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The Pines twins had returned to Gravity Falls.
Ford and Stan had spent the time following weirdmaggendon voyaging aboard the Stan-o-war II: exploring the oceans, fighting monsters, and becoming best friends again.
About two years later when they were right off the coast of San Francisco, they were attacked by a massive kraken that nearly killed Ford. They sought out immediate care in the city (to the immense confusion of the healthcare workers) and were ultimately told to take a break from scuba diving.
The brothers decided to take a hiatus from exploring until Ford had recovered from his injuries, and what better place to do it than Gravity Falls!
There was one problem thought: aside from a retired army medic who's go to was amputation (even for minor colds), there was no practicing doctor in town. That is, except for Fiddleford McGucket, who had recently gotten a medical license on a whim. They employed his help to make sure Ford's recovery stayed on track and no further complications occurred.
After getting his memory erased to save the town from Bill, Stan quickly regained most of his memories. The odd thing was, that he had begun remembering things that he was sure had not been there before. Memories of people and places that didn't quite fit in with the rest, like a puzzle with extra pieces.
So far he had remembered that after Ford went into the portal, Fiddleford had made a return to the shack. His wife left him, and he was looking to help save is ex partner from his muse, only to discover someone else going by the same name in his place. After explaining the situation, Stan and Fiddleford had begun working together to bring Ford back for several years. Eventually, Fiddleford disappeared leaving Stan with no recollection of ever meeting him. Sometimes, he saw glimpses of the young scientist in the old man's newfound sanity.
Of course, Stan never told anyone this, not even Ford. He wasn't sure of the whole story yet, or if any of the stories in his head had ever been real. Regardless, he only wanted to share what was going on when he truly grasped what that was exactly.
A few months later, and Ford was near healed and ready to get back on the open ocean. However, Dipper and Mabel planned to come back to visit and celebrate their 15th birthday with their friends, so Stan and Ford stayed.
One day, Stan came back to the shack after some stealing some preparations for the twins' return and smiled to see Ford pacing the living room, passionately ranting about something to Fiddleford who sat amused on the sofa.
As Stan stepped into the room and dropped the goods by the door, Fiddleford turned his attention to him.
"Heya, Stanley." Then-
"Heya, Stanley."
Stan shut the door and turned to see Fiddleford lounging on the sofa, beer bottles littered the coffee table and floor around him.
Fidds was clearly drunk, if his flushed face and drowsy demeanor were any indication.
"Jesus man, does your liver even work anymore?" Stan asked tentatively as he hung up his coat.
Fidds chuckled and plopped his face in one hand. "Maaaaaybe."
"Well when it shrivels up I'm not paying for the hospital bills." Stan ran a hand through his hair and looked away because damn. Despite being drunk off his ass and an absolute idiot, Fiddleford looked as good as usual. His hair was mussed, and his shirt was unbuttoned just enough to get a peek at his sparse chest hair. Stan wanted more than anything to fix the glasses sitting crooked on Fidds' nose, but being that close to a man that handsome was a hazard.
Fidds gave a crooked smile and shrugged.
"Never asked you to."
Stan rolled his eyes hoping Fiddleford didn't notice the heat in his face which was weird because all the man had done was look hot and say he didn't expect him to do anything.
"What am I going to do with you?"
"I reckon I've got some ideas...." Fidds' face turned serious and his gaze became heated, bringing a full on flush to Stan's cheeks. He dragged his eyes up Stan's body with agonizing slowness, lingering on Stan's lips, before finally meeting his eyes.
Stan cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "Um. Well, you'll probably get a nasty hangover, so you should eat something, and uhh, drink some non-beer." Fidds was drunk. Really drunk. He misses his ex-wife. Giving Stan a weird look and saying some possibly suggestive things didn't mean he liked him back, did it? His stupid, one sided crush was intruding on his logic. Yeah, it's all in his head. Nothing to it.
"I do happen to know of somethin' I'd like to have in my mouth..." He smirked and his gaze flickered back to Stan's lips.
Nope. No. No no no no no no no way. Fidds is so drunk out of his mind, he thinks he, what? Wants Stan? Not a snowball's chance in hell. He's probably just drunk, and horny, and Stan just happens to be here. There's no way Fidds could really want him, is there? Always spare parts, the dumb twin. No one ever really wanted him, especially not motherfucking Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Fidds is smart, and handsome, and has a whole future and shit ahead of him, once this portal shit was over. No way he could want Stan to come in and tear it all to shreds. He'll only drag him down. Just like with Ford-No. There is no way. Stan won't allow it.
Stan took a step back as Fiddleford rose unsteadily and began stumbling towards him.
"You, uh, you don't know what your saying," he mumbled as he kept stepping back, "You're drunk. Really, really, drunk,"
Fiddleford didn't seem deterred at all The increasing proximity made Stan's insides twist.
