Two weeks.
He's staring at the calendar.
It's been two weeks since his family was whole again, and that he broke the news to them that he was the soulmate of an ancient being that had tried to destroy them a decade ago. Two weeks since Bill kissed him and proclaimed in French that they were lovers (Stan knew what he said because he went to Canada apparently). Two weeks since Stan banned him from the cabin.
Two weeks away from Bill feels like a lifetime.
Dipper's lying on his bed, staring at the many books that Grunkle Ford has collected, fighting the invisible pull he's been experiencing to fall asleep. It feels subtle, like someone beckoning with a finger instead of a full on pull.
The break has not been kind to him. Experiments on his newfound abilities drain him and yet Mable's late night activity keeps him up… it keeps everyone up. Here in Oregon, she can get away with downing coffee at odd hours at blasting synthesized music at full volume. Even though his room used to be Ford's old study and is on the lower level of the house, he can still hear the god-awful soundtracks and Mabel karoking.
He actually misses the soft sounds of the piano lingering in the air followed by Bill's voice. The being can carry a tune and control his volume.
There's a lot of things about Bill that he's starting to miss…
The pull is back, just a bit stronger. He can hear music, a piano playing and it's the last thing needed for him to fall asleep. He adjusts the pillow and allows the piano notes to lull him to sleep, and to wherever he's being pulled to.
The Mindscape hasn't changed since he left.
He's sitting on the piano bench next to Bill, watching the being's fingers dance across the keys. It's nothing short of a wonder to watch as this dimension burning creature can create music without much effort. He must have been a prodigy in his own world…
"Nice to see you decided to accept my invitation." Bill chirped as he continues to play. "You needed a break."
"You could feel that?"
Bill nods, finishing the piece. He glances at Dipper who's staring at his fingers. "Do you play?"
"I play the Sousaphone."
Bill's face skews up, like he's trying to hold in laughter.
"Shut up, Dorito."
Bill calms down. "So that the only thing you play?" There's a lascivious smirk playing on his lips as Dipper blushes at the double meaning behind the question. "Do you want to play?" He plays a key, inviting him to try.
He nods and Bill stands up, allowing him to slide to the middle of the bench. He does so but his fingers hover over the keys. "Uhm… how do I play?"
Bill responds by placing his hands over Dipper's, slotting his body right against his and helps him play the piano. The music is soft and slow, filling the room with the exact opposite of what he had been subjected to.
Bill starts to hum a tune as they continue to play. His body vibrates with the tunes and send his heart racing as lips brush against the shell of his ear.
See the Pyramids
Along the Nile
Watch the sun rise
On a tropic isle
Just remember darling
All the while
You belong to me
Dipper fits like a puzzle piece against Bill, the warmth of his body lulling him into a relaxed state. He leaned into Bill and closed his eyes as the being continued to sing whilst they played the piano together.
See the market place
In old Algiers
Send me photographs
And souvenirs
Just remember
'Til your dream appears
You belong to me
The last note lingered in the air and the hands that guided clasped his, fingers intertwining. Dipper noticed for the first time that there was a strong steady heartbeat inside Bill's chest and it provided a sense of comfort. In fact, the entire dream created a sense of serenity he never felt before.
For the first time, he felt he could sit still and watch things pass by without rushing into the unknown with a need to figure everything out. All he wanted to do was melt against this being.
He glanced at Bill to see a soft expression, one that he had seen on a person staring at their spouse, on the being's face. Like Dipper is something irreplaceable, fragile, and wanted. It sends his heart into overdrive.
A wicked grin is added to the expression, creating something new that twists his gut as the being manipulates his hand to place butterfly kisses on his wrist. Lips move against the fragile pale skin but no sound reaches him.
The whole environment is becoming static, and panic overcomes him. He wants to hold onto this peaceful moment, lock it away, treasure it in his heart.
Then a new wave of panic piles on top as something pieces together in his mind around the same time he wakes up.
He shoots up in his bed, heart pounding and mind overworking as his skin tingles from the contact in the Mindscape. Bill's image lingers in his mind, and that alone seems to steal his breath, cementing what Dipper has discovered.
This truth seems inescapable, dumbfounding, and reaches down into the very core of his being. It's like roots for a new flower twisting and reaching into every blood vessel, nerve, and cell. There's literally no escape for him.
Dipper has fallen in love with William "Bill" Cipher.
Question is… what does he do now?
Breakfast is, for once, a quiet affair.
The eggs and bacon, arranged in a smiling face thanks to Mabel, is being skewed with a fork. Dipper doesn't even care as the metaphorical gears in his head work in overdrive to sort and solve his new dilemma.
