Heat of the Moment

by JimmyFingus

Dipper was over Wendy Corduroy. She'd turned him down flat, and he'd never really had a chance in the first place; his summer crush had amounted to nothing, and he was just going to have to deal with that. Besides, they could still be friends, right? He was fine! Really. (Shortly after "Into the Bunker", Wendip, teenagers acting like teenagers)

2. Playing It Cool

Chapter II: Playing It Cool

After parking painfully tightly between two cars, they were finally out and feeling the relative cool of a Gravity Falls summer night. Mosquitoes greeted him almost instantly, to his annoyance.

Somehow, Dipper hadn't noticed that Wendy was wearing a pair of denim shorts rather than her usual jeans. He'd seen her legs before, back when they'd been lifeguards at the pool, but he couldn't help but stare for a brief moment. He hoped she didn't notice.

As they walked the short distance to the house and the music became clearer, he realized he actually recognized the song. "Is this LMFAO?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Dude, you know I don't listen to the top 40. All of these pop songs sound the same to me." She looked aside to him and smirked. "But yeah I'm pretty sure it's LMFAO. Party Rock Anthem, I think? Damn radios had it on repeat last year."

Dipper shook his head somberly. "I have no idea how they come up with these song titles. What even is 'Party Rock'?" he asked, to her laughter.

(He'd never tell her, of course, but he actually quite liked listening to the top 40.)

They'd had to park a decent ways away, so he had plenty of time for his former confidence to break down once again. With every step closer to the party, a new burst of nervous energy shot through him. He'd seen plenty of movies, sure, but that was movies.

This was the real thing. The real thing, with Wendy.

Play it cool.

That's what Wendy always did, and that's what he admired about her. She was cool in the face of… well, everything.

As they finally neared the house, Wendy guided him up onto the porch, past several smoking teenagers. Dipper tried not to wrinkle his nose as he passed through the smoke. Wendy nodded greetings towards a few of them, but Dipper could tell they were staring at him as they passed.

Why is she bringing that kid?

Is she babysitting?

Wendy either didn't notice their stares or didn't care.

Dipper tried to be more like her.

When they entered the front door, the music instantly became almost uncomfortably loud; thundering dance beats he could feel in his chest. Teenagers were everywhere. Hugging the walls, sitting on the stairs that led up the second floor, reclining on couches and fireplaces. Some danced as great undulating clumps, while others in pairs of intertwined limbs and passion. In many of their hands rested red plastic cups.

Wendy nodded her head at some, hollered greetings to others, and even glared at a few. Dipper recognized a few faces from different town events and crises, but that was it. The vast majority were total strangers to him.

She guided him through the mess, all while he tried his best to look like something other than a kid. He puffed out his chest slightly, straightened out his back, and attempted to keep a relaxed expression on his face.

Wendy hadn't been wrong about Sandra's house. It was clearly huge from the outside, but on the inside, it felt like a mansion! There were so many teenagers that some of them must have come from out of town. They passed through a sitting room, a dining room, and two living rooms before they finally found a room that had a couch with some free space.

"Hey Dip," Wendy said, "go grab that spot for us while I find me some beer." Then, after a brief pause and a quirk of her eyebrow, she asked, "Do you want me to bring you some?"

Dipper hoped he looked more certain than he felt. "Yeah, sure. Not too much though; I don't want Stan to find out and ground me or something," he said with as much icy cool as he could muster.

Wendy chuckled, and left with a wave and a "Be right back!"

Dipper made his way toward the couch and took a seat in the middle, though as far as he could get from the other occupant. He angled himself slightly, so that it was hopefully clear that he was saving a seat for someone.

Sitting down was a bit of a mistake, he discovered, since it just made him seem that much smaller compared to all the other partygoers. He hadn't seen a single guy shorter than him at this party, though he thought he had a little bit on at least a few of the girls he'd seen. That didn't make him feel much better, of course.

In the entryway to the next room, a skinny blonde guy even taller than Robbie was giving him a funny look. Dipper tried not to let it bother him.

He took out his phone, and unlocked it, suddenly desperate for a distraction. He hadn't gotten any new messages, but it gave him something to do with his hands while he waited. He briefly entertained the thought of asking Mabel for party advice, but he wasn't sure if his ego could survive that, so he quickly scrapped that thought.

He didn't have the wi-fi password, so he couldn't exactly go on the internet, but he didn't want to be the dweeb sitting on a couch at a party playing games on his phone, so instead he simply scrolled aimlessly. He just needed to look sorta busy but not too busy. Or at least that's what his instincts were telling him.

He'd seen more than enough of Mabel's teen dramas to know how things usually went for the nerds at the parties.

Play it cool.

The couch's other occupant burped suddenly, and then, after a moment, laughed a deep rumbling laugh.

Dipper looked over at him surreptitiously.

He was a hefty guy, kinda like a younger Soos. He was wearing a black t-shirt with some band logo that Dipper didn't recognize, as well as a pair of long khaki cargo shorts. Again, startlingly Soos-like. Most interestingly, he was staring straight at the nearest wall with a half lidded gaze and a strange smile.

Is he drunk?

The guy wasn't holding anything in his hands that Dipper could see. No beer cup. No phone.

He was just… staring at the wall.

Dipper was well on his way to suspecting supernatural forces at play when Wendy fell into the seat he'd left open to his right and drove the big guy from his brain.

She was smiling widely, and had a red plastic cup in each of her hands. "This one's yours," she provided helpfully, as she extended one to him, "It has less."

Dipper quickly banished his cell phone back into his pocket and accepted the offered cup with what he hoped was minimal trepidation. "Thanks," he said as he peered into the confines of the cup. It was only half full, and it was definitely the unmistakable urine looking stuff that teens and adults for some reason loved to drink.

Wendy leaned back into the couch and took a long sip from her cup. She made a show of tasting it, then frowning. "Not gonna lie to you dude, it doesn't taste great. Whoever was buying must have cheaped out tonight." She shook her head with an exaggerated air of disappointment.

Chuckling, Dipper leaned back in imitation of her, then stared at his beer cup long and hard.

He'd already said he was going to drink. Chickening out now would make him look like a total wimp, and a drag besides.

I can do it.

It was just a bit of beer. It's not like he was going to let himself get drunk.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Dipper sipped a solid mouthful of the stuff, and tried vainly to not make a face as he swallowed uncomfortably.

Wendy laughed and jabbed him with her free elbow. "See, I told you it was bad!"

Dipper eyed his cup suspiciously. "Does it always taste like… that?"

"Nah," she said with a wave of her hand, "though it usually doesn't taste great anyway. Really, it's the stuff that tastes good that you wanna be careful around."

She took another swig of her beer, and Dipper followed suit. It went down a bit easier the second time, even if it settled weirdly in his stomach, and made his throat burn besides.

"You're actually ahead of me, y'know," she said after a few moments of relative quiet.

Dipper quirked an eyebrow. "Ahead of you, how?" He had a bit of a hard time believing he was ahead of Wendy at pretty much anything.

She leaned in close, casting a suspicious glance around them, as if looking for eavesdroppers.

"At lawbreaking," she whispered with barely contained glee. She sloshed around her beer cup with one hand, and then punched him in the shoulder with her other. "I only had my first one when I was thirteen, dude. And I just snuck it out of the fridge when my dad wasn't looking. You're at least having it at a party!"

