Chapter Text
"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."
-Plato
It was the first day of high school and Wirt had already resigned himself to the back of the room, mourning the upcoming year.
This year would suck, just as middle school had, and he'd probably keep his excluded hermit rep this year as well. He wrote in pen up his arm to calm himself down, as poetry always helped to soothe his mind and whatever was left of his soul. His poetry was gloomy, border-line manic depressive sometimes, and held a certain Edgar Allen Poe quality that Wirt had never been able to shake. Not that he wanted to. Poe was practically his dead mentor, teaching him the ways of Gothic poetry from ten feet under the ground.
The teacher walked in and Wirt held his breath, understanding that teachers could practically smell a student's fear. If you sat really still though and didn't make eye contact they'd sometimes look you over. No such luck this year. The teacher turned around from the chalkboard and looked directly at Wirt, her small eyes instantly sticking to him from behind her glasses. She pointed a finger at his arm, "you know, you shouldn't write on yourself. You could get ink poisoning."
Oh yes, the line that every art student and creative soul hated hearing. The Ink Poisoning line. Wirt had gotten it enough times that he knew not to rebuke that myth and just nod as though he understood and wouldn't do it again. It was also humorously ironic when teachers got their facts wrong and told them to students, but that was probably just Wirt's twisted sense of humor.
"Actually you can't get ink poisoning from drawing on yourself," a boy sitting in the desk across the aisle said quickly. He sounded sure of himself but in a quiet way that sounded more like he was muttering to himself under his breath. It sounded like it would physically hurt the boy not to correct the teacher. The teacher raised a sharp eyebrow and turned on him, "excuse me?"
The boy looked up from under his blue and white baseball hat, "You can only get ink poisoning from ingesting ink. Most pens are non-toxic. A person would have to consume more than one ounce of ink to get ink poisoning. So you're uh, wrong."
Wirt raised an eyebrow, simultaneously impressed and intrigued and vaguely worried for this mouthy walking encyclopedia. The teacher gave the boy an odd stare and looked like she was about to respond in a negative fashion when the bell rang, signifying the start of class. Her mouth twisted in a forced smile as she walked to the front of the room, muttering a quick, "very interesting" before she addressed the class.
Wirt had stopped listening by that point. Instead, he'd taken to looking at the mouthy boy whom, for the record, was a lot more interesting. The boy caught his eye and gave him a subtle wave. Wirt instantly returned it and a smile tugged at his mouth. Maybe this year had some perks that middle school hadn't had. He wrote a little note on his hand. Maybe he'd make a list.
Perk one: The Fascinating Boy Sitting Next To Me With A Knowledge Impulsion
The Fascinating Boy happened to have a fascinating name and that name was Dipper Pines.
From day one they'd gotten along smashingly. After a little whispering in the back of the room it was pretty clear why. They liked the same Indie, near-unknown bands and shared a love of weird, slightly twisted topics. They were also both introverted and quiet, content to just listen for a while instead of talking. Conspiracy theories, unsolved murders and paranormal activity were all game for discussion. Dipper was obviously a huge fan of abnormal activity and Wirt suspected that there was a reason behind that but felt that it was a little too intrusive to ask.
They ate together during lunch, sneaking out of the cafeteria to sit in the library. Between the book shelves they discussed Plato and Aristotle, debating free will and morality. Sometimes Wirt would go on a tangent, repeating verses upon verses of Palto's Timaeus and Dipper would just sit back and listen. No one had ever listened before.
"—The fact is, that wherever the extremity of winter frost or of summer does not prevent, mankind exist, sometimes in greater, sometimes in lesser numbers. And whatever happened either in your country or in ours, or in any other region of which we are informed-if there were any actions noble or great or in any other way remarkable, they have all been written down by us of old, and are preserved in our temples."
Wirt glanced at his best friend, a smile slipping onto his face when he saw that Dipper's eyes were closed and he was nodding slowly, half-asleep. Wirt leaned over and gave his friend a well-intended flick on his nose. "Wha—what?" Dipper's eyes snapped open and he sat up, blearily looking around. "Oh, did I fall asleep?" He asked as he rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. Wirt shook his head in mock disappointment, "I can't believe you Dipper! Here I was, reciting some of history's greatest written wisdom, and you just doze off on me. I'm insulted, Dipper, really. Utterly insulted to the core."
Dipper looked more guilty than Wirt would have expected. "Crap, I'm sorry man. It's just just that I was up late studying for my Pre-Calc test last night and didn't get to bed as early as I'd hoped. I really enjoy listening to you recite, I swear that I didn't mean to just sleep like that. Your voice is really nice and I just, I don't know. It was soothing or something and I just drifted off." The boy looked up at Wirt, "sorry."
"I was joking, you nerd." Wirt laughed and tussled Dipper's hair. "I know that you have a test today. Also, you looked kind of cute sleeping like that. Kind of reminded me of Princes in the Tower." Wirt laughed when Dipper got the Shakespeare reference and looked affronted, "is that just your nice way of telling me that I looked like a dead person?"
