Chapter Text
It’s a beautiful, sunny summer day, and you’ve just walked headfirst into a cinderblock wall in the middle of a forest in Oregon you don’t remember being there before.
Your recent move to Oregon was unplanned, to say the least. Your move into a house with an old man and his niece and nephew was even less planned. And even less planned than that was your now-inescapable revelation that you have a crush on said old man.
The generosity he demonstrated by giving you a temporary home betrayed his gruffness from the start. And after living with him for the past few weeks, there’s definitely no denying the soft, gooey interior hidden away under his performatively hard exterior, however hard he may try to. Both you and the kids have drawn it out of him. You see it in the increasing amount of laughs the kids get out of him; you see it in the increasing amount of physical contact between the two of you.
You’d been growing more fond of him as he’d opened up, but the prospect of a crush did not even cross your mind until a few minutes ago, when you were on your way out the front door to take your place on the porch couch, and Waddles ran through the gift shop with his fez, and he barreled in after the pig, barreling right into you, and then on top of you after his momentum overtook you, both of you crashing to the floor. He thankfully caught himself, each hand on either side of your neck, one knee in between your thighs, and your heart flopped in your chest for a moment. You originally chalked that flop up to the shock of suddenly being on the floor, but once he started turning pink, stood and helped you up with one strong grab, overcorrecting the amount of force he’d need to do so, pulling you into his chest, giving you a noseful of his cheap cologne that you previously thought was tolerable at best but in that moment smelled better than ever, then stuttering an apology, placing his hands on your shoulders and pushing you back a few inches, letting the hands remain for just a few seconds longer than needed, his eyes locked with yours with a certain urgency in his gaze you couldn’t place, then stuttering another apology, then finally running off, and your heart was still flopping…
Well. There’s just no going back from that.
As he stepped away and continued his chase after the pig, you remained immobile. One thought dominating all others.
Oh, no.
A walk in the forest was your meditation of choice. Surely a nice dose of nature would help you reconcile this new, exhilarating, terrifying swirl of feelings. You’d been walking for about twenty minutes, wandering off any previously established trails, eyes stuck to the ground as your mind raced with thoughts such as “This explains why I can’t stop looking at his arms”, “Oh god I want to kiss him ”, “Oh jesus I want to do so, so much more than that ”, and, more than any others:
“I’m so screwed.”
You said that one out loud just before making contact with a wall of stone.
You step back, immensely frustrated at first, then a little concerned. You’re well acquainted with the weirdness of the town by now, but this is a new one. As far as you know, there’s no precedent for sudden spawning architecture in the forest.
Well, you correct yourself, there’s not a lot of precedent for much of anything here.
You step back and inspect it further. It’s not just one wall- it’s four of them, each about twenty feet wide, ten feet tall, forming a room of indeterminate and potentially menacing purpose. You walk slowly around it, curiosity and trepidation now overtaking your previous meditation. On your third turn, you find something interrupting the blank walls. A large, excessively ornate carved mahogany door with gold trim. You look around, not sure what to expect. You see nothing but trees as your audience as you tentatively knock on the door.
You pause for a few seconds. You hear nothing.
After a few more seconds, you put your hand on the doorknob. Gravity Falls is weird, sure, but nothing’s actually hurt you yet. How bad could it be?
You pull the door wide open.
The room contained within is all excess. Velvet drapery, golden chandeliers and wall sconces containing small flames, a set of lounging furniture with velvet to match the drapes, bookshelves lining one wall, shelves of bottles lining another. And directly across from you, on the opposite end of the room, is a man standing hunched over a mahogany desk, strange blue lights emitting from underneath him, muttering aggressively.
You pause, struck by the surreality of the scene you’ve stumbled across. You’re about to back out when he senses your presence, uprights, and turns. He’s too far away and the room is too dim to fully make out his appearance, but something about it is immediately familiar.
“Y/N?”
You jolt at the now fully recognized presence before you.
“Stan? ”
Both of you stand in silence for a beat before he breaks into a grin, and starts towards you. As he does, you can’t help but notice the change in attire- a bright turquoise suit matched with a bolo tie has replaced the familiar black and red ensemble you’ve grown to like.
“Well it’s about time I got some luck around here!” he says. “It’s been a hot minute since I’ve had the pleasure of layin’ eyes on one of you. And, based on you knowing my name already, I don’t even have to go through all the trouble of explaining who I am.”
“Actually yes, yes you do.” You say, incredulous look on your face as you eye the approaching man. Your hand is still on the doorknob, ready to slam it shut if needed.
“Oh yeah, I mean the whole interdimensional shenanigans needs some explaining, sure.” he says with a slight eye roll. “But at least I’m workin’ with somethin’ here.”
“I’m sorry, interdimensional ?” you reply, face gaining even more incredulity.
“Yeah, it’s kind of a whole thing.” He’s right in front of you now, standing on his side of the door. You can finally get a good look at him- he’s Stan alright, but different, tacky suit aside. There’s far smaller differences that set him apart from your Stan. Wrinkles not quite matching, too many laugh lines, shoulders just a tad less broad. The smirk on his face is largely reflective of the one you’ve seen countless times over the last few weeks, but with an underlying level of derision not found in the one that’s grown on you.
You take all of this in with growing concern. This other Stan can easily read it by the wide eyed scowl that’s crawled over your face.
