The Mystery Trio sit around the front room of the shack. Fiddleford and Stanley are in a nearly heated discussion on a nerdy topic Stanford would rather not be a part of, so he didn't bother with it. The muscle of the group zoned out, wondering what would happen if a creature barged into the cabin. He'd have something to do, that's for sure. The scientists are debating which animal sketch better fits the tracks they found the other day.

Suddenly, swept out of his thoughts by movement against his skin, he recognizes the sweet lips of Carla McCorkle pressing on his cheek. He's surprised to say the least and chuckles her a warm welcome.

"Hello to you too," he hums, looking into her lovely brown eyes.

"I just couldn't help myself," she smiles at him, "seeing the most handsome man in town and all."

He swings her around, Carla giggling as he does so. Stand puts her down on his lap, her back against his chest and he reaches around to kiss her cheek. She closes an eye and pulls her hand up to his face, enjoying the smooch.

"Hey Carla," Fiddleford greets shyly once the main theatrics of their welcome is over.

"Hey, Fiddle," she replies.

"Why don't you two go get a room?" Stanley offers, eying his bother.

"Fine by me!" Stanford decides, picking her up bridal style and carrying her through to the kitchen.

Once they're alone they stand close to each other, Carla pulling her man in by the fabric of his shirt and landing a big kiss right on his lips. He holds her like this too. He's always loved kissing her.

It doesn't last as long as Stanford usually hopes because Carla pulls away, her eyes shining, and she begins speaking.

"Let's do something today, big boy," she winks at him, pinching his bottom. Stan chuckles, jumping a bit.

"Like what?"

"Oh!" she remembers, gleeful that he's going along with her thus far. "Look what I found," she tells him exciting, running out the back door of the shack. Stanford follows after her, amused, but once outside he loses track of her. She's quick to leave, he speculates.

Carla pulls around with a bike under her bottom, her hotpants showing her figure off nicely. "Get on loser," she snaps her fingers.

"Where're you takin me this time?" Stan wonders, placing his fists on his sides.

"No need for destinations, hunky."

"Alright, babe, let's get to it," Stan agrees, walking over to his darling.

Once Stan is secured on the back of the bike, Carla makes it her mission to petal away from the shack. Stan is a lot heavier than she anticipated, though, must be all that hunk. She obviously struggles, tucking her lips under while her eyes stay focused ahead of her. Her legs shake as she pushes down on the petals in effort to move forward. Little by little she manages to move the two of them. It's not all due to the bullheadedness of her strength but rather that of Stan's legs which remain grounded, keeping the bike steady and helping it inch along with his tiptoes.

She manages to pedal to at least the front drive of the shack, nearly onto the beginning of the access road but damn it's just enough of an uphill battle that makes it so hard for her to continue on.

"Wanna switch?" Stan asks her after listening to her make a number of muffled sounds.

"No I can do this," she huffs, straining to keep the momentum going.

Stanford steps off the bike, standing off of it really, and he does so just as Carla begins to thrust her foot in the downward propelling motion. From the random and unaccounted loss of weight, the bikes lurches forward and tilts to one side, nearly falling over and Carla along with it. Stan catches her and the bike simultaneously, evening her out by the waist and making sure the bike is secure by the middle of its handle bars.

"Still got this?" he asks her, raising a brow.

"Fine," she huffs, playfully begrudging, and gets off the seat so that Stan may take the helm.

Sitting on the back of the bike, Carla leans against Stan as she watches the world pass behind them. Stan pedals down the access road like they're treading air, she's always felt so feather light when she's with him. The wind of the day is nothing to them, the lonely cars that pass them by on the roads filter out of sight. It's just the two of them, pushing through the warm air of the day, pedaling against the line of the forest and all the woodland creatures that live among its vast beauty.

They enjoy each other's harmonious silence when it comes and the chatter of chortled laughter and ideas when they're shared. Carla loves to hear the sound of Stan's usual whistled tune and Stan's more than happy just sensing his best girl is right behind him. She kicks her legs up, twirling them above the back bike tire while her thick hair flitters past her face. Her dark eyes are lit like the stars at night when she's with him. These are the days they both stay up late thinking about.

The sun follows its normal decent in the sky, still giving the two love bugs more than enough light to continue trekking around Gravity Falls. The townsfolk give them wild looks having known Stan's past, but Stan and Carla just laugh at them and kiss some more.

Once out of town and back onto the forest roads again Stan whistles more as Carla rests against him and listens. He's her favorite tune.

Her eyes looks past the first rows of trees, watching them fly by to be forgotten until the next passenger comes along, and wonders if there's anything out there. The local legends are more than colorful but hey, it's not her place to agree or disagree with them. She looks over her shoulder instead, watching her hunky man pedal like he's not doing anything at all. He's so strong, and she loves him so much.

"Hey," she tells him, suddenly remembering something great. "You know what we could try?" Stan stops whistling and listens in on what she has to say. "Let's try to jump this thing," she proposes, pointing down at the bike.

