AN:
1. I just finished my rewatch of the show, and I forgot that the Northwests lose the Manor at the end of canon. Let's just pretend like they didn't, because I forgot about that little detail. Too late to change it now 3
2. This is a direct continuation of the sixth drabble in my other fic, The Death You Chose. You can pick up on the context pretty easily without reading that one, but it's there if you want it.
!TW! FOR BRIEF GORE/VIOLENCE DURING A DREAM SEQUENCE
Troubling, mechanical noises erupted from the truck's engine as it pulled to a stop outside the Mystery Shack and its driver switched off the ignition.
The sun was setting. Dipper liked this time of day. It made everything look more… mysterious. It was like the area was preserved in amber.
He and Pacifica sat in silence for a few moments before either of them made a move. She was first.
"I don't care if you tell them. They're gonna find out eventually, anyway. They're cool, but they're also, like, super nosy."
"Yeah." He sighed. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine." She opened the passenger door. "But tell them I don't want to talk about it, okay? Not yet. Maybe not ever. I just need to… yeah."
"Okay. No problem."
There was a problem, but that wasn't it.
Dipper retrieved her suitcase from the trunk and carried it in for her. It wasn't as heavy as he was expecting.
It had taken them several hours to get home. First, she'd taken about thirty minutes to put on some makeup to cover the bruise so it wouldn't draw attention. Next, they'd hit up the arcade, spending several hours in the building lit only by neon lights, making their eyes ache from staring at screens until they felt vaguely normal again. But they weren't able to stall forever.
She held the door open for him as he carried the trunk up the short set of stairs into the gift shop. Mabel was at the counter working on one of her scrapbooks, and Stan was stocking their new shipment of bumper stickers.
Stan grunted when he saw the two of them walk in. "Where've you been, kid? Thought you might have gotten tangled up with something in the woods."
"Grunkle Stan, can Pacifica stay here for a bit?"
"Sure, why not? I've got kids coming in and out of here all the time, anyway. Makes no difference to me." He laughed. "I know the gremlins have gotta sleep here cause they're kin to me, but don't the rest of you rugrats have homes?"
Dipper's stomach dropped, and he began frantically making a 'cut it out' gesture at Stan from behind Pacifica.
"Thanks, Mr. Pines," Pacifica replied, a bit more muted than usual. She hadn't looked up since they walked in. Normally, her chin was held aloft.
Stan paused. "Don't mention it, sweetie. Hey, uh… are you...?"
With unconventional social grace, Mabel swiftly leaned over the counter and excitedly grabbed Pacifica's hand, changing the subject and drawing attention away from whatever was happening. "Sleepover mode activated! Beep, boop. Paz, you're just in time, I just got this new set of nail polish, and Dipper won't let me test any of it on him."
"I told you, I would let you paint my nails if it was a color that I wanted," he protested.
"And you didn't want fuschia shimmer, so what's even the point?"
"Mabel–"
"Blah, blah, blah!" She reached over and poked his nose. "Boring! Your new name is Boring McBoringface!"
Dipper could have sworn he saw Pacifica smirk. Just a small smirk. He'd let Mabel paint his nails the same color as Smile Dip if it made Pacifica do that again.
"Oh, I'm so excited! We're gonna play video games, and do makeovers, and eat so much junk food that we puke all our guts out!" His sister vaulted over the counter without warning and threw her arms around both of them, knocking over a bottle of blue crafting glitter in the process. "Pines hug incoming!"
Pacifica was now sandwiched between the twins, and was pretending to look annoyed. She could have easily ducked out of it or told Mabel to back off (and hadn't hesitated to do both of those in the past). But she was allowing it.
Dipper moved his arms to further encase Pacifica and grab Mabel's shoulders, shaking his head with a fake-somber expression. "You might as well accept your fate. Pines hugs are famously inescapable."
Pacifica conceded, wrapping an arm around each twin and patting their backs. "You just made that term up, like, two seconds ago."
Mabel giggled as Stan rolled his eyes and went back to sorting stickers. "I totally did," she sang to an improvised melody. "I'm kind a genius."
A girl screamed on the television, and Dipper jumped.
Pacifica snickered quietly to his left. "Did that actually get you?"
