Could you write a small Dippica fluff please?
Sure thing, buddy! Enjoy :)
When faced with something new or unexpected, Pacifica was a skeptic. Her doubt made the result all the more surprising.
“So…where exactly did you learn how to braid?”
The mattress sank with her weight as she perched on the edge of his bed and shot Mabel a dubious look. The bed wiggled beneath her as he scooted forward, and she twitched when she felt him brush his fingers through her hair.
“There’s only so much reading a guy can do when it’s sleepover night and you’re sharing a room with Mabel,” Dipper replied with a shrug that she could feel. “You learn fast.”
“Yeah, Dip Dop can do a mean French braid!” Mabel piped up from where she was applying sparkly purple lip gloss with surgical precision and a small pink compact.
He leaned in and dropped his voice. “A braid train is also a great way to avoid the inevitable makeover.”
“Ahh.” Pacifica hesitantly leaned back and let Dipper work his magic. After a beat, she added, “Just don’t ruin my hair.”
Dipper hissed through his teeth. “With all that peroxide damage, who’d be able to tell?”
Her jaw fell open in a surprised squawk and she swatted his knee. “Don’t be a jerk!”
Her back shook with his laughter, but his voice was even when he replied, “I’ll do my darndest, but I can’t make any promises.”
With a huff, Pacifica settled back against him and closed her eyes. She concentrated on the feeling of having her hair braided, and soon her breathing smoothed out to match his rhythm. She was almost dozing when he jostled her shoulder.
“All done! Check it out,” he said with a nudge.
Mabel peeked up from her compact and whistled. “Aye, mamacita!”
Pacifica rolled her eyes at Mabel, but her curiosity was piqued. She hopped off the bed and scooped up the handheld mirror on the end of Mabel’s bed. She crossed to the vanity mirror on the dresser and held the hand held mirror aloft behind her head. To her surprise, a neat French braid trailed down the back of her head, over the nape of her neck and all the way to the center of her back. As she angled the mirror this way and that to get a good look at it, a slow smile spread across her face.
“I think she likes it,” Mabel sing songed.
Pacifica instantly broke and lowered the mirror. She fluffed her bangs and shrugged. “I always smile when I look at my reflection, you know that.”
She caught Dipper grinning in the mirror, and she quickly turned to him.
“Not bad,” she said finally, and she watched his grin settle into a smirk, “Now it’s my turn.”
His face fell. “Wait, what?”
“Fair is fair, and since you braided my hair, now I should do yours,” she replied.
As she crossed the room, his face turned pink and he scrambled for an excuse.
“You don’t have to do that for me, I-I don’t even have enough hair, a-and you know it’s getting late, I’m kinda tired maybeweshouldgotosleep - ”
Pacifica clambered up onto the bed behind him and held him by the shoulders. Before her hands touched his head, she paused. “You washed your hair today after the lake, right?”
Ordinarily, she would have expected a lie from Dipper, weak as it may be; however, he was still so shaken up that he only stuttered, “Y-yeah.”
“Good.” Pacifica wove her fingers into his hair and started to work the roots,
As she massaged his scalp, she felt Dipper relax bit by bit until he was a mound of veritable putty in her hands. Wow, maybe he really was tired. Undeterred, Pacifica separated a few strands of hair and started to plait them together, fastening each with a small elastic. After a few minutes, when a third of his head was braided, his head started to loll forward much to Pacifica’s annoyance.
“Keep your head still,” she muttered. But he didn’t seem to have heard her; his head keeled forward again, this time on an unusual angle. Pacifica paused her work and called softly for Mabel’s attention. When she had it, Pacifica mouthed, “Is he sleeping?”
Mabel peered at her brother’s face and stifled a snort of laughter with her free hand. “Oh my god, he is!” Then suddenly struck by inspiration, she leapt from her bead and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Hair bows…we need hair bows!”
As Mabel rummaged in her basket of accessories, Pacifica contemplated Dipper’s sleeping face. So open, so soft, so innocent….the perfect target.
At Dipper’s first stirring, Mabel struck Pacifica’s arm with a squeak. “He’s waking up!” she said in a stage whisper, not that it was needed. Pacifica had eyes, after all.
She was content to watch Dipper slowly come to, first wiggling, then stretching one lanky arm with a groan and a shudder, His eyes opened slowly, and he blinked at the ceiling a couple of times, not really processing anything. However, he instinctively turned his head toward them and jumped in surprise. Mabel instantly dissolved into giggles.
He groaned again, then scrubbed at his eyes. “Hey,” he croaked, “How long was I out?”
“Seven hours. You slept like a baby,” Pacifica drawled.
“Darn.” Dipper sat up with a grunt and it was all Pacifica could do to contain her laughter because it was a hysterical sight: Dipper, with dozens of tiny plaits sticking up in every direction, each decorated by a bow, a butterfly clip, or a cupcake barrette. It was some of her finest work.
He tried to run a hand through his hair and let out a yelp when it tugged on his roots. He let his hand brush over the top of his head, then his eyes shot open and he bolted from the bed to the mirror.
“Seriously, you guys?!”
This was Pacifica’s cue to leave. She lunged across the room for the door and shrieked when Dipper swiped her arm; but then Mabel jumped onto his back and she was free.
“Run, Pacifica; save yourself! The Alpha Twin has this under control!”
Pacifica didn’t argue; she was already halfway to the kitchen by the time Mabel finished her sentence.