12

It had been about half an hour since Tyr abruptly stormed off, and Fenris had finally calmed his sobs, replacing them with shaky breaths. He was heartbroken. His chest ached, and not just where Signe had stabbed him between the ribs. Based on what had happened the last time they had seen each other—Tyr betraying Fen, and getting his hand bitten off for his trouble—Fenris knew logically that Tyr would likely not be happy to see him—but he had still hoped. The only good memories Fenris had of his time in Asgard before being bound all involved Tyr, and he thought maybe, just maybe the Tyr who had treated him like a son would still be in there somewhere. Apparently he wasn't.

Fenris reached down and scratched Rika behind the ears. Her head still rested gently on his knee, and he could hear her quiet, nearly incoherent mumble like a scratching at the back of his brain. Sad face water friend sad quiet? She was a good dog.

"You know, the only reason I even figured out I could shape shift in the first place is because I was growing too large to sleep in Tyr's bed anymore," he said, smiling in spite of himself. "The bed over there isn't his original one. I broke that. And the one after. And the third. Tyr finally suggested I try changing my shape to that of a dog, since I'm the son of a shape shifter. We were both surprised when it worked."

"I won'er why he got a dog jus' like you," Dipper said, slurring. "Mebbe guilt?" he suggested, then belched loudly.

Fenris felt his eyebrows draw together as his head shot up. He hadn't really been paying attention to what Dipper was doing while he was having his emotional breakdown. As it turned out, Dipper had decided to go ahead and drink the contents of the large tankards Tyr had left on the table. All of them.

"The fuck, Dipper, what possessed you to drink all three?" Fenris asked incredulously.

Dipper favored Fenris with a lazy half-smile as he lifted one of the tankards and drained the dregs, setting it back down on the table with a hollow thud. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and shrugged. "What? I'was thirsty! This... stuff is good, too. Tastes like honey."

"Well, it would, as it's mead," Fenris said. "Alcohol made from honey."

"Oh! Oops," Dipper said with a giggle. "I guess alcolol splains this whole...mess," he said, drawing a sloppy circle around himself with a hand. Before Fenris could say anything else, Dipper shot to his hooves and looked around the room.

"I hafta pee," he announced. "Where's th' peein' room?"

"No indoor plumbing, Dip," Fenris said, unable to keep himself from grinning as Dipper wobbled slightly and frowned at the news. "There's an outhouse in the backyard, near the chicken coop."

"Ew, but okay," Dipper mumbled. He tottered to the door, unsteady on his hooves, and let himself outside.

Fenris chuckled wetly. He could always count on Dipper to bring some levity to the situation. He sighed and looked down at Rika. "What a dumbass."

Rika wuffed quietly in agreement. Wobble goat smell.

Fenris silently contemplated the situation with Tyr while absently stroking the spot between Rika's eyes, until he realized it had been awhile since Dipper had left to go pee.

"Probably ended up in the stable. Let's go find Dingus," he said to Rika, as he pushed his chair back and stood up.

Rika pranced in place, her tail wagging, then followed Fenris as he made his way toward the entrance. Goat wobble smell smell smell.

Fenris was about to open the door when he heard a noise outside, and Rika bayed loudly.

DAD DAD DAD DAD!

"Shut it, Rika, it's just me," came the familiar, if muffled voice of Tyr from the other side of the door. Fenris's stomach dropped, and he quickly moved back as the door was kicked open, and Tyr stepped over the threshold, Dipper in his arms like some kind of perverse, drunken, goat bride. "Found this one peeing in the chicken coop."

"Pumme down I can walk by m'self," Dipper muttered, his legs flailing inelegantly.

Tyr shrugged and dropped Dipper in a heap at his feet. "Suit yourself," he said, stepping over him.

Goat smell goat goat boy smell? Rika trotted forward and began to inspect Dipper curiously, her tail wagging slowly. Dipper grunted and flapped a hand weakly at her.