"No." He paused. "Maybe. Kinda."
"You're such a loser," she said under her breath with a smile, her tone approaching the territory of 'fond'.
Something warm and sparkly surged in Dipper's heart for a single beat. It was almost as sparkly as the nail polish on her fingers.
Mabel was sitting criss cross on the carpet in front of the couch, painting the same glitter polish on Pacifica's toes. It was a pretty shade of bluish-green. It matched the tank top the heiress was wearing as pajamas.
The volume of Mabel's voice easily reached over the intense sound effects of Alabama Nail Gun Slaughter. "Paz, you picked the perfect color. How is lake foam green not your entire wardrobe?"
"My mom says purple suits me better." She shrugged and pursed her lips. "I think she's just mad because she's an autumn and I'm a winter."
"I don't know what that means, but screw her." Mabel stuck her tongue out in concentration. "You should wear any color, all the time, literally whenever."
Dipper swallowed down the irritation he felt being reminded of Pacifica's parents. He decided to switch gears before he started fuming and ruined the vibe that had been curated over the past few hours. "Mabel's favorite color is rainbow."
"That tracks." Pacifica nudged his shoulder with hers. "What's yours, then? Also, how has this never come up before?"
"I dunno." He stared at the tiny, flickering screen. "I've never really thought about it that hard."
Mabel blew a raspberry at him. "It's probably some boring nerd answer like steel blue or gray."
"There's nothing wrong with gray. It's a versatile, neutral color."
"Dipper, I was joking," she whined. "You can't actually pick gray! Nobody does that!"
Pacifica hummed and tucked a stray strand of hair back into her messy bun. "You'd look okay in red. Like, a nice, deep crimson or something."
In the movie, an arc of blood splattered across a dingy, white wall with a visceral squelch. "Uh… I don't know if red is my favorite."
"What about navy blue? It'd go great with your skin tone."
"So, does that make me a winter, too?"
"Absolutely not. What made you reach that conclusion?"
"Blue is a winter color, right?"
"That's not how it works."
"He's always been like this, Paz," Mabel added. "If you try to discuss color theory with him too much longer, he's gonna leave because his brain can't handle it."
"I'm not gonna leave," he protested.
Pacifica crossed her arms, but added nothing further to the exchange.
Dipper and Pacifica's sides had been pressed against each other since they had settled down on the couch. All of a sudden, his attention was drawn to the contact, and he wondered if it was too much, if he should scooch over. But, before he could wonder too long, she sighed a heavy sigh and sank deeper into the couch, closer to him.
He looked over at her to try and gauge her thoughts. She was focused on the movie now – or, at least, she appeared to be. If she wanted him to move, she wasn't showing it.
She was probably comfortable, then; he was overthinking it. He decided to stay put. There was no practical reason to disrupt their seating arrangement. And if he also happened to enjoy being so close to her, what of it? That was his business.
He avoided Mabel's eyes. He didn't want to deal with wordless sibling teasing right now, and he knew she would partake.
Everything was blinding. Fire. Sulfur. No air to breathe.
Dipper wasn't a person anymore. He was barely even a consciousness. And yet – the taste of blood was sharp in his mouth, and his eyeballs felt like they were boiling.
He tried to focus his vision, but immediately wished he hadn't when he saw Bill floating in front of him. Laughing.
He tried to look away, but Bill was everywhere. He couldn't be avoided. Dipper couldn't even close his eyes. It was like something was holding them open by force.
The demon had taken trophies from Dipper's loved ones and was wearing them in some sort of twisted costume. Stan and Ford's hands, one from each brother, were crudely stuck on to the ends of his spindly arms. Mabel's lower jaw was sitting on top of his head like a crown. Soos's teeth were jammed into the gums of a maw that had opened on his face. He was skipping rope with Dipper's small intestine.
Laughing.
Laughing.
Laughing.
It felt like he was stuck this way for ages. Watching Bill cackle and skip around on Pacifica's battered legs with Wendy's scalp and hair tied around his midsection like a belt. All of him blood-splattered.
Dipper tried to scream. He tried to cry. He tried to vomit. He tried to…
He couldn't.
He couldn't do anything.
Bill was Laughing.