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Dipper couldn't help but smile with her, even as he felt his cheeks become uncomfortably warm. He took another drink.

"Actually..." he began with a nervous laugh, "this is my first real party. Or– I mean– the first one I've been to that wasn't a thing Stan was throwing at the Shack."

Wendy's eyes crinkled. "I kinda had a feeling, believe it or not."

Dipper clutched at his heart in mock offense, nearly spilling his beer. "Really? What gave me away? Was it the lamb costume?"

When Wendy laughed, he joined her.

Dipper usually tried not to bring up that little incident, but here, with just him and Wendy (and a house full of strangers), it didn't feel so bad to mention.

"Just stick with me dude, and I'll make sure you learn the ropes. Once you've been to a party or two, you'll get your bearings, and then it's smooth sailing."

They lapsed into a companionable silence.

Dipper chipped away at his half cup of beer slowly but surely, trying to get used to the flavor to mixed success.

Teens were filtering in and out of the room the whole time, making their way from one group to another. There was a lot of enthusiastic yelling as gaggles greeted each other, and numerous conversations he couldn't hear over the music (which had switched to a dubstep infused top 40 hit, to Wendy's obvious chagrin).

The other guy on the couch was still just sitting there, staring intently at the wall.

Dipper went for another sip, and belatedly realized his cup was now empty. He tapped it idly.

"As fun as this is," he said, breaking the silence with a smirk, "I feel like we could've just done this back at the Shack."

Wendy frowned comically and waved a hand dismissively in his face. "Oh pshaw. Yeah, people can just get drunk at home, but bars exist for a reason dude."

"To watch other people get drunk too?"

She tried to look annoyed at his interruption, but Dipper could pinpoint the smile beneath the scowl. "Nah man, the ambience."

"Ambience?"

Wendy's green eyes flicked around the room, and she gestured broadly with her free hand. "Yeah dude, the vibes! The people!" Her gaze settled on their silent couchmate. "Like this guy. What's his deal?"

Dipper looked over to the guy to his left, who was still entranced by the wall.

Wendy snapped her fingers aggressively. "Hey, big guy, you okay?"

The big guy's eyes slid over to them slowly, his head barely moving. He stared at them for a long moment. "Huh?"

Wendy rolled her eyes and Dipper failed to stifle a chuckle.

"What's your name, dude? You doing alright?"

The big guy stared at them for a solid two seconds before he opened his mouth again. "Angel," he said, finally. "...If you guys see any brownies... only eat one. "

Dipper frowned, confused. "Why only one?" he asked.

Angel's eyes flicked from Wendy's face to his own. "They're... strong," he said finally, before his gaze slowly drifted back to the wall.

Dipper turned back to Wendy, still confused. "I don't get it, what's wrong with brownies?"

"Dude, he means the illegal kind."

"Illegal?" he asked, feeling like he'd missed something obvious. "How could they be ill– Oh. Oh!"

Wendy positively cackled.

Dipper leaned back on the couch and rubbed his face with his hands, feeling more than a little stupid.

After the redhead calmed, she nudged him gently.

"Come on dude, let's get ourselves some refills. I think I saw a beer pong setup in the garage too, if you wanna check it out."

"I know this must be a surprise, but I haven't played before," he deadpanned.

Her grin widened. "I'll teach you dude, no worries." Wendy stood up from the couch and stretched her back before she gestured for him to follow. "Remember, stranger danger!"

Dipper laughed as he got up from the couch and followed her out of the living room. He waved at Angel as he left, but the older teen just sat there blankly.

Wendy led him through yet another living room, past a couple that was furiously making out against the wall, and down a hallway lined with photos. A trio of guys in blue and gold jerseys were enamored with one photo in particular.

"Aw, look at wittle Sandra!" said one guy with curly brown hair and a lot of acne, to the resounding laughter of his buddies.

Wendy snorted a laugh, but kept moving.

Eventually, they made it to the kitchen.

Immense pizza boxes were stacked on top of a huge dining table, with teens hovering all around it chatting and laughing and eating. At the far end of the kitchen, on top of a counter, was a silvery keg. The highest concentration of teenagers surrounded the keg.

As they passed a tray of baked treats, Wendy pointed them out. "Anything over here, I'd recommend staying away from for tonight, unless you're ready and rearing to end up like the guy on the couch. There's always next time."

"I think I'm alright with just one crime tonight," he replied in his best Wendy voice.

Dipper didn't feel too different from normal, if he was being honest. He knew he hadn't drank much, but he still felt like he was perfectly in control of himself. And it'd be best to keep it that way. He was doing things he shouldn't be, he knew, things that would probably get him yelled at by Stan if he found out, but there was only so far he was willing to go.

And, frankly, the thought of trying laced brownies made him squeamish.

As he followed Wendy to the refill line, he wondered if she'd ever had any weed herself, but he didn't voice his thoughts. Maybe he didn't want to know the answer.

The line moved quickly enough, but as they neared the front, Dipper found himself beginning to worry. Wendy said she wasn't going to have too much, but if they were going to play beer pong after this, then that meant she was going to have even more after, right?

He didn't want to have to be a buzzkill, especially during their first real hangout since that night at the bunker.

Play it cool.

If he repeated it enough, maybe it'd work its way into his brain.

When they reached the front, a girl that reminded him an awful lot of Pacifica greeted them with a quirked eyebrow. Her wavy blonde hair didn't match her dark eyebrows.

"What's up, Wendy?" she asked with an upturn of her chin. Then, without waiting for a response, she gestured at Dipper. "And who's the new one?"

Wendy crossed her arms. "The 'new one' is my friend Dipper," she said coolly. "Dipper, this is Sandra."

Sandra barely regarded him. Dipper tried to pretend the way Wendy emphasized 'friend' didn't sting.

"Any reason you're guarding the keg?" Wendy asked.

The blonde girl shrugged languidly. "Just keeping an eye on who's showing up, that's all."

Dipper didn't buy it, and by the look on Wendy's face, she didn't either.

"Well can ya make yourself useful and top us up then?"

"Oh, of course," Sandra cooed, "that's what being a host is all about, after all. Making sure your guests have a good time!" She snatched their cups from their hands and then pressed the button on the spout with a sickly sweet smile. She filled Wendy's cup to the very brim, and handed it over with the smile still plastered on her face.

When Dipper's cup was half full, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "That's enough, thank you–"

But Sandra ignored him, and filled his up to the top as well. "It's my party–" she stated primly as she handed it over to him, "–and I want all my guests to have a great night." She held up her hand in front of her mouth, as if she was trying to block Wendy from hearing what she was going to say. "Better watch out for this one, sometimes she likes to have a little too much fun."

Wendy bristled. She straightened her back and stared down at the shorter girl with an anger that Dipper had rarely seen in Wendy.

Sandra just smirked up at her.

Before Wendy could do something she might regret, Dipper intervened. "Thanks for the drinks," he said with a tight smile. "C'mon Wendy, let's go find that beer pong table. I still need to embarrass myself tonight."

When in doubt, throw in some self deprecation.

Wendy tore her eyes away from Sandra and nodded. "Sure thing," she said stiffly.

