Dipper opened his eyes slowly.
It seemed that the film noir aesthetic of the Clurichaun mob had hit him a little harder than he realised. The world around him seemed to be painted into thick, inky shades of block shadow, big office blocks and tenements stood outside like gigantic dominos - ripping through the skyline like the very centre of hell was bursting out of the asphalt and just kept growing. The clouds were strangely static and clustered, with barely a spot of visible sunlight, thick wisps of steam rising from manholes and vents in the roads.
Rattling vintage cars peppered the roads, bubbling and spluttering as they rumbled through the city. The sound of the A-Train roared through the queer, spot-shaded landscape.
He was wearing a waistcoat, and a trenchcoat was hanging on the wall. His lumberjack hat had been replaced with a peaked trilby.
When did Gravity Falls get an A-train? Freakin' H, this is a pricklier situation than a porcupine climbin' a cactus. I swear all I want is a decent cuppa joe an' a slice'a cherry pie. This is like livin' in one of those crazy old movies.
The office is a beautiful one. It smells'a cognac an' mahogany, th'sorta lifestyle ya'd usually pay to see in a freakin' five star penthouse. But this ain't no damned room for hire. No concierge, no busboy, it's just me, an' it's exactly how I like it.
My last partner walked out after his chin met my fist. The jerk insulted my stickin' to th'book, so I threw the book at him. Crooked? Na, pal. I'm more straight an' narrow than a New York sidewalk.
I work alone, an' nobody's gonna change that. Ya think I want a partner? Nobody out here can understand me. An' I don't wannem to. My life is more trouble than th'entirety of the South Side quarter, an' that place is more outta it than a Soothsayer smokin' incense at a Crystal Convention.
An' I've seen that kinda junk. It's my bread and butter. Th'foam on my rootbeer. The vanilla ice cream in my damned coke float. It's my thing that gets my blood boiling, an' right now, this shtick is makin'' my ramen water pour onto th'stovetop.
I'm a bit different than your usual detective. I don't work with bean shooters, I work with my wits. I'm a wise-head, not some schmuck. No babes, no drinks, no rattlers. I just need a good book an' my brain. Just me an' my thoughts. Me an' my nature.
Of course, workin' alone don't mean workin' for free. I'm a bit of a snoop for hire, see? An' I don't mean I spend my weekends singing bawdy tunes with gold chains on my throat. Someone needs some weirdness investigatin' and pay cash up front, I'll sit on the floor and bark.
So I'm just sittin' there, see, starin' at my own ceiling for hours, brooding on the fact my sister is caught in a glitter smugglin' scandal again, when this girl walks in.
I dunno why, but almost by default I'm expectin' a beautiful blonde with money - lotsa it - an' a purple colour scheme. Don't ask me why. Just seems to be my expectation.
The person who walks in though?
She ain't blonde. She's different.
A dame with hair so red it's like a freakin' supernova, wearin' only the finest flannel. She's tall, she's smirkin', an' she's trouble.
What a doll. I don't think I've seen a gem shinin' that brightly since I last went down to the hockshop to sell my Grunkle's belongings. I try to hide my interest, but this broad already knows she's got me around her little finger. I can see it in her eyes.
"You Dipper Pines?"
"That's what the door says, babe."
"The door says 'Dork'."
I try to keep my damned poker face. I've never been great with poker.
The spicy redhead just saunters in, sits on the desk and starts puttin' on lipstick as if it's nothing, blocking my paperwork and barely acknowledging me. She knows exactly what she's doin'. You can't pull the wool over the eyes of Dipper Pines, ace detective.
"I need someone rubbing out, detective."
A knock-off job wasn't new territory for me, but it was a hairy biz. "I can do that, sweetstuff. But it'll cost ya. Who's the jerk?"
"This is the thing, 'tec. I need yourubbing out. This entire thing rubbing out."
"What-"
"Why am I here and not Pacifica?"
"Hey, this ain't in the detective movies-"
"You're pathetic. You're still wearing my hat after what, a year? You still have that box of photos of me somewhere too, don't you? I bet part of you is still more into redheads than blondes."
As if on cue, my peaked trilby turns into some sheepskin lumberjack number that smells like a freshly brewed cup of reality. Suddenly I swear this broad is wearin' combat boots, and skinny jeans.
To make matters worse? My manly tones and masculine accent are trippin' up harder than my sister after six bags of smile dip and a packet of industrial-strength sprinkles. I'm startin' ta stutter, my office is collapsin' into some kinda crazy forest and the A-train has turned into some kiddy ride alongside a tourist trap that looks strangely familiar.
Suddenly it feels like the real world is punching me in the face. I swear I was six foot tall earlier, and now I'm just… not.
I'm a squeaky-voiced teenager with hormone issues. "That's - that's not true! I'm in love with Pacifica!"
