#and then I had this image in my head of Hob standing in the shadows smoking with Jessamy on his shoulder and Alex seeing them

[souslejaune]

GeeMaa took the onions I chopped... (Folio 1: Part 5)

GeeMaa took the onions I chopped and put them in a pan of warm palm oil. She turned the heat up on the hob and turned to look at me. Most people have eyes the colour of their skin or slightly darker; GeeMaa’s were a light shade of brown. Lighter than her skin. They had a hypnotic quality about them. 

“When was the first dream?” She didn’t seem as surprised as my father was to hear about the dreams. In her right hand she held a wooden spoon steady over the pan of whispering onions, but her attention was rooted on me. 

“After Auntie Dee Dee died. I saw her cooking on a kind of stage.” 

“Hmm.” She turned to stir the onions. She was making kontomire stew with agushi. “Sit down,” she said. 

I pulled a kitchen stool and sat down. She took an earthenware grinding bowl full of melon seeds, placed it on the floor, pulled another stool and sat facing me. She sprinkled some water on the seeds and began to crush them with a wooden pestle. She exuded the silent calm of Jaggers’ Molly – Estella’s mother. “My child, a crab does not give birth to a bird.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Do you know who an okomfo is?” 

“Like Okomfo Anokye?” I knew the name from my history lessons. He was the sorcerer who helped build the Ashanti Kingdom. Like Merlin of Camelot he had rooted a sword that could only be removed by a chosen person. 

“Yes. Like Okomfo Anokye.” She paused. “The dreams are signs.” 

I shook my head. “Daddy said it was shock.” 

“Hmm. What about the dream with the empty plates?” She continued to crush the melon seeds into a fine paste. I scratched my head and looked at the pan on the stove.

“I didn’t tell him about that.” 

“And after that the drought came.” She smiled, catching my eyes. 

It was like a secret code. It unlocked me. Scattered points of confusion began to stand in line. All I had to do was join the dots. Straighten the question marks. Make them point somewhere. Like Pip finally making the connection between Jaggers, Molly, Magwitch, Miss Havisham and Estella over dinner. I considered myself smart for a ten-year-old but it had never occurred to me. Foresight. I felt GeeMaa stand up and tip the crushed seeds into the muttering oil. Heard the hiss of the union of oil and water. Saw her reach for the chopped kontomire and tuna. Smelled the fusion of sweet aromas as she stirred the stew and lowered the heat on the gas cooker. New questions simmered in my mind. 

“It’s from my mother’s side of the family. The mountain dwellers.” GeeMaa spoke as though she could hear me. “The gift is stronger in some than others.” 

She looked at me as though she was telling me something with her eyes. All I saw was the pale brown ring around her pupil changing colours with the intensity of her thoughts. Her pupils widened as she broke a smile. 

“We all have it… but to get the best fruit from a tree you must shake it.” 

I nodded. Speechless. Still puzzled. Stumped by the way answers to old questions brought new uncertainties with them. Like a price to pay for answers; was it worth knowing the truth? 

GeeMaa continued. “It’s up to you how much it will affect your life. There are those who make a living from it.” 

“I want to be a journalist, not a fortune teller.” Petulance crept into my voice. 

She laughed. Loud. Bubbling like stew as she reached out to hug me. Her white hair was tied back in a bun; her skin yielding beneath the faded orange and green tie and dye cloth wrapped around her waist. 

“Mi bi. The gift is strong in you. You may not pursue it but you will always have premonitions about the people you love.” 

My grandmother was a big woman and I was a small ten-year-old; I heard her through the vibrations of her rib cage. She held me close to her chest. The dark brown skin of her arms had begun to sag. 

“So I will always have these dreams?” 

“People may think you're odd, but remember that everyone is odd – otherwise we would all be the same. You're not odd, you're sensitive.” 

I sighed. “Will I always have the dreams?” 

“Oh no! Not always dreams; anything that happens in your life could be a sign. Anything.” She hugged me tighter, then held me away, her upper arms rippling with the sudden motion. “Go and play with your friends. I have worried you enough.” 

