A Weekend Ruse (Older!AU)

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ⑤

His eyes slowly crack open.
Sometime during the night he had turned on his side and now their legs are intertwined.

Though their legs are braided together, their upper bodies still have the tiny gap between them. But their faces are only inches from each other.

Dipper's tired eyes stare at Mabel's sleeping face. Her relaxed brow, her long lashes, her button nose, her lips... Her perfectly pink lips, opened ever so slightly so that he can hear and feel every tiny breath she makes, almost look like they're puckered.

The thought of sneaking a quick peck crosses his sleep fogged brain.

Instead, Dipper carefully disentangles himself from her. He turns on his other side, facing the wall and away from his twin. He falls back to sleep.

Some time later, he wakes again at the sound of her giggling. He whispers her name, voice groggy and hoarse from sleep. She doesn't answer him. He rolls over, only to get a face full of hair.

She had turned away from him. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a calming breath, trying to rid himself of the fleeting sadness he felt that she had turned her back to him while she slept (because that's a dumb thing to be upset about it. And didn't he consciously turn away from her earlier? It had been out of respect, but still.).

More awake than he had been earlier, Dipper sits up and looks down at his sister curiously. She's still asleep, a small grin tugging her lips. She had laughed in her sleep?

Doesn't that mean she's dreaming?

For a few seconds he wonders what she's dreaming about, and if it's him that's making her smile and giggle. He yawns. Scratching the hairs on the underside of his chin, he peers over Mabel's sleeping body to glance at his clock.

The glowing red numbers read seven forty-five a.m.
It's early, but close to the time he usually got up on a school day.

Dipper would crawl out of bed, scouring his room for clean clothes and desperately try to remember the last time he crossed the quad with his hamper to the dorm's laundry mat.

He'd check his homework or test his projects. He'd brush his teeth after draining his bladder. He'd tug on either his white university cap or one of they many he's collected over the years (most of which still, strangely, fits his head).

He'd eat whatever was at his disposal that didn't require any cooking and maybe partake in some pleasure reading if there wasn't a test to study for, before heading out for the day.

But it isn't a school day. It's Sunday.

But even so, Dipper would normally get out of bed. He would stroll straight to the bathroom in his boxers.

Afterwards, Dipper would spread some Nutella on a slice of bread, nibbling away at it as he watches television or play video games for a few hours.

By then he usually would've mustered up enough energy to do something more productive, like restock the fridge or go buy supplies so he can get ahead start on his latest class project.

And throughout the day he'll wait for Mabel to call or text him.

But today, Mabel's in bed with him.

He glances back down at her, realizing how close she is to the edge. He grabs hold of her sides, gently pulling her more onto the bed.

Mabel stirs, emitting a soft moan of displeasure. He stills, hands still holding her middle. Her eyes are still closed when she takes hold of his arm, snuggling his forearm to her chest as she forces the arm to drape her frame.