The Practice Date (Pinecest)

“What’s your favorite food?” Mabel asked, trying to start the date off right.

Without a moment’s hesitation, as if his soul spoke, Dipper replied. “Easy. It is spaghetti.”

Blinking owlishly, Mabel had to ask. “Spaghetti? Why spaghetti?”

“Spaghetti is a nearly perfect survival food. Tomatoes are high in antioxidants, rich in vitamins, excellent flavor. The pasta itself is shelf stable basically forever, and plus it is easy to make and is quite filling, I’ll have you know.” Smirking a bit at his sister, his current date, he continued. “It is beloved by everyone, the poorest man in Italy and the highest class of annoying food critic. Perfect for any occasion, spaghetti is as much a workhorse as eggs or potatoes. Plus, it pairs really well with drinks, other sauces, desserts follow it well, can be baked and saved for later, and I know you love it when I make it for us at home.”

Mabel, who had been sitting with her head in her hands, arms propped on the table, sighed (Dreamily?) “Oh, Dipper, you just love spaghetti, since its always falling out of your pockets, you big nerd!”

Reddened not quite so much as his favorite type of spaghetti sauce, he spluttered “w-well, oh yeah? What’s your favorite food then, you big meme?”

‘Very good, Dipper, you really showed her with that rebuttal!’ He assured himself.

She put on her thinking face, an adorable tongue sticking out from pursed lips. “Hmm, I would say… salad, or pizza. Anything vague enough a definition to allow me to put anything I want on it.” She looked smug, at having outmaneuvered her twin.

“Mabel, you could have just said gummy bears, or whatever, since you put that on nearly everything you eat.” Now it was Mabel’s turn to blush. “N-no I don’t…well, maybe. I will stand by pizza being anything cooked on baked bread. Even if it has gummy bears on it.” She muttered, eyes half closed, body turned away in a huff.

Dipper laughed, head held back, the kind of laugh one has when they are contented with life.

“Mabel, this practice date thing is so much fun, it’s a total blast! Why didn’t we think of this before? Why don’t more families do this?” Dipper’s grin subsided as Mabel waited on him, lost in thought, but still happy.

“Er, Mabel?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just… waxing poetically, on how you abused the laws of Time for Wendy and that still wasn’t enough to get her to notice you.” Mabel sighed, unintentionally digging a grave for his smile. “Uh, don’t remind me. It was fun while it lasted, and we all learned valuable life lessons… about stuff.” Dipper tried to continue.

Again, with the doe eyes, Mabel picked back up. “I suppose we simply weren’t interested in others when we were younger, didn’t have all that many friends we hung out with. No one but ourselves, and now we are old enough to start separating.” She wistfully rubbed the lip of her cup, somehow bringing out a clear, glass armonica sound. How she had done this with a red plastic restaurant cup, Dipper would never know.

“I mean, how many of my friends from home have called us? Has Mom and Dad even checked in on us? I- “She choked just a bit. Dipper patted her hand, and she took strength from that. Twisting it, she took his hand, and made him listen to the no small amount of heartbreak in her voice.

“I do not want to lose you, Dipper. Promise me that we won’t ever break apart, won’t ever drift away, no matter how mad we get or how far the distance.”

Tears bubbled, like the cheap fish tank built into the wall next to you. “Mabel.” He swallowed fitfully. “Mabel, I cannot promise that we will not separate. Our lives may run on, er, separate banks of the same river. I can promise this to you.” Mabel, the dams nearly burst. He handed her his napkin, coming back with light stains.

“We will be Twins forever, and I will do my very best to keep us together too.”

The way they stared at each other, the ability to show every single emotion through each other’s eyes, the hurt and comfort, the fear and reassurance, would have brought a tear to the waiter’s eye had he not clearly heard that they were twins on a romantic date. He politely coughed, if only to get their orders taken so he could go back to the other patrons, and maybe bleach out his eyes.
“Uwaah! Oh, er, didn’t see ya there, Jean-Luc!”

Pen at the ready, “Please, my name is actually Picard. I am humbled most gran that you have remembered me, but were you not just here last month with Monsieur Gleeful? Who might your date be?” he inquired, politely not mentioning having overheard them. Better to hear an explanation.

“Wait, really? Jean-Luc Picard?” The fluffy haired boy asked, as if he did not know that there are 3 different names in France.
“Hon-hon, oui, the very same. Like the Gran Capitaine from “Wagon Train to the Stars”, non?”

Satisfied with his answer, the mademoiselle continued. “Oh, Picard, this is my twin brother Dipper. He needs someone to take his mind off a girl, I needed dinner and a good date, so here we are, having a practice date, just to see what its like. We are in character, like as if we had just met.”

