Chapter Text
Ok, for starters, he didn't even know how it happened.
He got a call, he thought someone wanted whatever scam- product that he was selling, so he picked up the phone. Then the woman he had a one night stand with almost, what, one year ago? Eleven months? Spoke from the phone. She said there was something important to tell him, told him her address, and so he went. Sure, a whole state away, but he mostly drove there because people were mad at him for his products. And also because of the IRS.
Maybe it was the weed he was smoking that day because when a woman whom you haven't seen in almost a year suddenly reaches out to you saying she has something important to tell you, well, you should be able to put two and two together (well Stan couldn't).
He reached her house, ringed the bell, and she opened him.
And she gave him a baby.
Like, a straight up baby. And a bag with baby stuff. And shut the door on his face before he could say anything.
"She's yours now."
"What the-? Julia, wait-!" SLAM! (luckily the baby didn't cry)
So here he was now, standing on the doorstep of said woman, with a three month old baby in hand.
What the fuck?
Ok, on Stan's defense, they were both drunk in the back of the club and it only lasted for like, what? Fifteen minutes? Less? So him not wearing a condom really didn't seem like much of a big deal and- oh, who was he kidding? Of course it was a big deal because boom, he had a child now! It really was his fault, like everything else in his life.
Putting the bag over his shoulder and with a baby in hand, he slowly made his way back to his car in a dazed-like state.
He got into the driver's seat and tossed the bag next to him on the passenger's seat.
Finally, he slowly lowered his gaze, and for the first time took in the baby's face. His... Daughter's face. He had a daughter now.
He took in her features as the situation slowly sank in. He took in her chubby face, her body wrapped up in a yellow blanket, and those big, brown, innocent eyes of her's that stared at him, like she was... Expecting something from him. To... Protect her...?
"Shit." He breathed sharply under his breath and stared at her again. What was he supposed to do now???!!! He had no house, no money, and his "old friends" were after him for the money, as mentioned, he didn't have! And he was NOT chewing his way out of a trunk again.
"What the Hell am I supposed to do with you? Your mother must be reallyyyy stupid if she thinks that I can take care of you." The baby just continued staring at him quietly. Of course. That's a baby. She couldn't understand him.
He huffed a small chuckle despite himself. "What is it that you're staring at me all cutely? Amazed by my charm?" For some odd reason he felt his heart twinge with a weird feeling of... Affection, maybe?
He wasn't sure what he was doing but before he could process it, Stan was holding out a finger.
After a few moments, a tiny hand slowly picked through the yellow blanket and wrapped itself around his finger tightly.
It was as if the air was knocked out from his lungs and his heart swelled with a feeling so overwhelming he almost felt sick. Yet this feeling was... Weirdly nice.
Stan slowly pulled his finger away until the baby's grip around it loosened and fell. He adjusted his hold on her and brought her a little closer to his chest.
He cleared his throat. "Moses, uhhh... H- hey kiddo... Uhhhh... I guess I'm your dad." He stared at her for a moment as she stared right back at him. "Are you gonna keep staring at me like that all night or what?" She sneezed. He blinked. "... Huh. I guess that's something."
Stan gently unwrapped the blanket from her small body, noting she was wearing a pink onesie but didn't care much. He put his hands under her armpits and held her up like a kitten until they were face to face, watching her little piggy tails bounce slightly (why did a three month old have so much hair already???).
"Do you even have a name? Your mother never mentioned a name. Did she even name you? Eh, doesn't matter anyway, she isn't in the picture now anyway." He hummed in thought, then a smirk crossed over his face. "How about Stanley Jr, huh? No? Ok." He chuckled to himself. "Nah, don't worry, I'm actually gonna try on the name, unlike my father. Good thing my ma was there to name me and my brother... Alright, now let's really try naming you." He stared at the baby, squinting his eyes as he thought what name might fit her. "Hmmm, let's see... My name's Stanley, so maybe something similar? But not too similar..." Suddenly a name crossed his mind. "Hey, how about Stephanie? You look like a Stephanie." He smirked. "Stephanie Pines." He said the name out loud, testing how it felt on his tongue. "Hm... Good enough, but something's missing... Maybe a middle name will do the trick."
He thought for a name but nothing came to mind. He was seriously thinking just slamming in a "Steph". Stephanie Steph Pines. Yeahhhhhh, no.
