And I Told Them I Invented Times New Roman [billdip]

Party Like A Rock Star

THURSDAY, JUNE 2ND

Hearing a knock on his door, Dipper pushed himself away from his desk and looked through the peephole, finding his sister staring back at him.

"Open up, Dip-Dot!" she called out, knocking again. "Come on, I know you're home!"

"Yes, Mabel?" Dipper asked, moderately irritated, as he swung open the door unenthusiastically. She was wearing a bright, sparkly, red sequins dress, with her hair up in a high ponytail and paired with red converse sneakers. It was unbelievable how Mabel dressed a decade too late, yet still could pull it off without looking odd. Dipper was somewhat jealous that he did not have the same talents.

There were several occasions when Mabel and her friends tried to give Dipper a makeover, but in the end, he'd always return back to the same outfits: a plain hoodie (usually navy or black), a plain t-shirt, grey jeans, and a pair of brown, dinged up hiking boots. Though he didn't wear it as much as he used to, he still occasionally added in a hat that was adorned with a blue pine tree on the front. He'd gotten it when he was twelve, due to losing his previous hat in an encounter with the supernatural: gnomes. His hair was still long enough to cover the birthmark on his forehead, though his curls had loosened and it was left shaggy and like a bedhead. Mabel had scolded him several times to try a new haircut, but this is just the way he wore it, and eventually she realized that it was always going to be a losing battle.

"Come on! We have to go out tonight!" she grinned, pushing past him and entering the apartment. Dipper closed the door behind her, his gaze following her figure as she walked towards the kitchen. She leaned against the breakfast nook's counter, pointing at him. "You can't wear that, though."

"Huh? What— I look fine!" Dipper huffed, glancing down at his outfit, which consisted of a pair of grey jeans and a red, plaid button-up shirt. It was fine. "Where are you planning on dragging me to, anyways?"

"There's this club down the street that I've heard all the rave about—"

"We have lived here for a single day, Mabes, how do you already—"

"Shush!" Mabel shushed, holding her finger out to him and wagging it shamefully. "I have connections. Also the Internet. Anyways! It's great, it's this place called Dance You Dance, and it's where all the cool kids are."

"Right, because we're so cool," he scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest. "You can go without me, you know."

"Come on, Dipstick!" she whined, lightly tapping her foot on the tiled floor. "We just graduated, we have all this new freedom, and we're 22, we're supposed to go clubbing."

"I'm not really supposed to be drinking," Dipper replied. She shot him a quick glare, but her face returned to a knowing look.

"Then don't drink," she said. "Come on. What do I have to do to get you out of the house? Do I have to annoy you? 'Cause I can do that all day."

"Okay, fine!" Dipper groaned, swatting Mabel's fingers away from him so she'd stop jabbing his sides. "Whatever, I'll go. But I'm not changing."

"Okay, well, you're not going to meet anybody cute looking like that," she shrugged. Dipper rolled his eyes once more before he slipped his feet into his hiking boots, grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, and followed Mabel out the door.

-x-

"Isn't this exciting?" Mabel grinned, unable to stay still as they waited in the short line out front.

"If you say so," Dipper replied.

They approached to the front of the line, flashing the bouncer their IDs, and were promptly allowed in. Instantly, the booming pop music increased in volume, and Dipper could feel the bass shaking in his bones. Mabel seemed entirely unfazed by the whole thing, which didn't surprise Dipper. He always suspected she had gone clubbing several times in high school and in college with her friends. He knew she didn't drink, but she loved dancing and any excuse to dress up in shiny, sparkly, glittery things.