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"You know, Mabel, I think provoking a Grimoblin wasn't the brightest idea," says Dipper.
He walks with his twin through the woods of Gravity Falls, his arm wrapped around her shoulders to support himself.
They both walk with limps, Dipper's posture and gait worsened by his restricted breathing. His chest burns with every breath he takes, his head is swimming, and his skin is getting red and irritated from the cutting Ace bandages. He doesn't mind, however; he's used to the side-effects of his binding.
Mabel, through panting breaths, agrees with him. "Yeah," she says, "probably not." She wasn't even sure why or when the idea to fight and capture a Grimoblin came up. The Journal said they were dangerous, the lore said they were dangerous, Dipper knew how dangerous they are, yet he still felt the need to capture one. For "science" or to prove how "manly" he was, or whatever. Mabel thought it was a good idea at the time. She was wrong.
"At least we-" Dipper cuts himself off with a pained gasp, grasping his side. Mabel mirrors his gasp worriedly, reaching out towards her brother. He waves his hand in defiance, groaning. "I'm-I'm fine." Mabel narrows her eyes.
"No you aren't, Dipper." She says, brows furrowed in irritation.
"It's those stupid bandages again, isn't it?" She demands, anger bubbling. "They're too tight, Dipper-" she’s cut short by her brother's rising voice.
"No, they aren't, Mabel, I'm fine! They have to be- they have to be this tight! You know that! People could tell otherwise." His voice simmers down, the indignation being replaced by fear. "They'd know."
Mabel rolls her eyes. "That doesn't matter! Your health comes first, Dipper." She says, her voice lowered in concern.
He pushes his sister away. "That's what you think, Mabel! Binding is necessary for my health! If others could tell that I'm trans, I'd be- Jesus Christ, who even knows? What would they do here? It's bad enough back home, Mabel, I can't let Gravity Falls know about this."
They stand in turbulent silence for a moment, staring into one other's auburn eyes.
Mabel looks away first. "I know it's rough, Dipper, but..." she breathes deeply, then glances back to him. "Let's just get back to the Shack."
They continue walking in silence. Mabel directs her attention to her torn sleeve, worrying with the frayed edges and pondering if she'd be able to salvage the sweater. It was one of her favorites. Blueberry scented.
Dipper busies himself with ideas about how to make his binding safer without having to put his own mental health at risk. He knows his parents don't approve of his identity- they introduce him as their son only to avoid public conflict- and asking them to buy him a proper binder would only be fanning the flames. But Mabel was growing more and more worried about his health, and they now rarely go a day without bursting into an argument over it. He can't make them both happy, and he knows that even if he could, he wouldn’t be happy himself.
They finally make it back to the Mystery Shack, but neither make an effort to celebrate it. They know once they get inside they can only look forward to teasing from their Great Uncle.
Mabel pushes through the door first, her aching feet relieved to feel the soft welcome mat beyond the door rather than the rocky dirt of the outdoors. She had lost her shoes in the fight with the beast, and didn't make an effort to find them. Dipper followed closely behind, limping through the door and past the counter where Stan sat.
Their Grunkle lets out a low whistle. "What happened to you two? You get into a fistfight with a dragon or somethin'?" He asks with an amused laugh.
Neither of the twins answer him, instead heading straight for the door to the house-
-Until they hear an audible gasp from Stan.
"What the hell are those, kid?" Stan demands, standing and marching over to Dipper. Stan's rough hands startle Dipper as he grabs the back of his shirt and jerks him closer.
"Wh-what do you mean?" Asks Dipper, fear tinging his voice. Stan motions towards his nephew's chest, a look of anger on his grizzled features. "That." he demands. Dipper feels his blood run ice-cold as his eyes trail down to his own chest.
He hadn't realized his shirt had been ripped open.
He can feel the judgmental stare of his Great Uncle burning through him, making his guts tie themselves into knots. Sweat breaks out on his forehead, and his thoughts are urging him to run, but his legs are jelly. He begins to stammer, claiming that he can explain.
"I-I got, uh, attacked! Last week- um, last week a, uh, m-mountain lion, uh-" His uncle cut him off. "I know what they are, Dipper."
Dipper can feel himself shaking in his Uncle's hands, and a glance at his sister does nothing to calm him. She’s just as panicked as he is
"Please, Stan, he- he's, it's not what you think!" Cries Mabel, dashing over towards them and grabbing Stan’s shirt.
