Chapter Text
With a smirk, Dipper looked over at Mabel, who he spotted looking right back at him, wearing a wry little grin of her own, though it was mostly obscured by her shoulder. Hunched over in similar manners, the air of the garage was filled with the noisy squeaking and squelching of roll after roll of packing tape being emptied, devoured by flimsy cardboard boxes in need of assemblage. They had been at the task for hours, just as they had the day before, and the one before that.
Looking around at their handiwork — the vessels that were ready to be filled with books, clothing, and the rest of their worldly possessions; and those that had already been packed and deemed fit for travel — Mabel stood up and fussed with her hair. All the bending over had allowed an errant strand to fall from its cradle behind her ear and into her field of vision. After expending precious oxygen over puffing it out of the way seemingly every second, she decided a ponytail would be the most sensible option for the duration.
Using a hair-tie she had slipped onto her wrist at the start of the activity for just such an occasion, she performed the ritual, something her boyfriend took a fascination with.
“What?” she said, looking over at him with a bashful visage.
“Nothing,” he replied boyishly, though she could see the redness in his cheeks.
“You wish you were playing with my hair, don’t you?” she said, dropping her voice down enough in order to ensure Dipper would be the singular recipient.
“Well…yeah,” he replied with the tone that illustrated how obvious her assumption was.
“You know? Come to think of it, I might have a brush on the shelf over here,” she playfully hinted, while stepping towards the front end of the Chevy Yukon that was parked in the garage, occupying the half that they weren’t needing for box production.
“Perhaps you can help me find it?” she enticed, before rounding the hood and disappearing on the opposing side of the vehicle.
Not needing any additional goading, Dipper set down his roll of tape and quietly snuck over to the vehicle, gliding past its stout rear bumper and meeting his lady on the other side. They hadn’t used the somewhat secluded make-out spot before, though it was admittedly hidden sufficiently from view by the height of the sport utility vehicle. Finding a cozy corner in the home itself — preferably in either of their rooms — was certainly preferred.
However, they were desperate. Since the confession of their deepest feelings about five months prior, during a winter storm in Medford, Oregon that forced them to spend a couple nights facing the facts, they had only grown more deeply in love with each other. They took every precaution to not get caught by their parental units. Hand-holding was discretely permitted when snuggled under the same blanket, watching television together as a family. During the day, quick pecks were the rule if they passed in the hall and were safely out of the audial range of Aaron and Ann.
Of course, that left the carnal desires of skin-to-skin contact and barely hushed whispers of ecstasy to be shoehorned into the overnight hours. They were activities they had gained greater proficiency at and grown addicted to since that blessed weekend. Once the veil of darkness had taken hold outside the home, and after their parents were well asleep, Mabel would sneak into Dipper’s room or vice versa, and lose themselves in the intoxicating embrace of true love.
Some nights, it would be a sweet and simple make-out session, with roaming hands and undergarments that remained in place. Other evenings, they would run strings of kisses along their most sensitive organs, bringing themselves to a thoroughly satisfying zenith before sharing a good-night smooch, the visitor silently skulking back to their bedroom afterwards. There were many times, however, they simply couldn’t hold back and instead gave into their heart’s greatest desire.
On those occasions, before the visitor could even fully shut the door behind them, the host would be busy helping the interloper out of their pajamas with an eagerness that bordered on frenzied. In some cases, it was Dipper meeting Mabel at his door, already in just his boxers, reaching down and swiftly popping her senior class t-shirt over her head, revealing her perky endowments for him to gently caress on their way over to his bed. More often than not, though, it was Mabel who opened her door, before taking hold of Dipper’s hand and pulling him into her room with a strength that continually and pleasantly surprised him.
There, under the soft glow of multi-colored Christmas lights, they would become one. Nestled under the quilt Mabel had hand-stitched in anticipation of their future martial bedchamber, they would seamlessly glide into each other and embrace as the soulmates they were, as though they had been performing the primal dance for ages. They would go on to try different positions and their trademarked silliness often interspersed their guttural moans; variations aside, however, they always reached climax in unison, face-to-face, and buried under an avalanche of kisses.
Unfortunately, as their final summer before college marched towards its ignominious conclusion and their chance to live as a couple — complete with their own apartment — drew closer, their parents also ramped up their typically low-key hovering. Knowing their offspring would soon be leaving the nest, they wanted to mark every ‘last’ event with a photograph or a special meal — some annoying marker that not only caused the twins to roll their eyes, but also ate into the few moments of privacy where they could steal away for a handful of moments to reaffirm their love, face-to-face.
As a result, the heavenly exchanges of passion were growing less frequent. It seemed no matter the instance, their parents were inadvertently enforcing a draconian order of chastity through their mere presence. Whether it was their insistence on staying up late watching home movies until the twins were falling asleep on the couch, or inviting themselves along whenever their children wanted to get out of the house on their own, the closer Mabel and Dipper moved to the finish line, the further away it felt.
This wore on their patience and cultivated something they were new to: sexual tension. Granted, they had desired one another long before their confession, with each partner finding release — and then immense shame — in the privacy of their own bedrooms. However, having taken a bite of the forbidden fruit made the yearning immeasurably more painful than in the time prior to giving their virginities to each other. There was a staggering number of mornings where Mabel would wake up grinding her teeth or Dipper would incessantly tap his foot, often to the irritation of his sibling.