I walked towards our burnt orange metal gate to look for Tom Brown and Table. Kofi Fagan, the last of our four-corner fraternity, was a year older than us and was away at boarding school in Cape Coast. We had begun to splinter. Partly because of the drought, which had rationed our energy for boyish exploits and made us still. Partly because Tom Brown’s father didn’t like him to play with us because we spoke a mixture of Ga and Twi with Pidgin English. His father only wanted him to speak English. 

He had come to drag Tom Brown home on several occasions. He always stopped to serve me a special reprimand. “And I don’t understand how you, a son of such educated people, can be allowed to speak as you wish!” 

 My father laughed when I told him about it. He said it was sad that some people thought that education meant renouncing your own culture. You couldn’t build real knowledge if you destroyed your foundation.

When I reached the gate I looked back towards the kitchen. GeeMaa was silhouetted in the window. Stirring food and humming away. The image reminded me of Auntie Dee Dee. Our street was deserted. No children running about. No boys beside our wall eyeing the stunted oranges on our tree. No shoemaker. No Yaw Table. No Ato Tom Brown. Only Auntie Aba sat in her usual spot; presiding over her large basin of waache with faraway eyes. It was a strange moment in a normal day. I decided not to go looking for Tom Brown or Table. I wasn’t in the mood for play. I yelled ayekoo to Auntie Aba and sat on the edge of the gutter in front of our house. The sun was still high in the sky, accentuating the deep greens and rooted browns of the trees. Bearing down on homes. Slanting off aluminium roofing sheets in random shafts. Blinding all who dared to stare. Shadows played a game of catch with the objects that cast them. It was hard to believe that it would be dark in two hours. Four o’clock flowers had begun to withdraw their red petals for the night. There was an uncommon precision to our sunsets; the equator kept a mathematical balance. It was impossible to grow up with sunsets like ours and know nothing of change. Before your eyes, what was green turns black, invisible light become miniature beacons, what was shadow is swallowed into the whole. I swung my growing legs inside the gutter and considered my life. I was conscientious about the thinking process. I didn’t want to be light-hearted. I wanted to write down everything, explore myself. Like James Baldwin in Nobody Knows My Name. I had read the book two months earlier. I didn’t understand all that he wrote but I liked the serious passion of his writing. The desire to delve deeper than ever before. I pasted an intense look on my face and tried to become like him. With each new thought I inclined my head at a different angle. I thought about MotherGrandpa – Grandpa – who like my mother was an accountant – very shrewd, very observant. Could he tell there was something different about me? Would he treat me with the same indulgence if I were an okomfo? Would he encourage me to develop the gift? Had he already noticed something different about me? Did he already treat me accordingly? What about Grandma? Or FatherGrandpa? Maybe FatherGrandpa wouldn’t care; I had only met him twice. My legs oscillated with increased ferocity; the questions multiplying as the sun set. But what about my father? And my mother? And Naana? Naana who had no time for anything that did not have a life in books. She would probably laugh and make a joke out of the idea of my having premonitions; ask me the name of her husband or first child. The moon shifted into view, pale yellow in the wake of the retreating sun. I wondered if I could talk to the dead. If I could ask what the inside of a coffin looked like when it was covered with at least ninety-six cubic feet of soil. I delved until I could delve no longer, stood up with a handful of loose stones and threw them across the undulating brown expanse that was our street. Then I asked myself the obvious question. Did I want to be able to tell the future? Did I want to be an okomfo? If I knew the future whom should I tell? What could I change? What would happen if I told someone? Changed something? It was all too much. I didn’t want to know. I looked up to a horizon with pale saffron eyes – one moon, one sun – and remembered GeeMaa saying, you will always have premonitions about the people you love. My interpretation of GeeMaa’s message was to be my burden for many years. Like the signature in my passport, it would define the tone of my adult life. Maybe it is our nature to interpret what we hear in a way that appears to give us some control. Nobody likes feeling helpless. Pip assumed Miss Havisham was his benefactor because it made it easier for him to accept his fortune. It reinforced his belief that he would end up with Estella, and influenced his decisions until he knew the truth. To free myself from my gift, I resolved not to love anymore. Be immune. Be free from premonitions. Night embraced the sun like a fat relation; the moon hung alone.

—–

continued >> here << | start from beginning? | current projects: The City Will Love You and a collection of poems, The Geez

[pinebypine]

Court Date

Triplet AU Fic. The trips are invited to a party in the Court of Summer.

