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There's a hollow rapping noise that is echoing above Dipper's left ear. He blinks, rising into the waking world. His right ear is pressed to the rigid plastic of the door and begins to ache when he lifts his head. Groggily, he looks around.

He's still in Soos' truck, buckled into his seat and sleeping against the door. At some point, or gradually over the course of the trip, he slid down from his sitting position. Now his head is skewed at an awkward angle, right side on the arm rest with its window controls and chin dipped towards the seat. From where he's lying, he can see the driver's seat is unoccupied. The rumble of the engine is absent. Either they've arrived or stopped for gas.

The bonging noise rings out again. Confused and still half-asleep, he twists his head up and around until he can look out the window.

His mother is standing there, her hand lowering from where she's been knocking on the glass. She has the strangest expression on her face: concerned, maybe disapproving, slightly amused. Dipper has no idea why until he realizes how warm he is. His eyes go wide and he looks down.

Pacifica has burrowed herself partially beneath him, using his legs as a makeshift space heater against the chill of the constant air conditioning (Soos tends to keep his truck somewhere in the ambient range of a refrigerator). The back of her head is only an inch away from his chest and his left arm is draped loosely over her, threaded through her hair. He thinks he remembers their hands being joined at some point, but maybe he dreamed that.

Oh, geez. And Mom is right there. She probably doesn't care whether they're holding hands or not. He begins to blush, which he knows is exactly what he needs to not do.

He jerks away from Pacifica's sleeping form as if she is a live wire. "U-Uh, Pacifica, wake up," he stammers, patting her shoulder.

She comes awake with a start, eyes fluttering open. "What?" she mumbles, trying to roll over onto her back and only succeeding in trapping him even more.

Dipper gives up and lets his head drop against the back of the seat, resigned. "We're here. Hi, Mom. Thanks for nothing, Mabel." Not a word of warning, no attempt whatsoever to wake him up for arrival. He knows it's deliberate.

Mom says something through the glass, but he can't understand her.

Pacifica drowsily pushes herself back onto her side of the seat. "We're here?"

Dipper unbuckles his seat belt and grabs the door handle. "Apparently the others thought we needed our sleep." He hesitates. "Hey, give me a minute to talk to my mom. There's… Well, it's complicated."

Pacifica's expression is grave. "It's okay if I have to go," she says, but the tension in her shoulders and the apprehension in her eyes tell a different story.

"Nobody's kicking you out of anywhere. We're not like that," he tells her firmly. "It'll be fine, I promise."

She shows him a hesitant, hopeful smile, and it makes his heart swell in a way he can't explain. All he knows is that he won't let her down. He'll find her a place to stay even if he has to hitchhike with her back to the Shack.

He pops the door open and scrambles out of the truck, not looking at his mother but also trying to look like he's doing it because he needs to watch his footing and not because he's purposefully avoiding eye contact. He doubts he pulls it off. Mabel, Soos, and Wendy are nowhere to be seen; it's just his mom in the driveway, arms crossed in the evening light as she waits. He's usually pretty good at reading her, in the way a child knows how the wind is blowing, when to push and when to retreat. Now, though, he finds himself at a loss. He can't tell which way she's leaning.

"Hey," he says awkwardly, wiping his palms across the thighs of his pants. They're not sweaty (yet), he just doesn't know what to do with his hands. He thought he would have time to prepare himself before making his pitch.

"Hi. Have a good trip?" she asks, arms opening for a hug.

That's a good sign. He gratefully accepts the hug, then steps back. "It was okay. Kinda long. California's a big place, who knew?"

Mom's attention turns from him. "And this must be Pacifica."

Pacifica has exited out the opposite side of the truck and walks around the hood, coming up alongside of them. She holds herself with a stately grace despite her rumpled clothing and flyaway hair. "Hello, Mrs. Pines," she says a bit stiffly.

"Hello, it's nice to finally meet you," Mom says warmly, taking Pacifica's offered hand. "Your other friends are already inside. Mabel said you're all having a sleepover tonight? I think they're with my husband in the kitchen, probably making a mess, if you'd like to join them."

Mom is perfectly friendly, but the hint is obvious enough. Pacifica's eyes dart towards Dipper's. He nods slightly and she takes the cue. "Thank you," she says formally, and goes around the edge of the garage towards the front door. Dipper hopes Mom can't tell that Pacifica knows where she's going.

As soon as she's gone, Mom turns back to Dipper with eyebrows raised. "I'll tell you what, kiddo: I always knew you'd be bringing a girl home someday, but I was definitely not expecting this."

Dipper immediately flushes red and stares at a spot on the asphalt somewhere to the left of Mom's shoes. He's not sure if Mom is referring to the general chaos that's resulted from his attempts to help Pacifica or the fact that Pacifica is the kind of moneyed, stunning beauty reserved for the arm of top school athletes as preordained by the choking hand of teen social structures and pretty much every movie ever. He's hoping the implication isn't that Pacifica is out of his league or something (not that it matters, because there's nothing like that going on, maybe) because that is so discouraging. Then again, maybe Mom is just surprised by the sharp contrast of Dipper and Pacifica's personalities and backgrounds. Or all of the above.

