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Fistbump (a Pinecest story)	By : Edward_or_Ford Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 13063 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls or its characters. I will not earn any money from this story.

Chapter List
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The science museum was located on the other side of the Willamette River, about twenty minutes from the hotel for a pedestrian. They had planned to walk, but because they were late leaving, they decided to dig a little further into their savings and take a cab. They arrived in time to be in the first group of people through the gate as it was opened.
Dipper was in heaven. He knew they had only a few hours, so he raced through to absorb as much as he could. Mabel wasn’t quite as interested in the exhibits, but she wanted Dipper to be happy so she tried her best to keep up with his insatiable curiosity for knowledge.
Mid-way through, Mabel got infatuated with a big Rube Goldberg-like machine with rolling and bouncing balls, ramps and levers going all different directions, and lights and gongs going off to mark each event. She was so enamoured that she didn’t pay attention to Dipper calling her that they needed to move on. Dipper sighed, figuring the contraption would keep Mabel’s attention for days if he didn’t take action, and so he grabbed her hand to drag her away. Mabel was used to casual touch from her brother, but after her realization that morning, the simple act of holding Dipper’s hand sent a little jolt of excitement through her.
After that, Mabel made sure that she “held up” her brother three more times, so that he might need to come take her hand again to keep her going. Each time, she made sure to keep holding his hand a bit longer than necessary, finally adding a squeeze the final time. She couldn’t help but try to signal Dipper that she liked having him holding her hand.
Dipper noticed after the third time he had to pull her along that Mabel was being “touchy feely”, more so than usual, and that she had to be faking these bouts of distraction. What was going on in her head, though, was a mystery. What was she playing at, he wondered?
As Dipper prepared to head across the central gathering space to the Turbine Hall, the only exhibit area they had not been to, he looked back and saw Mabel apparently beguiled by a display detailing the production of renewable energy, of all things. Seriously? She expected him to believe that this wasn’t a game of some kind? Knowing it somehow involved him guiding her around, he warily grabbed her hand again and pulled her with him, if for no other reason he wanted to get the joke over with sooner than later. He started weaving through the ever-growing crowd of patrons, Mabel needing to follow behind while still grasping her brother’s hand.
Then Dipper had a sudden sinking feeling that Mabel’s clinginess had to be related to the “shower incident” that morning. Maybe all that noise she made was just an elaborate act he was supposed to overhear. Oh God, he thought. He was now instantly certain that she knew exactly what he did when he went in the bathroom after she got out! She was preparing to laugh it up at him when they were in public, where he couldn’t run and hide!
Right on cue, he felt Mabel squeeze his hand, right in the center of the main hall. With supreme trepidation, Dipper stopped and turned his head to Mabel, expecting to see her watching him with smugness, with some over-exaggerated innuendo thrown in for good measure.
What he saw was a small, shy smile on a face that was tilted down only slightly, and wide eyes looking back at him with sincerity. It was an expression of … affection?
That was, to put it mildly, not at all what Dipper expected. Unprepared to respond with any kind of smoothness, he glanced down to where his and Mabel’s hands were joined, then looked back to Mabel’s face, forced a lame toothy grin and a fake chuckle, squeezed Mabel’s hand back for a split second, and then “dead fished” his hand so that Mabel would take the hint and please, pretty please could she just let go of his hand so that this whole painfully awkward scene can just end?
Mabel let go and instinctively glanced away. She feared she had made a big mistake. She had just freaked out her brother, and now he was scared. Stupid, stupid! She had to focus on being more like a “normal” sister, because she was close to ruining their birthday, and maybe more than just that!
Dipper watched Mabel’s face fall. She tried to cover it, but it was there. He knew he’d hurt her, but he didn’t really know what had just happened.
What better way to handle an uncomfortable situation than to clumsily change the subject? “Let’s head to the last hall,” Dipper blurted, gesturing toward the final exhibit space. Mabel shrugged in agreement.

Dipper immediately spotted the perfect way to distract them from their mutual discomfort. He pointed toward a large metal machine that looked like an oversized old-fashioned joystick. “That’s a Van de Graff generator,” he told Mabel excitedly. “Come on! You’ll love this!” Mildly curious but thankful for the change in subject, she followed close behind Dipper.
Mabel saw that this was one of those things where you put your hand on the machine and it makes your hair stand on end. “Oooohh, yeah, I always wanted to try one of these out!” she exclaimed, excited despite herself. Her long hair was perfect for this. She took out her head band and hair ties, and shook her thick mane loose. Dipper laughed at the way she got a bunch stuck in her mouth. “Get out your phone and make sure you get a picture,” Mabel said. “Then I’ll take yours while you do it!”
As they waited in the short line, they watched others try the machine, listening to the exhibit operator explain what static electricity was, and how it causes sparks when you walk on carpet and touch a doorknob. When it was Mabel’s turn, the operator addressed her. “Wow, that is an awesome sweater. Just be careful, though, with all that wool you’re wearing, the static charge is going to be extra strong, and you might still get a shock when you step down.”
