#Fiddleford Hardon McGucket

[brightdrawings]

Crystal Meet Cute

My secret Santa gift for @mother-ofthe-universe. They wanted something to do with their Stanley Universe Au. And my fiddstan heart felt kinship for a scene they described. They enjoyed it so I hope you all enjoy it too (and be sure to check out their work too, they have some really fun au's)

(also on ao3!)

Fiddleford gave a heavy sigh. Greasy's diner wasn’t the best place to eat. As is the name, the food was greasy, and the coffee was too watery. Then again, that isn’t why most people came out to this diner in the middle of the town. At least Fiddleford dearly hoped no one was coming out to Greasy’s for the food. For most it was a convenient and criminally cheap place to eat.

But for Fiddleford McGucket, a visit to Greasy’s in the morning was a chance to socialize. Working with Stanford Pines wasn’t bad, he was his best friend after all. However, knowing Stanford as well as he did, he knew the man was averse to meeting people, and heaven forbid he spoke with them. And while he did love his friend dearly, there was only so many times he could talk about their latest research notes or their next DDmD game plan. 

Fiddleford needed to talk to people, different people, new people. And while the townsfolk were odd, they were at least interesting for conversation. From the fellow southerner who ran the car dealership, to the loud lumberjack, even the aspiring news presenter entered through Greasy’s always open doors. Everyone had their own lives with their own stories to share. And Fiddleford enjoyed listening to each and every one. He was more than eager to share some of his own.  It helped break down the confusion surrounding Stanford and his research, and in some instances made it worse. 

Unfortunately today was shaping up to be a rather quiet morning. Winter in Oregon was harsher than some places. And this morning seemed worse than usual, 6 inches of snow with more expected throughout the day, made it no wonder as to why the diner was empty. It seemed that most of the town was taking their time in getting out of bed. Fiddleford wasn’t afforded that luxury as his roommate and employer had a strict schedule for observing nature, and any desire to avoid frostbite was considered irrelevant.

He was ready to pick himself up, and leave the empty diner when the door opened. Working for a few months in Gravity Falls had gotten Fiddleford used to the locals, even to the  oddities that tried to blend in among them, but the man who walked through the diner door was not something or one he had seen before. He had long curled hair that reached his back, a familiar square jaw and a cheeky grin. But the oddest part, from where Fiddleford stood at least, was the fact that the man was walking around in a T-shirt in this blistering cold.

“Heya Susan!” the man called in a gravelly voice. “Give me the usual. With extra sugar.”

“Comin’ right up Stan.” Susan called back with her usual cheerful tone. 

He walked into the diner, taking a seat a couple of booths down from Fiddleford. Looking down at his coffee, Fiddleford felt a wave of curiosity and sympathy wash over him. He picked up his mug and made his way to this ‘Stan’. He stopped next to the booth before speaking. “Mornin’ Stan.” Fiddlefod said with his friendliest smile. “Is this seat taken?”

“Mornin’ to you too Mac, how’d you get my name?” Stan said, he reached a hand into his pocket and gave Fiddleford a quick once over. 

“Hard to miss it with Susan yellin’ it across the diner.” Fiddleford chuckled. “I don’t have time to come to town for long, so I try to talk to anyone I can before I have to go back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah. take a seat if you want.” Stan withdrew his hand from his pocket and pointed to the seat opposite him. His attention engrossed in the worn out menu in front of him.

“What’s your usual? If’n you don’t mind me asking.” Fiddleford took his seat, placing his coffee on the table.

“Black.” Stan said flatly.

“Smart, smart. The coffee here don’t taste too good if you ask me.” Fiddleford spoke behind his hand. Not wanting to hurt Susan’s feelings with his words.

“Like having sex on a canoe.” Stan rolled his eyes. “So what’s your name Mr. Talks-a-lot.” 

“My name is Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.” Fiddleford proudly offered his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Fidds.” Stan hardly looked up from his menu. Fiddleford could see that the other man was scanning through the page quickly. His eyes went from price then to menu item. Watching someone else in a similar situation to him when he was in college hurt Fiddleford’s heart. He was about to say something else when something on the back of Stan’s menu caught his eyes, and an idea sparked to life in his mind.

“Susan!” Fiddleford called. “Can I get two plates of waffles please?”

“Comin’ Right up Fiddleford!” Susan replied

“You sure a string bean like you can eat more than one?” Stan smirked.

