Chapter Text
“And of course, the best legend of them all,” you lean in towards your group of tourists, giving them a spooky grin, “The Battle of the Ghost Ships!”
A murmur of approval ripples through the crowd, and you can’t help but get a small thrill of satisfaction. This is what they’re here for, and you’re the only one who can bring it to them.
It’s fun being the center of attention, and even though you wish it paid more, you love being a tour guide at this old museum.
Not long into the tour you notice a pair of older men, one intently writing things in a notebook, the other with a slightly smug expression on his face. Actually, after a few more minutes, you think he looks more… approving than smug of what he’s seeing and hearing. Whatever it is, he’s definitely enjoying himself.
They look very similar to each other, and you decide about halfway through that they must be brothers- maybe even twins. And as you describe the heartbreaking tale of the Lady in White saying her last goodbye to her new husband (“in this very room”) before he met his end sailing the dangerous ocean, you’re feeling romantic enough to admit to yourself that, yes, they are both devastatingly handsome.
Finally, you finish the tour on the deck of the museum, with your back to a perfect view of the ocean ahead as you address the crowd. “Although Lieutenant Mitchell vowed he would bring back the cargo or die trying, he never got the chance, for right in the middle of their epic battle at sea," you pause and watch as the group unconsciously leans towards you, eager to hear the rest of the story, “there was a flash of lightning from the storm, and the two ships vanished. And they say,” you lower your voice, “That when the full moon lines up with Halloween Night, as it did that fateful day, you can see the navy and the pirates appear once more, locked in hopeless repetition of their doomed battle, before once again disappearing.” You let the story sink in, then change your attitude and stand up straight with a grin. “And that’s the end of the tour! Thank you so much, you’ve been a great group! If you have any questions, I’ll be in the gift shop.”
“Heh, there it is,” a man’s voice says under his breath from the back as the chattering crowd moves towards the gift shop.
You turn your gaze sharply towards the two men. The writer is still making notes in his book, but the other one meets your gaze steadily, a small smirk on his face.
“Do you have a question?” you ask calmly.
“We’ll go in the gift shop, an’ I’ll ask you there, jus’ like y’said.” he answers smugly. His brother makes a sound without looking up from his notes, but you can’t tell if it’s a laugh or a groan.
“Great,” you smile at them, but there’s a little edge to it. “Be sure to check out our T-shirt sale,” and you make your way towards the gift shop.
You hear the man laugh behind you, and feel a nice sense of satisfaction.
You take over the cash register for your coworker Emily as she begins the next tour, chatting with your own tour group as you ring them up, always keeping an eye on the two brothers. They wander around, once in a while one calling the other over to something they’ve found, the discovery resulting in laughter or excited conversation that was just beyond your hearing.
You find your gaze following the brother who had exchanged a few words with you at the end of the tour. He laughs easily, the sound seemingly coming all the way from his gut and filling his broad chest. You try to be polite and give your full attention to your customers, but those big arms and scruffy square jaw are very distracting…
Finally, the brothers are the only ones left in the shop, and you can’t take the curiosity any longer. “All right,” you say with a grin. “What was your question?”
Both men turn to face you, and the writer opens his mouth, but the other brother beats him to it. “Well, kid, it wasn’t really a question,” he starts walking towards you, his smug grin in place. “More like a comment. As one museum tour guide to another, I wanted to let you know how you did.”
You cross your arms and frown. “I’m not really asking for a performance review.”
The man frowns back. “Well too bad, you’re gonna get it.” Then he goes back to his overly confident expression, “For your great story telling, terrible jokes, and pretty smile, I’m givin’ you a solid nine point five outta ten.”
You blink. “Oh.” You say, slightly caught off guard. “Uh, thank you,”
“You seem surprised,” the writer chimes in. “It was an excellent tour.”
“Oh, thank you so much!” you say automatically, still slightly confused. “It’s just… when people bother to give a review it’s usually negative.”