Fenris had backed nearly halfway across the room, unsure of what Tyr would do to him, now that he knew who the boy with the 'dog magic' was. Tyr met Fenris's eyes, the expression on his rough, scarred face inscrutable. He strode directly toward Fenris, pulling something long and thin from a leather pouch on his belt.

Fenris inhaled sharply, panic rising in his chest. What Tyr was holding looked like a few strands of hair woven together, but Fen knew what it was, and he wanted nothing to do with it. It was a chain made of impossible things—the enchanted chain that he'd been bound with. Gleipnir.

Tyr was almost upon him now, and Fenris's back was against the wall. The rate of his breathing, still shallow from the collapsed lung courtesy of Signe, increased until he was nearly hyperventilating. Finally Tyr stopped, only a foot away from Fenris. He held up Gleipnir.

"We need to talk about this," Tyr said, the disgust in his voice clear.

Fenris couldn't speak. He simply trembled and shook his head. In this moment, he wasn't Fenrisulfr, the World Eater. He was a scared boy, being confronted by the one person in the world he had trusted, who had used that trust to betray him.

"Void-damned thing," Tyr said, throwing Gleipnir to the ground and spitting on it. Before Fenris realized what was happening, the enormous god had him wrapped in a bone-crushing hug.

"I am so sorry, Fen," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "So, so sorry. What I did to you was unforgivable."

Fenris wanted to laugh. It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. All he managed to croak out, however, was "Can't. Breathe."

"Ah, yes, my apologies," Tyr said, letting go and taking a step back as Fenris winced and rubbed his ribs. "I also apologize for my reaction when I realized it was my Fen inside this crying boy's body. I didn't even know you were capable of taking human form! I had to see for myself that Gleipnir was indeed broken, and you were not still there. I couldn't bring myself to believe it otherwise, so I blipped there and found that." He kicked at the innocuous-looking chain. "Curiously, there were also quite a few empty bottles littering the area," he added. "Smelled like sour ale."

Fenris smiled down at his hands, remembering Bacon's sudden, drunken appearance on his island. He hadn't wanted to look a gift horse in the mouth, so when he'd felt Gleipnir loosen and fall off, and the sword in his mouth turn to dust and blow away, he didn't even consider that what was being done was clearly trickster magic. Instead, he immediately shrank into his dog form and pranced around the island, happy to be able to move around again. When Bacon asked him for a ride, he couldn't refuse. This strange little drunkard had saved him somehow, and so he became the clurichaun's noble steed, accompanying him into the Green Realm. Fenris's cheeks warmed as he remembered that first meeting with Dipper and Grenda, who had immediately accepted him rather than running in fear. That was one of the best days of his life.

Then Fenris's eyes wandered to Tyr's right arm, which ended in a stump at the wrist, and he was reminded of the absolute worst day of his life. He looked up at his former foster father, and found himself blinking back tears again.

"Why?" he asked quietly. "Why'd you help them? I trusted you. You were the only person I trusted. You knew that, and you used it against me. What did I do to deserve that betrayal?"

Tyr let out a shaky sigh. "You did nothing, son. Let's go sit, and I'll try to explain—although I know there is no excuse for what I did." He placed his left hand on Fenris's shoulder and steered him back over to the table, where they sat down opposite from each other again. The large god peered down into the empty tankards with a bemused smile.

"No wonder your friend is drunk," he said with a chuckle. "This is my strongest brew. Only one tankard is enough to get even me fairly tipsy. Two and I come close to buzzed. If I want to, I mean."

"Woulda' been nice ifya'd told us that," Dipper mumbled from his spot on the floor. From beside him, Rika wuffed and wagged her tail. "See, even doge agrees." Then he sat up and frowned at Tyr. "Wai' whadaya mean 'if you wan' to'? Is that jussa you thing, or somethin' any god could do?"

