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Stan Pines was 20 years old when he met the kid.
He’d been sitting on the railing of the bridge, ready to end it all. It was better, he had reasoned, than letting Rico find him, and after living on the streets for almost four years, he had given up all hope to get the millions he needed to go home.
He had contemplated just using his gun, or the bottle of painkillers that he got from the last time he was in hospital, ones he had never used, a year prior, but it seemed poetic to face his fear of heights before the end, so sue him.
He had sat there for what felt like hours, trying to get a spark of… something, anything that would take away the numbness that had consumed him.
He couldn't feel anything. He just stared absently at the abyss below him, the churning black waters of the river next to the side walk.
He wondered briefly if Ford would even know he wasn't around any more. The last time he had seen his brother was just the week before, when he had made up his mind. He had gone to Backupsmore, to drop off a letter, or to finally work up the courage to say sorry in person before leaving Ford's life forever. But when he got there, and he saw his brother laughing with some gangly teen, Stan couldn't bring himself to do it. He ended up leaving when the pair entered the building on campus, and Stan had driven away.
Ford had done well for himself, despite Stan ruining his chances at a decent school. He didn't need him anymore.
Stan sighed, and was about to lean forwards into oblivion, when a small tentative voice piped up behind him,
“Um, excuse me sir? Are you going to jump?”
Stan managed to right himself in time before he toppled over, gripping the barrier before whipping his head around with wide eyes.
A small chubby kid was staring at him. He was wearing green dinosaur pajamas, and was holding a fuzzy blue blanket, shuffling awkwardly in place. He was wearing navy blue trainers, ones that Stan himself could never afford, and a dinosaur themed backpack strapped to his back.
“Um… no?” Stan tried, even though it felt completely flat and fake. The kid blinked.
“What are you doing then?” he asked.
“Just, um, enjoying tha view.” Stan tried, knowing it was a terrible excuse. It was night time and foggy, the exact reason he had chosen tonight, so he wouldn’t be interrupted like right now. For goodness sake, why did it have to be a kid? He didn't want to traumatize him.
“Oh, ok.” the kid said, though he didn't move. His eyes awkwardly began scanning everywhere but Stan. He inwardly groaned: why now? Why him?
Stan sighed, and swung his legs over the side and approached the kid, trying to seem friendly. The kid didn't move as Stan came over, just locked eyes with him again.
“Wha’ are ya doin’ out ‘ere, kid?” Stan asked, stopping a respectable distance from the ten year old (at least he looked ten years old), “It's a little late. Where are ya parents?”
The boy took a shaky breath.
“I don't know where Papa is.” the kid said, looking as though he was on the verge of tears, “H-he said he’d be back, b-but he hasn’t. Th-they k-kicked me o-out of the hotel room, an- and he hasn’t come back yet.”
The kid then proceeded to brawl his eyes out in front of a very concerned Stan. He had no idea what to do with the kid. Filbrick had never been a very loving parent, saying that they were too old for hugs after the ripe old age of seven. He knew he had to do something, or at least find someone else who could deal with kids. He looked around fruitlessly for any other adults in the area, but of course there was no one around. He grimaced, before crouching down to the kid to try and comfort him.
“Hey, don’ worry kid, Ah’m sure he’ll-” Stan was interrupted by the kid throwing himself at Stan and burying his face in his shoulder. Stan blinked in surprise, but just wrapped his hands around the kid to try and comfort him in a kind of awkward hug.
He let the kid cry on his shoulder for about ten minutes before he finally managed to calm down enough to speak.
“I- I want Papa.” he whispered softly, his voice choking on hiccups.
Stan sighed. Me too buddy.
“Don't worry, Ah’ll help ya find him.” Stan reassured the kid, pulling him off himself but keeping his hands on the kid's shoulders, “When was tha last time ya saw ‘im?”
“T-Tuesday.” the kid said innocently. Stan blanked. It was currently Sunday. He tried not to grimace in front of the kid.
“Ok, do ya know where ya Papa was going?” Stan asked.
“He was a Luchador.” the kid whispered, “He said he had a tournament to go to.”
