31Sorry it's been a bit, but if it's any condolence, this might be the longest chapter I've written for this story thus far.
July 8th, 2013
Nicola was enjoying a game night with Soos when the familiar notes of Currency, Currency, Currency broke their concentration. Pausing their battle with dragon king Yukhoe, Nicola picked up his phone.
"Hey Dad."
"Nicky!" Stan greeted. "Soos there with you?"
Nicola glanced across the couch at his Player 1. "Yeah, what's up?"
"Kids broke the window again, I need him to fix it and he's not answering his phone."
Nicola held the phone out to Soos. "Captain Handyman is being summoned."
The younger man took the phone, having a brief conversation that mostly consisted of "Yes Mr. Pines sir" and "Uh-huh"s, before lifting his eyes back towards Nicola. "You got any earplugs here dude?"
Nicola quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "Why do you need earplugs to fix a window?"
"Ham-bone and the girls are having a sleepover."
The pianist winced. "Yeah, you'll definitely need those then. I've got a container of disposable ones under the bathroom sink."
"You're a hero dude."
"Just get going, Princess Plum's probably in another castle anyway."
"Another time?"
"Course," Nicola held out a fist. "Tomorrow night good?"
Soos bumped the fist with his own, miming an explosion. "Tomorrow."
July 9th, 2013
Nicola was awoken bright and early by his phone going off yet again. Blearily, he answered.
"Hello?"
"Uncle Nic?"
The pianist straightened. "Pacifica? Is everything okay?"
He could practically hear his goddaughter's eyes roll. "Everything's fine. I was just wondering if you could run by the manor to pick up another change of clothes for me?"
"Another- where are you?"
"The Mystery Shack. Mabel invited me for a sleepover. She's decided we're having another one tonight, and I don't want to go all the way back home just to immediately come back."
Nicola dragged a hand down his face. "Alright, yeah, I can pick up an outfit for you."
"Great, thanks."
"I'm glad you're making friends Buttercup."
"They are pretty cool. We've been talking about trying to see that boy band that's touring through here tomorrow. Think you can get us tickets?"
He grinned. "You know I can."
Pacifica repeated this on the other side of the phone, and the pianist found himself enduring a barrage of teenage squealing.
Nicola pulled the phone away from his ear in an attempt to save his hearing. "Okay, okay, happy to help, but please keep the volume down!"
"Sorry," the girls on the other end chorused.
He walked over to his computer and pulled up the Civic Center's website. "Sev'ral Timez? Is that the right one?"
Cue another round of shrieking.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Nicola pulled up to the Mystery Shack about an hour later, a fresh outfit for his goddaughter sitting in his passenger seat. A thud drew his attention to the roof.
"Mysterious noises on the roof are never a good thing," he mumbled to himself before stepping back to see whatever was up there. Said thing turned out to be his cousins carrying a pail of tiles, seemingly re-doing the roof.
Nicola frowned. It was nearly a hundred and five degrees, hot enough that he had to forgo his preferred button-up or sweater for a t-shirt, definitely too hot to be in direct sunlight long enough to finish the roof.
"What in the world are you two doing?" He called out.
Both kids met him with a look of determination, but Mabel was the one who responded.
"We're competing to see who gets to move into the secret room!"
This only served to confuse the pianist further. "Secret room?" They couldn't be talking about the basement?
"The one with the shag carpet," Mabel elaborated.
Vague memories of his childhood surfaced, A room he was told not to mess around in. The one his first sweater came from. The room he'd understood much later was his Uncle's once.
Nodding to the twins, he started into the shack, grumbling under his breath. "What are you up to now, dad?"
A brief search revealed both his father and his goddaughter in the kitchen, making what appeared to be a pitcher of lemonade.
"Care to explain why my cousins are competing to see who can get heatstroke fastest?"
Stan looked puzzled. "What?"
Nicola silently pointed to the roof with a raised eyebrow.
Stan shooed Pacifica away. "Look, they found that old room and started talking about moving into it immediately. I just thought I'd use it as a chance to get some chores done, no big deal."
Nicola crossed his arms. "And do you intend to actually give one of them that room? We both it was hidden because it's For-" He cut himself off, remembering the kids nearby. "It's for a reason."
Stan sighed. "Look Nicky, I've been stuck on that… project for years now, unless something changes very suddenly I doubt that room will really be needed before the kids have to go home for school."
"So you'll actually let one of them move in there?"
