Smooth Sailing by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 3: Of Siblings

No visual beauty, not even the most delicate flower, could compare to the true spender that was the art of science. All brilliant minds agree that there is no person on earth, no Cretan dwelling beneath some dusty rock, can challenge the sturdy rampart that was the quest for the horizon of knowledge.

Stanford Pines was one of these great soldiers on this quest, his own studies piercing beyond the borders of this reality and the comprehension of the average man. From his perils in the dark seas of dimension 40~/3, to his battles with other old explores over the Great Gems of Zigûrun the Great.

Right now, deep within his own halls of exploration, Stanford Pines studied the reaction between the elegant Rose Quarts, which appeared to be expanding it's own force field, and a mixture of potassium, argon, and mercury. Stanford gently lifted the vial containing the mixture. He had to be careful, for this was the last of his supply of the concoction of his own creation. Careful, careful, he though, Just gotta pour it onto the fiel-

A high-pitched shriek echoed through the laboratory, hitting the right levels to shatter the vial in the mad-doctor's hand, it's contents smoking on the floor. Stanford covered his ears in agony, charging to the elevator to see the source of his niece's peril.

The vending machine door burst open, scraping over the floor of the gift shop. Stanford barely entered the room when Melody removed one finger from massaging her temples to point towards the kitchen in the Shack. Ford nodded, ever grateful that Soos' wife took up Wendy's job ever since she went to work in her dad's lumber company, and hastened into the kitchen, unsure what to expect.

As he rounded the corner, a not-unfamiliar sight met his eyes. Dipper sat at the table, his forehead resting on the edge, his arms wrapped around the rest of his head, while his sister stood next to him shaking him, still screaming, her mouth opened in a wild grin. Stanley sat across from the twins, the Gravity Falls Gossiper masking his face, a mug of coffee at his elbow.

Stanford staggered forward, his hands still covering his abused ear drums. "Mabel, would you please stop screaming? I can barely hear myself think!"

Mabel held up a finger, signaling that she would cease momentarily as her lungs emptied for the seventeenth time that morning. Eventually, the noise ceased, and his grand-niece took several deep breaths, the grin never leaving her face.

Stanford sighed in relief, lowering his buffers from the jargon. His mouth twitched into a small smile as he looked at his youthful brunette kin. "Thank you, Mabel. Now would you please explain to me what's going on? And why does Dipper look like they just recalled Dungeon, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?"

Dipper groaned in annoyance as Stanly chuckled from behind the newspaper. "Sixer, you're gonna wanna sit down for this. It appears that Dipper here did some research into a field you have never penetrated."

Stanly leaned back in his seat at his own innuendo as Dipper sent him a death glare from across the table and his brother's expression shifted from confusion to excitement. "Really?" Stanford pulled up a chair and sat next to his apprentice, eager to hear of the new realm of exploration. "Where was this, Dipper? Was it a new species of centaur? I had a hunch those tracks didn't look fully equestrian, but still not quite bovine. Or was it with that hidden bird-people city? I haven't been able to pinpoint which dimension…" His words slowed to a halt as he met Dipper's eyes. His grand-nephew's face was very red, his expression one of annoyance and mild anger. Stanford's eyes darted to the faded oval marks that were on Dipper's face, and he saw some small bruises just below Dipper's left ear. "Dipper, were you attacked?" Stanford's eyes widened briefly, his mind racing to identify the creature that could have done such particular damage. "Was it an eye-clopse or was it one of those barf-fairies we found near the bunker?" He stood up quickly, turning to grab the first-aid kit. "They don't look too-bad, probably just need a cleaning swab. I do like whatever attack-spray they put on you. Very…aromatic." He smiled at Dipper as he opened an alcohol swab, his face shifting to a look of confusion as Mabel covered her eyes with her hand and his brother sighed in exasperation.

"Am I missing something or…" Stanford's trailing question was answered by silence, soon broken by an obnoxious pop song.

"Disco Giiiiiirl, Coming throooooooough, Disco giiiiirl, that girl is yo-"

Dipper hastily pulled his phone from his pocket and, with a scarlet face, fled the room, breathing into the speaker "Hey Paz…"

"Tell her I want to meet for coffee! We need to have some girl-talk!" Mabel called after her retreating brother, who was jumping up the stairs to the attic. "I'm happy for you!"

Mabel sat in the empty chair with a sigh. "I'm proud of him," Stanly said over the top of The Gossiper. "He told'er that he liked her, and things went well."

"Don't you think it's going a little fast, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel muttered, biting her lip. "I know they'll be happy, and this sound pretty serious, but I don't want either of them hurt…"

"Stanly, what am I missing?" Stanford growled in annoyance. "I lost my last supply of whatever Mabel created in the blender because of this, and I can't just jump back and watch her re-create it!"

Stan sighed, tucking his newspaper under his arm. "You know the Northwest girl, right? The rich one who's mom OD'd?"

Stanford raised an eyebrow. "Of course I know her. She's been taking up a lot of Dipper's valuable time, leaving me with him unfocused and having to drop stuff to take her calls."