They were in private room, in a palace, in freaking fairy land. How awesome was that? Mabel pulled off her heels and dropped bodily on the bed, head spinning. That had been a night. She wasn’t even sure she’d processed it enough to describe it; she couldn’t remember half what happend properly. Had she really danced with that ogre? Had she, Dipper, and Ty really forced their way on stage and played a set in front of the entire Summer Court? It seemed unbelievable.

She turned her head and saw Dipper sitting ramrod straight in a finely carved chair. How had they convinced him into that getup? He looked fantastic, of course, but whenever she and Ty had tried to get him into something even slightly girly he’d shut them down with a vengeance. Then she cursed herself a little as recollection hit her; they’d bargained away the Summerween costumes she’d been planning. Mabel sighed, she already had all the fabric for those Powerpuff dresses and now it would all go to waste.

Ty glided into the room and over to her brother. Mabel smiled as she watched her sister put a couple of fingertips under her brothers chin and lift until his face was upturned toward her. She leaned down and took a long look into his eyes. “Thanks, Dip, for putting up with all this tonight. You were fantastic.”

Pink glossed lips pressed delicately against pink glossed lips but held there for a long time.  Even from across the room, Mabel could see her brother’s ears starting to turn red. As they parted, Mabel stuck both thumbs up as high as she could without rising from the bed.

“Yeah, you go, Dipstick. It takes a real man to look so good in a dress.”

Ty smiled at her and gracefully slipped onto Dipper’s lap. “People seemed to like the triplet thing. I kept getting compliments all night.”

“And they keep sending over drinks!” Mabel let her arms fall heavily out beside her. “What was that ones with the marshmallows floating in it called again? I need to learn how to make that.”

Dipper pulled a face. “Ugh, you liked that one? It tasted like a unicorn’s asshole.”

“You, sir Dippinsauce, have the worst palette of anybody I know.” Mabel hauled herself upright and stuck her tongue out at him. She then noticed how Ty’s fingers were running idly along the hairline of her brother’s neck and readjusted her expectations for the evening. She’d figured they would all to be too pooped, but she could read her sister enough to know when she was in the mood. Her heart pumped a little faster; this was a pleasant surprise.

Ty caught her eye and one thin eyebrow arched back at her. They’d always been good at the whole silent communication thing, better than either of them were with Dipper, and it wasn’t hard for Mabel to get across that if Ty was looking for some sexy times, Mabel was happy to oblige.

“Well, I suppose you’ve been paraded around enough for one night, Dipper.” Ty planted a quick kiss on his namesake birthmark before rising from his lap. “We won’t blame you if you want to get changed.”

A hand caught her wrist as she started toward the bed. She turned back toward him. Dipper was only a bit taller than his sisters at the best of times and in his bare feet, with Ty still in her partying heels, he had to go on tip-toe to kiss her. Mabel pushed herself up from the pillowy mattress and made her slightly tottering way over to them. She slipped under an arm and put her own around their waists, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. After a moment she felt lips pressed against her cheek and she turned her head, her mouth suddenly caught up up in a full passion Dipper kiss. She smiled into it; they were wearing the same shade of lip gloss but she hadn’t known his was vanilla flavored.

“Not that I want to ruin the mood or anything.” Ty said shyly as her siblings’ lips parted. “But I wasn’t expecting you to be so excited, bro.”

Mabel’s head still swam; she shook it sharply to try and clear it a little. “Yeah, what’s the deal, Dipstuff? I’d have thought you’d be fuming after a night all dolled up.”

He stepped back from them, fingers twiddling before him. He chewed a lip.

Mabel looked up at Ty and exchanged a concerned expression. Ty took a breath and then her brother’s hand in hers. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it, Dipper. You know we’ll love you no matter what.”

Mabel sidled over to him and slipped her arm around his waist again, giving him a squeeze.

Dipper glanced from one sister to the other and told them.

*****

Hob had kept an imperious eye on Dipper through the whole process of making him over. The tall slender elf had introduced himself under the pretense that he’d been ordered by the queen to assist them through the social mores of the Summer Court. Dipper had distrusted him from the moment he laid eyes on him. There was something in his haughty, effete air that irked Dipper. That long perfect hair and self-assured, overtly sexual manner, seemed designed to push the young man’s buttons.

