Chapter Text
Don’t Go In
There were monsters in the lake.
Logically, of course there were. He’d seen one his first time coming to Gravity Falls. But that fact made his investigations no less eerie. Two tourists this last week had already drowned, which wouldn’t be too mysterious to a simple policeman or detective…that didn’t know about GF’s paranormal and supernatural phenomena. A normal person with no experience regarding it would likely brush it off—and the cops in town seemed either too oblivious or downright ignorant to look further. Or maybe they just didn’t want to be bothered with more crap like Weirdmageddon. So Dipper took it upon himself to skulk around the lake at night with his camera and journals in tow.
And Pacifica, who’d taken it upon herself to join him.
She’d been at the gift shop three days straight now. Which wasn’t a problem in and of itself, but it was just…strange. He hadn’t invited her. She had shown up on her own, claiming she wanted to hang out. Which was fine? He guessed? Soos didn’t seem to mind.
He didn’t know why he felt weird about it. Maybe he was still getting used to her new persona. When away from her parents’ crowd, she was decently nice. Certainly not friendly, but nice.
So there they were on Friday night, just before midnight, squatting along the tree line and staring at the dark, ominous waters.
“Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?” Pacifica whispered, her face scrunched up in skepticism.
“Two adults drowning in the same week?” Dip muttered, flipping through Journal 3 and his own—still unnamed. “Both at sunset, might I add.”
“Yeah, but we’ve been at this for three nights now. We haven’t seen anything. I’m losing beauty rest.”
“No one asked you to tag along,” he pointed out.
Paz shrugged, tossing her braided pigtail over a shoulder. “I thought this would’ve been interesting.”
“Well, I can’t do a stake-out. Those take hours that I don’t have, since I have to open and close the shop. So we’re stuck doing this until we do see something.” Dipper sighed, closing both journals and tucking them in his backpack. “I don’t really know what we’re even looking for. I wish I had the first two of Ford’s journals, but he took them when he went on yet another expedition with Stan.”
“Hmm. You twin types are real buddy-buddy, huh?”
“What does that mean?”
Pacifica shrugged again, looking a bit uncomfortable now. “I dunno. I don’t have a sibling or anyone I’m really close to. So it’s just weird seeing that…dynamic up close.”
Dipper snorted humorlessly. “We’re not as connected as you think. Stan and Ford didn’t speak for years because of some major misunderstandings. Mabel and I still fight sometimes.”
“Yeah, but…” Paz drew circles in the dirt with her nail, resting her chin on her knees. “You still depend on each other in the end, right?”
“Always,” he answered automatically.
“I’ve always wanted something like that. Even when I pretend I don’t.”
Dipper fell silent for a few beats. Then tried to break the ice with light teasing. “You get kinda emotional at night, don’t you?” he smirked.
She tossed a pessimistic glance his way, but didn’t really reply. Jeez, talk about a frigid temperament.
They fell into another quiet spell, leaving Dipper to his wandering thoughts as they stared back out at the lake. Mabel would be back Monday afternoon, according to her most recent text. He could barely believe it’d been almost two weeks of summer already; between the vampire incident, discovering the new side of Pacifica, and the sad ghost story, it felt like barely any time had passed. He had the grim predisposition that there’d be a lot more to deal with in the near future, but he sincerely—and/or figuratively—knocked on wood.
Pressing his lips into a thin line, he scanned the murky waters ahead with alert eyes. Not even a ripple disturbed them. Sigh. Paz was right. He worried they might spend another fruitless three hours and miss out on another good nights’ sleep.
“Dipper…”
He turned his head at her cold, shaky whisper, instantly feeling that creepy, skin-crawling premonition-thing. “What?” he replied breathlessly, trying to follow her line of sight but seeing nothing in his furious darting. “Where?”
Another glance at her and he noticed she’d gone paler than normal. “The right edge. I saw something.”
“What did it look like?” Dipper pulled out his camera and zoomed in, immensely grateful he’d saved up for something this nice. However, there was nothing there. No ripples, no footprints, no disturbance whatsoever. He lowered the machine, frowning.
“I don’t know…” she shook her head slowly, as if confused. “Gray? Sickly? Gangly, kind of, I think… I dunno, maybe I was imagining things…”
“No, if you saw something, I believe you,” he said firmly, squeezing her shoulder assuringly. “We might just have to wait again.”
