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“What am I doing? This is so stupid!” Wirt pulls his coat tight, continuing to brave the weather, his boots crunching the icy slush underneath.
He’s been out looking for this stupid Wolpertinger since this morning. Even since him and Dipper got in that disagreement, he’s been trying to prove that if trolls, and demons, and Gremgoblins exist, then a Wolpertinger could certainly exist. Sure, they were believed to be myths in the Bavarian Alpines of Germany, but it was pretty damn cold right now, so there was a possibility the creature was lurking the frozen woods of Gravity Falls. This place was so weird, anything was possible.
But oh, I guess a Frankenstein bunny wasn’t realistic enough. Okay, Dipper Pines, man of mystery!
--
This all started because Dipper was excited to find winter specific creatures in Gravity Falls. This was the first time that he and his twin sister, along with Wirt and his brother Greg, would be visiting the twin’s Great Uncle’s for the Christmas season. When Ford mentioned that some creatures living in the weird little Oregon town were season specific, Dipper had gotten excited.
He started rambling off ideas of what he might find.
“Maybe a Wendigo? Oh, but that might be a bit extreme. Maybe we’ll tread that one with a bit more caution. Oh, but what about an abominable yeti?! That would be amazing! The cousin of the Sasquatch; he said the yeti was an asshole, but I’d still like to study him. Or maybe we’ll see a Nykur? Ugh, we’d have to go to the ocean to see that, and we’re not near any seafronts. Maybe we could find one in Gravity Fall’s lake? Mabel might like that--although, considering her beef with the unicorns, maybe an Icelandic Kelpie wouldn’t be such a great idea. Also, we’d have to break the ice, so that’s pretty dangerous---.”
As Dipper was cutely rambling off the different creatures, Wirt had thought back to this old picture of his dad. In the picture, his dad, then a boy, was sitting with his family in a cozy German cottage. In his lap, he was holding what looked like a rabbit, except the rabbit had horns, and wings, and fangs. When the then young Wirt had asked what he was holding, his father had laughed and said--
“What about a Wolpertinger?!” Wirt suggested.
Dipper stopped talking. “A...What?”
Now Wirt was rambling, “When I was little, I saw this picture of my dad at his relatives, and he was playing with this stuffed rabbit thing, except the rabbit had wings, and horns, and fangs; it was like this mishmash of different animals. Like a griffon, or hippogriff, only much smaller. My dad told me all about the Wolpertinger; it was this elusive, Frankenstein creature, said to bring luck to anyone who could find and capture one. But they were very tricky; having enhanced agility, and flight, to deter their capturers. It became such an interesting legend, that residents started making stuffed versions of it, to sell to tourists.”
“So...like a Jackalope?” Dipper summarized.
“Sounds like a Jackalope,” Ford agreed, clearly not impressed.
Wirt pouted, “Well I mean, I guess. But it’s way cooler than that! Like, again, it has wings, and horns, and who knows what else. And there’s rabbit versions, and ducks-- even sometimes foxes--”
“How does one find a...walltinger?”
“Wolpertinger, Dipper. And well, from what my dad told me, he said that they were kind of hard to spot. It has to be during a full moon, I remember that. Although, people who have claimed to see it have all been reportedly drunk--”
“So it’s nothing more than a drunkard’s imagination,” Ford dismissed, returning to his paper.
Wirt crossed his arms, “Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”
Dipper tried to be the facilitator, “It’s not that, Wirt. It’s just...I don’t know, a bunny seems kind of...simple?”
“It’s not a bunny!”
“Right! Right! I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve kind of already seen a Jackalope before. Heck, there’s a “Jackalope” in the Mystery Shack Gift Shop.”
Ford scoffed, flipping the page of his newspaper.
“So? This isn’t a Jackalope. It’s a Wolpertinger. Don’t you wanna go find it? It might be fun! And hopefully, not nearly as dangerous as some of the other things we’ve searched for.”
“Well, I do. I do want to eventually find it. It’s just...we’re only here for two weeks, and I was hoping to see something a little more...exciting? You know?”
In other words: Life Threatening.
Ford spoke up, “Plus, not to rain on your parade, but I’ve been living here for years, and I’ve certainly never seen a Walloptinger. Nothing of the sort!”
“Wolpertinger!”
“Probably cause you weren’t wasted!” Stan, who had been watching his Soap Opera's until now, joked.
The two old men laughed.
“Probably cause the real monsters ate them all up!” Ford shot back.
Wirt was not the least bit amused, “Oh, okay. I see. So when I actually want to go looking for something, it’s not important enough? Because it’s not scary, or adventurous? You’ve never even seen it, so how would you know what it's like?!”
Dipper bit his thumb, weighing back and forth on something he wasn't sure he wanted to make public, “Wirt it’s not that! Please don’t start acting like this. I just, I want to see something…”
“What?” Wirt prompted, wanting to hear what his boyfriend had to say. Even knowing it was going to hit a nerve.
“... Cooler …I’m sorry, but if Ford says he’s never seen one, then I’m going to have some doubts. He is the expert of all things Gravity Falls. Maybe in the Alpines, like you said, but here? I don’t really want to waste my winter vacation looking for something that’s...just a rabbit with extra appendages. I want to really get my time’s worth here!”
“So spending time with me is a waste?” Wirt surmised.
Dipper blanched, “Hey! No! I never said that. Come on Wirt, you’re getting too defensive. Why don’t we look through the journal, and look at the seasonal creatures that Great Uncle Ford already recorded? Then, maybe after, if there’s still time, we’ll go look for your rabbit! Okay?”
Wirt stormed towards the coat hanger, snatching up his blue worn cape. He threw it over his shoulders, buttoning it up.
“What are you doing? Come on Wirt, don’t be upset!” Dipper begged, running to stop him.
Wirt flipped around, cape fluttering, “You know what, Dipper Pines, and family? I’ll find one, all on my own! I’ll prove to you that they’re just as likely as anything else in this crazy ass town! And it will be an adventure! An adventure less likely to get us killed! And when I find it, and rub it in your snooty, elitist faces, then I’ll be the one with the last laugh! Ha! Hahahahaahah!”