Sandra waved at them as they left, her fake smile never leaving her face.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Wendy took a hearty drink from her plastic cup. "What crawled up her ass and died?" she spat. "I haven't done shit to her. Screw her." Then, after a beat. "Let's just go back out the way we came. I don't feel like getting lost in this stupid house."

As they made their way to the garage, Dipper could feel the tension radiating off of Wendy. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything that didn't sound... childish.

Dipper didn't know this side of Wendy very well. He didn't know the Wendy who drank, or was comfortable around weed, or who had enemies. He didn't really know much about her history at all, except whatever came up in conversation those times he and Mabel were invited to hang out with Tambry and the guys.

But she was still Wendy, even if this side of her was new to him.

"Hey Wendy," he called as they neared the front door. Her green eyes met his, and he smiled. "You're right. Fuck her. We're gonna kick ass at beer pong."

Her eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing behind her hat, and her mouth hung agape for a heartbeat. Then she broke into a wide grin. "Hell yeah we are!" she hollered as she elbowed him in the side. She laughed. "I think that's the first time I've heard you drop the f-bomb dude. I wasn't sure you had it in ya."

"Hey, I'm full of surprises," he replied, cheeks warming. He quickly looked away from her; her smile was just... too much right now.

As they exited back out on the front porch, some of the tension in the air had ebbed. There were a few more teens smoking on the porch than there had been when they entered. Dipper briefly entertained asking if teenagers reproduced by cellular mitosis, but thought better of it.

Too nerdy.

There was a rock song playing now, which noticeably put a pep in Wendy's step. Dipper thought about asking what song it was, but settled for a comfortable silence as Wendy bobbed her head while they circled the garage.

He could hear hoots and hollers even over the wailing guitars; whatever was going on in there, people were definitely having a good time.

When they reached the open garage door, Dipper was again struck by the size of the house. It had to be at least a three car garage! But luckily there were no cars parked in it at the moment. A pair of tables were pushed together on the far left end, and two teams of two were playing what he could only assume was beer pong on the tables' combined surface. A small bunch of onlookers surrounded the players.

A couple of lovebirds danced slowly in the corner, despite the ill-fitting music. Most were standing around and jeering at each other in clusters of friend groups. Some others sat around in crappy lawn chairs that someone must have dragged out of storage. A huge box fan blew some much needed cool air onto the partygoers from the right side of the garage. Nearby the fan was a row of picnic coolers.

Dipper somehow doubted the coolers' contents were quite so innocent.

"Yo, Wendy!" a girl called from the far side of the garage.

Wendy's eyes lit up, and a relieved grin broke out on her face. She raised her free hand and waved cheerily.

The girl who broke from the small crowd surrounding the beer pong players looked a lot more like a "Wendy friend" than Sandra did. She wasn't as prim and proper looking as Sandra, for one thing. Her dark brown hair with a blue streak would have looked right at home alongside Tambry and Robbie's hairdos, and her getup was about as goth as they could come. She wore all black, with a short black skirt and fishnets that somehow didn't manage to draw his eye in the slightest.

Namely because her shirt's neckline was incredibly low, and she was rather... plump in certain areas.

Dipper diverted his eyes as he felt himself warm. He hoped someone would set the fan to a higher setting; he'd been feeling warmer for a bit now.

The girl came to a stop as they met, and quickly embraced Wendy in a brief hug. After her hug, her eyeshadowed eyes flicked to his, and then back to Wendy's. "And who's your friend?" she asked, her tone curious.

Wendy's grin widened. "This is my good friend Dipper," Wendy informed her as she elbowed him lightly. "His great uncle runs that tourist trap I've been working at." Then she gestured to the goth girl with the hand that was still holding her beer. "And this is Ashley."

Dipper waved his hand lamely. "Hi," he said with what he hoped was a sense of detached coolness.

Ashley's brows furrowed, and she stared at him for a solid two seconds in silence before suddenly snapping her fingers and laughing. "I know you! You're Dr. Funtimes! Nate talked about you."

Dipper rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. "Yep, that's me!" He gave a thumbs up. "Always ready for...uh, fun times."

He cringed even as the words left his lips, realizing how lame he sounded only as he was saying them.

But luckily Ashley just laughed and turned back to Wendy. "Speaking of Nate, where's Tambry and everyone else? They couldn't make it?"

Shaking her head, Wendy took a quick sip of her beer with a sour expression. "Nah," she grumbled, "Robbie got a shipment of the good stuff, and he wanted to make a night of it with an anime marathon. I didn't feel like having to be the grown-up while everyone else got stoned out of their minds; I've already done that way too many times this summer. Besides, I can only take so many giant robot fights in one night before I get bored." She patted Dipper's shoulder. "But Dr. Funtimes never disappoints, he never bails."

(Was it his imagination, or did it linger on him for ever so slightly longer than usual?)

Dipper laughed nervously.

Ashley looked from him to Wendy, then smirked. "So, you two wanna play some beer pong? Seemed like you were coming this way."

Wendy pumped her fist. "Of course dude, you know I kick ass at beer pong."

Laughing, Ashley beckoned them toward the small crowd of beer pong aficionados. "Well it's gonna be a bit of a wait, I'm still waiting for my turn."

Wendy flashed him a confident grin, and then leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Just watch these guys play and then follow my lead when it's our turn, we'll be champs in no time."

The feeling of her breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine. "I'm a fast learner," he whispered back, his eyes never leaving her face as she pulled back and smiled.

Wendy offered him her free fist, and Dipper dutifully replied with a bump.

Then, with Ashley happily leading the way, they joined the crowd around the beer pong table. She and Wendy introduced him to a third teen he'd never met, a tall guy with shaggy brown hair, a scruffy beard, and three piercings in each ear who apparently went by the nickname "Than".

Dipper did his best to follow Wendy's instructions, so he tuned out a lot of the conversation and watched the beer pong players while taking the occasional sip from his beer. He was finding it increasingly hard to pay attention to multiple things at once.

The basics of the game were simple enough to glean: try to throw the ping pong ball into the cups of the enemy team. He could do that. That was easy!

But then he remembered the fair. Just how many times had his aim failed him? He'd lost count quickly in his frenzy to just get it right, to prevent Robbie from being Wendy's knight in shining armor, to show her that he wasn't just some stupid kid who couldn't even win a teddy bear.

He didn't want to give Wendy another black eye. He didn't want to make a fool of himself again.

Dipper shook his head and refocused on the present. Wendy and her friends continued to chat about things he couldn't really chime in on; Ashley was saying something rude about a "Mr. Waters", to the raucous laughter of Wendy and Than. He smiled with them, but turned his attention back to the players.

Every time a ball landed in a cup, the cup was removed, and it became that much more difficult to score the next time.

Naturally, misses were met with jeering and laughing by the crowd.

Dipper felt more than a little lightheaded at this point. The thought of missing, or worse, sent nervous energy shooting throughout his limbs. His brain was buzzing. He tapped out the rhythm of 'Dancing Queen' on his plastic cup in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure.

When there were only a few cups left on the beer pong table, a player called for them to be rearranged. A brief argument ensued between that player and his teammate, but then they agreed to use their "rerack".

