These chapters are getting longer. My characters are getting more backstory. This is getting out of hand. Send help.
Please enjoy and remember - this story is rated M for language, shenanigans, and you know- hot, sweaty romance. ;)
The musty, almost dank scent of old leather wafted through Dipper's head and as he watched his sister chat with the object of his most sensual dreams, his heart echoed a rapid drumline, keeping tune with an imaginary dubstep mix. The pounding of his chest did nothing for his nerves and as they plummeted his thoughts into a sheer panic, and he took deep, shaky breaths to steady himself as he continued to gaze out the dusty front window at the trio. What the hell are you doing, Dipper? Why are you hiding like a child?! And who in the FUCK is that guy. A sliver of chills raced down his spine and he absentmindedly rubbed his arm to warm it, but turned suddenly when a voice crackly with old age questioned him. "Eh? How long have you been in here?" The old man shuffled to the counter, a semi-polished shoe in one oily hand and a rag as filthy as a mud puddle in the other. "Must have missed that darned bell again…" he seemed to be talking to himself, but as Dipper stalled for an answer the man's brows drew together and he focused his attention on the teen. "Wait a minute, what are the likes of you doing in my shop? Yer just a boy." The grumpy cobbler dropped the shoe onto the countertop and brandished the cloth at Dipper. "Unless you got some shoes that need repairing, you best not be loitering in my store! Go on now, git!"
"Oh, uh, yes sir!" Dipper took an awkward step backwards, but hesitated. On one hand, he could leave the man to his shoe repairs, but that would mean facing Wendy and all of his little fantasies, and he wasn't sure he could handle that situation without making a total ass of himself. On the other hand, he could linger and feign an interest in a random pair of loafers that were on sale in the window and hope for the best. He glanced at the pair and noticed a heavy coating of smokey grey dust which seemed to have spent years collecting and settling. With a grimace, Dipper turned to leave, taking as much time as he could to muster the courage he worried would not come in time.
The door was pulled open and much like an oven, the waves of pure heat washed over him, reminding Dipper that the walk back to the shack would be as unpleasant as possible. It was an uphill journey, too. He swore to himself as he exited the cobble shop, and just as soon as he had taken a step into the sunlight, a melodic harmony of voices called to him. A gulp, a quick and final grimace, and a slow turn to the right- then Dipper found himself face to face with a girl fresh out of his dreams. She was almost exactly as he had pictured her: tall but not lanky, curvy as a coastal road, and as freckled as a sidewalk sprinkled with raindrops mere seconds from being completely soaked. Her amber red hair was tied up in a messy bun, little errant strands escaping their bonds and whisping around her face like strands of cotton candy. The desperate, almost painful reaction was instantaneous and it was all he could do to shift quickly before his rock-hard erection was made a public spectacle and mockery.
"Dipper! Look who else is in town this summer!" Mabel called to him as he approached, and he nodded and smiled, taking care to not walk as if he had something- pressing, to hide. "I, uh," he stuttered, shit Dipper, get it together! "It's great to see you again, Wendy. Oh-" he took a slightly upward glance at the muscled man next to her. "Oh, shit- Kevin! How are you, man?" Dipper laughed in relief as Kevin nodded and flashed a grin. "Doing fine, I'm back home working as a lumberjack. You know, keeping up the family business." He reached out to flick Wendy in the shoulder affectionately. She laughed and swatted him back, muttering a sarcastic "yeah, yeah." It had all the makings of an old ritual between the two and Dipper's smile grew, the tension easing from his body as he found himself sinking into the familiarity of the friends he had made those many summers ago.
"So, Dipper-" his attention focused once more on the redhead before him, "Mabel tells me you've got a secret plan for the Mystery Shack?" Dipper tossed a glare at his sister, though it did no good as her attention was decidedly on a different man. "Yeah, though she talks too much. What'd she tell you?" He felt defensive suddenly, and as uncomfortable as the emotion made him feel, it seemed to also mirror in his features. His arms crossed and an annoyed frown appeared, and while he stood in his defensive pose Wendy's words faltered a bit as she explained. "Oh, I'm sorry," she paused, clearly worried she had upset him somehow, "she mentioned that you had come up with a plan to keep the place from closing." With a sigh Dipper nodded, the annoyance fading to concern. "I'm just worried that it's not pulling in enough to stay open. Gruncle Stan doesn't want to talk about it, of course." The annoyance returned and his arms unconsciously cinched tighter at the thought. "I figured doing a Summerween event would be an easy way to bring the business back. You know, get people interested again."
