#sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Reunion”

(Shoutout to @handleonthescandal for conceptualizing fem!dippin’, an AU where the Pines triplets consist of Fem!Dip, Mabel, and Tyrone. When I recently had the good fortune to spend some time with @dddippinsauce and @equilateral-asshat outside of cyberspace, it was hard to keep the dynamic far from our minds. This fic is dedicated to the two of them ‘cause they’re the bestest chicken nuggets around).

It’s been nearly ten years since the Pines triplets were all together in Gravity Falls for any length of time. They are finally all together, for only a weekend, and Mabel finds herself tempted to pick up right where they left off. Angst, fluff, smut. TW incest. Fem!Dippin Pinecest. NSFW. 11,200 words (ooh what a nice round number!)

Fic below cut, enjoy!

Reunion

Mabel took a break from shoveling bites of syrup-soaked pancake into her mouth to get another look at Dip and Ty. It’d been much too long since they’d all been together like this to let the moment go uncherished, and besides, it was probably wise to give herself a chance to actually chew her food. Next to her, Dipper was happily having a sip of tea, her hands curled gratefully around the warmth of the mug. Mabel had always loved catching Dip in little moments of serenity like this one, serenity being something her high-strung sis too seldom found. Mabel chewed her mouthful of pancakes thoughtfully and looked across the table at Ty. He held a slice of turkey bacon at the ready (having long since agreed to her insistence that they all give up pork as a courtesy to Waddles), his own plate of pancakes mostly emptied. Mabel wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Ty looking at her already, his grateful expression a mirror of her own happiness in sharing such a simple pleasure with her favorite trips.

“Ah!” Dipper gave a small, slightly dramatized sigh of satisfaction as she set down her mug, and Mabel watched Ty’s gaze slide lovingly to their sister. His already sentimental expression gave way to a small goofy smile, “What?” she challenged, her lips curling into a half-smile.

Ty’s smile widened and Mabel’s heart lifted as it always did when Ty smiled that way, “It just feels really great to be home.” He said simply, gesturing to the interior of Greasy’s Diner with the piece of turkey bacon before popping it into his mouth. Glancing around the diner, Mabel couldn’t help but agree. Not a thing had changed in here in the last… was it really going on ten years? The world outside kept changing and demanding different things of them, but Gravity Falls remained eerily and comfortingly the same.

Dip lifted her mug of tea, “Hear, hear!” Mabel lifted her hot cocoa in agreement.

“What the hey does Lazy Susan do to make these pancakes so good?” Mabel asked around another bite, as if the question had not been posed between the three of them thousands of times over the years.

“I’m telling you,” Dip said with a conspiratorial look, “Blood magic. It’s the only force powerful enough to explain this.”

Ty snorted, “You will carry that theory to your grave, won’t you, Dip? I’m telling you,” he said, as he had many times, “She fries them in bacon fat instead of butter.”

“Nooo,” Mabel complained stubbornly, covering her ears with her hands, “It can’t be pork fat, I already gave up bacon, don’t take pancakes from me too!”

“How else would you explain these deliciously crisp edges?” Ty asked, holding up a corner of pancake speared on his fork.

“Blood magic,” Dip replied without missing a beat, “No bacon fat alone could produce such a sinfully tasty pancake.”

Ty snickered, popping the bite of crispy pancake edge into his mouth, “Whether it’s blood magic or bacon fat, I just hope she keeps doing what she’s doing.” He closed his eyes, making a show of reveling in the taste of the pancake, “I don’t want to live in a world without these freaking pancakes.”

“I take it they don’t have pancakes like this outside Gravity Falls?” Dipper said conversationally, already knowing the answer.

“Heck no,” Mabel said, “In Florida most people call them flapjacks and they’re tasty enough but they’re nowhere near ‘sinful’.” There were some things Mabel liked about living in the Sunshine State, not least of all the animals she worked with at a zoo there, but there was no getting used to some of it. She quite liked the word ‘flapjacks’, but they didn’t taste like home.

“The pancakes at the Griddle Houses near me are passable at best,” Ty agreed, the look in his eye implying that he was running through every pancake he’d had since moving to New York, “I don’t think blood magic fits into the franchise policy.”

Dip cupped a hand to her ear, “Do I hear some doubt in your long-held bacon grease theory?”

“Not even a little,” Ty scoffed, “But it’d take more than bacon fat to kick a Griddle House pancake up to Lazy Susan quality.”

Dipper shrugged concedingly and the triplets fell back into a comfortable silence, as they tucked into what remained of their breakfast-for-dinner. Mabel and Ty had both arrived, from Florida and New York respectively, in the mid-afternoon, hungry from traveling and craving the comfort food of their youth. Mabel and Ty each eagerly cleaned their plates, leaving barely a drop of maple syrup behind, but Dipper asked for a take-away box for about half of what she’d ordered. Of course, Dipper could have Greasy’s signature pancakes whenever she wanted, unlike her sibs, having ended up living in Gravity Falls full time.

Not that it came as any surprise that she was the one to wind up here. On the contrary, Mabel thought it would have been stranger to imagine Dipper settling anywhere else. While Mabel and Ty’s respective goals had carried them far and away from the comfort of Gravity Falls and Piedmont, Dipper’s path towards investigating the supernatural had rarely wavered. Mabel had always admired Dipper’s surety and dedication to this one goal, her own wide range of interests and skills leading her down one dead end after another before she had landed on animal care. Ty had struggled similarly with artistic and career attempts, too many of which had been flops. Mabel’s heart gave a twinge, sympathizing with her brother’s rocky path and the deep self-doubt that went with it. Not that Dipper had been dealt an easy hand by any means. It was almost as if being a precocious kid guaranteed you for dissatisfying young adulthood, and Dip was no exception. She did, however, at the very least, have the good fortune of living in Gravity Falls.

The damp autumn evening met them with a refreshing gust as they left the cozy, stuffy warmth of the diner, “Autummmnnn!” Mabel sing-songed, with a little twirl on the leaf-strewn sidewalk, and pulled a deep breath of the clean Oregon air through her nose, letting it out in a satisfied sigh, “Ya don’t find air like that in Florida.”

“Isn’t the air in Florida, like, seventy percent swamp?” Ty asked, wrapping an arm around Mabel’s shoulders.

“Eighty percent, bro.” Mabel said, hugging his waist.

“I dunno,” Dip said, holding out a hand to feel the light, cool drizzle, “Oregon’s swampy air levels are at at least a fifty today, maybe we should have taken the car after all.”

“Oh, hogwash, Dipdot!” Mabel exclaimed, giving the bill of Dipper’s cap a playful flick, “You got your handy-dandy hat, a little spritz like this got nothin’ on you!”

And she was right, for most of the walk. There were very few people out on account of the overcast sky and steady drizzle, and the triplets walked along, hand-in-hand, feeling almost as though they’d gone back in time to one of the summers of their childhood. The leaves were halfway turned, the reds and oranges vivid against the still brilliantly white sky. Everything was dewy and glossed from the mist, giving the world a clean, fresh look. As they walked, they reminisced about adventures with their Grunks, forays into the supernatural wilds of the Falls, and Mabel, delighted by the novelty of the season after a few years in the static heat of the south, pointed out signs of autumn all around them. It was when she pointed out the flock of geese, honking and flying in a symmetrical chevron above, that she noticed the sky had darkened considerably from a luminous overcast white to a threatening soot grey. She said nothing to Dipper or Ty, in hopes that ignoring the portentous sky might convince it to let them reach the Shack before the rain. Surprisingly, this tactic failed and a few minutes later the heavy clouds opened up, pouring cold water down in sheets.

Dipper gave a surprised shriek, the same one she’d made when they were kids and one of her mischeivous triplets would slip an ice cube down the back of her shirt. Ty laughed at the sound, and pulling his sisters along by their hands, broke into a run. Home wasn’t far off by that point and the trips ran the rest of the way, clumsy and laughing, until three sets of feet splashed through the muddy puddles of the parking lot and stamped up the two steps into the welcome shelter of the Shack porch. The rain drummed on the wooden awning that shielded them and the triplets panted with the exertion, exchanging amused looks at each other’s bedraggled appearances, all of them drenched to the bone.

Dipper unlocked the door as quickly as she could, and they stumbled inside. Dipper put leftovers in the fridge, wet shoes squelching, whiler Ty and Mabel eagerly kicked off their own soaked shoes and shucked off socks, “Co-oo-ooold!” Mabel whined, wasting no time in peeling off her purple leggings and sequined beige sweater, and kneeling to rummage through her suitcase in search of dry clothes.

“One of the downsides to the whole season thing,” Ty pointed out and something in his tone caught Mabel’s attention as strange. She glanced at him, finding his cheeks pink and his eyes all but glued to her lace-trimmed lilac chevron-printed undies. She forced her eyes back to the jumbled contents of her suitcase, surprised to uncover a long-neglected jumble of thoughts. After all these years of telling herself that all of that business was in the past, she’d somehow neglected to consider that it might be hard for her trips to forget it once in a while. She blindly grabbed a clean pair of leggings and a shirt from her suitcase and scampered into the bathroom to change. After impatiently slipping into the dry clothes, Mabel stared down her reflection, absently trying to make sense of her mass of unruly wet curls and wishing the flush away from her own cheeks.

That wasn’t what you thought it was, she told herself, staring into her own brown eyes in the mirror, It’s just been a long time since you got into your skivvies like that and you did it without warning. You’re reading too much into it, Mabes. Plenty of people would get weird when confronted with their sister’s nearly naked caboose. Ignoring the fluttering of her own heart should be easy enough, she’d been pushing these thoughts aside for a long time now. No way was she going to squander this short, precious visit with Ty and Dipper getting them all tangled in that nonsense again.

After a few more stern words with herself, Mabel emerged from the bathroom to find Dipper making up the futon that now sat in the living room where Grunkle Stan’s yellow chair used to be. The chair now held a place of honor in the cozy reading nook Dipper had made for herself in the basement, festooned in string lights in a way that surely made Grunkle Stan groan every time he was in town. Despite getting on in years, he and Grunkle Ford were still out sailing the seven seas, determined to squeeze as much fraternity and adventure into their twilight years as humanly possible. Mabel was sorry she wouldn’t get to see them while she was in town, but pleased as punch to know her uncles were making the most of their time together.

She walked over to the futon and grabbed the nearest corner of the fitted sheet, tucking it under the mattress while Dipper did the same to the opposite side. Dipper had changed too, her wet hair wound into its customary braid over her shoulder, her wet jeans and hoodie traded for black yoga pants and a slightly oversized Mystery Shack tee shirt, the old green question mark design from before Mabel had helped to re-brand the Shack during her ill-fated attempt to beef up her graphic design resume. Without prompting, Mabel helped Dip to spread out a sheet and the big knitted blanket she’d painstakingly made for her a few years prior, “Getting caught in the rain is nothing a little cuddling can’t fix.” Dipper said, by way of explanation.

“Such wisdom,” Mabel said, fluffing a couple of the pile of pillows Dipper had scrounged up, “We don’t call you the smart one for nothing.”

“P’shaww,” Dip rolled her eyes, climbing under the covers, “Smart one, my ass. I’m just the most anxious and it keeps me motivated, you know that.”

“Anxiety and brilliance are not mutually exclusive, my dude,” Mabel pointed out, fishing the fleecey polka-dot slipper-socks Dip had given her out from under the futon, “You know--”

“FLOP!” Tyrone announced, as he did in fact flop heavily into the middle of the futon beside Dip. She giggled, and Mabel grinned along. There was simply no resisting Ty’s infectiously sweet and silly antics and she was relieved to see no sign that he might have been distressed by their little moment a moment before. Ty wrestled the blankets out from underneath himself, inviting more giggling from his sisters, before finally getting settled. He rested his head on Dip’s shoulder and she gave his tousled wet hair an affectionate kiss, as Mabel climbed into the futon. She already felt warmer, as if the sight of her two favorite people snuggled up and safe could warm her body as well as her heart. Ty wasted no time in looping his arm around Mabel’s waist and pulling her against his side.

As ever, Ty radiated body heat, and Mabel wrapped her arm around him, her fingers lacing with Dip’s, her body nesting into his side as naturally as if it were designed to fit there. In a way maybe it was, she liked to think they’d all been cuddle buddies since before they were even born. She purred happily against him, squeezing Dipper’s cold fingers, and stating contentedly, “Mmmmm, warmssss…”

“Tyrone Pines, Warms Specialist, at your service.” Ty joked, with a little salute.

“You’re the best at what you do, Mr. Pines.” Dipper assured Ty, her voice not quite sardonic enough to disguise that she absolutely meant it as she nuzzled the top of his head.

“I second that.” Mabel said, burrowing her face into the warmth of Ty’s shoulder. She breathed deep and was comforted to find he smelled exactly the same as he always had. The earthy-sweet smell of his skin was heightened by the lingering dampness from the rain and Mabel risked letting herself sink into the smell. Where her arm was hooked over the comforting squish of Ty’s tummy, her hand rested in Dipper’s, as natural as anything, and Dipper’s thumb stroked her knuckles in the same pattern it had back then.

Back when they were dumb, silly, hapless kids, their hormones raging and their vocabularies not remotely up to the task of describing the tangle of their feelings. She had made a point of putting it out of her mind as much as she could, but Mabel found she still remembered that summer with a startling clarity. It was like a well-loved movie, nearly memorized, that she could watch in her mind as if it were projected on a screen in front of her. It was the summer after their senior year of high school, when the wind through the trees had seemed to whisper ‘freedom’. The seemingly endless drudgery of K-12 schooling had in fact ended, and there was a giddiness to that alone, that the thing that had governed every day of their lives for so long had been defeated. They had all gotten into different colleges, but their minds were not on the more taxing academics in their future, or the looming day when they’d no longer be sleeping under the same roof. No, that summer had been about fun, plain and simple. Fun in all its forms, cryptid-seeking adventures around the town, getting drunk on the Shack roof, concerts, and parties, and long lazy days in bed together. In retrospect, it had been a last hurrah of their childhood together, but none of them had seen it that way then. They’d been seventeen and invincible and looking for fun around every corner.

The first time one of their drinking sessions on the roof had given way to playfully kissing each other, they had all giggled and blushed at how ludicrous and risque it was. They had acted like it was for the thrill, the taboo of it, and Mabel had not voiced the confusion running wild inside her liquor-soaked head. After that day, things shifted, imperceptibly at first. The triplets had never been shy around each other, but Mabel remembered how suddenly they were seeking excuses to touch, excuses to take off their clothes, excuses to act unlike siblings. She could see in cinematic exactness the way the dappled sun through the trees had illuminated Dipper’s eyes as she’d coyly slipped out of her bathing suit while they were swimming in an isolated little cove in Gravity Falls lake. She could feel as if it were happening that very moment the way Tyrone’s lips had felt on her neck and ear at some party where no one knew they had the same last name.

It had been fun, gloriously fun, and delightfully dangerous. Dangerous in a way that turned her stomach to look back on, petrified at the thought of how reckless and stupid they’d been. And more than anything, it had been fleeting. As the end of summer closed in, they’d tried to talk about it a few times without much success. Mabel remembered trying to tell them she was in love with them multiple times, always chickening out, terrified that what sprang from love in her was no more than teenage abandon in them. Ty had poorly explained something to do with hormones at one point, and Dipper had tried to explain her desire to not be as ruled by her anxiety (something that would soon after prove impossible with her rigorous college workload), but when the time came to ship off to their separate colleges, they said goodbye with a million unspoken explanations hanging between them. And for the first time, they spent their birthday in three different states, further apart than ever in the wake of getting closer than three siblings probably ever should have been.

Mabel realized Ty was snoring, and opened her eyes slowly, as if worried that even opening her eyes might disturb him. At some point, Dipper had scooted down in the bed and was tucked under Ty’s opposite arm and her face was directly in front of Mabel’s. The sun had set but there was still a light on in the kitchen so Mabel could dimly see her siblings’ sleeping features. Dipper’s face was uncharacteristically relaxed, the crease that almost always existed between her eyebrows smoothed away by the reprieve of sleep. She was breathing softly, her lips slightly parted, and for a second, Mabel seriously considered kissing her before reprimanding herself for the thought. Neither Ty nor Dipper had ever mentioned the events of that summer since, and Mabel generally took that as answer enough as to whether they had been motivated by the same feelings of love as she had been. Besides, even if they had been, it didn’t matter. It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t like it was something they could pursue, least of all now from three opposite corners of the continent. Ty stirred slightly in his sleep, his grip on both his sisters tightening, pulling them in closer. Mabel’s heart swelled happily, and she let her eyes fall shut again, nuzzling nearer to her triplets and reminding herself as sleep took hold that this was already more than enough cause to be thankful.

The soft music of the rain pattering on the roof and gurgling in the rain gutters, the occasional rumble of thunder, permeated Mabel’s dreams so that waking up was a slow hazy affair. She was perfectly warm, floating in a soft space that sounded like rain and deep breathing, smelled like peaches and cedar and home. She was vaguely aware of the small happy murmur she made as she wiggled deeper into this foggy happy place. The warmth around her responded with a sleepy sigh, and nestled their bodies closer together. It dawned on her that those were arms around her, that against her shoulder was a chin, and against her back was a chest, and against her backside was--

Well, now she was awake. She blinked a couple times, trying to rid the blurriness of sleep from her eyes. A familiar view of half of the Mystery Shack living room greeted her, her arms curled around Tyrone’s forearm, one hand laced loosely with his. It was hard to tell what time it was, the diffused, pale, rainy day light could have been morning or afternoon. Judging by the slow deep breaths that fell warm across her cheek and ear, Ty was still sound asleep. She couldn’t hear any stirring from the other side of the bed and assumed Dipper was still asleep as well. She’d be perfectly happy to keep on sleeping herself. Just in case she’d imagined the startling presence, Mabel gave her hips a small tentative wiggle, greeted immediately by the now unmistakable feeling of Ty’s morning wood pressed right up against her rear end.

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, and, for that matter, between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself insistently, it’s involuntary! It’s just morning wood, it doesn’t mean anything! She was pretty sure it was normal for a guy to get an erection in the morning like this, especially if he happened to be pressed against a girl’s butt. Much as she told herself that it had nothing to do with her, the familiar ache between her thighs did not waver. Hating herself for it, she moved her hips slightly again, all of her attention focused on the way he felt. He made a soft appreciative rumble that cut to Mabel’s core, simultaneously wetting her panties and filling her tummy with squirming guilt.

Reluctantly, she severed that forbidden point of contact with him, repositioning herself so that she was lying on her back. She rested her right cheek on the pillow to look at him and was surprised when his eyes met hers. His dark, heavy-lidded gaze was like a magnet, soulful and open. He wet his lips as they stared into each other’s eyes and Mabel had the sense she was looking right inside him. There was longing there that nothing could refute, a desire that ran infinitely deeper than an involuntary physical response. Their still-linked hands rested on Mabel’s belly beneath the blankets and Ty’s thumb slowly stroked the thin fabric of her tank top. Mabel’s breath caught at the innocent touch and she saw the corners of Ty’s mouth twitch towards a smirk.

The quiet intensity of the moment was broken as Dipper stirred. She’d apparently been facing away from Ty but rolled over now to wrap her arms around Ty in a sleepy, enthusiastic bear hug. She made a playful ‘eeeh’ as she squeezed him and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. Both he and Mabel burst into wide grins, and Ty turned his head to place a kiss on Dipper’s temple that turned into a loud raspberry. Giggles erupted from Dipper as she tried to wriggle away, her hoarse morning voice protesting, “Noo, in a moment of weakness!”

A tangle of tickling and raspberries ensued before the triplets settled down again, giggles quieting as they sank gratefully back into a horizontal group hug. Dipper didn’t sound much like she meant it when she said, “We should prooobably get up.”

“Or,” Mabel suggested, “We could stay right here forev’s.”

“Hm, an interesting proposal,” Ty said, nodding thoughtfully, “Go on.”

“Well, first of all, we already have the bed all warmed up,” she pointed out, lifting one leg slightly to gesture at the blankets, “It would conserve energy to just keep using these warms than to make new warms.”

Dipper laughed, “Not sure that’s what energy conservation is, but you have my attention.”

“So, what I propose is this.” Mabel went on in a mock-formal tone, “As opposed to going out where it is cold and wet, we stay in here, where it is warm and dry.”

“Furthermore,” Ty jumped in, “In here there are cuddles, and TV, and snacks.”

“Sold,” Dipper said decisively, snuggling her face into Tyrone’s neck, bopping his chest lightly as if with a gavel. Mabel’s heart overflowed to see Dipper this relaxed and silly, a side of her she rarely got to see with their relationship dependent on texts and phone calls. Not that any of the triplets maintained walls between them, but there were just some moments you couldn’t quite have over the phone.

After a couple more minutes of snuggling, Ty gave a dramatic sigh, “Alas, I must leave the comforts of bed.”

“But the warms!” Mabel protested, as Ty disentangled himself from his sisters’ limbs.

“Will have to wait till after I’m done peeing.” He said, giving the bed a last longing look before disappearing around the corner and heading upstairs.

Not willing to risk a moment of cuddle deprivation, Mabel and Dipper closed the gap between them that Ty had filled, enclosing each other in a familiar hug. They’d always been close to the same size, and their arms fit around each other with a pleasant symmetry, their leg placement and head placement complementary. Mabel had always found it strange, on the occasions when she had snuggled with people other than Dipper and Ty, how hard it could sometimes be to maneuver. Where it had always seemed like falling effortlessly into place for the triplets, with others it could range anywhere from tangling awkwardly to feeling like you were trying to squash square pegs into round holes. Dipper nestled her head onto Mabel’s shoulder, “I’m so glad you guys are here.”

“Me, too, sis,” Mabel agreed, kissing the top of Dipper’s head before resting her cheek against her hair, “Like Ty said, it’s really good to be home.”

Dipper nodded against Mabel, squeezing her a little, “Well, it feels a lot more like home with you here,” she paused slightly, choosing her words, “Especially since Soos and Melody have been spending so much time in Portland lately, and tourist season is over again… you’d be surprised how lonely the Shack can get.”

Mabel had to admit she’d never really considered it, but she’d never spent any time here alone. For her, the Shack (and Gravity Falls as a whole) had always been such a safe haven. When she was here, she was with her friends, and her Grunkles, and most importantly her triplets, and that had always made it seem like home. In the summer, the place bustled with tourists, Soos’ kids and their playmates always underfoot. But she tried to imagine what it was like for Dipper, here all year long, through the long harsh winters when the Shack was closed and there were no tourists. Through Soos’ family’s ever more frequent visits back to Melody’s family in Portland. Through the summers when reminders of their shared childhood were around every corner, but her siblings themselves were rarely if ever there, “Aw, Dipdot,” Mabel cooed, suddenly feeling guilty for all the times she’d thought to herself that Dipper had the best circumstances of the three of them, “I didn’t know.”

“Oh, I’m okay,” Dipper insisted, eager to make light of her feelings to keep Mabel from worrying, “I love living in Gravity Falls. I just…” she looked up and met Mabel’s eyes and Mabel was startled to feel her heart speed up at the sad longing look in Dipper’s eyes, “I just want to make the most of having you and Ty here.” Just then they heard Ty’s steps thumping down the stairs and he came back into the room, Mabel’s mind off-balance, trying to make sense of the look she’d just seen in her sister’s eyes. It wasn’t altogether unlike the way Ty had looked at her upon waking.

“D’aww,” Ty said as he grabbed Dipper’s laptop and cord where they were lying on the old dinosaur skull that had long served as an end-table, “You two look so warm and comfy,” he flipped up the corner of the covers and joined them, his tone turning mischievous, “Perfect for warming my feets!” Mabel yelped as Ty’s ice-cold feet touched hers, slipping between her knees to nestle in the warm pocket between her legs and Dipper’s.

Dipper plucked her computer from Ty, leaning partway out of the futon bed to plug it in before opening it and pulling up webflix. They didn’t have to say as much, Ty grabbing the laptop had clearly communicated to both of them what he had in mind. There was fairly little discussion before they settled on something to watch and settled into each other’s arms for the afternoon.

Mabel’s thoughts kept straying from the plot of the movie they had on and carding cautiously through the feelings she hadn’t expected to still hang so heavy in her thoughts. It had been so long and so much had happened in the intervening years, she had been sure it wouldn’t be an issue. Sure, it sometimes cropped up in her mind when she was lying in bed trying to sleep, or when she couldn’t find anything to listen to on the radio in the car, but that didn’t mean she still felt it. But now, here she was, sandwiched between them with her feelings running amok. Being with them again, being in the Shack again, it made sense that it wasn’t too far from her mind, but what she really wanted to know was what was happening in their minds. She’d never really found out back then, and she sighed, accepting that she probably wouldn’t now and would just always wonder if the way they had looked at her had just been a trick of the light.

The afternoon slid by, and they said fairly little apart from on and off running commentary on the movies they were watching. Ty’s stomach started to grumble first, with Dipper joining in close behind. When Mabel’s chimed in, enough was enough and Dipper paused the laptop, “Alright, that’s it, it’s time for food.”

It took a good five minutes to tear themselves from the coziness of the bed and Mabel shivered. The Shack was drafty and her tank top wasn’t really warm enough outside of the blankets. As they walked into the kitchen, Ty must have noticed the way she was hugging herself because he draped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, “Warms specialist protects.” he murmured in a sweet, joking tone. She leaned her cheek against his, his stubble tickling slightly as his warmth diffused into her.

In the kitchen, a flurry of food prep began. As usual, Mabel opted to whip up a batch of cookies, settling on snickerdoodles at Ty’s insistence. He was already well along in making some sauce and pasta, while at the opposite counter, Dipper was obsessively arranging a cheese plate, slicing various cheeses and filling small bowls with crackers and olives and anything she found in the fridge and cabinets that seemed suitable. Dipper was softly narrating what she was doing in a silly song, a habit she’d picked up from Grunkle Stan in the periods when he and Ford returned to the Shack between adventures. Ty and Mabel exchanged an amused look as Mabel took another tray of cookies from the oven, listening to the ‘song’ Dipper was singing, “Fillin’ up a plate with cheese, fillin’ up a plate with cheese, want some crackers with that cheeeese? No, sir, I just want the cheese.”

“No, sir, I just want the cheese,” Ty chimed in, bopping his head to the repetitive melody, “No, sir, I just want the cheese.”

“Taking cookies off a sheet,” Mabel added, as she scooped the steaming cookies onto a plate with a plastic spatula, “Have a cookie, if you please.”

Ty’s hand was on the plate at light speed, plucking a cookie from the pile, “All the cookies are for me, all the cookies are for me, all the-- ow! Ow! Hot!” Ty sputtered, upon biting the cookie.

“Oh, no, you okay, bro?” Dipper asked, she and Mabel both darting to his side at once to make sure he was alright.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he waved them off affectionately, blowing on the cookie before taking another bite, “Mmmm, good thing I didn’t burn my tongue too much to taste.”

“Instant karma, you cookie-hoarder.” Mabel said, swatting his shoulder lightly with the spatula.

“No clue what you’re talking about.” Ty said, as Mabel put the last tray of cookie dough in the oven, and he grabbed another cookie from the plate. He gave her a cheeky smile, chewing a big mouthful of cookies as she closed the oven door and turned around. She couldn’t help but grin back at him. Just about no one could match her silliness the way that Ty could.

The triplets managed to carry their three bowls of pasta, towering plate of cookies, and over-burdened tray of cheese back to the futon in one trip, cans of Pitt Cola tucked under their arms. They piled back into bed, tucking the blankets up as high as they could get them to stay, and dove happily into their impromptu feast while resuming the dumb movie they’d been watching. Mabel had been too distracted by her own thoughts to take in most of the first half of the movie, but now that she was playing closer attention, she easily slipped into the rhythm of riffing with Dip and Ty.

Sometime after their food was set aside, apart from the occasional grape or olive from the cheese plate munched on, Ty’s hand slipped into Mabel’s beneath the covers, giving a comforting squeeze. She let her head fall against his shoulder and Dip, noticing the cuddles being initiated, laid her head in Mabel’s lap. Mabel’s free hand stroked Dipper’s hair, about two thirds of which had slipped out of her braid since the previous night. Mabel felt the warm fuzzy feelings her trips always brought out in her begin blossoming in her chest and softly said, “I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too, goober.” Ty said, kissing the top of Mabel’s head.

“We love you so so much.” Dip said, reaching up to give the hand that was petting her hair a squeeze.

It was already nearing sunset and Dipper adjusted her head in Mabel’s lap to gaze out the window as the dim rainy day grew dimmer, “Time’s going too fast,” she observed a little solemnly, “Three days sounded like more when we were planning.”

“Hushh,” Ty said sympathetically, reaching over to take Dip’s hand, “I know.”

“I just don’t want you to go yet,” Dip said, “It’s too soon.”

“We still have tonight, Dipdot,” Mabel reminded, trying to sound more optimistic than she felt. In truth, the deadline was weighing on her mind as well, “And aaaall day tomorrow, and tomorrow night.”

“Even a little bit of Monday morning.” Ty added.

Mabel could feel Dipper’s sad smile against her leg and felt a fierce push to kiss her sadness away, “I know, I shouldn’t be wasting our time together worrying about how we don’t have enough time together.”

“I don’t think we could ever have enough time together.” Ty said wistfully, and his sisters nodded in agreement, “C’mere, we gotta hug it out.” He held out his arms and Dipper crawled up to snuggle against his free shoulder, while Mabel ducked under his arm. They laid their heads against his chest, and as Mabel placed her hand absently on his thigh to pull herself closer, she could swear she heard his heartbeat speed up. She glanced up at him and this time there was no mistaking the pink tinge to his cheeks. Mabel’s attention was drawn away when she heard Dipper sniffle, a sniffle she’d be able to pick out even in a loud crowded place, the sniffle that belied Dipper losing hold of the reins of something that had been bothering her all day. Ty knew the sound as well as she did and immediately cradled Dipper’s head closer to him, tucking his chin atop her head and cooing soothingly, “Oh, honey, no,” he said, gently, “You’re okay. Just let it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Dipper choked, wiping the tears from her cheeks impatiently, “I’m being so stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Mabel said, reaching across Ty to rub Dip’s shoulder, “It’s totally understandable. We feel the time passing, too.”

“This is such a dumb way for me to make you spend it though!” Dipper insisted, “We should all be cuddling and having a g-good time! Not managing my dumb emotions…”

“‘Scuse you, Dippinsauce,” Mabel said gesturing vaguely to them, “But we are cuddling!”

“And we are having a good time,” Ty said, giving Dipper a squeeze, “How could we have anything but a good time with our favorite sister?”

“Exactomundo,” Mabel nodded decisively, tucking Dipper’s bangs back from her face, “Tyroni’s got it right. I’m just happy that for once I’m actually here to help make you feel better when you’ve got sads.”

Dipper nodded against Tyrone’s chest, before half climbing into his lap to snuggle closer. Mabel wrapped her arms around them both in a group hug, tucking her face against them as Dipper’s tears gradually slowed. She could feel the wetness of Dip’s tears against her, and adjusted her head slightly so that she could kiss her sister’s reddened cheek. It must have surprised her, because her breath caught slightly which made Mabel smile and kiss her again. She stroked Dipper’s hair away from her face and was surprised to feel Ty press his lips tenderly to her own forehead. She gave him an inquisitive look, noting the blush again upon his cheeks, “What was that for?”

“Being such a good sister,” he said, lightly cupping her cheek for a second. She was about to lean into the touch but he removed his hand, “You take good care of us.”

“D’aww, you big softieee,” Mabel teased, a slightly bashful smile on her lips, “We take good care of each other.”

“Just take the compliment, Mabes,” Dip said, bloodshot eyes peering up at her, “I’m grateful for it, too.”

“You guyssss,” Mabel protested, surprised to feel the tears rising in her own eyes so suddenly, “Why do we live so f-far apa-art?”

At the sound of her voice breaking, Ty tugged her close against his chest, “Oh, man, you guys are gonna make me cry. Get over here.” With surprising efficacy, Ty rearranged them, maneuvering them so that they were lying down again, with Mabel in the middle. Dipper wrapped her arms around Mabel’s waist from behind her, while Ty resumed holding her to his chest, where she let herself cry freely. She wondered in the back of her mind whether this was the right moment, the best chance she’d have to tell them how she felt, but it was no use either way as the tears were coming too heavily for her to have spoken about anything. Let them believe I’m just crying about saying goodbye soon, she thought, It’s still true and it’ll save us all a lot of heartache.

After her tears slowed to a stop, she just lay there nestled between them. She would have been content, were it not for the confession hiding under her tongue. After some time, she gave into the weariness and sleep overtook her.

The hand resting on her hip was warm, so warm it was like it was on fire, burning a hole in her clothes. It must have, she reasoned, because now it seemed that it was on her skin, the fingers curling, indulging the hand’s desire to feel more of her. She was unsurprised to find the hand belonged to Ty, facing her in bed, his tousled hair falling across his brow. That look was in his eyes again, the aching softness she’d seen before. So lost was she in the inviting liquid depths of his brown eyes, she was almost surprised when they closed as his lips met hers. Small explosions went off in her mouth, dancing down through her body, leaving in their wake little magnets that drifted towards him inexorably. Her body met his, not exploding so much as melting. Even as she was kissing him, her hands running up his arms to grip his shoulders, she was also outside of them, watching how naturally they fit together.

Even with this double vantage point, the impossibly gentle lips that found her shoulder still came as a complete surprise. They moved from the round of the joint in, trailing ethereal kisses along the crest and dip of her shoulder sending exquisite tremors to her core. As a hand rose with infinite care to brush aside her hair from her neck, she knew without the faintest shadow of a doubt that it was Dipper behind her. Who else in the universe could handle her so decisively, yet with such care that it could be mistaken for caution? As Dipper’s soft lips found the base of Mabel’s throat, she knew it could not be caution she sensed, but reverence.

She watched their bodies from above while feeling them from within, marveled at the way their bodies were clothed and unclothed at once. She watched her own hand leave Ty’s shoulder to lay lightly but hungrily on the smoothness of Dipper’s thigh. Dipper pressed closer at the touch, her hips flush against Mabel’s behind. It was that touch that awakened Mabel to her own insistence. All this softness and delicacy had lit a fire in her core, and she wasn’t sure how long her own hips had been moving, eager to draw them both nearer and stoke the fire hotter.  Each time her hips moved forward, she could feel Ty’s tantalizing hardness against her, as if through clothed and not clothed at once. That sometime-sense of cloth only tempted her more, eager to really feel him with nothing in between. As her hips pivoted between them, Dipper’s hand traced much too lightly over her hip. She was distantly aware, maybe informed by seeing from the outside, of how her back arched,  how she whimpered into Ty’s unceasing kisses as Dipper teased. The tips of her fingers just ghosted towards the junction of Mabel’s thighs, making the most maddeningly delicate contact with her yearning flesh. Her hips strained more needfully, chasing the whisper of Dipper’s touch along with the heat and hardness that belied Ty’s own need.

Ty’s hand moved from her hip, starting fires all along her side as it glided up her waist, across her ribs, coming to rest in the valley between her breasts. Dipper’s fingers connected with the seat of Mabel’s hunger as Ty’s palm set fire to her heart and she felt blinded by need. Need was all that remained, need to feel them, need to protect them, need to never leave them, need to lead them in this dance until they shuddered with exquisite torment as she did now. The need was too great, much too great.

For a second, Mabel did not comprehend that she had wakened, nor at all that she’d been dreaming in the first place. After all, she could still feel Dipper behind her and Ty before her. She could still feel Ty’s erection straining towards her, her hips dancing hungrily between the two of them. The fire of need still burned in her so hot that she thought she might break. Ty was no longer kissing her, she realized, and it hit her like a slap in the face. When did he stop? She wondered, her mind sluggish, Why did he stop? She opened her eyes, hoping for some elucidation and it hit her like a bucket of ice water poured over her heat.

Ty was asleep, his face only inches from hers on the pillow. His expression was slack, his lips parted slightly as his breath came slow and deep. His eyes were closed, the eyelids flickering slightly along to some dream no doubt purer than her own. The arousal that had burned clean and bright in her gut only an instant before turned suddenly to stinking shame, spitting and bubbling like pitch. Her hips froze, her heart raced unevenly. Tears prickled her eyes and she scrambled out of the tangle of her siblings’ limbs. She couldn’t be around them right now, their guard down, their sleeping faces innocent and calm, their trust so deeply misplaced in her. Mabel managed to make it into the bathroom before the tears overwhelmed her. She shut the door with one hand while covering her mouth with the other. She couldn’t let them hear her, she couldn’t let them know. They had moved on, they had never felt this in the first place. She was the sick one, the one who had felt more than she was meant to, who felt it still as much as she tried not to.

And she was even worse than she’d thought. Humiliation and guilt swelled in her anew at the thought of the way she’d been grinding against them, the way her body had been so eager to use them for her own pleasure while they slept. She sank to the floor, one arm hugging her knees while the other hand still muffled the sound of her sobs. Much as she loved them and they loved her, maybe it had been a mistake to come here in the first place. It was too much. Too much temptation, too much risk that she would lose one of the people she loved most. If one of them had woken, how confused, how betrayed, how used they may have felt. Her heart broke at the very thought of making either of them feel anything but safe.

She cried until her tears were spent and her butt was asleep from sitting on the floor. She pulled herself up shakily and reluctantly met her eyes in the mirror. She looked frightful, her face red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot, her hair a stormcloud of frizz. Mabel stiffly washed her face with cold water, so cold it made her hands ache, but it felt refreshing to the heat of her inflamed face. She dried her face and blew her nose, and impatiently dragged a brush through her hair until it looked a little more manageable. She brushed her teeth, prolonging her time hiding from her triplets.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, the sun was coming up and birds were singing. She looked out at the Mystery Shack lawn, carpeted in fallen leaves. The forest blocked the horizon from her view so she couldn’t properly see the sunrise, but she could see the sky pink and mauve above the tops of the trees. The day dawned serene and crisp, the world cleansed and enlivened by yesterday’s rain, but within her a storm raged on. Bracing herself, she turned away from the window to look back at the futon. Dipper and Ty had closed the gap between them that Mabel had left, facing each other with Dipper’s head under Ty’s chin and their hands clasped together loosely between their chests. Her heart ached with love for them and a big part of her wanted to climb back into their loving arms, but she couldn’t. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, instead walking into the kitchen to busy her hands and hopefully her mind.

Dipper and Ty would wake to the smell of food wafting from the kitchen. It was unlike Mabel to wake up earliest, but she knew they wouldn’t question it if she claimed it had been to make them breakfast. That was the kind of nice thing she did, wasn’t it? She was feeling so out of sorts that she wasn’t even sure. She made eggs and chicken sausages she found in the freezer, she made a fruit salad from the couple fruits she found in the kitchen, meticulously cutting strawberries into roses the way she had learned in her very brief stint as a baker’s apprentice. She was buttering toast when Dipper dragged her feet into the kitchen, “Mornin’, chef of the future,” she said, her voice hoarse from sleeping. She yawned, “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d make myself useful.” Mabel replied, unable to meet Dipper’s eyes as she filled the electric kettle and turned it on. Mabel hadn’t noticed it before, but it was definitely something Dipper had gotten for the Shack.

“Everything okay?” Dip asked, sensing something in Mabel’s tone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Mabel responded automatically, pretending the toast buttering required all her attention, “Just a, uh, bit of a headache.”

“Aw, well, hopefully food will help,” Dip observed, but Mabel could practically hear the wheels turning in her sister’s head, trying to suss out what was actually wrong, “We didn’t really eat like normal humans yesterday and maybe you just have low blood sugar.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” Mabel said, knowing full well that that wasn’t it.

“I…” Dipper started shakily, running a hand through her hair, “Have a bit of a headache myself.” she finished weakly, taking a mug from the cabinet and dropping a teabag in it. Mabel looked at her out of the corner of her eye as Dipper turned the kettle off just shy of a full boil and poured the water into her mug. She hadn’t noticed at first, but Dipper did look a little rough around the edges. She stirred a little bit of sugar into her tea, set in on the kitchen table, and said simply, “I’ll go get Ty up.” and left the room.

Mabel stood in the middle of the kitchen for a second, a slice of toast in one hand and butter knife in the other, unable to move. She heard the groan of Ty stretching in the next room, the muffle of some words passed between her siblings, Dipper’s laugh. I don’t deserve them, the guilt told her. Stiffly, she began setting food on the table, grabbing paper towels and silverware, salt and pepper. She continued bustling around after Dipper and Ty had seated themselves at the table, thinking of more things they might need and frankly, scared to have to look either of them in the eye.

“Hey, Mabes,” Ty said, “Why don’t you hit the pause button and eat something?”

“Okay.” Mabel said, carrying two jars of jam to the table and setting them down by the plate of toast and lowering herself into her chair. She doled food onto her plate automatically, thinking she wouldn’t be able to stomach a bite of it, but was surprised to find just how famished she was when she started eating. Maybe Dipper’s right, she thought against her better judgment, and low blood sugar is most of the problem.

The triplets had spent enough time together over their lives that it was natural for silences to sometimes fall between them. Most of the time those silences were comfortable, sometimes even comforting. It was very seldom that they felt awkward or strained, but the one that fell as they ate their breakfast was tense. Mabel tried to keep her focus on her food, but once the minimum of her hunger was sated the food turned to ash in her mouth and she found herself just moving bits of sausage and egg around her plate with her fork. She glanced around the table at her siblings, found Dipper staring into her tea and Ty smiling wryly to himself.

He laughed suddenly, dropping his fork, getting the attention of both his sisters, “Remember the summer before college?” he asked casually, making Mabel’s breath catch in her throat, “When we’d just laze around and make out all day? I had, like, the most random dream about that last night.”

Dipper put her tea mug back down, and Mabel could swear her sister’s hand was shaking. She realized her own hand was shaking, her fork rattling slightly against her plate. Is he serious? She wondered, how could he be saying this offhand, like it’s normal conversation? She found herself wishing she could be as brave, so it surprised her to hear her own voice, “I had a similar dream.”

“You did?” Ty asked, his eyes searching Mabel’s, giving away his doubt, his hope, and she could have sworn, his desire.

“Y-yeah,” Dipper chimed in shakily, before Mabel could respond, “I… actually, I did too.”

Silence dragged on at the table for a few seconds, but this one felt much different than the last. Ty was the first to break it again, “I… that’s not what I expected you guys to say. Wow, okay.” he ran his hand through his hair, “I was all ready to apologize and for you to be upset but now, I…”

“That summer has been on my mind a lot.” Mabel admitted softly, her heart pounding, “I… didn’t think you guys thought about it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dipper said, turning to look straight into Mabel’s eyes, her gaze insistent, “I live here! Under the same roof where I… where we…” Mabel laid her hand on Dipper’s where it rested on the table between them.

“Sometimes it feels like that was the last time anything made sense.” Ty admitted, “I-I know it didn’t, but compared to the rest.”

“It was the last time we were all together for more than a week,” Mabel said, her voice growing a little solemn, “I didn’t think that summer was ever going to end.”

They looked around at each other for a minute before silently agreeing, all standing up nearly in unison to clear the table. This was not a conversation to be had without hugs, and they all knew it. Upon returning to the living room, they all hesitated for a moment before climbing into the bed, as if they hadn’t spent the last two days barely leaving it. Mabel forced herself to get into it first, lying a little stiffly on her back. Ty and Dipper followed suit on either side of her, although they were all careful not to let their bodies actually touch.

“I didn’t think that summer was going to end,” Dipper said in a measured tone, and took a deep breath, “And I really didn’t want it to.”

“Me neither.” Ty and Mabel said at exactly the same time.

“I wish I’d known how to talk about it back then,” Ty continued, and Mabel hated the sound of the regret in his voice, “I couldn’t say to you two what I couldn’t even admit to myself.”

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked, her heart was fluttering eagerly at the implication, thinking of the things she herself had been unable to say back then.

Ty sighed heavily, running his hand down his face, and Mabel’s heart lurched at the sight of the tears standing in his eyes, “I… god, I remember saying some just dumb shit about hormones and sexual need,” he scoffed, “As if it was ever about getting my dick wet. But I was an idiot, and that was so much easier than admitting how… that it was…” he took a deep breath and held it for a second, before managing to whisper, “That I love you.”

Mabel didn’t realize how close she’d been to tears herself until she heard her own relieved sob. Each of her triplets tentatively put a hand on her shoulder and she could feel Ty gearing up to apologize and she couldn’t let that happen, “I love you too!” she practically wailed, “I love you both and I did then and I do now!’

Their arms closed in around her and she could feel their tears mingling with her own, could hear the soft hitch of Dipper’s crying as she said, “I love you both too, I love you both too.” They held each other and cried for a few minutes of disbelief before Dipper said with a half-laugh, “We’re so duuuuumb.”

Ty laughed too, but Mabel just smiled, “Seriously, I mean,” Ty impatiently wiped the tears from his face, “We talk about everything, why did we never talk about this.”

“I never ever ever would have thought it’d go like this,” Mabel said, her voice still thick with sobs, “You don’t really ever assume your siblings are in love with you too.”

“Well, turns out we are?” Dipper said, a little incredulous and maybe a little giddy, she lightly turned Mabel’s chin towards her and kissed her. God, was it better than she remembered. Probably better than it had ever been, she’d never kissed her knowing that her love was returned.

“We definitely are,” Ty said into her ear, before kissing her cheek, “By some twisted miracle.”

No sooner had Mabel’s lips parted from Dipper’s than she turned her head so that they met Ty’s, still hovering by her cheek. The same explosive unity that had bloomed in her kiss with Dipper filled her anew. She could hear Dipper’s smile at seeing it. A moment later, she knew exactly how Dipper had as she watched Ty kiss Dipper. She had seen them kiss before, sure, about a decade ago and without the heady knowledge that they were all of them in love. They went on that way for some time, passing the same kiss back and forth between them, eyes bright and tears drying on their cheeks.

Mabel and Dipper were kissing again, the very tips of their tongues exploring just past each other’s lips, when Ty said absently, “Sooo about those dreams we had…” They broke their kiss to look at him, to see what it was he was getting at. He was twisting a lock of Mabel’s hair between his fingers and his eyes glinted playfully when they met hers, “What exactly was I doing in your dream?”

Mabel’s mouth grew dry as she considered the question, drawing to mind again each luscious detail of the dream in question, “Well, uhh,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face growing hotter, “You were kissing me, mostly,” Ty nodded, a smile quirking up one corner of his mouth, “And… and you had your hand on me.”

“On you where exactly?” he teased, as Dipper tucked Mabel’s hair behind her ear and kissed it gently, sending a small thrill through her.

“Um, my hip at first…”

“Here?” Ty asked solicitously, laying his palm flat on the hip nearer to him, making her squirm slightly. He smiled, “Funny, it was like that in my dream, too. I was kissing you and slowly,” he did it as he described it, “Moved my hand from here up to here.” His hand came to rest over her heart, between her breasts just as it had in her dream.

“Wait, really?” Dipper asked, curiously, “You did that to Mabes in my dream, too.”

“Your dream was about me doing stuff to Mabes?” Ty teased, his hand resting warm and heavy on Mabel’s chest. She wondered if he could feel the way her heart was battering against her ribs.

“No, no! It was all three of us!” Dipper corrected, flushing, “I was behind her, s-sort of spooning her, while you two were kissing and you did that thing with your hand and uhh…” Ty raised an eyebrow and Mabel gulped, “And I was reaching around her to… uh…”

“Wait… seriously?” Ty asked, and his voice was intrigued and a little husky, “This… is gonna sound crazy, but I think we all had pretty much the same dream.”

“Your dream was like that too?” Mabel asked, and it was Ty’s turn to flush. He nodded. There was a long moment of consideration, of indecision. This revelation hung mysteriously between them as they each tried to shake some sense out of all dreaming the same thing. As much as they would have loved to claim otherwise, always having been drawn to the supernatural, the triplets had long since debunked any possibility of psychic connection between them. Sure, they were pros at reading each other, but no more than anyone would be after so many years together. What were they supposed to do with this information, that this love and desire was not a curse to bear in silence, but something with which they’d all been living? The question was a complicated one, but the answer seemed simple enough, “This is stupid!” Mabel blurted out, grabbing the front of Ty’s shirt and pulling him down into a kiss. He was too stunned for a second, but quickly remembered how to kiss back. Without prompting, Dipper was scooting closer, her hands running over the both of them as she nuzzled and kissed the side of Mabel’s face, her neck, her ear. Her lips just below Mabel’s ear elicited a soft gasp that disappeared on Ty’s tongue. Dipper moved down her neck towards her shoulder and Mabel couldn’t stand it, breaking her kiss with Ty to capture Dipper’s lips again. Mabel turned onto her side to better kiss Dipper, and realized that her hips had begun swaying not unlike in her dream. Her thighs and Dipper’s rubbed against each other with insistent delicacy as Mabel’s hand found Dipper’s waist. New heat surged through her veins as Ty sidled up behind her, pressing himself flush against her, his erection unmistakable against her ass.

Thought gave way to pure sensation, and Mabel lost herself in the sweetness of not holding back. Though frenzied desire simmered not far below the surface, all three of them were content to take it slow, marveling at the peace and freedom of being together. Showing love without restraint and each challenging themselves to create more pleasure and greater oneness. There was no awkwardness, no standing on ceremony, as garment by garment they shed their clothes, no room for such barriers in as sacred a moment as this. They fell into a natural rhythm, one so innate it was hard to believe they’d never followed it like this before. There was no jealousy, no competing, just joy at sharing and creating such joy.

They spent hours a blissful tangle of bodies. Mabel intermittently had an instant of self-awareness, gratitude so immense that she thought she might burst. Once while her fingers moved eagerly in the wet depths of Dipper’s heat, her mouth glued to Dipper’s breast. Above her head, Dipper and Ty were locked in a searing kiss and Ty’s hips grinded against her back. Once again, in the moment Ty finally entered her, guided by Dipper’s hands as she nibbled at his ear. And again, and again, these unbearably bright moments of need and pleasure and closeness.

