Work Text:
It was an accident to put it lightly.
“DIPPER! WATCH ME EAT THIS ENTIRE TUBE OF TOOTHPASTE!”
Darkness swallowed the room expect for where the flashlight shined on the subject of concern swinging from the gift shop’s ceiling. The groans of the rickety ceiling beams sent Stanley and Dipper into a frenzy of panic as they scrambled for ideas on how to approach this issue. Above them, clad in her floppy disk nightgown, Mabel cheerfully kicked her legs oblivious to the two who danced anxiously below her. With one hand gripping her grappling hook and the other squeezing the sparkly paste into her mouth, all the remaining Pines could do was continue their panic dance and pray that the beam wouldn’t snap with her weight. Between Mabel’s incoherent babbles and the disgusting and muffled crunches of the paste being grounded between her teeth, Stanley felt a slight guilt eat away at his stomach. All he had wanted to do was bond with the kids while Stanford stepped out; not this!
The entire event was the result of Stanford apparently having a stroke of genius while watching late night TV with the kids. Of course Stanford being Stanford, he never actually explained his idea but instead announced his logic that creativity should never be contained but acted upon. True to his word and despite the clock reading eleven twenty three, Stanford left with flare and strict instructions to put the kids to bed. He then set off to god knew where in search for materials.
Stanley had tried his best to stop him but once his thick skulled brother was set on a task, there was no stopping the man. But in all honesty, the idea that Stanford would be driving around town like a mad man for at least an hour was the opportunity he had been hoping would emerge for days. So, being the responsible guy he was, he decided to go against his brother’s wishes of putting the kids to bed and opted in to the idea of creating memories that would last forever.
Since returning from the other side of the portal, Stanley had quickly realized that his worst fears had come true. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the world did not wait for his return if Stanford’s physical appearance was anything to go by. In fact, the idea that he missed so much over the years overwhelmed him almost to the point of hopelessness. But, thankfully, Stanford was able to open his eyes to this new world, allowing him to find the determination to make the best of the remaining scraps of his life.
Still, many important dates had been missed ranging from his son’s marriage to the birth of his grandkids; moments gone that seared regret around his heart. He knew he would never be able to truly make up for lost time but he wanted to at least try and start anew with his grandkids. Of course, having been isolated from society for so long made it that much harder for him to connect with Mabel and Dipper on a personal level. He knew he could take the easy route and discuss the supernatural with Dipper but that would bore Mabel. Stanley faced the same problem concerning Dipper if he were to spend their time together creating art. Eventually after some deep thought and consideration, he found his solution that would tailor to both of his grandchildren.
Sweets!
Candies would always be a timeless favourite of children he figured. Being a sweetaholic himself, Stanley decided that sharing some of his favourite sweets before their bedtime like any cool grandparent would be ideal. It seemed like a win-win situation but now that he sat in the aftershocks of his granddaughter’s destruction, it was clear he should’ve just listened to Stanford and put them to bed.
Someone up there obviously didn’t like Stanley because by his terrible luck, he learned the hard way that Mabel always carried her grappling hook on her. That, and a bag of candy in Mabel’s system past midnight had severe affects on her. Whether it be the idea that sugar compositions had vastly changed and she couldn’t handle this old sugar structure or that the candy was 27 years past it’s expiry date, it didn’t change the fact that it converted his sweet granddaughter into a destructive force.
Smashed snow globes, crushed bobble heads and sopping wet postcards littered the floor of the gift shop. He and Dipper had scrambled to save the merchandise when Mabel had haphazardly knocked over items during her energy burst but their efforts bore no fruits. Instead, the musty water from the snow globes defiled the air as a reminder of their failure. The walls on the other hand received a makeover and were covered in toothpaste from the other tubes she had brought down. For her dinosaur shadow puppet show, the tubes had served no other purpose than a prop to be stepped on. As for them, all of the ridiculous bumper stickers stuck to the three of them as a result of Mabel’s lecture on the importance of stickers. In short, no mercy was given to the gift shop enforcing one of the laws of the universe reading: 'Nothing is more powerful than the power of Mabel hyped up on stale Smez.'.
