Chapter Text
Stanford Pines was… A find. You met him in ‘Backupsmore University’ when he studied the paranormal, and you studied physics. You two met when he was playing a heated game of DD&D in the library with his dorm-mate Fiddleford McGucket. Quite the pair, those two were. Two cuties, in fact. When you asked to join their game, Stanford’s eyes lit up like never before. Chances are, if Fidds were single at the time, you’d be a housewife all the way out in Palo Alto.
But you and Ford’s fates collided when you saw how well he rolled the dice between his six fingers, and soon blossomed a beautiful ‘friendship’.
He had already passed your level of physics knowledge by a mile, and helped you whenever he had the chance, without being too pushy (he was). With his knowledge lifting your scores, and your support lifting his morale, you two had managed to top your classes, and eventually, each other, too.
After graduation was a blur of fighting over your futures, making up, and eventually settling on settling down. To go study even more together.
A wedding, house and a few years later, you were settled into a strange town, hoping to uncover the mysteries of strange events, and married life.
-
You knocked on the door to the home you shared with your husband, Stanford - a cabin on the outskirts of Gravity Falls, a strange town you two had been researching for the past three years. You hear hurried footsteps getting closer to the door, before hearing the door creek open with a sense of distrust and see your husband peeking out.
“Hi, darling. It’s just me,” You were quick to speak as you saw the panic in his eyes, a habit of his. “I forgot my keys again, I’m sorry.” You reached a hand, voice gentle. He let out a sigh of relief and slight irritation and opened the door all the way. When he saw the grocery bags around you, though, his brows furrowed. “You said you were going out on a walk.” He stepped closer. You glanced around. “Well, I knew you wouldn’t let me do the groceries alone, but I also knew you were really close to a breakthrough, so…” You muttered, hands patting at your enlarged abdomen.
He muttered your name in frustration. “It doesn’t matter, you can’t put all that strain on your body, seriously.” He took you by the arm and brought you inside. “I’m sorry, it’s just easier like this. I feel even more guilt when interrupting your work.”
He exhaled through his nose and walked back outside into the cold air of the forest. He picked up the bags and carried them inside before shutting the door with his foot. “Ford..” You spoke up, walking over to the kitchen counter where he placed the products down. He glanced at you. “I’m sorry,” You reached out a hand, rubbing his arm. “Don’t apologize, just…”
He sighed, turning to face you, and placed his hand on the underside of your bump. “Please, interrupt my work. Ask me for help. Bother me.” His framed eyes looked into yours. “You need help more than ever before, and frankly, I need to be pulled away from my work.” He gave a tired smile. You smiled back. “Okay, my dear.”
You two held hands properly, sharing a small squeeze before he went on to put away the produce and other products, while you excused yourself to the bathroom in a hurry.
Returning to the living space, you saw the counters empty and Ford gone. “Stanford?” You called out, holding your bump as you waddled over to the basement stairs. “I’m down here!” He called back. You hummed and turned back around, walking slowly but surely to the couch.
You sunk into the couch with a sigh of relief. You removed your coat before reaching down and struggling to untie your shoe-laces with the bump in the way. You made a small groan of frustration and just laid down with your shoes on.
Carefully, you turned to lay on your side, and closed your eyes so you could rest for a bit. Naturally, you fell asleep shortly after, still in your outside clothes and shoes.
-
You woke up to the sound of steps coming up the stairs. Opening your eyes and glancing around, you saw the house cast with red light, the sun was probably already setting. Then, Ford emerged from the basement, chart in hand and sipping from his over-used mug. He glanced at you for a moment, checking if you’re awake. “I’m awake…” You muttered, rubbing your eyes.
He placed his chart down atop the fireplace and walked over to you. “Were you napping?” He smiled down at your figure on the couch. You nodded. “Goodness, with shoes on? That can’t be comfortable.” He commented, kneeling next to you and untying your laces before removing the shoes. You let out a sigh of relief.
“Help me sit, please.” You asked quietly. He took you gently by the hands and guided your body to sit up straight. “How are you feeling?” He asked gently, firmness still present in his voice, as he rubbed your knee. “I don’t know…” You placed your hand on his. He frowned a bit. “Does something hurt?” His hand trailed a little higher to rub your thigh. “I barely ate today, but I'm not hungry. Just kind of bummed out about food.”
It looked like he was thinking about it, pushing up his glasses and making a small hum. “Did you take your vitamins?” He looked back up at you. You shook your head. He looked a bit confused. “Why?” You glanced to the side. “I couldn’t bear to take the pill, it brushed against my throat and I just threw it all up. Today’s just not my day.”
Stanford bit his lip. “Could I try to feed you, maybe?” You chuckled. “That’s sweet, but I'd just throw it up.” “Well, actually,” He fixed his glasses once more. “I’ve been looking into it… And if we can have you distracted, it might help.” Your cheeks warmed a bit. He’d been studying ways to help you?
Well, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Ford had his own way of showing his support and preparing to be a father. He usually wouldn’t say it directly, but his actions showed.
When you found out you were pregnant, he wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t planned, but you two weren’t very careful either. When you ran up to him, test in hand, freaking out and crying, he simply hugged you, gripping you tightly, maybe the hardest he’d ever hugged you, while you cried and babbled on about being careless and stupid.
By the time you’d reached your third trimester, he had built a crib for the baby, and had been studying friendly anomalies like the Plaidypuses, how they inherited a combination of colors and stripes from each of their parents, and how the eldest took care of the babies.