That low-level frustration became a running theme in those times of sexual famine. To their parents, the twins simply appeared to be bickering a bit more than usual, with the huffs and sighs of nuisance being heard over matters that were exceedingly trivial. As far as they knew, it likely was brought on by the stress of packing up and unease over starting a brand new chapter in their lives. Little did they know that they were the true cause behind this ire.
Yet, upon falling into Dipper’s opened arms, tucked away in the shadows cast by the family automobile, all of that faded away in an instant. Leaning into his chest, Dipper inhaled her scent deeply, and kissed her forehead while running his fingers through her immaculate locks.
“I miss this, brobro. I miss being with my man,” she pouted quietly, not wanting to drown out the sound of his heartbeat in her ear.
“Me too, Mabes. So damned much,” he replied, hugging her tighter, leading them in a gentle swaying of their forms, informally dancing through the cool, early evening air of the garage without taking a step.
In the distance, they could hear the sounds of friends and family chatting away, the dissonance growing louder with each guest’s arrival. As much as they hated to admit it, they knew it wouldn’t be long before their presence at the send-off barbecue would be required and, at that point, there would be no chance of finding a secluded spot to hide away in.
Looking up from his chest, Mabel picked up a gentle glow in his eyes, there being just enough light doled out from the bare bulb hanging from the roof of the garage to illuminate them. Even amongst the cold, industrial decor, his gaze warmed her heart and made her blush. Feeling the same rush reaching his cheeks, Dipper lost himself in her dreamy expression and gently took hold of her sides, before leaning down slightly, and bringing their lips togeth—
“Kids?” Aaron Pines called out, his voice bouncing around the walls of the multi-purpose bunker.
Though the twins knew he couldn’t see them from the doorway that linked the garage to the rest of the abode, they also understood he had seen them head off to continue taping-up boxes not fifteen minutes prior. He knew they were somewhere in the dimly lit environs, and the more Mabel and Dipper tried to silently wait it out, the more awkward their reveal would become. Closing his eyes in aggravation and taking a deep breath to steady his tone, Dipper revealed their location as innocently as possible.
“We’re over here, Dad,” Dipper called out while gently releasing his beloved from his protective embrace. “We were thinking there was another roll of tape on the shelf.”
His preventative distancing was well-planned, as their dad strolled over to their hiding spot to assist in their scavenger hunt.
“Yeah, usually I keep some over there,” he said, squeezing into the tight spot alongside Mabel, utterly clueless as to what he had just interrupted.
“Buuuuuut…” he stretched out, letting his eyes roam from shelf to shelf, “it looks like you guys might be using the last of it. I’ll go run by Home Depot in a bit.”
“Actually, Dad,” Dipper leapt verbally, seeing the opportunity appear out of nowhere and answering the call with a wealth of enthusiasm, “Mabel and I can go pick some up. I already have my keys and we know the kind of tape that—“
“And miss the party we’re throwing for you? Gosh, it’s like you can’t wait to get away from us or something,” he laughed, believing it to be somewhat true, but refusing to budge on the offer.
“I’ll go pick some up. You two need to get out back and start greeting people who took time out of their schedule to see you off. The McCallisters just showed up and you know how much they’re going to miss having you babysit when you’re away at school, Mabel. Come on and be social, both of you,” he softly commanded, standing in-wait next to the door, taking the opportunity to give the cardboard constructions a once-over.
“Do you need more boxes, too?” the kindly patriarch asked, scratching his shoulder, deep in thought. “You still have a few things to pack, don’t you? And have you been labeling them so your mother and I can easily understand what to send and when?”
“We’re almost done, dad. These last couple boxes will take care of all the stuff for college, the rest is for the next month, and yes, everything is being labeled,” Mabel assured, frustration weaving its way through her words as the couple sheepishly followed their father into the house. Before pausing to disengage the garage light, however, Dipper reached out and gingerly stopped his sister, now that their dad was out of range.
“One last night, sis. We can do this. Tomorrow, we’re outta here. We’re gonna hit the road, and never look back,” he encouraged softly, trying to keep his own angst in-check, while also sounding confident.
“I know, Dip,” she sighed, grasping his hand and placing the palm against her cheek, soaking in his natural radiance, making it clear their vexation was not driven by anything the other was doing, but rather the circumstances they had to tolerate for a final twelve or so hours.
“Ill make you a deal,” he whispered slyly, as they both slowly made their way into the blindingly bright kitchen. “If our guests aren’t leaving on-time, we can restart our make-out session where we left off, right in front of everyone. I’m sure by the time my hands made their way into Sweatertown, they’ll all either be driving away as fast as possible or having a heart attack."
Mabel’s eyes lit up at his playful tiptoe into the world of fantasy. She knew he was joking; as much as she wanted him to throw her onto the picnic table out back and have his way with her then and there, she also wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Such a performance would certainly be the quickest way to ensure the aspiration would never come to fruition.
Yet, behind his goofy proposal, she saw a dam on the verge of busting forth its raw power and laying waste to the valley below. While she was used to being excitable and wearing her magnificent heart on her sweater’s sleeve, Dipper was always more reserved and stoic. To actually see how the need for restraint was playing out in his mannerisms, clearly struggling with keeping such emotions tucked out of sight, she knew he was at a breaking point, one that might come before dawn’s first light.