He paused when he thought of a name. It brought him a mix of feelings as he brought the child closer to him and against his chest and smiled a small, sad smile. "Hey... How about I give you 'Caryn', as a middle name, huh?" He grinned to himself. "Hell yeah, now we're talking! 'Stephanie Caryn Pines. Daughter of Stanley Pines'. Well, realistically, I'm gonna be going by a different name, but you get the point. Actually, you don't get anything. You're a baby. You probably can't even understand what I'm saying." He sighed and held her tighter against him. "Shit... I'm a dad now. Now I gotta do all that dad crap, like, taking care of you, and... Stuff..."
He huffed though his nose and wrapped the discharged blanket around the girl again. That's a baby, babies get easily sick, and he can't afford her getting sick (literally and figuratively).
Now that she was wrapped up in that yellow blanket again Stan had a funny thought that made him chuckle. "Hah. You look like a burrito. Like a big, chubby burrito." He ruffled her hair, which got a little giggle out of her. That, admittedly, made his heart feel funny.
He sighed with an –oddly enough– content smile and leaned back in the seat, staring upwards. "Man, I would kill for a burrito. I've been eating a lotta chips and instant ramen lately."
But what he'd really kill for would be a homemade meal, made by his ma. He would eat even the foods he didn't like, as long as they were made by Caryn Pines herself.
He really wanted his ma now. To kiss his forehead and caress his face, promising him that everything would be ok, sweet nothings like that.
"Aww, my free spirited Stanley! You named her after me? You really shouldn't!"
He could almost hear her voice, see her reaction to having a granddaughter. He remembered when Shermie's wife was pregnant, she said she predicted a baby girl in their future. It was a baby boy instead. He remembered thinking it was just her projecting her desires for a little girl so she could finally have an excuse to put bows on someone other than their cat. But now in the situation that he was, he thought that perhaps she accidentally looked into the wrong son's future.
*
It was well past midnight. Stan had driven to an empty parking lot infront of a fast food place and parked there for the night (he just hoped no one would tell him to leave in the middle of the night).
He was laying in the backseat with an old, thin blanket draped over it, and with little Steph sleeping peacefully on his chest underneath the covers with him (odd baby. So far she hadn't cried once. He supposed that was good. Meant that she didn't have anything to complain about).
Stan should be sleeping too, he knew it, but it was kinda difficult when there were so many thoughts running around in his mind.
He had a baby now. A three month old little girl. His scams were making him just enough to survive, but with a baby now??? That's a whole different growing human right there with their own needs. He'd have to shoplift baby stuff like diapers and baby formula, but how could he shoplift for his own stuff too, especially with a grown ass baby with him?
Sure, the bag Julia had given him had baby stuff in, he went through it earlier, but they won't last forever.
And what about his scams? He couldn't risk getting caught now. But scams were the very same thing that made him money. He couldn't not do them! He'd just have to give up the shadier stuff. Speaking of shady stuff- oh. Oh no, oh shit. They're after him. Shit, he can't let Rico get to him. He wasn't only running for his life now, he was also running for her safety.
If Rico ever got to him, Moses, he knew Rico could be cruel, but he hoped he would be merciful enough towards a baby and leave you in the Foster Care system or whatever.
But no, Rico won't get to him, especially now, not now, damnit! Stanley Pines could be a very stubborn man when he set a goal. And if that goal was staying as far away from Rico and his goons as he could, then he might as well will!
Stan just kept staring at the car's ceiling, gently stroking Stephanie's back as his thoughts were practically eating him alive.
He sighed shakily and leaned down to press his lips softly against the little baby's hair.
Well...
Fast-forward, he lasted two weeks. Which was still an admirable fit for him, considering his conditions.
It was two weeks of a lot of unsuccessful shoplifting (during those times Stan realized he couldn't grab beers since baby stuff were more important now and he still needed food for himself), vomit, diaper changes, stealing baby bottles from random babies on the street when their mothers weren't looking (sorry kiddos, but you're probably gonna get fed back at home, his kid needed to eat too) but all of that, although annoying, were just normal stuff parents do (maybe except stealing).
But the one thing that broke him down was the crying. The constant crying. The kid wouldn't shut the fuck up! But honestly, why would she? He himself wanted to cry! He had shitty living conditions, so obviously the baby would cry! He was living in his fucking car for money's sake!
