Bill was interrupted from his thoughts to the sound of an ear-shattering shriek. He was instantly at his spouse's side, wondering what possible horrors were interrupting their Sunday afternoon this time, and why it was worse than all the others— so much worse, in fact, that it had brought a scream out of the normally-not-screaming-from-fear-or-maybe-just-plain-crazy Mabel.

"Shooting Star, what's—?"

He was promptly interrupted by his frying-pan-wielding six-months-pregnant wife, who nearly lopped off his head with said melee weapon if it weren't for his ducking as he arrived (let's just say he'd learned from experience; and not the easy way). "BILL THANK GOODNESS OH MY— AAAAAAAH I JUST IT WAS ABOUT TO I CAN'T BELIEVE—"

"Mabel." He stopped her panicking with a kiss, realizing that the problem at hand might not be as drastic as he had first imagined. "Breathe. Now, tell me again, slowly, just what is it that's wrong?"

Mabel panted for a moment, nodding, figuring that maybe hyperventilating wasn't the best idea, especially while helping the production of a second life. She pointed bluntly to one of the walls of the work-in-progress baby room. A cockroach— hardly even a full inch in size as the Oregon ones are, mind you— harmlessly attached itself to the side of the room.

Bill bit his tongue to pause his initial reaction, and took in a deep breath. He successfully stopped his laughter and smiled sweetly, "Dear, that's a cockroach."

"I know!" She squeaked shortly.

He cleared his throat. "Need I remind you that you've given hugs to creatures ten times its size, fifteen times more frightening, and twenty times more dangerous?"

"Nope!" Her voice was still high-pitched.

He smirked and snapped his fingers, causing the little thing to burst into bright blue flames and disappear without a trace.

"Th-thank you!" She peeped.

Bill gave her as peck on the cheek. "Anytime." He paused, still wondering why the tiny thing had traumatized her so. "Shooting Star, you— uh— okay, n' everything? Do you need anything, or...?"

She giggled, her demeanor changing in an instant. Oh, no. Don't let that be me rubbing off on her...

"Nope! I just got a little scared, because there was a bug, and I didn't know if it was evil or could shoot death rays, or if it was just a bug, but I was in the baby room, and I didn't want it leaving eggs or something, because then we'd have an infestation, and I just thought, 'Not in the baby room!', especially if it's evil and can shoot death rays and all of that was just going through my head and then I screamed and I was just so scared and I—" He could've sworn that she was about to cry.

Nope. It's just hormones.

He decided to play it off with a laugh, and let his egotistical side cheer her up. "Oh, don't get too worried, Shooting Star. It was just a bug; and even if it did shoot— er— 'evil death rays'— just remember, you've got me! I mean, I'm the Bill Cipher, the most powerful dream demon—"

"Ex-dream demon." His wife corrected.

"—ex-dream demon there ever was! There's no way in—" He stopped, remembering the last time he had used the slightest bit of cursing around his pregnant wife, "—Gravity Falls that I'm letting any cockroach carry out any of its... um... evil deeds."

"Really?" Apparently, he was lucky enough to have said the right thing, for she seemed to have cheered up in between her sniffles.

"Really."

She pulled him into a bear hug, squeezing the life out of his stick-figure form. "I love you so-so-so-so-SO-so much!"

"Yeah—" He wheezed. It was in moments like these that he missed having no need for lungs. "Y-you too."