‘Well, perhaps we should save the townspeople,’ she thought with an impish grin.
“What’s that smile mean?” he asked, a nervous chuckle following after, as they heard the front door shut in the distance, their father taking off for the errand that should have been their temporary respite.
Out of the corner of their eyes, outside the kitchen window positioned above the sink, they could see the party in the yard begin to swell in size. Taking a second, they each identified a number of neighbors and acquaintances they had spent the prior eighteen years of their lives getting to know, at least in some regard. The twins had already had a few gatherings with schoolmates and best friends over the course of the summer; this was the formal, adult-oriented celebration to officially close out their tenure in Piedmont, California.
From the modest throng of well-wishers, they saw their mother step away and immediately make eye-contact with her kids through said window. By her gait, they could tell she was now taking her turn at dragging the twins out into the festivities, seeing as her spouse’s efforts had fallen flat.
“Hey, what did that grin mean?” Dipper asked, wanting an answer now, so he could plan ahead for whatever his free-spirited sister had in mind to carry out later.
“What?” she giggled devilishly, loving the reaction and seeing no reason to stop.
“Mabes, I know—“
“Kids! Outside now!” Ann Pines beckoned, keeping her tone barely cordial, seeing as it was loud enough for the attendees to hear; Mabel and Dipper, however, knew their efforts at stalling were a lost cause and they had to, at last, face the music that was dancing through the air on the other side of the sliding glass door.
“Dip’s on his way, mom. I’m actually gonna go change outta my jeans. I got a bit sweaty in the garage, but I’ll be down soon,” Mabel spoke up before Dipper could interject.
“Make it quick, missy,” their mom replied as Mabel hustled out of the kitchen, throwing a wink over her shoulder in her brother’s direction of good measure.
Unsure of what to make of Mabel’s blatant scheming, Dipper looked down at his clothing to find some sort of blemish that would grant him a similar clemency.
“Yeah, Mom,” he started slowly, looking over the midnight blue polo and cargo short combination, having dressed for the soirée earlier in the afternoon and never foreseeing the need to buy time via a costume change. “I think I got some pen on—“
“You look fine. Get over here,” she cut him off.
Reluctantly, Dipper trudged over to the threshold that led to the backyard. His mom stood by the slider, much like a sentinel, making sure it couldn’t be shut until her son was on the exterior side of it. Slipping through and stepping down onto the concrete patio, there was a small round of applause from the onlookers, announcing his long-awaited arrival and welcoming the soon-to-be college student.
“Please, show a little gratitude, sweetie,” his mother whispered into his ear with a smile, before heading over to converse with Missus Jones, the twins’ second grade teacher who had decided to stop by and see how a couple of her favorite students had matured.
To his good fortune, before anyone had rushed up to overwhelm Dipper, Waddles decided to greet the man of the hour. From the looks of it, he had already sampled some of the hors d’oeuvres beforehand, with a few crumbs piggybacking on his snout and a satisfied waggle to his step. Standing at his feet, Dipper looked upon the porcine with envy, before crouching down and giving the creature a scratch under his chin, to which he received a chipper grunt in return.
“Ready for the big drive tomorrow?” Dipper asked quietly, feeling as this though this would be his most comfortable conversation of the event. “I bet you are.”
“Mind if I cut in here?” Dipper heard from above a few moments later, already knowing the voice to belong to his favorite science teacher, Mister Cavett; rising with a party-approved grin taped to his mug, Dipper reached out and shook the offered hand.
“Hey, Mister Cavett,” was the young man’s restrained, but still pleasant, reply.
“Excited for college? You got into the engineering program at Berkeley, right?”
“Actually, I’m gonna study it up at the University of Washington,” Dipper replied, a slight smile coming to his face, the mere realization of how a dream would very soon be a reality spurring its creation.
“Seattle, huh? Well, I think you’ll like it. A few friends of mine from the teaching community have moved up there and they can’t stop talking about it. Huge technology sector there, as well,” the learned man replied.
“Yeah. Should be a great time.”
“Mabel’s going there, too, right?” Mister Cavett recalled, scrunching up his face while searching his memory, and taking a sip of beer.
“Yup. Should make moving easier,” Dipper replied, trying to make it sound as though it was mere convenience that led them to abandon their original collegiate selections and, instead, choose the same spot on the map for their tertiary lectures.
“That’s true. Helluva drive.”
“It is, it is,” Dipper replied, while reaching to scratch the back of his neck, somewhat anxious and feeling that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion; plus, the exchange had only provided momentarily relief from his musings on what his sister was planning.
‘Don’t leave me hanging, Mabes,’ he begged internally, out of a distaste for interacting with others on his own, and also from needing to satisfy that nagging curiosity.
Fortunately, another change in scenery presented itself, as he saw the Templetons — the longtime neighbors from across the street — waving him over. Situated further into the grassy yard, Dipper reasoned it would, at least, offer a short-term break from his overthinking and, perhaps, before that discussion awkwardly petered out, his beloved would make her grand entrance.
“It was good talking with you, Mister Cavett,” Dipper said, offering his hand.