“Wirt, don’t go out alone! You might seriously get hurt!”
“Ohhh, I thought the “bunny” would be too simple? Or are you saying I’m weaker than it?”
Dipper crossed his arms, a tad irritated by the poet's tone, “No! I mean you could actually get hurt from the very real creatures of Gravity Falls!”
Wirt threw up his hands, “There you go again, acting like my Wolpertinger isn’t real! For someone so invested in cryptids, you’re not even giving it a chance! I guess Dipper’s stupid boyfriend should just stick to poetry and clarinet, huh?”
“Hey, I never said that! Don’t put words in my mouth!” Dipper shouted, his temper rising.
“I don’t need to put words in your mouth, you’ve already made it clear that you’re not interested in what I have to say! My ideas are not nearly as valued as your "experienced" Great Uncle’s word.”
“I mean...you did just admit that I’m experienced.” Ford pointed out, lowering his newspaper.
Wirt took one look at him, and turned on his heel, out the door.
--
And that’s how he ends up here, braving the snowfall to prove his boyfriend’s family wrong.
But as the sun begins to set, the wind picking up, and he’s getting more and more turned around the further he walks, Wirt thinks maybe he shouldn’t have let his bruised ego do all the talking.
“Why am I so annoyed? It’s not like it matters. I’m not even that crazy about monster hunting myself,” he mumbles, the cold having cooled his once heated cheeks.
He’s starting to think more clearly; this dumb need for approval is seeming like more of a pointless endeavor with each passing second. The biting cold cutting through his coat is also a very good deterrent. Despite losing interest in his task; wanting to go home, and just admit he was being headstrong, and left without thinking, he keeps walking. He scans the ground below, hoping to see paw prints; he scans the trees above, hoping to spy a wingspan.
He supposes his stubbornness comes from more than just, well, stubbornness. He supposes it’s because he doesn’t want to just prove they exist.
He wants to prove to Dipper that he can do cool things too. That he has a dauntless side. That he can show Dipper amazing, outlandish, oddities, the same way that Dipper shows him. That he can take Dipper on a successful escapade.
He’s braved the unknown before, showing himself to be stronger, and braver than he thought. He even managed to ask Sara out, though that relationship had long since been over, replaced with a much more platonic friendship. But still, he had gotten the courage to ask her out. A courage that would later help him to ask out Dipper.
Even more than Dipper though, he wants to prove himself to Ford. The man is always treating him with slight contempt. Always judging him, always downsizing him. It’s clear he doesn’t think Wirt is worthy to date his great nephew. Wirt wouldn’t usually care what the man thinks of him, but Dipper cares a great deal about his Uncle’s opinion. If his boyfriend decides that one day Wirt’s not good enough for him, provoked by his Uncle’s opinion, he might realize he can do better, and dump him. Wirt would feel pretty pathetic then, especially when Dipper’s such an important part of his life, and has made his own humble upbringing all the more terrifying...but also incredibly exhilarating.
He doesn’t want to lose that. Dipper’s made his, and Greg’s life, better. Every moment with the twins, good or bad, has been worthwhile.
He wants a reason to show the man that he’s also worth Dipper’s time.
“I’m worth your time…” he repeats, only to himself.
SSsshkkkssss
Wirt lifts his head. He turns in the direction of the sound. The bushes rustle again. Wirt takes a step back, keeping his guard up. He knows that Gravity Falls is not a place to trifle with.
“I’m not afraid of you! Come out!” He shouts, puffing up his chest, trying to appear bigger than he is.
The bushes rustle, and a little white head pokes out, nose twitching.
“Oh...it’s just a rabbit.” Wirt sighs, relieved that it wasn’t anything serious. He’s all bark and no bite...and even sometimes, no bark at all.
He looks back at the rabbit’s white, fluffy face; at its beady red eyes, staring back at him. “You’re not sleeping, little guy? I thought you’d be hibernating by now?”
The rabbit’s nose twitches, and it shakes, rustling the bush. The branches sticking out of the bush sway with the movement.
Wirt bends down, offering his hand, chirping softly. “Here little one. Are you stuck? Do you need my help?”
Great, I’m talking to a hare. I’m probably getting hypothermia.
Rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, he continues to coax the rodent out. “Come on little one. I think I have some biscuits in my pocket. Would you like to take one back to your hideyhole? Maybe you’ve run out of food, and need to find more?”
He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a plastic bag containing buttery, shortbread cookies. The day before, he and Mabel baked cookies together, while Dipper took Greg through the mystery shack, showing him the changes made for the Holiday season.
He remembers that scene fondly. Mabel’s a bubbly girl, and full of spirit--more eccentric than his brother, who’s supposed to be the youngest of the three of them. Mabel’s certainly gunning for the title of most childlike, though.
In order to keep her from making a mess in the kitchen, or getting distracted, he swallowed his pride, and danced with her, getting her extra energy out. He doesn’t often get to dance, way too embarrassed to ask Dipper to dance with him, but Mabel is always ready for an impromptu dance party. So he spun her around the room, listening to catchy hits, as they followed each step for the following ingredients. His mom taught him how to be productive in the kitchen, even while having fun. Stirring batter while swinging your hips was a lot more exciting. Mabel begged him to invite Dipper up, and show his moves, but he made Mabel promise to keep his secret. He wasn’t ready to show Dipper that awkward side of him, not yet. He managed to get her to agree, when he mentioned that he’d be more willing to cook with her again, like this, if she kept quiet.
He’s certain that it won’t be long before she brings it up again, but it had been enough for yesterday. The reward had been an “only slightly” messy kitchen, and delicious, baked cookies for the family.
“Can rabbits have butter? Hmm, I’m sure it’s fine if it’s just a little cookie. Plus it’s wild, I think they probably eat things worse than this.”
Deciding it was fine, he opens the bag and pulls out two buttery cookies. He sticks out his palm, offering the cookies, wondering if the rabbit will be brave enough to come out. If it seems like it might flee, Wirt will just leave the cookies on the ground, and head off. He doesn’t want to scare the thing.
The rabbit’s nose twitches rapidly, licking its whisker.
“Come on little guy. Come get some delicious cookies.”