Paz shivered despite the humid summer night, staring down at the scribbles she’d done in the dirt. Dipper couldn’t blame her for being freaked out. It wasn’t like she had immersed herself in this life; in all honesty, she’d probably separated herself from all things paranormal and avoided it like the plague. As she should. He knew he was the weird one in this scenario. Resigned to sitting back and being patient, he scooted closer to her and…
Was someone singing?
His head turned automatically to the alluring sound. His breath was stuck in his throat, some kind of thickness and desperation coating his tongue. Fingers trembling, Dipper stood on suddenly numb legs and longingly looked for the source. Who was it? Where were they? The song was so beautiful; he had to know.
As he approached the lake, rickety and waterlogged boards of the deck shifting under his weight, the color of the water changed before his very eyes. From gloomy and nearly threatening, it slowly began to sparkle the most gorgeous blue, like the deep sea. It was breathtaking. He sank to his knees and reached for it, captivated by its beauty.
Just before his fingers could brush the glittering surface, he heard his name whispered against his ear. Coldness blanketed him instantly, making him pause. His entire being was strung more taut than a tightrope—had he even taken a breath since the song began?
Then there was a woman. A stunning woman, staring into his eyes. Dipper blinked, shellshocked by her, wondering where she’d come from and then realizing he didn’t care. She had the most illustrious pale skin, long black hair that spiraled down her naked shoulders, and a smile that made Dipper’s heart pound painfully in his chest. She raised a hand from the water and cupped his cheek, delicate fingers tracing the shape of his jaw. It took him a belated second to realize the moan afterward had been his.
The woman rose further out of the water, coming closer to him. She was so perfect. Every curve, every shadow, every highlight. She was like a dream. He never wanted to wake up. He wanted to feel what it was like to kiss her. To be wrapped in her arms for eternity.
“DIPPER!”
Irritation flickered in the nameless woman’s glasslike eyes. It was quick, barely a flash, but it was enough.
Dipper sucked in a breath, oxygen returning to his deprived brain.
This was a fucking siren.
And her lips were inches from his.
“DIPPER! PLEASE! LISTEN TO ME!”
Fear took him over quickly, but she could sense it. The siren’s fingers dug painfully into his head, nails surely drawing blood. Her look of desire had morphed into rage, lips curling back to reveal teeth that seemed a little too sharp now. She retained her beauty, but it wouldn’t be for long. If he struggled, she’d turn monstrous and drag him to a watery death. Fuck, what was he going to do?
“LET HIM GO!”
He could vaguely feel someone tugging him away, but the siren’s grip was too secure.
“If you don’t come with me, I’ll kill her,” the siren hissed softly, her breath wafting across his mouth. Even in her ire, her voice was melodic.
Pacifica. Goddamn it, that was her, trying to save him! Dipper whimpered pitifully, blinking away tears of helplessness. He felt so fucking stupid for not having guessed it. The tourists she’d chosen were two men about his age and build. Sunset, drownings. Reports saying they’d seemed entranced, desperate and distracted, claiming their need to go to the lake with some lame fucking excuse. It was to see her, because she’d lured them in with promises of love.
Then she’d taken them below and sealed the deal. Likely in more ways than one. But this was not how he expected to lose his damn virginity.
Blood dripped down the back of his neck from where her claws bit into the delicate skin of his scalp. “Please, don’t,” he whispered, voice failing him. He wasn’t sure why he was pleading for his life; he knew it was useless when she’d set her sights on him. Maybe it was some kind of last-ditch effort humans did automatically. A life preservation attempt.
“Kiss me, Dipper,” the siren smiled, and that slimy feeling of adoration slithered through him—though now that he was aware, it didn’t have the same effect. “Kiss me, and you’ll feel better. It will be peaceful.”
I don’t wanna die, he thought even as his eyes shut. I don’t wanna die. I wanna see Mabel. And Carsen, and Soos, and Wendy, and my parents, and… Pacifica.
Where had her voice gone? Had she stopped trying to pull him back? Was he on his own?
God, what had he even done in life? He still wanted to travel. He wanted to get on a plane. To see an eternal flame, go to a concert, eat exotic food, learn more about the world and how it worked.