Fenris raised an eyebrow, curious to know the answer himself. He had never been interested in alcohol as a dog or wolf. He wasn't even particularly interested in it in his human form—but this seemed like information he should know regardless.

Tyr laughed. "What, have you been a god for two days or something?"

"No," Dipper said, indignantly. He got to his hands and knees, crawled over to the chair he had previously occupied, and hoisted himself onto it so he was sitting mostly upright. "It'sactually been a… couple months...give or take..." He hiccuped loudly, and giggled at himself.

Tyr's brow furrowed. "He's serious?" he asked Fenris, as Dipper was too busy to answer, trying to keep Rika from sticking her head between his legs.

Smell SMELL goat smell boy smell goat boy smell?!

Fenris smiled to himself at Rika's chatter that only he could hear, and nodded at Tyr. "He was a mortal. His...ascension, I guess you'd call it? It happened just before I was released from my bonds. The same trickster set us both on the path we're on now."

"Trickster, you say? Not Loki, though. It couldn't have been him," Tyr said thoughtfully.

"Why couldn't it?" asked Fenris. "I mean, it wasn't, but why rule out Loki?"

"Part of the enchantment on Gleipnir kept any of your kin… including me… from being able to free you," said Tyr. "I suppose the dwarves didn't make it a blanket enchantment to disallow anyone at all from freeing you because that would have taken a great deal more power to accomplish. Must've never occurred to them that a god from outside our realm would ever consider interfering in the affairs of the Norse realm by freeing you."

Fenris chewed the inside of his lip. The only time Loki had ever visited him while he was bound, he'd made fun of how gullible Fenris had been. He'd grabbed the chain and shook it, in what Fenris assumed was a mocking manner, but dropped it quickly, like it had shocked him. Was it possible that, though he was being an ass about it, his father had planned to free him, then discovered he was unable when he touched the chain?

Of course, the asshole could have at least removed the sword that was holding Fenris's mouth open. He was fairly sure that it hadn't been enchanted, because it hadn't seemed to be part of Odin's original plan for him. No, it was just a cruel afterthought left behind because he'd been snapping at the gods closest to him, and one of them with a sword had retaliated. Unfortunately for Fenris, their sword had gotten lodged in the roof of his mouth, and was pulled from their grip when Fenris had reared his head back in pain. Yeah, Loki could have at least done something about that. He just chose not to.

Fenris was still pondering whether his father would have freed him if he'd been able when his brain processed another part of what Tyr had said: that he'd been included among Fenris's kin in the enchantment. He looked up, meeting Tyr's eyes. There was a kindness in them. There always had been.

"They included you in the enchantment?" Fenris asked, frowning. "Why? You were the reason they were able to bind me in the first place."

"HEY," Dipper said loudly, his elbows on the table, chin resting heavily on both hands. "I thought he was gonna 'splain the alcohol thing."

Fenris sighed. "Dipper, we're kind of having an important discussion here?"

Dipper grumbled unhappily, but didn't seem to have anything to say to that.

"It's okay, Fen," Tyr said, with a small smile. "It looks like your friend is about to pass out anyway. I might as well tell him about it before he does."

It was Fenris's turn to grumble unhappily, but he also listened to Tyr's explanation with interest.

"Unlike humans, who can be acted upon by any outside force or substance," Tyr began, "Gods have complete bodily sovereignty."

Dipper nodded sagely. "Ah yes. Complete bobidly sovrency." He paused a tick before saying, "I have no idea wha' that means."

Tyr looked like he was holding back a laugh. "Complete. Bodily. Sovereignty. It means that when a god takes anything from outside themself into their body, it can only affect them if they want it to. Note that this doesn't account for wounds and the like. It only works for things gods purposely put or take into their bodies."

Dipper stared at Tyr with his eyes narrowed. "So you're sayin' if I didn' wanna get drunk, I shoulda...told my body not tuh get drunk when I started drinking th'mead?"

