Little Dipper

Genius

"Here you are. Are those blankets warm enough?" The man asked, handing them mugs of hot cocoa. The one Dipper got said "World's Best Genius" on it, and looked home-made.

"Mmhm. Thank you." Mabel nodded.

"Can you really fix it? I'm going to be in serious trouble if you can't!" Blendin said nervously.

"Calm down, calm down." The man waved his hand dismissively. "There's NOTHING I can't do!" He took the tape-measure and went to another room.

"Dipper, when we get home, you're grounded." Mabel told him.

"Aww." Dipper pouted.

The pig snuggled up happily to Mabel and she smiled, hugging it. "I'm gonna call you Waddles." She said affectionately.

"Do we have visitors?" A sleepy voice said as a man stepped into the room, wearing flannel pajamas with banjos on them. "Oh, hello, y'all. Are you friends of Stanford's?"

"Stanford?" Dipper asked.

"We just needed a place to stay for the night. Our tool is broken, and we can't get home." Mabel explained.

"Tool?" The man walked over to tend the fire, holding a shawl around his shoulders with one hand. "Where did y'all come from?" He asked.

"The future!" Dipper said, before he could be hushed.

The man blinked at him sleepily before going into the other room for a bit. Then he came back out, yawned, and shook his head. "I'm too tired for this. Y'all have good luck with him and bless his heart for takin' on this task on top of all the others he already has." He walked back to what was most likely bed.

"I don't think he likes us." Dipper commented.

"He's just tired." Mabel assured him.

"I'm gonna go check on Mr. Stanford!" He hopped off the couch and went into the other room.

Bill poked his head out. "Kid, hold on. Maybe you should let him focus on his work." He whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Dipper whispered back. "He can't hear you."

Bill sighed. "I'm just...being careful."

Stanford was leaning over his desk, hard at work on the device. He didn't even seem to notice Dipper was there, much less that he was whispering to himself.

"Hi!" Dipper said. The man jolted in shock and looked over at him. "Can I watch?"

"Uhm...sure? I don't have another chair..." Stanford looked around.

"The other guy said your name was Stanford." Dipper said, walking over and peeking over the edge.

"Mm? Oh, you mean Fiddleford." The man shrugged. "He's not very happy with me, says I need to get to sleep and not take on new workloads." He rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. "I'm just not ready to sleep. When I sleep, I sleep too long. I just get so into my dreams."

"My uncle is named Stanford." Dipper said, getting up on his tip-toes.

"Is he? That's nice." Stanford was clearly trying to focus on the device.

"Can I help?" Dipper asked.

"You can help by not distracting me. I should have this finished for you by tomorrow, why don't you go get some sleep?" Stanford looked at him, then sighed a bit before rubbing at his eyes again.

"You have six fingers." Dipper commented.

He stopped his rubbing and looked at them. "Yyyyyyyes, I do..."