#lcol

Unfortunately this one lacked the euphoria their first week had. Desperate not to waste any of their remaining time with petty grievances over how unfair it was that they lived on opposite coasts - because that was the way things were, there was no changing that - Wirt kept most of these thoughts confined to a notebook, his musings filling page after page, some poetry, most not, when insomnia came calling, his not as debilitating as his boyfriend’s bout. Trauma hadn’t caused his, only the racing of his thoughts and the need to savor every minute he had left.

Because after this, who knew when he would see him again? He wouldn’t be able to wait until next June, he already knew that. The wait between October to June this past year had been excruciating enough and he hadn’t even known him or Mabel then, not really. August to June, when he loved both of them more than he could say - a true enough sentiment, he couldn’t say it to either of them, he couldn’t even say it to his own brother - would be unbearable. While this month had been so necessary for them, while he wouldn’t trade it for anything, Wirt couldn’t help but wonder if it also did them harm in allowing them to become as comfortable with each other as they had.

Parting in Gravity Falls had seemed possible. Dipper and Mabel leaving Lakeville, city of lakes, seemed anything but. Wirt didn’t want it to be.

The Sunday of their last week, August second, with exactly seven days left found the boys in Wirt’s bedroom, both of them squeezed onto his bed, lying over the green comforter. They’d gone to the library the day before, all four of them, and had returned with a spread of books. Wirt had come away with two poetry books and two of fiction, taking the time to invest himself in Robert Frost while Dipper tapped away at his laptop, pausing every now and then to read up on something, his journals spread out over the both of them. Journal number three was open on Wirt’s stomach, two sandwiched in the sliver of a crevice between their thighs, and one was open, face-down, on Dipper’s chest.

It was the start of a lazy summer afternoon, Wirt balancing his attentions between the verses of Frost and the cadence of Dipper’s breaths as he muttered to himself, unintelligible words hissing between his teeth as they worked on the plastic casing of a pen. The sun was making its way over the house, soon to be shedding its rays through his window and onto the bed. It was easy enough to pretend this wasn’t the start of the end.

Even after three weeks, it was odd to not have a million things chasing Dipper or having a million things to chase after. It was odd not to have Grunkle Stan shouting at them to come downstairs for the latest chore or to have Soos making the oddest bets with him or to have Wendy rolling her eyes at him.

It was still weird to have quiet. Even his twin was off, exploring the town with Greg in the basket of her bicycle. It was the middle of the day - passed it, really - and he was just able to breathe and relax. This, he supposed, was what summers had been before Gravity Falls. Almost.

He looked up from his research, peering at Wirt. His lips moved a little as he read Robert Frost, as though he were tasting the words and the way they flowed. It was adorable and a little more interesting as he hit a lull in his research. He was pretty sure he knew just how they were going to tug aside the veil. It was probably going to hurt like crazy; there was no way around that for him. He wasn’t a proper medium, after all, or even a witch, so he wasn’t designed to be able to hold the veil back. But it was possible, and he would do it for Wirt. And for Greg and, well, for Mabel too. Maybe a little bit for himself.

Decision made - no pain, no gain - Dipper began to steadily inch closer until he could nuzzle and snuggle his boyfriend to distraction. The first journal was set to the side with his laptop, the second closed and nudged closer to the foot of the bed with his foot, and the third shut when he gave up on subtlety and rolled onto his side to lightly nip his neck.

Shimmying up, tossing a leg over one of his boyfriend’s, he kissed the top of Wirt’s nose and grinned a little when it wrinkled. “You’re lucky. You know that?”

“Hm?” He finally lowered his book, turning his head to give Dipper the attention he’d been clearly trying to get. “What? What do you mean?”

“You and just-” He leaned back a bit to wave his hands. “Just all this. Normal summer stuff.”

Wirt’s lips quirked up in a half-smile. “Not too boring for you?”

Dipper tugged his book away, marking the page for him before rolling on top of him entirely. Comfortable with him, he discarded his cap to keep it out of the way so he could hide his face in Wirt’s neck. “I think... I think I really needed some boring. Giant frogs aside, you know?”

Looping his arms around Dipper’s waist, Wirt brushed his lips right beneath his ear. “I can give you boring. I can give you that in spades,” he murmured, smile turning a little sad as he tightened his hold. “That I can promise.”

Dipper huffed out a laugh, fingers curling into Wirt’s sweater. While the nightmares had once again slipped away, he was still wary of their return when they left. He was wary of a lot of things that came with leaving. Losing this - lazy summer afternoons cuddled close - was high up there. Topping the list was simply knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see him after a week. He wouldn’t be able to reach out and find Wirt there. He felt no more ready than he had when he’d had to stand on the porch of the Shack and watch them drive away.

“You’re too interesting to be boring. Your town’s one thing, but not you.” He sighed. “Will you do me a really lame favor, and read to me? Frost’s not bad and I just... I like the way you sound when you read.”

“Oh. You do?” Wirt squirmed some, stopping only when he realized it disrupted Dipper’s hold on him, choosing instead to avert his gaze as if looking for the book he’d taken from him while he traced meaningless circles against his back. “Um… yeah. Yeah, I can read to you.”

“Cool. You get, like, this poetry voice when you read. I like it.” He was going to miss it.

“Poetry voice?” He scrunched his nose as he felt around for the book, tapping the binding against Dipper’s back to get him to move enough so he could keep him in his arms and still be able to read. “I didn’t- I mean, it’s not something I’m doing on purpose or anything. How is it different from my normal voice?” His normal voice cracked just then, and he made a face at himself. Well, there was one way. His voice never cracked when he read poetry. Not if he was engrossed enough in it.

Dipper snorted, ducking his head. “Don’t worry about it. There’s just something about it that’s different.”

“Hm.” Wirt puffed up his cheeks a little as he looked at him with a discerning eye. “Okay, if you say so. Let’s see… there was one I just read that I really liked…” He opened the book to the page Dipper had marked for him, then flipped back two. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, glancing at him once more before starting.

“‘Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me.

“‘Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground, And thing next most diffuse to cloud, Not all your light tongues talking aloud Could be profound.

“‘But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed, And if you have seen me when I slept, You have seen me when I was taken and swept And all but lost.

“‘That day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her, Your head so much concerned with outer, Mine with inner, weather.’”

Dipper pressed a kiss to his neck. “When I’m in Piedmont, I’m going to call you some nights and just ask you to read to me. Prepare for that.”

“That doesn’t sound like too demanding of a request. I think I can manage that.” Wirt tilted his head to brush his lips over his bangs. “And I’m going to call you… window tree.” He flashed him a grin, wrapping both legs around Dipper’s.

With a laugh, Dipper nipped his neck instead and wriggled closer. “No way. Never that.”

“Don’t draw a curtain between us, Dipper,” Wirt snickered, doing his part to press up against him. “Not that one would be able to fit. I don’t think there’s any way anything could fit between us right now.”

There’d be too much distance soon. “Good.” He grinned, tilting his head back to brush kisses along his jaw and pushing aside the melancholy mood trying to take hold of him. It wasn’t like they were leaving that day.  

“Mmhm.” A contented smile spread lazily over his lips as he let him lavish his attention on him. “Want to hear another one?” Wirt asked him, the hand not holding his book stroked along Dipper’s side.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Dipper shimmied upwards, catching his earlobe between his teeth.

Wirt huffed out a laugh, cheeks warming. “Hey, stop. I won’t be able to focus on reading if you keep doing that.”

“Sure you will. A poetic pilgrim perseveres.” But he did stop, kissing his cheek instead.

“Not when he has an adorable and irresistable boyfriend to kiss,” Wirt pointed out, turning to the next page.

“Well, you're not kissing me, which is starting to be a real problem.”

“Is it?” He turned his head to capture his lips. “That fix it?”

“Mm. It's a good start. But two's better.”

“Can’t argue there.” Wirt kissed him again, letting the contact between them linger as he deepened it by degree, as if each moment they spent kissing would prolong the time they had left together.

It ended as telltale laughter and pounding footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Sighing, Dipper tucked his face into the crook of Wirt’s neck. “Five bucks says they’re coming in here.”

Before Wirt could respond the bedroom door flew open, with Greg attached to the handle with Mabel right behind him. “Wirt! Dipper!” He grinned at them as the frog under his arm croaked. “Get your lazy bums out of bed! We’re going on an adventure!”

The older brother arched an eyebrow as he looked at the pair of them. “Oh yeah? Says who?”

“Says Sara!”

Not the answer he expected, Wirt blinked twice and lifted his head up off the pillow to see them better. “Sara?”

“Yes Sara!” Mabel held up her phone, wiggling it. “Somebody - and by somebody I mean you, Wirt - has been ignoring his phone!”

Wirt blinked, then glanced over at his silenced phone sitting on the nightstand. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to be interrupted.” Not to mention the last time they’d hung out with his friends had ended in a panic attack for Dipper and several days’ worth of tension that he wasn’t too keen on reliving. Not with only a week left. He could see his friends whenever once school started. He wouldn’t be able to see Dipper.

“Luckily you have a little sister who’s more than willing to drag you into the wonderful world outside!”

“I don’t think ‘luckily’ is the right word, Mabel.”

“You think too much and too incorrectly. But come on! Trevor apparently doesn’t believe that you’re as good a pitcher as I told him you were, and Sara got her hands on a radar gun. You haven’t gotten in much practice, Dipdop. You know you want to,” she sing-songed.

Dipper wriggled a bit, suddenly restless. “Mm.”

Wirt pursed his lips in thought and glanced down at his suddenly squirmy boyfriend. “Do you want to?”

“Kind of. I guess. Some.”

“Hm.” Wirt closed his book. He supposed, for a guy that liked to be as busy as Dipper, going out and physically doing something probably held a lot of appeal. Especially since it involved baseball. Even though Jonathan had put up the target out back, Wirt knew it probably wasn’t the same as having someone catch for you. “We can go. If you want. And I don’t know… it’d be fun to watch you pitch.”

“Of course it will be! That’s why I already said yes and they’re expecting us in, um, ten minutes.”

“Oh my god.”

“Come on, boys! Like Greg said, get your lazy butts up! Grab your glove, bro-bro! We’re going to make Trevor eat those words.” Mabel looked down at her phone, smile wide. “Isabelle’s looking forward to that.”

“Isabelle’s a fan of anything that makes Trevor look like a dolt,” Wirt snorted, untangling his legs from Dipper’s as he prodded him in the side to get him moving. “He’s totally only saying that to get someone to play baseball with him. It doesn’t matter to him if you’re good or not, he’s just desperate.”

“I won’t hurt him, then. We’ll have to make him wear some extra padding in his mitt.” Dipper rolled out of bed, set his laptop on the desk and left the journals scattered on the mattress behind him.

Mabel giggled. “Sara just wants to see if you’re half as good at baseball as you are at pool.”

“Oh my god. Are you texting, like, all of them right now?”

“Yes.” She showed him her phone and he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t get how you’re basically best friends with all of them. You even have the dweeb in here! Mabel!”

“I keep telling you he’s not a dweeb. He’s harmless. And you know, it’s like dad says. You’d be their friend too if you’d just-” She broke off, both twins faltering for a moment. “I’ll give them your number.”

“Sure. Not the dweeb,” he insisted, snagging a baseball and his ball glove from the top of Wirt’s dresser.

“Oh my gosh, Dipper. You’re so mean.”

