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Multiversity	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 31382 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The authors of this story do not own Gravity Falls, its characters, or its giant lumberjack statue. We made no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: Straight Shooting, or Something
Dipper’s eyes darted here and there as the boy tried to make sense of where he was and what the heck was going on. He and Wendy were in the rear-most seat of Thompson’s van, outside of which Dipper saw the brightly back-lit sign of Gravity Falls’ only convenience store—at least, the only one operated by the living.
And then all of that was blocked out by Wendy’s face as her lips came into contact with his.
Dipper had never kissed a girl on the lips before, and he was stunned at how soft Wendy’s were. Her hair, wherever it delicately touched his face, tickled him in a strangely exciting way. And with her body pressed against his, he could feel through the layers of fabric the softness of her two small breasts against his chest. Suddenly, Dipper was pitching a tent in his shorts to rival Li’l Gideon’s.
“Mmm,” Wendy said, finishing the kiss and pulling her face a few inches back from Dipper’s. “Nice. I haven’t had a second alone with you since last weekend. It figures Soos would pick this week to start joining us for ‘roof time.’”
There was a sudden ringing sound. Looking out the window, Dipper saw that it was coming from the cheap string of bells attached to the convenience store’s Plexiglas door, through which came Thompson with a large snack-food bag under each arm. Behind him were Tambry, walking semi-blindly as she tapped away on her phone, and a black-haired boy about Dipper’s age who was doing the same with his own phone. Dipper recognized him as one of the locals—Chez, he dimly remembered—as the kid climbed into the second-row seat next to Tambry.
“Geez, you guys,” Wendy said as Tambry and Chez lifted their phones to eye level, dimly illuminating their faces with a blue-white glow. “You’re, like, two feet apart and you’re still sexting each other. Can’t you just make out like normal people?”
“No,” Tambry replied absently. “If it’s not on the phone, it didn’t happen.”
“And I don’t have enough room on my sim card for video,” Chez added, eyes glued to his phone.
“Freaks,” Wendy concluded as Thompson started the van. “I guess some girls just don’t know what to do with a hot twelve-year-old.” She smiled naughtily at Dipper and brushed a few errant hairs out of his face.
Dipper, suddenly supremely uncomfortable, said in a loud voice, “So! Ahhh…where are the other guys?”
“Dude,” Wendy said, “it’s Friday night. They’re up at the lake with those college girls, like always.”
“Then what’s Thompson do-”
Memories that Dipper didn’t recognize as his own suddenly flooded into his head. Robbie, Lee, and Nate had girlfriends who went to Beaver State State; Tambry had been dating Chez for just over a month; and Thompson was…still Thompson, apparently.
Following this flood of memories came a torrent of thoughts that rushed through Dipper’s head in the space of about a second and a half. Trying to spare Thompson’s feelings was like that “toss me a dozen eggs” game that Grunkle Stan played with the guy at the grocery store: You couldn’t save some without letting others break. Especially when you were suddenly dealing with a whole new universe in which, among other things, you had just had your first kiss—and with the unattainable girl of your dreams, no less.
It was awful. It was incredible. It was overwhelming. He wanted to be alone with Wendy again, to kiss her again, to repeat that amazing experience as many times as he could. But maybe that was the wrong thing to want—maybe this was going to end up being one of those situations where getting the thing you always wanted turns out to be the worst thing that could ever happen to you. This was Gravity Falls, after all.
Or was he overthinking it? Or underthinking it?
He needed to find Mabel. Whenever he was freaking out, talking to her always seemed to put things in perspective. And at this time on a Saturday night, she would surely be at the toy store.
Wait, the toy store? he thought. This was clearly one of his acquired memories. But he had no reason not to trust it; this universe’s Dipper would know the lay of the land far better than he.
“What’s Thompson doing, um, not driving us downtown?” Dipper concluded as non-lamely as he could manage. “‘cause I think that’s the place to be tonight.”
“Yeah, why not?” Wendy agreed. “Let’s go see what’s happening downtown.”
Thompson steered the van into the center of Gravity Falls’ small shopping district and, at Dipper’s direction, parked in front of the toy store.
“Whoa,” said Wendy, looking at a sign in the window of a Mexican bar and grill across the street. “They’ve got jalapeños stuffed with habaneros stuffed with something called ‘chupacabrito.’ Thompson, I’ll give you”—she turned out her pockets and looked at the contents—”a dollar forty-seven if you eat one.”
“Uhhh, okay,” Thompson said feebly.
