There's things about him she didn't like. A lot, actually... But if she were being honest, there were things about him that were... pretty amazing too.

He didn't like ranch sauce, but he'd spread a dollop of it on lettuce if they were sharing a sandwich or remembered to bring a pack of it during hikes so she could use it as dip for her celery sticks.

Dork that he is, of course he'd be allergic to dust mites. He still sneezes like a kitten - what a dork. It's always hilarious to hear one of his attacks from across the room. He's allergic, sensitive, and made up of all dorky things. But he doesn't mind going through old dusty records in old abandoned shops so he could find ABBA records for her. Nevermind that she could easily get a mint edition copy with a snap of her fingers - Northwest perks, obviously. There's a tiny, tiny lurch in her chest whenever she thinks about him scavenging through old boxes, she'd imagine a spiderweb on his hat and the red glow of his irritated nose. It... does something to that cold thing in her chest.

And when she's sick. She fondly rolls her eyes. He makes sure she gets a bowl of godawful chicken soup that she still eats anyway because she has a tiny, tiny soft spot for him and his paltry cooking skills. Halfway through the bowl and some old sci-fi movie that he's fallen asleep to, revision notes spread out on his lap and with his neck haphazardly thrown to the side, she thinks the chicken soup isn't all that bad and wonders when he got so bold that he could now sit so close to a girl. She almost almost forgets she's not allowed to kiss his cheek. Friends. Just friends. She allows herself to rest her stuffy head on his shoulder. A moment of weakness for the boy with a bird's nest for hair and... somewhat passable cooking skills.

What she likes best is when he insists on doing something for her. Be it simply reaching for the bowl she can't reach, lending her his jacket, or going across campus to get the water bottle that she forgot in class. "Here, let me." It's simple but in her world where you put yourself first, it meant a whole lot.

The point is... he's sweet. Annoyingly so, because he doesn't mean to be. It's just who he is. She shouldn't take it personally but... whenever he does something thoughtful, the first thought that comes to her mind is... for me? You'd do that for me?

But a millisecond later she reminds herself, he'd do it for anybody else.

It's just who he is.

The drive to help ingrained in his very nature.

And maybe the reason why she finds it... attractive is because she's the very opposite. With a roll of her eyes, she admits that she is selfish. She doesn't understand the term "For the Greater Good," whatever that means. But she does know how to appreciate people. Those few she counts as important, she takes care of silently and relentlessly. She makes sure they're happy. Because to her, they are the "greater good."

Pacifica makes sure Mabel and the girls easily get tickets to all their favorite retro bands - they're always surprised whenever they do, and the happy twinkle in their eyes makes her chest lift. Of course, she'll never tell them that she had something to do with it. A girl has her secrets. But all the same, she privately smirks and make sure they get "randomly" picked to come up on stage.

She makes sure Wendy never gets another message or call from Robbie again after he "grazed" her cheek. She makes sure Wendy doesn't even see a hint of Robbie anywhere in their sleepy town. Wendy can take care of herself that's apparent but Pacifica is comforted by the fact that Wendy can now relax her shoulders and the keep the laid back spring in her step. She understands deeply the comfort of having someone you hate far, far away from you... Pacifica's glad she's attending university in California, with her parents out of sight and out of mind.

For the manchild. It's easy. Keep the groceries stocked with his childhood favorites that the stores "just happened" to sell again. And oh, affordable healthcare for him and his wife, because for all his genius, he still is just a manchild.

For the old geezers... she makes sure they don't die during their quest to fulfill a childhood dream. And apple cider. A crate of apple cider floating at sea every now and then.

For Dipping Dots. The dummy. It's harder. It used to be easy, a bit like breathing. But this time is different. It doesn't take a big deal of orchestration like the rest of her plans but all the same, it's tough. It's the most selfless thing she thinks she'll ever do in her life. She ironically laughs at herself.

It takes a week for her to notice. Maybe it would have taken three days if she wasn't in denial. For a week a girl has shyly kept Dipper in the corner of her eye. A friendly smile and a casual, "hey," with just a slight, slight blush. And it clicks... For a week she makes sure she sits beside the brunette with freckles in their shared classes, makes nice, gets her phone number, invites her to her afternoon meet up with Dipper at the university canteen. 'Totally' forgets she had a tennis practice to go to. Leaves them alone. It's not like they'd have an awkward time, of course they had to like the same dweeby things. She on the other hand would like to disappear for an hour or a lifetime. She's not totally lying that she has a tennis practice to go to. It's not her typical Friday routine but she calls up Jose, Sergei's distant cousin twice removed, for an emergency tennis practice. She's on fire and she almost, almost convinces herself it was the right thing to do. It was a blissful two-hour distraction. She blinks and convinces herself the pain in her chest was exercise induced. She lets out a sad breath as she zips her tennis bag close, a respite. Head held high, she snaps her fingers to signal Jose to pick up her belongings so they can leave.