Wirt fumbled with his laces, having pulled on two different pairs of shoes, distracted by trying hard not to listen to what they weren’t saying in the conversation while actually, totally listening. “I- I’d rather you not give Jason Funderberker his number, too, Mabel. So… uh… do it for me? Not- not to be mean or anything, but just because…”

“Because of your crippling insecurities?” Greg piped up unhelpfully.

Wirt stared at him for a beat, unimpressed by his deduction. “I wouldn’t put it like that, exactly, but I guess.”

“Don’t worry Wirt, you’ve got tons of stuff that Jason Funderberker doesn’t have!” Greg puffed out his chest. “Like the best little brother in the world. He doesn’t have that.”

Having expected something a little more along the lines of his internal strengths, Wirt couldn’t help the small hitch of a laugh. “Right. You’ve got a point there, Greg. You’re obviously my greatest asset.”

“That’s right. And obviously Dipper’s not going to date somebody who doesn’t have me for a little brother, so you don’t have to worry about Jason Funderberker whisking him away. Right, Dipper?” Greg grinned at him, hoping to bring the fun back into the air for all of them.

“Yeah, Greg. It’s got nothing to do with me liking his cute face and his poetry and his interesting mind.” He grabbed his own sneakers, tugging at the heel since he never bothered to untie them. “I’m totally dating him so you can stay my honorary little brother.”

Hands on his hips, Greg looked back to Wirt. “See?”

“Yeah.” But Wirt’s head was angled away, his cheeks and the tips of his ears red as he smiled shyly. “I see your point. Still don’t want Dipper’s number in Jason Funderberker’s phone though.”

“Fair enough,” Greg conceded.

“I wasn’t going to anyway,” Mabel assured them. “I just texted it to Sara and Trevor to start.”

“May as well send it to Isabelle and Taylor, too. Not like any of them are actually going to-” Dipper broke off, eyes going round as he tugged his phone from his pocket. “Oh.”

“And sent.” Mabel put her phone away, hips swishing side to side in delight. “Now come on, come on! Dipper, you can program them into your phone later. Let’s go!”

Wirt stood up, his hand going to Dipper’s back. “Sorry, guess I should’ve warned you that they’re pretty chatty. Especially Trevor- whoa! Greg!” He was suddenly tugged away, dragged by his little brother out of the room and into the hallway.

“Baseball time! Baseball time!”

Mabel took the opportunity to talk to her brother alone. “I’m sorry, bro-bro. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s cool, Mabel.”

“I know you don’t like when I quote dad, and I know friends are hard for-”

“Mabel, it’s okay.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Seriously. So are we gonna go? We’re running late at this point.”

She studied him for a moment before letting her smile return. Like Greg, she latched on and dragged her brother right off. “Onward!”

 ----

 They met up at the field for the high school. Trevor and Taylor were tossing a ball back and forth while Sara, Isabelle, and Jason Funderberker lounged on the grass of the outfield with an assortment of sodas hoarded between the three of them. They waved them over as they spied the group of four, their greetings attracting Trevor’s attention. When he caught the ball Taylor threw his way, he turned to face them.

“Hey guys!” he called out as he chucked it their way. “Think fast!”

On reflex, it wasn’t the first time he’d been subjected to this, Wirt stumbled forward and caught the ball before it beamed any of them in the head. “Trevor.”

“What? You’re getting better at hand-eye coordination thanks to me.” He grinned and held out his mitt for Wirt to toss the ball back.

He did so, brow furrowed as his cheeks puffed out. “You’re going to kill someone someday.”

“If I do, it’s because they didn’t think fast enough.”

“Hey Trevor! Think fast!” Isabelle threw an unopened soda can at him and it hit him in the thigh as he turned. “Ooh. Sorry. Guess you just didn’t think fast enough.”

Trevor rolled his eyes and stooped to pick up the can. “No one thinks you’re funny, Isabelle.”

“I do!” Mabel disagreed, giggling. “Hi, guys!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, hooking an arm around Wirt’s waist and brushing a kiss to his temple after a quick bob onto his toes. “Nice catch.”

“I take my job as your shield very seriously,” he replied, cheeks dusted with pink as he tried to shrug it off. “Don’t want my boyfriend bruised by my dumb friend, after all.”

“Hey, I can hear you,” Trevor told him.

Wirt stuck his tongue out at him, then gasped and tried to block Dipper with his body when Trevor came at them with the soda, his fingers threatening the tab. “Hey! Hey, hey, no! Not unless it’s sugar free, don’t you dare!”

“Do it! Spray them with soda!” Greg cheered.

“Greg! Who’s side are you on?”

“The side with the most soda, and right now that’s Trevor.”

Not wanting to get sprayed herself, Mabel quickly side-stepped. “Behave, boys.”

Dipper laughed. “Man, you pop that tab and you'll never see me pitch.”

Trevor backed off with a laugh of his own. “Like I’d waste a good- what is this?” He held up the can to actually look at the label. “Orange soda on Wirt.”

“Good to know. Anyway, hopefully you put some padding in your glove. ‘Cause now I'm not going easy on you, man.” Dipper tugged on his mitt and leaned over to kiss Wirt's cheek. “I've got this. Greg, you gonna call numbers for me or are you still being a brat?” he teased, sticking his tongue out at the traitor.

“I want to call the numbers!” Greg waved his arm excitedly while Wirt rolled his eyes. At least he didn’t deny being a brat. “Where’s the thing?”

Sara held up the radar gun. “Over here, Greg.”

He lit up and raced over to take it. “Thanks, Sara! Here, we can trade.” Greg offered her the lucky frog. “You can have Jason Funderburker.”

“Who? Me?” Jason Funderberker croaked, his attention redirected from offering Taylor a soda as she joined them.

Greg scoffed, hands on his hips. “Not you, Jason Funderberker. Jason Funderburker.”

Ro-rop. The frog blinked twice, then stared at the other boy from Sara’s lap. Jason Funderberker blinked back. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Aim for his face, Dipper!” Isabelle called out to him once Greg had the radar gun in hand.

Wirt raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure pitching doesn’t involve aiming at people’s faces.”

“How do you know? Wirt, I’m like, one hundred and fifteen percent certain that you don’t know the first thing about baseball.”

He opened his mouth to refute that, but immediately closed it as he realized she was right and said as much. She and Sara laughed, the latter of the two getting to her feet and dusting off her jeans. She waved Mabel and Wirt over, herding them in the direction she wanted to go.

“Come on, we’ll have a better view from the dugout,” she told them.

Wirt blinked. “The what?”

“The dugout. You know, the place where the batters sit to wait for their turn at the plate?” She clarified, watching as Wirt only blinked again. “Oh my god. Someone is seriously going to have to educate you on baseball terms if you’re going to have a boyfriend who plays.”

“I can teach him!” Trevor offered, handing Dipper the ball after kicking the unopened orange soda can aside.

“He doesn’t need to know the terminology to know that Dipdop’s awesome,” Mabel pointed out. “But they’d totally help since I’m absolutely going to film bits and pieces of his games.”

“Don’t you dare,” her twin warned.

“You’ll never stop me, bro-bro!”

Shaking his head, Dipper only laughed, rolling the ball along his fingers to get a feel for it. He hadn’t really been expecting to pitch on an actual baseball field, so bounced lightly on the mound as he waited for Trevor to take his place. Numbers swirled and the ball abruptly stopped as a pitch clicked. Curve ball to make him think he was going to get hit in the face seemed fair.

“Word of advice, Trevor, don’t move the glove. You don’t have any extra equipment, so if I do hit you in the face, it’ll hurt. Like, a lot. So don’t move the glove unless I tell you to.”

“When he first joined the high school team, he knocked out a senior who didn’t listen to him,” Mabel revealed, perching on the bench and hefting Greg up to sit in her lap so she could help him hold the gun up.

Trevor shot her a thumbs up, crouching down by home plate. He might not have played catcher, but he could respect the position and knew from being hit by the occasional wild pitch as a batter not to mess around. “I got you, Dipper,” he called back to him.

“Have you seen him in action before?” Sara asked Wirt, nudging his shoulder with hers as they sat on the bench beside Mabel.

“Sort of? I’ve seen him throw some practice pitches.” He shrugged as the rest of the group meandered over to watch.

Mabel grinned. “He's been practicing some out back, too, but he throws differently to a catcher. Trevor did put padding in his glove, didn't he?”

Sara and Wirt both looked to Isabelle who merely shrugged her shoulders with a, “Mm-mm-mm.”

“Probably a no then.” Sara deduced, looking back to their friend with what amounted to amused pity.

“Oh boy,” Wirt sighed.

Dipper twisted his cap around before settling into his stance. The first pitch came without warning, his silent stillness erupting into a graceful wave of motion.

The ball clapped loudly into Trevor's glove and 78 lit up on the gun. “Pretty slow, bro-bro!” It wasn't in the slightest, average for a major leaguer, but she loved goading him.

“Shut up, Mabel! First pitch and it was a curve.” He held up his glove for Trevor to throw the ball back his way. “Let me warm up some, geez.”

Whistling lowly, Trevor tossed it back. “Nice, man!” he praised, grinning from ear to ear at the actual, talented player, slanting a glance Wirt’s way. “Dude, your boyfriend’s awesome.”

Wirt sat up straight, his shoulders back as he preened, his own delighted smile all for the boy on the mound while his stomach fluttered with butterflies. “I know.”

Dipper sought him out as he rolled his fingers over the ball, seeking the next pitch. A change-up clicked, his grin all for Wirt while he shifted into his stance and let the ball fly. 84 flashed.

“Here we go,” Mabel said quietly, smile widening.

The group of teens murmured appreciatively while Wirt squirmed on the bench. He’d watched him pitch before to a person, yeah, but that had been before the depths of his crush had been realized. It had been with careful distance that he’d admired the stance and the way his mind flipped through possible pitches. There hadn’t been any grins aimed his way either, not ones bursting with familiarity. Familiarity after only a month. Had it really only been a month? Yes, he’d met him and Mabel in The Unknown, but that wasn’t knowing them the way he did now. A month ago he watched him pitch as nothing more than an acquaintance making good on his promise. Now he was watching him as his boyfriend, as someone who loved him.

Wirt’s lips quirked up in a smaller, but no less fond, smile. They’d moved quickly, almost too quickly for his taste, but they really, kind of had to. The pressure of a week had been upon them, then the aftermath of what had truly been a horrific experience for Dipper - for all of them, but especially Dipper - had called for something a little above and beyond a typical, teen, summer fling. Wirt didn’t really do flings anyway. It wasn’t within his comfort zone for one, and for two, well, there had been too much to know about Dipper to reduce him to something he could only savor in summer. He wanted him for all seasons.

He was brought back out of his reverie when Sara laughed beside him and he blinked at the way Trevor waved his gloved hand and adjusted the mitt after throwing it back to Dipper. “Oh god. I might not know the first thing about catching either, but he’s seriously going to regret this.”

“What position does he play?” Wirt asked curiously. Well-aware of his friend’s love of the game, once he got started on the subject, he used words that Wirt just couldn’t follow for the life of him.

Sara snorted, grinning at him. “Do you even know what positions there are in baseball?”

“Um. Pitcher.” Wirt pursed his lips, nodding in Dipper’s direction. “Oh! And catcher.”

“Oh my god, you look so pleased with yourself.” She clapped him on the back. “Trev plays third base.”

“Right. Of course. That’s the… that’s the third one, right.”

Mabel giggled. “There are nine positions, sweetie. In order by the scorecard, it’s pitcher, catcher, first, second, third, shortstop, left field, center field, right field.” She tilted her head to the side. “I think I lost you after third.”

