It was nearly 7AM, and the Shack was bathing in the late August sun. A woodpecker rattled in the distance. Steve reached out from between the Pine branches and grabbed a random Buick to eat for breakfast.

It was a classic Gravity Falls idyll. Warmth, comfort and weirdness in a charming, rustic little package.

In Dipper's room, things were even warmer and cosier than usual. He felt like he was in utter bliss. He mumbled and rolled over, inhaling the sweet, fanciful smell of strawberries and champag-

Oh my god.

It took him a moment to realise what was going on. They were bedroom. Pacifica was clung to him like a vice, her soft, rounded cheek perched on his shoulder. The TV was playing static, piles of VHS tapes stacked around it. They were propped up slightly against the back of the outsized couch. They had dozed off together. Not just in the armchair, but in his bedroom! In his room!

This was amazing. Like, this wasn't his kind of a bed, and- she was in her pyjamas. He was in his pyjamas. It was like they were in the same bed, right?

The sun was peeking through the stained glass windows just so, tiny specks of dust floating around her as she lay there, peacefully, glittering in the morning warmth and light. She curled up a little more and smiled, looking like just about the most angelic thing he had ever seen. He sighed wistfully and gently ran a hand down her hair with an ever-broadening smile. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment. This was perfect. He could get used to this. In fact, he'd be happy if it was to never end-

CRASH

Stan burst through the door, still in his vest and boxer briefs. "Hey! HEY! Dippy! We got trouble!"

Pacifica's eyes shot open. "W-wha?"

Dipper clutched his chest as if he was a 70-year-old man with a utility bill in front of him. Or Stan when being approached by a government vehicle. "G-grunkle Stan?!"

"What the hell-" Stan blinked at the scene in front of him and twisted his lip, disapprovingly. He wasn't a man to get riled up, but the kids knew the rules and- "Y'know what? Never mind."

"Wh- what's going on?" Pacifica asked, rubbing her eyes, smudging her makeup and inadvertently making herself look like a panda.

"I have no frickin' idea what's going on. One minute I'm off to get a Mallow Pie from Soos's stash, the next I find Sixer sprawled out on the museum floor like he's been to a warehouse rave."

Pacifica and Dipper looked at eachother and winced. It didn't bode well if Ford was here and not, y'know, saving the town. They both got up while trying to hide their obvious embarrassment at being caught asleep together.

It was futile, but they tried. Such was the Pines way of things.

Stan showed them into the museum, and the dizzied, bleary-eyed Ford Pines, who was only just beginning to stir from the floor. A broken glass jar was alongside him, Waddles innocently nibbling his fingers. He groaned as he rubbed his bruised neck and held out his hand for someone to help him.

Mabel eagerly took his hand and tried to help him to his feet. "Are you okay, Grunkle Ford?!"

"I didn't even know I could be knocked unconscious anymore…" Ford grumbled. "I should get a metal plate in my damned neck, too. What time is it?"

"Gettin' on for 07:10," Stan replied. "You've been out, what?"

"Must be nearly three hou-" Ford blinked and looked at his watch. "-The train. I didn't even get out of the door."

"Oh fu-!...dge." Mabel said, hastily correcting herself, just in case the situation didn't call for expletives. "What are we gonna do, Grunkle Ford?!"

Sixer furrowed his brow. "Th-there's still a chance, sweetie. They'll have used wood and newspaper to light the fire then shunted it with that jalopy to the fueling point. Once it's loaded, though? It'll be a disaster. Potentially the biggest cataclysm the town's seen since Wierdmageddon. Boiler explosions of that scale can be truly deadly. Why, some people's body parts can be blown for miles-"

"Nice way to calm the kids down, Ford. Great job." Stan interrupted, with his brows furrowed. It was almost comical how much the two resembled eachother when they were both doing it.

Pacifica, Mabel and Dipper exchanged glances and spoke in almost perfect unison. "We'll go."

"You'll be quicker than two old men, that's fer damned sure." Stan said." I ain't even got my good vest on."

Ford handed over a pair of red flags and a whistle as he shakily - clumsily - got back onto his feet, still clutching his neck. "No train engineer will ignore these. The fuel point's a few miles from here. Grab a golf cart."

"And be careful," Stan said, firmly. "If it looks like things are gonna go badly, you get outta there. You can be a hero, but don't be a dumb hero."

"We're gonna save that train or die trying!" Mabel chirped.

Stan twisted his lip. "...Pumpkin, I literally just said-"

"Could do without the dying bit," Pacifica interjected. "Like, if I die-"

Dipper tucked the whistle into his vest pocket. "You'll sue us?"

"I'll haunt you, like, forever." the Northwest heir retorted, sticking out her tongue. "Let me go get my jacket."

The three stormed off to get ready as the scientist rubbed his neck and his brother prepared the first aid kit.

Waddles, meanwhile, sat there quietly, chewing on a Europa Pie wrapper and watching the chaos unfold. The shack's resident porcine decided to go and look elsewhere for food. This was all a little bit too much commotion for him, especially this early in the morning.

People could do with learning a bit more from the pig way of life. Humans were weird.

Good pies, though.