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Pacifica carefully applied her strawberry lip gloss, making sure not to smudge it. Satisfied with her reflection, she began searching for a spot to prop up her phone.
“Hopefully, this doesn’t fall. Mabel, back up a few steps toward the net.”
Mabel adjusted her orange workout set, preparing for the picture. The girls had reserved a tennis court at the country club Pacifica’s family belonged to. Mabel enjoyed playing tennis, but if she was honest with herself, the main reason they had come out today was to get some good Instagram pictures. They planned to play a little tennis for sure, but that was not the main objective of the day.
“Okay, I set the timer up. Get ready.”
As the phone shutter went off, Pacifica posed with her racket over her shoulder.
“I think that was a really good one, Mabel, but let’s—”
Pacifica was cut off by the most agitating, grating voices coming from the entrance of the court.
“I don't know, man. I think I’m going to break up with Olivia. She’s got a nice ass, but if I look at her face too long, it starts to look kinda ugly.”
Brandon Williams, a blonde teenager who couldn't be taller than 5’6” with shoes on, started obnoxiously bouncing a tennis ball as he approached the girls. He was followed by Chris Cox, a taller boy with light brown hair, who, if held at gunpoint, would probably struggle to name five U.S. states.
Pacifica had the displeasure of knowing them both due to their parents being in the same social circles. Brandon finally looked up and noticed the girls clearly occupying the court.
“You females need to get out of here. Chris and I need to practice for varsity tryouts,” Brandon sneered, his gaze lingering on Pacifica’s chest. “Northwest, you can stay, but only if you want to be my personal cheerleader and jump up and down for me.”
Chris, ever the sheep, snickered at Brandon’s crude joke.
Pacifica recoiled at his leer, wanting to vomit. Pacifica took a shaky breath, reminding herself of the calming techniques she’d been practicing. Lately, she’d been working hard to control her temper. She had always really admired Dipper's emotional patience and wanted to emulate some of that herself. After silently counting backward from ten, she felt like she could finally respond without screaming.
“We’ve reserved the court for another hour,” she said, her voice steady. “You can wait until we’re done.”
“Sorry, hon, we are going to need it now. We have more important things to do than wait around here for you two.”
“Well, you can’t have it now. Mabel, get to the other side of the court. We’re playing.”
Mabel looked disconcertedly between them before nervously walking to the other side of the net. Brandon shot her a nasty look after not getting his way.
“You are so goddamn annoying, no wonder mommy and daddy hate you.”
Pacifica abandoned any attempt to stay calm, letting her anger flare. She whipped around to face him, her voice sharp.
“I might be annoying, but at least I’m not dumb enough to accidentally send half the grade a picture of my genitalia.”
She held her thumb and finger an inch apart, adding with a smirk, “And by the way, when it’s that small, you really shouldn’t be proud enough to take pictures of it.”
Brandon’s previous confidence vanished from his face in an instant. He looked at Pacifica with a dead-eyed stare and stormed toward her with his fists clenched.
“You little bitch. We’re actually here to play real tennis, not whatever sissy crap you’re doing.”
“Don’t even try it. Mabel and I are far better tennis players than you and Chris could ever hope to be.”
“Prove it, Northwest,” Brandon shot back, his voice filled with vitriol. “Play us in the Roadkill Haven Country Club’s Annual Summer Tennis Tournament next week. We’ll show you little girls what genetics already prove: men are far superior at sports than women.”
“See you there. You can leave now,” Pacifica said in a bratty tone as she quickly shooed the two boys out with her hand dismissively. Once they were out of sight, Pacifica suddenly got a determined and wicked look on her face.
“Get ready, Mabel,” she said, eyes gleaming. “This is going to be the most intense tennis training week of your life. We’re going to decimate those idiots. They have been begging to be knocked down a peg for years, and I know this is going to totally humiliate them.”
Mabel gulped, knowing full well how intense Pacifica could be when she set her mind to something. She barely had time to react as Pacifica fired off a powerful serve, forcing her to sprint across the court.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dipper had a too-hard grip on the steering wheel.
