Want to try actually reading like, any of the current arc (even just from Standoff would do) before assuming Nick Spencer doesn't know how to do his job? There are nuances in this and I have at least two theories, and have read a few from, others too, none of which involve the good name of Steve Rogers being forever tainted.
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 8865
Co-written by: skimmingmilk and syl-writes-stuff
Summary: “It had been difficult, at first, to find information on Mabel and Dipper Pines. It had been especially difficult for Wirt to wrap his mind around what information he did find. The Gravity Falls webpage was an ugly, brown mess with an outdated interface and weak search capabilities. That was why it had been so easy to disbelieve the dates on the articles he’d eventually come across. The main one he’d found, at least with the Dipper Pines he’d recognized, contained a photograph of him fighting a giant bat with a police taser.”
When Wirt and Greg successfully plan a summer trip with a stop in Gravity Falls, Oregon seven months after their stint in The Unknown, they’re not exactly sure what they’ll find waiting for them. Or who, to be more precise. But whether waiting months or years, the Mystery Best Friends inevitably find themselves back together and ready to tackle new mysteries and some delicious ob-waffle.
[AO3]
Chapter 8
Dipper pushed the kickstand down on the old bike, listening carefully for any signs of werebeasts. Specifically the wolves. Though he and Mabel had come the day before, they hadn’t looked around like they should have. He could really only blame himself for it, himself and his distracted worrying.
He was still distracted, but he grinned when Wirt stopped beside him. “They haven’t come back here or we would all know by now. Just keep an eye out for anything that seems wrong or off.”
Mabel stopped at his other side, retrieving Greg from the basket so he could help. “Like if I see a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hands?” he asked.
Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Greg, why would you even think that’s something you’d see?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. They do it in the ‘Werewolves of London.’” Greg patted his stomach and puffed out his cheeks. “And he’s gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein!”
“If you see any of those things at all, that counts as weird,” Dipper assured him.
“Come on, junior detective, we have clues to find! You too, junior detective Wirt!”
“Coming- wait, what?” Wirt’s brow furrowed and he bristled. “I’m still a junior detective?”
“That’s okay, Wirt. So’s Jason Funderburker!” Greg attempted to console him, holding up their frog who absolutely demanded that he come today under no uncertain terms, provided that Greg keep a tight hold of him the entire time.
“That doesn’t help at all,” Wirt replied dryly. “But thank you for trying.”
“You’re welcome!”
“You probably won’t be a junior detective for long,” Dipper teased, grinning.
The look Wirt shot him was very unimpressed indeed, but he bumped his shoulder nonetheless and let the subject drop. Glancing around at the towering trees, his heart picked up a little. It was a little like deja vu. These were completely different trees, though, he assured himself, but stuck close to Dipper and Greg. He focused on looking for the clues Mabel demanded they find, his eyes drawn to the shadows in the woods. All the air in his lungs whooshed out of him as he snapped to attention. For a moment he swore he saw an Edelwood tree.
“Different trees,” he muttered under his breath once he got it back, shaking the feeling away. “Different trees, different trees.”
“Hey, relax.” Dipper passed him a flashlight and withdrew his portable blacklight just in case. “Come on. We’ll look inside, okay? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, and Mabel won’t let anything happen to Greg or Jason Funderburker out here.”
He blew a long breath and nodded, taking the flashlight gratefully. “Right. Okay. I’m good, I’m okay.”
“And I’m Junior Detective Greg! Explorer and adventurer extraordinaire!” Greg declared, pumping his fist in the air. “Forward march!”
“Sideways march!” Mabel corrected and squatted down, tugging Greg close. “Ob-waffle,” she whispered and winked. “Let them look inside and we’ll explore out here for clues.”
Greg gasped delightedly, then clamped his hand over his mouth. “Ob-waffle,” he agreed in a hushed voice, holding up his fingers in the a-okay sign before patting Jason Funderburker on the head. “Sideways is definitely better for exploring,” he said louder.
“Just be careful,” Wirt warned, his eyes unable to keep from wandering up the trunks of the trees around them once more before focusing on Greg. “Stay with Mabel.”
“Captain’s orders?”
“Captain’s orders.”
Dipper glanced over. “Mabel-”
“I know what to look for.” She pulled out one of the spray bottles, this one full of a silver concoction. “And I’ve got this. We’ll be fine. Shoo-shoo.”
Dipper nodded, and the two quickly fist-bumped before he grabbed Wirt’s hand. “Come on. At least we’re not going in here running from a huge Frog Fly this time.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Wirt huffed out a laugh as he laced their fingers together, just for that little extra assurance that they couldn’t be separated so easily. “That’s not exactly an experience I wanted to relive any time soon.”
“I’m keen on reliving it never.” Dipper led the way, as was his habit, and held up his blacklight to the walls. The author’s handwriting glowed blue - I hope you brought your silver.
“Let’s go. Maybe someone’s here that just doesn’t want to show themselves. I still can’t figure out why they would all leave at once when they’ve been here for years.”
“Maybe something scared them off. Fear can be a pretty good motivator,” Wirt chipped in, shining the flashlight ahead of them to illuminate their path. “I don’t particularly want to imagine the kind of creature that could scare off a werewolf though.”
“Weres are more and less than what the movies say they are.” Dipper gave Wirt’s hand a squeeze, making sure to keep a half step ahead of him the way he would do for Mabel or anyone else important enough to protect. He, too, didn’t want to think of what could’ve scared them off if that was the issue. He’d seen no signs thus far of such a thing, though, but he hadn’t seen signs of the alchemy the journals had either. “We’ll be fine.”