"I'm a man of my word." Stan paused, a look of mental calculation crossing his face. "This time."
"Well find a different way to determine who gets it, they're gonna end up sick or hurt at this rate."
"Fine, fine. It'll ask them to mow the lawn instead. There's shade there."
Nicola nodded curtly. "I still don't like it, but it's acceptable."
Stan clapped him on the back. "Great! Now come join me n' blondie for some refreshing lemonade on the porch!"
This was the worst day of Dipper's life. Wait no, on second thought he could think of worse, but today was definitely up there! He was still sore from sleeping outside last night, the mini-golf course he and Mabel had spent hours on was busted, and the cool room Soos had discovered was likely to go to Mabel at this point.
The teen sighed, pausing in pushing the lawn mower to wipe the sweat off his brow.
"Dipper, you're phoning it in!" Stan yelled from his comfy perch on the porch, Pacifica and Nicola seated on either side of him.
Nicola. Dipper wasn't sure how to feel about the man. For the brief moment he'd thought the pianist was the author he'd seemed cool, but his impression had been downhill from there. In the few instances where Nicola had actually spoken to Dipper, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being talked down to. Maybe Mabel still liked being treated like a kid, but as far as Dipper was concerned, thirteen was officially old enough to stop being babied by everyone.
Stan's voice interrupted his thoughts again. "50 suck-up points to Nicky for pouring me more lemonade!"
Ah yes, there was that too. Nicola was Grunkle Stan's kid, which apparently gave him the easy path to having Stan's favor and respect. Dipper wants to check out the Tent of Telepathy? We don't support the competition! Nicola straight-up works there for a day?! Eh, money's money. Dipper has no chest hair? Let's laugh at him! Nicola removes his? Nothing worth talking about. It was so unfair!
Giving the lawnmower a final shove, Dipper stormed inside, straight to the room he was working so hard for. Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed on the couch, enjoying the plushness of the carpet and the coolness of the air conditioning.
"All these chores will be worth it when I get this room," he murmured. For a moment, the teen allowed himself to imagine he'd already won, that he was just enjoying his new space. Then a knock on the doorframe dragged him back to reality.
Groaning, Dipper turned to see Nicola standing in the doorway. "Go away man, I need a minute."
The pianist ignored him, stepping further inside. "I just wanted to bring you some lemonade."
"Well I don't want it, okay? So you can just ignore me like you usually do."
Nicola actually had the gall to look upset at his statement. "I don't ignore you."
Dipper scoffed. "Experience begs to differ."
The pianist came closer, enough that Dipper could smell the tang of the lemonade. "When have I ignored you?"
Dipper began counting examples on his fingers. "After the family fun day incident you asked Mabel about her knitting but never asked about my interests, when we went to the lake you ignored my monster hunt unless you were actively discouraging it, you didn't trust me to handle Gideon even though I know my sister better than you, and you've let Stan get away with making fun of me more times than I can count!"
"I didn't mean to-"
Dipper stood, static electricity crackling down his spine. "Oh sure you didn't! No one ever means to! Sorry Dipper, we forgot to buy enough valentines for you to have one. Sorry Dipper, we didn't mean to argue so loud, go back to bed. Sorry Dipper, I should have listened when you thought Norman was fishy. Everyone's always sorry, but nothing ever changes!"
Nicola extended a hand to him. "Oh, kiddo… do you want to talk about it?"
Dipper drew his arm back. "Why won't you just leave me-," he let the tension release, his hand flying to slap away his cousins. "Alone!"
Their hands made contact, and everything went fuzzy as a shock passed between them.
When Dipper's head stopped spinning, he sat up, his vision strangely blurry. "Oh, my head."
At the sound of his voice he froze. It was too deep, too mature, almost like the time he'd used McGucket's mystery mixtures to make himself sound like a TV announcer.
A much more familiar voice spoke from across the room. "Dipper?"
Dipper turned his head to meet a blurry version of a face he knew well. "Nicola?" He looked down at himself. Broader chest, six-fingered hands, and a t-shirt with a music pun. "Am I in your body?!" He screeched in disbelief.
A smaller set of hands pressed a pair of glasses to his face, bringing the world back into focus.
Nicola's expression seemed comically solemn when combined with Dipper's round cheeks. "It would seem so. The question is, how?"
Dipper stumbled over to the tag of the carpet, unaccustomed to being so much taller. He pointed out the tag. "I think this is our culprit."
Nicola peered past his hip. "Experiment 78?"
