#also is ford's stripe of white hair considered to be a side effect of his metal plate surgery

[nenoname]

honestly??? i still dont know what to do with the idea that there might be a bunch of clone fords out there???? it honestly makes me so unhinged??????

[detectivejigsawpines]

Relatively Relativity-part 5 (Ford gets forcefully decaffeinated and Dipper gets chest hair)

Seeing how freakishly big and hairy his arms were (at least compared to how they were just yesterday) told Dipper that no, it wasn’t a dream, he really was an old man now.  Great.

Mabel was already out of bed, so Dipper started to sit up-and immediately tried not to groan as he realized that Stan’s comments about how much your joints ached first thing in the morning at this age had not been exaggerated.

Oh man...I hope my body’s not going to be this badly in shape when I get old for real.  Is my back supposed to make that kind of noise?

“Ow, ow ow ow…”  Dipper swung his legs around to the side, and went through the arduous process of standing up.  Once he was actually on his feet, he felt more or less okay.

Until he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sounds of yelling from downstairs.

Dipper sprinted downstairs as fast as he could (again, not as fast as when he was thirteen), following the sounds of yelling towards the kitchen.  A million horrifying scenarios flitted through his thoughts as an explanation.

Had a monster broken in and attacked?  Was something on fire?  Worse, was someone on fire?!

He skidded into the doorway-and saw Mabel standing with a hand pressed flat against one of the cupboards, keeping it shut, while Grunkle Ford appeared to be trying to climb her, and Grunkle Stan stood at the stove looking far too amused at the level of conflict that was taking place (then again, this was Stan we’re talking about).

“What in the heck is going on here?!” Dipper demanded.

Ford finally seemed to manifest how undignified his current behavior was; he immediately let go of Mabel and hopped away, attempting to smooth down his clothes.  “Ah-good morning, Dipper.  We-were just-having a small disagreement on proper morning sustenance-”

“Mabel wasn’t lettin’ him have coffee,” Stan translated.

“He’s too young for it!” Mabel retorted.

“Oh for-we are not actual children, Mabel!  In case you’ve forgotten, I am more than forty years your senior!”  Ford looked a little like he was about to stamp his foot.

“Not right now, you’re not!”

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to side with Mabel on this,” Dipper reluctantly admitted.  Immediately he found himself having to shrink away from his mini-grunkle’s withering glare.  “Considering what you guys were like with the Mabel Juice yesterday, it’s probably not good for you to get high amounts of sugar or caffeine in your systems!”

Ford looked like he was about to snarl out something indignant-but then the truth of Dipper’s words sank in, and he slumped down in reluctant acknowledgment.  Grumbling wordlessly, he stomped to the fridge and yanked out the carton of apple juice that was in the door.

Stan snickered-and then swore when he realized that the batch of scrambled eggs he was making had started burning due to his not paying attention.

“Language!” Ford scolded.

“Sorry.  Guess I’ve spent too long away from kids.”

Mabel blinked.  “Wait.  Since we’re the grownups now, does that mean we can use those words?”

“No!”  Stan hurriedly shuffled the eggs around until he’d gathered the blackened ones into his spatula, allowing him to shake them into the trash.  “I don’t wanna haveta explain ta your mom why you came home with a bad case of sailor mouth!”

“We’re in junior high now, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper reminded him as he sat down, “We already hear all of them several times a day.” “No excuse.”

Dipper was tempted to try figuring out how to make coffee just to see what it tasted like (okay, and maybe to annoy Grunkle Ford a little).  But he decided he wasn’t ready to try experimenting with the process yet, and so he just had juice along with eggs and cereal.

“Where’s Soos?” he asked as the rest of his family sat down.

“They got some early tourists, so he’s showing them around the exhibits while Melody runs the gift shop,” said Mabel.  “And it’s shopping day, so Abuelita’s getting groceries.”

“Hope they weren’t freaked out by all the racket.”

****

Elsewhere in the Shack

Soos nearly jumped out of his skin at the sounds of yelling, which could be heard from all the way on this side of the house, but he rolled with it.

“Whoa, sounds like the Summerween ghosts have started up early this year.”

A small child at the front of the group raised her tiny hand.  “What’s Summerween?”

Soos knelt and put a large hand on her tiny shoulder.  “We have much to discuss.”

****

For a little bit everyone ate in relative silence; finally, though, Dipper cleared his throat.  “Melody suggested we should try wearing some kind of protective gear in case the flowers act up again.”