Wirt glanced at what he could make of his countenance in the dim lighting. There was his curiosity, of course, but also focus and determination. A lot of it reminded him of the last time he’d been in a cave with this boy, both months and years back from now at the same time. It was enough to give anyone a headache, but somehow he’d swallowed it. As prepared as he’d been for this, having watched plenty of current videos to assist in that, it still surprised him a little to see the similarities and the differences in the boy he’d met then and the boy he was with now simultaneously.
“I know,” he replied, and he honestly did believe it. “I trust you.”
Something in the tone had Dipper pausing, glancing up those extra couple of inches to search his eyes. They were shadowed, the flashlight too dim, so he let the tone be enough and gave his hand another squeeze. “You want to know why I thought you were dead?”
Wirt’s eyes widened, not quite expecting that turn in their conversation. “Um…” He cleared his throat a little. “Well, it… it made the most sense, didn’t it? I mean… you knew it was more or less the afterlife.”
“It made sense, sure, but not the most sense. You blocking it out would make sense. You just not remembering as clearly as Mabel and I made sense. You convincing your six year old brother that this near death experience was all a crazy dream would make sense.
“I didn’t think you were dead because it made sense, man. I picked dead - picked it, chose to believe it - because I couldn’t any of the others. I didn’t see it in you to block it out, to forget, to lie. You promised me that you would get that page back when you got home, and I believed that. I believed that there was nothing less than death that would keep you away. So I trust you, too, Wirt. I trust you a lot.”
“Dipper…” Wirt’s brow furrowed, his lips pursed to keep them from trembling even if the other boy couldn’t see it. “That’s…”
He squeezed his hand back, the poet unable to find the words. Such was his life. When he needed them most they evaporated off his tongue. What could he say? He’d had to wait two and a half years for him to make good on a promise, trusting that he’d do so based off of knowing him for a few hours at most. A version of him that Wirt wasn’t entirely proud of. Although, he supposed that same him was the one that didn’t hesitate to pull Dipper to safety from a rockslide, with zero consideration of the dangers that might have befallen him to do so. He could’ve gotten his arm or hand caught, something could’ve gone wrong. He could’ve failed to save him.
He remembered the overwhelming weight of responsibility for him well, even before he really understood what responsibility was. Still, would he have considered himself trustworthy? That Wirt might’ve, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“If it’s within my power, I won’t ever make you feel like you have to pick dead again,” he told him. “Even if it means you trust me that much, you still shouldn’t have had to. You shouldn’t have had to carry that on your shoulders for nearly three years.”
“No, but it’s not like it was your fault. It’s The Unknown. It was a time paradox thing. I’ve screwed up time - Mabel and I took a calculator to the pioneer days once. So I know that time just messes things up. I’ll always trust you. Unless you do some major screwing up in the future, but I don’t think you will. You’re not like that. You weren’t then when you didn’t give yourself enough credit, and you’re definitely not now.”
“I know it wasn’t my fault and that it was time, but… I still don’t like that you had to feel like you failed us,” Wirt murmured.
“Look, it can’t be changed. I’m not mad about it.” He stopped, turning into Wirt and pulling him into a hug, fingers tangling in his hair. “I’ve done a lot of stuff in almost three years, okay? I don’t know if I would’ve done all of them without that over my head. Stuff happens. Like the worst stuff can happen, and the best stuff can come out of it. You’re here now, man, and I’m really glad that you are. That’s what matters. Okay?”
Wirt started, his heart leaping into his throat as they pressed together. His arms instinctively went to hug him back, hesitating at the last second. He had a point. Without going through what he had, would Dipper be the person standing in front of him now? Would any of them? Without the weird glitch in time, he never would’ve even met him. He breathed him in, closing his eyes as he steadied his resolve and tightened his arms around him.
“Okay,” he accepted, letting the what-ifs and what-could’ve-beens lie in the corners of his mind. “I’m really glad I’m here, too.”
Dipper nodded, relieved by the words and the returned embrace. He withdrew sooner than he wanted to, offering a smile. “Let’s keep going. You’re never going to bust out of junior detective status if we don’t find something.”
Wirt laughed, the light from the flashlight between them enough to illuminate the wrinkle of his nose. “Oh, man. You’re right. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if Greg surpassed me in rank.”
There wasn’t much to see, it seemed. Even with the flashlight and the blacklight, it just seemed like an ordinary cave after that first eerie message. Apparently werewolves didn’t do much to spruce up their dens. There definitely weren’t any signs that anything had ever lived here at all.
Until Wirt took a step and something crunched under his shoe. The flashlight had been canted to the left, away from him and more towards Dipper since he’d been leading ever so slightly, so he hadn’t seen whatever it was that he’d walked right into. A strangled sort of yelp was wrenched from him as he jumped back, taking Dipper with him since their hands were still connected as he fumbled with the flashlight.
“What was that, what was that, what was that?” he whispered frantically, half-afraid of actually seeing what it was because it was probably bones. He’d stepped on some bones. “They’re bones. They’re bones, aren’t they? Some poor innocent victim’s dried out remains now crushed to dust- and I stepped on someone’s bones!”
He angled his body towards Dipper as he shone the flashlight where he’d been, prepared to hide his face against his shoulder since both hands were otherwise occupied, prepared for the worst-
“Sticks?” All kinds of shapes and sizes of sticks. They littered the ground and some were, incredibly, impaled in the stone walls. “How...?” Dipper grabbed Wirt’s wrist to move the flashlight, but stilled and moved the light away again when he saw the ugly splatters of red. “Let’s... Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”
The calm that had settled on him when it had only been sticks vanished instantly. “Is that blood?” he breathed, feeling his knees wobble unsteadily. “Oh my gosh… Greg. We- we need to go find them.” He tugged on Dipper, dragging him the way they came as he backpedaled.
