Guys - I did it. I'm back... with a new chapter to this story. :O. :D
I'm not sure how, or why?, I decided to pick this back up, but here I am! I am also actually planning on finishing this story. I've mapped it out and it shouldn't be too long, so yeah! Fun times in Gravity Falls again!
This chapter picks up right where the previous one left off. Enjoy!
Please enjoy and remember - this story is rated M for language, shenanigans, and you know- hot, sweaty romance. ;)
The morning was cool in comparison to the sweltering heat of the day prior and it had allowed for a rare treat of pancakes and bacon to be cooked before the kitchen got too stuffy. Gruncle Stan had begrudgingly given in to Mabel's near-constant begging for something better than stale cereal for breakfast and had set himself to the task of frying the bacon while she danced about the kitchen, whisking the batter together and adding pinch after pinch of sugary mix-ins.
The unmistakable scent of well cooked bacon had been what finally pulled Dipper out of bed, though he didn't relish the thought of having to sit at the table with a man who had caught him red-handed, quite literally, making a mess of himself and the store. That by no means was going to be a good conversation and Dipper contemplated simply sneaking out the window to escape into town before resolving to join them for breakfast. After all, he thought as he stared at himself in the mirror, that's what adults do. They face their problems.
And yet, as he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, both uncle and sister turned to glance at him, and a cloud of panic suddenly grabbed him. Gruncle Stan merely chuffed and frowned, turning once more to the bacon sizzling on the griddle in front of him. Mabel, well Mabel was her typical self and 'struggled' to contain a fit of laughter. Dipper sheepishly moved to the small but sturdy wooden table by the window and took a seat. He was joined quickly by a giant plate stacked high with pancakes and a small carafe of maple syrup. The scent of the buttery sweet pancakes made his mouth water and he watched as the small pat of butter on top lazily drifted towards the edge, leaving trails of vaguely frothy moisture behind as it finally fell to the plate in a puddle.
Quickly grabbing a few forks and unnecessary knives, Mabel bounced over towards the table and placed herself in the seat next to his, elbowing him with more force than he had expected before forking a few doughy circles and flinging them unceremoniously onto her plate. He let out a quiet 'oof' of surprise before glancing quickly at his uncle. The last thing he needed was more attention drawn to him. When at last Gruncle Stan joined the twins at the table, the food was divided, syrup was poured and a silence feel over the scene as they ate.
"So Dipper…" A melodic, sing-songy voice drifted past his ears and was ignored, in an effort to avoid eye contact with precisely everyone at the breakfast table. "Dipper, are you gonna tell us why Gruncle Stan is so upset with youuu?" Mabel was teasing, of course. She knew, she had to know. Dipper looked up and glowered at her. She full on grinned in response and took a large bite of a pancake, which oozed syrup onto the plate in front of her like hot globs of lava flowing from a volcano.
He narrowed his eyes and sent her what he hoped was the most convincing 'death glare' he could muster. Picking up a well-charred piece of bacon, he crunched down and looked away finally, though out of habit he also glanced at his uncle, who was sitting to his right, gnawing on a bite of pancake and glaring his own daggers at Dipper. He coughed, and suddenly that bite of bacon got lodged in his throat, causing more coughing and an undeniable amount of embarrassment.
A glass of orange juice was shoved into his view and Dipper glanced back up at his uncle timidly before accepting the drink. He sipped the tart liquid, enjoying how it combined its sweetness with the savory grease of the bacon, despite the fact that that bacon had just tried to kill him. When finally he could breathe again, Dipper returned the glass to the table and sat back against the seat, color flushing his face.
"Uh, thanks." He said, at length, not making eye contact.
"Yeah, don't mention it, kid." Gruncle Stan croaked out, "Really- don't mention it. Ever. Any of it." Mabel giggled at the enunciation and Dipper bowed his head in shame, his cheeks only growing more red.
An awkward silence lingered before a bubbly voice chimed in again, "does that mean that you're…. disGruncled, Gruncle Stan?!" Mabel beamed with self-righteous pride at her own terrible joke as she threw her head back and laughed, disturbing the dust on a nearby shelf, sending it floating into the sunlight towards the window. Boy and uncle glared at her and resigned themselves to finishing their individual breakfasts quietly, yet it took many excruciating minutes for her to settle down enough to eat, so she dabbed at the tears of laughter while she nibbled on the remnants of her pancake.
When at last the torment of breakfast was over with, Dipper stood to bring the plates to the sink, and for once appreciated the menial task and the attention it required. He was determined to scrub away the cringiness of the situation in which he found himself, and as he poured a small bead of soap onto a plate and picked up a sponge, he silently chastised himself for his actions. You can't be doing this, Dipper, he scolded, at the very least not in the shop. Wendy is out of your league anyway, and you're better off focusing on how we can keep the Mystery Shack alive.
