I do not own Gravity Falls.

Well, I'm sick, so I thought it would be fitting to update a chapter while I share the same symptoms as Dipper and Mabel.


Sick Days Are Lazy Days

The hours dragged by and Mabel spent those long minutes sprawled in her bed, fleece blanket draped over her middle and Waddles napping by her feet. When the chocolate icing left her taste buds, she snagged her glass of orange juice and drank it greedily. But the liquid was now warm and did no good against her dry, burning throat.

Coughing from the uncomfortable sensation, Mabel rubbed the base of her throat gingerly. She was in dire need of a fresh drink…or a cough drop. Rolling out of bed, she flinched as her feet struck the cold wooden floor. Shivering, she crept to the door, casting a quick glance at her snoozing brother as she went. He had wrapped himself up in the thin blanket, his breathing uneven and the cloth hanging halfway over his right eye.

Smiling at the sight, Mabel went downstairs and to the bathroom. She threw open the cabinets and rummaged through the contents, hoping to find a worn cardboard box of small red candy-like throat soothers.

"Darn," she whispered upon coming up empty. Pursing her lips, she tried to think of where they would be, but her throbbing head wouldn't let her think.

Hoping that Wendy and Soos might know, she made her way into the gift shop, where people jostled against each other for overpriced souvenirs. Mabel stood on her tiptoes and peered over the crowd, where she saw Wendy lazily cashing the customers out. "Wendy!"

What was supposed to be a yell came out as a soft rasp. Sighing, Mabel wrestled her way through the crowd of people, managing to avoid getting an elbow to the face. She emerged on the other side, panting slightly and sweating more than she was before.

"Mabel?" Wendy took notice of the twelve-year-old girl leaning against the register stand. "You're supposed to be in bed, dude."

"My throat is trying to kill me," the girl rasped, a pout on her lips. "I think I'm gonna lose my voice. And I need my voice! How am I supposed to spread my Mabel-ness if I can't talk?"

Wendy grinned. "You've got a bedazzling gun, a horde of stickers and a collection of communicative sweaters. I think you'll be just fine. So whatcha need, babe?"

"Excuse me?" A customer on the other side of the till waved a wad of bills in front of Wendy's face. "I'd like to pay for these."

Annoyed, the redhead swatted his hand away. "Chillax, bro. I'll only be a sec. Those cheap-butt bobbleheads aren't going anywhere."

When Wendy turned back to face Mabel, the girl asked, "Do you know where Grunkle Stan keeps the cough drops?"

"No clue," admitted Wendy. "But Soos might know. Soos! You done with raccoon hunting?"

The large handyman walked in through the open gift shop door, scratched up but otherwise healthy. "They're out frolicking in the forest," he confirmed. "I'm gonna miss them. I felt connected with them. They like to eat, just like me."

"I'm sure they'll be back," dismissed Wendy. "Listen, can you show Mabel where the cough drops are? I can handle the fort down here."

"I got it covered."

Soos led Mabel into the main house and to the kitchen. The brunette watched as he opened up a drawer near the sink and removed an orange box of the desired drops. "I love these things. They're like candy, but not."

He popped one out and stuffed it into his mouth before handing the box to Mabel. "Thanks," she said gratefully.

"No prob. I'll walk you back upstairs. Y'know, to make sure you don't collapse or anything."

Soos walked with Mabel up to the attic. As the girl climbed into bed, he noticed her empty glass. "You want a refill, dude?"

"That'd be nice. If you don't mind."

"Course not." Soos collected the twins' drinking glasses and dried out washcloths. "Be back in a few."

As the large handyman left the attic, Mabel shoved her freezing feet back under the blanket and dumped a couple of cough drops into her mouth. "Mmmm," she sighed contentedly. "Cherry flavoured."

Waddle peered sleepily at the box of cough drops and nudged his owner's hand in curiosity. "Sorry, Waddles, but I don't think cough drops are for pigs."

She twisted over her shoulder to check on her brother. But Dipper was still sound asleep, sweat glistening on his brow. "Dipper," she called, hoping to coax him awake. "Dipper! Bro! Wake up! I'm bored!"

Raspy snores answered her.