Mabel. “Yeah, we do.” Neither led, clinging to each other and worry over their siblings as they quickly exited the former den. They nearly ran right over each other, though Mabel and Greg looked more excited than worried.
“Okay, so, we found- What’s wrong?” Immediately in tune, Mabel grabbed her brother’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Are you okay?” he demanded in return.
“Yes?” She didn’t argue when Wirt took Greg from her. “What’s going on?”
“Wirt?” Greg touched his brother’s pale cheek with worry, then immediately returned the hug that he was engulfed in, letting Wirt squeeze him as much as needed to.
“I’m fine, Greg,” he choked out, looking over the younger boy’s shoulder at Mabel and slowly shook his head. He didn’t want Greg to hear.
Leaving her with Dipper to let him fill her in, Wirt carried him a little ways away, over to the bikes. He took a few deep breaths, feeling Greg rub his back to comfort him and Jason Funderburker squirming between them and his heart swelled with affection and relief. He was fine. Nothing had come to slaughter him in the forest while he hadn’t been watching.
“Yeah,” Wirt breathed, nodding as he set Greg down and knelt beside him to be at his level. “Yeah, you know me. I don’t deal well with spooky shadows in caves. But uh… tell me about the clues you found, huh? That’ll help me take my mind off being scared.”
Though still a little uneasy, Greg seemed to accept this explanation and didn’t waste time launching into a slightly exaggerated version of his and Mabel’s exploration.
They’d found the same thing. Sticks of all shapes and sizes, one impaling and seeming to topple a tree. The only thing they hadn’t found, and Dipper was relieved to hear it for Greg’s sake, was blood. He blew out a breath, walking back to the bikes with his sister. “Hey, Wirt? I need my flashlight. I’m going back in.”
“What?” Wirt stood up quickly as he whirled to face him, Greg latching onto his hand as if that would help steady him. “No way. You’re not going back in there alone. That thi- something could still be in there.”
“That’s not what it looks like. It looks like whatever this was - because I don’t recognize these signs from any of the journals, but I’ll look into that later. It looks like this thing went into the den, wreaked havoc, and then chased everyone else. If anything is still in the den, it’ll be one of the weres. And I... I have to make sure. I can’t just go without making sure.”
Wirt clung tightly to the flashlight, unable to really argue with that, but still… “Well, is Mabel going with you?”
She opened her mouth to acquiesce, but Dipper shook his head and held out a hand for the flashlight. “No, I’ll be okay.”
He pursed his lips, face set in a frown as he brought the flashlight up to his chest stubbornly. “You’re not going alone.”
“I’ll go with Dipper,” Greg offered. “I’m brave. I’m not scared of the dark.”
“No,” Wirt told him. “You’re not going in there.”
“But-!” When Wirt shushed him, his cheeks puffed out indignantly. “You shh.”
Mabel plucked him and Jason Funderburker up. “You don’t want to go in there, trust me. Werewolves smell awful.”
Dipper shook his head, laying his hand on Wirt’s wrist. “I need to go back in there. I’ll just use the blacklight if you don’t give me the flashlight.”
“I know you do, I just don’t want you to do it alone.” Wirt glanced at Mabel, and Greg still pouting in her arms. If Dipper wouldn’t take her, then… His shoulders sagged as he exhaled heavily, but he was nothing but firm when he met Dipper’s gaze. “I’m going with you then.”
“No, man. Look, it freaked you out. You don’t have to. I just need to look around, okay?” He started to shiver despite himself, fingers curling around his wrist to have someone to cling to. The werewolves had been gone the day before. If there was anything in there, it would’ve needed his help the day before, and he’d just left.
Wirt looked down at his wrist briefly, then back up at Dipper. “Yeah, well, I know I don’t have to. I’m going anyway.”
“But Wirt…” Greg’s brow was furrowed, unable to understand why he’d go somewhere willingly that had made him come out looking so shaky and ashen.
“I was surprised,” he told him to set his mind at ease. “And now I know what to expect, so I won’t be surprised this time.”
And as long as Mabel and Greg stayed near the bikes, maybe he’d feel a little better about their safety, too. Surely Mabel could handle herself, and she’d never let anything happen to Greg. Wirt flicked on the flashlight, then gently removed Dipper’s hand from his wrist.
“Come on. Let’s go see if anything needs your help.” With that he started back for the cave before his nerves could convince him otherwise.
Dipper started to follow, but his sister held him up. “You know it’s not your fault, right?” He looked back at her, but didn’t reply. “It’s not. Whatever you find, it’s not.”
They’d see. “Stay by the bikes. If anything... If anything shows up, go home. Text me when you get there.”
“Got it.”
He went after Wirt, catching up to him quickly. “I... I’m sorry. This is... I know this is dumb, and I shouldn’t be dragging you into it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Wirt slipped his hand into his. “It’s not dumb and you’re not dragging me into it. I’m dragging myself. Well… not dragging. I mean, you were going to come in here with or without me, and I decided I wanted it to be with me. If anything, I’m the dumb one. I know you can handle yourself with stuff like this; you’ve been doing it for years. And it’s not like me being here is going to be much help, but…” He shrugged, tilting his head to look at him before they lost the last of daylight to the depths of the cave. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“Just a reminder that I really, really like you.” The smile he offered was a little weak with worry, but it was genuine. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, well… I really, really like you, too.” He bumped his shoulder, smiling back. “You and your need to figure things out and help people no matter what. Even if it means going into creepy caves.”