“I’ll catch up with you guys in a sec,” Dipper said as he got out of the van. “I just want to check in with Mabel.”
“Say hi to the little perv for me!” Wendy said.
Dipper went into the toy store and quickly spotted Mabel hanging out about halfway up the center aisle. As he started toward her, a boy of nine or ten emerged from the video games aisle with a plastic game-disc case in his hand, and he saw Mabel’s gaze fix on the kid.
Uh-oh, Dipper thought. I know that look: target lock.
“Hey, cutie,” Mabel said to the boy. “You like Y Box games? You could come play at my house some time.” Then, singsong, she added, “I’d let you sit on my laaaaap…”
“Umm,” the boy said, edging away from Mabel. And the moment Mabel’s gaze shifted from the young man to the approaching Dipper, the boy fled at a full run.
Right, Dipper thought, accessing another new memory. That’s why Mabel comes here. He got the sense that even this universe’s Dipper found his sister’s behavior a little creepy.
“Hey, Mabel,” Dipper said neutrally. “How’s it going?”
“Uhhhgh,” his sister grumbled. “I can’t wait ‘til I’m old enough to date guys who’ve actually reached puberty. My charms are wasted on these little boys.”
It’s your ‘charms’ that are the problem, Dipper thought. He considered suggesting that she dial it back a little when she approached such a boy, then realized that he didn’t really want to be responsible for Mabel successfully hitting on some nine-year-old, and whatever came of that.
“So how come you’re not out with your lumbersexual girlfriend?” Mabel continued, her face breaking into a grin. “Doesn’t she give you wood anymore?” She giggle-snorted at her own joke. “Geez, and I’m funny, too. These boys have no idea what they’re missing.”
“I actually am out with Wendy,” Dipper said. “I just figured I’d say hi while we were downtown.”
A man in a short-sleeved shirt and necktie called out from the front of the store, “Hey, kids, time to go! We’re closing up!” Then, with a narrow-eyed glare at Mabel, he grumbled, “If you’re not too busy scaring off my customers.”
“Hey, I heard that!” Mabel yelled. “It’s not my fault the boys in your store have no taste!”
“The boys in my store are here to buy TOYS!” the man shouted. “You, on the other hand, never buy anything!”
“Fine!” Mabel snapped. Marching forward, she snatched a blister-packaged action figure off a nearby rack, then slapped it down in front of the register where the man was standing.
“Then I’ll take this”—she glanced down at the package—”Ninja Bob Ultra-Mega-Action Figure, please!”
“That’ll be seven ninety-nine!” the clerk barked.
Mabel pulled eight mangled singles out of her cat-face purse and slammed them down on the counter. The man punched in the purchase like he was trying to stab the register to death with his finger, then slapped one penny and a receipt down in front of Mabel.
“Thank you!” the man shouted. “Have a nice day!”
“You too!” Mabel spat, then grabbed Dipper by the wrist and dragged him out of the store.
“Well,” Mabel said, her face suddenly brightening, “I think that patched things up. Plus, now I’ve got a first-date gift for when I find my new boyfriend.”
Deciding not to offer an opinion on any of that, Dipper instead asked, “So, what are you doing now?”
“I’m going to a sleepover at Candy’s tonight, remember?” she replied.
Dipper did not remember. It was becoming clear that even though his mind was connected to that of his alternate self, the connection was not perfect. As a result, his new set of memories was like a block of Swiss cheese—solid in some places, empty in others.
“Grenda’s got some new Japanese romance comics,” Mabel continued. “She says it’s a kind called…straight shooting, or something. Anyway, it should be fun.”
Dipper wasn’t sure what Mabel was talking about; all he knew was that talking to her was not having the calming, perspective-granting effect he had hoped for. Maybe he needed to be specific about what was on his mind.
“Mabel,” he started, “do you think me and Wen-”
“Whoa,” Mabel interrupted. “What’s that noise?”
The twins went silent and listened. The rhythmic chanting of dozens of people was emanating from the Mexican restaurant across the street. As Dipper listened to it, he could make out the words.
“Eat that pepper! Eat that pepper! Eat that pepper!”
Dipper turned to Mabel and said, “I guess I should go; sounds like the Thompson situation is getting out of hand. Have fun at Candy’s.”
“Catch you later, Bro-Bro!”
