Chapter XI: Fake It 'til You Make It

Dipper stepped out of Soos's truck as coolly as he could.

He was, after all, just spending a few hours watching bad movies with a good friend.

Why couldn't Mabel join him and Wendy? Well, that would just be preposterous! She didn't even particularly like crappy old b-movies the way either of the two of them did!

Or at least, that's what he told her when she asked. It was strange… She'd never tried to intrude on the few times he'd gone to Wendy's house before… but that had been back when he was still publicly and obviously head over heels for Wendy. Since he was supposedly over her now, that meant that Mabel coming along shouldn't have been such a big deal.

But it was.

Because he wasn't over Wendy at all.

In fact, he was reasonably sure this was the least 'over' Wendy he'd ever been.

"See you guys later!" he called.

Mabel waved at him from her newly claimed shotgun seat, but it was obvious that she was a little miffed. Soos had a strange look on his face too as he waved, but that was for a totally different reason. They were going to the mall after they dropped him off, to try to find Soos a date for his cousin's engagement party.

Dipper would have loved to help... but hey, he had a prior engagement himself, alright?

As he walked up the steps of the Corduroy cabin's porch, Dipper couldn't help but remember the last time he'd been there. He'd been more than a little buzzed after the party, but that night on Wendy's porch would stay with him for the rest of his life. Least of all because it had led to whatever it was they were doing now.

Though, he had to admit, he didn't remember the huge saw that hung over the front door feeling quite so ominous last time.

'Play it cool,' he thought, as his heart rate began to do the precise opposite.

Music was blaring from somewhere inside, but by the vague sound of it, he didn't think it was Wendy's. Suddenly, the possibility that someone other than Wendy would open the door when he knocked occurred to him, and he felt a bit like he was going to vomit.

Dipper turned around to wave at Soos and Mabel one last time as Soos pulled his truck out of the clearing, and Dipper told himself it wasn't just to buy himself a bit of time to ease his nerves. He watched Soos's truck head down the shabby almost-road that led to the Corduroy Cabin until it disappeared from his sight.

His fingers were jittery as he turned around to face the front door again.

He looked down at himself, second guessing his choice of outfit one last time now that it was far too late to change out of it. He'd settled on jeans over shorts, but he'd kept his vest this time around since it almost made him look like he had some shoulders, and he felt like he needed them now more than ever.

Dipper caught himself picking at his cast and stopped himself.

'Play it cool,' he repeated. It had been his mantra at the party, and it had served him well enough then, hadn't it? He probably wouldn't be here now if he hadn't gone to that party, as stressful as it had been at the time. He could tough out a bit of anxiety. Wendy was worth it.

With a rush of courage, he knocked three times in quick succession.

He waited, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, for the telltale sound of footsteps approaching the door.

Ten seconds came and went, and the music he couldn't quite make out hadn't even lowered.

His nerves flared.

Was she home?

Should he text her and say he was outside?

'No, too wimpy.'

He'd already texted her that he was on his way, and she was the one who set the time! She knew he was coming. He was being dumb.

He knocked three more times, except with a lot more force behind them.

This time, he could make out something like yelling after a few seconds, and then the music quieted down somewhat.

He knocked again for good measure, and, sure enough, that did the trick. Footsteps approached the door, and Dipper held his breath as it swung open.

And there she was.

Wendy Corduroy.

His kinda girlfriend.

"H–hey," he said, fighting hard to control his stammer.

Her smile was like a punch to his chest, and he was only barely managing to remain standing. "Sup," she said, and it was almost like normal, but there was a tinge of something that didn't used to be there. "Sorry," she added with a chuckle, "I couldn't hear you over Marcus's music. He's always blasting it on weekends."

"It's no problem," he replied with a hopefully not too nervous laugh. "I was only here for a minute or two."