A raised eyebrow, a drop of doubt Picard felt down his neck. Somehow, he felt that they both had ulterior motives and were not nearly as good of actors as they thought. Considering there were still tears on the napkin, something else was going on.

Picard was paid to impersonate the French to the point of going by a stage name even in his own head. He was paid to do that, attempt to teach French to pig headed tourists, and to take orders. Even so, he was a professional and left well enough alone.

“Verité. What would you étrangers, caught in the moonlight filtered through water, like to drink?” They were easily impressed by that, not being much older than 13 perhaps. It had helped them get back into whatever characters they had chosen to play.

“I hear the water is quite good, quite good. I shall be having the uh, oiseau de mineral.” The boy child confidently said. He was of course wrong, but Picard did not feel like correcting him just yet. “OOH! I just had the best idea. We. Should have. Apple juice in champagne flutes, like we are grown-ups.”

Ah, God’s Comedy! All he had to do was stare at an imaginary camera and look unamused. Simple, effective, and made fortune smile down upon Picard, who did so. He also looked very incredulous as he did because that was really all that got him through being a waiter.

“D’accord. I shall leave you to decide your meals, please, enjoy your practice date.”

As he walked away, muttering something in not quite silent enough French, Dipper turned back to his date. “Oh, I just remembered. That thing you asked me, why more people don’t do this. Dipper, I’d say that its because most people don’t have a sibling exactly the same age as them, a couple years difference makes a good deal of difference when dating, even fake dates like this. Also,” she paused, focusing more deeply onto Dipper, eyes mirthful.

“Most people simply go on another date with someone else or do family fun nights. Not go on a romantic date with their sister. Which this is.”

“Oh, you just love to tease, this isn’t really romantic. Not with the candles at every table, the aquarium, the…Ok it is romantic. Not romantic enough though. I had to get you something special.”

Rummaging into his jacket pocket (He had borrowed a very tiny Mr. Mystery suit from Stan, earlier created in a new marketing scheme.) he produced-

“OH GOSH you shouldn’t have! Tenor Trinket’s Tasty Truffles? The most romantic mushroom shaped chocolate in the world?!?” As always, making her happy brought a blush to Dipper’s face. He had always loved that about her. Her smile.

“I got something for my date as well, a small token of my appreciation for a swell guy, y’know?” Pulled from her only black turtleneck that she owned ‘Good for working the floor at charities!’ came Gruncle Stan’s voice unbidden.

“Te Deum! I meant Tadah! Whatever! Just take the stupid box!” She presented her present. “What are the chances we would have picked the same exact present? Anyway, Dipper, it’ll be like… Sumertine’s Day, or something with all this chocolate.”

“Well, sweetheart,” Mabel blushed like a fever, “great minds do think alike.”

“But fools rarely differ, Dipper!” she completed.

She gave him a playful kick under the table, and that started a small footsies war, which came to a draw as the waiter approached with their drinks, legs in medias res, or perhaps armistice.

Picard, at seeing the young… “couple” low, low in their seats, having been caught being childish while ordering grown up glasses, barely contained a Gallic Sigh.

“Here is your Eau Minérale and your “Champagne”. I hope you will of course enjoy it. What shall it be our pleasure to serve you, enfants? We are of course known for our pescatarian options, I am always partial to the live lobsters up at ze front.”

“Well, ladies first, Mabel.”

“Dartboard. I would of course enjoy the, how you say, Red Snapper with the Provençal vegetables. Hon hon.”

‘The Lord has forsaken me, as he does every day I am with these idiots’

“Ehehhe. I will just have the blackened tilapia, with the lemon butter. Thank you so very much.”

His pen stopped scratching for a moment. “Hmm? Oh! Of course. Appetizers. What would you two- “

“CHEDDAR BISCUITS! Yes. Those. Or the Honey biscuits.”

A look of pleading crossed Picard’s face before Dipper crushed his hopes and dreams. “Do as my Dearest asks, the biscuits will be excellent.”

Picard left the order with the cooks and went out for a smoke break. He was paid enough for this, but he wanted a raise anyway. And hazard pay. Anyway, fuck Sisko. He can pick up the shift all by himself, he’s sooo popular and good looking.

Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel were having a good time trying pickup lines on one another.

“Are you a lumberjack? Because I am falling for you. Hehhe” Mabel began.

“Heh, ok, ok. I thought I had missed the meteor shower, but the most heavenly body is just across the table from me.” Dipper riposted.
“Hah! You riposted in the wrong celestial neighborhood, that Triangle didn’t call me Shooting Star fer nuthin’! I have a great appreciation for the stars. In fact, you can comet to me and you’ll say, “let me give you a Milky Way in Uranus”, and I’ll tell you about how the Celestial Cow Nut would approve!”

Face blank, red, cracking a smile, and belly laugh. “Christ in Heaven, Mabel, you can’t say that! There might be other children in the room who might object to me using my dipper to give you milk on your cookies.”

