8.
It had been Grunkle Ford who had helped him get the summer job at the Northwest family mansion.
Dipper often went with him on hikes through the wood, acting as a lab assistant while Ford explained the oddities they would stumble across together. Plus, the older man would occasionally regale him with tales from his time in the multiverse. On that particular occasion, however, Dipper was rather preoccupied with his thoughts.
Grunkle Ford was explaining something about his time in Lottocron Nine but it was difficult for Dipper to latch onto what the older man was saying. He was still so confused about... whatever it was he had seen in Wendy's eyes the other day when they'd gone up to Lookout Point.
They might have kissed... Then what? Even if they had both wanted to, it couldn't amount to much. The summer didn't last forever. Come fall, she would be a senior, and beyond that, she would want to fulfill her dreams of leaving the small, strange town of Gravity Falls behind her for a new and more interesting life.
He couldn't hold her back from all that.
Dipper's throat tightened and he pulled Wendy's hunting cap lower on his head by the earflaps. Her smell had long faded, but he didn't care. It was his talisman.
Suddenly he felt Ford grab his shoulder to stop him, and for the first time in the last half-hour he looked up from his sneakers. They were standing on the edge of a shady clearing that housed a perfectly formed ring of small mushrooms that sat directly in the center.
"Fairy ring- just be sure you don't walk through it... Why don't you go sit over there and take notes while I check things out here?" Ford motioned to a fallen log on the western side of the clearing.
"Yeah, sure Grunkle Ford." Dipper let his backpack slide off of his shoulders and into the grass as he sat himself down to take notes- he definitely wouldn't let his anxiety get in the way of what Ford was counting on him to do. He grabbed the notepad and a ballpoint pen out and sat ready to take notes. Ford scratched his chin thoughtfully as he walked around the toadstools once, twice, and then taking a pair of calipers from his breast pocket, he dropped to a knee to measure a particularly shiny looking specimen.
"Please take down today's date, label this entry 'Fairy Ring' for our records. I estimate this one is around one meter in diameter. Fungi could be related to the common Fly Agaric, however, these have fuchsia-colored caps that appear to be glowing slightly. We may have to return in the evening at a later date to observe exactly how bright said glow is..."
Dipper scribbled furiously as Ford droned on, then the pair lapsed into silence as Dipper double-checked through his notes.
"Is something bothering you today?" Ford suddenly asked. Dipper looked up from the notebook in surprise. Ford was on his hands and knees now, very carefully swabbing the underside of a mushroom with a q-tip. His eyes crinkled in a satisfied smile as he got to his feet again, bagging the spore sample and pocketing it.
Dipper laughed tightly, "Guess it's just a little hot out, y'know?"
Ford leveled him with a concerned frown. "I tell you one of my best stories and you don't grill me for more details? Either you're very sick or a changeling has kidnapped my nephew. Whatever the case may be, something's wrong here." He sat down on the log beside Dipper and steepled his fingers under his prominent nose. "Come on, m'boy, we're family. I'd like to think I could help somehow."
Dipper sighed and buried his face in his hands. It wasn't that he couldn't trust Ford, he just hated talking about this with anybody.
"Have you ever been in love Grunkle Ford?" He finally forced out, his voice muffled in his hands. He didn't have the nerve to see Ford's reaction, be it amusement or even sympathy. Instead, he listened. Underneath the sounds of the forest, he heard his Grunkle give a soft sigh.
After a moment, "What happened with Wendy?"
Had it been that obvious?
Everything came out then... 2012, his ex... He even told Ford about Wendy's falling out with her friends, although he left out the major details. "I just feel like I need to... I don't know. I just don't want to hold her back." Dipper finished morosely.
Ford nodded thoughtfully. "I can see why you wouldn't want to talk about it with her, although you should..." He trailed and after a moment sighed again, "This is quite the situation you're in. If you're absolutely against talking to her... Maybe I can help you at least stay distracted next summer."