Tyr nodded. "Essentially, yes. You will your body to not get drunk. It has to be done on every occasion where you have a drink, but once it is done, you do not have to do it with each drink you have on that occasion."

Dipper appeared to be going cross-eyed. "Cool, cool. Is there any way tuh...undrunk your—hic—my body?"

Tyr reached out and patted Dipper's head. "I'm afraid you'll have to hydrate and sleep it off like anyone else. Once the outside substance has begun to have an effect on the body, the sovereignty against that substance, at that time, has been waived."

Dipper's eyelids were drooping and he gave Tyr a sloppy grin, raising a hand and flapping it at him. "Oh, I waved it... hiiiii..." he said trailing off and slumping forward. Tyr caught him before his forehead smacked the table.

"And, he's out," the large god said, picking Dipper up with ease and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He plodded over to the bed, Rika at his heels, and deposited the satyr gently, pulling the covers up over him. When he turned to walk back to the table, Rika looked torn. Finally, she hopped up on the bed and turned in a circle several times near Dipper's head, before flopping down with a sigh. Good goat night sleep.

Fenris felt the corners of his lips twitch upward. This was the Tyr he remembered. A patient, gentle giant, with perhaps a bit of a violent streak if taken unawares, but most of all, good and just. He wanted to see people treated fairly, and taken care of. Fenris still didn't understand, then, why Tyr had betrayed him.

"I'm going to have that drink I meant to have earlier," Tyr said, interrupting his thoughts. He stood at the cabinet, pouring himself a fresh tankard of mead. "Care to join me?"

Fenris shook his head. "No thanks. Based on what it did to Dipper, I don't want to risk doing that bodily...sovereignty thing wrong."

Tyr shrugged and sat down. "Suit yourself. It's really quite easy. I, however, am not doing it this time, because this evening has been...something. I need an actual drink." As if to punctuate his words, he lifted the tankard to his lips and took a swig. "Ah," he said. "Hits the spot. Now, where were we? You had asked me something right before the drunken mountain goat interrupted you."

Fenris chewed on a fingernail. "The kin enchantment that kept my family from unbinding me," he said after a moment. "I wanted to know why you were included as my kin. You were the one who betrayed me and tricked me into being bound in the first place—why would you want to free me?" He tried to say the last sentence without much emotion, but still ended up sounding hurt and bitter.

"And we get to the heart of the matter," Tyr said wearily. He took another rather large gulp of mead before continuing. "Tell me, son—did you ever hear that before Odin became All-Father, I was the leader of the Aesir?"

/

"Hello, Dipper Pines. I've heard a lot about you."

Dipper's eyes flew open. That was a feminine voice. There had been no women in Tyr's house—the last place he remembered being. Based on the pale blue sky above him, and the woman standing over him in a cape of white feathers, he was, indeed, no longer in Tyr's house.

"Who're you?" he blurted out, climbing unsteadily to his hooves. "Where'm I?" He stared around, surprised to see he was in Gravity Falls, in Wendy's front yard of all places. "How'd I get here?"

The woman smiled. "My name is Caer Ibormeith. I'm a goddess of sleeping and dreams. This is a dream, Dipper."

Dipper stared at her uncomprehendingly. "So—I—what?" The world, whether dream or not, seemed to be slowly rotating to the left. He tilted himself to the right to compensate, and nearly fell.

The goddess leaned toward him, sniffing, her eyes narrowed. "Mead," she said. "Dipper Pines, are you drunk?"

"Mmm," Dipper said thoughtfully, scratching the back of his neck before letting out a loud belch. "I think I might be."

The corners of Caer Ibormeith's lips twitched, and there was a hint of laughter in her voice when she said, "Oh, Wendy is going to be just thrilled with this."

"Wendy," Dipper said, glancing at his surroundings again. "This is her house. What'm I doing here? I was in the Norse realm. Wait, you said dream. So that means…?" He burped quietly and stared at her, waiting for her to provide more information.