The rabbit lunges. Wirt falls back, screaming.
After a moment, he lifts his hand away from his face, looking around. He hadn’t expected the rabbit to jump out. He doesn’t see the creature at first, no signs of it anywhere in front of, or behind him. “It must have gotten scared, and took off,” Wirt reckons, a little sad by the fact. He was sure he had been perfectly still, speaking softly, so as not to frighten it. Rabbits are very uneasy creatures though, so I guess it can’t be helped.
“Now, where did I drop those cookies?” He asks, now searching for his bag.
A shadow falls over him, and he glances up. His eyes widen, and his mouth falls open in shock when he sees what’s above him. The white rabbit is 5 feet off the ground, flapping it’s pure white wings. It’s long, moomin-like tail flicks back and forth in excitement. In its mouth, fangs puncturing the plastic, is his bag of cookies. And above its head, what Wirt thought was the overgrown branches of the bush, are actually:
“Horns…” He whispers, awestruck.
The Wolpertinger snickers, swirling overhead, almost like it’s taunting the boy. Before Wirt can react, it turns, and flies off through the trees.
Wirt jumps to his feet, giving chase, hope renewed.
---
Almost an hour later, and Wirt is no closer to catching it.
Every time he corners it, it finds a way to slip out from under him, taking flight. Every time he finds it again, it’s only a few short seconds before it’s out of sight. Every time he lunges, it flaps just out of reach, Wirt hitting the snowy ground below. Just shy his fingertips, it laughs at his failures, kicking up snow in his face, before bounding off.
His pants are soaked from the snow, and he’s more than a little bruised, but he’s determined to catch the creature. I mean, the thing still has his cookies!
“Come here!” Wirt shouts, jumping to catch the Wolpertinger out of the air this time.
It twist away, tail whacking him in the face, as if to add insult to injury.
He’s losing momentum. He knows that. He doesn’t have the energy that Dipper does. His long legs can only take him so far. The Wolpertinger is getting more and more out of reach.
If he doesn’t catch it now, he’ll never see it again. And he’ll have to go home empty handed, trying to explain that he found the creature, but having no evidence to back it up.
With the last of his strength, he crouches low, and lunges, using his knees to give himself extra air.
He swipes at the creature, fingers curling around the end of the Wolpertinger’s tail.
The creature squeals, as it’s dragged down by Wirt’s gravity.
“Gotcha!” He cries out triumphantly, starting to rope it in.
The Wolpertinger squeals out in protest, dropping the bag of cookies. It thrashes in Wirt’s hands, trying to wiggle free.
“Come on, I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to show you to my boyfriend; I promise I’ll let you go right after, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
Wirt’s promises mean nothing to the hodgepodge rabbit. It trashes aggressively, making little hissing noises, as it kicks out it's hindlegs. It's back claws catch the back of Wirt’s hand, slicing the pale, taunt skin--the extended cold causing it to contract-- to ribbons. Wirt lets go on a yelp, falling back.
The Wolpertinger tumbles forward, through the trees.
Back on his ass, Wirt rubs his sore backside. “This is hopeless. I’m wasting my time!” he realizes, looking at his bleeding hand.
He could be back at the shack, cuddled under heaping's of blankets, drinking cocoa, snuggling with his boyfriend. Instead he’s out in the cold, freezing to death, beating himself up, trying to catch something that a taxidermist could make. Hell, that Stanley Pines could fashion together with enough super glue!
It’s nearly dark--maybe another hour or two before the sun goes down-- and he knows he’s gotten himself hopelessly lost since chasing the thing. If he doesn’t start heading home, trying to find his way back, he’s going to be wandering the woods all night; and he knows that Gravity Falls after dark is not an enjoyable trek. He’s probably already got Dipper in a tizzy, and at this point, even Greg might start to worry.
This whole trying to prove himself was a waste of time; just like Dipper thought.
He stands, dejected, rubbing his sore hand.
As he turns, he hears the cries of the Wolpertinger. It sounds like it’s in distress.
Wirt turns back, stepping through the trees the Wolpertinger fell through.
On the other side, a yard away, the Wolpertinger is trying to flee. It spreads it's dove-like wings, attempting to take off, but is yanked back to the floor, tail pinned down by some invisible force. Wirt can’t see what’s causing it, as all he sees is an empty field; blankets of snow the only thing surrounding it.
He squints his eyes, trying to find the source. That’s when he realizes, it’s not an empty field, it’s a frozen over pond. The creature isn’t being held down, it’s tail is pinched between the cracked ice. It must have chipped the surface when it landed, it's tail getting caught.
“Oh no, this is all my fault!” He puts his hand on his cheek, watching miserably as the Wolpertinger writhes in agony, trying to free itself.
He steps out onto the pond, “Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m com--”
CRRRRRRRRRRCCCCCCK!!!
Wirt goes still. Looking down, he watches as the ice under his feet splits.
He steps back onto the safety of the embankment. He looks out at the Wolpertinger, still trying to pull it's tail out of the ice. It’s having no success. The more it fights against it-- the more it struggles, the harder the creature is flung back onto the ice.
Wirt watches in horror as it totters to it's feet. It’s eyes are wide, panic stricken, nose twitching, heaving out puffs of white air. It’s nose turns ruddy; the blood drips from it's nostrils, staining the pure white snow below. “Oh gosh, it’s panicking. If I don’t stop it, it’s going to drop dead.”
Steeling his nerves, he steps back onto the ice, trying to keep as much weight off his feet as possible.
CRRRRRRRRRRRRRCCCCCCKKKK!
He winces as the ice continues to break apart. He moves nimbly towards the animal, trying to glide across the pond, as if he were ice skating.
The creature finally takes notice of his approaching form. It hisses at him, puffing out it's fur.
Wirt lifts his hands in surrender, moving delicately, “I know. I know. You’re pissed at me. I don’t blame you. But please, let me help.”
Wirt takes a step closer. The tiny beast slashes the air, growling a warning. Wirt stumbles back.
CCCCCCRRRRRRUUUUUUU--NNK!
Wirt glances down, the cracks in the floor stretching out across the pond. Shit! Shit!
