#pinescifica?

His shoulders ached, as their gift for Pacifica was heavier than he thought was ideal. They had found an old round fishbowl at a thrift store, and Mabel had constructed a miniature replica of the Mystery Shack, all the way down to Grunkle Stan fleecing customers. The Shack was in one half of the display, and the other half just had a forested path with three figures holding hands; Mabel was working under a fairly tight time restraint since they found the bowl just the day before yesterday, but the figures had been painted admirably, and were clearly recognizable as the twins and their best friend Pacifica.

It was a perfect gift, but unfortunately the homemade snowglobe was filled with water and white glitter, and Dipper would prefer to unshoulder his burden as soon as possible.

They set off down the ridge, and quickly approached the tree. Dipper could start to make out details of the trees and the branches far earlier than he would have expected, and after stepping over the fifth fallen sapling he finally glanced down and saw that it wasn’t a sapling, but instead was a three-foot-long pine needle as big around as his arm.

“Uh, Mabel?” he said, a bit of uneasiness creeping into his voice as he started to get that itching feeling on his arms like they got when he was about to go in over his head by a long ways.

His suspicions were confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt when he saw a squirrel the size of a mountain lion growl at Mabel, causing her to shout “Whoa, cool!” and send it scurrying up a few dozen feet into the branches. There it sat, like a malevolent furry gargoyle, glaring unblinkingly at the twins.

“Mabel, I, uh, I’m not sure this is such a good idea, wht with the potential shrinky-growy crystal interference with the local, uh, fauna, “ he said, glancing upwards again at the glinting red eyes of the squirrel in the shadows above. He tried to inject a note of cheery optimism into his voice as he continued. “ I mean, hey, maybe Pacifica meant some other enormous tree, right?”

This time Mabel was the one rolling her eyes at him, groaning and saying “Dipper, really? What other tree do you think she meant?” Dipper looked around before slumping his shoulders in defeat, sighing, and following after his sister.

Their feet crunched in the light snow, and Dipper shivered; He only had on a long-sleeve shirt over his vest, and Mabel’s sweater was her normal smother-your-foes thickness, rather than her “heavy-duty” winter sweaters that weighed half as much as she did and that Dipper suspected could repel small arms fire. She was shivering a bit too, and probably wishing that she had checked the weather forecast like Dipper was currently wishing.

The snow had been a light patter, just enough to be pretty and appropriate for the holiday season, but it proceeded to stick, and the fat flakes kept building and building, and forming little drifts here and there. He cursed under his breath as his tennis shoes mashed into a slush heap, and he could feel his sock instantly become soaked in its entirety, the temperature of his toes dropping from tepid to meaty icecubes instantly.

“Gwahrgh, oh, coldcoldcold,” he stammered in shock, shaking his foot in a vain attempt to shake out some of the offending slush before it could permeated any farther.

Mabel looked up, giving him a grin with a hint of worry in it, as she said “Well, Paxy should be around here, so we’ll be going home in a minute too.”

He nodded, not at all convinced that his toes weren’t about to succumb to frostbite at any moment, but still agreeing to help look for their friend. They hadn’t seen Pacifica in months, not since the end of summer, and even though they’d been back at the Mystery Shack for nearly a week for winter break, she hadn’t been able to escape her parents long enough to visit them yet.

“Hey, hey Dipper? DIPPER?” Mabel’s call brought him back to the present, and her voice held a note of urgency that made Dipper abandon his fears for his innocent toes and instead break into a sprint, ignoring the weight in the backpack and panting in the cold air as he rounded the enormous tree to the direction Mabel’s shout had come from.

Underneath a gnarled and arched root of the tree was Pacifica; She was huddled up against the root, unconscious, and while the small plumes of steam from her nose and mouth showed she was still alive, the fat snowflakes had stopped melting upon hitting her designer coat and had instead formed a thin layer of snow all over her.

The twins began frantically brushing her off, at which point Dipper realized she had a big red bow in her hair, the shiny kind you’d expect to see on a present under a much smaller tree. Pacifica started, groaning slightly in disappointment as she saw the twins standing over her looking concerned.

“Oh crap; I’m sorry guys. I had wanted to surprise you two, but I kinda got tired and fell asleep. Sorry about that.”

She gave them a weak smile with clearly-sleepy eyes, and then fell slightly forward, groaning again. Dipper and Mabel caught her, easing her back against the root as she fell asleep again.

“Dipper, “ Mabel said, with a carefully-controlled torrent of concern in her voice, “I think we need to get Paxy back to the Shack pronto, and get her warmed up as soon as we can.”

“Right, don’t want to let hypothermia or something set in, “ he said before grinning. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked as he looked towards his twin.

She gave him an identical grin right back. “Oh, definitely brobro. Definitely.”

Pacifica awoke to warmth, firstly, but then she could hear sounds, voices. It was Dipper and Mabel.

“Oh man, Dipper, just a little more, a little-ahhh-ahah-ok, stop. Peeerfeeect,” she purred, and Pacifica’s eyes snapped open in curiosity.

The development didn’t go unnoticed, and Mabel turned towards her and said “Oh, hey there sleepyhead; How’re you feeling?” She turned back quickly to face Dipper, holding up her steaming mug and saying “Dipdot, you are weirdly gifted at making amazing hot chocolates. You should open like your own chain o something. Dipbucks, or something.”

Dipper rolled his eyes and snorted, but gave Pacifica a smile. She felt the scratch of a warm wool blanket around her, and carefully pulled it close to her. In front of them all, a fire crackled merrily in the Mystery Shack’s hearth. Her own mug of cocoa lay seaming merrily near her foot, and she gingerly took a sip. It was hot, so hot it nearly scalded her mouth, but tasted like someone had melted an Ares Bar of chocolate right into her mouth.

She gave a hum of appreciation, and then giggled when Mabel staggered forward under the weight of a huge gift of some sort. Pacifica squealed with excitement, telling them a courtesy “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” before hurriedly tearing off the paper.

She loved the huge homemade snowglobe, turning it every which way and pointing out all the cool details she noticed to a very proud Mabel. Finally, she felt an unexpected surge of watery eyes, and bear-hugged the twins at once before pulling back.

“Thanks guys; I’m sorry my gift was just me being my snarky self, and I’ll be sure to get you like a cool little car or puppy or something.”

Dipper noted how Mabel’s eyes sparkled with dangerous excitement at that last item mentioned, but instead shrugged and smiled. “Hey, no biggie Pax.” He glanced at his sister, who nodded, and they leaned forward and hugged her again, giving her shoulder a little squeeze after she had a single strangled sob that she quickly squelched.

Just then, Grunkle Stan shouted in from the kitchen. “Hey, you little freeloading french hens! Come help your great uncle decorate some overpriced sugar cookies for the rubes tomorrow.”

The three chuckled and got up. It was small, far smaller than the Northwest Manor, and most everything inside was dirty, cheap, broken, or some combination of two or more of those. Their “Grunkle Stan” was a somewhat-gross con artist.