His minded drifted to the all-too-real stack of bills, all marked 'past due' in bright red letters, which he had noticed were scattered between the old newspapers on the ottoman in front of the tv the first night they had arrived. The next morning the bills had disappeared, and Dipper knew that his uncle had stashed them away somewhere secret to avoid an awkward discussion. A hand on his forearm wrenched him from the dark rabbit hole in which he was descending and he glanced down at it before looking up and into the shimmering concern on Wendy's face. With a start, he cleared his throat, dropped his arms, and looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "Anyway…" he faltered, "I couldn't just leave in September knowing I hadn't even tried to help save it." He kicked at a pebble in the road and it skittered away, knocking into the sidewalk across the street.
"Geez- I'm hot!" Mabel's polite and pointed exclamation seemed to lift the shadows from the conversation and Dipper glanced up at the cloudless sky, squinting into the blinding sun. "It is hot out, isn't it?" Wendy pulled a hand over her eyes and turned to chase a glance over her shoulder, "Mabel mentioned you'd tell us about your plan if we give you guys a lift back to the shack, or-" she grinned, "oh, am I not supposed to tell you what Mabel told us now?" "Mabel asked you for a ride back?" Dipper's color grew, a mix of hesitation and excitement rising at the single thought of him being in such close proximity to Wendy… but also to Mabel and the hulking Kevin. "Mabel, I thought you were going to meet Kent later?"
At the mention of his name, Mabel made a spectacular attempt to cover a chortle with a cough, which ended up starting a real cough, and she turned to hide her fitting embarrassment in private. Dipper attempted his very best "Jim face" and looked away, and when she had recovered enough to turn, beet red and fiery, glaring daggers in his general direction, he had enough common sense to avert his eyes. She cleared her throat quietly once more and addressed the group, "No, Dipper, I am not meeting him today. I believe he left last night. A friend from school-" she clarified to Kevin specifically. Ah, so that's what this is about. She thinks he's hot. Dipper nodded and smirked. "Right. I forgot that." "Did you?" she brandished at him. "By the way, did you get the lemons? I thought you were planning on making lemonade when we got back to the shack."
Wendy laughed and her comment sliced the tension from an invisible, budding sibling war. "You were trying to get lemons in the cobble shop?" It was Dipper's turn to redden, and he stumbled to find a few words that would make an adequate excuse. "Oh, uh, yeah, you know…" His mind still grasping at words. "Well cobblers apparently use lemons to polish shoes all the time… I think. I read about it somewhere." Wendy raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Yeah, well… he was fresh out. So I'll have to go to the market for some." A smile erupted again and she laughed, "alright, whatever you say, Dipper. Well I parked my truck down that way anyway, so let's walk down together and then I'll get the car and pick you up." The group agreed and turned to walk towards the center of town.
A block and a half further, Dipper paused in front of Tons grocery store and watched as Mabel "forgot" to slow down, sailing right into Kevin's back. She had immediately thrown a hand forward and onto his hip to keep herself from falling, but there was simply no mistaking his twin's actions. She had done it on purpose. What happened to Kent? She was mewling on and on about him last night. She wouldn't shut up! I mean… I know she's fickle, but this might be a new record. Dipper rolled his eyes and called back to the group as he entered the store. "I'll just be a minute." Wendy nodded as she glanced, seemingly unaware of the ridiculousness of the event which had just occurred next to her. "No worries, we'll go grab the truck. Come on guys!" Mabel's grin was unmistakable as the three of them continued and she caught Dipper's eye before he disappeared into the store. She winked and he chuffed, nonplussed by her latest conquest. If she goes after Kevin what will that mean for me and Wendy? God, how selfish.
Tons grocery store had been around for decades and was run by the same lonely staffer as it always had been. Dipper wasn't entirely sure if the store was actually owned by the man or if he was just an employee, but it didn't matter much, the store practically owned him. Inside, the air conditioning dropped like a blanket of icy rain on Dipper's shoulders and suddenly he felt worlds more comfortable. The lemons were up the isle and to the left, and as he moved through the store he took purposely slow steps to savor the cool air for as long as he possibly could. Alas, the relief would be short lived, and as Dipper grabbed a handful of citrus and returned to the cashier's desk at the front of the store, he watched a beat up old grey truck pull up in front of the store. Wendy's truck.