"Well, Smart Guy, if you feel like you're not seeing much of Dip now, well, prepare for spending every Friday and Saturday without him entirely."

"What on earth are you talking about, Stanly? Why on earth would Dipper stop being here on Fridays?"

Mabel rolled her eyes. "What we're trying to say is that Dipper and Pacifica are significantly closer now." Seriously Grunkle Ford aren't you a doctor of EVERYTHING?

Stanford's head whipped back and forth between the two. "What are you-" His question was halted when he felt his grand-niece give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and immediately spitting in disgust.

"Aw, Grunkle Ford, didn't you stop burning your face?" Mabel hissed, wiping her lips on her napkin, trying to remove any remaining charred facial hair. "Anyway, what does that look like?"

Mabel took a picture of her Grunkle's cheek with her phone, and showed him the faint oval mark of lipstick.

Stanford wiped the spot on his cheek and squinted at the screen. Seriously, how did the youth of today have cataracts that could survive such a glare? After a few seconds of analysis, Stanford muttered, "It looks like the marks on Dipper's face."

"Yeeeeeeesssss, and they got there how?" Mabel prompted, her patience waining.

Stanford's mind drew a blank, until the answer slowly reared its head from the fog.

"Dipper was attacked by a Succumbs?!"

"No you moron! Dipper got with Pacifica!"

Stanford turn to look at his brother, who was seething with frustration as Mabel covered her mouth, appalled by her preferred Grunkle's exclamation.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel scolded, crossing her arms. "Its more than just that. They're going out on Friday."

"What did they do last night?"

"…"

"So you see my point. I just hope this doesn't have any 'unexpected consequences'."

Mabel sighed, pushing back from the table and got to her feet. "I'm going to check on him. I think we may have teased him a little too much."

As she left the room, her Grunkle called after her. "Just remember sweetie. You're shift starts in half an hour, we can't keep Melody there forever!"

Stanford stared at his brother, his head still reeling from the news. His apprentice… Holy Moses!

"You need a drink, Stanford?" His twin inquired, pushing his rather "strong smelling" coffee towards the befuddled genius. "Here, have some. It's dad's 'Monday Blend'."

"Stanly, you're alright with this?" His brother exclaimed, "This could end very bad for him. Seriously, I remember when I-"

"Ford, your relationships with girls all ended almost as bad as your relation with that triangle, and the last time I gave him any major advice besides the "Three C's", it blew up in his face. He'll be fine. He's responsible and she loves him. Didn't you see them curled up after 'My Mummy's a Werewolf 2'?"

"I see your point," Stanford put his face in his hands. "But isn't he growing up a bit fast? I mean, he and Mable are going to college next year. It's fantastic that Andrew and Helen let them move here, but we only have eleven months left."

Stan sighed, taking a long draught of café la Jack Daniels, and turned to face his mirror. "I've been thinkin' the exact same thing, Ford," Stan muttered, "But those kids have more than grown up. They've been through hell, literally, and we both knew we couldn't have them forever. I'm just happy that we have them now, and we'll have them for the rest of our lives. Seriously, Mabel's planning to move back after art school! And Dipper," Stan bit his lip, trying to carefully select his words, "He loves us and he loves Mabel. He'll come back. Besides, if this thing with Blondie is permanent, what do you think the chances that miss perfect will leave her quarter-mile-by-cruiseship sized mansion?"

Stanford smiled, gently removing his glasses to remove his dusty finger-prints. "You have a very good point Stanly."

Stanly smiled. "Of course I do. I'm the people's Pines. You, however, are the one who has to clean up whatever is making that burning-barf smell in the basement."

Stanford gave him a questioning look before the scent from the floorboards hit his nose. Stanford sighed in exasperation, and reached for his brother's mug.

Dipper sat at the desk near the attic window-seat, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, the other holding the phone into which he was recounting the events since he last saw his new-girlfriend.

"Did Mabel even take a breath?" Pacifica's voice buzzed in his ear, still tingling from his sister's shrieks.

"They're very fast and subtle. She's had years of practice."

"Wow. How was it once you got back to the Shack?"

Dipper closed his eyes, the memories still filling him with annoyance. "Stan made coffee, Mabel kept yelling, and eventually Ford came up."

"How did he take it?"

Dipper sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the sound of Waddles chewing on an apple on Mabel's bed beginning to vex him. "To be honest, Paz, I don't think he figured it out. I mean, he's a genius, but I seriously think he didn't have a clue! He thought the kiss marks were from a eye-clopes!"

Pacifica chuckles made it over the phone. "I'm not shocked. Human relationships never seemed to be his area of expertise."

"You do have a point…" Dipper mused, remembering the incident at the grocery store where Ford tried to attack a teen in a yellow t-shirt, demanding where "Rick" was.

"We still on for Friday?"

"Totally."

"Great. Dip?"

"Yes?" Dipper hesitated, worried slightly by his girlfriend's pause.