“No. Shortstop.” Wirt corrected, the nickname Dipper had bestowed on his younger brother finally making sense. Well, aside from the obvious of Greg being short and the number of times he had to tell him to ‘stop.’

“Are you guys trying to teach my boyfriend baseball?” Dipper demanded, trying to pick a pitch other than the fastball his fingers wanted. He didn’t really want to hurt Trevor.

“Emphasis on the word ‘trying,’” Sara called back to him.

“I didn’t even know there was a scorecard for baseball.”

Taylor laughed. “How did you think they keep track of who wins?”

“Well, I mean… I knew they had a points-system, I just didn’t know there was… like an actual card they kept score on,” he explained.

“I didn’t either,” Jason Funderberker chimed in.

Trevor glanced their way. “Wirt, I swear to god if you’re envisioning something like a Yahtzee scorecard, I’m going to have to break off our friendship. Forever.”

His cheeks warmed as they puffed out. “Uh… no? Of course not. Why would I do that? There’s- there’s no dice in baseball. Right?” He looked to Mabel quickly for confirmation.

“Mm-mm. I’ll show you a scorecard when we get home,” she promised. “Come on, Dipdop! What’re you waiting for?”

He muttered under his breath, fingers settling where they wanted. They had told Trevor to put padding in his glove, so it wasn’t technically his fault if this hurt him. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had to pitch that hard. Yeah.

Dipper lined up the throw, and winced when Greg called out 99. “Whoops.”

“Son of a- banana split!” Trevor dropped the ball and removed his glove, waving his hand as if the rush of air would soothe the sting, glaring at the dugout when Isabelle and Sara burst into a fit of giggles. “Shut up, Isabelle!”

“Dipper, you’re seriously the best!” she praised him, giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah! Ninety-nine percent is almost an A plus!” Greg beamed at him.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “I was kind of trying to slow that one down some, but thanks. Probably should’ve gone with a splitter instead of a cutter.”

“Different kinds of fastballs,” Mabel translated, reaching over Sara to pat Wirt’s knee.

“Trev, you want to stop?”

“No.” He shook his head, glancing around the field. “I’m gonna need that soda can back though. Wow, have you got an arm.”

Jason Funderberker grabbed one from their stash and took it over to him. Trevor clutched the cool aluminum, blowing out a short exhale of relief before setting it down at his feet. Reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants, he pulled out the padding he’d ignored earlier and fitted it over his hand. He shoved his mitt back on and picked up the ball, chucking it to Dipper.

“To be fair, you’re like, three times better than any of the pitchers on our team,” he told him, then looked to the dugout. “Wirt! Get him to move in with you so we can have him!”

“Working on it,” Wirt replied, delighted by the attention his boyfriend was getting.

“Really?” Greg’s eyes went wide with excitement.

Heart stuttering a bit, Wirt sagged a bit at the hope his brother exuded. “Not… not really, Greg. Not yet. Not really not yet, but someday? Maybe? Uh…”

Mabel saved him, bouncing Greg in her lap. “Baby, we would absolutely move in if we could. But we’ve got to see our parents. And Waddles! Poor Waddles has been all alone with the grunkles, so we have to go home and rescue him.”

“Oh yeah! You can’t leave Waddles! He’s part of Mystery Best Friends, too!” Greg nodded, in complete agreement with her.

Wirt sighed quietly, shooting Mabel a grateful look. His peace of mind didn’t last long though. He stiffened as the bench dipped a little with the added weight on his other side. Why? Why didn’t he just go back to his original seat? Why was he sitting next to him and not Taylor and Isabelle?

“Hey, Wirt.”

“Hi… Jason Funderberker…”

Mabel prided herself on holding back the burst of giggles when she looked from them to her twin and his narrow eyes. His next pitch was almost violent, and she bit her lip at the 102. “Wellity, wellity, wellity.”

“He’s really good, huh?” Jason Funderberker croaked, leaning towards Wirt to engage him in conversation.

Wirt’s gaze flitted between him and Dipper, fidgeting after being under his narrow-eyed scrutiny and hearing the triple-digit number called out. Straightening his shoulders, he attempted a smile, tried to be at ease and not nervous because Dipper didn’t need to be bothered by total package Jason Funderberker, too. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.” He mentally patted himself on the back. Good, now they could move on-

“I mean, I’m with you. I don’t know much about baseball either, but it’s pretty obvious he has talent,” Jason Funderberker continued.

Wirt rubbed the side of his neck. “Yeah, that’s- I felt- I uh… noticed that, too. First time I saw him pitch. ‘Cause he’s… yeah, he’s good.” He turned his head away to check on Dipper. Really, all he wanted to do was enjoy how awesome his boyfriend was in peace, was that so much to ask?

Apparently. “It’s too bad you won’t get to see him in actual games.”

Too bad didn’t even begin to cover it. “Mmhm.”

“I’ll film him,” Mabel promised, reaching over Sara again to give him a pat. “I go to all his games. And you’ll get to see him in his little baseball uniform.”

Wirt blinked, intrigued by the idea of Dipper in a baseball uniform when another pat to his knee had him jumping and nearly toppling off the bench. “That’d be cool. You should get someone to film you while you’re in marching band to show him, too,” Jason Funderberker suggested.

“Y-yeah. Uh-huh.” He subtly tried to slide away from him.

“Funderberker! Stop hitting on Dipper’s boyfriend! At least not while I’m catching for him. I’m not target practice, you know,” Trevor hollered at him.

Heat rose in Wirt’s face as he slapped his palm to it while the total package beside him blinked in confusion, his hand still on Wirt’s knee. “Huh?”

Mabel lost it, head falling back as she laughed. “Oh my gosh! Trevor!”

“What? I don’t get it.” Jason Funderberker’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

Sara was laughing right alongside Mabel. “Oh, we know. It’s okay, Funderberker.”

“Oh… Wirt?”

Wirt pressed his lips together, eyes closed tightly. “Mmhm?”

“Is it because I’m touching y-”

“Yes, it’s because you’re touching me.”

Torn between being absolutely mortified and furious because the dweeb was still touching him, Dipper kicked at the dirt on the mound and then huffed, giving up. So he was a jealous idiot. Fine. He could be every inch the jealous idiot if it meant Jason Funderberker took his dweeb hands off his boyfriend.

Even if he had to march over to the dugout and half-drag his boyfriend off the bench to claim his lips in a greedy, possessive kiss. “Funderberker, don’t touch my boyfriend,” he grumbled, dropping his cap to Wirt’s head in stubborn claim before striding back to the mound to retrieve the ball and glove he’d left in the dirt.

“You tell him, Dipper!” Sara cheered while Wirt sat back down shakily, heart pounding and head spinning from the kiss.

“Sorry, Dipper,” Jason Funderberker added, very sincere in his croaky apology.

“That was too adorable. Wirt, how did you get such an adorable boyfriend?” Isabelle grinned at him.

Wirt’s lips quirked up in a small smile, his flush still present on his cheeks as he shrugged a little. “I ask myself that same question every day.”

“Okay, that’s obviously why,” Taylor put in, shaking her head.

Mabel patted her heart, still giggling now and then but relieved to see the next pitch come in at a far more mild 95. “Of course that’s why. They’re both really adorable.” She ruffled Greg’s hair. “Ob-waffle.”

“Ob-waffle,” Greg agreed, holding up the radar gun to check the speeds of the next few pitches. “We should all play baseball while Dipper and Mabel are still here. Like a real game!”

“Trev’s got bats and stuff, and I’ve got a few extra gloves,” Taylor chimed in, smiling at him. “It could be fun. When do you guys head back?”

“Sunday.” Mabel’s smile wanted to be sad, but she wrestled it away. “We could play now. Not like we had anything big planned for today. Dipper and Wirt have been lazing around all morning.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed. “We were reading. Well, I was reading. Dipper was researching.”

Sara chuckled, elbowing him in the side. “Come on, Wirt. You can read whenever you want. We’ll split the teams fairly.”

“But we have an odd number of people,” Greg pointed out.

“Trevor!” Isabelle waved to get his attention. “Go home and get your baseball bats and your sister so we can have an even number of players!”

“What?”

“We’re gonna play baseball!” Greg chirped. “Can I be catcher? I want to be catcher!”

“Only if you’re not on Dipper’s team.” Taylor gave him a pat on the head.

Greg puffed out his cheeks, the crease in his brow matching Wirt’s. “Aw, beans. That’s a tough call.” He looked from hand to hand, weighing his options as he held onto the radar gun. “Catcher or Dipper. Catcher or Dipper… who’d be the pitcher on the other team?”

Sara shrugged and raised her hand. “I’m game if no one else is. Or Wirt, maybe you should pitch.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no. That’s a terrible idea.”

“I’ll pitch,” Mabel volunteered. “As long as Dipper actually agrees to let us hit the ball sometimes.”

“Maybe.” Amused, all for a game, Dipper left his glove on the mound and tossed the ball hand to hand. “If I get Wirt on my team.”

“You say that now.” Wirt couldn’t help his smile as he warned his boyfriend. “Just remember all the things you like about me while we’re playing, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Wirt. You’re about to get a crash course in baseball, and you’ve got the best defense on your team. We’ll be fine.”

Isabelle went with Trevor to collect the rest of the gear they’d need to play while the remaining teens plus Greg divided themselves into two teams of five. Dipper was named captain of his team and Mabel the captain of the other. Greg happily joined Mabel’s team alongside Jason Funderburker and Jason Funderberker. Taylor also joined their team, naming Isabelle their fifth player. Dipper, Sara, and Wirt comprised the other team, to be joined by Trevor - who was the only one the entire group decided should catch for Dipper - and his little sister, Kaylee.

“So we’ll have three fielders covering right, center, and left, and then pitcher and catcher,” Sara explained. “So Dip’s our pitcher, Trev’s catcher, center should go to his sister and then you and I can cover part of center as well as left and right. You have a preference, Wirt?”

“Uh… left, I guess.” He shrugged, siding with his dominant hand.

“Okay, so that means you’re basically third base and left field.”

“Right.”

“No, I’m right. You’re left,” she teased, chuckling when he swatted her with a glove.

“We should have team names!” Greg declared to all of them. “That’s the best part of all sports. Picking the team name!”

Mabel ruffled his hair. “How about Magical Tigers?”

“Yeah!”

Sara grinned at him, then looked to her two teammates. “What should we be?”

Wirt tugged on the bill of Dipper’s hat as he rocked back on his heels with a small smile of his own. “The Happy Honeybees.”

“Oh my god, Wirt. We’re the Hornets. It’s a hornet costume-”

“The Happy Honeybees,” he repeated, then laughed when she shoved his shoulder.

Sara rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to be the Happy Honeybees. I’d name our team the Nerd Gnomes first.”

That got Wirt to stop laughing, his cheeks puffing out as she turned the tables on him. “I wasn’t a gnome.”

“I’m sorry, man, but I’ve seen gnomes. You so were.”

“I wasn’t a gnome,” he repeated, crossing his arms. “It was my Halloween costume, I think I’m the best judge of just what I was exactly.”

Greg tilted his head, talk of gnomes having drawn him into their conversation. “But Wirt, you said you didn’t even know what you were!”

“Well, I know it wasn’t a gnome.”

“How about you guys be the feisty kittens?” Mabel teased.

“No way,” Dipper protested.

“Ferocious kittens?” Greg suggested with a smile.