Dipper laughed softly, taking the flashlight so he could aim it where he needed and so Wirt could look away if he needed to. There were more sticks the further they went, more blood. Turning his mind to the puzzle and not the fact that this had once been a creature, he released Wirt’s hand at one point to get a closer look. Clumps of hair - or, more likely, fur - were stuck to a bloodied stick, impossibly large and embedded into the wall as if it had grown there.
What had been there? What had attacked the werewolves and was it also terrifying the werehares and werefoxes? Had it affected the other werebeasts in the area? He had to know. He had to solve this puzzle and put Gravity Falls back in order.
He rose and grasped Wirt’s hand again. He didn’t know if it was worse to know that nothing would be in that cave, no matter how far they looked, or to not know. “Whatever this thing is, it didn’t leave anything behind. Are you still, um... Are you still up to check a couple other dens or should we get you and Greg back to the hotel?”
Wirt squeezed his hand. “Mom’s not expecting us back until after lunch. We can still check out a few more dens.”
“Thanks. I need to stop this. Whatever this thing is, I can’t let it get worse.” He passed the flashlight back to him. “Let’s get out of here, Wirt.”
----
The other dens proved to be just as empty as the first, littered with only traces of blood and the same strange sticks scattered about. Each time they poked their heads into one, Wirt’s hope that they find something - anything - for Dipper to save increased in desperation, but still refused to fall whenever they came up empty. He knew how important it was to hold onto hope, even in the darkest of times. Especially in the darkest of times.
Willing to keep looking, to keep searching for clues to whatever had caused this, Wirt was steadily realizing that he couldn’t keep his mom appeased for much longer through texts. They’d already been given an hour extension, and when they came to a place that got reception, her call came through and Wirt had no choice but to step aside to take it.
But he knew what she was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it.
“Mom, please let us stay one more day? Just one, that’s it,” he pleaded.
“Sweetheart, we already have reservations to be in Salem tonight.” Her voice crackled a little with the static from the trees interrupting the connection. “We can’t cancel them at this point.” She paused, and Wirt could hear Jonathan saying something in the background. “Yes, well, I know that we can technically do what we want, but we won’t get a refund and we’re already on a tight budget as it is with this trip,” she said more to his step-dad than to him. “Wirt, I’m sorry, but we just can’t make it happen this trip. We’ll try and get you and Greg out here again next summer.”
“Next summer?” His heart sank, struggling not to glance over his shoulder to seek out Dipper or Mabel or his brother. The reality of their situation crashed down on him heavily. He was going to have to wait an entire year to see him again, or Greg Mabel. So much could change in a year. So much had changed in just two days! Wirt wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to go.
“Just… can we have another hour? We’ll be back then, I promise.” Wirt clutched his phone with both hands, wishing that she’d give him that much at least.
She sighed softly on the other line. “One more hour,” she agreed. “But then we really do have to leave.”
“Okay.” He swallowed thickly, trying not to let her hear it in his voice. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Wirt, I really am sorry. I know you’re having a great time-”
“It’s okay.” He shook his head. It really wasn’t, but it wasn’t her fault. It was just the situation. “It’s fine. I understand. I’ll see you in an hour. Love you.”
He listened to her return the sentiment before hanging up. Flipping the phone shut, he tightened his grip on it and felt a very strong urge to chuck it at the nearest tree. That wouldn’t do anyone any good though, he realized as he let out a long, weary breath, choosing to pocket the phone instead as he turned around and shuffled his way back to the rest of their little group.
Greg and Mabel had taken to making flower crowns while Dipper paced beside them, his nose buried in his journal. Wirt pursed his lips together tightly. Why did they have to live so far apart? Mabel and Greg delighted in each other’s company and he in Dipper’s and… and how was he supposed to help him when he was on the other side of the country?
The stupidest part was that they would still be in Oregon for the rest of the week. A mere two or three hours away depending on traffic. They’d still be so close, but completely at the mercy of hotel cancellation fees and freeways.
Wirt hugged himself as he continued to approach them, working on making his expression seem just a tad less heartbroken. When Greg looked up at him though, he could immediately tell he hadn’t done a good enough job. His little brother abandoned his circle of flowers to hurry over to him.
“What did Mom say?” he asked.
The twins looked up in unison, eyes equally wide, and Dipper sighed. “She said no.”
Greg gasped, glancing at both of them before turning back to Wirt for his confirmation. When Wirt nodded, his face fell. Even Jason Funderburker croaked sadly from where he was draped in flowers.
“We have another hour,” he told them. “Then we really have to go.”
“I don’t want to.” Greg crossed his arms.
“I don’t either, Greg, but… but we can’t stay at the motel another night,” Wirt explained, trying to keep it simple for him.
The journal fell to his side, Dipper covering his eyes with his free hand. “What a great last day. I’m sorry. We should’ve done something else.”
Mabel set her flower crown down, studying them all. Her optimism had been tested sorely that day, watching her brother’s mood plummet and Wirt’s stress levels rise. But she still had some fight in her. “What about the Shack?”
Wirt blinked slowly, lifting his head a little to consider her hopefully while Greg placed his hands on his hips and asked, “What about it?”
“You can’t stay at the motel another night, but what if you stayed with us?” When her brother smiled for the first time in hours, she knew she was on the right track. “When’s your flight home? Where’s it out of? Stay with us at the Shack.”