He wondered if death really would be peaceful, like the siren claimed. He hoped it was like falling asleep under the stars. He hoped it was like being hugged by Mabel. He loved her hugs.
He was cold already. The siren had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fins brushing his legs. Had she brought him below the surface? He couldn’t tell. He was breathing. He thought.
“Don’t worry, guys,” his mother smiled gently, cupping his and Mabel’s cheeks. “Your Great Uncle Stan will make sure you have a great summer, I promise.”
“But what about you and Dad?” Mabel asked hesitantly. They both knew something was amiss with their parents, and had been for some while. That feeling of dread sat in both their chests, all day and night. Especially at night, when they could hear faint arguing from their parent’s bedroom.
Mom’s eyes tightened around the corners. “We’ll be just fine,” she nodded, though her voice was different. Sharper. “We have to work anyway. You guys would be bored out of your mind if you stayed here this summer.”
Then she kissed their foreheads, and they loaded up on the bus, waving despondently as it rumbled away.
Oh, great. His life was flashing before his eyes. Heartache and—even though he didn’t want to admit it—homesickness washed over Dipper, bringing more tears to his eyes. He wanted Mom and Dad back. The way they used to be, before everything fell apart.
Mabel squeezed him so hard that his breath huffed out of his lungs. “You’ll visit on breaks, right? And FaceTime me every day?” she mumbled into his shoulder.
Dipper leaned his head on hers and chuckled—what little he could. “Of course I will,” he promised gently, rubbing her back in soothing laps. “It’s just college, Mabel. It’s not like I’m going to the other end of the Earth.”
“I know, I just…” She sighed then, casting a glance at their parents, who were speaking with another set of parents they’d met in church. “I dunno how I’m gonna manage those two without you,” she grinned, only half-joking.
He laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re much more capable than me in that department.” Dipper pulled his backpack over his shoulder and stepped back towards the car that held all his belongings, staring at his twin. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but he was terrified to live on his own. Mabel had been his support system for so long. His jaw tensed as he felt a flood of emotion rush to the surface. “I love you,” he said weakly.
Mabel’s chin wobbled. “I love you, too,” she whispered, brown eyes glittering. “I’m so proud of you.”
He hugged her again. “I’m proud of you, too. I’ll see you soon.”
A choked sob slipped past Dipper’s lips. Mabel. He wouldn’t be able to see her, ever again. Or anybody he’d ever cared about. Fuck—how did this happen? How could he have let this happen?
“Oh,” the siren breathed. “Your sadness smells so sweet…”
What was the point of it all? What was the point of all the pain, heartbreak, and regret? Why did he have to endure so much trauma? Anger and frustration tainted him. Why did he have to die now when he hadn’t even lived?
“You’ll taste heavenly,” she murmured against his throat. Disgust roiled in his gut and he jerked his head away. He still wasn’t sure if he was breathing, or if he was under water, or if he was even dead yet. Maybe he was hallucinating while she sucked the very soul from his body. He hoped Paz wasn’t watching. He hoped she had run away by now. He didn’t want any more death on his hands.
He remembered the night he’d killed Sebastian. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten, though; the memory was always under the surface, reminding him of the monster he had been. Could still be. He recalled the blood under his fingernails. The sensation of bearing down on the stake. The sound of flesh and gore ripping and then pounded into the ground by his very fists.
Why didn’t he have that strength now? Was it the siren sapping him? He didn’t know. The song still played, carrying dark evocative notes that he’d never be able to play himself. There was another thing he would be missing—learning another instrument.
“Wrap your arms around me,” the siren ordered softly, encouraging and enticing. So enticing that he did as she said. “This won’t hurt a bit, my love,” she smiled, lovely again as she ran a delicate, pale hand through his hair. He sighed and leaned into her precious touch. It soothed him. He closed his eyes. This was it.
Then a pair of lips were on his own, so achingly gentle that he sighed again.
This was it.
He was dead now.
-
Dipper had to be dreaming. That explained the euphoric feeling, the sense of floating. The girl above him with bright blue eyes, gunmetal silver around the iris. Blonde hair coming out of their braids as she faded in and out of sight. And her angelic voice, so much sweeter than anything he’d ever heard.
His chest hurt, though. And his lungs. His ribs, his face.