He reaches forward.
The Wolpertinger screams, slashing at his hands. Wirt retracts them, barely avoiding it's claws this time.
“Please, I don’t want to hurt you. I want to get you out. Please, let me help!”
The Wolpertinger tries to run in the opposite direction. It's tail bungees the animal back to the ground. Ice chips fly out from under it; water leaking through the frozen surface. It’s going to cave at any moment.
Wirt drops to his knees, outstretching his hands. While the creature lies dazed, he grabs it by the waist, and picks it up.
The Wolpertinger shrieks as soon as it’s touched, wriggling in his hands, kicking it's feet, flapping it's wings. Wirt holds it away from himself, trying to tug the animal’s tail from the ice, while simultaneously avoiding it's powerful legs, and swinging wingspan. When he yanks, the Wolpertinger yawps, so he stops.
Pulling isn’t going to do anything. It hasn’t worked before.
Upon closer inspection, he sees that the ice has trapped the part of it's tail where the tuft meets the bone. Not only that, but it’s trapped more than an inch below the surface. Tugging is only going to cause this creature more pain and anxiety.
He has to break the ice around it's tail.
Knowing he can’t hold the rabbit in both hands, and search his pockets, he tucks the creature under his arm, preparing for the worst. The Wolpertinger waste no time scratching up his arms with it's front and back paws. It growls and snarls, sinking it’s long fangs into his flesh. Wirt cries out, but refuses to let go, using his now free hand to search his pockets for something to chip away at the ice.
His pant pockets produce no results, but when he searches the inside of his cape, he finds a mini flashlight that Dipper gifted him a few nights back. It was to be used for any late night exploring, but right now, it would have to be his makeshift chisel.
He slams the flashlight onto the ice, chips flying everywhere. Some shoot up, hitting him in the face. He flinches as the bits scrape and slice his cheeks and chin. Even with all the different pains culminating; sore muscles, freezing limbs, bruises, bleeding arm and hand, and a cut up face, he refuses to stop trying to help the poor thing. He avoids hitting too close to the tail, not wanting to hurt the creature any further. The Wolpertinger bites him again, those two pointed canines puncturing his skin. He winces, watching the blood pool over it's fangs, dripping onto his pants, but continues to beat at the ice.
CCCCRRRRRRUNNNNNKNKNKNNCCCC!!!
The ice is starting to fold under him. He ignores his own panic, still smacking the ice with the now busted torch. There’s no way it can be fixed, not even by handyman Soos, but if it helps free the creature, Wirt will consider it a high quality product.
“Almost! Almost! Come on!” So focused on his task, he doesn’t notice the Wolpertinger has stopped struggling. It lays still in his arms, gazing up at his face, curiously.
It no longer tries to attack him, realizing that the boy holding it is not trying to do them harm. It stares at the human, timid, but hopeful.
“Break you stupid thing! Let him go!”
The mythical rabbit encourages the poet with a few, apologetic licks to his arm, settling down to let the young man work. If it continues to fight him, it will only make things difficult for the both of them.
CUUUUUUURRR--CHUUUUUUNK!
Finally, Finally! The ice holding the tail shatters, the tail sliding out with minimal damage.
“Yes! Yes!” Wirt cheers, standing up, holding the Wolpertinger out towards the sky. “You’re free, now you can--”
The Wolpertinger spreads it's wings wide. It twists, it's tail whacking Wirt in the nose.
“Ack!” He releases the creature, who doesn’t bother to stick around now that it’s safe. Wirt rubs his nose, glaring at the speck that once was his proof. “Ugh. Damn thing! YOU'RE WEL--”
CRACK!
The ice gives way. Wirt hardly has time to think, let alone scream, before he’s plunged into the icy depths below.
---
“Oh God...he’s...I’ll never forgive...My fault!”
“Dip...too hard...calm…”
“Mab...He might ‘ave...I’m so...orr...Wir...Sor…”
“...per! Ple...getta hold of...gonna be…”
“H..! Waking up...W..wi...Wirt, are you okay?”
His brother’s voice is the first to pierce his subconscious. Wirt stirs. His eyes flutter, fighting between waking, and sleeping. He winces as the lights of the attic come into view, dragging him into consciousness. He tries to lift his arm, to shield his eyes from the blaring bulbs, but such a simple act takes a surprisingly extensive amount of effort.
“Whuuu? Uhhhhhhgggg,” He shivers, pulling the comforter over his chin. His head aches.
“Hey, Wirt. We’re glad you’re okay!” Greg says, hands on his hips, tone completely casual. He’s smiling, rejoicing his brother coming too, the slight hint of worry slowly dwindling from his eyes.
“Wirt!” Dipper cries, looking the complete opposite of Greg. His nose is snuffly, eyes red and puffy, cheeks shiny. When he sees Wirt coming too, he crumples; his head plopping onto Wirt’s blanketed chest. His shoulders shake as he openly weeps.
“Dipper? What’s...what’s wrong? Oh, Kitten, don’t cry,” Wirt says, trying to pull his arms out from under the covers to comfort the boy. He has to put them right back inside as soon as the cold air hits his flesh. He’s shaking.
“Don’t move too much Wirt. You need to stay under the covers,” Mabel admonishes, placing her hand on top of the comforter.
“What happened?” He asks, trying to think back to the events of the day. He remembers getting in an argument, storming off... he was looking for the Wolpertinger. He found one, at least, he’s sure he did... he remembers chasing it...and then...
“I wanted to go looking for you right after! I really wanted to go and apologize, please believe me!” Dipper lifts his head, sputtering, “But Grunkle Stan told me to let you go, that you needed to cool your head. That you’d be back soon. But when Mabel and Greg came back, and you still weren’t home, that’s when we went looking! I couldn’t stand the thought of you out there, and possibly...possibly--” His lip wobbles.
“Hey, it’s okay Kitten. It’s okay,” Wirt whispers, voice scratchy. “What happened? How did you find me?”
Dipper wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve, “We were looking for you, and suddenly I heard this loud crack, followed by this huge splash. I ran towards the sound, and--”
Crack...splash?