Who cares, she thinks angrily. He was a dork, anyway.

She avoids him for a week before he breaks in her California villa. She came straight home from her afternoon classes, opting to skip her afternoon meet up with Dipper. She takes her shoes off at the door, not caring who'd have to pick it up later. She slowly makes her way to her kitchen and it's there she finds him. At the kitchen counter, a bouquet of something at his elbow, eating half a sandwich. She flits her gaze over the flowers, they're sunflowers and her favorite. It gets her even more annoyed, he probably picked it for Stacey and came to ask her for advice before he made a bold move. She clicks her tongue as she makes her way around him and violently grabs a grapefruit, silently wishing it was his head she was gripping. Idiot.

She settles across from him, making a point to drag the high chair beside him around the counter.

"What gives?" is her opening remark.

As if on cue, he rolls his eyes. It's like clockwork and her heart pounds softly at the reliable routine.

She misses him. It's annoying. He's annoying. She reaches over the counter and childishly pulls his hat over his eyes. It gives her time to openly take him in. She hasn't seen his goat ears in what seems like forever. Annoying.

"You're the worst," he says jokingly. His laugh makes her chest full and she's both annoyed and happy to hear him laugh.

His smile is easy. And without her consent, she smiles too.

"Hey," he says softly. The look he gives her makes her heart thump, and it gets hard to breathe. Before she can say anything biting, a knee jerk reaction to her stupid feelings, he says, "wanna watch a movie?"

It's a 180 she wasn't expecting, and before she knows it he has her by the hand and is leading her to the den. She can't remember the last time Dipper held her hand. Of course, it makes her shut up.

There are snacks on the coffee table and among them is the other half of his sandwich – she just knows there's ranch in it. For half an hour, they sit there with their knees touching. She's both happy and confused because she was under the impression that he was on his way to meet Stacey.

But she probably had him for the next hour or so, she was determined to make use of it. She hasn't seen him in a week, she missed his dweeb-ness.

Pacifica slowly rests her head on his shoulder and just like clockwork, he adjusts to accommodate her weight. She has to close her eyes and count her breathes in three's. The plans she orchestrates are hard but this was always harder. Showing him that she had a soft spot for him.

It's almost at the end of the movie, when she feels it. He presses a soft lingering kiss on her forehead and the tenderness of it makes her heart stop. He's done this before. Sometimes during movie nights just like now or when he leaves for the night. It almost always happens right after she's done a secret deed and it always amplifies the content she gets helping her friends out. And every time, there'd be a twinkle in his eyes like he knew but she never had to the guts to ask.

"You never asked me about the flowers," he whispers.

And just like that the ball of contentment dissipates. Right. He couldn't wait, could he? Tactless boy.

She blinks furiously before she sits up right – a little sluggish after being so close to him.

She wants him happy, doesn't she? For him, she can be a little less selfish.

"She'll love it."

She can feel his confusion even when she's not looking at him, "He'll be glad?"

She's annoyed again. "You're not making any sense, dipwad," her eyebrows furrowed.

Dipper blinks blankly before enlightenment crosses his face.

He groans.

"Mabel was right," he massages his eyelids.

She's confused again, "What are you - "

"Pacifica!" he says so exasperatedly that she's instantly quiet, "I've been openly courting you for the past year, lit-er-al-ly." He says with a soft chuckle and it's this chuckle that tells her he's nervous despite sounding so bold.

Imagine her heart and her surprise. Northwest that she is, she refuses to be dumbstruck and tries to turn the tables.

"Well, it isn't as obvious as you think if I'm only getting that now," she rolls her eyes.

He's not quite sure how to proceed guessing from the gobbled frustrated words he's trying to say.

"Blargh!" he's so exasperated that he childishly ruffles her hair.

"Hey!" and just like that they're laughing again and she's so happy, it shouldn't be allowed.

Her cheeks hurt by the time they settle back down, and her throat dries when she allows herself to finally interpret the soft look he's always given her.

"Dumb fake blonde," he says fondly while he tugs at her hair.

"Dummy," she claps right back in an even softer voice.

A moment passes before she musters up the courage to ask without sounding to awkward, "So the flowers, they're for me?"

He rolls his eyes, "Yes," he says firmly and with a little quirk.

"Obviously," he adds under his breath.

She smacks his not so noodle arm.

He tucks a hair behind her ear, "Yea, they're for you." He says again this time with no room for misinterpretation. His thumb pads her cheek.

She swallows thickly.

"Dipper," it comes out both breathless and in her usual commanding voice.

He good naturedly laughs at her impatience, "Yea, yea, all right." He knows what she means, and slowly leans forward.

Pacifica closes her eyes in anticipation -

"I know you love your plotting but c'mon, you didn't have to set me - "

"Oh, for god's sake!" She says impatiently.

Pacifica Northwest kisses Dipper Pines on a Friday night.