*          *          *
Looking for his friends, Dipper wove among the tables of Gringo Bob’s Tex-Mex (“Because Ore-Mex Doesn’t Have the Same Ring to It”). He couldn’t help glancing around at the patrons: a few young professional women dining with what looked like college-age guys, a couple of families in which the mom was clearly several years the dad’s senior, and a few older-teen girls out with younger-teen boys. One woman, who wore a cleavage-y black dress and who was thirty if she was a day, was flirting brazenly with her date—a redheaded boy about Dipper’s age. Other women glanced at her now and then, and it wasn’t clear to Dipper whether their expressions reflected disapproval or envy.
By the time Dipper located Wendy, Tambry, Chez, and Thompson, Thompson had eaten not one but five of the restaurant’s special “mystery peppers”—which, Wendy informed him, had earned free chips and guacamole for the table. The two girls and Chez were enjoying these, along with some virgin frozen margaritas. Thompson, on the other hand, had the thousand-yard stare of someone who is about to either have a vision of the future or vomit like a banshee with stomach flu.
“Uh, is he okay?” Dipper asked Wendy.
Before the freckled girl could reply, Thompson, staring right through Dipper, said, “Are you from another universe?”
“W- What? No!” Dipper exclaimed defensively.
“Whoa, guys!” Wendy exclaimed. “I think Thompson’s visiting the Other Side!” Then she turned to the teen boy and said, loudly and slowly, “Thompson! Tell my grandma I still hate the sweater she gave me for Christmas! It itches like it’s made of poison ivy!”
Thompson blinked twice, then shook his head rapidly.
“Whoa…” he said. “Where was I just now? Did I say anything?”
Before anyone else could speak, Dipper began babbling rapidly. “Just crazy stuff, dude—made no sense at all—you were obviously hallucinating! You probably shouldn’t drive for a while. Here, have some chips and guacamole.” He slid the basket and bowl toward the teenager.
“Thanks,” Thompson said weakly. “My mouth feels like I ate a tube of heat rub.”
“Status update,” Tambry muttered as she thumb-typed on her phone. “Eating guacamole, possibly made from lima beans. Thompson high and/or poisoned. Ride home will suck.”
*          *          *
An hour and a plate of quesadillas later—plus about a pitcher’s worth of water and five bathroom visits for Thompson—the kids headed back to the van.
“You sure you’re okay to drive, dude?” Wendy said to Thompson.
“I think so,” the blonde boy said weakly.
“How many stars you guys wanna give that place?” Chez asked, opening the Squeak app on his phone.
“Two out of five,” Wendy said. “I’m pretty sure my ‘virgin margarita’ was just overpriced lemon-lime Freezie.”
“Yeah,” Tambry agreed. “And those quesadillas were a lot less quesa than dilla. Chez, what’s Spanish for ‘processed cheese food’?”
“It’s- Oh crap,” the boy said as his phone began to play what sounded like a funeral march. Quickly, he flicked his thumb leftward across the screen.
“Sent your mom to voicemail, huh?” asked Tambry.
“I always tell her we were someplace with bad reception,” Chez answered.
“Like we’d ever go anyplace with bad reception,” Tambry said.
Tambry’s phone rang.
“Hey, is this your mom’s number?” she said, showing it to Chez.
“Don’t answer it!” the boy cried, startling Tambry and causing her to drop the phone face down on the car seat.
“Hello?” shouted an angry, Latin-accented woman’s voice, which was loud enough that Dipper thought he could have heard it with crystal clarity even if the fall hadn’t put the phone on speaker. “This is the phone of Tam-bree, yes? You bring my Oswaldo home ahora mismo! His bedtime was ten minutes ago!”
Chez grabbed for the phone, but Wendy seized it first, teasingly holding it up out of the boy’s reach.
“Oswaldo, huh?” she said with a mocking smile.
“Mooooom,” the boy whined through his teeth at he looked up at the phone, “I go by Chez now.”
Tambry snatched the phone away from Wendy and spoke into it.
“I’ll bring him right home, Mrs. Sanchez.”
“Be sure that you do,” the woman said darkly. “Or there is a certain chico whose unlimited data plan will become very limited indeed.”
Chez seized the phone from Tambry’s hand, stabbed “End Call” with his finger, and shouted at Thompson, “My house! Go go go!”
*          *          *
After Thompson dropped off Chez and Tambry at their respective homes, he asked, “Your place next, Wendy?”
“Nah,” she replied. “Just drop me at the Shack with Dipper. I can walk home from there.”
“Are you sure?” Dipper asked. “Walking through those woods at night-”
“I’m good,” Wendy interrupted. “I’ve got pepper spray, holy water, and this ‘gnome repellant’ Mabel gave me.”
She pulled a spray can out of her back pocket and showed it to Dipper: “Spackler’s Underground Pest Poison: For Moles, Voles, or Whatever Lives in Holes.”