Dipper awoke with a start.
His breath was uneven and shallow – he opened his eyes wide, trying to see. It was dark. That was good. Dark was better than Bill.
He felt a head on his shoulder. He didn't need to look to know it was Pacifica. She was bony and smelled like champagne and flowers.
His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he remembered he was in the living room of the Shack. Mabel was with them, too; she was fast asleep, snuggled up with Waddles in a nest she had made out of throw pillows. She'd done it a million times before and claimed it was comfortable, so the sight didn't surprise him.
The three of them had been having a sleepover. At some point, the television had been switched off, and blankets had been draped over their sleeping forms.
Dipper spent a few minutes sitting in the quiet dark, taking deep, deliberate breaths. The older he got, the easier his Bill Nightmares were to deal with, but they were never easy and never would be.
Mabel and Pacifica were both with him. They were safe. His grunkles were somewhere in the building, no doubt – probably fast asleep in their bedrooms. They were safe. And Soos and Wendy were at home with their families. Safe.
Bill was dead. The threat had been over for years. He literally had no way to hurt anyone anymore. The nightmare was simply his brain attempting to process stuff. Compartmentalizing.
Dipper had been processing things for a while, though. He wondered if it would ever end.
After he had settled his nerves a little, he grabbed a nearby pillow and slowly began to slide it under Pacifica so she wouldn't crumple as he stood up. She stirred a little, groaning in her sleep, but she didn't rise.
He lingered just to look at her for a moment longer. He didn't think about it very often, since she was his best friend and she just looked like herself to him, but she really was beautiful. It was no mystery how she managed to have the town wrapped around her finger for so long. Her facial structure was somehow both delicate and severe at the same time. Rich genes, he guessed.
This was a really inconvenient crush for him to have.
He forced himself to turn around and walk towards the kitchen before she opened her eyes and found him staring at her like an idiot. Then he'd have two nightmares to recover from.
Well, nightmare was an over exaggeration, compared to what his actual dreams were like. It wouldn't be as bad as that. But it would still be embarrassing.
In truth, Pacifica had woken up as soon as Dipper had. A lifetime at Northwest Manor had made her a very light sleeper. It made her even better at pretending to be unaware of things.
Once he was gone, she missed the warmth Dipper had emanated. It was… nice. Nice to be close to someone, in a physical sense, and to trust them at the same time.
Mabel was very touchy-feely. Once Pacifica started hanging out with the twins, she'd noticed very quickly that the girl was very forthright with showing affection of all kinds, and Pacifica was not exempt by a long shot.
She came to expect frequent hugs from Mabel. And that was nice, too. It was nice being friends with someone who gave out hugs so freely. But Dipper was another story.
It wasn't as if she didn't or couldn't hug him – it simply tended to only happen after emotionally-charged events. On a day-to-day basis, their physical contact was usually limited to fake play-punching, bumping feet under tables at Greasy's, and dragging each other along by the hand while running from whatever monster they'd found that week. She'd never fallen asleep on his shoulder before.
Come to think of it, she'd never fallen asleep on anyone's shoulder before. She wasn't exactly sure what to think of it.
But it was nice.
So she let Dipper slip away without letting him know he had woken her up. It probably would have made him feel bad, right? She didn't want him to feel bad.
How would she even bring this up? Should she bring it up? Would it be weird if she told him she wanted them to hug more often?
…Where the hell had that thought come from?
Before she knew it, twenty minutes had passed. Twenty minutes of her resting her eyes, feigning unconsciousness, overthinking things, and listening to Waddles snorting in his sleep.
The Shack was much cozier than it appeared. Sitting in front of the television, even in the middle of the night, felt uniquely homey. It was easy to lose twenty minutes in your own thoughts in a place like this. If Mr. Pines really did let Pacifica live here for a while, she wouldn't complain. She wouldn't even make any snooty comments about the water stains on the ceiling (not to his face, anyway).
She opened her eyes, the mascara from the night before still thick on her lashes, starting to become a little clumpy. She'd never even washed her makeup off – she hoped the foundation was holding up. That was the most important part. Dipper had already seen what it was covering, and the other Pines were privy to it, but she wasn't ready to endure pitying comments from anyone just yet.