He's twenty-two, no longer a twelve-year-old awkward, sweating, stumbling pre-teen battling a crush. The feelings are deeper, more intense. When his mind pivots to the ancient being, he picks out things that are absolutely silly, like Bill trying to figure out a toaster or a microwave. Every memory over the past year of living with him comes to the metaphorical surface of his mind. Now it seems like the emotional floodgates have opened up as well. He feels like an exposed, raw nerve subjected to the endless amount of emotion this entire experience has opened up to. It leaves him wanting to find Bill and hide from it all, using the being as a shield… a refuge.
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, quickly devours his breakfast before Waddles can get to it and retreats to his room. The less time he's dealing with people, the better off his fragile emotional state will be.
His room, Ford's old study, smells of books. There are no longer any traces of Project Mentem, instead there's a fireplace and a desk filling in the empty space left behind. The wooden floors cover a concrete slab that keeps in some of the warmth in and provides a real separation from the underground lab. Dipper asked to keep all the books in the room so he would have something to read when he was bored. Overall it's warm and cozy, befitting the new resident.
When the twins came back, it was clear that they needed separate rooms since they had reached an age where sharing a room while dealing with puberty was going to be awkward. Plus, Mabel wanted her own space and privacy.
Ford suggested the study, given that the Underground Lab had more than enough room for his experiments and the process of turning the study into a suitable bedroom passed by quickly.
Dipper sat on his bed, staring at the books as he tried to think of the proper next step in his dilemma. Maybe there was something within the old tomes?
He got off, walked to the crammed bookcase, and started thumbing through the books. Hopefully there was something in here about humans falling for eldritch beings.
Three hours.
Three hours and not a single piece of information has been found.
It's killing him. He's taking a page from Fiddleford's book and is trying to rip his hair out when he hears the door open.
"Hey are you ok?"
Here we go. "Okay? Yeah, I'm ok." He pushes his chair away from his desk and stands up. "Perfectly ok!" He takes a deep breath… and then his control breaks from the tiring day. "DO I NOT LOOK OK I'VE NEVER BEEN BETTER IN MY LIFE! ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING I'M UTTERLY, MADLY IN LOVE WITH AN INSANE DORITO-" He's been screeching, his voice breaking with stress before he stops during his rant and groans. "Shit I've said too much." He falls onto his bed and covers his face with his pillow. "Shit."
There's a clatter and he rips the pillow off, sitting up to ask what's wrong and the words die in his throat.
Mabel is standing in front of the door, a plate at her feet, staring at him with pure shock.
Shit.
…Fuck.
Oh ever-loving, motherfucking shit fuck!
"Mabel? Mabel… you heard nothing. Mabel. No."
She starts smirking.
"Don't you dare smirk at me like that. Mabel… you're scaring me."
Her response is a mere whisper. "YouloveBill~"
"No Mabel."
She speaks louder. "You love Bill~~!"
"Mabel… don't. Do. It!"
She takes a deep breath. "DIPPER LOVES BI-"
Dipper lets out a combination of a wheeze and scream, scrambling over his own two feet. He covers her mouth and frantically tries to shush her. Again he sounds like he's twelve years old again and looks absolutely panicked.
She licked his hand again, earning a disgusted sound.
"Seriously?"
But she was in the elevator, with her phone out. "Candy and Grenda are going to flllip when they read this on Facebook!"
"Mabel what the actual fuck?! Seriously!?"
~Bill~
Two weeks without Pine Tree.
Two weeks of being banned from the Mystery Shack.
How. Is. He. Bored!?
Seriously, he threw parties! The Nightmare Realm and Weirdmageddon was one giant fucking party, he's fucking fun! He's not supposed to be bored!
But here he is, sitting upside down on the couch, throwing wads of paper at some lame Spanish soap-opera (just cut out the cheese and leave the slaps, that's a real show!) waiting for pizza.
He sucks at cooking, the microwave must be some alarm to let the Frilly Know-It-All that he's up to no good and he can't go near the woods to hunt without Stan coming after him with a shotgun. How else is he supposed to feed and keep the wildlife population in check so they don't commit mass suicide?
Still it is nice to be… home? He's not sure what to call the almost too small apartment he shares with Dipper. It's too cramped for his tastes, the furniture is ugly, and he can't lord over anyone while maintaining a safe distance from people. Plus, the landlady is a wrinkled terror that screeches about rent being due so much he wants to throw a chair at her.
She's much worse than Sixer going on about his crush on the hillbilly in the form of hourly rants.
