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Dipper's ears were pressed down as flat as they could go, his hands pressed a pillow to the sides of his head, and he was sweating from all the blankets on top of him. Actually, he couldn't really tell if he was sweating, considering he and all the blankets on top of him were soaked through. He'd have to lift his head for air in a second, but he really, really didn't want to.
"GUYS, BE QUIET! IT'S KEVIN!"
Dipper cringed at Grenda's shout, and again at the ensuing "HELLO?" as she picked up the phone on their game. It was Mabel's first slumber party since Fluvius flooded the town, and all three girls were ecstatic to find out they were all aquatic creatures. Mabel was sharing her tank with Grenda, whose lower half was that of an octopus, and Candy was a kappa.
Unfortunately, this meant the entire attic bedroom didn't have a dry spot in it. They even had buckets of water up here to refill the tank water they splashed everywhere and Candy's head.
The next time all three of them shrieked - which was even worse than before, Dipper swore their new forms had given Mabel and Candy an even higher range of scream - he'd had enough.
"Mabel, the entire attic is soaked! I'm soaked!" Dipper threw the blankets and pillow off his head and stumbled off the bed, his two back legs getting tangled in all the fabric. "Can't you guys be more-"
His front hooves skid on the wet wood and Dipper crashes to the floor - right into one of their buckets of water.
"Dipper! Are you okay?" Mabel asks, leaning over to him. He smacks her hand away, his hair plastered to his head and dripping now. His antlers, tiny nubs on his head, stuck up noticeably for once.
"Forget it, I'll just spend the night in the living room." The cervitaur tries to stomp out of the room, but stomping doesn't really work with hooves, and doesn't really mix with wet floors. Instead, he skids and slips out the door and closes it behind him, ignoring Mabel's apology.
He looks down at himself at the top of the stairs. His shirt and vest is sticking to him, and he hates how his fur feels wet, like he's heavy all over. Shaking himself off as best he can, he puts his hands on either side of the wall and slowly starts down the stairs. Felt bad enough to fall down them as a human, even if he only felt the after-effects once he got his body back. He didn't want to find out how bad it would hurt with skinny deer legs.
He only had a few steps left when one of his front hooves slid, leaving him faceplanting to the ground level.
"Dipper! Are you alright, my boy?"
"Woah, you okay, kid?"
Dipper groans into the floor. Of course his grunkles were still up.
Hands gently grabbed him by his torso - judging by the talons and rough texture, probably Stan - and lifted him to his hooves. A second later, whoever picked him up laughed - his eyes were still closed, but yeah, that's definitely Stan then - and patted his head.
"The girls got you good, huh?"
Dipper opens his eyes and glares at Stan, still dripping despite shaking himself off earlier. Stan's got a crooked smile on his face, fangs in view, his completely yellow eyes glowing. Ford trods over on all fours from where Dipper guesses he was laying on the floor in front of Grunkle Stan's chair. He's wearing his usual red sweater, claws clicking softly on the floor. The tip of his tail is flicking back and forth, a faint smile on his furry face now that he knows Dipper's okay.
"Aw, come on, you too?" The cervitaur complains at the sphinx, who chuckles.
"The girls do seem to have done a number on you." Grunkle Ford pushes himself to stand on two legs next to Stan, their wings brushing. He considers his great-nephew for a moment. "I suppose Stan could fetch a towel, and you can stay out here tonight."
The gargoyle lumbers up the stairs to get a spare towel, grimacing at the water everywhere. Ford drops back to all fours, padding back over to his spot in front of Stan's chair. Dipper follows him a few steps, noticing a journal and a pen next to his grunkle's paw when he lays down, then glances at the TV. His eyebrows furrow.
"The Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel?" Dipper questions. Ford looks up at him from where he's still getting his wings comfortable, then shifts his eyes to the TV and snorts.
"Apparently, Stanley is very fond of this channel." The sphinx finishes tucking his wings in, picking up the pen a moment later. "I've been paying more attention to my writing than the television, but from what I've seen, it's a lot of drama."
Dipper opens his mouth to respond, but startles when a heavy fabric is thrown over his head, letting out an alarmed bleat. Hands grab his head and start rubbing it vigorously, drying his hair and tugging on his little antlers.
"Grunkle Stan!" Dipper complains, ignoring Grunkle Ford's laughter in the background.
"No more drama than I get from Dipper daily." Stan noogies him before letting him go, Dipper pulling the towel off his head in time to see the gargoyle sink into the chair. Both his grunkles laugh again at his frizzy hair, sticking up in all directions while he tries to pat it down.
The cervitaur half-heartedly dries off his body - he was already air drying a little anyway - before wrapping the towel around himself. Trotting over to the area to the right of the TV by Ford, he looks down and prods the ground in a little circle, then neatly tucks his legs under himself.
Besides occasional comments from Dipper or Stan about the movie they're watching (The Duckess Approves: DuckTeckive and The Duchess Approves Crossover!), they fall into easy silence, all ignoring the shrieks and shouts from upstairs.
Over time, however, Dipper finds himself shivering. Now that he's drying off, he's really cold, and the damp towel isn't doing much to help. He takes off his vest and wraps his arms around himself, but that doesn't help his lower half at all.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Grunkle Ford turn to look at Stan, then at him. Dipper winces, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He was just cold, he was fine.
"Dipper."
Dipper looks at Ford, the sphinx eyeing him.
"Are you alright, boy?" Grunkle Ford takes in his trembling shoulders, and Dipper does his best to stop shivering.
"F-fine. Just cold. I'm okay." He holds the towel a little tighter around himself.
A small huff. "Dipper." Ford calls again. When Dipper looks over this time, the sphinx has one yellow-red-blue wing outstretched over the little space in front of him. "Come here, my boy."
Slowly, Dipper drops the blanket and stands, taking a few careful steps toward his grunkle. When the wing remains up, Dipper takes the invitation. He folds his legs underneath him right beside Ford and snuggles up to his side, tucking his top half under one of Ford's arms. The wing settles gently on top of him, and it's so warm. He's safe and warm and curled up next to his grunkle, snuffling contentedly.
He feels more than hears the rumbling purr behind him, receiving an affectionate nudge with his grunkle's nose.
From this angle, he can see what Grunkle Ford is writing and idly reads along for a while. His eyelids are really heavy. He resolves to stay awake until the end of the movie, and then he can curl up in Stan's chair when he leaves. He just needs to... stay...
Dipper's ears twitch at a strange shuttering sound, but it doesn't really alarm him. Something heavy is wrapped around him, and he's never been more comfortable in his life.
"Get one from this angle, pumpkin." A gravelly voice half-whispers. His blanket shifts and stretches, disturbing his comfortable little bubble.
When Dipper lifts his head and blinks awake, it's to Mabel in Stan's arms, both of them grinning full-fang at him. At him, tucked under Grunkle Ford's wing snuggled up against him. With a camera in his sister's hands.
"Mabel!"