“You can call me Gary,” was the response over the grasping of palms. “We’re both scientists now.”
“Sounds good,” the teen replied, not sure how he felt about the sudden change in rules, especially since they’d likely never meet again.
Regardless, Dipper had already moved on mentally and — seconds later — physically, as well. Reaching over to grab a cold Pepsi from a frosty cooler, he strode over to a couple of folks who had seen the twins evolve from bundles of joy being brought home from the hospital to functioning members of society.
On the way, he looked over into the far corner of the yard and spotted a maple tree that held a plethora of cherished memories. In it, their dad had build a treehouse the summer of their seventh birthday. For the years that followed, up until they took their summer breaks northward, they would spend hours completing art projects, ersatz science experiments, cataloging bugs, and, of course, playing house.
Thinking fondly of that last item, he blushed slightly, reflecting on the astonishing surplus of foresight the act unknowingly carried. He had nary a doubt that they were destined to be together, whether they had or hadn’t ever engaged in the age-old childhood activity. Still, realizing that less than a decade ago, they were planning out their future roles and humorously conversing as husband and wife do, warmed his heart and provided momentary relief from his raging hormonal urges.
The Pines home was situated on a fairly decent-sized city lot, backed up against a hillside. The half-acre parcel situated above the main commercial zone of Piedmont wasn’t cheap when purchased back in the nineties. However, at the current market values, the property would be well out of reach for most new homebuyers, including their parents. Not only was there space to roam and a natural barrier behind the property, but being situated along a cul-de-sac meant there was no through traffic producing noise in the wee hours of the night.
Along the base of the incline in the backyard, Aaron had left a number of trees that had existed when they purchased the home, and ran a small path in and around them, providing a rudimentary nature trail of sorts. The twins grew up spending many hours running or biking along it, pretending they were in some strange, faraway land, Dipper the brave knight and Mabel his princess.
‘I guess some things don’t change,’ he thought to himself, recalling his invasion of Mabeland and the subsequent rescue of his sister that one unforgettable summer.
“There’s the high school grad!” the Templetons cheerily announced in unison as he approached, diverting him from his mental jaunt down memory lane; once close enough, they both pulled him into a massive hug, an expression Dipper didn’t mind altogether, even if he reciprocated in a mopey, teenaged fashion.
“You excited?” the husband expectedly asked.
Dipper groaned internally, trying to accept that fact that he and Mabel would likely be asked this a thousand times over in one style or another. Each time, though, they’d have to politely reply and deliver a sensible response, in turn.
“Yeah. Can’t believe it’s already here,” he said, hands in his pockets, hidden away to prevent any unnecessary fidgeting.
“I bet your parents are ready to have the packing finished up with. I’m sure you were the easy child, though. I always remember your sister bringing a backpack of art supplies and at least three stuffed animals whenever you’d come over to watch the Raiders game at our place,” Diana Templeton laughed before taking a sip of her Chardonnay.
“You’re not wrong about that,” Dipper admitted, reminding himself that the last couple boxes they needed to finish up later that evening were dedicated to her photo albums and toys for Waddles.
“Remember that time we held that Labor Day party and she Bedazzled every throw pillow on our couch?” Diana continued humorously, though the recollection was directed more towards her spouse than the guest of honor; her husband, Dennis, nodded in agreement, envisioning the scene.
“How could I forget?” he added while chuckling, making it clear there we no hard feelings over the well-intended efforts from yesteryear of an innately artistic five-year-old.
“Seeing you two grow up has been such a joy. We know you’re going on to do wonderful things. Plus, the friendship you both share is so amazing. I wish our daughters had been that close,” he opined.
‘Do you now?’ Dipper thought, almost busting out laughing.
“She’s all right, sometimes,” Dipper joked in return, playing it off the way a typical brother should.
“Speaking of…” Diana commented, causing Dipper to immediately turn around in anticipation.
Mabel had emerged through the slider to her own collection of claps and cries of celebration. Dipper always perked up anytime she entered his field of vision, be they lazing around the house or spotting each other while passing down the hall in between classes at the high school. From a good fifty feet away, she managed to purloin Dipper’s breath, and force his heart rate to rocket in the blink of an eye, a crippling power he knew she’d always possess, even when they were well into their autumn years.
The look was pure Mabel: a knee-length pleaded, dark purple skirt; a forest green tight-knit sweater with a similarly-hued headband atop her cascading mane; and a pair of Mary Janes with knee-high socks to round out the ensemble. She was the kind of girl who never needed makeup to highlight her features and, while she had curves in the places that drove Dipper wild, she didn’t fancy skin-tight dresses that showed them off, either. She was classically beautiful and magnificently confident, possessing a fashion of her own style that prioritized comfort, but also emphasized femininity. After all, the only person she ever dressed to impress was delivering an enthusiastic review via a loving gaze from across the backyard.
"Mabel, dear, congratulations!” Jane McCallister thundered in her typically boisterous manner, forcing Mabel’s attention in her direction.
“Thanks, Misses McCallister,” she replied as the family of five approached her, the three boys she had babysat multiple times during her high school career shyly acknowledging her presence.
“Yeah, proud of you both,” Gabe McCallister added, “You’re going to do great up at ‘U-dub’. I actually started my doctorate there before meeting Jane and transferring it down here. Tons to do in the city and you’re so close to the mountains.”