There was a slight clatter from the kitchen. He'd set a plate down too carelessly. She could almost imagine him wince at the sharp noise.
Taking a deep breath, she cast the blanket aside and pushed herself up. She'd given her friend a sufficient grace period. It was time to go bother him.
One of Dipper's grounding mechanisms was ice cream. It was tasty, but it was also cold, and it sometimes made his teeth hurt. It always brought him back down to Earth. Made him feel like a person.
He'd just finished a serving of Neapolitan – but only the vanilla part. The chocolate was for Mabel, and the strawberry was for Stan. They had a system. (Ford didn't like ice cream, so it worked out perfectly.)
Now, he was staring out the window and picking away at a bowl of Happy-Os without any milk. The only carton in the fridge had spoiled, so dry cereal it was.
He heard soft footsteps approaching, and he turned to see Pacifica enter the kitchen.
Her arms were folded in front of her. She looked a little unsure of herself, like she didn't know how to hold her limbs right. Like she was hesitant to join him.
Admittedly, it was a bit strange. He wasn't used to her being at the Shack at the witching hour. But it was a good kind of strange. He liked the idea of sharing a midnight snack with her. He liked the idea of having Pacifica here in general.
Knock it off, brain.
Dipper held the bowl out towards her and jiggled it slightly. A silent offering. She accepted, walking closer at a more confident pace than before and plucking out two whole wheat rings.
As she took the seat next to him, she made a face at the cereal. "No spoons? Real classy."
"Sorry, I didn't realize we were at the fucking Ritz."
"No milk, either."
He replied, deadpan, "Do you want milk with chunks in it?"
She involuntarily gagged a little bit. "Never say that to me again."
The sight made Dipper smirk. Pacifica was funny. People didn't really give her enough credit for that. She didn't try to be funny very often, but her mannerisms tickled him. It was endearing, if nothing else.
He propped his head up on his hand as he took another bite. "Did I wake you up when I got the bowl out of the cabinet?"
"I was kind of in and out all night. I got up because my pillow was gone."
"Oh. Sorry." He sighed. "I… had a nightmare. And eating away my troubles usually helps."
She worried her lower lip. "You could have woken one of us up."
"It's fine. I'm chill now."
"I mean, I know how bad yours get. I wouldn't have minded."
She was telling the truth. Once or twice, he'd texted her in the middle of the night about them (usually when they were about her). He'd never gone into detail, but she could probably make educated guesses about the subject matter. It was one thing she never teased him about, not even as a joke.
But it hadn't even occurred to him to wake one of the girls up, much less Pacifica. She had enough shit going on, and he didn't want to add to it. Causing her more stress was out of the question. Plus, if he was able to self-soothe in this particular instance, there wasn't much of a point, anyway.
He shrugged. "Like I said, I'm feeling a lot better. Just waking up and seeing you guys helped a lot."
"If you say so." She picked at a piece of peeling vinyl on the table and looked away from him. "But, like… I'm here for you, you know. Or whatever."
"I know. Thanks." He paused and regarded her for a moment. "Same goes for you. I've… we've got your back. Me and Mabel."
She smiled, her gaze still pointed down. "I know. Thanks."
"Seriously, just say the word, and Stan and Ford will pay your parents a visit. No questions asked."
"Hah."
"Do you think I'm joking?" He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "One time, Mabel got stood up on a date, and Stan drove around town with his shotgun for three hours looking for the guy."
"No kidding?"
"Yep. Mabel and I both went with him. We made it a bonding moment."
"Of course you did," she replied with an eye roll.
"Pines take care of our own," he insisted, punctuating the statement with a serious nod.
And, all at once, he recognized what he'd just said. His face didn't even have time to turn red before Pacifica gave him a cheeky grin.
She teased, "So I'm your own, huh?"
His cheeks were heating up, but he wasn't about to take it back. "I mean, yeah. You know. Like Soos or Wendy. Candy and Grenda, too." He turned his attention back to the bowl. "Like that."
Good-natured mockery laced her tone as she nudged his shoulder. "Whatever you say, weirdo."