Sometimes they threw the ping pong balls so that they'd bounce on the table before (hopefully) landing in the cup. Sometimes they'd aim for arcing shots. Dipper couldn't really make heads or tails of why one shot would be better than another, but he tried nonetheless, even as the buzzing in his brain grew louder.

"–Yo, Funtimes," Than called.

Dipper turned to him with a start, and saw that the older teen was pointing at Dipper's plastic cup with a smirk.

"Don't drink too much lil dude, you're gonna need it for the game."

Dipper couldn't help but frown, looking from his beer cup to the beer pong game and then back. Why?

Wendy slapped him on the shoulder suddenly, and he jumped so hard he almost spilled his beer all over the garage floor. "Oh shit, sorry man!" she said with an apologetic smile which smoothly morphed into a confident grin. "Just wanted to say dude, don't worry about anything but making your shots. I'll handle all the rest. "

As always, her confidence was infectious, and her smile let him forget his worries, if only for a moment. He slowed his drumbeat of 'Dancing Queen'.

Before the teens' conversation could resume, the crowd erupted into cheers as the team who had asked for the 'rerack' nailed their final shot, turning Ashley and Than's attentions away from Wendy.

Confusingly, the team who had just lost got one final try for each of the two team members, but they both missed, and the crowd cheered once again.

"Alright, our turn!" Ashley yelled out over the din of the crowd as she muscled her way through the bodies in her way.

Than wordlessly threw a peace sign at them as he followed Ashley to the side of the beer pong table that had just been made vacant.

Wendy came to stand to his right. The second Than was out of earshot, she leaned against him and lowered her voice. "Than's not his real name, y'know," she whispered with conspiratorial glee. "It's short for Jonathan. He's changed his name almost every year since the third grade."

Dipper couldn't help but laugh, even though Than had seemed like a nice enough dude. "What did he want you to call him in third grade?"

"Uncle Jesse!" she said, barely containing a guffaw.

Dipper laughed for real this time, and as soon as he was laughing, Wendy was laughing too. In that moment, a third grader wanting to be called an Uncle was the funniest thing Dipper had ever heard.

Wendy was still leaning against him even as they calmed.

Maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe it was the buzzing in his head, or how warm he was now feeling, but Dipper was suddenly overcome with a confidence he wasn't used to. Confident enough to talk about things he generally tried to avoid.

"Have I... ever told you my real name?" he asked with more nonchalance than he'd ever mustered before.

It was a dumb question to ask, because he knew for a fact that he'd never told her himself.

Wendy stood straight then, breaking the physical contact between them with a start. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open."–Real name? Dude, no! You've never told me!" There wasn't a trace of anger, just pure incredulity. "I mean I remember you telling me how you got your nickname, but I guess I forgot you had a real one hiding somewhere!"

Dipper rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. "Yeah..." he said, diverting his eyes from hers. "I never liked my real name too much. It's not like I was trying to hide it from you, or anything, I promise..." He chewed on his lip. "...It's just tough for me to talk about."

She waved him off. "You're totally good dude!" Then, in a quieter tone, she continued, "You'll always be Dipper to me, no matter what lame name your parents gave you."

Contact. She was leaning against him again. His hand accidentally brushed the bare skin of her thigh. He felt a fluttering his chest.

Dipper waged a final brief internal war, before the side that couldn't handle disappointing Wendy achieved total victory, as it almost always did.

"Mason," he said, forcing the word out with all of his might. "Mason and Mabel. They made us a cute little set right from the beginning." It had always bothered him. Dipper loved his sister, but he just knew her name had come first, and that his had been an afterthought to match hers.

Wendy looked at him with a soft expression. "Mason," she repeated, almost chewing on the word. "That's not half bad, but I definitely like Dipper better."

She punched him on the shoulder, and Dipper couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. "Thanks," he mumbled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Wendy snorted good naturedly. "You don't owe me anything; it's your name, not mine." Then, after a beat. "Wanna hear a really awful name?"

Dipper's brow furrowed, confused but curious. "Hit me." Then, before she could actually hit him again, he hastily added, "Figuratively!"

Wendy snapped as if to say, 'Dang it', and then chuckled. Her expression quickly became steely though, and she took a deep breath. "Blerble," she finally managed.

Now he was even more confused! "Blerble? Whose name is that?"

She grimaced. "Mine, dude. It's my middle name."

Stunned, Dipper could only stare for a long moment. "Man," he said, "Was your dad drunk?" Immediately, he wanted to hit himself for saying something so insensitive. What was getting into him?

Luckily, Wendy only laughed, her expression brightening. "I wish, but nah, it's just some weird name from like ten generations back in the family. Believe it or not, Gravity Falls has always been a pretty weird place." Wendy rested her head against his for a brief moment. "So yeah, I know how it is to really hate your name."

Dipper smiled, perversely pleased to have something in common with Wendy, even if it was something awful. "Thanks for sharing that with me," he said, still feeling the warmth of her head against his, even though she was no longer leaning against him. "...To Blerble and Mason," he said, holding out his plastic cup in a mock toast.

"To Blerble and Mason," Wendy agreed with a smirk, tapping his cup with her own.

Suddenly, Ashley's cry of indignation cut through the moment, drawing his attention back to the beer pong table. He was so wrapped up in his conversation with Wendy that he'd almost forgotten it'd be their turn soon. Dipper felt his nerves spike anew at the thought of playing.

Ashley and Than were getting crushed. They'd only made four of their own shots, while the enemy team had them down to only three cups left.

One of the enemy players, a stocky guy in a blue and white button up shirt, did one of those bouncing shots he'd seen a couple times. Than made to smack it away from the remaining cups (another rule Dipper wasn't totally clear on) but missed, and it fell home in one of them with a splash. The crowd tittered, and Than cursed loudly before taking a long sip from the cup of beer he held in his off hand.

Oh yeah. It was a drinking game, wasn't it? That whole side of things had slipped his mind. Dipper was pretty sure he was still feeling okay, but for all he knew that was the alcohol talking. His head was still buzzing, and he was getting lost in conversations pretty easily. Now that he thought about it, there was no way that was a coincidence.

As if reading his mind, Wendy piped up. "When it's our turn, I'll drink two for every one of yours." She flexed her free arm. "I'm pretty sure my alcohol tolerance is better than yours." Then, with a smirk, she added, "No offense."

"None taken," he replied, though, truthfully, his manly pride was ever so slightly bruised. He knew she was right though, since he could recall reading that alcohol tolerance had more to do with height and body mass than anything, and she was a decent bit taller than him. "How does it work? The drinking, I mean."

"Well, you put the cup up to your mouth–"

He groaned.

"–just kidding, dork." She stuck her tongue out at him and winked, then continued. "Whenever someone scores, someone on the other team takes a drink. It's supposed to be a third of a cup, but it's usually just on an honor system. The real way is supposed to be with beer in the cups, and then you drink the cup that the ball landed in, but who wants to drink beer that's got finger sweat and gunk all over it? Gross!"

Dipper cringed; she was right, that was gross. He was glad they didn't have to play it that way. "So... the better you do the more the other side has to drink, right?"

"And the worse they get!" She answered with a nod and a laugh.

Alright. So he just had to make as many of his shots as possible as quickly as possible, otherwise he and Wendy would be getting wasted. The thought of heading back to the Shack falling over himself and vomiting made him want to actually vomit. What would Grunkle Stan say? Would he tell mom and dad? Would he tell Mabel?