Dipper flipped the tag. "Electron Carpet. Atoms can switch electrons, this carpet seems to harness static electricity to swap minds!"
Nicola nodded, a hand under his chin. "Makes sense. I was always told to wear shoes in here."
Dipper turned, staring down at his cousin. "You knew about this room?'
"Well yeah. I grew up here, I know all the rooms."
"And you never mentioned it? Just what else are you and Stan hiding?"
Nicola pushed Dipper's hat off his forehead to wipe away more sweat. "Look, let's just switch back and have this conversation in our own bodies, okay?"
Dipper was about to agree when a stray thought popped into his head. Stan likes Nicola. Stan trusts him. So long as he thinks I am him, he'll probably tell me anything! But Nicola would never agree to that…
He cleared his throat. "Actually, I think this is a golden opportunity."
Nicola placed his hands on his hips, forced to crane his head back to meet Dipper's eyes. "How so?"
Dipper clasped his hands behind his back, a strange sensation with the extra fingers. "Well, you say you haven't meant to be a jerk, right?"
Nicola looked away. "Was I really that bad?"
Dipper ignored the question. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, this is your chance to make it up to me."
Nicola tilted his head. "How so?"
"You're Stan's kid, which makes you like, an expert at sucking up to him! You can win the room for me by beating Mabel, and we can consider the slate wiped clean."
Nicola bit his lip. "I don't know…"
Dipper narrowed his eyes. "Or do you prefer her too?"
Nicola shook his head vigorously. "I don't- Dad doesn't- Fine! I'll win you the room, but then we switch back," He extended a small hand up to Dipper. "Deal?"
Dipper shook it, his hand practically engulfing his cousins. He never realized exactly how much larger Nicola was compared to him. "Deal."
Nicola had only been in his cousin's body for about ten minutes and he already questioned how Dipper could stand it. If something wasn't itchy it was coated in sweat. And the smell! Had Dipper entirely forsaken showers since Stan caught him singing?
Nicola watched his own body stride past him and out the door. Were his legs always that long?
Dipper looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Good luck being Stan's least favorite."
Nicola frowned after him. Sure his dad could be tough, but only in a burnt marshmallow kind of way. Unpleasant on the surface, sweet and gooey underneath. Dipper was probably just taking things too seriously because of hormones or something.
The pianist surveyed the kitchen, trying to brainstorm things that appealed to his dad. One short walk to the fridge later, and he had his first move. He strolled back out to the porch, past Dipper's seat on the couch, and handed his bounty to Stan.
"On a hot day like this, I thought you could use some Pitt Cola straight from the fridge," He explained, putting on his best salesman smile.
Stan grinned, accepting the drink. "Well, who could say no to that? Plus ten suck-up points."
Nicola flashed a quick grin at Dipper and Pacifica. "Would either of you like something before I get back to the lawn?"
There were the scuffing sounds of feet running up the stairs behind him.
"Sorry bro-bro! I just finished the lawn!"
Nicola turned to find himself nose to nose with a beaming Mabel. "Seriously? We were only half done when I took a break!"
"That's the power of Mabel, baby!" She exclaimed, pumping her fists in the air. "Alpha twin! Alpha twin!"
Nicola was torn between smiling at her enthusiasm and dismay for his overall mission of trying to win the room for Dipper. "Well played Mabel, well played."
Stan squinted at him. "You seem a lot less worked up about this than before."
"I've just got my head in the game."
Stan shrugged. "I'll buy that. 50 suck-up points for Mabel."
Nicola shuffled nervously. "So… what would you like us to do next?"
Stan looked between them in consideration. "Well, it is almost lunch…"
Mabel perked up like a dog who'd just heard the word treat. "I'll make you an omelet!" She then dashed inside fast enough to be nothing but a pink blur.
Nicola mentally ran through recipes in his head. Surely he could outcook a thirteen-year-old at thirty-one? "I'll make… something better than an omelet."
Dipper watched his cousin chase after Mabel. Now that he wasn't around…
"Hey Gru- Stan. Who do you think is getting the room?"
Stan raised an eyebrow. "Did this contest really tick you off bad enough to demote me to first name basis?"
Dipper felt his heart skip a beat. Right, of course Nicola didn't call Stan Stan. "Sorry… Dad. I think hearing those kids yelling for Grunkle Stan just messed with me." He battled against the urge to rub the back of his neck.
