Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mabel blinked owlishly as she stared at the laptop screen.

That was indeed a picture of her and Pacifica kissing, and someone calling them dykes. The comments were the worst part really. There was a smattering of Mabel’s friends. Wendy, Candy, a few people she knew from school, telling the OP to take the picture down. Mostly, though, it was people Pacifica went to school with, shot through with random creeps, and overzealously misguided Christians.

“Pumpkin, are you okay,” Stan asked, making Mabel look up at him. She didn’t even notice the tears streaming down her cheeks until he offered her a napkin to dab at her face with. Sniffling, she took it and wiped down her face and took a shuddering breath, trying to get feelings under control.

“Y--you j--just say the word, Mabel. I can find these m--motherfuckers in a second,” Rick said from her other shoulder, resting his hand on her shoulder. “M--Me and your Grunkle’ll go fuck shit uuup son!”

“He’s right, Sweetie. Just say the word. GRUNKLE STAN IS READY FOR ACTION,” he shouted, digging into the pocket of his bathrobe and yanking out a pair of brass knuckles that he slipped onto his fingers eagerly.

“I’m--I’m okay,” she said, smiling a little at how enthusiastic the two men seemed about getting revenge. Though, the comments were affecting her more then she had ever thought they would most of the people with something horrible to say were complete randos to her. What really ate at her was the fact that her coming out had been entirely taken out of her hands. “I just… This isn’t how I wanted people to find out,” she whispered softly.” Beside her, Morty shifted his chair closer and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I haven’t told anyone yet. Not my parents, not even Dipper.”

“Why not, Kiddo? You think they’d be against it,” Stan asked, agitated. “Because if they have a problem with it then you can tell them to come see me. I don’t care if your dad is Shermie’s kid I’ll still make him eat his teeth,” the older man bellowed, hands balled into fists by his side.

Mabel just laughed softly and took one of his hands in her own.

“You can’t fight everyone, Grunkle Stan,” she tutted, making the old man snort and tug his hand free so he could ruffle her hair.

“You just watch me kid,” he insisted, making her giggle.

“Trust me, M-Mabel. Y-your Grunkle is a ridiculous man and he will literally try and fight everyone in the world if he loves y-you,” Rick snorted good naturedly.

“Besides I-I-I don’t think Dipper is going to care that--that you’re a l-lesbian,” Morty offered.

“Oh, I’m not a lesbian,” Mabel declared, much to the confusion of Morty and Stan. “I mean I like girls… but I like guys too? I guess I’m Bi or Pan or something,” she shrugged and looked down at her lap. “I just never really thought about putting a label to it. It’s just how I am,” she said glancing cautiously up at Stan through her hair. “A.. Are you still alright with… me?”

It seemed like a silly question. If he’d been okay with her being a lesbian why would he care if she swung both ways? But she remembered the time her friend Iris had come to school in tears because her parents had caught her and her girlfriend kissing the night before. They’d been fine with it until she pointed out that she was bisexual. Then suddenly it was a problem and Iris was confused, or going through a phase, and being told, ‘It’s okay, Iris. You don’t have to pretend you like boys just to make us happy.

That was what she was scared of more than anything.

Mabel’s parents had never given her a reason to assume that they wouldn’t be alright with her liking women… But she didn’t know how they’d react to her liking both men and women. She didn’t want to be told she was just confused or that she had to pick one or the other. She didn’t know what she’d do if her parents or Dipper tried to pick her apart until they were able to pick a label for her that made them comfortable rather than just accepting her as she was. The choice of telling any of them had been snatched from her, though. At any moment she was expecting her phone to start ringing. Or Dipper was about to come down stairs, demanding answers or--or--or--

“Breathe, Mabel,” she heard Stan say and was surprised when she looked toward the voice to see him kneeling by her chair. “Come on, kiddo. Everything’s going to be alright,” he assured, reclaiming her hand and giving it a squeeze. Now just breathe for me and listen, alright,” she nodded as she drew in a shaky breath that didn’t seem to carry near enough oxygen to her lungs. “No matter what, Mabel. I’ll always love you and I’m always going to be on your side.”

Mabel’s lip trembled slightly, but she could finally breathe again. With a tiny, whimpery noise she leaned forward and wrapped the old man in a bone-crushing hug. Despite her best efforts, tears started to fall again. Having been alright with herself, pretty much since the moment she realized she found other girls attractive, she had never thought having the acceptance of her family members would mean so much to her.

“Th--thank you Grunkle Stan,” she sniffled against the man’s shoulder. The old man groaned quietly as she squeezed him even tighter but didn’t try to get away from her. If his grand-niece needed a hug she was getting one.

“Besides, you’re not the only Pines twin growing a little crooked,” he muttered vaguely, earning a snort from Rick. Mabel jerked back to look at him, eyes rabbit-pink and confused.

“What?”

“What, what?”

“What’s going on?”

Dippers cautiously uncertain voice had everyone twisting around to look at the young man staring at them from the doorway. The poor boy looked like as about to drop where he stood. His narrowed eyes had dark bags under them and there was the unmistakable splotch of vomit on the corner of his mouth. First hangovers were always the worst. Straightening up, Mabel wiped her eyes and slid out of her seat while Stan hauled himself up off the floor.