It was finally settled when Ford called him a little after Thanksgiving. The Northwest family needed someone to help them rewrite their family history to reflect the truth. It had taken some convincing, but Preston Northwest finally came around. In a way, it was positive PR for the family to be transparent about their past. "I should probably thank his daughter. She's been very gung-ho about getting the facts straight." Ford mused. Dipper raised an eyebrow... He had spent some time hanging out with Pacifica via Mabel in the summers after Weirdmageddon. She still grated on his nerves at times, but then she would do or say something that reminded him that she was still shedding layers of rich-girl bravado she had built up since birth. It was admirable.
When he had wrapped up his conversation with Ford, Dipper went to his room. He leaned back on the door, looking at the few loose sheets of paper and the pack of invisible ink pens (still unopened) on his desk.
He sat down, taking a moment to flip the tape in the old weatherbeaten stereo that teetered precariously on a stack of books next to his chair. Wendy had given him the tape they listened to on that day they went up to Lookout Point. The whole album was great, but whenever that one particular song came on, it transported him back... Back to the smell of sun-warmed grass and french fries and the way her green eyes burned into him, and that feeling like starvation in his chest that made him want to scream. He chased that memory, again and again, knowing full well that he'd already outwardly closed himself off to the notion that they'd ever become anything more than friends.
With a will, he tore his eyes away from the polaroid pinned to his wall and pulled the shrinkwrap off the invisible ink pens. They even came with a little UV penlight. He'd use it to check his spelling later.
He briefly considered pouring his feelings out on the blank page, how important she was to him, how he'd always love her at least a little bit. He could just write a normal letter over it and who knows? Years, even decades could pass before anybody ever discovered his secret message.
Dipper grimaced. Ew, creepy.
Instead, he opted to write his whole letter in invisible ink. Just a regular catch-up letter made more entertaining with a little mystery. He was just sealing the envelope when the door opened and Mabel poked her head in.
"How many times are you gonna listen to this, Yippie Dippy?"
"Whenever you stop calling me that. It is the worst nickname you've ever given me."
Mabel grinned, "Even worse than... Lil' Bro?" She wiggled her eyebrows, relishing Dipper's exasperation.
"I take it back." He muttered, turning back to address his letter. Mabel fell onto his bed, grabbing the latest edition of "Weird Weekly" from another small pile on Dipper's floor. After a moment, he looked over at her. She was reading it upside down. "Grunkle Ford's article starts on page 26." She flipped a few pages and began reading again, this time flipping the magazine around the right way. He made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning the area around his desk but found it difficult to motivate.
"I heard you got the job at Pacifica's next summer," Mabel said. Dipper raised an eyebrow and she lowered the magazine just enough to wink at him vaguely. "She is so excited."
Dipper barely contained a snort of laughter, "Why?"
"Are you serious? O-M-G Dipper, come ON!" Mabel gasped dramatically and set the magazine aside, "She likes you!"
He couldn't stop the laughter now, "You come ON sis, she's still getting used to hanging out with us plebs. What are you, high?" At that Mabel threw a pillow in his face which he caught fairly easily.
"Just high on the truth, YIPPIE DIP." She stuck her tongue out at him. He folded his arms around the pillow and rolled his eyes. If it wasn't the worst nickname, it was a very close second. He couldn't wait for this fad to play itself out.
"Don't you have to rehearse a play or something?"
Mabel scoffed, "Ok, fine, don't believe me. Just wait until next summer... You'll seeeeeeeeee!" She rose from the bed, arms stretched out as if she were finishing a big song and dance number. Dipper clapped slowly as she whirled out of the room, only to open the door moments later. "Uh... Can I take that for my scrapbook?" She asked sheepishly, pointing to the magazine she'd left on his bed.
"Go for it!"
She squealed happily and was finally gone, although he could still hear her humming the chorus to "Matchmaker"... Their school was preparing for a production of "Fiddler on The Roof", but Dipper had an annoying feeling she was practicing that song for her own reasons. He stood from his desk, grabbing the letter and his coat for a trip to the post office a few blocks away.
Pacifica. Having a thing for him? Absolute hogwash.
That's what he thought then, at least.
