#it was difficult to start at first and then I couldn't stop asldkjfndf

[thelastspeecher]

114, phoenix Stan.

114. “No more dogs.  How hard is it to understand?”

Some background for folks: After Stan and Angie’s second egg is laid in the Phoenix Enchantment AU, Ford and Fiddleford revamp the attic, turning it into a proper aviary for the growing phoenix flock.  Also, during Stan and Angie’s second mating season, they end up with two eggs; the second one was conceived after the first one was laid.  A last hurrah from the infamous McGucket fertility.

Send me a number and characters and I’ll write a drabble!

               Ford stared at the wreckedaviary.  A stand had been knocked over,the nest was tilting dangerous, and Molly was perched in the rafters, herfeathers still puffed up in distress.

               “Geez, Ford, are you gonna juststand there and do nothin’?” Stan grumbled, shoving past Ford in humanform.  He fixed the nest, muttering underhis breath.  “You got the eggs, Ang?”

               “Yes.”  Angie, also in human form, walked pastFord.  She carefully placed the eggs inthe nest and kissed them both.  In aflash of light, she was in phoenix form again, nestling herself on top of herunhatched children.  Angie chirped atStan.

               “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,”Stan said, stroking Angie’s head.  Helooked up at Molly.  “Rooster, it’s allclear!  Come snuggle your mama,okay?”  There was a fluttering as Mollylanded in the nest with Angie.  Angiecooed at her daughter in a reassuring manner. Stan turned his attention to Ford. “Stanford.  We talked about thislast time.  No more dogs.  How hard is it to understand?”

               “It wasn’t a dog this time,”Ford corrected.  “It was awerewolf.”  Stan rubbed his eyes.

               “No wolves, either!  Sixer, this should be common sense!  That wolf went right after the nest when itgot up here.  The eggs almost… your ownnieces or nephews could have been killed!” Angie let out a distressed squawk. “Yeah, it scared me, too, babe. Ford, it’s a good thing it’s a full moon.  Otherwise, Angie and I couldn’t have turnedhuman and rescued ‘em.”

               “If it wasn’t a full moon, therewouldn’t be a werewolf here in the first place,” Ford said.

               “That’s not the point!” Stanshouted.  He sighed.  “Ford, I- I know that you sorta get how the eggs are yourrelatives, but- you don’t really understand. Maybe it has somethin’ to do with how long it took for you to find outwho we really were.”  Stan looked back atthe nest.  “But those eggs that Angie’stakin’ care of, they’re my kids.  Thefirst one’s gonna hatch in a couple days, and Molly’s gonna get a youngersister or brother.”

               “I’m well aware of that,” Fordsaid shortly.  “Both the egg’s closehatch date and my relation to your children.”

               “Yeah, but if Angie was pregnantand got hurt, you’d be a lot more upset than you are right now,” Stan finallysnapped.  Ford stiffened.  He abruptly turned around and walkeddownstairs.  “Ford?  Hey, we’re not done!” Stan said, followinghis twin.  At the base of the stairs, hegrabbed Ford’s shoulder.  “I mean it, Ineed to-”

               “I know, Stanley!” Fordsnarled.  Stan took a step back,unnerved.  “I know that your childrenwere almost killed today because of me. All the tragedy that has befallen you and Angie, it all goes back tome.”

               “Wha- hey, take it easy, man,”Stan said quietly.  “I’m not blaming youfor everything.  I mean, your shit isonly like, 1% of our problems.  The restare from being chosen to be fuckin’ birds by some sorta weird enchantment.”

               “And why did you come to GravityFalls in the first place, when you were transformed?”

               “To visit you and Fidds.”

               “Exactly.  And I’m the reason Fiddleford and myselfmoved to Gravity Falls.  Ergo, if itwasn’t for me, you and Angie wouldn’t go through mating season, and- and yourwife wouldn’t be stuck laying an egg every five years.  You and Angie could be humans, living happilyin San Diego, with careers and welcoming children to the world in a drasticallydifferent way.”

               “Ford.”

               “I’m the cause of your new avianlifestyle.”

               “Don’t do this.  Don’t play the blame game like this,Stanford.  Shit happens, y’know?  It’s not your fault that Angie and I gotturned into magical birds.  Sometimes youget dealt a bad hand.”

               “I made things worse, though,”Ford whispered.  Stan sighed.  “The vet, the-”

               “If we’re gonna talk about thevet, we have get drinks,” Stan said firmly. Ford didn’t respond.  “Comeon.”  Stan took Ford by the shoulders andguided him to the kitchen table.  Fordtook a seat, his head in his hands.  Stantook a seat as well.  He waited patientlyfor Ford to speak.

               “I should have known,” Ford saidfinally.

               “Known what?”

               “That it was you and Angie.”

               “That was five years ago.  Why the hell are you torn up about it now?”Stan asked.  

               “Tate’s been-”  Ford stopped. He clasped his hands and took a breath. “He’s started insisting on seeing you, Angie, and Molly.  And the eggs. Fiddleford and I can only do so much; Tate is going to start sneaking upthere soon, despite our instructions.”

               “Start?” Stan said.  He snorted. “He’s been sneakin’ up to see us for months.”  Ford gaped.

               “Why didn’t you tell me?” Fordasked.  He rubbed his forehead.  “We’ll have to take disciplinary action,then.  He’s normally so well-behaved.”

               “Ford, he wants to see the coolbirds that live in the attic,” Stan said breezily.  “It’s no big deal.”

               “You might change your tune whenyou hear some of the things he’s been asking,” Ford muttered.  Stan frowned. “He wants to trim talons and wings, he wants to teach tricks and- and hewants to name the next chick.”

               “Oh.  I get it.” Stan leaned back in his chair. “Tate’s decided we’re his pets, and it reminded you of how you treatedyour own damn twin like he was your pet bird.”

               “I…”  Stan raised an eyebrow at Ford.  Ford sighed. “In a way, I suppose that couldbe accurate.  I remember doing some ofthe things Tate wants to do.  I shouldnot have done them.”

               “No shit.  But you apologized.”

               “Not enough.”

               “You pour a helluva lotta moneyinto maintaining the aviary, keeping my family fed and happy.  You give us a roof over our heads.  You and Fiddleford have more than made up for pullin’ that crap years ago.”  Stan shrugged.  “And if you still feel like it’s not enough,I mean, we kinda owe you, for sendin’ you to the hospital so many times.”  Ford subconsciously rubbed the rough scar onhis left hand, a reminder of what phoenix beaks were capable of.

               “Perhaps.”

               “Honestly, Ford, don’t botherapologizing.  It’s been so damn long, andAngie and I just wanna forget it happened.”

               “I feel the same way,” Ford saidquietly.

               “Good.  Then drop it. You don’t owe us anything, okay? Just try to, y’know, not let wild animals into the attic any more.  Who knows what Angie ‘ll do if it happensagain.”

               “Fiddleford told me not to bringthe werewolf home.”

               “Listen to him sometimes.”

               “Should I listen to him when heinsists on keeping the truth from Tate?” Ford asked.  Stan got up with a sigh.

               “You know how Angie and I feelabout it.  We think it’s pointless to lieto Tate.  But he’s your kid, Sixer.  You and Fidds have to figure it out on yourown.  My daughter’s a bird most of thetime, anyways.  I don’t know what to dowith human children.”  There was a loudscreech from upstairs.  “Geez, Angie’s stillpissed at you.”

               “What did she say?”

               “That you’re not allowed upthere for a couple days.  Somethin’ aboutgiving you a matching scar on the other hand if you put her babies in dangeragain.”  Stan shrugged.  “Same old, same old.”