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The door to the Mystery Shack slammed open and Dipper and Mabel practically fell inside the kitchen, where Stan was just finishing up dinner.
“Yeesh, what happened?” he asked, frowning at them. “You two off fightin’ bears or somethin’?”
Dipper panted heavily. “Something like that,” he muttered, sitting down on the floor, rubbing the top of his head, wincing.
Mabel didn’t say anything–she just ran over to Stan and threw her arms around his middle.
Stan was so surprised that he froze for a second before bending down to pick her up in his arms, tucking her securely against him where she could curl up and feel safe. He walked over to Dipper, who was still groaning in pain and rubbing the top of his head.
“Kid, there’s blood on your hat,” Stan said softly, bending down to Dipper’s level. Mabel had already fallen asleep in his arms.
Stan sighed, putting Mabel in one arm and reaching under Dipper and picking him up with the now-free one.
“Come on, kid,” he said softly. “Let’s clean you up.”
He set Mabel on the couch and put a blanket over her, leaving her to happily snuggle with a few pillows. Then he returned to the kitchen with a forlorn Dipper.
“Alright, don’t rub your head. I’m gonna take your hat off and find the wound okay?” Stan asked, reaching for the pine tree hat.
Dipper froze for just a second and then batted Stan’s hand away with his own. “N-No, thanks, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper stammered, looking downright terrified.
Stan frowned. “Kid, it’s just your hat. Besides, I gotta see what’s hurt on ya. Do you wanna take it off on your own?”
Dipper shook his head. “I don’t wanna take it off,” he mumbled.
Stan frowned slightly, confused.
Then again, he thought, Dipper’s always wearing a hat.
“Kid, I get you wanna seem cool and all, but keeping your hat on while you’re currently bleeding from your noggin ain’t gonna help you or anybody. So off it comes,” Stan said, crossing his arms challengingly.
“G-Grunkle Stan, don’t take it off,” Dipper whispered, clearly attempting to seem brave, but there was a flash of fear behind his eyes.
A flash of fear that Stan didn’t miss.
“What’s with the hat, kid?” Stan asked, frowning slightly. Dipper looked more than scared–he looked ashamed.
“Y-You’ll just–make fun of me for it,” he mumbled, flushing pink. Stan felt a surge of panic.
“Kid–you haven’t been taking my teasing seriously, right? I mean–I was just trying to get you to feel like a kid–take yourself less seriously–” Stan struggled to say, feeling suddenly concerned that Dipper had been getting inadvertently bullied all summer.
Dipper looked up at him, a frown creasing his brows. “B-But you m-make fun of my h-height and–and my voice–a-and–”
“Oh, kid,” Stan said quickly, feeling more and more panicked. “I…you gotta know I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I…” Stan swallowed, sacrificing his stone heart for some vulnerable emotions. “I really care about you kid. And that’s why I want you to be a kid. I don’t want you caught up in…” he drew a shuddering breath. “In…things that only adults should have to deal with and see. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Stan told him gently.
Dipper’s eyes widened. He sniffled, looking smaller than he actually was. He also looked like he was holding back tears.
“Hey, Dipper, kiddo,” Stan said quickly, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder very gently. “D-Do ya need to cry, buddy?”
Dipper shook his head, looking embarrassed.
Stan closed his eyes.
I am not Pa.
“Kid, it’s okay.”
Dipper looked up at him. Stan was surprised at the words himself.
“Huh?” Dipper whispered, voice shaking.
“It’s okay if you need to cry, kiddo. You’re only twelve, and you’ve just been through somethin’ real cruddy. You’re allowed to be scared, and you’re allowed to cry.”
“M not scared,” Dipper muttered. “Wasn’t scared at all.” He tried to straighten his back. But then Stan softened.
“Kid…” he said quietly, gently taking Dipper’s other shoulder, and then moving his hand to cup Dipper’s cheek, a gesture that startled the boy, who now stared up at him. “Dipper,” Stan whispered, his voice breaking. “You won’t mind if I cry, will ya? Cuz I’m pretty relieved that you’re okay,” Stan said carefully.