She had no idea how long it went on like that, before their frenzy cooled and they fell gratefully back into gentle kisses and soft caresses. Dipper was the first to cry, but Mabel and Ty were not close behind. They were not tears of sadness, quite the opposite, they were tears of relief. There was fear and uncertainty and sorrow not far from any of their minds, but in this moment they were locked together in a thankful prayer. When their tears passed, they slept. Not on purpose and not all at once, each drifting off for a couple minutes or hours before surfacing again. Barely a word passed between them, no word able to say the things they felt compelled to say with kisses, and looks, and fingertips traced lightly over skin.

The sunrise brought with it welcome light, gradually diluting the darkness and making it possible to see each other more clearly than they had throughout the night. But it also brought with it the most unwelcome of responsibilities. Tears welled in Mabel’s eyes again, and she did not need to explain to either of them the reason. Though time had ceased to exist to them, lost in the ecstasy of each other all night, it returned now with all the dread of a death sentence. In just a few hours, they’d have to say goodbye again and go back to the agony of being hundreds of miles apart.

Ty was the first to tear himself from the bed, while his sisters tearfully dozed in each other’s arms. He came back fully dressed and sat at the edge of the bed, looking down at them with eyes full of sadness. Dipper sat up, crawling still naked into Ty’s lap to kiss his forehead and wrap her arms around his shoulders. He cleared his throat shakily and said, “Can we… this time, can we talk about this?”

“Of course.” Dipper said and Mabel nodded, “Not talking about it all this time was a really bad move.”

“I love you both,” Ty said, his voice breaking slightly, “But I don’t know what we’re supposed to do here.”

“Me… me, neither.” Mabel admitted, pulling her fingers through her tangled hair, “I… I want this, but I don’t know how it fits into life.” She crawled over to them, laying her cheek on Ty’s shoulder, “We can’t just rush into this or whatever.”

“Mabel Pines wants a plan,” Dipper joked, “That’s how you know this is serious.” They chuckled lightly, the levity and companionship a pillar of normalcy in the mire, “But she’s right. I think we have some big stuff to figure out and they’re not the kind of decisions we should make lightly.”

Ty nodded and sniffled, reluctantly agreeing, “So we still have to leave.”

“Well, I’m not going to make you,” Dipper said, stroking his hair soothingly, “But I think, yeah.”

“At least for now,” Mabel said, and took a shaky breath, “I dunno what’s gonna happen, but can we please all promise we’re not going to go this long before seeing each other again?”

Ty squeezed them both closer as they all agreed, “No way,” he said, “Home is where you two are and good luck keeping me away for long.”

“Like we’d ever want to.” Dip said, sweetly kissing Ty’s temple. She laughed humorlessly to herself, “What a mess we’ve found ourselves in.”

“And there’s no one I’d rather face it with.” Mabel said decisively, thinking of the many challenges they’d faced together over the years. Every muscle in her body was telling her not to get on a plane and leave them, but she realized that every beat of her heart knew she could never truly leave them, even if they parted. She clung to that knowledge, and held them tight, comforting herself that no goodbye between them could ever keep them apart.

#Pinecest #Pinescest #fem!dippin #Tyrone Pines #double!dippin #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Worlds Apart”

(So, the other day I watched ‘Blendin’s Game’. At one point, Dipper has the throwaway comment “No one should be alone on their birthday.” The line is made in reference to Soos, but Stan is standing right there when it’s spoken and BOOM just like that, my brain started cooking up some Stangst).

It’s been a few months since Ford was accidentally sucked into the portal. Ford tries to avoid being captured in a dimension far from home, while Stan closes up the new and flourishing Murder Hut. Angst, good grief, so much angst. SFW. 4,429 words.

Fic below cut! Enjoy!

“Thank you for exploring the mysteries of the Murder Hut!” Stan said jovially, as he ushered the last patrons out of the gift shop, “And thank you for buying our over-priced souvenirs! Don’t forget to tell your friends and remember, no refunds!” The couple chuckled as they got into their station wagon, as if he were joking about the no refund policy. Stan watched the car pull out, leaving tire treads in the torn up lawn. As the tail lights disappeared from view, he flipped the sign on the door so that the side that read CLOSED faced outward, resolutely turning the deadbolt.

Stanley turned around and appraised the gift shop. There was merchandise on the shelves that needed to be restocked or tidied, but apart from that he thought it had really come together. It almost looked at if the racks of punny tee shirts and shelves of tchotchkes were the use for which this room had always been intended. It had been some kind of storage room before, and alone he had hauled all of the mysterious sciencey boxes and crates to the lab below or to the junkyard. It wasn’t the first time Stan considered the irony that the weirdness he was peddling wasn’t half as strange as whatever dumb research had been going on here before.

He sighed heavily, and grabbed dad’s old fez off his head, placing it on the counter with some disdain. Stan glared at the symbol of the Holy Mackerel for a moment, absentmindedly running his hand through his hat-flattened hair. Whaddya think of my latest scam, pops? he asked in his head. Sure, he’d probably never become a millionaire at this gig, but people were forking over the dough like you wouldn’t believe. If he’d only known sooner what a natural he was at the sideshow business, he never would have wasted all that time on Stanco Enterprises.

So, yeah, he was making decent money, but it wasn’t like that would matter to dad at this point. Even if he could present the old man with millions, would that explain away the car crash in which he’d ‘died’? Or the reason no one had called him by the name ‘Stanley’ in months? Or why the real Stanford was nowhere to be found?

“The hell with you, old man…” Stan muttered dismissively, flicking the fez and watching it topple over.

-

Well, then, onwards and upwards, Ford thought bitterly to himself as he awkwardly clambered up the ladder of some sort of fire escape. The beings in this dimension had six limbs and as a result, their gait was quite different from that of a human, and the rungs were spaced impractically for a four-limbed biped such as himself. His twelve fingers had made him a freak in his own dimension, and they were no advantage to him here either.

He swiped stinging sweat out of his eyes with one of the aforementioned abnormal hands and kept climbing. He huffed and puffed as he went, cursing the abysmal heat of this dimension. He wished he could ditch his pack, the extra exertion of carrying it contributing to his unreasonably high internal body temperature, but he didn’t dare risk it. Everything he owned was on his back, and some of his belongings had been hard won. Most expendable were the outer layers of clothing he had discarded in an effort to survive the temperature of this world without heat stroke, but he didn’t even dare toss those. For all he knew, the next dimension he found himself in might very well be a frozen tundra, and he would be damned if he was felled by something as avoidable as hypothermia.

“There it is!” A voice behind him called, modulated strangely by his dimensional translator, “The interloper must not get away!”

Stanford cursed under his labored breath, forcing his burning limbs to move faster. Interloper? He didn’t know what he had done to get on these beings’ bad side, but they certainly didn’t sound happy with him. He racked his mind for some perceived infraction. The two chasing him now were the same that had given him food and shelter, and he had no idea what had precipitated their change of heart. What custom had he failed to follow? What offense had he committed? Nothing came to mind, and as he reached the rooftop, he hoped he was overlooking some innocent mistake. If not, there could only be one other explanation, he thought grimly, they struck a deal with someone who made my capture worth their while.

-

Stan’s grumbling stomach led him into the kitchen. He flipped the switch and the exposed bulb overhead came to life, bathing the room in light. The wood-burning stove was cold, useful as it had been in the winter and spring, it was unnecessary in the humid heat of Oregon summer. The climate reminded him of his childhood summers in New Jersey, but it clammier here in the western mountains. He opened the fridge, appreciating the cool air that gushed out at him as he looked over its meager contents. He grabbed a couple things before closing the door and setting about making himself a bologna sandwich just as he had the last three nights.

Stan’s evenings had been too full to devote too much time to making dinner. Instead, his nights were spent wishing he had paid attention to his science classes in high school instead of cheating off of Ford’s work all the time. He wouldn’t have been West Coast Tech material even if he had studied his tail off, but some of that nerd stuff might have come in handy now. Ford’s portal was undeniably well beyond anything the brothers might have learned in their bare minimum public school curriculum, but at least Stan wouldn’t have started right at square one.

It’s useless, he thought to himself, I’ll never be able to get him back. The bite of sandwich Stan was chewing tasted ashen in his mouth. No! He told himself stubbornly, his free hand curling into a determined fist, Stan Pines doesn’t give up that easy! He felt a pang of guilt for even considering it. Sure, it might be impossible, but he’d be damned if that meant he wasn’t going to give it his best shot.

Would Ford do the same for me? Stan couldn’t help wondering, not for the first time. He had never stopped considering Ford his brother and best friend, even as a decade of silence and estrangement passed between them. It didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, it would take more than ten years to come between twins. Apparently, it would take more than the mysterious gulf of time and space between them too. But would Stanford feel the same way? When he’d first brought Stan here, it wasn’t as a brother. It wasn’t as a friend. It was as a pawn, a partner at best. If he didn’t want anything to do with me then, Stan thought, his shoulders slumping with blame, why would he want anything to do with me now?

-

Finally on the roof, Ford desperately ducked behind a large funnel-like structure to hide. It very seldom rained here, he had been informed, and it was crucial for the six-limbed humanoids here to gather as much of the rainwater as they possibly could. Grateful for the slightly less suffocating heat in the shade of the funnel, Ford dug into the satchel at his waist for the device that allowed him to move between dimensions at will. It was not of his making, but rather a very important acquisition he had made shortly after escaping the Nightmare Realm. Hopefully he’d get a chance some time soon to tinker with the thing and make it more practical. Had he designed such a device, he would surely have given the user the power to choose which dimension they would be transported to. Whatever lunatic was responsible for the design of this device had thought to include all sorts of features, a day-counter, an external thermometer, something like a compass, but hadn’t thought to give the user any way of controlling or predicting where they ended up. It was a gamble of which his pragmatic mind was not too fond.

Holding the device in his hands now, Ford was perturbed to find that the thermometer on it read a higher temperature than he’d ever seen on it. He wasn’t sure what unit it measured in, not celsius or fahrenheit or even kelvin, but he’d gotten a rough idea of the conversion rate from observation and the number he saw before him did nothing to ease his mind. Don’t be foolish, Stanford, he scolded himself, you did not need a thermometer reading to ascertain that this dimension is unbearably hot.

Ford’s unease doubled however, when his attempt to leave this god-forsaken dimension was unsuccessful. Instead of doing as he had told it to do, the device gave him some sort of error message. He was still deciphering the language the device had been programmed to display, but he knew enough to figure out that the device was too overheated to function. He muttered a curse to himself as he heard his pursuers reach the roof.

“Where did it go?” One of them asked, “Did it go down the other side?”

“I still smell it,” the other replied plainly, “It was complaining of the heat, maybe its weak body gave out.”

“You’d better hope not,” the first creature replied, “Not if you want One-Eye to keep up its end of the wager, at least.”

“Of course, I do,” came the reply, “You check that side of the roof, I’ll check around the rain-catcher.”

So it is as I feared, Ford thought grimly, blowing on the overheated device in his hand in a vain attempt to cool it down, He’s found me again. Who knows what he promised these fools in exchange for my capture. He could hear the four feet of one of his pursuers grow near, and slipped the device back into his satchel and clenched his fists. All my education and sometimes I swear those boxing lessons are the only thing on which I can rely.

-

With the hunger in his belly acceptably sated, Stanley set to work getting the gift shop ready for the following day. It had been a decent day for sales. He hadn’t realized the summer drew so many tourists to Roadkill County, Oregon but he was more than happy to clean out their wallets for them. He tried to quiet his worries as he set about replacing shirts on emptied hangers, filling in gaps on the shelves, adding more Murder Hut pens and bumper stickers to the trays by the cash register. It wasn’t working.

This place was strange. It was the key to the Murder Hut’s success. Despite the offbeat wackiness of the fake attractions he had been fabricating, it was the pervasive weirdness of this place that really sold it. None of the outlandish attractions he was showing were as bizarre as the real things he’d seen around Gravity Falls. It had seemed like a nondescript enough place when first he had arrived this past winter, but his first impression had been wrong. He could have sworn he’d seen small bearded men scurrying across the forest floor, had seen butterflies that upon closer inspection sure looked like some sort of pixies or fairies.

His nerdy brother had always been fascinated with oddities, had always been drawn to the strange creatures and monsters of science fiction, fantasy, and folklore. It made sense that Poindexter had chosen the freakiest town in the country to throw away his grant money. Some things about his house, however, didn’t seem to add up. His eyes traveled on their own to the rug beneath his feet. He’d moved it in here to give the gift shop a more welcoming, kitschy vibe, on account of the mysterious one-eyed triangle design. He’d only ever seen something like the design on dollar bills, but doubted Ford’s otherwise shabby, unfinished home drew any decor inspiration from money. It was a motif he had found all over the house, windows, paintings, glass prisms, everywhere he looked he seemed to find more triangles. He remembered Ford excelling at and enjoying trigonometry in high school, but even Ford didn’t love math enough to let it dictate how he decorated his home. Most of the triangles had eyes, never more than one, giving Stan the skin-crawly sense that he was being watched.

Well, I’ll just have to ask him, Stan decided, using his foot to smooth a wrinkle in the eerie rug, I’m sure he has some dumb explanation for the triangle obsession, and just as soon as I get him back, I’ll find out what it is.

-

Without hesitation, Ford threw a punch, his fist connecting loudly with the face of one of the beings that had been following him. His knuckles landed square against the creature’s nose and he felt the brittle exoskeleton fracture. An instant later he was running across the rooftop, towards the edge. It was only a few feet between this building and the next, and without allowing himself time to hesitate he leapt, easily clearing the gap. It was not a maneuver that would come easily to the scuttle-y movements of this dimensions inhabitants, and he wanted to put as much distance between them and himself as possible.

The sky was a strange wash of greens and purples, something he had come to recognize as an equivalent to the vibrant sunsets in dimension 46’/. He was outside the settlement where his two betrayers had taken him in, and he knew they wouldn’t dare pass into ‘the wilds’ as they called them, especially not past nightfall. The climate here was like that of a very extreme earthly desert; once the sun was below the horizon the temperature would drop drastically. Had Ford been planning to spend another night here, he would be worried for his life. Between the cold and the mysterious beasts that inhabited the wilds, it was not a place he would like to try and make camp. However, he only intended to stay long enough to get his overheated device back in working order so he could get the hell out of dodge.

Stanford did not slow down until he approached a strange cluster of plants, large as the maples and pines of Oregon but more like cacti in structure. The sandy ground would have been shaded here for some time already and with the sky growing dark the temperature would be plummeting soon. He sat down in the sand and placed the device on the ground in front of him, impatiently checking the temperature every few seconds.

He nearly fell over with shock at the sight of Stanley on the small glossy screen, only to realize with a start that it was his own reflection he was seeing. He touched the fingertips of one six-fingered hand to the scruffy facial hair on his chin and jaw, hiding the cleft chin that was easiest distinguishing mark to tell the twins apart. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, having been too worried he would lose or break the precious tool in the chase, and he looked scruffy and wild-eyed, with a few scuffs and scrapes on his face. It was startling to realize the resemblance when it was normally like night and day for the twins to tell themselves apart in photographs. He sighed, and realized to his own surprise that he was actually disappointed that he couldn’t see Stanley. This is all his fault, he reminded himself stubbornly, pushing away the thought before it could distract him too much, If only he’d listened to me, instead of letting his emotions run rampant yet again…

Finally the device in his hand was back to a functional temperature, and not a moment too soon as the cold air was making goosebumps rise on his sweaty skin. It’s no use thinking about Stanley, he told himself sternly, It doesn’t matter where the blame may lie, you’re never going to see him again. He’s not the one you should concern yourself with. The device began whirring in his hands, sending small surges of power through his fingers, feeling almost like static shocks. As the ground seemed to fall out from under him, and he was pulled into the tight vacuum of teleportation, Ford reminded himself obstinately, Bill Cipher. It’s not my reckless brother, but my deceitful Muse who is to blame.

-

Stan gingerly rolled the snack cart aside, revealing the door down to the lab in the basement. He reminded himself again to find something better to cover the door. What lay beneath the house was too important, and too dangerous, to risk some dumb tourist wandering down there by mistake. He moved down the dim stairs carefully, reluctantly even. He didn’t really want to go down there, he had to.

He emerged into the lab and once again the enormity of his mistakes weighed heavily on his shoulders. All of Ford’s machines, many of which he did not know the function of, hummed and beeped along, absolutely indifferent to their creator’s absence. He couldn’t have disagreed more. This place, more than anywhere else in Gravity Falls, more than anywhere else in the Murder Hut, was Ford. It was of Ford, and for Ford, and every panel, lever, monitor, and jarred specimen seemed to bear Ford’s name.

Guilt gnawed in Stanley’s gut. I never meant for any of this to happen, he thought, desperate for some kind of forgiveness. But what sort of forgiveness could he find? Not from his parents, who thought him dead. Not from Ford, who was worlds away if he was even still alive. Certainly not from himself. There was no way he could forgive himself until Ford was home safely, but it was hard to believe in the probability of that. Stan’s jaw tightened as he gazed through the glass at the mysterious portal, dormant and showing no signs of ever having come alive.

How many times had he replayed that fateful day in his head in the past few months? He was dying to make more sense of it, but it had just all happened so fast. Ford had seemed so different from the moment Stan had arrived and in hindsight, that should have made him behave more cautiously. Ma always said hindsight is 20/20, Stan thought absently, and tried to ignore the stab of loneliness for his mother he felt in his chest. Grow up, he scolded himself at one, what grown man wishes for his mommy?

Even if there were some way he could reach out to his parents, there was nothing they could do. This was his mistake, his fault, his crime. And only he could fix it.

-

The intense pressure lifted and Stanford felt solid ground beneath his feet. His stomach heaved but he managed to keep from vomiting. It was nighttime in this dimension as well and quite dark, although the sky was littered with an unbelievable amount of stars. He crouched down, touching the ground tentatively with one hand, and was relieved to find soft grass beneath him. He lied down immediately, eager to rest after yet another day of running and betrayal. An indignant twinge ran through him, Have I not had a lifetime’s worth of running and betrayal already?

Ford drew a deep breath in through his nose and slowly let it out his mouth. He stretched out on the soft ground and looked up at the sea of stars, telling himself that he would figure out where he was come morning. No sooner had he shut his eyes than Bill was there, applauding patronizingly, “BRAVO, FORDSY,” he said, his eye smiling smugly, “QUITE  A SHOW YOU PUT ON TODAY!”

“This is a dream,” Ford said stubbornly, turning his back on Bill and trying to ignore the dim shadow of Glass Shard Beach around them.

Bill was instantly in front of him, his small black hands at his sides as if on his hips, “OF COURSE IT IS, THAT’S NO EXCUSE TO BE RUDE.”

“You have no authority to be giving me lessons in decorum,” Ford sneered. He jabbed his chest with a finger, “I escaped your goons.”

Bill shrugged concedingly, “PITY FOR THEM,” he said off-hand, “BREAKING A DEAL WITH ME TENDS TO BE FATAL.”

“Well, it would appear that isn’t always the case,” Ford said, determined not to let Bill bully him.

“OH, I DON’T MEAN YOU, FORDSY,” Bill corrected, practically batting his eyelashes, “YOU STILL HAVE A PART TO PLAY IN MY PLANS.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.” Ford snarled challengingly, only to garner a bone-chilling cackle from his ex-Muse.

“YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER, FORDSY,” Bill said, his voice almost genial.

“I’m not scared of you, Bill!” Ford insisted, shutting his eyes tight and willing the dream to end.

Bill laughed again, “C’MON, PAL, WE BOTH KNOW YOU’RE SMARTER THAN THAT!”

Ford opened his eyes, a fiery retort ready to leap from his tongue, only to find a serene starry sky before him instead of his traitorous foe. He hoped Bill was bluffing about killing the beings from that desert dimension that had taken him in and then betrayed him. Yes, they had sold him out to Bill, but who knew what he had promised them. In their world, even water was a commodity, no doubt Bill had presented a reward they couldn’t turn down. Bill cannot win, he told himself for the umpteenth time, pushing away his pity for the two new casualties, Destroying him may very well be impossible, but I’d sooner die trying than be a pawn to him ever again.

He sighed heavily and sat up, grabbing his inter-dimensional teleportation device, hoping to distract himself trying to learn something about this new dimension. He observed the temperature, the compass reading, other various readings about the atmosphere. His eye was drawn to the day-count feature. He had acquired the device only a couple days after going through the portal, by his rough estimation, and he had managed to re-program the feature to count up from that point in hopes of measuring how long he had been away from his home dimension. Like a prisoner or a castaway’s tally marks on the walls of their cell or cave, there was something sickening and yet satisfying about seeing the number grow. It read one hundred twenty; about four months.

He reminded himself that the count might be somewhat off, but it did little to ease the queasiness he felt all of a sudden. It was likely that some of that was a result of hunger or teleportation, perhaps some a response to something unique to the air in this dimension, but there was no denying that some of it was regret. Regret for trusting a lying beast like Bill Cipher, regret for turning his back on his brother, regret for calling on him the way that he had. It had been selfish, blind, and he knew it. What good does regret do you now? He reminded himself, trying to shake off the feeling, You were only doing what had to be done. But whatever his motives had been, the result was still he and Stanley spending the eleventh consecutive birthday alone.

Just at that moment, a deep menacing growl issued from a spot a few feet away from Stanford and he was back on his feet in an instant. Well, maybe not exactly alone, he thought wryly. The unseen creature growled again, and Ford thought bleakly, Happy birthday, Stanley.

-

Stan groaned in frustration, slamming Ford’s journal shut. It was no use. I’m too tired and too stupid and too fucking sad to make sense of any of this, he fumed to himself. He had been dreading today for weeks. Missing Stanford and hating himself for losing him were central to all of his days lately, but he knew it would only cut that much deeper today.

As children, they’d loved their birthday. It didn’t matter much what they did with the day, they were best friends and just the fact that the day was shared made it special. But that very same thing was what had made it impossible to enjoy the day ever since he’d lost everything. He still swore it had all been a big misunderstanding. Of course, he hadn’t wanted his best and only friend to move across the country and move onto a life in which he was out of place, but not enough to ever commit the crime of which he’d been accused. Stanford was the most important person in the world to him, he would never have sabotaged his chance at happiness and fulfillment. Sure, he was selfish, but he could never be that selfish.

But somehow it had happened twice. A fit of hurt and anger had pulled Ford from his life yet again, and this time he wasn’t going to take it lying down. He had worked hard trying to find some way to earn back his place in the family the first time around, but this time it wasn’t about pops or about acceptance or a pat on the head. The most important person in his world was no longer actually in his world, and he needed to fix it. He had broken it, and he needed to know that he could fix it.

But he had to accept that it wasn’t getting fixed tonight. He grabbed a permanent marker from the cup that held several writing implements on the desk. He stood up, popping his back, and walked over to the very utilitarian calendar that hung on the wall. At first after Ford had been snatched away from him by the bizarre portal, he had been numbering the days, before it had become apparent that he wouldn’t be able to just get the portal going with a little elbow grease and ingenuity. It had been too depressing, watching the numbers grow, and he had opted just to cross off each box with an x as the days passed.

He drew an x through June 15th and sighed again, dropping the marker back in the cup. He turned his back on the inexplicably lifeless portal. As he started up the stairs, despite knowing there would be no reply, he softly muttered, “Happy birthday, Ford.” to the empty room that held his only hope for redemption.

#stangst #stancest #billford #stanford pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #ship tags included for exposure #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Making Amends”

This is a @handleonthescandal -approved sequel to his fic “Mending the Pieces”

After three years of estrangement, Mabel shows up in Gravity Falls out of the blue, hoping to reconcile with Dipper. Can the twins put aside their anger and heartbreak to mend their broken relationship?

Angst, angst, n more angst. TW coarse language, TW incest. Pinecest. NSFW. 3,939 words.

~as this follows the events of Handy’s fic directly, I would recommend reading or re-reading it first~

Enjoy!

“Holy balls! Mabel?!” Wendy was across the kitchen and at the door in a couple long strides, throwing it open wide and hoisting someone petite into a bone-crushing hug. Dipper averted his eyes when he glimpsed a brown curl, opting instead for staring hard into his cup of coffee. His chest constricted at the sound of a tittering laugh. After all this time, he could still pick up the flicker of nerves in the sound.

“H-hey, gurrrl,” Mabel managed to squeak nervously, her voice a pitch too high. Dipper gripped his mug tighter, “H-how ya been?”

“Don’t you small-talk me,” Wendy scolded, finally placing Mabel back on her feet, “What’s with the disappearing act?”

“I missed you, girl-dood.” Soos joined in and Dipper glanced in the direction of the door just long enough to see him ruffling Mabel’s hair.

Holy shit, she’s beautiful, he observed angrily before forcing his eyes back to his drink, how dare she be even prettier. Why is she here? Why is she here? Why the fuck is she here? Dipper was too busy focusing on quieting his thoughts to continue keeping track of the greetings and explanations being exchanged. This was not how he had envisioned starting his day.

“Yo, earth to Dipper!” Wendy said, smacking him lightly on the back of the head, “Why didn’t you tell us she was coming?”

Dipper took a steadying breath and forced himself to face the music. Wendy had walked Mabel over to him, an arm slung casually but encouragingly around her shoulders, and was standing right beside him. Her freckled face was smiling but her green eyes were staring into his with flinty resolve. Wendy had made it no secret that she thought it was dumb that the twins didn’t speak to each other, and the way she was looking at him now warned him against ignoring Mabel if he knew what was good for him.

“Hi, Dipper.” Mabel said shakily and Dipper finally forced himself to look at her. Although, she looked no less infuriatingly beautiful than she had a moment ago when he glimpsed her at the door, he could see her more clearly. It had only been three years since he’d last seen her, but he thought she looked like she had aged more than that. Not that her face was covered in wrinkles or her hair grey, nothing like that, but her youthful, hopeful glow had dimmed somehow. He thought she had put on a little weight, although it suited her, softening and rounding her edges. Her hair was cut differently, and her once-signature headband was absent. Her outfit was extremely subdued compared to the wardrobe she’d favored in High School, a simple teal-blue dress and pink cardigan, without a sequin in sight. But it was her face, particularly her eyes, that surprised him. She was certainly as beautiful as ever, but there was a pinched look to her face, a tightness of the lips and eyes that belied more than her momentary anxiety. He recognized it, the same weary tightness he saw in the mirror every day.

“Hi, Mabel.” He said, his tone measured and even, as he finally forced his eyes to meet hers. It was the sadness there that forced the words from his throat, unable or unwilling to leave her hanging. Her brown eyes searched his eagerly, flickering back and forth as if desperate to find something. He had seen her sad, damn, he had seen her devastated, seen her grieving, seen her heartsick, but he had never seen the look in her eyes that was there now. A long-suffering hopelessness, a sea of guilt, a brokenness that almost made him forget all his anger and draw her into his arms that very instant.

The moment of intense eye contact was ended as quickly as it had come, as Melody bustled into the room to find out what the commotion was about. All at once, Mabel was cooing over Melody’s large pregnant belly and Melody was fussing over Mabel, telling her to have a seat and fetching her a cup of coffee. Dipper stood stiffly at the counter as if he were made of stone, watching as the others happily and easily adjusted to Mabel’s return. The way that Soos and Melody began asking her for help with baby names, and the way Wendy teased her gently, it was as if not a week had passed. And why shouldn’t they welcome their old friend with open arms? Just because she had betrayed him, a fact none of them even knew, didn’t mean that they should kick her to the curb. He felt a familiar stab of guilt that his and Mabel’s falling out had cost so many people so much. He downed his coffee in two gulps, deposited the mug in the sink and made his way wordlessly out of the room.

He left the kitchen without a plan for where he would go, but found himself seated on the mouldering couch on the Shack’s back porch. He listened to the sound of Soos and Wendy opening the gift shop and getting the first tour of the day started. He could hear snippets of Mabel and Melody’s continuing conversation at the kitchen table, the occasional giggle or phrase reaching his through the screen door. Dipper tried to focus on his breathing, tried to keep his heart from stopping every time he heard Mabel’s laugh inside the house. He had been planning a day of working on his bigfoot dissertation, but he didn’t know how he could bear to sit at his desk and write about asexual reproduction with Mabel’s voice sneaking up on him like this.

The summer heat was rising as the sun climbed higher in the sky and at times he could even see the distorted little waves of heat coming off the ground. Despite his hard work to keep his breathing normal, Dipper’s breath caught and his heart began to race when he heard the telltale squeal of the screen door’s hinges as the door was cautiously opened. Without looking, he knew it was her, and waited for her to speak. It was a minute before she said, “Hey, Dipper. Do you mind if I join you?” he shook his head slightly and Mabel let the door shut behind her, “Melody went up to nap.” she said as she took a seat on the porch steps, giving him a considerate distance.

He nodded, “Yeah.” He said, trying to think of more to add, but coming up empty.

“I…” Mabel started weakly and he glanced over, his heart giving a twinge seeing the familiar way that she twisted a lock of hair in her hands, “I’m sorry.” Dipper looked away from her, back out at the sunny day, “For… for showing up unannounced like this. I… guess I should have called--”

“I wouldn’t have picked up.” Dipper cut in, kicking himself for how much colder the words sounded aloud than they had in his head.

“R-right.” Mabel stammered and gave a nervous laugh.

“So how’s whatshisface?” Dipper asked, unable to keep the venom from his voice.

“Gone.” Mabel said, with a defeated shrug.

“Gone?” Dipper repeated. He had not expected that.

“I mean, he didn’t die or whatever,” Mabel said, as if Dipper would miss him if he had, “We just didn’t… I didn’t… it wasn’t working, so we threw in the towel.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Dipper lied politely.

“Well, I’m not.” Mabel replied, her voice taking on a crisp confident tone he hadn’t heard since her unexpected arrival. He looked at her, trying to push aside the pain and the anger to actually hear what she was saying, “Marrying him was the biggest mistake of my life.” She lifted her eyes to his significantly.

“Why are you here, Mabel?” Dipper asked, his voice strangled slightly by the tightness in his chest at her statement. Does she really feel that way?

Mabel took a deep breath, “Because I miss you, Dipper,” she said softly, staring at her knees, “I miss you so much I can’t stand it.”

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to avoid seeing the tears that he knew were coming. He heard her breath catch, heard the sniffle he would recognize anywhere. No, he thought stubbornly, this isn’t how this goes. “What do you want me to say, Mabes?” Dipper said, feeling the anger rising in him again, “You made your choice.”

“I chose wrong, Dipper!” Mabel exclaimed, and Dipper could hear from her voice that she was crying in earnest now, “I… I w-was too scared of how much I lov-- of what I felt for you, and--”

“You can’t even say it!” Dipper snarled, his eyes shooting open to cast her an incredulous glare. She shrank beneath his accusatory gaze, “You couldn’t face it then, and you can’t face it now! Jesus Christ, Mabel!” Dipper ran his hands down his face with an exasperated groan before looking back at her, crying mutely on the steps, “Be honest, would you forgive you?”

Mabel sobbed harder, but managed a feeble nod and Dipper sighed heavily. Of course, she would. Mabel had always been the more forgiving, the more adaptive, the more open-minded twin. She was the kind of girl that tried to remain friends with her ex-boyfriends, of course she’d be ready to forgive. Yeah, but it’s generous to categorize me as an exe. More like yesterday’s trash.

“I’m s-sorry, Dipper,” Mabel managed to blubber, “You’re right, you’re t-totally right to be so mad! I… The way I treated you was…”

“Fucked up?” Dipper volunteered.

“Unforgivable.” Mabel finished.

Dipper shrugged, “That, too,” and Mabel gave another loud sob. Despite his anger, the sound of his sister’s tears was tearing at Dipper’s heartstrings and he tried to speak more gently, “But Mabes… if you don’t expect forgiveness, why did you come here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mabel asked, after she calmed her sobs enough to speak. He shook his head, “Even if you can never forgive me, Dip, you… you’ll always be my best friend. I’m sick of living w-without my best friend.” Unbidden, Dipper felt tears stinging his own eyes. He’d spent all this time burrowing so deep into his anger mostly to distract himself from how much he missed her. He dug his fingers into his knees, trying with all his might to keep his pain from showing through, “And you know, Dip,” Mabel continued, having gotten her own tears under control, “I know what I did was fucked up, but you’re the one that disappeared.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Dipper countered, his tears pushed to the back burner as anger flared in him anew.

“No, I’m not kidding you!” Mabel leapt suddenly to her feet, “I know what I did was screwed up, but you didn’t come to my fricking wedding! I’m your sister!” Mabel closed the distance between them, standing over him, “You wouldn’t even stand next to me for a graduation photo! You left to come here before I woke up, and you didn’t even say goodbye!”

Dipper stood up, not willing to literally take this sitting down, “Well, excuuuse me,” he said, giving her shoulder a nudge and trying to ignore the thrill he felt deep down at their first contact in years, “I didn’t have much to add! You kinda said it all when you let that loser put a ring on your finger!”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Dipper!” Mabel scoffed, “I never stopped being your sister.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Dipper growled, pushing past Mabel and down the porch steps, taking the Mystery Shack lawn in long strides. He needed badly to clear his head and there was no better remedy to a troubled head than the woods.

“You can’t walk away from me!” Mabel snapped, hurrying to follow him across the grass.

“Fucking watch me!” Dipper said, throwing up his hands.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” she said in a snide voice, still scampering after him, “When the going gets tough, you run away.”

“Oh, that is fucking rich, Mabel,” Dipper gave a derisive laugh, “As if you didn’t do the same exact thing!”

“Stop walking and talk to me!” Mabel demanded as Dipper quickened his pace, entering the welcome shade of the trees.

“Leave me alone!”

“Not a chance, bub.” Mabel said, matching Dipper’s increasing speed.

“Mabel, I’m serious!” Dipper spat, his anger cresting again, “Turn around and go--”

“Not happening!” Mabel countered, catching up enough to grab at Dipper’s shoulder. The uninvited touch sent a surge of heat through his veins and Dipper whirled around, catching Mabel’s wrist tightly in his hand, “Owie! Ow!”

“What the hell do you want me to say?” Dipper said, his voice cracking with strain, “You broke my fucking heart!”

“Newsflash, bro,” Mabel squeaked, wincing at the pain from how tight Dipper was gripping her wrist, “I broke both our hearts!”

Without sparing an instant to reconsider, Dipper was crushing his lips to hers. To his immense relief, she responded instantaneously, matching his fervor. He had lived and re-lived the few kisses they had shared countless times, the memories faded from all that time spent doing nothing more than remembering. Those confused, stolen kisses in their teenage bedrooms felt a lifetime away, as difficult as they were painful to recall. But this time, there would be no hesitation, no backing down. This time Dipper was not going to kiss her only to have her slip away.

They stumbled clumsily, caught in a heated game of tug of war, neither knowing for certain if they were trying to pull away or push closer still. The searing kiss was not broken until Dipper backed Mabel blindly into a tree and she yelped at the unexpected collision. Reluctantly, Dipper pulled his face back from hers a couple inches and opened his eyes, dreading the rejection he expected to find on her face. Instead he found an expression he hadn’t dared look back on, the memory of which he had tried desperately to expunge from his memory altogether. Her face was flushed, her normally rosy cheeks an unbearably pretty shade of pink, her lips wetly parted, her huge brown eyes staring up at him, darkly gleaming with desire. She looked almost on the verge of tears as she said, hardly above a whisper, “Dipper, please.”

Dipper needed no more urging than that, his lips falling onto hers again without restraint. He released her wrist, and she looped her arms around his neck, eagerly deepening the kiss. Dipper’s hands roamed greedily down her body, exploring and savoring the plush softness of her curves. He breathed in deep through his nose, and the sweet smell of her, strawberries and cream, married somehow perfectly with the dark green smell of the woods. His tongue dived into her mouth and she moaned softly, the sound cutting to his core. His hold on her tightened, his hands moving from her waist to her hips, his body pinning her against the trunk of the tree.

Mabel’s hands left his neck, drawing a hungry groan from him by scratching down his chest over his tee shirt and wrapping around his waist. One hand snaked under his shirt to dig her nails into his back, while the other slipped into the back pocket of his jeans, squeezing his ass and pulling his hips harder against her. Dipper felt himself twitch at her insistence, his own fingertips digging into the enticing softness of her flesh. Mabel was several inches shorter than him and on her tiptoes to meet his lips, but kept stumbling with the effort to hold the position. Not wanting for their contact to be broken for an instant, Dipper tried to throw her to the ground, only to lose his footing and fall clumsily on top of her.

He began to pull back to make sure he hadn’t hurt her in the fall, but she only pulled him closer, which he decided was answer enough. Mabel’s bare legs wrapped around his waist and locked him against her, one of her hands tangling in his hair. Their hips grinded against each other, shamelessly eager to feel even closer. He lost all sense of time in the kiss, pouring years of passion and hurt and need into her and hoping she could feel all of its intensity. Her hand left his ass, only to slip between them. Dipper gasped, breaking their kiss for only an instant, at the feeling of her hand wriggling against his erection, fumbling to find his zipper. One of his hands joined hers, easily undoing his own button and fly. Mabel’s smaller hand quickly slipped through, her fingers finding the opening in the front of his boxers.

“Mabel…” Dipper moaned softly as her fingers closed loosely around him. She kissed the corner of his mouth as she tightened her grip on him, eliciting a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. His lips found hers again as he thrust hard into her hand a couple times before she released him suddenly. He was alarmed for a moment before he realized she had withdrawn her hand from his pants to reach under her dress, eager to get her panties out of the way. He pulled away from her just long enough to push his boxers and jeans down around his knees and for her to snake one leg out of her panties, leaving them dangling from one ankle and pulling him against her again.

Mabel gave a moan at the feeling of his flesh bare against her own. The sound was so unimaginably sweet to Dipper’s ears and he reached one hand between them, running his fingertips along the delicate flesh and wetness he had seldom allowed himself to even fantasize about. She mewled deliciously in response to his touch and he slid one finger into her luxurious softness, his heart nearly stopping at the sound of her moaning his name.

“Mm, Mabel…” he murmured as he covered her neck and shoulder with worshipping kisses, his finger exploring, marvelling at how wet she was.

“Dipperrr,” Mabel moaned, her back arching to deepen his touch, “I love you, I love you!”

Reluctantly, Dipper stopped the motion of his hand and lifted his face from the downy skin of her neck to look into her eyes, only now seeing all the tears gathering there, “You love me…?” he repeated, wanting so badly to believe her.

She nodded furiously, the first few tears squeezing from her eyes and rolling erratically down her bright red cheeks, “I do, Dip, I always have. I love you, please, believe me.”

“I believe you.” he said, gently kissing the tears from her face as he began moving his hand again, and she gave a soft cry of pleasure even as her tears overflowed.

“D-Dipper, I want you, please,” she begged, craning her neck to place her lips back on his for a few salty-sweet kisses, “Please, I’m tired of waiting.”

He couldn’t agree more, removing his finger from her. He ran himself along her, biting his lip at the feeling of her wetness and the sound of her whimper. She wrapped her legs around his waist again, and he slid himself into her, “Oh Mabel, Mabel…” he didn’t have a chance to say any more before Mabel had claimed his lips in another kiss. He gave a few unsteady thrusts before finding his rhythm, their rhythm. He could hardly believe this was happening, even as their bodies moved seamlessly together. When he had woken up this morning, it had been with the assumption that he would never even hear Mabel’s voice again, and now here he was, pouring years of love and frustration into her body, real and soft and warm against him, beneath him, around him.

She pulled her lips from his, only to bring them down on his neck, making him growl as she sucked and nibbled on the pulse point below his ear. His pace quickened, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust, his ears full of the sound of their bodies slapping wetly together, the dry leaves crunching beneath Mabel’s back, and the sighs and moans escaping from each of them. It caught him by surprise when Mabel cried out, her body tensing, gripping him in tight bursts. Mabel tucked her head against his neck as he moved inside of her, drawing two more orgasms from her before his own drew near. She must have been able to tell from his body language somehow, and began grinding harder against him and resumed biting along his neck. His climax hit him with a force he had never before experienced, his body consumed in a white hot spasm, his mind deliriously blank.

He collapsed on his side, slipping out of Mabel but pulling her into a tight embrace. It took him a few moments to feel her trembling against him and realized that at first he had been trembling right along with her. He lifted his cheek from the top of her head and looked down at her. Half of her face was tucked against his tee shirt-clad chest, but from the half he could see, he could tell that she was crying. He knew she had been crying on and off for the duration of their coupling, but seeing how hard she was crying now, a terror shot to his core that he had somehow misjudged the whole thing, overstepped unforgivably, “Mabel,” he said, hearing the concern in his own voice, stroking one hand down her frizzed and leaf-strewn hair, “Mabel, talk to me.”

“It’s okay,” she managed to say, unconvincingly.

“What is?” he asked.

“I just realized y-you didn’t say it,” she sputtered, “But s’okay I d-don’t blame you.”

“What do you--” it dawned on Dipper suddenly and he gave a disbelieving laugh, “Oh, jeez, Mabel, of course, I love you!”

Her tearful brown eyes looked up at him cautiously, “Y-you do?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes, of course, I love you!” he reassured her, kissing her forehead, “Do you really think I would have been that pissed off earlier if I wasn’t still in love with you?”

Mabel shrugged uncertainly, “You’d have had every right.” she said.

“I love you, Mabel, I promise,” he said again, “I never stopped loving you. I wanted to sometimes, but I couldn’t.”

“Neither could I,” Mabel admitted, nuzzling closer against him. She was quiet for a moment before saying in a small voice, “I’m so sorry, Dipper.”

“I know, sis,” he said softly, “I’m sorry, too.”

Mabel was quiet and still for a few moments before a snore gave her away. Half of Dipper’s mouth quirked up in a slightly surprised smile, looking down at Mabel and confirming that she had in fact fallen asleep. It occurred to him that she had likely been driving most of the previous night, and his heart ached for her, eternally grateful for the bravery it must have taken to come here. He knew he should wake her, bring her back to the Mystery Shack, clean her up, and put her to bed, but he couldn’t just yet. He wasn’t ready to leave this moment. There was a lot of talking and figuring out that they still had to do, but she was here. Not only here, but his in a way he had stopped hoping for a long time ago. He watched the way the dappled sun through the trees fell on her face, her shoulder, her bare leg folded against him, overflowing with gratitude. Dipper cradled her closer to him, feeling peaceful and whole.

#pinecest #pinescest #collaboration #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Mabey, Baby” (Jolene AU)

~The people asked for more Jolene AU, and more Jolene AU they shall get~

The Pines triplets are back at their Grunkle’s for another summer. When Mabel has the idea to host a talent show for the residents of Gravity Falls, both Dipper and Jo help make it happen. Jo struggles with stage fright and forgiving herself. 

TW incest. Angst, fluff, and smut in one tidy package. Jolene AU/Pinecest. NSFW. 7,104 words.

Fic under the cut. Enjoy!

(This story takes place AFTER the events of “Just Because You Can” and contains spoilers. If you have not read that fic, read on at your own risk.)

The sun had already gone down, but the night air was still warm and fireflies dotted the lawn. Jolene loved Oregon in the summer, how lush and damp it was, the dense woods fecund and teeming with adventures to be had. No, she hadn’t come to Gravity Falls that first summer, but she had every summer since, and her heart belonged to the mysterious secrets and green woods of this town.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her heart may thrive here, but its ownership was indisputably in the hands of her triplets. It didn’t feel so whole right at this moment because of where she was, but because of the people that stood to either side of her. To Jolene’s left, Mabel was laughing her head off, her long brown hair dancing a little in the light summer breeze. To her right, Dipper was crouched down, fastidiously buckling his sousaphone into its seldom-opened velour-lined case. When he straightened up again, there was a greenish tinge of embarrassment on his face before it was chased away by his own laughter at the spectacle before them.

About a week prior, Mabel had had a sudden inspiration, as she often did when things got boring for more than a day. “Let’s host a talent show!” she had exclaimed, her eyes glittering and her smile wide. Although this sort of thing wasn’t exactly their forte, Jo and Dipper had only shared an uncertain look and shrugged. It was no use resisting it, Mabel would talk them into it in the end either way. And as ever, the triplets had worked together like a well-oiled machine. While Mabel had spitballed ideas, sitting upside down on the couch with her head hanging off the side, Dipper had taken incredibly detailed notes. He had thought of everything, refreshments, admission, contact information, judges, potential contestants...everything, all drawn up in a neat grid, complete with cost and revenue estimates. Jo had designed the flyers, and (with Soos’ help) constructed and arranged the outdoor theater. Tonight was the night, and Jolene had to admit, they’d really pulled it off. Their persistent advertising (which hinged on badgering) and the flyers they’d plastered all over town had drawn a sizable crowd. The rows of chairs they had set out were nearly full. And Soos had even set up lights and a mic. Currently, said mic was in his hand, as he stood a bit stiffly in the center of the stage.

“But her aim is getting better!” Soos said cheerfully, in a voice slightly more gravelly than his own but not reminiscent of Grunkle Stan in the slightest. Stan had in fact only just told that joke a few minutes prior, when he had occupied the stage, doing stand-up and embracing the ‘BOO’s of the audience. The audience was absolutely eating up Soos’ act, however, laughing riotously at his weak impressions and privately patting themselves on the back for getting the references.

Jolene couldn’t help but laugh along a little, watching the pride blooming on Soos’ face at the reception he was getting. He wasn’t looking out at the Gravity Falls residents seated in rows in front of him, however, but at the screen of his laptop, open on a stool by the front of the stage. The tinny sound of Melody’s laugh over the video-call was barely audible over the crowd, but from where Jo and her siblings stood, the screen was in view. They could see Melody laughing and giving Soos an encouraging thumbs-up.

Soos stopped in his emulation of Stan and gradually the laughing and hooting of the crowd subsided. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Melody, and cautiously, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, as if asking her something. “You’ve got this, baby, they’re loving it. I think you should go for it.” Melody’s voice was comprehensible only to Soos, the triplets by the side of the stage in what passed for the wings, and the judges at a card table by the foot of the stage. Soos nodded resolutely, his face taking on a daring expression, “AHAHAHA!” he gave a sudden cackle, nothing like his own friendly chortle, “I’m going to make deals and take over the world!” An astonished gasp rippled through the crowd.

Beside her, Dipper muttered an impressed expletive under his breath. Jo risked looking over at him. Both of her triplets had good days and bad days, even years later, but Dipper was more prone to beat himself up. However, she could detect no sign of distress, and if it were there she would have seen it. Dipper had his hands in his jeans pockets, his demeanor relaxed. His eyebrows were raised, causing a single wrinkle to crease across the birthmark on his forehead, but his expression was one of admiration and surprise. His brown eyes were glued to Soos, but with no more distress than there would have been if he had been watching a particularly compelling documentary on hauntings.

“That takes some marbles,” Mabel said, her eyes wide but still grinning at the stage. She crossed her arms in a relaxed challenge, eager to see where Soos was going with this.

“Shake my hand, stupid mortal person,” Soos said, sticking out his right hand a bit awkwardly, his face relaxing slightly as a few people in the crowd chuckled nervously, Grunkle Ford the only one laughing outright,  “I am super flat and you have more eyes than me but don’t let my looks deceive you! I am a mean triangle guy and I rule nightmares and stuff.”

“That’s...not how Bill talked, right?” Jo asked, having ascertained that neither of her sibs was likely to begin hyperventilating. She dearly hoped that the entire town hadn’t somehow been fooled by the stilted voice Soos was using.

“Not even remotely.” Dipper said, laughing in earnest now at the absurdity of Soos’ performance. Soos cackled unnervingly again, “The laugh is the closest.”

“Reality is fake and the galaxy is artificial!” Soos said, triumphantly, in closing, “Bye gold! Byyeee!” He then mimicked dropping the mic, but opted instead to place it gently on the floor. Mabel rushed onto the stage and grabbed the mic from the floor.

“Giiiiiive it up for impressions by Soooooos!” she said, transitioning seamlessly into her rousing emcee voice, and the audience redoubled their uproarious applause, “I’d like to take this moment to ask the lovely Miss Melody if she would do us the favor of being an honorary cyber-y judge?” Mabel held the mic towards the laptop, but it did not pick up Melody’s response from the speakers. Mabel heard her, however, and scooped up the laptop, depositing it on the judges’ table in front of Wendy, Lazy Susan, and Mayor Cutebiker, “Ladies and germs, she accepted! A round of applause for the abso-tively charmtastic Miss Melodyyyy!”

While the crowd humored Mabel with applause, Mabel met Jolene’s eyes. This is your chance, she was saying wordlessly. Mabel had been begging Jo to perform all night, and only one performance slot remained. Jolene felt her stomach somersault thinking about getting up in front of all those people and singing, and broke away from Mabel’s gaze by way of response. Averting her eyes from her sister, Jo saw Pacifica making her way to the front of the crowd, her face stern with determination. She watched mutely as Pacifica got the okay from Mabel and climbed onto the stage.

“You’re really not getting up there?” Dipper asked, trying to keep his tone gentle, as Mabel went about introducing Pacifica to the crowd of townspeople all of whom already knew who she was.

“Shut it,” Jo said, a little more sharply than she intended, “I forgot to bring my tuba.”

“Har har,” Dipper mocked, but his heart wasn’t in it and he dropped it. Jolene’s stomach was twisting uneasily, watching Pacifica pull up a track on her phone and place it on the stool, clearing her throat softly and getting ready to sing.  Why didn’t you just do it? She scolded herself, This was supposed to make it better, but you’re just letting Mabey down all over again! Pacifica started singing, and Jolene recognized it as a ballad cover of a pop hit by &sandra. Pacifica had a pretty voice, not a singer of outrageous talent, but certainly capable and she had stage presence. Jo had never heard her sing and had internally hoped that she would be awful, but she wasn’t awful at all. As the song reached its first chorus, Pacifica loosened up more, getting more into the performance and garnering a couple cheers and whistles from the otherwise attentively listening crowd.

