Chapter Text
The sound of traffic passing by on Interstate Five made talking on the phone a challenge unto itself, even if the vehicles making up the metallic flow weren’t proceeding at the typical cruising speed. Between said background noise, the winching of his beloved Subaru onto a flatbed, and knowing the trooper could return to them with further instructions at any moment, plus a visibly shaken sibling, it made for a conversation Dipper wanted to end as soon as possible.
“Dad, I wasn’t screwing around! We were in the right lane, heading around a curve, I was going 52 in a 60, and we hit a patch of ice,” Dipper assured. “Yes, it has all wheel drive, but if three of the wheel are on ice th— (pause) yes, I knew it was icy out, but you can’t see black ice. That’s the idea!”
Mabel heard a longer pause and surmised a frustrated parental reply coming out of the speaker end, during which Dipper froze in place, though she had to wonder how much of that was due to the discussion, and how much was due in part to the brisk temperatures and heavy snowfall. His brow was furrowed, his posture stiff, and his eyes darted around, desperately looking for something to focus on besides the misery being metered out by the iPhone.
After a few moments, they found her, about forty feet from where he stood. She knew the last thing that felt natural for him was to smile amidst the mayhem. Yet, when they connected visually, she heard his tone relax and he even managed a grin, one that held on a bit too long to be insincere.
“The cop said he’s not going to issue a citation, no ticket,” he emphasized. “He says there’s a place a few miles north in Medford that a friend of his works at and can have them check it out first thing in the morning. He even called and left a message with our info. It…yeah, it just looks like body damage. (pause) No, part of it’s kind of rubbing against the wheel, but the officer thinks if we can get that secured, it should drive fine. Yeah…the tire’s fine. I figure…yea, probably…”
The whole event happened in the blink of an eye. Dipper had been guiding the sedan down the outside lane of the freeway, traveling a bit under the speed limit due to the inclement weather. They weren’t passing anyone or tailgating, and neither of them had been on the phone. Both captain and navigator were purely focused on the task at-hand.
Moments later, out of nowhere, as they rounded a gentle horizontal curve, they started to slide towards the side of the road. Dipper pulled the wheel to the left and backed off the accelerator, thinking he was merely drifting outside of the lane, but the correction caused the car to spin. The twins sucked in their breath and held it through the entire event, barely making a peep. Within seconds, they had completed nearly an entire rotation when the front passenger corner of the car struck a section of barrier, halting the vehicle abruptly.
Replaying the mortifying incident in her head, Mabel leaned against the guardrail, pulling her lightweight jacket in around her as tight as possible. The reckless teens they were, they hadn’t packed with the need to wade through a snowstorm in mind. As far as they were concerned, they were taking a simple, Spring Break road-trip from the Bay Area up to see the University of Oregon campus in Eugene, spend Wednesday and Thursday nights, and then head back home in time to fulfill their weekend work schedules. Considering it was mid-March, and the warm sun was already bathing their home to the south in a daily wash of unfettered brilliance, the last thing they thought to grab was a parka and snow pants.
Fortunately, while the jacket wasn’t providing much protection from the elements, the crimson crew-neck sweater she had donned that morning — upon which a heart-shaped locket rested — was doing a much more satisfactory job. Initially, she was concerned she’d be too warm on the southbound trip; holding her position amongst the thousands of snowflakes dancing in the air currents, she was grateful she had gone with her first intuition. Additionally, her jeans stopped most of the wind from targeting her smooth, unblemished skin; her hiking boots provided the requisite solid footing to deal with the ice; and her cobalt blue headband was keeping her remarkable cascade of hair relatively in place. At the moment, though, she did yearn for a stocking cap.
‘I can’t believe this happened,’ Mabel thought to herself, looking up and down the congested freeway. She reasoned the gawkers were queued up at least a mile deep. One on hand, she felt embarrassed and simply guilty for slowing the journey of so many families passing though the narrow, isolated stretch of roadway. On the other hand, though, she also knew if they didn't feel the need to grind to a halt, just to properly survey the misfortune, they’re be on their merry way much sooner.
Regardless, she did count her blessings that not only was Dipper and herself unharmed, but no other vehicles were caught up in the melee, either. Not that what they had to face in the near-term was anything anyone could term as fun; the worst-case scenario had been ruled out, but plenty of unpleasant truths remained on the table.
‘Still,’ she thought with a mental shiver to match the climatological one, ‘it could have been so much worse.’
The sun was setting quickly and darkness had started to fall. The thick clouds overhead muted any light the distant star was casting forth, and were merely shifting from a light grey to a darker tint. Additionally, the wind, which was the real culprit in making the roads so treacherous, was kicking up again. The whispers working their way between the lightweight fibers of her coat, her burning desire was to cozy up some place warm and forget about the lackluster trip as a whole, but, more specifically, that day.
“Mabes, come on. The tow truck is gonna give us a ride into town,” she heard her brother call to her, waving in his direction.
Stepping carefully, not wanting to slip and provide the slack-jawed motorists with additional footage to post online, she strode along the roadway shoulder and met Dipper at the open passenger-side door of the churning diesel truck, right as he gave the understanding officer a wave good-bye.
“Let’s get outta here,” Dipper pronounced with a justifiably weary sigh, entering the cab of the hulking utility vehicle first so as to allow Mabel both the window and separation from their heroic tow truck captain, whom the name tag informed them went by the name, ‘Bob’. They swiftly buckled in and headed for Medford, a modest city a mere fifteen miles down the road.
Dipper had donned his usual garb that morning: a plaid button-up, over a basic tee — this time of the grey variety — baggy jeans, sneakers, and a ball-cap. Just as her brother relied on regularity as part of his daily routine, the same applied to his habiliment. Luckily for him, Mabel found it comforting and perfectly befitting of his sweet, no-frills personality.
“They said they’re glad we’re okay and that Waddles misses you,” Dipper passed on to his sister, recapping bits of the conversation she wasn’t aware of — a predictable, through necessary, report.
“My silly piglet,” Mabel replied with a bemused smirk, visualizing him lazing around in her bed, awaiting their return. Even though the swine was hardly a baby anymore, Mabel would always see him that way, cherishing the memories that surrounded that unbelievable summer, and never wanting to let them go.
The ride in was fairly uneventful, soundtracked with a variety of classic and modern country hits. Their towing professional was friendly enough, though he did manage to work in a few references to Californians not knowing how to drive in the snow; Dipper decided it probably was wisest to take the lumps considering the events that had recently transpired. To his credit, though, Bob did go above and beyond, offering the stranded siblings transport to their overnight lodgings.
“You guys have a place to stay tonight?” their ersatz getaway driver asked, while lowering the wrecked vehicle down onto the ground at Otto’s Haus of Autos.
“Ummm…not yet. I was looking at the options. Seems like there’s a decent motel at the south end of town that should have rooms. The Grand Plaza?” Dipper thought aloud, scrolling through his phone, Mabel peering over his shoulder.
“Really nice hotel. That’s about a mile that a-way,” Bob informed them, pointing in the proper direction. “I’ll give you a ride here in a sec.”
“Oh, You don’t need to,” Mabel said, though she secretly hoped her concern would be cast aside in lieu of small-town folksiness.
“Nah. It’s fine. My next call is out that way anyhow. Hop back in the cab and we’ll get going,” he assured them while completing the required clean-up duties.
Shutting the door behind them, the twins huddled in front of the dashboard vents that cannoned hot air into the truck’s cabin. They were grateful for the searing jets in that moment, as Bob had left the driver-side door open, likely both out of habit and also being used to living in a place with four seasons.
“So, what will your last words be before he kills us in a soundproof cabin outside of town?” Mabel asked, hoping to get a smile out of her mentally-taxed brother.
“I’m thinking ‘Sir, this is a Wendy’s’. Something that will probably tick him off, while still being confusing,” he responded dryly. “You?”
“Well,” Mabel considered, tilting her head to the left before choosing, “what if I just scream, ‘LEEROY JENKINS!’?”
“I’d think being the victim, he would be the one shouting it, right? I mean, if you’re, like, tied to a stump—“
“Let’s head out,” Bob said while hoisting himself into the truck, surprising the twins, having snuck up around the back; luckily, the command quickly shut down the convivial chatter before he was the wiser for it.