"Find anything cool?"
Her voice was close. To his annoyance, Dipper lost his place in the thick journal on the table before him.
Pacifica came to the library nearly every day. He anticipated her appearances with a mix of irritation and curiosity... Sure, Mabel had said something about her crushing on him, but the idea still seemed so ridiculous. She probably had any number of things to occupy her time, being an heiress. He could only guess at why she came to see him.
Dipper lifted his eyes only to drop them back down to the page. She was sitting across from him at the large oak table, watching him with aloof amusement.
"Looks like you're struggling a little." There was a little mirth in her voice. At least he took comfort in knowing her exact proximity... Her stare was a tangible presence in the absolute silence of the library. Dipper cleared his throat.
"It's not that bad." He lied. Fact-finding was so tedious... It required ages of flipping through page after page of thoroughly embellished family journals. The scraps of truth were meager in the grand fabrication of her family's past. Pacifica had interrupted ten minutes in which he had been trying to decipher the cramped script of a long-dead Northwest only to realize that it was just Joseph Cransthorpe Northwest II re-emphasizing that he enjoyed his toast buttered on the underside.
Pacifica gave a small giggle and Dipper looked up at her pointedly. "Sorry." She grinned sheepishly, and they lapsed into silence again.
Five minutes passed before Dipper let a small frustrated grumble pass through his teeth. He jammed a scrap of paper between the pages to march his place and closed the book resentfully. "You know what, I needed a break anyway. Your great, great, great, great uncle is driving me nuts." She was laughing at him again, leaning forward over the table with her whole body. Dimly he remembered Mabel's words several months ago. He cleared his throat nervously and asked, "Don't you have uh... Tennis lessons or something?"
She shrugged, "No. You wanna get some lunch?"
They started a kind of routine then- lunch together every day that he spent at the Mansion. He was surprised to find that she could even make food... Or at least sandwiches. He would fill her in on the latest dirt dredged from the endless Northwest records in the library, and she surprised him with her genuine interest, rather than the revulsion or denial he had anticipated. It was clear that the events of 2012 had humbled her greatly... He just hadn't tried to know her after that. She'd always been Mabel's friend, but here they were, sitting on a porch swing in her wide back yard, sharing a couple of ham sandwiches which she'd made while he toiled in the library.
It was almost like they were friends or something.
She cracked up at one of his jokes, leaning into the back of the swing. Dipper delighted in her amusement as he finished the last few bites of his sandwich.
"You're pretty funny yourself, Northwest." He chuckled. They swayed together on the bench- it was a beautifully mild day, and he was completely content. "Great sandwich, as usual." He offered with a smile. Pacifica's ears went a little pink.
"Even I can put meat and cheese between a few slices of bread."
"Yeah, but it's the way you do it that makes it so tasty." Dipper sighed, feigning a moonstruck expression that earned him a punch in the arm.
"God, you're such a dork." Pacifica groaned, even though her pleased grin betrayed the annoyance in her tone. Dipper laughed again- it was rare that anybody could get more flustered than he could. She had these buttons that were just so easy to push that he couldn't help but tease her. It was adorable.
His watch alarm beeped twice. "Breaktime's over..." He grimaced, stopping the swing with his feet. Just as he rose to go back inside, he felt Pacifica's hand grab his and turned to look at her. Her gaze was fixed on her lap, where her other fist was clenched in the fabric of her sundress. "Just a little longer." She urged in a soft, shy voice that made Dipper's heart do a slow somersault in his chest. He remembered that conversation with Mabel again. It was impossible for him not to.
She could still be a huge pain- making fun of him and bothering him in the library with all sorts of inane questions about Piedmont and his home life. He assumed she would've already had all this information from Mabel, and it only occurred to him much later that she had been flirting with him.
"You're pretty dense." She muttered irritably as she pressed her lips to their clasped hands.
This was new.
The day had begun as per-usual. Dipper made himself comfortable at the large library table, already covered in piles of books and boxes of microfiche. Pacifica found him a little while later, and in a completely forgettable turn of events, she took the seat right beside him rather than across from him as she usually did.