Dipper was humming along softly. He had long since given up on concealing his love for pop music. In fact, of the three triplets, Jolene was the only one who rarely found a top 100 song worth listening to. That right there was a reason not to get up there, she wasn’t going to sing any song these people wanted to hear. They didn’t want to hear her, and she didn’t want them to hear her. She liked singing, she truly did, but it seemed disingenuous to do it in front of a crowd somehow. She liked to sing when she was in the shower, or alone in the woods, or lying in bed, her legs tangled with Mabel and Dipper’s. It seemed dishonest to do it when she didn’t feel it.

But Mabel had wanted her to, for some reason. Really wanted her to. Does she want me to embarrass myself because we embarrassed her? It didn’t really sound like Mabel to just want straightforward payback like that, but she didn’t really think that it would have been unfair for her sister to have felt that way. It had been a few months now, but when she thought about it, Jolene still felt sick with guilt over the way she and Dipper had forgotten the production of ‘Twelfth Night’ that Mabel had worked her ass off for. They had attended the first performance they could, sitting next to each other in the very first row while Mabel took care of business backstage. Once the house lights had dimmed and the first wonderfully, garishly bedazzled players had entered, Dipper had furtively grabbed Jo’s hand, squeezing it for dear life. He didn’t have to say anything. She knew that seeing Mabel’s hard work glittering under the stage lights, imbued with a little bit of that glitteriness that Mabel seemed to have in surplus, it made it all the more real. She knew the guilt churning in her stomach was the same guilt that churned in his. Mabel had poured so much of herself into this, worked at least as hard as they had on their expedition to Tahoe, devoted her life to it for months. Neither of them took for granted how they had hurt her.

There was so much Jo would change about that opening night if she could. She wouldn’t just have been there, she’d have gotten there early. She’d have brought Mabel snacks to keep her going, knowing she often forgot to eat when she was neck deep in a project. She’d have sat in the front row, with or without Dipper, and she would have cheered until she was hoarse. And if she had somehow still failed to make it to the damn play… well, needless to say she wouldn’t have done the rest over. When she’d said as much to Dipper once, he had pointed out to her how much good had come out of that debacle. Not only the recognition and opportunity (and cash prize) that came with the photos Mabel had gotten of the Lone Pine Mountain Devils practically by accident, but more importantly the transparency in their newly blossoming relationship. Even so, she was still having a difficult time trying to forgive herself. For embarrassing Mabel and letting her down, for recklessly putting herself and the two people she loved most in danger, she didn’t understand why they seemed to think any of it was forgivable.

And now Pacifica was singing when she should have been the one singing, and Mabel was standing on the other side of the stage, watching the performance and artfully avoiding Jolene’s gaze. The song was almost over and Jo wished it would just end already. Every note that Pacifica sang into that microphone, she found herself feeling just a little guiltier. Mabel had been so proud of everyone that had performed, no matter how poor their performance had been. She’d applauded them for their bravery as much as their talent. Aren’t I supposedly brave? Jolene asked herself bitterly. Even Toby Determined had gotten up their and tap danced, did that mean even he was braver than she?

Pacifica finished the song on a sustained note that to Jolene’s ear sounded a little flat, but the crowd was applauding her all the same. She did a somewhat affected little curtsy and said, “Thank you, everyone.” into the microphone before handing it off to Mabel and leaving the stage. As she passed, Jo tried not to glare at the blond girl. She’d never had any problem with Pacifica, but at the moment she wouldn’t have minded wiping the self-impressed smile off her face.

Mabel looked at Jo one last time, giving her an opening even though Pacifica’s slot had been the intended last one. Jo shook her head stiffly, almost automatically, telling herself that if she got up there this angry, she wouldn’t perform decently anyway. Really, she knew it was just stage fright, pure and simple. Mabel turned back to the audience, “Wowee, for a small town, there’s a crazy lot of talent up in here!” the crowd cheered for themselves, “Our esteemed judges have one tough decision ahead of them! They’ll have a quick chat to talk it over and then we’ll reveal the winnerrr!” She hopped down from the stage lightly, making her way to the judges’ table to check in with them. Mabel just didn’t get the way that this felt for Jo. Mabel didn’t have to do anything special for people to love her. She got onstage and just acted like herself and that was enough. But of course it was, Mabel positively glowed, no matter what she was doing. She didn’t realize it didn’t come that easily for everyone.

The judges conferred hotly for a few minutes before quieting down. Even without hearing their discourse, it was easy to tell that Mayor Cutebiker was voicing his concerns about Soos’ disregard for the Never Mind All That Act. Jo could see Mabel confirm that they were all okay with the verdict, each of them nodding in turn, before she climbed back onto the stage, “Ladies and gentlemen, after much consideration the judges have made their decision!” The audience cheered even though Mabel hadn’t announced much of anything yet, “Although there was some squabbling about the content of the winning act, the judges unanimously agreed that this person showed the most chutzpah!” The audience cheered louder, although Jo was sure some of them had no idea what chutzpah was, “Without further ado, I’d like you to put your hands together for tonight’s winner,” she paused theatrically, letting the anticipation build, before squeezing her eyes shut and gleefully yelling, “SOOOOOOOOOS!”

Soos clambered onto the stage, looking astonished and honored, his eyes tearful, “Oh wow, doods!”

“You win, dude!” Mabel chirped at Soos.

“Cool, what do I win?” Soos asked.

Mabel punched his shoulder playfully, “Bragging rights, of course!” she replied smoothly, “From now on,” she continued, wrapping an arm around Soos and gesturing broadly at the middle distance, “ You can tell anybody that asks and anybody that doesn’t that you and only you were the victor of the first ever Mabel Pines Talentacular Spectacular!”

“Oh man, dood,” Soos said, his eyes narrowing, his fist clenching for emphasis, “That is one killer prize. Thank you doods so much!”

The crowd applauded for a moment longer before they began filing out of their chairs, walking to their cars, and leaving. Soos got down from the stage and retrieved his laptop, excitedly relaying the events of the talent show to Melody as if she hadn’t just witnessed it herself. She could be heard matching his delighted tone, laughing at each punch line all over again, and telling him how proud she was. Before the last people had gone, Wendy started folding and gathering the chairs the audience had occupied and Dipper and Jo joined in. Mabel set about gathering garbage into a trash bag while Stan and Ford set about dismantling the makeshift stage. In the span of half an hour, they had the ‘theater’ turned back into a yard, leaving the stacked folding chairs and the wooden pallets and boards to store away the following day. Stan and Ford went off to bed, up a few hours later than their standard bedtime. Soos and Wendy hung around a little longer, joking about some of the night’s acts with the triplets before saying their goodnights and heading off to their respective homes.

The triplets trudged up the stairs to the attic without speaking. They had had a long day prepping for the talent show and it was quite late now. Jolene’s body was tired but her mind was whizzing in circles. Mabel had been unusually quiet while they had been cleaning up in the yard, and even when they’d been hanging out with Wendy and Soos. Dipper entered the room first, opening the closet and eagerly stuffing his tuba case in the bottom where he could go back to trying to forget about it.

Without shame or ceremony, Mabel went to the trunk by the foot of her and Jo’s bunk bed (the top bunk of which was now very rarely occupied) and set about changing into her pajamas. She’d worn a grass green dress for the talent show, a small pink handkerchief tied smartly around her throat in a style that Jolene didn’t think anyone else would be able to carry off without looking like a total tool. As always, Mabel had looked luminous, the image of summer itself in green and pink with her hair loose and wild around her shoulders. And now she was matter-of-factly draping the green dress over the baseboard of the bottom bunk, reaching up behind her back to deftly unclasp her bra.

Jolene knew her sister’s body as well as her own (not that she could ever know it well enough) but it seemed somehow immodest to watch her like this at the moment. She averted her eyes, feeling sickened with herself that she could let herself enjoy Mabel’s nudity when she’d only just hurt her. She sat down heavily on the bottom bunk and tugged off her scuffed orange hightops, letting them fall where they would. Across from her, Dipper had removed his shoes and socks and was unbuttoning his jeans just as she looked over. There was something somehow less graceful and wistful about the way a boy got undressed, she thought. It wasn’t a complaint, just an observation. She’d had had plenty of time to observe and relish the differences and similarities between her two lovers in the past couple months and it always gave her a sort of satisfaction to see them repeat a specific quirk she appreciated. She watched Dipper remove his pants, the unrestrained way he kicked them off so different from the gentle way that Mabel handled her more fragile garments.

In boxers and tee shirt, Dipper plopped back on his bed with a relaxed sigh. Folding his hands behind his head, he said conversationally, “I think the show was a success.”

“Sorry you didn’t win, bro-bro.” Mabel said, with a small snide smile.

Dipper snorted, “Oh, yeah, I really thought I had it in the bag. I mean, Sev’ral Timez’s never-released magnum opus ‘Mabel Girl’ on the tuba? That’s an instant classic.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Mabel said, slipping into an airy aqua nightgown.

“I was really depending on winning,” Dipper said with a mock-grave expression, “I don’t know how I’ll pay my bills without those bragging rights.”

“Hey, that was a good save!” Mabel countered, grabbing a brush and tugging it through her wind-tangled hair.

“I’m not denying that,” he said, laughter bubbling up from his chest, “It was freaking masterful. I just can’t believe we didn’t come up with a prize!”

“I know, even with all your spreadsheets!” Jo kept her eyes trained on the floor as they conversed, “It’s a good thing Soos won,” Mabel pointed, “If it had been Pacifica we’d be looking at a lawsuit.”

“True.” Dipper said, grabbing his hat off his head and hanging it from the bedpost, “She sang pretty well, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mabel said, lightly, before stepping into her bunny slippers and leaving for the bathroom. They were silent until after they heard Mabel brushing her teeth.

“I can’t believe you did that, Dipman.” Jo said, leaning back on her arms.

“Wait, what?” Dipper said, still absentmindedly ruffling his own hair, loosening it up after it had been cooped up under his hat all day, “Mabel and Pacifica worked their shit out ages ago, I was just saying.”

“No, not that, Dip,” Jolene said impatiently, ready to not hear another word about Pacifica’s performing in her place, “I can’t believe you got up there with your fricking tuba and did a Sev’ral Timez song that only Mabel’s ever even heard.”

Dipper propped himself up on his wiry arms and shrugged, “Ain’t no thang,” he said, with good-natured sarcasm, trying to get a smirk out of his mysteriously grumpy sister. His dorky attempts at nonchalance usually succeeded at that when all else failed.

Not this time, “Why’d you do it, though?”

Dipper frowned slightly, “To make Mabel smile.” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Because it is, genius, Jo chastised herself, It’s really fucking simple and you didn’t do the obvious good girlfriend thing. Scratch that! Just the good friend thing!

Just as it was dawning on Dipper that Jolene was considerably more than run of the mill grumpy, Mabel came back into the room, kicking off her slippers and bee-lining for the bed, “Scoot yer boot,” she said to Jo, giving her shoulder a small nudge so she could crawl into the bed. Jo wanted nothing more than to lie down and curl into Mabel’s arms and leave this failure of a day behind her, but she couldn’t let herself do that. It wouldn’t be right. Jo could feel Dipper studying her, picking up on her distress but currently running through a mental flow chart of possible ways to address it.

“I’m so sorry, Mabes!” Jo said, the words bubbling out of her before she knew they were coming.

“Wha--?” Mabel began, caught off guard.

“I’m so fucking sorry!” the words continued gushing out of Jo, “I didn’t mean to let you down again, I wanted to make it up to you--I do want to make it up to you--but like that? I just, you know I hate public speaking and I wanted to, but I just couldn’t, and you worked so hard on this and it’s the stupid play all over again and--”

“Whooa there, cowgirl, slow your roll!” Mabel exclaimed, sitting up and putting her hand gently on the top of Jolene’s head, “What in the hey are you apologizing for?”

“For not singing.” Jolene said, her words suddenly thickening in her throat and resisting being spoken.

“You don’t need to apologize to me for that,” Mabel said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I’ve heard you sing. It’s the rest of the world that’s missing out. I just wanted to show you off, Jo-jo.”

“But I owe you more,” Jolene said, her voice raising slightly, “You worked so hard and I was supposed to do right by you this time!”

“First of all, you don’t owe us anything,” Dipper said evenly, as Mabel placed her hand on Jo’s back, moving it in soothing circles, “The second you start doing something because you feel obligated, we have a problem.” Dipper sat forward in bed, “You don’t need to apologize.”

Jolene hoped Mabel couldn’t feel the way she was trembling, “And second,” Mabel spoke up, adding onto what Dipper had said, “I worked so hard? You were busting your cute patootie putting up flyers all week and putting together the stage with Soos. I had an idea and you helped make it happen, Miss-Sis,” Jo could hear Mabel’s smile, “That’s doing right by me right there!”

“But that’s not enough!” Jo cried, feeling the tears welling in her eyes, “I put you through so much crap and I want to make you proud of m--”

“Oh my goshh, get down here, you absolute doof!” Mabel interjected, exasperated, grabbing Jolene around the waist and pulling her down into her embrace, “I am proud of you,” she said softly against Jo’s ear, squeezing her tightly from behind, “And that’s not changing.”

“But...you could’ve died,” Jolene said, plaintively, losing track of what she was apologizing for as the tears won out against her resolve.

“Plans-a-lot, do you copy?” Mabel said, her tone a bit urgent despite the gimmick, squeezing Jo tighter but lifting her head to look across the room at Dipper, “I’ve got a soldier sorely in need of a group hug. Requesting backup.”

Before Mabel had made it halfway through her plea, Dipper was across the room, wrapping his arms around his two sisters. Jolene’s face was pressed against Dipper’s chest and she wept openly against him, finding the smell of grass and sweat on his tee shirt oddly comforting. It was a very Dipper smell somehow, fresh and earthy and crisp. Mabel scooted back until she was very close to the wall, clutching Jo flush against her, making room so that Dipper could climb into the bed, never fully breaking their embrace. He squeezed them tighter, tucking Jo’s face into the crook of his shoulder.

Jo didn’t know how long she’d been crying when her tears slowed and her lips found Dipper’s. She tasted the salt of her tears between them, but his kiss was unhesitating, his lips gently but eagerly meeting hers, his tongue sweeping ever-so-gently, just into her mouth. There was something reassuring about the way his tongue approached her, not tentative, but subtle and entreating. It was like he was placing his hand in hers, but leaving it up to her to close her fingers. Dipper was not the most outwardly thoughtful person in the world, but his kisses were a glimpse into the infinite sweetness and goodness within him. It often felt to Jo as if Dipper was the only thing in the world that could calm her, that could contain her. His kiss was steady and encompassing, like the most reassuring of hugs.

As she met Dipper’s earnest kisses, Mabel spoke up, saying very gently beside her ear, “This wasn’t a test, and you didn’t fail it.” An ache of tenderness bloomed out from Jo’s chest at her words, realizing just how frightened she had been that she had failed. As if this talent show was some measure of how sorry she was, or how much she loved them, “And please stop with the blamey jazz in your head,” she stroked Jolene’s hair for emphasis causing her to sigh slightly into Dipper’s mouth, “If you guys hadn’t screwed up, we might never have gotten our shiz together. And this right here,” she pressed her cheek against Jo’s shoulder, “Is worth all the missed plays and angry devil birds in the whole universe, forever.”

Dipper broke into a smile, interrupting their kiss. Jo opened her eyes, to see his relaxed smile right it front of her, brown eyes soft even despite his lopsided grin, “It’s true, ya know,” he said, teasing gently and quickly kissing the tip of her nose, “A whole universe forever worth. That’s the scientific term.”

“Yo, bro,” Mabel said, lifting her head even as Jo giggled at Dipper’s comment, “Quit undermining my wooing!”

“I’m well and completely wooed, Mabey,” Jo assured her, with a watery smile, “I swear.”

Mabel grinned despite herself, her cheeks flushing slightly, “D’aww, listen to the smooth-talker,” she said, her hand finding and cupping Jo’s cheek, “Lemme woo you a little more just to be one hundred and ten percent suuuure.” Jolene was feeling well and thoroughly wooed as Mabel’s lips met hers. Sweet. There was just no word that fit Mabel better than the word sweet. She always wondered if it was a result of the sheer sugar intake, or if people really tasted like their personalities. She tried not to wonder what that would make her own flavor, but that was easy enough as kissing Mabel wasn’t exactly conducive to linear thought. Mabel’s kiss was not so heartbreakingly tender and almost polite like Dipper’s, no, it was fireworks bursting, cymbals crashing, fruit bubbling over with juice. If Dipper’s kisses contained her, it was Mabel’s that filled her. She opened her mouth, eager to catch all of Mabel’s sweetness on her tongue.

Beside them, Dipper laughed softly, “You always have to one-up me, don’t you?” he teased. Mabel pulled back just slightly, Jo catching her lip between her teeth to keep her from breaking their kiss entirely, but Mabel still sent a saucy wink at her brother over Jo. Before diving back into the kiss, proving Dipper’s point by running her hand intentionally up from Jo’s waist to her breast. Jo’s breath hitched just slightly at the contact as Dipper hissed out, “Oh, it’s on.”

An instant later, he had tackled Mabel, bumping his head on the top bunk but not letting it slow him down at all. Mabel wriggled and squealed as Dipper held her shoulders firmly in his hands, peppering her face and neck with fast, playful kisses. Jolene couldn’t help giggling at the spectacle. Gradually, Dipper’s kisses slowed and moved back towards the slow tenderness that was his norm. Mabel made a soft moan against him that sent a jolt through Jolene, surprised by the sudden shift to a sound she knew to be carnal in nature. She glanced down and found the cause, Dipper’s hips grinding slightly against Mabel’s.

The shift in her was instantaneous, as sudden as Mabel’s moan had been. She moved forward, eliciting a surprised gasp from Dipper’s as her lips found his neck, kissing firmly from his collarbone up to his ear. She took his earlobe swiftly into her mouth, in the way Mabel loved. Dipper, however, they had discovered, was very ticklish in that particular spot, and true to form, he yelped suddenly, breaking his and Mabel’s kiss and bonking his head on the upper bunk again. Jo snickered softly as she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, claiming his lips again without further ado.

“Oooh, what’s this?” Mabel cooed, silly as ever despite the soft husky tone her voice had taken on. She sidled up flush against them, “Miss Jo-jo looks like she’s got a hankering for the Dipstick!” Dipper snorted but didn’t break their kiss, his hands tangling in her hair, “Well, let the Mabel be of assistance, my darlings.” Her hands slipped between Dipper and Jo’s bodies, surprising them both slightly. Reluctantly, Jo broke the kiss to see what Mabel was up to, only to be met with a mischievous smile as her fingers found the button of Jo’s jeans, raising an eyebrow challengingly as she slipped it through the buttonhole and began to drag the zipper down, teasingly slow.

Jo grinned, climbing off of Dipper just long enough for Mabel to peel her out of her jeans. She leaned down to kiss Mabel, kicking her bunched up jeans from her ankles. Dipper’s hand surprised her slightly, gently cupping her bottom before gliding around to the side to give her plain black undies a tug. He began kissing her shoulder while she kissed Mabel, his grip on her panties getting slightly more insistent. After a few moments of this treatment, he gave a small exasperated groan and took matters into his own hands, simply grabbing Jo by the waist and pulling her back on top of him. She managed the briefest of mock-glares before gamely diving back into his kisses, her veins electrifying each time she felt Dipper’s cock grind softly against her through the thin fabric of their underwear. Mabel sat up and decisively grabbed the hem of Jo’s tee shirt, pulling it up and off of her, breaking her and Dipper’s kiss for the briefest possible moment. Her small, nimble hands wasted no time, diving between them at once to fondle one of Jo’s breasts, carefully freeing the other from her bra and taking her nipple in her mouth.

Jo moaned into Dipper’s mouth at the stimulation, Mabel having spent many happy hours learning exactly what tooth to lip ratio worked the best. Without properly breaking the kiss, Dipper muttered a hoarse ‘oh my fucking god’ against Jo’s lips, looking down hungrily at his sisters. Jo opened her eyes (not knowing when exactly she had closed them) and glanced down at Mabel. As if the sight (and feel) of her sister’s ministrations wasn’t enough, she instantly followed Dipper’s gaze to Mabel’s free hand, hidden beneath the skirt of her nightgown. Involuntarily, the sight made Jo grind harder against Dipper and he gasped. He broke away from Jo’s kiss for a moment, his breath labored, his eyes glued to the movements of Mabel’s wrist. Without hesitation, he grabbed her wrist gently and her hand stilled, her mouth releasing Jo’s nipple so she could look at Dipper and find out why he had stopped her. Before she could even begin to formulate her question, she felt his hand slip under her nightgown, giving a small squeak as his fingers nudged her panties to the side. He ran his fingertips along the length of her wetness for a moment before pressing inside of her.

Jo relished the sound her sister made, the sound simultaneously primal and somehow delicate. She ground more insistently against Dipper’s erection, his hips rising to meet her, as she watched Mabel lay back beside him. Mabel and Dipper’s lips crashed against each other at once, and Jo thought as she had before how perfect it was the way that Dipper’s kisses held and Mabel’s kisses filled. The change in position twisted her nightgown up around her waist, and Jo bit her lip hard at the sight of her sister’s flat tummy, and the way her soft pink lips partly around Dipper’s finger, already glistening with her wetness. Jolene grunted softly, humping against Dipper in earnest now. Time didn’t exist, so hypnotized was she by the sight of the two beautiful, impassioned people before her.

Her trance was interrupted by Dipper’s free hand, his fingers grazing her hip, catching in the waistband of her undies and tugging. Getting the non-verbal signal and agreeing enthusiastically, Jo got up just enough to shimmy out of her underwear and to pull off Dipper’s boxers. Perched between his knees, she felt a tugging desire in the pit of her belly at the sight of Dipper’s penis, but couldn’t help smiling slightly at the way it swayed as his hips gave a couple of discreet thrusts. Although she could feel her own wetness between her thighs, before climbing back on top of him, she couldn’t resist taking him into her mouth. He gasped at the unexpected sensation, bucking against her face. She fell into a rhythm, sucking him steadily as she moved her mouth up and down, nearly off of him, and swirled her tongue lazily against him.

She glanced up to see Dipper and Mabel both watching her, Dipper’s fingers moving faster inside of Mabel. Mabel was trying to watch, but Jo could tell she was very close to cumming, recognizing the shade of her cheeks and her shortness of breath easily. She met Mabel’s eyes, never slowing her ministrations, and watched in disbelief as the moment of eye contact pushed Mabel over the edge. Jo’s eyes jumped at once to Mabel’s pussy, seeing the smallest flicker of her contractions around Dipper’s fingers.

Unable to wait any longer, Jo straddled Dipper again. He met her eyes intensely, his pupils dilated and dark and a faint sheen of sweat on his face. Reaching under herself, Jo carefully guided him to her entrance before easing her weight onto him. A delicious, guttural sound escaped him as he was engulfed in her wet heat. Mabel planted kisses all over his cheek and neck as he stared up at Jo, entranced. His hands, one still wet from Mabel found her hips and he pushed her down into his thrust.

Jo had resisted admitting her feelings for Dipper for so long, long after her feelings for Mabel had become undeniable. She had pushed her desire for him away, hoping that it would just evaporate. Of course, it never did and now she couldn’t believe how much better he felt than she ever could have imagined. It took no thought to fall into his rhythm, matching each other’s thrusts the most natural thing in the world.

She managed to tear her eyes away from Dipper’s intent face and darkly shining eyes to look at Mabel. She looked so luxuriously sensual, the aqua fabric in a frothy nimbus around her waist, her arms extended loosely above the cloud of dark curls, her wet flushed sex exposed, her face dewy and dreamy and pink. She had stopped peppering Dipper with kisses for a moment to watch their lovemaking. Absently, Jo’s hand strayed from Dipper’s chest, gliding along Mabel’s creamy thigh. Mabel gasped slightly, but her hips strained towards Jo, eagerly trying to meet her touch. Dipper grunted at the sight, thrusting even more deeply inside of Jo and dragging a moan from her. Jo trailed her fingers ever-so-lightly across Mabel’s lips, delighting in how insistently she bucked towards her from so small a touch. Without further hesitation, she dove two fingers deep inside her and Mabel cried out.

Dipper captured Mabel’s lips in his, interrupting her cry, thrusting desperately into Jo at a staccato pace. Jo met Dipper’s thrusts, her mind somewhere very far away as she relished the feel of him, the orgasm building steadily inside her belly, and the intense heat and slickness of that part of Mabel that Dipper had only just filled. Everything here was steam and flesh and sweet sweat and through it all, a pervading devotion that made Jo’s heart feel ready to break. She would give anything in the world not to ever hurt them again, to let nothing hurt them. Just being their sister, just knowing them at all was a blessing, being here in this transcendent world of pleasure with them was more than she could ever have asked for. She could tell that Mabel was close, those same familiar indicators on her face and her thighs trembling.

Jo’s orgasm crashed down upon her without warning. So deep in trance had she been, she wasn’t sure when she and Dipper had switched places, but there she was, underneath him, tremors of ecstasy shaking her to her core. He only lasted a few seconds longer than her, pulling out and clutching himself as he came on her quivering belly. He leaned down and bestowed her with a few more of those preciously sweet kisses before flopping down beside her. Again she was lying with Mabel to one side and Dipper to the other. While Dipper was gulping in lungfuls of air, Jo turned to check on Mabel. She was dazzled by the blissful smile with which she was met. She couldn’t help but smile back, as Mabel purred a quiet, “Heyyyy, Miss-Sisss…”

“Hi there,” Jo said slowly, unable to clear the cobwebs from her brain just yet. She said nothing for a moment and then, with a startled realization, asked, “Oh, man, Mabey. Did you…?” Her words failed her, no word seeming to come close to what she had just experienced.

“Mm-hmmmmmm,” Mabel replied with a slow, contented nod. Relieved that she hadn’t left Mabel hanging, Jo pulled Mabel to her shoulder. She luxuriated in the feeling of Mabel’s soft, misty skin against her. Just then, Dipper gave a sudden snore, causing Jo to start. Mabel giggled against Jo’s neck, “Guess we really tuckered the ole boy out.”

Jo grinned against Mabel’s forehead before planting a long, grateful kiss there, “I love you, Mabes. So fucking much.”

“I love you too, nerd.” Mabel said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m serious, Mabey. I’d do anything for you.” Jo said, suddenly overwhelmed with a need to make sure Mabel knew just exactly how adored she was. Mabel snickered, and Jo knew that laugh. That was the laughing at you in my head laugh, “What? What’s funny?”

“Nah, nah, just the lil teensy devil’s advocate in my head…” Mabel said lightly.

Dipper gave another loud snore as Jo insisted, “What’s that little shit saying now?”

“Now this isn’t what I think, it’s just a thing that my brain did,” Mabel said, as if that explanation would assuage anyone’s concerns, “Ms. Advocate said that you wouldn’t sing for me.”

“She’s wrong,” Jo said, without hesitation. Mabel raised an eyebrow sluggishly, “I will always sing for you. It was the crowd I don’t want to sing for.”

“...will you sing for me now?” she asked, giving Jo a doe-eyed upward glance from her spot on her shoulder.

“I will, Mabey, baby,” Jo said, phrasing it intentionally. She watched the grin spread on Mabel’s face as she recognized the in-joke, knowing immediately what Jo was going to sing, “Mabey, baby,” she crooned softly, barely above a whisper, “I’ll have you,” Mabel cuddled still closer, “Mabey, baby, you’ll be true,” Jo pulled Mabel near, curling lovingly into each other, “Mabey, baby, you will love me someday--”

“Surprise!” Mabel said, popping up suddenly and making Jo jump. She cocked her head quizzically, “I love you today.” Jo kissed her, hardly able to stop smiling long enough to do it right.

#Pinecest #Pinescest #Jolene AU #Jolene Pines AU #sevralfics

[sevralships]

‘Shelter From the Storm’ - a Handships fic

Oh, look, I wrote another self-indulgent fic about me and @handleonthescandal

This one is really short, just a vignette really. While I was visiting Handy, we enjoyed the first rainstorm to happen while we were together. Total fluff. SFW. 1,349 words.

Also, my contribution the ‘Fics with storm in the title’ trend in the Pinecest fandom, even though this fic is only tangentially related to Gravity Falls.

(Non)fic under the cut. Enjoy!

We were lying on our stomachs beneath Handy’s orange blanket when the rain started. The natural light from the window to our right had been growing dimmer and dingier, the grey clouds threatening, for the past hour. And then all of a sudden, like flipping a switch, it was coming down in sheets. The pattering on the window, the pinging of drops against the external part of the air conditioner, the drumming on the roof made it hard all of a sudden to hear the game on the television in front of us.

“Rain!” I exclaimed softly, grabbing his arm, slightly jostling the controller in his hands, “It’s raining for us!”

Handy didn’t seem to mind the interruption. He promptly paused the game, turning to smile at me fondly, “So it is,” he agreed simply, “It was just a matter of time.”

I grinned at him broadly. We’d shared our love of the rain since before we ever kissed, before we ever even met. He was still only a username, only words and emojis on a screen, the first time he had talked to me about his love for the rain. About how he took solace in it, related to it, how the rain overhead made me feel closer to him somehow. And I’d agreed on all points. We’d talked about how, as children, we had both inexplicably found sanctuary in the crooked branches of a Dogwood tree, rain water pouring from the leaves and humble petals. How astonishing it had been to discover that many miles apart, with four years between our ages and more than ten years till we’d meet, we had hidden in the same private misty world.

But it hadn’t rained on us while we were together, not a hard honest downpour like this one. Thunder rumbled outside and when I met his eyes, they reflected the same thrill that I felt at the sound. We lay there for another moment, frozen and focused on the storm outside. He closed the small distance between us then, his lips finding mine automatically, the most natural thing in the world. I nuzzled my nose against him gently as our lips parted, “I like it better with you here.” he declared, his hand running gently from my ribs to my hip under the blanket, smoothing the wrinkles in the soft purple dress I had on.

“Let’s make the most of it.” I said, kissing the tip of his nose quickly before scrambling out of the bed. He gave me a quizzical look, watching as I turned off the television screen and stood on tiptoes to tug the pull-chain to darken the ceiling light. I jumped back into the bed, and crawled eagerly back underneath the blanket. It wasn’t cold, but I wasn’t going to spend one instant away from his warmth that I didn’t need to. Once I’d turned out the light, I was reminded that Handy had lit one of the soy candles I’d made for him, the calmly flickering flame noticeable only once artificial light had been removed.

“Ooh, that’s nice,” Handy said, his deep voice taking on an appreciative purr, eager to pull me back into his arms the moment I was back within reach. He pulled me snug against him and I curled readily into the familiar shape of his embrace. He kissed the top of my head, “My sonnet and a storm…” he cooed softly, and I melted a little closer. The beauty of the statement never diminished, no matter how many times he said it. No one had ever described me in a way that I found as lovely, or as accurate, as that.

I made no effort to measure the minutes that we lay there, my face buried snug against his chest. I breathed in his warm, welcome smell and listened to the steady music of the rain. After some time, I wriggled onto my back and my hand emerged from the blanket, sliding the accordion strip of plastic to one side of the air conditioning unit over, leaving a small rectangle of window open. I peered out, looking up at the patchwork of green leaves and grey sky, the shapes shifting and shimmering as the wind and rain guided them. I watched the dance, contentedly transfixed. The tune of the storm was clearer now, invited in by the bit of window I had opened for it.

“I love you.” Handy said softly, his voice sincere, the gentle tone seeming like a part of the storm itself.

“I love you, too,” I replied, quietly, looking away from the wind-whipped branches to look back at Handy. His eyes were open to me, the blue-green illuminated mystically by the clear pale light from the overcast sky, “With all my heart.”

A relaxed, lopsided smile spread on his lips, and I was kissing him again before I knew it. His lips, always surprising in their softness, moved against mine with an earnest passion. My hand found his cheek, resting lightly against the soft scruff of his beard and deepening the kiss, tilting his jaw towards mine just so. His tongue danced with mine almost coyly, one large warm hand gliding across my stomach and coming to rest against the curve of my waist. The rain persisted in its steady, ancient rhythm, the light of the candle seeming to sync up with the sound, flickering in time with the ebb and flow. In the darkness behind my eyelids, nothing existed apart from the love and nearness of this astounding, beloved man. And in the brief moments when my eyes fluttered open, he was all I saw, his face half painted in the warm wavering candlelight, half in the silvery light of sun diffused through water and vapor.

One such time when my eyes opened, I found Handy’s eyes opened too. Never slowing the kiss, his lids hung heavy but his eyes watched me evenly through his lashes. There was an unspeakable love in his gaze, something beyond what words or kisses could say. Something as elemental and essential as the fire and water on either side of us. A soft whimper rose from my chest, passing from my tongue to his, moving lightly from one heart to another. Handy’s hand left my waist, sliding around to the small of my back and pulling me closer. I let my own hand leave his cheek. I ran my fingers indulgently through his silky hair from temple to nape, before looping my arm lightly around his neck. It was as if we were slow-dancing, our bodies close and swaying slightly with our kisses, the rain playing our song. My eyes fell shut again as I dissolved into the kiss, neither of us in any rush.

Although he held me flush against him, our kiss remained leisurely and delicate. The soft wet sound of our lips blended into the sound of the rain mere inches away from us, and my heart ached with wholeness. I could feel his heartbeat against my sternum, and it echoed my own relief. Everything is as it should be, it seemed to say, you are as one, you’re together, you’re safe.

“I love you so much,” Handy murmured against me, never breaking the kiss fully, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m so glad I’m home.” I corrected gently, and he grinned against me.

He breathed in deep, as if he was savoring the lemon scent of the candle mixed with the fresh green rain smell from outside. He broke the kiss finally and pulled me into a bear hug, squeezing me just a hair from too-tight, and I knew. I knew all the gratitude he was pouring into the hug because it was my own. I squeezed him right back and he said, his voice muffled against my hair, “I’m so glad I found you.”

I kissed his cheek, his temple, his eyelid, “It was just a matter of time, right?” I said, and he nodded against me and I cradled him close, listening to the rain as inevitable as our love.

#handships #sevralfics #handleonthescandal

[sevralships]

Fanfiction Masterpost

The Much-Needed Rebloggable Redux

One Shots

Blind Date - Adult twins live together but occasionally take blind dates to better conceal their relationship. Dipper grapples with jealousy, while Mabel considers what could’ve been on a pleasant date with another man. 7,642 words. NSFW. Pinecest. Blind Date on AO3

Perfecto - When the twins parents leave them alone in the house, Mabel wants to make Dipper a perfecto dinner. Angst ‘n’ fluff, fluff ‘n’ angst. 2,502 words. SFW. Pinecest. Perfecto on AO3

Weird Is Good - (Prompted by kaylaber) Mabel reassures her abrasive lab partner, Bill Snakes. Bad boy Bill raised by Jimmy Snakes AU. 2,016 words. TW mild derogatory language. SFW. MaBill.

Sweatertown - It is the first Christmas since Mabel and Dipper graduated from their respective colleges, but post-grad life has been treating them a little differently. With Dipper working his dream job in NY and their relationship up in the air, Mabel has a lot to mull over while she knits a Christmas sweater. 4,540 words. SFW. Pinecest. Sweatertown on AO3

Mood Lighting - Valentine’s Day gift to Handleonthescandal ! Mabel Pines had always been a romantic at heart. After a lifetime of dreaming of her Prince Charming, she’s beginning to find High School dating disheartening. But when he turns up somewhere unexpected, she has to adjust to dreams looking a little different when they come true. 5,736 words. SFW. Pinecest.  Mood Lighting on AO3

Oasis - For years, the twins fantasized about the day they could live together, far from prying eyes and watchful parents. A safe haven where they could love each other freely. They’ve lived together for a few months now and it is lacking some of the passion and glamour that Mabel expected. 5,428 words. TW angst, some cynicism. NSFW. Pinecest. Oasis on AO3

Mabey, Baby - The Pines triplets are back at their Grunkle’s for another summer. When Mabel has the idea to host a talent show for the residents of Gravity Falls, both Dipper and Jo help make it happen. Jo struggles with stage fright and forgiving herself. 7,104 words. TW incest. Angst, fluff, and smut in one tidy package. NSFW. Jolene AU/Pinecest. Contains ‘Just Because You Can’ spoilers. Mabey, Baby on AO3

Making Amends - authorized sequel to @handleonthescandal‘s fic “Mending the Pieces”. After three years of estrangement, Mabel shows up in Gravity Falls out of the blue, hoping to reconcile with Dipper. Can the twins put aside their anger and heartbreak to mend their broken relationship? Angst, angst, n more angst. TW coarse language, TW incest. 3,939 words. NSFW. Pinecest. 

Worlds Apart -  This fic is set a few months after Ford was accidentally sucked into the portal. Ford tries to avoid being captured in a dimension far from home, while Stan closes up the new and flourishing Murder Hut. Inspired by the Dipper quote “No one should be alone on their birthday.”  Good grief, so much angst. SFW. 4,429 words. SFW. No ships (could be Stancest or Billford if you have enough faith).

Reunion - This fic is set in a version of @handleonthescandal‘s fem!dippin AU with fem!dip, Mabel, and Ty. After nearly ten years since the Pines triplets were all together in Gravity Falls for any length of time, they meet up at the Mystery Shack for only a weekend, and Mabel finds herself tempted to pick up right where they left off. Angst, fluff, smut. TW incest. 11,200 words. NSFW. Fem!Dippin Pinecest. Reunion on AO3

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Second Chance - (link to AO3) When Bill Cipher is accidentally freed, Mabel makes a tough call. Both Mabel and Bill find their expectations challenged by each other. 39,751 words, 32 chapters. TW rape/non-con, TW slavery, TW weird Bill BDSM bloodplay stuff. NSFW. MaBill.

Not What He Seems - Bill Cipher has been gathering his strength, impersonating Stan Pines for five years since Weirdmageddon was thwarted by the Mystery Twins. When Mabel and Dipper return to Gravity Falls, preoccupied by their newly-discovered attraction to each other, will they recognize that anything is amiss before it is too late? 42,949 words, 32 chapters. TW rape/non-con, TW gore, TW age difference, TW incest, TW one-sided MaBill. NSFW. Primarily Pinecest, with secondary one-sided MaBill. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6 FIN] Not What He Seems on AO3

Just Because You Can - The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure? 35,841 words, 26 Chapters. Mostly SFW. Jolene AU Pinecest.  [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN] Just Because You Can on AO3

Odds & Ends

Out With a Bang - Disturbing Double Dippin’ crackfic. An incestuous threesome gone awry. 2,356 words. TW gore, TW character death. NSFW. Double Dippin’. Out With a Bang on AO3

Waking Nightmare - (excerpt from WIP) Adult twins struggle with sanity disturbances of all kinds in the wake of Weirdmageddon trauma. INDEFINITELY UNFINISHED. 1,296 words. TW gore, TW blood, TW incest, TW insanity, TW implied cannibalism, TW fucked up Bill Cipher mind games. SFW, technically.  Eventually was going to be Pinecest. 

The Deep End - A Handships Story! A NSFW story about me and the one and only handleonthescandal, closely based on true events. Only tangentially related to Gravity Falls. NSFW. Fluff ‘n’ smut. 3,085 words.

Good Mornin’ - A Handships Story, Take Two! A NSFW story about me and handleonthescandal starting the morning right, closely based on true events. Not related to Gravity Falls. NSFW. Fluff ‘n’ smut. 3,274 words.

The Penile Code - A Fifty Story. A very NSFW crackfic about two fellow Pinecest authors. A Collaboration with starsnpines. 7,818 words.

Bloodlust - (Entry for asterism-pinoideae’s Creature of the Week Challenge. Mine was prompted by the Journal 3 entry on Giant Vampire Bats)When young supernatural investigator Stanford Pines hits a road-block in his study of Gravity Falls’ Giant Vampire Bats, his mysterious muse encourages some unorthodox research. TW bloodplay, TW vampirism/autovampirism, TW cutting/self-harm, TW all sorts of fucked up Bill stuff, TW Stangst. Billford. NSFW, 4370 words

Shelter From the Storm - A Handships Story. A SFW story about me and @handleonthescandal cuddling and kissing while it rains. 1,349 words.

#masterpost #sevralfics #pinecest #mabill

[sevralships]

“Bloodlust”

(Entry for asterism-pinoideae’s Creature of the Week Challenge. Mine was prompted by the Journal 3 entry on Giant Vampire Bats)

When young supernatural investigator Stanford Pines hits a road-block in his study of Gravity Falls’ Giant Vampire Bats, his mysterious muse encourages some unorthodox research. TW bloodplay, TW vampirism/autovampirism, TW cutting/self-harm, TW all sorts of fucked up Bill stuff, TW Stangst. Billford. NSFW, 4370 words

It had been a long night and Stanford’s body was weary as he hiked homeward through the trees. It wasn’t late in the day, no later than nine in the morning, but the humid heat was already becoming stifling. He had shucked off his jacket and undone the top couple buttons of his shirt, but he was still overdressed. He grumbled under his breath as he walked, feeling very tired and frankly, a bit cranky.

Not only had the night been long, but worse, it had been unproductive. Stanford had established a little makeshift camp up in the mountains, just down-wind of the caves that the Giant Vampire Bats inhabited. He had chosen the position due to its being down-wind, to avoid the perplexing and likely dangerous creatures catching his scent and deeming it too appetizing. He had not, however, given enough consideration to how miserable it would be to sit on a rock all night drowning in the scent of bat droppings. Even the stench of guano would have been worth it if he had learned anything, but he had left his stake-out post this morning with no more clues than he had started with.

“This town baffles me…” he muttered. He had not been in Gravity Falls for very long, but its strangeness (and the strange behavior of its residents) had been immediately quite apparent. It was that very strangeness that drew you here in the first place, Stanford, he reminded himself. It was why he was here. Not just why he was in this town, but it was also literally why he was here, sweaty, over-tired, stinking of bat excrement, and trudging through the woods, when he ought to be quietly nursing a leisurely cup of coffee. He should have suspected, perhaps, that in a town with so much strangeness that the people would adapt. He certainly had not anticipated the reluctance, the denial, the desire to turn the other cheek and pretend there was nothing abnormal at all. It seemed ludicrous, in a town where bizarre things were around every corner, that the people should be so willfully ignorant.

Ford realized he was scowling and took a deep breath. It won’t do me any good to pout about it, he thought, willful ignorance is fairly universal and I’m the one who was naive to expect it to be any different here. It had been wishful thinking, after all. That, perhaps in a place with so much weirdness, there would also be more acceptance. More of a place for him, more appreciation, more acknowledgement that he wasn’t just a freak, but special.

As if summoned by his griping thoughts, He appeared. The color bled out of Stanford’s surroundings in that way that wasn’t quite familiar yet and he felt him before he saw him, “HEY THERE, FORDSY!” he said, in that strange voice that Ford seemed to feel in his spine as much as hear in his head.

“Bill!” He said dumbly. His muse had chosen him a scant month before and he had not yet gotten the hang of casually greeting such a wise and celestial being. His legs mechanically kept walking through the grey landscape, Bill floating pleasantly along beside him.

Bill laughed and Ford smiled politely with him. He had observed that Bill often laughed when nothing funny had been said, as if he always had some inexplicable glee to express. He regarded the strange triangular being beside him, finding the simplicity and strange symmetry of Bill’s visage to be somehow pleasing. Bill’s aura was rippling in time with his laugh, his eye crinkled joyfully. Ford was so fortunate to have been blessed with a muse of such good humor and agreeable temperament.

“SOMEBODY’S FEELIN’ GRUMPY,” Bill observed, in the wheedling tone one might use to ask if their dog wanted a treat, “WHAT’S WEIGHING DOWN THAT BIG HEAD O’ YOURS, SIX?”

Ford’s cheeks felt suddenly warm, a bit embarrassed of his petty complaints now that it was Bill inquiring, “Oh, it’s nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he assured Bill. This splendidly wise entity had for some reason seen fit to choose him, and he’d be damned if he was going to waste Bill’s valuable time.

“AW FORDSY,” Bill protested. He sounded disappointed but somehow still like he was grinning. Ford tried not to wonder about how little either made sense considering Bill’s lack of a mouth, “DON’T HOLD OUT ON ME! I THOUGHT WE WERE PALS, YOU ‘N’ I!”

“We- we are!” Ford insisted, hoping he had not upset his muse too greatly, “I mean to say, I would be honored to be considered amongst your friends,”

Bill laughed heartily, “THEN TELL ME! WHAT’S BUMMING OUT MY NEW PET?”

Stanford laughed nervously at the word choice, but brushed it off. Bill often said things that seemed a bit odd or off-color, but Stanford assumed that sort of thing would come with the territory of being an ageless keeper of knowledge. Your vernacular might end up a bit dated and strange, “I am merely frustrated by my research,” he said, hoping to downplay how irked he was feeling.

“BUT YOU’RE A GENIUS!” Bill pointed out and Ford’s heart soared at the praise. He had always been a genius, but he had rarely been told as much, and surely not by anyone with Bill’s authority.

“You’re too kind,” Ford thanked, “I misspoke. I suppose it’s not truly the research that has frustrated me. I don’t expect the bats to make it easy for me, but the lack of cooperation from the townspeople is infuriating!”

“HM,” Bill said, rubbing under his eye as if thoughtfully stroking his chin, “THOSE PEOPLE SHOULDN’T CONCERN YOU, FORDSY,” he advised, “WHATTA SHEEP LIKE THAT KNOW THAT A PRODIGY LIKE YOU DOESN’T?”

Stanford tried to ignore the bright red flush he could feel on his face at Bill’s flattery and tried to play it off with a small laugh, “It’s funny you should say that, Bill, because sheep are all they’ll talk to me about!” Bill gestured for Ford to continue, “There have been disappearances in the town, and I suspect the Giant Vampire Bats are responsible. Many livestock animals, but more importantly, a couple people! An old woman, a homeless fellow, and a young child!” Bill’s face remained impassive (insofar as one could read the expressions of a triangle) so Ford kept on, hoping to underscore his point, “When I have inquired with townspeople, all they want to talk about is how many of their sheep have gone missing! How many cattle, how many goats! Innocent people are likely dead and these people…” Ford scowled, “They joke about it being mosquitoes!”

“OH, SWEET FORDSY,” Bill cooed, and Ford tensed, unsure if he detected sarcasm in his muse’s tone, “YOU BIG SOFTIE!”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m sweet,” Stanford said, his voice having picked up a slight defensive edge, “That won’t help me to deduce why these bats would be interested in eating humans!”

Bill laughed again, harder this time. His small black hands clutched over his tie, as cackling laughter shook his strange luminous form. Ford’s footsteps slowed a bit as he curiously watched his muse’s amusement. Just as he was accepting that he would never be able to puzzle out what had set Bill’s laughter off, the sage being stilled his laughter and without having to catch his breath (Ford supposed that made sense, as surely he didn’t actually breathe) exclaimed matter-of-factly, “BECAUSE HUMANS ARE DELICIOUS! ”

That stopped Ford in his tracks and he knew he pulled a face, “Bill, you’ve got to be joking!”

“DO I-HAHAHA!-SOUND LIKE I’M-AH! HAHA!-JOKING?” Ford opted not to answer, mulling over what Bill was implying. Was it possible Bill was not as altruistic as he seemed? Ford frowned, “AW, C’MON, FORDSY, -HEH...HAHA- DON’T BE SO CLOSE-MINDED!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe it’s close-minded of me to reject the idea of eating fellow humans,” Ford said a bit tersely.

“SHEESH, KID, NO ONE SAID ANYTHING ABOUT YOU EATING FELLOW HUMANS!” Bill gave Ford’s shoulder a teasing punch. The spot tingled strangely. Touches in this odd grey in-between were always strange, “ALL I’M SAYIN’ IS THERE’S NO BIG SECRET YOUR BATS ARE HIDING! THEY EAT HUMANS BECAUSE YOU’RE TASTY! ”

“...How do you know that…?” Ford asked, quietly, hearing the doubt that tinged his own words.

“OH, IS THAT WHAT YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT?” Bill laughed fondly and reassured him, “YOU REALLY ARE A SOFT LITTLE HUMAN! I’M NOT GONNA EAT YOU!”

Although the idea of Bill eating him hadn’t actually entered his mind, he was glad to hear that those were in fact not Bill’s intentions. It did not however, entirely settle the unease in Stanford’s mind, “But Bill…”

“OH, THEY WERE ALL WILLING SACRIFICES,” Bill clarified further with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ford blanched. Still not what I was getting at, “...Willing sacrifices?” he repeated, morbidly intrigued, “You’ve accepted sacrifices?”

“NONE OF THEM WERE AS SMART AS YOU, TRUST ME, YA DON’T NEED TO BE JEALOUS,” Bill said. Taking in the nonplussed look on Ford’s face, he explained, “NOT THE SMART ONES, BUT LOTSA HUMANS WOULD LINE UP TO SPILL THEIR GUTS ON A GOD’S ALTAR!”

His muse had never referred to himself as a god before. From a young age, Stanford had rejected religion in favor of science. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing any faith could explain better than what could be learned through even-headed logical observation. He was committing his life to explaining the unexplainable, finding the facts behind those things that most people waved off as fantastical. What a stroke of irony that he of all people should be favored by a god. He supposed the title fit Bill as well as any other. He was unfathomably wise, ageless, powerful, and the very spirit of generosity, offering his help and asking nothing of Ford in return. Stanford could not deny that he felt a deep awe in Bill’s presence.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked down at his feet, reminded suddenly of their Rabbi’s voice when he was growing up, describing how Moses was made to remove his sandals by the burning bush for he had stood on hallowed ground. Neither he nor his brother had ever taken that story or any of the others much to heart, but at this moment it seemed apt. Maybe he’d simply never understood what it meant before.

It only took him a moment to snap out of his uncharacteristic reverence. He raised his gaze to Bill again. The muse, or perhaps he was a god, was watching Ford with a look of curious bemusement. Ford wondered again how such a nondescript face could convey so much, when he remembered his initial confusion, “You don’t have a mouth,” he said flatly.

