I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of the characters; both are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of Alex Hirsch. I make no money from these stories but write just for fun and in the hope that other fans enjoy reading them. I will ask, please, do not copy my stories elsewhere on the Internet. I work hard on these, and they mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Can You Come Out to Play?

(June 5, 2017)

1: A Good Long Run

Monday, blessed Monday, when the Shack was closed to the public, where you could laze the day away talking to Soos and Melody, answering Little Soos's endless strings of questions, holding hands with Wendy, making plans for the summer ahead . . . Fishing Opener coming up on Friday, with Stan sponsoring a big fishing contest—just ten bucks a head to enter, with prizes for the heaviest, the smallest, and the troutiest (retail value of each prize approximately five bucks, but then you got bragging rights, which are priceless, or at least worthless).

The Saturday before, the twins had called their mom and dad and had assured them that everything was peachy—though Mabel did ask her dad, "Why were you worried about us? We're nearly eighteen! It's not like we were gonna get abducted by a gigantic spaceship or anything, if that's what you guys were afraid of!

It was nice to see Blendin Blandin for a few minutes, too, before he had to slip back into the time-stream, though he told them he would be back before too long at the right time for a time-conversation with them—and with Wendy.

And the day after that, Dipper had enjoyed attending church services with Wendy and her family—even Junior seemed to have settled down a little, somewhat less of a jerk than Dipper remembered. He was dating a girl named Lindy Schellkraut from up in southern Washington State—she had been on a lumbering team with him when he worked for the Corduroy's cousin Steve—and Junior showed Dipper her photo (she looked like a muscular girl), except he kept his thumb over her face. "She don't want anybody to see this, and so I'll take another one when her face heals up. Hey, just a tip—you ever see something up in a tree and think it's a hurt owl, don't climb up to check it. It might be a porcupine."

There was a story in that, and Dipper was glad Junior did not tell it.

The Corduroys' minister, the Reverend Gaspell, remembered Dipper and after services asked him why Mabel hadn't come, too. "She and her boyfriend went up to visit her two pigs," Dipper explained. Waddles and Widdles, now full-sized hogs, had settled in happily at Wendy's Aunt Sallie's farm, where they had lots of attention and lots of company, including the goat, Gompers, who was a single parent to his offspring, Geepers.

"Well," Dr. Gaspell had said with a smile, "St. Francis taught us to show love to all our animal friends."

"If St. Francis ever met Mabel," Wendy said seriously, "he'd want to marry her."

Back in January, Wendy had moved out of the Corduroy cabin and had rented a room in, yep, the Shack—Ford's old bedroom, where the twins once had a run-in with the electron carpet. While she completed the last term of her freshman year in a community college outside the Valley and also worked as winter caretaker and then spring and summer manager of the Shack, Wendy paid an honest rent to Soos—one dollar per month, as high as he would go.

She wanted Dipper and Mabel to see what she'd done with the room, but not quite yet—she admitted that in the run-up to the twins' graduation down in Piedmont, she'd uncharacteristically let things slide, and she wanted to do some serious tidying before that. On Sunday evening, she'd done the cleaning, and some time on Monday she'd invite Dipper and Mabel in to see her new digs.

But first . . . way early in the morning, Dipper lay sleeping in bed, the sky outside the triangular window beginning to pale, but not yet bright with the morning sun, and dreamed of, for some reason, gliding down a winding, placid stream in a small rowboat with no oars. Wendy sat on the thwart beside him, though, and they were cuddling and kissing and giggling as they swept gently past pools with mallards dabbling in the water, a cat-tailed mudflat with a chorus of bullfrogs gronking a love song, under a fancy little wooden bridge double-arched to make a heart shape—well, if you weren't in love, it might make you throw up in your mouth.

But since Dipper was in love, he found the trip blissful. He could feel Wendy's lips warm on his, could feel her tricky tongue teasing, gently parting his lips, and then gliding into his mouth, where he used his own tongue to joust with it, and mmn, it tasted like peppermint, and—

You want to go for a run, Dip?

He awoke to find himself gazing into Wendy's impish green eyes, and he chuckled. He remembered an old, old movie that his dad had watched one evening back in the spring when Mom and Mabel were off doing some late shopping, and he murmured, "Of all the beds in all the Shacks in the world, I'm glad you walked into mine. Good morning, Wen."

She had reclaimed her tongue and was nuzzling his neck. Mmm, I love the way you smell when you first wake up.

—Um. Really? Because I don't think—

She nipped his neck playfully. Brings out the animal in me, dude!

—Oh. I smell like prey. Got it. Hey, I'm not going to be in any shape for our run if you keep that up.