He continued with his work, thumbing through an old scrapbook, taking pictures of relevant information with his phone, and jotting notes down in a well-worn notebook that had been brand new in early May when he and Mabel had arrived back in Gravity Falls. Pacifica was silent beside him, reading one of the books he'd discarded as useless.
He'd just finished another page of notes, wondering if he'd need to buy another book before the end of the summer when he felt her hand slide over his. His face warmed, mildly annoyed at having lost his place so suddenly.
"I'm gonna need that hand in a minute." The words came out in a nervous chuckle and he was suddenly aware of how close she really was. She'd held his hand many times since that lunch they'd shared a few weeks back.
"Nope." She said as if he didn't have any other option. He had to hand it to her, that cool response almost convinced him that the appendage had belonged to her all along.
He sighed low and scanned the news clipping for the last sentence he could remember... Something about the logging strikes at the turn of the century. The Northwest patriarch had seen fit to send union busters to the camps to try and-
(she lifted his hand in hers)
...Diffuse the situation, but their violent tactics only served to rally the underpaid-
(those were her lips)
...Men into a full-scale riot. No casualties, but many were-
(tracing feather-light kisses along the ridge of his palm)
...Severely injured on both sides of the conflict and in the end they did nothing to resolve-
"Pacifica." Dipper's voice hitched in his throat. He turned to look at her and caught her with her eyes closed, holding his hand to her burning cheek.
"You're pretty dense." Her lips moved against his skin and his other hand twitched against the pages of his notebook. She was right, and now it seemed like Mabel had also been right. His mind drifted... He thought of Wendy.
He liked Pacifica. She was beautiful, but she was also smart and pretty funny when she let her guard down. He also admired the monumental change she had worked over the rest of her family- she was strong. God, she liked him.
Pacifica opened an eye, watching him with wary embarrassment. "Jesus Dipper, How long are you gonna keep me hanging here?" She ground out in frustration.
He leaned in and that's when their routine did another quick-change.
Walking home from work, he reflected on the month. A foolish, cocky grin crawled onto his face. Sure, he hadn't gotten much work done that day, but he couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly satisfied. He whistled tunelessly to himself and when he finally arrived back at the Mystery Shack, he even felt obliged to help Grunkle Stan tidy up the gift shop for a little while.
"Will you PLEASE shut your goddamn trap?" The older man grouched, setting aside another stack of cash as he counted out the register. Dipper stopped whistling, but the goofy smile was almost impossible to keep away. Stan adjusted his glasses and squinted suspiciously at Dipper. "Are you on drugs or something? You're too happy... Doesn't seem normal."
Dipper barked a laugh and made a long push with the broom across the floor. "Nope! Totally drug-free. Just having a great day, is all."
Stan watched him another moment, his head tilted in utter confusion. Any other day of the week, he couldn't pay Dipper to do menial chores. He scratched the stubble on his wrinkled cheek... Well technically, he could pay him, and he'd probably actually do the chores at that. According to Stanford, Dipper was officially on sabbatical from the Mystery Shack. So it had surprised him when the kid burst through the screen door looking like he was on the verge of doing the kind of dance you'd see in the end zone of a football field, of all things. Instead, he grabbed the broom on the wall and began to work.
For free.
Stan cleared his throat, hastily lining the pockets of his blazer with the money on the counter. "Uh listen, kid, I gotta go make a few phone calls. You got everything under control here?" Dipper had resumed the tunes- Stan caught a few bars from "Disco Girl" and had to fight down a snort of derision. "Of course you do." He went straight for the vending machine door and left his nephew to the rest of the work... After all, there were bookies in Seattle to call and deals to be made.
Icebreaker
Naoko Asakura
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters!
A/N: Look who decided to come out of her hole... ME. Anyway, this chapter was a long time coming, I know. I was going to make this one even longer than it is already is, but I decided to split it into another chapter. Here's hoping it won't be as long between updates. Thanks as always for reading and stay healthy, safe & sane.