But she would cry non-stop! She would fall asleep crying and wake up crying. And while Stan felt bad, horrible even for not knowing how to soothe his daughter (he knew how. He needed to get an actual job to get an actual house, but quite impossible with his shitty criminal record), he couldn't help but be angry. Angry towards the innocent baby in his arms crying because she wouldn't shut the Hell up for five minutes, and angry to himself because it was his own fault Stephanie was crying in the first place.
Now, it was a cold Thursday night –or Wednesday? He couldn't remember, he was honestly a bit drunk cause he really needed something to calm his nerves and what better than old, forgotten beer cans on his car's floor–, and the clock read at 10:03pm. His car was parked on a sidewalk, in line with more cars. He was sitting in the backseat, with Stephanie in his arms and wrapped in her yellow blanket so she wouldn't get cold. The heater was broken, and repairing it required money, which he didn't have. So body warmth it is.
Unsurprisingly, she was crying. Ugh, and loudly too. He was actually a little worried about someone calling the police on them to file a noise complaint.
He held his baby tightly against his chest as he felt her crying against him, and Stan honestly felt he was gonna cry too. "Stop crying Stephie, why won't you stop crying? Shut up." He pleaded quietly.
He had an overwhelming urge to throw the screaming child to the floor because she wouldn't fucking stop!
He set the squirming baby next to him as gently as he could. He exhaled shakily as he leaned forward. He placed his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He glanced at his daughter. She was still crying.
He couldn't do this. Why was he even trying? He knew the second that that child was given to him he couldn't care for her. Why couldn't her mother just drop her off on the porch of a nice family? Maybe he should drop her off on the porch of a nice family. I mean, what good was he for anyway? He didn't have any means to raise a child. He had no house, no money, no nothing.
But yet... His selfishness didn't want to let go (stupid selfishness, ruining everything!) He had to admit, he had gotten attached to the girl. Despite all her crying, she could be quite lovable.
And he wanted to try. To prove that he wasn't a failure and that he could do good! One good thing in his life, that's all!
But... Maybe the best thing he could do for her was to let her go. He couldn't care for her so he would drop her off to a family that could.
But no, his selfish ass didn't want to give her up (Come on Stanley! You already ruined your brother's life because of your stupid selfishness, now you wanna do the same with your daughter?!)
He gently cradled her against his chest again. He pressed his face against her hair and cried quietly along with her.
He felt so helpless. So useless. He couldn't do this. At least not alone. He needed help. Only one name had been going through in his head to call for help, long before Steph, even.
But he couldn't. Could he? How could he call him after all these years and ask for help after running his chance at getting to this amazing university? What if he refused to help him? What would he do?
Stephanie's cries just kept going. Stan hated how desperate he felt. If he wanted to keep her, he had no other choice.
*
It was a peaceful day, followed by a peaceful night. Sure, he woke up with gnomes searching through his trash again, but that's just regular Gravity Falls weirdness for you. And the portal testings were going well so far. Perhaps he would even sleep early tonight! (he hoped he saw his muse in his dreams again).
Hah, sike.
As he was writing in his journal, the phone started ringing. He didn't move from his spot, hoping Fiddleford would pick it up instead.
He waited.
RIIIING!
And waited.
RIIIING!
And waited.
RIIIING!
He sighed. He closed his journal and stood up. Of course Fidds wouldn't pick up. He was probably sulking and stressing about a possible divorce because he forgot to buy his wife a Christmas present –marriage! That's why he never bothered with this sort of stuff! (yeah, that's why)–.
He made his way from his room to the phone in the living room and picked it up. "Hello, this is Stanford Pines speaking."
The only thing he could hear was heavy breathing. Ugh, again? He seriously didn't know who kept calling him just to hung it up. It didn't happen regularly enough to the point where it got irritating, but enough to make his curiosity spike.
Although this time, it was slightly different. He could hear a baby's cries. Well that was weird. And honestly unnerving.
"Hello?" He tried again. No answer. Just as when he was about to hang up the phone, a voice suddenly broke the silence that made the scientist's heart skip a beat.
"Sixer...?"
That was- no way. That was... Definitely odd. "... Stanley?" He spoke up unsurely.