“WELL, YA DON’T HAVE TO BE RUDE,” Bill snarked, a laugh hanging close by.

“No, no, pardon me, I’m not trying to be rude,” Ford said, “How do you know how anything tastes if you don’t have a mouth?”

“OH THAT! LIKE THIS!” Without warning, Bill blinked and when his eye opened again, it wasn’t an eye at all but a fanged grin. The sight ought to have frightened Ford but it sent a thrill down his spine. This creature, be he a muse or a god or something else entirely, was a mystery that only grew more enticing. A black tongue wet Bill’s new lips and to Ford’s shock, the sight aroused more than curiosity in him. Before he could even wonder if it was normal for one to desire a deity, Bill was dragging his tongue up the side of Ford’s face. The lick tingled, more intensely than a less intimate touch, it prickled like a prolonged static shock. But as fast as the contact was there it was gone again. Bill smacked his lips and said, “LIKE I SAID, HUMAN IS DELICIOUS!”

Stanford stared as Bill’s mouth closed and opened again as an eye. He hoped his unbidden feelings of lust weren’t apparent, desperately forced them to the back of his mind, “Is… is that all you meant… by delicious?” he asked.

Bill laughed, “‘COURSE NOT! SURE YOUR SKIN TASTES FINE, BUT IT’S THE BLOOD THAT REALLY PACKS A PUNCH!” Ford hmm-ed thoughtfully, unsure what to say to all these new revelations about Bill, “YA REALLY CAN’T KNOCK IT TILL YOU TRY IT, SIX. ANYWAYGOTTAGOSEEYAAA,” And with a jarring suddenness, Ford was blinking his eyes open. He had continued walking along in a trance in that threshold where Bill seemed to dwell and he was not far from home now. He began walking more briskly, eager to get out of the heat and into a cold shower.

---

An icy shower, a few hours of dreamless sleep, a couple stiff drinks, and Stanford still couldn’t quiet the turmoil of his thoughts. Worry about the Giant Vampire Bats had given way to far less welcome concerns. Was there such a thing as gods? Was it absurd for a mortal to desire a god? What was so ‘delicious’ about human blood?

“What’s come over me?” he asked himself, disbelieving the strange trajectory of his own thoughts. He had always had such a clear idea of who he was, of who he wanted to be. And none of this quite fit into the picture he had of himself. The pursuit of knowledge had always been of the utmost importance to him, but this all seemed somehow different. These were not questions that could be answered with recorded data, these demanded something from a much darker more primal part of the human mind. The very part of his mind he had always tended to keep tightly shut. It seemed the arrival of his muse, this bizarre god (if that was really what he was) had presented more questions than answers.

Not nearly for the first time, Stanford caught himself wondering what Stanley would say to all of this. What would he think of Bill? Ford wondered, What would he think of me? Stanley had always hated hearing his brother called a freak, even when it was Ford saying it. How could he begin to understand what his twin’s research in Gravity Falls meant to him? Thinking about Stanley only made this all harder to parse. His complicated feelings about his estranged brother would have to wait. There had been a time when Stanley had been his partner in crime, but those days were long past and Ford had a new partner now. He knew that with their powers combined, he and Bill could achieve great things.

His face was already a bit warm from the liquor, but he felt his cheeks getting hotter. I’m only starstruck, he told himself stubbornly, That’s a perfectly reasonable response to a deity, is it not?  He had never experienced religious zeal and he wasn’t entirely sure that this was how it was supposed to feel. The memory of Bill’s ink-black tongue snaking over his sharp teeth came unbidden into Stanford’s mind yet again and he felt his trousers growing tighter. He groaned, grateful he was alone but embarrassed nonetheless. Religious zeal most certainly did not involve that. He tried in vain to ignore his body’s response to the thought of his muse, trying instead to consider the likelihood that some faiths incorporated sexuality more than the lax reform Judaism in which he’d been brought up. It was definitely true, but he was still quite sure that what he was feeling was wrong.

He shut his eyes in frustration, willing his bloodflow to return to normal and leave his penis out of this. After a moment it started slowly to work, and Ford immersed himself. He focused on the mysterious blood, flowing dark and unseen beneath his skin. He realized too late that he was getting too caught up in the thought, that his mouth was watering. Bill wouldn’t lie to me, he reminded himself, not sure if that was more comforting or unsettling, “It’s only blood,” he said out loud, opening his eyes and staring down at his hands, crossed on the table in front of him.

He spread all twelve fingers, looking down at the broad palms and extra extremities that had garnered so much teasing and self-doubt over the years. It always surprised him that something so stupid should make such a big difference to anyone, including himself. It didn’t make him any less functional or valid, it was just a strange genetic accident. Just like any other trait a human might have, it was just a blip deep down in their chromosomes, in their DNA, in their blood.

The blood is the life! Stanley would say, in a bad Transylvanian accent. Ford smiled bitterly at the memory of watching black and white movies with Stanley. How simple things had seemed, how far away it all was from Stanford’s present. He stared at his hands, the way the pads of his fingers were slightly rosy. He pressed his thumb and forefinger together, watching transfixed as the pressure turned his fingertips white before he released and watched the blood rush back. He had never been so curious about what lay underneath his own skin, but now all at once it seemed he couldn’t stand not knowing.

He stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair squeaking noisily against the linoleum. There was a short list in his head of what he would need and he set about gathering it all. This was no different than any other experiment and thinking of it that way made it so much simpler. Of course there was no way he was going to hurt anyone else, but this was research and he was his own willing lab rat. When he returned with his arms full, Bill was waiting.

“YELLO!” he greeted cheerily, “I GUESS OUR TALK REALLY WET YOUR APPETITE!” he cackled at his own joke, watching as Ford arranged all the things he had gotten neatly on the table. There was a boxcutter with a new blade, a bottle hydrogen peroxide, some sterile gauze, and medical tape, “A BOY SCOUT IS ALWAYS PREPARED, EH?”

“I wasn’t a boy scout,” Ford said a little stiffly. He wasn’t sure when Bill had pulled him back into the grey trance of this threshold space, and he didn’t like that he hadn’t noticed. Bill’s presence made it somehow more embarrassing that he was actually doing this.

“I’M JUST YANKIN’ YOUR CHAIN, FORDSY,” Bill said making a small tugging motion with both hands, which created an odd tightness in Ford’s gut. He ignored the sensation as best he could. He took a small pad of gauze and wet it with the hydrogen peroxide. First he used the gauze to thoroughly wipe off the boxcutter blade, and then did the same to his left palm. He dropped the spent piece of gauze on the table absently, steeling himself for what he was about to do, “WOW,” Bill said, in an impressed tone that made Stanford’s chest swell proudly, “YOU’RE ONE HELLUVA HUMAN, SIXER.”

Hearing his muse’s earnest praise gave Ford the little boost that his nerves needed. As if it was the most commonplace thing in the world, he guided the blade to his sterilized left palm and pressed. His hands did not shake, and he hardly flinched, although it was more a result of surprise than pain. It took practically no pressure for the keen blade to break his skin and it happened easier than he’d expected. He watched as the dark blood surged up around the metal. Bill made a pleased oohing sound and Ford’s pulse quickened, reacting to the pain and the thrill of impressing a god.

Hypnotized by the sight of his own skin parting cleanly beneath the sharp knife, Stanford slowly dragged the boxcutter across his hand. He hissed involuntarily at the feeling, the pain acute and immediate. It hurt, but there was a harsh satisfaction to it as well. All of the confusion and doubt from only moments before fell away, and everything distilled into the exquisitely simple pain of damaged tissue. His half-cupped palm was filling with blood and he watched it dreamily for a second before putting down the boxcutter. He glanced at Bill and was stricken by what he saw. He hadn’t realized how close his muse had come, entranced, and did not expect him to be so near. His single, unnerving eye was trained on the blood pooling in Ford’s hand, his aura wavering in time with the perpetual low hum he was emitting. It was an entirely inhuman sound, requiring no air, but something about it stirred Ford much the way the sigh of a lover might. Bill met Stanford’s gaze and widened his eye slightly, as if raising an eyebrow coaxingly.

Without breaking eye contact for an instant, Ford lifted his left hand to his open mouth. An instant later, his palate was flooded. He had tasted blood before, as anyone who has sucked a papercut or lost a tooth had, but never had it been anything like this. The taste was agonizingly rich, bitterly metallic and salty and almost sweet all at once. It tasted dark and heady, like the ozone smell of pressure before a storm. He heard his own soft moan, surprised by it, as he slowly swallowed, wanting to prolong the sickeningly decadent feeling of his own blood sliding down his throat. The sound Bill was making changed in response to him, the pitch moving higher and somehow Ford could recognize that it sounded hungrier.

He licked along his own hand, his tongue feeling strange against the fresh wound and Bill’s eye was glued to the contact. Ford realized absently how hard he was, but unlike before, he no longer felt embarrassed by it. With the way his muse was watching him, it suddenly no longer seemed wrong or unwelcome. It seemed like a shared secret, something certainly taboo, but not a crime he was committing alone.

Stanford somewhat reluctantly lifted his mouth from his palm. The straight angry line of the cut bled again at once, that strange dark red swelling up temptingly. He wasn’t going to drink from himself again though. He lifted his eyes from his hand to look at Bill. He was floating as near as possible without touching and Ford could swear the normally clear lemon-yellow appeared to be tinged just slightly a pinkish-orange. His aura was glowing brilliantly, dizzyingly bright, and the sound he was making set Stanford’s teeth on edge. Bill’s eye was glued to the seeping wound, and Ford extended the hand slightly to him, “Would you like to taste me?”

The sound Bill was making changed as he blinked slowly. It took Stanford a second to identify why it had changed, taking on a warmer, throatier, even more maddening tone. Then Bill opened his mouth, and the reason became clear. Where a moment ago it had been a sound abstractly produced, it was now a starved growl being emitted from an actual mouth, “I’D LOVE THAT,” Bill’s mouth said, and watching his voice actually come out of his mouth sent a shiver from the top of Stanford’s head, down through him to settle achingly in his groin.

Bill’s small black hand reached out to steady Stanford’s wrist, his tongue lolling out of his mouth to wet his lips before moving languidly across Ford’s palm. Ford cried out at the contact. The touch of Bill’s hand was one thing, but his mouth was entirely different. Just as when he had licked his cheek in the forest, it tingled electrically. It was excruciating pleasure when his tongue would meet the rawness of the open wound. Bill moved his tongue thirstily against the small gash, making wet obscene sounds of pleasure. He closed his lips on Stanford’s palm and sucked, his tongue never stagnating. Ford hardly knew his free hand had moved to touch himself through his pants, it had been so involuntary. He stroked himself vigorously, shamelessly, the edge so close that his toes curled. Bill seemed to sense Ford’s urgency and his teeth prickled against Ford’s skin as his tongue dragged firmly against the cut.

Stanford cried out again as he came harder than he ever had before. Bill’s mouth did not release his hand until Stanford’s orgasm has subsided to rattling gasps and tremors. Bill laughed a bit airily and said a little smugly, “THAT’S ALWAYS WHEN HUMAN BLOOD TASTES THE BEST,” Ford gave a weak grunt in acknowledgement. He felt a hand on his hair and realized his eyes had fallen closed, and opened them. Just as he did, Bill’s tongue darted out to lick a couple lingering drops of blood from Ford’s lips. Without an instant’s hesitation, he opened his mouth, inviting a kiss from Bill’s strangely irresistible mouth. His tongue tasted like blood and felt like lightning and Ford drifted guilelessly in the bliss of kissing his muse. The kiss ended and when Stanford opened his eyes, Bill’s mouth was gone and had been replaced by the return of his eye, “YOU DID SO WELL, FORDSY,” Bill said, and Ford’s head swam with pride and relief at the praise, “YOU’RE EVEN MORE VALUABLE THAN I THOUGHT,”

Without another word, Bill disappeared. Stanford blinked at the color in the world around him, at the absence of Bill’s touch and voice. His mouth tasted like rust and his hand was bleeding on the table. Dutifully, almost robotically, Ford sterilized and dressed the wound, lingering wistfully over the small incisions that Bill’s teeth had made. After he cleaned up, he dragged himself in the direction of his bed, appreciating the sticky wetness in his pants. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. As he fell into bed, there were a million and one thoughts clamoring at the door, begging entry to his mind, but they would have to wait. All he cared about at the moment was that he had pleased his muse.

#billford #cotwc #creature of the week challenge #giant vampire bats #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Oasis”

For years, the twins fantasized about the day they could live together, far from prying eyes and watchful parents. A safe haven where they could love each other freely. They’ve lived together for a few months now and it is lacking some of the passion and glamour that Mabel expected.

Pinecest, 5,428 words, NSFW, TW incest, TW angst, TW sexual frustration, TW hella cynical realism (BUT ALSO CUTENESS)

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Mabel awoke at Dipper’s voice in her ear, “Love you, Mabes,” before planting a peck on her temple. She was only just blinking her eyes open, looking across the sparsely furnished studio apartment. As it was really just a rectangular room with a teensy kitchenette and a teensier bathroom, the door was only several feet from the mattress on the floor which was their bed. Mabel watched Dipper grab his keys from the blue glass bowl by the door. He glanced back at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the sight of her grumpy-Gus morning face peeking out from under the covers, before all but flying out the door with a, “Seeya tonight,”

“Seeya,” Mabel grumbled sleepily to the empty apartment. She half rolled over, careful not to untuck the blankets burritoed around her, and squinted at Dipper’s alarm clock. 9:21. Shit, no wonder he was hustlin’, Mabel noted, knowing how far behind schedule he was. His bus came at 9:30, and if he booked it, he might not miss it. Maybe he’ll miss it, Mabel thought with a mischievous smile beginning to rise on her lips, flopping back to her original position to gaze hopefully at the door, then he’ll have to come back home.

Half-drowsing, Mabel lay in bed with her eyes glued to the door. After a while, she realized that Dipper must already be long gone, despite how much she had willed the bus to leave without him. She sighed and chewed her lip, reminding herself that that train of thought was selfish and clingy and indulgent. She didn’t really want Dipper to miss class. It’s important to him so it’s important to me, she told herself, although internally, she wasn’t really convinced. She knew that was how couples were supposed to feel, but did any couple really have the self-sacrificing, saintly ability to draw interest for all of their lover’s pursuits out of some cray-cray internal well that never ran out? Un-flippin-likely, she told herself.

“What do you know about relationships?” she asked herself aloud, slightly muffled against the comforter in which she was swaddled. This was the only serious relationship she’d ever been in, and there wasn’t exactly a guidebook on how to be a good girlfriend to your brother.

She’d pretty much considered herself an expert by the time they moved in here a couple months prior. When Dipper had gotten this gig as an adjunct professor at Merritt College, where Mabel was still a part-time student, it was a no-brainer. Living together in Oakland? It was a dream come true. They’d been waiting for the time to be right since High School. It’d been years already, and Mabel had been confident that she had the whole bro-friend thing on lockdown.

But it wasn’t the way she’d envisioned all those years. While they were tiptoe-ing around their parents’ house or slogging through semesters being states apart, this had always been their pet fantasy. Whispering about it late at night, trying to believe this day would come. Like an oasis, shimmering and hovering just on the horizon, where they would have freedom, and privacy, and a medicine cabinet with both of their things in it, and a dish-washing routine after meals, and maybe even a pet, and, bestest of all, a bed of their own to share. How many gazillions of times had they soothed each other with the promise that someday they’d be within arm’s reach and they wouldn’t have to deal with the constant longing, the unabating missing each other?

But an oasis isn’t real, Mabel found herself thinking bitterly, pulling the blankets tighter still, that’s like the whole biz with oases, they’re all in your janked-up mind. Maybe that made it the perfect word, though, she figured. Dip and I were dying of thirst, so this looked like a kickass waterfall, with tropical flowers and a nice lil rainbow over it and lots of sex. She peered around the tiny apartment. No waterfalls, no flowers, no rainbow. She frowned at the empty spot beside her in bed. No sex.

Well, not no sex, she reminded herself, wanting to give credit where it was due, we just did the do the other day. Just last week. Wait… Or was it the week before? She screwed up her face, trying to backtrack through the uniform days of classes and waitressing shifts, of Dipper sprinting out in the mornings after inevitably sleeping in, of scraping together rent and writing the check, somehow feeling both triumphant and deflated about the transaction. It was the day I took Alicia’s morning shift, Mabel realized, adding days together on her fingers. Her heart sank.  Twenty days? For real? That’s almost three stinkin’ weeks! No wonder I’m such a sourpuss!

Without another moment’s hesitation, Mabel slipped her hand under her sleep shorts within her blanket cocoon. Sexual frustration was a problem to which she actually had the solution. Her skin was pleasantly warm to the touch, a result of hours wrapped up in blankets, and it made her hand feel quite cool. She probed one cool fingertip just between her lips, unsurprised to find herself already pretty wet. It’s a pretty consistent weather pattern down south lately, she absently noted as her fingers fell into a familiar choreography. Mabel closed her eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of her fingers sliding steadily in and out of her, nudging the sensitive spots just so. Her thumb brushed against her clit, trying to imitate the sensation of that thing Dipper did with his thumb. It sent a thrill through her, but it was also a little like trying to tickle herself. Being able to anticipate the exactness of the touch dulled the effect.

It felt good, though, and Mabel found her breath growing heavier. She was often frisky in the mornings and today was no exception. What if Dipper walked in right now? She wondered. Indulging her fantasy, she imagined he’d missed his bus after all, and willed her ears to hear his key engaging the lock. How he’d drop them in the bowl with a jangle, already walking towards the ‘bedroom’. He’d be flushed from running in vain to the bus stop, his cheeks bright and a dewy film on his skin. The hair would be sweaty and stuck against his temples and his forehead and he’d gratefully shed layers of clothing as he approached her. He’d be talking, oblivious to her illicit activities, but as he looked at her face, he’d recognize the expression and his eyebrows would lift in an intrigued little way.

“What’s this?” he’d say, or “I see you’re having a good morning!”, or “Keeping all the fun to yourself?” or some other dorky flirtation. And he’d sit down on the edge of the bed, the sweat cooling on his bare chest, having just ditched his shirt on the floor. And even with him right there, Mabel wouldn’t stop, raising an eyebrow and daring him to intervene. He’d grin then, pulling back the covers like unwrapping a present, revealing her. Just the sight of her hand moving under her pajamas would be enough to ignite a hungry passion in him and he would be all over her. His lips and teeth worshipping her neck and breasts, his hands peeling away her clothes, dancing across her skin, sometimes firm, sometimes as delicate as butterfly wings. He’d eagerly replace her hand, and they would move together with abandon, their uninhibited cries bouncing off the walls of this space that they didn’t have to share with anyone. Their movements would grow more and more desperate, grinding and thrusting in an effort to get even closer to each other, clawing and biting and kissing tenderly even amidst the madness of their lust. His thrusts would grow more needy, more stiff, his gasping breath more and more ragged against her neck. His orgasm would build in unison with hers, both climbing closer and closer and closer to that edge, only to reach climax together in glorious harmony.

Only she didn’t. Growing more and more frustrated, Mabel forged on, replaying the third act of her fantasy again. She was fingering herself in clumsy desperation, her palm cramping badly. She replayed the fantasy again, paying special attention to the spots she knew to have the most sensation. It had grown excruciatingly hot beneath the blankets. She rolled onto her stomach, hoping the extra pressure on her clitoris and lower abdomen would ensure orgasm as it normally did. She replayed the fantasy in her head yet again, rutting against her hand beneath her, moaning the urgency of her need into her pillow.

Fantasy Dipper reached his climax without her yet again and her need easily crossed the easily-blurred boundary between lust and anger and her moan crescendoed quite suddenly into a roar. Impatiently, she threw the blankets off and sat up, hurling her pillow across the room with a sound somewhere between a cry and a growl. It was a pillow, of course, so there was no satisfying crash, no bang, no shattering pieces to serve as a small outlet to her anger. The pillow simply slid across the floor until it came to rest against the foot of the fridge with an anticlimactic, barely audible whump. Mabel glared at the pillow. Dipper wouldn't be walking in anytime soon and when he did, it was unlikely he would suddenly remember he desired her after weeks of disinterest. The thought stung, but there was no use denying it, he doesn't want me.

It’s not fair, she thought tritely, and slapped her palms against the bed. It felt good to hit something and she repeated it several more times. She noticed the fitted sheet beside her was damp from the steam that had built up under the blankets as she’d chased her elusive orgasm. They need to be washed anywho, she reminded herself (since Dipper seemed unaware of the fact that bedsheets in fact require washing) and mechanically began stripping the bed. She threw them into the plastic laundry basket and padded over to the stuffed dresser she and Dipper shared to grab a change of clothes.

Everything in her drawer was just a bit too cheerful for her present mood. Maybe wearing something purdy will lift my spirits, she told herself, digging through sweaters and dresses and lingerie. The thought of putting on lingerie at present was a bit laughable, as she felt anything but sexy. Exactly! It might make you feel sexy, you cranky-butt! The infuriatingly optimistic voice within her nagged, As we always say, life needs more lace. Both she and her internal voice knew that that was not a catch-phrase of hers, though it had a good enough ring to it. Mabel lifted a pair of frilly lavender panties from the drawer and regarded them skeptically.

Striking a bargain with herself, Mabel discarded her sticky pajamas into the laundry basket on top of the sheets. She slipped into the frilly lavender panties, feeling slightly ludicrous putting on such a flirty, girly garment. Flirty and girly was normally one hundred and twenty percent her scene, but she just wasn’t feeling it today. To even out the silliness of wearing panties that looked nothing like how she felt, Mabel covered them in a pair of grey basketball shorts swiped from Dipper’s drawer and one of the several murky green Mystery Shack tee shirts the twins had acquired over the years. It was soft and thin from many trips through the spin cycle and nearly a size too big. The baggy clothes in their muted colors suitably mirrored how Mabel was beginning to feel as her sour mood grew stormier and stormier.

She counted out quarters from the dish on top of the dresser and frowned, noting that only three remained. She dropped the handful of coins into the pocket of Dipper’s basketball shorts, hefted the laundry basket and trotted off to the laundry room. It was in the same building but two floors down. The elevator had been out of order for some time and Mabel gave it a longing glance as she trudged by to go the long way down the stairs. Her arms were feeling a little wobbly when she reached the laundry room and she silently thanked the universe that none of her neighbors were there. How can a room that literally exists for cleaning stuff be so grody? she wondered, as she always did. The cloying scent of bleach and dryer sheets stung her nose. She loaded the washer, careful not to let anything touch the filthy floor even on its way in to the wash, and glumly watched quarters disappear into the slot before turning back around and making the trip back to the apartment.

Upon returning, Mabel found herself underwhelmed by her own home. She looked at it appraisingly from the front door. The big window by the bed was the only particularly nice feature to the apartment. The cracking linoleum and dated appliances sure weren’t the selling point. Nor were the roaches in the bathroom, such a constant presence that Dipper joked that they ought to chip in for rent. Mabel shut the door behind her, dropping her keys in the glass bowl. Her stomach rumbled and a lightbulb just about went off in her head. Food! It cheered, Food will make you feel better!

No such luck. The cupboard was nearly bare. Mabel scrounged up a can of tuna, a couple sorry slices of bread, and a couple leftover mayo packets and distractedly combined the ingredients to make a pretty sad tuna sandwich. The only dishes that were clean were some colorful plastic kids’ dishes Mabel had picked up for a buck at a thrift store at some point, and there was no denying that the neon green of her plate only made her pathetic lunch look more grey by contrast. She found herself famished though, and standing at the counter, she lifted it and took a bite. And got a mouthful of stale bread with a little bit of mayo as the runny tuna, displaced by the pressure of her teeth, slid out the back and landed directly on the top of her bare foot with a splat.

“EUGH!” Mabel cried out in disgust, instinctively lifting her foot from the offending wet sensation. The sudden motion threw her off-balance and with all the grace of drunken hippopotamus, she teetered and landed painfully on her rear end. She held on uselessly to the empty slices of bread that had refused to perform as a sandwich, and once on the ground she blinked at them twice before dropping them. They hit the floor with a weak little sound. Mabel cast a wrathful eye at them, and the mess the tuna had made, on the floor and where it had splashed onto the baseboards of the cabinets.

I can’t do this, she thought limply, shaking her head slightly from side to side, it’s not bleepin’ worth it. The optimistic voice in her head piped up at once, insisting that of course anything was worth it as long as she and Dipper were together. But I don’t know how long that will be, she countered, the thought she’d been avoiding finally sneaking up on her. She felt her lip begin to quiver. He already doesn’t want me, how much longer till he doesn’t love me? Till none of this junkum is worth it to him either? She asked herself bitterly as burning tears began to stream down her cheeks. She hated the sound of her own hitching sobs, echoing pitifully in the tiny apartment. She hugged her knees to her chest, letting the tears pour out of her.

It had hardly ever entered her mind that things might sour between her and Dipper. They were meant to be, after all. They were soulmates. They came into life together and they were supposed to share their lives...right? What was the last time it felt like that? Even the last time they’d had sex, 20 days prior, it hadn’t been the mind-bending intensely intimate magical thing that it had once been. It was quick and kinda dutiful, and they hadn’t even turned the lights on. Is it really ending? Mabel asked herself, hating what that meant. What kind of normalcy could they ever build out of the total crud-storm that splitting up would be? Dealing with an ex was hard enough when they weren't at Thanksgiving, at Christmas, in your own reflection in the mirror. Because if they couldn’t make this work… well, it was weird enough to reconcile being in love with your twin, how could they handle falling out of love with their twin?

Badly, dumdum, Mabel told herself, you’re handling it badly. But I’m not falling out of love with Dip, Mabel reminded herself, clutching her knees tighter, I’m just watching him falling out of love with me. The sobs that quaked her body hit with even greater force, and Mabel gave herself over to the anger and the hurt.

When the key turned in the lock and Dipper opened the door, with a “Mabes, I’m home,” Mabel stirred slightly from her trance. She wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or if she’d just zoned out, but apparently a few hours had gone by, “Mabel?” Without looking up, she could sense the passage of his eyes, checking the bed, the lumpy little couch, the desk they shared, before his gaze landed on the grey-and-green blob on the kitchen floor. He was at her side in an instant, “Oh, god, Mabel, are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?” She just shook her head. Dipper looked around, his investigative mind quickly picking up some of the clues around her. He grimaced at the tuna salad, turned brown from sitting out. Without saying another word, he cleaned up the stinky mess and then returned to Mabel’s side, “I kinda get what happened with the tuna sandwich,” Dipper said gently, “But why is your pillow over there?”

The good-natured voice buried stubbornly in Mabel’s head chuckled, knowing it was a reasonable question. But Nice Mabel wasn’t in charge right now. She lifted her head to glare at him, “Because I put it there, dammit,” she snapped.

Dipper cocked his head, “Oo-kay… and why’d you do that?”

“I wanted to!” she insisted, hating the petulant tone in her own voice. She saw Dipper’s effort not to smile, and added, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, babe,” Dipper assured her, laying his hand on her shoulder. She stiffened at his touch and his forehead creased in concern, “Mabel…?”

“No, I’m not okay,” Mabel snarled, before he could ask, “Everything stinks!”

“Yeah, that would be the tuna,” Dipper joked. When he received no laugh, he said in an even voice, “Lemme help you get cleaned up.”

“Don’t pretend like you care,” Mabel grumbled.

Dipper froze, “What the hell, Mabes?” he asked, his own irritation rising, “Of course I care,” Mabel blew an unconvinced raspberry, “That’s not fair,” he said quietly as he dragged her to her feet.

Upon standing, she discovered her butt and feet were asleep from being bent in that position for so long. His disappointed tone stung her and she chanced another look at him. He was thinking hard, probably trying to puzzle out the reason for his sister’s rotten mood. She hated the cute way his brow furrowed, the thoughtful way his lips pursed to the side. How will I ever be able to fall out of love with his dumb cute face? Mabel asked herself hopelessly, daunted by the idea of going back to only being his sister. He was beginning to approach the situation as a mystery to be solved, she could tell from the expression alone. I can spot Dip’s mystery-solving mug from a mile away. He kept his hands on her to guide her to the bathroom and she tried not to love the feeling of his touch.

In the bathroom, she took a seat on the closed toilet lid while Dipper sat on the edge of the tub turned on the water, testing the temperature before stopping the drain so that it would start to fill, “I don’t need a bath,” Mabel groused.

“The rancid tuna on your leg thinks otherwise,” Dipper snarked, without looking away from the water burbling out of the spout.

Mabel stared at the opposite wall, dispassionately watching the progress a cockroach was making. It was a small-ish one and as a result slightly lower on the Nightmare Fuel Scale than its heftier brothers and sisters. A couple months ago, the sight of it would have been enough to send Mabel into kill-it-with-fire hysterics, but she’d become de-sensitized to this, along with so many of the other less-than-ideal elements of her new life. Mabel glanced at the water rushing from the faucet into the scratched too-small tub. Not exactly the waterfall I expected, she thought as, instead of rainbow-festooned mist, the tiny room filled up with clammy steam.

Dipper sighed at her uncooperative muteness and turned off the water, the silence sudden apart from the occasional drip, “C’mon,” he said, willing his voice not to be too pushy, “I’ll wash it off for you,” Grudgingly, Mabel stood up from the toilet and stepped one foot into the pleasantly warm water, “Ew,” Dipper said, his face level with her hip, “You got it on my shorts?” He sounded disappointed again and Mabel grimaced slightly, “Take them off, it’ll be easier anyway without them getting in the way.”

Her hands had already risen to the waistband of the grey basketball shorts, but something about Dipper’s direct, pragmatic request froze them in place. She’d never been shy about her body around Dipper, even before their relationship had begun. A lifetime of swimming together, dressing rooms, and doctor’s offices together, sharing a bathroom and sometimes bedrooms had made semi-nudity pretty much a non-issue between them until they’d started wanting to look and touch more than was appropriate. But right now, for the first time since maybe ever, Mabel couldn’t quite stand the thought of him seeing her body. Not in this context. Not so he could wash her up like an invalid, not when he’d see her sans rose-tinted glasses in all her blah-ness “C’mon, Mabes,” Dipper said. His voice was gentle, but there was an edge of irritation that Mabel knew him too well to miss. All she could manage was a weak shake of her head, “Mabel,” Dipper said again, his tone a little more authoritative this time. Pulling her foot back out of the bath, Mabel pushed the shorts past her hips and let them pool around her ankles.

“Whoa, hello there,” Dipper’s tone confused Mabel. It was his silly, flirty tone. Not at all what she expected as his response to her reluctantly exposed blah-ness. She looked down, just to make sure she hadn’t accidentally acquired the body of a swimsuit model without remembering it. What she discovered was so much worse. She’d completely forgotten the frilly panties she’d pulled on in an idiotic fit of attempted optimism but there they were, in ridiculous contrast to the little bulge of her tummy and her pasty skin. With a groan, Mabel covered herself with both hands, feeling the color rising in her cheeks. Dipper laughed, great, he’s laughing at me again, and said “Why so modest, Mabes? It’s not like there’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

None of this is special to him anymore and he doesn’t even give a fig-newton, Mabel stewed. She stepped back into the bath and sat on the edge of the tub, tugging at the frayed hem of the Mystery Shack tee shirt, willing it to cover every last inch of her, “You really don’t have to be so shy, Mabes, I just thought they were cute,” Dipper assured her, trying to smooth over whatever it was he had done wrong now. They were cute, Mabel repeated in her head, as Dipper picked up a dreg of bar soap from the soap dish and lathered his hands a little, they. The panties. Not me. The tears were stinging her eyes before she even saw them coming and when Dipper’s hands dotingly lifted her leg out of the water and gently smoothed the soap across her (prickly) skin, she couldn’t hold back a sniffle.

From his posture, Mabel knew that Dipper had heard her. Oh, butt nuggets, now he’s gonna feel sorry for me. His hands continued to massage the soap into her skin, but his eyes darted immediately to her face. Mabel continued to stare down at the water in the tub, her hands clutched the shirt so tight her knuckles were white, trying to hide. It was about as close to sweatertown as she could get in a tee shirt. She knew he was gonna ask, hoped that he would just leave it alone, but as usual Dipper did not defy her expectations,  “Mabel, honey, what’s up?”

She shook her head stiffly. Please just leave me alone, she begged in her mind. She had always been the more confident of the two twins and she could feel Dipper’s incredulity. I’m sorry, Dipper, I can’t anymore. He said her name again, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t answer. The effort it was taking for her to keep from crying left her throat too tightly constricted to form words. He said her name again, his own voice sounding uncertain now. She shook her head again, tucking her chin close to her chest, and managed to whisper, “Please, just don’t look at me.”

“Aw, Mabes,” Dipper joked shakily, “Nothing says sexy like the smell of fish.”

“Shut up,” Mabel pleaded, letting go of the shirt to bury her face in her hands, unable to hold back the tears any longer, “S’not funny,”

“Hey, hey,” Dipper gently released her foot, dipping his hands in the water for an instant to rinse away the soap before wiping them impatiently on his pants and taking her in his arms. It felt so good, so warm, so right to be in his arms. Don’t get used to it, she reminded herself and grew rigid at his touch, “You’re right,” he said, “I’m sorry.” He held her reluctant frame close for a moment before saying, “Please tell me what’s going on,”

“You don’t have to...to tease me about it…” Mabel stammered, “I know you don’t want me, b-but you don’t have to tease me about it.”

“Whoawhoawhoa, what?” Dipper pulled back, holding Mabel at arm’s length. Mabel lifted her eyes to his uncertainly. He looked confused, scared, maybe even a teensy bit offended, “Since when do I…? What are you…? Is that what this is about?”

Mabel gave a dry laugh, how could he even ask?, “Um, yeah, that’s what this is about. S-sorry I can’t just...just take it in stride like you do.”

“Take it in stride?” Dipper eyes were searching her face, struggling to catch up, “There’s nothing for me to take in stride! I want you as much as I ever have!” Mabel squeezed her eyes shut. Why is he making this so much harder than it had to be? Why is he denying it? It made it hurt so much more. He took her face in his hands, his palms still damp against her flushed cheeks, “Mabel, seriously. I’ve never stopped wanting you. Please look at me,” she raised her eyes to his again. He was looking at her intensely, his brown eyes blazing, the way he used to look at her in High School after their jimmies would get rustled by almost getting caught, “Of course I want you. I love you. Why would you think that?”

Mabel blinked at him, “You want me?”

“Yes, dummy, of course I do!” Dipper insisted. Mabel considered what he was saying. Even if he does, this can’t all be in my head, she thought.

“Things are s-so different,” she managed to squeak, “Not...not at all l-like we expected,”

“That’s true,” Dipper admitted, as the small roach on the wall reached the shower curtain, “It’s not like we expected. But it’s better!”

Mabel scoffed, “What part is better?”

“The part where it’s not all in our heads,” Dipper replied, his voice softening a little. He scooted a little closer and leaned his forehead against hers, not allowing her eyes to leave his, “The part where we’re not scared, and we’re not apart. The part where we don’t have to whisper to keep from waking up mom and dad, or roommates, or Grunkle Stan. The part where we don’t have to be afraid to do this,” he kissed her. His lips were so familiar, so soft, pressing against hers and willing her to listen. Maybe he’s right, she thought, leaning a tiny bit into the kiss, It’s not like I used to daydream, but… she couldn’t deny the things he said. Had she really begun taking for granted the privacy and the immediacy of being together? And she couldn’t deny that there was immense love in this kiss. Not the kind that burned, not the madness of how it had been at the start, not the fierce lips and starving hands of their High School kisses, reckless and needy. Not the kind that froze time, not the tender, tear-jerking kisses of reunion, after months of distance the way the heart fluttered and threatened to burst at the slightest touch. No, it was not the frenzy of new love or the precious delicacy of being together again. It was warmth. It was the dependable security of coming home, the safety and solace of one’s own bed.

Their lips parted and Mabel opened her eyes to find Dipper still watching her, waiting to see if she understood. She gave him a small bashful smile, “You know what else?” he said, eyes twinkling.

“What?” Mabel asked.

“I can also do this!” Before she knew it, he was hoisting her up into his arms. She wriggled in his grip, unable to suppress the panicked giggles that bubbled out of her. He squeezed her squirming form close to him and kissed her shoulder. All the fight went out of her at the tiny, sweet gesture and she relaxed, curling up close against him. He stood up and walked out of the tiny bathroom, turning sideways so that they would fit through the doorway. He turned towards the bed and then turned to her, “The mattress is naked!” he said in a tone of mock-terror.

Mabel giggled, “Yes, it’s this crazy thing called doing laundry.”

“Ohhhh,” he nodded, as if suddenly understanding a new concept, “So lemme get this straight, you strip the dirty sheets off the bed,” Mabel nodded, “Take them down to the laundry room,” Mabel nodded, “And then leave them there?”

Mabel scowled jokingly, “I got distracted,”

Dipper shrugged, “We’ll just have to make due,” without warning, he jumped onto the bare mattress, still holding Mabel, and they fell in a cackling fit, all tangled up in each other’s arms.

When the last tremors of their laughter quieted, Mabel quietly said, “Sorry for forgetting the laundry,”

“Pssshh,” Dipper rolled his eyes, “I don’t care,” he rolled onto his side so that he was facing Mabel, their cheeks resting on the slightly rough ticking of the mattress. Dipper’s eyes grew serious and he touched Mabel’s cheek, “I’m sorry, too, Mabes. I’m really sorry I...made you feel that way,”

Mabel’s cheeks got hot and she felt the uncomfortable squirm in her stomach, the twinge of embarrassment and guilt, “I was just being a dumbbell,” Mabel murmured, her voice getting quieter and quieter with each word, “I just wasn’t...it’s been such a long time since we...and I…”

“Shh,” Dipper said and kissed the tip of her nose, “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry.” his mouth bent in just the slightest bit of a crooked smile, “And I still want you.” His smile broadened mischievously, “I still reeeally, reeeally want you,” he crawled on top of her and she couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“Are you sure?” Mabel asked, challengingly, “I miiiight need to see some proof,”

Dipper growled playfully, “Lemme give you a hand with that,” he said, peeling the overly big Mystery Shack tee shirt off of her. Mabel’s giggle turned into a sigh, as Dipper’s mouth and hands roamed her skin and she melted happily into his touch.

#Pinecest #Pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls #sevralfics

[sevralships]

‘The Penile Code’

*This is a humorous piece of friendfiction with no connection to Gravity Falls or any other fandom*

It is rumored that somewhere in the shadowy, deviant recesses of the world-wide web, there is a secret cabal of Pinecest shippers. In their private lair, they sit around a crackling campfire, shamelessly plotting how they will dismantle all that is good and holy, and how to get in each other’s pants. Their doings are sinful, and their brotherhood incestuous. This is one of their stories, the sordid tale namely of @sirwaddlesesquire and @equilateral-asshat, as faithfully recorded by myself and @starsnpines. Read on at your own risk.

Above is an artist’s rendering that cannot begin to capture the lasciviousness of the event.

(To our solemn disappointment, this is indeed a work of fiction).

INT. OFFICE, NEW YORK CITY - LATE AFTERNOON

It was a fine and spacious office, one of the most coveted in the entire building. Leather-bound volumes lined the shelves along two walls, the gilt and embossed fancy lawyer titles along their fancy lawyerly spines catching the light. It was a bright office, that was one of the things he liked most about it. Its location at the corner of the floor affording him two walls of windows that looked out across the cityscape. It was late afternoon, and the light had begun to take on that dreamy golden hue which even in a concrete jungle made the world a bit more wistful.

Fif was sitting at his desk, still working although many of those who toiled under him had already left for the day. He had shed his fancy lawyer suit jacket a few hours prior, and every few minutes, impatiently loosened his fancy lawyer tie a bit more. There was a certain point in the day when the body just did not want to tolerate a tie any longer, and he had passed that point ages ago. Although his fancy lawyer fountain pen glided across the page, his fingers occasionally tapping the keyboard absently, his mind was occupied by something else entirely. Has he left the office yet? He wondered again, for what must be the hundredth time in the last hour. He might still be here, only a few offices away…

He threw his pen down in frustration, cringing at the unsightly blotch of ink it caused on the document he’d been lawyering at for the past ten minutes. Before he could lose his nerve, he had pressed his finger to the button on his fancy lawyer phone which would connect him directly to his secretary, “Sarah?” Fif said, “Could you call Mister Shackleford in here please, if he’s not yet gone for the day?”

“Right away, Mister Esquire, sir,” his amazingly awesome secretary’s beautiful voice came through, crackling slightly, “Is there anything else?”

“No, that’s all for the moment,” he replied, hearing his own voice trembling slightly before lifting his finger from the button. Oh my god, what am I thinking? He asked himself, running a shaky hand through his hair. This is far too risky, he chastised himself, The firm simply cannot afford another scandal, and both Mister Shackleford and I have much and more to lose should this go south. It suddenly seemed much too warm in the corner office, and with a groan of frustration, Fif pushed his fancy lawyer chair back from the stately wooden desk. Perhaps I am fretting for no reason, he tried to calm himself, as he finally gave in to the desire to remove his tie once and for all, undoing the top button or two with a small relieved hitch in his breath. The momentary relief did little to ease his troubled mind, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Sarah knocked lightly on the doorframe and, standing resplendently in the doorway, informed him, “Mister Shackleford was still in his office, Sir, he said he’ll be up here to see you in just a moment. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Fif tried to appear nonchalant, shaking his head no with a small dismissive wave of the hand. As Sarah turned awesomely away from the door, he called after her, “That should be all for tonight, Sarah, why don’t you go on and head home? I can manage Mister Shackleford on my own.”

“Very well, Sir,” Sarah said, her voice lifting optimistically at having been dismissed earlier than usual. Fif stared at his shaking hands as he listened to the sound of her gathering her things at the desk outside his door before calling back to him in a cheerful voice, “Have a good evening, boss!”

He responded with only an affirmative grunt, fearful that some of his trepidation would bleed into his voice should he speak aloud. He absently heard her footsteps receding and the ding of the elevator, but too lost was he in his thoughts to pay much attention, “He certainly meant something by it,” He muttered to himself, trying to quell his doubts, “What reason could he have had to send me that… if he…” He swallowed hard. His mind overwhelmed suddenly by the thought of the incriminating picture. His fancy lawyer cell phone seemed to burn a hole in his pocket, just knowing that that picture was there. That picture which he had pored over and which had so consumed his thoughts all day...

“Well, it… it may not have started in the most decorous of manners,” he reasoned with himself, leaning down to open the bottom drawn of his desk, “But that is no reason why it should not continue with a certain degree of class.” Out of the drawer he drew a bottle of wine. It was a fine vintage, a Ramhammer Bon Vivant from 1990. He had acquired it a while back and had been saving it for a special lawyery occasion, Maybe, he thought, barely hazarding a hope, Maybe this is the occasion for which I’ve been waiting.

He stood, glad for something to do with his hands, and retrieved a corkscrew and glasses from a small but fancy bar cart by the window. He worked the cork out of the bottle with relative ease, and looked out the window. Lights were coming on in the buildings as the sky began to dim.

His momentary peace was broken by a light knock on the door and a meek voice. “Sir. You wanted to see me?”

Fif turned just a little too fast, looking over his shoulder to find the source of the speaker. There he was, standing just beside the nameplate on the door which read “Mr. Fifton Esquire, Esq.”. He was in his shirt sleeves with his own less-fancy lawyer suit jacket slung over his forearm, wringing his hands a little nervously, “Ah, yes! Rusty!” Fif exclaimed, wincing internally at how awkward the informal use of the first name sounded on his tongue, “Just the man I wanted to see!”

Rus simply nodded, hovering in the doorway, eyes glancing uncomprehendingly to the wine glasses, but not daring to ask. An apology danced on his tongue, but he bit it down, hoping beyond hope that this appointment was for an entirely different reason than the one he feared.

“P-please,” Fif cursed the stammer in his own voice, “Come in. Have a seat.”

If anything, the uncertainty in his boss’ voice gave Rus more reason for concern. It wasn’t the tone of voice he would have expected from a casual work checkup. Which can only mean one thing… Shutting the door behind him, he winced slightly at the uncomfortably loud sound it made, and the muggy silence the room was plunged into. Still lost for words, he paid more attention as he took his seat adjacent to the large desk.

Fif bit the inside of his lip to steel himself and finally forced himself to meet Rus’ eyes. The warm brown depths were full of nervous energy, not holding his gaze for long. The vulnerability he saw there gave him a strange rush of strength. If Rus could come in here, after bravely showing him what he had shared, with that soft look in his eye, well then, nerves be damned! He cleared his throat and asked as calmly as he could, “You know why I called you in here?”

Here it was. The moment Rus had been dreading. His boss was even pulling the whole ‘force the guilty to admit their own crime’ tactic. As long as Rus played along, showed him he was truly sorry for his actions, then surely he could get away with no more than losing his job. He sighed, feeling the energy leaving him. “Because I accidently sent you a d- dick pic?” He stumbled over the sentence, immediately regretting his choice of words.

At his words, Fif froze, the neck of the bottle of Bon Vivant poised just above one of the fancy lawyer wine glasses, just a degree away from pouring. He blinked at Rus, taking in his downcast eyes and hunched shoulders, the posture like a dog with its tail between its legs. He tried to process what Rus had just said, not at all the response he’d been expecting. A tight tug of humiliation coiled in the pit of his stomach, and he heard the mortification in his own voice as he weakly repeated, “...Accidentally?”

Expecting a smug acknowledgement, followed swiftly by a notice of termination, Rus felt his world slow to a crawl at his boss’ response. Why did he sound so… disappointed? Heartbroken, even? Well, whatever the case, apologies were in order. “I am so, so sorry, Sir. It was meant for- for someone else and- and in any case, I made a horrible mistake and I’m willing to a- accept whatever punishment you feel is suitable for me.”

“Oh,” Fif said flatly. Setting down the wine bottle for fear of it slipping from his shaking hand, “Oh yes, well,” He leaned against the side of his desk, half-sitting on its surface, “Um.” He ran his hand back through his hair, trying desperately to get his thoughts back in order, wondering if he could ever come back from the shame of this so unlawyerlike misunderstanding, “Um… punishment?” He managed to repeat clumsily.

“Yes?” Rus cocked his head to the side, bemused at his boss’ unconventional behaviour. “A punishment for my a- Sir? Are you okay?” He resisted the surreal urge to get up and give his boss an encouraging hug. “You’re looking a little… excuse me for saying, but a little lightheaded.”

Fif felt the blood rising to his cheeks at Rus’ observation. He was lightheaded, not that it was the word he would have chosen. He felt chagrined, abashed, positively discomposed. He had never in his life been so utterly mortified. How could I have been so unforgivably mistaken? he asked himself despondently. He could feel Rus’ eyes watching his dismal expression and felt himself grow smaller and smaller in his shame. He cleared his throat, “Not at all. I… ahem, I’m quite well.”

Forgetting, momentarily, the disastrous situation he was in, Rus allowed his protective nature to take over, and rose from his seat. “Sir. I really don’t want to presume, but-” He glanced once again at the bottle of wine on the table, and placed a hand gently on his boss’ shoulder. “Have you been drinking?”

Fif shook his head, hoping that the other man did not hear the way his breath caught at the tender touch. He could feel the warmth of his hand through his shirt, and the memory came unbidden of that same hand in the picture. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying with all his might not to recall the way the fingers had curved lazily and confidently around… around... “No I have not been drinking!” he said brokenly, his voice a tinge too desperate to be believed.

Rus didn’t need his diploma in lawyer stuff to see through his boss’ ruse. He was hiding something. He gave the wine bottle another long stare, before bringing his gaze back to meet the other man’s eyes, surprising himself at how close they now were. At what point had he ended up half embracing his boss? “Okay, I believe you. Do you… do you want to just sit down and talk though? I’m-” He felt a highly unwanted blush rise to his cheeks. “I’m a little worried about you, Sir. I don’t think I should just leave you like this.”

It was hard for Fif to remain scared with the way Rusty was looking into his eyes. The arm that was looped around his shoulders was so warm and reassuring, he found himself leaning somewhat into the touch. He cleared his throat again, and his voice was softer as he said, “I… that’s most kind of you, Rus. I…” he tore his eyes from Rus’ magnetic gaze, looking shamefully at the floor, “I’m afraid I’m not deserving of such sympathy from you. If you knew… well…”

“Hey, no. Don’t say that.” Instinctively, he placed a finger under his boss’ chin, and encouraged his eyes back up. “Sir. Mr Esquire. You- you have been, by far, the best, most understanding, most… most encouraging employer I’ve ever had. I think-” He chuckled, his voice taking a deeper, warmer tone. “I think, after what I’ve done, there’s nothing you could have done that’s worse.”

Fif blinked at Rus, his brow furrowing slightly. His eyes bounced between Rus’ eyes, searching, “Rusty,” he said with a small bemused smile, “You… It was a simple… mistake, it seems,” he cringed slightly, internally hating that it had been a mistake, “I would be a fool to let a man of your caliber be let go over such a thing.” His smile wilted, “I… I fear my crime is far worse.”

“Sir, I don’t think- I can’t really see how you could have… possibly done anything worse than… than…” The desperate, hurting, but needy look in his boss’ eyes proved to be too much and, once again, he tore his gaze to the still untasted bottle of Ramhammer Bon Vivant on the table. “Than the picture I so carelessly sent… to… you…”

With what felt like an audible click, everything fell into place. The wine, the picture, the surreal and, frankly, worrying behaviour from his boss. It all made sense. His arm, still wrapped around his boss’ shoulders, froze. His eyes widened, searching his boss’ face in an attempt to confirm his suspicions. His tongue darted over his rapidly drying lips. “Mr Esquire. Did you…” He bit his lip, struggling to find the words without upsetting or angering his boss further. “Were you under the impression that my picture was… possibly… intentional?”

Fif grimaced, forcing his gaze away from Rus’. He couldn’t bear to watch the sympathetic look shift into one of accusation and incrimination. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, and only gave one stiff affirmative nod.