Dipper ignored all of that and focused only on the girl. She was upset about something. Her eyes were panicked, teeth bared as she cried something. He couldn’t determine what it was. She was incoherent. This upset him, too, like he could feel her own emotions in his heart.
He tried to reach up and grasp her hand, but his body didn’t respond. She needed to know he was fine. She didn’t have to worry.
-
“Are you sure he’ll be waking up today? I mean, he drowned. Drowning victims don’t usually have great odds, right…? I mean I hope I’m wrong, I just—”
“Please rest assured, Miss Northwest,” replied a man’s voice. “You brought him to the hospital in the nick of time. He’ll make a full recovery. And I truly even doubt he’ll develop any long-term complications.”
A short sigh of acceptance. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Doctor Paisley.” There was the sound of a door shutting, a set of footsteps, then a weight settled to the side of him.
Dipper forced his head to turn, ignoring the bruise-like pain that accompanied the movement. His eyes crept open just enough to see the platinum head of Pacifica Northwest laying in her arms on a hospital blue blanket. The last he recalled, her hair had been in twin braids, but now it fell over her back in stiff locks. She still wore the black tank top from before. How long had they been here? What happened?
“Paz,” he tried to say—but it came out too raspy to allow his voice to come through. However, it was enough to get her attention. She shot up, eyes darting to him in shock.
“Dipper!” she gasped. “You’re awake! Oh my god!”
“Hey,” he breathed, blinking slowly. Even that hurt.
Pacifica clamped a hand over her mouth, bowing her head briefly. “Sorry,” she whispered, muffled. “You’re probably wondering what’s going on.” She raised her eyes to him, smiling shakily and brushing back her hair. She was unkempt, like the day he’d seen her at the cookout benefit thing. “What do you remember?”
“I…” The word came out rough, gargled. His throat was ravaged and swollen, barely allowing the action of breathing. So he decided to press his lips together and carefully shook his head once. Ow.
“Oh, right,” she murmured, nodding in agreement. “Of course. You’re probably in a lot of pain. I’m sorry. You, um…” Paz trailed off, eyes falling to her clasped hands.
Dipper grunted once, fingers twitching next to hers. She glanced at him, then his hand, and he moved his fingers closer, brushing her skin. Pacifica swallowed and slid their hands together; he let out a small sigh, both from pain and relief.
“You drowned,” she finally said, quiet and somber. “The siren pulled you under. I was freaking out—I had to run to the shack nearby and find something. I don’t really know what it was. Could’ve been an oar, or a machete, or anything. I just know it was in my hands and then I jumped into the lake after you two. I injured her somehow, pulled you out, did CPR. Then I called nine-one-one and here we are.”
Dipper felt something tighten and simultaneously ease in his chest—she had saved his life. She hadn’t left his side the entire time he was unconscious, either. Her hair was unwashed, stiff from the lake water, and she had bags under her eyes… She was exhausted. She probably hadn’t even slept.
“Thank you,” he whispered, despite the pain it caused.
Pacifica gave a short smile, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles softly. “I couldn’t just let you die,” she shrugged, as if it were no big deal. Then she took a deep breath. “The doctor said you’re probably gonna feel like shit for a few more days. Maybe a week.”
“Mabel…” Dipper croaked. “Monday.”
“Yeah, she’ll be back Monday,” Paz nodded. “She told me Carsen will be with her. He’s gonna stay at the Mystery Shack for a few weeks with you and her. Soos already said it was fine.”
Ugh, of course that messy asshole was gonna stick around. As if Dipper didn’t spend enough time with the slob. “Did you…” Dip mumbled.
“Tell her?” she finished. “Yeah, I let her know you were in the hospital. You should be released tomorrow, so you’ll have some time to readjust at home.” Paz’s eyes landed on his throat, lingering on the right side. “I never told her about the vampires,” she whispered, lips barely moving.
He shook his head, indicating he hadn’t either. “Doesn’t—hurt,” Dipper assured, voice raspy, smiling gently. He only spoke of the bite scar she stared at. Not his current condition—he actually hurt all over.
“I wish…” Pacifica breathed, eyes fluttering as she struggled for words. “I wish I hadn’t accepted the invite to that stupid party. I could have saved you from all that… garbage. Pain. All of it.”