He’d track the size of your baby bump, theorizing the size of the growing baby each week that passed, tracking your symptoms, and how likely it was to have a boy or girl. Yes, it was mostly old and outdated beliefs, but you knew it’d calm him down to approach the matter in a way of math and science, which he was most familiar with.
This makes him out to be quite cold, but truth was, he knew how to be domestic in his own way, using his logic. When you were standing while doing things around the house, he’d come up behind you and lift your bump from the bottom, because he read that it was a great relief from the weight of pregnancy. He’d offer back messages and foot rubs when he saw how swollen you were getting, and mix up herbal teas for you after studying the properties of each one.
When you felt insecure, he’d take you into the forest to show you his findings, walking slowly at your pace and pointing out anomalies and plants, and when you felt sick, he’d tuck you into bed and stay by your side while writing down his research.
“So?” He looked up at you. “Alright. I trust you, brains.” You replied, agreeing out of an understanding that you could experience early contractions if you got dehydrated or stressed out your body too much. He helped you stand up, holding you by your hips as he knew you could get a bit dizzy. You placed a hand on his chest. “Alright?” He asked. You nodded.
You two made it over to the kitchen where you leaned against the wall, watching as Stanford warmed up some leftovers on the stove - a simple dish of red-sauce pasta you’d made last night.
“I’d suggest eating outside tonight, but it’s already quite cold this time of year.” He looked back at you, plating some pasta into a bowl and walking over to the small table in the kitchen and placing down the dish. Waddling over to the table and sitting down, you looked up at him. “I heard we should be expecting the first snow tonight.” He smiled, sitting across from you. “Really?”
You nodded, and he prepared a bite of pasta on the fork. He lifted it up to your lips. “Makes me think about our honeymoon.” He guided the food into your mouth while reminiscing about you two’s past.
Your wedding was a simple one, held in late November, with Ford’s parents, your parents, and some college friends present. It was held on the dock near Glass Shard beach where he grew up, with a simple Chuppah made from the fanciest sheet he could find, and four long branches stuck in the gaps between planks. The glass he stepped on was a family heirloom, his mother’s nicest glass.
The moment you two kissed, it started to rain. By the time everybody made it back to Stanford’s childhood home, you all were soaked. You didn’t forget to collect the broken glass, though. You saved the shards and made them into a mezuzah and a candle holder which you two brought out to your new home in Gravity Falls.
Your honeymoon, too, was unexpectedly interrupted by the cold weather of early December. You two had agreed on booking a few weeks in a cozy cabin where you could both isolate and get cozy, and have equally enough opportunities to explore. Your adventures lasted a week before extreme snow kept you two inside the cabin.
Safe to say, you two quickly ran out of condoms. And even though most would get sick of so much time being stuck together, it was all you two had been waiting for. After all that time in college, being separated in the dorms by gender, and in the classes by your majors, finally, you two had your time together to explore nature (and each other’s bodies).
On snowy mornings, you’d lay next to him in bed, sipping tea as he wrote down some research he did about the natural ecosystem where you vacationed. You’d lay your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, slow and comforting. A privilege you’d grow used to nowadays.
Before you could notice, the food was all gone from the bowl. His distraction had worked, and you had eaten a complete meal. He smiled as you swallowed the last bite. Your eyes shined in admiration for your husband. He still knew you so well…
“Thank you.” You smiled, a bit of shyness in your voice. “I was stuck in that ‘loop’ of nausea, you know how it is…” He placed his hand on yours. “I understand.” He smiled back. He must’ve noticed you getting flustered. NOT. It would take a blunt statement from you in order for him to understand flirtation, and forget about ‘hints’.
“Ford, I was thinking.” You began, earning a raise of eyebrows from him. “As you may know, I’m quite far along.” He nodded, before chiming in with- “36 weeks, actually.” You gave an anxious smile back.
“E-Excuse me if I sound like a hippie…” You continued. “I really don’t know how to word this.” You glanced down at your enlarged stomach. “There’s this phenomenon some people experience during the late stages of pregnancy called… Nesting.” He looked curious now. “Which is supposed to help cope with pre-baby jitters b-by cleaning and preparing your home…” Your voice got quieter.
“You think you sound like a hippie for wanting to clean the house?” He asked bluntly. Your eyes widened. “N-NO- I mean… It is pretty new and unknown practice.. But I also wanted to ask…”
“Well, I suppose I.. I have kind of a desire to feel pampered a-and confident before I give birth.. So, even though you’ve been very careful.. I think we should, erm,” You glanced away. “Start being sexually active again.”
Stanford looked a bit surprised, and couldn’t help a small smile. “We can get that taken care of.” Damn that smug smile!! It made you want to throw yourself at him. “Besides, nothing beats the hippie stuff WE saw at college.” He laughed. Damn that laugh!!!
“Do you want us to schedule, or just be spontaneous?” He gave you a charming smile. Damn those confident eyes, damn that firm smile and manly chin. Damn it all. “I want you, Ford.” You looked up at him. His facade seemed to crumble for a moment. “Now?” “Yes.” You were about to stand up, and he approached to help you. Fell right into your trap. The moment he helped you stand up straight, you pulled him into a kiss. He melted, returning it while holding on to your hips.
He backed you up slowly against the fridge, hands trailing up your stomach and torso to hold your shoulders as your lips shared a warm embrace. He broke the kiss, letting out a deep sigh. “I’ve wanted this…”
You swallowed before opening your eyes to look at him. “Me too. Shame it can’t be like before…” You muttered. He huffed at that, and scooped you up in one swift motion. “Woah- Ford, what?” You held onto him. He carried you through the house and up the stairs to your shared bedroom with determination. “Nothing’s changed, and I’ll show you that.”