"Let's do it," Stan immediately agrees, a crooked smile blooming below his glowing eyes.

Carla tells him about this small ramp in the woods and when they get there it's a little bigger than small.

It's natural, of course, but instead of a dirt mound it's all rock. If they were to miss they'd fall into a fairly low divot that's also, rocky. They both squint at it mischievously, nodding in agreement while Stan lines up the bike to the ramp. Carla turns around in her seat, resting her chest against his back while her arms hold the width of his trim waist.

"You ready?" he asks, preparing to step down on the pedals and propel this thing forward.

She looks over his shoulder and meets the gaze of his inviting dark eyes. "Born ready."

And on that mark Stan presses down and the bike speeds off, right for the ramp. It makes the contact and the jump is followed quickly after, the two of them soaring upward, still hanging onto the bike and each other. But somewhere on the decent Stan realizes they aren't going to make it to the other side.

In the fast-paced moment Stan calls for them to jump and, Carla, seeing it too, agrees quickly. The two of them propel through the air without the messenger beneath them, holding them back. Carla has her grasp on Stan at first but somewhere along the way they lose touch and they fall apart from each other. The bike having already taken the plunge, the two riders skid on the hard forest ground, tumbling once and getting scuffed and scratched along the way.

Stan has definitely had worse, but when he realizes that he's lost contact with Carla something inside his chest tightens and he grows a smidgen worried. He picks himself up easy, figuring he won't even feel the soreness tomorrow, but he sees Carla lying on the forest floor a couple yards away from him and his worry shows externally.

He walks over to her a little faster than usual, the worst scenarios suddenly running through his head. She's not facing him and he can see the redness on her arm and the scuffs and dirt on her clothes. But when he sees her eyes are wide open and wondering, he realizes that she is laying here purposefully and his heart rate thumps down. He steps around to the other side of her and kneels, looking closely at her face, kindly concerned but not much above it. Stan knows how tough his girl is.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she replies, her usual tone lining her words, "I'm just trying to figure out the mathematics of that thing." Her eyes dart up to meet his, smiling a bit as he does. Relieved, he takes her by the hands and swings her to her feet carefully.

"You're starting to sound like one of the nerds," he jokes.

She punches him in the arm but pulls back with an ouch. She quickly inspects her scuffed hand and picks out a bit of dirt that's stuck there. Stan watches her, unknowingly furrowing his brow.

"Eh, it's not too bad," she decides, looking up and winking at him. His worry melts away once more.

Carla has no idea what Stan does with his brother and Fiddle, and with things going as well as they have been, he figures there's no need to tell her about it. The less she knows about the monsters that're out there the better she'll have it.

They stretch their limbs, Carla sure she'll feel the bunt of the crash-landing tomorrow, and walks over to where the bike must have landed. Well it's there alright, at the bottom of the shallow pit bent and broken. One of its wheels continues to spin, too.

"Well that definitely isn't," Stan deduces, adding onto Carla's last statement.

"Yeah..." They both pause, Carla lifting her hands to her hips and asking suddenly: "That was your brother's bike, wasn't it?"

"Yep."

She looks at him, tucking in her lips. She feels bad about it.

"Eh, he hasn't used it in ages," Stan tells her, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Come on."

And with that, they begin to walk home.

The walk is about thirty minutes from the shack but they still manage to get back before the sun sets. Stan was about to walk right into the house like normal but Carla stopped him, coming up with a much better idea.

They knock on Stan's own front door and wait for someone to answer, hopefully it'll be just who they want to see. And after a moment's delay, Stanley answers the door just as was hoped.

Stan's four-eyed twin opens the door, confused by the appearance of the two and why they would knock instead of coming right in. The door wasn't locked or anything... But no. By the look on their faces, honestly trying to be serious about something, Stanley knows that they've been up to something. Stan and Carla are trying to put on straight faces but it doesn't work as well as they wanted.

Stanley looks them up and down, noticing the scuffs and the scratches, this is when Carla speaks, tucking her lips in as to keep herself from laughing.

"We thought we could make the jump, and... we broke your bike."

"It was her idea," Ford points to her with his thumb.

Stanley doesn't even bother with it and instead closes the door and walks away.

The couple turns to each other, unable to hold it back any longer, and bursts into chuckles and suppressed laughter.

"I told you it was worth it!" Carla clucks at him.

"You're a mastermind," he compliments her with a toothy grin, taking her carefully by the waist and spinning her around on his porch. "Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."

"Only if I get to clean you up too," she smiles deviously, pinching his butt before welcoming herself into the shack. Ford smiles after her, blushing a bit too, and he thinks about how lucky he is to have her by his side. Stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind him, he utters something longingly truthful under his breath:

"God, I love that girl."

The sun just beginning to set, he ushers in the wake of her footsteps, tailing her into the kitchen before sweeping her off her feet again and giving her the biggest smooch he can muster. Laughter fills the shack once again and the nerds know the muscle and his girl are back.