The champagne wasn't exactly Moet & Chandon, but Pacifica wasn't being picky tonight.
She took a sip and deduced that it wasn’t half-bad. For a hillbilly who spent most of his life living in a garbage dump, McGucket seemed to know his alcohol pretty well. It would certainly explain a lot about his personality.
Pacifica scanned the crowed gathered in Northwest Manor-- or McGucket Manor, as it was now called, and spotted the old man standing by the manor entrance, awaiting the rest of his guests to arrive. He looked mildly uncomfortable, constantly tugging at the collar of his expensive tuxedo, wiping the sweat off his brow with the end of his beard which, Pacifica noticed and thought was kind of adorable, had a bright checkered bowtie attached.
The huge doors swung open, allowing another large crowd to enter. McGuckets face changed in an instant, smiling ear to ear as he stepped forward to shake hands and exchange pleasantries. Pacifica listened as he struggled to remember the lessons on formal speech she had given him earlier that week. She smiled as he carefully paused to say “you all” instead of “y’all” and coughed whenever the urge to say “tarnation” or “donkey-spittle” came up.
As she expected, the rich entrepreneurs were charmed by his rustic eloquence, as they called it, and expressed their delight at collaborating with his growing enterprise. It was all quite familiar to Pacifica, who had years of experience standing by like an accessory while her father greeted his guests with the same phony repartee.
Her smile faded, and she turned away from the sight to refill her glass. As she poured, Pacifica glanced up at the unopened bottle of Garbo’s Gin still sitting in plain view. The old-timey writing on the label reminded Pacifica of two eyeballs frowning at her.
“Oh, piss off.” She muttered.
Her mother had loved the stuff. Gin and Dubonnet, she would boast to visiting dignitaries, the Queen of England’s favorite, you know!
Of course, Pacifica was never given the opportunity to see if Her Majesty’s palette was any good. Much like everything else in her life, her parents had wrapped their hands around her drinking habits tighter than the dress she had worn to her fourteenth birthday--
Pacifica’s throat clenched, and she swallowed the hard lump that had formed. Steadying her shaking hands, she started surveying the party going on around her to get her mind focused on something else.
People mingled on the dance floor as a mellow tune played over the speakers hanging from the columns. They weren’t dancing yet, simply chatting, eating, and drinking until the main event started. The whole room had a sense of glamor not unlike the parties from her youth, though there was a sense of informality in the air that kept it from feeling too sophisticated.
It felt like too much of different bits of the past mixed into one space.
Pacifica twirled the glass in her hand, staring at the bubbling liquid swirling inside. She stared at the way the fingers of her elbow-length gloves creased and folded. Then, when she couldn’t avoid it anymore, she looked down at her current outfit with a worried glance. The gold-laced evening gown was definitely tight against her voluptuous hips and backside. But in spite of her fears, the v-shaped cuts up the sides of her thick thighs had not magically sown themselves together. They were still flapping loose, allowing her body enough freedom of movement. It was snug, but not too snug.
Which is exactly what you said to me on your birthday, she could hear her mother say.
With a frustrated grunt, Pacifica downed the champagne and snatched the bottle to refill the flute again. But only halfway. After all, pretty young ladies don’t get tipsy.
“We are gonna get SO tipsy tonight!”
Apparently Grenda hadn’t gotten the same lecture.
Mabel and her friends approached the other end of the bar, with Wendy following close behind. It never ceased to amaze Pacifica that Mabel’s low-cut dress was able to hold the brunette’s enormous bosom inside, as it barely seemed to contain them. This did not go unnoticed by the majority of snobby rich boys who kept eyeballing her, though fortunately it only took a nice hard glare from the redhead in the suit near her to scare them away.
“Here it is, ladies!” Grenda said as the barkeep handed her a bottle. “Coco de Erreur! Marius introduced it to me during our trip to Belgium! It’s like chocolate, but it makes you drunk!”
“It sounds like nectar from the gods…” Candy said in total awe.
“Just try to take it easy tonight, dudes.” Said Wendy. “I don’t wanna have to carry all three of you home on my shoulders like last time.”
“Oh, Wendy,” Mabel said, making a haughty wave of her hand. “We are gentlewomen at a gentlewoman-ly party. We intend to be on our most respectable of behaviors!”
