Title: And It's Worth It, It's Divine (I Have This Some of the Time)
Pairing:
Dipper Pines/Pacifica Northwest
Word Count: +1,500 Words
Warning: Some swearing in this one.
Disclaimer:
All properties belong to their rightful owners.


(Your Heart and My Heart Are) Very Old Friends

Chapter V


Pacifica Northwest slips past the crowd with a bottle of red in her hand and expertly makes her way up her mansion's staircase. She so desperately wants to evade the mass of the rich and famous chattering away and clinking their glasses below her, the waiters dashing from every corner of the room. The small group of musicians all play to fill the room with a romantic, classical melody as she quickly hops up the steps in search of an isolated, quiet space all to herself.

Suits in sleek ties and gelled back hair converse by the hall, while some ladies kiss each other's cheeks and giggle at something over by the balcony. A few of them she recognizes. Donors from her mother's charity events. Faces from her father's business meetings. Pacifica has politely excused herself and makes her way past them and into her room.

She turns the door knob and curses under her breath when it doesn't open. "Just my luck," she thinks. "I left my keys in the cabinet downstairs."

With a sigh, the girl opts to take her chances and hides away inside the bathroom instead.

"It's occupied. Go away." A familiar baritone pipes from behind the shower curtains.

"You can't kick me out of my own bathroom," the blonde replies, locking the door behind her.

The navy blue-and-gold drapery pulls back to reveal a tan-skinned, messy haired brunette, all dressed up in a sleek black tux and bow tie as he sits cross legged in the bath tub. "Pacifica?"

She almost cracks a smile at the sight.

"Pines," the girl nods in acknowledgement, moving closer. "You should've locked if you really wanted to be alone."

"Yeah, well, next time I want to quarantine myself inside your bathroom, I'll remember." He opens his palms to her, offering her help with the bottle. Pacifica rolls her eyes but hands it to him nonetheless. He opens it effortlessly and she grabs a glass from the medicine cabinet.

He cocks his eyebrow in question.

"Mum likes to drink champagne when she has bubble baths," Pacifica shrugs.

Dipper smirks and, folding his sleeves up to his elbows, gets up to pour her a glass. Not even standing to his full height, he still looms over her in stature. Sometimes it still surprises her how much he's grown up in the past couple of years.

His hair is messier now, complexion darker. His jaw is more defined and his shoulders broader. When he smiles at her from his chalice, his smoky dark chocolate eyes gleam.

"Montoya Cabernet," he notes. "Not too shabby."

Pacifica scoffs and they both settle into the bathtub. "So what brings you to my humble little lavatory?"

"I could say the same for you. Shouldn't you be out there, I don't know, chatting up Marion van Funschmuckle or something?"

She tips her glass back and drinks. "It's Marius, and isn't he dating your sister's friend Gretel?"

"Grenda."

"Whatever," the girl waves her hand dismissively. "Anyway, it might come as a shock to you, but after seventeen years of this, I am a tad sick of these black tie events."

"Ah, I see. And that's how you found yourself in this predicament?"

"Yup, that's why I'm here. Sitting in a bath tub, drinking wine and swapping stories with none other than the likes of mystery detective extraordinaire." Pacifica pauses with her forehead creased, and she shakes her head. "Actually, no. I'm too sober for this."

She reaches for the Cabernet between them and poises it on her lips.

"That's probably not a very good idea," Dipper eyes her apprehensively.

"Hm. Good thing I didn't ask you, then." She smiles at him then, tips the bottle back and gulps down the warm, bubbling liquid. He lets out a breath of disbelief.

"Mmmhm," she hums in pleasure and savors the taste on her tongue.

Curiosity piqued by her enjoyment of the drink, Dipper takes a sip from his glass and accommodates the taste. Prior to tonight, he had never drank any alcohol before, especially not red wine this old and fine. The only thing available to him was an old bottle of scotch and whiskey Grunkle Stan kept locked away inside his room. Wendy and her friends had a few bottles of Corona every now and then, but the smell had always been off putting to him, so he never dared take a sip. Now though, he appreciates the rich and supple flavor dancing on his tongue.

Dipper looks over Pacifica. Her hair is now in a messy half ponytail, wispy sunflower blonde curls cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall and falling over clear, crystal blue orbs. Her lips are stained cherry red with the wine and the corners of her mouth tilt up to smile at him.