He wasn't sure if he'd ever live it down, and he'd get grounded when he went home to Piedmont for sure.

The other team successfully made another shot, leaving only one of Ashley and Than's cups left standing, and Dipper's thoughts began to fly as their turn got closer and closer.

The team that won kept playing, and the team that lost left. If they won and kept playing, that meant they'd have to drink even more the next game. So maybe it'd be better for them to lose? So they didn't drink too much? Wendy had said she wasn't going to drink too much during the drive over, but how much had she already drank? How much had he drank? He'd already lost track!

He looked sidelong at Wendy and imagined her face if he threw the game. Memories of the night she broke up with Robbie and he made an ass of himself bubbled up to the surface of his brain. Would she look at him like that again? Angry and sad and hurt? Eyes all welled up with tears?

Dipper's stomach dropped, and his heart hurt. He never wanted to see that face on Wendy again, if he could help it.

But there was still her dad's truck out there. If they drank too much, she wouldn't be able to drive safely. Would she risk it anyway? Would they be able to make it home? What if they crashed?

Dipper's head was spinning when the crowd erupted into congratulatory cheers.

"Looks like it's our turn," Wendy said with barely contained glee. She grabbed hold of his free hand and pulled him forward through the spectators. "We're next!" She yelled, before anyone else could cut in ahead of them.

They stopped beside Ashley and Than, who were putting the plastic cups back in their proper places.

Ashley's face was twisted with annoyance, while Than just looked dejected. Ashley threw her hands up when she saw Wendy. "You guys better do better than us." She spat. "Can't believe we waited all that time just to get our asses kicked."

"Better luck next time," Wendy replied with a smirk. "We'll avenge you, promise."

As soon as they'd gotten the cups in order, Ashley stomped back into the gaggle of spectators. Than looked from Wendy to Dipper, and offered each of them a fist bump of solidarity. "You gotta beat them, for Gravity Falls High," he said somberly, and then joined his companion behind them.

Dipper stood lamely, trying not to look like a deer caught in the headlights. Wendy was to his left making a show of stretching her arms and cracking her knuckles, and the enemy team was taking its sweet time putting their own cups back in their proper place on the other side of the beer pong court (could he call it that?).

Wendy had placed her own beer cup on a folding chair that was set aside, seemingly for that exact purpose. Naturally, he followed her lead and placed his cup next to hers. A few cans of beer were already there, probably for refills, along with a handful of ping pong balls ready to be thrown.

Dipper felt the eyes of the crowd on him. His fingers were jittery, and his heart was beginning to race faster. Was he going to try to throw the game?

That'd be exactly what all these teens would expect of him, right? Some twerp showing up and failing spectacularly? That's what he'd always done when Wendy was concerned, right? Questions and anxieties flew through his mind at lightspeed.

Wendy's hand on his shoulder halted his thoughts. "Hey," she said warmly, her eyes meeting his. "We got this, okay? Try to relax; it's all for fun, dude."

Dipper nodded, and the drumbeat that was his heart slowed ever so slightly. He took a shuddering breath. Play it cool. That's what he was going to do, because that's what Wendy did. "You know how I am," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

She grinned. "Yeah, I do." Then, her gaze shifted to the enemy across from them, and her hand left his shoulder. "You wanna take the first shot?"

"Do you trust me with it?" He asked, before indicating to his right eye. "Last time I threw a ball around you didn't go so well."

Wendy laughed, and he couldn't help but join her despite his nerves. "Just aim it at them, alright? I'll be ready to duck just in case. And besides, this time you've got beginner's luck!"

That was all Dipper needed to hear. "Alright, I'll do it," he said, trying to emulate her confidence. "Anything special I need to know?"

"The first shot is called 'eye-to-eye.' You throw the ball while keeping eye contact with the other guy. First side to sink it gets to go first for real." She scratched her chin. "Oh! And you always gotta keep your hands and elbows behind the table when you throw, otherwise it's cheating."

He nodded sagely, committing it all to memory. There was still one niggling detail though... "And the bouncing shots? How do those work?"

Wendy wiggled her eyebrows, smiling mischievously. "Ooh, thinking about those already are ya?" She punched him lightly. "If you bounce the ball, they can knock it out of the air, but if it gets in the cup, then they lose two cups and have to drink twice. Risk and reward, baby!"

He clenched and unclenched his hands. Okay. Yeah. He could do this.

The two guys on the other side (who were evidently out-of-towners) both looked like older teenagers to his eye. Juniors or seniors, probably. One guy had a half decent beard, but the other one was barefaced. The clean shaven one was a little bit taller than Wendy, while the bearded one was a little bit shorter. They both wore button up shirts with shorts, and had the distinct air of preppiness that Wendy's friends had taught him was most certainly A Bad Thing. They chuckled to each other as they lazily finished arranging their cups.

"You guys gonna take all night or are we gonna play?" Wendy called.

(Dipper could hear Than say "oooooh, burn," and then get shushed by Ashley).

"We're ready to win if you're ready to lose," the bearded guy said with a strange cadence. He'd definitely had a fair bit to drink.

The clean shaven one picked up a ping pong ball from their own collection, and took up a position at the center of the opposite side of the table. He flicked the ball idly from hand to hand as Dipper followed his lead. Despite the flush on his cheeks, his stare was penetrating and unnerving. "Ready to go kid?" he asked casually, though Dipper hadn't drank so much that he didn't notice the slight edge to his words.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Dipper replied, with a steeliness that surprised even himself.

Dipper met his gaze (he had blue eyes), and held the ball somewhat loosely between his thumb and his index and middle fingers. He looked down at the table, and shuffled his stance slightly to ensure that neither his hand nor his elbow were over the table's edge. Strangely, he felt almost calm in these final seconds.

Someone in the crowd yelled, "Go!"

They both listened, and both balls went sailing through the air–

–and both balls missed. Dipper's hit the rim of one cup, and then bounced onto the table and then the garage floor. His opponent undershot slightly, seemingly aiming for the front cups, and instead it clattered uselessly against the front cup before it too rolled onto the floor.

Some among the spectators groaned in disappointment, but if anything, it was as if an invisible weight had lifted off Dipper's mind. His opponent was older than him, and actually knew the game, but they had both missed just the same. He could do this.

Wendy and Beardy scooped up the balls that fell as Dipper and his opponent grabbed new ones from where they sat on their respective lawn chairs.

Their eyes met again, and this time, Dipper didn't feel quite so unnerved. He'd faced a near omnipotent dream demon and lived to tell the tale. What was a drunk teenager compared to that?

On some invisible unspoken cue, they both threw their balls, holding each other's gaze as the balls left their fingertips.

Dipper felt a surge of adrenaline as he watched his ping pong ball bounce from the rim of one cup, onto the rim of a second, and then miraculously fall with a splash into a third cup. His opponent's circled the inner rim of one of the middle cups, but then went flying off the edge of the table and into the crowd.

Wendy hooted victoriously, and gave him a high five so strong he wouldn't have been surprised if he bruised. The enemy team grumbled amongst themselves, but he and Wendy were too busy celebrating to care. He felt like a million bucks!