Sara grinned back at him, nudging Dipper with her elbow. “Fabulous kittens,”

“Fearsome kittens.” Jason Funderberker joined in.

“I’ll quit this team,” Dipper threatened.

“Two of those suggestions weren’t even from our team.” Wirt wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on top of Dipper’s head. “You can’t leave me alone with them, Dipper. What do you want to call our team?”

“Uh.” For a moment, Dipper didn’t quite know what to say. His hands flailed a bit before resting on Wirt’s arms, color seeping into his cheeks as he leaned into him. He couldn’t even tug his hat down to hide the blush since it was still on his boyfriend’s head. His tall boyfriend. It wasn’t as though Dipper wasn’t always aware that there was a height difference, but it had never hit him quite like this and right in front of everyone - seriously? “Y’know. Just. Whatever you want to go with is cool. I don’t care.” Because his brain had simply short circuited.

Wirt tried to look down at him, ending up pressing his lips to his hair instead. “You don’t care?”

“I got it.” Sara nodded to herself. “We should be axolotls.”

“Okay, that I can totally get behind. That’s a billion times better than anything kitten related.”

Sara shrugged. “Alright then, but seriously, man, what’s with all the kitten-hate?”

“Because when Dipper-”

Mabel broke off on a squeal, her twin putting her in an immediate headlock and clapping a hand over her mouth. “No reason. Nope.” She licked his hand, which was gross but he held fast. She’d made him break away from Wirt’s hold and that deserved as much punishment as the embarrassing fact she’d been about to share.

“Oh my gosh, there’s totally a reason,” Jason Funderberker snickered and Wirt glowered at him while he wasn’t looking.

“No, you know, if Dipper says there’s no reason, then there’s no reason,” he defended his boyfriend.

Sara and Taylor both shot him disbelieving looks. “There’s no way you actually believe that. You’re just trying to score brownie points with your boyfriend,” the former teased.

Wirt crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “I… am completely okay with that assumption.”

“And I’m totally okay with giving him all the points.” Dipper released his sister, only to immediately regret it as she socked him in the shoulder.

“Adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, yes, I know I’m adorable,” Trevor called out as he and Isabelle returned to the field bearing bats and gloves and their extra player. “Probably the most adorable person here.”

Jason Funderberker went to help them with the bats. “Only in your dreams, maybe.”

“No way. Wirt, c’mon man, back me up.”

Wirt fiddled with the pine tree cap still on his head, smile sheepish. “Sorry, Trevor. Afraid I can’t this time. Not when there’s obviously someone else here who’s clearly the most adorable.”

“Oh, we all know who you think is the most adorable, Wirt. You’ve made it completely obvious.” Taylor gave him a pat on the head as she still towered over him. “Funderberker.”

“Exactly- wait what! No!” Flustered, Wirt scowled at her as his cheeks puffed up.

“Aw, Wirt, you don’t think I’m the most adorable?” Jason Funderberker played along.

“Oh my gosh.” Wirt buried his face in his hands. “No, Jason Funderberker. For obvious reasons.”

“Trevor, it is now my life goal to make sure your hand hurts for the entire month. Padding or no padding.”

“What did I do?” Trevor pressed his hand over his heart as he gaped at Dipper, appearing wounded. “How was I supposed to know that ‘adorable’ wasn’t in reference to me? Besides, Wirt set himself up for that.”

“I did not!”

“Trevor, I'm pretty sure no one's ever made the mistake of calling you adorable," Mabel teased

“Well, there’s a first time for everything isn’t there?” He shrugged, then laughed as Wirt shuffled over to Dipper and slumped against him.

He sighed heavily, longing for the peace of his bedroom that they’d had not an hour earlier. “Still want to quit the team?”

“Dude, yes. Let’s abandon them.”

“Forfeit means we win,” Mabel pointed out.

“It’s not forfeit.”

“Mmhm. You’re team captain, Dipdop. If you quit, it’s a forfeit and my team wins. Alpha twin!”

Dipper glared at her.

Wirt tapped the top of Dipper’s head with the bill of his own cap. “I’ll kiss you a lot if you forfeit,” he bargained.

“Hey, no bribery, Wirt, it’s against the rules,” Sara chuckled.

He tapped him twice more. “Lots and lots of kissing.”

“C’mon, man, Trevor and Isabelle just brought us all this gear. You seriously can’t just ditch.”

“Yeah, but lots of kissing is a really good deal.”

Wirt tipped back the cap so he could press his lips to his neck. “So much kissing,” he promised.

Isabelle swatted Wirt's shoulder with a glove. “You're playing. I didn't put up with a ten minute walk with his highness for nothing.”

“You wanted to come! You volunteered!” Trevor reminded her, handing Mabel and Greg their gloves.

Mabel tucked hers under her arm, giggling as she fetched a coin from her pocket. “You two are playing. It’s settled. Heads or tails, bro-bro?”

He brushed a kiss to Wirt’s temple just under the hat’s lining. “Heads.”

“Tails!” Greg called out. “I want tails!”

Wirt snorted, then lifted his head to raise his eyebrow at his brother. “You are tails, Greg.”

“I know. I’m just making sure everyone knows I’m happy with this decision.”

Dipper’s laugh was cut off when Mabel called “Tails!” And then it was her turn to laugh, sticking her tongue out at him. “We’ll take the field first. You guys can bat.”

“Crap.”

“No worries, Dip.” Trevor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re looking at the guy who’s got the highest batting average on the team.”

“He’s right,” Isabelle chimed in with a sigh. “Unfortunately.”

Leaving his hand on Dipper’s shoulder, Trevor raised one fist to the air. “I’ll carry us through to victory.”

“Oh, thank god. So between your offense and my defense, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Don’t get cocky, bro-bro.” Mabel wagged her finger at both of them, grinning. “I know you can’t hit a ball to save your life, and Wirt’s probably never even held a baseball bat before. So there’s two automatic outs. You just have to hope that the rest of your team is good.”

Wirt tugged on Dipper’s hat, cheeks puffing out a little. “I’ve held a bat. I played Little League. For a year.”

Trevor shot him a sympathetic smile. “Dude, you didn’t hit the ball once. Ever. You were the bench warmer. But it’s all good, you made up for it on the field. Sort of. Sometimes.” There was a beat of silence. “To be fair, you were six and scared of everything that moved, so…”

“Thanks, Trevor.”

“Wirt, I didn’t know you played Little League.” Sara bumped their shoulders together, eyes narrowing. “You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?”

“So many secrets.” He confirmed, nodding as seriously as he could manage. “Six was a dark, dark time for me.” While it was intended to be a joke, his voice low and teasing, he felt his heart twist a bit at the realization that that wasn’t entirely untrue. Instead he bumped Sara’s shoulder back and removed the baseball cap to tuck back on Dipper’s head. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things I did for Teddy Grahams.”

“I can. You’re a sugar fiend, man. I can only imagine the horror you were as an uninhibited child,” Trevor jabbed as he swung a bat over his shoulder. “But enough reminiscing, let’s play some ball.”

“Alright, alright.” Dipper twisted his cap around, fingers stilling on the bill as he realized he’d just wandered around without it. And without thinking about it. Around people. He met Wirt’s gaze, surprise melting into a grin. “Let’s do this.”

It was a fairly evenly matched game, despite Dipper’s pitching prowess and Trevor’s ability to get on base at every at-bat as Taylor utilized her own skills from years of playing softball and Mabel and Greg’s enthusiasm riled up the Magical Tigers into taking the lead twice.

Wirt’s crash course in baseball did very little to help him assist his team, but during his third time at the plate, his flinch coincided with his swing enough for him to make contact - and maybe Mabel wanted to see if he could hit the ball - and it happened to fall and bounce somewhere near Jason Funderberker's feet, the total package unable to catch it. Wirt had stared at the ball dumbly for a second before Greg was tugging on his arm - “You're supposed to run to first base, Wirt!” - and encouraging him to run despite not being on the same team. He hadn't made it home, and it was the only time he got on base, but he was pleased with himself just the same. And the kiss he’d received from his boyfriend as he met him on the mound while returning to the field.

Greg on the other hand got several good hits off Dipper, the pitcher purposefully giving him the best angles and speeds. Both teams cheered on the two younger kids, Trevor giving Greg a “super high five!” when he got to home plate and scored a run for the Magical Tigers. Kaylee even got a few hits in, though the fellow seven-year-old fouled off Mabel more often than not.

As the shadows grew beneath them and the heat got to the teens and children and lucky frog alike, the Axolotls took the game at the top of the ninth inning by two runs, Trevor hitting Sara and himself home. Hot and tired, but ultimately in good moods all around, they gathered the bats and gloves and searched for lost balls in the overgrown outfield, having just as much fun tossing the ones they found back and forth between each other. Isabelle, Taylor, and Mabel flopped down in the grass, the three girls relishing in the occasional breeze that blew by, claiming that winners deserved to do all the work.

“Winners who have a pool should also invite everyone over to cool off and feed them pizza,” Isabelle piped up, arms pillowed under her head as she closed her eyes against the clouds and blue sky.

Trevor laughed, trying to juggle three of the baseballs and ultimately failing. “You know you guys are always welcome to come over and swim. I don’t need to invite you. And if somebody else pays for the pizza, I will gladly order it.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Jason Funderberker offered croakily.

Taylor snorted, reaching her hand out to him. “Funderberker, the whole point is to get the winners to do things for us.”

“Oh, right.”

Sara held both her hands up. “I’ll chip in, but I’m not paying for everyone’s pizza,” she told them, glancing Wirt’s way, her gaze roving over his face and the way he held his shoulders as he toyed with the mitt he was still holding onto, rolling it in his hands as he rubbed over the seam between the thumb and index finger relentlessly. Her eyes narrowed when he said nothing and his expression was surprisingly blank considering it was Wirt, then she shifted her gaze to Dipper.

He was already looping an arm around Wirt’s waist, lifting up to press a kiss just beneath his ear. “We don’t have to swim, man. It’s okay,” he murmured. “We can be lazy winners and eat pizza on the sidelines.”

Wirt hummed, eyes drifting to the side so he was in his line of sight. “It’s fine. You can swim. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “Don’t want to spoil your fun.”

“You won’t. I like being with you.” And they only had a week left. “So it’s fine. Unless you’re thinking you just want to go home?”

He did. And he didn’t. His internal conflict warred in his gaze as he bit down on his lip. “Mm-mm-mm. Don’t want to spoil their fun either,” he murmured, nodding towards the rest of the group. “And today’s been fun. I had fun, you looked like you had fun, so I don’t really mind hanging out longer, but…” Wirt puffed up his cheeks and blew out slowly. “No, it’s fine. We’ll go for a little bit. Unless you want to go home.”

“Nah, not really. I mean, your friends are...” Dipper ducked his head. “I don’t know. They’re great. You’re lucky. So, um, we can go for a little bit, and when you’re ready to go just let me know. Okay?”

Lucky? Wirt blinked, his grip on the glove lessening as he let go with one hand to brush a stray curl back under his cap and behind his ear. Sure, he was still surprised and flabbergasted to say the least that he actually had this group of people he could call friends - who called him their friend in return - and he thought that he himself was lucky, but why would Dipper? It didn’t really make much sense.

Unless Dipper knew what it was like to be the kid without friends. The awkward interaction between the twins before they left flitted back into his mind and his hand slid down to the back of his neck to knead gently. They’d stay the whole time. He could handle it.

“Okay.” Wirt smiled at him and bumped their hips together. “And you know… Trevor doesn’t just have a pool. He’s got a hottub, too.”