Pursing her dry, cracked lips, Mabel chucked the cough drops at her brother. She scored a direct hit-the cardboard box struck him in the forehead. But it did not rouse him from slumber. He only grumbled and rolled over, tucking his head under his pillow.

Heaving a sigh, she flopped back against her bed. Waddles crawled onto her chest, nuzzling her cheek affectionately. "At least I have you for company, Waddles."

Soos soon returned with two glasses of orange juice and a pair of soaking wet cloths. He tended to Dipper first, rolling the boy carefully to his back and setting the cloth on his burning forehead. He then went over to Mabel, setting her juice on her nightstand table. "There you go, hambone."

"Thanks, Soos." Mabel accepted the cloth and dabbed it against her flushed face. "Do you hafta go back to the gift shop? Or can you hang for a bit?"

"I can hang. Wendy can handle the Shack for a mo." Soos settled on the edge of Mabel's bed. "What do you want to do?"

"Can we play cards?"

"Sure," agreed Soos. "But not Go Fish. I can never find the right fish."

The second Stan returned from his Mystery Tour he went to check on his niece and nephew. Upon reaching the attic abode, he found Dipper fast asleep and Mabel in an intense game of Crazy Eights with Soos.

"Last card!" Mabel said triumphantly, slapping down a three of diamonds while waving her final card.

Soos grinned and dropped his last two cards; a three of spades and a three of hearts. "Ha!"

"Noooo!" she wailed, flinging her card to the floor. "I call rematch!"

"You're gonna have to take a rain check on that rematch," interrupted Stan. "Mabel needs rest, and that's not gonna happen if you get her riled up over cards. Besides, you need to make sure Wendy doesn't take a nap at the register."

"Can do," said Soos. "See you later, hambone. Get well soon."

"I'll try," said Mabel.

The large handyman departed and Stan surveyed his charges. There didn't seem to be too much change in their condition, which was understandable. But what concerned him was the amount of sleep Dipper was getting.

"I'm all for resting when sick," said Stan, going over to the boy's bedside. "But I think this is overdoing it."

"He always sleeps a lot when he's sick," said Mabel, rolling over and peering at the two, hanging over the edge of her bed. "It's hard to get him out of bed."

"Well, you two need to eat, and I gotta take your temperatures again. Do you remember where the thermometers are?"

Mabel nodded.

"Go grab them for me. I already cleaned them, so don't worry about that."

"Did you clean them really good? I don't want to get Dipper's germs," said Mabel, climbing out of bed and shuffling for the door.

Stan snorted. "You have the same illness. I don't think it'd make too much of a difference."

"How do you know? You're not Dr. Grunkle Stan."

He rolled his eyes as his niece skipped from the attic. "Smart mouth." He knelt down and started shaking the boy's shoulder. "Kid, time to get up."

Dipper moaned softly and cracked his eyes open. "Not morning yet."

"It's past morning. Its late afternoon. You sleep anymore and you'll throw yourself into a coma."

With a great amount of effort, he sat up against his pillows. "Food?"

"Oh sure, you wake up and start making demands. Do you think just because you're sick I'm gonna wait on you hand and foot?"

"Uh-huh," said Dipper with his most innocent smile. "Chicken soup, please."

Stan shook his head and reached his hand out, smoothing Dipper's hair back. "In a minute, kid. We need to wait for your sister to get back with the thermometers."

"I'm sweaty," informed Dipper, rubbing at his forehead.

"No kiddin'. You don't smell so hot either. When's the last time you had a shower?"

Dipper pursed his lips in thought. "Dunno. You?"

"Don't be funny. Only I can be funny." Stan lightly knocked Dipper on the head.

"I'm funnier than both of you!"

Stan glanced over his shoulder as Mabel walked into the room, thermometers in hand. She stuck one under her tongue before handing the other to her brother, who copied her actions.

About a minute later they removed their thermometers, displaying the results to their great-uncle. "Not much change," he observed. "Alright, I'm gonna go make you some soup, and after that you'll take something to get those fevers down."

"And then you're gonna read us a story," added Mabel.

Stan rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah. And then I'll read you a story. And then you both are gonna take a shower. Dipper smells like something that crawled out of the bottom of the dumpster."