With a quick peek into the cramped back row of seating, Mabel made sure that both of their bags were safety stowed away, her brother having performed the transfer upon the truck’s arrival at the scene. Seeing as their chauffeur was preoccupied, looking to the left in an attempt to find a gap in Main Street traffic, she reached over and squeezed Dipper’s hand. Savoring a warmth that never dulled in the chilliest of conditions — even while gloveless and in a snowstorm — he looked to his right and smiled.
Mabel knew, though, there was something behind that grin. It was a sadness that was determined to blend into the background inconspicuously. The interloping pall would have succeeded were the observer not been the single soul who knew the possessor better than anyone else ever could. She had seen this veil in his eyes on a consistent basis since one particular evening, five months ago.
Shuttered away from the outside world, in a hideaway lit solely by low-wattage, multi-colored Christmas lights, Mabel sat alone, cross-legged atop her bed. Beneath her was a handmade blanket, crafted in a patchwork style; some squares were simple, solid colors, while others presented images that held a deeper meaning. Her brown eyes still rimmed with the dregs of saline shed earlier, she tried to keep her composure, channeling what little patience she could muster into a game of Candy Crush.
‘Oh come on!’ she shouted at the screen mentally, deeming it to be the unfortunate barer of her scorn for the time being.
As soon as she had bolted up the stairs, stormed down the upstairs hall, passed Dipper’s open door without pausing, and slammed her own shut, the high school senior began to disrobe and decompress after a night she wanted to forget as soon as possible. Letting her hair down, she put in a pair of rainbow barrettes Dipper had gifted a couple birthdays ago that always cheered her up when she was blue. Then, tossing aside her autumn-hued dress into a pile on the floor, she slid into a pair of sweatpants and paired to it a hoodie she had picked out on a trip to Seattle during the prior Spring Break, with the comical term “Liquid Sunshine” scrawled across the front; it was an alien term to those living in California, but the umbrella and raindrops behind the lettering fit her mood at the moment.
Finally feeling free of the disaster of a date, she cozied up under her bed’s canopy and plunked her stuffed kangaroo in her lap, keeping it nestled between her arms, using its absorbent scalp to catch the occasional stubborn teardrop that was holding on until the bitter end. Tapping away at the screen, she knew what was eventually going to come next. Mentally, trying not to draw too much focus away from her electronic efforts, she figured it had been about ten or so minutes. That was usually about the time that he would allow her to cool off before…
‘Knock, knock,’ she heard, the sound so expected it didn’t even cause her to raise an eyebrow.
“Do…you need an awkward sibling hug?” she heard Dipper goofily say aloud from the other side of her bedroom door.
‘You’re such a dork,’ she thought between sniffles, continuing to dab away her tears with a tissue that was well past its usefulness, all while barely holding back a grin.
She said nothing in return; what could she say? She knew this was the third time in the last month that she had come home crying after a date gone wrong: a new record. She also knew exactly how the night would end: her brother would comfort her, build her character back up enough to where she could go to sleep peacefully, and she’d wake up the next day like nothing happened.
‘But…something is happening,’ she admitted internally, lifting her eyes up for a second, to glance at the timbered portal. ‘Something is…and I’m fucking terrified.’
It hadn’t been days or weeks or even months by that point. Inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly through pursed lips, she knew that for over five years she had been unsuccessfully trying to wish away the feelings, to pray them away, to cry them away. The sentiments that started as something akin to an embarrassing crush had now grown into something that kept her awake at night; not out of lust or desire, but fear and shame, listlessness and isolation.
During the day, she hid behind a smile, because that’s who she was, and when he was around, it was an effortless disguise. When she saw his face, even from across the lunchroom at school, the anguish and each of its miserable companions faded away. When she was around him, she didn’t question these feelings she had developed; in his company, she felt exactly as she should: in her element and fearing nothing.
The compounding of such a concept on top of that evening’s failed encounter with David Grantham from Misses Anderson’s biology class in second period made her want to cry even harder, to the point where she could simply drown in the resultant body of salt water. She knew it would be futile, though, because the moment she slipped beneath the surface, she would inevitably be rescued by a pair of hands she had known since before her lungs had tasted the air.
Lifting her gaze to the door once more, she waited. Even though she hadn’t responded, she knew he remained at his post, waiting patiently and devotedly. For every voice inside her that screamed how wrong it was for her to be harboring these feelings towards him, she would think of the countless times, like this one, where he would stand at the ready to protect her, to comfort her, to make her smile even when it was the last thing she wanted to do. She had shut the door not only to cry in the dark, cloistered away like a wounded animal; she shut it to keep herself from giving into what stood on the other side.
“Mabes, can I come in…please?” Dipper pled solemnly.
‘What the fuck am I going to do?’ she thought at hearing his gentle timbre.
Both she and Dipper had been going through course catalogs since getting back from Gravity Falls a couple months prior. College was the topic of every dinner conversation and brought up at least a dozen times during the course of a typical school day. She would often look around and see how excited everyone was to move on, and while she was looking forward to getting away from the misery of high school drama, it also brought on a realization that gnawed away at her soul.
Dipper wanted to attend Berkeley, where his penchant for all things scientific would be nurtured. Mabel, on the other hand, remained on the fence, her preference on where to earn her art degree wavering depending on whatever day of the week it was. The mere thought of the distance that would likely separate their chosen institutions, however, washed out any excitement she may have once felt years ago when the family was planning out where the Pines children might some day spread their wings.
Any time she would maybe feel a small bit of excitement over talking with Candy and Grenda about what college life would be like and the adventures it would entail, her mind would always go back to the one person in her life that made adventures worthwhile in the first place. Each day, though, brought that inevitable shift in their timelines closer; the foretold experiences were drawing nearer, whether she was ready to welcome them or not.
‘What am I going to do?’ she repeated, feeling lost and out of answers.
Lifting her face up from the oversized marsupial Dipper had won her at a carnival a few years prior, she stared through the darkness blankly. While her brain may have stalled out, her heart knew how to guide her down the one path she ever trusted…and ever really needed.
Setting aside the tear-stained plushie, she grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. Taking a deep breath, she inched her way off the bed and slowly traipsed towards the door. Placing her hand on the knob, she turned it with great intention and consideration, almost feeling as though time was grinding to a halt. The latched freed, at a glacial pace, she cracked passageway open.
“Hey,” Dipper said softly in a very calm and collected manner.
She could tell by his expression he could see her reddened eyes and smeared makeup. Above and behind him, the upstairs hall light glowed, leaving an almost heavenly outline abound his profile. From under his baseball cap, she could see the vestiges of a muted smile, the sight of which warmed her ailing heart in ways no living creature else could.
‘Stop,’ she thought to herself, unconsciously sniffing back her runny nose. ‘You can’t. Stop.’
“Can I come in?” he requested again, softly.
Wordlessly, she nodded slowly, sniffled again, and stood to the side, prying open the door just enough to allow his slender frame to slip into her quarters. Upon his entry, she shut the door and made her way back over to the bed. Crawling onto the quilt, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them.
Dipper followed her over to the sleeping chamber, choosing to sit on the edge. Looking around, he took in the various elements that made up her room, each a detail that described her character. The multi-colored Christmas lights that ringed the top of the darkened room was her brilliant personality that lit up even the blackest corners of the universe. The overflowing box of fabric scraps in one corner — similar to the ones she used to lovingly assemble the oversized quilt they currently sat upon — symbolized her ability to make beauty out of a seemingly irreparable mess. Of course, there was also her collection of stuffed animals, an attribute that spoke to her innocent and unassailable heart.
Mabel sat quietly, not knowing where to start, while also acknowledging that Dipper didn’t need to be brought up to speed on what had occurred earlier that night. He had seen it countless times and could have almost written out a script in anticipation of this instance. For his love of planning, though, he never approached matters of her heart in this manner. This was different for him, as it was for her.
“I’m sorry about tonight, sis,” he started, as most of the other occasions did, as well.
“Just say, ‘I told you so’,” Mabel goaded quietly, the ire more projection than anything else.
“Do you really think I’d ever say that?” Dipper’s words weren’t filled with anger or bitterness; there was a resolve in them that sought to comfort her jangled nerves, not assail them.