“Hey Mabel,” Grenda unscrewed the top of the bottle, smirking. “I’ll bet you five bucks you can’t pour me a drink with your Mabels.”
With a confident grin, Mabel grabbed the bottle and shoved it into her cleavage. “You’re on, sister!”
The girls began chanting ‘May-boobs’’ as Mabel carefully stooped over an empty glass on the counter, squeezing the bottle between her breasts with her cheeks puffed out. Everyone whooped and cheered as she managed to tip the end into the cup while the bartender stared at the scene with a look of bewilderment.
Just as Pacifica was wondering where Dipper was for all of this, she heard a slight cough from behind her. She turned to see her boyfriend standing there with a sheepish look on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. The bow tie of his tuxedo was hanging undone against his massive chest.
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Seriously?”
“I was trying to loosen it!” He said, pouting as she stepped forward to fix it for him. “I still don’t understand why these stupid things are so tight.”
“The one mystery Dipper Pines never managed to solve...” Pacifica said in a deep voice. “The case of how to put on his own clothes!”
“This is coming from the lady who once thought she could cook bacon in a waffle iron.” He retorted, giving her a wry grin of his own.
“Oh, shut up.” She gave him a playful shove, eliciting laughter from both of them. With his suit nice and tidy again, Dipper approached the bar and asked for a bit of hard cider. Looking over, he spotted the others having their little mini-party.
“Looks like they’re having fun.” He said, watching Wendy pour the ice bucket down Grenda’s back. Pacifica shrugged with a small ‘hmm.’ Dipper watched as she stared at her champagne swirl around in it’s flute with an expression that seemed far away.
“So… what’s up?” He said, watching her carefully. “You’ve kinda just been hanging around in this one spot since we got here. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just… weird, being back here.” She cast her gaze around the mansion ballroom. “I expected McGucket to stick science-y things through the walls or something, but like… nothing’s changed. Even the people look the same.” Her hands went up to hug her elbows. “I keep thinking my parents are going to walk up any second.”
Dipper instantly went alert. He started scanning the area in case the Northwests actually did decide to show up for the party, unlikely as it seemed.
“They won’t come.” Pacifica said, catching his worried expression. “Dad always refused whenever McGucket invited us over for something, even tea. He thinks ‘that hillbilly’ is mocking him.” Pacifica snorted. “And mom’s probably thinking up more messages she can fill our answering machine with.”
Dipper frowned. Ever since Pacifica had moved in with him, Mrs. Northwest had bombarded their phone lines with plenty of ‘motherly concern’, mainly consisting of suggestions for a new diet based around inane theories from a fashion magazine, false rumors she claimed to hear about the Pines family, oh-darling-you’re-disgracing-our-family-name, ad nauseum. Dipper had to admit it was better than the lovely words she’d left for him, but he could tell from Pacifica’s expression that she hadn’t let it go like he had.
He moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She smiled, leaning her head against the crook of his neck with a deep sigh. Dipper rubbed her arm while pressing his cheek against her soft hair, and Pacifica made a soft hum of contentment.
“This is your time tonight,” He said softly. “They’re not here to ruin it for you.”
“I know.” She said, raising her hand to hold his. “I guess... this place has more ghosts than we thought.”
“That’s why I’m here, right?” He said, smiling. “Also, we know for a fact that your mom is crazy, because you look super hot in that dress.”
Pacifica burst into giggles. She quickly covered her mouth with her hands. “Do not let my seamstress ever hear you say that. She’ll have a heart attack.”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t already,” Dipper said. With a smirk, he slid a hand down her back and gave her rump a firm pat, making her squeak in surprise. “She’s probably the only one who gets to see this thing more than I do.”
“Oh my god, you dummy!” She laughed, shoving him again. “She’s like, seventy-something years old!”
“You sure about that?” He said, still smirking. “She could just have grey hairs from the shock--”
“Don’t you dare.” She said, trying to cover his mouth. They were both giggling like idiots. “Dipper Pines, I swear--”
“--from the shock of measuring--”
“La la la, not hearing this!” She said, pressing her glass of champagne against his lips. “Shhh. Drink. Shhhhh.”