“Oh one’s for you Stan.” Fiddleford smirked. 

“Hey hey, I ain't got the dough for something like that.” Stan said quickly. He placed both hands on the table.

“No no! Don’t worry. This is on me.” He flipped over Stan’s menu and pointed at a post-it note that had a ‘2 for 1’ deal written on it.

“The hell’s this?” Stan scoffed.

“Just between us, but I heard a rumor that these menus were real pricey for Susan to get printed. So when she has specials and people don’t read the board, she puts notes on the menus to get more people buyin’ food.” Fiddleford whispered behind his hand.

“How do I know you didn’t stick this one when I wasn't looking?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “You were the only other guy here before I walked in.”

“How would I know which booth you could sit in and plant a note there?”Fiddleford asked. “What am I Psychic?”

“I know a couple, that’s more likely than you think.” Stan squinted.

“There’s an easy solution for this.” Fiddleford turned to the window to the kitchen. “Susan, is the 2 for 1 still available?” 

“Yessire!” Susn replied cheerfully. She waved her spatula at Fiddleford to punctuate her cheer.

“Right. Yeah okay. So long as I don’t gotta pay for nothin’ I guess I don’t mind.” Stan slipped back in his seat. He turned his gaze away from the cheerful southerner. 

“Trust me, the food might live up to the name and the coffee might not be great but they’re better together than alone.” Fiddleford said.

“I heard that Gucket.” Susan said bitterly from the kitchen.

“Sorry Susan.” Fiddleford said, his ears turning red while Stan chuckled at his embarrassment. 

The pair sat together, patiently waiting for their food to arrive. As expected it was greasy and would have been much better if made at home. But a full stomach of greasy waffles was preferable to an empty stomach. There was also that added benefit of losing some of the tension Fiddleford felt surrounding Stan like a protective mist. Once their food was eaten, their watery coffee drank and their bill paid, the pair left the diner together.

“Don’t you got some job you gotta go to?” Stan asked as they walked through the town. Several stores had lifted their shutters and were finally opening their doors to customers. 

“Why do you ask Stan?” Fiddleford wore a cheeky grin. “Eager to get rid of me?”

“No but I don't want your boss to give you any shit for being late or nothing.” Stan said. He chewed his cheek.

“Don’t worry about that. If my ‘boss’ gets upset about me talking with people in town then he should get off his high horse and finally take a break.” Fiddleford bumped Stan’s with his elbow.

“Sounds like he’s got a stick up there.” Stan smirked.

“He does sometimes.” Fiddleford nodded.

“Reminds me of someone.” Stan sighed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“I’m nowhere near that cheap,” Stan said with a small smirk.

“I’ll make sure to save up for next time then.” Fiddleford smiled in return.

The pair walked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Fiddleford came to a complete halt.

“You okay string bean?” Stan asked.

“Stanley, could you wait a moment?” Fiddleford didn’t wait for the other man’s response. Instead he dashed into a store a few places in front of them.

It took a few minutes but Fiddleford soon returned, with a large paper bag in hand and a wide grin on his face. He looked around and found Stanley leaning against a tree, hands in pockets and eyes in the sky. Fiddleford was quick to walk over to Stanley and handed him the paper bag.

“What’s this?” Stanley asked. “I already told you Fidds I ain't got dough on me.”

“You’re walking around in a T-shirt in the middle of winter.” Fiddleford put his hands on his hips. “I know that some men say that they don’t ‘feel the cold’ when they reach a certain age but my Ma don’t believe in such a thing and neither do I.”

“That’s nice and all, but I still can’t pay you back.” Stan repeated.

“It’s a gift.” Fiddleford said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I dunno, feels kinda weird.” Stan said.

“Did ya turn down gifts from Santa?”Fidds asked

“I’m Jewish”

“Did you turn down gifts from your family on Hanukkah?” Fidds insisted, unwavering in his generosity.

“Alright alright!” Stan rolled his eyes. “Just don’t make a scene.” 

Fiddleford watched eagerly as Stan opened the paperbag and removed his gift. It was a thick jacket with red sleeves and a hood. On the forearm of each sleeve was an orange fin. There was a long fin that ran along the back and on to the hood of the jacket. The hood also had a pair of large cartoon-y eyes. The chest of the jacket had a gradient that went from purple to blue. The fabric all over had a scale pattern, bringing the fish look of the jacket together.