“No,” she meekly conceded after a few moments, knowing it to be the undeniable truth.
“Do you wanna talk about what happened?”
“Not really, not much to say,” she replied, feeling as though there simply wasn’t a point to going over how her date made fun of her outfit and had basically ditched her for some friends he ran into.
“All right,” he sighed, reaching around and giving her a squeeze around the waist, the gesture spreading warmth from the point of contact to her entire viscera. She wanted to hum in delight over the sensation, but held back.
“I’m always here if you change your mind,” he added, which quickly reminded her of how scant their remaining time together was, how in less than a year, these late night visits would no longer be possible, how she wouldn’t be able to feel his touch without traveling a great distance and having to answer a plethora of awkward questions. That recognition brought the tears back in short order.
“I know. It’s not your fault I have such horrible taste in guys,” she wept quietly.
“You don’t, sis,” he replied. “Guys are just…jerks.”
His simple summation hung in the air, with Mabel not finding much to quibble over and Dipper happy to let the silence take over in the meantime.
“Not all of them,” she offered, looking over to her left and into his eyes.
She was in shock that she had found the courage to say something so bold and direct. While it couldn’t be bluntly construed as a come-on, the smile she spoke the words through added an unmistakeable degree of implication, a sentiment Dipper almost seemed to pick up on as evidenced in his throat going dry.
“Oh, yeah,” he coughed while rolling his eyes in a very self-deprecating manner, trying to play off a heavy blush that was rising in his cheeks, “I’m a delight.”
“You are,” she pushed, pairing it with a playful jab to his shoulder, refusing his attempt to dodge the compliment. “I wish I could find a guy who’s as nice and genuine as you, Dip.”
She could see he was taking her wishes into consideration, mulling them over before summoning a proper response, almost like passing a paper communique in the back of a classroom, waiting in rapt anticipation of what secrets were tucked within the folds.
“Mabes, if you’re wanting someone like me,” he began, speaking slowly and deliberately, clearly grasping the gravity of the inquiry, “why do you keep dating guys who are the opposite of me?”
The words were hard to hear, but spoke the truth, loud and clear. There was boundless concern in his tone. His mission wasn’t to accuse or harass; it was spurred by a desire to discover the cause of a plague in the hopes of determining a therapeutic treatment. The problem lay in the fact that he was the cure and her fears, the virus.
“I don’t know why, Dip. I wish I did,” she answered, feeling as though this conversation was shaping up the same way all the prior ones had, until he picked up the baton she had dropped within sight of the finish line and, to her surprise, made a sprint for the tape.
“Wanna know what I think?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“Sure.”
“I think…” he began, each syllable a challenge to get out, as evidenced by his quivering lower lip and eyes that she could see were brimming with tears in the faint lumens of holiday lighting, “I think you already know the guy you want and need, but it scares you so much…that you’re running as fast as you can in the other direction in the hope that you’ll forget and move on, even if it means having to put up with jerks.”
His piece said, he looked to his right, tears rolling down his cheeks. Conversely, her sobbing had quieted, replaced by a disquieting shock that took hold upon hearing his keen observation, forcing her into a state of disbelief as opposed to that of grief.
‘What is going on?’ she thought, her already weary mindset jolted back to life, knowing how much was riding on this very exchange and how it concluded.
“Dipper,” she started, her speech more air than audio, metering the words with the greatest of care to ensure they couldn’t be misheard or misconstrued, “what are you saying?”
She sat frozen, staring into her brother’s watery eyes, begging for confirmation that she wasn’t imagining his intentions, that she wasn’t crazy in how she was interpreting his broken-hearted message.
‘Come on, bro,’ she yearned silently.
“I gotta go,” he said, quickly wiping his eyes on a shirt sleeve.
“Wait!! What!?” Mabel panicked.
“Sorry. I gotta…” he started again, repeating himself, leaping from the bed and onto the carpet.
Mabel, however, was equally as fast.
“Bro, just talk—“
“I can’t,” he half-heartedly swore, trying to step around his sister who had taken up a defensive position between him and the one way out.
“Dipper, talk to me! You have to trust me! Tell me what’s going on!”
“No, Mabel, I can’t. I need to go…I have to…” he dithered through closed eyes and tears of frustration, reaching for the handle that would, upon being turned, allow him safe passage to the hallway and away from the feeling he so desperately had fought…
“Dipper! Stop!” she boomed, while grabbing him by his shirt and, with a force that surprised them both, shoving him back into the wall adjacent to the door with a resounding thud.
Through the darkness, they exchanged looks of utter disbelief that they had reached a crossroads that neither had spied on the horizon. With eyes wide open — shimmering and vulnerable — they would have to decide in that instant where to go henceforth, knowing full well it would affect them in the deepest and most profound way possible for their rest of their lives.
Their blood pumped with the ferocity of a horde of white-capped waves at last making contact with an expanse of limestone cliffs, have travelled thousand of miles for the right to shatter into a mist of fury and disappear into the sands. Conversely, their breaths were shallow, withholding their cache of oxygen for whatever was about to come next. Both of them felt as though every molecule of their chemical makeup was locked in place, resisting even the rotation of the planet they stood on, building potential energy, ready to act.
Then, without any further hesitation, they leaned in and kissed. A supernova-like release of long-repressed passion, one smooch swiftly led to another, the untethered emotion of each building upon the prior, like an out-of-control nuclear reaction. The exchange was hot, desperate, yearning, and unstoppable, an unquenchable fire that consumed their animalistic fuel, all while demanding more.
Dipper’s hands started to explore her body, running his fingers along each curve he had longed to caress for far too long, almost tearing up over — at last — having the opportunity. He began by cupping her pert posterior, gently squeeing it while pulling her in closer; the feeling made her coo in between smooches. Next, he shifted his hold to tenderly grip her feminine hips, ones that had definitely broadened as she matured. Then, his heart beating with an unprecedented fury, he gently reached up and touched her breasts, exploring their shape and softness.
Without a break in the lip-locking, Mabel took hold of his right hand, followed by his left, and quickly plunged them under her sweatshirt, placing them directly atop her chest once again. While it wasn’t skin to skin, his eyes nonetheless opened wide as he took in their warmth and size to a greater degree, her boldness enticing him further.
‘So that’s what she’s been hiding under those sweaters,’ he thought in ecstasy.
Mabel was taking advantage of her own chance to discover his physical features, as well. Running her fingertips along his jawline, she took in its development and definition. Slowly, she dragged her palms down his back before bringing them in front. To her delight, as well as a pleased giggle, she felt the definition of his chest; while it wasn’t chiseled, it was more masculine than she had expected.
By this time, Dipper had brought his hands up to cradle Mabel’s head, bringing her mouth in as tightly to his as possible, and running her stunning mane through his grasp. For her part, Mabel wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him in tightly, as well. Words were not spoken, their communication coming purely in gasps and moans.
Luckily, the finer points of speech were not required, as Mabel reached down to hook a finger around one of the belt loops on Dipper’s jeans. With a gentle tug, she clued him into where they should relocate to. With barely any break in their make-out session, she managed to steer him over to her bed. Along the way, employing a stunning fluidity, Dipper pulled her sweatshirt over her head, revealing a white tank top; similarly, after tossing aside his ball cap, she worked his thrift store tee over his mop, revealing his bare chest. They then flopped onto the bed, taking a more horizontal position; without delay, and while on her back, Mabel pulled Dipper on top of her.
Taking a second to catch their wind, Dipper looked down at her and beamed, finally experiencing the freedom that comes with discarding the weight that had been slung around his shoulders for what seemed like ages. In turn, Mabel grinned giddily, almost visibly buzzing with passionate energy, her braces giving off a subdued luster from the overhead mood lighting.
Having waited long enough as is, with his desire unabated and needs yet unquenched, Dipper dove forward and continued to longingly explore his soulmate.
“Oh god, Dip, I love you,” she called out discretely as he began to run a trail of kisses down her neck, knowing their parents were one flight of stairs and a few feet beyond the landing, watching television, accompanied by Waddles, who was undoubtedly sprawled out next to them on the couch.
“Mabel, I love you, too. God, you’re so beautiful,” he declared between pecks, nuzzling against her bosom through the cotton that cupped her breasts, before heading back northward and kissing her nose gently, receiving a content hum in return.
