Chapter Text
Mabel Pines sat behind the wheel of her vintage El Diablo, squinting at the empty bus stop. Her sparkly purple fingernails drummed against the steering wheel. It was possible that a part of her was nervous – then again, all of her was hyped up on about eight shots of Mabel Juice, so it was difficult to tell. Still, it had been a few years since she’d last seen her great-nephews. Money, and a fear of being too far from the infuriatingly silent portal for too long, kept her visits to New Jersey few and far between. From the occasions when she had made it out, she remembered her grephews mostly as two identical blurs tearing around the apartment. But now that her nephew and his wife had finally taken her up on her offer to look after the little scamps for the summer, Mabel would finally have the chance to make up for lost time.
Her twitchy drumming got faster.
It probably wasn’t helping that Filbrick’s wife had sounded so worried over the phone. Nice about it, sure, but there had been an awful lot of, “You’re sure it’s no trouble?” and, “You’ll make them wear their sunscreen, right?” and, “But won’t you be too busy during the day to keep an eye on them?”
Mabel had heard muttering in the background of the call at that point – Filbrick’s voice saying something like, She’d better keep an eye on them, those two are trouble.
“Never mind him,” Caryn had laughed – bubbly and bright and hollow, her phone psychic persona taking over. “They’re good boys. Stanford is already reading at a high school level, did I tell you, Mabel? And Stanley.” A genuine warmth had touched her voice. “Such personality!”
So, all right, maybe Mabel was nervous. A little! Not about things like sunscreen – she and Dipper had spent their childhood summers bouncing around the beach, and it had never done her any harm – but, well. What if she didn’t know what to do with two almost-teenagers? What if she got them mixed up (not something she’d ever had to worry about with her own twin, but for identical siblings it must be a nightmare) – or, worse, what if she could only tell them apart by sneaking a look at Stanford’s hands, which Caryn had confided already made him self-conscious? What if the kids just didn’t like Gravity Falls? Or the Mystery Shack, or… or her?
Just then, the bus from the Portland airport pulled up and opened its doors with a hiss, and two boys came tumbling out. One was wearing glasses and an aviator jacket, and toting a suitcase plastered with alien and spaceship and I Visited The Franklin Institute! stickers. Mabel found herself faintly impressed by the collection, despite the lack of glitter. The other had a missing front tooth and at least three visible band-aids, and was hauling a suitcase that it looked like he’d decorated himself with puff paint to resemble a pirate flag.
Any fears Mabel might have had about whether she could tell them apart evaporated instantly.
“See ya, mister!” Stanley was calling to the departing bus, as Mabel stepped out of the car and began to make her way up to the boys – quietly, at first. They hadn’t seen her yet. “Happy to take your money anytime!”
“I still can’t believe you got ten bucks off that guy,” Stanford said, but he was grinning.
“Hey, I won the hand fair and square! Three aces! Plus, I didn’t just get ten bucks; the bet was for whatever was in his pockets, so that’s...” Stanley opened his palm and surveyed the contents. “Matches, a button, a paperclip that I’m totally gonna turn into a lockpick, and half a Snickers!”
“Ew, Stan! You mean a half-eaten Snickers?”
“Yup!” Stanley took a bite, then continued talking with his mouth full. “You wan’ some?”
“No, I don’t want some! So, hang on. What would he have gotten if he’d won?”
Stanley turned his pockets inside-out one by one. “Plastic dinosaur, dryer lint, lucky dice.”
“You definitely got the better end of that bargain.”
“Yeah, right. Like I’d give some knucklehead my lucky dice.” Stanley craned his neck to peer into the woods around them. “Check this place out, Sixer! Bet there’s all kinds of things in those woods. Buried treasure… gangs of outlaws… monsters!”
Stanford’s face seemed to light up. “You really think there are mon-”
“BOO!”
Mabel cackled as the boys yelped simultaneously and turned around. “Gotcha!” she proclaimed, sweeping them both into a hug. “C’mere, you little scamps, say hi to your Grauntie Mabel!” She broke away as quickly as she’d hugged them, tousled Stanford’s hair – he ducked away, but he was smiling – and straightened with a groan and an audible crackle of her spine. “Put your stuff in the trunk and let’s get going. Wait ’til you see the Mystery Shack!”
“Mystery Shack?” Stanford echoed, tagging along. He sounded intrigued. “What makes it so mysterious?”
“Didn’t your parents tell ya? You’re gonna love it, kids – you’ll be spending your summer working the greatest roadside attraction in the state!” At that, the curiosity in Stanford’s expression dried up, and his face fell. Mabel swallowed a sudden pang. She popped the trunk. “C’mon, we haven’t got all day.”
Stanley, meanwhile, stopped as soon as he saw the El Diablo, his suitcase dropping from his nerveless fingers. “Whoa.” He dashed around to the front of the car and ran his fingers over the hood almost reverently. “Where’d you get such an awesome car? How fast can it go? What kind of engine does it have?” Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered inside. “Did you… did you cover all the upholstery in… cartoon stars and rainbows? Ewww, Grauntie Mabel.”
“They match the paintjob!” Mabel gestured at the back door of the El Diablo. Stanford, having laid his suitcase carefully in the trunk, was already sitting inside, dutifully buckled up. “In you get with your brother, kiddo. Oh, hang on.” As Stanley tossed his own bag on top of Stanford’s and moved past Mabel to climb inside, she spotted a flash of white and red peeking out of his sleeve at the wrist.
Mabel leaned down and took Stanley’s arm, turning it over gently. The ace of hearts was just visible under his cuff.
“Well. So that’s where you got that third ace from, huh?” Mabel smirked, speaking low enough that Stanford wouldn’t hear. Stanley looked up at her, his eyes wide. Then he plastered on a huge smile and opened his mouth to deliver what she was sure would be one whopper of an invented explanation. If Mabel wasn’t mistaken, though, there was something behind that smile… something almost fearful.
She put one finger to her lips, and with the other hand, laid a fingertip on the edge of the card and slid it back under Stanley’s cuff until it was properly hidden again. “Just keep a good grip on it this time, okay, kiddo? Never know when you might need an ace up your sleeve.”
His smile was real this time, as brilliant and startling as the sun bursting through a broken shutter.