“What the hell am I looking at?” Stan asked, unable to stop himself chuckling.

“That store has some of the best novelty outfits and stuff you can find.” Fiddleford said with an ear to ear grin. “I bought my boss a pineapple Hawaiian shirt with a pair of pink palm tree sunglasses to match from that store.” 

 “That sounds awful.” Stan chuckled. 

“He said the same thing.” Fiddleford said. “So, do you like it?” 

“Let me try it on first.” Stan said. “Gotta make sure the teeth aren’t inside to stab me.”

“I think that’s the role of the zipper.” 

Fiddleford watched as Stanley slipped the jacket over his thin T-shirt. It hung a little loosely on his body, but Fiddleford could see a small smile spread across Stan’s mouth as the warmth of the jacket began to spread across his body.

“Weeell?” He asked, unable to hide his giddy grin

“It’s nice.” Stan said in a quiet voice. “Real nice.”

Fiddleford gave Stan a firm handshake and wished him well. He quickly made his way to his car to return to his work. What he didn't see as he pulled out and waved one more goodbye to Stan was the man desperately trying to hold back his tears at the first real gift he’s received in years.

#Gravity Falls #Gravity Falls Fic #Stanley Pines #Stan pines #fiddleford mcgucket #Fiddleford Hardon McGucket #Old Man McGucket #Fiddstan #Fiddlestan #Stanley Universe #Grunkle Stan #Stan isn't exactly his mullet age in this #but a little younger #Fidds really needs to force Ford to get out more #hope y'all enjoy

[anoonzee]

Whatever your headcanon for Fiddleford is (M/M or M/F), remember that he's eyeballing your butt.

#fidds is an ass-man #fiddleford HARDON mcgucket #mcfucket #I swear I am not drunk

[introvert-no-chameleon]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Stan Pines Characters: Fiddleford H. McGucket, Stan Pines, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines Additional Tags: Panic Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, Old Married Couple, Recovering Fiddleford H. McGucket, POV Fiddleford H. McGucket, Stan Pines is a Good Brother Summary:

Fiddleford Hardon McGucket expected some chaos when Stanley's Great-Niece and Nephew visited their home in Gravity Falls. He just didn't expect this much of it.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #stanley pines #dipper and mabel #that's right folks it's another fiddleford fic #he deserves good things your honor #the title might change later i just really wanted to post this #fiddlestan

[artmageddonunicorn]

You all said I was crazy, but who’s crazy now? Me! Crazy prepared.

fiddleford hardon mcgucket, building the memory gun and the security room

#gravity falls #fiddleford mcgucket #incorrect quotes

[brightdrawings]

Sticky Solution

my first writing commission for @hubbabubbagumpop featuring everyone's favourite ship Fiddstan!

Fiddleford's work with Stanford has gotten him into trouble with his boyfriend Stanely. Now Stan is rightfully upset. Can Fidds find a way to make it up to his boyfriend?

(Also on ao3!)

---

Fiddleford gave a sigh. He knew that today would be difficult, but that didn’t prepare him for dealing with it. Before him, sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen was a very obviously pouting Stanley Pines. A plate stacked high with pancakes stood in front of him, syrup lovingly poured on top, and despite that he still made sure to turn away from Fiddleford every time the southerner tried to make eye contact with him. 

Fiddleford flipped another pancake and hummed to himself. Stanley always was a tough nut to crack. Even getting the stubborn man to confess to having feelings for him felt like trying to wrestle a pig while covered in grease. The man was all flirtatious to hell and back, not even being cornered had him confess. It took the combined effort of Stan's twin brother, Stanford, along with Fiddleford to get Stan to finally confess his feelings for Fiddleford. 

When Fiddleford had come to Gravity Falls to help Stanford Pines with his research on [redacted] he hadn’t expected to fall in love with his employer’s brother. This added a spanner to his schedule. Normally Fiddleford wouldn’t have minded losing most of his free time to work on the project. That was before he would find himself leaving Stanley’s warm bed in the early hours of the morning for the cold basement of the shack. Odd working hours would normally not be an issue, however, when one is at a restaurant with his boyfriend, you don’t normally want to be dragged out for some lycan-moth research.

It was one thing after another, and Fiddelford could see it on Stanley’s face. Their first dates were full of racked nerves, awkward banter and playful teasing. Now Stanley could hardly muster the effort to suggest leaving the house, lest he have to drive home on his own again. It weighed heavily on Fiddleford’s chest knowing that his choice of his work over his love had lowered his Stanley’s cheeky grin to a sour frown.