Locking lips again, Dipper shifted to put more weight on her, at which point it became very apparent her brother was fully erect. Feeling the stiffened member through his jeans, she slowly slipped a hand down and gently stroked it through the denim. The initial contact made him yelp in surprise, the sound somewhat muffled thanks to their tongues being rather occupied at the moment.
“Mabel, you’re gonna…ooooohhhh…” he groaned, as she increased the pressure and friction.
“I have waited so long to touch this,” she beamed like a giddy, nascent schoolgirl, whispering it into his ear, before returning to his lips.
Mabel, at last playing out a dream she had tucked away clandestinely in her subconsciousness for years, was almost crying again from the indescribable level of unfettered joy that pulsed through her veins. The exceedingly pleasurable vibes were instantly accentuated moments later, as Dipper shifted his balance onto one side, allowing him to slip a hand under the waist of her sweatpants.
Before she could even let out a gasp, Dipper had wiggled his fingers beneath her panties and was charging to points further south. As for his internal workings, he was also gleefully lost in a miasma of utter ecstasy. Alone in his room, he would often fantasize about such activities, including the visuals and sounds that he was now experiencing first-hand. To finally give into it felt unreal and he treasured every inch of the tender skin he now ran his hand over.
He finally reached her center and immediately was amazed by the heat coming off of it. With the greatest of care, he brushed along the smoothness, causing her to whimper pleasurably into his mouth. As he gently inched a finger along her nether-lips, she responded by jerking at his cock with vigor, a sensation that almost pushed him over the edge then and there.
“Ohhh,” he groaned, trying to keep his tone down, but feeling little control over it at the moment.
Gathering up what focus he could muster, Dipper gently penetrated her vaginal lips with a lone digit, while locating her clitoris with his thumb. Truth be told, this was his first experience with this part of the female form. While he did recall pieces of information from his sexual education courses, it also felt as though his hand was being guided, as if he simply knew how to bring pleasure to her without needing to think it through.
While cautiously working his index finger into her virgin hole, he drew circles around the small bundle of nerve endings with his thumb. The sensation of both colliding together forced a shiver of delight to rip through her body. As such, she was forced to pull his face back into hers with her free hand to stop a scream from escaping her lips, and ricocheting against the walls and possibly down to the family room.
Locked in an erotic cycle of pleasure — simultaneously given and received — their hands doubled their efforts, working with greater intensity, knowing there was no stopping a climax at this point. Their mouths seemingly fused together, their bodies moved in time, undulating back and forth as one. Mabel stroked Dipper, picking up the pace, thoroughly delighted in how rigid his unit was, but at the same time, she also felt her concentration falter, as Dipper was nearing the point of rocketing her to orgasm.
“Dip, oh my god…fuuuuuuuck,” she whined as he furiously pumped his finger in and out of her.
Melting as he stroked her clitoris, knowing she could no longer hold out, she inhaled deeply and held it in, right as the release tore through her person. Completely lost in a sensation she had never experienced with anyone else, and desiring to share the ecstasy in tandem with her destined soulmate, she gave Dipper’s clothed member a few more passionate strokes and pushed him past his limits, as well.
“Mabel! Fuck!” he cried out as he came. Mabel reached up and brought his lips to hers once again, holding on tight as they rode out their orgasm together.
As she shook softly under his weight, he held onto his mental focus long enough to savor her wetness and the gentle whine she let escape upon cresting. The moment her muscles relaxed enough, she opened her eyes and paired to it a heavenly smile that carried rather lustful and mischievous undertones.
“Dipper…” she cooed, lost in the afterglow, while also feeling how large of a wet spot was gathering along the inside of his pant leg. Looking into his eyes, she laughed softly in response to the expression he returned: one that spoke to sheer delight, but also a bit of regret.
“Wow,” he said, staying frozen above her, trying to catch his breath, lacking direction on where to go with the mess he had created in his trousers.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered behind a rather pleased grin, looking around for something to help with the biological puddle.
“No, Mabes; it’s okay. I’ll just go clean up,” he laughed bemusedly, while executing a rather odd slide-roll-hop from her bed. Moving quickly, he grabbed as much of the sodden denim material a possible in his hand for the sake of containment, and hobbled towards the door. At the same time, Mabel laughed into a pillow, enjoying both the pleasure she had provided, and the power she possessed.
Lacking any prior knowledge on how best to cap off the unexpected turn of events, and wishing he didn’t have to bolt so abruptly, as he opened the door and poked his head into the hall to make sure the coast was clear, he looked back towards his sister and spoke softly through the dark:
“I love you, Mabes.”
“I love you, too, brobro.”
With that, he hopped towards his room, shutting the door behind him silently enough to not risk any unwanted attention from either parent or porcine. Mabel, however, was in a state of mind so far removed from the present realm that she didn’t suffer thoughts on their parents finding out or the fire they were playing with.
The warm ebullience she bathed in was one of pure joy. For years, her heart had ached, knowing that while she felt emotions that no sister should have towards her brother — and vise versa — she also didn’t know how he would respond. Furthermore, she shouldered no preconceived notion of how it would feel if they did decide to step over the line and into the study of physical intimacy.
Now that they had, and her greatest wishes — at least in the near-term — had come true, she felt as though she was floating. Every part of her physical makeup was light as a feather and she couldn’t stop smiling inanely at the cloth draped over the top of her canopy bed, or at her kangaroo, or simply the general environs of the room.
‘Everything will be perfect now’, she thought. ‘Everything between Dipper and me will finally fall into place, and we’ll live happily ever after.”
Within the rattling cab of the truck, as she had been staring at him with an unnerving intensity for quite some time, Dipper realized that his sister must have become lost in her thoughts, something that was a frequent diagnosis for the daydreamer. Hoping to not be judged too harshly, he gave her hand another gentle squeeze and withdrew his grip, resting the mitt in his lap and leaving Mabel feeling a bit put out. Seeing her pout softly, he tried to smooth things over with a smile and shrug as if to say, ‘this just isn’t the best place to hold hands,’ but she understood the true intent behind his aloofness. As such, she decided it was exceedingly more interesting to see what was outside the vehicle, as opposed to what was inside.
A few minutes later, they pulled in front of what would hopefully be their lodging for the night. Dipper immediately regretted not calling ahead upon seeing the packed parking lot. Based on the sheer quantity of license plates from California and Washington, it was clear they weren’t alone in their travels up and down the West Coast being interrupted by the storm.
Rolling under the awning, Mabel hopped out of the cab and made for the automatic door, trying to head-off a rather inebriated and boisterous middle-aged couple approaching the same entrance from the left. Hanging back a bit, Dipper turned to beg their benevolent yokel for some additional patience while they tried to secure a room, but before he could summon the words, Bob stopped them.
“Don’t worry. I’ll wait. Don’t let that couple get ahead of you!”
With permission granted, Dipper stepped onto the ground and caught up to Mabel right as she was returning the host’s introductory salutation.
“Hey, we’re needing a room for tonight, maybe two nights…?” Mabel hesitated, looking to him for his thoughts on how long the motoring fiasco would keep them trapped in limbo. Dipper shrugged and sighed with a bit of aggravation, suddenly recalling the next hurdle that would arrive in the morning.
“Probably two,” he conceived.
“All right, how about I look for something with two nights available and if you need to leave tomorrow, let us know before four PM and we can drop that second night?” the concierge offered, to which the twins nodded.
“I’m assuming you two are staying off the road due to the weather?” the front-desk employee asked while she tapped through the reservation system.
“Yeah, we’re just trying to get back to the Bay Area,” Mabel explained, leaning against the counter and on her tiptoes, trying to see what was hidden behind it.
“Gotcha. I heard there was a vehicle that hit the guardrail and was backing up traffic for a ways,” their host named Dina — according to her name tag — continued, clacking away on the keyboard.
“Yup, that was us,” Dipper admitted, with a cough.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Dina apologized profusely, clearly eating her words without looking up. “In this weather, could have happened to anyone. I’m glad you’re both okay.”
“Me too,” Mabel replied, though more to her brother than their host. Smiling in his direction, she tried everything she could in her power to wordlessly will him to a positive mindset, as she knew that having him become even further withdrawn would not help their somewhat dire situation.
