Chapter Text
Arguably, Stanley Pines was the reason it all started.
It’d been later in the night after the whole thing with the unicorns. Mabel had furiously scribbled her opinions into the third journal, but felt a bit better about the whole thing after Ford had called her a good person, and Stan had her give him the play-by-play about how she kicked butt, complete with ice cream sundays for both her and Dipper, and an assurance that she didn’t believe a word those horned horses had said.
After the kids had gone to bed (Wendy decided she was going to stay over at the shack for the night. Her brother had invited some friends over for a sleepover and she really didn’t want to be around for that), Stan had spent a good ten minutes grumbling about how Ford should’ve given Mabel all the facts about the unicorns, before sending her on what he knew was a wild goose chase. While Wendy did agree with that, she saw Ford’s actions as an honest mistake rather than a purposeful disregard of Mabel, as Stan had seen it.
Stan had scoffed at her claim when she said as much. “He always does this, ever since we where kids!” Stan growled. “Alway’s talkin’ bout how I wouldn’t understand his big genius thoughts. Like I was stupid or somethin’. And he’s doing the same thing to her! I mean, he’s out there, paling around with Dipper, and leaving the poor girl completely to the wayside,”
“He does have more in common with Dipper,” Wendy pointed out.
Stan just rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t stop me! Ya think I like sittin’ around while Mabel decorates my face with glitter?”
Wendy just smirked and raised an eyebrow. The old man liked girly things. He could try to deny it all he wanted, but that was just the truth.
“Ok, maybe I like it a little bit,” Stan conceded with a pout. “But it ain’t somethin’ I’d go outta my way to do, except with Mabel. But my dumb brother’s doin’ it again; writing her off as the “dumb twin”, just because she’s silly and doesn’t like doin’ math all the time. Give me a break!”
Wendy stretched out on the chair she’d be sleeping on. “Dude, if it’s bothering you so much, just go tell him,”
“Like Ford’ll ever listen to a thing I say,”
Wendy shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t exactly argue with that .
Stanford Pines (The original one, apparently) did not seem like the most agreeable person ever. Granted, neither was Stan, but at least he didn’t brush her off when she tried telling him about lumberjack culture like his twin had done.
Stan was not someone Wendy would call a good listener, but compared to Ford, he was a goddamned therapist.
“He really should,” Wendy mentions. “I saw the dude struggle to open a cereal bag. He needs some ‘how to function like a normal human’ lessons,”
Stan laughs. “My brother was never a normal human. Ya wanna know his solution to girls not talking to him? He built himself a kissing robot to teach himself how to interact with women,”
“Jesus christ!” Wendy hollered. That had to be the funniest shit she'd ever heard (besides the one about the man and the pickle, of course).
It went on like that for about an hour; Stan telling stories of all the embarrassing things Ford did during childhood, while Wendy found herself laughing her ass off at all of them. Ford might’ve been some kinda super-genius who could invent a lightbulb that made skin softer, but goddamn, he was just as big a dumbass as Stan was, and Wendy had seen Stan start a fight with a squirrel that took a piss in the dying bushes by his porch. Then, Stan lost the battle when he followed the sqirl up a tree, promptly realized how high up he was, and ended up crying while the squirrel laughed at him. They had to call the fire department to get him down from the tree. Ever since then, whenever a squirrel came close to him, Stan would scream like a little girl, hide behind the nearest person, and demand they kill it with fire. Wendy somehow ended up being the default human shield against the rodents multiple times.
Ford happened to walk in on the two of them telling a particularly embarrassing story, gave them a large pouty glare, and walked off muttering about how he couldn’t wait for this summer to end.
Stan had looked unreasonably sad at that statement.
“That guy needs to lighten up,” Wendy claimed. She leaned back on the couch, a lazy smile on her face. “As if the summer ending is gonna stop me from crashing here. As long as you're here, I’ll be there to bother you,”
Stan made a weird noise in his throat that sounded like something inside of him had just died.
“Dude, you alright?” Wendy asked.
Stan sunk into the spot in the couch next to her. “It’s complicated,” He grumbled quietly.
Stan was never quiet.
Wendy stared at him awkwardly. “Um, you uh,” She fidgeted. “Anything you need to tell me?”
“You’ve got nothing to do with it,” Stan told her. “You’re a kid. You don’t need to’ worry ‘bout the problems of some washed-up old man,”
Wendy tried a different strategy. “I was thinking of working here again next summer,” She stated. “You’re definitely gonna save me a job, right? I mean, the Mystery Shack isn’t the Mystery Shack without a little bit of Wendy in it,”
Stan let out a conceited sigh. He hesitated for a while, as if wondering wether or not he should even talk about it. He must've known that Wendy wasn't planning on letting it go. “The shack’s not gonna be here next summer,” He mumbled sadly. “Ford wants his house back, and he wants me to shut it down,”
Wendy frowned. She had a feeling that was what he was going to say.