OK.

Wendy pushed off from his bed and stood with her hands on her hips. She already wore red running shorts, a black vest-type tee shirt, white socks, and red running shoes. She lacked only her red sweatband. "So, man, we gonna run, or are you gonna get all sloppy and fat on me now you're not on the track team?"

"We'll run," Dipper said. "As soon as you let me get out of bed!"

Grinning, she bent as if to kiss him, but instead gripped the sheet and light blanket and yanked both right off him, leaving him exposed in his tee shirt and gray boxer briefs, which left very little—that was badly put—nothing unusually big, let's say—to the imagination.

"Glad to see me, huh?" she asked, chuckling. "Come on, up and roll out of bed and get dressed."

Dipper crossed his legs. "Well—little privacy?"

"Nuh-uh," she said.

"Hey, I didn't watch you get dressed," he said.

"Make a deal with you—tomorrow if you come down to my room before I'm awake, it's your turn. Come on, I want to run! Time for foolin' around later, man."

We're going to be married, I have to get used to this. "OK," Dipper said, giving up and getting up. "It's not like I'm such a big show or anything."

Wendy sat on the foot of the bed and watched him, well, take it off. He would run in the white tee-shirt, but he changed to athletic shorts—he turned his back to take off the boxers and don them, and Wendy whistled appreciatively. "Nice buns, dude!"

"I'll check yours out tomorrow!" he promised. Then he got into his running shorts, socks, and running shoes. "How warm is it?"

"Mm, not very. Pretty cool outside," Wendy said. Then she added innocently, "But in here right now, it's hot!"

"Let's run into town to start with, OK?" he asked. "I want to see everything again."

""Deal," she said. "I'm gonna run you hard enough for you to wear a sweatband." She took hers from her shorts pocket and put it on. Her red hair was now just as long as it had been when Dipper first met her—she had cut it off a year and a half earlier to support one of her classmates who had breast cancer (she was cancer-free now, Wendy had told Dipper), but Corduroy hair grew fast.

They stopped to get a couple of bottles of water—tap water, reusable bottles, Wendy was becoming more concerned with environmental conservation as she took her classes—and then went onto the front lawn to stretch out.

Wendy had not been kidding—it was not just cool, but verging on cold, temperature probably somewhere south of fifty. "My gosh," Dipper said as they started their lunges, "what time is it anyhow? The sun's barely up!"

"Five-thirty, just about," Wendy said. "Sorry, but we turned in early last night, and this morning I woke up early and just couldn't wait."

"You know—we could have—stayed in my—room for another—half-hour—"

"Uh-uh," Wendy told him, standing opposite him and mirroring his stretches. "Shape I'm in after missing you so long, if I'd stayed there another ten minutes, trust me, we wouldn't have made it to our run. Or breakfast. Or maybe we wouldn't even have come downstairs by lunchtime!"

"The Love God hasn't—shot you with—any funny—arrows, has he?" Dipper asked as they went out of the lunges and into the ankle stretches.

"Dunno, man," she said. "All I know is, if we mean to keep our vow, we are gonna have to be really, really careful this summer. You good to go?"

"Yeah," Dipper said. He picked up the water bottles and handed "Wendy hers. "Mom told me something interesting last week," he said as they started in an easy warm-up jog down the driveway.

"What's that?"

"She said you and I don't need to be chaperoned this summer."

"Man!" Wendy exclaimed, her smile broad. "That's practically giving permission!"

"That's what I thought. But we've kept our promise so long—"

"Three more months won't matter," Wendy said comfortably. Ahead, at the foot of the driveway, a panicky chipmunk skittered back and forth before choosing a side and fleeing from them.

"It's kind of a goal now, isn't it?" Dipper asked. "Holding off, I mean. I think we should wait until August, you know. But it's gonna be super hard."

"Oh, yeah!" she said. "I got my hopes up about that."

Dipper very nearly stumbled, but he managed to keep his feet as they turned and ran toward the sleeping town.

No traffic at all. The sun coming up red past the split cliffs. Their running shadows stretching long across dewy grass. A few woodpeckers tuning up for the first movement of the Machine-Gun Symphony in D. Way high something catching the sunlight as it glided over, just possibly a Pteranodon. Their footsteps fell in complete harmony with each other. Dipper recognized the old familiar loosening of the muscles, the paradoxical relaxed feeling of moderate exertion. They diverted to make a round of Circle Park, then around the water tower once.

At the spot where the woods came close to the road, a lean brown buck-toothed animal sat up straight on his butt and shrilly chattered at them. "We're not even on your lawn, dude!" Wendy called to him. "Hey, Dip, know what that critter is, man?"