He pushed the glass away. “--measuring your butt!”
Dipper didn’t push too hard, but Pacifica was laughing so hard that her grip around the glass flute lessened, tipping it backwards and spilling the last few drops against the front of her dress. She yelped, jumping back. Dipper let out a surprised “oh”, pausing to stare in surprise. Thankfully there wasn’t much damage except for a small dark patch by her bosom.
Pacifica looked at him with a tiny grin at the edge of her mouth. “You are sleeping on the couch tonight, mister.”
“Ahh, it’ll come out.” He said, grabbing a napkin off the table. “And even if it doesn’t, you can just tell people you have a sweating problem.”
“That’s your excuse, Pines.” Pacifica said, poking him in the chest while he wiped the front of hers.
“Awwww, would you look at that...”
Dipper looked up, frowning. Pacifica froze. The air of brevity around the two evaporated as the pungent scent of expensive cosmetics flooded the space where it once was. Pacifica’s eyes scrunched shut into a grimace, pinching the bridge of her nose. Was it too much to ask for one moment of peace tonight? One moment to remind her that this place wasn’t home?
Pacifica looked to where Dipper was glaring, and sure enough her former posse was standing not a few feet away. They were covered in makeup and jewelry, possibly to hide the fact that their red and blue dresses were pretty plain looking. The both pretended not to see Pacifica as they giggled to one another.
“Looks like someone had a little accident.” The one in red said, peeking at them over her shoulder. “I guess some things never change, do they Tiff?”
“Gosh, Jen, that dress looks awfully tight around the bottom.” The one in blue said. “It would be a shame if she accidentally ripped it.”
They both smirked with sheer delight as Pacifica’s face went dark red. Dipper glowered at them as they walked off, laughing to each other. When he turned to Pacifica, her eyes were hidden by her bangs as she stared down at the floor, avoiding his eye contact. Dipper’s face softened as he lifted a comforting hand to her shoulder.
“Hey...” He said, trying to find the right words. “Don’t let them get to y--”
“Gonna go wash up.”
Before Dipper could say another word, Pacifica pushed past him and slipped into a small crowd that was mingling by the bar. Dipper craned his neck, following her large platinum blonde hair as it darted back and forth, eventually popping out the other end and disappearing down a small corridor.
He stared at the spot where she had gone in a stunned silence, confused and concerned. A thoughtful frown crossed his face as he searched the crowd for Pacifica’s former friends. Something told him that this was definitely more than just simple teasing.
“You there! I say, young ladies!”
A bald man with a monocle rushed past, catching Dipper’s attention. He watched as the man approached Mabel and the girls, looking red in the face at the sight of the cup nestled in Mabel’s cleavage, which she was sipping from a long straw.
“Hey, the guy from the board game!” Mabel said cheerfully. “Buy any hotels lately?”
“I implore you to desist in these vulgar antics!” He said with a clearly fake British accent. “Your behavior is repulsive!”
“The only thing repulsive here is that overbite, cueball.” Wendy said, pointing at the ratty teeth poking out from under the man’s mustache that he quickly covered.
“Well,” He said, sneering at Wendy’s clothes. “At least I’m dressed properly. Your mother must be so proud.”
Wendy raised an eyebrow. She looked at Grenda, nodding, and the giant woman approached the man, cracking her knuckles with a devilish grin. He stared up at her, eyes wide as her shadow shrouded him in darkness.
“Mother.” He whimpered.
Grenda slowly raised her hand… and pointed at his chest. “Hey, is that mustard on your shirt??”
The man gasped in horror at the idea and craned his neck. Grenda swiped her finger up, cracking him across the nose hard enough to send him flying right into the chocolate fondue fountain. Everyone pointed and laughed as he emerged, bug-eyed as chocolate covered his round head like an easter egg.
“HAHA!” Grenda said, pumping her fists. “I STILL GOT IT!”
“I love her so much.” Candy said, sighing.
The man was outraged. “How dare you--!” His fake mustache slipped off his lip, landing in the chocolate with a loud plop. Mortified, the man dove back under to find it while everyone else howled with laughter.
Dipper rubbed his beard, deep in thought. While the others cheered for Grenda, he stepped up and tapped her on the shoulder, which he almost thought he would need a step-stool for. She looked at him and grinned. “Oh, what’s up Lil Dip?”