Stan felt his heart break a little (finally, some kind of feeling). The Luchador tournament had finished three days before. Everyone in this small town had been going wild with excitement at watching people beat each other up. Stan himself had briefly considered going for some extra cash himself, either by betting or going into the ring himself, before reminding himself he wouldn't be around to spend it.
So, best case scenario, the kid had a really neglectful parent. Worst case scenario, the poor kid had been abandoned to care for himself. He felt a small semblance of anger sparking in his heart. Who could do this to a ten year old kid? (ignoring the fact that Stan was seventeen when he was kicked out, but he had been seventeen and had a car)
With that thought, Stan made up his mind. He had waited four years for this, he could wait another week.
“Alright, here's what we’re going to do then.” Stan said, “Stay with me for now, and we can see if anyones heard of your father being around. If we don’ after a week, well, Ah’ll figure something out, ok?”
The boy nodded, wiping away some of the tears from his eyes. Stan got up and offered him his hand, which the boy accepted without protest. As Stan led the kid over to the Stanley-mobile, it suddenly occurred to him how trusting the kid was. He could have easily kidnapped him, and the kid wasn't batting an eye.
Stan was suddenly glad he had been the one to find the kid. He didn't want to even think about what would have happened if someone like Rico had found him.
He opened the car door and gestured for the kid to get in the passenger seat. The kid sat down and closed the door behind him, placing his bag under his feet before looking around in wonder at the interior of the car.
“Ya ok with Toffee Peanuts for dinner?” Stan asked, grabbing a couple of bags he had under his seat for emergencies, “‘Cause tha’s all I got at tha moment.”
“Do you live in your car?” the kid blurted out suddenly.
“Um, yeah, I guess so.” Stan said, pausing.
“That's so cool!” he said.
Stan winced.
“Um, yeah, sure.” He replied, then realizing he didn't know what the kids name was, “What's ya name kid?”
“I’m Jesús. What's your name mister?”
“I’m Stan.” Stan said, cracking a small smile at the kids' enthusiasm, “Ya speak spanish?”
“¡Si!” Jesús said excitedly, “¿Tú hablas español?”
“Un poco.” Stan said in a terrible spanish accent. He was suddenly glad he had spent some time with Ricos gang, at least enough to learn the language.
They spoke for a little bit more after that, switching between english and spanish, the kid mostly just asking questions. Stan found himself becoming fond of the kid, especially after that night, when the kid tried to give Stan his blanket when they settled down to sleep, saying that Stan looked cold. And in the early hours of the morning when he woke up to find that the kid had curled up in his arms at some point during the night.
The kid's level of trust in him was admirable, but a bit misguided. But then again it was nice having someone who trusted him again, like Ford did when they were young.
It was going to be hard to let the kid go when they found his dad, or, if they couldn't find the man, take him to the police station. But Stan was unable to look after any kid in his current circumstances, even if he wanted to.
It was just for this week, he told himself. And then… he’d figure it out after that.
Stan was 23 when he found another kid.
Him and Jesús - Soos, as Stan had dubbed him two months after their first meeting - had been going around the country trying to pick up jobs, and running from people who Stan owed money to. Soos turned out to be very good at fixing things, and had learned how to fix the car in just a couple of months, with Stan helping him.
Stan was impressed with the kids' handiwork. He would even say that the Stanley-mobile was in better shape than it had been in a long while, though he would deny it if Soos asked.
Stan was glad that he decided to take the kid in after a futile two week search for the kid's Dad. He had briefly considered just giving him up to the police, but they would just take the kid to the orphanage or into foster care, and Stan had heard all the horror stories when he was a kid, mostly his father threatening him with sending him to one of them when Stan was acting out.
But in the end, he was thankful for the kid being in his life. It gave him purpose, someone to look after. True, now he had a twelve year old that he had to take care of and protect, which wasn't easy when you were homeless, but at least he had some company, and Soos really seemed to care about him, and that was more than anyone else had done for him in a while.
“Hey, kid, ya figure out what's wrong yet?” Stan asked, closing the car door before walking to the front, where the kid was half into the engine, trying to fix something inside with a screwdriver, his feet dangling in the air.