Dipper shook his head a little, lips pressed into a firm line as he gripped her fingers a little tighter. “That wasn’t your fault,” he mouthed, the words barely passing as a whisper. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“Do you still think about…Sebastian?” she murmured, glancing at him so quickly that it was just a flash of blue.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “All the time.” It was hard to forget.
Paz caressed his knuckles, staring down at the scratchy bedsheets with a forlorn expression, mouth pulled into a frown. “Me too,” she admitted softly. “I was very…impressed with you.” She smiled, quiet and—perhaps affectionate? But it fell just as quickly as it appeared. “Mostly, though, I was ashamed that I had hurt you.”
Dipper was at a loss for words. He didn’t realize his near-drowning was going to make her so emotional.
“I felt so small, knowing that I’d let that asshole take advantage of me,” she murmured, eyes glazed over as she stared at nothing. “I remember how amazing it felt to be a vampire. Full of power. But the thirst was…insane. It trumped everything else. Even—“
Suddenly a nurse burst into the room, cutting off Paz and startling Dipper. “Oh, good!” the lady smiled, “you’re awake! I just need to check a few things out and then you can get back to resting.”
The nurse shuffled around him, taking vitals and effectively putting space between him and Paz. “How’s your pain, on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst you’ve ever felt in your life?” the woman asked, writing down his blood pressure results.
“Ten,” he whispered.
“Okay. I’ll order some pain meds and come back later.”
Then she left, and there was a wall of silence between him and Paz now and he didn’t know how to break it. So he just reached his fingers out for hers again. She noticed, barely grinned, and held his hand once more. Dipper closed his eyes and sighed, wincing from the stitch of pain on the left side of his ribs.
“You should probably go home,” he murmured after a bit, eyes still closed.
“What? No. Why? I can’t just leave you here.”
“I’m okay, Paz.” He smiled faintly. “Go shower for the both of us.”
Her fingers twitched in his grasp and he peeked at her, surprised to see her blushing, lips pressed into a thin line as she stared up at the ceiling. Wait, what did he say? “Yeah,” she huffed before he could ponder further, “I do feel pretty gross. I’ll ask the nurse to help you bathe, too, so you can come home without stinking to high heaven.” Paz gave a final, rueful smile before standing and taking her leave, dousing the room in silence save for the beeps and drips and sighs from medical machines.
It was only a short while later that he realized the siren was still alive.
-
He stayed in the hospital a total of two days, one more than they’d originally thought. The nurse had helped him bathe—which was only a wipe-down with “bath cloths”—and she also helped him begin to move around. It was hard to push through the pain, and that’s how they found out he probably had a minor fracture or break on the left side of his ribs. Whether it was from the drowning (read: siren monster) or from Paz’s CPR (unlikely, but adrenaline did spike people’s strength for a short time—he would know), it was up in the air. They taped up his side and prescribed more pain meds (and rest) since there was basically nothing else they could do for ribs. Man, if only he lived in some kind of sci-fi world. If only.
That put him getting discharged mid Monday morning, just before Mabel was set to be home. Pacifica helped him get home in her fancy blue sedan with its complementary driver (who had impeccable skill in driving around the many potholes on shoddy roads into GF). Dipper wanted to laugh when they pulled up to the Shack, catching sight of a big banner that said, “Welcome Home Mabel!” Only there was a rectangle of his name taped next to hers, clearly put up as an afterthought, clearly because getting his ass handed to him by a siren wasn’t in the weekend-slash-Monday plans.
As Paz helped him out of the car, Soos stepped out of the Shack, waving with a huge, warm smile that could be seen for miles. Dipper was relieved for two reasons: one, that he was on pretty decent painkillers so he could walk albeit slowly, and two because he was finally home. Hospitals weren’t exactly fun. Now he could actually sleep, uninterrupted, on his memory foam mattress and special cooling pillow and actual clothes, not those shitty paper gowns. (Side note-slash-honorable mention-slash-a second thank-you to Paz for bringing him some sweatpants and a t-shirt for him to leave the hospital in. They weren’t his, so she must’ve bought them—when he tried to ask how much he owed her, she’d rolled her eyes at him, claiming it didn’t even put a dent in her funds. So he’d left it at that.)