“I was just wondering something.” He said, searching the crowd until he spotted Pacifica’s ‘friends’ across the room. A wicked grin of his own formed. “You think you could do me a favor?”
Pacifica was seconds away from crying when she heard the door to the bathroom open. Her throat tightened instantly as the dingy little room was filled with the sound of cruel laughter. From the gap under the stall door, she could see two familiar pairs of shoes stop by the sink. Holding her breath, Pacifica curled her legs up on top of the toilet seat, pressing her bare back against the cold porcelain.
“That was amazing,” Said the voice Pacifica recognized as former-best-friend Tiffany. “Oh my god. Totally worth coming to this stupid party for.”
“Did you see the look on her face?” Said other former-best-friend Jennifer. “That was priceless!”
“Serves her right.” Tiff said. “She seriously thought she could pull off wearing something that small on her body?”
“Did you SEE the size of her ass??” Jennifer said. “I knew she was getting big, but girl that thing was faaaat!”
As they laughed, Pacifica bit her lip. Her trembling hand moved around her back, fingers caressing the split threads from the long tear down her violet evening gown. She tugged at the threads near her bottom in a half-hearted attempt to cover it.
“That dress practically exploded off of her,” Tiffany said. In a high pitch voice she added, “‘Help me, I’m being worn by a sweaty sack of cake and cheeseburgers and it’s strangling meeeeee!” She blew a long raspberry, mimicking the sound of fabric ripping.
“And then,” Tiffany had to pause from laughing so hard. “And then when she ran away, her thighs were like…” She blew a few small raspberries, stamping on each foot to indicate running.
“Remember how she tripped??” Jennifer was absolutely giddy. “And then--”
“EARTHQUAKE!” Tiffany said in a gravelly voice, waving her arms. Jennifer tried to get back to what she was saying through laughs.
“And then,” She said. “She fell right on her face, everyone saw her panties, and… what was is Katrina said??”
“‘I didn’t know…’” Tiffany started.
“‘...The full moon had kittens on them!’” They both finished together, howling with laughter.
Pacifica’s nails scratched the white bowl beneath her. She didn’t need to hear this. She didn’t need to put up with any of this. She slipped one foot down to the floor, ready to step out and confront them when Tiffany spoke again.
“It really is pathetic, the way she tries so hard.”
Pacifica stopped as the two of them voiced their own agreements with an audible air of disgust.
“Like, ever since the friggin’ apocalypse hit this town, she’s become a total loser,” Tiff said. “No more big mansion, no yacht, no ponies or anything cool. Yet she kept hanging out with us and waltzing around town with her pornstar body as if she were still the queen bitch.”
“‘Ooh, no autographs, please’!” Jennifer snorted under her breath. “Is she for real?”
“I’m impressed we faked it for so long.” Tiffany said. “By the third time she boo-hooed to us about how much she missed those dorky Pines twins, I was ready to throw myself under daddy’s polo horses.”
“She’s a freak.” Jennifer said. “And she belongs with all the other freaks in Gravity Falls.”
“They should make her a new attraction at the Mystery Shack,” Tiffany said. “‘The amazing cow-lady!’”
They shrieked with laughter. “‘Don’t go to the circus to see the side show, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve got the Fat Lady right here!’”
“‘Throw money at her and watch her putty skin absorb it!’”
This continued back and forth as the trio finished their business and made their way out the exit. Once they were gone, Pacifica curled up into a tight ball, buried her head into her knees, and burst into tears.
Pacifica’s head shot up. The teal graffiti-stained door in front of her was gone, replaced by a marble sink and her own reflection. The pungent odor of cleaning fluid and farts was replaced with flowery-scented chemicals. The grimy tiled floor faded into fancy wood paneling, and the blue walls covered in mold became warm auburn decorated with paintings and candles. The misty-eyed woman in the mirror took the place of the crying fourteen-year-old Pacifica had been a moment ago. What was in one moment the past faded back to the present.
McGucket came running in, looking quite panicked. He took one look at Pacifica, yelped, and covered his face with his beard. “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t see a darn thing, I swear!”