“I’ll explain while I’m making breakfast. You and Morty need a Mabel’s Morning After Party breakfast. Guaranteed to cure your hangover,” she said voice peppy and bright as she started to scurry around the kitchen, dragging out pans and ingredients from the Fridge.

Watching the whole scene suspiciously, Dipper walked further into the kitchen, dropping down by Morty and then slumping forward to let his head rest on the table. Despite how much the soft morning light drifting through the windows hurt his eyes, he didn’t close them, too interested in the way everyone was shiftily looking around, at each other, sharing glances and biting at their lips. Even Mabel seemed a little more herky-jerky with her movements as she got to work at the stove. The only person not concerned at all was Rick who was furiously typing away at Morty’s laptop.

“So… I get there’s something I don’t know here but will you at least tell me if everything is alright? I mean did something happen to mom or dad,” he asked worriedly, looking from his sister to his Grunkle who was back to hiding behind his newspaper. Mabel hummed nervously and shook her head furiously, making the messy waves of hair shimmy against her back. “Well then what’s up?”

“W--what’s going on is that I-I’m currently working on ruining the life of someone harassing your sister on facebook for stupid sh-shit,” Rick said, grinning maliciously as he tapped away at the keyboard. Everyone else seemed to tense, though. Stan had even lowered his paper to glare at the other man. “W-what? Oh y-you think I’m putting her on the spot? M-maybe I am but trust th-the person who has had th-this conversation with their family before. Th-The sooner she gets it over with th-the better. Either th-they take it well and you get a whole bunch of cheerleaders on your team or th-they react bad and at least y-you know so you c-can get started on finding a place to live when they kick you out.”

“Rick, you’re not helping,” Stan sighed, glancing over at Mabel who was staring fixedly at the potato she was chopping into cubes. “Just start talking whenever you’re ready, Pumpkin.”

“Will someone just tell me what the heck is going on,” Dipper groused in frustration, sitting up to cross his arms over his chest. If someone was bothering his sister he wanted to at least know why… and maybe get their address from Rick. “Come on, Mabes. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Is this about the thing that could be nothing but might be something,” he asked curiously, watching as his sister squirmed uncomfortably at the counter as tilted her cutting board and sent chunks of potato into her frying pan.

“Well Dipper the thing is I’m queer as a two dollar bill andsomeonecaughtmekissingPacificalast night and put it on facebook,” she said, slurring her words together so quickly in the middle that no one could make out what she’d just said.

Dipper’s eyes got huge for a minute, then narrowed as he tilted his head.

“Come again, Mabel,” he pleaded, trying to work out the pile of words she’d just spat out.

“BLARG!!! Someone snapped a pic of me and Pacifica kissing, put it on facebook, and now I have to explain to you and mom and dad and everyone that I like girls,” she barked out, staring intently at the potatos she was making. Silence befell the room, everyone waiting for Dipper’s reaction. The only sound was the tap of eggs being cracked in a cup as Mabel continued cooking, unable to stand still. As the silence wore on, though, her impatience reared it’s ugly head. “Well!? Are you going to say anything,” she asked, looking at her dumbfounded twin for scarcely a second before looking back down at the food. “Do you hate me,” she asked in the tiniest she could managed, biting down on her lip hard as she used a fork to whip through the eggs in her cup.

“What! No! Mabel I could never-- you’re my best friend. My twin. You’re stuck with me. I’m just shocked. What with how boy crazy you used to be and all I just assumed you were straight,” Dipper yelped, jumping to his feet. Even with the killer migraine and the urge to curl into the fetal position and die under the table, he hurried over to his sister and hugged her tight. It seemed to be all she needed because after a moment she relaxed and hugged him back, wrapping her arms around his neck so tight he thought his head was going to pop off. “I do have to ask, though… why would you kiss Pacifica, of all people! She’s such a brat!”

“She kissed me,” Mabel protested with a giggle before she shoved her brother away and turned her attention back to the stove. Using a spatula she started scrambling the eggs, while adding salt and pepper. Usually Dipper liked peppers in his eggs too but considering how sick he was probably feeling she didn’t want to push the limits of his stomach. “And she may be a brat but she’s a really cute one.”

“Gross,” Dipper snorted, just the same as he would have if she’d been talking about a boy. The familiarity was nice. Nothing had changed between them. Everyone in the room knew now… and nothing had changed, no one cared. It was almost surreal, how so much had happened yet, everything was the same.

“Thanks Dip,” she said quietly, offering her brother a thankful smile.

“Any time, Mabel,” he replied, giving her a one armed hug and pecking the side of her head like their mother so often did.

After that the tension seemed to bleed out of the room. Mabel cooked up her greasy, cheesy potatoes and eggs. Rick and Stan, much to Dipper’s chagrin, got custom orders. Rick’s got mushrooms and onions in his potatoes with peppers and ham in his eggs. Stan’s potatoes were the same, but bacon, and instead of peppers he wanted cheese and ham in his eggs. Much as Dipper had wanted to pout about it, he found himself thankful that his sister had insisted on giving him and Morty the more bland meal when the smell of cooking onions and peppers made him want to throw up. True to her word, though, by the time he finished eating his stomach had settled tremendously.