Dipper will cop to making a frequent mess of things. It's some of the other possible assumptions he's having trouble with.

"She's our friend, we had to do something," he says, stressing the 'our' and 'friend' and deliberately ignoring any other implications in what Mom said.

Mom gives him the same look she's always given him when he tries to explain his way out of something, a look that says she sees right through him. "Uh huh. I think we're going to need some new rules around the house, buster."

Dipper is so grateful no one else is around. He'll gladly (well, okay, not gladly) submit to whatever strictures Mom thinks are needed if it means getting what he wants. "You're the boss," he says lamely, trying not to otherwise react.

Mom lets him sweat for a moment longer, then asks, "So how did it go? Was she alright?"

Dipper nods. "Fine, I guess. We picked her up from the hotel and then she went and talked to her mom and it was… okay, probably? I wasn't there, but she got permission to leave."

"Good, I'm glad she was able to speak to her mother again," Mom says. Then her head tilts slightly. "You never did tell me how the two of you met."

Dipper doesn't even know where to begin. If Gravity Falls had been any other town he would still be thinking of Pacifica, if he ever did at all, as just a stuck-up rich girl he'd once encountered. The genesis of their friendship is complicated and tangled up in events that are, to put it mildly, a bit unbelievable. He didn't even think of her as being a friend until the very end of summer. He hardly knows what they are to each other now. Their closeness has been fostered by everything but time. It's like an accelerated friendship, forged through fire. They know each other in so many secret ways and not at all in others.

"We met at a party," he settles on, which is when he feels he met the real her (well, the second party).

Mom is understandably surprised. "A party? I guess you really did have a heck of a summer. Was this at the Mystery Shack?"

"No, the Northwests have—well, had—this annual party. It was kind of a big deal, locally. Very fancy, like… cummerbunds. Whatever those are." He doesn't know how to explain his 'invitation,' so he just stops there. It's time he got to the point, anyway. He clears his throat. "Um, so, Pacifica kind of needs—"

"A place to stay?" Mom smiles when his mouth snaps shut. "I'm not oblivious, Dipper. It was fairly obvious what the outcome of all this was going to be."

Obvious to her, maybe. Then again, she had the luxury of forward planning from where she stood on the sidelines.

"And that's okay?" he says anxiously. "She really doesn't have anywhere else to go right now."

Mom's smile thins and disappears. "She isn't the first kid to stay with friends during a divorce. I had a friend go through something similar, though it wasn't this bad."

Dipper knows more about the stresses on the Northwests' marriage than he really cares to, but he keeps his mouth shut about it. Sometimes it feels like every secret he swallows drops into his stomach like a stone, a collective weight that is starting to be noticeable.

"So, your father and I talked about it while you were gone," Mom continues, "and it's okay with us as long as it's okay with her parents, so we're going to have to have a few more talks. But, if it all works out, then yes."

He wraps his arms around her, relief blossoming in his heart. "Thank you so much!"

She pats him on the back and then pokes him a bit sternly in the chest, making him take a step away. "I was serious about the new rules. I want you to leave your door open tonight."

"Geez, Mom…" He turns away from her in embarrassment, ears red. "It's not like that." He doesn't even know if he's lying or not.

"Whatever you say, hon," Mom tells him without a hint of belief.

He realizes that having Pacifica around will add a layer of complication beyond the ones he's anticipated.

He'll cut himself some slack in this case because how was he supposed to know Pacifica would suddenly want to hold hands? Or get all close to him in the backseat, or whatever that had been (Cuddling? …No. No, that… Well, maybe…).

He finds Pacifica inside with the others. Mabel, Wendy, and Soos are rooting through the cabinets and the pantry, throwing together whatever they can find for a meal and setting aside snacks for the sleepover. Dad is talking to Soos about running the Shack, nodding with interest as Soos describes some of the day to day operations involved in parting tourists from their money. Pacifica stands at the edge of the group like a statue, clearly uncomfortable. Dipper doesn't know if it's because she's worrying about the outcome of Dipper's talk with his mother or just doesn't feel like she can join in. Both, probably.

He walks over to her and she visibly relaxes when he smiles. He leans in close so no one else can hear and says, "So, we'll still have to go over some stuff with Mom and Dad later, but Mom said you can stay with us."

She melts in relief, blue eyes going clear and honest, face open with gratitude. He finds himself once again frozen in surprise as her arms wrap around him. She releases him before he has a chance to respond, stepping back. It takes her a few moments to partially reassemble her armor, alabaster complexion tinged pink with chagrin.

"Thanks," she says, hiding behind her pride as best she can.

He shrugs awkwardly—sometimes he feels like he does everything around her awkwardly, including walking and breathing. "Hey, I promised," he says.