Wendy wasn't wearing her usual, not in the slightest. There wasn't even a trace of flannel on her, and she wasn't wearing her hat either. Instead, she was wearing a baggy and faded yellow t-shirt that had what he could only assume was a band logo across the chest. She was wearing shorts again, but they too were baggy, and reached her knees. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, rather than being let loose like it almost always was.

Altogether, it was a very different look for her. Lower key.

And yet, his heart hammered just the same.

He must have looked too long, because Wendy followed his gaze.

Wendy blushed, ever so slightly. "Sorry," she said with a cough, "I wasn't home much this weekend, and didn't realize I didn't wash my clothes until it was too late."

Oh shit.

He wasn't trying to make her feel bad or anything! He'd just noticed, that's all!

"No no, you look great!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. He felt his own cheeks warm, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on hers. "I mean, you kinda always do."

Her blush grew a bit more. Then, she looked behind herself, and as she stepped outside she all but closed the door behind her, leaving just a crack.

For one pulse-pounding moment he thought she was going in for a kiss, right off the bat. But one of her hands shielded her mouth, and her voice lowered. "Just so you know, my dad's home today."

Okay. He got that message loud and clear.

She looked more than a little put out by the fact herself. "It's pretty weird, he usually spends Sundays at the bar."

Well, it wasn't like he was expecting anything too different than their past movie nights, and he was pretty sure Manly Dan had been home for at least one of those. Spending the evening with Wendy was plenty reward enough. "As long as you've got the flicks, I think I'll be fine," he said, which earned him a quiet laugh that made his heart soar.

She stepped back and opened the door fully, then stepped aside so he could make his way in. Once the door was closed behind them, she turned to him, and, with a knowing look, locked her lips and threw away the key.

Dipper did the same, even as the realization that he may not get a kiss today settled disappointingly in his mind.

Wendy led him through the short entryway and into the main body of the Corduroy cabin. The television in the living room was loud, but it wasn't the source of the music that had made it hard for Wendy to hear his knocks. That noise was coming from further inside.

One of her brothers, the middle one (Kevin?) was lounging on the couch, and her youngest brother was sitting on the floor, legs crossed. They were both entranced by some action scene playing out on the screen with its bombastic musical score.

But not so entranced that they both didn't look his way as he made himself known.

"Uh, yo," he said, with a single lame wave.

"Wassup," said the middle one, who he knew was younger than him even if he was taller. He had a particularly sour and unimpressed air about him, and he'd already looked back to the black clad spy getting into a fist fight.

"Hey," said the younger one, who was thankfully much shorter than Dipper. "You're the one that fell, right?"

He'd never really interacted with them much before, but he swore that talking to them hadn't felt quite so threatening the last time he'd been here either. Still, he knew he had to engage in some small talk. It would be weird if he didn't, right?

Dipper raised his cast so that her youngest brother (had to be Gus, right?) could see it from where he was seated. "Guilty as charged!"

Man, that was lame.

But Gus looked very impressed. "Woah!" he said, his eyes wide. "Wh–"

-Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by Kevin raising the volume.

Dipper winced at the sudden blast of sound, and Wendy shot her brother a dirty look. "Turn it down, Kevin," she said, her tone firm.

Kevin grumbled but complied, turning it down three whole volume ticks, before crossing his arms with an incredibly annoyed look on his face.

At least Dipper had gotten his name right after all.

Gus looked sheepish, his eyes flicking from Dipper's to his brother's, and his mouth opening and closing several times. In the end, he shut his mouth and looked back to the television, whatever it was he'd been going to say left unsaid.

Wendy gestured with a tip of her chin toward where he knew her bedroom was, and Dipper nodded, before following her out of the room after one last lame wave at her brothers.

To get to her room though, they had to cut through the kitchen.

And sitting at the kitchen table with an immense cup of coffee and a plate full of what Dipper was pretty sure was burnt steak, was the even more immense man that was Manly Dan Corduroy.

(He'd always been threatening, but he felt even more threatening now.)