"And not a black eye in sight!" Wendy said with a cheesy grin.

Dipper grinned back, feeling better than he had all night, and glad to know that tonight wasn't cursed like the day at the fair had been.

The game that followed was perhaps the finest example of sportsmanship in Dipper's entire life. He didn't score every single time he threw, but he landed his shots more often than he didn't. Wendy was definitely an old pro, especially when it came to playing defense; Beardy attempted several bouncing shots over the course of the game, but not a single one of them managed to get past Wendy's lightning-quick swats.

As the cups dwindled, their merriment grew. Wendy was true to her word, and drank two for every one that Dipper did, but he was feeling it and then some by the end of the game. He was bolder, tossing the occasional taunt at the older teenagers at the same time as he threw his ping pong balls, to Wendy's great joy, and he even attempted a few bouncing shots of his own.

His head was light, his limbs were loose, and he was having the time of his life.

When Dipper sank his ping pong ball in the final remaining cup (after several failed attempts on both their parts), the look on Beardy's face was truly murderous. Dipper didn't know how long the winning streak they were on was, but he and Wendy had broken it.

The two of them stomped off and out of the garage without even putting their cups back into place.

"Sore losers," Wendy had said with a smirk, the flush on her face stark against her pale skin.

After about a thirty second grace period while they got their cups back in order, Ashley and Than returned to the table. "Hey, if no one else wants to go up against Dr. Funtimes, I'll give it a shot," Than joked as they took up the position left behind by the sore losers.

"Second try's the charm," Ashley said with a look of determination.

Wendy's eyes flicked from the table back to Dipper, an unreadable expression troubling her pretty face (she really was so pretty). "You wanna go again dude?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

At that moment, worries about how much he'd already drank were the furthest thing from his mind. "Fuck yeah," he said, reveling in the feeling of the curse on his tongue. Two in one night? He was on a roll!

And just like that, the strange expression was gone, and Wendy was back in game mode. "Let's show 'em," she said with a fire in her emerald eyes.

Dipper's second game of beer pong ever wound up being a lot more fun than his first one. Than and Ashley lobbed insults their way, and he and Wendy lobbed them right back, all while the spectators hooted and hollered and the beer flowed.

"Not so fun now, eh Funtimes?" Than yelled after Dipper missed a shot.

Dipper had only grinned, and hit back with, "Sorry Uncle Jesse, I'll do better next time." Which earned Wendy one hell of a dirty look from the scruffy teen.

When Ashley missed one of her own throws, Wendy went straight for the jugular. "Poor Ashley, I know you have a hard time seeing the cups over that rack."

"It's alright, Mrs. Flat-as-a-board, I know it's not a problem you've ever had to deal with," Ashley had retorted, to Than's raucous laughter.

By the end of the game, Dipper's face hurt from how much he'd been smiling. He'd drank too much, he knew, but what was the harm when everyone was having so much fun? When Than's ball plopped into his and Wendy's final remaining cup, he couldn't even be mad. The game had been close, and Wendy's friends had earned their win.

Things were getting pretty blurry for him by then, but he remembered Wendy laughing uproariously, and Than flipping his hat around. Dipper didn't even mind that they might have seen his birthmark for a moment.

Ashley said something about them all having had enough to drink for now, and then he followed them as they filed out of the garage as a group. There were a lot less people in the garage by the time they'd finished their game, and Dipper somehow hadn't even noticed them leave.

Dipper could recall walking alongside Than, while Wendy and Ashley walked ahead of them. Again, he'd found himself noticing Wendy's legs. They shouldn't have caught his eye, since he'd already seen them before, but his gaze was drawn to them anyway.

Than had nudged him, and waggled his eyebrows at Dipper with a chuckle.

He blamed the beer.

They found their way back into the house, where the music seemed even more thunderous than it had been the last time he'd been inside. Dipper couldn't tell if it was his imagination or not.

Before he knew it, they'd found a couch to fall into. He was next to Wendy, and despite sitting next to her earlier, it felt different now. The proximity made his face burn, but he found he didn't mind it.

Ashley was talking about the game, and Wendy was snickering.

Carly Rae Jepsen's hit single "Call Me Maybe" was playing, and Dipper felt exactly confident enough to sing along. He knew the whole song by heart, obviously.

He'd gotten through to the second run of the chorus when Than shoved a plastic cup full into his hands. "Dude... I think you need this."

Wendy had tears in her eyes from her laughter, and he didn't even care. "...My singing...my talent… It's almost scary," he drawled, before downing the cup in one long chug. "...Woah, what is this?"

"It's just water man," Than replied.

"God, it tastes amazing."

There was more laughter, but Dipper just closed his eyes and relished the feeling of the music washing over him. Was every party like this? He could get used to it.

Mabel would be so proud of him.

The thought of Mabel gave him a flash of inspiration, and he took his phone out of his pocket with as little fumbling as he could manage. "Can we..." he said, struggling to find the right words all of a sudden, "... take a photo?"

Wendy's eyes were bright as she squeezed in close to him. "Get in here," she ordered to her two friends, who dutifully obliged.

Dipper held his phone so that he could see the photo he was taking. He wasn't used to taking photos like this, and on top of that, he was finding it rather hard to hold it still, but, eventually, he managed to do it.

Wendy was next to him, her head tilted, almost on his shoulder, with a delicate smile on her lips. Ashley and Than were on the opposite side of her, leaning in so that they could all fit into the frame. All of their faces were flushed with alcohol and laughter.

It was a perfect moment, if Dipper had ever had one, and it was one that he knew he'd want to remember.

"Cheese!" Ashley cried enthusiastically.

Dipper tapped the button and the flash went off, momentarily blinding all of them. Than made a strangled noise.

"Dude, you didn't need the flash!"

But they were all laughing as they scooted apart.

Dipper admired the photo for a moment. He was smiling widely in it, more happy than he'd ever seen himself in a photo. Than had his tongue out, and he was flashing a pair of peace signs like they were gang signs, while Ashley had a comically over the top frown on her face.

And Wendy...

Wendy had barely scooted away, he realized with a jolt. Her arm rested on the back of the couch behind him, and he could smell something slightly floral and sweet (her shampoo?) in the air. His heart beat faster.

"Gonna send it to Mabel?" she asked with a grin, her voice thick (was it the alcohol, or something else?).

He could feel her breath as she spoke, and it made his heart beat that much faster.

"Uh... yeah," he said, his tongue feeling heavy all of a sudden. He tore his eyes away from hers, and attempted to do just that, all while he tried not to notice how pretty and soft her thighs looked. She was so close, that all he'd have to do was let his hand slide over a few inches–

–he slammed his eyes shut.

It was just the booze.

They were just friends.

She was too old for him; she'd said so herself.

When he opened his eyes again, she was looking at him with concern. "Are you... okay, dude?"

"I'm fine!" he said, far too quickly. "I... I just... I gotta use the bathroom" He shot up from the couch so quickly that he felt woozy and had to steady himself, which made Ashley giggle.

"Easy there, champ," she said with a knowing look. "I think you had a bit too much."

Than helpfully gestured down one of the house's many hallways, "Right down that way man."

Dipper tore out of the room as quickly as his unsteady legs would let him, not letting himself even glance at Wendy. He could vaguely hear Than make some joke about 'popping a cherry', but he shut it all out.