He glanced up, whatever melancholy that tried to shake him banished in favor of a bright grin. “Are you offering to hang out with me in a hottub, boyfriend o’ mine?”

Wirt puffed out his cheeks innocently. “I’m just saying that I don’t particularly have a problem with hottubs. And that there would be one there. That we could sit in. Together. Yes, I’m offering to hang out with you in a hottub.”

“Nice.” He bobbed up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I got pizza, guys,” was said to the entire group. “As captain of the winning team and all.”

A resounding cheer erupted from the group and Dipper was met with a fist bump from Trevor, a clap on the back from Taylor, and squeeze to the shoulder from Sara, along with a grateful look cast his way as Wirt eased up enough to smile and laugh along with their antics as they packed up to leave the field. They’d accepted him and Mabel from the moment they met them at the mall, but it was definitely something to see the way they’d welcomed them with open arms, Wirt noted as he made sure the two younger kids didn’t fall behind. Hanging out with friends, an impromptu baseball game, and relaxing - sort of - in the pool with pizza as the late afternoon turned to evening, it was all normal summer stuff and Wirt was happy to give that to Dipper. He deserved it, after all.

---

A/N: Wirt's friends are too much fun to write, so we had to include them at least one last time in this fic. Even total package Jason Funderberker.

Eyes widening, Wirt went to check it out, poking his head into the archway leading to the kitchen. If it was at all possible, his eyes rounded further. The kitchen was relatively safe - though their toaster was still smoking slightly - and the culprit of the burning smell was a piece of blackened toast. It looked like charcoal, it honestly did, and Dipper was spreading butter and jam on it anyway. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

Dipper was dancing. In the middle of his kitchen. In his socks, boxer shorts, and shirt still.  Earbuds in and attached to his phone, Dipper’s hips rocked to the tinny buzz of music that Wirt could hear coming from them. And he was singing along under his breath. Murmurs of the lyrics flowing freely as he moved, taking longer than necessary to spread jam on the inedible toast from being lost in the song.

“‘I’m no fool, no, I’m not a follower. I don’t take things as they come, if they bring me down…’” he crooned.

Wirt couldn’t even blink, not wanting to miss a second of it as an adoring smile spread over his lips much easier than the jam on the toast. How could someone be simultaneously the cutest thing on the planet and the hottest? He really wasn’t sure, but Dipper managed to be both.

Not wanting to make his presence known until he absolutely had to - when Dipper tried to eat the toast, he was not going to let him actually eat that, seriously, how high did he set the toaster to? - Wirt hugged the wall, staying hidden most of the way as he watched and listened.

While he had been more at ease the past few days, Wirt was savoring every second of it, inordinately relieved every time Dipper could relax and be himself without the weight of guilt or fear crushing him. He wasn’t awake and out of bed because he had a nightmare, because he decided Wirt wasn’t worth being his shield, but because he wanted breakfast and he wanted to sing and dance to a song Wirt didn’t recognize, but loved instantly. He was going to look it up and put it on a tape first chance he got, if only so he could relive this moment every time he heard it. Messy hair, sleep-mussed clothes, carefree dancing to a carefree beat. Oh my gosh, I love him. His mind and heart couldn’t help feeling and thinking in sync, despite whatever was holding him back, preventing him from saying it.

“‘You know you like it, but it drives you insane…’” Sucking jam off his thumb, Dipper slid his attention from burnt toast to one of the reasons it was burnt. He nabbed his pen, placed it to a page, and nearly jumped out of his skin. A jagged line slashed across the page instead of his note, the brick masquerading as toast making an audible sound when it hit the counter.

“Oh my god!” He tugged an earbud out. “Oh my- Wirt-!” Surprise flipped to embarrassment on a dime, color flooding his face. “How long have you been-? Oh my god, don't even tell me.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Wirt grinned, mostly adoring still, but delighting just a bit in the way he blushed, and he eased out from around the corner to join him. “What’s the name of that song?”

“Uh. Geez, man.” He unlocked his phone with a swipe, immeasurably grateful that “Disco Girl” hadn't been on. The trap was much less embarrassing. “‘You Know You Like It.’”

“Oh yeah. I do know I like it. I like it very much.”

Wirt just had to. Especially because he let his gaze rove over his boyfriend purposefully, though the forward teasing still made his cheeks a bit pink. He dealt with it by sidling up behind Dipper to wrap his arms around his waist, nuzzling his neck. Cute, hot dancing aside, he'd still woken up without him in his arms and was determined to remedy that.

“Did you seriously just say that?” Dipper leaned back, trying and failing not to laugh. “I love you, man. Geez.” He unplugged his headphones and tossed them on the counter, his phone following after he restarted the song.

Wirt's heart fluttered at the ease with which it was said, the laughter that filled it. He gave him a squeeze as he placed a kiss right above his shirt collar. “I did seriously just say that, but I was talking about you, not the song, though it's a good song and I'm not gonna complain if you start dancing again. And singing.”

“Not happening, no way.” Though Dipper did wiggle against him, enjoying the attention. He’d known very well that the appreciation - though delivered in the cheesiest, lamest way - was for him, and it delighted him to no end.

“Why not?” Wirt laughed, making him sway with him, trying to maintain a pout as he propped up his chin on his shoulder. “I'll make you breakfast if you do.”

“I’m totally capable of making my own breakfast.” Even though it was easy to get into the beat when he was pressed against his boyfriend and whatever he made was bound to be better than burnt toast.

“Okay, you may be totally capable, but I can’t in good conscious let you eat that.” Wirt looked to the toast still on the counter. “How did that even happen? Did you set the toaster to turbo?”

“No, I left it how it was.” He shrugged. “But when it popped the first time, it wasn’t done, so I put it in a little longer. I mean, I was gonna check on it but I got distracted. I think I might know how to find Greg’s Giant Frog, so I was working that out and then I realized the toaster was a little bit on fire.”

“On fire,” Wirt echoed, gaze flitting to the smoke still fading from the appliance. The toaster was supposed to make a buzzing sound and refuse to be pushed down if the heat was too much, how had he set it on fire? “Okay. You’re not touching anything remotely electrical in here again. You can touch the sink and the counter and that’s pretty much it.” Wirt gave his hip a pat as he released him, grabbing the charred brick that had once been bread so he could throw it away.

“Oh my god. Now you sound like Mabel.” Dipper leaned against the counter, fingers tapping the beat of the song against his thigh. “It wasn’t even technically the toaster that was on fire. It was the bread and the toaster was just... also there.”

“Oh, so the bread caught fire all by itself?” Wirt dropped it in the garbage can, glancing at the jam that got on his fingers as a result and popped them into his mouth before waving Dipper out of the way so he could grab the bread and start over. And he thought Mabel had been exaggerating. “We should probably look into a new brand then. Or file a complaint with the manufacturer. ‘Excuse me, Pepperidge Farm, but it appears your bread catches on fire when in contact with a heating element. Something should be done about this. It’s absolutely unacceptable.’”

“Wow, man. Wow.” Dipper grabbed his phone, finding a nearby space on the counter to hop onto. Still in the mood for music, he scrolled through his files to find some of the more non-embarrassing songs. “I don’t think the kitchen’s big enough to handle this volume of sass.”

“Trust me, it’s had to put up with more than this on multiple occasions.” Double checking the toaster - just to be sure there wasn’t a secret ‘turbo’ setting - Wirt placed two slices in so he could partake in some alongside his boyfriend, then leaned his back against the counter, sliding along it until he was right up next to him. “I’m sorry. I’m tired still. You’ve seen me and mornings. But I’ll lay off and just resign myself to making the rest of your food while you’re here. When Mabel, my mom, or Jonathan aren’t, that is.”

“So basically what’s been happening.” Dipper scooted closer, resting his cheek atop Wirt’s head. “I thought you’d sleep a little longer, though. I woke up hungry and thinking about frogs, and I didn’t want to bug you.”

“It’d probably bug me more if you set the house on fire.” Wirt slid his arms around his waist. “You can always wake me up if you need something. Even if it’s just to stick bread in a toaster.”

“I know. I thought about it, but then figured nah. The plan was to eat some toast, shake out some energy and frog theories, and then climb back into bed ‘til you woke up.” He glanced at the toaster, brushing an absent kiss to Wirt’s hair. “Didn’t quite work out, but this is okay too.”

“Mm. Climbing back into bed sounds nice. I could probably go back to sleep, but I won’t do that to you.” When the toast popped up, he pressed a kiss to Dipper’s shoulder before going to fetch it. “But I am glad I woke up. Got a great show as my reward. And you get to eat something that won’t taste horrible.”

His gaze rolled towards the ceiling, color rising. “It was not a great show, oh my god.”

“I thought it was great. Definitely worth getting out of bed for and I don’t get out of bed for just anything.” Wirt flashed him a grin, then held up the knife Dipper had used. “Want the same thing you had on the first one?”

“Yeah.” Dipper watched him quietly, comfortable with the silence. Very soon, he was bouncing on the counter in the time with the drums pouring from his phone. Shoulders rocked, hips shimmied, eyes closing. The lyrics turned over in his mind and spilled off his tongue, almost unnoticed. “‘It’s driving me crazy, and you can try to lie. But you’re not gonna, not gonna deny. No, you’re not gonna, not gonna deny my love...’”

Wirt flicked his gaze over to watch him, grin fading as his lips pursed and color filled his cheeks. He was really too cute. Wirt stayed quiet to watch him, spreading a little too much jam and even missing the bread completely so he wouldn’t have to look away. When he couldn’t waste time with the jam anymore, he took both slices and slowly inched over to him, fitting into the space between his legs in front of him.

“No, I’m not,” he replied to the song’s lyric, corners of his mouth quirking up.

Dipper jumped a bit, a fresh blush dusting his cheeks, but Wirt hadn’t made fun of him yet and the little smile was irresistible. He hooked his arms over his shoulders. “‘When you close your eyes, tell me what you see. Locked up in your room, is there any room for me? In the spoils of your mercy, in the reverence of your bed, in the cradle of the morning,’” he continued, then sealed their lips together.

Wirt sank into the kiss, arms lowering to place their breakfast on the counter on either side of him to give his hands the freedom to cup Dipper’s waist. Butterflies filled him, heart ready to beat right out of his chest as the lyrics were murmured to him, along to the music’s beat, the beat that burst from the small speakers as Wirt tugged him closer, his hips and shoulders shifting to the tempting rhythm. “There’s always room for you.” Wirt’s words and breath ghosted over Dipper’s lips before he angled his head for another kiss. “I like this song, too.”

Dipper busied himself with kissing back, fingers catching in his nightshirt, and didn’t respond until it ended and he could rub their noses together. He smiled when Wirt’s scrunched. “I’ll give you the files.”

“Okay. And I’ll give you toast.” He rubbed his sides, then picked up one of the slices to offer it to him. “And space in my bed.”

He laughed, leaving his fingers curled in Wirt’s shirt. “What would I do without you, man?” Expression a little wicked, he leaned forward and took a bite.

“Be forced to eat burnt things and sleep on the floor,” he quipped, grinning even as his cheeks warmed from the glint in his eyes. He swallowed, glancing at the slice of toast between them before flicking his gaze back up to Dipper’s and caught the corner of the crust between his teeth. Not quite Lady and the Tramp with their plate of spaghetti, but he could work with what they had.