A sob came from the other line, mixing with the louder cries from the background. "Ford, listen, I- I messed up, I messed up big time, I- I have no money, a buncha assholes are after me, and- and I have a kid, Stanford, a- a little babygirl and God, she's so loud and it's my fucking fault cause I can barely do the bare minimum as a dad-"
"Wait, wait, Stanley." Ford cut him off. He was almost struggling to keep up. "You have a child?"
"Y- yes..."
"An actual, breathing child?"
"YES, Poindexter! What else is 'I have a kid' supposed to mean?!"
Well. That should explain the crying.
"Stan, your voice sounds a bit slurred. Now I don't want to fall into conclusions, but have you been drinking?"
He made a sound on the other line that Ford assumed was a dry chuckle. "Guilty as charged."
"Stanley! You can't drink when you have a child with you!"
"I KNOW POINDEXTER! No need to act all smarty pants to me! But this kid is driving me INSANE with all that shitting and crying and-" the cries got a tiny bit louder. Only a little, but still very evidently. "Shit, shit, I'm sorry princess, I'm sorry, stop crying, please do your old man that favor for once..."
Stanford stood there awkwardly with the phone still pressed tightly against the side of his face as he heard his brother's voice go from loud and angry to soft and tender and get reduced to quiet and broken.
He could imagine his brother (although the only recent image he had of him was from that one commercial of his he saw the other day) trying to soothe a crying baby. It was... A sweet, yet sad image.
"Listen, Ford." His brother's voice snapped him back to reality. "I- I need a place to stay. She's- she's crying because she's hungry and cold and-" a sob. "I don't have anywhere else to go." He could hear his voice cracking towards the end, most likely from his emotions and the alcohol.
Stanford felt very uncomfortable in the position he was brought to. What should he say to this? To the brother he hadn't seen in over ten years? To the brother that ruined his chance at going at West Coast Tech? He clenched his hand around the phone a little. "Stanley, I am in the middle of a very important scientific experiment. Having a baby here will only make my research much more difficult than necessary. In addition, my house is too small for four people. My lab assistant and I are even sleeping on the same bed, I don't think my cabin can fit two more people."
There was a long silence on the other end of the call, unless if you counted in Stan's harsh breathing and his kid's cries.
Stanford then heard a sudden bang and a frustrated yell on Stanley's end of the line. "NO. I won't accept it!" He blurted out. "Listen Sixer, I know I've been a dick in the past and I'm not gonna hide it from ya, I still am. And a big one. Is it about the project? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to break it, it was an accident! Is it about money? You want money? Want me to pay rent? Fine, I'll get you some money! I don't know how, but if I have to strip to get some then fine, I'm gonna! I did it for some 'edible flour' a few years back, 's nothing. Just dissociate 'n shit. But if you're not gonna do it for me then fine, do it for her. Do it for this stupid, innocent baby, that never asked to have me as her dad and deserves so much better than me! But please. I... I need your help... And I'm not gonna stop callin' you until you give it to me."
"What? No, Stan-!" He huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose in slight annoyance. Stanford couldn't believe his ears at the things he was hearing. Was that really his twin brother Stanley? He sounded so... Desperate and depressed. Nothing like the boisterous, confident, young boy he once knew. A part of him still wanted to refuse for the sake of the portal, but the baby's constant cries and whimpers in the background made him give in. He couldn't condemn a little baby for her father's sins, after all.
He sighed and hung his head. "I... Suppose I can clear out an unoccupied room I have. It just has a lot of boxes and dust in there. But it could work." Ford could literally hear the sudden hope in his brother's voice.
"Really?"
He adjusted his glasses. "Yes, I think so... I don't think my lab assistant will mind much once I explain the situation to him. He just has some personal problems of his own as well."
"G- great! That's- that's great. Where are you?"
"Oh, you mean my address? Gravity Falls, Oregon. It's a cabin just outside of town and into the woods. I trust you can find it." He heard a small groan from the other side.
"Shit, Oregon? It's an entire state away..." A deep sigh. "... Alright, fine. It's gonna take me a... Pfft, a whole day? Ugh, alright, alright, I'm coming. And, uhh... Thanks Sixer."
Stanford just nodded slightly. "It's... No problem, Stanley."
With that he hung up and leaned against the wall right next to the phone. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face.
What was he going to tell Fiddleford? Actually no, Fidds was the easy part, with just a bit of explanation he would understand completely. He always had a soft spot for people in need.
What was he going to tell his muse?