“OH!” Wirt sits up, “I fell in the pond and--HACK! COUGH* COUGH* HUUCK--I--I--COUGH*COUGH*!!!” He covers his mouth, but his lungs still feel like they're being rung out.
“Don’t talk! Don’t talk Wirt! Please, don’t strain yourself,” Dipper begs, pushing Wirt back down. Dipper’s hand is so warm against his cheek; Wirt curls into the touch.
“Warrrm,” Wirt muses, not sure if he spoke that aloud or not. He can’t really muster the strength to care. Illness has a way of bringing down his reservations.
“Oh god Wirt, I thought. I don’t know what would have happened if we weren’t nearby. If I didn’t hear...if I didn’t--” Dipper shakes, the thought of what could have been still racing in his mind, endlessly torturing him. He breaks down, blubbering, hands clamped over his mouth to silence himself.
With Dipper being unable to continue, Mabel steps in, rubbing her brother’s back. “We used my grappling hook to grab you, and everyone pulled you out. You we’re shaking; your face was pale white, and your lips were turning blue. We rushed you back to the house. Dipper demanded we take you to the hospital...but Stan said it was just a little frostbite, that you’d be fine at the house.”
Of course he would. He didn’t want to be responsible for Wirt’s hospital bill, or for calling Wirt’s parents.
Wirt rolls his eyes. It’s almost funny how predictable the old man is.
“Ford took your temperature, and found you were suffering from mild Hypothermia.”
“Hypothermia?” Wirt squawks.
“Mild,” Greg emphasizes. “When we went to the hospital, it was more severe. So that’s good!”
Wirt has a feeling Greg doesn't understand the severity of hypothermia altogether.
Mabel pats his blanketed form, “Ford made you a heated compress, and we piled you high with blankets; it seemed to work. You started warming up-- the blue tinges went away shortly after!”
“We took shifts to make sure that your condition didn’t worsen,” Greg divulges.
“Well we were supposed to be taking shifts, but this one over here wouldn’t leave your side for a second! Not even to use the bathroom! I had to drag him to the toilet before he pissed himself,” Mabel points to her whimpering brother, playfully miffed, but that’s hard to pretend when every whimper and sob from her twin breaks her poor little heart.
“How long was I out?” Wirt asks.
“About 14 hours? So, all night!” Greg answers, counting up on his fingers.
“14 hours? I was out that long? Wow! Great to know that my fingers didn’t fall off. I just love when critical, possibly life threatening problems are treated like the common cold,” Wirt snarkily replies, and then immediately regrets it when Dipper’s muffled sobs slip out. “Oh, shit! Kitten, no. I was just kidding!”
“Nooooo, No you weren’t. You’re right! We should have taken you to the hospital. I’m a terrible boyfriend. I should have been the one to drown in that pond!”
Wirt sits up again, despite Mabel’s protests. “Nooo, shuuuuu, Kitten! No! I’m sorry. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m feeling better--*Hack*COUGH*HACK*--aL-already…”
Dipper takes one look at him, and falls back onto the top of the covers.
Wirt reaches out, the covers slipping off his chest; coldness be damned. “Really, really! It’s okay! Sweetheart, I trust your uncles. If they think I’ll be okay, I’m sure I will be. It’s fine.” He takes Dipper’s hat off, petting the boy’s hair, trying to comfort him. “Come here, It's okay. I promise it's not--*COUGHCOUGH*--that bad. I've been through worse, this is noth---was I wearing this earlier?” He suddenly asks, noticing the change of clothes.
“Um no. We had to take off your wet clothes, and replace them with dry ones,” Mabel admits, blushing slightly. “But don't worry, Ford was the one that changed you.”
That's every reason to worry. “Oh great. Your uncle knows what my penis looks like,” Wirt grumbles. He would be mortified if he weren’t feeling so doggone sick.
The door to the attic opens, Ford and Stan walking in, as if on cue, “Oh please kid, nothing to be embarrassed about. It was a matter of life or death! If you’re more concerned about me seeing your privates, rather than stopping the hypothermia from worsening, well then you need to put your priorities into perspective.”
“So I was close to dying?!” Wirt yells.
“Hardly. Figure of speech. Are you always this dramatic?” Ford huffs.
Dipper turns his head, giving his uncle a death glare. It’s not one Wirt usually gets to see directed at the older man. He’s kind of thrilled.
“You’re both being dramatic. I’ve certainly been through far worse! Falling in a pond for a couple of seconds is child’s play compared to spending months in the icy tundra of Nebulas 9XL! Dipper, stop looking at me like that young man! What I’m saying is-- He’s fine. He’s okay! Probably will need to be bed ridden for the rest of the week, but should slowly regain your energy little by little. Oh yes, by the way, we brought tea. Hot beverages will help regulate body heat! Stanley!” Ford moves away, so Stan can put the tea mug on the nightstand.
“Hey, glad to see you’re alive and kicking. Now this kid can stop wailing all through the night!” Stan laughs.
Dipper reels back, and punches his uncle in the gut. Stan stumbles back, “OOF! Damn kid. You’ve been working on your right hook! Augh! That actually hurt!” He rubs the tender area; there’s certainly going to be a bruise later.
Dipper turns his anger on them, “You guys are such assholes. He could have died! He could have drowned! And you’re acting like it’s nothing! I’m so pissed at you two, I don’t even want to look at you! It was your idea to let him go off! He got hurt because I listened to you, Great Uncle Ford! He’s suffering, but you’re cracking jokes, Grunkle Stan! Is this funny to you two? Do you really hate him that much? Does his life mean anything to you? It does to me! It means EVERYTHING to me! So by that extent, do I not matter to you? I love him, but clearly he’s not worth your time, so perhaps I’m not worth your time, either?! Wirt was right! I have been worrying too much about your shitty opinions! I’ve been putting so much stock into what you say, when you’re just a bunch of stuck up, heartless, jackasses! I should have never trusted you! I should have been there for Wirt! I should have gone with him! I hate you! Just get out! Leave him alone!” Dipper turns away from the two.
He doesn’t notice the look of regret on his uncle’s faces. But Wirt does.
Wirt puts his hand on Dipper’s cheek, drawing his attention. “Hey, hey. Come on. I know you don’t mean that.”