Fiddleford tightened his grip on the frying pan before flipping the last cake into a plate next to the stove. He put away his apron and joined Stanley at the table. The other man was still giving him the cold shoulder, but this didn’t discourage Fiddleford. He knew that wounds this deep would take time to heal, and having been raised on a farm, Fiddleford knew a thing or two about being patient.  

“Are you enjoyin’ breakfast Stanley?” Fiddleford asked.

“Is fine.” Stanley said bluntly. He didn’t look up from his food. 

Taking the hint Fiddleford finished eating in silence. He finished his breakfast and left the room. He wondered how he could get his boyfriend to speak with him again. It wasn’t until he confronted him in the living room about his behavior that he got a chance to properly speak with Stan.

“Stanley, I've been trying to make it up to you all week.” Fiddleford said, throwing his arms down. “I know you’re pissed but you could at least talk to me.”

“You’re damn right I’m pissed Fidds. Three months. Three months we’d been saving up, planning, fuck we even got those stupid suits for that restaurant.”  Stanley threw up his arms. “And then you just fucking left me. For what? Some stupid fairies?”

“I…” Fiddleford stared at the floor.

“And this ain’t the first time Fidds.” Stanley continued, his voice growing louder with each word. 

 “You’ve been running to Ford all the time. When we’re in town, when we’re having lunch.” His eyes began to well up with tears. 

There was a moment of quiet as Stanley tried to catch his breath.

“Do you know how shitty it is to wake up alone in bed every day for a month?” Stanley let out a pathetic sniffle.

Fiddleford felt weak in the knees. His cheeks were burning and there were hot tears starting to form under his eyes. How could he have been so blind. 

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry Stanley.” Fiddleford said quietly.

“Yeah? And?” Stanley stared him down. “Just cause you’re sorry don’t mean you won’t go back to work. You’ve been saying sorry every time but that doesn’t change anything, does it?”

Fiddleford gulped. “Can I have a second chance? Please.” he raised his gaze to meet Stan’s. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

“Fine, sure.” Stan sighed. “‘S not like things can get worse.”

****

Fiddleford paced around a clearing not too far from the shack. With the awkward tension between both twins, he needed the time alone to gather his thoughts. Plus the fresh air was something he was sorely missing. At least that was the plan, however as he was walking out the door, he was cornered by Stanford who handed him the shape-shifting alien they had found a few months back and had taken in as a pet.

“Shifty needs some fresh air.” Stanford said quickly before disappearing into the basement.

Fiddleford sighed and carried the slimey sprog in the baby harness that the three of them had bought for it. On his way out the door Fiddleford grabbed a newspaper for Shifty to read and scurried to the nearest clearing in the woods.

“Okay, so Stanley needs something big to cheer him up.” Fiddleford said, tapping his chin. 

Shifty made a squelching noise. Its harness was taken off and left on a rock so it could move but couldn’t escape. Beside it was the newspaper. It would flick over a page every so often, making baby-like giggles at the bright colours it saw.

“Right, and I can't just do that overnight.” Fiddleford gesticulated as he spoke. “Can’t grow a tree in a day, but I have to try.”

“Bekh.”

“Ugh, you’re right. Even if I give him a date to end all dates that won’t mean anything if Ford comes running. And that’s not considering future endeavors.” Fiddleford sighed. He walked over and took a seat on the rock next to Shifty.

“Coo-Woo!” Shifty cheered. It had turned a page of the newspaper.

“What are you even saying.” Fiddleford shook his head. 

“Coo-Woo!” Shifty repeated. They stuck their tiny arms in the air.

Fiddleford picked up the shape shifter and took a look at the page it was staring at. It had a picture of several clowns with sharp teeth and brightly coloured blasters chasing after some people. On the other page was an advert for some promotional decaffeinated coffee. “Killer Clowns from Outer space?” He read.

“Cloon…” Shifty tried repeating after Fiddleford. 

“Well, he does enjoy clowns. If that recent home invasion arrest is anything to go by.” Fiddleford said under his breath. “Plus this looks schlocky as anything. But how do I deal with Stanford?”

“Stafford!” The shape shifter cheered, wiggling in Fiddleford’s hand. 

“You know, you might be onto something.” Fiddleford looked at the shapeshifter, an idea forming in his mind.