Stan eyed him skeptically, but seemed to accept the explanation. "Not sure who I'll give the room to. I'm not even keepin' track of those suck-up points."
"Then… why even say them?"
"Keeps those gremlins competitive."
Dipper could feel his eye twitch. All that effort and the points weren't even worth anything? "It's not really a contest if you don't keep score."
Stan laughed. "Sure it is! Anything's a contest with the right mindset, right Blondie?"
Dipper had forgotten about Pacifica. Stan probably wouldn't spill any secrets in front of her.
The blonde in question leaned out from behind Stan's side. "My life is a competition. Northwests have to be the best."
Dipper smiled nervously at her. They hadn't talked much, but their conversation during the party at the Shack had been pleasant. Still, he doubted he could pretend to be her godfather for very long before she caught on.
"You should go judge the cooking in the kitchen, make sure there's no foul play," he blurted out."
Pacifica narrowed her eyes. "What kind of foul play do think your cousins could involve with cooking?"
Dipper shrugged, suddenly grateful there wasn't any excessive sweat to give away his nerves. "Who knows? I mean, they seem awfully competitive, right?"
Pacifica's eyes flicked between the two of them before gracefully dismounting from the couch. "Fine, beats staring at trees." She tossed her hair and sauntered into the house, where based on the sheer volume coming from the kitchen, things were getting intense.
Which left him alone, in a body that wasn't his, with Stan, who was staring intently at him.
"Got something you wanna talk about Nicky?"
Dipper leaned back in an attempt to seem casual. "Oh, nothing too major Dad, just wanted to check in about that thing we can't discuss around the kids."
Stan nodded. "Ah, I see. Well, my bowel movements have finally regulated themselves, but I am definitely not ordering the deluxe nachos anymore."
Dipper fought the urge to gag. This was like the truth teeth all over again. "Nope, not that thing, different thing."
Stan took a sip from his cola. "Nothing else to talk about Nic-knack."
If Dipper had been alone, he would be burying his face in his hands and screaming. As is, he took a deep breath. If he couldn't find information on any potential secrets, he could at least get one question answered. "How come you hate m-Dipper?"
Stan side eyed him. "Where'd you get that idea?"
"You're always so… rough with him."
"'He's a loser, he's weak, I just want to get rid of him.' You know how many times I heard that growing up? Too many. When you came along, I hoped that maybe kids had gotten kinder since my time, but they didn't. So I'm taking a different approach with Dipper."
Stan leaned back, the couch creaking as he continued. "Back when I was about his age, my Pa signed me up for boxing lessons over the summer. I hated it, spending most of my free time getting beat up worse than in the schoolyard. But wouldn't you know it, the old man had a point! Got my first girlfriend punching a mugger trying to take her purse the first week of school and finally had the muscle to stand up to the jerks who picked on me."
Dipper found himself staring down at Nicola's T-shirt. "I don't see how boxing plays into this."
"I'm hard on Dipper for the same reason my Pa made me take boxing lessons, to toughen him up. So when the world fights, he fights back." Stan flashed a crooked smile. "Same way you do."
Dipper suddenly found himself getting hauled into a side hug. "I'm glad you're lookin' out for yer cousins kiddo, but try to have a little more trust in yer old man?"
"Uh, sure. I'll do that," Dipper replied, awkwardly patting Stan's shoulder.
In the kitchen, Nicola was caught in a standoff with Mabel. The cause? Bacon.
"Bacon and eggs is a classic combo," Mabel argued. "That means it belongs in my omelet!"
Nicola went to run his hands through his hair only to be stopped by Dipper's hat. "Bacon is an unnecessary garnish to your omelet, it's a required component for my lil' smokies!"
"They're hotdogs Dip Dop, they don't need more meat!"
"The bacon is what balances the salty-to-sweet ratio with the brown sugar!"
"When did you even learn that recipe?!"
For the nth time since the swap began, Nicola cursed his decision to take musical theatre instead of improv in high school. "Why does that matter?"
Pacifica didn't even look up from where she was filing her nails in the corner. "Just let him have the bacon Mabel, you've got lots of options for fillings."
Mabel puffed up her cheeks in a pout. "But Grunkle Stan loves bacon! I'm not gonna hand Dipper more points."
Nicola crossed his arms. "I don't get what you're so worried about, you're winning anyway."
Pacifica lifted a hand to inspect her nails. "Actually Stan isn't even keeping track of the points."
Nicola tossed up his hands in exasperation. "Well now how am I supposed to win?!"