“But Wirt...if I hadn’t listened to them…”
“Shuuuush. Listen, I’m not going to pretend that hearing you say I was right, and your uncle was wrong isn’t a great feeling. It’s amazing!”
From the corner of his eye, he can see Ford pouting.
“--But, I got myself into trouble. Me falling in the pond, that wasn't your fault. I was actually going to come back, not long after I left. I realized it was dumb to be mad about something that I wasn’t even that crazy about; I guess I just wanted to prove to you and your uncle Ford that I could do cool stuff too-- that I was worth your time and interest.”
“Wirt--oh god! You are! You are worth my time and interest! You’re worth every second! I’m so sorry I made you feel like your weren’t! You’re the most interesting, most amazing boy I’ve ever met! You’re perfect, perfect to me! I’m so sorry, Wirt. I’m so sorry for not coming with you, for not giving your Wol-per-tinger, a chance!”
“Hey, you said it right this time. Heehee, I bet you looked up the pronunciation and everything.”
Dipper smiles, faintly, “I wanted to show you, when you woke up. That I do care. That I was interested. You mean so much to me, Wirt. You're incredibly interesting-- you're every bit worth my time. I like nothing more than spending it with you!”
Wirt appreciates the effort his boyfriend goes to. “Shuuu, it’s okay. I know you do. Thank you for saying it anyways. It's nice to be reminded. But listen, that’s what I wanted to tell you! As I was about to turn around and come back...I found it. The Wolpertinger.”
Everyone’s eyes widen. They lean forward, curious to hear the story.
“You found it?” Dipper says, eyes shining with something other than tears. Now they’re bright with intrigue.
“Impossible,” Ford says, but listens intently.
“Well, yeah. I know it seems crazy, and you might think it’s some delirious vision brought on by my fever, but no! I saw it. The Wolpertinger. I got so excited, so obsessed with catching it, with bringing it back to you...that’s how I ended up on the pond. I ended up getting it caught in some trouble.”
“Trouble?” Mabel mimics.
“Yeah. It’s tail got stuck in the ice, and I was trying to free it.”
“Oh Wirt! That wasn’t your responsibility!” Dipper says, his guilt still present.
Wirt shakes his head, “No. It was. I was the reason it got stuck in the ice. If it got hurt because of me...or worse, well, I’d be pretty upset at myself. I gave it so much trouble earlier, so to leave it to fend for itself-- that wasn’t right. Especially since it’s such a rare, beautiful creature. Oh you should have seen it, Kitten. It was amazing.”
“I bet it was,” Dipper whispers, kissing the palm of Wirt’s hand.
“Is that why your arm was all scratched up?” Greg points to Wirt’s arm, who, for the first time, notices it’s wrapped in gauze.
“Oh yeah. It got me pretty good. I don’t blame it though. I gave it quite the scare. It was just trying to defend itself.”
“So what happened? Did you save it?” Mabel bounces in her seat, wanting to hear the end.
Wirt nods, smiling at the memory. “I did. And it took off right after it was free. The little ingrate!” He laughs, coughs, and finishes with, “That’s when the ice gave way.”
“So we were that close the whole time,” Dipper says, frowning once more. “If I had just found the pond sooner, we might have been able to pull you away, before you fell in.”
“And seen this Wolpertinger,” Ford adds. He shuts up when Dipper gives him another scathing look.
“Yeah. But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. We both said some stuff, and made some mistakes. You did upset me, and I had every right to be upset. But I also went and did something reckless, fully aware that I could be getting myself in more danger, and knowing that I might be worrying you. I had every intention of going back, but once I saw the creature, I was gung-ho on capturing it. I put myself at risk; I put myself at that pond. It wasn’t an accident. I knew the danger, I saw the ice cracking, but I still went out, because I needed to help.”
“Oh Wirt, you’re such a goody two shoes,” Dipper cries, throwing himself in his boyfriend’s arms, holding him tight. Wirt returns the hug, enjoying the additional body heat. If he nuzzles Dipper’s neck a little, thankfully no one comments. Possibly because he’s ill; which is fine by him.
“I guess you could say, I was a little like you in that moment!” Wirt ponders out loud.
The two share a laugh. Wirt’s is cut short by another coughing fit, this one more intense. He coughs up a large quantity of phlegm--some of it tinted pink-- onto his hand, and quickly wipes it up with a tissue, before tossing it in the nearby trash.
Dipper, who notices, despite Wirt’s attempt to hide it, lays him back down, pulling the covers back under his chin. “You should rest. I know you just got up, but try and sleep some more. You need to get better.”
Wirt gets comfortable, finding no reason to argue. It actually sounds like a wonderful idea, when Wirt takes into consideration how weak he feels after all that exposition, and how enticing the bed feels. His little cocoon of covers has become a mini oven, heating his frozen bones. However, even though he’s more than willing to comply, he still whines, somewhat childishly, “I’ll only rest if you lay with me? You’ve probably been up all night. You could use some sleep, yourself. Or else there will be two sick patients, and we don’t want to put Dr. Mabel and Dr. Greg through that--”
“That’s Nurse Greg to you,” Greg corrects.
“Right. Nurse Greg, and Dr. Mabel,” Wirt reiterates, smiling at his brother and Dipper’s twin sister. The two smile affectionately back. It’s good to be back to the constant teasing and retorts that they’ve grown accustomed to. No more fretting, no more fearing for his safety, or his health. Wirt’s okay--a little banged up, but honestly, with the Pines twins, when isn’t that the case?
Turning back to Dipper, he adds, a little cheekily, “I know cuddling helps to regulate the body. It’s good for hypothermia. It’ll help if you come under the covers, and keep me warm.”
“Aht-aht!” Ford disputes, wagging his finger. Now that things are starting to look better, he’s shifting back into overprotective mode.
Dipper glares, “You don’t get to say anything! I thought I told you to leave!”
Ford falls back, chastened. Stan pats his shoulder, offering some consolation.
“Hey, come on. I know you’re mad at them. But I’m not upset. Really. I don’t think they actually meant for me to get hurt. And they’ve been helping to take care of me, just as much as you...right?”