The goddess stared placidly back at him.

Dipper huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "What does it mean that this is a dream?"

Caer Ibormeith grinned. "It means that your body is still safe and sound in the Norse realm—as safe as you left it, at any rate—but everything that makes you, well, you (aside from your meat suit) is here in this dream. This is a real dream."

Dipper blinked slowly. "You say that like I'm s'posed to know what that means. Like it's somehow different than a normal dream."

She looked a bit surprised at that. "Oh, Fenris didn't tell you about real dreams? I thought he would have, after he got to visit Mabel the other—"

Dipper cut her off. "I'm sorry, he what?"

The goddess pursed her lips. "Okay, now I'm thinking maybe I wasn't supposed to tell you that?"

"Too late, lady, you already spilled some beans. I'd like the rest of them. The beans I mean. Spill all the beans you have."

Caer's brow furrowed. "What are you—" she began to ask.

"Tell me all about real dreams and about Fen visiting m'sister," Dipper said, punctuating his demand with a hiccup.

"Well," began Caer. "A real dream is a gift I can bestow upon those I find deserving. In a real dream, anything that happens to you will affect your physical body, wherever it may be. And vice-versa, in a way. You were apparently drunk when you fell asleep and I brought you here, which means that until the effects of the alcohol wear off from your physical body, you will remain drunk here, as well. Sorry about that."

Dipper waved a hand at her. "Doesn't matter. You said Fenris visited Mabel. When?"

"About a day and a half ago?" Caer said. "Not entirely sure when it would have been for you. Time flows differently between realms."

Dipper chewed on the inside of his lip. "And… do both people have to be asleep for this to work?"

"Well, yes," Caer said in a tone that made her answer sound more like duh. "That is how dreams work. Of course, being real dreams, there are some major differences from normal dreams, like the physical effects I mentioned. You should have seen the look on Mabel's face when she realized she could have gotten pregn—"

"She could have WHAT?!" Dipper screamed, cutting the goddess off. A wickedly sharp dagger appeared in his grasp without him even noticing it, as it all clicked into place in his head. "The—the bed fire—that son of a—I will fucking gut him!"

Caer stepped back out of the blade's reach. "Oh, dear," she murmured.

"What's all this screaming about?" a familiar, feminine voice came from the direction of the cabin. Dipper turned to see Wendy, dressed in her usual jeans, tank top and green flannel, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, a grin spread across her face.

The grin slid from her face when she noticed the hefty dagger in her sort-of-husband's hand. "Uh, Dipper, you're not threatening Caer, are you? Because she's the only reason we're getting to have this little reunion."

Dipper looked down at his hand, finally noticing the weapon he'd conjured in his rage. With a flick of his wrist, the blade ceased to be.

"Wendy," Dipper half-sobbed, as he closed the distance between them at a wobbly trot, and threw his arms around her.

She hugged him tightly, patting his back as he hiccuped against her shoulder. "What the hell's going on?" she asked Caer over his shoulder. "And Dipper, care to explain why you smell like a meadery?"

"That'd be on account of the mead I partaked—no...uh, partook...of? Is that right? That sounds funny...hehe paarrtook."

Wendy cleared her throat and pulled back from the hug, to look Dipper in the eye. "Wanna keep explaining, or would you rather waste our short time together drunkenly giggling at weird words?"

Dipper shook his head, then held a palm to his forehead. It felt like his brain was sloshing around, and bumping against the sides of his skull.

"Ow," he mumbled. "Sorry. I had mead. Kind of a lot of mead. Didn' know it was mead. Or—well—didn' know what mead was. It wasn't until after I drank all th'mead that Fenris told me—Fenris." His rage flared again as he recalled what Caer Ibormeith had let slip. He stepped back from Wendy, in case he unconsciously summoned another weapon.

"Is Mabel okay?" he asked, his throat constricting around the words. "The fire F...he started engulfed an entire bed."