“It’s some weather we’re having. Honestly, it’s just bad luck that you’re on the road now. We haven’t seen snow and cold like this in a decade,” Dina assured them, though it did little to improve the mood camped out on the twins’ shoulders.
“We aren’t used to it either, right?” Mabel continued, nodding in her brother’s direction, goading the conversation along to a hopefully positive outcome; he nodded, but stayed silent, looking very overwhelmed.
“Well, you two are in luck, at least in terms of getting a room. We have one left. It is our king suite. To be honest, corporate forces us to up the rates during weather events, but I figure for a cute couple like yourself who’ve run into a bit of misfortune, we can make an exception,” their host explained with a wink.
“Just the king? Uhhhh…” Dipper began, nervously scratching the back of his head, “you don’t have anything with two queens?”
“Oh,” Dina replied, sounding a bit thrown off and suddenly questioning her assumption; complicating things further was the despondent look that appeared on Mabel’s complexion.
“Unfortunately, that is all we have,” their host replied upon giving the booking software a final run through. “I would offer you a rollaway bed, but there aren’t any available at this time.”
Dipper nodded in resignation as he dug his hands into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He knew the accommodations wouldn’t be cheap, but there also wasn’t much else he could do. Demand was high, supply was low, and the sooner they could get settled and through the unplanned stopover, the better.
“No problem,” he summarized unconvincingly while producing the plastic form of payment, knowing the whole time Mabel was broadcasting a barely concealed pout of disappointment over his reaction into the back of his head.
“Thank you for that. Now this will place a hold…” Dina said upon taking the card from Dipper, launching into her spiel regarding how to reach their room and when the hot breakfast would be served until.
The transaction complete, Dipper was handed the two keys and was bid farewell for the time being by Dina. Smiling weakly in return, he handed Mabel the keys in a small cardboard folder denoting their room as ‘309’.
“I’ll go tell Bob we’re set and meet you up in the room,” Dipper said before walking away, not waiting for a response.
Dipper strolled through the lobby and reached the idling vehicle, spying their roadside acquaintance cat-napping behind the wheel. Not knowing the best way to rouse a snoozing tow truck driver, Dipper knocked on the passenger side door. The tapping was enough to bring Bob to life and he sat up with a jolt.
“Hey. We managed to get a room; so, I think we’re good to go.”
“Great to hear! Let me know if Otto’s doesn’t call in the morning and I’ll rattle their cage.”
“I really appreciate it. Here,” Dipper replied, opening his wallet to produce a tip, but Bob immediately refused.
“Don’t worry about it. Keep the cash. Take your girlfriend someplace nice while you’re waiting and make some good memories to take back with you,” he implored, while turning over the engine.
The roar of the diesel motor quickly drowned out Dipper’s feeble reply, refuting the characterization of his relationship with Mabel. However, all he got was a friendly wave as the lumbering utility truck pulled away and onto its next trouble call.
Slipping through the entryway, Dipper walked past the couple they had managed to beat out for the last vacancy, not even noticing the side-eye thrown in his direction. Stopping in front of the free coffee stand, after acknowledging that he neither liked the beverage nor figuring it would be any good considering how long it had likely been sitting out, he pumped out a cup’s worth and sat down in a nearby chair.
Breathing in the aroma, he closed his eyes, grasping that the moment of solitude amongst a sea of strangers toting around luggage and crying children, might end up being the most tangible moment of serenity he would see the entire weekend. Avoiding scenarios that placed him alone with Mabel had been difficult enough since October; now, it was downright impossible, as if the fates were intervening.
The bitterest coating of that pill was in how all he wanted was to surrender to these happy accidents, this gentle nudging the universe frequently employed to bring the twins closer together. He couldn’t keep track of how many times strangers would make the assumption that the two were a couple when given the chance to observe the interactions Mabel and he had. Maybe it was a look that lasted a bit too long, or their convivial banter that communicated not only playfulness, but an intimacy that transcended anything two friends or a brother and sister could ever manage.
The punch in the stomach came, though, in knowing that these same well-wishers would be horrified to know the truth behind the relationship. A look of disgust would likely be the most cordial response they would receive, with the worst being something beyond unimaginable. Truly, there was nothing he wanted more than to have a normal, everyday, romantic relationship with Mabel; the society they found themselves in, however, would refuse them entry and forever cast them beyond the garden walls.
The bond that always brought a smile to his face and gave him a reason to rise with the sun, also happened to be a connection whose true nature could never see the light of day.
‘What’s there to look forward to?’ Dipper thought sadly, taking a sip of the bitter brew, watching bickering couples dealing with the stressful derailment of their travel plans. Lines were still materializing at the front desk, likely comprising of exhausted patrons laying out demands that were beyond the purview of the overtaxed staff.
In every mug that skulked around the crowded common area, he saw unhappiness. Undoubtedly, some of it stemmed from people feeling regret over jumping on the highway and not checking the weather first; this sentiment was at the surface and easy to pick out. Beyond that, however, he also inferred a deeper remorse that stemmed from couples who, beneath the veneer, yearned for a second chance to take a completely different path in life altogether, to play a mulligan on the situation they were stuck in. It was a rumination few ever talked about for fear of throwing one’s self into a deep, unrecoverable dive. Often, it’s difficult to spot behind the disguise that must be worn as we mingle amongst polite society, but in times of distress, it becomes more visible.
Perhaps it was the mother he saw over to the right who looked as thought she lived solely from a steady diet of wine and gossip magazines, trying to wrangle three exhausted children while her worthless husband bloviated on his phone, without a care in the world. Just as likely, it could have been an older gentleman he saw in a chair similar to his own, closer to the wall, a ring-less left hand and a wrinkled visage that spoke of loneliness and melancholy.
‘Maybe that’ll be me,’ he thought, deeming it to be the most sensible of the available paths. Living as a permanent bachelor would be dreary, and likely spent watching his sister move on and find someone who witnessed and cherished her amazing qualities — her warm and caring nature, her passionate soul, her innocence and beauty — as if that would be a challenge. Throwing himself into his future career, Dipper would act as a bystander to her life, watching her start a family with her husband, and, in turn, providing her twin with some nieces and nephews to babysit and entertain.
As for himself, Dipper knew he couldn’t walk the same path. In his heart of hearts, he was certain that no one could ever take Mabel’s place in his life. Anyone he would go out with would always be compared to her, and they would fail to clear the bar she had set, no matter the measure. It would be trying to pass off cubic zirconia as a diamond, hamburger for filet minion. Mabel was, and would always be, his soulmate; when given the choice to find a replacement or go it alone, the decision was simple, but painful all the same.
Understanding the world for what it was, Dipper assessed, wasn’t going to be an overnight process. However, if the two wanted to have any chance to progress into a normal life, it was something they had to come to terms with; if the crash was any indication, it had to happen sooner than later. The realization crushed his soul and nudged him closer to tearing up in front of dozens of strangers.
Tipping his cup towards himself, he saw he had finished the beverage. Knowing better than to chance a second, he got up and headed towards the bank of elevators Dina had mentioned upon check-in. Following a quick trip upwards, at a lazy pace, he strolled down the third floor and reached room ‘309’. Knocking twice, he heard footsteps approach on the other side, followed by a pause.
“Who is it?” Mabel called out in a high-pitched, comedic tone.
“Mabel, it’s me,” Dipper replied, with a groan, not in the mood for games.
“I don’t know a ‘Mabel’. Are you perhaps looking for Lady Mabelton?”
“Mabel, please,” Dipper replied, this time sounding completely out of patience.
Quickly, Mabel made to unlock the door, disappointed that she wasn’t making any progress with her brother’s mindset. With a sad, sideway grin, she opened the portal and granted him passage, offering a meek ‘sorry’ as he passed.
“It’s okay,” was his quiet, over-the-shoulder reply.
The room was pleasant, if not unremarkable, presenting a fairly modern continental style: muted, short-pile, earth-toned carpet; richly-stained hardwood furniture, and low-level LED lighting. As promised, the king-sized bed stood front and center before the television and ran longitudinally to the expanse of mid-rise windows that would provide them a decent view of the surrounding area, including a small bit of terrain to the west of the city. Outside of this was the usual tiled bathroom, vanity, and closet. While not luxurious, it was spotless and for what they paid, compared to where else they could be stuck on a night carrying such high demand, he was content, and it appeared that Mabel was, as well.