Dipper’s eyes widened and he sniffled.
“I…I wanna cry,” he said quietly, his voice breaking slightly as he closed his eyes.
“Attaboy,” Stan murmured, drawing Dipper close to him.
The boy shook and sobbed in his arms silently, and Stan felt a wet spot on the front of his shirt where Dipper’s face was pressed against him.
“Attaboy,” Stan whispered again. “It’s okay, Dipper. You’re doin’ good, buddy. Let it out.” Stan rubbed Dipper’s back and sighed a little, feeling grateful that the kid was alright. His eyes burned with tears too, but he didn’t fully cry, keeping himself together. Fix the head wound now, cry later.
After a bit of crying, Dipper seemed to calm down a bit.
“Alright, kiddo, I’m gonna take your hat off and check your head, okay?” Stan said, his voice gruff but gentle.
Dipper sniffled. “W-Wait,” he whispered, gripping Stan’s hand. “Please–Please don’t tease me about it?” he asked, looking up at Stan with his wide, tearful eyes.
Stan smiled. “I won’t kid. I promise,” he whispered softly, gently removing his hand from Dipper’s and slowly, carefully, lifting the now-blood-soaked hat from his head.
Stan immediately began searching through Dipper’s hair, quickly finding the gash. Luckily it wasn’t deep–more of a scrape than a cut–and though it had bled an alarming amount, it looked better now.
Dipper didn’t complain as Stan washed the blood out of his hair, staring down at the table tiredly, his face still pink. Stan first thought it was from crying, but then he realized Dipper was embarrassed.
“What’s up, buddy? I ain’t gonna tease ya,” Stan assured him softly.
Dipper sniffled loudly. “I-I’m so sorry, I–”
“Don’t apologize, kid. Just tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Dipper grimaced and then pushed his bangs out of his face, glancing up at Stan as he did so. The big dipper birthmark on his forehead was still there, it seemed.
Stan smiled. “What’s up with your birthmark, kid?”
Dipper’s face turned into a confused frown. “You…know…I have a birthmark?” he asked. Stan sighed and shook his head with a smile. Yeah, kid, you just showed me.
“Yeah. I was there when you were born, Mason Pines,” Stan said, using Dipper’s real name instead of his nickname to show that he knew it. Dipper gasped in surprise.
“I didn’t know you saw my birthmark when I was a baby, ” Dipper said, looking very startled. Stan smiled, reaching over and gently running his thumb over Dipper’s birthmark just before cupping the boy’s cheek affectionately.
“You and your sister were so small, ” Stan said softly, “you could fit in my hand.”
Dipper glanced at Stan’s free hand and then back up at Stan’s face.
Stan frowned.
“Why were you so nervous to show me your forehead, kid?” he asked softly.
Dipper ducked his head, turning red and mumbling something incoherent.
“Ah, ah, ah. None of that. Keep your chin up, you,” Stan told him, tilting Dipper’s face back up. “Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Dipper sniffled again, wiping his nose. “People just…make fun of it all the time. It’s pretty stupid–” Dipper’s breath hitched and his eyes welled up with tears.
“No, it’s not stupid,” Stan corrected him. “You’re hurting because the only thing they see on you is something to criticize.”
Dipper nodded. “I just wish they’d act like I were normal.”
Stan felt a huge pang in his heart and drew Dipper close to him, hugging the boy gently. He couldn’t do much else. But he would offer comfort to his nephew as much as Dipper needed. Being bullied for something you couldn’t control was horrible. Stan recalled the days of Crampelter and his gang, throwing Ford to the ground…calling him a six-fingered freak…
Stan kissed Dipper’s head, vowing that he would never let Dipper think of himself as anything other than a human being, and a good kid.
“I love you, okay?” Stan whispered, more to himself than Dipper. “I love you. Birthmark, real name, and all.”
Dipper clung to him tightly, his small body relaxing in Stan’s arms.
The two of them stayed like that for a long time, Stan gently running his hand through Dipper’s hair, and murmuring soft comforts to the boy as he slowly relaxed and realized that no matter how much teasing Stan did, he loved Dipper just as he was.