"Ground hog," Dipper said. "Except up here in Oregon, I gotta call them whistle-pigs!"

"I have taught you well, grasshopper!" Wendy chortled. She picked up speed, and Dipper did, too, pacing her.

Like the snowman and his entourage, they ran up and down the streets of town. No traffic cops were out this early to holler "Stop," though. And almost everything was closed—most of the stores began the business day at nine. By the time they passed Greasy's, it was opening time for breakfast there—six a.m.—and Dipper saw Dan's pickup parked outside.

"Do you miss cooking for your family?" Dipper asked Wendy as they left Greasy's behind and headed for the Mall.

"Not one little bit," Wendy said. "Dad and the boys manage, and they eat out a lot more than they used to, and once a week I go over and make a good dinner for them. Now I cook only when I want to. And Dad has a lady coming in to swamp out the place every other day. I don't think you know her—Lucille Meddoes?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," Dipper said.

"She's a widow-lady, lives up about two miles northeast of us. I think Dad's sweet on her."

Dipper laughed. "Good for him!"

"Best thing is, I think it's mutual. Mr. Meddoes was a logger, too. He was older'n Lucille. I guess she's forty, he passed away a year or two ago at sixty. Stroke. Dad knew him and when her money got tight, he helped her out—Mr. M. didn't have more insurance than it took to bury him."

"That's tough," Dipper said. They did a whole round of the big parking lot behind Gravity Malls, then detoured to pass the high school—"So long, GFH!" Wendy called. "Been good to know you—sometimes! Like I started from the parking lot the time I drove the tank, remember?"

"Couldn't forget it," Dipper said. Especially the part where Mabel toppled down through the hatch on top of Wendy, and for about twenty seconds the treads chewed up the sidewalk while the cannon took out half a dozen store awnings before Wendy got control again. But McGucket generously paid to repair the damage, and nobody sued, so, as Mabel said, "That was fun!"

They even extended their route as far as a spot overlooking the lake, admired the Falls—in strong flow—and then jogged more slowly all the way back to the Shack. Dipper was getting winded. "How—far—do you—think-?"

"I'd say eight miles," Wendy replied cheerfully. "You did good, Dip! We won't run this hard every morning, but I'm gonna push you to get used to this distance. I mean to build up your stamina before August 31!"

Well—Western Alliance University did have a pretty good track team, but Dipper felt fairly certain that wasn't why Wendy wanted him in top physical shape by his birthday.

They took the long slow uphill pull easy and got back to the Shack. They stepped up onto the porch right around six forty-nine. Wendy said, "Not too shabby. Eight miles in an hour-ten. We'll get you to eight in an hour by the end of the month."

Soos was up already, and he greeted them with his whistle-pig style bucktoothed grin as they came in through the gift-shop door. "Dawgs! It is, like, so blanchin' cool to see you two come in like that, dudes, all red-faced and sweaty! Just like all those times in the past. Man, I'm so glad the space guy didn't, like, leave you up on the moon, dudes!"

"Kinda glad of that ourselves," Wendy said. "OK, Soos, me and Dipper are gonna shower off and get dressed and then we'll cook a big breakfast for the family, give Abuelita a break. Is that cool?"

"Totally!" Soos said.

"And it's OK if we take our shower together?"

"Um—sure, whatever," Soos said, giggling, shrugging, and turning red.

"Ha! Just kiddin' you, man. Though that would save water. I'll take the downstairs shower. Dipper, meet me in the kitchen in like fifteen minutes."

Soos followed Dipper to the foot of the stairs. "Uh, dude," he said, "If you and Wendy, you know, want to, um, save water or whatever, well, I won't say a word, dawg. Not a word!"

"She's teasing us, Soos," Dipper said. "But thanks, man."

Soos whispered, "Sometimes me and Melody do that. When Abuelita has the kids outside, you know. It's like good clean fun, dude. But take the rubber ducks out first."

"I'll . . . keep that in mind," Dipper said. "Gotta hurry now!"

He soaped up and rinsed off . . . in cold water. Just because. And he got dressed for the day in cargo jeans, a red shirt, and a Navy blue vest, like the one he'd worn years ago, though in a larger size. And then at the last minute he took off the vest, stood at the bathroom sink, and shaved. He could almost pull off a beard now, without the help of Mabel's lash extender, but . . . nah, too scraggly still. Give it another year, maybe. He slapped on some of his homemade aftershave (three ounces of rubbing alcohol and a half-teaspoonful of oil of peppermint).