"Wendy!" he roared as soon as his deep set eyes chanced upon them. By his tone, it was obvious he meant it as, 'get over here!'

Wendy looked aside at Dipper and offered him a surreptitious, but apologetic, shrug before making her way to the kitchen table.

Dipper hung back as he tried to figure out if it was more suspicious to follow Wendy or not, but then he realized that Manly Dan was staring at him very pointedly.

With a gulp that he hoped no one noticed, Dipper followed Wendy into the kitchen and stopped a few steps away from her. Standing too close to her would be suspicious, obviously, and he didn't want to risk even an ounce of the enormous man's fury.

Because as much as Dipper knew he was a pretty average height for his age (he'd checked several times on various government websites and reference books), he knew even more clearly that Dan Corduroy could break him in half with his bare hands.

Manly Dan's eyes were narrowed, and the weight of his intense scrutiny was stifling.

Dipper held his breath.

"You're damn lucky, you know that, right?"

That wasn't what Dipper was expecting at all, especially because of the curious note of admiration in the man's tone. So it couldn't be a bad thing, right?

"Uh, what?" Dipper asked, genuinely at a loss for words.

Manly Dan pointed one of his huge index fingers at Dipper's cast. "You're the kid from the puppet show, aren't you?"

Oh, okay, yeah. He was already getting used to his cast, but everyone else was probably going to be pretty interested in it for a while.

Wendy scoffed. "Dad, you've met Dipper, like... several times," she said, answering for the both of them.

Manly Dan waved her off, his eyes still honed in on Dipper's. "I've seen men die from falls shorter than that, kid. Hope you're counting your lucky stars for making it out with just that," he said gruffly, pointing at his cast again.

Dipper was halfway into a nervous laugh when he realized that Manly Dan wasn't joking about having seen men die. He cleared his throat, trying to buy some time to find an avenue of conversation that wasn't quite so morbid. "Uh. Yeah. Guess I just know how to fall pretty good?" Dipper laughed again, but it came out more like a choke.

Manly Dan nodded and chugged half of his coffee in one great gulp, somehow maintaining eye contact the whole time. He wiped his wet beard on his flannel sleeve. "Devil's Luck is more like it. I'd get a lottery ticket if I were you."

Dipper chuckled as he scratched at the spot where his cast ended on his upper forearm. He didn't really know why he was laughing.

Thankfully, Wendy stepped in to save him the stress of a reply. "Wait," she said, her brows furrowed, "you were there? At Mabel's show?"

Manly Dan grunted as he speared his charred steak with a ferocity that made Dipper flinch. "The guys at Skull Fracture wanted to make a night of it. We were way in the back."

His memory of his time as a ghost was getting beyond fuzzy, but he could definitely remember it seeming like half the town was there. Just how many people had seen Bill throw him from the catwalk? It was a strange thought to imagine himself being the talk of the town.

Wendy just stared at her dad for a long moment, before she shook her head with an annoyed sigh. "Alright. Whatever. We've got movies to watch, come on Dipper."

Dipper was about to make his escape to Wendy's room when Manly Dan's voice boomed out again.

"Wait," he ordered.

Dipper waited.

Manly Dan's eyes bored into him as he finished chewing on a too-big hunk of steak. "Want some?" he asked, tapping his completely burnt steak with his fork. "Cooked 'em up for lunch and I got two more on the counter. You look like you need some protein, kid; get some muscle on them bones."

Dipper didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he felt his ears burn red hot. "Uh– I think I'm okay. I... ate before I got here!" He tried to smile. "Thanks anyway!"

Manly Dan shrugged, and set about consuming the rest of his meal as Dipper followed Wendy out of the kitchen at long last.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Dipper let himself breathe a sigh of relief.

The elbow to his side caught him off guard, which made Wendy laugh. "Oh shh," she said under her breath, "he's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say," Dipper replied with a smirk.