“Whoa, hey,” Pacifica held up a hand. “It’s fine, I was just cooling off.”
The old man peeked at her through a gap in the hairs of his beard. “Hey… y’all right there, ‘Ciffy? You weren’t cryin’, were ya?”
“No, just…” She quickly wiped her eyes with her wrist. “Had a little too much to drink. What about you? You barged in here, like, freaking out.”
McGucket hesitated before lowering his beard, showing her the mess of crumbs and what appeared to be melted cheese stuck to the hairs. Pacifica’s expression reflected her thoughts on the sight.
“I-I tried real hard,” McGucket said, voice cracking a little. “I really did, but everybody was talkin’ and eatin’ and… and I just got carried away, I guess. Ooh, I done messed up royally…”
“Literally.” Pacifica’s face scrunched up as she plucked out a large chunk of ham. “But at least you were using a fondue fork, right?”
He blinked. “You get a fork for that cheesy fountain?”
She stared at him. McGucket went pink in the face as he cast his eyes downward in embarrassment. His frame went from standing straight to slumping over as his whole disposition changed. “Aw, shucks... Who was I kiddin’, thinking I throw a classy shindig like this? Guess I’m still just a crazy old coot after all.”
Pacifica bit her lip as an overwhelming sense of familiarity hit her in the gut. She turned towards the sink, looking between the towels, soap dispensers, an air freshener plugged into the wall, and the one toilet scrubber sitting on a silver platter in the corner. A small smile appeared on her face as the gears in her head began working.
“No, you aren’t.” She said.
“I just--” Pacifica grabbed McGucket by the facial hair before he could finish and yanked him over to the sink. “YEOW! What in tarnation--?!”
“I’m not gonna let your special day go down in flames over something dumb!”
Pacifica lifted his beard into the sink like a sheet for the wash, running it under the hot water while squirting a hearty amount of soap in. She checked the brush for anything unwanted, gave it a quick rinse in the other sink, and started scrubbing his hair vigorously. Once it was clean again, and Pacifica had wrung and dried the water out, she took one of the dispensers that was nearly empty and unscrewed the top.
McGucket watched with mild curiosity as Pacifica took the air freshener off the wall, unplugging the glass containing the flower-scented liquid in the bottom. She poured the stuff into the dispenser and screwed the top back on, setting it aside while she went back to the old man’s beard. Taking careful time to separate the hair into parts, Pacifica began to braid them individually. When she was done, McGucket’s beard closely resembled that of a viking’s. Satisfied, Pacifica added the finishing touches: a few sprits from her air-freshener concoction, and his bow tie re-done to hold his beard together.
Pacifica leaned back so they could take a look at her work. “Whew,” She said, brushing her hands together. “That ought to do it.”
McGucket was beaming. He looked at himself in the mirror, cackling wildly. “Butter my backside!! I look like a million bucks!”
“More like half a million,” Pacifica said, shrugging. “But I work with what I have.”
McGucket hocked a loogie into his palms, rubbing them together. “Watch out, rich boys! Fiddleford Fancy-Pants is a-comin’ to town!” He began to strut towards the door, pushing it halfway open before stopping in his tracks. He turned back to Pacifica, his face suddenly filled with uncertainty.
“What’s wrong?” Pacifica said, walking over.
“I… I just figured…” He said, twiddling his fingers nervously. “What if they think I’m tryin’ too hard?”
She stopped. McGucket took a quick peek through the crack of the door.
“I dunno.” He said with a sigh. “I spent so long bein’ an outcast, and suddenly people are lining up to endorse the same inventions that got everyone callin’ me crazy in the first place!” He cast a worried look at his beard. “They come in all smiley and friendly-like, but I can’t tell who just tolerates me ‘cause I’m rich, and who actually wants to be my friend...”
Pacifica moved up beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his back. Her smile was thoughtful and understanding.
“It wont be obvious at first,” She said. “Sometimes people will surprise you, and it’ll hurt. Maybe a lot. But when you find the people who don't care that you eat messy, or talk weird, or keep live squirrels in your pajamas, then… well, those are the ones who really matter.”
Still unsure, he took another look outside. Pacifica squeezed his shoulder gently.