“We’ll have to actually ask Grunkle Stan and their parents. I mean- Wirt, what- I mean. Do you want to stay? I know today’s been... awful, but...”
“Of course I want to stay,” he blurted, waving his hands about wildly. “Our flight home isn’t even until Friday! We were just going to spend the rest of the week on the coast or in Portland and I want to spend it here-!” Wirt reined in his outburst, cheeks coloring a little while Greg cheered him on. “Would your uncle let us? I mean, this would be bigger than just a sleepover. And our parents won’t be in the same town at all.”
“I’ll be good!” Greg offered. “I’ll be on my best behavior! Jason Funderburker, too!”
“We’ve got an hour, right?” Dipper put the journal in his pocket and reached for the old bike. “Let’s go find out if we can get a week together.” He swung on, his grin all for Wirt. “A whole week, man.”
Mabel laughed, scrambling to her feet. “Come on, Greg, Jason Funderburker! Basket!”
Greg whooped and scooped up their lucky frog before racing her to the bike. As Wirt went to grab Dipper’s, he couldn’t help brushing past him, giving his forearm a squeeze as he returned the smile. A whole week. He almost didn’t want to hope for it in case it all came crashing down around them, but it burned brightly nonetheless. He wanted to stay. He had to stay.
----
The old man scoffed. “You’re kidding.”
“No!” The twins, undeterred, walked backwards as their uncle pushed forward.
“Come on, Grunkle Stan!”
“Please, please, please? It’s only until Friday. Dipper’s willing to do extra chores.”
“Uh. So is Mabel.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then considered. “Actually, I am! Grunkle Stan, I will even - and this is a limited time offer - knit everyone their own Mystery Shack sweaters to wear as uniforms.”
“You’re not helping your case, kiddo. Now move. Come on. There’s a tour bus out there with dollar signs all over it.”
The twins stepped aside and let him pass, Dipper looking over his shoulder at Wirt and Greg. His shoulders sagged for a moment, but he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let a week slip through their fingers because of his uncle. He smacked his fist to his palm and whirled back to him. “Grunkle Stan, they’re staying whether you like it or not! Mabel and I’ve got it taken care of, and it’s happening. That’s it!”
The old man looked back, shifting his unnecessary eyepatch to the opposite eye to see him better. Dipper’s mutinous expression didn’t change, so he shrugged. “Alright. Can I get to work now?”
“Wait. Alright?” Mutiny faded to shock because, well, how had that worked? “It’s alright?”
“It’s alright!” Mabel cheered. “You can stay!”
Dipper laughed, and the twins high-fived. “Yes! We still have to ask your parents now, but yes!”
“Oh my gosh.” Wirt looked to Greg, his little brother beaming, and he just had to grin back. “Wow. Okay! Come on, Greg. Let’s go ask Mom and Jonathan! We’ll go to the motel and ask in person and that way we can grab our things when they say yes- if they say yes. Boy, I hope they say yes.”
“I think they will!” Greg’s complete faith in that was refreshing and reassuring, not matter how much it was expected of him.
“Do you guys want to come with us? Will you?” Wirt asked the twins, his gaze lingering on Dipper.
“Yes!” was cheered by both, and Dipper reached out to take his hand.
“We can take the Mystery Cart so we can fit your bags. They will say yes. They have to. Something’s going to go right today.”
“It will.” Wirt’s chest tightened with the fear that it wouldn’t - he couldn’t let Dipper down when he clearly needed this win - but he pushed it aside and buried it.
He didn’t even freak out in the Mystery Cart, too preoccupied with organizing his argument in his head, listing all the reasons why it was perfectly acceptable for them to stay, how responsible he’d be, how good Greg would be, framing his case with bullet points and imaginary charts. Why didn’t he have real charts? Did he even need charts? Were they necessary? No, wait, focus. Charts had nothing to do with this, he’d be fine as long as he played it cool. He knew how to handle his mom when he wanted something, and he was learning how to handle Jonathan. This would work.
When the cart pulled into the motel parking lot, Wirt almost forgot to wait for it to come to a complete stop before getting out. Almost. Wow, he needed to get his head on straight. He took the time to compose himself as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, making sure that the twins and Greg were with him. It might’ve seemed a little bit like an ambush, but it couldn’t hurt to have Dipper and Mabel there to be able to vouch for their great uncle.
In front of their room, Wirt inhaled deeply as he fished the key out of his pocket. He glanced at Dipper, then at Mabel and Greg, then pushed it in and turned the handle. The bags were mostly packed, lined up by the door. Wirt nearly tripped on them in his haste to get out of the way so the others could enter after him. His mom was packing her cosmetics and his step-dad was stocking the cooler.
They both looked up, smiles coming easily as they prepared to greet them, but then Wirt realized words were spilling out of his mouth first. “We want to stay at the Mystery Shack!”
Their parents blinked and Wirt actually smacked his palm to his face. So much for his plan. Mabel could only laugh, hiding as much of it as she could in Greg’s hair when she swept him up for a hug. Dipper offered his support by laying a hand on his shoulder. While appreciating the contact, Wirt still flushed furiously at the way he’d just blurted it out.
“Uh… I mean… Greg and I would appreciate it if… you’d let us stay at the Mystery Shack with Dipper and Mabel until we have to go home. Please.”
His mom and step-dad looked at each other for a moment, both processing the request, and she recovered first. “Wirt, I don’t know. That’s a pretty big thing to ask for.”