It wasn’t until the entire family, minus Ford, who was sleeping off his latest all-nighter, were in the living room when a horrible thought wormed it’s way into Mabel’s mind. Well… It more smacked her in the forehead and it wasn’t so much a thought. The only thing she could’ve described it as was a vision. She’d been slouched on the couch between Dipper and Morty, watching some repeats of Ducktective while Stan lounged in the recliner with Rick perched on the arm of it. Then, without any sort of warning, something cold struck her right between the eyes and she wasn’t there anymore.

She was standing at the end of a driveway, watching as Pacifica screamed up at a pale blue house with a bottle of liquor clutched in her hand as she drunkenly swayed where she stood. The normally immaculately put-together girl looked nothing short of crazed, her short hair stuck up in places like she couldn’t stop running her fingers through it, shirt on inside out and the seat of her jean shorts covered in grass stains and dirt. Mabel’s heart clenched a little.

“GET OUT HERE YOU FAKE ASS BITCH! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND,” the blond screamed, hysterically, taking a swig from the nearly empty glass bottle hanging heavily from her hand. The simple motion of tilting her head back to drink sent her stumbling backward, though. Try as she might to correct herself, the only thing she really managed was falling on the grass instead of the paved walkway she was standing on. Whimpering, the girl shuddered for a moment before throwing up in the grass. Rolling away from the slick pool of vomit she ripped up a clump of dirt and threw it at the house. “I TRUSTED YOU,” she wailed, struggling to get up without letting go of her bottle.

“Well,” A quiet little voice asked, from behind Mabel, making the girl spin around. There was a girl about her age standing behind her, dressed in nothing but her bra and panties. She dripped with water where she stood, head cocked to the side as she stared at Mabel through empty, white-blue eyes. “Are you going to do something,” she asked, motioning to Pacifica as she finally got to her feet. Mabel’s eyes were drawn to the long, deep cut that ran up the other girl’s arm, gushing pink water when her arm moved. “You should do something.”

And then as if nothing at all had happened, she was on the couch again, staring fixedly at the TV. She almost would’ve believed she’d imagined the whole thing if not for how Morty’s hand was clamped on her shoulder, shaking her, and Dipper was on his knees, sitting in front of her with his hands on either side of her knees and watery eyes.

“Mabel,” he called gently, though fear was laced through his voice. “Mabel are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said, blinking rapidly. Her eyes felt itchy and dry. By her legs, Dipper let out a strangled laugh and sprang up to hug his sister, shoving her roughly into the couch.

“Shit, Mabel W-what the fuck was--was that?! We thought you were having a seizure or something,” Exclaimed Morty as Dipper let her go, slumping into the seat next to her.

“Your head suddenly jerked back and your whole body tensed up. You wouldn’t respond to any of us,” her twin continued, watching her warily, as if she was about to disappear.

“No,” she blinked a couple times, rubbing her hands against the couch as if to remind herself she was still there. “No but we need to go,” she said, jumping up out of her seat with a sudden rush. She wasn’t sure what she had just seen but whatever it was, the girl had been right, she needed to do something. “We need to go find Pacifica,” she elaborated in a panic, her voice getting more high pitched as she started heading for the door.

“What?!” Four voices chorused after her.

Not that it stopped her, or even caused her to slow down. However, when she got to her car she realized that she was still in her pajamas and didn’t have her keys. Spinning around she came face to face with Rick and the others who had followed her outside in a rush. The spindly old man slapped his hands down on her shoulders as she tried to dodge around him and run inside.

“M-Mabel! Calm down. W-what’s going on,” he demanded. The question made her growl quietly in frustration and stomp her foot.

“I saw Pacifica! She needs help! Now let me go get my keys!” He frowned but shook his head and reached into his robe pocket and came up with his own set of keys, clutched in his fingers.

“Y-you don’t even know where she is, d-do you,” he asked, his answer came in the form of her angrily flushed cheeks. “D-didn’t think so. W-we’re taking my ride,” he said, pressing a button on his key fob. A couple beeps later and to Mabel’s shock, what looked like an actual flying saucer came shooting up above the trees and then gently hovered down beside them. “Y-you’ll have a better view.”

“We’re actually doing this,” Dipper called from the stairs, seeming confused and annoyed by the proceedings, probably because he had no clear grasp on what was going on.

“You th-think your sister would flip out like th-this for no reason,” Rick challenged, pressing another button to open the thing up and let his excitable passenger on board. She didn’t even pay the assortment of bottles and cans that came pouring out as she dove into the ship and got settled in the passenger’s seat. “Y-you guys can follow in the c-car,” he said as he climbed in behind the wheel of the ship. “And awwaaaaay we go,” he cried before anyone could object, zipping up into the sky and leaving the other three behind.

“W-well shit.” Morty stuttered.