Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Next dance is for me.” An all too familiar voice cut through the din of the party, its dulcet tone and soft diction humming in Pacifica’s ear.

Scoffing, she pushed a hand off her shoulder. “You haven’t even taken care of the problem yet,” she whispered tersely. “As far as I remember, that was the one condition that allowed you and your sister to even attend this party.”

Dipper Pines rolled his eyes, an unexpected break from his eternally impassive demeanor. “Your problem will take only a moment to fix.” He slipped his hands into Pacifica’s and twirled her briefly before resting his left hand on her shoulder and his right at her waist. She stiffened at his touch, startled by a complete absence of warmth. He smirked in response, another unforeseeable slip in composure. “As for my invitation, I don’t have a doubt that it would have found its way to me regardless of whether or not I helped get rid of your...problem.”

The smirk remained, and Pacifica felt a flutter of something in her chest. Where was all of this...emotion coming from? As the band struck up another waltz, Pacifica allowed herself to be guided by the younger Pines twin, trying to recall any other instances where Dipper had showed even a brief glimmer of anything resembling personality.

Her feet glided effortlessly across the floor, guided not only by Dipper but also by years of private dancing instruction. One, two-three, one, two-three…
Pacifica couldn’t remember a single time before now.

Twirling again, she glanced back at her partner. Where mere moments ago a warm glow had lit his features, there was now an absence of any life whatsoever. While certainly closer to what Pacifica had come to expect as normal from Dipper, the sudden shift threw her off balance. She stumbled, and grasping at the only thing within her reach--her partner’s hand--she fell to the floor, pulling Dipper with her.

The glassy look disappeared from his eyes, and he snapped to cognition, planting his hands on either side of Pacifica. An icy chill ran along her back, but the hardwood floor never met the back of her head. Surprisingly, after an entire summer of chasing the Pines twins around trying to root out the source of their uncanny psychic abilities, in this moment the gift of an up close example was hardly Pacifica’s first priority. Instead, she found herself trapped by the proximity of Dipper, his gelled back hair now flopping in front of his eyes. A soft blue glow seeped from between his fingers, gliding along the dancefloor like dry ice.

An elegiac scream rose above the instrumental music, and the entire room fell into a hush. Another icy chill ran down Pacifica’s spine, but this one had much less to do with magic and much more to do with fear.

“What’s going on, Pines?”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The distressed mutter was barely audible to Pacifica.

“C’mon,” Pacifica groaned, slipping her arms out from under Dipper and shoving him off of her. She stood, brushed off her skirt, and extended a hand out to her partner. “You’re the one I hired to fix this. Now let’s go take care of the problem.”

Dipper shook his head, but grasped Pacifica’s hand.

“I suppose that was our deal.”