Chapter Text
A scream and a crash, his descent taking him way off guard considering he was on the ground a few seconds ago.
How he got here, he really couldn’t say. Well, he could, but it was just a stupid reason. One minute he was arguing with his sister about a pig; the next he was falling from the sky—looking up into the beautiful sky… not much light pollution here. By the way the drop felt, he obviously had the time tape. Screws and pieces of metal poked his side, and the rough gravel scraped up his knee and arm—heck, even the side of his head got a scrape. When was he? It wasn’t a dirt road, so he was not too far back.
He lay on the road, attempting to gather his bearings before freaking out or leaving the area. Mabel was probably going to pounce on him any second to fight for the tape that was definitely broken.
The blaring high beams of a car snapped him from his train of thought.
Before he could even think to either roll or accept fate, the El Diablo ahead of him screeched to a halt… an El Diablo. Maybe it was the 60s? Or somewhere around there. He only knew of the model due to Stan ranting about tending to it every day.
He sat up, squinting in the light, ready to make something up and apologize.
“WHAT THE HEL-HECK ARE YOU… Uh?”
The man shouted, correcting his minor swear word when he noticed Dipper was, in fact, a child. The man’s voice sounded very familiar. Too familiar. The man, Stan, leaned down by the kid, checking for bruises or something he could accidentally get in trouble for. After patting the boy down, finding just small scrapes, he sighed with relief.
Dipper was okay on the outside, but the more he looked at his surroundings…
Mabel was nowhere to be found. A sinking feeling settled in Dipper’s gut, because when could she be? The 1700s, the present, or the future? Dipper was verging on a panic attack before he heard his young grunkle speak.
“Get out of the road, kid. Giving people heart attacks.”
Stan grumbled as he stood up, brushing the rocks from his hands and knees. After this he’d probably go back to driving, maybe try to sell another scam for the night. If he were lucky at the casino or digging through his car, he might have enough for a room. He started walking back to his car, debating food and gas or a motel. Till a smaller hand grabbed his pant leg.
“Hey wait!”
The boy shouted, quickly letting go and rising to his feet as he stared up at the man.
“Can you drive me somewhere?”
He asked, and Dipper knew his Grunkle Stan pretty well, so he started rooting around his pockets. He had about twenty or so bucks Stan gave him and Mabel for the theme park thing he was running; that had to be enough for something.
“I need to get to Oregon, Gravity—“
“OREGON?”
Dipper paused, watching his young Grunkle’s face change from hesitant listening to a “Hell no.”
“What? Is it far?”
The young boy asked, looking around for any landmarks or signs to show where they might be. Dipper had no clue where they were; all he knew was that Grunkle Stan in the present lived in Gravity Falls. He frowns when he hears an almost mocking or belittling chuckle.
“Kid, we’re just in New Mexico. Of course it’s far; it’s like a twenty-one-hour drive with no stops. And why should I take you? Are you one of those robbers or scammers I’ve seen…? They run on the road—“
Dipper toned out Stan’s interrogation, hurrying as Stan was getting into the driver seat. Stan seemed to be trying his best to ignore the kid's anxious face. Dipper scrambled to the door, opening it quickly before the lock could click. His one hand held the door handle, and the other held out twenty bucks.
“Please.”
Was all the boy pleaded for…
Something about the look felt so similar to Stan; the more he looked at the kid’s face… the more he saw an old friend. He looked away, pondering his thoughts. Was he really going to pick up and take this random kid? He didn’t know his story, didn’t even know why he was alone, and didn’t seem to know his location. Stan couldn’t risk the cops or some angry parents on his tail, but he couldn’t just leave what looked like a ten-year-old kid all alone to fend for himself in the cold… it would be a little hypocritical.
This decision really weighed on the man. What could happen? Stan was always told to think before he acted on something, so he was trying. But as his car rumbled to life, he heard it. The cheap magic 8-ball he bought a few years ago, the shake was surprisingly enough for it to give a response. “Signs point to yes.” Is what it read… And what more did Stan really have to lose?
“Fine. We’ll get something to eat, and you talk. Go around.”
Stan reached over and opened the passenger door, opening it for the kid. He watched the kid scurry in front of the car, hurriedly opening the door and hopping in. The kid buckled in, looking up at Stan expectantly…
What had he just gotten himself into?
So from what Stan gathered:
* The kid was a runaway, leaving due to his parents
* He ran away with his sister.
* He’s a twin (that point kinda hit home for Stan)
* He managed to lose his twin sister.
* And he wants to go to this place in Oregon called Gravity Falls because he thinks she’ll be there.
Even after Stan asked multiple times why she would be out there or how they made that much distance from each other, the kid couldn’t provide an answer. The conversation died once their food got there. Who knew there was a Danny’s in New Mexico?
Stan got a burger with fries, something basic. The kid got some sort of sandwich that looked expensive.