“Hey, Soos,” Dipper said, exhaustion clear in his voice and in his body as he leaned on Pacifica. But he still smiled back at his friend.
“Welcome back, dude,” Soos cheesed. “I heard a siren roughed you up.”
Dipper sighed, long and suffering. “Yep. It sucked.”
Soos laughed and stepped aside, allowing them entrance to the Shack doors. “You get a little more reckless every year, you know that?”
Paz eyed him curiously and Dipper flushed, embarrassed. Last year, he’d gotten tangled up with another monster—a freakin’ windego, of all things. Luckily, he’d read up on them before confronting it in the woods, but it scarred him up pretty good during their fight. He’d still won, though, so fuck that windego guy. (It had run farther North, which he considered a win, at least.) The scar was a silver, ragged gash that started from mid-thigh up to the tip of his hip, and it annoyed him every time he saw it in the mirror. He’d had to go to the hospital for that one, too; the nurses in the Emergency Department asked their questions, of course, but he just told them it was a bear. Which they berated him for, as they should, because what dumbass tried to fight a bear?
“I cleaned up your room so it would be easy for you to move around,” Soos said, following them into the house. “I didn’t really know what was what, though. Hope I didn’t mess up your study material or your journals.”
“That’s okay, Soos,” Dipper assured, shuffling carefully down the hall to the back of the Shack towards his bedroom. It was likely messy, but he couldn’t do anything about it now. “I appreciate your help.”
“Of course. Oh, I set up another cot in there, too, so Carsen can bunk with you.”
Paz pushed open the door for him as Dipper groaned at the mention of his roommate. “Why can’t he stay in the attic?” he complained. “Throw Mabel up there, too, while you’re at it.”
“Holy crap,” Paz muttered beside him, blue eyes darting around the piles and heaps of research material, camping equipment, and—even more embarrassing—a full, giant hamper of his dirty clothes he’d yet to wash.
“Shut up, Paz. I’m not normally this messy,” Dipper mumbled as they made their way to his unmade bed.
Soos crossed his arms and frowned at him. “Mabel is still really young, and I don’t like the idea of them sleeping in the same room.”
Dipper rolled his eyes. “You do know they’ve been alone together for two weeks? They’re adults, Soos, and so am I, and I don’t want Carsen in my space if it’s unnecessary.”
“Um, I wanted to ask if I could stay, too.”
Dipper and Soos blinked in shock at Pacifica’s non-question. Soos spoke up first. “Well,” he shrugged, frown disappearing and morphing into something kinder, “I suppose that would be alright. To help Dipper, right?”
“Right,” she nodded, making Dipper’s mouth fall open. “I could stay here for a few days, at least until he feels comfortable enough to move by himself.”
“I can just get a cane,” he blurted incredulously. He was promptly ignored.
“Absolutely! I think this is great! The more, the merrier! I’ll go set up another bed for Carsen and Mabel in the attic, then!”
Paz sat gingerly beside him on his bed, smiling over at him, though he couldn’t tell if it was smug or just warm. “Looks like I’ll be your roommate instead,” she said, bumping shoulders.
Dipper felt trepidation at that sentence. A girl—woman—not Mabel—would be sleeping in the same room as him. God, he didn’t do gross stuff unconsciously did he? Dip swallowed nervously. “Yep,” he agreed weakly.
Paz rolled her eyes and stood up, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. “Don’t sound too excited, Dip,” she grumbled, narrowing those blue-and-silver eyes into daggers. “I’m not that bad to hang out with, am I?”
“N-No, not at all,” he sputtered.
“Then what? Why do you look so freakin’ pale?”
“I just—nothing, I’m not pale, Paz, okay?” Dipper sighed and avoided her gaze. “How long do you plan on staying, anyway?”
“I dunno. A week, maybe, at the most.”
Whew, okay. A whole week with Pacifica. Ugh, he wished he had cleaned his room before all this shit had gone down. “Alright,” he murmured, his thoughts turning to the siren. “You know I have to go back and stop that thing, right?”
“What?” Pacifica sat back down, blonde hair falling over her shoulder in perfect waves. “Excuse me?”