Knowing they had a long evening ahead of them, Dipper selected one side of the bed, laid out, and turned on the television. Bringing up the latest episode of ‘Ducktective’ to an acceptable volume, he pulled out his phone and started pouring his focus into ‘Words with Friends’.
“Do you think they’ll have it fixed in a day or two?” Mabel meekly inquired, climbing onto the bed, giving her brother as much distance as possible.
“I hope,” he replied without any thought.
“If it takes longer, do you think Soos would come pick us up?”
“After he took the time to drive all the way to Eugene yesterday, you want him to come back across the mountains again, but this time in a snowstorm?”
Dipper’s response was more pointed and sharp than he intended. In truth, he felt bad for how far out of the way their good friend and owner of the Mystery Shack had driven simply to say ‘hi’ and have some face-to-face time outside of Summer Break. At the conclusion of the short meet-up near the university campus, Soos handed over to them a box of things he had gathered up in anticipation of the massive remodel of the shack’s innards, figuring them to belong to the twins in some capacity.
While casually rummaging through it, the twins asked if Soos had any updates on where their “grunkles” were at the moment. Outside of holiday gatherings and the occasional week during the summer to resupply their stock, Stan and Ford were chasing one strange anomaly after another. They were happy, though, and while the twins missed seeing them, they always kept in touch when the required means of communication were available to them. The last update placed them in Greenland about a month prior; Soos confirmed that was the last piece of info he had, as well.
“I dunno,” Mabel commented. “Just know neither of us are going to have much fun sitting around a hotel room for too long.”
Dipper took a moment to breathe and hold the intake for a short while before releasing. No matter the frustration he felt or how much he hated having to push away from the person he loved most, he couldn’t take out his ire on her. The last thing he wanted would be for their final few months together to revolve around his unquenchable harvest of angst.
“I’m sure we’ll get some good news tomorrow morning and we’ll be heading south soon,” he hoped, putting on a brave face.
“Yeah,” she replied, gathering that discussing it any further wouldn’t help the cause.
Settling in, they zoned out, filing the next handful of hours with idle chitchat and sharing Facebook posts. Though it had been dark for a while, Mabel’s stomach eventually made itself known, growling loud enough to drown out the inane chatter of trash TV.
“You hungry?” Dipper asked, not looking up from his phone, though noting the time as being a bit before nine.
“Yeah. I think I’m gonna head down to the little restaurant next to the lobby. You coming?” she asked while walking over to the closet and retrieving her jacket, stopping to visually inspect her appearance before the mirror and adjust her headband in the process, making sure it would continue to keep her lengthy locks in check.
“I’m good. Stomach’s kinda bothering me,” he lied, rubbing his gut. “I’m actually feeling pretty beat. Take your time, but don’t be surprised if the room is dark when you get back.”
“Oh,” she said, despondently, but nodding in understanding, as she stepped towards the door and opened it. “Okay. Well, feel better, brobro.”
“Thanks,” Dipper replied, managing a plastic grin before turning back to the television as she entered the hallway, letting the heavy door shut and latch behind her.
Walking down the sterile corridor, she noted the diversity of sounds emanating from the various rooms she passed. Some were dead silent, either through lack of occupation or because a certain guest needed to get out early the next morning. In others, she could hear couples and families gathered, laughing, conversing, trying to find some shred of happiness amongst the mayhem dropped on the region earlier in the day.
Hands in her coat pockets, she felt around and confirmed that she had remembered to snag one of the room keys. She transferred the key to right back jeans pocket, deeming it a more secure spot and less likely to fall out.
After heading down to and through the lobby, and seeing it to be much quieter than it was upon their arrival, she entered the casual dining establishment. The board behind the host’s podium informed her that fish tacos were ‘two-for-one’ that evening and chicken noodle was the inspired headliner for the soup course. Noticing the ‘seat yourself’ sign, she grabbed a booth as far removed from the few other diners as possible.
In the distance and out of sight, she heard a clutch of young and middle-aged couples chatting, a few laughing; most seemed to be locals and well-acquainted with the watering hole and its staff. She could pick up on the occasional mention of the weather, with a smattering of inside references and profanity sprinkled in for good measure. There may have been mention of politics, but nothing rising to the level of needing serious debate. Collectively, it all ran together into a predictable and easy-going script meant to bridge the gap between the end of a busy workday and the start of a relaxing weekend.
In summary, it simply felt like what a typical Friday night might involve for a typical couple in a typical town. As drab and mundane as it may have come off, there was nothing she wanted more than to have the opportunity to experience it with Dipper. They would have their bar night at the end of a long week, knowing that once the drinks were consumed and the tab covered, they would drive back to their home, get into bed, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. It was exceedingly boring, but it was also all she ever wanted.
Staring at the scuffed Formica-topped table, she absentmindedly fiddled with the golden locket Dipper had gifted her for their fourteenth birthday, too lost in her middle-class daydream to notice she was no longer alone. As such, it’s no mystery why she nearly jumped out of her skin when she was greeted by her server.
“Good evening! I’m— Oh, I’m sorry to frighten you, dear!” the voice began, ending with a good-natured laugh and a hand of apology on Mabel’s shoulder.
“That’s okay. I’m spacing out,” Mabel explained with a laugh of her own, feeling a bit embarrassed and pushing a loose strand of hair behind her right ear out of habit.
“Let’s try that again,” the jovial employee stated, hanging onto a chuckle,
“I’m Edna and I’ll be your server tonight. Are you expecting anyone else this evening?” she asked, setting down a coaster and a glass of water.
“Nope, just me,” she replied, the phrasing feeling rather alien.
“All right. Here is our menu. I’ll let you peruse through that. Anything besides water?”
For maybe the first time in her life, she actually craved an alcoholic beverage. Up to that point, she had only experienced sips at New Years celebrations, as well as Christmas. There was also an incident where she and Dipper got curious on a Saturday night when their parents were out of town two summers ago, involving a bottle of vodka they kept in the freezer, that merely resulted in them feeling goofy and waking up with a mild headache. Outside of that, however, both twins walked a narrow line; perhaps when living under the weight of a massive taboo, you instinctively play the rest of your cards very conservatively.
“Water’s fine,” she responded, accepting the fact that at the tender age of eighteen, her options outside of that and soda were rather limited.
“Great. I’ll be back soon to take your order!”
Skimming down the offerings, as expected, it was a veritable dance-card filled to the brim with the usual bar fare: fried this and sauced that. Settling on the club sandwich, she pushed the laminated text aside and pulled out her phone to pass the time until Edna returned. Out of habit, she opened up her Facebook app and scrolled through the latest announcements.
She had already broadcasted to friends and family how their day had gone, which of course garnered sympathy and offers of help that were politely turned down. The memes submitted by Candy made her smile and groan at the same time, while a few relevant replies from high school acquaintances let her know that similar roadway mishaps were not as uncommon as she had assumed.
The posting from Wendy, though, was perhaps the most meaningful in that specific place and time. The commentary itself wasn’t all that noteworthy: simply a gentle tweaking of Dipper’s metaphorical nose in regards to his driving ability. Rather, it was simply seeing her pop up that took her back to the prior summer: the twins’ previous excursion to the Mystery Shack.
Unlike their previous summer sojourns to the rickety hovel, they could only stay for an abbreviated summer vacation spanning two weeks in July. With Dipper and herself now holding down part-time jobs alongside schooling — Dipper working at a local hardware store and she at an art supply shop — not much time could be set aside for the revelry that had occurred during their yesteryears.
On the upside, however, with age came the ability to choose how best to utilize that free time without the interventions of their wizened elders. With Stan and Ford trotting the globe, and remaining absent over the fortnight, Soos and his grandmother were their hosts during the stay that summer. The quartet would hang out in the evening to watch some nonsensical program, perhaps play cribbage, and enjoy dinner. Outside of that, though, the twins were left to their own devices.