There were crickets outside the window so loud that the sound of their chirping made it through the windowpane. Dipper wasn't sure why cartoons always used crickets to signify awkwardness. It would have been much more awkward if there weren't any crickets. They did a great job of filling the silence – it was becoming more and more comfortable by the second.
Pacifica idly stole another Happy-O. The Pines must have been due for a grocery trip. Spoiled milk and a cereal brand with no marshmallows and hardly any sugar. Honestly.
Despite the lackluster menu, she was content. She was with one of her favorite people in a place where she felt safe, so she could tolerate two-star dining.
It had been a minute or two since either of them said anything, and Dipper's face was still flushed. He had always been quick to blush, and she had just teased him in a way that might be read as flirtatious, so she tried not to read into it.
Not a moment later, his knee started bouncing, and she noticed that he hadn't moved a muscle in an abnormal amount of time.
Okay, yeah – she had made it weird. That was proof.
She was formulating her plans to deflect and start talking about something new when he spoke again. If they were a couple years younger, his voice might have cracked.
"Hey, um, Paz."
"Hmm?"
"We're turning eighteen at the end of the month."
"So you are." She pursed her lips. "That means you'll be going home."
"Yeah."
"I'm gonna miss you."
"Me, too." He started twiddling his thumbs. "Which is why I wanted to talk to you about something."
She didn't respond for a second. They'd been having such a nice time. Why did he pick now to tell her about his secret girlfriend in California, or his plans to move across the country and never come back to the west coast, or something else day-ruining like that?
She nodded slowly. "Okay. Let's talk."
Dipper took a deep breath in and out. The space in the conversation made Pacifica tense.
"Pacifica, I've… liked… a few girls before, and every single time, I've beat around the bush about telling her. And I've told myself multiple times that I'm through with doing that."
That hit Pacifica like a hurricane.
What the hell was he implying?
"And I don't want you to think I'm bringing this up just because of what happened earlier, okay? That's not why. I mean, it kind of played a part – it sorta made me acknowledge it, in my own head? If that makes sense?"
Her heart quickened and a lovely rush of endorphins swept across her chest. What the hell was happening? Sure, maybe she'd considered it once or twice or a dozen times, but he was her best friend, he mattered more to her than anyone, of course she couldn't risk losing him, not over something as inconsequential as a crush –
"The more I think about you moving out of town, about seeing you even less than I already do, because you've got to get out of here soon, we all know you do… I dunno, I guess I just really liked having you over tonight, and I also like sitting here with you, doing nothing."
I like it, too, she thought. Was she reading this wrong? Was she completely off-base? Surely not.
"So I wanted you to know before we leave. Before you leave. Before Gravity Falls stops being something we can rely on every single summer."
"Spit it out, Dipper," she added, quiet and slightly hopeful.
He sighed again. She could have slugged him.
"I wanted to tell you that… you're, um… really important to me," he said, his voice on the verge of shaky. "...and I feel things about you… that some might classify as romantic…esque. In nature." His eyes shut tight. "In certain circles."
Crickets.
"Well, I think it's both admirable and gutsy of you to tell me you're crushing on me when I look like this."
"What?" Dipper looked directly at her for the first time since the confession monologue began. "You look great."
Pacifica self-consciously tried to smooth down any flyaways that had escaped her updo. She hadn't freshened up in almost eight hours. "Of course you think I look great right now. You're a teenage boy, and I'm a girl your age wearing pajama shorts in your kitchen."
"I'm serious."
There were the happy endorphins again. "So am I."
"Why are you so stubborn?"
"It's a defense mechanism I use when I feel emotionally vulnerable so I don't appear weak."
His eyebrows raised. "Very self-reflective of you."
"I have my moments."
"Well, uh…" Dipper ran a hand through his curls and scratched the back of his head. "What are your thoughts on the matter, then?"
"Truthfully?"
"Ideally, it would be the truth, yeah."
She linked her fingers behind her neck and leaned over on the table. "I don't know."
"I'd understand if you don't feel the same way." His tone lowered and became a bit more gentle. "I just wanted to tell you the truth."
"Oh, I do." Now her face was turning pink. "I definitely feel the same way. I just don't know what to do with it."
"Oh." He froze again. "Okay. That's good, right?"
"I think so."
"We'll count it as good."