"Whoa, fire?" Wendy said, her eyes wide. "There was no fire here. And Mabel didn't mention any in her dream, either. All she came away from her dream with was a bunch of hickies." She chuckled low. "He really caught a bed on fire? While he was asleep in it?"

Dipper nodded. "Apparently, as I've just now put together, he tends to unconsciously heat up, and catch fire, I guess, when he gets...riled up...in any way. Not just when he's angry, like we thought."

"And apparently he failed to mention the real dream and seeing Mabel to Dipper, here," Caer Ibormeith said, from directly behind Dipper. He jumped, startled. He had forgotten she was there with them.

Wendy's lips twitched upward. "Probably because he knew exactly how Dipper would react...which is the way he's reacting now."

Dipper crossed his arms over his chest. "You both seem t'think this is awful funny. Do I really need to remind you that Mabel's still a thirteen-year-old mortal?"

Wendy sighed and shot Caer a weary smile over Dipper's shoulder. "You can go, Caer. I'll talk him down."

"As you will," Caer Ibormeith said graciously. "I think I might go warn Mabel that her brother knows about her visit with Fenrir, and isn't pleased."

Dipper turned his head to give Caer a look, but by the time he had, she was gone. He sighed. He felt dizzy and slightly ill, not to mention infuriated that his best friend might have taken advantage of his sister. This real dream didn't seem to be taking the direction Wendy had likely planned for it.

"Sorry, I—" he began, but Wendy cut him off.

"No sorries, dork. I get it. You're her brother, and you're protective." She gently grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside the cabin. "Lets get you some water. Maybe make your inevitable hangover less miserable."

The inside of the cabin was an exact replica of the real Corduroy cabin, right down to the red flannel sofa. Dipper sank down onto it as Wendy continued on to the kitchen. He heard the tap running, and Wendy returned with a glass of water. She handed it to him, then sat against the arm of the sofa, facing Dipper. She drew her knees up to her chest as she watched him gulp the entire glass of water down in one go.

"Y'really think dream water will actually have any affect on my potential hangover?" he asked, as he sat the glass on the side table, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Wendy grinned. "If this was a normal dream, no. But this is one of Caer's real dreams, so in this case, yes. Remind me before we wake up to have you drink another glass and take some aspirin. Ugh. I can't believe of all the times I could've gotten my real dream with you, it had to be the time you were sauced."

Dipper felt his cheeks grow warm, and he stared down at his hands. "Wasn't on purpose," he mumbled. "I didn' even know I was getting 'sauced' until after it'd already happened. I feel especially dumb with what Tyr told me after, too."

"What was that?" Wendy asked, leaning forward with interest.

Dipper looked up at her, his brows drawn together in confusion. "What was what?"

Wendy closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "What did Tyr tell you after? I'm assuming the after refers to after you were already drunk."

"Oh, that. Um, he said gods have complete bodily soverency? So-ver-ents-ty?" Dipper shook his head. "Something like that. Means that gods can't be affected by things they put in their body, like alcohol, if they don' want to. Just hafta… tell yourself b'fore you start drinking that you won' get drunk. Woulda been nice to know before now."

Wendy frowned. "You'd think my mom would have mentioned that neat little trick to me," she said. "I'll definitely be asking her about it soon."

"Can you please leave out the part where I had to get shit-faced to find it out?" Dipper asked, grinning at Wendy sheepishly. "I don' want my mother-in…handfast… to think I'm a bad influence on her daughter. Heh. Your dad already thinks that enough for the both of them."

Wendy chuckled. "If only he knew I'm the bad influence on you," she said, moving to scoot closer to Dipper. She slid an arm around his shoulders, and tried to pull him against her. Dipper didn't budge.

"Speaking of bad influences," he said, his tone much less light-hearted than it had been only moments before, "You wouldn't happen to be the one responsible for Mabel and Fen getting to share a real dream, would you?"