Wendy snorted and cockily pointed to herself. "Yeah, sure, you love her - and you're obsessed with me."
"That's not true! Not anymore! I'm over it!"
"I know you still stare at me, Dipper. You think I'm dumb?"
"Stop! Shut up, Wendy! I'd never! I'm not gonna have some dumb crush!"
""Dude, we both know how crushes work. You'd still drop everything for one - little - kiss."
"This is wrong! This is crazy! It's not true!"
"Remember my swimsuit?"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
"You're blushing, dude."
"I can't blush! This is in black and white!"
"You aren't making any sense, Dipper."
"You're lying! My head is trying to trick me!"
Then, the worst bit of all. A quiet, sassy, yet hurt voice echoing in my head. Back and forth. Revolving around me. A full surround sound of the girl I love most. The girl I was most afraid of hurting. The one I really wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Saying the same thing, over and over.
In that same, really hurt, sad voice.
I think that was the most haunting thing of all. The emotion. The fear. The sadness. I didn't want to betray anyone at the best of times, but the girl who I had helped through the hardest parts of her life, the girl who had moved in with us because she thought we - I - was a safe bet for being happy.
Maybe my family's plans with the Fundhausers would have been better, Dipper.
You told me you were over her, Dipper.
You told me you were over her, Dipper.
You told me you were over her, Dipper.
You told me you were over her, Dipper.
Over her, Dipper…
Over, Dipper…
Dipper…
Dipper...
"Dipper! Dipper, wake up!"
Dipper woke up suddenly with quite a start - not least a feeling of pure, unadulterated panic after what his slumbering mind had confronted him with. He flinched, his eyes suddenly going from closed to wide and fearful as he was confronted with a less than amused Pacifica.
Did she know? Oh nononono- Had he spoken in his sleep? Oh man-
"You were drooling on my shoulder, you dork!" She laughed, shoving him. "Gross!"
"S-sorry." He gulped and wiped his cheek with a noticeably rattled hand. "N-nightmare."
Pacifica's face dropped as she watched him, falling from good-natured humour to one of genuine concern. "Hey, hey, it's alright, y'know? I'm here."
"Y-yeah…"
Dipper blinked as she hugged him tightly and stroked his hair gently - an earnest attempt to soothe him. No judgement. No mocking.
"I get it, okay? I still get freaked out too, hon."
Dipper bit his lip as his eyes darted around the room, genuinely panicking that it was all a trick or another dream, or that somehow people knew what was running around in his head. Genuine, out and out waking paranoia.
He took a deep breath, tried to turn off his over-active imagination…and hugged her back, tightly, burying his head in her neck.
He was just being paranoid. This stuff didn't mean anything, right? It was just a dream. A dumb dream. Pacifica wasn't interested in Marius, and he wasn't interested in Wendy. Even if he did still wear the Corduroy girl's hat.
...Why did he still wear Wendy's hat? I mean, it's not like he still sniffed-
Okay, don't go down that route again, Dipper. Those are… those are probably questions for another time.
Dipper's eyes adjusted to the darkness as he glanced at the white static on the television, then up at the clock hanging above it.
3AM.
They had been cuddled up in the armchair for like, three and a half hours. It was warm, the gentle hiss from the vintage television providing a strangely… soothing soundtrack to the
"We should probably go to our bedrooms, right?" He mumbled.
Pacifica smiled and held his cheek. "Na. I think you need the company".
"I just dunno if I deserve it, sometimes…"
"Heh. I think the same about you. What's getting you down? Must have been some funky dream, Dip."
Dipper decided it best not to explain his somewhat disturbing dream scenarios revolving around Wendy. Like, it's just some dumb dream. It's nothing. He just had to like, shut it off and move on. He was over Wendy, Pacifica had no interest in Marius, it was all perfect…
Right?
Yeah, right.
He huffed and rubbed his somewhat stiff neck as he looked at his girlfriend, still sitting astride his lap with a caring, reassuring smile. "Pacifica…"
"Yeah?"
"Don't leave me."
"I didn't intend to, you dork. You've got me for life."
The two cuddled back up together, settling back down into the warm, comfortable darkness of the shack, with a wide smile on her face - and an increasingly weak one on his. While Pacifica slowly dozed back off, he just couldn't.
He felt like he was going into overdrive.
He couldn't help but glance at the calendar and cringe. Summer was nearly over. He knew it, Pacifica knew it, Mabel knew it - and he still felt like he was loaded with baggage. As much as he loved mystery hunting, he had to admit it made confronting these personal demons pretty difficult.
How could he fight against the Underworld with one breathe and tell Pacifica how he was feeling with the other? It just wasn't reasonable. He knew she had consistently said she loved him as he was, that she was happy, that she was comfortable…
But they hadn't spoken to Marius then.
They hadn't known she was meant to marry Marius then.