Mabel, now crying laughing, was slamming her head against the table making the candle flame jump. Sighing, she drained her flute of apple juice, as did Dipper. Quickly, the poor overworked Sisko refilled their flutes.

“Jeez, that was pretty good. I wonder when the biscuits will get here.” Dipper wondered, and then forgot about it when Mabel began playing footsies again. An errant foot slid up his leg and into a more sensitive region. Both immediately stilled, silent. Mabel slowly traced the outline of his manhood with the tip of her shoe before Dipper had to stop her. “mmMabel. Yes. Just Mabel, definitely not mmmm.” Sitting straighter, just out of reach of her delicate feet, he whispered across the table. “I think we are very lucky the tablecloths are so long, but someone might have seen anyway.”

Mabel pouted a bit, sitting up, and whispered traitorously in his ear. “Look, that was an accident, but I did not hear you telling me to stop. Or that you didn’t like it. Your complaint,” she grabbed his tiny, adorable red bowtie, “Is that I did that in public. That we did something weird in public, not that I did it at all.” She held him a bit longer, then decided to throw caution to the wind and live up her fantasy, kissed him on the cheek very softly. “Maybe I read too many trashy novels Gruncle Stan had lying around. If I have made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, and I’m sorry that I got a bit too real with you.”

She released his collar and tie, but not his heart, not after that.

Somewhat panting, Dipper tried to return his heart rate to normal. “Ha…haa… just… we can discuss it tonight at home. Don’t look so betrayed, I meant WE discuss it. No one else.”

Mabel had no idea where this evening had gone so weird and wrong, but she was determined to keep going and find out where they would stop. “You just didn’t want to… escalate? Escalate that here. Heh, maybe you want me to continue that when we get home, huh Mr. Stranger?”

Victorious, she relished in the red cheeks emblazoned her quarry’s face. ‘Aw cheese and crackers, how the Hell am I going to get out of this if he doesn’t back down? I can’t go even further with him, can I? Would I?’

‘I can’t go even further with her, can I? Would I?’ Dipper thought in Twinlethapy.

Biscuits arrived and they did their best to continue their small talk, while trying to choke down the refills of apple juice.

“Bleh” Mabel grimaced. “Who carbonated apple juice anyway? Why does it taste like the cores only made it into this batch?” Mabel took another sip.

“Well,” swallowing his bit of biscuit, he continued. “If you don’t like it, you can send it back. Or give it to me, I think I am beginning to like it.”

“Aww, jeez, its biting my tongue. No, I won’t send it back, but we should ask what brand sells this stuff.” Mabel decided, because as long as they weren’t paying for this stuff anyway, they might as well enjoy it and find out how to get more. “Us ladies do so love a bad boy, what should we use as our excuse for leaving this time, eh Twin o’ mine?”

“Jeez, when we do eventually go home, how will Mom and Dad even control us if we are so blatant about our crimes. We should claim they gave us champagne or something, these are the right glasses for them, and it’s the same color.”

Polishing off her own flute in tandem with her brother, Mabel asked the obvious. “Why wouldn’t they know what we ordered? Don’t they record that? Also, why would we get the meal for free if they did?”

“Gruncle Ford taught me a bit about mechanics, along with what I picked up from Soos. That cash register isn’t working, see, the light’s out. They have to write it all down on some paper, which is easy to drop into some water, like what happened with the copier clones.”

“Hmm, solid enough. Can’t charge us for what they don’t know. I guess serving alcohol to minors is illegal and they’d rather just cut their losses than make us pay?” Dipper nodded in affirmation. “Right-o. Just gotta swipe the ticket when he comes back.”

“No, no, no, Mabel, just sneak into the kitchen and take the paper after the food is brought out. Fancy restaurants like this give the ticket AFTER dessert had been ordered. We will get ice cream on the way home. You’ve got a window to get the ticket and get rid of it and find us some more of this apple juice. Good thing your turtleneck is baggy, it can hold anything. Heh, even Gruncle Ford has no idea how you fit so much stuff in there.”

Just then, Sisko refilled their glasses and Dipper caught a good look at the bottle that was poured as quickly as the overworked man could. He then brought out the food, to which Mabel asked if he could cover it in one of those silver covers, to which Sisko absentmindedly replied that it was called a cloche and placed one on their meals. “I want to wait for her, you see. It’s very gentlemanly.”

Sisko, working 3 shifts to cover what expenses that becoming his own head chef would require, didn’t ask a single question, and left the smiling twins.

Mabel gave a toast. “To kleptomania!”

“To kleptomania. Now the bottle was Enculé no. 14. Go get one quick, before we are found out.”

