Work Text:
The stitches are wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG. Have to fix them. Fix them fix them FIX THEM.
Mabel bit down on the sock she’d shoved into her mouth to silence her screams as she worked. She didn’t doubt that there would be permanent teeth marks by the time she was done. Carefully, she pricked her skin with the needle and tugged the thread through it. It was agony, but she powered through it anyway. It was for a good cause. She wanted to impress him. She wanted him to like her back. That wasn’t asking for too much, was it?
At last, at last, she was finished. Mabel heard somebody’s breathing hitch, and she looked up and saw Dipper, standing in the doorway, frozen, eyes wide with horror at what he was seeing.
Mabel looked down at her hands. Her hands with two sock puppets crudely stitched on. There was so much blood, but she couldn’t be prouder. It hurt, but she hadn’t given up. Both the pain and the satisfaction made tears spill out of her eyes, but she smiled anyway. Her cheeks hurt from the wide grin spreading across her face. She looked at her brother and held up her macabre masterpiece. “Think he’ll like them?”
Dipper didn’t answer. He simply crossed the short distance between them and pulled her into a tight hug, obviously trying to ignore the blood and thread and pins littered about the attic floor. He buried his face into the crook of her neck.
Mabel tried to explain herself. “T-the stitches were wrong. They kept falling off too…s-so I had to fix them.”
She had no doubts that Gabe would approve of her work, and she couldn’t wait to show him.
THE END