The plates gave way to utensils, and then to the skillet in which Mabel had made her sugar bomb pancakes. What had once been a shiny, copper bottom frying pan was now a blackened, grease-soaked disaster, and Dipper scoffed at the mess she had made. "Mabel!" he called into the tv room where she had disappeared, "what did you do to this pan?!" He heard her giggle and then the tv volume grew louder, a deep voice asking him if he was ready to experience the true male power ofAlpha XL. "It's time to man up and be the guy every woman fantasizes about! GET RIPPED, GET HARD, GET ALPHA XL."
Dipper rolled his eyes and swore to himself that if he rolled them any further, they'd circle back around. Dropping the the skillet into a bath of hot, soapy water and letting it soak, he wiped his hands on the dish rag nearby before crouching to open the cupboard under the sink, withdrawing a small container of sterilizing wipes with which he'd wipe the counters and stovetop. The fresh scent of lemons and "linen" piqued his senses and as he pulled a cloth from the container he left his mind drift. The scent, while absolutely chemical in nature, reminded him of lemonade a bit, and as he wiped the countertop and scrubbed at a small patch of melted butter, his mood slowly lifted and that surly embarrassment seemed to drift away, replaced by a sense of summertime contentment that could only ever be brought on by hot days and a cool glass of refreshing lemonade.
He nodded to himself as he worked, quietly resolving that he and Mabel would take a walk into town later in search of the perfect ingredients for the summer drink. Finally, when the kitchen had been adequately scrubbed and cleaned, Dipper once again stored the cleansing wipes under the sink and was in the process of washing his hands one final time when Gruncle Stan meandered in. They each stopped in their tracks and looked at each other, Dipper's eyes wide with worry, and Stan's narrowed with sardonic acceptance. At last, his uncle moved to the fridge and opened the door to stare at its contents. While he searched, he cleared his throat, and at length spoke up.
"Look- Dipper…" Stan's voice trailed off and while the teen gaped at his uncle from behind the freshly cleaned kitchen countertop he continued. "Obviously I can't say this in front of your sister…" Gruncle Stan's voice lowered to almost a whisper and he turned, beer in hand, to confront Dipper. "Kid, look. I get it. I was a horny teenager once as well." The fridge door slammed shut and they both grimaced as Stan shook his head to clear the image. "That's… not the point. The point is, you gotta be a bit more…. secretive… about… all of this." He gestured then, and Dipper flushed with color at the motion. "You've got… urges," his uncle glanced quickly at the doorway, "All I ask is that you take care of that… elsewhere." Dipper could only nod, ashamed.
"Good. I'm glad that's settled." Gruncle Stan nodded and turned to leave the room. It took Dipper a long moment to pull himself out of the hole of shame he felt trapped in, but he blinked back the anxiety long enough to call after his retreating uncle. "Gruncle Stan- is that a beer?" Incredulous annoyance flashed across Stan's face as he turned once more to look at his nephew. "Yeah? What's it to you?"
"Well, you know," Dipper continued, "it's ten in the morning." His uncle chuffed.
"And? Look, kid. It's my one day off. Let me enjoy things." It was Dipper's turn to chuff. "It's ten in the morning!" he repeated, suddenly surprised at his uncle's response. The man stared for a while before turning once more to leave. "Life isn't easy, kid, but you'll figure that out when you get older." With that he sauntered into the hallway, the sharp crack and hiss of the beer can trailing after him.
It was a couple hours later that Dipper had finally convinced his sister to walk into town with him. She had resisted at first in large part due to the sweltering heat of an August day, despite the numerous evergreen trees that shaded the road for most of the two mile long hike. But it was only after a well-timed call from her latest conquest, Kent, that she had agreed to come along, knowing that her boy-toy would be there, waiting for her, like 'Prince Charming', she had sung to herself. In an over exaggerated manner, Dipper had thrown his arms up in frustration and stomped out of the room, muttering loudly that this particular relationship would last as long as they all did, but halfway down the stairs she had called after him, teasing, "at least I'm not as desperate as you are!"
With a quick mention of where they were headed, the twins left Gruncle Stan to his daytime tv program and sauntered down the splintering, creaking front steps of the Mystery Shack to make their way towards the dusty road that led into town. Dipper had been eager to get his sister out of the house for a few days, but now that he had, he knew he couldn't waste the opportunity. They needed to find a solution, they needed to keep the shop in business and- he suddenly realized- he needed it to survive, not only for Gruncle Stan, but also for himself. If it didn't survive it would weigh on his conscience for the rest of his life. He felt he was ultimately responsible for its success, and Dipper needed to do everything he could to keep it afloat.
As they walked along the shaded path, the cogs began to turn in his head, and in typical Dipper fashion it was only a matter of time before he had come up with a makeshift solution. "Mabel," he asked, breaking the silence as his sister peeked at him from over the rim of her sunglasses, "aren't you worried that the Mystery Shack is in danger of closing?" They walked in continued silence for a moment before she sighed heavily, her usual sunniness fading into clouds. A bird called in the woods next to them and its haunting screech seemed to match the darkness of the discussion. They both glanced up in the direction of the call.