“The siren in the lake. She’s still alive and we both know it. I have to go back and stop her before she drowns some other unlucky guy.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she snapped, glaring at him. He glared right back, though. “After everything that happened this weekend, you want to take her on again? What if she sings again? I can’t hear that shit, Dipper! I didn’t even notice you’d left until she was pulling you into the water!”
Dipper frowned. “You’re not going with me this time,” he stated.
Paz paused. “Pardon the fuck out of me?” she replied slowly, her rage a living thing in each word.
“I’m not putting your life at risk again,” he said, looking down at his hands. “I’ll go by myself and bring earplugs.”
“Earplugs,” she repeated. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dipper, you can be so dense sometimes.” Paz sighed harshly, rubbing her forehead. “You are not going alone. And definitely not while you’re healing. If another person drowns, then I’m sorry—but there’s no point in going alone when you can barely walk without being drugged. She’d kill you in a second.”
“I can’t just let her keep murdering people,” Dipper mumbled helplessly.
“I know it sucks,” Paz said, softer this time. “I know it’s a lot on your conscience. But it won’t do anybody any good if you die, too.”
Dipper pressed his mouth into a thin line…and finally nodded. She was right, no matter how dark the truth was. He just had to hope nobody else would dare venture close to the lake until he was strong enough to stop the creature. He wanted to avoid killing it, at least—hopefully he could trap her or offer her something in exchange for leaving Gravity Falls. Though he doubted she would. And even then…
“Lay down,” she ordered gently. “Get some rest before Mabel gets here.”
Dipper obeyed, falling asleep quickly with Paz’s fingers brushing his hair back.
-
He only slept an hour yet miraculously felt more rested than he had in the hospital. He decided to take his chance with a shower, though his legs shook a bit from standing so long. He had to ask Paz for help after he finally dressed himself to walk out to the kitchen and take a seat at the table. It was almost one o’clock now; Mabel would be home any minute.
Dipper took half of a painkiller to lower the constant ache of his body. He wanted it to go away, but he also didn’t want to be loopy.
“I feel like I haven’t seen Mabel in forever,” Paz remarked, resting her chin in her hand.
Dipper smiled, knowing the exact feeling. “She must’ve had a good time on the cruise,” he said. “She barely texted anybody.”
“Well, that could’ve just been because there’s no service towers in the middle of the sea. Or Alaska.”
“There’s service towers in Alaska, surely.”
Paz raised an eyebrow. “You really wanna argue with the rich girl?”
He laughed lightly, ignoring the instant sharp pain in his ribs. “Not really,” he replied. “I seem to lose every argument I start with you.”
“Maybe you’re just not as clever as you think,” she purred, fluttering her lashes demurely.
Dipper squinted. “Is there something in your eye, or…?” Paz flushed and glowered, glancing away. “Yeah. Thought so. Don’t fake flirt with me, it won’t work.”
She fell quiet, and it almost looked like she was pouting, but then Dipper heard the crunch of tire atop gravel and his attention was drawn away.
He walked to the door, Paz supporting him to his right, Soos following behind, and watched the bus drive away, revealing the sight of his precious sister…and her boyfriend. It wasn’t that Dipper disliked Carsen. He was just…difficult to live with. And maybe he was just a little overprotective. A little. Dipper smiled widely anyway, waving as Mabel sprinted for them, her grin growing as she came closer.
“DIPPERRRR!” she squealed, skidding to a halt before him.
“Thank god you didn’t slam into me,” Dipper teased. “That would’ve sucked.”
Mabel went in for the gentlest of hugs, and suddenly he was overcome with emotion—he really had almost died without smelling her familiar rose scent, felt her soft hair on his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she murmured into his shoulder. “Idiot.”
“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking away tears. “Me too.”
“Hey, bro. Long time, no see.”
Dipper released Mabel and half-smiled at Carsen, who had drug their two bags of luggage to the door. “What’s up? How was the trip?” he asked, merely out of politeness.
“Ohmygod, it was so fun!” Mabel gushed, eyes shining brilliantly as she bounced in place. “We got to see whales, Dipper!”
“How’s about we all get inside so Dipper can sit down?” Soos interrupted kindly.
“Yeah, you’re getting kinda heavy,” Paz muttered.
“I swear to god, if you’re gonna complain after you offered to help me…” Dip gritted out, glaring over at her.