Thompson let them out at the Mystery Shack and drove off, and then Dipper was alone with Wendy on the Shack’s front walkway. It was a clear night, there was a new moon, and the “energy-saving” bulb Grunkle Stan had had Soos put in the porch light fixture was barely bright enough to make itself visible. So Dipper and Wendy were half-concealed in shadow, and the sky was filled with stars. All of which was making Dipper feel very awkward.
“Thompson, right?” he said, chuckling nervously. “I mean, that guy’ll do anyth-”
“C’mon, man,” Wendy cut in. “Don’t do that.”
“Do- Do what?”
“The whole anxiety thing. I thought we were past that.”
Dipper tried to think back, to access alter-Dipper’s memories, and suddenly they came flooding into his head: other nights in this very spot, where he had experienced the delicious contrasts between the pine-and-earth smell of the air and the naturally sweet scent of Wendy’s skin and hair, the feel of the cool night breeze and Wendy’s warm lips and body against his skin. He remembered the snugness of her arms around him, the surprisingly delicate probing of her tongue in his mouth, the softness of her bare breast beneath his hand, the feel of her exploring fingers in his shorts, massaging his hard shaft inside them…
Dipper found himself panting. Not every memory was complete, and some were probably missing all together, but everything he could remember was as vivid and detailed as if he himself had lived it. As a result, he was getting incredibly aroused.
“Totally!” he blurted. “I’m, like, completely past it. I’m so far past it, I can’t even see it in the rearview mirror.”
“Oh yeah?” Wendy replied, smiling that wicked little smile that always made Dipper’s heart skip a couple of beats. “Then c’mere.”
She drew him to her and, leaning down, pressed her lips to his. Dipper, all reservations forgotten, threw his arms around her neck and kissed her avidly, letting his borrowed muscle memory guide his technique.
“Mmm…,” Wendy hummed. Then, separating her lips from his, she added, “There’s my little studmuffin.”
She reached behind her back, under her shirt, and Dipper knew she was unhooking her bra.
“Wanna slide into second, slugger?”
As they resumed kissing, Dipper put his hand below the hem of Wendy’s untucked flannel shirt and slid it upward, his palm passing briefly over denim and belt-leather before encountering the warm smoothness of Wendy’s flat stomach. His hand continued upward until it found the unbelievably soft underside of Wendy’s small breast. Then, at last, he was cupping the whole thing in his hand. Her nipple was hard against his palm as he squeezed the soft mound gently.
They kissed, open-mouthed, their tongues finding each other even as Dipper slid his other hand up Wendy’s shirt to fondle her other breast. Wendy, for her part, slipped her hand under Dipper’s hat and ran her fingers through his curly hair before gripping the back of his head and pulling his mouth tighter against hers.
The experience was overwhelming. Every rational neuron in Dipper’s brain had long ago concluded that it would be years before he had a chance to get seriously physical with any girl. And now here he was, at age twelve, doing it with a girl who was anything but any.
Wendy pulled away, gasping. Her face was flushed and her chest was heaving, and although Dipper was no expert on these things, he could tell that she was as excited as he.
“Whoa,” Wendy panted. “I think we’d better call it a night, or I’m gonna end up jumping you right here in the yard.”
Dipper wasn’t certain that that would be a bad thing. But even if he had wanted to say so to Wendy, he wouldn’t have had the breath. So he just stood there, panting.
“But…” Wendy said as she began to catch her breath, “you doing anything tomorrow night?”
Dipper’s borrowed memory bank came up empty. Whether this was because of a gap in his memory or because there was nothing there to find he didn’t know, but at the moment, he didn’t much care.
“Um, no, I don’t think so.”
“Well, I was thinking that it might be time to, you know, take things to the next level.”
“Yeah?” said Dipper, not daring to believe that she meant what he thought she meant.
“I’ve got this air mattress,” the teen continued, “and I was thinking we could take it to that old church out in the woods. You know, at sunset, when the light comes through what’s left of the stained glass windows, it’s really beautiful inside.” Putting her arm around Dipper, she added. “It’d be a perfect place for our first time.”
Dipper was literally dumbstruck. He looked at Wendy, his mouth open but producing no sound. But somehow, to his immense gratitude to the powers that be, he managed to scrape together enough wherewithal to nod his head.
“Awesome,” she said.
She reached down and caressed Dipper’s erection through his shorts for a moment before straightening up and smiling at him.
“‘Night, slugger,” she said, and walked off into the forest.
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Multiversity