“Not yet Mr. Pines.” Soos said, voice slightly muffled from where his head was buried, “I think I’ve almost found the problem. Should be done in just a sec.”
Stan smiled. He’d tried to tell the kid to just call him Stan, but he was way too polite. He would always apologise, but go right back to calling him ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr Pines’.
They had been driving around Washington, near the Olympic National Park, when the car had broken down. It had been a while since they had done any maintenance on it, and they had been driving almost non stop for several hours because Soos had really wanted to see the forests in the area. They had broken down in the middle of nowhere, which Stan would have minded a lot if it wasn't for the fact that it was a really nice day. And besides, Stan had brought Soos several tools the last present day they had (Soos hated his birthday, Stan found out that it was the same day that his father abandoned him, so instead they had random present days where they would give each other gifts. If he was ever to see that man…)
“Alright Kiddo, Ah think ya need a little break. You've been working at that for a while now. Ah made some cheese and ham sandwiches, if ya want some.”
“Ok Mr. Pines.” Soos said, managing to slide out of the engine and onto his feet without much difficulty. His face was covered in sweat and grime, some having gone onto his green shirt. He wore the tool belt that Stan had gotten him recently, as well as his darker green cargo shorts, that were only moderately clean. The kid grinned at him as Stan got two flooding chairs from the back of the car for them to sit on as they ate their lunch.
Soos jumped up on the seat, reaching out to take the sandwich before Stan scolded him and told him to clean his hands with the dish soap Stan had um… confiscated from the store. Soos pouted but complied, and before long the both of them were sitting next to the car eating stale sandwiches, Soos swinging his short legs back and forth.
“How long do ya think ‘t’ll take ya ta finish fixin’ ‘er up?” Stan asked between mouthfuls.
“Not long Mr. Pines.” Soos said, “I’ve almost finished checking over all the bolts, and everything else should be running smoothly.”
Stan grunted in acknowledgement, and the pair fell into a comfortable silence. Stan began to wonder if they had enough fuel to get to the next town, and how much money they had left for food and fuel. He always tried to fuel up at every place they could, just in case they needed to get away. Ricos goons had found them a few times, and he’d had to get away from there quickly, and often had to travel long distances in order to lose them. It was one of the few things he wished that Soos didn't have to witness, even if the kid had told him a hundred times that it was worth having this life if he got to live it with Stan. Even if he never got three full meals a day, and Stan couldn't provide enough of everything the kid needed.
Stan's train of thought was cut off by the too familiar cries of wolves. Both boys stiffened at the sound, and Stan was the first to recover, standing up and reaching for his brass knuckles from his jacket pocket.
“Kid, get in the car.” Stan ordered. The kid, thankfully, only hesitated for a minute, before scambing off the chair and into the car, closing the door and locking it behind him, getting down into the leg space under the chair. It was a protocol the pair had developed from when Stan thought that they were being followed. He wasn't going to let Rico or anyone else get their hands on the kid.
Stan got ready, turning to face the direction of the wolf's cries. They were coming closer and closer, until Stan spotted one coming out of the trees. It stopped only for a moment, taking Stan in, before it ran straight past him – Stan could swear that the thing was whimpering in fear – followed by a small pack of about five. Stan was just about to get ready to fight whatever got the wolves spooked, when the last one jumped out of the forest – keening – followed by a small red headed girl, who couldn't have been any older than ten, swinging around a bat and screaming at the top of her lungs.
“STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU OVERGROWN CHIWAWAS!!!” she yelled.
It would have been funny if Stan was not so bewildered.
After the last wolf disappeared into the forest behind Stan, the girl finally noticed him. Her eyes widened and she just stared at him. Stan stared back, speechless for a few seconds, before stumbling forwards towards her.
The girl looked him up and down with scrutiny, raising her bat as he walked towards her. As Stan walked closer, he realized that her hair was tangled with sticks and mud, and she had small cuts on her cheek and arms, and her small jeans were ripped at the knee with a graze.
“Who are you?” she demanded after Stan had gotten closer to her.
“I’m Stan.” he said, “What are ya doing out here kid? Aren't you a little bit young ta be attacking a pack of angry wolves?”
