Work Text:
“Dipper, come on! The dinner’s getting cold! I’m pretty sure it’ll taste better warm.” Pacifica called to her husband. So the rumours were true, Pacifica was an awful cook, and baker, and really anything that came with domestic life. But Dipper had been a real trooper with her burnt noodles and half-frozen fish, he insisted he didn’t care how dangerous her cooking was as long as he didn’t have to do it. Not that he’d have the time anyway, he was always busy in the basement, or the attic, or the woods, or wherever his scientific experiments/discoveries took him.
Tonight Pacifica’s latest cooking escapade was looking better than usual. Key word-looking. She didn’t have the guts to try it first and they’d been fooled by a pleasant exterior before. So while the chicken looked roasted to perfection and the potatoes looked creamy and delicious, she had probably used rotten potatoes that would give them food poisoning and the chicken was too dry. Of course, they had backup frozen meals in the freezer for situations when they were both busy or they couldn’t stomach the taste, smell, and/or appearance of the homemade meal. And it’d be way easier to hire a chef, order take out every night, or have Dipper invent a machine to make them meals but Pacifica insisted on trying again and again (and again and again and again).
“I’m coming Pacifica!” Dipper shouted, “I just have to make a few more modifications to…” his voice faded out, too distracted by the mechanics at hand to finish his sentence.
“Oh, oh no you don’t!” Pacifica muttered to herself as she opened the door to the basement and started her march down the stairs. “Dipper Pines! I know you’re creating something wonderful and making some huge scientific discovery or some shit, but you need to eat! Not just for the food but for me, for us!” Pacifica crossed her arms. Ok, maybe she was being a little dramatic, but she knew how easy it was for Dipper to go off in his own little world, and how easy it was to let him. “You will take 30 minutes away from your sciencey stuff to come upstairs and eat dinner with me, even if it’s horrible.”
“Smells really good, Paz,” Dipper said, eyes squinting at the blueprint pinned to the wall. Pacifica huffed, took a deep breath, walked over, and stood in front of his line of sight.
“Use your glasses, honey,” She reached over to the workbench, picked them up, and slid them onto his face. He reached up and adjusted them, though his eyes were still unseeing. “Come on, Dipper! Earth to Dip! Do I need to get Mabel on the phone?” Pacifica tried to snap him out of it. Dipper the robot just turned around and continued working on his project. “Come to think of it, what are you working on?” Pacifica asked, half in wonder, half in goading him to return to his human senses.
“It’s a… prototype. For a… teleportation device.” Dipper said, examining what looked to be a hunk of metal.
“Looks kind of small.” Pacifica commented. Now contentedly watching her husband fiddle with screws and switchboards.
“Well, there were a variety of reasons for it to be this size. But right now… I think it's about done.” Dipper sighed, eyes refocusing. He turned to Pacifica and smiled. “Alright, I’m back. Let’s go eat dinner.”
“Are you kidding me?” Pacifica asked, “You tell me that you’ve just finished the first teleportation device and you expect us to go eat dinner? We have to try it!”
“Like you said, it's too small for a human to test it,” Dipper explained.
“Well duh, that’s dangerous,” Pacifica said, rolling her eyes. A second later her dark blues lit up. “Wait right here!” She exclaimed, rushing up the stairs. Dipper heard the refrigerator door open, a drawer slide out, a moment later both were slammed shut and Pacifica was bounding down the stairs. “Here,” she said, “an apple!”
“An apple?” Dipper questioned.
“Yeah, it’s small enough, and we’ll be able to see if it works. Plus, an apple never hurt anyone.”
“I’m pretty sure several people with large bruises would disagree with that… but sure. An apple.” They walked back over to the small device, Pacifica setting down the apple in just the right spot, Dipper flipping some switches and making sure everything was in working order. “Where do you want to send it?”
“How about, San Francisco? San Francisco, California.”
“San Francisco it is, ready?”
“Ready.”
“3, 2, 1, go!” Dipper dramatically pushed the button and the apple gave an anticlimactic bloop and disappeared.
“Now what?” Pacifica asked, staring intently at the spot the apple had sat.
“Now… we wait?” Dipper said he looked at Pacifica and saw her face. “What? I’ve never done this before! I believe I should be able to bring it back,” He flipped through the paper on his unorganized desk.
“Hey, let’s give it a minute!” Pacifica suggested, “That way when we bring it back we can see what wacky adventures our apple got up to! In the meantime, we can eat my probably inedible dinner!” Pacifica didn’t wait for his response, already tugging him upstairs by his arm.