Smug, sophisticated, dangerous, Mabel was a girl unhinged! Able to face any obstacle, besides the slight head spinning. Ah well, it cleared up well enough. She felt Dipper’s eyes trail behind her as she sashayed towards the bathrooms, and then immediately cut into the kitchen.

“Ah, this is the life. Me and Mabel, against the world, no matter what. With her by my side, I can do anything.” He said softly to himself.

‘Wait a minute, was I just staring at her ass?’

Broken from his likely incestuous reverie by a horrific crash from the kitchen, he spotted Mabel doing her best to be nonchalant about having just “left” the bathroom. She waddled just a bit, but hit it jauntily, like she hadn’t just gotten away with property damage and theft.

Sliding into the booth, she confirmed. “Once again,” in her most Imperial, British accent, “Our armies are ever victorious and We have received much in the spoils of war, all to no losses of Our own.” That answered, they began to dig into their meals.

Sipping gently, room starting to shine a bit too much, he had to ask her. “How’d you do?” Leaning closer after finishing her bite, she answered him. “Two bottles, and for good measure I burned all the other orders, so the wrongness of stealing is cancelled out by giving the people free food.”

“I am not sure about that arithmetic, but sure.” Dipper frowned, to which she huffed. She picked up a bit of her snapper and fed some to Dipper, who returned the favor with his tilapia. It was romantic and it was right, if not proper, to feed your date a bit of your meal. To share food was to share trust, to share gifts. Was it proper for siblings to feed each other directly? Perhaps not, but it was proper for young lovers to do so, and neither noticed the escalation quickly enough to contest it.

“Mmm, Mabel, that is really good. Not dry at all. You don’t think you will give me a bug or something, feeding me with your fork?”

Head shaking, she responded. “Nuh uh. We live in the same room; our immune systems are in total synch. Give me more tilapia, that lemon really be zestn’”

Chuckling softly, and taking another sip of the apple juice, he fed her a big bite from his fork, eager as she leaned in close and nearly took the fork with her in her enthusiasm. “Gosh, but my big sister sure is cute, and she deserves to know it.” Dipper smiled warm, warm as Mabel’s cheeks looked after that last compliment. She smiled and asked him, “Why is it that my brother is the only true gentleman I’ve ever had a date with, huh? What makes you such good guy for a girl, and why hasn’t anyone else noticed it yet?”
Dipper could not respond, too giddy from all the compliments showered upon him. Eventually, he stammered out a “y-you too…” but Mabel had caught the full intent, and sweetly smiled back to him. They finished their meals while holding each other’s eyes, and eventually wrapped up.

“Eyup, I guess it’s time to call the practice date a success, huh Mabel?”

“Date.”

“Wuzzat?”

“It was a date, not a practice date. Not anymore, anyway. Plus, you have to walk me home and give me a goodnight kiss to finish any sort of date.” Mabel replied, which logically meant she was right. Girls decided how dates went, after all, and Dipper’s mind was a bit too mushy to argue.

Gathering up their chocolates, they stumbled out of their booths, and past Picard, who had finally come back from his 45 minute smoke break where he won several pretend arguments with the manager of the Mer D’étoiles, the restaurant he worked, who was skipping his own shift by being at home instead.

Watching as the newest couple in town left, Picard realized that they had not even left a tip, but, more worryingly, was the empty bottle that Sisko had accidentally refilled their apple juices with. “L-let us just write them off as a loss and not let them back in, hmm? Can’t be bothered to file a police report when we are culpable. Also, Sisko?”

“Y-yes, Boss?”

“You’d better hope that Quark’s Bar will hire you because you sure do refill drinks fast. Oh, and you are fired.”

A sullen “Aww, man.” was all Sisko could bring himself to speak.

“Nice work on that stumbling, Dipper, you really sold that “punch drunk” look.” Mabel congratulated as they started up their electric golf cart. “What act? I forgot about that, that we were supposed to do that. Eh, I’m sure that doesn’t matter.”

Midway home on quiet streets that seemed to shiver in his eyes, Dipper remembered to ask what exactly the bottles said. “Huh. So THAT’S why it tasted funny. It was champagne. I think we should keep this a secret from Gruncle Stan.”

“That’s right, Mabey-Baby, WE will, us, together forever.” All the response needed was Mabel’s hand, to hold, and it was received warmly. It fit perfectly, as it was with the rest of her. He could feel her pulse through her hands, and she through his, and all was well.

On silent wheels, to the Shack they stopped, and still feeling the mood of the date, they shared a heartfelt kiss, one that was only felt when those who needed to be together were together. Both floated up to their room, as on a cloud of contentment, and fell asleep in the same bed, too tired to change, but perfectly happy to cuddle each other to sleep.
…………………
Meanwhile, Bill Cipher had an aneurysm and decided to take a hike for a while and hope this weirdness burnt itself out. After all, they couldn’t really stay together forever, could they?