Work Text:
Come outside.
Pacifica reads the text again, brows scrunched together. She glances up at the contact’s name saved and sure enough it reads Dipper. She knew the dynamic duo were back in Gravity Falls for their annual summer visit (she’d spent the previous day with Mabel, after all), but she hadn’t seen Dipper at all, so a text at almost nine o’clock in the evening asking her to come outside was not what she was expecting. Confused, she types out a response.
you do know who you’re texting right?
His reply is immediate.
Duh.
The dimple between her brows grows deeper and she can practically hear her mother’s scolding, can feel cool fingers smoothening out the crumple on her forehead.
“Stop that, Pacifica,” the chastising voice snaps in her ear.
Her phone buzzes again and her attention is drawn back to the device; thoughts of her mother now pushed to the back of her mind.
You coming or what?
depends. what am i coming out for exactly?
It takes him a while to respond, and she paces her room as she waits. When her phone buzzes again, she snatches her phone from the table. Then, irritated at her own eagerness, she presses the screen to her chest, determined to wait a few seconds before reading the message. The seconds feel like hours and what was supposed to be a fifteen-second wait ends up being seven. It’s not that she’s desperate to see him, she tells herself, she’s just bored, and Dipper often provides entertainment. Entertainment that, with her parents out for the evening, she can enjoy, if only for a little while.
Look out the window.
She does as it says, eyes roving over the large garden. For a moment, she thinks he might just be pulling her leg because she can’t find any sign of him, and then a hand shoots up in the dark, waving at her as if he knew she was having trouble finding him. His face is barely visible but the stupid hat he has on makes it clear it’s him.
So?
no
Even as she types it, she’s shoving her feet into her sneakers. Her gaze lands on the vanity mirror in the corner of her room and she squints at herself, scrutinizing her reflection. She hasn’t gotten ready for bed yet so she’s still in the tank top and shorts she pulled on that morning. Briefly, she wonders if she should change and then shakes her head of the thought.
It’s just Dipper, she reminds herself. The weird, sarcastic, loser she’s always known. So what if over the years he’d grown to be almost somewhat attractive? He was still the same loser she’d known since she was twelve. Even as she thinks this, her hands move to her hair almost unconsciously, fingers combing the silky blonde locks. Her phone buzzes.
Seriously?
yup
What I’m not good enough?
definitely not.
Once again, she considers changing her outfit but then decides against it. It’s just Dipper, she repeats even as she applies lipgloss.
Pacifica rushes down the stairs, almost tripping in her haste to make it out the door. Her phone buzzes as she strides towards him, but she doesn’t bother checking it. Dipper hasn’t noticed her yet and he taps his foot, staring at his screen and then glancing up at her window. He frowns when he realizes she isn’t there and then sighs, running a hand through his hair. There’s an old backpack hanging on his shoulder and he adjusts It as he turns back to his phone. She starts to call out to him, but then pauses, an idea coming to mind.
She creeps up behind him, stretching so her lips can be on almost equal level with his ear because he’s gotten really tall recently, and then whispers, “Boo.”
Dipper shrieks, whipping around to face her and she almost dies laughing. Her laughter dies in her throat once she sees him though. They’d video called a few times in the time he’d spent away from Gravity Falls but mostly stuck with texting. Seeing him now, Pacifica is struck by how different he looks. His hair is longer, his shoulders are broader and more relaxed, as if he’s more at peace, more confident with the person he’s becoming.
He glares at her, crossing his arms and clearing his throat as he declares that he wasn’t actually scared. Pacifica laughs harder. His glare eventually turns into an eyeroll and then a begrudging smile.
“For a moment, I thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says when her laughter has died down.
“You? Thinking?” she jokes, and he rolls his eyes again. “Didn’t think that was possible.”
“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans. He gestures to the bag. “I didn’t even show you my bargainer yet.”
She raises a brow. “And what would that be?”
He zips open the bag on his shoulder and pulls out a six-pack. Both her brows shoot up at that and then she grins.
“Alright, dipping sauce,” she says with an approving nod.
He rolls his eyes again. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then don’t have a stupid nickname,” she says, reaching for one of the bottles. He holds it high above his head, out of her reach. She curses his height under her breath, as well as her own smaller stature.
“And the magic word is?” Dipper asks.
“Abracadabra?”
He makes a buzzer sound. “Try again.”
“Give me the bottle or I’ll crush your toes?”
He grimaces at the thought and wordlessly hands her the bottle. She takes it, ignoring the tingling sensation that passes through her when their fingers brush.
