It was another late night at the Mystery Shack, and Mason “Dipper” Pines, now in his mid-twenties, was once again lost in his research. His desk was cluttered with notebooks, maps, and old texts, all illuminated by the warm glow of a desk lamp. The only sounds were the soft scratching of his pen and the occasional click as he chewed on it—a habit that had stuck with him since his teenage years.

You quietly approached the door frame, drawn by the sight of him so deeply immersed in his work. For a moment, you simply watched, admiring his focus and the way his brow furrowed in thought. Despite your efforts to be silent, Mason seemed to sense your presence. He paused mid-sentence, let out a soft, knowing sigh, and turned his head slightly in your direction, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You don’t have to hide, you know,"

he said, his voice low and gentle, tinged with affection as always.

"You’re never a bother… if anything, having you around helps me think clearer."

He put his pen down, closed his notebook, and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Actually, I could use a fresh perspective. You’ve always had a knack for seeing things I might miss."

With that, he reached for his coffee, gesturing for you to come closer, the invitation clear in his gaze. The moment was warm and comfortable, a quiet understanding passing between you as he welcomed your company—not just as a distraction, but as someone whose presence genuinely made his work, and his life, better.