What wonderful memories he had of that truck. It was a bit of an odd thought, he mused, but it was true nonetheless. It was the truck she had driven since the very first summer he had known her. It drove them through Weirdmageddon, it drove them to and from the Mystery Shack during those precious summers after for frequent swimming in the pond behind her house, and it was the same truck which drove them all- Mabel, Soos, Wendy, and Dipper, to Portland for a "weekend of craziness." Sure, most of those memories had been with the addition of other people, but it was funny how they all seemed to blend into the background, greying into the scenery as the thought of being alone with Wendy sucked all the other ambition from his life.
A shudder passed through him as he exited the store, in part due to the sweltering heat, but also thanks to the vivid and now highly fictional memories of Wendy and her truck which were swirling in his head. As he drudged towards the beat up old vehicle he pictured himself laying her down in the bed and having his way with her. Not what you ought to be focusing on right now, Dipper… But the crystal clear imagine of her creamy skin sprawled out, fiery hair scattered across her face and neck as he kissed and licked his way down her body stuck stubbornly in his brain, and it replayed over and over again as if trapped in a cylindrical spiral of carnal undoing. He swallowed a gulp as he approached and the side door swung open. Mabel popped out of the front passenger's seat and was quickly followed by Kevin, who bent the seat forward and maneuvered his way out of the truck's back bench seat.
"You and I get to share the back," Kevin grinned over at Dipper, though he seemed less than enthused. "Apparently the ladies have claimed dibs on the front." They shared an exasperated and slightly dramatic chuff before Dipper clambered inside, realizing all too quickly that he was now sitting directly behind the object of his fantasies, and would be trapped there until they got back to the shack. Kevin then somehow folded himself back into the cab and suddenly the back seat seemed all too tiny, with both men fidgeting to get their knees in a comfortable position. With some pained movement, Dipper found some semblance of relief, but poor Kevin was forced to bank Mabel's seat with a knee on each side, and much to her delight there was little she could do to avoid touching him.
"Alright! Everybody ready?" Wendy focused on the rearview mirror to pull out of the parking space she had found and the truck lurched backwards, creaking slightly at the movement. The forced closeness of the cab and the heady, familiar scent of woodsmoke and cut grass had already sent Dipper's head spinning, but when she suddenly glanced at him and issued a quick wink and flashed a smile, he swore his heart stopped for a moment. Holy fucking shit. It took many agonizing seconds to recover, but thankfully the windows were suddenly lowered and a breeze, though still hot with the summer's day, breathed a sigh of fresh air across Dipper's face and brought him back to reality.
The trip up to the shack was blissfully short in a vehicle, and while it had taken them close to an hour to walk the two miles downhill into town, it would have taken them significantly longer to walk back up, especially in the heat. He should have been grateful that Mabel had found a way to hitch a ride back to the shack, yet the confinement and proximity to Wendy, who sat mere inches in front of him, was almost too much to handle. He had been rock hard the moment that smokey sweet scent had drifted into his senses and the fact that he could reach out and touch her at any time gave no comfort to his already aching need.
A few locks of golden cinnamon hair floated into view as the open window blew it backwards and Dipper unconsciously reached for them, letting the strands slip off his finger as he watched with pained melancholy. A piercing glance from a certain buff brother was completely missed as his mind wandered to a warm autumn sunset, the atmosphere as vibrant and colorful as the gingery mane of the woman he loved. He loved? Oh… fuck. He dropped his hand and shivered with a sudden panic which twinged in his chest and radiated sharp electric energy into his fingertips and toes. Was that a good chill or a bad one, Dip? He asked himself. I don't know…. I don't know why I just thought that. I can't be in love with her, we're not even dating! Yet reason would not find him and as the truck bounced up the rocky dirt road leading to the shack, Dipper sat staring blankly at the worn flooring of the bed, battling an unseen wave of turbulent, tumultuous emotion.