He’d almost immediately regretted allowing himself to be cajoled and bargained into accepting the elf’s guidance in preparing for their time among the fae. Their attendants hadn’t let him keep a scrap of clothing. Finding himself bereft of covering and surrounded by strangers was uncomfortable enough but none of them seemed the least bit polite enough to even pretend they weren’t looking him over thoroughly.

Dipper knew he wasn’t a big guy; the image in the mirror was as plain to see for him as anybody else. Despite watching all of his friends sprout up like weeds and get broad shoulders and five o’clock shadows, he’d never seemed to get past his awkward small frame and noodly arm phase. Normally he felt comfortable enough in baggy pants and hoodies, but standing bare assed in a cold room full of strange people with very judgemental expressions was sending his self esteem to the pits.

The whole pre-dressing process had been physically uncomfortable, as if the psychological torture wasn’t enough. By the end of it he’d been left feeling that every inch of him had been poked and prodded as well as vaguely worried about exactly how badly regrowing all that body hair was going to itch. He felt pink and raw and about as insecure as he ever had.

Then, in the reflection of the the full length mirror, he’d caught Hob looking at him. It had been a momentary lapse in the man’s haughty air, but Dipper had seen actual appreciation on the elf’s face as he tucked a platinum blonde strand of hair behind one ear. Dipper had found his insides knotted up into a twisting mass instantly at that; blood pounded in his ears. He felt himself instinctively move to cover the more sensitive bits of his body but before he’d even twitched in that direction, he was being whisked into another room to be dressed.

The rest of the process had at least been in the comforting presence of his sisters. He could keep his attention off the glances and stares of those around him and keep his mind on Ty and Mabel, who even half done up looked stunning. Thus distracted, he had allowed himself to be primped, painted, and stuffed into a dress. When presented at the finish before a mirror, he’d been stunned at the result.

It was easy to imagine the figure before him was Ty or Mabel, or some fictional Pines quadruplet, and when he did it was impossible not to admit that that person was really pretty, sexy even. Goddamnit, why’d he have to have such shitty luck? He felt like he’d been given a fortune in Deutsche Marks, Albanian Leks, or prize tickets for a carnival that had burned down. He had sighed and tried to regain his composure; it wasn’t like this had to mean anything and at least now he’d gotten out of being paraded around like this in front of people he actually knew.

*****

“Aw Dip,” Mabel squeezed her brother’s bare shoulders and gently rested her head against his, “if you were so uncomfortable you should’ve said something. We could have backed of trying to convince you.”

Ty handed him a mug of coffee and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Dipper took a deep breath and felt the heat from it soaking into his hands. “I don’t know. This isn’t something I think I’d do normally, but I don’t think it should bother me so much. I’ve just got this voice in my head all the time telling me just how much I don’t measure up as a man.

“There’s this idea I thought I’d grow up into some day, tall dude, strong, maybe a beard. It was easy when we were younger to think it’d still happen but we’re nearly eighteen now and I’m still just this scrawny kid. I see the way girls look at other guys or the way guys look at hot girls; heck I know I’m probably the worst about that. Nobody looks at me like that, like they like what they see.” He stared into the murky darkness of his coffee cup. “Well, except you two and then everybody tonight.”

Ty’s lips tightened a little and she put a hand on Dipper’s knee. “So let me guess: all the attention you were getting felt good? Made you feel sexy?”

Dipper nodded. “It just sucks to find out I gotta do something so weird to be attractive.”

She took a deep breath.“Wow, bro. Do you ever have a big ass bind spot.”

Dipper’s head snapped up and he shot her a glare. “What?”

Ty turned to her other sibling. “Mabes, you’re the gossipy trip; how many girls back at school have confessed they have crushes on our sweet little brother here?”

Mabel stared at a point on the ceiling at she totalled the number in her head. “Last I heard, like twenty-five or thirty.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped. “Since when?”

“Since you became a total cutie.” Ty bumped him lightly with her shoulder. “Not everybody is looking for a meathead with hairy shoulders. Face it, bro; you’re sexy in street clothes too.”

“But nobody ever...” He stammered. “Nobody has ever said anything to me?”