“I mean, it doesn’t really matter anyways, does it?” Stan continued, “not like I actually liked working here. Not like I actually enjoyed doing it. Not like it was the one thing in life I was good at! I only started up the shack so I could keep the house and fix the damn portal. Well, it’s fixed, Ford’s home. I guess it’s outlasted its purpose! Don’t need Stanley any more, do we?”
Wendy cringed. “Man, that sucks. What are you gonna do when it shuts down. Where are you gonna go?” Another thought occurred to her. “You’re brother’s not like, kicking you out is he?”
Stan shrugged. “He didn’t say he was, but he never said he wasn’t either. I thought that maybe things would be ok. Sure I’d be out of a job, but Ford wasn’t gonna make me leave right? But then he pulled that shit with the damned mind control tie. Clearly he doesn't give a shit about me. I ain’t stupid enough to stay bummin’ off someone who’d rather I not be here,”
Wendy protested "But this place is your home!"
“It’s his name on the deed,” Stan scowles.
"Since when have you cared about property laws?"
"That ain't my call," Stan scowled
“It shouldn't be his either," Wendy growled back. The mystery shack was like a second home to her. And Stan was her friend. This entire situation felt shitty.
"I said I'd bring him home," Stan mumbled to himself. "Even if his home didn't include me,"
“Shit man,” Wendy exhaled.
“Spent 30 years tryin’ to bring him home,” Stan continued. It seemed the flood gates were open. “I spent 30 years tryin’ to save him. I didn’t expect him to give me anything. I mean, a thank you might’ve been nice. Some, I dunno, appreciation or somethin’. That’s not too much to ask for right?”
Stan gritted his teeth together, his voice raising in volume. “It’s just a word or two. No skin off his back. I’d fucking do anything for him. The least he could give back is a ‘Thank you Stanley,’ or a ‘I’m happy to see you Stanley’ or maybe even a ‘your not as much as a worthless fuckup as everyone thinks you are Stanley!”
He slammed his fist into his knees, as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. Wendy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You know, I can break his kneecaps for you if you’d like,” She offered.
Stan shook his head. “I don’ wanna hurt him. I just…”
“Want a little payback for your dumb loyalty,” Wendy finished the sentence for him. “Yeah I get that,”
The two sat in silence for a moment. Stan wiped at his face.
“Well, you know what? Fuck him!” Wendy declared, standing up. “Come on, let’s go throw some cans at wild animals,”
Stan nodded. “Sure, why the hell not?”
So they did just that, into the late hours of the night. Then they made themselves a giant ice cream sunday as a midnight snack, which Wendy had the bright idea of pouring Mabel Juice into. After that, they were both on a crazy sugar high and sleep deprived. So much so, that Wendy and Stan decided to do some late-night gift shop Karaoke.
Stan’s voice sounded like a grinding stone, and Wendy was horribly off key, but that didn’t stop them from loudly singing along to Fuck It by Days N Daze
“ She smiled and she said on days like this it seems like it never rains !” Stan shouted out sandpaper notes.
“ But without the rain we’d starve !” Wendy joined on in.
“ I can’t escape the fly and the skull So I’m beginning to lull myself into a false security,
‘Cause it’s easier to lie to yourself then face reality"
“ SO BITTERSWEET!!” Wendy shouted at the top of her lungs. Stan started cracking up.
“ So let's pretend all of the ones we love won't die! Sweep their skeletons off to the side. I'm oh so sorry swear I tried to,
“See over the wall I've built up, In my head of guilt and fuckups.” Stan smiled wistfully at that line.
“ Maybe I'm just thinkin' much too hard ” They sang together, before diving into the chorus.
“ Lifes a game! Life’s a joke! Fuck it, why not go for broke? Trade in all your chips and learn how to be free…
“Why abstain, why jump in line? We’re all living on borrowed time! So do what you like and we’ll like what you do when you do it, and if they don’t that’s fine,
FUCK ‘EM!!”
It was at that moment, as she sang off-key along with Stan to a song about not giving a damn, that Wendy realized that she really really really wanted to start a band.
“They say don't take the risk you're sure to fail,” Wendy sang solo. “ 'Cause there's no get out of jail free card in life,”
Stan took the next line. “ But what's the worst that could happen, end up in a coffin? Isn't that where we're all headed anyway?”
Wendy joined in with him. “ Can't escape the madness, So you might as well embrace it,
"Can't be worse than a nine to five cubicle jail cell, Buried under mundane bullshit!”
She and her friends could all play an instrument. Robbie already knew guitar, and Nate had been taking piano lessons since he was three. Tambry had a remarkable sense of rhythm that was perfect for drums, and playing the bass couldn’t be that much different for Lee than playing cello in the school band. And Thompson could…. Well, Thompson could be there!
Stan knew a lot about business. He could be they’re manager. It’d give him something to do once the shack closed down, and people to hang out with once his brother ditched on him.
Things wouldn’t be so bad then, would it?
“Life’s a game! Life’s a joke! Fuck it, why not go for broke? Trade in all your chips and learn how to be free!!
“Why abstain, why jump in line? We’re all living on borrowed time! So do what you like and we’ll like what you do when you do it, and if they don’t that’s fine,”
“FUCK EM!!!”