“They attacked me first.” she said, defensively, “And my dad signed me up for- for apocalypse training with my brothers when I was younger. I can fight a wolf and a zombie by myself. So if you're here to kidnap me, old man, y-you have another thing coming.”
Stan put his arms up defensively, (momentarily forgetting about the knuckles still on his hands) choosing to ignore the fact that he was called old at the age of twenty three. (Did he really look that old?)
“Easy Kiddo, Ah wasn’ gonna kidnap ya. Are ya parents around?”
The girl shook her head.
“Alright, do ya know where they are?”
The girl looked down. Stan sighed.
“Why are ya out here all alone kid?
“I ran away.” The girl said simply, “I didn’t wanna be in the orphanage any more. The teachers are mean.”
“So ya’ve just been livin’ in the woods then?” Stan asked, bewildered.
“Uh huh.” the girl said.
“... How long have ya been livin’ in tha woods for?”
“About two weeks.” the girl said simply, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.
Stan sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course this was happening to him. It always happened to him.
“Hooo boy.” Stan sighed, “Alright, ‘eres whas gonna happen. After my car gets fixed Ah’ll take ya to the nearest town, and we are gonna find out if tha police have said anything ‘bout a missing kid. And before then ya need ta get cleaned up a little, ya hair is a mess and ya hurt yaself a bit running inta those wolves. That alright?”
“I am not going back there!” she said, indignantly, raising her bat, “You can't make me! I can survive on my own!”
“Ok, ok, ah won’ take ya back! But ya can’t just stay ‘ere in the woods for tha rest of ya life.” Stan argued, “Maybe ya can stay with us until I figure somethin’ out, is that better?”
The girl narrowed her eyes at Stan but lowered her weapon slightly.
“Are you sure you’re not a kidnapper?” she asked.
“I’m not a kidnapper.”
“... Thats exactly what a kidnapper would say.”
“Wha- I, er, ok, look, ah’ll let ya keep the bat, ok? That way ya know Ah ain’t gonna kidnap ya. ‘Cause I’d be a really bad kidnapper if ah let someone keep their weapons, And look,” Stan took off his brass knuckles and offered them to her, “These are the only weapons ah have.”
Stan had thrown away his gun a few months after Soos had joined him. It was too tempting sometimes, when Soos was sleeping, to wallow in his own self pity, and he didn't want to do something stupid and leave the poor kid with nothing and traumatize him because of one impulsive, desperate move.
The girl looked from Stan to the knuckles a couple of times, before taking them from him. Stan led her back to the car and did the ‘secret knock’.
“Ya can come out now Soos.” Stan said, and the kid's head popped up from the window.
“What happened Mr. Pines?” he asked.
“Just a couple of wolves. Also I found a new friend, um… what did you say ya name was kiddo?”
“Wendy.” the little girl said.
“Oh, hi,” Soos said, opening the door, “I’m Soos! Nice to meet you.”
“Hey, Soos, can ya get our new friend the first aid kit? Ah think she needs help patching herself up.”
“I do not.” Wendy snapped, “I can patch myself up, thank you very much. They taught me how to do it in apocalypse training!”
“Ok, ok,” Stan said, raising his arms defensively for the second time that day, “I don’ doubt ya kid. But I’d feel much better if ya let Soos take a look atcha, ok? Ya don’ haveta do everything yaself ya know?”
The girl glared at him, but doesnt say anything else. Soos was gentle with the girl, bless his heart, and explained everything he was going to do before doing it. Even when the girl snapped at him a little, she became visibly more calm with Soos.
Stan watched them from a small distance, already trying to figure out how he is supposed to look after yet another kid. Soos was already a handful, and Wendy felt pretty strongly about not going back to the Orphanage she was apparently in, so much so that she ran away and spent two weeks living in the forest. Stan couldn't say he blamed her, and he sure as heck wasn't going to let her survive on her own like that. It was a death sentence, especially for someone as young as Wendy was.
…Even if she had managed to survive and dominate an entire pack of wolves with nothing but a baseball bat.
“All done Mr. Pines.” Soos said, bringing Stan back to the present. Wendy was sitting on one of the chairs, her scraped knee and other small cuts having been cleaned up and covered in dinosaur-themed plasters.
