Chapter Text
Mabel's romantic campaign unfortunately began not an hour after the twins had first met Norman Babcock. They'd come across him in the midst of gunning the golf cart away from a mountain troll who, apparently, became very cranky when he woke up early from a nap. (But really, it was hardly their fault that the troll liked to sleep right where buried treasure was rumored to be buried)
Dipper had been trying to recall his mental map of the forest's trails and Mabel had been mostly concentrating on not flying out of her seat, when the cart had come screeching into the middle of a tree-lined clearing where, to the both of their surprise, a boy in a bright red hoodie appeared to be talking to himself. There was a frozen moment where the boy stared at the twins and the twins stared right back, before earth-quaking footsteps came closer and the troll's ugly face loomed over the tops of the trees. Dipper gave a shout of surprise and veered the golf cart over towards the frozen kid, yelling "Get in!" as Mabel clamped a hand on the guys' hood and yanked him into the cart.
"W-wha-?" the boy stammered, before craning his neck around the edge of the cart and catching sight of the rapidly approaching monster. "Oh god, go go GO!" he yelped, clinging to the pole that supported the cart's roof. "Yeah, that's kind of the idea here!" Dipper shouted, voice a bit high from the stress of piloting a creaky old golf cart through the woods and away from a rampaging mountain troll.
(Also, he's twelve.)
The cart hit a particularly large bump, and there was the terrifying sensation of being air-born before the wheels hit the packed dirt with a thud. Dipper glanced past Mabel's head towards the new kid, but Dipper might have stared for a bit longer than strictly necessary, as the cart suddenly swerved towards an oak. Turning back to the wheel, he frantically hurtled past the trunks before taking a sharp curve on the path, the treaded rubber wheels kicking up plumes of dirt. As the trail straightened out, Mabel, who'd been very determinedly focusing on not puking, now released her hands from their grip against her mouth. "So! What's your name, kid?" she asked cheerily, grinning at the still-petrified boy- who blinked at her for a few seconds, eyes flicking from the pathway, to Mabel, to the troll, to Mabel again, before gasping "Um, Norman?"
Mabel blinked. "Norman, huh? You wouldn't happen to know anything about gnomes, would you?" she asked cautiously, before nodding contentedly at Norman's mystified expression, as if his confusion was all the answer she needed. "Is that we're running from?" He asked nervously, sparing another peek at the still-advancing giant. "Hm? Oh no, that's a troll! Gnomes are much smaller, and they puke rainbows." Mabel replied matter-of-factly, pulling a map out of the glove compartment and unfolding it before a thought struck her. "Oh, and sometimes they kidnap girls too! . . hehe, that was fun." She grinned at the memory, eyes vacant, as Dipper risked another glance at the ki- Norman. Norman's face had grown yet more puzzled, if that was even possible, and Dipper was sure he would have laughed if not for, y'know, rampaging troll intent on eating them whole.
"Sorry, ignore my sister. She's not always. . . well no, she actually is always is like that." Dipper called, sighing as Mabel squawked "Am not!" and whacked his arm with the semi-folded map. Dipper was pretty sure he saw Norman stifle a laugh in his peripheral vision, but he didn't have much time to devote to this observation as Mabel suddenly screeched "CLIFF!", pointing, somewhat unnecessarily, at the precipice directly in front of them. "Hold on tight!" Dipper gritted, before he slowed the cart down to a crawl. "Dipper. What are you doing?" Mabel whisper-screamed, staring at him like he may have lost his mind. Norman kept looking over his shoulder anxiously, his knuckles growing whiter with each thudding footstep. "Just hold on okay?!" Dipper yelled frantically, keeping track of the troll's progress in the rearview mirror. Norman seemed to be muttering something like "ohgodohgod, I'mgoingtodieinagolfcart, oh god" under his breath.
Finally, the troll caught up with them. It gave a rumble of satisfaction at the motionless position of the cart, before sprinting towards them. Each step made the pebbles and scattered leaves lining the path jump inches higher and higher into the air as Dipper's chest began to reverberate, his teeth chattering. "So I know I don't know you or anything," Norman blurted suddenly, gulping nervously. "But now seems like it might be an excellent time to DRIVE."
And with that, Dipper slammed his sneaker down on the gas and they went zooming towards the rocky ledge.
Mabel screamed. Norman yelled. The troll bellowed. The cart groaned so loud, it may have been shouting itself. And the second Norman had resigned himself to his future as a bright-red pancake, Dipper turned the steering wheel as far to the left as it could go before it unscrewed. The cart veered back onto the path, it's still-yelling occupants safe and sound.
Unfortunately, the troll didn't seem to have such a good turning radius. It went leaping off of the cliff face and, for the split-second before gravity kicked in, it kept sprinting. A roar echoed up from the cliff as he fell, before a loud "THUD" was heard, and the shout abruptly cut off.
Meanwhile, Dipper had eased off the feeble engine and parked the cart by the side of the path, where it gave a weak grinding sound before Dipper switched the engine off. He stared at the cart's other passengers, who had finally stopped yelling in favor of panting heavily and staring wide-eyed at each other, and Norman's hand was still clenched in a tight first around the pole. Mabel blinked and stared at her brother. "That. . . was. . . SO COOL!!" she crowed, grinning and tackling her brother in a sweater-y hug.
Dipper huffed a breathless laugh and pushed her back. "Yeah, yeah, thanks. We should probably get the cart back to the Shack before it dies." As if to punctuate his idea, the cart's frame creaked ominously.
"U-um. . ."
Dipper whipped his head to the side, having almost forgotten about the cart's third occupant. "Oh, right, sorry! Uh, Norman right? I can drop you off by Downtown if you want. Or, uh, in that field." Dipper added, suddenly remembering where they'd met the guy. Norman hesitantly uncurled his fist, shoving his hands into his hoodie's pockets. "Um, Downtown would be fine." he said, biting his lip and staring at his lap while occasionally glancing at the twins, as if he was holding back a wave of questions.
The ride back to town was mostly uneventful, save for the tense moment where Dipper swore that cart was about to collapse into a pile of parts. He's fairly certain that it was by the sheer force of his willpower alone that kept the cart running, although it complained loudly for the rest of the drive. Mabel kept staring at Norman, and her grin would widen every time he glanced up at her. Dipper was tempted to tell her to knock it off, but he kept looking at the kid too, so maybe it wasn't really his place to judge.
Norman mumbled "Here's good", once they passed by the Gravity Fall's Post Office, so Dipper pulled over and the spiky-haired boy got out. Norman paused, mouth slightly open as he scuffed his sneakers on the pavement, before he just snapped his jaw shut. "Um, thanks." he muttered, blushing a bright crimson before he turning on his heel and walking very determinedly down the sidewalk.
Dipper and Mabel watched him go. "Well that was weird." Dipper announced, turning the cart back onto the road and heading for the Shack. Mabel just grinned at him, eyes wide. When she continued smiling, unblinkingly, Dipper cracked. ". . .what is it Mabel?" he asked cautiously. Mabel just leaned back in her seat and propped her sneakers up on the dash, smiling knowingly. "Oh, I don't know~ That Norman guy was pretty cute though, wasn't he?" she mused conversationally. "Wh- how would I know?" Dipper spluttered, hating himself for the blush that came rushing to his cheeks.
Mabel just made a thoughtful humming sound and smiled for the rest of the drive home.