 Xxx

Stanley held his armrest in the car with a white knuckle grip. It wasn’t unusual for others to drive cars. In fact many would argue that that was in fact a normal part of real life. However, there was a difference between other people driving in different cars, and someone else driving his car. But Fiddleford had promised him that this was important, and despite their argument, Stan couldn’t say no to his boyfriend.

He was so distracted by Fiddleford driving that he hadn’t noticed where they were driving to. It wasn’t until they had parked and walked past the sign listing the films playing at the cinema that he pieced it together. 

“Killer Clowns?” Stan smirked. “How’d you know I wanted to see that?”

“I’ll never tell.” Fiddleford winked.

“Well you probably drank some science juice from Ford’s lab and read my mind.” Stan dug his hands into his pockets while fiddleford paid for their tickets. “Speaking of the nerd, you said you found a way to stop him from cutting our dates short. Wanna spill the beans on that? Or is that also part of your magician act?”

“We’ll see by the time we get back.” Fiddleford promised. “Now lets see how many snacks we can pocket without having to pay.”

“God I love you.” Stan said, following Fiddleford with a spring in his step.

Meanwhile, back in the shack. Stanford was laying deep asleep at his desk. His usual coffee mug had been spiked with decaf. However, the reason he truly would not be able to move was the shapeshifter, sleeping on his lap like a cat. Weighing him down with the weight of a thousand suns.

#Gravity Falls #Fiddstan #Fiddlestan #Fiddleford Hardon Mcgucket #Can i consider this my fiddleford friday post? #Stanley Pines #Stan Pines #Grunkle Stan #Mystery Trio #Shifty #Shape Shifter #old man mcgucket #Thank you for the first commission Hubba! <3

[introvert-no-chameleon]

Of Monsters and McGuckets

Fiddleford just wanted to have his morning coffee in peace, but Gravity Falls and the Stan brothers had other plans.

AO3

Fiddleford Hardon McGucket considered himself to be a patient, level-headed individual. One had to be if they ever hoped to survive Gravity Falls, and, even more daunting, live with Stanford and Stanley Pines. Keeping them in line was an occupation in itself. His co-workers were two of the most chaotic and morally questionable people he’d ever met in his life. (Then again, as someone who had once made a giant robot to terrorize his ex-wife in an admittedly misguided attempt to get her back, maybe he shouldn’t be throwing stones in that last department).

The point is, when it came to dealing with uncommon and frustrating situations, he usually managed to keep a straight head. But on one deceivingly lovely morning, just when he’d went out to the porch to sit back with a nice cup of coffee and the sun had just begun to kiss the horizon, he saw two large monsters sprinting towards the shack, and. Well.

It was only reasonable that he’d react the way he did.

The first thing he did was spit out his early-morning coffee, ruining his only clean tie in the process. The second thing he did was dash into the shack like the Devil Himself was on his heels. Lastly, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and began combing the living room for the shotgun he knew for a fact Stanley kept around. He thanked the Lord Stanford wasn’t here, lest he’d be chastising Fiddleford for “harming” (defending himself against) a perfectly healthy specimen. Never mind the fact that half of these subjects of study had tried to eat him, no sir. Scientific discovery was always more important.

(Sometimes, Fiddleford wondered how on God’s green earth Stanford Pines hadn’t fallen to his death into a ravine or some other nonsense in pursuit of an anomaly. Heaven knows the man, while undeniably brilliant, was severely lacking when it came to common sense).

A bang rattled the wooden door of the shack. Fiddleford yelped, dropping the pile of books he’d been in the process of moving in his scramble to find the gun. He eyed the secret lab entrance and wondered if the door would hold them back long enough for him to make a dash for it.

“Fidds, we saw you run in, will ya just open the door?”

Fiddleford froze. That voice, while even more gravelly than usual (a thing he hadn’t thought possible) was definitely familiar.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” he said, dazed, as he walked over to the door and unlocked it. “Stanley?”

Upon closer inspection, he couldn’t deny that the square-jawed face that peered down at him belonged to Stanley Pines. There were some…notable…differences, such as the fact that he had glowing orbs for eyes, all his featured seemed to be carved from stone, he had ridiculous pointy ears and fangs to boot. He’d be right at home next to the gargoyles from those pictures of cathedrals he’d studied for his History of Western Art course.