Wirt shrugged, a grin tugging its way across his mouth as he raised his hands in protection. Good move. Dipper punched his shoulder and then told him to "hold still" as he fell back asleep on him. Wirt wasn't used to physical contact but one would have to be very, very cold-hearted to get mad at Dipper for sleeping on their shoulder.
He started to recite again and closed his eyes as well, hoping that the bell would be loud enough to wake both of them up. Wait, Wirt thought as his eyes flickered open again. He reached into his backpack—being as quiet as he could against all of the papers and oddly loud loose change in his backpack—and took out a pen. He took it in his left hand and pulled up his sleeve. Under the first perk he carefully wrote:
Perk two: Enlightening Library Cuddles In Retaliation To Death
"You utter jerk! Fighting isn't very diplomatic." Wirt gritted out before Dipper pushed his face back into the carpet with a triumphant grin. The rest of his body was immobilized by Dipper's surprisingly steadfast knees. "Admit it, Carl Jung was more innovative and the better mind between him and Freud." Dipper challenged and Wirt sputtered in indignation, "yeah, innovative being the key word! Most of his stuff wasn't even backed up by clear evidence. Imaginative is more like it."
Dipper mock gasped and Wirt pummeled him over onto his side, trying to pin down the other boy's hands with little success. "oh please, and Freud didn't? Have you ever looked at his—ouch! Watch your knee, Wirt!" Wirt laughed at how close he'd been to accidentally kneeing Dipper in the crotch and moved his knee, only to get pushed up against the wall by Dipper. Wirt half-heartedly tried to get lose before giving up and catching his breath. Both of them weren't exactly jocks and were breathing heavily. Wirt sent a quick thanks to whatever deity (or something. Wirt considered himself pretty Atheist) that had gotten him to thoroughly brush his teeth this morning.
"Not only were Freud's studies not conducted in a lab, he didn't even follow standard scientific procedure." Dipper stopped for a second to breathe, "let's not forget that he thought that human nature was based on basically nothing but violence and sex."
"I think that's true," Wirt said, trying not to feel awkward at their close proximity. Dipper paused, raising an eyebrow. "Really? I thought that you'd be one of those people who thought people were above evolutionary animalistic behavior." Wirt shrugged as well as he could and smiled lopsidedly, "humans are animals." Dipper stared at him for a second before shaking his head tiredly and letting Wirt's wrists go. "You're weird, poet boy."
"You're one to talk, Mr. I'll-Pin-My-Best-Friend-To-The-Wall-For-Jung." Wirt pushed his bangs from his eyes as he lay down on the carpet. Dipper followed suit and scoffed, "what, afraid that I'd kiss you?"
"Actually, punching seemed a little more likely, considering your uncomfortable obsession with a certain psychologist," Wirt laughed, trying really hard not to envision Dipper pressing him against the wall and kissing him. He was a teenager! It was difficult not to wonder about how some things would feel.
Dipper frowned, "I do not! It's not like you're hot—wait. I mean, it's not like he's hot or anything!" There was a silence.
Wirt cracked a smile, "Was that..." Dipper blushed and flipped over so that he could see Wirt, "don't say it Wirt." Too late.
"That was such a Freudian slip! Oh my god you think I'm hot! Dipper thinks I'm hot. Mabel!" Wirt yelled, laughing, and Dipper promptly shoved a hand over Wirt's mouth. "Oh my god, no. Don't say anything. She already thinks that I'm, uh." Thinks what? Wirt wanted to ask but Dipper was already starting up another play wrestle and hell if Wirt was going to lose twice.
After another round they were both utterly exhausted and Dipper got up to take a shower. While he was gone, Wirt walked over to Dipper's desk and picked up a half-chewed up pen. On the faded list on his arm he wrote:
Perk Three: The Way To Argue Is Not By Fists, But It Sure Was Fun
or, alternatively:
Perk Three Point Five: He Blushes Like The Sun
It was a little late to reconsider things when both of them stumbled into an anonymous bathroom, about to be sick. Yeah, one of them could've waited outside but then there would have been a mess in the hallway. Dipper got the toilet, Wirt got the sink.
Maybe they should have gone slower with the alcohol. They were both in their third year of high school and this was their first real party together. Some girl had invited Dipper—he was good looking, Wirt had accepted that by now—and he'd brought Wirt along with him. Now, both of them were strongly regretting the Who Can Drink More bet they'd done. For the record, Wirt had won but only because Dipper had started laughing and once he got started he hadn't been able to stop. It had almost immediately caused Wirt to spit out his drink laughing too but not before he'd downed the rest of his bottle. Yay, he won. It really didn't feel like much of a prize as he emptied his stomach into the porcelain basin.
After a while both of them had mostly stopped vomiting and they sagged next to each other against a bathtub. Dipper still laughed a little like everything was funny and that was actually really nice because usually Dipper was stressed by his honors and AP courses and he didn't smile very often. Yeah, maybe being drunk wasn't the ideal situation but Wirt took Dipper's laughter in whatever form it came.