He stumbled down the long hallway, nearly running into more than one drunk teen, until he finally found a closed door with a line of people waiting outside it. When he stopped, he finally let himself catch his breath.

He took out his phone and unlocked it, staring at the message he'd been trying and failing to send to Mabel. It was gibberish, a string of letters that he knew he'd meant to be words, and... and Dipper wanted to hit himself.

How close had he been to ruining the night?

He was drunk, but that wasn't an excuse. He was supposed to be the mature twin. He was supposed to get over Wendy. He was supposed to move on.

Why was it so damn hard?

His eyes fell back down to his garbled message. It took him three tries, but without Wendy next to him, he finally managed to spell out something understandable.

'proud of me?' it read, with the photo of the four of them attached to it.

He hit send and took a deep breath, closing his eyes once again. He just... needed to get a hold of himself.

Dipper lost track of the time as he waited for the line to clear. He hadn't realized it when he'd said it, but he did need to use the bathroom. When he finally made it inside the small room, he locked the door and leaned against the wall for a moment, taking several breaths and trying to clear his head. He tried to focus on the sound of the music coming from outside, but it wasn't enough to distract him from the thoughts that continued to swirl in his head like a whirlpool.

His phone buzzed, but he ignored it.

Eventually (how long had he been standing against the wall?), he managed to use the bathroom and wash his hands. His head was beginning to pound, and he realized that he was parched. He almost put his head in the sink and drank from the faucet, but what few shreds of sense he had left stopped him.

"Finally!" some guy with glasses yelled as he left the bathroom.

Dipper only narrowly resisted the urge to say something rude.

Slowly, he made his way back to the living room he'd come from, trying not to notice the smatterings of couples littered throughout the house as he went.

When he entered the living room, he instantly noticed that Wendy was gone. Than and Ashley were still sitting on the couch, watching some stupid action movie that someone had turned on on the immense plasma television, though neither of them seemed especially interested. Both of their faces were redder than they'd been when he left them.

Dipper sunk back down into the couch, in the same spot that he'd been in before.

"Hey... Dipper," Ashley said with a wave, using his actual name for what he was pretty sure the first time that night. "Me and Than are... uh.. gonna be heading out, it's getting pretty late, and we had a couple shots while you were gone–" she said with a giggle, "–better to get out before it hits us too hard."

"Yeah," Than agreed with a yawn. "I don't wanna fuck my sleep schedule too bad, I gotta work tomorrow." Then he reached across the couch and offered his hand for a handshake, which Dipper took. "It was nice meeting you man... we'll see you around, yeah?"

"You too," Dipper said with a nod, feeling both grateful for their kindness, and relieved that they were leaving. With how he was feeling, he wasn't sure how much more of this party he'd be able to handle.

"Wendy went to the upstairs bathroom, she'll be back," Ashley said with a smile as she unsteadily stood up from the couch. "See ya next time!"

Dipper waved as they left, then let himself sink more deeply into the plush softness of the couch as soon as they were out of sight.

He closed his eyes and let out a long, tired sigh. Except for the muffled sound of the television and the thump of the music, it was quiet in the living room. Which, he supposed, wasn't quiet at all.

Thoughts of Wendy flitted in and out of his head. The sweet scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body beside his, the quirk of her lips when she smiled. He shook his head, trying to push the images out of his his brain, but they lingered, refusing to leave him alone even in his thoughts.

He hated how he thought about her, how much he still couldn't get her out of his head and heart. It wasn't fair to her to think about her like this, not when she'd made how she felt so clear.

Desperate for an escape, he fished his phone back out of his pocket. It was almost midnight, he realized. Time had flown by and he hadn't even noticed.

He finally checked Mabel's messages (she always sent them in barrages).

'my baby is growing up'

'i think im gonna cry'

'T.T'

Dipper snorted softly, feeling a small smile spread across his face at his twin's melodrama. Ultimately though, he couldn't come up with a decent reply, so he just locked his phone and put it back in his pocket with another sigh.

He closed his eyes again, and rested his forearm on his forehead. He tried to listen to whatever was playing on the tv, but it was a lot lower than the music, so he couldn't make out much of anything.

When he checked his phone again, fifteen minutes had passed, and Wendy still hadn't come back.

Something gnawed at the back of his mind. He racked his brain for another two minutes, and, with a start, he remembered the silly impression of her father Wendy had done on the drive over.

'Never go to a party alone!'

Dipper's heart thudded in his chest as he jumped up from the couch. He'd completely forgotten! He'd seen Law and Order reruns, he knew what guys could do to girls at parties like this.

He raced across the room, stumbling around the discarded red cups that littered the floor, and cursing himself and his stupidity the whole way. He wasn't supposed to have drank so much, he was supposed to be responsible.

He traced his steps backwards out of the house and toward the entryway, looking for the stairs. When he finally found them, he sidled past a pair of teens that still sat at the foot of the staircase.

His heart pounded as he climbed the stairs, hoping, praying, that it was just a long line to the bathroom. The music dulled slightly as he climbed, and his head swam with the exertion of climbing.

Dipper imagined a thousand worst case scenarios as he made it to the second floor. He felt even worse when he realized he had no idea where the second floor bathroom even was.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he started twisting doorknobs as he made his way down the hallway. Each empty room and locked door sent his heartbeat further and further into overdrive.

If something bad even was happening, what would he do?

He didn't know, but he kept trying doors.

When he finally found the bathroom and saw that it was empty, his panic grew even greater. Returning to the hallway, he pulled out his phone and began to hurriedly dial her number, hoping that if nothing else he'd be able to hear her ringtone blaring somewhere.

But his fingers were slipping, and he was putting the number in wrong like a complete idiot and–

–he heard a muffled shout coming from the other side of the second floor.

He recognized Wendy's voice at once, and thanked whatever gods were listening that it sounded more angry than anything.

Dipper very nearly sprinted toward the source of the shout, his heart pounding and his thoughts whirling.

A door at the end of the hall opened (one he hadn't gotten to, due to the size of the house), and a lanky blonde guy wearing a letterman jacket exited, closing the door behind him. Dipper froze in his tracks.

The guy's dark brown eyes met his own, and Dipper realized that he had seen him before. Way back at the beginning of the party, when Wendy was getting him his first drink of beer, this guy had been staring at him.

All at once, Dipper noticed that the taller teen's jacket had a basketball on the upper arm, and that the words "Junior Varsity" were printed right below it. The same as he'd seen on the bumper sticker of Wendy's ex's car.

Dipper set his jaw hard.

The blonde guy– Wendy's ex– stared for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"Watch out kid," he said, his tone oddly courteous. "She's a heartbreaker."

Then... he walked away, passing beside Dipper in several long-legged strides without another word.

Dipper finally found his own voice just as the older teen reached the top of the stairs. "Hey!" He yelled, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The blonde teen paused mid-step, and, still facing away, gestured back to the door he'd come from. "Better ask Wendy," he called, before disappearing down the staircase like a phantom.

Dipper could only stare, his heart still racing. He felt frozen. Ask Wendy what?

But then concern for Wendy overtook him again, and he banished the teen and his cryptic comments from his brain. He walked the final few steps to the room that he'd heard her voice come from.