“And… even if they are all phony, you’ve still got Dipper and Mabel, their great-uncles, the other guys… and me, too. All this stuff is easier to put up with when you know you have real people at your back.”
Fiddleford sniffed, looking at here with misty eyes. “Ooh, you little angel, you!”
He threw his arms around her waist in a tight hug. Caught off guard, Pacifica let out a small ‘oomph’ while her face flinched, but the surprise melted away as she returned the hug with an amused yet appreciative smile.
“You really are somethin’ special, Pacifica darlin’!” McGucket said, letting go to face her. “I never woulda made it this far without yer good advice!”
“Ok, ok, get out of here, already.” She said, taking him by the shoulders and twisting him to face the exit. “Your guests are waiting.”
“Y’know, you n’ Dipper are always welcome t’have yer wedding here--”
“Go!” She giggled, giving him a gentle push through the door.
Pacifica grinned, putting her hands on her hips as he stepped back into the party, looking much more confident than before. He approached a small group standing near the end of the hall, greeting them loud enough for her to hear from a few yards away. For a few minutes Pacifica watched as he joined in on their conversation, laughing, joking, and genuinely having a good time. When she was certain he was going to be alright for the rest of the night, she turned back and closed the door behind her.
Pacifica stepped up to the mirror once more, inspecting her reflection. She stared at herself for about a minute, and then twisted her back with one hand on her hip to strike a pose.
A little smile formed on at the corner of her mouth.
“So, did her presence finally give you claustrophobia?”
Dipper said nothing, staring into his drink with a half-lidded expression. He took the occasional sip as Tiffany and Jennifer kept giggling behind his back. He continued to ignore them even as they came up to the bar, looming over his shoulders.
“Come on, Mister Big-Heart,” Tiffany said. For a split-second her eyes glanced down at an area that most certainly wasn’t his heart. “Let us in on it. What’s bed action like?”
“Can she even fit in the same bed as you?” Jennifer said, playing with his hair. “I’d imagine she’d need two beds pushed together just to have enough space.”
Dipper took a sip of his drink, looked at the still mostly-full glass, and set it down on the counter. “Three.” He said, gesturing to the barkeep.
“Three?” Tiffany said, raising an eyebrow. “Three what? Three beds??”
Dipper was brought a new drink. He took a sip, scrunched his face at the taste, and set it down next to the other one. He gestured to the barkeep again. “Two.”
Tiff and Jen looked at each other, both confused and slightly annoyed. “Like, what are you supposed to be counting?” The latter asked, frowning at him. “The amount of brain cells you’re gonna lose from all those?”
“He’s not even drinking them, Jenny.” Tiffany said, smirking. He probably doesn’t have enough brain cells in the first place.”
Dipper said nothing. He simply took another tiny sip and placed the third mug next to the others. Not getting the reaction she wanted, Tiffany’s smirk dropped quickly. They both snorted in disgust as Dipper once again gestured to the barman to bring him a new one.
“Let’s get out of here.” Jen said, rolling her eyes. “Leave the oversized geek to… whatever nerd thing he’s doing.”
“Yeah, seriously…” Tiffany said, though neither of them moved. Annoyed as they were, neither of them could stand the idea of Dipper Pines ‘winning’ over them. The anger only increased as Dipper didn’t even sip his fourth drink and placed it by the others.
“You may have become a hunk, Pines, but you haven’t changed a bit.” Jennifer said, failing to recognize the irony in her statement.
“Yeah!” Tiffany piped up. “Just like your freaky sister, all boobs and no br--”
Dipper slammed his hand down on the countertop, making them jump. He turned around, staring at them with a chilling, blank look. Tiffany’s mouth clamped shut. He looked between them for a brief moment before pushing by, walking a few feet away, and stopping. Both girls quickly filled the space where he was standing, wanting to be as close to one another as they could. When Dipper looked over his shoulder at them, he was grinning.
“OH MY GOSH, LADIES!!”
They both jumped again as Grenda appeared out of nowhere, towering over them and pointing her meaty hands at their dresses.
“ARE THOSE MOTH HOLES??”
It should have been obvious, but everything happened so fast that neither of them could think twice about it. All that flashed in their minds was the possibility that their precious outfits were damaged in some way. So, bug-eyed, they both looked down.