"You know, we smell really bad," Dipper said as he looked down at his clothes, nose wrinkling. Wirt had noticed this too but there wasn't really much they could do about it at this point. He'd pretty much gotten comfy in his soiled clothes when Dipper stood up—kind of unstably—and pulled Wirt up too. Of course Dipper, being the inventive one, had an idea.
"Let's take a shower."
"Excuse me?" Wirt asked, partly because he was drunk and a little slow, but also because that idea sounded really bad for some reason. What reason? Hell if he knew. He was really, really drunk and that was all he could wholeheartedly focus on at the moment. Dipper looked determined though as he turned on the shower. Water poured out of the shower head and Dipper nodded as he got in, clothes and all. He almost slipped and that caused Wirt to step in after him because if one of them was going to get injured while drunk then by Jove both of them would get injured drunk.
The water poured over his head and Wirt felt his clothes cling to his skin as the water thoroughly soaked him. He sputtered and then laughed because holy hell, what the fuck were they doing? His shoulder leaned heavily against the marble wall and he blinked his eyes open to look at Dipper.
Dipper stared back and then smiled again and goddamn, Wirt wanted a poster of that smile on his bedroom wall. He wanted little pin buttons with that smile on them like the kind they gave out for elections. He wanted to say as much but he couldn't really talk reliably at the moment and it sounded like a pretty important thing to say so it had to be perfect. He vaguely registered Dipper walking closer to him until he was right in front of him.
"What?" Wirt asked, blinking a lot because the water kept getting his eyes.
Dipper leaned in close, his fingers on either side of Wirt's head, "kiss me."
Wirt tried to comprehend the words through his heavily addled brain. He'd heard about drunk people delusioning. This was probably a weird effect—a hallucination or something—caused by a mixture of rampant hormones and drugs. Dipper leaned in, probably to kiss him, but his lips landed against Wirt's cheek instead. Okay, so maybe it was real.
Wirt promptly slipped on the bathtub floor. On instinct, he'd grabbed Dipper's vest and so the other boy, already unsteady on his own, fell down too. "Shit," Wirt mumbled, relived that neither of them had hit their heads on anything. His knee and extending leg hurt like hell but the booze was already numbing the pain so he figured that it was okay. He looked down and saw that Dipped had fallen asleep on his lap. Had he been a little more rational, he supposed that he would have thought that sleeping in wet clothes was a bad idea. As it was, he wasn't very rational at all and sleep was looking like a very nice idea.
At the time he was too drunk to think, much less write, but later he added:
Perk Four: If Kissing In A Shower is dangerous, One Can Only Image How Deadly Sex In A Shower Is (Still Curious Though).
The day after their party adventure, Wirt found himself with a cast up his leg and a worried best friend by his side. Of course he'd broken his leg, snapped his shinbone from the fall. Really, it hadn't hurt much but that was probably just because he'd passed out in the tub about five seconds after it happened.
He and Dipper had woken up in the tub the next morning and it'd only taken a glance to realize that Wirt's leg did not look like it should ("Is..Is your leg supposed to be bending that way?"). After a brief trip to the ER and a couple of really crappy coffees, they were hanging back at his house.
"Still can't believe that you broke your leg at a party. In a shower. Drunk." Dipper laughed and shook his head again, leaning back on Wirt's bed. They were pretty much confined to Wirt's bed because he sure as hell couldn't stand up. Wirt was still reeling from how dumb that sounded too. Then again, his head was still reeling from a lot of things. Mostly it reeled from Dipper asking to kiss him. Or the other way around. It didn't really matter which way it was because it was just as baffling both ways.
Yeah, they'd been drunk but not that drunk. Wirt certainly hadn't been drunk enough to ask his best friend to make out with him and he'd had more to drink than Dipper had. He also knew that he thought Dipper was cute, whereas Dipper had probably never thought about kissing a guy before in his life. Logically, it was just confusing. Thing was, Wirt knew that Dipper wasn't into guys.
"And I raised thy glass to mine, why doth thou speak in tongues when it can be set firm in nought but a breath, I'm nothing but filled with immortal jest and a longing to caress..." Wirt blushed at the verse he'd absentmindedly recited and trailed off, hoping that Dipper wouldn't read too much into it. He had to stop blurting out weird, emotional lines like that. He chanced a glance at Dipper and was met with a confusing stare. Oh, Wirt wasn't sure what to think of that look. "Uh, Dip?"
Dipper looked conflicted for a moment and then turned around to face him on the bed, "Wirt, about yesterday." Wirt held his breath, wondering where Dipper would take this conversation. An odd feeling started up in his chest, like the soft revving of an engine, hot and fast. "I realize that it's mostly my fault that you broke your shin and I'm really sorry about that. I'm like really, really sorry." Oh, nothing about the kiss. Wirt supposed that he'd known that it wouldn't be brought up again. He smiled and waved his hand, "hey, it's cool. Now I get a cast and you have to do everything I say until it comes off because, you know, it was your fault."
"Okay," Dipper said, turning away and absently looking at Wirt's vinyl record collection. Wirt could have sworn he saw Dipper smile.
Perk Five: Problematic Poems Lead To Heart Burns And Feelings But It Doesn't Feel Like Dying