Mabel and Carsen laughed, then they all shuffled inside the Shack, and Dipper was suddenly reminded of how small the house was. It was going to be quite a crowded week. After they all settled into the living room, luggage put away, Mabel launched into a long-winded, one-sided conversation about their cruise. Dipper stared at her, smiling softly, noticing that everyone else had about the same expression of adoration.
Paz leaned in close to him, lips beside his ear. “I’m surprised her mouth isn’t dry from yapping so much,” she snickered quietly.
Dipper almost snorted. “She is usually just one stream of consciousness,” he agreed in a murmur. “She’ll get tired soon, though.”
“I can hear you mumbling under your breath,” Mabel interrupted (herself and them), “and I don’t appreciate your lack of attention.”
“Mabel,” Carsen chimed in, in a voice Dipper had never heard before (since when is this douchebag sweet?), “I think you’ve pretty much covered everything. It’s been an hour.”
“Oh,” Mabel said, deflating slightly with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I got too excited.”
“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting hungry,” Soos said. “What does everyone want for dinner?”
The rest of the night was uneventful. Soos went to pick up pizza, they ate between more lively conversation, Dipper took another pain pill when his breathing got a bit too labored, then they watched some ridiculous TV show on Grunkle Stan’s shitty cable channels. All in all, Dipper was glowing with happiness. Mabel was home, and he’d have the rest of the summer with his twin, his only family that didn’t make him miserable.
“Goodnight guys,” Mabel grinned, walking upstairs with Carsen, hand in hand.
“Night,” Dipper, Paz, and Soos echoed.
Then Soos retired, as well, leaving him and Pacifica alone.
Ohhhh, crap. That’s right. Dipper and Paz would be sharing a room. Would he even be able to sleep?
Paz seemed to notice the anxiety in his face and rolled her eyes. “Come on, you prude,” she grumbled, wrapping her arm around his waist and supporting his right side, helping him slowly walk to his—their—room.
“Prude? What makes you think I’m a prude?”
“Oh, please. I’m smarter than I look, Pines. Did you think I wouldn’t figure out that you, the only virgin in this house, would be totally fine with a smoking-hot woman in the bed next to yours for a week? What’s the matter, huh? Do you think I’ll take advantage of you?”
Dipper blushed furiously and stuttered. “Wha—I—that’s—I’m not the only virgin! I’m pretty sure Soos is still…” He trailed off, because he wasn’t sure. And even though he hated it, and would never admit it aloud, Mabel and Carsen had surely done something.
“Soos? The almost-married guy who’s probably even kissed more girls than you?”
“I’ve kissed plenty of girls!” Dip said defensively.
They finally reached his still-cluttered room and she set him on his bed, smirking. Then he realized she’d caged him in with her arms, blue eyes blazing, blonde hair falling over the both of them like a curtain. Dipper wanted to shrink back, but one—he still hurt too much, and two—that would be like giving up. Like losing to her. And he despised that thought more than anything. So he narrowed his gaze, a new fire in his chest, as he met her head-on.
“Really?” she purred, her voice made of velvet. “Care to prove it?”
His eyebrows drew together, jaw setting. “Sure you could handle it?” he challenged.
Somewhere, in the very back recesses of his mind, he liked their dynamic. Where half the time they argued, or bickered, whatever it was called. And the other half, they understood each other and were friends who comforted one another.
“Oh, I doubt you’re that good,” she chuckled, eyes darting to his mouth. “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Pines. I’ve had kisses and touches that would melt your pretty little head.”
He was so fucking tired. Tired of being made fun of. Tired of being mocked for being a virgin—as if that was something inherently wrong? Tired of being forced into situations he wanted nothing to do with, like those stupid fucking parties Carsen always wanted to attend. And like this, right now—where he was being cornered, stared at like he was a fucking piece of meat. Like he didn’t matter. He wanted to matter. That’s why he was a virgin. What was the point in having sex if it meant nothing?
Dipper sighed again, the exhaustion clear in his voice as he looked away. “Y’know, Paz, I’m not really in the mood to do this with you,” he mumbled. “Let’s just go to sleep. Please.”
Pacifica paused visibly, then slowly pulled away in silence.
And they both laid down, a brand new, awkward rift between them that he didn’t know how to—or even currently wanted to—bridge.