Dipper and Mabel never lost their interest in tracking down anomalies of their own, even in the absence of their grunkles, and still took every opportunity to get out and explore when they visited. With the journals destroyed, Dipper had to rely on what he recalled from the tomes, and managed some success after narrowing down an area to search within. There were a couple surprises — such as the fairy ring that granted invisibility to those who passed through it — but the experiences were more awe-inspiring and intriguing, than dangerous and deadly. Considering how harrowing the thirteenth summer of their young lives was, they could put up with quaint for the time being.
After a day packed with bouldering to the south of the aging abode, Dipper decided to run to the store to pick up some soda and snacks. As the Ramirez clan was up in Bend visiting a friend of the family, the domicile was left in the capable hands of Mabel and hooves of Waddles when Wendy stopped by to see what the twins were up to. Thompson and the gang had gone down to the lake, but she wasn’t in the mood for their usual shenanigans and passed on the invite. Knowing her opportunities to see the twins were limited, she cruised by the Shack instead.
“So, Mabel, how was junior year?” she asked while flopping down onto the unoccupied end of a second-hand couch Soos had recently purchased.
“Not too bad,” she related without much consideration. “Somehow survived Chemistry and Dipper carried me through Math, as usual.”
“I see things haven’t changed too much,” Wendy commented as one commercial for Gideon’s Truck Extravaganza Sale ended and another for the annual rodeo began.
“Hey! I am a delight to be around and, if the price of my company is some assistance on homework, than Sir Dippingsauce will pay the admission and shall be grateful for the privilege!”
Wendy laughed and shook her head, glad to see that Mabel wasn't losing her child-like and adorably goofy nature as she matured.
“Whatcha working on?” the redhead inquired, her curious eye looking over the cloth covering her friend’s lap.
“I’m making a patchwork quilt for my bed and going through some scraps I want to use in it,” the crafty maiden replied with a playful snapping of her scissors, pointing the sharpened steel towards a modest heap on the cushion between them.
“Oh cool,” Wendy replied, casually looking through the collection of textiles nominated for inclusion, trying to identify why they were chosen above other options.
Pulling out a couple, she saw a portion possessed a simple pattern — some with a checkered motif, others with a tartan design. The remainder carried an image or symbol, a handful of which she readily identified and understood the meaning behind. For example, one square had a white shooting star streaming across it, obviously referencing the crafty seamstress. Another she spotted had a small pink piglet, an homage to her dear Waddles.
Right next to it, she spotted a scrap with an earth-toned image of a pine tree; this was clearly a nod to her twin. Most fittingly, the next element she inspected had the constellation Ursa Major drawn out, with golden lines connecting the corona-enrobed stars. Continuing with the theme, her hand withdrew a cutting with three books illustrated; after a moment, she grasped it was alluding to the three journals Dipper had been so understandably enamored with that magical summer years ago.
‘Funny to think what those three books brought about,’ Wendy pondered to herself with a shiver, recalling the events that transpired.
Shuffling through a few more, she was taken by how many of them were either a reference to Dipper or herself, with a number that appeared to serve as an homage to their unique relationship, a bond that everyone around them would often look upon with envy and awe. For example, there was a snippet featuring two hearts overlapping each other. Shortly thereafter, she spotted a square featuring two stick figures holding hands, encompassed by — again — a heart.
Suddenly, Wendy felt a faint, but identifiable suspicion sneaking into the back of her subconscious. Truth be told, it wasn’t the first time she had considered it; however, it was the only instance thus far where she actually lent the theory any credence. Before, it was something she laughed away; now, it made a lump form in her throat.
“So, Miss Mabel, breaking any hearts lately?” she asked, keeping her investigation casual.
“Me? Eh…not really. Boys are pretty stupid,” Mabel summarized with a giggle, while continuing to snip away.
“Ain't that the truth,” Wendy sighed with a groan of solidarity, to which her rumpus room companion nodded. “Guys around here aren’t any better. I honestly think Dipper might be the nicest guy I’ve met. If I hadn’t friend-zoned him years ago, I might actually think about asking him out.”
“Mmmm,” Mabel hummed in understanding.
Though the response wasn’t hostile, it definitely signaled a shift in Mabel’s mood that Wendy instantly picked up on.
“Dipper going out with anyone?”
“Dipper? Please,” Mabel laughed a bit too airily, waving her free hand, as if to bat away the inquiry. “It’s Dipper; can you honestly see him spending time with a girl?”
“Other than you? No,” Wendy smirked, the true intent of her response lost on Mabel.
“If you had to pick out an ideal girl for him, though, who would it be?” Wendy pressed, after giving Mabel a short respite.
“Like a specific person?” Mabel asked, a low-level sense of desperation evident in her pitch.
“Sure, or you could make her up, too. I guess what I’m trying to say is, what would be the qualities that he would be drawn to in a partner?”
“Oh…ummm…” Mabel considered, sounding somewhat flustered and on her heels, “I dunno. I don’t really sit around and think about that.”
“Oh come on, you know him better than anyone and you love playing matchmaker. Remember when you tried to get him and Candy together?”
“Yeah, that was funny,” was the straight-faced reply that Mabel almost forgot to tack a humorous scoff onto the end of.
“So…let’s hook him up. There’s gotta be some friend of yours who’d find his dorkiness endearing.”
“I dunno. That might be impossible.”
Mabel was clearly doing everything she could to end the conversation as quickly as possible. She was, by this point, almost hunched over her work, using a curtain of her hair to hide any facial expressions behind. With conversation at a screeching halt, the infernal cackling of summer daytime television served as the soundtrack.
“And…you’re not up for…the challenge?” Wendy slowly inquired, very cautiously pushing the envelope a bit further.
“Wendy!” Mabel snapped with an aggression that appear to shock even the speaker, who immediately dialed it back. “I’m sorry. I’m just really focused on the quilt.”
The atypical reaction effectively killed the conversation and merely served to unnerve the redhead, who slowly got up. She hoped to make eye contact with Mabel one final time before departing, but — once again — her friend’s head was angled to prevent the connection.
“All right, then. I will catch you later,” Wendy casually said over her shoulder, walking towards the pair of steps that would take her up to the main hall. As she place a foot on the upper landing, though, she was halted.
“Wait!” Mabel called out.
Quickly, Wendy turned around. Everything about the room had changed: the mood had darkened, the air felt clammy, and even the television had decided to put up some awful Halloween-themed episode of Ker-pranked onto the screen. Most importantly, however, was the bluest part of the room, contained in the form of her long-time comrade.
Tears already streaming down her cheeks, Mabel looked in Wendy’s direction for no more than a second before burying her face in her hands. Quickly, Wendy strolled over, shut off the television, and — upon carefully moving the pile of prospective blanket material — sat directly next to the weary soul, putting an arm around her.
“Mabel, dude,” she soothed as the late teen continued to sniffle between sobs.
“Talk to me. I’m here to listen. I know something’s up,” Wendy gently coaxed, trying to grease the wheels of a train she felt was barreling down the track in her direction.
“Wendy, am I a bad person?”
“What?! You?!” Wendy started, not prepared whatsoever for such a bizarre question. “Dude, you are like the sweetest, most loving, most pure-hearted person I’ve ever known. I mean, I hang around a lot of losers, but I think everyone out there would agree with me once they met you. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because,” Mabel continued, forcing enough of a break between her tears to string together the requisite words, “I’m really, really fucked up inside.”
Not one to use profanity, the inclusion of it brought home for Wendy how messy this conversation was going to get and, in all likelihood, how astute her initial assumption was shaping up to be.
“Mabel, look, we all go through shit and we’re going to feel awful sometimes. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad person; it means you’re human and that’s a good thing. Whatever it is,” Wendy added, accepting that there was no turning back at this point, “I’m here and I’m not gonna walk away.”
“No matter what?” Mabel asked, looking to her left just enough to make eye contact. “And you won’t tell anyone?”
“No matter what. I promise; this stays between you and me.”
“Even Dipper?” Mabel specified, her voice trembling.
“Even Dipper.”
At the vow, Mabel sat up a bit, sniffing back the tears to the best of her ability, and sought to regain her composure. In the new position, Wendy could see that she was shaking slightly, as though something that had been bottled up deep within her soul was about to break free. Hunkered down well within the blast zone, Wendy took a deep breath and prepared herself.
“I…can’t say it, not out loud, not yet,” Mabel mumbled, retrieving her phone before she lost her nerve.