Mabel planted her fists on her hips. "Why do care so much about that dumb room anyway? I never even wanted to move out!"
Aw crap. Think Nicky, think, what would Dipper say?
"Well, you don't have to try and sleep through your sleepovers!"
"That doesn't mean you get to ban them!"
"Can't you just have them in like, the living room or something? With blanket forts? Blanket forts are fun!"
Mabel tapped her chin. "That's… not a half-bad idea, how come you didn't just say that this morning?"
Nicola began tapping out the rhythm for Beethoven's 5th on his thigh. "I uh, didn't think of it."
Mabel fiddled with her skirt, avoiding his eyes. "Do… do you still want to move out?"
Nicola looked away. "Yeah."
Mabel took a deep breath, releasing her skirt. "Okay, fine. You get the room. Happy?"
Nicola swallowed. This is what DIpper wants. "Yeah."
Pacifica tucked away her nail file. "You guys done fighting now?"
Both brunettes nodded.
Pacifica flicked an imaginary bit of lint from her blouse. "Good. Now let's finish cooking. I don't know about you both, but I'm starving."
Between the three of them, it didn't take long to make five omelets and a plate of sugar-glazed hotdog bits wrapped in bacon, both arranged to be as aesthetically appealing as possible by Pacifica.
Nicola nudged her with a teasing grin. "Not bad Buttercup."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Ew, don't call me that, it makes you sound like my godfather."
Nicola flushed. Right, he was still Dipper at the moment. "My bad."
As if cued by Nicola's thoughts, his cousin entered the room, a look of contentment on his face.
Stan followed just behind, taking a dramatic sniff as he entered. "Something smells suck-up points worthy!"
Nicola pulled out a chair for his dad. "No need. Mabel and I worked things out. I'm taking the room." He flashed a subtle thumbs up to Dipper.
Dipper smiled before exclaiming in a stilted tone, "Oh my goodness, I just recalled that I spilled lemonade in there earlier! Dipper? Would you be so kind as to come with me and help clean it up?"
Stifling his laughter at his cousin's poor acting, Nicola played along. "But of course! Show me where this spill occurred!"
Dipper pressed a hand to Nicola's back. "Right this way."
They managed to keep quiet until they'd made it back to Ford's old room before bursting out laughing.
"You," Nicola gasped between chortles. "Are quite possibly the worst actor I've ever seen!"
Dipper playfully shoved his shoulder. "You're not much better man, and at least I have the excuse of being young! Ready to switch back?"
Nicola sagged in relief. "Please! I don't know how you stand smelling like this! I was tempted to spend the whole time in the shower."
"I had a rough night last night, and I spent the morning working outside, it's not usually that bad," Dipper retorted as he rubbed his feet to build up a charge.
"So you'll shower after this then?" Nicola asked, holding out his hand.
"If it means you'll stop nagging me," Dipper reached out.
Their fingers barely touched, and the world was a blur of light again.
When the spots finally faded from his eyes, Nicola looked down to be greeted by his Bach in Black t-shirt and extra fingers once more. "Ah, feels good to be home."
Across the room, Dipper rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Man, I'm so glad I don't need glasses."
"For now," Nicola added. "If you're anything like the rest of the Pines men, you'll need them at some point." A beat passed in silence before he spoke up again. "We cool now?"
Dipper stood. "We are. Sorry if I was a little harsh."
Nicola shrugged, pushing himself off the floor. "Your feelings are valid even if they come from a place of misunderstanding. And hey, if you ever need someone to vent to, I've been told I'm a decent listener."
Dipper toyed with the zipper on his vest. "You really don't mind?"
Nicola pushed the brim of Dipper's hat out of his face. "Not at all. Goodness knows I vented to my friends growing up. I'd like it if we could be friends and not just cousins."
Dipper tugged the hat back down. "I'd like that to."
Nicola opened the room's door. "Well then, shall we eat?"
"Oh absolutely! I saw something wrapped in bacon?"
"Those are called Lil' Smokies and I've got to teach you to make them so Mabel doesn't get suspicious."
"What?"
"I'll explain later."
The primary challenge of this chapter was definitely nailing down Dipper and Nicola's dynamic and how it shifts—well, that and writing a body swap for the first time. My interpretation of the swap in the original episode is that Dipper and Mabel switch voices as well, but we, the viewers, hear them as the same for our own convenience.
The next chapter will likely also take a while, but the drama will be worth it. Two words: Daughtler's back.