Wendy's room looked about the same as it had the last time he'd been there all those weeks ago. He took a seat on the edge of her bed, but this time, he made sure to double check for a stray piece of underwear before he sat down.

(The memory of that still made him blush crimson.)

Looking around more closely, it seemed like she'd actually tidied up her room a bit more. Her bed's covers were neatly made, and the plush toy that Robbie had won for her (that he should have won for her) was tucked away somewhere out of sight.

Wendy shut the door, and Dipper couldn't help the way his heartbeat quickened at the sound of it.

She sat down beside him, closer than she had the last time he'd been in her room, closer than any time other than when they'd both gotten drunk. Her shorts had ridden up a bit, and her thigh brushed his; Dipper couldn't help but wish he'd worn shorts after all.

Wendy reached up and pulled the hair tie off her ponytail, before shaking her hair out with momentarily closed eyes. "That's better," she said as she turned to face him. "Had my hair up because I was doing a bit of cleaning," she explained with a self-deprecating chuckle.

He tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks as her now loose hair brushed his arm. The sweet floral notes of her shampoo, and the warmth of her closeness made it difficult to concentrate.

He wanted to compliment her again. To say that she could wear her hair however she liked and he'd still think she was the prettiest girl in Gravity Falls.

But his instincts were terrible, and he didn't want to be weird.

"You're good," he managed to say. Feeling totally out of his depth, he scratched his neck with his good hand and averted his gaze. "So, uh, what did you end up picking up?" He asked, pointing at the DVD cases that were sitting in front of the small TV that she had on her dresser.

Wendy elbowed him again, drawing his eyes back to hers. "Don't worry, dork," she said with a grin, "I didn't forget you said 'no zombie movies'."

"Thanks," he said, even though he'd almost forgotten that had been his sole condition. After everything with Bill, his summoning of the dead at the Shack's re-opening party didn't feel quite so prominent in his brain. "Looks like you got two," he added, the obvious question hanging in the air.

Wendy pulled herself to her feet with a grunt, and grabbed the pair of DVD cases. She held them both up so he could see them clearly. "One for you, and one for me," she said, indicating to each one in turn. "'Plan 9 From Outer Space'! I know you like sci-fi, and this one's, like, legendarily terrible. I heard it was so bad that the company that made it went out of business a year later." She held up the other one. "And 'Silver Bullet'. I know this one's in color, but, man, it's got Gary Busey, it's gotta be amazing."

Dipper grinned. He'd missed this a lot more than he thought he did.

"Which do you wanna start with?" he asked. They both sounded like they could be a good time. Of course, right now, any time with Wendy was the absolute best of times.

Wendy turned the cases around so she could inspect them herself. "Hmmm." She looked at each of them for a couple seconds. "I know I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but damn if Plan 9's doesn't just scream low budget cheesiness." Her eyes flicked back up to his. "Sound good?"

"Sounds good," Dipper confirmed.

With a nod and a smile, Wendy turned around and fiddled with her mini television's built-in DVD player, trying and failing to get it to accept the DVD she wanted to feed it. "Ugh," she groaned, "stupid thing's always been a pain."

She continued to struggle with the DVD tray. To his immense shame, Dipper found his eyes drawn to her butt.

Her shorts were baggy; he couldn't even see anything, but his eyes were drawn all the same.

Was it... okay to stare? To look?

What would she say if she caught him? What would she think?

The dream– no– the nightmare that Bill had made him see burst to life in his mind's eye. The venom in Wendy's voice. The scorn in her eyes.

'Riddle me this genius, do you think I like getting eye fucked by a kid every day?'

But it wasn't her. It was Bill.

Wendy kissed him. Wendy said she didn't want any regrets.

He just– he didn't want her to think he was a creep, or a weirdo.

"Ah-ha!" She said triumphantly as the tray finally opened. "The Corduroy family maintenance technique never fails." Popping the DVD into the tray, she grabbed the remote and returned to sit at the foot of her bed beside him. "Ready for some cinematic greatness?" she asked with a grin that made him feel even more ashamed of having been staring.