The kid was chowing down like he’d never eaten in days, so maybe Stan wouldn’t think too much about the bill. As the man followed suit, scarfing down his fries first, he realized he never asked for this kid’s name… And the kid didn’t know his name either—dumb move, but the two never really bothered to ask.
“So, what’s your name, straggler?”
Stan questioned, grossly shoving a few fries in his mouth. As the kid looked up to answer, his whole expression immediately changed, shooting the man a grimaced look.
“Don’t talk while you’re chewing; it’s gross. And it’s Dipper.”
Now it was Stan’s turn to give him a look. Dipper? Like the star formation thing Six—Stan learned about…? Maybe there’s a good reason the kid ran. Who names their kid that?
“It’s a nickname.”
‘Oh thank god.’ Was all Stan could think.
“So what’s your actual name?”
He asked mid burger bite, ignoring the boy’s disgusted remarks.
“Just Dipper.”
The boy replied with a grumble. Stan assumed that was the most he’d be getting out of him. He decided to take a moment to rethink what he was doing. Watching cars pass the restaurant, hearing the record skip and repeat a song.
“I've looked around enough to know that you're the one I want to go through time with.”
Kept replaying on the jukebox. Time In A Bottle, Jim Croce. Good music, especially for such a quiet little diner. It did get a little annoying after repeat number 7. Soon they were finally finishing up their meals, both satisfied with what they’d ordered.
“Could I stay with you?”
The little brunette asked, starting to munch on his fries. Stan’s mind seemed to quite literally go blank at the question. 1. Why would someone want to stay with him? 2. Why was this kid trying to stay with him?
“Excuse me?”
He asked as he stared at the kid in bewilderment, trying to find any sign that he was pulling his leg. He wasn’t.
“I don’t have anyone else, and you don’t seem too bad.”
The kid explained, finishing off his fries. Stan was actually shocked by that—and as much as he wanted to say no, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to. He was homeless, in his car, and barely had enough money for himself… but he couldn’t just leave Dipper. How desperate was this kid? Stan didn’t know whether to feel bad for Dipper or be angry at his parents.
Who made him feel this bad that he’d cling to someone like Stan? The man would still hold onto the hope that maybe the kid just wanted to go home soon or just wanted to stay at a police station here till help came. Maybe he just needed someone for a bit.
But tonight seemed to be just full of surprises—he knew something was going to go down just by looking at the kid’s little smirk.
“You ever dined and dashed?”
Were they related or something? Maybe great minds do think alike.
This was one thing Stan never expected. Thinking back to earlier in the night, his first impression of the kid was that Dipper was a scrawny little goodie-two-shoes—going off of first glance. Then a small jerk after a bit, but a thief? He couldn’t even ask if he was joking before Dipper leaned in.
“Go to the bathroom; I’ll pretend I saw something cool outside and leave so you can run after me.”
Okay, so maybe this kid was cool. But Stan didn’t want this kid growing up to be like him… but his pockets said otherwise. Only enough for gas and a room, maybe a snack. He’d made up his mind.
“Alright, straggler. Go.”
He smiled, standing to go to the bathroom. He wasn’t letting this kid sleep in a car tonight.
Crime was more Mabel and Stan’s thing, but it was the only plan Dipper could think of—and the only plan Dipper could see Stan agreeing to. And it worked…
But now they could not go back there ever again.
After their small crime, they wound up at some dive—a dive with no bedbugs, at least. There was one bed, so Stan said he’d sleep on the floor.
Dipper was just trying to get to bed; it was difficult without Mabel. But he couldn’t even dwell on it before he heard a cheer from the bathroom.
“Clean water, straggler!”
Stan cheered. Dipper smiled, but part of him wondered about how long Stan had gone without warm clean water.
“Good, you needed a shower.”
Dipper chuckled back, hearing Stan’s offended gasp. Then letting out an exaggerated “pee-yew.” For a cherry on top. Once the water was running, the boy closed his eyes. Today was sure an experience, and all because of a pig… all because he wanted a few minutes of attention from Wendy.
Dipper thought about how dumb the whole thing was now; he could’ve let Mabel have Waddles and hung out with Wendy some other time. But now he was stuck here with Stan of all people, probably going to end up in danger at some point…
One thing that bothered him, though, was how nice Stan was. He was always the butt end of the joke, a wet towel; he even remembered Stan saying his birthmark looked like someone squeezed hot sauce on his forehead. But this Stan seemed chill. Maybe it’s because he couldn’t judge Dipper yet…
He didn’t know how much time had passed; maybe he was actually falling asleep, but he felt a small pat on his shoulder. He peeked through his eyes, seeing Stan looking at him with a frown.
“Night kid…”
The man whispered. Dipper felt himself being covered up; Stan tucked him in gently, assuming he was asleep.
"Night, Stan.”
Dipper smiled; maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. But then he retraced his steps tonight. He got picked up, had a midnight snack, introduced himself, and went here…
But the way Stan froze. Something was—
“… What did you say?”
Oops.