I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of its characters; they are the property of the show creator, Alex Hirsch, and the Walt Disney Company. I make no money from my stories and write just for fun and in the hope that the stories might amuse other fans.
Wanderers from the Weird Side
(August 14, 2017)
1: Stirrings
The Monday after Woodstick ended was a day off for those who worked in the Mystery Shack. Teek and Mabel had an all-day date—the pressure she'd been under and the apparent deaths of the boys in Sev'ral Timez had left her shaken, and Teek decided to take her mind off all that. For one thing, Tad Strange had invited them to come over and tour the sets for the upcoming Webflix show starring the five brothers. It was to be set in California, but the video would be shot in Oregon—cheaper that way.
The town of Salem, south of Portland, would double as the fictional Remuda, an imaginary town somewhere in northern California. As Tad explained to Mabel and Teek, "We can run the boys over to Necktown Beach for surfing scenes" (in the show, "Brothers at Law," the five brothers were avid surfers) "or to Mount Hood for skiing shots" (in real life, the guys couldn't surf or ski, but that's TV for you). A compact set, once a complex of warehouses, would include the brothers' law offices, a courtroom, the boys' apartments, coffee shops, restaurants, jail cells, and other miscellaneous places. The town itself could be used for street scenes.
It sounded interesting, and Teek was going to major in film studies, so he and Mabel planned a long day's excursion, leaving the Shack early and then driving Helen Wheels and following Sev'ral Timez's RV. They didn't expect to be back until after midnight.
Even though Dipper and Wendy had a late night—they got to bed around two in the morning—they rose a little before eight and did their run. The weather forecast said the day would be fine with scattered clouds in the evening and a chance of rain by Tuesday night, so they took their nature-trail route, came back to the Shack, showered, had breakfast—and then took off for a hike.
Now, if you or I had run four miles before breakfast, about the last thing on our minds would be another four-mile hike, especially since later on we'd have to walk back the same distance. But Dipper and Wendy were in good shape, and they had been promising themselves a visit to the hot spring not far from Ghost Falls, Wendy's personal private hot tub, where they could relax and unwind.
That meant driving on a rugged, overgrown old logging trail to a point where once a covered bridge, now collapsed, had led to a plateau that in the nineteenth century had been the site of a mine and mining town. Nowadays, the mine was closed and only a crumbling ghost town remained.
They had packed a lunch and a few other necessities, and eventually Wendy parked Dipper's Range Runner—he had not named it, though to Mabel it was Meepmeep—off the trail (though no other vehicles were likely to come that far from town), and the two helped each other into their backpacks.
They hiked through pine-scented woods where no trail appeared. That didn't matter, not as long as Wendy was about—she had an unerring sense of direction and was as at home in the woods as in the Shack. They heard birds all around—and the drumming of woodpeckers, the theme song, practically, of the Valley—and once a small squirrel hung forty feet up on the trunk of a pine tree and barked at them like a miniature dog.
"Chickaree," Wendy said.
"That's a bird, isn't it?" Dipper asked.
"Close. The bird's a chickadee. Chickaree, one letter different, though I've heard some people call 'em chickadees. They're red squirrels—loud, isn't he?—hey, see the oak over there? About midway up, over on the right, that thing in the branches?"
It was hard to spot among the leaves, but after a moment Dipper saw it. "Bird's nest?" he guessed.
"No, a drey," Wendy told him. "That's a squirrel nest. Betcha anything that's the little guy's home. He's just warning us to keep our distance, or else."
The red squirrel's scolding followed them for thirty or forty yards before the small animal evidently decided they weren't a threat and shut up.
"Drey huh?" Dipper asked.
Wendy spelled it for him. "Just the name for a squirrel's nest," she said. "Lots of people think they build 'em to hibernate in the winters, but they don't really hibernate. They do get scarce, though—stay in the nest a lot of the time. Funny thing, ground squirrels do hibernate, tree squirrels don't."
"I'm going to put that information in my next book," Dipper said. "I think kids would be interested in it."
"Yeah, geeky kids," Wendy teased.
They hiked another mile or so and emerged in a more open landscape of rolling hills. "Looks like the beaver pond's down some," Wendy said, pointing.
Off to their right, a rocky bluff led up to a sort of terraced mountainside. At the foot of the bluff, a long stretch of water and marshland led off north and south, nestled into the curve of stone. Another twenty minutes of walking brought them to the green hill with the spring where they had camped pretty often. "Not a sign of people anywhere," Dipper said.
"Hardly ever is, unless some hunters or fishermen roam this far back. Used to make me mad, I'd come out here to be alone, and some slob would've left food wrappers and junk. But I got so I'd just bury it and forget about it. Ghost Falls could use some rain. Hope we'll get some this week. Look, the flow's so thin I think I can make out the cave behind it."
"We should tell Grunkle Stan when we get back," Dipper said. "I think he's probably retrieved all the gold nuggets and dust, but now that the water's low, he might want to come back and check. Ever see him in his SCUBA gear?"
"That must be a sight!" Wendy said, laughing.
"Maybe we can come with him and watch."