Ty and Mabel avoided his gaze for a moment. Mabel broke first. “We may have been doing our best to beat the competition off with a stick.” She saw the look of shock on Dipper’s face and winced a little. “Well, rumors more than actual sticks.”

“Rumors.” He said flatly.

Ty looked sheepish and began to count off on her fingers. “Canadian girlfriend, has an STD, bedroom full of statues of anime girls, secretly racist. We even tried saying we thought you were gay but that one backfired.”

Mabel buried her face in her hands. “Turns out so is like half the school swim team. There was apparently a big fight in the locker room over who had dibs.”

Dipper took a swig of coffee and furrowed his brow. “That does explain why Brian and Dave spent about two weeks last semester trying to get me to join.” He straightened and glanced reproachfully looked from sister to sister. “And you two have been telling everyone I have an STD?”

Ty held a level gaze at him. “And what did you tell Trung Nguyen after he offhandedly told you he was going to invite Mabel to junior prom?”

Dipper deflated and fell silent.

Mabel gasped. “Wait, Trung was going to ask me to…” She turned to Ty. “What did he tell him?”

Dipper screwed up his face in shame. “That you stuck a finger up a guys ass without warning while you were going down on him.”

Mabel leapt to her feet, nearly vibrating with fury. “We’ll see if I do that for you anytime soon!”

“Mabel,” Ty grasped her hand, “we told half the school we caught him trying orally pleasure himself. I think we’re all the bad guys here.”

Dipper flopped back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. “What a mess. I thought we all agreed not to get jealous of each other.”

‘Easier said than done.” Mabel sat back down.

“As if this night wasn’t confusing enough; I have to rethink every interaction I’ve had with a girl since like ever.”

“Some of the guys, too.” Ty reminded him and Dipper winced.

*****

Dipper screwed up his nose in disgust. “This tastes like a unicorn’s asshole.”

The server who’d handed Dipper the drink made a small huffing noise and turned his nose up. A few feet away, Hob swiveled away from his conversation with Ty and the Queen and gave Dipper a look the younger one couldn’t discern.

“Can’t find something you like?”

Dipper handed the conical glass to Mabel and suddenly felt an urge to straighten his skirts. “I just haven’t figured it out yet.”

Hob smiled a rakish smile. “If you’re just going to try things at random off the menu, the night will be over before you find your drink of choice.” He pushed himself off the cushion and covered the distance between them in a couple of long strides. “But lucky for you an expert just happens to be right here.” He settled on the couch near Dipper, giving Mabel a soft nod of acknowledgement as he did before turning back to the boy.

Dipper didn’t like the look Hob was giving him, or didn’t want to like the look; it was infuriatingly hard to tell. “Thanks, but I’ll keep to my method.”

“While it might be a certain type of fun for someone to watch you make faces all night, I’d really prefer to avoid that particular show. Tell you what, I’ll make you a wager. I’m quite certain that if you just answer fives questions I ask truthfully, I can find a beverage you’ll adore. You answer, I order, and if you don’t like what I pick, you win.”

“Win what?”

“I’m not a genie but I’m not without gifts. Make an request.”

Dipper learned forward and narrowed his eyes at the elf. “I want the answer to a mystery.”

Hob’s light eyes brightened and his face flashed with delight. “Oh secrets, one of the best prizes. For mine, I want one favor.”

“Do I get to know this favor ahead of time?”

“Do I get to know what your mystery is ahead of time?”

Dipper chewed a lip for a moment, then offered his hand. Hob took hold and bowed over it. For a terrifying moment, Dipper thought the elf was going to kiss his hand, but instead he cast his blonde head back in a raucous laugh.

“The challenge is afoot!” He release Dipper’s hand and clapped his own together, rubbing them in a preparatory gesture, and licking his lips. “Now then, for my questions.  I will remind you that you must answer truthfully. There’s magic enough in this place to know when someone tries to cheat a wager and I would not recommend trying.”

Dipper caught Mabel’s eye. She been watching this exchange silently, plucking marshmallow garnishes from her glass and popping them into her mouth. He turned back to Hob. “Fire away.”

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Black. Fresh ground. Light roast.”

“Favorite meal?”

“Chinese barbequed pork.”

“How many glasses of water do you drink a day?”