"Of course I'm worried, Dipper." She said at length, returning her focus to the road ahead. "But what can we do about it? We don't even live here." Dipper frowned, unsettled by his sister's apparent defeat. "What do you mean we don't live here? You don't even think of this place as a home? After all we went through that summer?!" His voice rose in frustration. "Don't you care about Gruncle Stan? What will he do if the shack has to close? You know he'd be lost- especially without Gruncle Ford around."
Mabel punched his shoulder suddenly and with great force and he stumbled to the side like a man thick with whisky. "Ouch! Mabel!" "Well you deserve that!" she shot back, hurt and insulted that he could think so little of her. Dipper righted his steps and yanked his old baseball cap off in frustration, reshaping and curling it in his hands to relieve some pent up emotion. He distractedly secured the cap to his head once more, but when he pulled his hand back he noted quickly that another small piece of faded blue fabric had worn away and left the hat even closer to death's door. He frowned at the thought.
"I just mean," Mabel sighed, "…what can we do, ya know?" Dipper nodded and watched as her head drooped down and her shoulders hunched, a sudden weight of her own pushing her down. "Well… I think I have an idea." A pair of chestnut brown eyes looked up at him in surprise. "I've been doing some thinking," he allowed, the thoughts and concept now coming into clearer focus. "Yeah?"
He pictured it then; a grand, theatrical Summerween haunted house, full of magic, legends, and of course, Gravity Falls themed monsters to spook and scare up some much needed attention and business. The idea would be easy enough to implement, at least from what Dipper could calculate, though they would need to find a way to make the entire event profitable. He figured he'd have to take a page out of Gruncle Stan's book for that. When he mentioned these details to Mabel her eyes grew wide and the sunshine burst through the cloud cover which had weighed her down so heavily. She gasped in rejuvenating excitement, and threw her arms around her brother, smothering him in childlike joy.
"Dipper that's a great idea! But do you really think it can raise enough money to save the shop?" Mabel asked as she skipped forward. "Well, no," honesty was the best policy… "but it will raise some money. The point is that it'll draw attention, crowds, and the media. Hopefully it will renew people's interest in the Mystery Shack." And it would, he considered to himself. It had to. But constructing the event in the limited amount of time they had wasn't going to be easy. They'd need help, and lots of it.
Naturally, his mind drifted to the possibilities, and every familiar face in town that he knew, including, but not exclusively!, Wendy Corduroy. AND HER FAMILY, Dipper added hastily to himself. But as soon as he had even thought her name, the images of her naked, draped in candlelight and beckoning him towards her open legs filled his mind and he winced in an effort to keep them at bay. Now is not the time for this, Dipper! He stumbled sightly and tried to readjust his then super tight jeans as discreetly as possible. "Fuck," he muttered to himself, hoping Mabel hadn't heard. She glanced back at him, but thankfully, away just as quickly.
Dipper shifted uneasily again, trying to figure out how he could suggest a specific helper in mind without letting Mabel think that that had been his evil plan all along. He didn't think she knew that he still harbored a raging crush on Wendy, and he truly preferred it that way. God, he grimaced, could you imagine if she did find out? Shuddering, he coughed and spoke at last. "We'll need to ask some folks to help." Mabel nodded, "Right, well help will be easy to find in town, we can get the gang back together!" It was Dipper's turn to nod, "Yes! Soos, Pacifica… Wendy." She stopped suddenly and wheeled on him, the pieces clicking into place in her head. "Dipper!" she pointed an accusatory finger at him, "You can't seriously still be interested in Wendy! It's been six years!" Exasperated, Mabel kicked at a rock in front of her, the stone skidding forward and tumbling past Dipper's shoe. She swung around, walking away from him quickly, and he had taken only a single step before she whipped around again, a giant, pixie grin on her face. "THAT'S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT." Dipper blinked, startled. "YOU GOT CAUGHT JERKING IT TO WENDY," she hollered at him again. "I KNEW IT!"
Dipper sucked a breath in and gritted his teeth anxiously. Biting his lip he graveled out slowly, "that's not true," but any attempt to conceal the truth was quickly exposed for the lie that it was when his face pinked deeply and he had to look away, not able to look her in the eyes for fear of revealing what was already so painfully obvious. She cackled and poked him in the side sharply, "You're so dumb! Don't you know Gruncle Stan has cameras?!"
"Of course I do! But I didn't know they still worked…" His voice trailed off as the pair continued their walk towards town. "They're all dusty. And it was so hot out… And the store was empty!" But no excuse would have kept Mabel from giggling, nor would it hide the fact that, try as he might, Dipper was still very much into Wendy. Not as well as he would have liked, he mused to himself, but still, very interested."Oh, I didn't need to know that, eww! God! Dipper!" she poked him again, playfully and he laughed, he couldn't help it. It just felt too damn good.