It was concerning how well a twelve year old could easily treat small wounds, even before Stan had met the kid.
“Alright, then, Soos you get back ta fixing tha car, and Ah’ll find something for Wendy ta eat. Ya ok with sandwiches?”
“Yeah.” she said. She watched Stan as he constructed the sandwich, cutting a piece of bread in two with his hands before piling some shredded cheese and ham on one slice and covering it with the other. The girl took it a little reluctantly, but scoffed the entire thing after she’d taken a bite.
Stan sighed internally.
What had he gotten himself into?
Stan was 25 years old when he found out he was a father.
The trio had been travelling around the country a whole lot more, since Stan's enemies had become much more apt at locating him. Somehow, by some unknown force, they had not discovered that he was harbouring two little kids. He’d say surprising, because of the monumental amounts of times he had to stop Wendy from launching herself at the ‘bad guys’.
The two kids honestly could not be any different.
Soos was a gentle giant, having had a growth spurt in his teen years, soft spoken and rather shy around other people. Wendy was loud and boisterous, her actions driven by excitement rather than reason, in a way that reminded Stan painfully of himself and Ford when they were young.
Still she was a nice addition to the group. Thanks to her, they had managed to hide out in the forests, away from busy towns where Ricos men would surely be looking for him, and live off the land. She had an extensive knowledge of plants and what was safe to eat, as well as how to find clean, safe to drink water. She told Stan that it was all thanks to the apocalypse training she had gone through with her family before the accident.
She was very cagey about the accident. Not that Stan could blame the kid, he had yet to tell them about how he got most of his scars, or why he was homeless in the first place.
They had been in LA when Stan had noticed that they were being followed. A man in casual wear had started appearing too often to be a coincidence, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses to hide his identity, but Stan didn't recognize him. He had no visible tattoos, and looked too well dressed, even while wearing casual clothes, to be part of any gangs that Stan knew of.
He’d rented a motel room for the night, telling Soos and Wendy to stay put while he investigated. Wendy had insisted, as usual, to come with him, but he’d just told her to stay put, and guard their stuff. He’d given her a small axe when her bat finally broke a year prior, and she was surprisingly good at wielding the thing, so Stan was sure she’d be able to fight any unwanted intruders away if she pleased.
He’d confronted the man a good way away from the motel, just in case something happened, and demanded to know what he wanted.
The man had introduced himself as a private investigator, hired by someone that Stan had never thought he would hear from again.
He vaguely remembered the girl, young, pretty, with a charming smile and light brown hair. It was a one night stand, back when he was newly homeless, and had not given her much of a second thought.
The investigator explained that she was now terminally ill in a hospital, and had asked him to find him. The man had then proceeded to give Stan a handwritten letter, and after reading it, Stan's heart skipped several beats.
And that's how he ended up pacing around in a motel room, trying to stop himself from having a mental break down in front of Soos, Wendy, and two small seven year old children huddled together under Soos’s blanket, a large duffle bag full of cash and spare clothes on the floor next to the bed, the letter sitting on top of it.
Stan had been doubtful of the man's claims, thinking this was an elaborate joke, before he had finally set eyes on the twins. They had his hair, his eyes, and looked too much like him and Ford when they were younger.
Stan paused, opened his mouth to speak, but when no words came out, he continued to pace around.
How on Earth had the number of kids he’d have to look after doubled twice in five years? How on Earth was he supposed to look after four kids, when he was barely scraping by with two? Sure he had that giant bag of money the kids mother had left them, but how long was that going to last? Should he use it to pay for food, or pay off the debt he owed half the underground? Should he just give the kids up to the orphanage?
No, no he was never letting those kids anywhere near that place. Wendy had just added to Stan's hatred for Orphanages and Foster Care places. But how was he going to be able to provide for all of them?
Stan looked back at the twins, huddled together, hip to hip. They were staring at the ground with vacant expressions, and had said no more than three words each since Stan took them from the car. Soos and Wendy were sitting down on the other bed, having a conversation with looks alone, glancing at the two seven year olds every so often.