He feels his face burning up, but whether it was from the wine or the sight of the girl across him, he wasn't sure. She offers him a silent question.

He let out a deep breath and runs his fingers through his perfectly gelled back hair, mussing it up. "Old Man McGucket invited Grunkle Stan and Uncle Ford here tonight, and I guess, Uncle Ford thought I might need a break from this case that we've been handling ― it's been two weeks, see, and we still haven't cracked it ― and I suppose he was a little worried for me, too. I mean, I have been kind of getting antsy lately. I think maybe he thinks I'm sort of obsessed with it at the moment, but-but ― I mean, how could you not be when―" he was practically shouting now, "W-W-When the evidence makes no sense. No sense! And trust me, I know, because I've reviewed all of it. Thoroughly. Eighteen times. Which, okay, fine, might have been a little excessive but―"

Dipper stops to catch his breath and Pacifica laughs, nudges the bottle towards him. He frowns.

"Look at you," she gestures at him. "You're all wound up."

The boy nods slowly and accepts the offer. He's not sure who's more surprise when he wolfs down a big, ravenous gulp - him or the wide eyed blonde across him. When he swallows, his face crumples and he breaks out into a coughing fit. Pacifica, on the other hand, laughs unabashedly.

"Bravo! Bravo!" she claps, and he curtsies a bit in his place. "You have just entered the cusp of adulthood. Bravo to you, fine sir!"

"And bravo to you as well, my lady, I wouldn't have made it without you."

When the laughter dies down, they gladly let companionable silence envelope them. They stay like that for a while; the sound of nothing but slow, even breaths and the wine swishing inside the bottle they pass around to ease their tension.

Dipper is the first to speak.

"I don't know if you remember this, but..." he shakes his head, loosens the bow tie around his neck. "Back in...uh...Creative Writing of freshman year...you read your poem in class."

"Oh, that." A nervous huff of laughter bubbles up in her throat. "I've forgotten all about that."

He then begins to recite some of the lines back to her. "I caught the glimpse of a smile that looked like the open road I wanted to drive on forever, the flash of eyes like chasing dreams, and promises I try hard not to remember."

"I really felt that," Pacifica says it so quietly he almost doesn't hear.

He smiles at her sleepily. "Was it inspired by anything?"

The moment he says it, the blonde girl looks up immediately. There is expectation on his face. Or perhaps flattery. Humor. Maybe even flirting. But of course she does what she always does when sparks of something else fly between them in the few, fleeting moments like these they've had over the years.

She takes a gulp, and simply brushes it off. "Yeah. The need to get an A."

He looks like he wants so much to tell her he wasn't using a line, that he wondered if she wrote it thinking of arguments over Chemistry homework and lost debates and lunch dates and late afternoons under the shade. Wonders if that poem was born out of the hope that maybe they were meant for more than lingering glances and unsaid words and missed opportunities, moments lost in time. If she wanted that hope to live forever.

(Or perhaps, her wishful thinking. Hasn't been the first time.)

Instead, Dipper simply shakes his head and laughs. "I think I'm drunk."

"Cheers, to good wine and good company," she says, lifting the Cabernet. Her smile looks sad, but he's too afraid to wonder why. And so he clinks his glass with hers and swallows down the uneasiness bubbling up in his throat, pushing it back down with the sweet taste.

Liquid courage at it's finest. "Cheers."


A Poem in Search of Meaning
by Pacifica Northwest

How do we come to be here next to each other
in the night
Where are the stars that show us to our love
inevitable
Outside the leaves flame usual in darkness
and the rain
falls cool and blessed on the holy flesh
the black men waiting on the corner for
a womanly mirage
I am amazed by peace
It is this possibility of you
asleep
and breathing in the quiet air


This is part 01 of 05 in my "The four times Pacifica Northwest and Dipper Pines are wrong about each other (and the one time they're right)" series. Expect the rest to come soon and quickly, probably the day after tomorrow. Keep tuning in! The poem is mine, by the way, please ask for permission before you use it anywhere. Thanks.

Oh, and once again, I am in need of beta so please please please recommend me some!

Stay gold, friends!

xoxo Amaya