“Uhh, Grandpa Stan?” Eyes glued to Mabel, Dipper bit his lips and rocked on the balls of his feet allowing anxiety to spread throughout his body. Despite the macho man façade Dipper constantly put up, he could see that the boy was close to tears. “How’re we going to explain this to Grunkle Stan?”
Stanley fumbled with his thoughts in an attempt at an appropriate answer. He could tell that the boy was genuinely worried about his sister but he knew what the real issue here. Coincidently the same source of his anxiety, the fact that they would have to face the anger that would be shooting out of Stanford scared them. If the gift shop looked this bad in the darkness, who knew how much worse it would look in the light? Stanford would be furious the moment he walked through the door and would probably skin both of them alive.
Stanley was stumped. He wanted to console Dipper but really, what could they tell Stanford? Stanley’s frustration grew as his brain continued to spit out terrible idea after another to the point that he stooped so low to consider blaming Bill Cipher…
They were so dead.
A quick glance towards the gift shops clock told Stanley that it was nearing one am meaning it wouldn’t be too long until Stanford returned. Suddenly, as if on cue, the dull roar of the Stanley Mobile in the distance alerted the boys to their fast approaching death. All too quickly, the sound of rubber meeting the pebbles in the parking lot overtook their senses signalling the fourty second window they had to think of something. Both breathing heavily, adrenaline coursed through their veins as the only logical conclusion surfaced. With a single nod of understanding to one another, they shamelessly dashed towards the vending machine to enter the code to the lab.
Eyes wide and full of terror, the slam of the car door and the slow approaching footsteps sent them over the edge. Stanley felt as if his lungs would burst when he heard an obnoxious error sound from entering the wrong code. But his hands wouldn’t stop shaking!
His panic soon quickly spread to Dipper almost like a contagious virus. The infected Dipper rapidly pulled at his pants, desperately begging him to hurry up, adding to his growing distress. Though oddly enough in their panic, it seemed that Mabel had safely come down from the heavens and joined in. Light heartedly tugging at his pants as well, she cheered him on in a more relaxed tone. Dipper had chastised her actions; quick to point out that she wasn’t helping with her cheering. Her only response to him was a light shrug and a pat on their backs.
“Hey, Stan adores me and my cuteness brobro. He’ll get over my destruction. You two? Ehhh,” she scrunched her face and slightly tilted her head back and forth. “Considering you let me do this… Not so much.” The boys had to stop and stare at the ceiling for a split second with that statement. The accuracy to that was unwarranted and unnecessary which served only to add to their anguish.
An audible whistling cut through their pause. Stanley was one button away from success before Mabel’s statement had interrupted him. Scrambling to push the last button, he prayed they would have enough time. But right as the plume of smoke and dust appeared indicating their success, a little chime signalled their doom.
The trio winced as everything flashed white causing temporary blindness. Squinting as a way to adjust, they surveyed their surroundings. Stanley’s stomach did backflips as it seemed that his theory was correct; everything looked a thousand times worse in the light.
“Explanations. Now.”
Not that Stanford’s face was any better.
Both hands full of bulky plastic bags and clad in his Mister Mystery outfit, Mabel excitedly dashed to hug her great uncle, smudging the flaky toothpaste residue from her face all over him. Placing an arm over Mabel’s back as acknowledgment of the hug, Stanford wouldn’t break eye contact with him making him sweat. But as Stanford continued to glare, Stanley refused to admit to his mistake and let silence do his bidding.
Glare still strong, Stanford sent the kids up to the attic, reassuring them he’d deal with them tomorrow. Mabel happily complied, giggling as she trotted away while Dipper awkwardly shuffled his feet and quickly jogged out of the room, wishing Stanley luck on his way out leaving him defenseless.
He shuddered. The glare’s intensity did not falter when he tried to stutter out a lame apology, which was difficult in itself with that glare that could freeze hell over. Finally after an eternity, Stanford made his move. He dropped the plastic bags, rolled up his sleeves and lunged towards him.
“I have no idea what happened, but you are so DEAD.”