“Yeah, Dipper and I have been looking at different spots to hike and go camping. Mount Rainier looks amazing,” Mabel replied, realizing after she had spoken how odd that must have sounded.
“Well, unless I find someone else,” she added quickly with a coquettish giggle, the follow-up banishing the somewhat curious looks the McCallisters had upon hearing the original agenda of outdoor activities.
“College is the time to find out who you are and maybe who you want ‘that person’ to spend the rest of their life with,” Jane educated, leaning into her husband and the hug he offered.
‘Way ahead of ya, lady,’ Mabel thought behind a dreamy smile.
“And maybe find some time to study, too,” Gabe appended, leading the trio to share in a polite guffaw.
Hanging onto the lightness of the moment, the young miss looked down at the concrete slab beneath her feet, and then over to her brother again, who she saw was continuing to converse with the Templetons. She knew her focus should be on the wonderful family who had taken their time to drive a minivan full of energetic children to wish her well, but she couldn’t help it; it was simply her natural tendency to search out where he brother was, whether out of concern, desire, or adoration.
Considering how nice he looked in his collared shirt, she imagined for a moment they were the hosts of the party, inviting friends and acquaintances over to their happy home. Of course, there would be little ones running around; for now, she had to substitute in the three toe-headed McCallister children. Naturally, there would be copious amounts of streamers and balloons, as well as lawn games and a few other colorful accents. The details aside, however, there was no ‘maybe’ or ‘hopefully’ in her mind anytime she thought about her future with Dipper; losing herself in his eyes from twenty yards away, there was only ‘definitely’.
“Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?” Mabel heard originating from her right, causing her head to snap hard in that direction.
“Uh…I’m sorry?” she nervously apologized, her composure flustered over realizing how long she must have not merely checked out of the conversation, but, even worse, been ogling her brother from afar.
“I was just asking if you might be interested in borrowing the cabin a friend of ours has up on the Olympic Peninsula some time if you needed to get away from school. He rarely uses it and we’ve already had to turn down a half-dozen offers because of how busy our schedules are,” Gabe offered with a smile, not seeming fazed by the brunette’s spaciness.
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” she said enthusiastically, hoping she sounded authentic enough to recover from her earlier transgressions.
“Great. Well, you have our number. Anytime you have that special someone you need to escape with, just let us know and we’ll make sure he can get you the key,” Jane said with a wink and a playful elbow in Mabel’s shoulder as the conversation ended and the family made their way over to the pre-dinner offerings. Coincidently enough, passing them in the opposing direction and making a bee-line for Mabel, was the ‘special someone’ who would be joining her at some point in the future on an escape to the western reaches of Washington state.
“Well, you look nice,” her brother said with a grin of want, noticing the faint traces of glitter on her cheeks, and feeling removed enough from the other partygoers to share such sincerity; it was an outfit she had worn a number of times before, and one that she knew always caught his eye.
‘You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?’ he thought.
“As do you,” she said, predicting he’d bat away the compliment.
“Mabel, I didn’t get all prettied up after coating three thousand dead trees in adhesive plastic; you did.”
“And you’ll be glad I did,” she said quietly, the same impish smile again creeping to her lips.
“Okay, what do you have planned?!” Dipper asked, somewhat exasperatedly.
“Never you mind, Dip-dop,” she said in a teasing manner, walking over to grab herself a Pitt Cola from the ice chest.
Her brother following close behind, she led him along the lengthier side of the yard, with an aim to gain some space from the rest of the attendees. She figured taking a quiet lap around the outside of the grounds would give them a chance to discuss the plans that would be initiated the next day. Waking in-time at her right flank, Dipper looked over and smiled serenely.
“I like you earrings,” he commented, noticing that the pair of golden pine tree-shaped accoutrements was a new accessory.
“Thank you. I ordered them online last week. I figured since I always hear your little voice of reason in my head whenever I’m trying to have fun, I might as well look the part,” she goofed, poking him in the ribs gently.
Besides the accents in her earlobes, she also wore her treasured locket, an item her brother had gifted her on their fourteenth birthday. Just as she had on that snowbound weekend in Medford, she carried a small sliver of a rose petal, sampled and preserved from the bouquet Dipper had bestowed upon her after her role in a high school play. Their need to hide the true nature of their relationship meant they strove to preserve any bit of sentimentality that could be easily hidden in plain sight; the locket played an important role in said orchestration.
“I wish I could hold your hand,” she said, biting her lip slightly.
“I wish I could do more than that,” he admitted quietly, as they rounded the end of the yard and began to walk down the long side opposite the house.
“You scalawag!” she scoffed, feigning offense, to which he chuckled, rather pleased with himself.
“You think I don’t know that look in your eye?” he pressed, to which she could merely steer the conversation back to the topic that needed to be covered, acknowledging their walk would end soon.
Looking over to the gathering in the near distance, she took note that their absence had garnered greater attention than she desired. She wanted this to be viewed as nothing other than two lifelong friends passing the time before dinner was served, perhaps going over some salacious gossip that had recently entered her Facebook feed. Ensuring their persons remained a couple feet apart, they stayed the course.
“Trust me, broseph, our ‘snuggle time’ is always on my mind,” she assured, trying to keep her blushing to a minimum, “but I did want to make sure we’re set for the trip.”