The first man laughs. “Don’t I know it!” he says. “Thirty years of givin’ tours to rubes and thirty years of complaints.”
“Probably well-deserved,” the writer says, but he has a twinkle in his eye and it’s obvious he’s teasing his brother.
“You wish you was as good as me,” is the response.
You feel yourself relax from the banter, and can’t help but join in. “So why a nine point five? What made me lose half a point?”
“Ah, see, that’s a very important question,” the former tour guide says. “I just wanted you t’know I was sincere. I mean,” he leaned on the counter with a grin. “If I gave you a full ten, you’d think I was lyin’ or flirtin’, and you’d always wonder if you really did that great of a job.”
You raise your eyebrows, stifling a laugh. “Is that something you do often?”
“Which one?” his smile grows bigger as he meets your eyes. “Lyin’ or flirtin’?”
Gosh, was it suddenly really warm in here?
His brother snorts. “Doesn’t matter, it’s both,” he says.
The man deflates. “Really Poindexter?” he says sourly, straightening up and turning around to glare at his brother. Then he sighs and turns back to you. “Anyway, good job. Seriously.” He gives a sincere smile, maybe the first one you’d seen that wasn’t a smirk or mischievous grin, and sticks out a hand. “I’m Stan Pines, and this killjoy over here is my brother Ford.”
“Nice to meet you both,” you say as you shake Stan’s hand. He has rough calluses, a firm grip, and what seems to be a permanent twinkle in his eye, as if he knows a secret but would be willing to share it with the right person…
He lets go but, maybe you’re imagining it, his hand seems to linger slightly before his brother- Ford- takes over with his handshake. “We’re here to learn more about all of the ghost stories in this town,” Ford tells you.
“Are you guys doing a documentary or something?” you ask. “I think I have release forms for filming the museum somewhere…” you start looking through the drawers behind the counter.
“No need for that, kid,” Stan tells you, the casual nickname making you stop what you’re doing and return all of your attention to him. “We ain’t here to make some stupid show. We’re really here to check the legend out. Y’know, for fun. It has nothing to do- at all-” He makes a slicing motion with his hands while shaking his head vehemently. “With the treasure parts of the stories.”
“You know the treasure parts are most likely the bits that are made up?” You ask, hiding a smile. “Elizabeth’s diamond necklace, the jewel encrusted dagger… all exaggerations. Even the cargo the ghost ships fight over is probably just supplies,” You shrug. “Pirates didn’t even want to do their own grocery shopping when they could get other people to do it for them.”
Stan grins. “Can y’blame ‘em? They were probably too busy countin’ their gold to mess with stuff like supply runs or whatever. I can respect that. Anyway,” he says. “Won’t stop me from looking.” He stops, his face going through realization to exasperation back to his smug grin. “Wouldn’t stop me from looking. If I was looking for treasure. Which I’m not.” Then he clears his throat and once more leans on the counter. “How do you know all that? About what’s not true in the legends?”
You give him a sheepish grin. “I’ve been obsessed with all the crazy legends of this town since I can remember. There’s just something about…” you start to stare into middle distance as you try to explain what you’ve been chasing your whole life. “…adventures and magic and the sea that just… gets to me, you know?”
Stan chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, I do.” he says, and meets your eyes.
You smile at him as you gaze back, feeling more comfortable with this man you just met than most of the people you see on a regular basis. Your hand brushes his, and neither of you move away. “So, uh,” Stan says softly. “When d’ya get off?”
“Excellent idea Stanley!” Ford cuts in excitedly, breaking… whatever that was. “Stanley and I sail around investigating legends and anomalies. Someone who is well-versed in the ghost stories of this place is exactly what we need!”
“Yeah, uh, right.” Stan says, straightening up, and you notice he’s a little pink.
Oh gosh, do your cheeks feel warm too?
