Chapter Text
Dipper Pines is not a virgin.
Hey, don’t seem so surprised.
It’s been five years since the first summer in Gravity Falls, and at nearly eighteen, Dipper has grown into a handsome young man—so his mother says. Not that he’s gotten any less awkward, but now he has the face and broad shoulders to make up for it. Even with his deteriorating vision and newfound glasses, he’d started noticing second glances in his direction. “Nerd charm,” he’s heard the girls in Piedmont say behind his back.
So, it seems that puberty does have its advantages. He’d managed to lose his virginity to some girl in his AP Calculus class after junior prom. They’d even dated for a couple months afterwards.
Mabel, who’d grown up to be more astute in these matters than Dipper would care to admit, had commented, “she’s blond.”
Even as his face turned red, he’d played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re implying,” he’d said.
“You know who else is blond? And who’s pageant videos I found in your search history the other day?”
“Mabel!” He’d considered jumping off a bridge. Or calling up Bill Cipher to end the world again. “Why the hell were you looking through my search history?”
Mabel had just shrugged. “I like to keep up to date on what you do. And seriously, for someone so smart, why were you dumb enough to leave the video open on the swimsuit competition part?”
“MABEL!”
“Cif looks really good in blue, huh?”
* * *
It’s the last summer before college and the Pines twins are spending it in Gravity Falls, of course. The Stans are back from their adventures, meaning Dipper spends plenty of time holed up with Great Uncle Ford in the basement. Grunkle Stan does what he’s done since Soos took over the shack—a lot of nothing. Just a few weeks away from art school, Mabel has spent most of her time bouncing between art projects and hanging out with her core group of girlfriends—Candy, Grenda, and…Pacifica Northwest. The perpetually unattainable Pacifica Elise Northwest.
Look, Dipper is glad Mabel and Pacifica are friends now. The blond girl had really turned it around since that first summer. She quit going to that stupid prep school, she works at the diner, Mabel even said she wants to be a lawyer now. The thing is, Pacifica is smart, really smart. She can do anything she puts her mind to. Dipper would hate to face her in court.
If he’s totally honest, Dipper and Pacifica are friends, too. They get along when they aren’t fighting, and when they are fighting, it makes something stir in the pit of his stomach.
Last summer, they’d gotten into it about the electoral college during a budget horror movie marathon. Admittedly, Dipper didn’t know much about the topic, but Pacifica was radiant when angry. Like a supernova. Or an asteroid hurtling towards the earth.
“Really, Dipper,” she’d said, each word perfectly annunciated. “There’s no real argument here. It’s simply that I know what I’m talking about, and you don’t. I’m right, and you’re wrong.”
The blueish light of the TV had cast Pacifica’s delicate face in a ghostly glow. Her glossy lips had pressed into a thin line and her long hair was pulled up, revealing the smooth curve of neck. She was perched on the edge of the love seat next to Mabel—who was pointedly ignoring them. Pacifica had come straight to the shack from summer cheer practice at Gravity Falls High School, meaning she’d been dressed in her little shorts and baggy tank top.
Wendy and Mabel teased him about it constantly, so he’d never admit it, but the cheerleader thing was hot, really hot. Pacifica’s Instagram (platinum_paz) was filled with photos of her stretching her legs out in a gold miniskirt. The captions were always something clever, more than “go beavers” or “cheering for the BEST team.” Pacifica had an image to uphold, after all.
In an attempt to push the ever-present thoughts of Pacifica’s beauty aside, Dipper had snapped back, “I don’t think you know anything at all, princess.”
That’s when the real battle began.
Mabel titled the day’s scrapbook page “The Time Dipper and Pacifica Ruined Our Movie Night by Almost Killing Each Other Over the Electoral College.” She’d gotten a grainy snapshot of the two of them in each other’s faces. At the end of the summer, she’d shown the Grunkles her scrapbook and upon seeing that photo, Grunkle Stan laughed so hard he’d choked on his Pitt Cola.
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me, Dipstick. You still haven’t made a move on blondie here?”
“I’ve been telling him to, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel had chimed in.
“It isn’t like that,” Dipper had insisted, face burning bright red.
“If it isn’t like that, then you’re as oblivious as my idiot twin brother. No offense, Sixser.”
Ford had just shrugged. “None taken…though I will say even I am picking up on some tension between you and Miss Northwest.”
Another round of raucous laughter.
Later that night, Dipper had googled, “How to disown your entire family?”
* * *
This summer, Dipper and Mabel fell into a routine. Mabel woke up bright and early to “connect with her inner artist,” (whatever that meant). Meanwhile, Dipper slept as late as his and Ford’s research would allow. Dipper’s great uncle had been calling their work an internship in preparation for Dipper’s upcoming biology and physics double major. That meant Dipper typically found himself doing complicated equations or dissecting some of Gravity Falls’ freakiest creatures.
“Great Uncle Ford, is this thing supposed to have…three sets of ears?”
“Yes, my boy, that’s simply its digestive system.”
“…okay.”
Dipper was sure that he’d never encounter anything like this at West Coast Tech.
Once he was awake—or Mabel got impatient—they’d go for a cup of coffee and maybe some food at Greasy’s diner. Mabel really went to see her good friend Pacifica…Dipper just liked the coffee. Sometimes he would even come back and get an extra cup. Hey, a scientist in training needs his fuel!