But he managed to hide it. "Never been more ready in my life!" he answered.

(He resolved to keep his eyes on the screen as much as possible.)

Wendy mashed the buttons on the remote to get past the boring previews, and they were quickly greeted by a delightfully low budget looking menu screen. The built-in DVD player's software didn't seem to be especially well programmed, because there was a truly ridiculous lag as she tried to get the cursor to move over to the 'play' button.

Eventually, she got it, and the movie began.

Usually movies this old started with an overly long introductory credits sequence listing off all the actors and producers and whoever else was considered to deserve billing in the old days, but instead, this one started differently. It instead started with a man in a suit addressing the audience directly, something that was always a good sign in a bad movie. It was a little hard to hear over the still-blaring music from the one brother he hadn't seen yet today. Wendy ended up having to turn up the volume to hear much of anything.

"You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, the unexplainable," the suited man in the movie said, "That is why you are here."

Wendy elbowed him in the side. "I made a pretty good choice, didn't I?" She winked, and Dipper couldn't help but agree.

Once the man's spiel was done, the expected introductory credits arrived, and Dipper was once again thinking more about Wendy than he was any of the names flashing by on the screen.

She hadn't kissed him yet, even though the door was closed now and they could probably get away with it. Was it worth the risk, though? It would be suspicious to lock the door… which meant any of her brothers could just walk in at any time and catch them in the act. Worse still, it could be her dad..

But even as he rationalized, he was catastrophizing. So far, she hadn't mentioned anything... romantic.

Though, he supposed, neither had he.

Was she waiting for him to make the first move? Did she want him to try to kiss her? Or was that something you saved for the end of a date?

The thought of being the one to initiate a kiss terrified him, even though he knew they'd kissed a few times now. But those had all been under extenuating circumstances. This was a normal situation, and he didn't know how to navigate normal. He'd never had anything close to a girlfriend!

(If, indeed, that's what she actually considered herself.)

He knew guys were supposed to be the proactive ones, but he also knew that that was pretty old fashioned, and very little about Wendy was particularly old fashioned.

Studiously keeping his head facing forward so as to not draw her attention, Dipper glanced aside at Wendy. She was sitting really close to him.

Maybe she was trying to get him to make the first move.

But just kissing her all of a sudden would be totally weird, wouldn't it?

So... hand holding? They'd done that a few times too, and he knew couples did that in movie theaters.

Not that the thought of that was any less anxiety inducing.

He glanced towards Wendy's hand that was resting on her lap. Her fingers were playing with the loose fabric of her shorts. Maybe... he could just reach for it? Super casually?

But what if she didn't want to? What if she pulled her hand away?

The intro credits had finished, and he'd barely even registered it. A bunch of characters were standing around a grave at a funeral. The same guy that had given the spiel at the beginning was a character in the story, it seemed, but Dipper was hardly hearing what he was saying.

He looked back down to Wendy's hand.

He couldn't let his anxiety psyche him out.

He just had to go for it. Play it cool.

He could do that, couldn't he?

Swallowing, he made to inch his left hand toward her lap...

...when he remembered his cast.

Fuck!

From this sitting position, it'd be wildly uncomfortable for her if he took her hand. His cast was bulky and hard, not at all smooth to the touch. She'd held his hand despite the cast when he was still in his hospital bed, but that was a completely different position!

He wanted to hit himself; this was exactly the kind of thing he should've thought about ahead of time. He'd just autopiloted into sitting in the same spot that he had the last time he was here! The optimal hand-holding seating arrangement hadn't even come close to occurring to him.

The scene changed. They were watching a pilot in an incredibly fake looking cockpit. This was where he was supposed to crack a joke, but nothing came to him.

