I do not own Gravity Falls.

Cooking With Ford

"Oof!"

The startled yelp, followed by the sound of metal clattering to the tiled floor of the kitchen, compelled Ford to set the book he'd been reading down. With Stan and Dipper currently in town, that left only one culprit for the cringing metallic racket.

"Mabel?" he called, standing up and glancing in the direction of the kitchen with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Fine!" she responded. "Just made a bit of a mess! But I'll clean it up, don't worry."

Not entirely settled by her reassurance, Ford went to investigate. He paused in the kitchen doorway and stared at his niece, who was gathering the fallen pots into her arms. An overturned stool and an open cupboard door told him all he needed to know.

Her little arms holding as many pots as she could carry, Mabel straightened up and noticed her great-uncle watching her. "Sorry," she said with a sheepish smile. "I was getting a pot and I lost my balance."

"I can see that," said Ford, doing a quick sweep to make sure she hadn't injured herself. Satisfied that she hadn't, he added curiously, "What on Earth are you doing?"

"I was gonna make some spaghetti," she said cheerfully. "My tummy is a-hollerin' for some spaghetti."

Ford glanced over at the counter, where the necessary ingredients to make spaghetti were neatly arranged on the surface. He glanced over at the twelve-year-old girl with a stern expression. "You know you can't use the stove by yourself."

"I wasn't going to," chirped Mabel, peeking overtop her pile of pots with innocent, hopeful eyes. "I was just getting everything ready and then I was gonna ask if you wanted to help."

Ford crossed his arms, eyebrow arched. "Oh really? Why didn't you ask before you set everything up? I might have said no."

Mabel grinned triumphantly. "You said 'might'! That's past tense! That means you will help!"

Ford could not help but chuckle. "Perceptive." Noticing the girl was wobbling slightly under her heavy burden, he walked over and relieved her of the pots. "I must say, spaghetti does sound good. I can't remember the last time I had it."

"We'll have to fix that," said Mabel determinedly. She paused and glanced down at the floor with a speculative expression. "Um, we better wash one of the pots. I dunno when Grunkle Stan last cleaned."

"I shudder to think how much dust, dirt and germs have built up," said Ford with a shiver. He dumped the pots into the sink and selected one to wash. When he was certain it was squeaky clean, he filled it with water and set it on the stovetop. He cranked the flame to the highest setting so that the water would boil quicker. "I'm afraid I'm not a man of culinary skills, so you will be leading this expedition."

Puffing out her chest, Mabel declared, "We'll make the greatest spaghetti ever."

Her enthusiasm infectious, Ford smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately. "We'll give it our best shot."

"We didn't have any meat, but there were some leftover vegetables in there," she continued. A crease of concern appeared on her brow. "Is vegetable sauce gonna be okay? I know Grunkle Stan likes his meat…"

"He'll simply have to deal with it," said Ford, lightly smoothing the wrinkle off of her forehead and causing her to giggle. "But I really don't think he'll mind. Especially if it's something you made. I'll start chopping the celery."

"Okay," she said cheerfully. "Can I cut the carrot?"

"Be careful," he cautioned.

Mabel needed the stool to reach the counter and properly slice up the orange vegetable, and Ford kept a watchful eye on her as he sliced the celery and onion. But they made it through the chopping process smoothly, to Ford's relief. "Nice job, dear."

"Thanks!" Mabel slid the pieces of carrot towards her uncle, who scooped them up and dumped them into a pan, already containing olive oil, along with the other vegetables and minced garlic.

"We'll let that heat up," said Ford, stirring the mixture around.

"I'll put the noodles in the pot," spoke Mabel, reaching for the bag of noodles. In an ungraceful manner, she dumped them into the boiling water and the scalding liquid splashed up onto her hand. "Ouch!"

Snapping his attention towards his niece, he immediately noticed her cradling her hand to her chest, face pinched with pain. "What happened?" he asked anxiously, moving over to her side and taking her hand in his.

"Burned myself," she muttered, flinching at the throbbing ache.

"Let's take care of that." Lifting her into his arms, he swept her over to the sink and cranked the tap to the coldest setting. Mabel dutifully stuck it under the frigid stream and let out a sigh of relief.

"That feels nice. Thanks, Grunkle Ford." She glanced at him with a sheepish expression. "Sorry. I should have been more careful."

"Accidents happen, especially in the kitchen. You needn't apologize." Eventually Mabel removed her hand and Ford set her down, turning off the water. "How does it feel?"

"All better," proclaimed Mabel. "But I think I'll let you take care of the spaghetti. The pot is mad at me because I dropped it."

"Sounds good to me," said Ford with a laugh. "Why don't you open the cans of tomato sauce?"

"Roger!"

Soon the cans of sauce were open and she brought them over to Ford, who was stirring the spaghetti noodles. Once the sauce was added he gave everything a big stir before leaving it to simmer.

Pop!

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth as a bubble of tomato sauce burst, splotches of red liquid splattering onto Ford's face. It was thankfully not hot and Ford only cried out in surprise, not pain.

"Wonderful," he muttered, removing his glasses and wiping them clean with the hem of his sweater. He noticed Mabel struggling not to laugh out loud and he gave her a mock glare. "Think that's funny, do you?"

Before she could respond, another bubble of tomato sauce rose up and burst, as if on cue, and coated the front of the girl's sweater. The two stared at it for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"I think we better get a lid over that," giggled Mabel, going to retrieve the top that matched the pot.

"Before we end up with more sauce on us than the spaghetti," joked Ford.

A few minutes later, the spaghetti was finished and the sauce was simmering safely with the lid firmly in place. Mabel set her hands on her hips and smiled proudly. "It smells so good."

"I think we've accomplished our goal, dear." Reaching out, Ford combed his fingers through his niece's long brunette hair and he added in amusement, "You've got some tomato sauce in your hair."

"Aw, nuts." Scrunching up her nose, Mabel felt the chunk of sauce clinging to her strands. She looked up at Ford and grinned. "You've got some in your hair too."

"Guess the kitchen isn't the only thing that needs cleaning up," he returned, turning off the heat underneath the tomato sauce. "Don't want this to burn while we wash up."

"Grunkle Ford? Thanks for cooking with me."

Ford turned to see his niece looking at him with brilliant smile, one that was brighter than the sun as far as he was concerned. "Anytime, dear. Though I can't say we'll always get such good results. Come. Let's get this gunk out before it hardens."

He extended his hand and Mabel happily linked up with him.

Spaghetti and Grunkle Ford all to myself. Best day ever!