Dipford - Dipper and Ford have to share a bed for some reason, and Dipper wakes up to find that he is trapped in Ford's embrace, and doesn't want to move bc es too embarrassed and it might wake him up.
First, I want to say that I absolutely adore this prompt because I love accidental/dub-con cuddling.
And second, this was beta’d by the awesome incesstancy!
was bouncing on his feet as he packed, super-excited for the monster
hunt Grunkle Ford had planned. It had originally been much cooler, some
big adventure to unearth a thing that Ford hypothesized lay
dormant under Gravity Falls, but that had been nixed by Stan a week ago.
After he and Mabel tag-team puppy pouted for four days Stan had finally
decided to let them go, but only if Ford promised they wouldn’t go too
deep into the forest and that they’d only go after harmless creatures.
It wasn’t quite the adventure he’d been hoping for, but Dipper was just
glad they’d be out of the shack and actually having fun. After almost a
week and a half of slow days watching TV and helping Stan stock stuff in
the shack, it was something. Plus, he’d get to spend time not only
with The Author of The Journals, who he admired, but also with his
Grunkle who he maybe had a huge, huge crush on.
There, he said it. As if his birthmark and squeaky voice and real name weren’t enough, he had to be even more awkward and get over Wendy by falling head over heels for a certain sixty-year old, six-fingered relative of his. He finished packing, brushed off Mabel’s question about the bright blush blooming on his cheeks, and rushed down stairs to put his pack near the door, waiting anxiously, not minding the fact that Mabel wasn’t ready, or that they had planned to leave after breakfast. He was ready, and this was going to be awesome.
But then the whole trip went to hell.
They’d thought they were stalking a small, cute animal, but had, inevitably ran into something big and with lots of teeth. They all made it out with just a few scrapes and bumps that would eventually become bruises, (most of which were from running through and into the trees as they were running away, terrified), but Mabel had been so angry at him and Ford for breaking the promise they’d made to Stan and for risking their lives, that she’d somehow moved her and Dipper’s tent into a tree and refused to let Dipper up.
And, since he was way too sore to bother climbing up, that’s how both Dipper and his sleeping bag ended up in Ford’s tent.
Dipper was red the entire whole time, his heart hammering in his ears as they shuffled around the… intimate space. It was gets even worse as when they both laid lay down.
Dipper tried, at first, to relax but he just couldn’t seem to. His heart a steady rhythm, his brain screaming ‘crush!’ every time he sneaked a glance over to his Great Uncle. He couldn’t even hide it. He had tried to wrap himself in his fluffy sleeping bag, but the nights were still really pretty hot, and Dipper’s face and body already felt like they were on fire. He opted to just sleep on top of the bag, taking a peek over to Ford and seeing him do the same.
They say goodnight to one another without any fanfare, both too tired and sore and, at least on Dipper’s part, too awkward to discuss the day.
Ford had turned, for some inane reason still in his turtleneck, despite the heat, to face the other side of the tent and Dipper’s heart calms a bit, his face cooling some, and he turns the opposite direction, trying hard to ignore how close he was to the object of his affection. Eventually, some long time after listening to his Grunkle’s slow even breathing, the soft snores that had at first made Dipper’s heart flutter and spark also managed to lull him to sleep.
wakes up hot, sweat trickling down his face and matting his hair to his
forehead. Even in just a t-shirt and boxers he felt like he was beside a
space heater. And that’s not the only thing he felt. Something was pressed against his back and wrapped around him. Something firm, and strong, and uncomfortably warm.
Something that was breathing…
Dipper, already panicking and thinking about all the teeth the creature behind him could have, managed to look down as he struggled in the thing’s tight grip, and saw a pair of large hands wrapped around his middle, the wrists attached clothed in the sleeves of a red sweater.
Huh, who knew Grunkle Ford was a cuddler? Dipper certainly hadn’t and, as his butt accidentally rubbed against Ford’s crotch for a few fleeting yet scandalous moments it was pretty clear to him that if he had, he would have been sure to spend the night outside. The fire in his face was back with a vengeance, and quickly spreading to the rest of his body.
groaned and tried to turn in Ford’s arms again, pointedly keeping his
backside pulled away from the older man. He angles his head slightly,
and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds that Stanford’s eyes are
still closed, his soft, cute snoring audible now that Dipper wasn’t
panicking. He laid there, watching Ford’s nose twitch, his slightly open
mouth moving with his breath. Dipper’s still somewhat overactive brain
zeroed into the movement, drawing the boy’s attention to his Great
Uncle’s lips. His lips were soft looking, wet with a little drool and
Dipper found he couldn’t stop staring at them. He bit his own lips in
response, using all his strength to keep from finding out if they were
as soft as they looked.