Dipper hadn’t been expecting that, but was all for it. He was giggling, wriggling in delight by the time their lips met in a jelly-flavored kiss. “You dork. You huge dork. I love you like crazy.” His tongue flicked out, licking jam from the corner of Wirt’s lip. “You’re so cute.”

Oh, but he was the one who was so cute, all giggles and wiggles and “I love you”s. His blush deepened as he ducked his head, smile shy and embarrassed when he peeked up at him through his bangs. “Well, I kinda have to be. Gotta keep your attention somehow. Being a cute dork appears to be working.”

Biting his lip, Dipper stifled the next batch of giggles and just let his gaze roam over his boyfriend’s face. Cute and shy and sweet, stubborn and strong and protective. How could he not grab his attention? Expression melting into simple lines of adoration, Dipper lowered his brow to Wirt’s on a sigh and rubbed fondly. His hat was still on the bedpost. He’d woken up without the need to grab it immediately, and pinned that solely on the boy he held close. “You’ve got my attention, man. You’ve got all of me.”

Wirt hummed a pleased little sound, tilting his head to nuzzle back. “Dipper.” He let the syllables of his name float off his tongue, tasting the letters of his name. All of him. He wanted all of him and Dipper was giving it to him freely. Loved him freely. His boyfriend was a treasure, and his morning inhibitions were still low enough for him to let that giddiness fill him.

“Not quite,” Wirt replied, arms tightening around him as his hands gripped tightly before he hauled him off the counter to support him on his own, albeit on slightly wobbly legs, but it wouldn’t be for long. Just long enough for him to laugh and scrunch his nose at him. “Now I’ve got all of you.”

“Dude!” Dipper clung to him, legs instinctively banding around his waist. The surprise only lasted long enough for his own laugh to build up and spill out. He was too much for Dipper to handle, from the irresistible nose scrunch to his clear delight. Their lips brushed. “Put me down. I'm too heavy for this.”

“No you’re not. Just- um… there. There, I’ve got you.” Dipper’s legs around his waist helped him get a better grip on him, and also helped him to blush harder, his strong legs gripping him tightly, relying on Wirt to keep him from toppling to the floor. Wirt flashed him a triumphant grin and took a moment to slowly spin him around the kitchen as he sought a deeper kiss. “‘M stronger than I look.”

“Mmhm.” The feeling of being carried was unfamiliar but welcome. Dipper sank into the kiss with an eager sound, a hand stealing into his hair.

Wirt practically purred, tipping his head back to get his fingers to stroke along his scalp. His hips swayed to the beat of the new song, though his lower back began to protest the movement in combination with holding him. It couldn’t multitask. He was careful in easing Dipper back down, partially bracing him against the counter without breaking the kiss. Petting his thighs, shivering at the thin material of his shorts, he got his legs to unwind and lower so he was standing on the floor once again. Wirt kept up his swaying, dragging him into a dance in the middle of his kitchen.

Dipper’s breath caught, the kiss finally breaking as he melted into the unexpected dance. This was better than moving on his own, held close by someone who made his heart race in the best of ways. “You’re really sweet.”

“You’re really adorable,” he replied, rubbing their foreheads together. “After this song, come back to bed with me? Promise I won’t fall asleep.”

“If you do, that’s okay. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll just poke you until you wake back up.” He gasped when he was twirled, laughed when he was brought back in. “Maybe I’ll kiss you awake instead.”

“Mm, I think I’d definitely prefer the latter.” Wirt held onto his waist with one hand, the other grabbing one of Dipper’s to tangle their fingers together as they rocked from side to side. “But waking up with you is amazing no matter what.”

Dipper let his free hand curl in the back of Wirt’s sweater, arm wrapping around his neck. “One day I’ll wake you up at dawn for no good reason and remind you of that.”

“The reminder will be reason enough.” He lifted his chin a little, lips quirking up at the teasing. “Even if I try to punch you in the face at the time. Just know that I won’t be in my right mind and if I whine and wiggle away from you because I think you’re mean, I don’t mean it. I’ll still think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He brushed light kisses along his jaw, not fighting the giggle. It was a morning for them. “If you’re gonna throw punches with all your whining and wiggling, I should seriously practice kissing and cuddling you until you forget you think I’m mean.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m all for it. When should we start?”

Dipper stopped dancing to bob up to his toes and lay his lips over Wirt’s for a light kiss. “Now works. I’m totally cool with now,” he suggested and pulled him into a second, deeper kiss.

Wirt made his approval known with one of the soft sounds he knew Dipper enjoyed and a flick of his tongue. Now was good. Now was excellent. It was difficult to let go of him and squirm away, his kiss dampened lips unable to keep from smiling as he backed towards the hallway. “You’re so mean,” he snickered.

Dipper followed him with a wide grin, catching his hands and pressing kisses to either palm. “Am not.”

“Are too. You woke me up way too early. You’re terrible.” Wirt leaned in to brush his lips to the corner of his mouth, then wiggled out of his grasp and gave his cheek a pat.

“But you said waking up with me was amazing no matter what.” Dipper’s eyes rounded as if hurt, continuing to follow his boyfriend down the hall and back to the very uniquely decorated bedroom. “Besides, it’s never too early to see your pretty face.”

“You can see it and appreciate it while I’m still asleep,” Wirt pointed out, nudging the bedroom door shut once Dipper was inside, then turned the tables by backing him up to the bed. “And it’s not amazing when you wake me up for no reason. It’s rude.”

“I can’t see your eyes when you’re asleep,” he defended, curling his fingers into his nightshirt. He stopped retreating, lifting up to meet him instead and capture his lips. He kept them locked together, gently stroking his cheek until he could turn them and fall into bed with his boyfriend. The kiss broke then, Dipper rolling atop him and biting his lip as he considered.

He was competitive, though, and wanted to win this teasing match. Almost as much as he wanted to assure him. He didn’t need the words to know they were there in every playful fight, every impromptu dance - they were everywhere. “Besides, it’s not for no reason. I love you, and want to spend time with you. And you love me and want to spend time with me, too. There’s no better reason to wake up.” Dipper kissed him again, saving him from responding.

A sharp gasp escaped him nonetheless, his heart throbbing hard in his chest, leaving him winded and stunned. He knew? All thoughts of their game fled, practice tossed out the window, as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held on tight. He knew. Wirt’s breath hitched on a shaky exhale, eyes squeezing shut as he kissed back, grateful relief turning into desperation. He knew without him having to say it, but he wanted to say it anyway. If anyone deserved to hear it, it was Dipper.

His lips trembled as they parted, rubbing against Dipper’s. It wasn’t that hard, he had to tell him. He had to. Why couldn’t he do this one simple thing? His voice was completely dried up, vanished and scattered to the winds save for a near-silent wheeze. Wirt tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging him into another bruising kiss, all lips and teeth and tongue and why? Why was he so good to him? What had he done to deserve this? To deserve someone as patient and understanding as Dipper Pines?

Wirt rolled them over, surrounding Dipper with himself while he clung to him. If he couldn’t say it, then he’d make sure he felt it. The demand of his own heart staggered him, giving him a moment to calm the quaking inside him. His mouth softened, losing the frantic edge, while his fingers slowly untangled themselves from his curls to pet. He knew, and that had to be enough for now. Panting, Wirt broke the kiss and dropped his head to the crook of Dipper’s neck, finally able to make a soft sound as he relaxed atop him.

“You win,” he croaked out. “You win, you’re right. That’s- that’s a very good reason.”

Dipper couldn’t respond for a moment, couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t been expecting to be kissed quite like that. He wasn’t at all sure what to do with the tangle of confused, grateful need he’d just been given. He ended up nuzzling his hair and stroking his back. What else could he say? What else could he do but band his arms around Wirt and hold him in place, hold him close?

He brushed a kiss to his ear. “Facts always win.”

“That a fact?” Wirt listened to and felt his pulse, his heart working to match it as their breaths shuddered in unison.

“Rock fact,” he confirmed, eyelids lowering on a sigh.

“Even better.” Wirt brought his hand down, petting Dipper over his heart as he felt the sigh lift his chest. “Thank you,” he murmured after a minute. “And sorry, I didn’t mean to get so… carried away, I guess. You okay?”

He laughed, fingers gliding up his back to stroke his hair. “I’m good. That was kind of great, actually. Anytime you wanna get carried away, I’m in.”

“Okay.” His laugh had Wirt smiling, the gentle petting soothing whatever tension remained. He rubbed his face into his neck and hummed, the kisses he pressed there soft as he wiggled atop him, just to feel every point where their bodies made contact. Their knees, arms, Dipper’s hip against his stomach as he slid more to the side to take the brunt of his weight off him.

“Yeah.” He immediately missed the cocooning pressure, but let Wirt go since it wasn’t far. Dipper’s head ducked, their brows rubbing together so he could search his eyes. “You okay?”

Wirt squirmed some, but maintained the eye contact, let Dipper search and study to his heart’s content. “Yeah. Just… overwhelmed by how lucky I am to have you. You’re just so… I don’t know. Staggering. You know, in a good way. Like… you’re constantly knocking me off my feet, making me think or believe things I didn’t think were possible. And I’m not talking about the paranormal stuff, I’m talking about you as a person. What you do to me and make me feel. It’s incredible and I wish I knew how to get a handle on it. Sometimes kissing you senseless seems like the only way to deal with it.”

“Oh. Well... yeah.” Dipper ducked his head again, this time hiding his face against Wirt’s shoulder. “You do that for me, so... so I get that.”

“I do?” Wirt gave him his moment to hide, affectionate in his touches as he picked along Dipper’s t-shirt, then scoffed. “You’re just saying that so I’ll kiss you again, aren’t you?”

It was said like a joke, and had likely been meant as one. But Dipper still lifted his gaze with a small frown. “No, I’m not. You’re amazing. You’re surprise after surprise, a puzzle I’ll never solve no matter how many pieces I get. And, man, I want every piece. You’re something I never actually thought I’d have, okay? It’s crazy that you want to protect me. It’s crazy that you care about me at all. Being with you is the most important, wild thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Wirt blinked, lips parting in quiet surprise. “Oh… No, that’s not- you’ve had to have done more important, wild things than be with me, Dipper. I’m just- I’m just a guy. I’m… I’m a pretty easy puzzle to solve. It won’t take long.” And then what? When Dipper solved him, what then? “There’s not much to it.”

“You have no idea, man.” Dipper reached up and cupped his face, closing his eyes against past wounds. While they were part of it, it wasn’t the time to discuss them. “You’re not just a guy. You’re my guy. My poetic pilgrim. You’re shy and sweet, but you’ll still stubbornly call me out on my crap. You’re quiet and serious, but you’ll pick me up off your counter and dance with me in the kitchen.”

His lashes fluttered up again, meeting his gaze. “You’re all these weird combinations, and there’s no way to label you. You fit them all, but none of them at the same time. I’ll never solve you, Wirt. I can only, y’know, love you.”

“Dipper…” Wirt’s breath caught, tears actually collecting in his eyes, so he hid them by closing them and pressing a kiss to his palm, bringing up a hand to hold it there. “That’s… Gosh, why are you so sweet? You’re smart and beautiful and pretty much my dream guy, like… and you see all those things in me? You. I’m never going to be able to solve you either, Dipper Pines. You’re absolutely mind-boggling and I-”

He opened his eyes, lips pursing as he held his gaze and his hand. “I adore you. Every part of you. I’m… I’m honored to be your guy. That’s one label I’m totally, one hundred percent okay with. Anything that’s yours. Boyfriend, shield, guy… I’ll be any of them.”