“Uh, not enough, probably.” He shrugged.

“Spring or autumn?

“Autumn.”

“Preferred activity for a rainy afternoon?”

Dipper opened his mouth and froze, remembering Hob’s warning. He could a blush forming at his cheeks. He looked to Mabel, who was trying to hide a case of the giggles behind a hand. He felt panic stir a little in his chest and fixed his gaze back on Hob. The tall man glanced laconically at Dipper’s sister and then back to Dipper. “If you would prefer to answer any of my questions privately, I would be happy to let you whisper them in my ear.”

The youngest Pines triplet leaned over cautiously. Hob’s smile smoldered and he shot a wink at Mabel as her brother whispered to him. When the boy pulled away, he fixed him with a steady gaze. “I must admit, Master Pines, that does sound like a lovely way to spend an afternoon.”

“How on earth does that tell you what I’d like to drink?”

“Strictly speaking, it doesn’t. I only really needed a couple of those and a rest were just me being curious. Server!” He signalled one of the spritely attendants who swam through the party like salmon carrying trays.

“Yes, Sir Hob.”

Hob pointed at Dipper. “Bring this young man a pint of The Queen’s Oak Aged Reserve.”

The server hesitated. “Sir, that is the reserve. I don’t believe we are…”

A regal hand shot up to cut him off and the queen made a reproachfully little waggle of her finger. The stricken server fled so quickly that Dipper had half expected him to leave a cloud of dust in his place. Mere moments later, a glass of beer the color of the sky that trailed a sunset was placed before Dipper. He considered it for a moment, it didn’t look much like any of the beer drunk at the parties he’d been to.

He tasted it.

It was ambrosia. It was perfect. It was the best thing Dipper had ever had in his mouth. He immediately began to wonder where it had been all his life and how he could secure a supply. Queen’s Reserve? That probably wasn’t something you could buy locally. Shit.

He frowned. “OK, that’s really good.”

Hob’s cool exterior shattered for a moment and he was on his feet, fist triumphantly thrust at the ceiling above them.

“I’ve still got it!”

Dipper took a long loving draught of his beer, set it down, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “What’s your favor?”

Hob recomposed himself and looked down at Dipper, his face pleased. “Come along and I’ll show you. I’d rather this was kept private.”

*****

The gardens of the palace had been lit for the party, although very few of the guests were out to enjoy them. Dipper had shunned the arm Hob had offered him and walked a few paces to one side of the tall elf.  They passed under the candles that hung from the boughs of trees in silence, save for the clacking of Dipper’s heels on the flagstones. It was a pleasant night for a stroll, at least; one benefit of being in the Summer Queen’s domain meant that the air was agreeably warm.

They passed over a small footbridge still without a word between them. Dipper couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, we’re in private; are you going to tell me what I’ve got do or what?”

Hob looked at him out of the corner of an eye and arched one silvery brow at him. “If you’d asked five minutes ago, I’d have probably told you, but now we’re so close that I might as well just wait until we’re at our destination.”

“Does keeping me in the dark just amuse you?”

Hob smiled. “It does, as a matter of fact. I love to see surprise on a pretty face.”

Dipper felt his breath catch a little, then forced himself to ignore it. “You can be a real ass, Hob.”

“Sir Hob.” The elf corrected him, seemingly without malice. “I may not have sought my peerage in her majesty’s court and all its dreadful responsibilities but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to enjoy the perks.”

“Peerage?”

“Her majesty managed to rope me into a baronetcy some time ago, which made me a vassal of her court and ended my time as a free agent. Dreadfully boring. This place has its virtues and, far more appealing, its vices, but having to spend half the year embroiled in its affairs tires me so.”

“And you’re free for the rest of your time?” Dipper couldn’t stop himself from asking. Stupid instinct to dig deeper.

“I have other obligations then, but they are more pleasant. Speaking of more pleasant, here we are.” They came upon a pergola, hung with yellow lanterns. A small figure rose from a bench as they approached, hands clasped demurely in before them, wearing a long dress and a ruddy maroon scarf over cascades of black hair.

Hob’s stride quickened and in a moment he was upon the smaller fae. He grasped the other’s hands, leaned down, and planted a kiss on crimson upturned lips. When he was finished, he smiled in a way Dipper had not yet seen. He whispered. “Hey there, Red.”