“I made us all masks!”  Mabel held up four strips of brightly colored cloth with elastic straps at the ends, and their names stitched onto them surrounded by rainbows and flowers and stuff.

“That probably depends on whether it was just ingestion of the pollen that changed us, or if they needed to make contact with us,” Ford mused, rubbing his chin.  “We should probably prepare for both outcomes, just in case.  I think I have what we need in the basement.”

He hopped off his chair-and paused to give himself a slightly annoyed/confused glare at having done so, before shaking his head and making his way out of the kitchen.

When he returned, it was with a large, clunky-looking watch thing strapped to his wrist.

“This generates a small force field system that can completely envelope the flower and prevent the pollen from spreading; it also makes things levitate.”

“Whoa.”  Stan’s eyes grew ridiculously big and shiny.  “Can I use it?”

Ford narrowed his eyes at his brother.  “Are you planning to try and pick pockets with it?”

“...No…”

“Uh-huh.  I think I’ll hold onto it for now.”

“Hmph.  Whatever.”

****

The mini-grunkles were still in their clothes from yesterday, which were kind of filthy, so at Mabel’s insistence they changed into some of Dipper’s spare things.

Stan held up a blue-and-white striped T-shirt, tilting his head quizzically.  “If you got all these clothes, why the heck do you wear the same outfit every day?”

“And when do you take time to wash it?” Ford asked, wrinkling his nose.

Dipper flushed.  “Don’t you guys start!”

“HA!  See, I’m not the only one who thinks your hygiene practices are gross!” Mabel crowed triumphantly.

Dipper shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked out of the attic.

****

Eventually everyone took the time to get dressed before their new expedition.

Mabel had made herself a brand new sweater (purple, with “HOT GRANDMA” written on it in sparkly bright blue letters), and borrowed one of Abuelita’s old dresses to wear under it.  Dipper, meanwhile, had pointedly put his clothes in the wash, and borrowed a pair of Stan’s khaki shorts and a red Hawaiian shirt.

Well, at least I finally have chest hair, he thought as he buttoned up the shirt, examining his torso in the mirror.  At least there was one thing to enjoy about old age.

Unfortunately, it was accompanied by a large quantity of stomach hair...and arm hair...and ear hair...basically a lot more hair than he’d been expecting.

He was only stopped from seeing if shaving some of it off would be more effective than it had been for Stan by the realization that his family was probably waiting for him.

“Took ya long enough,” Stan scolded when he returned to the kitchen.  “C’mon, let’s go already!”

They headed out the door-and immediately ran into Wendy, who had at last showed up for work.

****

Aw, crap.

Dipper realized he had forgotten to text her about what had happened.

“Uh-hey, Wendy.  Believe it or not, it’s us.”

She did a long, slow blink.  Then, raising one eyebrow, she asked, “...Do I want to know?”

“We had an accident with a magic flower,” Mabel explained.  “So now we gotta get another one to figure out how to change us back to normal.”

“Ya wanna come?” Stan asked.

Wendy smiled at him.  “That’d be awesome, Mr. Pines, but I got work.”

Stan’s face contorted into an expression of shock.  “Wait, what?  You’re passing up a chance ta slack off work?!”  He reached up a tiny hand to feel Wendy’s forehead.  “Are you feeling okay?!”

She snorted and shoved him off.  “Soos pays me extra if I stay through a whole shift.  And I’m trying to save up for a car, so I need all the help I can get.”

“...So the secret to keeping you from slacking off was to pay you more?”  Stan pondered this for a bit...and then shook his head.  “Nah, it’s not worth it.”

Wendy laughed and punched his shoulder.  “Later, dorks.”  She started to walk past, before spinning around on one heel.  “Oh, Dipper-loving the new hair.  Gives you a kinda silver fox look.”

...Despite himself, Dipper couldn’t help blushing and grinning as he ran a hand through his hair.  And then he sighed as he ignored a smirking Mabel and headed to the car, ready to share joint custody of the driver’s seat with Stan again.

The fact that Wendy only ever saw him as attractive when he was way older than her was probably a sign that he’d made the right choice in stopping pining over her.

Heh heh...pining.

Because he was a Pines.

...Oh crap, now he was starting to think dad jokes were funny.

We gotta get changed back soon.

********

...Sorry, Wendip fans, but I just don't see it happening.

It's not even the age difference, so much as that personality-wise, she strikes me as just staying a "cool big sis" figure to both him and Mabel.

(Also I'm kind of biased towards Dipcif-)

Nothing, you didn't see that.

Moving on.