Wendy frowned. "I hope you're not serious. You know I think of Mabel as the little sister I never had. No, Caer took it upon herself to give Mabel a real dream, given everything she's been through lately. She thought Mabel deserved it. I think she did, too."

Dipper met her eyes. "And you're sure they didn't—she's not—" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Wendy let out a small laugh. "I'm sure. Believe me, when I saw her hickies, and heard what can result from real dreams… I was ready to kill Fen myself. But we didn't need to worry. Turns out your sister is the horndog with self-control issues, not our favorite beast boy."

"Um?" Dipper said, leaning away from Wendy. "Not sure I want to know that about Mabel, thanks."

"Look, man, I'm just trying to tell you what's what, so you don't try and kill the Norse god of destruction when you wake up," Wendy said. "Truth is, Mabel said if he'd listened to her, she might have ended up pregnant. She didn't completely grasp the meaning of a 'real dream,' and thought, well. You know. But our good and faithful pupper put a stop to things before they went too far."

It felt like a fist gripping Dipper's heart was beginning to unclench. "But… how do you explain Baldur and Nanna's guest bed, then? He fuckin' torched it."

Wendy shrugged. "I mean, from the little Mabel told me, he was probably extremely...riled up," she said cautiously, glancing at Dipper's face. "Maybe the fire was the result of being riled up and having no outlet for the...riled-up-ness. Like the opposite of blue balls… heh. Flaming hot balls?"

Dipper held a hand against his face. "Oh my gods. I yield. I won't try and kill Fen. Now, can we not talk about my best friend's balls, or his level of riled-up-ness for my sister? Like, ever again?"

Wendy giggled. "Fine by me. I'd rather talk about my riled-up-ness for you, goat boy."

Dipper grinned and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Wendy's mouth was on his, and she had him pinned against his side of the sofa. He shuddered as he felt her tongue swipe over his lips.

"Mmm, you taste like honey," she murmured against his mouth, before kissing him deeply.

Dipper groaned as he kissed her back. Her body pinning him down was one of the best sensations he'd ever felt. Then she began to grind against his very obvious boner, and he changed his mind. This sensation was even better. He could feel the heat of her through her clothing and his loincloth, and it was delicious.

As Wendy pulled away from his mouth and began pressing kisses into the pounding pulse at the base of Dipper's neck, he took a ragged breath and weakly said, "G-goat-tree babies?"

Wendy lifted her head, a devious glint in her eye. "Don't worry, I can't get pregnant through my mouth."

It took a moment for Dipper's blood-deprived brain to register her words, and by the time it did, she was leaving a hot trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen. The realization sent a fresh surge of blood to his already rock-hard erection, and he felt dizzy in a way that he knew had nothing to do with the mead he'd drunk earlier.

Wendy's kisses were going lower and lower, sending shivers through his body. She stopped when she reached his loincloth, and Dipper let out a sound that was intended to be a whine of protest, but ended up as a gasp, as he suddenly felt a breeze across his nethers, followed closely by Wendy's hot breath.

Then, as suddenly as he had felt the breeze, it disappeared. Dipper leaned up and frowned, wondering why Wendy had replaced his loincloth. She was red-faced, her eyes bright, as she smiled sheepishly up at him.

"Why—" he began, but Wendy started talking at the same time as him, so he shut up and listened.

"This is stupid," she said. "I mean, I know this is a dream and all… but do you think we could go do this in my bedroom, with the door shut?" She glanced toward the front door. "I keep feeling like my dad is going to burst in on us at any second."

Dipper involuntarily made a face. "He-he can't, though, right? Since this is your dream?"

Wendy laughed. "No, only Caer can grant someone a real dream, and she, or they get to chose who else shares the dream. She knows I only want you here."

"Good," Dipper murmured. "Still, new fear unlocked. Let's...let's go to your bedroom. And lock the door...just in case."