The crackling, 'ping-tings' of ice cubes within a pitcher full of lemonade jangled in his ear, and Dipper stirred without focusing, not knowing if he ought to unpack the box he had just opened, or if he ought to bury it as deep and as far down as he could in the hopes that he'd forget entirely the maddeningly bad idea he had had.
He. Could. NOT. Love. Her.
That was just a simple trick of the brain- a longing left unsatisfied, he reasoned and nodded to himself. You didn't date her when you were a kid and you won't now, either, Dipper. Come on. His reprimands continued even as he knocked the side of the whisk on the pitcher's mouth and carried it to the back porch, where Gruncle Stan, Mabel, Wendy, and Kevin sat in the early evening sun, laughing about bygone days at the shack. He paused at the door, the few remaining droplets of lemonade dripping along his palm and to the floor silently, and he listened- he savored the warmth of company and the connections he shared with them and in the closing daylight he recognized a deep fondness for the town and the cabin in which he had built a second life.
That is what he had felt earlier, a wanderlust for a future here, with a girl I know only from this place. It was so obvious to him then, and with a chuff of embarrassment for having even considered himself in love with a girl he knew only in the summer, he pushed the door open and stepped out onto the porch.
"Lemonade's ready!" Quickly, a chorus of excited voices rang out in response and a few glasses were raised, practically begging to be filled with the sweet, citrusy drink. He took his time slowly and steadily pouring out the beverage and when all requests were filled he emptied what little remained into his own glass and the group toasted to a fun-filled summer.
"To a casual and fun summer!" Mabel had started as she grinned, the group taking turns toasting to a new hope. "To fun," Wendy agreed, "and to friends, family, and a little bit of festivity!" Gruncle Stan chortled, "Festivity? How about fantasies! I have a fantasy of clueless tourists, all eager to see the gift shop! That fantasy," he paused and winked at Kevin, "and a couple of others!" Kevin laughed a bit uncomfortably and nodded, but only added a simple, "To fun and friends" before all eyes fell to Dipper, who was too lost in his own hopes to realize for a moment that he was the last to toast. "Oh…" he realized and stammered to find a suitable addition. "Uh, to the Mystery Shack!…. and," he shifted his attention to Wendy but continued his toast, "to the wonderful friends who'd do anything to help support it." With the sudden locking of their eyes, Wendy's faint smile grew to a wide grin and as she raised her glass, she held his gaze and when at last she looked away, the extended sensation left him weak and glad to be already sitting down.
Later, when the sun had set and the pinks of the evening sky were just breaking beyond the border of the horizon, Dipper sat in his lawn chair and tried to keep his attention on the Summerween minutia. A quick phone call home had relieved both Wendy and Kevin from the duty of rushing home for dinner, so they stayed, ordering pizzas stacked full of toppings and melty cheese and sharing in a casual evening of friendly banter and bad jokes. After the group had stuffed themselves silly, Mabel and Wendy had volunteered to build a bonfire for s'mores making, and while Dipper had wanted to help, he thought a self-education in patience and ease of control was more important than attempting to do the entire task himself, as was his habit. She had been right about that, of course, and while it didn't sit well with him that Mabel could spot his coping mechanisms so easily, he knew hers just as well. It was just a part of being a twin. He would have no choice but to sit this one out and while that had irritated him in the moment, he figured the down time would allow him some further planning for the event.
"Hey, Dip," Gruncle Stan yawned, "I'm gonna head inside. This whole pizza night with friends was fun, but I'm just gonna let you kids hang out for a while." Dipper turned to look at his Gruncle and noted the heaviness of his features before they shifted into a forced smile. "No really, it's been nice, this scruffy 'family' night. You know, to remember. Good to remember." Stan coughed and without pausing for a response, stood, and shuffled inside to retreat within the safety of his cave, and Dipper was once again left worrying for the future of the Shack as well as his Gruncle.
"Don't you think there's something he's not telling you?" Kevin's deep voice had Dipper glancing quickly to his right, almost startling him at its presence. "I'm not trying to start trouble man, but I know a look like that." Kevin gestured to the door and Gruncle Stan's rushed exit. "It says: I'm trying not to face the truth myself." Dipper's brows drew together in semi-offended shock, but as the wisdom of the thought touched upon his memory, he hung his head and sighed heavily. It was a long minute before he responded. "Yeah, I'm worried that he's hiding how bad it is. I'm not even sure that he knows that I know. But I doubt that would matter." Dipper looked up and they nodded at each other, both sharing the same sympathy and understanding for the unique requirements that weighed heavy on each of their consciences.