Stan ignores his great niece's words. "You." He says, voice gruff, "come with me." His words are directed at Dipper, who can feel his world crashing down around him. He doesn't want to think about what's going to happen, but as his uncle grabs his hand roughly, he's forced to follow his Uncle to his dingy room.
He's gonna beat me up, thought Dipper, tears forming in his eyes, or he's gonna lock me in his closet. He's gonna tell everybody. He's gonna call me by my birthname, he's gonna- he's gonna send me home. He's gonna, he forces this train of thought to end as he sniffles to himself. Once his uncle outs him, he'll be the center of ridicule here. Gravity Falls, his one safe space- everyone will know now. They'll hate him.
He hears his pulse rush in his ears as he's dragged into the room. He hears the sound of a door slamming, and he flinches.
The light flickers on, and a soft buzz fills the room, the only other sounds audible being Dipper's heavy breath, and Mabel's insistent pounding on the door. He doesn't turn to face Stan; he can't. He doesn't know if he can handle his Uncle's judgement.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Exclaims Stan. Dipper can't stop a few cold tears from falling from his eyes. He tries to choke out a reply, but his words are replaced by sobs as they try forming in his dry mouth.
"Look at me." He doesn't comply. "Dipper. Look at me." It's a demand this time.
Dipper's face is flushed a blotchy, ugly red, and tears cascade over his cheeks. He's biting his lower lip, trying to choke back any noises, but a pitiful whimpering comes from his strained throat. An ugly, broken sob escapes his mouth. He sniffles, and casts his eyes away from his Great Uncle.
"You can't do stupid shit like this." Dipper hears his Uncle say, like a slap to his face.
"You're gonna wind up in the hospital." Dipper doesn't know if he should register the statement as a threat or a fact, but he still braces himself for a slap either way. Just like the bullies back home, he tells himself, but somehow it doesn't feel the same. It hurts more to be at the mercy of his own uncle.
The slap never comes.
A silence spreads through the room. Stan suddenly shakes his head and moves towards his closet.
He finds a flicker of courage in his heart, and speaks up as Stan rummages through his small, mostly barren closet.
"It's- it's not a ph-phase," he says, voice weak. He cringes at how feminine it sounds. "I'm-I'm not just- I'm not just a-a lesbian. I'm a boy." He stammers, feeling his heartbeat race with every word he says.
He hears Stan breathe out. "I know that, Dipper.”
Dipper goes silent.
"You ain't a girl, Dipper, but for God's sake, you can't be doin' stupid shit like that."
Dipper opens his mouth to express his confusion, but is cut off before he can speak.
"You oughtta know how dangerous ace bandages are to bind with, especially since you’re always runnin’ around gettin’ into trouble. You're smarter than this."
The elder man groans as he pulls a dusty box from the back of his closet, tossing it with surprising strength at his nephew. "One'a those should fit you." He says, standing up. He stretches and groans. "I had alot of 'em, growin' up. I was a, uh, pretty big boy, but there should be at least one small enough."
Dipper, afraid but curious, opens the box.
Inside is a plethora of chest binders.
The younger Pines drops the box in surprise. “Why- how- why do you..?"
Stan sighs. He pauses for a moment before slowly sliding off his shirt off. Two faint pink scars reside on each side of his chest. It takes Dipper a moment to register what they are.
Stan coughs, obviously trying to lighten the weight of his coming out. "Like I said, I, uh, had alot of 'em. There should be one that fits."
Dipper springs forward, wrapping his thin arms around his Grunkle Stan, new tears forming in his eyes- tears of joy.
"I was so afraid," says Dipper, voice cracking. Stan pats his nephew's back as he sobs into Stan's shoulder. "I know. I felt the same way when I first told-" he cuts himself off. "I know."
After a minute, Dipper pulls away. "I'm so happy someone understands." His voice cracks again.
Stan nods, rubbing the back of his neck. Dipper can tell he doesn't know how to respond, but gives him time to think.
“Your parents told me you were trans, so I figured they’d known enough to get you a proper binder. I’ll have to have a talk with them about this whole situation.” He gets a distinctly angry look on his face. “They need some educatin’.”
Dipper has a feeling he’ll be able to hear that call from across the house.
”Thank you.” Dipper says with a smile.
After a few moments of silence, Stan opens his mouth, and suggests, "I could, uh... I could give you some pointers on your voice. If you want.”
Dipper nods.
"I'd like that. Alot."