At this point, Rus had expected a response like this. What he had not expected was the sudden increase in his heart rate. The quickness of his breath as his boss confirmed his suspicions and, in place, raised a few more delectable questions. What exactly was this meeting intended to be about? What were his boss’ intentions with him? Why in god’s name was Rus so desperate to find out?

Forcing himself to relax once again, he beat down the last traces of nerves, and slid his hand mere inches down his boss’ back. “Sir. I would say I’m nothing if not open about myself. If- to put this bluntly- if you wanted to see what it looked like,” he took a deep breath, the faintest sign of a smirk tugging at his lips, “you only had to ask.”

Fif could hardly believe his ears. His eyes darted back to Rus’ face, eager to understand. Is this some kind of sick joke? He wondered nervously, but one look at Rus confirmed that the man was entirely serious. His gaze had darkened somewhat, his kind brown eyes taking on a playful, almost challenging look. Fif bit down hard on his lip, painfully aware of the weight of Rus’ hand on his back, resting just above the borderline of what would be proper. His eyes were drawn hopelessly to Rus’ lips, wondering if he was imagining the smirk that seemed to be waiting there.

He did not know how long he stared at Rus’ lips before realizing that a verbal answer was expected of him. He forced himself to meet the mischievous look in those eyes again. That daring look was still there, and Rusty was watching him evenly, waiting for a response. Fif swallowed hard, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath that stare. He cleared his throat again with a small cough, and managed to eke out the reply, “I… should like that… very much.”

Rus leaned closer, his mouth dangerously close to his boss’ ear. “Well, it should be easy, right? I’m sure it’s still saved in your texts.” With a sudden, sharp push of his boss’ back, he brought their bodies together, their radiating heat intermingling. With a deep, rumbling whisper, he chuckled. “Or, maybe, it’s a first hand view you’re looking for, Sir.”

Fif felt as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Rus’ words coursed through him, molten and intoxicating. The feel of his body pressed flush against him, the solid heat of his skin separated only by some fabric was immensely overwhelming. He drew in a hitching breath, his lip released slowly from beneath his teeth.

Rus was looking up at Fif, watching the hunger play so plainly across his boss’ features, with his lips curled into a tantalizingly saucey smirk. He perked one eyebrow up as if to say ‘well, what’ll it be?’ and an instant later Fif brought their lips crashing together with a deft tug of the other man’s tie. Rus gave a small gasp of surprise against Fif’s mouth, and the barely perceptible sound only urged him on. His fingers closed tighter around the silky fabric of the tie, pressing himself deeper into the kiss. His lips were so soft, so warm and alive under his touch, even more delicious than he could have imagined. Fif began to give himself over to the softness, the immediacy of Rus’ body against his own, the damp heat of his breath, the urgency of his own desire...

And, with the slightest of motions, the magic was broken. A gentle, yet firm push from Rus broke the two men apart. Yet the hand, placed firmly on Fif’s chest, remained. A single finger slipped between the buttons on the shirt, and despite his growing dread, the sensation of the skin on bare skin left Fif breathless. With a playful twist, Rus dug his nail into Fif’s soft, burning flesh, and spoke. “Kissing your employee without asking? Really, Sir, that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. I thought you would have known better than that.” Rus grinned, looking to the side and tutting with disdain. “If you want something from me,” his eyes caught Fif’s, alight with energy and power, “You’re going to have to ask nicely.”

Fif heard his own yearning sigh. This was all too much, he was dizzy with darting between the lows of disappointment to the elated highs of desire. He could hardly believe the way Rus’ lips had made him feel and he realized he would be willing to do nearly anything to regain that feeling. His voice was quiet and somewhat hoarse as he said, “Please,” Rus inclined his head, urging Fif to go on, “Please, I… Please, may I kiss you again?” The pad of his thumb absently stroked the tie he still held loosely in his hand, “May I…” He hesitated, second-guessing the boldness of his next question.

“Hmmm?” Rusty’s eyebrows lifted further, delighting in the way Fif squirmed.

“May I see it… first hand?” Fif asked shakily, his eyes flitting down for an instant to front of Rus’ pants, and the fancy lawyer bulge he’d swear he’d felt a moment before.

“Oh? Asking such a bold request, Fif.” Rus growled in satisfaction, enjoying the name of his boss as it leapt off his tongue. His fingers flowed further into Fif’s shirt, surrounding the closest button and effortlessly popping it open. “And, if I’m not mistaken, you didn’t specify where exactly you wanted to kiss me.” Another button or two was released, allowing Fif’s shirt to fall open, exposing his chest. Rus licked his lips, ghosting his fingers over the other man’s skin, nails leaving the faintest of red marks behind. “So, if you’d allow me to assume, which of course you would, I think we could quite easily combine your requests.”

Grabbing Fif’s shirt once again, barely hanging on the disheveled man, Rus gave it a sharp tug downwards. “On your knees, Fif. I want to see if that eloquent mouth of yours is as skilled in other areas.”

Fif’s knees hit the floor an instant later, following Rus’ command with barely a second thought. Good common sense, normally the foundation on which Fif’s very life rested, had crumbled away and out of sight. Desire, plain and simple, had taken its place. Sitting back on his heels, his shirt hanging open and revealing the fading marks from Rus’ fingernails, he found himself practically eye to eye with the same bulge he had been considering a moment before. There was no longer any question in his mind as to whether he had in fact felt it pressing earlier against his thigh, or if it had been only wishful thinking. He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling Rus’ eyes burning against the top of his head.

Fif cautiously unbuckled Rus’ belt, watching his own hands as if they were someone else’s. He was astonished by how calm his hands looked, how almost confidently they undid the button and zipper, guiding Rus’ fancy lawyer pants down his legs to pool around his ankles. He heard a small growl of desire rise out of him, now that the very source of all of today’s distraction and agonizing lust was only inches from his face. He couldn’t resist a small smile, seeing the bright purple boxer briefs Rus wore, an endearing detail in contrast to the nondescript grey suit over them. The underwear was not nearly so appealing as the contents however. There was no mistaking or suppressing the continued growl that issued from him as his eyes feasted on the sight of Rus’ semi-erect member, the nearly memorized details from the dick pic revealed through the snug fit of the fabric.

Rus ran his fingers through Fif’s hair, humming in encouragement. His own building desires, fueled by the week’s worth of stress and the constant, agonizing presence of his ravishing boss, were bubbling on the surface of his mind. He needed this release, and by god it was going to happen. It wasn’t helping that Fif, this usually upstanding, serious, professional lawyer, was currently putty in his hands. Practically salivating at the mouth for a taste of Rus.

The hand in Fif’s hair tightened, tugging the lawyer an inch closer. With his other hand, he teased the edge of his boxers lower, giving Fif the faintest tease. “Now Fif, if I need to speed this up, I will.” There was the faintest hint of a threat in his voice. A promise of a possible punishment. “I don’t get paid for overtime.”

A small snort of a laugh escaped Fif at Rus’ quip, finding his expert use of humor at a moment like this only more alluring. Following the cue of Rus’ hand, Fif hooked two fingers inside the waistband of Rus’ boxer briefs, just inwards of each hip and gently tugged down, careful not to cause him the slightest discomfort. Eager to be freed, his cock bounced out of the confines of his underwear and Fif could not stifle an appreciative sigh. It was even more impressive up close and his eyes eagerly drank in every last detail. It was thicker than had been apparent in the picture, its size tantalizingly intimidating now that it was before him. He pulled the purple fabric out of the way, and practically of its own accord, his right hand moved to encircle the base, his fingers curling naturally around it, mirroring the way Rus’ own hand had held it in the picture that had started them down this sordid road.

Rus hissed through his nose, loosening his grip on Fif’s hair. “Mmm, god. You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this moment.” Already, droplets of moisture started to pool at the tip, the shaft twitching in Fif’s hot grip.

Fif’s hand tightened around Rus’ cock, feeling it grow even harder in his grasp, “I’ve imagined it as well,” he admitted, unable to resist any longer. He leaned forward, catching only the head gently between his lips, swiping the tip of his tongue against it, eagerly gathering the small bit of precum that had gathered there. The heady taste spread across his palate and he made a small hum of approval, which Rus echoed more insistently. Spurred on by the sound, Fif leaned closer. His hand closed securely around the now rock-hard shaft, he guided it further into his mouth, his tongue flattening and sliding smoothly along the underside, as his cheeks tightened around it eagerly.

With his free hand, Rus frantically found the table to his side, bracing himself while experiencing the onslaught of sensations Fif was giving him. The other stayed glued to the back of the other man’s head, needlessly preventing him from pulling too far away. As Fif’s head bobbed hungrily, sparks of pleasure found their way down his legs, leaving him needing the table far more than he expected, and up through his core, bringing light, frantic gasps to his mouth. Catching him off guard, Fif drew back, letting the end fall from his mouth with an audible pop. Shocked at the reactionary moan he let out, Rus was even more surprised as it trailed off into an intoxicated whine as Fif’s tongue returned to the head of his cock.

Fif was completely drunk off of the sounds Rus was making. He was determined to please him, to drag more of those wonderfully heart-rending gasps and moans into the world. The taste and feel of Rus in his mouth was so incredible, so subtle, the skin so soft but the flesh beneath so hard. It was more irresistible than ever Fif could have imagined it. His hand gripped tighter around the base, the other finding Rus’ hip and gripping it firmly, his nails biting slightly into the skin. Rus made a delicious sound in response and Fif couldn’t help but move faster, and harder, lavishing Rus’ cock with sweeps and flicks of his tongue, sucking him deeper and more thirstily. It felt so good, so right to be drawing these sounds from Rus, it didn’t even bother him in the slightest when the head would bump against the back of his throat. He simply wanted Rus, all of him.

However, on Rus’ end, those moments when he felt his entire length disappear into Fif’s mouth were not just bearable, but quite impossible to ignore. The wet sound of Fif’s mouth pumping on his erection was electrifying, along with the occasional soft vibration of him humming or grunting appreciatively. Rus could feel the familiar intensity, building and tightening in his core and between his legs. His legs were feeling weaker by the instant, and he could feel his toes curling inside his shoes. The edge was so close now and there was no backing away from it, not that he ever would have wanted to. His fingers fisted still tighter in Fif’s hair, eliciting a small sound which may have been pain or pleasure, “O-oh god, Fif Fif, fuck,” he heard himself saying, incoherent and past the point of restraint. Rus was beyond knowing or caring if he was tugging Fif’s hair too hard, or pressing into him too deep as he pulled him firmly against his hips, his thrusts growing jerkier, deeper, more desperate. He reveled in the sound and feel of the tip hitting the back of Fif’s throat, “Oh fuck, fuck fuck, Fif, I’m so close,” he muttered, feeling the inevitability of his orgasm closing in on him. In response, Fif gave a moan around him, sucking him just a little tighter, and that was the last little push he needed.

With a strangled gasp, a white hot sensation flew through Rus’ loins, and his vision blurred. Waves of intense pleasure drowned all other thought, and it was surely instinct alone that kept him grounded to the desk, upright and barely stable. All that remained was for him to withstand the overwhelming sensation of his ejaculation. To his credit, Fif did not spill a drop, swallowing rapidly to catch all of Rus’ cum.

There was a moment when everything seemed breathless and still, each man waiting for the other to act. It was Fif who moved first, gently releasing Rus’ softening cock from his mouth. His legs slightly wobbly from kneeling, Fif stood carefully, and as he unfolded back to his full height and looked down at Rus, it seemed suddenly strange to him that the other man had been able to make him feel so small. Looking at him now, the way he leaned heavily against the fancy lawyer desk, his pants around his ankles, his erection wilting, and his face relaxed and flushed, Fif could hardly believe how much larger than life Rusty had seemed to him only moments before. He couldn’t help the smug smile from spreading across his face, seeing Rus so spent and satisfied. And knowing that he had made him that way…? Well, Fif did not think he had ever felt quite so intense a surge of vigor and confidence as flowed through him now.

Rus, on the other hand, was struggling to stay upright. His body was slouched, the desk keeping him from falling, and his unfocused eyes were ignoring Fif. “Oh my god…” His voice was the barest whisper, sounding to him like it came from a great distance away. His heart sounded clearer, beating loudly in his ears. The last few drops of liquid fell from him, landing on his legs and trailing their way down his skin. Everything felt numb. Everything except his cock, which still radiated that familiar, addictive pleasure, gradually fading in feeling. “Fif, that was… that was incredible. You’re amazing…”

“Rus, you know-” Fif put an arm on Rus’ hip, under the pretense of easing the other man’s struggle to stand, “You’ve seen so little of my ability. Wouldn’t you say that your assessment is a bit premature?”

Rus finally turned his attention to Fif, a flicker of confusion in his slowly focusing eyes. “Your ability?” He made to move, but Fif’s hand gripped harder in response. “If you wanted more, Fif, I’m willing to assi-”

With lightning speed, Fif’s hand rose, and returned to Rus’ skin with an audible crack. Utterly unprepared for the impact of Fif’s palm against his flank, Rus found himself sprawling on his side across the fancy lawyer tabletop, narrowly missing the open bottle of wine and pair of glasses. He looked up at Fif, seeing him in a distressing new light. “At what point did I give you permission to use my name in that way?”

As Rus struggled to find the words, Fif raised an amused, mocking eyebrow. Finding his face rapidly heating up, Rus spluttered out a response, “F- uh- Sir. I only assumed, from the-” he gulped uncomfortably loudly, “from the context that it was alright?”

“Assumed?” Fif sighed and shook his head, as one would do at a misbehaving pet. “If you can recall, what was the first thing I told you about assumptions when you joined this company, Rus?”

Rus glanced from the bookcase to the window to Fif’s face, as if the answer was hidden in plain sight. It was hard to ignore his immediate desire to move into a less compromising position, and the rapidly growing desire to stay right where Fif wanted him. “I’m… I’m sorry, Sir. I can’t remember.”

Fif clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His hand still rested on Rus’ hip and he trailed his fingertips agonizingly slowly back across Rus’ ass, making him shiver, “What I told you,” he said, “Was that when one assumes,” Fif’s grip on Rus’ buttock tightened, his fingers digging in slightly to the soft flesh, “One risks making an ass,” he stressed the word, punctuating it with a swift spank, “Out of both you and me.”

Rus gasped, and quickly bit his lip, in an attempt to silence any more sounds of discomfort that may displease Fif, and also to resist the urge to express his disgust (and amusal) at Fif’s pun. He was not quick enough however, and he caught Fif smirking at the reaction. With a twitch of annoyance at his cocky boss’ attitude, he shot back a reply. “Would it be a mistake, then, to assume this wine isn’t going to be enjoyed? I’d like to check before you make me knock it off the table.”

“Make you?” Fif chuckled dryly. “Rus, I’m not going to make you do anything.” Raising his hand once again, Fif enjoyed Rus’ subtle, but noticeable flinch. After pausing to enjoy the moment, he calmly picked up the bottle of wine and one of the glasses. “After I’m done with you, after you’ve received suitable punishment for your insubordination,” he tipped up the bottle, lazily pouring the wine into the glass, “I won’t have to make you give me what I want. You’ll be positively desperate to give it to me.”

Finding himself utterly lost for words, Rus was left wallowing in his unnervingly bubbling excitement, hoping to god that Fif hadn’t spotted the blood rapidly returning to his member. As a distraction, he shakily grabbed the remaining glass, located inches from his face, and raised it to Fif. Fif set his own glass aside and took Rus’ from his extended hand. He looked at it gravely for a moment before tossing it lightly over his shoulder, bursting into derisive laughter. Rus cringed slightly at the sound of the delicate glass shattering against the floor, confused and frankly, growing a bit frightened by his boss’ strange behavior. Fif’s laughs died down enough for him to lift his glass to his lips again for another sip before meeting Rus’ eyes once again, “Really, Rus,” he said, shaking his fancy sexy lawyer head, “You’ve worked under me a while now. You know everyone earns their keep around here. You’ll get a drink only if I decide you’ve earned it.”

As Rus opened his mouth to respond, a high pitched, tinny tune echoed round the fancy lawyer office.

“Is that-” Fif looked up, searching for the source of the sound. “Is that the Humpty Dance?”

Rus’ face turned a particular shade of maroon. “N- no. It’s my phone. Can you get it?” He nodded to the edge of the table. “It’s in my pants pocket.”

Fif disappeared from view for a moment, and then the music suddenly turned a few degrees louder. He returned to view holding Rus’ phone, looking at the screen. “You have a call from ‘shnookums’, and this is definitely the Humpty Dance.”

“Hey! Just… just-” Rus waved his hand at Fif. “Pass it over. It’s my wife.”

“Oh dear. Tanith?” Fif winced, remembering Rus’ smoking hot wife from the Christmas Party, and tossed Rus the phone. “Just remain calm, okay? We don’t want her finding out about-” he indicated the two of them, “all this.”

Rus simply rolled his eyes, and swiped the screen, accepting the call. “Hey sweetie. How’s it going? Work’s running a little late today. I’ll be home soon tho-”

He was cut off by an incredibly sexy voice from the phone, loud enough for Fif to faintly hear. “Oh zip it, Rus. I’m not calling to see when you’ll be home. I’m well aware you’re with Fif right now.”

“How on earth did you-” Realizing his mistake far too late, Rus slammed his mouth shut. Shooting Fif a panicked look, the other man only responded with a not so helpful shrug. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m not with-”

“Rus, I don’t really care who you fuck in your spare time. As your sister, I stay far out of that business. No, that’s not why I’m calling.” A cleared throat could be heard from the other end of the line. “I’m calling to speak with the authors of this nonsense.”

The authors were surprised from their self-important trance, the sound of the fourth wall crumbling to bits leaving them startled, “Um… Yes?” One of them said cautiously, in a voice that was eerily similar to that of Fif’s secretary, Sarah, “I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting your call.”

“I feel like you two were a little too absorbed in your little fantasy world to expect anything to break in.” As the voice on the phone continued to talk, Rus carefully placed the device on the table, and switched it to speaker mode. “Oh, thanks, dad. That helps a ton, actually. Now you’ll all be able to hear me properly when I ask you why this silly, satirical ‘friendfiction’ turned so serious?”

“Um, well…” the voice that sounded like Sarah the secretary mumbled, “We’re writers, ya know? It’s very easy for us to get too precious with our own ideas. I guess maybe we did get a bit carried away…” She hesitated before adding candidly, “And, to be jonest, it… was pretty hot…”

“Ah, yes. That brings us to the crux of the issue, doesn’t it? Getting a little too carried away with how hot your friends are. I’m especially looking at you, Tanith.” Fif gave Rus a confused glance, and all he could reply with was an exasperated sigh, and a lost shake of his head. “You’re gay, for crying out loud! Why are you getting all gooey eyed over these two men?”

“I mean, that’s a rather bold statement.” Another voice joined the conversation. An uncertain, British accented voice, remarkably similar to the one on the phone. “And not one that I’d say-”

“Oh keep your introspective musings to yourself, you over emotional numpty.” There was a small not-so-secretarial giggle from the other author, “Hey! Don’t think I’m done with you, Sarah. You’re not let off the hook. And through this medium you can’t wiggle your way out of it by flashing me those bedroom eyes and biting your lip. You’re powerless here.”

“Uhm, what if I just told you I’m biting my lip?” Sarah asked, a cautiously hopeful tone to her voice.

“I- I- um-” the voice struggled for a moment, before the sound of a hand slapping a face could be heard. “No, listen. I’m here to help you, if you can behave.”

“Us? Behave?” Tanith giggled and nudged her co-author. “Could you imagine?”

“That would certainly be a first,” Sarah agreed, “Why would we want to behave?”

“Because you both want to be able to finish this fic, and have others read it, don’t you?” There was the sound of shuffling papers. “And, reading through this mess, I’d love for you to tell me how you plan on doing that while on the path you’re on.”

“Well,” Sarah admitted, “We were having some-”

“That was a rhetorical question, babe,” the phone voice interrupted. “I think the source of the over seriousness comes from the characters themselves. For example, it’s all well and good making my Uncle Rus into this ravishing, adult-novel-esque sex icon and all, but we all know he’s actually a total dork. There’s artistic licence and then there’s being silly, ladies! He’s totally sexy as long as you make him his usual, goofy self.”

“Hey, now!” Rus piped up, “I am to--! I mean, I’m not--! I mean,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands, “You’re all crazy if you think I’m sexy.”

“Objection, your honor,” Fif said, good-naturedly, nudging Rus’ shoulder.

“See?” There was a finger snapping sound over the phone. “This is more like it! As for Fif, same general complaint but… did either of you seriously read the paragraph I came in after? Who on earth was that, and what had they done with Fif?”

“It’s true, I would much rather not waste a perfectly good wine glass,” Fif chimed in.

“Oh, we’re sorry,” Author Tanith mumbled. “The smashed glass was supposed to be dramatic though. Right, sis?”

“Something like that,” Sarah admitted, “It didn’t seem like Fif, but… it seemed like a good idea at the time?” she sounded unconvinced.

“I can read what you type, ladies. ‘She sounded unconvinced’. Damn right, you should be unconvinced. That shit was not convincing.” There was a long, calming sigh from the other end of the line. “I think you two know what you did wrong. You had your little moment of over-sexualizing your friends. I’m sure they’ll just love you for it. But, from now on… just be yourselves and have fun with it, okay? Have your characters carry on, and take this chance to use funny penis words.”

“Yes, mistress,” Sarah chirped pleasantly, “Thank you for talking some sense into us.”

“Yeah… thanks, me,” Author Tanith added. “It was… surreal, but enlightening.”

“It’s no problem, really. You stay beautiful, Sarah darling. And Tanith… try talking to yourself less, okay hon?” And, with a beep that startled the two men in the office, the call was ended.

Rus laughed nervously, “I, um… where were we?”

Fif shot him a shit-eating grin, “I do believe I was about to take my big fancy lawyer dong and put it in your fancy lawyer hole,” he said suavely.

“You mean the same hole we fancy lawyers talk out of in court?” Rus quipped, leaning back on one elbow invitingly.

“The very same,” Fif assured him, swiftly unbuckling his fancy lawyer belt, unzipping his fancy lawyer fly, and quickly freeing his turgid baloney pony.

“Oh,” Rus licked his lips, “the word around the office was correct. You do have a fat cock.”

Rus thought he could see a blush rising on Fif’s cheeks, as he gazed down at his own member, “We’ve been through a lot together, my jive sausage and me,” he took a step towards Rus, placing himself forwardly between Rus’ knees. “Oh, hold on. I should grab some fancy lawyer lube from my fancy lawyer lube drawer.”

“No need,” Rus purred. “I want your inflatable poo-jabber raw. Or at least medium-rare with a side of seasonal vegetables.” His voice was pure sex.

Fif shuddered with primal animal need, “Oh, Rus,” he said, softly, running one hand possessively up the other man’s hip, “There’s nothing I’d like more than to feel your rusty bullet hole,” he aligned himself eagerly with Rus’ sphincter, “Around my trouser snake,” Rus hummed his agreement, spreading his legs wider to allow Fif entrance, “But,” Fif met Rus’ eyes, “I’ll pass on the seasonal vegetables. I… would much prefer…” he entered Rus in one thrust and cried out, “Mashed potatoes!”

Rus gasped with pleasure, gripping the sides of Fif’s hips. “Aa-as long as you provide the baby gravy, Fif.”

Fif smiled at the luxurious feeling of Rus’ inner sanctum as well as the sweet sound of his name on Rus’ lips, “Keep talkin’ like that and you can… have all the gravy.... you want…”

Slipping one hand around his own tallywhacker, Rus started to pump vigorously, keeping his eyes on Fif’s. “Oh god, Fif. You feel so amazing,” he hissed, toes curling. “I hope you’ve left the safety off your cum gun, pardner.”

Even through his gasps and grunts of pleasure, Fif chuckled at Rus’ joke, his eyes feasting on the sight of  the man squirming on the desk, impaled on his pork sword, “I… assure you… the cum gun is… fully loaded…”

“God. Even my toys don’t feel as big and filling as your one-eyed dragon.” Rus gripped himself tighter, droplets of pre gathering at the tip. “I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Rus groaned, involuntarily tightening around Fif’s dingaling as he fought off his impending orgasm.

“Ohh god, that’s good, again,” Fif groaned. Rus repeated the small squeeze once, then again, “Th-that’s it… Such a fast learner…” Fif rambled slightly, overwhelmed by pleasure, “That’s why you’re… the teacher’s pet…”

“Y-yes, Professor,” Rus sighed, too enraptured to bat an eye at a thing the fancy lawyer plowing him was saying.

Enjoying the lost, desperate tone to Rus’ voice, Fif took one of his hands from Rus’ leg, and started to fondle the other man’s semen sacks. The response from Rus was immediate. He moaned, high pitched and euphoric. Fif growled in satisfaction. “Looks like this little squirrel’s been collecting nuts for the winter.”

But Fif’s words were lost on Rus, and with another stroke of Fif’s fingers, his Gamebreaker exploded. Long ropes of penis pudding shot out over Rus’ body, painting his chest white. He moaned Fif’s name, body twitching, as he tightened his old dirt road around Fif’s firm worm.

The sight of the other man’s ecstasy was enough to bring Fif’s passion to a boil. With only two more thrusts balls-deep into Rus’ spasming orgasmic bowels, Fif gave a guttural cry and drove his steamin’ semen truck home. He leaned heavily forward, savoring every instant it took to fill Rus with his loving load.

For a long, languorous moment, the two fancy lawyers remained locked together, utterly spent. It was the weakness in Fif’s legs that ultimately forced them to stir. Fif gingerly eased his loin-log out of Rus, eliciting a small hiss from the other man. He sat heavily on the corner of the desk with a sated sigh.

Rus lay there for a few seconds longer, tried to rise, but quickly dropped back to the desk. “I think, Sir, that I might be physically confined to your office for a few more minutes.” He rolled to the side, smiling cheekily.

“What a pity,” Fif said sarcastically, with a soft smile, gently brushing the damp hair from Rus’ brow.

“I know. But seeing as I am here,” he glanced at the long forgotten bottle of Ramhammer Bon Vivant, “maybe we can enjoy that drink together?”

Fif followed Rus’ misty gaze to the bottle and leaned over, a bit unsteadily, and grabbed it, bringing it directly to his lips. He took a generous gulp and sighed, savoring it as it went down. He looked over at Rus, who was watching him expectantly. He considered him a moment, his mussed hair, red face, and the cum drying on his chest. He offered the bottle to him, and he took it, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Oh, wow,” Rus said, “I was sure you were going to say something about me earning it.” He tilted the bottle, as if eager to take a drink before Fif changed his mind.

Fif laughed, “Oh, no, you earned it,” he said, and then with a thoughtful furrowing of his brow, “And also, probably a raise.”

#friendfiction #The Penile Code #Fifty is OTP #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 7 of 7, Chapters 23-26

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 23: Up a Tree

They had scrambled about five or six feet up, clumsy in the darkness, when they heard another hiss. This one was different, however. Not so much a chilling threat from the depths of hell, and more of a “Psssst!”

“Jo?” Mabel and Dipper inquired in unison, quiet but eager, hoping against hope.

“I’m sorry,” Jo replied, her voice unmistakable, even when it was hardly making a sound.

“Later,” Dipper insisted,  “Bigger problems.”

Jo’s hand landed on Mabel’s as she shimmied down the tree to join them. Clammy, scabbing, tacky with sap, Mabel had never felt anything equal to it. She gripped her sister’s hand, and they listened to Dipper grumbling, trying to concoct a plan. Death waited just below, but Mabel found she was no longer scared. A dim light was creeping into the sky when Dipper swore, “Shit!”

“What’s up, broseph?” Mabel asked, careful to make as little sound as possible. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but every few minutes they would hear the awful hiss or screech or rustle of the monsters close at hand.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he replied, his anxious whisper verging on a whine.

“You got dis, Plans-a-lot,” Mabel encouraged.

“Good one,” Jo said with an approving snort.

“If only we had a cliff,” Dipper bemoaned.

“We do,” Jolene said, giving Dipper’s shoulder a friendly poke. She pointed into the dark clearing, not quite in the direction her siblings had climbed up. They couldn’t see further than a foot or two, even with the night darkness lifting ever-so-slightly, but she explained, “There’s a chasm-y thing. I knocked one in and almost fell in myself. He took my pack with him,” she added, with a shrug of her unencumbered shoulders.

Dipper considered what Jolene had said, trying not to get distracted by the perturbing thought of her falling into a chasm. As the pale pre-dawn light crept into the sky, he realized with relief that his sisters were becoming visible. It was as subtle and gradual as one’s eyes adjusting to the dark after turning out a lamp. He couldn’t see them clearly but after the enveloping velvet black of moonless night, all it took to enchant him was the colorless halos of their mussed hair, the occasional glint at the corner of Mabel’s eye or Jo’s glasses, or the barely-perceptible softness of a cheek. There circumstances were still dire, but somehow, the ability to see was heartening. Not only because it would aid in their survival, but because there was nothing that could ease his mind right now like seeing his best friends.

Jo watched as Dipper silently considered her contribution. She realized suddenly that sunrise must be nearing. When Mabel and Dip had first climbed up, she hadn’t been able to see them at all. But now she could make out Dipper’s profile, his brow drawn low in contemplation. She couldn’t see it, but knew he was chewing the inside of his cheek in lieu of a pen. Her stomach churned, thinking how certain she’d been under an hour earlier that she would never see either of her triplets again. It had been with a combination of fear and relief that she had heard them below. Clutching onto the tree in terror, she had thought for an instant that she was hallucinating. She had never been more grateful to see them, but at the same time was sickened that she was the reason their lives were now in danger.

Especially Mabey, she thought, her eyes moving to her sister. Mabel was facing her more directly than Dipper, so her features were almost entirely obscured in the dim light. Jolene didn’t have to see Mabel’s face to know she was terrified and far out of her depth. Dipper was good under pressure and had spent many a day adventuring with Jo, invariably saving her from her own irresponsibility. As frightened and stumped as he was, he was nevertheless in his element, while Mabel probably wasn’t even dressed for a hike. Jo gave her sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze and heard the nearly inaudible sound of a weak smile. She was about to say something encouraging, when another frustrated groan from Dipper broke the silence.

“Dipman?” she asked.

“If only we had some bait!” he lamented, his tone desperate, even as his volume remained hardly a whisper. Mabel snickered and Jolene was sure that Dipper cast her a withering look, even though none of them could see it in the darkness, “What the heck is funny about that?!” he hissed at her.

“Sorry, bro-bro,” she apologized unconvincingly, “It’s just we do have bait.”

“...no, it’s too risky,” Dipper said gravely, “We’re not using any of us as bait.”

Mabel tittered another nervous laugh before silencing herself, “Such a flippin’ drama queen, bro, oh my god,” Jo heard a soft oof and assumed Mabel had nudged Dipper’s shoulder, “I took some meat from the fridge before we left home, ya dork,”

“Good thinkin’, sis-tective,” Jo said, grinning at the use of the long-retired nickname.

“Why the fuck didn’t you mention that?” Dipper chastised, but his heart wasn’t in it. His quiet voice had already taken on a more hopeful tone and she could almost imagine the organized outline of a plan taking form in his mind. They perched silently in the tree for a moment that felt very long, and then Dipper sighed.

“How’s it goin’ in there, bro?” Jo asked, impatient with Dipper’s methodical silence.

The familiar butterflies in her stomach made themselves known as she realized that she could see Dipper’s face before her, make out his nose, his jaw, his lips. Her vivid mental picture of him easily filled in the strained brown eyes and birthmark beneath his forelock, “It’s a little crazy,” he said hesitantly, “But I have a plan.”

Chapter 24: Mystery Kids

Vibrant reds and pinks were bleeding into the sky as the triplets cautiously made their way down the tree. They huddled by its monstrous trunk and watched, blinking often in an effort to adjust their eyes, as the clearing came properly into view. The vivid sky was in stark contrast to the black-silhouetted trees and the shadowy dimness of the summit itself. Since first light, the Devils had been raising their chilling voices to call each other and slinking off to roost. Mabel wondered for a moment what sort of nest they called home before deciding she’d just as soon remain ignorant.

Beside her, Jolene was making every effort to be silent as she unbuckled Dipper’s pack, still secured to his back, and reached inside, “Ew, so organized,” she teased him quietly.

“Just get the rope, Jo,” Dipper sighed. In response, Jo placed something in Dipper’s hands, “This is not a rope.” Dipper pointed out.

“Shucks, you’re an observant one,” Jo teased, pulling a tightly wound ball of rope from Dip’s pack.

“Why did you gimme this, Jo?” Dipper asked, holding up the first item. As he held it up, Mabel recognized it as a disposable camera.

“The same reason you didn’t take it out of your pack,” Jo said simply, placing the rope in Dipper’s free hand, “If we can get a pictu--”

“No, I didn’t take it out of my pack because I was in a rush to save your ass, again--” Dipper interrupted, his voice raising slightly for the first time.

“Shut up!” Mabel hissed, “We can yell at each other later,”

“Fine,” Dipper said, resignedly, slapping the camera into Mabel’s hands. Mabel and Jo exchanged a brief glance, wordlessly agreeing not to step on Dipper’s toes until they were out of harm’s way.

Jo then moved to Mabel’s pack, “Huh,” she whispered, appreciatively, “Not so organized,” she rummaged around in the mess of Mabel’s pack for a moment before extricating the shrink-wrapped package of beef and handing it off to Dipper. She gave a silent ‘follow me’ gesture and the three crept as silently as they could, until they came to the chasm Jolene had described. Mabel peered down, and the black depths reminded her of the Bottomless Pit by the Mystery Shack. Only she hoped it didn’t work quite the same, or a Lone Pine Mountain Devil and Jolene’s backpack would be spit out any second now.

Dipper considered the jagged lips of the chasm and its mysterious darkness as he tore the taut plastic of the meat packaging with his index finger. Dipper was grateful for the dim light as it concealed his flush, embarrassed by his own outburst at Jo. Mabel was right, of course, yelling at each other now wasn’t just pointless, it was extremely dangerous. He’d thought he’d be overwhelmed with joy at being reunited with Jo, and of course, he was happy that she was intact, but he was surprised by the anger that flared in him. This was so reckless of her, he fumed, even as he chastised himself for being mad, So beyond stupid.

The meat in the package was roughly cut into pieces, intended to be used to make stew. By feel, Dipper selected the largest piece. It was yielding to the touch of his hand, and he hefted the wet weight of it with mild satisfaction. It’ll do. He handed the package back to Jo distractedly as he set about unwinding the rope. It was about seven yards long, but he only freed as much as he thought he’d need, leaving the rest coiled in tight even rows. As he tightened and re-tightened the knot, making sure the large piece of meat was secure, Dip turned back to Jo, “And you’re absolutely sure they’re flightless, right?” he whispered.

Jolene nodded stiffly, “Yeah, I’m sure. They can run, and pretty fast, and they’ll flap their wings,” she gave a small chicken-dance motion to illustrate, “Like chickens do, but I think they’re too heavy to really get airborne.”

“Good,” Dipper said, nodding, “We’re screwed if they can fly,” Jo snorted, in agreement and morbid amusement. Dipper peered overhead, happy to see that a few sturdy branches overhung the chasm not too far up. He was just beginning to heft the piece of meat in his hand, preparing to throw, when Jo put a hand on his bicep to stop him.

“Let me do it,” she said, leaving no room for disagreement, “I have the best arm,”

Annoyance flared in Dipper for an instant, but he had to admit that she was right. Now is no time to flatter your pride, he reminded himself, Whatever our best chance of survival is, that’s what we need to do. With only a twinge of reluctance, Dipper handed the meat and the rope to Jo, trading it for the package of the remaining pieces. He knew he was the fastest, and the best job for him seemed clear, “Okay, Mabes, you stay with Jo, I’m going to lure these things over here.”

Mabel didn’t have a chance to protest or even whisper a ‘good luck’ before Dipper darted off into the easing darkness.

Chapter 25: Mystery Kids, Cont’d

“He’s been gone too long,” Mabel said, nervously.

“He has not,” Jo assured her, although her own confidence was wavering, “It’s only been a couple minutes, Miss Sis.” She could tell from the pinched tone in Mabel’s voice that she was worried, and she couldn’t risk making it any worse. Dipper can handle himself, she reminded herself, although each second made her more anxious for his return.

Mabel was unsure, but said nothing. She was listening intently, trying to hear footsteps, or wings, half-convinced that any second her brother’s scream would break the still of dawn. The mountain was waking up, normal non-nightmarish birds and small critters tittering now and then in the sparse foliage. Mabel was straining her ears to detect any sign of her brother, when one bird-call sounded that didn’t quite fit in. It sounded like it was meant to be the call of a Mourning Dove, if there were some deformity to said Dove’s throat. “Is that--?” Mabel began to ask.

“Doofus’ idea of an inconspicuous signal,” Jolene scoffed and Mabel could just make out Jo’s smirk in the diffused light. Mabel gave a small laugh of affectionate derision as Jo devoted all her focus to throwing the bait. She gave a couple false starts, winding up her arm and taking aim before finally letting the meat soar. It sailed overhead and hooked over a thick pine bough, dangling down over the chasm exactly according to plan.

“Wowzer, Jo-jo,” Mabel said with an impressed grin, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you been practicing,”

“Oh yeah, y’know,” Jo teased, easing up a bit more rope to dangle the bait a little lower, “A daily regimen of toss-the-meat to keep me limber,” Mabel couldn’t help but giggle at that and Jo flashed her a wide smile. Maybe it was due to the fear and separation and confusion of the whole night, perhaps it was the way the rising sun was making it possible to see ever clearer, but Mabel was absolutely dazzled by her sister’s smile. She was gathering the wits to say something to her, how she loved her, how happy she was to see her, but her reverie was interrupted by another strangled Mourning Dove call, this time much nearer.

She turned around to be greeted by a terribly troubling sight. Dipper was running towards them, his brown hair swept back from his birthmarked forehead by his own speed. His face was drawn in concentration, his mouth a thin line, his nostrils flaring. For once, it was hardly Dipper than held Mabel’s eye, though. Close at his heels were several Lone Pine Mountain Devils, all the more fearsome now that she could see them.

They were less like birds than she’d hoped, and more like raptors. With powerful legs ending in menacing talons that tore the earth underfoot, and long sinewy necks that curved in an s-shape, like that of a crane. Their wings, although broad and plumed, Mabel could now tell were too small. They did not have the flimsy look of most flightless wings, like those of an ostrich, but at a glance it was clear that they could never properly keep a Devil aloft. At the joint of each was a fearsome hooked claw, and it was with these that they were desperately swiping in her brother’s direction. Their heads had a lean aquiline shape but came to a point not in the curved beak of a bird of prey, but in the scaley fanged sneer of some prehistoric horror. Their jaws gnashed hungrily, baring rows and rows of jagged reptilian fangs, now and then catching a piece of meat clean out of the air, thrown by Dipper over his shoulder. It reminded Mabel sickeningly of a dog jumping to catch a frisbee, but way more terrifying and completely less cute, she corrected herself. She noticed with alarm that Dipper was headed straight for the chasm and her stomach lurched. Before Mabel could voice her fears, she heard Jo mutter, “You got this Dipman, c’mon, you got thiiissss.”

She trusted in her sister, despite the instinct to intervene, and watched as Dipper ran towards the chasm, only to clumsily jump-slash-roll to the side at the last instant. Two of the Devils had picked up too much momentum and went skidding into the hole, flapping their wings hopelessly and giving bone-chilling screeches as they plummeted down. Mabel tried to ignore the sound of their bodies colliding heavily with a stony death far below. Dipper chucked the, now-empty, polystyrene tray at the remaining Devils, who fought over it with cartoonish ferocity, shreds raining down around them. Mabel dropped to a crouch, her free hand finding Dipper’s, “You okay?”

“Yeah, Mabes,” he panted, a little winded from his stunt, giving her a reassuring smile, “‘M’okay,” He squeezed her hand.

“Nice entrance, bro,” Jo commented, a little distracted by manipulating the rope in her hands, managing to cause the piece of bait to swing pendulously over the chasm. As if on cue, a couple of the Lone Pine Mountain Devils turned their heads, gold hawk eyes blazing, reptilian nostrils aquiver as they caught the bloody scent. Mere seconds apart, they ran at the chasm single-mindedly, shoving each other and hissing competitively. At the last instant, with a grunt, Jo tugged the rope hard, drawing the meat a foot or so out of reach as the Devils took their hungry leap, only to fall hopelessly to join their brethren. The rushing sound of their churning wings, and their shrieking, only lasted briefly before they met their end. By the sound of it, their fall was cushioned slightly by the corpses below.

Jo flashed a smug smile at Mabel and Dipper, a quip rising to her lips. But it never came, replaced instead by a scream of pain and surprise. She released the rope instantly and it went flying out of her hands, as she staggered back a few steps, staring at her palms. It took Dipper just one look around, and a few seconds to cobble together what had happened. Just as Jo had been turning to her triplets, her grip loosening confidently on the rope, one of the three remaining monsters took note of the bait and made a daring leap. With the strength of its legs and one firm beat of its wings, it successfully launched itself to the bait, its jaws snapping shut tight around its prize. Its weight had pulled heavily on the rope, whipping through Jo’s loosened grip and burning her hands. Even as he went to Jo’s side to check the damage of the rope burn, the Devil could be heard thrashing and screaming as it sank into the earth.

Mabel, however, did not know what had happened. Her blistered and aching feet felt glued to the spot as her mind raced to try and tell what had happened to her sister. Dipper was peering at Jo’s hands, but it was still too dim for him to see without leaning close. A ghastly hiss reminded her that danger was still very close at hand and she whirled to see the two remaining Devils staring straight at she and her siblings. Her feet unglued themselves and she was backing away, though it was purely instinct, rather than intent. The larger beast trained its sights on Jo and Dipper, while the smaller stalked closer to Mabel, warbling threateningly. The soft loose skin of its throat and jowls rippled with the sound and Mabel’s blood ran cold. Suddenly, her steps were very much intentional, as she tried in vain to keep some distance between herself and the creature.

With the next step, she found she could go no further. She tried again, feeling her pack tug, trying to free itself from a branch on which it was snagged. Mabel could hear the grunts and scuffles, and predatory cries, of the two people dearest to her caught in a perilous fight but reminded herself impatiently, you can’t help them if you can’t help yourself! She pulled and pulled, feeling like a fly caught in a spider’s web, as the Devil approached, flapping its wings ostentatiously. Mabel could feel panic creeping up on her, groping for something to protect herself, wishing she had a weapon instead of a stupid camera. Worth a shot, she decided, snorting hurriedly at the unintentional pun, as she fumbled with the power button, eagerly hiding her face behind the camera as her finger mashed the shutter again and again. Instead of looking through the viewfinder, she squeezed her eyes shut, cowering, knowing the camera could not shield her from her imminent grisly death.

When said death did not come, she peered out, startled by the strobe of the camera’s bright flash. The Devil before her was startled too, to put it mildly. It was whining and blinking, staggering in the wrong direction, a bit to Mabel’s right. With the momentary lull (and trying not to be distracted by the sounds of her siblings’ strife a few feet away), Mabel reached behind herself and unhooked her pack, walking closer to the Devil and taking another picture of it. The flash seemed to sear its eyes and it gave an offended cry. It seemed to decide she was not worth the meal, turning away from her and running, with uneven gait, into the trees. She was still pressing the button repeatedly, but nothing was happening and she realized she’d reached the end of the roll of film and slipped the camera into a side pocket of her pack, before turning to help Dipper and Jolene.

Dipper and Jolene were much too focused on their impending doom to think about the repeated flashes of the camera, or to give much thought to the kind of pictures Mabel might be getting. Their adversary had managed to back them up against the precipice of the chasm and it was evidently trying to decide who it ought to eat first. Dipper stood to Jo’s left, racking his brain for some solution, some trick, some way out of this fix, but none presented itself.

“I’m sorry, Dipper,” Jo mumbled suddenly beside him. She was giving him a guilty sidelong look, “I’m sorry I put you two in danger,” he shook his head, not sure whether he was urging her not to feel guilty or not to continue speaking, “I broke my promise,”

“Jolene,” he managed a strained whisper. She looked at him expectantly, her green eyes fearful and yet still glittering intently. Even scared as she is, he admired, she’d never go down without a fight. The Lone Pine Mountain Devil hissed, and her eyes darted to it, but Dipper’s eyes remained on her, “I love you,” he heard himself whisper.

Jo’s eyes shot back to Dipper’s instantly, questioning, but she didn’t get the chance to ask a thing.

“HEY BIRDBRAIN!!” Mabel’s voice rang out, shattering the quiet tension of the moment with all the grace of her word choice, “Get your dumb stinky talons away from my peeps or I’m gonna mess, you, up!” The Devil reacted at once, recognizing some challenge in Mabel’s actions. She was standing several feet to Jo’s right, her feet firmly planted shoulder width apart, her hands thrust in the pockets of her (now filthy) black jeans.

“Mabel!” Dipper exclaimed, warning her, although his voice managed also to give away tremendous fear and confusion.

“That’s right, you feathery freakshow!!” Mabel goaded, “Let’s see if you can take the POWER OF MABEL!” Her voice climbed to a shout as the beast charged at her. Her right hand dug in her pocket and a second later, with a triumphant ululation, she engulfed the creature’s face in a cloud of glitter. It screeched in surprise and stumbled back a step, its wings trying awkwardly to wipe at its eyes.

“Ya dodo!” Jo grunted as she closed the short distance between herself and the newly bedazzled Lone Pine Mountain Devil, and with a swift kick sent it sailing down to join its comrades at the bottom of the chasm. There were no more Devils in sight, but with the sun still not fully risen, and the occasional hiss in the brush, the triplets exchanged only a brief wordless look of uncertain victory before fleeing the clearing and starting the long eager scramble down the mountainside.

Chapter 26: This Talk With You

The sun had climbed high by the time they reached the cars, the morning brilliant and clear. They had moved quickly, driven by mortal fear, for the first hour or so before the adrenaline had really begun to wear off. The night was over by that point, and they began reluctantly to accept that the danger truly was over.

As her adrenaline ebbed, Mabel had found it harder and harder to ignore the painful state of her feet. Her ankles ached terribly from absorbing the shock of every uneven step. Her toes and instep strained from gripping the shoe, trying to keep her foot from slipping around too much inside it, desperate to avoid cutting any deeper into the blisters at her heel and little toe. She had stumbled a couple times, crying out in pain, before accepting Jo’s offer for help. Jo had hoisted her onto her back, piggyback style, and uttered no complaint the rest of the way.

When the triplets at long last arrived at the gravel parking area, fewer than ten yards from where they had parked, the gloomy, fearful silence lifted off of them like a heavy blanket. Mabel burst into giggles so abruptly that Jo was startled, “Whoa, Mabey,” she asked, with an uncomprehending smile, “What’s so funny?” Unable to articulate a reply, Mabel simply buried her face in Jo’s auburn hair, just behind her ear and kept right on giggling. We’re alive! She thought, in disbelief, helpless to put her giddy relief into words, It’s over!

“Mabes?” Dipper said, giving her side a poke. This elicited only more insistent giggles. He met Jo’s eyes, seeing his own smirk mirrored on her face, “I’m pretty sure she’s in shock.”

“Amateur,” Jo remarked sarcastically. Jo knew she could tease all she wanted, but when it came down to it the sound of Mabel’s laugh, the soft quaking of her body, the heat of her breath on Jo’s ear and neck was having a deeply therapeutic effect. She was still reeling a little with the reunion, when only a few hours ago she’d been sure she was a goner.

“How are your feet, Mabes?” Dipper asked, ignoring Jo’s snark, “I have a first aid kit. Do you need medical attention?” Mabel’s laugh crescendoed at Dipper’s serious tone, but she nodded against Jo’s neck. Jo nodded in turn, “Okay,” Dipper said, a crease of worry forming between his brows.

They were just about at the cars, when Mabel managed to get her laughing fit under control enough to gasp out, “There’s a...couch...back of...van.” Dipper dug the keys out of his jeans pocket and pulled open the doors, and hopped in, shrugging off his pack with a small relieved grunt and unbuckling it. Jo squeezed them in past a garment rack bulging with costumes, and set Mabel down gently on the loveseat that sat against one wall of the van’s hold. As Jo plopped down beside her with a grateful sigh, Mabel shrugged off her pink camouflage pack and groaned.

“Wow, sitting down feels fucking good,” Jo said in a reverent tone.

Before Mabel could respond, she felt Dipper tentatively lift one of her feet and looked down at him. He was sitting crosslegged by their feet, with the first aid kit beside him, a small bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a just-opened packet of sterile gauze and some bandages laid out in a neat line beside him. He carefully slipped her filthy shoe off and winced. Mabel followed his gaze to her foot in his hand, no more blistered or bloody than it felt, “Yikes,” she said nonetheless.

“This is gonna sting a little,” Dipper said, wetting a piece of gauze with the alcohol, just the way mom had said to every skinned knee of their rambunctious childhoods. And it was an understatement now just as it had been then. Mabel yelped and instinctively recoiled the instant the dampened gauze made contact.

Jo took her hand, lacing their nearly identical fingers, “I got you, Miss Sis,”

Mabel gave her sister a grateful smile, meeting her green eyes, sympathetic behind her glasses, “Thanks, sissy,” When Dipper went back to his careful ministrations, Mabel squeezed her eyes shut and gripped Jolene’s hand tighter, feeling the pressure reassuringly matched.

Dipper did the same for her left foot as he did the right, and glanced up at his sisters as he put the first aid kit back in order. Their clasped hands rested in Mabel’s lap, the knuckles white. Mabel’s face was still pinched, eyes shut against the pain, and her head had fallen to rest against Jo’s shoulder. Jo was resting her cheek against Mabel’s head, her gaze nonetheless glued to Mabel’s face. A weakness came over him suddenly and he felt his eyes prickle, threatening tears. We’re alive, he thought gratefully, and we’re together.

