Chapter Text
“Grunkle Ford? I can tell you anything, right?”
Ford glanced up from his work. Dipper peeked into the lab, but was hesitant to set foot inside. The scientist ushered the boy to enter as he continued writing. It was a rather interesting anomaly Dipper and himself had found. On the outside, it was just a normal Corgi. However, upon further inspection it meowed and purred. “Catgi” as Dipper dubbed it.
Ford finished his current sentence before looking up at the boy, “Alright Dipper. What did you need to tell me?”
Dipper was silent. He tapped his fingers against himself and closed his eyes. “Um… when… well… when you first returned from the portal… did… did Grunkle Stan say anything about… um…” he trailed off. His eyes planted on the ground. His next sentence a mere whisper, yet spoken so fast Ford could barely comprehend it. “Did Grunkle Stan tell you anything about my eating habits?”
Stan and Ford hadn’t talked that night. Or the next night. Or the night after that. In fact, they hadn’t truly spoken with each other until after Weirdmageddon. By that point, both pairs of twins were leaving town.
But now Dipper and Mabel were permanently living with Stan and Ford. Nothing bad had happened in Piedmont per se. Mr.Pines and Mrs.Pines decided Gravity Falls would be a better environment for the children to grow up in, and who better to take care of them than Stanford and Stanley (once they learned that Stanley was alive of course).
No, Stan had not told Ford anything about Dipper’s eating habits. But, that’s not to say Ford hadn’t noticed anything odd.
“Stanley hasn’t told me anything, my boy,” Ford responded. “But… I have noticed… some things…” he trailed off. “I didn’t wanna bring it up, but I have noticed some differences.”
Dipper’s breath became shaky. Tears slipped out of his eyes as he tried to force out an explanation, “I…um…I-” he shut his eyes tightly once again, trying to prevent more tears from falling.
“It’s okay, my boy,” Ford attempted to soothe the child. “Have you been struggling with eating?”
Dipper nodded, his eyes closed even tighter. “It’s not like- I’m not-” he took a deep breath in. “I don’t like certain textures…” he admitted. “Or scents… and I’m scared I’ll vomit or gag if I try any of these things…”
Ford thought for a moment. Dipper didn’t like the textures or scents that came with eating. The description rang a bell, yet Ford couldn’t place it. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice how distraught Dipper had become.
“Shhhh, Mason it’s okay,” Ford comforted.
“Do you think of me differently now?”
The question shocked Ford at first. How could he ever think of Dipper as other? Ford hated how genuine the inquiry was. How Dipper would really think this. “Not at all, Mason,” he replied. “I’ve heard of this before actually. It’s a sensory thing I think,” Ford explained. “I couldn’t tell you for sure of course, but you’re not alone Mason. In fact, there are people who can help you with this.”
“Really? But… I just…” Dipper teared up, “I struggle with this so much. I don’t like people knowing but… Grunkle Ford, do you know anyone else who literally only eats chips?”
“You eat more than chips Mason,” Ford replied. “I’ve seen you eat before. No, you don’t eat a wide range, and from what you’re telling me, it’s more than just picky eating. But there are people who can help you. If you’d like, I can do a little research and make an appointment to talk to someone about this.”
Dipper nodded reluctantly, “I’d like you to but…”
“It’s scary,” Ford finished for him. “But, Mason, I want you to know you’re incredibly brave for telling me all this. It took a lot of courage to talk to me. One of the strongest things you can do is ask for help, which you just did. And I am so, so proud of you for doing that.”
“Yes,” Dipper answered, “I’d like to talk to a specialist about this.”
Ford gave him a bittersweet smile, “You’re going to be okay.”