Dipper’s reluctant to agree.
“It’s really not their fault Dipper. Yeah, they’re kind of jerks, but that’s how they’ve always been. Those are your Grunkle’s. You love them anyways; you love them, despite their flaws. I know you’re just upset because of me, and I can’t tell you to stop feeling the way you do, but...don’t be too hard on them. I know they mean well. I know they feel bad. They came to look for me. They helped me out of the pond. I’m assuming one of them carried me back?--
“--Grunkle Stan,” Dipper says, after a moment.
Wirt looks at Stan, regarding him kindly, “Ford got me changed, and made me that compress. Even if there are disagreements between us; even when it seems like they’re not very keen on me-- It’s clear they care. Even in their own, odd, not very law abiding way. They care about you, so, by extension, they care about me too. They’re just a little tough with their love. But, that’s them. And heck, maybe I even like them too. Just a little bit.” He winks at the older men, basically saying ‘Yeah, I’m saving your asses.’
The two look at him with something that he hopes is respect in their eyes.
Dipper looks at his uncle’s for a moment, letting Wirt’s words sink in. His uncle’s stand near the door, not saying anything, waiting with bated breath.
“Okay...okay. Fine. I believe that you do feel bad for Wirt getting hurt. And you did everything to help him. I’m still mad...but really, I think I’m just mad at myself. I was the reason Wirt left, so I can’t put all the blame on you guys. I was the one who decided to trust Ford over my boyfriend; I made the choice. That’s not on you, and as much as it would be easier to put the blame on you...I have to take responsibility for my decisions. I’m sorry for yelling at you two. And saying I hated you...I didn't mean it.”
His uncle’s release a sigh they hadn’t noticed they’d been holding.
“That being said,” Dipper suddenly says, “I’m napping with my boyfriend, and you’re going to let me! You didn’t help the conversation any, Ford. And you still told me to wait, which could have prevented this whole thing from ever happening. So that’s how you’re going to make it up to us.”
Ford opens his mouth, ready to object.
Stan puts his hand on Ford’s shoulder, “Ugh. Just let them! It's not that big a deal. Ford, you really think the beanpole is going to take advantage of our Nephew, in the state he’s in?”
“That’s exactly what he wants you to think! That’s exactly how he plays us, Stanley. What if he’s not even sick?” Completely forgetting that he was the one to take Wirt's temperature, and diagnose him.
Stan rolls his eyes, “Okay, poindexter! Now you’re the one that’s being dramatic. Kid, we’ll do as you say, but don’t think that this will become a regular thing. You’re still under our roof, which means you follow our rules. As soon as your boyfriend’s better, he’s back to sleeping on the couch.” He drags the still opposing Ford away.
Now it’s just the teens.
“We’ll let you get some rest, as well. Come on Greg! Let’s let the nerds be gross and sickly sweet.” Mabel fake gags, getting up, and heading for the door.
Greg gives his brother one last comforting pat, smiling innocently, “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
“Thank you?” Wirt’s smile is graceless, not quite sure how to respond to such a sincere, but oddly unnerving statement.
His brother is sometimes too guileless for his own good.
Greg gives Dipper a quick hug goodbye, then follows after Mabel, who's waiting by the bedroom door. She gives them a wink, and closes the door, allowing them their privacy.
Dipper, without a moment’s hesitation, lifts the covers, and crawls in. He wraps his arms around Wirt’s waist. “Jesus, you’re on fire! This place is an oven!” Dipper complains. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and tosses it to the floor. Now less likely to overheat, he falls back into bed, curling back into Wirt’s side. He considers doing the same with his shorts, but that might be pushing it; he blushes, thinking how intimate that might look.
“Well, I feel ice cold,” Wirt refutes, making a point to not stare at his boyfriend’s bare chest. He’s sure his cheeks are bright red; at least he can blame it on his fever if Dipper points them out.
He turns, the two facing each other. Dipper is also blushing; his lips are not sure whether to be smiling, or scowling. His eyes are still red from crying; Wirt kisses each eyelid.
“Wirt...I’m really sorry…” Dipper whispers.
“It’s okay, Kitten. You don’t need to apologize, anymore. Let’s just sleep,” Wirt nuzzles their noses, before he kisses him, showing that all is forgiven.
"I'm just...I'm so relieved. I was really scared that I'd lose you."
The two move closer, Wirt cradling Dipper in his arms.
"You'll never lose me. I'm way too stubborn to go anywhere."
Dipper's breath tickles him as the younger teen laughs.
---
Something’s tickling him.
“Dipper...mmmm, Kitten. Hehe, your hair--” Wirt sleepily mumbles.
“Oh my gosh, he doesn’t realize,” a female voice whispers to her companion, giggling.
The second snicker sounds oddly like his brother’s.
“I can’t believe it…” A third voice says, incredulous.
Squeak Squeak!
“Squeak?...What?” Wirt reluctantly opens his eyes.
And there, cuddling under his chin, is a big bundle of white.
“What?” He repeats, afraid to sit up.
Mabel and Greg are leaning over the bed, big Cheshire grins on their faces. And next to him, Dipper is sitting up, staring wide eyed at the thing under Wirt’s chin.
“What is that thing? Wirt, what is that?” Dipper voice is high pitched and panicky.
“I don’t know.” Wirt mutters, his own anxiety spiking. Dipper’s panic is not helping him one bit.
“It’s so cute!” Greg says, squishing his own cheeks.
The white bundle twitches, lifting it's head. Wirt sees thick antlers above him. The creature’s tail flicks up; a moomin-like tail.
“The Wolpertinger!” Wirt cries, sitting up despite himself.
The Wolpertinger flies up, and lands again, resettling on Wirt’s lap. It stares right at him, nose twitching.
“We heard this little guy scratching at the window. Stan told me to go up and investigate. He was pawing at the sill; when we opened it, he zipped in, and immediately curled up under your chin. Do you know this little guy?” Mabel asks, excitedly.
“This was the Wolpertinger. The one I went out to look for. The one I found. The one who got caught in the ice.” At least he thinks it is. He looks at the tail, and sees where the tuft meets the bone. There’s a red, raw ring around the area; the fur stripped. “Yeah, this is the one.”