“I know.” He started wringing his hands together, glancing over his shoulder at Dipper. “And I know that I already asked for this trip in the first place and that it was a huge deal, but we made it work and I think we can make this work, too. Dipper and Mabel already asked their uncle and he said it was fine. And Greg- Greg! Tell them how you’ll be on your best behavior?”
“I will,” he piped up, waving from Mabel’s arms. “I’ll actually listen to everything Wirt or Mabel says! Oh, and Dipper, too, ‘cause he’s the admiral.”
Their mom covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter while Jonathan’s eyes widened, unable to hide his grin. “That is pretty huge, I have to agree with you, Wirt.”
It was working. They were smiling at any rate. “Yeah, and I’ll look after him and, you know, I won’t cause any problems, so you guys don’t have to worry while you’re in Portland or wherever and it’s not that far in case there’s an emergency. Which there won’t be, but if there was, it’s not that bad. And you haven’t had a vacation to yourselves since your honeymoon, right? You wouldn’t have to worry about us, we wouldn’t have to worry about you, everybody wins.”
They glanced at each other again. “He does have a point,” Jonathan noted. “And their uncle said it was okay.”
“We don’t even know their uncle,” their mom reminded him. “Not personally, anyway.”
“We’ve stayed with him every summer since we were twelve,” Dipper blurted. “He’s kind of- well, he’s crazy, but he’s not a bad guy, and- You can come talk to him if you want. Before you go. It's just that Mabel and I’ve been waiting forever to see Greg and Wirt and we just- Sorry. I probably shouldn’t even be talking because this is a family thing, but...” He looked at Wirt, hands flailing helplessly. “Please let them stay. Please.”
“It would really mean a lot!” Mabel agreed, swinging Greg up to her shoulders as if that would protect him from being taken away from her.
“Mom,” Wirt started, stepping closer to her and his step-dad. “Jonathan, please. I was scared before, I didn’t know what to expect, so I didn’t ask for more time here, but… but I really want this. I won’t ask for anything after this. All I want is to spend the rest of the week here, please. Please I have to stay.”
When they exchanged glances again, both of their gazes reflected their answer. “Wirt, if this really means that much to you, then of course you can stay,” his mother started, and Wirt’s knees wobbled as his heart resumed pounding like crazy.
“Really?” he breathed, smile spreading across his face.
She nodded. “If it’s alright with their uncle, then it’s alright with me as long as you check in regularly, but,” she interrupted his frantic nodding by holding up her hand, “I’m not comfortable letting Greg stay, too. It would just be you.”
“What?” His face fell and he instinctively looked back at Greg, who’d looked absolutely ecstatic at the news only to slowly deflate as he realized what they’d just said. “No… Mom, why?”
“Wirt, you’re older, and I’m sure you can handle being away from us for so long. But Greg’s just too young right now. I’d just feel better if he was with us,” she explained, then looked past Wirt sadly. “Honey, I’m sorry,” she told Greg.
“But I’ll look after him, I won’t let anything happen to him,” Wirt pressed, unable to accept his win in the face of Greg’s loss. “Mabel, too! She adores him! With the two of us watching him, he’ll be the safest kid!”
“Mom, I want to stay!” Greg clung to Mabel, appearing adamant on remaining rooted to her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Greg. Maybe when you’re older,” his dad replied, before turning his attention to Wirt. “It’s great that you’d step up like that, kiddo, but we don’t want to put this on your shoulders.”
“I don’t mind. I really, honestly don’t mind,” he told them. “I want him to stay, we all do!”
Mabel swung him down, rubbing their cheeks together. “They both have to stay! I promised we’d go on adventures this summer, and we have to!”
Dipper looped an arm around his sister’s waist, then nabbed Wirt’s hand to tug him over, “Seriously. We want them both to stay. We’ve got the room, we’ll give you the number to the Shack, mine and Mabel’s phones since we get receptions pretty much everywhere here on ours. You can call whenever. They both really have to stay.”
Their parents clearly hadn’t expected all of them to feel so strongly about this. Jonathan took their mom aside for the pair of them to talk quietly, glancing over at them occasionally. Wirt squeezed Dipper’s hand, his free one finding Greg’s as well. They both had to stay. Wirt didn’t think he’d be able to without him.
Finally, after what felt like hours despite only being minutes, they turned back to the teenagers and the seven-year-old. “You call us twice a day to check in,” their mom told Wirt and Greg. “And answer your phone if we call unless the reception is bad, and then you call us right back. You two are not to go off on your own, make sure you’re with one or both of them if you leave their house. Greg, I mean it. No adventures with only Jason Funderburker in the woods, am I clear?”
“As a bell!” Greg assured her, giving her a thumbs up. “I can stay?”
“You can stay,” she agreed. “If it really means that much to all of you, then I don’t see why we can’t try it out and see how it goes.”
“And if there are any problems, just call us and we’ll head over,” Greg’s dad added.
“Victory!” Greg cheered, throwing his arms in the air while Wirt sagged with a weird combination of relief, disbelief, and unmistakable joy.
“We’re staying,” he murmured. “For a whole week.”
“A whole week!” Greg repeated.
Mabel twirled ecstatically, cheering, and her twin forgot to think. He threw his arms around Wirt, clinging to his sweater. “A week.”
“This is the best thing ever!” Mabel decided. “We’re going to have so much fun! We’re going to do so many things!” She rubbed her nose to Greg’s, giggling, and then twirled to face the brothers’ parents. “Thank you so much!”