“Fair enough,” he said, trying to not focus on what he wanted to do to Mabel then and there, public decency be damned, “I mean, if we can park the Subaru in the garage tonight, we can have it packed and ready to go, leave here by nine, and get into Gravity Falls by dinner.”
“Okay. Are we taking winter coats this time?” she asked, clearly referencing their bad luck on their last trek through the Beaver State.
“Shouldn’t be an issue in August, Mabes,” he snarked, wanting to forget the collision once and for all.
‘Still, made for some wonderful memories,’ he thought pleasantly.
“Just kidding,” she worked in before continuing, making sure she wasn’t wounding his confidence in his driving abilities.
“If the car’s not gonna be busted into overnight, then I’ll probably just cram a lot of my stuff in the trunk. I don’t think I have enough suitcases to hold everything I’ll need for a month, anyway.”
“Remember: we gotta leave some room for the crap we want to take to school from the Shack,” Dipper pointed out.
“Well, yeah, but it’s not like we’re taking the cloning-copy machine with us,” she countered.
“True, but when you take into account the grappling hook, the memory gun, Waddles…” he listed, emphasizing the last item.
“That’s a good point. My piglet needs room to stretch out,” she affirmed, ashamed for not having considered the third member of their travel party; in haste, she searched for the creature and sighed in relief upon seeing him happily trotting around from guest to guest.
“So, we’ll need to be careful about taking too much. If my memory serves me correctly, Soos mentioned he’d be replacing the washer and dryer as part of the remodel of the Mystery Shack when we met up during our campus visit to ‘U of O’. That should cut down on the need to take so much.”
“Just my sweater collection; got it,” she joked in reply, getting a smile out of her companion.
“Fine by me,” Dipper winked, the sexy insinuation catching Mabel a bit off-guard; she playfully swatted his arm and kept her blushing cheeks tilted towards the earth.
“So, we’ll head out with what we need to make it through a month at the Shack, we’ll drive up to school in September, and then Mom and Dad will send up the boxes and they’ll be waiting for us,” he concluded, making sure the parts of the plan made sense when said altogether.
“Once we figure out our mailing address,” Mabel included, adding a crucial element they’d need to determine as soon as possible.
“Yeah, good call. We’ll need to figure that out and get it to them,” Dipper agreed, glad she remembered.
“And I’ll text Candy and Grenda that we’ll be getting in tomorrow night,” Mabel announced as their stroll came to an end and they neared the party once more.
“Hooray,” he said sarcastically, though he knew Mabel understood he did ultimately enjoy their company, especially considering what they had survived together.
“Come on, it would suck if they weren’t there for the summer, especially for our birthday party,” she stated, needling her brother into a nod of acquiescence.
“I know, I know,” he groaned, before feeling a hand on his left arm, holding him back from getting any closer to the celebratory mob.
“Guess what I just realized?” Mabel asked, speaking softly into his ear, having a hard time separating it from a giggle.
“What?”
“We’re gonna have birthday sex,” she whispered in a sing-song manner, before scampering ahead towards a wonderfully appointed table, leaving her brother frozen in place, and blushing from head to toe.
“Dip! Come on! Your mother’s about to bring out dinner!” he saw his father beckon, having returned from the errand and wanting everyone to gather around the table.
His father’s insistence wasn’t making it any easier for Dipper to snap out of the pleasantly catatonic state his sister had lovingly shoved him into. After a few synapses finally woke up, he robotically put one foot in front of the other and, with a healthy ruddiness still in his cheeks, made it over to the empty spot at the end of the elongated picnic table directly opposite his sister, who coincidentally looked very pleased with herself.
“You okay, Dipper?” Mary Donaldson — another family friend and former babysitter of the twins from years ago — asked with mild concern. “You don’t look so good. Are you dehydrated?”
“I’m always telling him to drink more water,” Mabel interjected, agreeing with the diagnosis while donning a positively sinister grin.
“Yeah,” Dipper cooly replied, refusing to break eye-contact with his sibling, “I think you’re right: I’m dehydrated.”
Dipper swiftly snatched up the bottle of water that had been appointed to his place-setting and twisted off the cap with an unnecessary amount of flourish prior to taking a deep sip, the act nearly sending both twins into a fit of giggles. Miss Donaldson, not knowing what to make of the exchange, merely shrugged and re-engaged in conversation with her dining companion to the left.
All those who answered the call of the RSVP were now surrounding the extended eating surface, comprised of a few fold-out tables that Aaron had commandeered from his work for the event. Atop the laminated surface, the lady of the house had spread out a few dark blue tablecloths featuring a pattern of white stars, and set upon them a dozen Mason jars filled with fresh flowers and a couple candles that could be lit once the sun started sinking low enough in the sky. Along with the run-of-the-mill plastic cutlery and cardboard plates, it was a simple, but folksy way, to mark the end of one era and the embarking upon another.
“Who’s hungry?” Ann Pines asked, stepping out of the house with a large serving bowl in her hands, her inquiry met with a chorus of assents.
“Here, honey; let me help,” her husband piped up, leaping from his spot and heading inside to grab the next conveyance in order to speed up the process and save his already exhausted wife from unneeded wear and tear.