He knocked two nervous beats against the door. "Wendy?" he called, "Can I come in?"

He heard her say something, but he couldn't quite make it out, speeding his heart rate even further.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind once again, he opened the door, despite his fears of what he might see when he did so.

And–

–she was just sitting on the edge of a bed, looking up at him. Her eyes were nearly as red as cheeks.

"Wendy," he breathed, trying to keep his voice even as he hurried to her side. "Did... anything happen? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No," she said thickly as she looked away from him. "No, I'm fine. We just talked, that's all."

Relief flooded through him in a rush as he sank down beside her on the edge of the bed.

"Talked about what?" he asked, his voice low as he tried not to show just how worried he'd been.

"Just... stuff," Wendy replied, not meeting his gaze. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes with her right hand.

'Better ask Wendy.'

The blonde teen's cryptic words echoed in Dipper's mind unbidden, and for a heartbeat, he wanted to ask. He wanted to find out whatever it was that the blonde bastard had been alluding to.

But then memories of the night she broke up with Robbie returned to him. Memories of how he'd thought of himself before he'd thought of her.

Slowly, he reached his right arm around her back, and pulled her into a gentle side hug. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked quietly.

Wendy leaned her head against his. "Yeah, I think so."

Dipper sat beside her quietly for a few moments, trying not to relish the feeling of her body against his as he felt her breathing even out, and her sniffling slow.

He rose to his feet gently, offering her his hand as he did so. She took it gratefully, following him to her feet and steadying herself against him.

"Let's blow this joint," Dipper said, which earned him the slightest of smiles.

As they left the room, and made for the stairs, Dipper was acutely aware of the way that Wendy's fingers intertwined with his own. They'd never held hands like this...

But it was a short-lived sensation. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, her hand finally left his.

"I'll... meet you at the truck in a minute, alright?" She said, her voice still unusually subdued.

Dipper could only nod, and watch as she left back toward the house's multiple living rooms, his hand now feeling empty without hers.

When he exited through the front door of the house, he was relieved to find that there weren't any teens smoking anymore. A girl sat on the porch steps, looking out at the parked cars, but other than her the porch was empty.

It was genuinely cool outside now, but that didn't stop the mosquitoes from swarming him as he made his way to Manly Dan's pick-up.

Leaning against the passenger's side door, Dipper remembered that he hadn't told Wendy that Than and Ashley had already left the party, but before he could begin to worry, he noticed that the car with the JV Basketball bumper sticker was now gone.

He breathed in the chilly night air, trying to focus on the feeling of it entering his lungs. He was still feeling pretty woozy, and his head still buzzed. He needed to clear his head. He needed to get rid of the crap the guy had said to him.

It wasn't his business; it wasn't his place to dig into Wendy's life. If she wanted to tell him, she would, and that was the end of it.

But even as he told himself that, he could still hear the blonde teen's words clearly.

'She's a heartbreaker.'

'Better ask Wendy.'

"What does it matter?" he mumbled to himself.

She'd already broken his heart.

He sighed and closed his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that night. He was being unfair.

Whatever that guy had said to Wendy, it had upset her, and that's what mattered. Well, that, and getting home.

He tapped the passenger door idly, mulling over his options. He wasn't going to let Wendy drive home, even if she got mad at him. They'd both had way too much to drink; he'd been willing to break his Red Ribbon pledges, but he knew that friends didn't let friends drive drunk.

It'd have to be Soos, he realized.

Soos had been a bus driver for a bit, so he knew the roads pretty well. And Dipper could trust him not to spill the beans to Grunkle Stan. Probably.

The faint sound of footsteps on the sidewalk drew him out of his thoughts. Wendy was making her way to him slowly, her face still red, though her eyes had cleared up some.

"Sorry," Dipper said as she neared. "I forgot to tell you that Than and Ashley left."

Her brows furrowed for a split second. "Oh," she said, "yeah. It's alright dude."

An awkward silence.

"Look, Wendy–" he began lamely, looking for the right words, "–I... don't really think you should drive home. I'll make sure your dad's truck makes it to your house, okay?"

Rather than being annoyed though, her eyes crinkled, and she smiled strangely. "Alright," she replied, almost sing-song. "Guess you're just gonna have to walk me home then."

Then she was throwing something at him, and he was fumbling to catch it. He failed, and when he picked it up off the ground he saw that it was her car keys.

Dipper's brain caught up to what she'd just said and he frowned. "Are we close to your house?"

Gravity Falls was a small town, but frankly he hadn't been paying much attention on the drive over, he'd been too caught up in his own thoughts. He had no idea where Sandra' house was in relation to Wendy's.

Wendy just chuckled and started walking ahead of him. "It's only like ten minutes away," she said over her shoulder, "Hurry up, slowpoke."

Dipper followed her, hurriedly shoving the keys into his free pocket and jogging to catch up.

They walked in silence along the quiet road, the thumping music from Sandra's house slowly fading out into nothing as they walked. The chilly night air began to bite, but Wendy's pace remained even, and he stayed right alongside her, their hands occasionally brushing each other's.

As they passed under a streetlight, Wendy wordlessly took hold of his hand, her fingers slowly weaving through his. His heart raced, but he had no idea what to say.

'Play it cool.'

So he just kept walking.

They didn't see any other pedestrians, and only a few cars passed them by as they walked. He couldn't help but steal the occasional glance at Wendy, but despite her flush, her face betrayed nothing.

Eventually, Wendy veered off the sidewalk and went down a dirt path that he recognized. She'd once told him that the Mayor had offered to pave a real road to the Corduroy Cabin, but that her dad had refused. Something about not trusting the government.

Away from the road, they didn't have street lights anymore, but Wendy, despite her shaky steps and the lack of light, clearly knew where she was going.

The sounds of owls and crickets filled the cool night air. Their footsteps crunched on stray sticks and leaves.

Dipper saw the glint of the immense saw that hung over the cabin's porch before he saw the rest of it. The lights were off, but there was just enough moonlight to make out the outline of the cabin against the trees.

Wendy finally stopped in front of the porch steps, and gently extricated her hand from his. She sat down on the top step, and looked at him straight on for the first time since they'd started walking.

Her eyes were bright, and her thick red hair was more than a little tousled.

She was beautiful in the moonlight.

"Stay for a minute?" she asked softly.

Once again struggling to find something to say, he simply nodded, and sat down beside her, the step creaking beneath their shared weight.

They admired the stars silently for a time, side by side, neither saying anything. She swayed slightly, occasionally bumping into his shoulder.

When she spoke, what she said was the last thing he expected.

"Can I see your hat?" she asked, her voice oddly thick.

"What?" He asked, surprised. "–I mean, yeah, sure, I guess."

He slipped it off his head, hoping his hair wasn't too messed up from a long day of hat-wearing, and handed it to Wendy, who accepted it gingerly.

She held it up to the moonlight and examined it, turning it every which way like it was some kind of rare artifact, and not something Grunkle Stan sold by the dozen.

Dipper couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it.

"It's a nice hat," Wendy confirmed, her voice low. Her cheeks were dark, and the look in her green eyes was unlike anything Dipper had seen in them before.

She offered his hat back to him.

As he reached out to take it back, she closed what little distance remained between them, and her lips crashed into his.

Dipper closed his eyes.