From Sweethearts to Soulmates [A Stanford Pines x Reader]

Chapter 8

I saw Mabel's face droop from the corner of eye. "Oh! This story's so sad! I know what you two little broken teacups need: to hug it out! Hug it out! Hug train's comin' in the station. HUGAPOLOOZA! TWO THOUSAND!" Both brothers were facing away from one another, scowling as she tried to convince them to hug. She was obviously distressed, and she clearly wanted them to get along.

I was enthralled by Stan's story; I never really knew why Stan "moved out". Anytime I brought it up with Ford his eyes filled with unspoken pain and he shut down, often refusing to give more than one-word answers for the rest of the evening. I huffed a pitied laugh before Stan practically growled, "Kid, will ya knock that off? I'm tryin' to tell my life story here."

I had decided I wasn't gonna show my face at home until I made something of myself. Sometimes I saw him on the beach on a warm, sunny day and we'd chat as I helped with his metal detecting. He never told me why he'd left home, never gave me even a hint as to why. I wish I'd known; I could've helped him with his financial problems. I did have a job at that point, down at the local bookstore. I worked in the back room, categorizing the books in their different genres and as part of my pay I was allowed to pick a book I could buy for half price once a fortnight, so basically my dream job.

Unfortunately, the treasure-hunting business was slow going. Apparently gold was some kind of... rare metal. I remembered hunting through the old caves into the late afternoon, but Ford never joined us for one reason or another. It was always "I'm gonna get some study in tonight." or "I'm kind of tired, I'll catch up with you later." I only questioned him once but realized it was a touchy subject relatively quickly, the now familiar pain in his eyes surfaced again and I dismissed it, kissing his cheek, and telling him I was going to be back soon after. Whenever I slept over at his house, I stayed on the air mattress, leaving Stan's bunk empty and untouched. I missed his presence and it seemed, Ford did too. He was staying at a motel downtown and I didn't trust anyone he was associating with.

Luckily, I struck a different kind of gold... in sales.

He made a fair few commercials in his time, some airing on our TV at home. Ford didn't have the TV on at all after that, like he was deliberately trying to block out Stan's existence completely.

First he tried something called the "Sham Total". "Hi, I'm Stan Pines of Stan Co. Enterprises. Are you sick of this always happening to you?" Someone just offscreen threw a pitcher of juice over his shirt. I almost swore, it reminded me so much of that girl throwing punch over the most amazing boy in the world. I remember the smell, girl in the blue dress with the dark eyes and that mischievous smile, the cold of the ocean and the coin in my hand. "Then you need the Shammy of the future!" He began to wipe himself down and then the editor cut to him with a new shirt. "Made with the same material astronauts use to clean up cranberry stains on the moon!" My eyes narrowed before I burst into laughter. Really? "That's the Sham Total! It's a total sham!" I remember being doubled over on my carpet at this point, crying with laughter. Even today, I still let out a small chuckle at the slogan.

I had made my mark, all right. Unfortunately, so did the Shammies. Apparently, the cheap dye I used to colour them made stains worse. An angry mob swarmed him on the beach, shaking pitchforks and torches at him.

Customers went crazy about that. Fortunately, they were using Stan Co. brand pitchforks. Then every single one of their pitchforks fell to bits as Stan ran for his car, driving away yelling out the window. "SUCKERS!"

I was officially banned from New Jersey, but with a quick name change, Steve Pinington was ready to take on Pennsylvania.

The only way I ever saw Stan during those times was through various commercials. If I couldn't watch them on TV, I'd look them up online. I watched all of them, trying to piece together what had happened to my best friend. I was told he "wanted to travel the world", but that was a dream he always shared with Ford. Ford kept me in the dark on where Stan had gone and I'm pretty sure he lost track as well.

I saw the second commercial a few weeks later. Stan had a fake moustache plastered on his face and introduced himself as someone called Steve Pinington. I put down my takeaway soda and looked up from my algebra textbook. "Hi! I'm Steve Pinington!" He pulled at a Band-Aid on his arm. "Are you sick of bandages that are hard to remove? Then what you need is the Rip Off! The Rip Off won't give you rashes, I repeat it won't give you rashes." The words flashed on screen for a few seconds.

It gave ya rashes. An angry mob chased him all the way to the border before he sped off.

I travelled the whole country, sometimes outside of it, always one step ahead of the law, looking for something that would be my big break.

"Woah. So that explains all the fake IDs." Mabel said, realization was mixed with an undertone of relief in her bouncy voice. Dipper turned to Ford who was scribbling furiously in a journal. "But wait, what about you? Did you end up going to your dream school?" Ford sighed. "Not exactly." I settled in, a small smile etching itself onto my face. Our collage years were so much fun...

"Alright, I know Backupsmore wasn't anyone's first choice, but what we lack in prestige, we make up for in mostly bug-free dorms! I'm sure your families are proud, more or less." He didn't love the place, but the school shared its grounds with the one next door, that happened to be the school I was attending. His focused more on Maths and Science, while mine focused on English and Art, the two things I loved.

We both had Wednesday afternoons off, so that became our date night. Just a movie, maybe a dance or two, pure bliss. A night to ourselves, no one else, where we would sneak up to the hill behind the schools and stargaze, talking and laughing till the early hours of the morning. Then we'd say our respective goodbyes and he'd kiss my cheek softly. Sometimes I'd steal a proper kiss from him before slipping into my building, leaving him flustered and dazed outside.

In a place like that, I had to work twice as hard. Luckily, that's what I do best. I went from undergrad to PhD three years ahead of schedule, wrote a thesis that was nationally ranked, and was awarded an enormous grant for my own scientific research! But what to study. It was his fingers that gave him the passion. The passion to find others like him, freaks, as he called himself. I constantly had to remind him that I loved him with all my heart and soul, even with his "flaws" that he so often pointed out.

My whole life I'd been teased for my six fingers. But that got my thinking about anomalies: things that were odd, unusual, statistically improbable. And according to my investigations, there was one place with a higher concentration of these things than anywhere else. A smile slipped across my face as I played with my hair, turning my flushed gaze to the concrete floor.

It was a cool summers evening, in late August. We were up on the hill, looking out over the trees below us, wondering what could be in there. He turned to me, a shimmer in his eyes. He turned away from me, rustling through his bag and pulling out a small box, which he handed to me. "I hope you enjoy it; I know it's not much." I smiled, opening the purple box to find a small locket. I placed the box down carefully and popped open the locket.

Inside were two pictures; one of me, bright-eyed and bushy tailed in my prom dress from high school, and him. He was in a gorgeous blue tux, facing away from the camera and looking up to the night sky. I closed the locket softly to find a tear trailing down my cheek. "It's sort of like a promise ring, since we can't get married yet." I placed it in his hand.

"Would you like to do the honours?" He nodded and I turned my back to him, pulling the hair off my neck. When it was clasped in place, I turned back to him, launching myself into his arms. He laughed and I joined in. He kissed my head, looking down at me.

"Y/n, I'll be honest, you are the most amazing person I've ever me and I'm so amazingly grateful that you're with me. I'm going away to a small town called Gravity Falls after graduation next year to study anomalies, and I wanted to know if you'd come with me." I pecked his lips.

"I'd love too, Fordsie."

A small lumber town in roadkill country, Oregon: Gravity Falls.