“That’s fine. Text it to me,” encouraged Wendy, the message arriving the second the final word left her lips.
Taking her time to read it thrice, her postulate was confirmed. Sure, the hurried spelling was garbled, but there was no mistaking what, “IM in lobe with Dipper” meant. The nefarious works of autocorrect, usually providing hilarious miscues, couldn’t mask the seriousness of what had been sent. Locking the phone with a click, Wendy set it on the couch and returned to wrapping an arm around her misty-eyed companion.
“Okay. Well…gosh, I don’t know what to say,” Wendy assessed, feeling very unprepared despite the running start she had.
“Say I’m a terrible person,” Mabel replied before sobbing again, leaning into Wendy’s shoulder.
“No, no, Mabel. You’re not. I…might not know what to say or how to react to this news, but I do know, for a fact, that you’re a wonderful, remarkable woman and my opinion on that has not changed one bit. Okay?”
Wendy spoke these words of reassurance leaning forward, making a valiant effort to connect with the distraught teen. Slowly, Mabel dried her tears with her sleeve, though the runny nose had to be dealt with differently. Looking around, Wendy commandeered a box of tissues from the side table at the other end of the sofa and promptly returned to her post, ready to test the waters with a few additional questions.
“All right. Can I ask you a few things?”
Rather than verbalizing a reply, Mabel only nodded, still too focused on blowing her nose.
“Does Dipper know?”
“No one does, but you…and Waddles,” Mabel appended, after which the sweet creature, who was resting before the television, popped its head up, recognizing his name. The inclusion managed to bring a soft grin to her lips, an expression that found its way to Wendy’s shortly thereafter.
“What do you feel for him that makes you think it’s more than just a strong brother-sister kinda connection?”
“Well,” was Mabel’s cautious opener, hoping to walk a fine line between opening up enough and too much. “I sit and daydream about him, constantly. I always wish he was holding me, protecting me. Any time I think about the future and what I want to achieve, there’s never anyone else but him sharing it with me, and there's not a day that goes by where I don’t think about kissing him and…stuff.”
Wendy nodded at the words, making sure she remained as expressionless and as non-judgmental in appearance as possible.
“The feelings I had for him when we were younger: they’re still there; he’s my brother and always will be. But, over time, it feels like these extra layers have been added on and transformed that bond into something so much bigger. He’s everything my heart wants: he’s funny, caring, smart…you know him,” Mabel wrapped up, as Wendy was well-versed in Dipper’s character.
“The butterflies, the aching heart…that sentimental stuff: I feel that when I’m around him and it’s only getting stronger with time…and I don’t know what to do with it,” Mabel concluded, feeling as lost as she had at the start of thought processes.
“I’m so sorry, Mabel,” Wendy replied after a empathetic sigh, placing a hand on her shoulder, appreciating the emotion and sincerity with which Mabel had spoken. “For what it’s worth, I believe what you feel for him is real and I think you describe who he is perfectly.”
“Thanks,” Mabel replied, feeling too emotionally conflicted to cry.
“How long have you felt this way about him?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah. Honestly,” Wendy assured.
“Since Weirdmageddon,” she admitted quietly, the darkly comedic reference feeling out of place, but too specific to pass up.
“Dude, that’s been…like five years,” Wendy summed up, flabbergasted.
“Yup.”
“Oh Mabel, I’m sorry you had this bottled up in you for so long. That’s…man.”
“It’s not like I could bring this up over dinner,” the brunette opined.
“Still. That’s heavy stuff to keep on your shoulders,” Wendy reiterated, before letting off a soft chortle that was barely loud enough for Mabel to detect.
“What?”
“I’ll admit something. While it’s not a secret anyone expects to hear, especially about someone they’ve known for so long, at the same time…seeing how close you two have always been, the way it’s never died out, even as you got older…”
Wendy allowed the observation to evaporate into thin air, the meaning crystal clear to both parties. Seeing as Mabel had quieted her crying at long last, she gave her junior one more squeeze before bringing her hands together, resting her elbows on her knees.
“And, as fucked up as it sounds,” she continued with a sly smirk, “you two would totally make a really cute couple. I can’t believe I just said that, but…I mean, you already are in a lot of ways.”
“That doesn’t exactly help me feel better,” Mabel observed, though her tone lacked aggression.
“I know. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through and what you probably will continue to deal with. There’s no good answer, dude. I’m glad you told me, though,” Wendy finished, while receiving a nod of agreement.
They sat quietly for a few additional minutes, absorbing the weight of the conversation. There were some heavy sighs, mainly coming from Mabel, as her heart rate and pulse worked to find a more sustainable pace. As if to maintain the progress and not relapse into a darker mindset, she resumed work on her quilt.
Feeling as though some form of stability had been achieved, it afforded Wendy an opportunity to pause the discussion until Mabel had time to process things further. She didn’t want to leave her friend in the lurch, but now that the cork had been released, the contents had to breathe and be allowed to form their own shape in self-reflection.
“You gonna be okay in the meantime? You can text me anytime about this or anything, okay? I won’t leave you hanging,” Wendy promised while rising to her feet, leaning over to give the emotionally exhausted girl another hug.
“I know. I’m…okay,” the brunette summarized. “Thanks for listening and not running out on me.”
“You kidding me? I could never turn my back on you or your brother. Same goes for Soos and Ford. Stan? Ehhhh…” she mulled while tilting her hand back and forth, before resolving it into a playful laugh, in turn bringing a smile to Mabel’s cheeks.
“We’re solid,” she reiterated, giving Mabel a fist bump before turning to take leave of the premises. “We’re all gonna hang out tomorrow night like we planned, right?”
“Definitely,” Mabel agreed, much cheerier than before, recalling the bonfire they had planned earlier in the week.
“Cool beans. See ya!”
Before it was too late, however, Mabel was compelled to lodge a final inquiry, blurting it out as the crimson-haired maiden was about to leap up the steps
“Wendy, I know I probably shouldn’t put you on the spot like this, but…do you think Dipper feels the same about me?”
Stopped in her tracks, Wendy turned around and slowly let a lungful of air escape her puckered lips. Figuring she should have seen this question coming, she carefully considered a response that would be honest without creating more emotional drama than was already in play. While she had her suspicion on the matter, she elected to avoid taking the question head-on and dodged to the side.
“I can’t answer that, dude. That’s something you’re gonna have to figure out. I guess in that way, it’s really no different than any other relationship. I would usually say that you need to have a long talk with your heart, but you’ve been doing that already for half a decade. So…” Wendy considered, leading them both to smirk in understanding.
“I’m sure you’ve been watching for signs, but from someone like Dipper, that’s going to be a challenge,” Wendy added, while remaining in disbelief that she was offering this advice considering the irregular circumstances, “but in the end, you’ll just have to put your heart out there and be prepared for the answer, whatever it is.”
Mabel soaked in the wisdom and nodded slowly, biting her lower lip in reflection, listening carefully when Wendy added:
“Trust me: if something is meant to be, fate will make it happen — often when you least expect it.”
Returning to the present, staring across the table at the cushioned back of the seat opposite her, she let the final fragment of the memory echo through her consciousness. Mindlessly, she chewed on a few ice cubes from her water glass, not denying it was probably obnoxiously loud; she also knew that people had a habit of chewing on ice when they were sexually frustrated.
‘Well, at least that’s what the last issue of Cosmo said,’ she clarified, accepting it might not be the most authoritative source on medical know-how.
Regardless, her primal desires simmered under the surface, and between the lack of privacy to deal with the churning need for release and the man she wanted to release it with resting two floors up and nine doors down, it felt as though she might bur—
“Miss? Are you okay?”
“What?!” Mabel exclaimed, unable to get a word out of her flustered composure. Completely absorbed in the recollection, she hadn’t noticed Edna reappearing table-side to take her order.
“I am just scaring the daylights out of you. I am so sorry,” she apologized again with a somewhat concerned chuckle.
“No, it’s…been a long…five years,” she got out, leaving the reply’s cryptic nature to drift across the space separating her from the server.
“Oh. Well…I hope the next five are better, sweetheart,” Edna said, clearing her throat and hoping the rest of her time spent with the young brunette space-cadet would run more smoothly than it had to that point. “In the meantime, what can I get you?”