They walk around the garden, guided solely by the moonlight shining on them. They talk as they drink, traveling over a variety of topics ranging from Mabel’s recent boyfriends to the mysteries Dipper has solved recently. She lets him do most of the talking, content to listen to his voice. He rambles in the way that he always does when he talks about any of the anomalies he comes across in Gravity Falls since he’s been back, stumbling over his words in his excitement to get them out. When he’s finished, he bumps her shoulder with his own and asks what she’s been up to.
She shakes her head; tells him about all the events she’s had to attend that summer. It’s not half as exciting as what he’s been doing. No monsters or gnomes; just flashy galas and charity balls, followed by days where she does little more than stare at the walls of her bedroom. Still, Dipper nods as he listens, his eyes fixed solely on her, hanging onto her every word as if she’s sharing something that’s top secret and not just telling him about how someone at the gala wore the same dress as her. She flushes under his gaze, and she tells herself the warm feeling in her chest is because of the alcohol and not him.
Eventually, when they’re each on their third bottle and tired of walking, they settle down on the ground side by side.
“So,” she says, voice coming out slightly slurred. She frowns, staring at the bottle. Is she tipsy already? The condensation around the bottle leaves circles on her shorts. She traces them. “Did you come all the way out here just to get me drunk?”
He shrugs, now focusing on his own bottle as well. “Just wanted to see you that’s all.” His words slur together around the end of his sentence. Pacifica frowns. It seems they’re both lightweights. She’s almost disappointed in both of them. “You spent yesterday with Mabel.” He shrugs. “I figure today could be for us.”
Us. The word sends a shiver down her spine. “You came all the way out here just to see me?”
“I missed you,” he mumbles with another shrug. Her lips curl upwards on their own and she reaches for his chin, turning his face so he can look at her.
Her face flushes bright red. He grins, looking almost proud. She rolls her eyes. “Idiot,” she murmurs but unlike all the other times she's said it, there's no real heat to her words.
The grass is soft against her skin. Dipper’s body is warm beside her. A gentle breeze passes, and she finds herself shifting closer to him. Wordlessly, he does the same. The stars are sprinkled across the inky black sky, and she stares at them almost transfixed.
“You ever think about how small we are?” Dipper asks. “There are so many planets, galaxies, and solar systems. There’s the Milky Way and the universe.” He sighs. She glances at him from the corner of her eye. His eyes are on the stars but it’s obvious he isn’t really seeing them. His body is here beside her on the grass, but his mind is a million miles away. “And then there’s us. Two insignificant kids. We’re all so tiny in comparison. So small and irrelevant.”
“Speak for yourself,” she jokes, and he chuckles. Silence stretches between them for a moment. Pacifica bites her lip. “I kind of get what you mean though. I mean, obviously not so much the insignificant part, I am part of the Northwest family after all.” Dipper groans and she can practically feel his eyeroll even if she isn’t looking at him. “But I do understand. It makes you wonder if anything you do matters. If anything at all matters.” She turns to look at him. “Do you regularly think about that?”
He shrugs. “More or less. Especially since…” he trails off, but she knows what he wants to say. Since Weirdmageddon, since the world almost ended, since they almost died. “I just wonder if anything even matters. If we hadn’t stopped him and he had taken over the world, would it even matter? If there are other universes, other worlds, planets, then what difference does it make if we live or die? Are any of us important? Should we even have bothered with Bill?” He pauses. Pacifica searches her mind for what to say. When he starts speaking again, his voice is quieter, his words a secret between them and the endless night sky. “Sometimes I get nightmares so bad I wake up screaming. Mabel gets them too. I don’t know if they’re ever gonna stop, and I wonder, was it worth it? Is the trauma I live with worth the life itself?”
His question hangs in the air. Pacifica isn’t surprised to learn he has nightmares; she has them too and she’s not sure she experienced half of all Dipper did. Even now, almost five years later, her heart beats just a little too fast at just the thought of the demonic yellow triangle. Like Dipper, he haunts her dreams as well.
In some of those dreams, Bill is back, in others he was never defeated. Every once in a while, she dreams that she hadn’t survived. Her worst nightmares, however, are the ones where the others didn’t. Sometimes it’s Mabel that dies, others it’s Dipper, sometimes both, sometimes her parents (these ones leave her feeling a weird mix of sadness and relief – the guilt following the relief eats her alive for days). No matter what it’s about, Bill is there. His one eye is glowing red with rage, his hands raised as he calls massive destruction upon them, maniacal laughter ringing out so loud and so clear she wants to claw her ears off. They all make her shoot up in bed at early hours of the morning, breathing hard and sobbing. She wonders if her parents have them too, if this is something the whole town experiences. If, like the mysteries of Gravity Falls, the nightmares resulting from Weirdmageddon are experienced but never spoken about. Even now, as close as she and Dipper have gotten over the years, she’s sure the only reason they’re able to talk about is because the alcohol has loosened them up.