The Wolpertinger purrs, happy to see that Wirt recognizes him.
“He’s happy to see you,” Greg notes.
“I’m surprised...he was hacking up my arm earlier. And he took off right after I freed him. I figured he hated me, and wanted to get away from me as fast as possible.” Tentatively, Wirt sticks his hand out.
The Wolpertinger sniffs his fingers. With a squeak, it begins enthusiastically licking Wirt’s fingers.
“I think he’s thankful that you saved him,” Greg beams, pride swelling for his older brother. Wirt’s always been good at protecting, and saving small creatures. He should know.
“Wow, so this is the Wolpertinger,” Dipper breathes, reaching out to pet the creature.
It turns, baring it's fangs, wings out, antlers pointed right at Dipper’s jugular. Dipper freezes.
“No! No! He’s a good guy. He’s good! Please don’t stab my boyfriend! Good! Goooood, little Wolpertinger” Wirt begs.
The Frankenstein rabbit pulls back, but remains on guard.
When Wirt pets down it’s back, the animal purrs, wings retracting, and calms.
“Hey Wirt, I just noticed, you sound so much better.” Mabel observes, peering at the oldest teen.
“Huh? Oh, yeah...now that you mention it---” He rubs his throat. It had only been a day, but he feels loads better. His fever feels nonexistent, his voice isn’t scratchy, he’s not coughing, and he’s not shivering anymore. You almost wouldn’t believe that he fell into a pond yesterday, or that he had hypothermia, from the way he looked. “But...how? I couldn’t have healed that fast? It took me almost 2 weeks to recover when Greg and I fell in the lake.”
The Wolpertinger preens, puffing out it's chest, paws bouncing up and down.
“Did you--?” Wirt asks.
The Wolpertinger purrs; Wirt realizes its making biscuits on his lap.
“Wow, I didn’t think Wolpertinger’s had healing properties? Or that they would be so cat like?” Wirt scritches behind the creature’s ears. The Wolpertinger’s foot thumps rapidly in happiness, basking in the attention.
“It’s cause he’s a rabbit, Wirt. He’s lucky!” Greg remarks, pointing at the thumping paw.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Wirt acknowledges, scratching the creature under it's chin now. The rabbit squeaks its approval, bruxing.
“This is amazing! I have to write this down!” Dipper exclaims, trying to crawl over Wirt to grab his journal. The Wolpertinger hisses, and aims it's antlers back at Dipper, stopping the teen from moving. “You know what...I can wait…”
He sits back down. The Wolpertinger glares, rubbing it's chin against Wirt’s hand, never taking their eyes off Dipper.
“Is he...is he challenging me?” Dipper’s eyebrows arch up.
“Did you know that if a rabbit rubs you with its chin, he's marking his territory? That’s a bunny fact, not a rock fact! But if it’s a Wolpertinger, could that be considered a rock fact?” Greg wonders, reaching out to pet the Wolpertinger. Unlike Dipper, it has no problem letting Greg touch him.
“Uh-oh bro. I think he’s claiming your boyfriend as his own. Better be careful!” Mabel teases, also reaching forward to stroke the creature’s fur. The Wolpertinger seems just as happy to be pet by her as the others. Even more so. It's wings quiver.
“Be careful, Mabel. Wolpertinger’s have an affinity to Women. Apparently an easy way to catch one is for a woman to expose her breasts; it’ll put the animal in a stupor. I guess these things are little perverts--I suppose this makes him a boy...or a girl. Girls can be perverts too... I still can’t really tell,” Wirt warns, remembering the rest of the myth. While he’s explaining, he peeks at the animal’s tummy, but can’t see anything through it's puffy fluff.
“Gosh, you should have just taken me along! We could have avoided this whole thing, and brought it back within the hour!”
Dipper looks like he’s sucking on a lemon. “No way. Mabel you’re not allowed to do that! I would have forbidden it!” He looks disdainfully at the animal in Wirt’s arms, “I don’t like this thing anymore. It’s a womanizer--”
“You’re just salty that he’s stealing your man,” Mabel pinpoints the real issue.
“Or she...she could be stealing Wirt,” Greg amends.
“Or she.” Mabel revises, patting the small boy’s head.
“That’s not true! I just think it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I mean, it almost got Wirt killed. It’s clearly more dangerous than I had it pegged. And why is it letting everyone else pet him/her/them, but not me?” Dipper crosses his arms, and looks in the opposite direction, cheeks puffed.
“This is what happens when you don’t believe in Wolpertinger’s. It can smell your suspicion,” Wirt jests. With his hands full of the bundle of purring fluff, he leans over, pecking his pouting boyfriend’s cheeks instead.
The Wolpertinger sticks it's tongue out at Dipper, wiggling in Wirt’s hands, getting comfortable. It purrs extra loud, adding fuel to the fire.
Dipper sticks his tongue right back out. “Stupid Jackalope. I’m about to chuck you out the window!”
"He can fly...I don't think that will do anything," Greg regards, bewildered by Dipper's threat, as he stares at the creature's white wings.
Wirt admits, the sight is rather adorable. He’s got a creature he thought was only a myth, cuddling in his arms, giving him kisses, while his equally adorable boyfriend is jealous, looking at Wirt with needy eyes, wanting to be giving him kisses instead.
He feels popular...he might have to savor this a little longer.
“Looks like you’ve got two kittens vying for your attention,” Mabel asides.
“That’s not a kitten, it’s a Wolpertinger!” Greg corrects, having heard her side remark.
“I’m not a kitten!” Dipper balks, face so bright that his freckles have disappeared under the heat of his blush.
Mabel laughs at him. Dipper starts sputtering indignantly at her. Greg naively watches their back and forth.
Wirt sighs, turning his attention back to the Wolpertinger. The creature licks his hand, still purring. He gives it a few loving pets, “Welp, this has certainly been an adventure, hasn’t it? You’re quite the trouble maker. ...I wonder if dad would believe me if I took your picture?”
"I wonder if mom will let us keep him...or her...or them." Greg adds.
Wirt looks at the creature, smiling. Now that would be a thought.