Grenda’s hands went up, hitting them across their noses like two firecrackers going off. The entire party seemed to stop as Jen and Tiff’s heads whiplashed and sent both of them tumbling backwards. They fell side-by-side on their butts, backs smacking right into the bar countertop. The four glasses Dipper had set up toppled over the side, drenching the two with a waterfall of beer. Jennifer shut her eyes tight, her mouth making a perfect ‘O’. Tiffany’s eyes were wide with shock and rage as she brought her shaking hands to her hair.
The only sound in the entire room was Grenda’s elated hooting. “HAHA! I’VE WANTED TO DO THAT FOR YEARS!!”
“You…” TIffany sputtered. Her eyes were practically leaping out of their sockets.”YOU…!!”
“Aw, what happened, girls?” Dipper said, putting his hands behind his back with a huge, smug grin. “Have a little accident?”
Jennifer wobbled to her feet, gripping the edge of the counter. She glared daggers at both Dipper and Grenda, baring her teeth.
“Do either of you…” She hissed. “Have ANY IDEA what water does to this fabric?!”
“Technically it’s not water,” Dipper said. “But I imagine the same thing applies and they’re both going to start shrinking at an alarming rate.”
As if on cue, a sound like stretching tape filled the air. The hemlines of Jen and Tiff’s dresses shriveled up while the fabric squeezed against their bodies. Tiffany yelped as more and more of her thighs became exposed, trying in vain to pull her skirt lower.
“Yep, I was right.” said Dipper.
“You know,” Mabel said, popping up from the other side of the countertop. “A blowtorch and paperclips do wonders for this sort of thing!” She put a hand to her chin. “Though considering how flammable you are, that may not be the best idea…”
“Flaming dresses…” Wendy said, standing next to Dipper. “Pretty sure I read a post-apocalyptic novel with something like that in it.”
Candy was suddenly at the girls’ side, lit match in hand. “We could make a new fashion statement.”
“Ugh!” Jennifer stepped backwards, stumbling over her legs. The fabric was hugging her skin tight. “What is WRONG with you people?!”
“Careful,” Dipper said, still grinning. “Your clothes are looking awfully tight around the top...”
“Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you?!” Tiffany said, moving her wet bangs from her eyes. “Just wait, Pines. We’re not going to forget this! We’re rich, you know! You and your lard-ass girlfriend better look out!”
“Oh no,” Dipper said, rolled his eyes. “I’ve created my own arch-nemesis’. How can we stand up against the evil powers of Tiffany and Jennifer?”
“Just wait…” Tiffany was giggling like a lunatic, backing towards the front door with Jennifer. “Just wait! We’ll be back! WE’LL BE BACK!!”
“Oh my god Tiff, you sound like a cartoon.”
Jennifer reached a hand through the door and yanked Tiffany out by the back of her dress. Everyone just sort of stood there in an awkward silence for about one second before going back to what they were doing. Dipper’s group all turned and looked at each other.
Finally, Wendy spoke. “Those implants were not flattering at all.”
“They looked like the little watermelons that grow inside the square boxes…” Candy said in total fascination.
As the others spoke amongst themselves, Mabel went up to Dipper. “Good thing Pacifica wasn’t here, Dipper.” She said. “She probably would’ve been mad at you for playing a mean trick like that on her friends.”
“Trust me, Mabel, she wouldn’t have been too upset.” Dipper said. “I think it was a long time coming.”
Mabel gave him a weird look, but didn’t say anything, deciding to trust her brother on his words. She noticed, however, a somewhat troubled frown appear on his face as he kept staring at where Jen and Tiff had disappeared.
“Hey,” She said, taking his hand. “You okay, brobro?”
Dipper kept frowning before taking a deep sigh of frustration. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she would have just been mad at me for making a scene like that, but… ugh, you didn’t see them before, Mabel. They really hurt Pacifica.”
“So… you wanted to hurt them back.” Mabel said, putting it together. Dipper nodded. “Aw, Dipper! You wanted to defend her honor and stuff! You don’t need to feel ashamed for doing that!”