"I mean, on one hand, for most of my life, things have been predetermined. Everything has always been chosen for me. That includes any and all romance."
"How does that work?"
"Do you remember Marius?"
Dipper's brow furrowed. "Grenda's boyfriend?"
"The prince from Austria." She leaned in closer for emphasis. "Our parents were trying to set up an arranged marriage between us at the Northwest Fest that year."
He made the same face he made every time she told him a new factoid about rich people "You're kidding."
"For real. But you and I were busy running around the Manor hunting ghosts, and he fell for Grenda before we even met."
"So it didn't work out, huh?"
"Not that I wanted it to." Pacifica rolled her eyes. "He wears these massive shoulder pads that make him look like a tryhard."
"I don't think you count as a tryhard if you were born into royalty."
"He should know better than to look like one, then."
For the first time in several minutes, Dipper took another bite of cereal. "Have you had any other Northwest-sanctioned suitors?"
"A couple, yeah. I've never been on a date that wasn't arranged and chaperoned by my family and our staff."
"And what was that like?"
"Weird." She sighed. "Super weird. One time, they made me kiss a guy goodnight for a photo op."
"Eugh."
"Right? Not even my first kiss was on my own terms." She tried not to let it show how awful saying it out loud tasted on her tongue. "And the article wasn't even published in the end, cause the arrangement fell through."
"I'm sorry, Paz." He crossed his arms as his frown deepened. "That is really weird. You didn't deserve that."
"It could have been worse, at least. It lasted for, like, half a second. And he wasn't into it, either."
"Still."
"Yeah. Still."
There was a thick air between the two of them. Pacifica felt like touching his skin at that very moment might shock her, like static.
She'd never told him any of that before. That was a part of her life that she preferred to ignore entirely, save for occasions when it was absolutely necessary (like right now, she supposed. she didn't want him to think her uncertainty was any fault of his own).
But she could trust Dipper. She was glad they were finally having this conversation.
In the back of her mind, she wondered how long she had wanted this, wanted him, without even realizing – or allowing herself to realize.
She looked like she was deep in thought. His mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out what the best course of action was.
So he told her about his feelings. That was good. And she liked him back. That was even better. But she had some pretty unique baggage concerning relationships. There was a distinct possibility that she wouldn't want to pursue anything official.
…Honestly, that was fine, too. It wasn't fine, in the sense that he cared about the wellbeing of his best friend and hearing about her trauma just made him hate her family even more, but it didn't make him feel any different about her. He still really liked Pacifica, and he felt at peace knowing that she knew that. He'd be whatever she needed him to be.
Sappy, much? he thought.
The bowl was almost empty now. Daylight would come soon. Dipper would kind of miss the stillness of the night. It allowed for talks like this to happen.
They made eye contact. She smiled at him.
He said, "If it makes you feel any better, my first kiss was with a merman."
Her eyes narrowed. "No, it wasn't."
"Yes, it was."
"There's no way."
"I gave him reverse CPR after my sister and I saved him from the public pool." He chuckled and shook his head. "She still has the picture in one of her scrapbooks somewhere."
She looked a bit skeptical. "That was CPR. That doesn't really count."
"Mabel says it does."
"I don't think it has to. You were saving his life."
"Well, if mine doesn't count, yours doesn't either. Does that sound fair?"
"I guess." Her valley girl accent emerged on the second syllable.
Another pause.
Pacifica sat up a bit straighter and shut her eyes. "On the other hand… with all that being said…"
"The other hand?" He blinked. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about the first hand."
"We kind of got sidetracked."
"As one does."
"Shut up for a minute, Dipper."
Dipper shut up.
Pacifica's eyes shut even tighter, like she was trying to choose her words carefully. "With all that being said, with all the suitors and arranged dates and weirdness… I've never felt a single thing for any of those guys. Like, maybe I thought one or two of them were kinda cute, but that didn't matter. None of them had fought ghosts with me. For me."
Dipper's stomach did a backflip.
"And how would I explain all the Gravity Falls bullshit to any of them? I still have nightmares about being turned into a piece of fabric, Dipper." She opened her eyes, but stared at the table again. "I'm locked in the chest with all those Bill tapestries you and I got rid of ages ago, sinking to the bottom of the lake, water filling my lungs, which makes no sense, because I'm a fucking tapestry…"
He lightly shifted his knee over so it was touching hers. Not interrupting her, not saying anything with words, but acting as a tether so she wouldn't lose herself in the memory.