From the hill it was a short way down the slope and then around the upper end of the beaver pond and back to the nearly vertical stone bluff. The hot spring, a gently steaming, sandy-bottomed crater about ten feet across, nestled under an overhang of rock. When they arrived, Wendy took off her boots and dipped a toe in. "Just right," she said. "Gonna feel good."
They took off their backpacks and stripped.
The first time they had done that, with delicacy on both sides, they had discreetly undressed beneath or behind a blanket, and at that they'd worn bathing suits. But they had come here a good many times since, and they had been skinny-dipping together, and now they were comfortable in their skins.
Naked, they helped each other into the spring and settled down in the water, so warm that it edged right up to nearly too hot, with luxurious sighs. "You keep looking at me, dude!" Wendy teased.
"I can't help it," Dipper said. "You're beautiful."
"Yeah, yeah. Remember," she said, "when we do our church wedding thing, you can't look at me when I have my wedding dress on. Bad luck."
"OK," Dipper said. "I'll only look at you when you don't have anything on."
"Deal!" she said with a huge grin. "Come here and put your arm around me. First, I want a mental make-out, and then let's just laze and relax!"
They cuddled in the water, leaning back against the smoothest wall of the crater. And touching skin to skin, they used their special kind of telepathy to explore thoughts and dreams and, well, let's be frank here, fantasies. And a good time, as they say, was had by both.
"What's bothering you?" Wendy asked later. "I can tell something's worrying you. Is it Bill Cipher?"
"No," Dipper said. "I don't think so, anyway. He's kind of faded so I can hardly even sense him. I guess in a couple of weeks he goes for good."
"After that if you call me 'Red,' I'll get even," Wendy said.
"Beat me up?"
"No—this!"
"Ah!" Dipper yelled. "Oh, no—please stop!"
"Mabel's right. You really are ticklish." Wendy relented, and they snuggled and kissed, and Dipper's hands caressed her.
"What's going on under the surface?" she asked, though as long as they were touching, she knew—as well as what was going through his mind. "Let's ease off. It's not that I hate it, Dip, but—let's hold out until the wedding. I want our first time to be in our house. Hey, you gonna carry me over the threshold?"
"Of course!" Dipper said. "It's traditional."
"Think you can lift me and hold me long enough to make it?"
"Pretty sure," he said. "But if I can't, you can carry me."
She laughed. "Oh, I totally could do it, dude!"
"I know you can."
They were silent for a time, kissing and holding each other. Then Wendy said dreamily, "You suppose we'll have this much fun after we're married?"
"At least," he said. "Probably more!"
"Hope so. College and all—gonna be a challenge."
"I think we can deal with it," Dipper said.
"Mm." Wendy took his wrist, raised his hand out of the water, and looked at his palm. Then she kissed it. "You're getting' all pruned up, dude. Guess it's time for us to climb out and get dressed and have our picnic."
They came out dripping—Wendy had even let her hair get wet—and toweled each other off, very thoroughly, slowly, and gently. Dipper, without even trying to hide it, watched his girl get dressed.
She chuckled, raising an eyebrow as she stared at her bare boyfriend. "This is turning you on? An opposite strip tease?"
"Just you," he said. "I love your grace. And you—I don't know how to put it. You always know where you are and who you are. You're so centered and sure of yourself. Confidence, is that the word?"
She sat on a boulder to pull her boots on as Dipper got into underwear, jeans, and tee shirt. "That's just a front," she said. "I've always kind of buried my insecurities and doubts. Remember the Blind Eye stuff? I told you all then, I spent most of my teens stressed twenty-four seven. Yeah, I knew I was real good at some things, lumberjack games, pulling pranks, that sort of stuff. But me and my gang were kind of the outsiders in school. Kinda like you, man."
Dipper sighed as he put on his hiking shoes. "Yeah. I mean, on the track team I had some friends, but—not like Mabel. She had close friends. I had a few guys and girls I could speak to in the lunchroom. Big difference. I don't know. With me, I guess it's genetic. Stan says that I'm a lot like Grunkle Ford when they were our age."
They stood, and unexpectedly Wendy grabbed him, dipped him back, and planted a kiss on him. "Mm-wah!" she said, sounding like Mabel blowing a kiss. "So we're a couple of misfits. We're real lucky we fit together, right?"
"Right!" he said, unable to keep from laughing. "Hey, let me up!"
"Just a sec. Want to try something."
She scooped him up and lifted him as he clung to her neck. "Yep! Push comes to shove, I can tote you over the threshold, man!" She set him down.
"My turn," he said, and he put one arm under her knees, one under her back, and lifted her, grunting just a little. "There you go. Impressed?"
"Yeah, but can you walk?" she asked. He carried her a few steps and then set her down.
"Satisfied?" he asked.
She put her forearms on his shoulders. "I think I will be," she murmured. "I love you, Dipper Pines."
"Wendy, you're the only girl I've ever loved or ever will love."
And that called for a kiss and that called for closed eyes, and it went on for a long time.
When they broke it, they both sighed and opened their eyes again.
And then, looking over Dipper's left shoulder—Wendy screamed.