In short order, the main entree — homemade fried chicken — along with a cornucopia of side dishes, began its circuitous route around the table. Words were quickly replaced by the sound of utensils digging into home-cooked goodness and enthusiastic hums of delight. Outside of a few moans of protest from the McCallister children, everyone was happy to turn their attention to their stomachs.
The twins, alternately, preferred to keep their focus on each other. Dipper looked longingly at his sister, his line of sight skipping over the unlit candle positioned between them and drowning in the warm glow of her dark brown eyes. Even with their need for release screaming at a frequency that was fortunately undetectable to the nearby dinner guests, it never overrode the emotions that said carnal desire was enrobed within: devotion, trust, adoration, and unconditional love. Without a syllable being spoken, Mabel felt it radiating from across the table, her soul absorbing its immense power and reflecting it back to Dipper.
‘I’m so lucky,’ she thought dreamily, never taking her eyes away from him, barely reserving enough mental acuity to blithely stir her fork around a plate of food she couldn’t summon an appetite for.
The counting of such blessings took her back to their Senior Night party, occurring a couple weeks before high school graduation. Though it may have been a rite of passage that most students on the doorstep of university life took great elation in, neither Mabel nor Dipper could be counted amongst them. Sure, they wanted to see all their friends together for, perhaps, one final time before they ventured onto a thousand divergent paths. Yet, the mask they’d need to put on upon entering the venue — in many ways, the same disguise they had to don at home — took the fun out of it.
They both wanted nothing more than to show their indescribable connection off to the world, to walk up to everyone they knew, and proudly proclaim that they belonged to each other. Mabel wanted to take those embarrassing lovey-dovey snapshots in the photo booth, and Dipper wanted to wrap his arms around his beloved when hanging out, talking with his cohorts. They also reluctantly understood these wants to be only that, and not the reality of the world around them. However, that didn’t stop Dipper from coming up with a plan, a sweet and simple gesture, that even impressed his hopeless romantic of a soulmate.
In the handful of nights leading up to the event, he wore the University of Washington sweatshirt he had purchased from the on-campus gift store during a weekend visit with their parents. He had originally bought it simply to blend in with his small group of friends, who had each picked up a similar homage to their selected university. Knowing how badly Mabel wanted to feel some sort of connection as they were pulled in different direction at the upcoming school-approved festivities, he found a more worthwhile use.
Knocking on his sister’s door as they were about to head out, he handed over the garment with a bashful smile, an expression she immediately mimicked.
“Awww! I’m gonna smell like you all night,” she happily squealed, immediately slipping it over her head. Stepping back into her room, she adjusted before the mirror and fussed for a while with her newly mussed coif, though she couldn’t complain.
“I thought you’d like it. I figure if we can’t hold hands,” he explained, stepping in close enough to prevent their parents from hearing downstairs, “this would be the next best thing.”
“Okay, but what about you? You think you can just mark me as yours and roam free?” she playfully groused.
“No, Mabes. It’s—“
“I’ve got it!” she announced, after which she turned to face her brother and latched onto his neck.
“Hey! I’m…you’re gonna give me a hickey!” he giggled, trying to keep his voice down.
“That’s the plan!” she cheerily replied, before returning to her work.
With Mabel refusing to break contact with his skin, they somehow managed to slowly work their way towards her bedroom door, shutting it in order to allow her vampiric work to be conducted without threat of unwanted interruption. A few more minutes passed before she declared her branding efforts successful, stepping back to see Dipper blushing almost as brightly as the love bite.
“There; now you have something from me to wear around the party,” she laughed manically.
“Mabel, everyone is going to see it and assume I got it from someone!” he half-chuckled, half-whined while inspecting it in the mirror.
“Just tell them you hooked up with someone they’ve never met from another high school who’s also going to U-dub and you’ve been hanging out ahead of time,” she explained, feeling rather proud for concocting the deceit on-the-fly; seeing the thoughtful expression upon his face, she knew Dipper was mildly impressed, as well.
“That actually could work. I’ll have to figure out a high school far enough away to make sure they wouldn’t know anyone from it, but yeah, that should do the trick,” he admitted, nodding.
“See? All I needed was to suck a teeny-tiny speck of brainpower out through your neck and look what I can do!”
“Mabel, that’s not…” he laughed, stopping his needlessly analytical retort, choosing instead to cup her angelic face in his hands and kiss her sweetly on the lips.
“God, you’re amazing,” he hummed, leaning in to leave a peck on her forehead following the parting of their lips.
“So are you, broseph,” she replied, beaming giddily from the affection.
In a blissful daze over the memory, Mabel hadn’t noticed that the sun had plunged into the horizon deeply enough to initiate the lighting of the candles positioned along the table. Suddenly seeing their mother at her side with a lit match, she was somewhat startled and visibly jolted.
“Are you all right, sweetie?” Ann Pines asked, noticing the reaction. “You hardly touched your food.”
“Well, I’m just NOT…!” Mabel yelped, the last word bolting out of her mouth without any restraint, driven by a sensation she was not expecting in any shape or form: in the midst of her explanation, Dipper’s foot had found its way to the inside of her thigh and found a very ticklish spot in the process.
With every head at the table turned in her direction — even the McCallister children — Mabel summoned the breadth of composure contained within her slender frame and took a deep breath.
