Dipper, quite ignorantly, he supposes, never thought that the first time he got the watch his boyfriend undress his irritation would outweigh his lust but here they are.

Despite all of his love and affection for this bizarre being and his own quiet excitement upon learning Bill could create a body, Dipper expected this to be a struggle in one way or another. He wasn't wrong. As soon as Bill was in his new body, he was wreaking havoc. Dipper had to keep him from touching burners, eating strange berries, and mutilating animals, but the biggest struggle proved to be keeping him dressed.

At first, Bill outright refused to wear anything at all. Then he wouldn't wear anything other than the yellow boxers Mabel bought and just balled up Dipper's offered shirts and pressed them to his nose, saying things like: "Has anyone ever told you that you still smell like a teenage boy, Pine Tree? Need to get out all those hormones of yours or something!"

All in all, what Dipper expected to be a romantic experience has been quite the opposite.

And now that he's finally gotten Bill into some clothes - not just a t-shirt and jeans but a fucking suit he had to take Bill to get fitted for because "I'm a classy man. But obviously you wouldn't understand that." - he's taking them off.

Their first quiet moments alone together after a week of Bill's antics quickly grow heated. Dipper is frustrated and he takes all of his stress out on Bill: kissing, biting, tugging his hair, and Bill is awkward but oh so eager to reciprocate. His kisses unpracticed and messy, his tongue even messier, it's filthy and strangely right. All in all, Bill is oddly endearing in his utter idiocy.

Still, when Bill shoves him onto the bed, lips curled into a wild grin and eyes alight, and his hands go to unbutton his shirt, Dipper sighs. "We could have sex clothed…" he mutters halfheartedly and Bill cackles.

Dipper watches, shoulders sagging, as Bill grows impatient after only getting his shirt open halfway and simply pulls his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. He tries very hard not to think about how much that shirt costs and even harder not to think about what Mabel is going to say when she gets home.

"I hope you know my erection is gone."

"Aw, don't be that way!" Bill lilts, thrumming with pent up energy, "I just want to get it in you faster!"

"That's not actually happening. Not a chance."

He throws his shirt to the side and starts on his belt, "Fine! Put it in me! Do you need me to cut a hole somewhere? How does this work?"

At least he's handsome, Dipper thinks, his skin spotless and his jaw sharp. Dipper can work with this, he really can. Not to mention that he really does love the idiot, no matter how he frays the Dipper's nerves.

He sighs, smiling weakly, "You take them off-"

Bill's head jerks up, his expression so childishly innocent Dipper's words simply die away. Cocking his head, brow furrowed, he scoffs, "I know I take the clothes off! But where do you stick your dick? You need me to cut a hole, right?" he motions vaguely to his stomach, "You need in my intestines or something, right?"

He takes a moment to simply stare at Bill before falling back and rolling to hide his face in the pillows, "I can't believe I thought this was a good idea…"