“Ya all right down there, Doc?” Jo asked, and Dipper realized she was looking at him. He nodded stiffly, and stared right back at her. He watched her green eyes search his face, trying to puzzle out what he was feeling. What the hell am I feeling? He asked himself, I’m in shock like Mabel was, for one thing, he noted, but what else? Up at the summit he’d felt a lot of things, fear, love, a lot of anger. But he couldn’t seem to find that anger now. He was sure it was still there, and it’d rear it’s ugly head at some point, but maybe he was just too tired. Right now, I’m just happy to be alive, he realized. Jo was still watching his face and said suddenly, “I love you, too,”

That caught Dipper off guard, and roused Mabel. She had been dozing slightly against Jo’s shoulder, but blinked awake as Dipper managed a slightly bewildered, “Huh?

“Up there,” Jo said, with a jerk of her head meant to indicate the summit, “When you thought you were done for? Before Mabel saved our asses,” Mabel’s mouth quirked up in a small smile, “You said you loved me.”

“I...do love you, Jo-jo,” Dipper repeated, his voice shaking slightly.

“I know, and look,” Jo said, chewing her lip, “I’m sorry I freaked out on you guys. I love you and if you want to kiss or be a couple or whatever, I--, well, you--,” she stopped for a moment, floundering slightly, “Just...do your thing, like. I’m not--, well, I don’t--, you can--,”

“Thanks, Jo, but--” Dipper interjected.

“No, lemme finish,” Jo interrupted, “I love you both more than anything and I want you to be happy,” she said simply, “End of story. Just…” she cast her eyes down, fascinated suddenly by the dirt beneath her fingernails, “Don’t forget about me,”

“We could never, you dumdum,” Mabel assured her, “We love you too much,” her eyes met Dipper’s, and they were both thinking the same thing, the elephant in the car again. Mabel cleared her throat nervously, “The thing is, um… While having your blessing is swanky ‘n’ all, we were kinda… maybe wondering about something else.”

“You were right, Jo,” Dipper said, the flush rising in his face giving away his nerves, “Before you...left, you accused me of almost kissing you--”

“No, no, GAH, pleeeease forget I ever said that!!!” Jo cut him off, hiding her face in her hands.

“Just, hear me out, please,” Dipper went on, “You were right. You were completely right. I was going to kiss you.” Jo let out an indecipherable whine, “And if that freaks you out, like, because I’m, y’know, your brother,” which would be totally fucking reasonable, Dipper’s doubts reminded him, “Then tell me to shut up about it and I’ll shut up about it,” Jo made no sound and Mabel smiled at Dipper and gave him a small nod that seemed to say you’re doing great, “But if it freaked you out because… you maybe wanted me to kiss you--”

“AGH! Yes, okay!” Jo cried out suddenly, tearing her face from her hands. Her cheeks were bright red, her glasses smudged but not detracting in the slightest from the way her eyes blazed, “I wanted to kiss you, okay?!” Her voice was quickly dropping from agitation to hurt, “But you’re with Mabes now and that’s fine, that’s dandy, I’ll--”

“No, Jo, I still want to kiss you,” Dipper cut her off, and she stared at him mutely, “I want to kiss both of you,”

“Let the record show I also totes wanna kiss you,” Mabel interjected, nestling her head closer against Jo’s neck. How does she make that sound so casual? Dipper wondered, While I’m over here sounding like a babbling idiot?

“Wha...Mabes?” Jo looked down at Mabel, who nervously met her eyes, “You...wanna what?”

“You heard me, Miss Sis,” Mabel said, lifting her head from Jo’s shoulder to look her dead in the eye, “However, I love you bunches, so I’ll repeat it anywho. I, Mabel Pines, would like to smooch you, Jolene Pines.” Apparently, that was all the urging Jo needed, because no sooner did the words leave Mabel’s lips than they were replaced by her sister’s. The kiss was so sudden, it took both of them by surprise. Mabel felt Jo’s hesitation, after only a split second, felt her urge to pull back and redoubled her efforts. She kissed back purposefully, trying hard to give Jo some sense of how much she was loved. She marvelled at the feel of Jolene’s lips, so much softer than Dipper’s, yet somehow so much more forceful. Jo’s kiss was fierce in much the same way that Dipper’s was sweet.

Reluctantly, Jo broke the kiss. She didn’t want it to end, no, she never wanted it to end, but the chaos of her thoughts was becoming too loud. What is happening, what is happening, did I really just do that? Her stomach ached with anxiety, sure that she would open her eyes and find only rejection. There was no way, just no way that she could be included, wanted, loved, the way Mabel and Dipper loved each other. Cautiously she opened her eyes, only to see the same love and enthusiasm bright on Mabel’s face that she had felt in her kiss, “I…” she began, hopelessly searching for what to say.

“That was fun,” Mabel said, her tongue poking out mischievously.

“I…” Jo said again,

“I love you, Jo-jo,” Mabel said, tenderly smoothing Jo’s frazzled hair, “And I want you to be a part of...this,” she said with a vague gesture to the three of them, “Whatever it is, and Dip does too.”

Jo turned to look back at Dipper, still seated on the floor with the first aid kit laid out beside him. His face belied the emotions warring within. Seeing Jo and Mabel kiss was undeniably...exciting, and deeply heartening, but somehow also discouraging. Where Jo had welcomed Mabel with an enthusiastic kiss, she had greeted his own admission with only confusion and belligerence. He could not ignore the sinking feeling in his chest that the only piece missing from this puzzle was Jo wanting him back.

“Get up here, nerd,” she said, scooting closer to Mabel and patting the small space to her left. Dipper’s muscles protested as he unfolded himself, standing up just to plop himself beside Jo. It was a cramped fit, and feeling her body pressed against his side was only confusing him more, “Is this true?” she asked, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, nodding, even more nervous now that he was being asked point blank, “I mean, yes, definitely. I love you and I want you to be part of this. Like Mabel said.”

Jo nodded thoughtfully, “Aaaand you want to kiss me?”

“Yes, Jo! How many times do I have--” The kiss should not have surprised him as much as it did. He had just watched her do the same to Mabel, and yet, her lips caught him absolutely off guard. They were as soft as Mabel’s, the delightful melting softness that he suspected to be habit-forming, yet her kiss was completely different. Where Mabel’s was all sweetness and playfulness, Jo’s was an ardent challenge. Before he knew what he was doing, he was responding to the challenge, his tongue eagerly meeting hers, his hand finding the back of her neck and pulling her closer. He felt something softly nudge his face and peeked one eye open to see Mabel planting soft kisses down Jo’s temple and along her cheek. He relished Jo’s soft sigh in his mouth as Mabel’s lips fluttered softly along Jo’s ear and down to her neck.

Mabel had crawled half into Jo’s lap, eager to kiss more of her, keenly aware of the intensity of the kiss she and Dipper were sharing. She was surprised to find little jealousy in herself, any twinge of it only a result of wanting more of this. As if sensing her hunger, Jo pulled her lips from Dipper’s, moving at once back to Mabel’s. Her hands found Mabel’s waist and pulled her fully into her lap so she was straddling her, before looping her arms around Mabel’s neck and deepening their kiss. Wanting to replicate the sigh that had driven him crazy a moment before, Dipper brought his lips to Jo’s ear, kissing it ever so lightly before moving to kiss the hollow behind her earlobe. There it is, he thought triumphantly, hearing a soft whimper that cut through to his core. One hand tugged the neck of Jo’s tee shirt aside so he could kiss down to her collarbone, while the other found Mabel’s hip. At the unexpected touch, she bucked slightly against Jo’s lap, surprising all three of them. They all pulled back for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes, each glazed with the heat of want and discovery.

It was only an instant before they dived back in, hands and mouths curious and hungry. They were each amazed by how the other tasted and felt and sounded. Dipper and Jo discovered particular delight in how easily they could get a rise out of Mabel, how eagerly she responded to even these fairly modest touches. None of them could say quite how long they had been there, parked with the back doors of the vans still ajar, rolling around on the cramped little loveseat. Dipper was sitting with Jo in his lap, both of them alternately and simultaneously kissing while teasing and caressing Mabel, who was half curled up against Dipper, often peppering each of them with kisses.

With an abruptness that shocked both her siblings, Jo jumped suddenly to her feet. For a moment, they feared they had offended somehow, that she had had some sudden second thoughts. But one look at the impish grin on her face assured them that nothing was wrong. Mabel and Dipper watched as she jumped down from the van and scampered towards Aoshima/The Chariot, “To be continued at home!” She called back in a singsong voice, cackling joyfully as she hopped into the driver’s seat. Dipper and Mabel turned to each other, and exchanged a bewildered look before both busting into a grin. The smiles did not leave their faces as they securely shut the back of the van, climbed into the front and got on the road, letting Jolene lead the way home.

THE END

#pinecest #pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #jolene au #jbyc #just because you can #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 6 of 7, Chapters 20-22

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 20: The Elephant In the Car

“Oh this is great!” Dipper said hotly, smacking the steering wheel with both hands, “This is just fan-fucking-tastic!” They were only a couple miles from the exit to Lone Pine, California, but red brake lights stretched about as far as they could see, “Why the hell is there traffic this late anyway?!”

“Maybe there’s an accident or something?” Mabel offered, reasonably. Since when is my job to be the reasonable one?

“Pfft, fuckin’ accidents,” Dip scoffed, “I mean, how do they even allow half these lunatics on the road? These people are a menace--”

“A menace?” Mabel raised an eyebrow, “Dip, cool it. Any second now you’ll be chasing kids-these-days off your lawn.”

“But I mean, what’s really idiotic is this road,” Dipper’s knuckles were white from clenching the wheel, “These roads were never meant for this volume of traffic, I mean, only two stinking lanes each way?!”

“Dipper, honestly,” Mabel rolled her eyes, “You sound like a granny.”

“But I mean, why?” Dipper pressed, his tone growing more hysterical, “Why is this road only four lanes? Why was there an accident? Why is this happening?!”

“I don’t know, Dipstick,” Mabel said, in the closest thing to a soothing voice she could manage, “It’s oka--”

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s okay right now, Mabel,” Dipper spat, holding up his right hand to her in a stop motion, “Unless your definition of ‘okay’ includes our sister running headfirst into a grisly fucking death, I don’t wanna hear it!”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t yell at me!” Mabel bristled, “I didn’t design the stupid road!”

“Oh, c’mon, Mabel,” Dipper said, exasperated, “Don’t gimme the innocent act.”

“It’s not an act!” Mabel snapped, “This isn’t my fault!”

“I didn’t blame you, Mabe--”

“Oh, shut up,” Mabel rolled her eyes, “You’ve been blaming me since she left!”

“Oh, I have not!”

“Have to!” Mabel insisted petulantly.

“I’m telling you, I have not!”

“Since she left, you have been treating me like I’m the bad guy!”

“Well, she wouldn’t have left if--” Dipper began.

“There it is,” Mabel pointed at him, “Go ahead and say what you mean,” she gestured at the inching traffic, “We got time. She wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t what?” Dipper shifted uneasily in his seat, “Hadn’t kissed you?”

Dipper dragged in a long-suffering sigh through his nostrils, his eyes shut, “Yes, Mabel,” he admitted, softly, “She wouldn’t have left if you hadn’t kissed me.”

Mabel pushed down the icky rejection feelings his words planted in her chest, “Well, I’m sorry I kissed you then.” She said, stiffly, keeping her eyes on the license plate of the car in front of them.

She could feel Dipper’s eyes on her, but forced her gaze to remain forward, “Mabel, it just… Out of nowhere like that? You were yelling at me one second and then kissing me, and, I mean,” he dragged his hand through his hair anxiously, “You are my sister and--”

“You don’t need to spare my feelings,” She said, shaking her head, “It won’t happen again.”

“Wait, Mabes, no!” Dipper turned to her, frantically, looking away from the car-clotted road. His eyes were troubled, his face conflicted, “That’s not what I meant! That’s, uh,” he glanced down, “Not what I want, is that... what you want?”

Mabel couldn’t help but smile a little. She shook her head, “No, you nerd.” He met her eyes again, his mouth curling ever so slightly upwards, “That’s not what I want. Why the heck dya think I kissed you?”

“I dunno, I don’t really get a lot of what you do, sis,” Dipper admitted, drily.

“That’s fair, I guess,” Mabel said, but it wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for.

“I love you, Mabel,” Dipper said tentatively.

“I love you too, Dip,” Mabel grinned and leaned across the center console to plant a soft, decisive kiss on his lips. He pressed his lips against hers in eager agreement. For a brief moment, everything fell away. The worry about Jo, the anger and confusion, the honking of the cars caught in gridlock with them, it all disappeared. But the moment was indeed brief, too brief Mabel thought. She opened her eyes after their lips parted and met Dipper’s. She saw the same love and fear she felt mirrored back at her, and gave a small nod, “Okay, so that’s settled. We love each other and we like kissing.”

Dipper snorted a laugh, “We love each other and we like kissing, okay.” His smile soon wilted, “I’m sorry about the play.”

Mabel frowned, “That was really lame of you guys.”

“I know,” Dipper said, pulling the van up a few inches, “I know it was, and I really am sorry.”

“We got bigger fish to fry,” Mabel changed the subject, we can talk about the play later. Dipper grimaced, never one for confrontation of any sort, “So we love each other and we like kissing, but we should maybe return to the elephant in the car that you so kindly brought up.” Dipper raised an eyebrow. Mabel rolled her eyes, “I’m your sister.”

“Oh, that elephant,” Dipper said grimly.

“How many elephants dya think are in here?” Mabel teased, looking around the van’s interior, the couch and garment racks, and amplifier holding no answers. Dipper snorted, “Anyway,” Mabel continued, “I, uh, love you and stuff and the sibling thing is weird ‘n’ all, but I’m like, okay with it, I guess? But obviously Jo-jo isn’t, and like, we can’t just do something this bonkers if she’s not okay with it. And it’s a little too late to hide it from her, but that probably wouldn’t have worked anywho.”

“I don’t want to hide anything from Jo, ever,” Dipper agreed, his tone grown a bit sullen.

“I mean, I can’t blame her for being freaked by incest, though,” Mabel conceded.

Dipper shook his head, “I don’t know if that’s what she’s upset about.”

Mabel scoffed, “Oh, c’mon, Dip. If I didn’t feel it, I’d be freaked out too. Shoot, it freaks me out a little and I do feel it.”

“Well, that’s just it, Mabes,” Dipper inched a little closer to the bumper of the car ahead of them, “I’m pretty sure Jo does feel it.”

Mabel felt the blood drain from her face, “Say what?”

“Well, uhm, before you got home,” Dipper fidgeted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, “We were both, um, like really amped about the...interview,” Dipper said the word quietly, trying to soften the blow, but it stung Mabel nonetheless, “And we uhh, almost… well, kissed.”

For a silent moment, Mabel blinked at the sea of red brake lights, trying to process what Dipper had just said. She was the one he really wanted, you’re just his second choice. Tears prickled Mabel’s eyes again and she looked out her window, as if fascinated by the minivan in the finally-moving lane to their right, “You almost kissed her, or she almost kissed you?”

“Well, kinda both,” Dipper said, sounding a little unsure, “I think.”

“You think?” Mabel’s voice was sharper than intended.

“No, no, I’m sure,” Dipper grumbled, “She wanted to kiss me and I wanted to kiss her.”

Jealousy poured molten hot into Mabel’s stomach. While she was driving home, tearful and angry, while she was parking and glaring at the light in Dipper’s window...that’s what had been happening? They’d been excited, they’d been celebrating, they’d been almost kissing, “You wanted to kiss her.” she echoed.

Dipper picked up on Mabel’s jealousy then, “Mabel, no…”

Jo’s words rang in her sister’s head, coulda sworn being excited nearly had the same effect! Guess anything might inspire some sister-smooching! She looked at Dipper sharply, as he pulled up impatiently, the traffic finally loosening up a little at a time. No sooner had the words formed in her head than she was speaking them, “Dipper, is it really me you want, or her?”

Dipper’s heart ached at Mabel’s inevitable and unanswerable question, “It’s not like that, Mabes,” he tried to explain, “It’s both of you, it’s always been both of you.”

Both of us? That had never occurred to her. All this time, she’d wondered and feared how, in the unlikely event that anything like this could come to pass, Dipper would have to choose one sister over the other. All this time, she had been thinking of Jolene as a friend and sometime-adversary, trying not to notice how beautiful she was, how smart, how vibrant. How she blushed and sweated around her, how she could hardly keep her eyes away when she got undressed, how incredibly cute the noises were that she made in her sleep. “Holy shit,” Mabel muttered out loud. She’d known that the way she thought about her sister was unusual, but it had seemed like small potatoes compared to her high-octane crush on her bro. Yet suddenly it was unbelievable that she hadn’t realized the nature of these feelings for Jolene before. It had been different with Dipper, maybe because of that first summer in Gravity Falls, maybe because he was a boy, she had recognized what she felt early on. She’d been so busy seeing Jo as competition, hating her unique closeness with Dipper, hating the ways their differing appearance favored Jo, she hadn’t realized Jo might be seeing her the same way, or seeing Dipper as competition for me. She dropped her head in her hands, “Holyshit, holyshit, holy-guacamoley-bowls-o-shit.”

“...Mabel?” Dipper asked cautiously, unsure if Mabel was angry with him.

“Dipper,” Mabel said, desperately, reaching for his hand. He gave it to her without hesitation and she squeezed hard enough to make him wince.

“Mabes, what’s going on in there?”

“I think I love Jo,” she whispered.

Dipper felt a stab of jealousy, ohh now I get it, “You…”

Mabel picked up on his uncertainty, “No, no, Dip, I love you too. Of course, I love you.” she managed a watery smile at him, “Both of you. I get it. I get it.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, “Ohmygolly, we are such a mess.”

“A psychiatrist’s field day, I know,” Dipper’s heart soared at the sound of Mabel’s laugh at his comment.

“We both love each other, and we both love her,” Mabel stated, a little stunned.

“I have a feeling she doesn’t know the latter,” Dipper said, his brow furrowing.

“Well, we’ll just have to go tell her then.” Mabel said, in a sure tone, wiping the tears from her face, grateful that the traffic was finally letting up. She had something important to tell her sister and it couldn’t wait.

Chapter 21: Lone Pine Mountain

It was a hard rocky climb, and Jo was thankful for the flashlight she always kept in her pack. Even with its help, it was a treacherous hike. Dipper never would have considered this climb at night, she knew, because Dipper’s smart. She shook the thoughts of Dipper away, reminding herself that he was not beside her and he likely never would be again. She just focused on the path, or what passed for one. Jo was weary, but she could tell the summit wasn’t far off now. She had that sense one has just before a peak, of the sky getting bigger and the land shrinking before them.

Much as Jolene tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to push away the cacophony of her thoughts, it was inescapable. Tears kept blurring her vision, making it difficult to tell where the best footholds were. She had slipped and mis-stepped countless times, leaving her ankles sore, her knees and palms stinging with scrapes. But however she pushed her thoughts away and tried to swipe away her inconvenient tears, they kept creeping back. One moment she’d be seeing the beam of her flashlight across the stony terrain, and the next it was as if she was transported back to her childhood home, watching that kiss. The way Dipper’s hand tightened on Mabel’s dainty little waist, the way Mabel’s cheeks flushed prettily as the kiss deepened. They had looked so strangely natural, like two puzzle pieces made to fit together. Jo slipped again, catching herself again on her skinned palms, hearing the pebbles clattering down the steep descent behind her.

She realized she was actually much steadier crawling and so she moved ahead that way. She could feel the wetness of blood on her hands and knees from the jagged bedrock, but didn’t much care. The immediacy of the physical pain gave her something to focus on, drawing her mind just a little bit further from Dipper and Mabel’s kiss. There was something comforting about pain of the body, as compared to the unmanageable pain of the soul.

With a suddenness that surprised her into a smile, Jo realized she was no longer ascending. The steepness had given way to fairly even ground. She stood up, wobbling a little at being back on her feet and turned in a circle a couple times, sweeping the flashlight across her surroundings to get her bearings. She had finally reached the summit, or at least one of the lower landings around the highest point. It was sparse, mostly rocky and open, with some scrubby bushes and a few weathered pine trees, tall, black, and austere in the dim light. It was quiet, apart from the occasional whisper of wind through the pine needles, as if even the trees here were holding their breath.

The moonlight illuminated more evenly and Jolene shut off her flashlight to conserve energy, blinking rapidly to get her eyes to adjust. Dipper would be proud of that kinda foresight, she thought before she could help herself, slipping the flashlight into her back pocket. It was easy enough to push Mabel from her mind in this situation, but exploring like this without Dipper was strange. She’d practically never gone on any sort of Mystery Hunt without him, although he’d gone on plenty without her that first summer in Oregon. As always, a pit of envy and exclusion bubbled in her stomach thinking of that summer. Up here alone with the pine trees, she could almost pretend she was in the Oregon hills, seeking monsters from the entries in Grunkle Ford’s old journals and about to run into Bill Cipher around any corner.

“Stopit,stopit,stopit,” Jolene scolded herself, hating how pathetic her tearful whisper sounded in the still of the night. Stop thinking about Dipper, stop thinking about Gravity Falls, and for fuck’s sake, stop thinking about Bill Cipher! There were many dangers in these hills, but Bill Cipher was not among them. Dwelling on him now would do her no good, just as it never had.

Jo wiped the grit and blood off of her palms onto her shorts. What now? She asked herself, surprised to find herself wishing for one of Dipper’s plans. She took a few more steps and halted. Her breath was coming a little heavy from the steep climb, but she found it wasn’t slowing, rattling unevenly out of her. It was catching up with her, all of it. She’d driven here fast and reckless, her foot demanding the gas pedal put more distance between her and her problems. She’d climbed in a fever, desperately scrambling up, zigzagging along the rockface in hopes she’d shake the pain that was following close behind. But she had stopped running now for the first time in all the hours since she’d fled, and she couldn’t outrun it anymore.

The tears hit her hard, tearing through the center of her like a blast from a shotgun. An agonizing certainty flooded her that everything of value was over. A lifetime of friendship and longing bubbled over in her, all bitter with the burnt taste of loss. Gone, they’re gone, they’re gone. She didn’t realize how violently she was shaking until she felt her raw knees hit the ground. She hugged herself hard, trying to hold herself together, feeling as though her body would be torn asunder by the sheer force of emotion within her. Since running from home, Jo had been trying so hard to escape the breakdown ticking away like a timebomb inside her, but now that it had detonated there was too much, far too much all at once. I’m meaningless, it screamed at her, I have always been superfluous, I have always been the other triplet, I have always been nothing. She could hear herself wailing, the heartwrenched sound eerie in the quiet of the mountaintop. What was the use? Why love so deeply when it opened you up to being infected by pain like this? There was no longer any avoiding the kiss she had seen Mabel and Dipper share. They love each other, she knew with a brutal finality, and they are complete without me.

As the weight of that realization truly sank over Jo, weighing down her shoulders, her sobs quieted. There was no reason left to cry. They were lost to her, and there was no reason to keep fighting. Jo covered her face with her hands, her tears stinging against her cuts. She held her breath for a moment, trying in vain to still the throbbing of her heart.

With a sudden prickling at the back of her neck Jolene knew something was wrong. She didn’t realize why at first. She saw nothing in the darkness behind her hands. But the trees were making a different sound now, not the whispering rustle of pine needles but a softly sinister swish. A hiss broke the silence, and she knew. It was no hiss an animal should make. Not the hiss of a cat, or even of a snake. It was the sound of menace itself given flesh.

Jo realized the swishing was not the trees, not the wind, but the sound of feathers, bristling, spreading, settling. They’re real! She thought, with an intoxicating rush of satisfaction, that she was witnessing what no one had proven. What no one survived to prove, Dipper’s voice reminded her sternly in her head. For an instant, Jo embraced the idea that she was among them, one of those who had climbed this mountain, met these monsters, met their demise. That the knowledge of them would die with her, just like countless others. But the resignation gave way nearly at once to a force far more powerful.

I’m not ready, she knew with sudden clarity, I don’t want to die. I want to get away, I want to go home! She raised her face, as if woken and startled from sleep, her eyes met with dark figures, larger than she had imagined. Her eyes adjusted, identifying fangs, feathers, talons. I’m going home in one piece. She resolved stubbornly, And I’m getting a picture before I go.

She cried out in surprise as something sliced into her shoulder. As she pulled away on reflex, she felt the weight of her pack shift, the strap on her injured shoulder severed by whatever cut her, a talon most likely, she deduced in her head. She looked around, seeking a gap between the shadowy creatures closing in around her, I’m getting home, she rose to her feet, but not if I’m dinner.

Chapter 22: Preternatural

“I cannot believe we’re doing this in the dark,” Dipper muttered for the umpteenth time. He could hear Mabel close in front of him. She was breathing heavy, grunting with every few steps. In their eagerness to get on the road, to follow Jo, Mabel had forgotten to consider the suitability of her footwear. Dipper’s flashlight was lending a little bit of assistance, but there were no two ways around the fact that flimsy ballet flats with no treads on the soles were dangerous shoes to climb a mountain in. “I cannot believe we’re doing this in the da--”

“Will you please shut your pie-hole, Dipdot?” Mabel interrupted irritably, halting and shooting him a sharp look over her shoulder, before her expression softened and she grumbled an apology.

“No, I’m sorry, Mabes,” Dipper said, honestly contrite and honestly pretty terrified, “But I just... really cannot believe we’re doing something this stupid.”

Mabel sighed and squeezed Dipper’s free hand, “I know, all those years of dorktastic lists and here you are being impulsive. But it’s for Jo-jo.”

Dipper nodded, relenting. Mabel started walking again and he followed suit, saying to her back, “I think we’re almost at the summit.”

“That’s good!” Mabel said, her enthusiasm not very convincing through the small groans of pain.

The summit is where we’ll find the Devils, if they are in fact real, Dipper considered, his heart quickening instantly at the prospect of danger so close at hand, and whether they are real is a crazy gamble. But he knew, with a certainty that scared him more than the Lone Pine Mountain Devils, that his sister needed him. He had felt both triumphant and discouraged when he parked the school van beside the Chariot. Until seeing the familiar vehicle, there had been a small shred of hope that maybe he was wrong, that maybe Jolene hadn’t come here, that maybe she was somewhere safer.

“Your silence does not inspire confidence, Dip,” Mabel chided, trying to sound like she wasn’t really frightened.

“It is good, Mabel,” Dipper said, far too late to inspire any confidence whatsoever, “It’s just also…”

“Bad.” Mabel finished, “It’s also bad.”

Dipper nodded, even though her back was to him and she couldn’t see, “On the bright side,” he said, glancing up at the dizzyingly pitch black sky, “The sun will rise before too long.”

“Bright side?? HA!” Mabel blew a raspberry, “I get it, a daylight pun. Nice one.”

“Okay, sure,” Dipper said, but couldn’t resist a chuckle. Mabel’s ability to see good news and laughter in such a bleak situation warmed him more than he could say. Was climbing a mountain in the dark without a map or gear to save their hysterical sister from nightmarish monsters insane? Certifiably. But he had Mabel and her impossible optimism to buoy him above his own terror. And she loves me, he reminded himself, a vast migration of butterflies flying through him. She loves me. And if it’s possible that my amazing, colorful, out-of-my-fucking-league sister can love me back, then hell, anything can happen.

As if on cue, said amazing, colorful sister whooped in excitement. The sound instantly pulled Dipper out of his own head, “Yo, bro-bro!” Mabel exclaimed, “This sure as shitake looks like a summit to me!”

Dipper hurried a few steps to reach her and both dread and relief swelled in his chest. Definitely a summit of some sort, they had reached a relatively flat area dotted with bushes and tall pine trees like silent, black sentinels. It was hard to tell in the dark how far it extended in any given direction, and Dipper wished fervently that the sun would rise already. He wasn’t afraid of the dark at all, but when the darkness potentially held bloodthirsty monsters, it took on a decidedly scarier quality. Dipper placed a hand on Mabel’s shoulder, “Stay close to me, Mabes,” he said, panning the beam of his flashlight across the terrain before them, “We’re safer if we don’t split up.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n,” Mabel joked, her hand finding Dipper’s again and giving it a reassuring squeeze, “The buddy system has never failed us yet.”

He squeezed Mabel’s hand gratefully, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mabel,” he said gravely.

“Aw, you dorkus,” Mabel nudged an elbow into his side, “Haven’t you had enough sentimental mushy stuff for one night?”

“I dunnoooo,” Dipper couldn’t help shooting her a smile in the darkness, “If sentimental mushy stuff is what we’ve been doing, I think I’m developing a taste for it.”

Mabel laughed, “Okay, casanova, let’s save our sister first and then we can sentimentally mush till the cows come home.”

“Ha, okay, sounds like a plan,” Dipper agreed.

“High praise,” Mabel teased, “From the nerd who loves his plans so much.”

Dipper snorted a laugh, making no move to deny the jab. I could really go for a plan right about now, he admitted to himself, ‘the buddy system’ isn’t quite as sophisticated a plan as I would like. But he knew Mabel was right, the buddy system had never failed them. We’ve never failed each other, he told himself, and tonight was no time to start. If we could survive that first summer in Gravity Falls, he considered, we can handle some birds of prey.

“But, soft, Sir Plans-a-lot,” Mabel said, her grin audible through her mock-proper tone, “What dost thou thinketh we shalt do hence?”

“Sir Plans-a-lot?” Dipper repeated, unable to restrain the tone of admiration in his voice, “That’s a good one, Mabes.”

“Answer the question, Plans-a-lot,” Mabel needled, “What we doin’ hence?”

“...That means ‘next’, right?” Dipper clarified.

“Aye, Dipstick, verily,” Mabel said, a slight edge to her voice, “If you’d had a nice refresher on your Shakespeare earlier, ya might know that.”

“Okay, okay, message received,” Dipper replied, guilt lapping at the edges of his mind. There was no time to dwell on the Twelfth Night mishap at present, but he knew that if they got back home intact, there would be at least a week of apology favors to do. He wondered absently if apology favors would take on a different meaning in light of his and Mabel’s newfound shared feelings, but put the thought out of his mind. We’re going to get home, and I’ll worry about that then. For now...what next? And his own words, ludicrously formal, popped into his mind, ‘4B2, screen for evidence of preternatural presence’. The Lone Pine Mountain Devils were about a zillion times more dangerous and more unpredictable than Tahoe Tessie, but it seemed the inevitable next step, “Next, or hence, I guess, we should screen for evidence of preternatural presence… or Jolene.” he added. Finding Jo before the Devils would be ideal.

Mabel and Dipper lapsed into silence, walking tentatively forward. Everything is spooky as heck, Mabel thought, How are we supposed to know what the ‘preternatural’ bits are? She knew Dipper must be scared, he didn’t even like going to the mall without a plan, but he seemed calm. No doubt his mind was going a hundred miles a minute, but he wasn’t really showing it. I don’t know how he does this adventure junk, Mabel thought, trying to ignore the pain in her feet and ankles. Calling this place ‘spooky as heck’ was an understatement. Mabel had just about exhausted her reserve of humor and found herself focused simply keeping her fear at bay. Jo is here, she told herself firmly, And we’re going to find her and bring her home. No spookiness can come between the Mystery Kids.

All of Mabel’s resolve went out the window when her foot landed on something that gave a sickening, brittle snap. She felt its echo in her own bones, through the thin sole of her shoe, and knew with a nauseous certainty what it was before the illumination of Dipper’s flashlight could reveal it. Her shriek was out of her before she could think, the splintered tibia, the crumbling rows of ribs, the blindly staring skull a brilliant white. On instinct, Mabel had grabbed Dipper and he clutched her securely to his side as he swept the light around, counting softly against her forehead.

“Th-that was a person, Dipper,” Mabel pointed out superfluously.

“Yes,” Dipper agreed distractedly, “One of eight, by my count. And I know who they are.” There was a slightly vindicated tone to his voice, as if he were relieved they were real, that angered Mabel.

“Cut it out!” Mabel wrenched herself from his side, “Don’t sound so happy about it!”

“Mabes, please, I’m not happy I--”

Dipper’s words were interrupted by an infernal hiss that froze Mabel’s blood in her veins. He saw it, but she didn’t, in the instant before he shut off his flashlight. His hand grabbed herself, and they were running. Mabel’s toes were curled in his shoes, trying desperately not to lose them. In their aimlessness, they knocked into the sap-sticky trunk of one of the looming pines, “Climb,” Dipper breathed, practically inaudible, and without question, Mabel obeyed.

Continue to Part 7

#pinecest #pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls #jolene au #jbyc #just because you can #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Mood Lighting”

A Pinecest one-shot for my wonderful valentine, @handleonthescandal ! Happy Valentine’s Day, Handy, have some OTP from your OTP.

Mabel Pines had always been a romantic at heart. After a lifetime of dreaming of her Prince Charming, she’s beginning to find High School dating disheartening. But when he turns up somewhere unexpected, she has to adjust to dreams looking a little different when they come true. 

Pinecest, 5,736 words. Pretty SFW. Tw incest. Tw cuteness ahead.

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

I was always a romantic, no doubt about that. I developed my taste for romance around the same time I developed a taste for sugar. I was hardly forming full sentences before I was taken with the idea of Prince Charming. Dipper had to play his fair share of knights, and husbands, and suitors in our games growing up. In all fairness, I was hardly the only little girl with romantic aspirations. Most of my friends, just like me, found room for lovey dovey daydreams amid their busy schedules of tea parties and naptimes. Some girls outgrew it, some grew into it, but for me it just grew. I got bigger, of course, and my hunger for a great love story got bigger right along with me. It even surpassed my hunger for sugar somewhere around the ninth grade.

It was around this time, it seemed, that boys had their first glimmer of interest in something most of the girls had been sighing about since pre-school. And it was with great delight that I acquired my first Boyfriend. Yes, ma’am, real Boyfriend! A capital B Boyfriend, not a weirdo, not a merman, no funny business. I hadn’t even had to trick Kevin into dating me! Nope, in fact, he’d asked me out! He’d slipped a love note into my locker, a stilted poem about how I was pretty and smelled nice. When I showed Dipper, he had just rolled his eyes and pointed out the spelling errors, but I’d been over the moon.

Until Kevin had stood me up at the Halloween Dance. That was probably the first time that being surrounded by candy did absolutely nothing to cheer me up.

But it was okay! My true love was waiting for me, and one little hurdle wasn’t going to trip me up! I dove into High School dating with a mission. My soulmate was there, right around the corner, slamming his locker, or bending over the water fountain, or waiting in line in the cafeteria. And I was going to find him, even if I had to kiss a lot of frogs to find my prince.

After Kevin, there was Tyler, my first jock. The Rom-Coms were right about that one, though, he was a jerk. And after Tyler, there was James, my first nerd. He really liked to hear himself talk. And after James, there was Kyle, my first edgy kid. I liked him because I thought maybe he was so sad because he was sensitive. Turned out he was sad because he had no personality. And after Kyle, there was Mike (my first real summer romance the summer after freshman year), after Mike, Benny (my first cigarette-smoker), then Carl (my first pot-smoker), and Ian (my first band kid), and Jonah. Jonah was the first one that I broke up with, when I got tired of him trying to stick his hand under my clothes.

It wasn’t really the hand-under-the-clothes thing that bothered me, I’d discovered that I really liked sex stuff the summer before with Mike. It was the way Jonah did it. There was never any atmosphere. We’d be pulled over in his car, which always smelled a little like a locker room, and the radio would be on too loud, playing more commercials than songs and making it impossible to talk. It was too cramped and too dark, and his clumsy hands would just want to push my clothes out of the way and grab. I broke up with him and he didn’t even try to hold onto me. He just said ‘okay’ and drove me home.

Getting out of his car was a relief, the crisp February air a nice change after the grody Eau d’Gym Socks of Jonah’s car. It was a little chilly, and I wasn’t dressed warmly enough, and I walked briskly up the path to the front door. I could tell mom and dad were asleep the second I opened the door. The lights were off in the living room and the kitchen, and the only illumination was from the light on the stairs. I stood there for a moment, leaning my back against the door, looking into the dim living room. What am I doing? I asked myself, allowing myself to feel a little discouraged now that I was alone. All these boys had seemed so special at first. Some of them had bought me flowers and chocolates, some of them had taken me to fancy dinners, or even cooked me dinner themselves. Some of them had worn ties on dates, some of them had lit candles and peeled my clothes off, looking at my skin like they really loved me, insisting in hushed voices that they really loved me. But they didn’t usually get my jokes, and sometimes they told me not to be so weird. Sometimes they got pushy or angry when I wasn’t in the mood to have sex. It was seeming less and less like all it was cracked up to be. Dipper will be able to help, I assured myself, and went upstairs to his room.

The door was open a few inches and I could hear his music, the volume turned low so it wouldn’t wake our parents. It was a band we both liked, not something ham-handed Jonah would ever find on the radio. I rapped my knuckles on the door a couple times in our signature knock, TAP, taptap, TAP, and peeked in. He was at his desk, playing a computer game, with music playing from his phone, “Heya, Mabes,” he said distractedly.

“Howdy,” I said, walking over and sitting on his bed as he paused his game.

“You’re home early,” he said drily, glancing at the time on his phone.

“We broke up,” I said, simply.

“Good,” Dipper replied, only then looking at me. I felt a little over-dressed all of a sudden, in meticulously chosen dress and cardigan and tights and shoes, while Dipper sat in his desk chair in a ratty pair of pajama pants and an unbuttoned stained flannel shirt. It’s not that it mattered between us, but the contrast just struck me once he looked at me. His brow creased in concentration, “It is good, right? Jonah’s a jackass.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “He is a jackass.”

“So, then, why do you look so upset?” he asked.

I shrugged, looking down at the repeating pattern of teensy black Scottie dogs on my skirt, “I just dunno why this keeps happening to me,” I said, “I’m an awesome girlfriend, but it seems like there aren’t any decent boyfriends to be found.”

“Mabel, c’mon,” Dipper scoffed, “You must know that’s bullshit.”

My eyes flashed back to his, trying to find some explanation to quell my anger, “What the heck do you mean? You just said yourself that Jonah’s a jackass!”

“Oh, no, yeah, totally. Jonah is a total asshole,” Dipper assured me, “But so were all of the others. If you want to have a good boyfriend, you like need to find a good boy for starters.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about!” I cried, slapping my palms against his unmade bed, “You didn’t get to know any of them!”

“I didn’t have to get to know them!” Dipper rolled his eyes, and began counting off his fingers, “Too dumb to spellcheck a love note, jock asshole, know-it-all with nothing in common with you, boring goth kid, thought you were easy pussy–”

“Whoa, I am not!” I interrupted, jumping to my feet.

“I didn’t say you were,” Dipper insisted, indicating himself by placing his fingers on his chest, “But that dumbass Mike definitely hung around you ‘cause he thought you were–”

“That’s not true,” I said, feeling the tears prickling my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mabes,” Dipper said, trying to back-track, “I was trying to make you feel better. I guess… I kinda messed that up. I was just trying to say you’re not the problem.”

“Oh, sure,” I said, wiping my eyes impatiently, “I’m not the problem, the fact that I date losers is the problem!”

“You just could maybe use to be a little more picky,” Dipper suggested casually.

“That’s a great way to call me easy without calling me easy, hotshot,” I snapped. Dipper paled and broke eye contact, “Besides, if I’m not looking everywhere, if I’m not willing to try anyone, I could miss him!”

“Miss who?” Dipper asked, cluelessly.

“My soulmate, you nerd!” I said, exasperatedly, walking over to the door.

“Maybe it’s looking everywhere that’s making you miss him,” Dipper grumbled behind me. I turned back, cocked my head at him needing further explanation, “Maybe,” he shrugged, looking back at his computer screen, “Maybe while you’re doing all this looking around and trying, he could be right under your nose.”

I blinked a couple times, considering what he’d said. His eyes didn’t leave his computer, but he hadn’t unpaused the game. He was just avoiding my eyes. I knew him better than anyone, I wasn’t fooled. His hair, neck, and shoulders were rimmed with the cool bluish light of the computer screen, and I could see the small twitch in his jaw of him grinding his teeth. Willing me to leave, “Well, thanks for cheering me up,” I said sarcastically, “Good night, Dip,”

“Night,” he said curtly, and I shut the door behind me before going into my own room across the hall.

There was nothing I wanted more than to ignore Dipper’s unsolicited advice. I was all ready to put it out of my head and go to sleep, but it’s like an idea was wiggling its way into my noggin, and it wasn’t going to leave me alone until I dealt with. So I plopped down on my bed and looked up at the ceiling. Was I going about this the wrong way? I tried to ignore the anger and revulsion that threatened to flare up in me again and look at what Dipper had said. Was I not being picky enough? I had dated pretty much anyone that had shown any interest, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with that. There hadn’t seemed to be any harm in it, but I hadn’t considered until tonight that anyone might be under the impression that I was easy. Am I easy? What does that matter even if I am? Well, Dipper seemed to think that I was too distracted by dating everybody to notice my soulmate right under my nose. Well, if my own brother thinks I’m a slut, then my soulmate probably thinks so too, I thought to myself pessimistically, knowing even as I formed the thought that it wasn’t fair to Dipper.

Dipper had seemed convinced that the problem was that I wasn’t dating any guys that were nice enough. But I’d been dating all the nicest guys I could find. Sure, they were flawed, but wasn’t everyone? They all had so many redeeming qualities, too. And even though all these breakups were discouraging, even though Dipper had planted a new worry about what all this dating was doing to my reputation, I wouldn’t undo any of it. I was glad for the opportunity to get to know all those guys. As flawed as they were, everyone is special. Dipper was just biased. It was normal for a guy to want the best for his sister, but it was unrealistic. It’s not like I’m gonna find a guy as nice as Dipper.

I must have fallen asleep at some point thinking about it, because then I was waking up, still in my date clothes, with the Saturday morning sunlight pouring in my window and brightly illuminating my bedroom. I blinked at the brightness, the pink of my walls seeming too vivid this morning. I was disoriented and turned next to me to ask Dipper what was going on. But he wasn’t beside me, only the big fluffy pig body-pillow that I cuddled with every night. I stared at the beady plastic eyes and the velour snout and said out loud to him, “You’re not Dipper.”

The faux pig stared back at me uncomprehendingly as I tried to puzzle out where Dipper had gone. I felt certain that we had gone to bed together. I groped for a memory of what had happened last night. I remembered his signature knock on the door, I remembered him slipping into my bed with me, I remembered how his kisses had been more tender than any I’d ever imagined, how his hands had ignited a fire on my skin–

“Oh, God,” I moaned, realizing finally that that had been a dream. That, in fact, I had fallen asleep a bit ticked off at Dipper about our conversation and then had a sex dream about him. It wasn’t just a sex dream, though, I had to admit to myself, it was a love dream. I hadn’t spent all these years dreaming about love to not recognize a love dream when it actually showed up. I looked at my door, thinking about Dipper snoring right across the hall. He wasn’t exactly the Prince Charming I’d spent the last 15-odd years expecting, despite how often he’d played the role in our childhood games. He wasn’t particularly suave, or thoughtful, or exotic. He didn’t know how to dress, that was for sure, I wasn’t certain he even knew how to tie a tie. And also he was my twin brother. I groaned again, and swung my legs off the side of the bed, hoping my morning shower would help clear my head.

I left the bathroom light off, letting the daylight from the window fill the room with a soothing diffused light. I turned on the water, gratefully shedding my date clothes from the night before as I waited for the water to heat up. Just losing those clothes made me feel immensely better, like I was molting the failure of my and Jonah’s relationship. I let the clothes land unceremoniously on the floor and glanced thoughtfully at my reflection in the mirror. I tried to imagine what other people saw when they looked at me. Do guys really look and me and just think that they could get laid? I didn’t want to be with anyone who saw me that way. Dipper doesn’t see you that way. I frowned at myself, of course he doesn’t expect me to fuck him, he’s my brother.

I tested the water with my hand and stepped into the steam and the heat. I put my head under the stream of the showerhead and closed my eyes, relishing the soothing feeling of the water on my scalp and running through my hair. But nearly the moment I shut my eyes, there was Dipper in my mind’s eye, standing in the shower with me. Wet bangs hanging into his eyes, water dripping off his nose as he gave me a playful smile, the mischievious one that usually precipitated tickling. But when his hands found my sides, they didn’t tickle, but just caressed my skin gently, wrapping around my waist and pulling me into a hug. I imagined how it would feel to wrap my arms around his skinny waist, my hands trailing up and down his back, my cheek laid on his chest. Achingly, I wrapped my arms around myself. Dipper was only a few yards away, really, but he’d never felt so far from me. How could I go on just being his sister, now that I knew he was the true love I’d been looking for all this time?

Suddenly, the shower wasn’t all too comforting and I washed myself quickly and shut the water off. I stood there for a moment in the steamy little cubicle of the shower, adjusting to the quiet without the water thrumming against the curtain and tile. I sighed, feeling the little drops of water rolling down my legs. I tried to focus on the feeling and the silence, to draw my attention away from this disturbing new discovery. I focused on the sound of the shower curtain rings sliding along the curtain rod, the feeling of the bathmat soft and dry under my feet, the way goosebumps rose on my damp skin, and my towel wicked the moisture away. I tied it around my chest and left the bathroom, only to find my path obstructed by a clearly just-woken Dipper. His hair was mussed from sleeping, completely flat on the left side of his head where it had pressed against the pillow. He was blinking groggily, his brown eyes slowly adjusting to my presence right in front of him. If he’d gone to open that door without knocking a second sooner, I’d have been standing in front of him in my birthday suit, I thought. As if hearing the same thought, he blushed a little. I averted my eyes, staring at his chest. He had ditched the flannel shirt and wore only the pajama pants I’d seen him in the night before. My hands itched to touch his skin, see if it felt the way that it had in my thoughts.

“Mabel,” Dipper said, his voice a little lispy from sleepiness, his tone apologetic, “I’m–” My lips crashed into his before he could finish his sentence. He has morning breath, I noted at once, but it was drowned out completely by the chorus of Mabels rejoicing and scolding me in my head. His lips were softer than I’d ever imagined they might be, softer than any of my misguided boyfriends, and he made the softest mmph! of surprise against me. It had nothing to do with the specific feeling of his kiss, though, it was the feeling of him. It was there. That inexplicably moving intense lightning-bolt thing that I’d heard about and yearned for since my mom still read me bedtime stories. The rejoicing half of me was rejoicing about this, this feeling of utter, sublime rightness, of closeness and completeness. The scolding half of me was screaming he’s your brother louder and louder, approaching deafening by the second. And then Dipper’s lips opened, inviting more, welcoming more, even beseeching. With that invitation, my tongue cautiously sought his as his hands found my waist, gripping me tentatively through my towel. His tongue swept along mine and I grew bolder, kissing him harder, desperate for more of this feeling of utter correctness. Dipper gave another soft sound against me, and this time I heard a sound rise out of myself, a throaty whimper I was positive I’d never made before.

As Dipper’s hands tightened on my waist, i took a couple steps back, never allowing our lips to part, reaching behind him to shut the door. However, to my dismay, the sound of the door clicking shut seemed to wake him from the blissful daze of our kisses. He pulled back suddenly and I opened my eyes to find him blinking at me, his eyes now completely alert. I could see the panic brewing in them, it was a look I knew well. He let go of me, as though he’d been burned and took a step back, “Mabes… Mabes, I… it… what…”

“I’m sorry, Dipper,” I lied. In truth, the only thing I felt sorry about at the moment was that the kiss had ended, not that it had begun, “I probably shouldn’t have done that,”

He shook his head uncertainly, “Why…why did you do that?”

“I wanted to,” I said honestly, without thinking about whether that was an acceptable answer.

“You…wanted to…?”

“I’m sorry,” I lied again, although the panic was beginning to settle on my shoulders too, “I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to, you’re my brother, I wasn’t thinking–”

“I wanted to,” Dipper said quietly, lifting his eyes off the bathroom floor and meeting my gaze again. That silenced me. I looked back at him dumbfounded, “I’ve wanted to for a long time. I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, reaching out and taking his hands in mine. They were shaking slightly.

“This isn’t something I’m supposed to want,” Dipper said firmly, and my heart twinged, certain that he’d been telling himself for ages, “You’re my sister, and I love you.” My heart leapt slightly at the words, even though we’d said them to each other countless times over the years.

“I’m beginning to think I love you, too,” I said, hoping he’d hear the new significance in my tone. As I said it, I felt the panic sinking its claws into me properly and my breath started coming harder, “I…I need to sit down,” I gasped.

Dipper led me to sit on the closed toilet seat, squeezing my hands reassuringly, “It’s okay, just…just breathe. You’re just hyperventilating a little. It’s a…uh, common side effect of developing romantic feelings for your sibling, trust me,” I don’t know how much time passed that way, holding onto his hands for dear life as I managed to get my breathing back under control. When I felt like I could, I met his eyes again. And there it was, that lightning bolt rightness all the love songs talked about. His brow was creased with concern, and the second my eyes met his he gave me a tiny crooked smile and squeezed my hands a little tighter. I squeezed back. He licked his lips nervously, “Do you mean it?”

I nodded, “Yeah, although I only just figured it out recently.”

“How recently?”

“Um,” I felt my cheeks getting hot, “This morning,”

“Jesus, Mabes!” Dipper exclaimed. He seemed embarrassed, anxious, torn, “You need to think about this! We can’t dive into this blind. Oh my god–”

“No, Dip,” I released his hand, stroking his messy hair, “I don’t need to think about it. I know what I want.” He looked at me uncertainly, “Do…do you really? Do you really…feel it, too?”

He nodded rapidly, “Yes,” he said instantly, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a little smirk, “Definitely. Absolutely.”

I gave a snort, and then cocked my head at him, “When did you figure it out?”

His smirk wilted in shyness, “Umm…over… over a year ago.”

“Wow,” my eyes widened, “I always knew you had better self-restraint than me but holy moley,”

“Okay, Mabes, well it sounds like it took you like two hours to give in and kiss me,” Dipper said, “That’s a pretty low bar as self-restraint goes.”