“That’s no problem, I’m wearing a shirt underneath. Here!” she yelled to Dipper, whipping the sweater off and throwing it to him in one quick motion. “Let’s do this!” she said, almost squealing. She was going to look so poofy!
The machine turned on and Mabel’s hair began to stand up, but it was all very long and quite thick, so the effect was uneven. Another staff member suggested she shake her head a bit to loosen the hairs from one another. Dipper laughed hard as Mabel whipped her head around like a heavy metal singer, but it worked perfectly. “Quick, take the picture!” she called out to Dipper, as her hair splayed out in an outstanding fashion.
Dipper held the phone in front of him and zoomed in to frame the shot better. This was when he noticed something about Mabel’s state other than her hair. Knowing how static electricity worked, he realized that Mabel yanking her sweater off had generated a charge in her t-shirt. This charge was obviously opposite to the charge that had now formed in her body due to the generator. It was obvious because her already-snug shirt was now clinging tightly to even the smallest curve of her torso.
A torso that Mabel, as was normal for her, had not covered with anything other than the shirt.
Dipper’s mouth involuntarily dropped open as he stared dumbly at the phone’s screen in front of him. Mabel’s breasts were pert, handful-sized, and had small but beautifully prominent nipples. The twins hadn’t gone swimming together since the previous summer, and with the way Mabel dressed during the day and for bed, Dipper had never seen even a hint of his sister’s developing figure. He was rocked as he saw that Mabel’s breasts were …. perfect! In a split second he took in the rest of her, seemingly for the first time. By God, her body was beautiful!
“What’s wrong? Is the phone okay?” called out Mabel. She could see Dipper’s confused look and noticed he hadn’t indicated that he had taken a picture yet. She had been standing motionless, hand still pressed to the generator, for several seconds now.
That snapped Dipper out of his paralysis. “No, it’s okay!” he called back, trying to zoom in closer to frame her in a “head and shoulders” shot, but the phone’s camera would not zoom close enough. He only ended up taking a picture that showed off Mabel’s chest even more than before.
“Got it? Good! Your turn!” Mabel chirped, waiting for permission to remove her hand to be given by the (now smirking all creepy-like) operator. She snatched the phone from Dipper and pushed him towards the dias.
Dipper shuffled up to the generator, taking off his cap and holding it in his hand in a strange awkward stance. The operator asked him to drop the cap by his feet. Mabel thought he looked scared of being electrocuted, of all the silly things. He actually looked kind of flushed. His hair was thick and wavy, and as he was getting the static electricity treatment, Mabel thought he looked like an adorable Pomeranian puppy, what with his hair all big and fuzzy. And it was fun seeing the birthmark on his forehead again: Dipper was very adept at keeping it hidden from view at all times. She had to coax him to look to the camera, then she quickly snapped several shots. Dipper disengaged himself, retrieved his cap, then tried to snatch the phone back from Mabel as soon as he reached her.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked, concerned that Dipper just got all weird on her again. She held the phone away, backing up as Dipper tried to get it from her again.
“Nothing, I just want to make sure you don’t drop it, or something!” Dipper mumbled back, advancing forward while Mabel retreated.
“Well, wait a second, I want to see how the pictures turned out!” she responded in a huff. Turning her back and holding the phone tight to her body so Dipper couldn’t touch it, she looked down in the direction of the phone, preparing to bring up the camera roll. That was when she finally noticed for herself the effect that the static electricity had made on her t-shirt. It continued to hug tight to her skin, and as she looked down on herself it was painfully obvious that she was not wearing a bra over her embarrassingly small breasts.
Subtlety was not a strong point for Mabel. “AAHHHH!!” she cried loudly, drawing the gaze of everyone nearby as she swiftly reached for her sweater and pulled it back on, still clutching the phone. “Where’s that picture you took?” she said frantically, stabbing at the phone’s screen. “I’ve got to delete that!”
“No no no!” interjected Dipper, again reaching to stop Mabel from using the phone. “You can’t! I only took one shot. You know … with the hair and everything?”
“But could you see all … this?” she whispered urgently as she waved helplessly at her chest.
“I don’t know … ”Dipper replied, pausing for a extra beat or two. “Maybe?” he added meekly.
Mabel was mortified. “Dipper!” she rasped.
“Alright, alright, let’s just go find a bench and sit and we’ll see if I can fix it. Okay?” Dipper said nervously.
Mabel reluctantly agreed and they found a seat on a wall, then grudgingly handed over the phone to Dipper. He brought up the photos in the phone’s memory, quickly sweeping past the shots of himself with the generator and stopping at the picture of Mabel. It was a good shot, and Mabel’s hair was captured spectacularly. Dipper thought Mabel’s breasts were even more spectacular, an opinion he noted that she obviously did not share.
“Ack!” she blurted. “Dipper, please delete that picture! That looks terrible!”
“No it doesn’t!” Dipper replied quickly. Mabel gaped at Dipper. “I mean … I can crop the picture later! The shot of the hair is great! I can make it so that it only shows you from the shoulders up, if you need me to.”
“Yes, I need you to!” snapped back Mabel. Then, a bit quieter, she said, “Fine. Don’t delete it. But please fix it, okay?”