"Can we… Can we keep this on the down-low until then? I-its not that I don't want to date you, it's just, people will get jealous, rumors will spread, I mean, the paparazzi have already been a pain since Pricilla died. Imagine if they found out about you dating me. The Shack will be surrounded by them for days!"

"Well I doubt Stan'll mind," Dipper muttered, "But I understand. You've been though enough with them, and I respect that."

"Thanks babe," Pacifica paused, and Dipper barely heard a second voice over the phone. "Ok, thanks," Pacifica said to the new speaker, and sighed into the microphone, sounding particularly annoyed. "I've got to go. Franklin just reminded me that I'm meeting with the lawyer later about the Will. I need to get ready."

Dipper grinned. "I thought you liked the way I smelled?"

"I wasn't completely lying to Mabel. That hat smells stronger than Toby waiting outside the Manor each summer. Seriously, YOU NEED TO WASH IT."

Dipper chuckled, "I'll do it for you."

"Thank you, Dippy." Dipper blushed at that particular version of his name. "I'll text you later."

"Bye."

"Bye." Pacifica made a kiss sound over the phone and hung up, leaving Dipper alone in the dusty attic.

This solidarity did not last, as the sounds of marching feet echoed up the stairs that led down to the rest of the old house. Less than thirty seconds after the call ended, the door burst open, and the pig that rested on the pink and purple bed leapt across the room to great his owner. Mabel reached down to scratch behind her pet's ears, and then turned to her brother with concerned eyes. She sat on the desk and faced her brother. "You doing ok, bro-bro?"

Dipper looked up at her and sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "Yeah, I'll be alright." His sister sighed, putting her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, I took it to far," tears began to form around her eyes, "I'm always doing this. I'm really sorry. I'm really, really, sorry."

Dipper stood up and pulled his sister into a tight embrace. "Mabel, you weren't the annoying one. Stan was the one who was making really awkward."

Mabel sniffed, and looked at her brother with bloodshot eyes. "It's not just that, Dipper. Y-you have another girl in your life!" Mabel sobbed into Dipper's shoulder. "Y-y-you're going to b-be with her more than me! You're not going to hang out with me anymore!"

Dipper rested his head on his sister's shoulder, completely understanding his perspective. Ever since he was twelve he secretly resented Mabel going after so many boys. He was jealous of their time together, and he wasn't willing to give it up. To be honest, that's part of the reason that he wanted to grow up so quickly. He knew that that time loss would happen, even though Mabel was blissfully unaware of it, and he just wanted to get it over with, or just simply pass it by.

"Mabel," Dipper whispered in her ear, "You will always be my sister. If Bill wasn't able to permanently separate us, our relationships certainly won't either. Pacifica may be my girlfriend, but I can't dress in twin costumes with her for Summerween, nor can I go on adventures with her the same way I can with you."

Mabel took in her brother's words, and eventually ceased crying. She leaned back, and smiled at her twin. "Soooo, what's are you're plaaaaaaans?"

Dipper sighed and looked his twin dead in the eye. "Mabel, Pacifica wants this secret."

"What?" Mabel shout in shock, "She doesn't want people to know she managed to land you?!"

"Mabel it's not that simpl- hang on," Dipper narrowed his eyes at her, "What do you mean landed me? Last time I checked, Pacifica was the one who has people falling over her."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Dip, girls have been checking you out for weeks. Candy, Grenda, and I have been waiting for you to notice, but I guess it all went over your head. Probably a good thing…" Mabel's thoughts drifted towards how easily her brother's head was inflated, but she turned back to the matter at hand. "But what is all this secrecy nonsense?!"

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose again, trying to figure out how to explain this. "Pacifica has had trouble with the paparazzi since last week. Pricilla's death was big news, and she doesn't want us roped into all of it."

"Stan wouldn't mind the publicity."

"Exactly what I said, but still, she asked and I promised. So would you please keep it quiet?"

Mabel huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine," she sniffed, "But can I at least tell Wendy and Soos?"

Dipper debated with himself internally for a moment, before slowly responding, "…I guess, Wendy doesn't gossip much, and the rest of the gang is out of town, besides Robbie and Tambrey. And Soos would find out eventually."

"Thanks, bro-bro." Mabel's watch chimed, signaling ten minutes until her shift. She groaned, and turned to her brother. "Gotta get to work, you coming?"

Dipper shrugged. "Got nothing better to do," he muttered, following her to the stairs. Suddenly, a question he meant to ask earlier came to his mind. "Oh, by the way, how did Ford take it?"

Mabel giggled, and she turned to brother with a smirk. "Twelve PHD's do not make up for lack of social understanding, Dipper. I tried to be gentle about it, but Fordy needed something a little less than gentle to get the point."

Dipper grimaced. "Can you define 'less than gentle'?"

Mabel sighed. "Stan method, though effective, made Leaderaur look as gentle as Soos with little Stanly Maria."

Dipper groaned as the two descended the stairs, marching to the land of over-priced merchandise.