"Anyway, I'm hoping this Summerween thing will help." Dipper sat up in his lawn chair and it squeaked slightly with the sudden movement. "It has to. Otherwise… the Shack will close and it will be all my fault for letting it close." "What?" Kevin interjected, "Dude, Dipper, what are you talking about? You're not responsible for this place. Yes, its important to you, but it's not your fault that the internet exists or that tourists are losing interest in parlor tricks." Kevin stood then, moving to tower above the chair which Dipper was then forced to vacate, lest he seem like the child or lesser male. "You've already done so much to support this place. Whether or not it survives is not up to you to decide." "I can't just not try, Kevin." "And I never said you shouldn't!" They both shifted their weight nervously and turned their attention on the two shadowy, feminine figures who were in the process of summoning a fire out of the small pile of wood they had amassed. "Dipper, shit happens. All you can do is learn to roll with it."
Through the growing twilight, Kevin's features grew more shaded and dark, and yet the teen seemed to wax a maturity that Dipper could only wish for. A dutiful sense of stability, he considered, and ruminated on the reasons why he couldn't be like that as well. Sure there were days he felt on top of things and like everything was under control, but he knew those were foolish thoughts, sent straight from the many mistakes and trials of his past. You can't get too comfortable just letting things happen, Dipper. That's when things get out of hand and accidents happen. How can he be so casual about that? As if on cue, Kevin turned his attention on Dipper once more and surveyed him for a moment.
"You know…" the pause lingered, sluggish and hesitant to continue, "the lumberjack business ain't what it used to be." A slow and creeping concern seemed to ooze from his words and the weight of the air seemed to thicken as he spoke. "In truth, my dad asked me to come home so I could help out, I didn't volunteer. It seems folks these days want cheap lumber, especially from those assholes at the big box warehouses. No one wants to pay for quality anymore." Dipper's mouth opened as if to speak, but he found no words to issue. "Anyway, he needs my help. Without the local direct business we're having to ship our wood across country for other projects and needs. Shit, we're even selling to those fucking big boxes- and losing money! The work is hard, we're often out there twelve to fourteen hours a day, six days a week, chopping, felling, cutting, whatever. Dad acts like this is all well and good, but we can't keep doing this." Kevin dropped his head and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. "There's not much money coming in so it's not like we can hire people. But then we can't get enough done to supply the demands of our customers… ah, fuck it."
Dipper could only stare in shock. …What do I even say to that?… "Does Wendy know?" Kevin raised his head long enough to shake it and chuff. "Nah, it's just me and Dad right now. She helps when she can, but we haven't told her just how bad it's gotten. Marcus is off doing his thing in Texas and Gus, well Gus is just fucking useless, as usual." Dipper nodded with as much understanding as he could muster. What a fool he was for thinking the Shack was the only local establishment suffering. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know things were that rough right now." "Whatcha gonna do about it? All we can do is ride the storm until something changes. That's what I've been trying to say this whole time." Clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, the muscled teen turned to gently place his empty glass of lemonade on the plastic table next to him and gestured to the peaking fire where the girls giggled and chatted innocently. "I guess we better join them - they might start getting suspicious otherwise," Kevin grinned before sauntering off in the direction of the fire pit, leaving Dipper to stand in his wake, staring saucers into the fading darkness.
The admission, though an attempt to be a comforting reassurance to persevere and go with the flow, had done nothing of the sort, and as Dipper turned to collect the dishes and bring them inside to the sink, his thoughts threw him into the usual chaos of confusion and control he often found himself dwelling within. Unconsciously his movements grew unsteady and while he was collecting the plates into an untidy stack, his arm kicked a tumbler off the table's edge and it fell, a loud plastic rattling noise jarring his thoughts awake. He quickly stooped to grab the cup up and back into line with the others, hoping that the clatter hadn't been heard by anyone else. Shit, you can't even keep the dishes together.