“Well, those are all the same thing.” Dipper hadn’t meant to make him cry, sweet tears or not, so kissed his pursed lips and threw in a smile. “Mine. It’s the best label I can think of for you. Mine, all mine.”

“That’s a good one, yeah. Like the sound of it. Almost as much as your label.” Wirt returned the smile on a small laugh, letting go of his hand to rub at his eyes.

“Yours, all yours?” he guessed, newly freed hand stroking his boyfriend’s side.

“Hey. Who told you?” Wirt scrunched his nose, brow furrowing in an attempt to be playful and to stop being the blubbering mess he was. “Obviously someone did. I don’t know how you could’ve possibly figured it out on your own.”

“I think you might’ve once or twice.” Dipper brushed his lips to the scrunch, trying to use his delight in it to soothe. “I could be wrong, though. I’m usually pretty braindead when you say it.”

“This is true. But you are a genius, so anything’s possible, I guess.” Wirt tilted his head to capture Dipper’s lips with his own. “Still want to say it now though. Mine, all mine.”

“Mm. My brain’s not dead enough for that. You’ll just have to keep kissing me.”

“I think that’s a reasonable enough request,” Wirt murmured before brushing the second kiss of many against his lips.

 ----

 Papers were spread about Wirt’s bed, Dipper and Greg right in the middle of the mess. Dipper had the boy snug in his lap, the laptop in front of them as he worked. A map of the town was on the screen, and Dipper was typing dates onto various points as he spoke. “So it looks like the Giant Frog is trying to hit every single lake and pond that he can in the whole town. Some of the big ones he hits more than once, probably trying to cover every edge. These are the places I know he’s been based on the amount of frogs in the area.” He didn’t want to explain why he’d been out late enough to notice the pattern.

“Do you see it? Kind of making a spiral, right?” To help, Dipper switched colors and started to draw connecting lines to the spots. It was a sloppy, outward spiral, but he was missing a few nights here and there - the past four, specifically. “I think, if he follows the pattern, he’ll be here tonight.” He made a quick star on Long Pond, right beside Goat Island. It was low, at the edge of the city. “A couple more days and he’ll be out of Lakeville and onto the next town.”

“Will he take all the extra frogs with him?” Greg asked, tilting his head back to look at him. “And will he ever come back?”

“Yes, he'll take the frogs. But I've got no clue if he'll come back. He's a busy guy.”

“Then we better go see if we can find him as soon as possible!” Greg nodded firmly, then grabbed one of the pillows from Wirt's bed and flung it at his older brother, who'd been minding his own business tinkering with his train set at his table. It smacked him in the back of the head and he dropped the piece of track he was laying. He removed his headset, music floating from the cassette tape whirring in the deck by his arm, and looked over his shoulder at them with an arched brow. “Wirt! Frog hunt tonight! Be there or be square!”

At the foot of the bed, her mess scrapbook related, Mabel giggled. “Absolutely!”

“We’ll need a boat,” Dipper mused. “Most likely, anyway.”

“A boat?” Wirt blinked.

“I bet Old Lady Daniels knows where to find a boat!” Greg grinned up at Dipper, who immediately grinned back and ruffled his hair. “She knows lots of things. Because she’s old.”

With a snort, Wirt shifted in his chair so he was straddling it, arms folded on the back as he propped his chin up on them. “She’d know about boats because she has a boat, Greg, not because she’s old.”

“You think she’d let us borrow it? I mean, it’s not like the Giant Frog’s just gonna be on the edge of the water.”

Wirt’s lips quirked up. “Maybe. How do you guys feel about obscene amounts of yard work?”

“Nothing in this world is free,” Greg added solemnly.

“Sounds like fun!” Mabel decided.

Her twin shrugged. “I’m in.”

“Alright. She lives just down the street, so we can head over there if you’re done with your research.” Wirt nodded towards the materials on the bed. “Oh, um, it’s a row boat, by the way. Will that be fine? Don’t want to spend the afternoon ripping weeds from the garden in the hot sun if the boat isn’t… I dunno, sturdy enough.”

The twins exchanged looks, Mabel’s grin wide. Dipper nodded. “Row boat works. It’s not like we’ve never used them before, and I think a motorboat would scare the frog away.” He ruffled Greg’s hair again. “So, detective, you think we’re done with our research?”

“Yeah! I think we’re ready to catch ourselves a giant frog!” Greg pumped his arms back and forth as he beamed up at him while Wirt rolled his eyes at his choice of words.

“We’re not catching it, Greg. We’re going to… observe it.”

“Observe ourselves a giant frog.” His cheerfulness didn’t diminish as he corrected himself.

Laughing, Dipper poked at his sides. “Okay, but why? Like, why do you think we’re done?”

“Why?” Greg blinked at him, then shrugged a little. “Um… because you asked me if I thought we were done? Most people only ask me that when they know they’re done already. Unless it’s Mom asking if I think my room’s clean, then she’s being ironic, I think.”

“That’s not why I asked you.” Not enough people took kids seriously. Being seven didn’t mean his brain didn’t work. “Seriously, Greg. Why do you think we’re done?”

Greg glanced at Wirt, his older brother trying to hide his smile in his arms and failing. For some reason he looked like he was absolutely in love with Dipper - well, for a reason other than the fact that he was because ob-waffle. When he caught his eye, Wirt sobered up some and nodded encouragingly while he sat up straighter in his chair.

“Well…” Greg drew out the syllable as he looked back at Dipper. “Because we figured out the pattern and know where he’s going to be tonight? And we’ve gotta make sure that we have all the supplies we need to be able to go on our frog hunt safely, so we need to have enough time to prepare for that.”

Dipper ducked his head, tapping the bill of his cap to Greg’s brow, grinning at him. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get out of here.”

As Greg laughed, there was a knock on Wirt’s bedroom door. When the okay was given, Jonathan poked his head in. The eager energy between the two brothers faltered a bit as they looked to him, noting the hesitation in his eyes.

“Hey, guys, sorry to bother you, but… Wirt?” Jonathan glanced from him to each of the twins, then back. “Your… your dad’s on the phone. He wants to know if you have a minute to talk.” His shoulders sagged when honest disbelief flickered across his face. “I can… I can let him know you’ll call him back if you’re in the middle of something.”

“No, no- I’ll-” Wirt almost fell out of his chair in his haste to stand up, forgetting that he was straddling it. “It’s fine. It’s- yeah. No, I can talk.” His heart clenched suddenly and he whirled about to face Dipper and Mabel. “Sorry, it’ll just be- it’ll just be a second. Maybe. Probably. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, man, go ahead.”

Mabel nodded. “We can start getting ready to go.”

“Okay. Okay, great.” Wirt raked his fingers through his hair, then turned to Jonathan. “Which, uh…”

“I’ve got him on the office phone,” he told him, stepping aside as Wirt nodded and attempted to walk as calmly and collected as possible out of his room.

Greg waited only long enough for his dad to leave the doorway after him, then he was bolting from Dipper’s lap and out of the bedroom. Seconds later he was back with the receiver from the kitchen clutched in his hand. Bouncing onto the bed between the twins, he put his thumb over the talk button, hesitating for a beat.

“We were just gonna go spy on him anyway,” Mabel whispered, her twin nodding. “It’s okay.”

“Wirt’s dad never calls. Ever,” Greg clarified, just so they had a bigger picture. “Well, okay, he called once around Thanksgiving, but we were at school when that happened so it doesn’t count. This is an important Mystery Best Friends Mystery.” With that said, he turned on the phone and put it on speaker.

“Oh, so- you uh… you got the Father’s Day card I sent okay?” Wirt’s voice crackled through, sounding strange to Greg’s ears. “It got there on time and… and everything? I had to send it from California because we were on vacation and I just- I just wasn’t sure if it would make it.”

“Yes, yes. It was nice. Thank you, Wirt.” The stranger’s voice on the other end had Greg furrowing his brow. Unlike the extreme focus his older brother seemed to be giving the conversation, this man seemed distracted. “I meant to call sooner, but things have been busy around here. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. No, it’s fine, I completely understand. You’re- you’re a busy guy.” Wirt had to clear his throat. “But um… about… about what I said, in the card, you know, um-”

“What have I told you about stammering?”

There was a pause. “That… that no one takes it seriously if I stammer.”

“Get your thoughts together before you try to talk, Wirt.”

Greg gaped at the phone, then shifted it to Mabel and then Dipper, covering the speaker with one hand as he whispered, “No one ever tells him not to do that.”

Dipper almost didn’t hear him, blood boiling as he glared at the phone. The snippy, impatient voice. Why even call if you weren’t going to pay attention? Why call if you were going to berate your own son like he’d done something wrong? And why were they talking about Father’s Day when it was almost August? Too busy for over a month?

Mabel bit her lip, looking from Greg to her brother and back down. She kept her voice just as soft. “It’s... it’ll be okay. We don’t mind when he stammers, and he knows that.”

Greg nodded, but he chewed on his lower lip as his brother’s soft, “sorry, Dad,” floated through. He didn’t know what he was expecting when Wirt’s dad was basically nonexistent, but it hadn’t been this.

“I take it you want to talk about your birthday? That is what you mentioned in the card, after all,” the man continued.

“Yeah…” Wirt spoke slowly, taking care with his words. “I just thought I’d see if you would… be free. Then. Since it’s my sixteenth and… everything, I thought maybe we could… do something? I mean, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

“I did invite you to New York for Thanksgiving.”

“The day before Thanksgiving,” Greg hissed to the twins.

“I know, I know- sorry, I… I appreciated it. I did. But… but I still want to see you. I miss you, Dad. It just seemed like… seeing you for my birthday would be… I dunno, nice.”

“I understand, Wirt. That’s actually why I’m calling. I’ll need to talk it over with your mother, but I’m thinking of putting together a little trip for the two of us to celebrate.”

“Wha-” Wirt choked audibly, but when his voice came back it was full of disbelief and something like excitement. “Really? Really? You actually want to?”

“Would I have offered if I didn’t?”

“Sorry, sorry, I just- wow. Um. Okay. Yeah, Mom’s not home right now, but I’m… I’m open to whatever you have in mind and I’m sure she will be, too,” he babbled.

“Yes, well, I’ll still need to talk to her about it.”

“Of course, right. Right, yeah. I’ll tell her to call you. I’ll call her right now and tell her to call you and- and you’ll still be able to talk, right? You won’t be busy or anything when she calls?”

“Don’t bother her with it right now, Wirt. It can wait until she’s home.” There was a shuffling of papers and something that sounded like the tapping of keys on his end. “But you’re interested?”

“Yes. Yeah, definitely,” Wirt agreed quickly.

“Alright then. Once I’ve spoken with your mother we can work out the details and get everything squared away, so that’s it for now. It’s been good talking with you, son.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. You too. I…” Wirt paused, an internal debate filling the gap for a moment. “I love you, Dad. Thanks for calling.”

“Of course, Wirt. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

When the line went dead, Mabel began quietly gathering her scrapbook supplies. “Go put the phone back, baby. Go on.”

Greg nodded and hung up the phone before scrambling off the bed. He hid the receiver behind his back as he poked his head into the hall, but no one was there yet. By the time he came back, Wirt still hadn’t left the office. Greg stayed by the door, leaning against the wall as he played lookout while addressing Dipper and Mabel.

“I don’t really understand what happened,” he confessed. “His dad sounded sort of mean, but then sort of nice because he’s planning a birthday trip?”