“I still can’t believe that douchebag talked to you guys like that,” he muttered, frustration evident in his voice.
In the backseat, Pacifica was tying thin white ribbons to the ends of both her and Mabel’s Dutch braids while Dipper spoke.
Pacifica had bought matching tennis skirts and sports bras for both of them, choosing bright pink for herself and light blue for Mabel. In her mind, if Mabel felt more fabulous and confident in her outfit, she’d play better. She was willing to try anything to win this match—even letting Mabel spray them both with body glitter, which was now shedding all over Dipper’s car.
Mabel, radiating confidence, grinned. “Yeah, but we’re gonna wipe the floor with them today, right, Pazzy?”
Most of Mabel’s positivity came from the past week of training. Pacifica knew that Mabel responded best to positive reinforcement, so she had showered her with praise the entire week.
“Of course we are,” Pacifica replied, her tone unwavering. “Dipper, make sure you record this. I’m posting it everywhere when we win.” She finished with their hair and shifted her thoughts to tennis strategies as they pulled into the parking lot.
Once they got to the event registration, they realized that the Roadkill Haven Country Club’s Annual Summer Tennis Tournament may not have been as popular as originally thought. This was evident from the fact that their only competition, apart from Brandon and Chris, consisted of two teams made up of men who were at least 85 years old.
“Wow, who left the door unlocked at the retirement home?” Stan joked, laughing from the stands.
Ford shot him a sideways look.
“Stanley! You are being so rude and obnoxious. Quiet down.”
Dipper, sitting in the front row, was completely focused on the only two girls in the competition. Also, in the crowd were the families of Brandon and Chris, who had brought along some of their posh friends.
Olivia Astor’s shrill voice cut through the chatter, loud enough to reach Pacifica.
“Baby, you’re gonna do so good! I’m going to give you something extra special after you win,” she cooed at Brandon, practically on top of him, showing a disturbingly excessive display of PDA.
Pacifica shot them a judgmental glare, getting second-hand embarrassment. She attempted to ignore them as she continued her stretches with Mabel.
The first two rounds went rather fast, with the young adults absolutely crushing their geriatric counterparts.
Brandon even sent one of the older men, Albert, to the hospital after hitting him so hard in the eye with a tennis ball that it caused bleeding. Unsurprisingly, neither of them seemed too bothered by it.
In the girls’ round, it was not nearly as violent. In fact, Mabel—always the empath—teared up when she saw the dejected expressions on their elderly opponents' faces after they lost.
Pacifica did not have such compassion.
“Mabel, hold it together. The important round is coming up. Go up to the stands, get some water, and refocus.”
Mabel nodded shakily and quickly went to get a sip of water.
Meanwhile, Pacifica closed her eyes, imagining the look on Brandon’s face when he lost—a thought that brought a small smile to her face. But her focus was shattered by a sudden yelp from Mabel.
“Ow! Why did you do that?”
Pacifica whipped her head around and saw Mabel on the ground, clutching her ankle. Olivia Astor stood above her, smirking.
“Oopsie, did you trip, sweetie?” Olivia mocked sarcastically. She quickly left the scene of the crime to rejoin her too-pleased boyfriend, snickering all the way.
The entire Pines family rushed to Mabel’s side. Mabel told them what Pacifica already knew—that Olivia had tripped her.
Mabel winced in pain, but when asked to move her ankle, she managed to do so.
“Pumpkin, how are you feeling?” Stan asked, looking at Mabel with concern.
She sniffled, looking disappointed. “I’m fine, but I definitely can’t play. I just can’t stand that they’re going to win because of this.”
Mabel glanced over at Brandon, Chris, and Olivia, who were all whispering and laughing to each other, appearing to be in good spirits.
Dipper glared daggers at the group for daring to hurt his sister.
“I will be right back. I’m going to go kill her,” Pacifica stated in a scarily calm tone for the situation. She started walking toward Olivia, planning on causing bodily harm.