“Took ya long enough,” said Stanley, ducking his head under the doorway and lumbering inside. Each step made the floorboard groan loudly, and for a few seconds Fiddleford thought the man would break through the wood floor. “Thought we’d never get back.”

“Stanferd, do ya have…fur?” said Fiddleford, stepping away from the door to let the other man in.

Stanford—it couldn’t be anyone else, not with that straight-backed posture and furrowed brow peering over thick-rimmed glasses—walked in behind him, hands behind his back.

 Hearing the question, Stanford adjusted his glasses, with a large, six-fingered paw. His facial features were lion-esque, as was his entire body, save from the colorful green, blue and red feathered wings that trailed behind his body. He even had a cute little lion tail poking out from a hole in his pants. “It appears so, yes.” He cleared his throat. “We may have a…problem.”

Stanley, who had gone to the fridge to get a beer, came back glaring at Stanford with those bright yellow orbs. “No shit, Sixer. I hadn’t fucking noticed.”

Stanford’s ears flattened against his skull. Fiddleford would’ve found it amusing if Stanford wasn’t now 7 feet tall and didn’t have large, sharp teeth. “Language, Stanley.”

Fiddleford considered grabbing some alcohol as he took in the situation. After a few attempts at forming words, he finally settled for the question he found himself asking on a near-daily basis. “What in tarnation did ya two get yerselves mixed up in now?”

“Oi, don’t look at me,” said Stan. He jerked his clawed thumb at Stanford. “Mr. Science here was the one who just had to walk right into a mysterious, glowing lake that he almost drowned in.”

Stanford’s tail twitched, and he growled. “We almost drowned, Stanley, because you turned into 300 pounds of moving stone.”

“I was only in the lake because you started flailing around growing a tail and screamin’ for help!”

Ford sniffed, chin held up in that way it got whenever he’d start getting defensive. “Swimming with wings is incredibly difficult.”

“Yeah, I would know, I have them now.” Stanley stretched out his bat-like wings for emphasis.

Judging by Stanford’s bloodshot eyes and Stanley’s slouched posture, along with the fact that they seemed even more short with each other than usual, Fiddleford guessed that they’d been arguing on and off about this for a while. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Now see right here, the two of ya best calm down, you’ll tear the shack apart if you start fighting bein’ like this.”

The two of them, while far from calm, quieted down.

“Right,” said Fiddleford. “So ya discovered some magic water that turns folks into monsters?”

“Yup,” said Stanley. “We found it in some hidden path behind some bushes and a couple of boulders.”

It’s almost as if it was hidden away for a reason. “Did ya at least remember where the path is?”

“Of course,” said Stanford, having the audacity to look indignant. “What do you take me for?”

“An idiot who got us turned into two walking Summerween costumes because he couldn’t just collect the water in a cup and some gloves like a normal scientist?” said Stanley.

“As if you would know what a “normal” scientist does,” said Stanford, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alright, fellas. Let me just get some food in me and then we can go back out and get some samples,” said Fiddleford. “I need me some caffeine to deal with this.”

Stanford opened his mouth but Fiddleford stopped him with the same withering glare he’d give his son whenever he tried to step out of line. “Stanferd Pines, if ya think I’m gonna run around the woods with the two of you, in this here state, on an empty stomach, yer sorely mistaken.”

“Fidds has got a point,” said Stan. “You probably haven’t had anything other than that piece of toast since you woke up.”

“I suppose some food wouldn’t hurt…” said Stanford. “I did have an incredibly strong urge to maul a deer we spotted on the way over.”

Fiddleford was getting some bacon out of the fridge when he heard the end of the sentence. He straightened up and slammed the door with more force than strictly necessary. “Y-ya did?”

Stanford seemed to come to the same conclusion Fiddleford had, because he raised his paws up. “Oh, n-no, rest assured. I don’t have any inclination to eat you.”

“Thank the Lord…”

“After all,” said Stanford, rubbing his chin. “According to mythology, sphinxes only consume humans if they are unfortunate enough not to know the answers to their riddles.”

“Don’t I feel better,” said Fiddleford, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do ya reckon ya can still have some bacon and eggs?”

“Yes, that’ll do,” he said. “Oh! I must write down our findings in my journal. Now, where did I put it…” Stanford went up the stairs, muttering to himself the entire way.

“Ya know, he actually started running on all fours at least twice on the way over.” Stan grinned through another sip of beer. “was the funniest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Fiddleford sighed. That would explain the fighting. He rolled his eyes as he saw Stanley reach in the fridge for another can and shut it before he could. “Stanley Pines, it is 8 o’clock in the morning.”