The movie stopped suddenly, and Dipper thought for a moment that something was wrong with the DVD. But then Wendy's shoulder bumped into his, drawing his eyes to hers. The green of her gaze was more enchanting now than it had ever been before.

"Hey," she said softly, "you want some popcorn?"

Dipper shrugged. "If you want some, I wouldn't say no," he answered in as nonchalant a tone as he could manage, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't eat much on account of his churning stomach.

Wendy nodded, and pulled herself back to her feet. "Be back in a few," she said, with a smile that made his heart flutter.

She shut the door behind her as she left the room, and Dipper was finally able to release a gasping breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Having checked for undergarments already, Dipper flopped back onto her bed. His eyes wandered around her room, appreciating her various decorations. Her lopsided posters and magazine cuttings, the roadsign that she'd told him she stole back in the eighth grade, the glittering heart that hung over her window...

It was startling to think that the last time he'd been here, he'd had a love note in his pocket.

And now, he had what he wanted. Wendy was giving him a chance. He couldn't just be a nervous wreck all night, he had to take the initiative.

As he lay there gathering up his courage, he could hear Wendy yell something at (probably) Marcus, since the white noise that was his music quieted by a few notches.

He screwed up his eyes and took a deep breath. Kissing would be tough, but he could hold her hand. That wouldn't be too hard at all. He just had to get on the other side of her so that he could use his right hand!

He could just... take her seat?

So that when she came back she had to take his old one?

He wrestled with that thought for an embarrassingly long time.

So long that it became a moot point.

Wendy arrived with a large bowl of freshly popped popcorn in one hand, and a pair of Pitt Colas clenched clumsily in the other. She shut the door behind her with her foot before tossing him one of the sodas.

He had to sit up quickly to catch it, but he thankfully managed to despite his handicap.

"Scoot over," she ordered with a tone that brooked no argument.

Dipper obliged, and she took the side of the bed that he'd originally been sitting on, while he took hers. She smooshed up next to him, and placed the popcorn bowl on her lap. Then, she cracked open her Pitt Cola with a hiss. Dipper followed suit, opening it with his right hand before passing it to his left (he kept finding things he'd never realized he used his left hand for).

Wendy tossed a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth with a grin that quickly shifted into a grimace. "Shit, that's hot! Better to wait a minute or two."

Sensing a relatively harmless means of proving his manliness, he took a handful of popcorn from the bowl and shoved them into his mouth before his brain could stop him. Tears immediately sprang to his eyes as the popcorn hit his tongue. "Seems fine to me!" he said, though it came out more as a pained gurgle.

Wendy rewarded him with a laugh as he washed the too-hot popcorn down with his soda.

"Easy there," she said, patting his back with a grin. "I think you're injured enough, dude."

Dipper felt himself relax at her teasing, and, remembering that the remote was on his side of the bed now, he fumbled around until he found it. "Ready?" he asked.

Wendy nodded, and Dipper mashed the "play" button on the junky remote until it finally worked.

The movie resumed, and after a couple minutes of painfully written and acted dialogue, the popcorn was finally cool enough to eat without courting death.

A woman who looked like a vampire killed a pair of gravediggers with her mind, and a short while later, it was revealed that the aliens were reanimating corpses, for some reason.

"Hey," Dipper said through bites of popcorn, "I thought you said this wasn't a zombie movie?"

Wendy looked affronted. "C'mon, it's called 'Plan 9 from Outer Space', how was I supposed to know?" She grabbed a fistful of popcorn and shoved it into her mouth. Then, with a full mouth, added, "Besides, this came out before 'Night of the Living Dead', it barely counts."

Dipper shook his head scornfully, but he couldn't keep it up for more than a couple seconds before he broke into a grin.

The movie didn't let up, as truly comical looking flying saucers flew across 1950s cityscapes, clearly being some cheap props suspended on strings. From scene to scene, 'Plan 9' continued to deliver poor special effects and completely wooden acting, which provided them plenty of fodder for jokes and jibes at its expense.