Dipper quickly grabbed her waist, pulling her back to the group.
“Dipper, let go of me now.”
“Paz, don’t. As much as she deserves it, I’m not letting you go to jail over this.”
They locked eyes, and he could see how completely pissed she was. With everyone else’s attention on Mabel, he dared to gently stroke her back, attempting to calm her down.
He dropped his hand when the referee awkwardly approached the group.
“Look, I know this incident is... unfortunate, but since you already paid for your entry, you are allowed to sub someone in. If not, you’ll have to forfeit the next match.”
Mabel then looked to Dipper, a plan concocting in her head.
“Dipper, you have to sub in for me and kick their butts. I absolutely can’t allow them to win because of it.”
Dipper hesitated, uncertain about this idea. He was usually on par with Mabel when it came to tennis skills, but he had not been practicing like she had this past week.
“He is subbing in for her,” Pacifica told the referee, not waiting for his response.
Dipper sighed. It was going to be a long game.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pacifica could feel the anxiety radiating off Dipper as he bounced his leg unconsciously, staring at the tennis court from the bench. She placed her hand on his knee, causing him to pause and turn toward her.
“Hey, you’re going to do fine out there. I’ve been practicing nonstop, so I can handle most of the rallies. Don’t stress yourself out.”
Dipper’s eyes went downcast. “I know. I just really don’t want to let you down.”
“No matter what happens in this stupid game, I will never be disappointed in you.” She gave Dipper a soft look as she continued. “You know that, right?”
Dipper matched her gaze, his shoulder untensing just a smidge.
“Thanks, Paz.”
They both stood up as the referee motioned for the two teams to enter the court.
“Did your partner have a bit of a tumble, Northwest?” Brandon boastfully taunted.
Pacifica was not in the mood to dignify him with a verbal response. Instead, she sent a powerful, swift serve as soon as she heard the referee’s whistle screech, indicating the game had begun. The ball sailed past Brandon's team for an easy point. She smirked at him, satisfied.
Unfortunately, their luck did not hold for the rest of the first set. Dipper was clumsy and slow, unable to match the pace of the other player. Pacifica had to cover most of the court, darting from side to side.
Unsurprisingly, they lost the first round badly, finishing with only 20 points by the time their opponents won.
Dipper was more than a little disappointed in his performance. He wanted to do better for her.
Pacifica grabbed the bottom of his shirt, suddenly pulling him close to her. Dipper’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the unexpected touch. She was still slightly out of breath, gasping as she spoke.
“Dipper, get out of your own head. You can do this. I believe in you.”
Dipper nodded at her, feeling a surge of confidence.
In the second match, Dipper was far more prepared. He was not going to let Pacifica down. Knowing that they could lose this round lit a fire under Dipper. His performance matched his mental state. He was able to contribute much more to the rallies, even scoring a point. With Dipper stepping up, Pacifica could play to her full potential, securing the remaining points needed to win the set.
Pacifica jumped up and down as Chris sent the ball out of bounds, sealing their victory.
“Yes! We did it, Dipper!”
She practically danced over to him, holding both of her hands up for a double high-five. Dipper ran to meet her in the middle of the court and quickly connected his hands to hers.
“Chris, that was the worst shot I’ve ever seen,” Brandon loudly berated his teammate.
“Looks like there’s trouble in paradise,” Dipper joked quietly, flashing his crooked smile that always made Pacifica feel stupid.
“We’ve totally got this in the bag,” she replied with a grin.
The third and final match was intense. Both teams were playing like their lives depended on it, as everyone had something to prove with this game. Every serve and hit was filled with passion and fury.
It was an agonizingly close game. Whenever one team got a point, it would push the other team to get the next one. Before they knew it, it was tied up at game point. Brandon had the final serve.
Dipper had noticed that Brandon always served to his side, recognizing him as the weaker link early on. But Brandon never changed the force or placement of his serve, so Dipper knew exactly where it would land. Mentally prepared, Dipper positioned himself perfectly. With the extra time he gained, he hit the ball with precision, sending it to Chris, who wasn’t quick enough to return it before the ball bounced twice.