“Ooh,” Stanley raised his eyebrows. “Two last names in less than five minutes, it’s a new record.”

“Stanley.”

Stanley pouted, and even with his new…physical features, Fiddleford still found it endearing. “Aw, come onnnn, Fids, I’m emotionally distressed!”

“Yer no such thing.” He smiled a soon as back turned to the other man. He took out their skillet and placed it on the stove.

“Y’know, I gotta hand it to ya. You’ve gotten a lot more assertive since we’ve met, it’s kinda hot.”

“Yer flattery will not sway me into lettin’ ya get another drink.”

Stanley laughed behind him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still bein’ serious. Ford didn’t even try to fight you about getting breakfast. If it was me, he’d be yelling at me by now about how we were wastin’ time and crap.”

“It doesn’t take much for the two of ya to get at each other’s necks.” Fiddleford cracked an egg on the edge of the skillet. Anyhow, that’s because he’s hiding away scribblin’ field notes. The moment he’s done, he’ll be tryin’ to drag us on out of here.”

“Eh, true.”

For a moment, the eggs sizzling and snapping on the pan filled the warm silence. His stomach grumbled as the savory smell of cooking food reached him. “Stanley, can ya hand me the coffeepot?”

The floorboards creaked behind Fiddleford. A shadow loomed over him. “Stanley?”

“…You’re not, uh, scared of me or nothin’?” Stanley’s voice had gotten so quiet Fiddleford had hardly heard him.

Fiddleford glanced back at Stanley, who despite his size was hunched over, looking mighty small for someone who was now a literal boulder.

“Why on earth would I be?”

Stanley blinked meekly. He gestured towards his entire body. “Uh…’cause I look like this?”

Ah. He did try to threaten them with a shotgun. Some of the unease he’d gotten rid of returned, but he tried his best not to show it. He swallowed down his fear as best as he could. “Should I be?”

Stanley frowned. “Eh, I mean, I feel different, but not in a “eat somebody” kinda way. I do have a very strong urge to perch on the roof and attack pigeons.”

“Fascinating.” Even without his caffeine, his scientific curiosity was finally starting to get the best of him. “Well, gargoyles are known as guardians meant to ward against evil. Perhaps you’ve developed some sorta protective instinct…”

He stopped mid-ramble. Even without eyes to speak of, Fiddleford could tell Stanley was avoiding his gaze.  

Fiddleford brought his hand to Stanley’s cheek. It felt warm, to his surprise, like rock that had baked under the afternoon sun. Stanley peeked up at him. “Darlin’, the only thing I’m afraid of is the damage you’ll cause around the lab if we don’t turn ya back. Yer like a bull in a china closet as it is.”

Stanley chuckled, leaning into Fiddleford’s touch. “Somebody has ta make things interesting around here.”

Something crashed overhead, quickly followed by a string of curses. A series of heavy objects thumped against the wood overhead.

“I’m alright!” called Stanford’s voice. “I simply knocked a bookshelf over my person, but this new form is surprisingly durable!”

“Things are interestin’ enough as it is,” said Fiddleford, his brief moment of curiosity gone as soon as it came. “Where in tarnation is the coffeepot?”

“Relax, Fiddlenerd, I’ll make ya a fresh one.” He went over by his side, giving him a playful shove that sent Fiddleford to the ground. “…Oops. Sorry, uh, forgot about the whole…stone thing.”

Fiddleford glowered up at his boyfriend, taking his hand as he helped Fiddleford back up. “Yer lucky a got a soft spot fer ya, else I’d be mighty cross.”

Stanly gave him the gentlest peck on the top of Fiddleford’s head. “Once I have my human body back, I’ll make it up to ya.”

Stanley gave him a cup of his precious lifeblood, black with two sugars, just as he liked it. Smirking, Fiddleford took a sip, getting warmed by more than just the coffee. “I’ll hold ya to that.”

*

Somebody please give Fiddleford a raise. 

Comment on what monster you all think Fidds should be, and I may do a second part. I've read some people make him a scarecrow, and I considered making him a centaur.

#mystery trio au #mystery trio #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #young fiddleford #young stanley pines #young stanford pines #young stan bros #fluff #fiddlestan #monster falls #gargolye!stan #sphinx!ford