He performs a handstand, elegantly switching from his hands to his feet. The program is boring him and the barrier blocking Dipper's room is too weak to deny him snooping rights of his soulmate's prized possessions. It's too much of a temptation and a source of fun he can't ignore.
Thankfully Dipper has learned to clean his living quarters since he was twelve. It makes it easier to maneuver in the orderly room.
He rubs his hands together, grinning like Lewis Carroll's Cheshire Cat. Where to look first?
The bookshelf is the first victim.
He thumbs through the various books, leafing through the pages and placing them back in their slots. After all he's not a fucking animal, books are the only thing worth saving in the Multi-verse. He saved the Library of Alexandria for fuck's sake… fucking idiots, trying to get rid of such a beautiful treasure. Thankfully he has the entire library in the Mindscape, safe from torches and whatever else meatsacks can come up with.
Then he finds a picture.
Of Dipper.
In glasses.
He stares at the picture, at the wire rimmed square-ish frames that make Dipper look very, very delectable, takes a deep breath and very slowly closes the book.
And then he tears through bookshelf, furiously searching for more evidence of this new look and throwing books this way and that once deemed to be unimportant. There are a few very rare copies that he's gentle with, but everything else becomes a literary projectile.
There's little to no photos, but he finds the holy grail.
The glasses.
He grabs a plastic bag and shoves the case protecting the delicate item into the bag. He's getting a good feeling about this room.
There are a few books left and out of curiosity he searches them when there's another treasure.
Inside a recent copy of Websters Dictionary lies… a lace and strap garter belt… and matching stockings!? Next to it is a note…
"Don't ever let Him see, need Mabel to return gag gift (panties included). NEVER LET MABEL GIVE YOU GAG GIFTS!" Next to "him" is a small triangle.
Bill drops the book and falls to his knees.
Oh.
My.
GOD!
Tentacles sprout from his back and he becomes a maelstrom in the room, searching and tearing through everything looking for this "holy grail". The mattress is flipped and clawed through, the desk is smashed, the wallpaper is now basically shreds. And Bill has found the motherload!
He's found the following:
A "Build-Your-Own Lightsaber" kit (not sure what it is but it's nerdy); "My Little Pony" collection, complete with small horses (those might be edible); Playgirl Magazines littered with those small notes (Dipper has his own rating system how adorable!); Baby photos, a photo of Dipper in a lamb costume, and finally very large and very adorable sweaters, made by Shooting Star for him.
But there's still no panties.
Bill tears through the dresser, literally pulling out draws and throwing clothes around… Dipper needs to update his fashion, people needs to know that he's a good looking human!
The sock drawer goes next and he finds an overstuffed sock crammed in the very back. It's an innocent fat inanimate object that Bill fishes out and squeezes, thinking there's two addition pairs of socks inside.
Out comes something that isn't a sock or two.
It's the rest of the gag gift. Panties that have more lace and straps than actual fabric and a picture to show how to wear it.
Dear god.
Bill in on his knees, holding this glorious lingerie as vivid fantasies of Dipper in this. If he could die again, seeing that would be the best way to go.
He literally scrambles out of the disaster area with all the goodies he's found and dive-bombs onto the couch, spilling the contents of the bag. All the blackmail and sexual goodies spill out on the cheap table and he plots on which one to delve into.
He figures the colorful ponies deserve first choice. He uses his magic to gleam the DVDs, frowning at all the "friendship is magic" garbage and literally tosses the boxed sets over his shoulder. He picks up the figures and starts testing; slamming them against the wall, stomping on them, beating on them with a hammer… the usual. Some of them break but most just bounce off. He sits down on the sagging couch ready to eat a purple horse…
"What are you doing?"
Tad Strange stood at the door, wearing a formal suit and carrying three large pizza boxes. The only thing off about him was his purple goat eyes.
Bill tossed the horse. "Well, well if it isn't…" He bit his lip and snapped his fingers. Then the snapping transitioned into pointing "finger guns" as the smile morphed into a stumped expression. He paced a bit as he was deep in thought, trying to force a word out and muttering under his breath.
"You forgot my name didn't you."
Bill took offence. "Never! It's just… hard to pronounced is all. It starts with a D-"
"Just call me Tad Strange. It's easier." Tad shot back, knocking an Easter Island Head tissue box off a tower of milk crates and set the pizzas down. He grunted as Bill slung an arm around his shoulder.
"Right, right. So what happened to the original meat sack? Did you banish his soul? Trick him into a deal~?"
"No, no… he jumped off Fremont Bridge and essentially drowned himself in the Willamette River about a year after your 'Weirdmaggeddon' incident. I just took over at the last minute to make sure the body didn't die after the owner 'jumped ship'." He deadpanned, giving Bill a disapproving look. "You wouldn't happen to know about a throne of frozen human agony, would you?"