She sighed. "How would I even explain something like that to the kind of guy my parents want me to be with?"
"I get what you mean." He pressed a couple fingernails into his palm, just a slight pressure. Even his parents didn't know. Not really. They knew about gnomes and unicorns and things like that, but Weirdmageddon was something he and Mabel kept and coped with by themselves (mostly by crying in each other's arms on school nights as quietly as possible). If Mom and Dad knew the whole story, they would have never let the twins return to Oregon.
Pacifica eyed his hands for a moment, and then, after a moment of consideration, slipped her hand into his.
They held hands for a few peaceful moments. Their fingers laced together, and he unconsciously rubbed his thumb across her skin. He would have been embarrassed or flustered if it was anyone else, but it was Paz, and the gesture seemed to release a little bit of the tension from her shoulders.
He expected a rush of butterflies, and they did come, in a sense, but they didn't make his blood feel like it was on fire like they normally did. These were softer.
She smiled without any pretense or hidden emotion. "I feel really safe here. Around you, I mean. I don't feel like I have to act any nicer or more cruel than I actually am. I don't have to lie. I can just… be."
Something akin to pride swelled in his chest. Was it arrogant to be happy about being your crush's safe place?
"Plus, in certain lighting, you're pretty cute, you know that?"
Dipper scoffed. His cheeks were getting warm again. "Of course there's a qualifier to my attractiveness levels." He knew she'd been kidding around, but this was what they did. They gave each other a hard time.
"Okay, fine. You're always cute. Sometimes, you're so cute that it pisses me off." She pulled her knee away just to knock it back into his. "Is that better? Is your giant head satisfied? Are you happy now?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "I'm happy."
The corners of her lips were turned up like she had a secret. "Me, too."
He squeezed her hand. "So, do you wanna give it a try?"
"Us?"
"Yeah." He was surprised at how much he felt at ease. He would be okay with any answer she gave him as long as they were still friends once the sun came up. "I'll leave it up to you."
If this conversation had happened just a few short years ago, his palms would have been unreasonably sweaty right now, and he would have stumbled over all his words. He'd come a long way since then.
She bit her lip and looked contemplative for a moment. Just a moment. Then, she looked into his eyes. They both had brown eyes, but his were more of a warm chestnut, and hers were darker and deeper, like the forests around town. He often got lost in both.
She blinked, and he regained his train of thought. "It's worth a shot, I guess," she replied, her flushed face betraying her nonchalance.
Butterflies nearly knocked him out of his chair. He would have been fine if she said no, of course, but he couldn't deny that he was excited that she said yes. Who wouldn't be? She was witty, clever, brave, easy to talk to–
"Okay!" he exclaimed, a little bit too loudly, a little bit too enthusiastically. He cleared his throat, nervously looking towards the living room. "Okay."
This made her laugh. She covered her mouth with her free hand to muffle the noise. "When's the last time I called you a loser?"
"A couple hours before we dozed off."
"Oh, wow." She narrowed her eyes at him in a teasing manner. "So you keep track of my insults."
"I pay attention to things."
"Loser."
The way she said it, it sounded like a pet name. It made him wanna pick her up and twirl her around like they were in one of those sappy movies Mabel and Stan watched.
Pacifica's heart was still pumping at a higher rate than normal, but it had evened out. She had grown accustomed to the sensation, and it was pleasant. She wanted to feel like this all the time.
Dipper was watching her every movement - not with scrutiny, but with admiration. She was used to being admired. What she wasn't used to was being admired and known. It was a little intoxicating.
She tilted her head at him. "So, what do we do now? Like, what's the protocol?"
"I dunno." He beamed at her. "We can do whatever we want, I guess."
"Whatever we want, huh?" The gears in her brain began turning. There was a lot she wanted to do right now. Aimlessly jump up and down. Run back to her house on foot and throw raw eggs at the gate while shouting obscenities at the sky. Narrowly escape death with her best friends and gain a new scar. Start making out with Dipper right then and there.