I shrugged, “Fair enough,” I bit my lip, “Sooo… can I kiss you again?”

Dipper blushed furiously and stammered out, “Uh, yes… um, of course… but I um, can I maybe pee first?”

I laughed and hopped up to my feet, gesturing to the toilet with a flourish, “Your throne awaits, Sire,” I teased, “I’mma go get dressed,” Dipper nodded, seeming both relieved and disappointed by my choice. I shut the door behind me and scurried to my room. The scolding Mabels in my head were piping down and I bounced around my room in disbelieving triumph. Once the victory dance was out of the way, I dropped my towel and opened my dresser drawers, getting dressed distractedly. It was weird. I’d always been worried about how I dressed for guys that I liked. My outfit for my date the previous night with Jonah, for instance, which was lying still on the bathroom floor, had been carefully selected after half hour of trying on different outfits. But this was Dipper. He’d seen me in every kind of dress; diapers, pajamas, formal dresses, homemade sweaters. He’d seen me sick in bed, he’d seen me throw up from car sickness, he’d seen me cry over everything from coffee commercials to funerals. He probably doesn’t even notice my outfit choices, I noted, and even if he notices, he doesn’t care. I would have thought I’d find that discouraging somehow, but it was actually immensely liberating. I pulled on a pair of sequin-lined purple leggings and a big blue tee shirt, a souvenir from the previous year’s school production of ‘My Fair Lady’, and wrapped my discarded towel around my hair. This is definitely the most comfortable outfit I’ve ever worn for a date, I thought before asking myself whether or not kissing my brother in my bedroom counted as a date.

Before I could consider it much further, Dipper was at my door. TAP taptap TAP, “You may enter!” I called and he opened the door.

He had wet and combed his hair, which had only helped a little bit. He had also stopped by his room and pulled on a wrinkled tee shirt. He smiled at me nervously before stepping over the threshold and shutting the door, “Hey,” he said, as if we hadn’t just tongue-punched each other in the bathroom.

“C’mere, nerd,” I said, sitting down on the bed and patting the mattress beside me. He crossed the room and sat beside me, “Now’s the part where you kiss me.”

“In a sec, Mabes,” Dipper said, chewing his lip, “I really feel like we should talk about this more. I don’t want you to rush into something this weird without seriously considering the pros and cons.”

“I know you swear by pro-con lists, but they’ve really never been my style,” he rolled his eyes, “Okay, okay. I get what you’re saying. But Dipstick, if I’m not mistaken, you love me like more than a sister, and I love you like more than a brother. As incest affairs go, this has gotta be pretty straightforward.” He cringed at the word ‘incest’, and I realized I maybe ought to be a bit more delicate, “You’ve really been having a hard time with this junk, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I have,” he took my hand in both of his, “I’m sorry for being a dweeb. To be honest, I couldn’t be happier,” He blushed, “I kinda am just trying to wrap my head around this,”

“I’m happy, too,” I said, softly, and without releasing my hands, Dipper leaned forward and kissed me. All thoughts about talking it over, waiting, having some chill just evaporated, and I let myself melt entirely into his kisses, and into the complete safety I had always felt in his presence.

The next few days were a blur. Every day, I seemed to discover new depths to my love for Dipper. And he…well, now that the dam had broken, he was swept up in the current of a deluge. It was strange, though. It wasn’t the way that I’d ever imagined finding my soulmate would be. Because he was still Dipper. He still stayed up way later than me, playing video games, planning DD&D campaigns, researching cryptids and alien sightings. He still had to be reminded that once dirty clothes went in the hamper, they shouldn’t be worn again until they’d been washed. He was still my dorky, low maintenance dweeb of a brother. I’d spent all these years watching rom-coms and reading romance novels and listening to love songs, inventing this guy in my head. The perfect man, who’d have so-and-so’s jaw, and whats-his-name’s ass, and how he’d dress, and how he’d be a poet and play guitar and any number of things. The strange thing was that I wasn’t sad to say adios to that fantasy, not really. It was just taking some getting used to that all the little quirks I’d gotten used to about my best friend were actually quirks of my true love all this time.

So it was weird for me when I realized that Valentine’s Day was only a day away. I’d only ever experienced one Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend, James the nerd the previous year. And I hadn’t so much experienced Valentine’s Day as experienced him talking about how stupid mainstream traditions surrounding it were and how little it had to do with the likely-apocryphal martyrdom of Saint Valentine. Dipper wasn’t going to do that, but to be honest, I had no idea what he would do. Be real, Mabel-girl, I told myself, Dipper probably doesn’t even know that Valentine’s Day is February 14th. I told myself not to get my hopes up. But then while we were cleaning up from dinner on the 13th, dad told us how he was taking mom out for a nice dinner the following day and that we’d have the house to ourselves until late. I gave Dipper a sidelong glance, but he didn’t seem to hear what was being discussed. I tried in vain to push my hopes down and out of sight.

Valentine’s Day arrived and I pulled on a pink dress covered in red hearts. Whether the bro-friend did anything special today or not, it was my duty as Mabel to dress for the occasion. I maybe took it a little further than necessary, piling on every heart-themed accessory I could find. Dipper raised an eyebrow at my outfit at breakfast, but said nothing about it. School passed by slowly but without incident. Normally, there was an least one or two classes where something festive happened. Some silly busy-work that loosely aligned with a holiday, or an exchange of relevant candy, or something. But this year, nada. Dipper and I didn’t have any of the same classes since he was a bookworm over-achiever in all AP and Honors classes. I was in a sour mood by the time we got on the bus, and although I gladly held hands with him beneath our backpacks, I hardly said a word to him.

He must have picked up on my sourpuss-ery because he gave me a wide berth once we got home. Normally we were eager to sneak kisses and pets whenever our parents were out of the room, but today he left me alone and I sat in the living room doing homework, while he sat at his computer upstairs doing dorky Dipper stuff of some kind. With every minute that passed without an acknowledgement from him that the day was special in any way, the worse my mood got. Around 6, mom and dad announced that they were off to their romantic dinner and reminded us of all the rules about being home alone that we already knew well, and were on their way. Shortly after they left, Dipper slinked down the stairs, with a posture not unlike a dog with its tail between its legs. He went into the kitchen and I buried my nose deeper in my history textbook, unable to make out a word in front of me. I listened to him rummaging around in the kitchen, feeling deeply irritated just by his presence and the fact that he had the nerve to have some business in the kitchen.

I was simmering so deep in my own annoyance that I didn’t notice him coming into the living room until an unexpected smell caught my attention. It was sort of grassy and vegetal, and really familiar. I looked up from my book to see Dipper standing bashfully beside me, with a lit candle in his hand. It was a citronella candle, the kind in a little aluminum pail. Mom normally kept those seasonal things in the back of the cupboard during the cooler months. I blinked at him, wondering why in the world he’d lit a citronella candle indoors in February, “It was the only candle I could find,” he admitted, answering my unspoken question, “It’s supposed to be, like, um…” he reached over and flipped off the lamp beside me, so the room was washed only in the flickering glow of the candle, “Mood lighting,” he said, as if that was a term in some foreign language and he wasn’t sure he was pronouncing it correctly.

“Dipper?” I said, my annoyance giving way to confusion.

“Oh jeez,” he put the citronella candle down on the coffee table and sat down next to me on the couch, “I am so bad at this. I’m trying to be, like, romantic?”

I gave a small laugh, despite myself and he put his face in his hands, “Candles are nice,” I reassured him.

“Thanks, Mabes, but you don’t have to spare my feelings,” he said, “I know I suck at this. This kind of,” he pointed to the candle, “Romance stuff? Valentine’s Day? You know it’s not my forte,”

“I know,” I conceded, “That’s okay,”

“No, but I love you,” he said, his tone distressed, “And you love this stuff. You deserve to be swept off your feet and stuff,”

“Let’s walk before we run, shall we, Dipdot?” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked at me and I had to admit the firelight was breathtaking in his eyes, “The candle is a good start.”

He looked unsure, “But Mabel–”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dip,” I said before he could protest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mabel,” Dipper replied, a small smile just beginning to curl his lips. And all at once, it struck me how stupid I was being. What could possibly be more romantic than just being with him? The candlelight was a nice touch, sure, but what was really beautiful was being close to him. The feel of his shoulder under my hand, the familiar smell of him reminding me this was home, the way his eyes glowed with a vulnerable willingness to try. The unsure smile on his lips spread when I busted into a grin. I dropped my history book on the floor and threw my arms around his neck, knocking him back so he laid against the armrest of the couch, with me half on top of him, squeezing him close. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist, “I love you,” he said, his voice sincere and soft.

“Well that’s all I wanted for Valentine’s Day anyhow,” I assured him, realizing as I said it how silly it had been to worry about anything else, “I love you too,” I told him, my voice muffled against his collarbone. This might not be the storybook great love I’d thought I wanted, but it was something far better. It was so much more than that. It was mine, and it was real. Dipper loosened his grip on me and scooted down a little and guided his lips to mine. That right there, that’s it, I realized, losing myself in the sweetness of true love’s kiss, that’s all I could ever want.

#pinecest #pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #valentine's day #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 5 of 7, Chapters 17-19

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 17: Flight

Jolene’s brain stalled like a car in mud. This can’t be happening, she told herself impatiently, I’m hallucinating. She’d been pretty freaked, but she was sure that once she’d stopped the tears and washed her face five or six times and recited to herself every reason that she couldn’t kiss her brother, that she was back to normal. The fan in the bathroom was pretty loud, but she had thought she’d heard Mabel out there. She had braced herself to see Mabel, and opened the door, only to find bona fide proof that she was still hardcore hallucinating.

She took in the scene before her. Trying to break down the hallucination and find reality. Mabel and Dipper were kissing in Dipper’s doorway. Simple as that, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Like a boyfriend kissing his girlfriend goodnight by her front door. Her arms draped over his neck, his arms pulling her close against him. Their lips moving together, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like they were two halves of the same whole and being together was more natural than being apart.

No way, she reminded herself, No way, this can’t be real. Find the flaws. Something was off, for sure. It took a second for Jo to realize Mabel was wearing black. There it was, yeah. Yeah, no way Mabel was wearing all black. It wasn’t even glittery black. Mabel hadn’t even worn all black to their grandpa’s funeral, opting instead for a respectfully funereal but much more Mabel-y navy with a sequin-trimmed blushy-pink cardigan. Mabel Pines did not do black.

And Dipper seemed off too. He was so…poised. Jo almost smiled at the idea of ‘Dipper’ and ‘poise’ in the same thought. Dipper was cradling Mabel in a leading-man kinda kiss, one hand in her hair while the other possessively gripped her waist. It was the kinda kiss that ended up on movie posters for Victorian-era romances that would bore you to tears. Very not Dipper, Jo comforted herself, Dipper would definitely be all bumping teeth and stammering stepping on toes, not so suave. She rubbed her eyes, confident that when she looked again, her mind would quit playing this cruel joke on her.

But when she opened her eyes, they were still there. If anything, the kiss had deepened, their brows softening with tenderness, their hands gripping a little tighter. Her heart started to speed up again, banging on her ribs angrily, as she stared. Softly, almost too quiet to hear, Mabel sighed. Sighed against Dipper’s lips. Dipper’s lips, which only moments ago had hovered over Jo’s own, tempting her to kiss them. But she hadn’t, after all, she couldn’t, he was her brother and her best friend and he would have pushed her away and wiped his mouth and scorned her and–

He isn’t. She admitted to herself, He isn’t pushing her away. He isn’t mad. He isn’t weirded out. He’s kissing her back. She took a silent step into the hallway. Mabel isn’t me, though. He would have pushed me away. It was like a knife in her quickly speeding heart. He actually wanted Mabel. But… Mabel? Of course Jo knew Mabel idolized Dipper a little, for all her teasing, she was devoted to him. Indeed, Jolene had had murmurings of suspicion that Mabel wanted Dipper, but still. Seeing Mabel not push him away… Who kissed who? She found herself wondering, her eyes flashing desperately back and forth between them. It doesn’t matter, the knife in her chest reminded her, it doesn’t matter. Now that they have each other, why would either of them need you?

Mabel and Dipper leapt suddenly apart, and it took Jo a moment to realize she had cried out. Two sets of brown eyes were on her, wide and panicked. ‘Deer in headlights’ would have been a gross understatement. Jo’s heart was racing, fast and irregular, competing with her tongue’s attempt at forming words, “What- what in the- how?”

“Jo, it’s–” Dipper began shakily.

“It’s what?” Jo demanded, “You guys were kissing.” She cringed inwardly at the way her own accusation echoed the taunting ‘k-i-s-s-i-n-g’ of a child’s taunt.

“I can explain,” Mabel pleaded, her skin deathly pale against her strangely dark clothes.

“Oh, I’d like to hear that,” Jo said, crossing her arms over her crazed heart.

“It-it…”Mabel cast her eyes down, “It was… It didn’t mean anything! It was just–”

“…it didn’t?” Dipper asked, his voice softly devastated. Mabel’s eyes rose to meet his and Jo’s blood ran cold. It did mean something, she knew, More than I thought…More than…They don’t want each other, they love each other.

“Dipper…” Mabel begged, torn between trying to appease her siblings’ conflicting hopes, “It’s so complicated…”

“You know what, it’s fine!” Jolene interrupted, surprised by the vitriol in her own voice, “You guys don’t owe me an explanation! I’m just your sister, what the hell do I know?!” She took a couple steps towards them, “Discuss on your own time whether that-that-meant anything, because you know what? I don’t fucking care!”

“Jo-jo,” Dipper implored, “Please, please listen to me. Mabes and I are as confused as you are. Please, we love you–”

Jo laughed in Dipper’s face and he cringed, “Oh that’s rich!” she stood directly in front of him now and he could hardly believe the fire burning in her eyes, “You’re confused, huh? Being confused makes you start kissing your sister, huh? Because I coulda sworn being excited nearly had the same effect! Guess anything might inspire some sister-smooching!”

Shit shit shit, so that is what happened, Dipper swallowed hard, thinking of how Jo had scurried from his room, “Jo, it’s not–”

“What’s she talking about?” Mabel asked, her head cocked to the side.

“Jo, calm down!” Dipper begged, “Can’t we just talk about this?”

“Calm down?” Jo repeated shrilly and Mabel winced, shaking her head, seriously Dip, never tell a girl to calm down, “Why-why-would I be calm? I just lost everything!” Jo pushed Dipper hard and his tailbone hit the ground painfully, as Jo strode past him into his room. She’d always had a short fuse, but Dipper had never in his life seen her so incensed, “You don’t fucking understand! You-you, neither of you!”

“Jolene…” Mabel said from the hall, stepping into Dipper’s doorway.

“Don’t,” Jolene screamed, silencing them both, “You don’t get it! You-you matter! You’ve always been the ones that mattered! You saved the fucking world, what the fuck have I done!?” She smacked her chest to punctuate her reference to herself, “You’ve always looked out for me and put up with me but you never needed me! I needed you, my world, my happiness depended on you, but I’ve only been a drain and a nuisance!” Angry tears were streaming down her face, her voice alternately shrill and thick with crying, “I almost got you killed, Dipper, and…and I…” Her words faltered as they were overpowered by her tears, “And you, you have each other! And-and that’s, that’s just great! You don’t-don’t need me, ‘s’time I learned to not need you!”

In a blur, Jo was out the room and flying down the stairs, leaving Dipper and Mabel blinking at her absence.

Chapter 18: No Time To Lose

The sound of the car pealing out of the driveway woke Dipper up and he sprang to his feet. His eyes went at once to the spot on his bed that he knew would empty, “Ohh, shit shit shit shit shit,” he whined, pressing the heels of his hands to his brow.

“Dipper… what…?” Mabel asked softly from the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“Fuck!” Dipper shouted, kicking the leg of his bed. He turned on Mabel angrily, “What the hell was that?”

Mabel flinched in the face of his sudden anger, “Why are you yelling at me?” she asked, stung.

“Why am I yelling at you?! Seriously?!” Dipper gestured towards the hall, “Why did you yell at me? Why did you kiss me? Why did you try to say it…it…meant…”

As usual, Dipper’s anger burnt out fast, and Mabel tried to offer him a reassuring smile, “I’m sorry, it didn’t….it didn’t not…I was trying, to, just, with Jo–”

Dipper shook his head, like a dog shaking off water, and held up both hands, “We don’t have time to talk about this right now. We need to go after Jo.”

“Dip,” Mabel put her hands on his shoulders, trying to meet his eyes, “Maybe she just needs some time to cool off–”

“No, no way,” Dipper brushed her hands off, pacing his room, “Jo’s not going to cool off, she’s going to fucking get herself killed.” He held his face in his hands without slowing down his pacing.

“What are you talking about, Dip?” Mabel asked, exhausted with her siblings’ cryptic ravings, one right after the other.

“She-she took her pack!” Dipper said, pointing at his bed, “She was packing it before the interview, saying-saying she wanted to go after the Lone Pine Mountain Devils!” Dipper rolled his eyes at Mabel’s blank stare, “They’re these really fucking mean bird-dinosaur-raptor things that no one’s ever gotten a picture of because if they see you, they kill you! One whiff of meat and bam, they’re tearing your frickin’ face off!”

“Fun…” Mabel said drily.

“Well, that’s where Jo’s going!” Dipper’s voice cracked, “And she took the Chariot and she speeds like a crazy person, especially when she’s mad, and I’ve never seen her this mad, and I don’t even know why she’s this mad and we don’t have a car–”

“Yes, we do,” Mabel interrupted, and it was Dipper’s turn to stare at her blankly, “Well, you guys were my ride and when you didn’t come to the play, I had to use McMahon’s music van again and–”

“Awesome, can we use it?” Dipper cut in, ignoring the guilt trip about the play.

“Um, yeah,” Mabel said, watching as Dipper pulled his pack from his closet and started filling it on autopilot, having done it a million times.

He glanced over at her watching him, “Don’t just stand there, go get your pack. We have no time to lose!”

With a small eye-roll that Dipper didn’t see, Mabel left to go follow his instructions. Entering her and Jolene’s room gave her a moment’s pause. Her heart twinged looking at Jolene’s side of the room, the disheveled green striped bedsheets, the wall plastered with posters and her drawings. She felt the urge to climb into Jo’s bed, pull the green comforter over her head and go to sleep. She’d been up early and worked hard on the play, on top of that the mess with Jo, and the fight with Dipper, and the kiss… She felt her cheeks redden at the thought of the kiss. She wished she could take it back and go back to how things had been yesterday, but at the same time, she wished she could walk over to his room right now and kiss him again. And again and again, and not stop kissing him until their parents got home.

She pushed these thoughts away as she went over to her closet, digging through the purses and shoes and miscellany on the floor looking for her pack. How long has it been since I was invited on an adventure thingy? She asked herself. Finally she pulled it out, the pink camouflage emerging from the piles of more often worn accessories. Some stuff was still inside it from whenever she’d last used it, some rope, a water-warped map, no longer readable, the round pink canteen that matched the pack. She shook it and it sloshed, and she made a face, wondering how nasty water would taste after years in a plastic bottle. Canteen in hand, pack slung over one shoulder, Mabel trotted quickly downstairs to the kitchen.

She was filling the canteen at the sink when Dipper thumped down the stairs, he peeked his head in, “Are you ready yet?”

“Almost. Water,” She said, trying not to be short with him, “The keys are by the door, with the ‘Phantom of the Opera’ keychain.”

“McMahon is such a dork,” Dipper muttered tensely, turning away, “Hurry up, Mabes!” he shouted back from the door.

Mabel rolled her eyes again but did hurry. She was leaving the kitchen, twisting the cap onto her canteen when she had an idea. She turned back and opened the fridge, remembering the conversation she’d had with Dad that morning. She’d eaten breakfast before Dipper and Jo had gotten up, and had handled Dad’s well-meaning awkwardness all on her own. He’d talked to her about the recipe he’d found for Beef Bourguignon that he was looking forward to trying this week. She opened the fridge and silently thanked Dad. She grabbed one of the two shrink-wrapped packages of stew meat and stuffed it into her pack. If these things are as bloodthirsty as Dip said, she reasoned with herself as she left the house, we might be happy for a distraction.

Chapter 19: Brave

The Mystery Machine purred under Jo’s shaking hands. It was content and happy to be speeding along the highway, oblivious to the agitation of its driver. She’d planned and dreamed about this trip enough that the route was seared into her brain. She figured that was a good thing. There was no way her mind could have followed the tiny text and tangled lines of a map. For once planning wasn’t a waste of time, Jo conceded, thinking of Dipper’s obsessive lists and itineraries. The thought curdled like milk upon contact with the acidity of her pain. Maybe I’ll never see one those stupid plans again.

Jo hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it seemed impossible that she would ever see either of her best friends again. It wasn’t as if she could go back home after all this. And that was if there was any of her left to go back home at all. Her stomach turned as she realized she hoped there would be nothing left. She saw the Lone Pine Mountain Devils in her mind, flapping their grand wings and snapping their jaws. It made her sick, but she hoped they were as ferocious as everyone said.

She moaned aloud in the privacy of the Mystery Machine. She felt too much at once to be quiet. For the first time in her life, she had to admit to herself that she wanted it to end. And why? She was embarrassed, beyond embarrassed, mortified. As she never had been before.  I can’t face them, especially Dipper, I can’t I can’t I can’t. Not Dipper who was so logical, so responsible, so reasonable. He must think I’m such an idiot for blowing up like that. And she knew she couldn’t bear to see the pity in Mabel’s eyes again, the desperate appeasing pity that had made her say it meant nothing.

‘It didn’t?’ Dipper’s wounded voice echoed in her mind, lancing through her embarrassment and her anger to the heart of the problem. It had meant something. It had meant so much. She knew, she knew intimately, how much it had meant. It would have meant just the same thing to her.

How long had she harbored this unwanted but undeniable passion within herself? How many times had she snuck glances, touches, sniffs? She had so hated it in herself, so feared that she would be found out. So terrified that if they only knew what she was feeling, they would never forgive her. But she couldn’t have predicted it playing out like this. It doesn’t make any sense! It isn’t fair! They may forgive her, but how could she ever forgive herself?

She’d had a chance. She’d had a chance at getting what she wanted. Dipper had held her in his arms and looked down at her with something a hell of a lot like desire in his eyes. He’d been so handsome, his parted lips so incredibly tempting. If she had just let herself respond, let herself go to him like iron to a magnet, he would be hers right now. Would he? She wondered, Or was it never really me he wanted? Even so, she wished she had kissed him while she had the chance. When she’d run to the bathroom, it hadn’t been with any thought to whether or not there would ever be another opportunity.

You’re full of shit, Jo, she scorned herself,  You were never gonna make a move. You were just going to yearn and pine in pathetic silence. But not Mabel. No, never Mabel. Matchmaker, love at first sight, summer romance Mabel would never have been content to sit by and wish away the days for anyone, even her brother. Some part of Jo was sure that Mabel had kissed Dipper. She’d always been pushier, flirtier, more socially adept than her triplets. The Dipper that Jo had left standing nonplussed in his room wouldn’t have turned around and kissed someone else. As much as it felt that way, as much as it stung, he would have been too discouraged, too confused. Mabel had kissed him, no doubt. Typical, Jo admitted to herself, Mabel could have her choice of men, of course I’ve only ever wanted the two of them. She moaned again, this time the one word, “Freeeeeak.”

Would she have been able to kiss Mabel? She couldn’t help wondering. After all, her feelings for Mabel were older, had developed first and been undeniable. She could avoid thinking about Dipper, but she had never been able to set aside how she loved and longed for Mabel. No, she admitted, No, that made it even harder. There was a different brand of rejection at stake. Being pushed away by Mabel would have broken something else in her entirely. Who could bear being turned away by the better version of themself?

If you hadn’t been such a fucking coward, Jolene, she bullied herself, accelerating even more, If you hadn’t run away from him kissing you, you wouldn’t have to run away from him kissing her! It was hard to believe she had been so elated only hours before. High from the Mystery Monthly interview, basking in Dipper’s excitement, that version of Jo felt a million miles away. Why did you run? Aren’t you the brave one? Isn’t that the only goddamn thing you have going for you?

“Yes,” she said to herself, her voice choked with tears, “Brave,” she glanced over at her pack in the passenger seat. She had always been braver than Dipper, even if she wasn’t brave enough to kiss him. His caution had only held them back with Tessie, and it wouldn’t get in her way this time. He nearly died because of you, a doubtful voice in her head reminded her. She pushed it away, Well, then, it’s a good thing he won’t get in my way this time.

Continue to Part 6

#pinecest #pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #jolene au #jbyc #just because you can #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 4 of 7, Chapters 12-16

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 12: Mystery Twins

Exhausted and ashamed as Jo and Dipper had both been, it had turned out to be a lovely evening with their sister. Wet-haired from showering, they’d sat in the kitchen, gratefully eating the meal Mabel had cooked. Dad had been teaching her over the last year and she’d improved a lot. They’d eaten their food and then moved into the living room and curled up on the couch together. No sooner had they sat down than Jo had fallen asleep with her head on Dipper’s shoulder, snoring softly in his ear. Mabel had played the mom role and shooed them both up the stairs to bed while she cleaned up in the kitchen.

Dipper was bone-tired when he shut his bedroom door. His body ached from the day’s exertions and his bed looked wonderfully inviting. But there was something he had to do first. He turned on his bedside lamp and twisted it so it illuminated his bed brightly, and pulled the twisted blankets aside. He placed the scale from the lake gently on the bed and switched on the camera, quickly taking a few shots. It had been much more beautiful in the natural light, but the photos were adequate.

Almost on autopilot, he’d moved the photos from the camera to his laptop. He’d clicked the bookmark in his browser that took him to ‘mysterymonthlymag.com’ and eyed the featured daily headlines for a sec before clicking the ‘Explain the Unexplained! Contest Submissions’ link. He attached two images of Tessie and one of her scale, an picture Mabel had taken of he and Jo before their search for Scampfires in Gravity Falls last summer, wrote a 250 character blurb in the space provided, and hit ‘Submit’. Normally, he would have read and reread and obsessed over it, but he was tired enough that he couldn’t bring himself to obsess. The pictures are as good as they could be, he reminded himself, better than we could’ve hoped. He wanted to win, but at this point, he wanted nothing more than he wanted to sleep. He shut his laptop, crawled into bed, and fell asleep instantly, forgetting to switch off the lamp.

The following Thursday, the triplets had been sitting in the basement den together. Mabel sat at her crafts table, putting finishing touches on props and accessories for ‘Twelfth Night’, Jo lay on the floor rereading her worn old copy of ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’ snacking absently on a bowl of chips, while Dipper sat on the ugly pink futon, tapping away on his computer, working on an essay for his Ancient Mythologies class. They were in their Greek Mythology unit and Dipper knew the material so well he hardly had to think to write about it. The pain had been finding sources to cite when none of the information was new to him.

Dipper’s laptop and cell phone pinged in unison, the specific ping he knew to mean he’d received an email. Happy with the distraction, Dip clicked over to the tab in which his email inbox was already open. Probably junk, he thought to himself, watching the page reload. When it loaded, a new email was indeed on top of the list and Dipper’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes training on the subject line ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’

“Holy shit…” Dipper muttered to himself, opening the email and quickly reading the contents, “Hoooly shit…”

“‘Sup, Dip-man?” Jo asked lazily, not taking her eyes from her book.

“We won,” he said softly, disbelieving, reading the email a third time.

“Speak up, Dip-dot,” Mabel chimed in distractedly.

“Holy shit, we won!” Dipper repeated, the excitement in his chest finally catching up with his tone.

Both his sisters dropped what they were doing, echoing ‘holy shit!’ in unison. They scrambled over and hopped onto the futon on either side of him, eager to read the email over his shoulder.

“ ‘Dear Mr. Pines,’ ” Mabel read and chuckled, “Hehe, sounds like they’re talking to dad…”

“ ‘Dear Mr. Pines,’ ” Jo read, impatiently, “ ‘It is with great pleasure that we inform you that your submitted findings on the subject of Tahoe Tessie have been selected to be the featured winner of this year’s ‘Explain the Unexplained!’ contest!’ ” the pitch of her voice rose steadily so that it was a shrill excited squeak by the end of the sentence.

“ ‘Our judges were very impressed by the professional attitude and enthusiasm exemplified in the style and content of your short response as well as the remarkable nature of your findings.’ ” Dipper read on, his tone uncharacteristically confident.

“‘If you wish to accept your spot as winner, we urge you to contact us promptly to set up an interview. Congratulations again!’ ” Mabel chimed in, “ ‘We look forward to getting to know the Mystery... Twins... much... better.” Her voice lost its enthusiasm and stiffened on the last few words.

“ ‘Sincerely, Matthew Michaloff, Manager of Reader-Submitted Content at Mystery Monthly Magazine.’ ” Jo read, still high on cloud nine, “With his number, ooh, I wonder if that’s his personal extension!”

“They misspelled ‘Mystery Kids’...” Mabel grumbled, standing up and walking back to her craft table.

“Yeah, I know,” Dipper said, “Sorry about that, Mabes. I only had 250 characters to tell our story. There wasn’t room to talk about being triplets, they must have figured from our names and picture that Jo and I were twins.”

“It’s fine,” Mabel said stiffly, picking back up what she’d been working on. How appropriate, she thought bitterly, jabbing the needle harder than necessary into the crown of Olivia’s wedding veil for the following night. Maybe I’m Olivia after all, stubborn and grieving and they’re the twins. Suddenly, ‘twins’ was the ugliest word she’d ever heard when for ages it had been her secretly coveted dream. They’re the twins, she thought, the jab prickling, and there’s no room for me in only 250 characters…

A click at the top of the stairs announced the door opening, “Mabel? Scout?” Mom’s voice called, “Are you girls down there?”

“Yes, ma,” Jo called back, her attention still focused on Dipper’s laptop screen.

“Could you two come up here and help me with something?”

Mabel looked over and met Jolene’s eyes, trying not to look angry. Jo had a familiar deer-in-headlights look, the same one she got whenever mom or anyone else required her input on girl matters, “Sure thing, mama, we’d love to,” Mabel called back. Let Jo squirm a little, she thought with sick satisfaction, besides it’ll peel her away from Dipper’s side for a hot second. Dutifully, Jo joined her sister and went up the stairs.

Mom met them with a slightly anxious smile, one that only Dipper had inherited. Of her three children, mom definitely was the most like her son. They were similarly high-strung, in an exceedingly well-meaning way, both dedicated micro-managers. The girls followed their mother up the stairs to their parents bedroom and the matter at hand was instantly apparent. There were clothes strewn all over the bed and dresser, a disarray of garments and accessories. Whenever mom needed help from Jo and Mabel, it usually pertained to this sort of thing, as it was the only area in which Dipper’s similarity to her was no help at all. Dipper shared mom’s usual feeling that clothes were a utilitarian necessity, but were neither important nor interesting beyond that.

“Whoa, did a bomb go off in your closet?” Jo asked sarcastically, and mom reddened a little. Jo grinned, “Finally payback for all the times you said that about my room!”

“What’s the dealio, momsy?” Mabel asked, ever the more sensitive daughter.

“Well,” mom squirmed a little at being on the spot, “You girls know your father and I have been making a point of making time for dating and romance,” Jo looked queasy at the use of the word ‘romance’ in conjunction with her parents, “We’re going on special date tomorrow night--”

“And you don’t know what to wear so you called for backup,” a grin was spreading on Mabel’s face, “You did the right thing.”

“So you’ll help?” her green eyes glittered with gratitude.

“‘Course mama-bear,” Mabel said, “Right, Jo?”

“I think this is more your forte, Miss-Sis--” Jo glanced at the door.

“Nonsense!” Mabel interrupted, “It’ll be fun!”

As their mom started pulling hangers from her closet, Dipper sat in the basement den, listening to the phone ringing, hoping the other line would pick up. And with a click, it did, “Thank you for calling Mystery Monthly Magazine, you’ve reached the office of Matthew Michaloff, Manager of Reader-Submitted Content. My name’s Petra. How may I help you today?”

“H-hi,” Dipper choked, cursing the crack in his voice, “My name’s Dipper Pines. I received an email from Mr. Michaloff saying my sister and I had--”

“Oh! Tahoe Tessie Dipper!” The woman interrupted and Dipper couldn’t help thinking how awesome it would be to work somewhere that even the receptionists were excited about the supernatural, “Congratulations to you and your sister, Mr. Pines! I’ll put you through to Mr. Michaloff at once!”

“Thanks, that’s awesome,” Dipper responded, pleased to be taken so seriously.

There was a click and a couple seconds of silence, followed by another click and a man’s voice, “Matt Michaloff speaking,” he said, “My assistant tells me I have our winner on the line?”

Dipper laughed nervously, “Ha, yes, ha ha, I guess that’s me? My name’s Dipper Pines, my sister Jolene and I investigated Tahoe Tessie?”

“The man of the hour!” Dipper imagined he could hear the man smiling, wondered if he was looking absently at small replicas of Nessie and the Jersey Devil and the Central American Whintosser on his desk, “Congratulations again to you and your sister, Jolene! I trust you’re both well?”

“Um, yes, we’re both well. Thank you, Mr. Micha--”

“Oh, please, call me Matt,” The man interrupted with a laugh, “Mr. Michaloff is my dad!”

“Ha, that’s exactly what Jo said about you calling me Mr. Pines in your email,” Dipper said, loosening up a little. He had the feeling most of the employees at Mystery Monthly were kindred spirits.

“Well, Dipper,” Matt Michaloff said, in a more informal tone, “Would you and Jo be able to do your interview with me tomorrow evening?”

“Tomorrow?” Dipper squeaked.

“Yes, tomorrow, if at all possible,” Matt reiterated, “We’d really like to get the story to our editors as soon as possible. Of course, if you can’t make--”

“Oh, no, we can make tomorrow work!” Dipper interrupted eagerly, “If you wanna do tomorrow night, we can definitely do tomorrow night!”

Matt laughed good-naturedly, “I’m loving your enthusiasm, Dipper Pines,” he said, “Well, if there isn’t anything else, I’ll talk to you at, say… six o’clock tomorrow?”

“Six is fine,” Dipper agreed, “But there is one other thing actually.”

“I’m listening,” Matt said.

“Well, Jo and I aren’t actually twins like you said in your email,” Dipper corrected, “We’re actually triplets, we have another sister named--”

Matt laughed again, “You know what, Dipper, if it can wait till tomorrow, I’d love to hear whatever you have to tell me then.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Dipper acquiesced, “Sure, yeah, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Fantastic,” Matt replied, “Talk to you then, Mr. Pines.”

“Okay, Mr. Michaloff, thanks again.”

“Extend my congratulations to Ms. Jolene Pines, if you will,” Matt said, smoothly, “I look forward to making her acquaintance and hearing all about your experience.” He hung up and Dipper sat in stunned, giddy silence, and took several minutes to lower the silent phone from his ear.

Chapter 13:  Interview Jitters

“Do you think he’s going to ask what kind of gear we had?” Dipper muttered at Jolene, “Should we lie? I mean, we don’t have any freaking gear--”

“We’re not lying,” Jolene said, stuffing a coiled rope into her pack, “Gear doesn’t matter. In fact, doing it without gear is cooler.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s right, you’re right,” Dipper grumbled, flipping through the cue cards he had hastily prepared, “Not lying, duh. But I mean, he’s gonna wanna know how we went about it, if we planned, if we practiced. Dammit, I’m forgetting something but I don’t know what it is! Ugh! Oh man, do most people--”

“Holy moses, Dipper, get a hold of yourself!” Jo exclaimed, shooting him an exasperated look, “We’re gonna be great. We’re charming little shits, remember? Can’t we just do this normal conversation style?”

“Are you serious…?” he could hardly make it through the question, “Like, yeah, we’re great but no, Jo-jo, we are following the cue cards. Man, I really feel like I’m forgetting something… The cards, they’re color-coded to make it easy--”

“No fuuuuucking way,” Jolene laughed, nestling a couple water bottles into her pack, “I am not following your dorky cue cards.”

“No, Jo, seriously, you have to--” he stopped talking abruptly, staring at her, “Hey, what are you doing?”

"Oh, whatever do you mean?" Jo asked, batting her eyelashes at him before shifting her attention back to her pack.

“Your bag. Why are you getting your pack ready?” The pitch of his voice rose anxiously, “I swear to god, Jolene, if you are ditching me to do this interview alone--”

“Pssh, as if,” Jo said, putting her hands on her hips, “I’m not leaving you alone with your boyfriend Matt, who knows if you lovebirds will even use protectio--”

“Well you’re not even paying attention to what’s going on! Why are you getting your pack ready?” Dipper demanded, “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

“Dip-man, I’m not freaking out because you obviously have the panic attack quota covered,” Jo said, putting the last couple things in her pack and pulling the drawstrings to tighten the opening before snapping the flap shut, “Aaaand I’m getting my pack ready for our trip to Lone Pine Mountain.”

Dipper laughed derisively, “You’ve got to be kidding me, Jo.”

“Why would I be kidding?” Jo countered with a shrug, “Operation Tessie went well enough that we freakin’ won, which is awesome, now’s the time to go--”

“Oh, I know you are fucking joking,” Dipper said, the hint of anger in his voice stopping Jo in her tracks, “Operation Tessie went well? I’m sorry but we must be thinking of different fucking days.”

“Dip, I know it wasn’t perfect,” Jo conceded, “I know it was fucked up, but we did win and--”

“Yeah, it was fucked up, Jo,” Dipper agreed, throwing his cue cards down on his desk, where they scattered, “We almost died. And in case you bumped your head, you promised me no more unnecessary risk.” Jo fidgeted uncomfortably under Dipper’s accusatory gaze, of course, he’s right, you did promise. “No Lone Pine Mountain Devils. End of conversation. Now we need to prepare for--”

As if on cue, Dipper’s phone started ringing, playing the iconic ‘Z-Files’ theme song. Both of them stared at if for a second before Jo rolled her eyes and grabbed it, swiping the green ‘accept call’ button, “Hello, Jo Pines speaking, who is this?” she said, and Dipper cringed at her brusque tone, “Oh, thanks. Yeah, Dipper’s here. Gimme one sec and I’ll put you on speaker.” She took the phone from her ear and rested it against her chest, “No flippin’ cards, bro-tective, just be your debonair lil self.” Dipper nodded and Jo nodded back, looking at the phone screen and pressing the speaker button.

Chapter 14: Opening Night

“Hey, uh, Mabel, um, are you, uhh, sure this is gonna fit?”

“Brandon…” Mabel said, wearily, resisting the urge to facepalm, “Yes, it will fit. It fit you at dress rehearsal less than 24 hours ago.”

“Okaaay, if you say so…” Brandon said, sounding unconvinced, walking away testing the elastic waist of the costume in his hands.

The show was set to start in only a few minutes. Mabel stood in the wings, checking on the costumes of the characters in the opening scene. Judging by the noise level, the theater was filling up nicely. Ticket sales had been good and they had every reason to project a successful opening night. And at least two of those seats are filled for my sake, Mabel thought with a smile. She hoped Jo and Dipper had gotten here early enough to nab a spot with a decent view of the stage. Even if they hadn’t, she hoped there would be sufficient sparkliness to shine all the way to the back row.

“It’s show time,” Mr. McMahon said, coming up beside her as the house lights dimmed and the audience obediently applauded. She gave him her patented ‘you-got-this’ million watt smile and he walked on stage to give the standard ‘thanks for coming, a word about the production’ speech. Duke Orsino showed up behind her, ready for his entrance for the opening scene. He was fidgeting with the velvet hat she’d made him, unsure of how it should fall. Mabel adjusted it for him as Mr. McMahon finished up his speech to polite applause.

The first half of the play went off without a hitch. No lines flubbed, no entrances missed, no costume catastrophes. Mabel helped with set changes and preened the actors before they went on. Many of them received a last dusting of glitter for good luck from the container labeled ‘For Emergencies’ that resided perpetually in Mabel’s pocket. In her uncharacteristic stage crew blacks, only her face was easily visible in the dim of backstage, beaming with pride. The costumes glimmered beneath the stage lights and made all the hours of stitching and gluing well worth it.

The house lights came up after the act break to signal intermission, and most of the audience started to file out into the lobby, in search of snacks and bathrooms. Mabel happily skipped out from behind the side curtain and down the small steps at the left corner of the stage. She scanned the crowd for Dipper’s scruffy head. He was tall enough to usually find easily in situations like these. They must be out in the lobby already, she decided after having ascertained that they were no longer in the theatre, That’s a bummer. Only the people with seats in the back are already out there. Well, this would not be the first time her siblings had gotten to something too late to get good seats. With the sufficient sparkles it should be fine.

She made it through the press of bodies into the lobby. Everyone was chattering about the production, and with pleasure she caught a few snippets about the “eye-catching costumes”. Damn skippy, they’ll catch your eye, she smiled inwardly. There was a card table with snacks and drinks for sale over by the entrance, and Mabel knew her Trips enough to know that they’d make a beeline straight to the refreshments. She made her way over to the table. Liz, one of the costume crew drop-outs, was manning the table. Traitor, Mabel thought as she slipped ahead of the line, peering through them. No sign of the sibs. She frowned, “Hey Lizzie?”

“Oh, hey, Mabel!” Liz said, her tone a little too friendly, “Hey, the costumes look awesome! Great job on those!” She handed a couple candy bars and some change to a parent in line, “Like seriously, wicked. Even better than ‘Oklahoma!’!”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Mabel said, unfazed by the buttering-up she was receiving, “Listen do you--”

“Hey, look, I know,” Liz interrupted, her tone a little more serious, “It was really lame of me to quit. I’m sorry I left you with so much to--”

“It’s fine, forget it.” Mabel said impatiently, tensely checking every face in the crowd, but not seeing the two that looked like her, “Have you seen Dipper or Jo?”

“Dipper and Jo?” Liz repeated dumbly, and Mabel resisted the urge to flip a nearby tray of cookies on her.

“Yeah, Dipper and Jo. Jolene. My brother and sister?” Mabel reiterated, “Ya know? One looks like me? One looks like me, but a boy… and like a foot taller? C’mon, we’ve been in school together since we were like lil piglets!”

“Ha, yeah, Mabel,” Liz said, a little snotty at being condescended to, “I know who Dipper and Jo are. But no, I haven’t seen them. I don’t think they’re here.”

“Thanks,” Mabel huffed, turning on her heel and walking away from the concessions. Okay, no way. They’re definitely here. Just cause Liz didn’t see them doesn’t mean squat. She’s not the brightest light on the tree. They were definitely not in the lobby, though. Maybe they went out to Aoshima? Yeah, of course! Of course, they’d gone out to the car. They usually would sneak snacks of their own into this sorta thing, they’d probably just gone out to restock their pocket candy. Mabel could feel a grin spreading on her face as she leaned her weight against the glass door to open it, the cool air of the spring night refreshing. It was a nice night, and both her sibs would rather take in the night air that stand around in a mob of people.

Her feet carried her several feet into the parking lot as her eyes bounced from car to car, looking for the smiley face antenna topper and the outline of a friendly sibling head. No smiley face, Mabel frowned. Well, if they were late, maybe they’re out on the road? She checked the clock on her phone. The next act was starting in only a couple minutes, and there was no time to check.

Mabel went back inside to check the bathroom. No Jolene in the ladies’, and no Jo or Dipper waiting by the door for the other. Maybe they went back in the theater already…? Mabel wondered, deflating by the second. The theater was filling back up and she followed the current of the audience. She automatically kept searching, the pit of doubt in her stomach getting deeper and deeper by the second. Could they really not be here…? It didn’t seem possible. Since they were little tots, all three triplets had had plenty of events like this. Dance recitals, plays, science fairs, art shows, talent shows. Like tonight, every once in a while their parents wouldn’t make it, but they had never ever ever missed each other. Not once. The Trips were each other’s biggest fans. They wouldn’t miss a thing, even if it was boring to them. They know how hard I’ve been working on this…

But do they? Things had been so weird lately. She’d been so wrapped up in working on the play and her stupid pesky feelings clogging up the works. She knew she’d told them it was opening night. It was marked in pink on the calendar on the fridge and the one by her bed and the one by her desk in the den. They were distracted to, though, ever since they’d gone on that mission to find the sea snake thingy they’d been so caught up in adventure stuff. Mabel reached the little steps to the stage and looked back over the audience. The lights were flashing in the lobby to communicate the end of intermission, and the last few stragglers were trickling in. With a clear view of everyone like this, there was no denying it.

They’re not here. They really didn’t come. Mabel tried to banish the tears from her eyes as she hurried back into the wings. She was on autopilot now, straightening collars and flattening out creases. The joy of it had left her. The play was going well, the costumes looked fantastic, but what the hell did it matter? They forgot me.

Chapter 15: A Chat With Mystery Monthly

“Well, let me tell you, that is just incredible!” Matt Michaloff said over speakerphone, “You two sound like quite the young adventurers!”

“Thanks, Mr. Michaloff,” Dipper said, with that starstruck tone he’d had in his voice for the entire interview.

“Please, Dipper, please,” Matt said laughing.

“Right, Matt, sorry,” Dipper said, his cheeks reddening at having his manners corrected yet again.

“Sorry, Matt,” Jo cut in, “My brother’s a bit of a dweeb.”

Matt laughed politely, “Well, he’s a lot cooler than I was in High School, I’ll tell ya that much.”

“Oh, really?” Dipper’s voice cracked slightly, “Ha, thanks, Matt,” Dipper said, with the bashful smile Jo harbored a secret love for, “Did you have any other questions?”

“No, I don’t think so, Dipper,” he said, with the sound of some sheets of paper rustling, “You guys gave me so much great material! Thank you again for making time for the interview so promptly.”

“Yeah, o-of course, no problem!”

“Do you know when this issue’s coming out?” Jo asked eagerly.

“Well, we’re hoping to have it hitting the presses in the next two weeks,” Matt said, “But don’t you fear, you two will be getting a box of advance copies.” Dipper and Jo grinned at each other. Advance copies?! Jo thought excitedly, that sounds so legit! Matt rustled his papers again, “If you two have nothing to add, I think I’ll be saying goodnight to you. I’m eager to get to work on this story.”

“Thanks, Matt!” Jo squeaked, as Dipper said a polite ‘goodnight’ and ended the call.

“Ooooooooooooh my god!” Dipper wailed excitedly, the second the call disconnected, “Oh my god!”

Jo leapt to her feet, full of thrilled nervous energy, “That was so so so freaking cool!” She hopped excitedly from one foot to the other, “That was-- hoh my god!”

“Right?!” Dipper agreed, his eyes gleaming with exhilaration. He hopped to his feet and offered Jo a fist bump with each hand, “Fuckin’ Mystery Kids, man!”

“MysteryKidsMysteryKidsMysteryKiiiiids!” Jo chanted, punching fist bump after fist bump rapidly against her brother’s knuckles.

“You did so good, Jo-jo,” Dipper said, grinning ear to ear, his cheeks still flushed, “You were so cool and casual and like, poised, not a fangirly dork like me.”

“Oh, cram it!” Jo said, directing one of her punches for Dipper’s shoulder instead of his hand, “You were a total boss, bro-tective!  You put the man in Dip-man! You were professional as shit.”

“As shit, huh?” Dipper joked, but she could see his shoulders straighten with a hint of pride.

“Yeah, you and Matt had like this awesome rapport goin’ on,” Jo teased, “Like you were the same species and you recognized each other. I had to interrupt a few times there, ‘cause the sexual tension was just, whoa, through. the. roof.”

Dipper had just wiped the grin from his face when Jo elicited the coy, playful crooked one. He ran a hand through his hair from brow to neck, “Oh yeah? Well, how could ole Matt resist this?”

It was so rare that Jo had a chance to see Dipper exuberant and cocky like this. Normally so reserved and responsible, although there was no end to his dry jokes, he rarely let himself play around quite like this. With me and Mabes in the house, there’s already a surplus of silly, Jo noted, It’s a shame. Silly Dip is the cutest Dip. He was still making a show of some idea of manliness, flexing his flimsy biceps and making some attempt at bedroom eyes. Without warning, he grabbed Jo by the waist and dipped her low, as if he knew the first thing about dance.

It didn’t matter. It worked. It ripped Jo right from her thoughts and into his hands, warm and strong, broad against her lower back. His eyes were gleaming darkly, his hair falling softly over his brow, his cheeks pink, his lips just curled in a crooked smile. His lips were like a magnet, like the tastiest morsel of food hung over her and she was starving. Her heart was bouncing around her chest with the thrill of the interview and every beat seemed to push her closer and closer to the invitation of Dipper’s lips.

What the hell are you doing?? She screamed at herself, tugging herself awkwardly from Dipper’s grip. He gave her a perplexed look and she saw the small crease knit between his brows, concerned that he’d offended her, “Jo?” he asked tentatively.

“I’m gonna, uhh, go wash my face,” Jo muttered, unable to meet his eyes. She scurried from the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door a tad too hard behind her. She leaned her back against it, her eyes tickled by tears, trying desperately to slow her frantic heartbeat. You stupid, selfish freak! You could have ruined everything! Jo covered her face with her hands, That was way too freaking close.

Chapter 16: Confrontation

Mabel parked the music department van by the mailbox, right behind Aoshima. Right where it has been, this whole time, Mabel griped bitterly. She realized she’d been holding her breath and made a point of letting it out. She looked at the house apprehensively. Mom’s car was gone, meaning she and dad were still out on their date. Mabel hoped she’d worn the red sweater she’d suggested. The lights were on in the living room, as well as Dipper’s room upstairs. Her heart twinged. They’re in there.

She opened the door and got out, cutting across the lawn to the front door. It had been a long day and her body was weary, but she didn’t feel it. Anger was coursing hot and livid through her veins, stronger than any amount of sugar or caffeine. Her hand was shaking as she turned the key in the lock and entered her house.