In his brief absence, Dipper had stalked to the window. He gripped the sil, staring into the yard. “Sort of,” he muttered. The man on the other end of that phone call didn’t deserve Wirt.

Mabel sighed. “It was confusing, but sometimes parents are. Maybe he really was just busy.” Dipper scoffed audibly. His sister continued to address Greg, ignoring him. “You’ve met Wirt’s dad, haven’t you? What do you think of him?”

Greg’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “No, I’ve never met him. I’ve never even heard his voice before today.”

Dipper spun. “What?!”

Greg jumped a little. “What?” he echoed.

How could he have been around so little that Greg knew nothing of him? What kind of rotten guy- Why had Wirt been so eager to talk to him? Frustrated, Dipper turned back towards the window.

Mabel beckoned Greg over. “Don’t mind him, sweetie. He’s just as confused as you are, that’s all.” He tossed a glare over his shoulder, and she shrugged. They both knew he was mad, but there was little use in explaining the details of why. Neither twin liked to talk about it anyway. “But if Wirt wants to go on a birthday trip with his dad, we should be supportive. Okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded, then crossed his heart for good measure.

“I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.” With having abandoned his lookout post, Greg had no warning for himself or Dipper and Mabel when Wirt returned to the room with a sigh. “Kitchen phone?”

“You’ll never convict! You have no proof!” Greg shouted, ducking behind Mabel.

Managing a smile, Mabel tipped her head to the side. “Maybe we’re psychic. You don’t know.”

Wirt snorted, going for nonchalance though his posture was stiff and his arms folded across his chest. “All three of you are psychic?”

“Only one of us would need to be psychic,” Greg piped up. “Then that one would tell everyone else what was going on.”

“Mm.” Lifting an eyebrow, he hummed his acceptance, though he did fidget when his gaze shifted to Dipper, heart clenching as he noted his back stayed to him. “Fair enough. So, you guys ready to go? Since there are four of us, it probably won’t take us very long to do whatever Mrs. Daniels deems worthy in exchange for borrowing her boat.”

“Yep!” Mabel hopped up, but quickly crossed to her silently fuming twin. “Stop,” she whispered, staring out the window with him. “You’ll hurt his feelings if you ignore him.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. Get out of your own head, Dipdop. It’s not the same as you and dad.”

He winced. “He talked to him like he was a waste, Mabel.”

“Then you talk to him like he’s not. Dummy.” She leaned over, kissing his cheek, and lifted her voice. “Now come on. Maybe she’ll have firewood for you to chop!”

“It’s July.”

“So?”

“Oh my god.” He forced his apprehension out of the way, his complete distaste for the man who’d fathered his completely amazing and clearly unappreciated boyfriend, to finally turn back to the room and offer a smiling shrug.

Wirt’s answering smile was hesitant, but he did relax once he could see his face. He wasn’t sure how much they’d heard, or how they felt about it, and he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know. He’d spoken of his dad to Dipper once, to Mabel never, and Greg only a handful of times to assure that the man did in fact exist and was not a superhero hiding his secret identity.

Rocking back on his heels, Wirt nodded towards the hall. “So… let’s uh- let’s get going then. If you want to. If you’re- yeah.”

“Yeah, man.” Dipper closed the distance, taking his hand and lacing their fingers. It didn’t matter that he stuttered some. He could still be taken seriously. He was important. He mattered enough to be called more by his own father. How often had Wirt wondered since sending the card if his dad had gotten it and read a question about his birthday? As much as Dipper and his own dad had their troubles, he’d never had to ask to spend a birthday together.

He was getting annoyed again, though, so lifted up and brushed their lips together. “Lead the way, pilgrim.”

“Okay,” he murmured, gaze flicking from his lips to his eyes as he swallowed. “On the way… I know you like answers and figuring things out, so… you can ask me things. About him. If you want.”

Why did you say ‘I love you’ to someone who’s awful to you and barely talks to you when you can’t say it to me?

Horrified with himself, Dipper pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, it’s- It’s fine, man.  Just... whatever you want to tell me is fine.”

Wirt’s brow furrowed. “You’re sure?” The question and subsequent shift in his eyes didn’t escape him, but again, the niggling worry that he didn’t want to know flared up. “I mean, I don’t really know where to start. He’s just… he’s not around much.” Ever, but he’d pretty much gotten used to that. “I’m just letting you know that if you did want to ask anything, ever, you can. It’s okay.”

 With a squeeze to his hand, he led him out into the hall, letting Greg go on ahead when he looked to him for permission. Oh gosh, he didn’t want to go back to this. Wirt raked his fingers through his hair and gave Greg his best smile because he was fine. He was great. He was going to get to see his dad for his birthday, like he’d asked.

Except he didn’t really think he’d follow through on it. He hadn’t thought he’d even answer him. He’d given up on hearing from him. It was better not to expect anything than to be disappointed when he got nothing, right?

“Maybe I’ll take you up on it later. I don’t really know what to ask.” Dipper had too many questions, all parallels to his own life and things he didn’t want to get into. “And, well... If he’s not around, it’s his loss.”

“Nah, he’s way more successful and happier now than he was when he lived here-” Wirt mentally kicked himself, visibly cringing at his own dumb mouth. “Wait. Sorry, no, I know that’s not what- I- I’m sorry. I get what you mean. Thank you.” He sought out his gaze, the smile he gave him this time leaning more towards grateful than nervous. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re way more special and awesome than he realizes.” It was going to hurt to not hear it back this time, but Dipper still tugged him to a stop and lifted up, letting his lips move over his boyfriend’s. “I love you,” he murmured and sank into a kiss.

Oh. Wirt’s heart clenched tightly, just as his fingers clutched at Dipper’s shirt. He heard it in the spaces between the words, unspoken and wondering. This was the question. Oh no. “I don’t know why I tell him that, I never get an answer,” he confessed in a whisper, ducking his head to press their brows together under the bill of his cap. “I guess I keep saying it because I’m always hoping that maybe one day he’ll say it back- oh, god.”

His eyes widened suddenly and he jerked away, backing up right into the wall. “Am I doing that to you?” he wheezed, staring at Dipper in horror, hand pressing on his chest as the realization knocked the wind out of him. “Oh my god. I’m making you- how could I-? Oh, god, what’s wrong with me?”

“No. Wirt, nothing’s wrong with you. Don’t say that.” Crap, crap, crap. “I know how you feel about me. It’s okay.” He stepped forward, cupping his cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I spent so long trying to get him to love me, and I can’t do that to you.” Wirt tried to shake his head, but Dipper’s hands held him in place. “I can’t. I can’t. You deserve someone who can say it back and say it first and make you feel special and important and won’t leave you waiting and waiting and waiting and wondering what you’re doing wrong-!”

Dipper cut him off, pressing him into the wall as their lips were pressed together. He wasn’t going to let him out of this one, wouldn’t let him go while he was distressed over nothing. He deepened it quickly, tongue stealing between his lips to grant as much comfort as he could. Fingers stayed on his face, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes in gentle caresses.

Wirt whimpered into the kiss, his ranting cut off and swallowed down while his mind spun and his heart hammered. He grabbed at Dipper, uncertain if he should push him away or pull him closer while his boyfriend busily made the decision for him. The panicked sounds steadily died in his throat, replaced by the soft kind Dipper preferred and his fingers tugged on his shirt to keep him as he melted, body and mind, and began to kiss back.

As the sounds had Dipper sighing his relief into the kiss, his hands slowly slid down to Wirt’s hips and glided back up to knead his shoulders. The kiss gentled, and was only broken when air became absolutely necessary. He left their lips close together, hovering on his toes. “I know you love me,” he whispered. “I know it’s there, and that’s all I need. I know you’ll say it when you’re ready. You’re not your dad. You’re you.”

“I just want to be good enough for you.” Wirt gulped, searching Dipper’s gaze, lips instinctively grazing. “I don’t want to lose you because of three words. I can weave so many other words together that are so much less meaningful, but I can’t with those three because I’m afraid once I say them you’ll stop? It’s stupid. It doesn’t even make sense. If the feelings are there, why can’t the words just happen?”

“I think you’re good enough for me. I understand that you can’t say it yet. It’s not stupid, and neither are you. They’re important words, so I’d so much rather you say them when you’re ready than force them out anyway. It’s seriously okay. Just trust me, Wirt.”

“I do.” His arms wrapped around his waist to hug and hold onto. “I trust you. And you’re right… you’re totally right, they are important and shouldn’t be forced. You’re right.” He waited for the ball of tension in his chest to ease before trying to lighten the mood a bit. “Bet I’m subconsciously waiting for the ideal, romantic moment or something super cliche and awful that’ll make us both cringe.”

He laughed, rubbing their noses together gently. “Obviously, we’ve got to go on another date somewhere ideal and romantic or cliche and awful.”

“Obviously.” Wirt’s lips twitched a little, smile difficult to coax out even with Dipper’s laugh, and his nose scrunched to make up for it. “I’ll get right to work on that after our frog hunt. Hopefully it’ll lean more towards ideal and romantic.”

“I’ve got no problem with that.” Dipper brushed a kiss to the scrunch of his nose. “Before I told you about- you know, what happened back in Gravity Falls, you said you’d wait for me to be ready. I can absolutely return that favor. I waited more than two years just to see you again, man. Now that I’ve got you, I can wait as long as you need for the words.”

Wirt lifted a hand to brush and tuck a stray curl behind Dipper’s ear, letting his touch linger as he caressed his cheek. “Thank you.” His voice quivered a little, eyes lighting with awe and affection as he leaned in to place his lips against his. “So, uh… where were we before I had my little freak out? Can we get back to that?”

“Old Lady Daniels and an obscene amount of yard work.” He hummed playfully, as if considering something, and made no move to step back. “I’m not really sure if I want to get back to that. Maybe we should reconsider the plans. Staying here and making out seems way better.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you. You’re a pretty great kisser.” Wirt leaned back though and tilted the bill of Dipper’s cap down to shade his face. “But we already agreed to a frog hunt and we need a boat. Greg will never forgive us if we don’t see the giant frog tonight. Besides, you and me, on a boat on the lake in the moonlight? Sounds pretty ideal and romantic to me. Aside from the fact that those outliers of ours will be there, too, but that’s a minor detail.”

“I don’t know how they’d feel about being called minor details, so I won’t tell on you.” He gave him a last squeeze before withdrawing, pushing the bill of his cap up. “But maybe we should think about getting our hands on two boats.”

“Afraid I only know where to get the one.” Wirt shrugged. “We’ll have to go on an expedition to find a second one. Or you know… rent one, but where’s the fun in that?”

“There’s none at all.” Dipper sighed a little dramatically as he caught Wirt’s hands and lifted both to his lips. “But I guess Detective Greg was right. We’ve got to start gathering our supplies.”

“We can always make out later,” Wirt offered, blush rising to his cheeks as his smile came more easily. “To be continued?”

“Dude, is that even a question?” Grinning, Dipper released one hand, but laced fingers with the other and tugged him after their impatiently waiting siblings.

--

A/N: Just a heads up, guys! Skimming will be out of town next week without access to her laptop - she’s going to be a camp counselor at a summer camp for adopted and foster children and their families in the mountains/woods so there will not be wifi, plus she doesn’t really want to take her laptop there when she’s supposed to be enjoying nature - so LCOL is going to have a bit of a hiatus next week to make up for the fact that she won't get to write much with Syl. It will only be a week though! Chapter 15 will go up this Friday and then 16 and 17 will be posted on June 29th and July 3rd respectively if all goes according to plan.