Instead, she found herself saying, "Can we take it a little slow?"
Immediately, Dipper nodded. "Of course. Whatever you need, okay?"
Wow. That was easy.
She liked him. She liked him a lot. She might have even loved him. But she didn't want them to burn out too quickly, like a comet entering the atmosphere, or something else science-y like that. She didn't want to end up like either of their parents, fighting and tearing at each other's souls because they'd made a mistake in pursuing each other. She would have rather died.
"It's kind of hard to explain, but I just don't… I don't know. I've never had a real boyfriend before. And you're my best friend in the entire world, and I really like you, and I just–"
"It's okay, Paz. Honest." He placed his free hand over their joined ones. "I've never been in a relationship, either. But we can figure it out as we go, okay? There's not, like, a rulebook or anything."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." She scooted her chair a bit closer to him. "I'd like that."
They were closer now. She could have laid her head on his shoulder again if she wanted, but it might have been a bit uncomfortable to fall back asleep in kitchen table chairs.
Dawn was starting to seep through the trees, casting everything in a muted, orangey haze. The shadows cast on Dipper's face looked like home.
He looked at her with tender eyes. "What do you want to do now?"
"Hmm…" She breathed in, breathed out. "Like, right this second?"
"Uh-huh."
"I kind of want to hug you."
It clearly wasn't the response he had been expecting, but the look of mild surprise that appeared on his face was amusing. "A hug?"
"Yeah," she trilled. "Like, a really big, long, comfy hug. We never hug when there's no reason to, and I want to do that more often."
"You could have just asked, and I would have given you as many hugs as you wanted."
"I know, okay? I'm asking now."
"Okey dokey, then."
So they hugged.
She savored every last detail, all the minutiae involved with giving and receiving a hug. The way his shirt smelled just faintly of cheap laundry detergent. The way her chin tucked perfectly, just so, into the crook of his neck. The safety and security of his arms and torso as they enveloped her. The stable, steadfast feeling she got by holding him in return. Nothing could touch her. Nothing could touch him, either. It was like being in a warm, cozy fortress.
She lost track of time. How long did they embrace? A few minutes? A few hours? Who could say? (It obviously wasn't a few hours, but it might as well have been.)
She never once grew tired of it. She hoped he didn't, either – surely, if he had, he would have ended it sooner, right? And, judging by the happy little sigh he did when she ran her fingers through his hair, he was pretty content, too. Either way, he would deal. This hug was over when she said it was over.
They only separated when they heard Mabel emit a comically loud yawn from the living room. It wasn't the kind of yawn someone's mouth would naturally make. No, she was signalling something.
Dipper glanced at the doorway with a hint of annoyance. "Do you think she saw? Or heard?"
"Saw? For sure. Heard? Who knows. You probably woke her up when you yelped like a wounded animal after I agreed to be your girlfriend." Pacifica smoothed her hair down again. "I'm just glad she didn't barge in."
"I'm surprised she hasn't tried to push us together before. She kinda likes to meddle in peoples' love lives."
"Did she know about your crush on me?"
"No." His brow furrowed. "She's teased me about the idea of dating you a handful of times, but it's been ages."
She took one last piece of cereal before standing up. "Maybe she's matured out of her matchmaking phase."
"Not a chance. Just last week, she went full Cupid and tried setting up a blind date for great uncle Ford." He gestured his hands for emphasis. "Ford."
As if on cue, Mabel appeared in the door frame, leaning against it with one arm and covering a yawn with the other. She looked like she was posing for a picture, and she was doing a terrible job at hiding her smile. Waddles trailed in behind her and headed for the table. "Good morning, everyone!"
"Morning," Pacifica replied as Dipper tossed the pig a Happy-O.
"Did we all have sweet dreams?" She winked about six times in a row as she spoke. "Sweet, fluffy, cotton candy dreams, full of butterfly kisses and sugar and confessions of true love?"
"Mabel, stop being weird."
"Whatever do you mean, bro-bro?"
Pacifica scratched the pig's head as the twins began to bicker. "So much for taking things slow, right?"
Waddles oinked and snuffled at her leg with his wet nose. She didn't find it quite as repulsive as she once did.