Elation flooded Dipper, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“Dipper, oh my god, you actually did it!”
He turned around and quickly opened his arms as Pacifica ran at him full force. Dipper was expecting a hug, but instead, Pacifica jumped into his arms. He felt instant comfort as soon as he could feel her weight on him. He tightened his grip on her, never wanting to let go.
She was so warm, and her smile was so bright. Dipper felt so high and began laughing blissfully as he spun her in a circle.
Swoosh
Brandon’s racket flew toward them, barely grazing the back of Pacifica’s head.
“What the—” Pacifica’s hand flew to the spot where the racket had brushed her, and she snapped her head around to see Brandon, seething with rage, gripping the net with white knuckles.
“I hope you drop dead, you stupid whore!” he spat.
Everything happened so fast after that. One minute Dipper was holding her, and the next—
Smack
Brandon crumbled to the ground at the force of Dipper’s right hook.
Pacifica covered her mouth in shock, not able to process what had just happened. For a second, the crowd was silent, staring in horror at Brandon, now a motionless heap on the ground. That was until Stan started laughing uncontrollably.
“That’s my boy! Beat his ass!”
Ford looked at his brother, totally appalled.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pacifica was fuming, her frustration increasing by the minute.
“So you’re telling me that a man is allowed to throw a goddamn racket at my head, and there is nothing I can do to defend myself? Yep, that makes a lot of sense.”
The young police officer attempted to placate her.
“Well, Ma’am, since you didn’t actually commit the assault, we definitely can’t classify it as self-defense.”
“That’s total bullshit! Your whole corrupt organization is set up to hate women, you know that?”
The officer’s eyebrows shot up at being blatantly disrespected.
“Listen here, miss, if you keep talking like that, I’ll arrest you for disorderly conduct.”
Pacifica guffawed at the threat and spoke in a slow, condescending tone.
“Look, I get that you chose this profession because you have a control fetish and probably failed high school algebra, so let me simplify this for you. It is completely within my legal right to think you’re a dumbass and incompetent—because I do. Now, let me have your badge number, Mr...”
Before she could finish, Stan grabbed her shoulders from behind, cutting off her angry rant with an apologetic tone.
“She doesn’t mean all of that, officer. She’s just a little worked up from everything that happened today.”
The officer crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Pacifica with detest.
“Control her, or she’ll be in the back of the car too.”
Pacifica began shrieking in anger.
“Control me? How about you stick that gun right up your—mhm...”
Stan quickly clamped a hand over her mouth and began walking her away from the cop car.
“We’ll be going now! You won’t have any more problems from us.”
Pacifica’s rage simmered but didn’t disappear as they walked.
“Look,” Stan said, lowering his voice, “I know you want to scream at that guy, but you’re not going to make this situation any better for Dipper by doing that. Let’s just take a walk for a minute.”
That finally sobered Pacifica, and she started to rethink her rash outburst.
Stan chuckled as they walked. “But honestly, with Dipper sucker-punching that punk and you yelling at the cops, I realized something—you two are definitely my kids.”
He said it in an attempt to lighten the mood, but deep down, he honestly felt a deep connection to the kids he practically raised making the same mistakes he did in his youth.
Back at the cop car, the young officer slammed the driver’s side door shut. He looked to the back of the cab, clearly perturbed.
“Your girlfriend is fucking crazy.”
Sitting in the backseat, handcuffed, Dipper could only laugh as they drove away from the country club with the sirens on.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—
Ford was the one who posted bail for Dipper and had forbidden his brother from coming to the police station. According to Ford, Stan was being a horrible adult mentor by being far too positive about the physical altercation that had occurred. Ford didn’t want Stan 'encouraging Dipper more than he already had.' When they finally released Dipper from his cell, Ford glanced at him with noticeable disappointment.