“Okay, okay. I can do that, it’s no problem,” Dipper said, words spilling out. “Head and shoulders only. And the hair. It really is a good photo. The detail shows up great. I really like them a lot. It!!” he correctled quickly, eyes wide. “I like it! The photo! I like the photo a lot! And … them, your … your … hairs! Yes, your hairs! I like them a lot, too!”
Mabel regarded Dipper carefully. “My ‘hairs’? You like my ‘hairs’?”
“Yes, your hairs!” Dipper repeated with attempted bravado. “Yes, I do!” Mabel heard the crack in his voice as he replied.
Mabel let Dipper off after that, and his attention went back to the phone. His Freudian slip had not been missed. Dipper liked her breasts! No, he said he liked them a lot! Just a few hours ago she wondered if she was isolated or sick, perhaps the only one who was demented enough to feel attraction or love for a sibling. Now she knew that if nothing else, Dipper liked her body, specifically her boobs! She felt a knot of excitement low in her abdomen at the thought.
She glanced over at Dipper again, and saw that he was deleting the pictures of himself that she took of him!
“Hey, what are you doing?” Mabel cried.
“Nothing!” Dipper cried back.
“It’s not nothing! You’re getting rid of the pictures I took of you! Why are you doing that?” she demanded loudly.
Dipper panicked. He could think of no answer, not even a plausible lie, that he could give Mabel for why he needed to delete those pictures. The only answer that would come to his mind was the truth, and he couldn’t tell her that! For all his cleverness, for all the knowledge he had in his brain, he was utterly unable to determine a way out of being caught. With a few more years’ maturity, he might have been able to man up to Mabel, and take her challenge stoically. But at fourteen, his emotional tools were not up to par. Dipper lost control, and in horror realized he was starting to cry.
Mabel’s anger instantly turned to concern. “What’s wrong, Dipper?” she asked him sincerely, putting her hand on his shoulder. At the touch of her hand, Dipper only started sobbing harder.
She was so confused, what had happened so quickly? She looked down to Dipper’s lap and the phone he held, still showing the last of the photos in the camera roll of Dipper that Mabel had taken. Besides his hair standing on end, Dipper in the photo looked so stressed out about something. Then she noticed it: the front of Dipper’s shorts was tented out, almost comically so. Without thinking, she moved her glance from the phone to Dipper’s crotch. There it was, visible even though he was seated, even though he was now crying even harder. Dipper had a very prominent erection. And Mabel correctly guessed that her breasts were the cause of it.
In a strange way, it made Mabel feel good! To know that Dipper could at least see her as attractive, even erotic, meant that her own feelings for Dipper weren’t so abnormal.
Mabel wanted to say something, because Dipper needed to know that she understood. Really, she did understand! But she set aside that for the time being. First, she had to help him pull himself together: he was crying because he didn’t want to tell her what she had now already seen for herself. Once that bridge was crossed, as awkward as that would be, she would be able to try to tell him at least some of her own feelings, and that would make things better. Right? She just had to lighten the mood at bit, that’s all.
“Dipper, it’s okay. Look … you don’t have to say anything. I think I know what’s wrong,” Mabel said gently. “I can see the … “size” of the problem,” she added with a bit of a smile.
Dipper didn’t see the humor. He pushed his legs tightly together and turned half away. His face turned a deeper shade of red, and he groaned pitifully. But his breathing started to even out.
“And, you know … things like this happen, am I right?” Mabel continued helpfully. “I mean … we’re growing up, and … you know … hormones and stuff?” Mabel was getting more animated. “Things getting all … sweatier … even then before?” Dipper was enduring her “pep talk” as best as he could.
“And besides, it’s not like you’re not like every other boy out there! C’mon, I’ll bet it happens all time, doesn’t it?” Mabel growing enthusiasm to helping Dipper was making her forget the concept of “tact”. She wasn’t any better at tact then subtlety. “You’re probably just laying around, or sitting in class, minding your own business, and then “Hello!!”, right!?” adding in a twist of her hips for effect.
“Oh, God!” exploded Dipper, leaping to his feet and pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “Just stop! I do not want to have this conversation with you, Mabel!” He looked around and he saw a lot of people watching him. Taking a deep breath, he sat back down. His face was red and wet, but he could control himself. He continued quietly. “Okay, so now you know … I just …” He couldn’t explain himself, so instead he went into apology mode. “Mabel I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! That should not have happened to me. It won’t happen again, I swear!” Mabel tried to interject, but Dipper cut her off. “No, please, just please! I just want to forget this happened! Can’t we just forget it and just go on with our birthday?”
“But Dipper …” Mabel urgently wanted to tell him that she didn’t think this was as nearly as horrible as he thought it was.
“Please?!” pleaded Dipper desperately, thinking this couldn’t get more horrible for Mabel, wanting to protect her from his depravity. “For me? Please, just please drop this, at least for now! Okay?”
Wordlessly, Mabel nodded her head. While temporary relief poured over Dipper, Mabel felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest.
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Fistbump (a Pinecest story)