On that particular morning, the Pines twins pulled up to the diner in Dipper’s “metal death trap” pickup truck that Soos had put together for his sixteenth birthday. How it had lasted this long, no one really understood.
The truck made a horrific cacophony of sounds when Dipper put it into park.
“Shit, sounds like there’s a gnome stuck in the engine again.”
“Leave it, bro bro. Your damsel awaits!”
Dipper sighed. “Mabel, I told you to drop the match making thing. Pacifica and I don’t make sense.”
As the days grew longer, his sister had grown more and more overt with her inane matchmaking plans. Most of these plans involved Mabel needing to go to the bathroom every time Pacifica came to take their order at the diner or attempting to lock them in closets together. So far, Mabel’s plans had yet to succeed.
“You can’t give up on love!” Mabel replied and hopped out of the car.
Ugh. Dipper opted to follow silently behind Mabel, leaving the gnome for another time. He felt his heart thumping in anticipation of Pacifica, though he did his best to push it to the side. Pacifica Northwest was unattainable. She was his sister’s beautiful, smart, enchanting best friend. She might as well have worn a sign that said NOT GONNA HAPPEN, DIPPER PINES.
When Dipper swung open the door, Mabel had already thrown her giant tote bag of useless crap into the regular booth and disappeared to who knows where. Dipper rolled his eyes and slid into the booth. Mabel was nothing if not persistent.
“Morning, loser,” came Pacifica’s voice.
She set two yellowed ceramic mugs on the table.
“Morning, Pacifica.” Dipper hoped he sounded normal.
She filled his mug to the brim but left a bit of space in Mabel’s. His sister liked to add about a gallon of creamer and sugar the everything she drank, especially coffee.
“It’s a fresh pot,” Pacifica said. “Only the star treatment for the Pines twins.”
Dipper cracked a smile.
“Is that sarcasm I hear, Northwest?”
“Never.”
There was the beginning of a grin playing at the corner of her perfectly glossy mouth.
“I didn’t realize I’d been downgraded to ‘Northwest,’” her dark eyes bore into Dipper’s green ones. “I thought I was your ‘princess.’”
Every bit of air left Dipper’s lungs. He gripped the handle of his mug hard, willing his blood to rush back into his brain.
“I-uh, if you prefer ‘princess’ I guess I’ll just have to call you that more,” he stammered.
Pacifica’s face blossomed into a self-satisfied grin. “Perfect. And I’m sure you tip big, too.”
Then she sauntered away like a goddamn siren, blond ponytail swaying behind her. Dipper was left speechless staring into his cup of coffee.
God-fucking-damnit. How the hell was he going to last all summer?
Right at that moment, Mabel slid into the booth.
“I saw that!” she sang off tune. “Dippy and Pacifica, sitting in a tree, f-u-c-k-i-“
“MABEL!” Dipper snapped. “Would you shut up?”
“Nope! -n-g!”
Dipper tossed a sugar packet at her head but missed by a mile. Sports had never been his strong suit.
“I heard all of it, too.” Mabel was absolutely ecstatic. “I was just hiding in the next booth so you wouldn’t see me.”
“Jeez, Mabel, have you gotten into the Smile Dip again?”
“No, I was dead sober for that. And I know exactly what I heard. Flirting. Stone cold flirting, Dipper.”
“I don’t know…”
“DO YOU HAVE MUSH FOR BRAINS?”
Everyone in the diner turned to look at them, including Pacifica. Dipper burned with embarrassment, but Mabel didn’t seem to notice.
“Pacifica Elise Northwest has been flirting with you, Dipper Pines, since we were like fourteen.”
“What-?”
“At first, I thought you were just too dense to notice, but then I realized that you just don’t think you’re good enough for someone like her. Your brain just can’t compute that she’d ever give you the time of day. But she’s been giving you the time, she’s been giving you the whole damn clock, for three years!”
Dipper is flabbergasted, to say the least.
“Are you saying that Pacifica…likes me?”
Mabel looked like she was about to bang her head against the table. “Yes, dipshit.”
“Oh.”
Dipper couldn’t find words. Was it really that obvious? Was he really that stupid? Mabel would probably answer yes to both of those questions.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Are you guys going to order anything else, or…?”
Pacifica’s voice jolted Dipper out of his thoughts.
“What? Um, no thanks! I have to go see about a gnome! In the engine!” He bolted from the table, moving faster than he’d realized possible.
“Dipper!” Mabel yelled after him. “Damnit, you’re my ride!”
“I’ll pick you up later!” And he was out the door of Greasy’s diner and jumping into his truck like it was a lifeboat on the Titanic. Dipper threw the truck in reverse, upsetting the gnome in the engine, and peeled out of the parking lot.
* * *
Approximately ten minutes later, Dipper was lying face down on the living room carpet, nearly dead to the world.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself.
“My boy?” Great Uncle Ford said from somewhere above him. “Why are you on the ground?”
Dipper sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
“Well, it’s just that Mabel told me today that Pacifica…has a crush on me.”
A pause.
“Is that the whole story?”
“Yeah, basically.”
“So, what exactly is it about this information has led to you laying on the floor?”
“It’s just…a lot.”
“I thought you liked the girl.”
“I do!”
“Dipper, I am not an expert in romance by any means, but it seems that you don’t have a problem here. Ask her to go eat food. Women like that, I believe.”
Dipper Pines ask Pacifica Northwest on a date.
“Okay, I think I will.”