Staring at him now, she’s struck by how young he looks, realises how young he actually is (his cheeks are still a bit plump with baby fat, and he’s barely grown any facial hair), how young they both are. Sometimes Pacifica forgets that they’re still technically kids. Not yet old enough to drink or drive, but apparently old enough to have lived through an apocalypse and fought an interdimensional demon.
She’s so deep in thought, she doesn’t realize she’s been quiet for a while. She doubts Dipper has noticed her silence. She’s not sure he was expecting any kind of response. Perhaps, like the million times when she has called to rant about her parents, he simply wants someone to listen to him, and in this case, someone who will understand.
“I think it depends,” she says eventually.
“On?”
“Do you think it’s worth it?”
His brow furrows. “Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m never going to be able to breathe. There’s air everywhere but somehow my lungs have closed up and I just can’t breathe.” He goes quiet again. “But then I’ll be at the Mystery Shack, making fun of Grunkle Stan for watching ‘The Duchess Approves’ or exploring with Grunkle Ford, or just hanging out with Mabel, and Wendy, and Soos, or,” he glances at her and his lips curl into a small smile, “or I’ll be with you, and I’ll think to myself that everything was worth it, every second of it, and I’d go through it a thousand more times if it meant I get to be with you guys. You guys all make it worth it.”
Pacifica isn’t used to sentimentality and declarations of love. Between her money-driven father and expressionless mother, she’s never been on the receiving end of any kind of affection. So, once again, it takes her a while to reply.
“You’re such a sap,” she jokes, because making fun of him is easy and banter comes naturally to her. Except her voice wavers and she’s pretty sure her vision is blurry with tears. As surreptitiously as she can, she wipes at her eyes and sniffs quietly. She’s never felt part of something – some days she doesn’t even feel like she’s part of her own family – but here, with him by her side, she begins to think maybe (just maybe) she is. A smile tugs at her lips.
She’s never said it – and she’s not sure if she ever will, lest it go to his already sizable head – but she really does admire his strength, his bravery. He fought a deranged triangle when he was thirteen. She’s seventeen and she can’t even stand up to her parents.
“I think,” she starts slowly, “if you think it’s worth it, then it is. It’s your life after all. You get to decide what you want.” The words are bitter in her mouth. Here she is telling him he has freedom over his choices when she doesn’t have it over hers.
Dipper doesn’t point this out though, doesn’t call her out on her own hypocrisy, he only bumps her shoulder playfully. “Thanks, Paz.”
“Whatever, loser.”
She goes back to staring at the stars and he does the same. They’re a lot closer now and the warmth she feels has more to do with his words than his body. She doesn’t say she feels the same, even though she does. She’s a Northwest after all and vulnerability isn’t exactly their strong suit (neither is honesty). Instead, she takes his hand in hers, still pointedly looking away from him. His breath hitches and from the corner of her eyes, she can see him glance at her. His grin widens and he looks pleased with her silent display of affection. She hopes he understands what it means. He’s good at solving mysteries, reading between the lines, and she prays he can figure out what she’s wordlessly trying to say.
“I really missed you,” Dipper murmurs in the quiet night. “It sucks going back to Piedmont. It hasn’t felt like home in years. Gravity Falls is my real home. With Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford, Soos, Wendy, Waddles, and you.”
“Wow, I’m just as special as a pig,” she deadpans.
“Paz,” he groans and then elbows her gently. She elbows him back except it’s a lot more aggressive. He retaliates, and before she knows it, they’re locked in some sort of elbow war, nudging each other and then moving out of the way before the other can retaliate. They’re lying on the grass now and Pacifica is laughing so hard her sides hurt (although she suspects the pain is also from Dipper’s sharp elbows) and he’s chuckling just as hard. Their laughter eventually quiets down and they’re a lot closer to each other than she remembers. From this proximity she can clearly see the things she’s never noticed before; the freckles that pepper his skin not unlike the stars twinkling above them, the deep brown of his eyes. His hair has been pushed back by the wind, and she can see parts of his birthmark. She wonders if his eyes have always been this intense.
“My hair must be such a mess,” she mutters, suddenly self-conscious at being on the receiving end of his piercing gaze. She tugs at the blonde locks nervously.
He snorts. “Imagine all the bugs that would have crawled into your perfectly dyed blonde hair.”
“Ugh, don’t even joke about that,” Pacifica says with a shudder. She glares at him but there’s no real anger in her gaze. “And for your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part.”
Dipper chuckles. His gaze flits down for just a moment. “Also, it doesn’t matter how messy your hair is. You still look pretty.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Yeah. You always look pretty, Paz.”