“Y-yeah,” Wirt managed to kick his brain into gear, hugging Dipper back before going over to hug his mom, too, because this was a big deal and he was not too old or above hugging his mom. “Thank you. Seriously. I don’t even-”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.” She returned the embrace and kissed his cheek, then did the same for Greg once he’d wiggled down from Mabel’s arms.
“Do you need us to take your things over in the car?” Jonathan asked, gesturing to their suitcases.
“No, we uh- we’ve got a ride. It’s a golf cart. They’re not driving illegally, because that would be reckless and irresponsible and completely not allowed,” Wirt babbled while they looked at him with amusement. “It’s… yeah, it’s a golf cart.”
The twins grinned identical, innocent grins, exchanging looks and fist bumps. It was Dipper who picked up Greg when he came back to them, giving him a tight hug before passing him to his sister. “So do you need anything from us, or are we good?”
The parents and the twins exchanged contact informations just to be safe, while Wirt was given the phone numbers for the next two hotels they’d be staying at in case they couldn’t reach them on their cell phones. They helped them take the boys’ things downstairs, including Wirt’s clarinet case which he kept close to him knowing the crumbled ball of paper was still squished inside of it and didn’t want any over-excited brothers or sisters or boys that he liked trying to get their hands on it. They packed up the golf cart quickly, in the off-chance that anyone’s mind changed, and they said their goodbyes.
“Have fun,” their mom told Wirt before he got in the passenger seat of the golf cart, giving him one last squeeze. “It’s really good to see you so excited about this. I’m so glad that things worked out with meeting your pen pal in person.”
“Yeah, me too.” It was still beyond anything he’d ever imagined, part of him still couldn’t quite believe it. “Thanks again, Mom.”
“Bye Mom! Bye Dad!” Greg hollered once they were all in the cart, cruising at a reasonable speed, Wirt noticed, since their parents were still within sight of the vehicle. “Ha ha! Nothing can keep Mystery Best Friends from mysteries and adventure!”
“Absolutely nothing, Greg!” Mabel laughed, patting her heart as relief and delight swelled it. She had to make plans immediately. A week of adventure was ahead of them!
Dipper’s foot itched to press further down on the pedal, so he distracted himself by glancing at Wirt. “Pen pal, huh?”
Wirt’s cheeks colored and he slumped in his seat. “Well… I dunno. Somehow I didn’t think telling her I wanted to visit friends we’d met in the afterlife from a different year would go over quite as well.”
“Probably not. I like it, though, the idea of being pen pals. You’ll have to tell me the whole thing you told them, though, so we can keep it straight.” He held out a hand once they were out of sight of the motel, waiting for Wirt to take it before smashing the gas pedal flat.
They were back at the Shack within minutes, Mabel the first to spring out of her seat to grab Greg’s suitcase. “Come on! Let’s go put this in my room and pick something to do with the rest of the day, okay?”
“Okay!” Greg agreed, racing inside after her with frog in tow. “Let’s go, Jason Funderburker!”
Wirt watched them go as he grabbed his own suitcase. This was good, this was right. He couldn’t imagine staying here knowing how badly Greg wanted to as well. Even if he didn’t really understand what had happened to them in The Unknown, this visit was just as important to him. It was important for all of them.
“Hey, so… thanks for helping me convince them, I know I kinda let it get away from me,” he piped up, sidling over to Dipper. “I mean, I had this whole thing planned, like, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and then it just…” He let go of the suitcase with one hand to wave it in the air.
“Man, no one ever remembers what they’re trying to say if it’s important. At least I don’t.” He mounted the stairs to the home half of the Shack, holding the door open. “And, you know, it was important to me that you guys got to stay, and to Mabel. Why wouldn’t I help?”
Wirt shrugged with a little half-smile. “I dunno. I’m just glad you did.” He entered the home fully, waiting for Dipper before carting his stuff up the stairs after him. “So… did you find anything in your journal earlier? You know, when my mom called?”
He groaned, rubbing his hands against his face when the mystery was tossed into it. “No. There’s not a single common enemy for all the weres, and I didn’t see anything that fights or is made of sticks in the second journal. I’m going to have to go through the others, but I don’t remember seeing anything like this before.”
“Have new things ever shown up before? Like, migrated here from somewhere else?” Maybe supernatural creatures were drawn to large hubs of paranormal activity? Or maybe they just liked big, creepy forests.
“There’ve been things that aren’t in the journals before, but I can’t really say if that’s because they came here after they were written or if the author vanished before he was really finished documenting all the weird things here. I could just ask him, but I like not-”
He was cut off when Mabel shot by, armed with a sweater and her knitting supplies. “Greg and I are going to watch TV and knit!”
“Yeah! Mabel’s gonna show me how to make mittens for Jason Funderburker!” Greg chimed in, following at her heels with their frog tucked under one arm and a few straggling knitting things clutched in his other hand.
Wirt blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Greg, it’s June.”
“So?”
They considered each other for a moment before the older brother shrugged. “Fair enough.”
Giggling, Mabel continued down. “Come on down when you put your stuff up, okay? No more mystery things tonight, Dipper! We have a victory to celebrate!”
“But-”
“Victory!”
The miniature parade trampled down the stairs - seeming like much more than a girl, a boy, and a frog - and Wirt shook his head after them, lips quirked up. “It’s up to you,” Wirt piped up, looking to Dipper. “If you want to do… mystery things still, that’s fine with me. I mean, I’m not sure how much help I’ve been so far, but if you just need someone to talk things out with… you’ve got me.”