And though it had presented more of a challenge than he had originally bargained for, Dipper found a way to balance the plates well enough to swing the porch door open and step inside, taking care to not drop anything else until it was well within the confines of the sink. He was just rinsing the last of the oily grease off, mid-way through a stern lecture on the merits of keeping his cool, when the porch door once more swung open and took a moment to slowly return to its home, despite it still not quite fitting correctly into the doorjamb. A voice soft and curious pulled him from his chore, and he spun under the assumption that his sister was there to nag him, only to find a freckled face smiling back at him in wonder.
"What's up, dude? Are you doing the dishes now?" Wendy laughed, teasing him. Mind going blissfully blank, the chaos being tamed into a blanket of searing white nothingness, Dipper wiped his hands on the nearby dishrag and coughed awkwardly. She moved forward and leaned against the countertop, a casual, comfortable action which only highlighted her features more as a single ceiling light illuminated her from above. His mouth went dry as he searched for something to say, but he plastered on a nervous smile. God, I hope this doesn't look as bad as I think it does. "Heh, you know-" he shifted, matching her pose against the countertop next to her, "someone's got to do it. And you know it won't be Mabel!" They laughed together then, a feeling which reverberated to his very core, and the sensation left him with a deep longing for companionship.
At length she turned to look at him, her clover green eyes glinting with mischief. "You know, I think it's really great what you're trying to do for the Shack." He nodded a slow rhythm which grew faster as he thought and his heartbeat increased with it. Yeah, I could spin this as a hero thing. She'll like that, right? "I'm just stepping up to the plate. Trying to do what's right." She smirked. "Yeah, but no one asked you to do this… It's just really sweet. We all appreciate it." She tentatively placed a hand over his and bumped his shoulder playfully. "It's just this place is so important to everyone. To Stan, the town… to me." Dipper was too busy fighting off the waves of heat which lightninged through his body at her touch that he barely registered the distance closing between them. When at last he did notice, his breath caught in his chest as a pair of soft and delicate lips descended onto his cheek, administering a lingering kiss which, while innocent, left nothing but a growing desire for more. He turned his head, wide-eyed with dismay, and registered the utter lack of space between their mouths, and he considered just briefly what it would be like to finally bridge that gap and taste her. Their eyes locked and her lips parted in surprise and for a moment the heat between them sizzled and threatened to give way, but as quickly as it had started the connection was severed and she looked away, blushing and biting her lip. With a quiet giggle she pushed herself away from the counter and took a few steps back, heading once more for the porch door.
"Come on, they're probably wondering where we are." Wendy's melodic voice drifted through his brain and Dipper's grip on the countertop tightened for a moment, making him wonder if the blinding numbness would fade enough for him to move without faltering. He laughed and noted the clear panic in it, but forced himself forward, knowing that if he had lingered any longer the action could either be perceived as standoffish, or worse, expectant of more intimacy, and neither of those situations would be good. "Right, I'll be right out. I wanted to wash my hands once more." With a final grin and shrug, the redhead escaped through the screen door and Dipper was left to stand alone in the kitchen, as shocked as he was hard.
Later, when the bonfire and s'mores had been enjoyed, and the Corduroy's had finally packed up and headed home, Dipper lay awake, the strands of glowing, bluish light bouncing off the metal of the roof's awning and exposing the desperate movements of a man lousy with lust. The Shack was silent at that time of night, both sister and Gruncle long since asleep, and therefore no one was around to witness the ferocity of the motions in which Dipper stroked himself. The memory of that kiss; the desperate, tumbling thoughts of their mouths finally joining and their bodies dragging against each other sent waves of spastic energy through his limbs and he shuddered, finally spilling hot, milky proof of the strength of the need he had for the one woman he could never quite get over. Breathing in shaky, unsteady gulps of air, Dipper's head hit the cool fabric of his pillow and he stared up into the rafters, allowing the misty pull of exhaustion and romantic fiction to lull him into a deep sense of calm. If only life could be that simple. If only he could live out his days in this sleepy town, with this woman wrapped around him. There'd be no need to control or protect, it'd just be a comfortable existence based on mutual trust and affection - for the Shack and for each other. His thoughts raced as the images flooded his mind, pictures of their imaginary future together, like pages from a storybook, folding over each other, each one as colorful as the next. He grimaced then, the truth slowly exposing itself like an emotional noose waiting to hang him. Like it or not, he was madly in love with Wendy Corduroy.