"Did they really think this would be scary?"

"These UFOs had to be from someone's kitchen."

"Does the vampire lady just spend her whole life hiding in bushes?"

Before he knew it, they'd gotten through just about all of the popcorn except for the kernels at the bottom that had failed to pop.

Which, of course, meant that her hand was free now.

Dipper wanted to sneak his hand over to her lap and take hers, but between the laughs and the jokes, he couldn't find the right time. It felt like a leap, even though it was something they'd already done. Every time they'd held hands so far, it had been Wendy to initiate. But he couldn't just... leave it to her all the time.

He stole glances at her, admiring the way her lips curled into smiles, how her nose crinkled when she snorted at some new stupidity on the screen. The freckles that covered her cheeks. The fiery red of her hair.

She was so beautiful that it almost hurt.

But in a way, it emboldened him too.

Eventually, after one of the single least exciting chase scenes he'd ever seen, he thought he had his moment. He just had to move his hand over to her lap, and it'd be done. If he did it quickly, he knew he wouldn't have time to second guess himself. It would be quick. He could do it.

Pulse thundering in his ears, he chanced one last glance...

...Only to find her green eyes staring right back at him. After a moment, she leaned into him slightly, with something between a smirk and a smile playing at her lips as she held his gaze.

His mouth was suddenly dry, and his fingers were trembling, but he knew he had to say something. He couldn't just stare stupidly.

"Could I... hold your hand?" he asked, his voice not far above a whisper.

Her eyes danced mischievously. "Dude, you don't gotta ask," she said, with the lightest note of teasing. She moved her left hand onto her thigh, palm up, and her smile shifted into something softer, more genuine.

Dipper's cheeks were on fire as he finally made the leap. Placing his hand on top of hers, their fingers gently intertwined. His heart raced as her thumb rubbed the side of his hand, and he wondered how clearly she could feel his nervousness. He squeezed her hand lightly, relishing in the softness of her skin, and her smile widened in return. Slowly, both of their gazes returned to the cinematic dumpster-fire before them, but Dipper knew he was paying even less attention to it than he was before.

And how could he?

He was holding the hand of the coolest, most beautiful girl he'd ever known.

Anything the director could show him would be a distant second to that, even if it was the greatest movie ever made.

Of course, there was one thing that could put a damper on all of it.

The distinctive creaking of footsteps in the hallways outside Wendy's room was all too clear, even through Marcus's music and the sounds of their movie.

Wendy, who was closer to the door, heard it first.

She sat up straight, and, disentangling her hand from his, scooted away from him. She didn't go all the way to the edge of the bed, but she went an appropriate distance. A friendly distance.

Dipper couldn't help the pang of disappointment he felt as he braced for her father or one of her brothers to barge into the room. Wendy adopted a relaxed posture, and Dipper did his best to follow suit, though he knew he wasn't quite so good at it as she was.

But the footsteps faded almost as quickly as they'd appeared, and the door remained closed.

After a few more seconds, Wendy scooted back to his side, and her hand found its way back into his.

"Sorry," she said quietly, a dusting of pink on her cheeks, "we just... gotta be careful, y'know?"

He squeezed her hand gently. "I know."

As they settled back into the movie, Wendy leaned into him, resting her head against his. Dipper rubbed small circles into the side of her hand, and breathed in the intoxicating scent of her shampoo. Slowly, her heartbeat returned to its equilibrium, and his own followed suit.

By the time their first movie of the night was done, they'd had several more false alarms.

Yet, no matter how many times they had to jump apart and pretend like everything was totally normal, they came back together just as easily, and every agonizing second of anticipation was made worth it all over again.

Now he just had to figure out how to go for a kiss before the night was up.

'Easier said than done.'

AN: Thanks for reading so far! Shorter update, but I really wanted to get something out for Christmas. So, Merry Christmas and have a happy New Year!