around and she likes him enough. Kinda like someone else I know who claims to hate him but actually really really loved him.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. How are your parents?”

“They’re fine. Busy. Dad’s working on this new TV show about a boy with magical powers and alien stepmoms, and Mom’s really busy at the hospital. It’s mostly been Dip-Dip and I and Waddles here.”

“Mabel!” A voice interrupted her from afar. “Do you know what time it is?!”

“It’s only seven, Dipper, relax.”

“That means it’s three in the morning for them!”

Mabel gasped as she realized her mistake. “I thought you said eight hours back, not forward! I’m sorry, guys!” She said to her great-uncles. “I’m sorry I woke you up!” She was worried that she had scared them or had bothered them from a goodnight’s sleep.

“Nah, we were awake, sweetie, don’t worry about it.” Stan reassured her. “Don’t you ever apologize for calling, okay? I’m always happy to hear from you, no matter what time of day.”

“Well, okay. If you're sure.”

“We’re sure, my dear.” Ford added. “Is your brother there?”

“Yeah! Hold on… DIPPIN’ SAUCE!” It sounded like Mabel was running towards him and soon her end of the line was on speaker, too.

“Hey guys, sorry, I told Mabel…”

“Dipper, get off her back.” Stan chuckled. “It’s like I told her, I don’t want any of you little gremlins to ever say sorry for calling, okay?”

Dipper was grateful that his uncles couldn’t see his reddening face. “Okay. So… uh, how was Galway?”

“Oh, it was beautiful!” Ford answered; he took the phone from Stan so he could work on the milk safely and he sat at the table. “You kids would have found it breathtaking! The architecture of the town was gorgeous…”

“The Galway Girls were prettier.” Stan added in.

Ford chuckled. “Yes, apparently Stan managed to charm a handful of ladies there, one inn-keeper in particular took a fancy to him.”

“Took a fancy, what year is it, ya nerd, 1886?”

The kids laughed at the other end. “Did you find any selkies or mermaids?” Mabel asked; ever since Ford told her about selkies she had her heart set on seeing one.

“No, not yet.” Ford said. “But I promise that when we meet one we will let you know.”

“Do you honestly think selkies are real?” Dipper asked. “I mean they’re not like sirens or any other species that has been discovered; it’s a species entirely dependent on magic.”

“Magic is nothing more than science we can’t explain, Dipper. I’m sure that there is, at least, a possibility of selkies existing. Now, a bit off topic perhaps, but tell us about the robotic club. You said you’re working on a recreation of an old robot from an 80s movie?”

Dipper and Mabel happily chatted about their day while their uncles listened. Stan, a few minutes later was leaning against the counter with a mug of warm milk in his hands. He sipped his beverage as he watched Ford listen attentively, the phone on the table, the picture of Mabel and Dipper lighting up the tiny screen. Despite everything, Stan smiled contently, knowing that if he had to do it all over again he would.