Without slowing down, as if pulled by a magnet, Mabel made her way swiftly up the stairs. She reached the second floor as the bathroom door shut hard, just shy of slamming. Dipper’s head poked out of his bedroom door, looking towards the bathroom, after Jolene, Mabel assumed. Mabel stopped in the hall a few paces away from him and crossed her arms, glaring at the back of her brother’s head. What the hell is so interesting about Jo going in the flipping bathroom?! Impatient for Dipper’s attention, having been denied it when she thought it was guaranteed, Mabel pulled her purse from her shoulder and dropped it loudly on the ground.

Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin at the loud thud behind him. He whirled around to find Mabel standing in the hallway, and the sight of her was scarier than the noise had been. She almost didn’t look like Mabel. She was dressed all in black, from head to toe, a black long-sleeved tee shirt and black leggings, glowering at him. Her cheeks were pink and her brown eyes glittering angrily, accusingly. Dipper felt the blood rush from his face. Did she see that? Did she see Jo almost…? Dipper glanced back towards the bathroom, See what, asshole? She wasn’t gonna kiss you, it was all in your twisted up head.

“What the hell, bro,” Mabel said. Her voice was dangerously low, a tone rarely heard that Dipper knew meant business. He looked back at her at once.

“Uh, hi… Mabes,” He said, uneasy under her glare.

“Don’t ‘hi Mabes’ me,” Mabel shook her head, crossing her arms. It was seriously off-putting to see her dressed in black. He was tempted to ask who’d died, but had the sense that they might be his last words.

“Oookay,” Dipper said cautiously, unsure what he was supposed to say if ‘hi’ was out.

“So,” Mabel urged, raising an eyebrow, “What the heck is your excuse?” Dipper blinked at her, desperately trying to come up with an excuse, and an explanation to himself as to what needed excusing. Mabel raised her voice a little, “What happened tonight?”

What happened tonight? Finally! A question he knew the answer to! He knew what had happened tonight, so long as he left out the almost-kissing-Jo part, “Oh! The interview! It went great! It--”

“The...interview…?” Mabel asked, cocking her head cluelessly.

“Yeah, the interview!” Dipper smiled a little, confused by chasing Mabel’s signals this way and that, “With Mystery Monthly about--”

“The interview?!” Mabel spat at him, cutting him off, her eyes suddenly blazing, “That--that is what you were doing tonight?!”

“Umm,” Dipper fidgeted, “Yes?”

“Of course!” Mabel threw up her hands and gave a derisive laugh, “Of course! Of fucking course that’s what you were doing tonight!” Dipper opened his mouth to ask what was going on as she took a step closer to him, “Of course, your stupid mystery thing was more important than my play!”

Oh, shit.

Dipper’s blood ran cold. The play. Everything suddenly clicked into place, opening up a hole in the pit of his stomach. The play, the play, the play. Oh my god, the play was tonight. He accidentally muttered the last part out loud, “Ohmygod, the play was tonight.”

“Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!” Mabel verified facetiously, “The play was tonight and, for the record, it was off-the-charts awesome. Not like you care.”

“It was just opening night, though, right?” Dipper supplicated, holding out his palms, trying to find a solution, “We’ll go tomorrow--”

“Oh, gee whiz, Dip,” Mabel rolled her eyes, “Heartwarming as it is to be an afterthought, that’s really not the flippin’ point at all!”

Ouch, Dipper winced, his hands dropping to his sides, “Mabes, you’re not an afterthought…”

“Yeah?” She scoffed, “Because it sure feels that way! This play has been the only stinking thing I talked about for weeks!” She took another step toward him, angry tears sparkling in her eyes, “I have lived and breathed ‘Twelfth Night’! I have sewed and glued until my fingers bled! I have gone to school early and come home late and you,” she scowled and Dipper’s heart ached, seeing the hurt just under the veneer of her anger, “You--you guys were, were happy to have me gone!”

“That’s not fair, Mabes,” Dipper said, how could she say that? He tried to resist the anger blooming inside him, “That is so not fair. Just because we forgot--”

“Ugggh!” Mabel’s hands clenched into fists, “But you didn’t just forget the play!” She took another step, glaring up at him, “You forgot me! Did you even wonder where I was? While I was looking for you in the audience, in the lobby, out in the parking lot, did you once think ‘Hm, where’s Mabel tonight?’ ” She pointed at him, “No! The whereabouts of stupid Nessie is more important to you than your own sister!”

“What the fuck, Mabel!” Dipper’s anger flared, eating up the unfair accusations like kindling, “You can’t compare Tessie to how--”

“Oh excuuuuse me,” Mabel mocked, “Tessie, not Nessie. Of course I would mix that up, silly stupid Mabel can’t even--”

“Shut up!” Dipper interrupted, grabbing Mabel by her shoulders, “You’re not stupid! You--”

“No, Dipper, I am stupid!” Mabel disagreed, the tears welling in her eyes becoming harder and harder to keep at bay, “It was stupid of me to assume you’d be there, it was stupid of me to--”

“Mabel, no,” Dipper’s anger wilted at the sight of Mabel fighting tears, holding onto her anger so hard, turning it back on herself. His voice softened, “I should have been there. I know how important this was to you and it was selfish and careless of me to forget.” His hand moved from her shoulder to soothingly pet her hair, looking into her tear-glazed eyes, “You’re not stupid. You’re so completely not stupid. I’m stupid for getting so caught up in this contest thing. You know I love you.”

“I love you,” Mabel said softly, blinking hard, fat tears squeezing out from under her eyelids and rolling down her cheeks.

“I know, Mabes,” Dipper said, a little relieved that her anger seemed to have been extinguished.

“No,” Mabel shook her head, and met his gaze again. His stomach dropped, confused by the deep sadness in her eyes, “I love you, Dipper. I love you.”

“Mabel, I don’t--” Before DIpper could blink, he was cut off by Mabel’s lips crushed against his own. She had thrown her arms around his neck and wobbled on her tiptoes, and he leaned down his head towards her, allowing her to rest back on her heels as he eagerly met her kiss. To him she tasted like ice cream and apple pie and just like glitter would taste if it was made of candy and her tears were salty but her lips were soft and Dipper’s mind was shutting down as his body was waking up. His arms went around her and hugged her to him and god she was so small and soft and he could feel her trembling as her anger went out of her. A voice in his head was screaming what’s happening? What’s happening? What do you think you’re doing? What the hell is happening? But it was quiet compared to the sound of Mabel’s almost inaudible sigh against him. Her sigh was in his mouth and a stray thought wondered how her voice could taste so good.

The haze of Mabel that enveloped Dipper like a cotton candy dream shattered with the sound of Jolene’s shocked cry.

Continue to Part 5

#pinecest #pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #jolene au #jbyc #just because you can #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 3 of 7, Chapters 9-11

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 9: Operation Tessie

Friday had felt like it would never end, so great was Dipper’s anticipation for Operation Tessie. But finally, as he knew it would, the day had come. He and Jo had risen early, eaten breakfast, grabbed the packs they had prepared the night before, and backed the Chariot out of the driveway before the sun (or the rest of their family) had stirred from their rest. Dipper had lost the race to the car, as usual, because despite his significantly longer legs, Jolene had the advantage of being a cheater. That meant he had been the one sitting behind the wheel as the sky lightened to a milky hue.

In contrast to their daily drive to school, they hadn’t played any music on the drive. There was something sacred about the pale quiet morning that neither of them wanted to disturb. Jo had sat in the passenger seat, turning the waterproof camera they’d pooled cash for last year absentmindedly in her lap. They had spoken little, both silently prepping for the adventure ahead.

The sun was high in the sky now, shining bright and hot on the woods. Dipper was grateful for the shade of the trees, but still found sweat wetting the back and underarms of his tee shirt. They’d parked the station wagon on the little gravel lot by the trailhead for Cave Rock. Cave Rock was a large natural rock formation on the southeastern shore of Lake Tahoe. The hike to the top was short, easy, and popular. The trips had done it with dad once years ago, and in a photo album somewhere, was a picture of the three of them grinning wide photo-ready smiles with the tableau of the lake behind them. Dipper smiled inwardly to himself thinking of it. He’d stood in the middle of his two sisters, as he customarily did for pictures, wearing the electric blue Monstermon tee shirt that had been brand new and treasured at the time. He still had it in the back of his tee shirt drawer, though it was much to small and worn thin, the decal faded and cracked, in some places peeled off completely. Mabel had been on his right, an explosion of gleeful little girliness. She’d insisted on wearing a cotton candy pink tutu over her jeans, and their parents had allowed it, already knowing better than to stand between Mabel and her overzealous fashion choices. Her hair was pulled into pigtails on either side of her head and she was smiling that signature huge Mabel smile, showing off her uneven pre-braces teeth, eyes directed mischievously at the bunny ears she held poised over Dipper’s head. Jo had stood to Dipper’s left, her shorts revealing scabby knees and bandaids on her shins, battle scars from climbing the knotted branches of the Dogwood tree in their backyard. Her auburn hair, worn longer then than it was now, was fluffing out of a single french braid Mabel had done for her in the car. Jolene wasn’t looking at the camera, though. Although she had a smile obediently plastered on her face, her head was turned so that the photo captured her profile. Her right arm was looped loosely around her brother’s waist, but her left hand shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun, casting a shadow over her face as she looked out of the picture’s borders into the distance, impatient to go back to exploring.

They weren’t doing the hike to the summit of Cave Rock today, though. They had come in the entrance of that trail, but instead of following the white blazes that marked the ascent to the top, they had broken away to make their way toward the water. It was tough going some of the way, when game trails petered off and they had to bushwhack their way through underbrush and tread carefully on uneven ground. They had worn their swimsuits underneath their clothes, in case the need to go in the water should arise, and as the day got hotter and hotter the prospect of swimming was sounding more and more appealing to Dipper. It’s early enough in the season that the water will be really cold, Dipper noted, Cold sounds pretty damn good right now.

“Are we theeeeere yet?” Jo whined sarcastically, although Dip could hear a tinge of very real impatience in her voice.

“If my estimate’s correct, we oughta get down to water level in the next ten minutes or so,” Dipper replied. He squinted through the trees at the unmistakable glint of the sun on the water’s surface.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jo said with a stiff salute, “If that’s what your calculations deduced I daresay that hypothesis is sound.”

“Ya know, if you didn’t want an answer, you could have tried not asking me every three minutes,” Dipper pointed out.

“But Bro-tective,” Jo said with a falsely sweet smile, “Your hypotheses are always so exciting.”

Dipper rolled his eyes but smiled. Jo was totally in her element. She never shone as brilliantly as when she was in her hiking boots, traipsing through the woods, hot on the trail of one mystery or other. Like a plant, she wilted indoors but flourished and brightened in the presence of sun and fresh air. She was moving at a brisk pace, taking in her surroundings happily, her focus never wavering from Tessie awaiting them somewhere ahead. She walked ahead of Dipper and the life jacket attached to her pack swung a little from side to side with each step, in unison with her short, springy ponytail. It was all Dipper could do to train his eyes on the orange life jacket and try to keep them from gravitating down to her round bottom.

Jo asked how long it would be twice more before they reached the rocky shoreline. It was common lore that Tessie lived in a subterranean cave beneath Cave Rock and they’d agreed to start their search with that. The leaves and soil gave way to pebbles and flat fragmented stretches of stone underfoot.

“Fiiiinally!” Jo exclaimed, spreading her arms and giving one grateful spin before picking up the pace and rushing ahead.

“Wait, Jo-jo!” Dipper called, speeding up to follow her, “Let’s review the plan.”

Jolene gave a prolonged groan, but stopped and turned to face him. She crossed her arms impatiently and pinned him with an unrelenting green gaze. God, her eyes are amazing out here, the sight of them always struck Dipper when they were out amongst the trees like this, “Fine, fine,” she said, “Tell me the plan again.”

“I don’t like your tone, young lady,” Dipper said, in his spot-on impersonation of dad.

“Ew, no,” Jo said, covering her ears, “Uncle! Uncle!  I’ll listen to the plan. Just please don’t do the dad voice, it’s so skeevyyy!”

Dipper grinned at her dismay and retrieved the typed out plan from the pocket of his swim trunks. He unfolded it and said, “Let’s see… m’kay, we already completed steps 1A through 3C,” he nibbled his lip in lieu of a pen, “Whiiiich brings us to 4A.”

“...which is?” Jo prompted in a bored tone.

“ ‘Upon reaching the shoreline,’ ” Dipper read, “ ‘Assess the presence of any cave openings or irregularities at the base of Cave Rock.’ ”

“No, duh,” Jo grumbled, turning on her heel to do just that.

“It goes on to state the following,” Dipper continued, “ ‘4B1, In the case of no openings or irregularities apparent, fan out in either direction to assess the nearby shore.’ or ‘4B2, In the case of apparent openings and/or irregularities, screen for evidence of preternatural presence (i.e. shed scales, ectoplasm, tracks, or other byproducts of the extra-ordinary).’ ”

“Cool beans, boss,” Jo said, shooting Dip finger-guns, “Or, in layman’s terms, look around for weird stuff.”

Dipper gave a long-suffering sigh, “Yes. Look around for weird stuff.” A companionable silence fell between the two of them as they moved forward, taking in their surroundings carefully in search of ‘weird stuff’.

Chapter 10: Operation Tessie, Cont’d

Jolene’s body thrummed with the purpose of adventure. She could practically smell Tessie nearby. The banks near the base of Cave Rock were stony and precarious, so, though her mind pushed her to leap into action, she had to proceed with care. Dipper moved along the base of the rock face in one direction while Jo took the other. The anticipation and promise of something, anything, hung too heavy in the air to leave room for errant conversation. She moved along, keeping her eyes peeled for any ‘opening and/or irregularity’.

“Jo-jo! Over here!” Dipper called behind her. He was about twenty feet away but she was beside him in an instant. Before she could ask or he could explain, she saw what he’d seen. There was a small inlet of the lake, no more than six feet across. It looked unremarkable enough, but it was worth further investigation. Jo dropped her pack on the ground and set about unlacing her boots. Dipper stared at her, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, brainiac?” she asked, without looking up, peeling off a sock and stuffing it into her shoe, “I’m going swimming.”

“4B2, Jo, we’re looking for evidence of the preternatural,” Dipper reminded her, sounding miffed.

To hell with 4B2, I ain’t gettin’ any younger here, the voice of adventure complained in Jo’s head, “Yeah, that’s what I’m doin’, Dip-man,” she said, trying to appease him, as she shucked the sock from her other foot and stood in her bare feet on the pebbles, cool in the shade of Cave Rock.

“C’mon, Jo,” Dipper said, his voice taking on some of its old squeakiness as Jolene undid her fly and wiggled out of her jeans, “Can’t you just follow the plan we agreed on?”

“Dipper, Jesus, I already told you I am!” Jo said as she pulled her sweaty tee shirt off over her head. The muscles in her brother’s jaw were tight, his gaze darkening now that she stood in front of him in just her teal one-piece bathing suit, “I’m looking for ‘evidence of the preternatural’ down there, in the ‘opening or irregularity’!” I love him, but I’m not letting his reticent bullshit stand between me and Tessie, Jo thought fiercely, as she nudged Dipper out of her way, and jumped unceremoniously into the water.

“Jo!” Dipper called uselessly as his sister’s head disappeared under the water with a splash, “...your life jacket.” He said, effectively to himself, for all the good it did.

Jo kept her eyes open, true to her word that she was looking for evidence. The water was cold, but no colder than she’d expected. She was pleasantly surprised that the water was deeper in the inlet that it had appeared. It had only looked about seven feet deep, but it was never easy to tell with naturally occurring bodies of water like this one. In fact, it was much deeper than that, at least fifteen feet. And beautiful. It was another world. The rocky basin of the lake was worn smooth from thousands of years of gentle currents, and slick and lush everywhere with dark green aquatic vegetation. The muffling effect of water pressure was a welcome otherworldly silence in her ears. The sunlight penetrated the surface and filtered through the lazy waves in slowly-rippling lines of green-blue.

Jo propelled herself forward with one smooth breaststroke and had to resist the instinct to gasp at the sight before her. There was a roughly round opening in the bedrock in front of her. The top of the opening was mere inches below the surface of the water. Desperate to see more before her breath ran out, Jo kicked her legs and pushed herself forward with her arms until she was at the mouth of the opening. It was just under four feet across at its widest part and dark within. Jolene’s heart was racing, wishing with all her heart she could breathe underwater, not wanting to waste time surfacing, knowing Dipper would waste more of her time with his stupid plan. But she could hold her breath no longer.

In the time Jolene had been submerged, Dipper had irritably stripped off his clothes and was securing his life jacket on. Jo’s head broke the surface, gulping deep breaths of air. Before Dipper could get a word in, Jo’s eyes found his. Oh no, he thought, seeing the familiar light of chaotic zeal in her eyes. It was the look his sister got whenever she was on the brink of adventure, when she was feeling alive in the face of danger. She gave him a slightly crazed grin, and said simply, “Cave!”

“Jo, you need your life jack--”

“Did you hear me, Dip-man?!” Jo cut him off, “I found a cave!”

“Okay, but--”

“No, Dip!” She snapped, scrambling out of the water and unfastening her pack, “Fuck the life jacket! I need a flashlight and the camera!”

Dipper wanted to insist, he wanted to yell at her, to convince her, but his voice died in his throat at the sight of her. Her bathing suit was soaked, and clung to every inch of her body. He could see the small nubs of her nipples, hardening under her suit as the air cooled against her. She bent over to rifle through the contents of her pack, and he was presented with the sight of the wet fabric snug against her rear. He swallowed hard as his gaze followed the cleft of her ass down between her legs, where it became a cleft of an entirely different nature. He could clearly see the shape of her lips and watched, transfixed, as a drop of water gathered and fell from them, distantly aware of his stiffening erection.

Jo had only one thing on her mind and it was getting into that cave. She retrieved the underwater flashlight and the camera in no time and turned back to the water without giving Dipper a second glance. “Oh, fuck it,” she heard him mumble behind her and a splash a second later. She looked over her shoulder to see his head emerging from the water, shaking the water from his hair like a dog. He had ditched his life jacket next to hers.

“Good of you to join me,” she teased, “The cave’s right in front of us, and the mouth is big enough for us to fit through.” She took a deep breath and dove back under without further explanation. Dipper cursed to himself again before following her lead.

She had switched on the flashlight and he instantly saw the cave she had been describing. He swam forward until he was beside her, studying the slippery walls of the cave entrance. His eyes widened at the sight of something by his right shin. He bent fluidly in the water to retrieve it and held it up for Jo to see with him. Sure enough, it was exactly what he’d thought. A scale. It was about an inch or two larger than the palm of his hand, and unmistakable. It was hard to tell the color underwater, but it shone with an indifferent iridescence. He slipped it into the pocket of his suit and Jo smiled at him, keeping her lips shut, and offered a fist bump.

As he reciprocated, a rush of murky-smelling water came from within the cave, and Jolene and Dipper retreated in opposite directions, each laying their back against the stone to either side of the cave. With the suddenness of a train flashing by in a subway station, something large and dark flew out of the hole in the rock. Tessie! Jo and Dipper exchanged a millisecond-long look of disbelief before each kicking off of the stone and swimming to catch up with the object of their search.

With the beam of the flashlight directed at her and her trajectory leading her into the better lit openness of the lake, the creature looked to be about thirty feet in length. Description of her had varied anywhere from snake to seal to dolphin. Dipper had not gotten a good look at her head, but her body was most like that of a salamander. Long, supple, and soft with four webbed feet and a tail. She moved by a combination of wriggling like a snake and paddling like a salamander. She moved at a neat pace, but it was not hard to keep up with her. She was a beautiful black, shining cobalt and green like the plumage of a Grackle.

Dipper had been so taken with the sight of her, that he had stopped watching for Jolene. He looked around now, panic-stricken. In his mind suddenly vivid fears were bursting like flashbulbs, of bubbles streaming from Jo’s drowning mouth, of her soft body dashed against the rocks. A flash of pale skin alerted him to her location and he swore at her loudly in his head. She was just beside Tessie’s head, flashlight tucked between her body and her elbow, holding the camera up and desperately snapping pictures. Instinct to protect his sister overwhelmed instinct to protect himself and Dipper cried out for her, water rushing immediately into his mouth and lungs.

Jo didn’t hear him and didn’t realize at first what happened, but Tessie’s ears, more sensitive than theirs to the vibrations in her waters, whirled around at once, her fleshy tail colliding with Dipper’s side and flinging him through the water.

Jo’s thirst for proof was intoxicating, maddening, clouding her senses. Tessie was right there. But this wasn’t just about Tessie, it was about all the past adventures she had missed, all the future adventures that victory could open the door to. Tessie twisted again in the water and presented Jolene with a perfect composition, revealing her entire form, the details of her face and color of her scales revealed by a shaft of watery light. Jo mashed the button on the camera without ceasing until Tessie had swam swiftly away.

With Tessie’s retreat, sense began to return to Jolene. Her lungs were on fire, screaming for air. And a rush of shameful adrenaline shot through her when her mind landed on Dipper, and she swam as hard as she could in the direction Tessie had thrown him.

Chapter 11: Homeward

Despite the success of their journey, Jo and Dipper did not speak much on the ride home. A shamefaced Jolene had offered to drive and Dipper had shrugged silently and climbed into the passenger seat. It was uncomfortable sitting in their wet bathing suits, but neither of them complained. It didn’t matter.

Dipper fumed quietly as Jo drove. This shit is exactly why we need a plan, he repeated to himself for the hundredth time, we cannot do things that way. They had been lucky this time. When Tessie had struck him, she had pushed him back into the inlet where they’d jumped in. Fortunately, he hadn’t been too out of it to recognize his surroundings and had managed to crawl out of the lake, hacking up the water in his lungs and trying to get his bearings. Jo did not follow for a few minutes, and Dipper had spent those minutes in a complete panic. Before his breathing had even returned to its normal rhythm, an anxiety attack was upon him. He was convinced that Jo was dead, that she’d died on his watch, that he’d led her to a watery grave.

I knew, he had chastised himself, I saw the signs. She was acting crazy, stupid, she was going to get herself killed. A toxic self-loathing bubbled in his chest. When she came out of the water, he should have stopped her. Should have made her see, should have forced her to see reason. But you were too busy checking her out, you sicko. The sight of her wet bathing suit snug against her skin was vivid in his mind and it doused him in shame. You were too busy ogling your sister to protect her. Not fucking cool, man. That is your only and most important job.

When she had popped out of the water, gasping for air and calling his name, his anxiety had transformed instantly into anger. It’s not my fault, he realized, the situation coming clear in his mind, it’s her fault. She put us both in harm’s way! A thought had popped into his head, suddenly, uninvited, of Mabel at home. They’d left that morning while she’d been asleep, hadn’t said goodbye, and with the reckless dangerous bullshit that Jo just pulled, it’s a miracle we’re both going home. Anger and guilt and sadness tore at the inside of his ribs, at the thought of Mabel up all night, worrying why her two best friends hadn’t come home, hadn’t called, hadn’t even hugged her goodbye or said where they were going.

Jo’s impulsiveness had gotten them in trouble plenty of times before. And it was bad enough that Jo had almost gotten him killed, could have gotten herself killed, but she would’ve broken Mabel’s heart, without even caring. That, Dip couldn’t forgive.

You’re such a piece of shit. You’re such a piece of shit. You’re such a piece of shit. The mantra in Jolene’s head had hardly let up since Tessie had swam away. In an oxygen-deprived frenzy, she had scoured the area for her brother’s inert form before admitting she couldn’t help him if she let herself drown. When she’d come up for air, she’d found him sitting on the stony bank with a stormy look on his face. Dipper didn’t anger easily, but when he did, he made no effort to hide it. They’d dressed and hiked back to the car without saying more than ten words to each other, and even less since they’d been on the road.

A sharp, sorry feeling gnawed at Jo’s insides. She had gotten so caught up in Tessie, in the proximity of victory, in the thrill of the chase, she’d practically forgotten Dipper was there. She’d felt so invincible, she’d forgotten that she wasn’t. She’d forgotten that he wasn’t either. You are such an unbelievable piece of shit, she told herself again. Yes, they’d both wanted this, but she had acted like an idiot. I should maybe have paid a little more attention to the plan.

“Learn to follow a plan,” Dipper said, as if he’d read her mind, his voice dangerously quiet, “Learn to follow a plan, or this is the last adventure I go on with you.”

“Okay,” Jo said, her voice whistling out of her pathetically.

“I’m serious,” Dipper said, leaning his head against the headrest and shutting his eyes, “No more ditching a plan the minute you find a clue. No more unnecessary risk.” he sighed, “It seems like I can’t keep you from trying to get yourself killed, but you’re not going to get us both killed.” She saw him grimace out the corner of her eye, “I’m not doing that to Mabes.”

Jolene had thought she felt bad before, but those words hit her like a truck. You’re a reeeeeal piece of shit, Jolene Pines, the voice in her head insisted, You love your sister enough to watch her change and jack off to her, but not enough to consider how much you could be breaking her heart. Way to fucking go. The tears were rolling silently down her cheeks before she even realized they were in her eyes, “I’m sorry, Dipper,” she said softly.

“Just don’t pull this shit again,” he said simply. They were both quiet for a moment, stewing in their private guilt, before Dipper asked tentatively, “Did you… did you get a good shot?”

Jo shook her head, “I’m not sure. I think so, but I, uh, I haven’t looked.”

Dipper reached into the backseat and fumbled around for the camera. He turned it on and used the preview feature to flip through the photos Jo had taken, “Wow,” he said softly.

“Wow good or wow bad?”

“Wow good, Jo,” Dipper said, a hint of excitement rising in his voice, “Wow very fucking good.”

A few minutes later, Jo pulled the Mystery Machine into their driveway. Her heart twinged with relief at being home, and guilt that she was almost the reason they didn’t make it home. Too exhausted and excited to worry about it, they left their packs in the backseat and went inside with only the camera. No sooner than they opened the door than they were greeted by the smell of food cooking and Mabel’s voice, “Jo-jo? Dip? Is that you guys?”

“Yeah,” Dipper called, with a somewhat bashful smile, “It’s us, c’mere!”

Mabel came tearing into the room from the kitchen, the smell of some feast clinging to her and making their stomachs grumble. As if she wasn’t irresistible enough, Dipper thought, breathing the aroma in deep, such a welcome change from the murky lake smell that clung to himself and Jo. She explained that she was making dinner for all of them. Mom and dad had gone out (something they’d been doing a lot, trying to ‘rekindle the spark’ or something) and she figured they’d have worked up at appetite with all that mystery-hunting. Both Dipper and Jo felt the guilt clamp down a little harder on their hearts, imagining Mabel waiting at home with a full supper getting cold on the table, laid out for siblings that weren’t coming back.

However, they pushed the feeling aside and mustered the appropriate enthusiasm to show her the best photos of Tessie and the scale they’d swiped from the entrance to her cave. Mabel bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet and hugged them and congratulated them, assuring them that they were ‘totes gonna win’. After a few minutes of jubilation, Dipper and Jo excused themselves to get cleaned up before the food was ready.

Mabel walked back into the kitchen and let her excited facade fall. She covered her face with her hands and took deep steadying breaths, trying with all her might not to cry. They match, she told herself brokenly, They come in all sunburned and exhausted and stinky and I’m here like a dumb housewife, putting dinner on the table. But why would they care about that? She sniffled, taking her hands from her face to stir one of the pots on the stove, Why would they want this when they could have someone brave and smart like them? They’d both glowed with the same weary pride as they showed her the proof they’d brought back, and there was only room for two in that pool of light. Whatever it was that had happened to the two of them out there in Tahoe today was just another thing between them of which she could never be a part.

Continue to Part 4

#pinecest #pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #jolene au #jbyc #just because you can #sevralfics

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 1 of 7, Chapters 1-4

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest 

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 1: Viola & Sebastian

Cut it out, Mabel-girl, Mabel chastised herself impatiently as she squeezed a dollop of hot glue onto the back of a rhinestone and carefully pressed it against the fabric. Years of practice had left her a very quick and efficient rhinestone-gluer, and it was hard to keep her mind from wandering. And as always it kept creeping back to Dipper, like a tongue to a missing tooth. No, none of that skeevy stuff, quit it!

Think about the play, she told herself desperately. She continued gluing one rhinestone after another, thoroughly bedazzling a doublet for Duke Orsino. Mr. McMahon, the music teacher and director of the play, had warned her not to “mabelify” the costumes too much. He’d reminded her that ‘less is more’ and that they didn’t want a repeat of last year’s production of ‘Oklahoma!’. Well, Mabel huffed to herself, Less is not more. Obviously more is more or it wouldn’t be called ‘more’! And ‘Oklahoma!’ was fabulous! Maybe Jud wouldn’t have been such a jerkface if he’d sewn sequins onto his overalls!

Mabel smiled to herself at the memory of some of her best and sparkliest work, but turned her attention back to ‘Twelfth Night’. She glanced over at the matching outfits she had made for Viola and Sebastian’s respective first scenes. She liked to think that they had worn matching outfits onto the boat together before getting shipwrecked and cross-dressing got them all mixed up. They were her favorite costumes for the play, and had been since the drawing board. In her first sketch, on a silly impulse, she had drawn Dipper’s old pine tree hat onto the faceless little dude she’d drawn and giggled at the thought of her level-headed, anxious, generous brother as Sebastian, who in her opinion was kind of a butt.

It’s still nice to think about, she admitted, gazing at the blue dress and the blue trouser and jacket set, laid out next to each other on the floor, if it were me and Dip. In those sparkly matching outfits, lying side by side on the floor like that, just us. Like maybe while she was taking a break from all this bedazzling and sewing, when Dip told her she was working too hard. It was so easy to picture, just the two of them, lying on the floor in those pretty clothes. They’d be laughing and talking, while she twisted some of the pretty black lace from one of Olivia’s gowns between her fingers, and Dipper would lean over and kiss her--

“Ugh!” Mabel threw down the glue gun on the table in frustration. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight back the angry tears that were threatening to fall. Her eyes hurt, she realized, badly. Probably from staring at too close a distance at little rhinestones and beads and stitches for hours. Sure, yeah, that’s it. Just working too hard. She opened her eyes and picked up the glue gun, wiping off the heated tip with a scrap of fabric, unplugging it, and wrapping the cord around the handle. She hastily cleaned up, scooping handfuls of sequins and spools of thread into little baggies and bins. There were finished and unfinished costumes lying all around her little craft corner in the basement den, and she set about picking them up. Mabel didn’t want to touch those pretty blue costumes for Viola and Sebastian, though she loved them. When all the others were picked up, she glared down at them for a moment, with her hands on her hips.

It could never be like that, Mabesy, she told herself resignedly, There’d be another blue dress, and someone in it. There would have to be one for Jo. Mabel felt a painful stab of guilt in her heart. She loved her sister and she loved having a sister. But the idea of being twins instead of triplets, of being Dipper’s only sister, his special sister, it appealed to some deep dark part of her that she hated.

Jo wouldn’t even wear a dress. She thought about when mom had made Jolene wear a dress to their cousin Alan’s wedding, and how she had fought tooth and nail to get out of it. And how self-conscious she was in it, tugging it down to cover her scabby knees and pulling it up to contain her generous cleavage. Mabel had loved her own dress, a frothy green number that came with a dreamy sea green shawl. She remembered how she’d lent the shawl to Jo and how gratefully she had wrapped it around herself, instantly more at ease by covering up a little. “Thanks, Miss-Sis,” she’d said, with a kiss to Mabel’s nose, “You’re the bestest.” Her emerald green eyes had been so big with gratitude behind her glasses, the green so beautifully complimented by the shawl.

Mabel left the Viola and Sebastian costumes on the ground and walked up the creaky stairs out of the den, turning off the light switch at the top of the stair without a glance behind her. She went right up the other staircase to the bedrooms upstairs, without stopping in the kitchen for a bite to eat. There was a bag of gummy koalas in her backpack with her name on it. As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard her siblings talking and followed the sound. I could use some normal good trip times, Mabel decided. She reached Dipper’s bedroom door and halted.

Dipper was sitting on his bed, in pajama pants and an old Mystery Shack tee shirt, holding a ragged dog-eared book in his hand, a pen sticking out of his mouth. His hair was wet, so he must have already showered. He had learned to shower at night so as to avoid fighting over the bathroom with his sisters in the morning. He was reading aloud a passage about some mysterious urban legend or crop circle or something, his speech hardly impeded by the pen after years of practice. Jolene was lying on the bed, still in her jeans (the cute ones that hadn’t been too torn and stained on hikes and mystery hunts yet) and a green tank top. Her head rested  in Dipper’s lap and she was jotting down notes on what he was saying in a spiral-bound notebook. She held the notebook too close to her face, allowing her to see it without her glasses. As always, the two looked wonderfully relaxed with each other.

In whatever bonkers universe Dipstick ever decides to lean over and kiss his sister, Mabel realized with stinging clarity, it’s not going to be me.

Chapter 2: Adventure Awaits

“This is really no time to be playing it safe, Dip-man,” Jolene said, dropping her notebook on the bed to the left of her and looking up at her brother, “Go big or go home.”

“You know I think that phrase is dumb, Jo,” Dipper said, his face still obscured by his book, “Like yeah, you could go small and get to go home afterwards oooor you could go big, die at the talons of some monster you can’t take, and not come home again. But like you went big, so, somehow that’s better? Like surviving to go home is part of the goal?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it a zillion times, Dipper,” Jo rolled her eyes exaggeratedly although he wasn’t looking. Triplet sense would fill him in.

It did. He dropped his thoroughly dog-eared and annotated copy of William Thomas Cox’s ‘Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods’ (a seminal text for them that nearly rivaled Uncle Ford’s journals) and looked down at his sister, frowning up at him from his lap, “I know, sis,” he said, in a wearily sympathetic tone, “But it’s just a stupid competition! It doesn’t even have a cash prize or anything. It’s not worth risking our necks.”

Jo rolled her eyes again, even harder than before, as she pulled herself into a sitting position and locked eyes with her brother, “C’mon, Dip, no risk, no gain! Think about what Grunkle Stan always says, you gotta spend money to make money!” Dipper gave a dismissive laugh, “Sure, yeah, but he always follows it with whispering ‘or you could just make it look like you spent money’. Forgot that part, Jo.”

“Okay, okay, not my point!” Jo explained, exasperated but grudgingly amused by the thought of her Grunkle’s antics, “My point… Adventure, Dipper!” she said, wide-eyed and grinning, fanning out her hands, “It’s not about the contest, or any cash prize, or just making it look like we took a chance… it’s about adventure! I know you wanna see the crazy stuff that’s out there with your own eyes, just as bad as I do!”

She made a good case for it, she always does, Dipper noted, but he was cautious. He was the cautious one of them, it was his job. He had to be. If he wasn’t, he and his sister would have recklessly walked into the nightmare jaws of something before they’d ever reached puberty. And she had that look in her eyes that he knew so well. It was at times like this she looked least like Mabel, who, though she absolutely had her own brand of impulsive craziness, did not have Jo’s taste for danger. Her green eyes twinkled with a zealous light that always reminded him more of Wendy than of his sister. Dipper’s stomach did an uneasy somersault at the comparison to his first major crush, and pushed the thought away, “Jo, listen…”

“Jo, listen,” Jo mimicked with an impatient ‘blah-blah-blah’ hand gesture.

“Ha ha, I know, I’m a total lame stick in the mud, my feelings are so hurt,” it was his turn to roll his eyes, “Will you just hear me out, please?” Jo gave an overblown sigh, before giving him a ‘go on’ signal, “I hear what you’re saying. Of course I wanna go after adventure, of course I want to see some cool stuff. I know that’s not actually in question at all and you’re just trying to prod me into doing something dumb,” Jolene shrugged but couldn’t suppress a mischievous ‘you got me’ smile, “I want to track and find some weirdo thing that’s never been proven, I wanna win that contest and be in ‘Mystery Monthly’…”

“But…?” Jo offered.

“But…” Dipper picked up, nodding, “I just think the Lone Pine Mountain Devils are biting off more than we can chew.”

“But Dip!” Jo insisted, “They’ve never been photographed! They still haven’t figured out what happened to those kids that went missing in 2010! They might be surviving dinosaurs! Or, or, they might be--”

“I know, Jo-jo, I know, I know, okay?” she quieted, but crossed her arms stubbornly, “I know everything about them there is to know, just like you.” He sighed, “But by every account there is, they’re ruthless and there’s a lot of them! We go out there, ill-equipped, without backup, we end up just like those Spanish settlers in 1878 or those stupid high school kids.”

Dipper hated seeing the way his sister’s shoulders slumped when she lost an argument, but better disappointed now than devoured by Lone Pine Mountain Devils later, he reminded himself. If they actually found something, and actually won, and actually got their findings published, they could maybe gain the support to think about something like looking for the Devils. It was a lot of ifs, but playing it safe now could pay off later. He knew Jo would sooner dive headlong into it, but not on his watch.

“Well, Mr. Smarty-pants-know-it-all,” Jo said, her frown curling up slightly, “What considerably less cool thing do you want to look for instead of the way cooler thing I suggested?”

“How about Tessie?” Dipper suggested, grabbing his book again and opening it to the page for Tahoe Tessie, California’s very own beloved Loch Ness Monster, “I know it’s been done, but there hasn’t been a serious investigation in like forty years, by all accounts the creature isn’t actually aggressive, and we know from experience to bring more than seventeen disposable cameras.”

Jolene forced a smile, is that reminder supposed to make me feel better or shut me up? She wondered, studying her brother’s expectant face, as always, Dip’s the authority, because what do I know? It’s not like I’ve been on a real adventure. But, whatever he had meant by it, Dipper was waiting for an answer, waiting for her to concede like she always did. It was hard to say no to her best friend, and although the Lone Pine Mountain Devils were undeniably the cooler option, it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to see ole Tessie too. That uncanny triplet sense was kicking in again because Dipper’s smile broadened a second after she changed her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile back, “Alright, bro-tective, you win,” she said, “Tessie it is.”

“Mystery Kids?” Dip said, offering a fistbump.

Ya can’t leave a fistbump truce hanging, Jo thought, bumping her fist to his, “Mystery Kids.”

Chapter 3: The Power of Mabel

It was almost two in the morning when Jolene crept from Dipper’s room across the hall to the room she shared with her sister. She was careful to open the door quietly, but found the light still on, Mabel sitting up in bed going over her ‘Twelfth Night’ script, apparently taking down notes about props and costumes that weren’t finished. She popped a couple of gummy koalas into her mouth and gave a wave without looking up at the door, “‘Sup, Jo-jo?”

“Not much, Mabey,” Jo said, walking over to her dresser and opening her pajama drawer, “Just hanging with that dumb brother of ours.”

“Ha!” Mabel closed her script, “I think I know the one.” She was quiet for a sec, watching her sister change into an old pair of sweats and tee shirt, how does she make a ratty old tee shirt look so hot?  “Sooo…” she said, “You guys settle on a critter to stalk for that contest thinger?”

Jo knew she was asking to be polite, but appreciated it anyway. Although Mabel had accompanied her trusty wombmates on countless forays into the unexplained, it had been established years ago that she did not have Dipper or Jo’s penchant for it. But she was a good sister and a good friend, and always showed the most genuine interest she could in their many schemes. And yet, Jo bemoaned for the zillionth time, she was there that summer while I was stuck in summer school here. Although she was just as bright as her triplets, and comfortably smug about it, she’d never gotten consistently good grades like them. School was reductive, and no one liked her, and worst of all, it was boring. Jolene had never done well with rules, and she did even worse with boredom. I’m a woman of action, I wasn’t meant to sit in a classroom with a bunch of Neanderthals, listening to a teacher drone on about some shit I already know. But how many times had she wished, that fateful summer and since, that she had just sucked it up and done her work in seventh grade? While they were in Oregon, saving the world and coming to terms with their strengths and stuff, I was sitting in a classroom that smelled like B.O. and redoing work that I should have just done the first time.

“Earth to Joleeene,” Mabel sang.

“Huh?” Jo withdrew from her memory, “Oh, yeah, we’re going to look for Tahoe Tessie.”

“Ah! A fine choice, mademoiselle,” Mabel said with a flourish, imitating a smarmy French waiter.

“Merci, merci,” Jo joked back, hopping into her bed adjacent to her sister’s. Mabel’s phone announced the receipt of a text with the oink of a pig and she picked it up at once to read and respond. Jo casually studied Mabel, as she had every day for almost seventeen years. As usual, she marvelled at Mabel’s effortless femininity. The girls had always had a striking resemblance, and they still did, but to Jolene the difference was like night and day. Mabel was ever the vision of girliness, her quirky touches not detracting from it at all. Petite and slender and lithe, her curves were modest and lovely, never demanding undue attention. Her long curly hair fell halfway down her back, in ever-perfect waves, her fingernails and toes were always painted in bright colors, and one couldn’t look at her without being drawn into her big brown doe eyes. Even her PJs had frills and bows and a pattern with silly little pink watermelon slices. Those flouncy little pink pajama shorts made it impossible not to admire the graceful line of her leg, the pale flawless skin that disappeared beneath the ruffled trim--

Stop it, freak! Jolene threw her gaze angrily to the opposite side of the room from Mabel, kicking herself for letting her thoughts wander into that weird stupid gross place that they so loved to visit. She’s your sister, dammit, and besides that she’s way out of your league! Jo knew the voice in her head was telling the truth about this. Of course they were fraternal, but people often mistook them for identical twins, and it took so much willpower not to laugh in their face. Obviously they were only being polite. Where girliness and cuteness came naturally to Mabel, things like memorizing trivia and starting a campfire came naturally to Jo. Not that she didn’t value those things or whatever, but sister or not, she was no kind of match for a girl like Mabel. Where Mabel was slim, Jo fought always with a pudgy midsection and curves she’d just as soon conceal. Where Mabel’s hair shone and curled in pretty nut-brown waves, Jo’s was brassy and frizzed in the presence of the slightest humidity. And it wasn’t just looks, Jolene figured she’d looked fine despite her complaints, but Mabel was a people magnet! Charming and silly and thoughtful, she could make friends with anyone in a minute flat. She remembered people’s birthdays and made them laugh and helped transfer students find their lockers and homerooms without being asked. And I’m a cranky jerk with a chronic need of an attitude adjustment.

Mabel finished responding to the text and replaced her phone on her bedside table. She rolled onto her side to face Jo and rested her head on her hand, “So, that was Brandon Cooper. Dude wants me to do his measurements again.”

Jo laughed, “Seriously? What is this, like the fifth time he’s asked?”

“Well, only third, but honestly,” Mabel continued, “At first I thought he was like insecure or whatnot, that like he didn’t want me to think he was fat or wanted his costume to not be too tight or whatever? And like he isn’t fat so that was kinda weird but like he’s nice enough, I guess? But a third time is just redonk. Antonio isn’t a huge character anyway and I already finished making his costumes and just in case I gave it an elastic waist so like… I dunno, I think he maybe just wants to hang out with the Mabel.”

“Well,” Jo gave a theatrical knowing look, “I mean, who can blame him?”

“Yes, yes,” Mabel gave a small swish of her hair, “Of course, no one can resist the power of Mabel.”

Jo laughed, “It always comes back to the power of Mabel with you.”

“Even I am powerless to the power of Mabel!” Mabel insisted, landing her fist on the mattress with conviction.

“Okay, well, that makes just about zero sense, Miss-Sis,” Jo pointed out, through laughter, “But anyway, like, do you think the power of Mabel is strong enough to grow Mr. Brandon a pair?”

“Pssh,” Mabel made a dismissive gesture, “Even Mabel is not that mighty. He had his mom ask Kelsey Beechman to homecoming for him.”

Jo pulled a face, “Oh, honey. Yeah, he’s beyond even your considerable influence.” Mabel nodded in agreement, “So how’s everything else going with the play?”

“Well, Mr. McMahon told me not to ‘mabelify’ it too much, as in use the sparkly in moderation,” she elaborated.

“Naturally, Mabelness is synonymous with sparkliness,”

“Abso-tively,” Mabel agreed appreciatively, “The power of Mabel compels me to bedazzle,” Jo chuckled, happily listening as her sister explained how she had tried moderation but one piece after another simply wasn’t sparkly enough. She could fume all she wanted about her sister, but when push came to shove, she was no more capable of resisting the power of Mabel than any other mere mortal.

Chapter 4: Morning Mania

There were many ways in which the triplets differed from each other, but across the board, they were not morning people. Although Mabel tended to be the closest to human in the morning, all three would have much rather been curled up in bed. Their breakfasts differed considerably. Dipper nursed a cup of black coffee and a couple slices of toast in grumpy bed-headed silence. Jolene consistently had the biggest appetite and put away a banana, some corn flakes, and a piece of toast that Dipper had pushed away with a grunt, all the while re-reading the current issue of ‘Mystery Monthly’ that detailed the ‘Explain the Unexplained’ contest that they were submitting to. And Mabel ate a bowl of sugary cereal with strawberry milk and extra marshmallows added. They had accepted their different eating habits years ago, and as long as they were in agreement that breakfast was no time for a conversation, they got along perfectly well in the morning.

Unfortunately, their parents still had not gotten the memo on the Morning Conversation Moratorium, and often chose this time to try to get the three zombies impersonating their children to open up to them. Their mom had already left for work, but their father, who worked from home a couple days a week, stood in his bathrobe and PJs by the stove, with a cup of coffee, trying to engage his three uncooperative offspring.

Mabel loved her parents, and knew her siblings did, too. They were caring, involved, and made a decent effort to know and support their kids. But honestly, since long before they could talk, the triplets had formed their own language, and their own little family unit. Weirdness seemed to have skipped a generation in the Pines family, and their parents had always had a hard time truly relating to their off-beat kids. It must be hard, Mabel thought compassionately, Being an outsider to the Mystery Kids.

“Heya, Scout,” dad said, addressing Jo by the nickname mom and dad had given her as a small girl, “Ya reading about more of those cryptics you and your brother are always so jazzed about?”

“Crytids,” Jo mumbled, by way of response.

“That’s it. Hey, tomato, to-mah-to, am I right?”He replied.

“Sure, dad,” Jo said on autopilot.

Dad took a slow sip of coffee and Mabel jumped on the chance to interrupt the polite dad question game before it went on another agonizing second, “So, daddy, any thoughts about what’s for dinner tonight? I saw pork in the fridge.”

“My little detective, just like your brother and sister, I swear!” He joked, before launching into detailed descriptions of the different preparations he was considering. Mabel wasn’t the kind of elaborate cook dad was, but she liked listening to him talk about it. He got excited about cooking. It was a creative outlet for him, and she could sympathize with just about any kind of creative outlet. Jo caught her eye and mouthed ‘thank you’ for stopping the AM interrogation she’d been receiving. Mabel gave her a wink.

A moment later, dad was tapping an imaginary watch on his wrist and reminding them that it was almost time to go. In near-silence, they fetched their respective school bags, bid dad ‘seeya’, and headed out the door.

“Last one to the car’s a unicorn!” Mabel challenged the instant they were outside, breaking into a sprint. They might have been the only three kids who took the insult of ‘unicorn’ so seriously, but all three were running hard in an instant. The green station wagon they’d all pitched in for was parked on the street by the mailbox. They had all shared the cost of the car, and therefore all felt they had a claim to naming rights. While Jo insisted on calling it the Mystery Machine (which her siblings deemed to be too on-the-nose), Dipper called it The Chariot, citing some junk about Apollo and triads, but Mabel always fondly referred to it as Aoshima. Aoshima wasn’t more than ten yards from the door, so it was a brief race, however fierce the competition. Mabel reached the car first and hopped into the coveted passenger seat, Jo second, immediately claiming the driver’s seat with her butt and adjusting the mirrors, while Dipper reached the car a second later with a groan.

“Ah, Dipper, stain on our family name,” Jo mocked haughtily through the open driver’s side door, “Ever the unicorn in our midst.”

Dipper opened the driver side door to the backseat and groaned again. Behind Mabel’s seat back, the backseat was piled high with props and costumes for the High School’s production of ‘Twelfth Night’. He thought all of the bits of fabric peeking out were a little too bedazzled to be believable for the Elizabethan era, but thus was the way of Mabel. He climbed in behind Jo, uncomfortably folding his legs against the back of her seat, “Hey, Jo-jo, think you could scoot that seat up a little?”

“Dipper,”Jo said in a scandalized tone, “I need my seat here to drive. Don’t you realize your life is in my hands??”

“Yes, and I’m wishing I’d put a little more work into my will…” Dipper grumbled, accepting his fate.

As they tore out of the driveway, Mabel pushed a cassette tape into the player and gave them both a grin, which they returned. Their tried-and-true Manic Morning Mix spilled out of the speakers, and all three triplets burst into song, off-key. Mabel thought about their parents, how much they didn’t understand that breakfast was no time for talking. They also don’t understand that car rides are a time for rejoicing! The first day the trips had driven themselves to school in their car, they’d had a celebratory sing-a-long. That had been a special occasion. Then they repeated it the following day and the following day, and in no time it was a routine. We’re all so busy now with so much dumb junkum, Mabel thought, glancing at the rear-view mirror at the heap of costumes it reflected, sometimes this is the only time we’ve got to let the Trip Flag fly.

She leaned to the side a little so that the mirror showed her Dipper instead. He was taller than his sisters by a head and his long legs were uncomfortably bent towards his chest, but he wasn’t complaining. He was happily singing along at full volume, intermittently drumming along on his raised knees, a completely different person than the coffee zombie that had sat at the kitchen table. She loved seeing him like this, bobbing his head and tossing his hair like a nerd while he sang, his smile never budging.

It’s a shame the people at school never get to see them like this, Mabel considered, as she often did. Although both her siblings had a couple friends, neither was comfortable enough in school to let loose. Whereas letting loose had always kinda been Mabel’s default mode of behavior. So people never even meet the bestest part of them! Honestly, Mabel felt sorry for all those people and felt an inward surge of pride and gratitude, I get the bestest part of the bestest people to myself!

Continue to Part 2

#pinecest #pinescest #gravity falls fanfiction #jolene au #jbyc #just because you can #sevralfics