The air between them is thick. Tense. Her lips are chapped from the wind, and she runs her tongue across them. Dipper’s eyes dart down at the action and then back up to hers. He’s so close and yet so far. She wants to stay like this forever, wants the moment to never end, but she also longs to close the space between them. A part of her wants to go back in time, travel to a few minutes before, and move completely out of his reach. This is a line they haven’t crossed; one they can never come back from if they do.
Wordlessly, he begins to lean forward, his eyes slowly closing. His breath tickles her nose. He smells like beer, and grass, like laundry detergent and (funnily enough) pines. Strangely, she finds herself leaning in as well, as if this weird combination of smells has somehow intoxicated her (as if he has somehow bewitched her). Just when their lips are about to touch, she falters. She could pull away. They could laugh it off and go back to stargazing, pretend like nothing even happened. Pacifica’s heart pounds in her chest. She is scared. She is unsure. But she also knows she wants this. She wants him. Still, she remains frozen.
In the end, Dipper makes the decision she’s not brave enough to. Their lips brush and a million stars explode behind her eyelids. His lips are soft against her own, his kiss gentle but firm. He cups her face and she leans into his palm, tilting her head so she can deepen the kiss. He lets out a low moan and a fire ignites beneath her skin. She is determined to hear that sound again.
The smooth rumble of a car engine, however, ruins her plan. She pulls away from him slowly but remains frozen on the ground beside him. She’s confused, heady from their kiss and still drunk on the smell of him (and perhaps the beer she drank earlier). Then, reality quickly crashes down on her and she jolts further away from Dipper.
“Shit,” she curses under her breath. And then, louder, “Shit! My parents are back,” she tells him, quickly dusting herself off. “They’ll kill us if they see you here. You have to go.”
Dipper, unfortunately, remains motionless. His hand is frozen in the air where her face had just been seconds ago, and his lips are still puckered. He glances up at her slowly, the same headiness she’d felt moments ago reflecting on his own face.
Pacifica would be more flattered that their kiss had left him frozen if they weren’t at risk of being caught. She kicks him sharply in the shin, hissing, “Get up, stupid,” and he’s on his feet immediately, rubbing his leg and muttering a string of curse words so colorful and creative she’s almost impressed. Stan must be teaching him a thing or two. Together, they clear up the beer bottles, depositing them in Dipper’s bag.
“Thanks for coming,” she says, running her fingers through her hair. Dipper’s bug comment replays in her head and she combs it more urgently.
“I’m starting to regret it,” he says, bent over and massaging the leg she kicked. “Ever considered playing football? You’ve got one hell of a kick.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby,” she says, shoving him gently. He stumbles back, laughing.
“You’re so violent.”
They’re back to making jokes. Teasing each other with such ease. It almost doesn’t seem like the kiss happened. Except his eyes are still glazed over, her lipgloss is smeared across his lips, and there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. She’s sure her own cheeks are flushed as well.
She clears her throat. He scratches the back of his neck. What do you say to a close friend after you kiss them?
“Well, I have to go,” Pacifica tells him, because as much as she wants to stay and figure out where they stand, her parents are also back from their gala and there’s simply no time. “I had fun. Tell Mabel I said hi.”
Dipper nods. “Will do.” He bites his lip, looking as if he wants to say more. “And I, uh, I had fun too. I’ll see you later?”
She nods, gives him a thumbs up and then immediately feels like an idiot for doing so. “Bye,” she says with a wave. He salutes her, seemingly unsure what to do with his hands, then, as if feeling the same stupidity she’d felt earlier, drops his hand immediately. He waves back instead, attempts to walk backwards, stumbles, and then turns around completely, before continuing his walk.
Pacifica makes her way back inside, her thoughts a jumbled mess in her head. She’s not quite sure what to do now. There’d always been… well, something between them ever since they were kids. Now they’ve crossed the line, gone into uncharted territory, and as giddy and tingly as she feels from the kiss they shared, she’s also scared. What if it changes everything between them?
An hour later, after running into her parents and lying that she went for a late-night stroll in the garden, showering, washing her hair because she did end up finding a bug inside it (gross), and changing into her pajamas, she’s finally climbing into bed. She glances at her phone screen and finds that she has five texts from Dipper. She clicks on the message as she settles in under the covers.
I’m hurt
I really did have a lot of fun tonight
And, if you’re not busy that is, maybe we could hang out again tomorrow?
A goofy grin breaks out on her face, and she lets out a small squeal. Her eyes scan over the words repeatedly and the tingling feeling from earlier is back with full force.
are you trying to ask me out loser?
Depends.
Would you say yes if I were?
depends
are you?
Yes
then yes
Cool
cool
Maybe this new territory won’t such a bad thing, she thinks to herself. After all, they’d explore it together.
When she goes to sleep that night, her chest filled with warmth and a smile on her face, there are no triangle-shaped demons in her dreams; only stars, freckles, and a certain boy with a stupid nickname.