Usually he bounced his rants off of Mabel or recorded himself for later playback, and he did like the linear way Wirt’s mind seemed to work. But they’d had the worst morning, and did he really want to start going over the theories about the size and scope of a monster and how it would’ve left blood behind, but nothing else?
He considered, and was shaking his head by the time they reached the attic. “No. Don’t tell her I said this, but Mabel’s right. I’ll table it for now. Want to watch the really awful movies Gravity Falls can afford and call for pizza?”
“Yeah, that… that actually sounds kinda perfect.” With an extra several days spread out ahead of them, Wirt honestly couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more. “How awful are we talking? Cult classic awful or just plain bad?”
“Okay, so you said your favorite movie is Dead Poets Society? That but math teachers and zombies for no reason.”
The mental image that inspired was too ridiculous to not laugh at. “Alright, I’m in,” he replied with a grin, setting down his things in a corner of Dipper’s room that was free.
“Cool.” Returning the grin, Dipper led the way back down. When Waddles was found loitering at the top of the stairs, he carried him down and let him race ahead into the living room. He couldn’t help but laugh at Greg’s cheer. “Hey, um... After this, mystery things are tabled. But, you know, thanks for earlier. Sticking around, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, it was important to you. And… I dunno. I guess I hoped something would come out of it, or you’d find another clue or… something to just make you feel better about whatever’s going on out there.” Wirt gestured vaguely to some kind of “out there” as they walked into the living room, both their siblings set up on the floor in front of the TV surrounded by yarn and pets alike.
“I did get a lot out of it. There were markers, a pattern, consistency - it’ll all help when I’m researching this thing later.”
Dipper immediately made for the single chair in the room, but paused and glanced back at Wirt. He couldn’t make him sit on the floor. It was the epitome of rude, but he also didn’t want to sit on the floor and get roped into holding yarn for his sister or something equally lame. He looked back at the chair, gauging the widths, and color tinted his cheeks. It would be a snug fit, but he was really okay with that. “Sit with me?”
“Oh- um… yeah. Yeah, okay.” Wirt’s gaze darted quickly between the chair and Dipper, well-aware of how close they’d be.
He scurried over, cheeks equally red as he waited for Dipper to sit first, then squeezed in beside him. Their thighs immediately pressed together, and at first Wirt hunched his shoulders in, keeping his arms tucked in so he wouldn’t take up too much space - it was Dipper’s house, he wanted to give him all the space he needed. But he did like the idea of just sitting, casually touching, leaning into each other without worrying about the need for personal space or anything.
Should I put my arm around him? No, no, that’s too bold. Too forward. I could- no, what if he just wants to sit and watch the movie? But he did want to sit together and I want to sit together and oh my gosh, Wirt, stop thinking so much, now he’s probably staring at you thinking you’re crazy. Wirt fidgeted, pressing his lips together as he glanced at him.
Dipper solved the problem by not realizing there was one. As far as he was concerned, Wirt’s agreement to sit there was tantamount to an agreement to hold on. In a week’s time, they would be a continent apart so why not get in as much of this as possible?
He plucked up the remote, flipping through the bizarre list of channels until he hit a movie that was just beginning. His free hand wrapped around Wirt, palm resting on his waist as his head tilted and dropped onto one of his hunched shoulders.
His eyes rounded, a small sound squeaking in the back of his throat as Wirt stayed completely still. As if any sudden movements would suddenly chase him away. He quickly realized that breathing was necessary though, so he let his chest rise and fall a few times to gauge how that went. When Dipper didn’t move away or realize that he was making a huge mistake, Wirt steadily relaxed against him. The tension drained from his shoulders, trying to make himself into a more comfortable pillow for the other boy as he leaned back.
They were cuddling. Cuddling. Him and Dipper. On a chair. Watching a movie on TV like regular people doing regular things. Like a couple. A goofy little smile spread across his face. He had to mentally kick himself as a reminder to stop paying attention to Dipper’s hand against his side and to focus on the movie as he settled into the chair.
“This is nice,” Wirt blurted out stupidly, then cringed a little as he reflected on exactly how idiotic he sounded. “I, uh… I mean…”
Dipper laughed, pressing his face against Wirt’s shoulder and giving his side a squeeze. “No, it is. It’s kind of great.”
Mabel looked up at them, then whispered to her partner in crime, “Ob-waffle.”
Greg tilted his head, then craned it back to see them, too. “Ob-waffle is go,” he whispered right back with a grin.
“What are you two whispering about?” Wirt asked.
“Secrets!” Greg waved his hand back at him. “Secrets for generals and corporals only!”
Dipper started to argue, but their uncle distracted him by picking his way through animals and crafts, holding a package aloft. “What’s that, Grunkle Stan?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Came from India. Probably. We’ll go with that.” Successfully through the crafts, he actually looked at his nephew and rolled his eyes at the two boys cuddling in his chair. “You know, I’d expect this from Mabel-”
“Oh my god.” Dipper slid down, hiding his red face better in Wirt’s side. “Guys can snuggle too, Grunkle Stan.”
“Snuggle,” he repeated with a snort, then disappeared around the corner and up the stairs.
When he was certain the twins’ uncle was gone, Wirt sagged right back against Dipper, his forehead pressing against his cap. “Oh my gosh,” he gasped, a breathless little laugh escaping him. “Snuggle. We’re snuggling.”
And there was absolutely nothing he wanted to do more.
----
A/N: The plot thickens and the awkward teen romance becomes slightly less awkward (just kidding, it hasn't. I mean, it's Wirt and Dipper, people, they are all awkward all the time).