"I may be drunk, but all that means is I've got the guts to do what I want I'm too chicken to do sober. And that-" he flashed that sweet, lopsided grin,"-includes you."
Stan's stomach flipped. If Fidds didn't stop soon, he'd do something stupid, like kiss him, and there was no way he could do that because Stan was an absolute professional at messing shit up. Maybe he could invest in that. "Stan Pines' Fuck-Up Shop: I Can And Will Ruin Anything!"
"You don't know what you're talking about. You're just drunk." Stan said firmly. This man might make him a stuttering mess, but he cared about him too much to let him do something he knew he'd regret. Everything he touched always went up in flames, and he wouldn't let himself burn Fiddleford.
"That's where you're wrong, Stanley. I think about you allllll the time." Stan finally hit the wall. "I have fantasies about you darlin'. I dream about having all types of fun with you." Fiddleford winked at him, but it ended up as more of a blink.
"Suckin your dick, and having you scream my name with that purdy little mouth of yours." Much to his horror, every word went straight to his cock Fidds took another unsteady step forward.
"And I know you like me too. You don't hide it very well, y'know." Fuck. Fiddleford was inches away. "Sometimes I catch you starin', out the corner of my eye. You look like a starving dog, and I'm a fresh slab of meat."
Stan felt just about ready to die. He was about 10 seconds away from pushing Fidds off of him, running out the door and out of the poor man's life.
Fidds sloppily traced a finger along Stan's jawline. "Darlin, I want you to tear me apart."
Before Stan could react, Fiddleford kissed him and he swore his soul came untethered. Oh God. Oh shit. He'd been wanting to feel this man's lips on his for so long he couldn't believe it was actually happening. He was flying. He was drowning. Fuck. Shit. He liked him. He kissed him. He wanted-
Guilt sent him hurtling back to reality. He'd let down every single person he'd ever cared about. his brother, his parents, countless lovers. He left them all either heartbroken or ashamed. The common denominator is him. He's the one that ruins it al-
Fiddleford bit down on Stan's lip. He gasped, and Fidds slipped his tongue into his mouth and Stan was lost in the other man's lips. Fidds was plenty handsome and plenty drunk, but damn, could he kiss.
Stanley and Fiddleford became a mess of groping hands and rabid tongues fighting for dominance. Fidds' ass felt better than Stan had imagined it, round and firm. He almost moaned when Fidds dragged his tounge up Stan's neck. Fidds' let out a ragged breath when Stan started kissing down his neck to his open shirt.
Then a thought occurred to him. Fidds was drunk and Stan was not. He had been in situations before where he'd fucked somebody that was while he was drunk. Though it felt good in the moment, he always felt more used and stupid and abandoned than ever the next day. He would never wish that on Fiddleford. Though he wanted to fuck Fidds,(and god, did he want to) he knew he would be taking advantage of him.
He gently pushed Fidds off of him.
"What's wrong?" Fidds asked sleepily, concern creasing his brow.
"You've told me you want me," he gently cradled Fidds' face, "but if you really do, you'll have to show me when your sober."
"But I'm fiiiiine," Fidds' eyes started to well up with tears, "Don'tcha like kissin me?"
"I love kissing you." Seeing him cry and knowing he was the reason almost broke Stan, but he couldn't let Fiddleford make his same mistakes. "I would like it a whole lot more if you didn't need to be drunk off your ass."
Fiddleford started full on sobbing, wiping snot and tear tracks away.
"But I always wanna kiss youu," he sobbed.
How could Stan ever deserve him? With a pained smile, he wiped the tears off of Fidds' cheeks.
"Then you'll have no problem doing it once the absolute monster of a hangover you're gonna have goes away. Now, let's get you to bed."
Stan managed to coax Fiddleford into drinking some water and eating a can of Spaghetti-Ms before he eased him into his bed.
As he got up to leave, Fiddleford caught his wrist. "Stayyy," he begged, staring up at Stan. He looked so sad,(and to be honest, Stan already missed his touch) so he climbed into the bed and after about three seconds, Fiddleford was dozing peacefully.
He looked so relaxed and angelic, so Stan convinced himself to let himself just have a few more minutes. He eventually fell asleep with Fidds' in his arms, at peace for once in too long.
The next morning, Stan realized that Fiddleford was no longer in the bed next to him. He slowly turned to get up and was surprised to see Fiddleford standing over him, still looking rumpled from sleep and anxious.
"What are you-"
"I'm sorry Stan, I'm so so sorry. I shouldn't have come onto you like that."
"What? It's ok we jus-"
Fiddleford raised a gun looking gadjet and pointed at his head and-
The memory fizzled away.
"You alright there Stan?" Ford's voice shook him from his memories. "You were staring into space for a good 5 minutes."
"Umm uhh yeah," What. The. Fuck. "I'm just gonna uhh vacuum the cat real quick..."
Stan hurried off before he had to really look a Fiddleford. He needed a few hours to completely rethink his entire life.