“Look,” He starts, raising a hand in gesticulation. You reflexively withdraw a few inches, unsettled by the absurdity of the situation. The other Stan sees this.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, I couldn’t even get at ya if I wanted.” He goes to reach through the doorway at you, but his hand is stopped by some invisible wall. He knocks on it to make his point, a low electric humming sound emitting at each knock. “I don’t know what exactly the deal is. I'm sure there’s some magicky-sciencey mumbo jumbo that explains it. Still tryna work that part out. All I know is it has something to do with me bein’ an anomaly here. Like your dimension keepin’ me quarantined or something like that. I’ve tried everything to get outta here- punching, kicking, throwing objects of various size and weight-”
You reach a hand out as he continues to list his escape attempts, expecting to encounter the same block, but your hand goes right past his and into the room.
He stops talking mid-word, his surprise mimicking your own. You both look at your hand, and then into each other’s eyes.
You see something in his eyes that makes your heart stutter for half a second.
“Man, my luck just keeps gettin’ better and better.” He says.
You quickly bring your hand back.
“Now look, I’m happy to explain to you my whole sordid tale, but wouldn’t you be more comfortable listening to it in here, on a luxurious chaise lounge, surrounded by candlelight and the cheapest velvet one could possibly steal from a traveling velvet monger?”
Your mind churns. It does look pretty nice in there… and if that signature salesman unction is any indication, even if it’s not the Stan you know, it’s surely a Stan. How evil can an extra-dimensional Stan be anyways? You're slowly convincing yourself as you chew on your lip, but you’re still stopped at the entryway.
He sees your mind working. He puts an elbow at head height onto the doorframe, popping his hip and placing his other hand upon it, looking at you with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
“I got bourbon in here that’ll burn your ass off.”
That gets a slight smile out of you. “How do you know that’s a good bribe? What if I don’t like liquor?”
“All of you do.”
That cinches it. The familiar oily charm combined with the curiosity brings you to step inside. You keep eye contact as you pass by him into the room. He grins wide as you do.
“Atta girl.”
The two words make something deep in your stomach flop as you proceed to the couch.
You sit and take in the gaudy excess of it all. He follows you and goes to a side table near the collection of furniture to grab a pair of glasses. He waves a hand and one particularly ornate bottle is pulled from one of the shelves and into his grasp. You stare for a moment.
“Did I see you do magic just now?” He chuckles.
“Oh sweetheart, that’s nothin’. I can do lots of things.” He says, smirking as he turns to you and hands you a glass filled with brown liquor. You wait until you see him take a sip to follow suit. The liquor does burn, all the way down your throat, spreading a pleasant warmth through your chest. You purse your lips and exhale through your mouth, pleased at the sensation. He sits on the other end of the couch and looks at you with a questioning eyebrow, saying “Eh?”, indicating he wants your opinion on the drink.
You smile. “It’s good. Didn’t burn my ass off though.”
“Thank god we avoided that travesty.” he says, and swiftly continues before you can place whether or not that was a joke or a come on. “So, now that I have a willing hostage, allow me to regale you with my sordid tale.” He clears his throat and adopts a serious face.
He explains to you his situation- the Shack he runs that sounds a little bit too much like the Gleeful’s situation than you like, his personal hobby of visiting other dimensions to further his own power and nab oddities for his shows, the extensive travels he’s had doing so. You have no idea how much of it is bullshit, but the fact that he’s here at all in the first place has to mean some of it’s based in truth.
“So there I was, working tirelessly night after night to figure out why my magic portal hoodoo stopped working on me. Finally, just last week, I had a breakthrough! My tenacious spirit and giant brain had finally cracked it. I did some very impressive-looking hand gestures and boom! A portal hovered before me, just like normal. Small at first, but it quickly grew. And grew. And then grew some more. Before I knew it, me and my entire basement had been sucked into it and then plopped into the middle of a forest. I’ve been here for a few days now banging my head against a wall on how to get back, but I can't seem to get a new portal goin’, and I can’t even leave the damn place.”
You snort. “If this is your basement, I can't even begin to imagine what the rest of your house looks like.”
“Soon as I figure out how to get outta here, I’ll show ya. I think you’ll be real impressed by the bedroom.” He says. You roll your eyes, a slight smile escaping your lips as you do.
“Cute.” You say simply.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” He grins.
“Mhmm.” You glide right past it, not wanting to get pulled into his charm. “So, okay, you’re a magic extra dimensional Stan. Great, I can buy that for now. You said all of.. Me? Likes liquor. So you’ve met other me’s in different dimensions?”
“Boy, have I.” He says, an expression halfway between wistful and another more severe emotion you can’t place washing over his face, gaze shifting to the middle distance.
“Well. What are they like?” you ask, now a bit hesitant to hear his answer. He returns eye contact, smirk finding his face once more, but he doesn’t answer, letting the question sit as he gazes into you.
You suddenly feel a tension between the two of you. Before you can parse it, the pause is cut off by a pair of twin screams passing by, followed by a loud roar. You jolt in your seat.
“Well, that sounds like something I should help with. I should go.” You quickly drain the glass and stand.
“It’s been a pleasure.” Stan says, just the smallest tinge of disappointment visible on his face. “Assuming I’m still here, I’d be happy to get you liquored up on my couch anytime. Tell ya all about the other yous if you’re interested. But hey, do me a favor, will ya dollface? Don’t go spreadin’ word of my presence here. Especially to that Stan of yours. If we ever meet, it’ll cause this whole dimensional destruction type deal that just really wouldn’t be best for anyone.”
“Agreed, that doesn’t sound ideal. Your secret’s safe for now.” As you reach the door, you turn. “Assuming you’re still here… I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You turn and exit the room without waiting for any further response.