When he came downstairs, he stepped into the aroma of brewing coffee. "How about one of our famous breakfast casseroles, Dip?" Wendy asked. She was laying out a bowl, a dozen eggs, a baking dish, butter, and other stuff. "You preheat the oven to 350 and fry up a pound of bacon. Use the biggest skillet—still have to do two lots. Is real bacon OK for you and Mabel these days?"

"She'll eat it if we don't tell Waddles," Dipper said. "Me, too. Dad's real lenient about dietary laws, so let's go for it."

"Good 'cause we're out of turkey bacon, and the real kind's better in this recipe. Get busy, dude, while I do my thing!"

Dipper remembered the recipe—one too high in calories to have every day, but a great change of pace about once a month. It used a whole dozen eggs, and incredible amounts of cheese—cheddar, Swiss, and cottage—as well as a large sweet onion and four cups of frozen hash-brown potatoes. Wendy also stirred in a mix of finely minced thyme and parsley, and when they popped the big casserole dish in the oven, she set a timer for thirty-five minutes. "Boom, there we go," she said. "It'll be ready before eight." She wiped her hands on a towel, sniffed, and then murmured, "Hey, Dip, how long has it been since we kissed?"

Dipper glanced at his watch. "Too long," he said. He put his arms around her and corrected that. She breathed deeply, appreciating his aftershave.

Mmm, I love me some peppermint in the morning. Where'd you find that, dude?

—I invented it myself. Just for you.

She put her arms around his neck and pulled him tight for another long kiss. It works, dude. It's really revvin' my engine!

"You guys are so cute!" Mabel, lured by the breakfast aromas, had come out of the guest room. "Hey, Wendy, look what Dad found for me!" She spread her arms.

"A new sleep shirt?" Wendy asked, breaking the embrace and turning toward Mabel. "Cool!"

Of course the new sleep shirt was just like her old sleep shirt, except it was, well, new and the lavender color had not faded, but it still had the now-archaic image of a floppy disc. "Dad's company had these made for the first computer conference it threw years and years ago," Mabel said. "Then in February they were cleaning out a closet and he found a box of these they hadn't used, still in their plastic bags. This is a Men's Medium. My old one was a Women's Small." She wriggled her shoulders. "Feels great to have a little more room for the bazingas!"

"Comfort's key, dude," Wendy said.

Dipper . . . didn't comment.

Little Soos came running in to be picked up and whirled around by Mabel, scattering giggles the way a rotating sprinkler scatters water drops—he was a chubby little kid, not quite the image of Soos, but you could tell, and he had a great personality. Right behind him, Melody, already dressed, came in with little Harmony (who fortunately took after her and was a cherubic toddler) flapping along behind her on bare feet. "Morning!" Harmony said.

Abuelita, a little more stooped, but still smiling gently, came next "The smell is so nice," she said.

They were halfway through breakfast when Stan and Sheila showed up, and they had enough of the casserole left over for them to sample it. Stan said, "We already ate, but it smells too good to pass up," and they split about a half-serving between them, prompting Sheila to ask Wendy for the recipe. Then everyone had another cup of coffee. After the cleanup, Stan asked, "So what are you knuckleheads up to today?"

"I'm calling my posse," Mabel announced. "Candy and Grenda graduated, and they've gotta tell me about their college plans and about being a baroness. Candy's going to Oregon Polytechnic in the fall, and Grenda's off with Marius to romantic Austria for the big wedding in the middle of summer! And I haven't heard from Pacifica in two months, so I gotta make sure she and Daniel are still a thing—"

Wendy gave Dipper a glance. Then she cleared her throat. "Uh—Mabes, go easy there. Pacifica's had a rough time. She and Daniel kinda split—it's complicated, but basically, a girl he used to know who's what he was, uh—"

"A vampire?" Mabel asked.

"Um, yeah, well, she came back into his life, and, um—well, they're kinda together now, and I think maybe she bit him, so he's gone back to the way he was, and—well, Pacifica and her dad had some sort of blow-up, and she's moved out on her own, and he cut off her allowance—"

"Poor Paz!" Mabel exclaimed. "Is she all right? Is she still in town?"

"Still in town, and she got herself a job," Wendy said. "But I know she's feeling really rotten. She won't talk to me, except just 'Hi' and 'I don't want to talk about it.'"

"Then my mission is clear," Mabel said, standing with one foot on a kitchen chair. "I've got to rescue Paz! She obviously needs a new guy! Time for Match-Maker Mabel to step up her game!"

"Well," Dipper said, "looks like the summer's started. Everybody buckle up."