He could feel his blush heating up his face and turned his head back because he really didn’t need to be thinking about that right now, his whole body was on fire as it were, no thanks to Ford’s turtleneck, and he didn’t need to add to that with his less than pure thoughts.
No, what Dipper needed was an escape plan. Preferably before he drowns himself and his crush in his own sweat. Or, heaven forbid, Ford wakes up.
“Come on Dipper, think!” he muttered under his breath, trying whispers to entice his brain into turning on and getting him out of his… situation.
took a few calming breaths and attempts to form a plan to get out of
Ford’s grasp. He thinks about squirming free, and about how strong his
great uncle’s arms were. He briefly thinks about just pretending to be
asleep, but that makes him think about how hot it is, which makes me
think about how hot Ford is and that made him think about Ford’s lips
again and that just made him sweat more.
“Ugh, don’t think about that!” he scolds himself quietly, his face heating up even more.
He groaned again, this time at himself, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the little snoring sounds that were right in his ear.
Dipper finally realizes that the only option he had was to wait until Ford moved in his sleep. After all - he had to move before he woke up, right? It was already way too hot and he couldn’t cuddle forever, could he?
Two hours later and Dipper was pretty sure Ford could win some ‘World’s Greatest Cuddler’ award.
The tent had gone up at least five degrees in temperature, and Dipper’s shirt and Ford’s turtleneck were drenched with sweat. Dipper felt like he was about to pass out. He finally succumbed to the heat, cautiously lifting his arms up and over his head, narrowly avoiding Ford’s large arms in the process. To his embarrassment, and if he were honest with himself also his delight, he had to squirm his way flush against Ford’s body, his butt pressing against Ford’s crotch once again. He tried to suppress the blush as he shimmied his shirt up over his arms, the wet and sticky cloth doing little to help him in his endeavour. Ford groaned and tightened his grip around Dipper’s midsection, and Dipper froze. He waited for Ford’s snoring to continue before yanking his shirt off in one hard pull. The air hitting his wet body instantly cooled him and he breathed in a large breath out of sheer relief.
However, the relief was short lived, when he found himself pinned to Ford’s body, the strong arms wrapped around him tighter than before, one hand splayed out on his lower chest, one tickling his bare tummy. Dipper wasn’t sure how well he’d thought that plan out. But, at least he wasn’t cooking in his own clothes anymore. He sighed and resigned himself to enjoying Ford’s embrace. It wasn’t like this would happen every day, after all.
Stanford stirred a bit, his eyes fluttering open and his grip around Dipper managing to tighten even more. Dipper made a noise, almost having forgot that Ford was what had him anchored in place. His Grunkle yawned behind him, breath tickling his hair, and tried to sit up, his arms still tightly clinging to Dipper.
Stanford jerked slightly when he felt himself restrained. ‘Assess the situation’,
his mind told him and he calmed his heart rate steadily. He tested his
eyes first. He blinked and blearily opened them, taking in his
surroundings and looking for potential enemies.
In doing so he ended up noticing that he’d wrapped himself around his great nephew like a starfish clinging to a rock, or like one of those many tentacle monsters he’d met in his travels. He felt his face flush instantly and pulled his arms out from around the twelve year old.
“Ah, Dipper! I’m
sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he stutters and begins to puts as much space
between them as possible in the little tent.
Ford could feel himself staring wide eyed at Dipper’s shirtless chest, the slight red impression of a large, six fingered handprint there from how long he’d been clinging to the boy. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if Dipper had gone to sleep shirtless or not.
“It’s- It’s okay, Grunkle
Ford,” Dipper said in a rush, setting up and nearly tripping over his
own feet. He grabs his shirt and wrestles it over his head, his
birthmark showing briefly in the process. He stumbles halfway out of the
tent, reaching to grab his hat only as an afterthought.
Ford is about to laugh at the boy’s awkward antics when he hears Dipper mutter “you’re a good cuddler,” under his breath as he darted back out of the tent.
Ford did laugh, but only nervously, more heat rising in his face as he whispers a heartfelt “thanks” to no one in particular, and sets about getting everything ready to go home, wondering when Dipper will realise he’d walked outside in only his shirt and boxers.