“Hob,” the words came breathlessly, “didn’t take you long to get handsy.”

Dipper glanced down and realized that one of the elf’s slender hands had slid to the front of the dress and wrapped gently something that bulged under the fabric. “Just checking that you’re happy to see me, babe.”

“That’s always your excuse.” Red’s eyes turned from Hob to Dipper; he startled and put a hand to his mouth. “Sparks and splinters! You brought a mortal!”

“It’s near enough time and the opportunity presented itself.”

“Very noble of you.” Red smiled.

“OK,” Dipper clenched his jaw to keep the nerves out of his voice, “what the hell am I here for?”

Hob flashed with cool self-assurance. “My friend here needs some of your blood. Not too much, less than a pint. Shant take but a minute. Won’t hurt a bit.”

Dipper stepped back. “What?”

“That is the favor I won from you, Dipper Pines.”

Dipper’s mind raced to the research he’d done before he’d agreed to come here. “I’m a guest of the queen; you’re not allowed to harm me.”

“Indeed, I cannot take anything from you by force, but you entered into wager that I fairly won. I am allowed to extract my prize.”

Dipper forced himself to breathe. “Less than a pint? What are you going to do with it?”

“Red is going to soak his scarf in it.” Hob sighed. “Which needs to happen one way or another and this way is the best option. It’s not-” his mouth tightened into a line, “-messy.”

Dipper squared his jaw and forced himself to stand his ground. He took a deep breath. “A deal’s a deal, I guess.” He held out an arm. “Take it.”

Hob took Dipper’s hand in his. “Come over here and sit down.”

He led the young man over to the bench under the pergola and guided him to sit. The whole process took surprisingly little time. Dipper held his arm over the scarf, stretched tightly between Red’s hands, and Hob opened a superficial vein with a small knife. As the blood splashed on the cloth, it disappeared into it. With each drop the dark red, almost brown, color of the scarf deepened and brightened until, after some time, it was a brilliant scarlet. A bandage was pressed to the wound on Dipper’s wrist.

He felt a bit lightheaded and noted not to mix booze and bloodletting in the future. He leaned against the post that supported the pergola and watched as Red tied the vibrant cloth back into place, grinning widely.

Dipper hadn’t meant to close his eyes. He startled back to attention when his head rolled to one side and he began to lose his balance. He goggled at the sight before him. Hob had Red pressed up against another post, kissing him deeply. One slender hand tangled in raven curls and the other was at work down beneath the hiked hem of the dress. Dipper swallowed dryly; he might have been out a quite a while if the white mess across the smaller fae’s nose and cheek indicated what Dipper could only assume it did.

He fled the scene.

He stopped at the footbridge to pull of his shoes and catch his breath, to calm down, before rejoining the party.

*****

Ty considered the dilemma before her. On one hand, they were only a few minutes from having the air in their room heat with angry voices ;so it probably was a good idea to let everyone cool off a bit. On the other hand, Ty’s siblings were still looking so good and the itch that had been building all night still hadn’t been scratched. In the end, she elected that ‘no secrets’ won over everything else.

“Dipper, I think I would be remiss if I failed to tell you that you’re tenting your dress.”

Her brother shot upright on the bed and she saw his hands jerk to cover himself, then they stopped midway and he more carefully placed them on his knees. He chuckled nervously. “Sorry, is that inappropriate?”

Ty and Mabel locked eyes for the briefest moment.

“Only if you’re just showing off and aren’t gonna share.” Mabel chided.

He looked off to one side, feigning reluctance. “Well, maybe I can be convinced. It has been a while since anybody around here got a Triple-Double-Trouble.”

Ty rolled her eyes. She liked the TDT but it was a two on one sort of thing; to make matters worse, only one of the triplets had the right equipment to receive it. She let out a small sigh. “I suppose it has been a while. Mabes, do you want position one or position two.”

She watched as Dipper rose before answer came and went to Mabel’s purse. He moved with purpose, obviously knowing exactly what he’d find there. A small silvery amulet glittered in the light of their room and Dipper looked from one sister to another, a slightly sheepish expression on his face. “If you’ll be a little patient with a beginner, I’ll take position two.”