“But Pacifica wasn’t even here to see it.” He said, rubbing his forehead. “The only one getting satisfaction from it was me…”
“Dipper,” Mabel said firmly, turning him to look at her. “You got mad because some jerkheads made someone you care about feel like total pooptrash. Don’t you go getting mad at yourself now for sticking up for your girl!”
“Well…” Dipper said, still somewhat unsure. “Vengeance does still feel amazing...”
“Man, can you believe you just got revenge for Pacifica?” Mabel laughed in disbelief.
“The irony isn’t lost on me.” Dipper said. He shook his head, chuckling. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see what she thinks when we tell her the story. Hopefully when she gets back, she’ll be feeling at least a little better so she’s not acting like a wallflower anymore.”
Before Mabel could respond, she noticed something at the corner of her eye. Looking towards the other side of the room, a cheeky grin spread across her face. “Something tells me that won't be a problem, brother dear…”
Dipper looked. There, making her way through the crowd towards him, was Pacifica, winking at him with a sultry curl of her lips. From the sway of her hips as she walked, to the confident gleam in her eye as everyone around her gaped and stared in total awe, and the way his heartbeat increased as if he was seeing her for the first time, Dipper could tell right then and there: she was back in her game.
Pacifica approached him, smiling. “Hey, you.”
Mabel giggled at her brother’s flushed cheeks and how he looked like a nervous teenager at his first prom. Dipper cleared his throat, tugging at his collar a little. “Uh, hey!” He said, getting his cool back. “You look like you’re feeling better. What happened?”
“Not much,” Pacifica shrugged. “Had a nice little talk with McGucket. He cheered me up and gave me some wise-old-man advice.”
“Wow.” said Dipper. “It must have been good advice.”
“It really was.” Pacifica’s tone was soft and full of affection as her eyes shifted downward for a moment. She lifted her head, looking back and forth between the twins. “So, what kind of trouble have you dorks gotten yourselves into while I was gone?”
Mabel kept grinning. “Oh, you totally missed it, girlfriend! You’re gonna lay ostrich eggs when you hear what Dipper did!”
Pacifica’s eye twitched at the thought of that actually happening before she looked to Dipper with a raised eyebrow. “Is that so?” She said. “And what exactly did you do, mister?”
Dipper looked between her and Mabel, both smirking expectantly. “Um… well…”
Just then, all the lights in the room started to dim, and the sound of feedback began playing over the loudspeakers hanging from the columns around the room. The trio turned to see people making room on the floor for the couples walking out hand-in-hand. A slow, relaxing tune began to play throughout the room as everyone began to move in sync with each other.
“Ooh, it’s getting romantic in here!” said Mabel, getting between the two and putting her arms around their necks. “You two should most definitely go talk things over with a dance!”
“Well, I’m happy to oblige.” Dipper said, giving Pacifica a smile. “Maybe you could… tell me what was bothering you, and I could tell you what happened while you were gone?”
Pacifica considered this for only a second before returning the smile. “I think I’d like that very much.”
“Go on, get out there!” Mabel gave them a push. Pacifica did a double take as Dipper’s busty sister pulled a footlong bottle of liquor out of her cleavage. “You two have fun, I’m gonna go ask Wendy to cut a rug!”
They both stared at her quite literally bounce back to the bar, joining in on the other girls conversation. Dipper looked at Pacifica with an amused shrug.
“You gotta admit,” He said. “We spice things up around here.”
“That you do.” Pacifica replied, her tone affectionate and earnest. With a tiny smile, she thought: And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
They both headed for the dance floor, arms linked together, when Pacifica suddenly stopped.
“Just a second.” She said. Gesturing to one of the busboys with a seductive finger wag. The pimply teenager went pink as he hurried over, nearly spilling the mini quiche’s on his tray.
Pacifica leaned over and whispered something into his ear. He nodded, repeating ‘yes, sure, absolutely’ about three times before finally racing back towards the bar. In thirty seconds he was back, holding a small glass of something red with a lemon slice floating at the bottom. Pacifica picked it up and took a sip without hesitation, placing it back on the tray when she was finished. She smacked her lips slightly, letting the taste sit.
“Hmm,” Pacifica said, sounding impressed. “Not bad, Elizabeth.”
Dipper blinked. “Huh?”
She laughed. “Nothing. C’mon, let’s dance.”