“Sorry, got a shiver there,” she fibbed, unable to come up with a more believable excuse. “I’m fine, though, Mom. Just a lot to figure out for tomorrow and it’s getting to my stomach a bit.”
“Oh. Okay,” their Mom replied, obviously unsure of how true the explanation was, but not having enough evidence to determine otherwise; after lighting the candle between her children, she began to move down the line, mercifully taking the leering along with her.
“You!” Mabel hissed quietly, a reaction that only made Dipper grab his sides in silent laughter.
Besides the sheer surprise the contact brought on, the spot his toe had brushed against was home to a nerve that seemed to have a direct line to her libido. Refusing to believe for one second that zeroing in on that small section of flesh hadn’t been his intention, Mabel decided that turnabout was very much fair play.
‘All right, Bro,’ Mabel thought, her desire for a counterstrike driven both by pride and an increasingly uncontrollable need for sexual satisfaction.
An ear-to-ear grin still camped out on his face, Dipper got a few mouthfuls of food down, not bothering to actually taste the rapidly cooling sustenance that their mother had slaved over. When he wasn’t looking at his plate or trading increasingly suggestive glances with his sister, Dipper nodded along to Mister Templeton — whom had insisted on sitting next to him — wax about how the college-bound should consider going into insurance underwriting.
Similarly, Mabel had struck up discourse with another family friend; to the best of the twins’ knowledge, they were fairly certain she had gone to high school with their mother. After graduation, the two would sometimes get coffee, check out a movie, or take an aerobics class together, when that was the rage. The chatter seemed pleasant enough, but any casual observer could see that Mabel was about as involved in it mentally as Dipper was.
Regardless, the interaction with those in attendance not only served to pass the time — each minute bringing them closer to escape — but was simply good manners. While the twins may not have kept in close contact with them, they each played an important role in their life at one point or another. The fact that their esteemed guests wanted to take time out of their summer evening to sit down in a backyard with others whom they likely didn’t know, simply to pass on their blessing, did carry weight and the twins took a moment to reflect on it while continuing to pick away at their meal.
“Oops,” Dipper heard from across the table.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I seem to have dropped my napkin,” Mabel said in her innocently goofy manner.
“Oh,” Dipper replied, brushing away the comment and failing to grasp the implication.
“Ummm…I think it’s close to your feet,” she pressed with a playful tone.
“All right,” Dipper laughed softly, finally understand his duty as her boyfriend.
“Good man,” Dennis Templeton noted with an approving nod. “The connection you two have will serve you well into the future. Family is so important.”
“Yeah, it is,” Dipper agreed, hoping the candlelight wasn’t strong enough to illuminate his reaction to the truism.
Swiftly, Dipper grabbed his phone from his pocket in order to aid in lighting the search area, darkness having nearly taken complete reign overhead. Sliding from his seat in order to wiggle far enough under the table, he landed on his left hand, providing him the means to grab the errant article with his right.
Before he started to back out, he heard Mabel clear her throat overhead. Reacting to it, he tilted his head up, expecting to see her knees. To his credit, they were there; only they happened to be spread apart. In between, tucked under a pleated purple skirt, to his shock and delight, he saw that most intimate part of his beloved, completely bare and with nary a stitch of cotton in sight.
“Oh, you lit—“ he whispered in excitement, his body demanding he stand at attention in response; unfortunately for him, a heavy-duty slab of plastic stood in his path; as a result, the entire dining set rumbled with a jolt as Dipper’s skull contacted sharply with the underside of the table, halting all conversation immediately and a chorus of concern to form in its absence.
“Dip? Are you okay, son?” Aaron Pines asked from the other end of the table. “What happened?”
“No, I’m good. Just was grabbing something and…uh…thought I was clear of the table when I tried to get up,” he explained, rubbing the sore spot on his head, wincing somewhat.
“Oh dear. That sounded like it hurt,” Susan cooed in a doting fashion.
“No, it’s fine. I’m totally fine,” he assured once more, training his line of sight on the perpetrator.
Although she needed to stifle a guffaw over his misfortune and the successful deployment of her feminine wiles, she did look apologetic. Mouthing a ‘sorry’ when their eyes connected, she seemed rather contrite, even after Dipper had silently accepted the admission with a shy smile.
A short time later, the guests appeared to have, at last, reached their maximum intake of summertime cuisine. Some guests stretched high upward, others laid their fork down in quiet surrender. Regardless of the means of delivery, it was evident the event was inching towards an uncomfortably stuffed conclusion…with the exception of two attendees, who had something on their mind besides barbecue.
Seeing a long-awaited opportunity to steal away, Dipper caught Mabel’s eye and cocked an eyebrow. Unsure of his intentions, she returned the gesture, but waited to see where this was going.
“Mabel and I will go in, and start cleaning up the kitchen,” Dipper volunteered as he rose to his feet, loudly enough to make sure everyone was made aware.
“Oh, honey, this is your day to celebrate,” their mom insisted, moving to stand.
“No, no, Mom and Dad. We appreciate all you’ve done. Let us take care of the clean-up. You sit out here and relax,” Mabel implored as she whizzed past the hostess, having left her seat with perhaps a bit too much vigor to be considered typical; luckily, this was Mabel and no one batted an eye.