Bill coughed and avoided eye contact.
"Nevermind that, I looked up on the town's Facebook page that you've gotten involved with the Pines ag- What. Are. Those?" Tad used his near person sized umbrella to point at the goodies Bill found, namely the unmentionables.
Bill refused to say anything, instead he flipped the table and sent all the precious objects flying. "So yeah, the Pines. Long story short, Gideon is trying to become a demon and I bound Pine Tree to myself and vice versa. It's going great and now you need to leave an-" Tad held his umbrella like a weapon, aiming at Bill's remaining eye.
"Cipher, is this going to be the same as that incident with Alā' ad-Dīn Muḥammed or the one with Alexander the Great… is it?" Other voices were seeping into Tad's, a clear warning to Bill to not bullshit.
"You mean the setting beards on fire and shattering a civilization? No… Nothing to that scale. Yet. Look Pine Tree and I are Soulmates and… yeah that seems to be going well. You know alongside Andrew teaming with that baby man."
Tad let loose curses that caused several pieces of furniture to fall apart and a mirror to shatter. "Well this is a disaster, one that surprisingly you didn't cause."
"Hey Bill? Are you home?"
What? W- Oh my… FUCK! FUCK FUCK FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK! Dipper's home and Bill has all the, the furniture…. SHIT! Bill let out some sort of choking noise that alerted Tad to just how much trouble he was in.
"Oh, well I'll let you panic and rearrange the place to avoid another death by the Pines. But we will talk about this Cipher… just… just get an eyepatch for that mess of an eye you have left. Oh and I'm taking the meat lovers." Tad snatched a box and calmly left, swinging that fucking piece of junk around like he was on a cheerful walk.
Bill started right away, using his magic to clean up the place or at least make it look like he didn't rummage through Dipper's belongings. He stashed the goodies in his room, somewhere where Dipper won't find the items. He does not to die by the hands of a Pines again.
When Dipper walks in, the apartment looks normal and Bill is ready to devour the pizza.
The exhaustion the human is experiencing hits Bill like an oncoming train, dragging him into the unfamiliar realm of sleep. "You alright?"
Dipper yawns and rubs his eye. "'M just tired. Ford thinks he's figured out why I'm able to use electricity and water…" The way he's mumbling and looking so sleepy tempts Bill.
He wants to carry Dipper back into the Mindscape and bury him in the softest materials, keep the human out of the world that has done so much to him. He would do such a thing if dimension hopping didn't take so much energy.
In fact, Dipper is falling asleep where he stands, so Bill who's now also fighting sleep, picks him up without much complaint.
He created this body to be strong, similar to some other beings that retained a weak look. It helped lure victims in, assuming they would be able to fight their way out. It was turning out very similar for him, to have the masses close in, assuming that he wasn't a danger when in fact he was the most dangerous creature they could be around. A predator hiding in plain sight.
Dipper all but collapsed into his arms, doe eyes hazy as he fought to stay awake. "There's a fog outside. Doesn't fog this much outside the coast."
Bill glanced out Dipper's bedroom window into town. Sure enough there was fog blanketing the streets and any unlucky soul that was outside was falling asleep. He cursed and walked into his room.
Trinkets from far off lands, ancient times, and of magical origins filled the room as a bed big enough for two tall people rested against the wall. Bill wasn't able to recreate his ideal bedroom thanks to the landlady banshee but she didn't have much say when he brought a lot of revenue in with his… eccentric character.
He deposited Dipper on the soft bed, snapping his fingers to replace the street clothes with soft pajamas and covered him up. A spin of an odd wind chime and a movement of a few charms sent Dipper into a deep sleep and protecting the room.
The fog had seeped into the apartment.
Bill held his breath as he dispersed the fog and blocked any entryway, taking a breath just short of completing his task. He cursed the use of lungs as he finished sealing the apartment and stumbled back into his room.
Thankfully the fog only covered the town and didn't extend into the forest so his window remained open. To him the forest seemed a little bit safer than the town itself and this assumption was paying off.
Glowing eyes peered out through the darkness of the trees, anxious chatter revealing that the mystical denizens were aware and worried.
He crawled into the bed, mumbling something unintelligent when Dipper rested his head on his chest and sharing body heat. Something was nagging his mind, something important about the human.
He should be safe right? If that was true… then why did he feel like the time Dipper had was growing short? Why was that cold panic seeping into his bones the way it did when he found him dying at the store?
Sleep claimed him too before he could figure out the answer.