“Ok,” Stan said, making everyone look up at him, “Ok, alright, um, I er, I need ta think for a bit. Wendy, doya wanna order take out from that pizza place we saw earlier? ‘N ya can watch something on TV while I take a breather.”
Wendy shrugged, and got up, walking over to the phone to order. She paused and looked back at the twins, who were both staring at her.
“... Is there any pizza you’d like?” Wendy asked them.
“...Peperoni?” the boy - Mason - said meekly, his sister - Mabel - nodding along.
“Ok.” Wendy said, nodding before grabbing the phone and dialing the number.
Stan walked outside the motel room and took in a deep breath of the frozen, polluted air. He needed to call Ma at some point, she’d want to know that he has another two children with him now, and maybe give him some advice about looking after two seven year olds. Wendy and Soos were both ten years old when he met them, after all.
The TV inside the motel room was suddenly turned on, a series for kids that Stan had gotten familiar with echoing in the night.
Maybe he should just call Ford.
…And say what, exactly? Ask for help, ask for money? Would he even consider helping Stan with anything after everything he did to him? He hadn’t had the courage to talk to his brother in eight years. What would change now?
“Um, Mr Pines, sir?”
Stan plastered on his best showman smile and turned to face Soos, Wendy peering at Stan from behind. Both looked upset, and sort of worried.
“Ya ok Kiddos?” he asked.
Soos and Wendy shared a glance, before Soos opened his mouth again.
“Are you… are you going to leave us?” Soos asked softly.
Stan's smile faltered in shock.
“What? What do ya mean, kid?” Stan asked.
“Well, Mason and Mabel are your own kids.” Wendy started, “And we are just a couple of random kids that showed up one day, and I mean, we aren't yours. Not really.”
Stan frowned at them in confusion.
“Kids, course I’m not gonna leave ya just ‘cause Mason and Mable are my flesh and blood.” Stan said, hesitating, “I guess I never told ya what happened to me and my brother, huh?”
“You have a brother?” Soos asked, surprised.
“Um, y-yeah, I have two.” Stan said, “But, I’m talkin’ ‘bout my twin. Stanford.”
Wendy snorted, “Stanford and Stanley, seriously?”
Stan chuckled in response, “Yeah, our father wasn't very creative when it came to names. So, yeah, ah had a twin. Ford. he and I, um, we had an argument over his project that I broke. It was an accident, but he was furious. My father overheard us shoutin’, kicked me out tha’ night and told me ah couldn’ come back ‘til I made millions to make up for et. Ah’m not try’na fault Ford for et, he was right te be angry at me, ah messed up. Et was my fault, but didn’ mean it hurt any less.”
Stan looked up at both kids, who were staring at him wide eyed in shock.
He sighed, and looked back out into the city scape.
“My own family abandoned me tha night. Spent tha next few years on my own, till ah bumped into you two.” Stan continued, before hesitating. “Tha point that ah’m try’na make ‘ere is that, after livin’ with you two, ah’ve learned that family is deeper than blood. You two are my family, more so than my brother, or my parents. Havin’ Mason and Mabel around ain’t gonna change that. Our family’s just gonna get bigger.”
“What about the money?” Wendy asked, “We’re struggling enough as it is.”
“We’ll work et out.” Stan shrugged, “We always do.”
Stan let out an ‘oof’ when the two kids launched themselves at him and wrapped their arms around him.
“Thanks Dad.” Soos said, “We love you too.”
Stan would deny the fact that that single word brought any tears to his eyes. It was the first time Soos had ever called him that.
“Love ya too, son.” Stan said ruffling their heads affectionately, “And love ya too, daughter.”
They stayed like that for a few seconds, before Stan pried them off himself.
“Alright ya two saps, lets get ya back inside with ya two new siblings.” Stan said, a stupid smile on his face. The pair grinned and ran back inside, and Stan followed after them.
Stan didn't get the time to talk to his Ma that night. The five of them pushed the two beds together and sat down in the middle, eating the pizza from the cardboard box and watching cartoon series late into the night.
When the morning came around, Stan was snoring in the middle, Mason and Soos huddled on one side of him, with Wendy and Mable on the other side, his arms wrapped around his entire family, pulling them in close.