You clear your throat and look up at the ceiling for a moment to shake yourself out of it. You were not one of those girls in town who fell for sailors who never came back, you remind yourself fiercely. Besides, you were clearly reading too much into the conversation you were having with Stan. You didn’t share a connection, he was just being friendly. It’s what people did. And he wanted to know when you were free so you could tell him and Ford more about the legends. Everything is normal, nothing to see here, you are not going to mess up this opportunity to let loose and talk to people about your absolute favorite subject.
All of this happened in a split second, and you look back at Stan and Ford with what you hoped was normal expression on your face. “I’m on closing tonight, so I’m not free until 8,” you start to say apologetically. “But we can-”
“Great,” Stan says. “We’ll meetcha here.” He winks at you. “You can take us out to dinner.”
Before you can respond, the other tour group floods into the gift shop and a woman makes a beeline towards you to frantically ask where the bathrooms are, ignoring Stan and Ford.
You quickly point her in the right direction, and as you turn back to deliver what you hope is a cute answer, you notice the brothers were gone.
Well.
A grin grows on your face and you can’t wipe it off. An adventure is coming- you can feel it.
Hopefully involving Stan.
“Hey, uh,” the teenage waiter comes up to the diner booth you are sharing with Stan later that night. “You guys have to leave.”
You blink at him, seemingly just remembering that other people existed. “Why?”
“Because it’s half an hour past closing, and I have school tomorrow,” he says grouchily.
You remember Ford leaving after about two hours of talking about the local ghosts, pirates, and other notable events in the town’s history in so he could go check on something the boat you had heard so much about, and then you and Stan hung out as the conversation turned to basically everything under the sun. But that was only a few minutes ago, right? “Oh come on, it’s not that la-” you stop as you look at your watch. A few minutes ago? Try a few hours. “Oh my gosh, Dave, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even notice the time!”
“Yeah, well, just pay the bill and we can all go home,” he says, handing you the paper.
You take it without hesitation; even if Stan didn’t volunteer you to pay back at the museum, you would have treated them anyway- you loved playing hostess and showing off your town. But your stomach drops as you rifle through your purse.
Your wallet is missing.
You turn back to Dave. “OK, so, you’re not going to be happy, but I think I left my wallet at work-” but the bill is suddenly plucked out of your hand.
“Easy, toots, I got it,” Stan says casually, handing the bill to Dave with a card. Dave takes it and stalks over to the cash register, then Stan leans forward with a conspiratorial look on his face. “OK, so Ford’s got it. He, uh, dropped his wallet on his way out. Serves ‘im right for leavin’ early.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously? Won’t he be mad?”
Stan snorts as Dave brings back the card and the receipt. “Honestly? He probably won’t even notice,” he signs ‘Stanford Pines’ easily on the paper, and groans as he gets up.
You give him an appraising look as you stand up as well. “You forge your brother’s signature a lot?” you ask as the two of you walk out of the restaurant, ignoring Dave slamming the door behind you and the lock violently being turned. You saw Stan had left him a large tip; he’d be fine.
Stan’s eyes twinkle. “Kid, you have no idea! So,” he says as you begin walking back to the museum. “What are we doing tomorrow?”
“I thought I was showing you guys the naval archives,” you say as you stifle a yawn.
“Yeah, but after that.” Stan tries not to catch the yawn, but fails. “You got a bowling alley around here?”
“We do,” you answer with a grin. “You seriously want to go bowling?”
“Why not? Unless you’re afraid of losin’.” His face turned mischievous under the streetlight.
“I would think from our conversation earlier you would know I’m not afraid of anything,” you say. “Not ghosts, not pirates, and definitely not losing to you, Stan Pines.”
He chuckles. “All right then. Bowling it is.” He takes a few steps to leave, then stops and turns back. “Oh, almost forgot. Y’dropped this.” He holds out your wallet.
You look at him skeptically. “Dropped it? Like Ford dropped his wallet?”
Stan shrugs, and something about the look in his eye makes you feel slightly lightheaded. No, that was definitely due to the late hour. “You got it. See you tomorrow,” he says, and turns towards the marina.