”Dipper, what you did today was not only irresponsible but also morally reprehensible. Colleges review criminal records when making admissions decisions. If you keep having these lapses in self-control, you’ll ruin your future,” Ford scolded sternly.
Dipper resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.
“I get it, Uncle Ford, I won't do it again.”
“I would hope not. If I am being honest, I wanted to leave you in jail for the night so you could comprehend the consequences of your actions. However, she would not let me.”
They reached the parking lot, and Ford pointed to Pacifica’s sleek gray Cadillac, which was illegally parked right at the entrance. Dipper looked between both Ford and Pacifica’s cars, already knowing what he was going to do, but planning out the best way to do it.
Ford sighed. “Just go, I will see you later.”
Dipper nodded. He would think of ways to fix Ford's perception of him later. He quickly jumped into the passenger seat of Pacifica’s car. She smiled as he got in.
“How’s my little jailbird doing?” she asked playfully.
Dipper laughed at the greeting. “I’m a changed man, Paz. You won’t believe the terrible things I’ve seen.”
“You’re a terrible hypocrite, by the way.”
“What? Why?” Dipper asked, genuinely shocked.
“You told me I couldn’t hurt Olivia, but you get to sucker-punch Brandon? How is that fair?”
Dipper threw his head back against the seat and laughed. “Wow, this is the treatment I get after going to jail for defending your honor?”
Pacifica chuckled at his clear attempt at a joke, but the drive grew quiet as she seemed lost in thought.
“You didn’t have to do that for me. You’re way too smart not to have a bright future, and something like this… shouldn’t hold you back,” Pacifica sighed, guilt evident in her tone.
Dipper looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“I don’t regret what I did. I’d make the same choice in every reality, no matter the consequences. Whatever I have to do for you, Paz, I’ll always do it," Dipper said, his voice firm with unwavering finality.
Pacifica blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his words. The silence stretched between them for a moment.
“Well, it was pretty hot. I’ll give you that.”
Dipper snorted. 'Well, that settles it then. It was definitely worth it.”
As they continued driving, Dipper realized they weren’t heading toward the shack.
“Are you taking me into the woods to ax-murder me?” he joked.
“Yeah, something like that,” Pacifica breathed out. They pulled into a hidden clearing in the woods, also known as their secret makeout spot.
Unbeknownst to anyone else, Dipper and Pacifica had been exclusively seeing each other for a few months now. It wasn’t a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement, but they hadn’t labeled it either. They both knew they shared deep feelings for each other, but neither knew the full extent of the other’s emotions.
Also, they had really great chemistry, so the makeout sessions were out of this world. Which was a plus in both their books.
Unfortunately, Pacifica’s parents would never approve of them being a couple. In fact, they would forbid and punish any small indication of such. Pacifica did her best to hide the stress her parents caused her from the rest of the world, but Dipper knew her too well at this point for it to be a complete secret.
Dipper had pieced together a picture of a rather depressing home life for Pacifica, from both the crumbs she had shared and what he had witnessed firsthand. Some of what he knew made him so angry that he would shake with rage some nights. Right now, there was nothing in his power to make it better for her. However, the least he could do was not make the situation worse. Therefore, as much as he would love to call her his girlfriend and hold her hand in public, he cared more about her well-being and peace.
He was content with what they had in private moments. For now, anyway, Dipper had grand and elaborate plans for the future.
Pacifica knew he understood the situation without her needing to tell him directly. That is one of the things Pacifica appreciated the most about Dipper. That he also understood her so deeply and clearly. He always saw her just as she was.
Pacifica thought that was one of the reasons why she loved him so much.
She was too much of a coward to ever tell him that, though.
She parked and climbed over the center console to sit on his lap. She put her head on his shoulder, as he gave her forehead a gentle kiss.
“I am truly sorry about this situation. It wouldn’t have happened if I weren’t so competitive.”
“'It wasn’t your fault, and I wouldn't have you any other way,” Dipper reassured as he tilted her chin up so he could kiss her fully on the lips.