Chapter 11

Dipper had busied himself with cleaning the pent house while Bill was away. It helped calmed his nerves. He had come to terms with the previous event and was now smiling to himself. He moved to the bedroom and was finishing straightening the bed when he heard the elevator ding. He poked his head into living room in time to see Bill walk in, looking quite terrifying. "H-hi Bill." Dipper squeaked, stepping into the room. Bill glanced at him suddenly, as though he had forgotten he existed, a strange smile twisted his face. Dipper didn't like it. It looked wrong.

"Ah, Pinetree…" He mused, but didn't finish his sentence. He strolled past him and poured himself a drink in the kitchen. If you can call that a drink. Thought Dipper. It looks like straight tequila with a dash of orange juice. Dipper approached Bill cautiously. He seemed more like the man Dipper had first met, then the man Dipper knew only hours ago. Had he pegged Bill wrong, even if only for a minute?

"Bill, are you, uh, okay?" he asked. A single, golden eye stared at him; The weird smile spread. Dipper swallowed in response. "Why yes, Pinetree. Couldn't be better. In fact, I was just thinking of something absolutely fun we could do." Dipper didn't like the tone Bill had taken or the way he twirled in glass in his left hand. The tossed back the rest of the poison and pulled Dipper close to him. "Howa bout a dance, kid?" he breathed. Dipper look up at him in surprise and fear. "Wh-what?" Alcoholic air poured over his senses, bitter, yet insanely sweet somehow. That single, liquid gold eye bore into him. A snake's smile awaiting a mouse's answer. Dipper felt dizzy, but nodded, trapped by that look. Entranced. "Perfect." Hissed Bill, tugging his prey closer.

…..

Venom, red haze filled Cipher's thoughts and vision as he stalked across the lobby, snapping at unexpecting workers. What does he know? He thought. Who does he think he is? Certainly not his pawn. He couldn't think straight he was so mad. Some poor lady quickly darted off the elevator 7 floors before hers to avoid staying any longer trapped in a box with a crazed, muttering man. Not that it was Bill Cipher's fault. Not really. His father had always been insatiable. 'Get that' 'Go there' 'Met so-and-so' 'Kill whoever' and it goes on. The elevator doors closed and the elevator stood still for a while as Bill look at his gloved hands. He couldn't bare to look at them uncovered half the time. All he could see was blood that wasn't there and faces blank and recently void of life. Working for his father had been the end of his moral side, but necessary. Certainly necessary. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have what he had, he wouldn't have gotten where he was. He needed the money for his business and his father needed someone behind the scenes. It had worked out, in a gruesome way for a bit. But when he had what he needed, he found his father wasn't so ready to let him go. After all, most head mafia bosses have separation anxiety about letting their head assassin leave. Especially not the
Matrice Sanglante, as his father's French associate, now dead, first called him. He soon became known in the underworld by it, though his father often called him, informally, 'little monster'.

He hated the term. The name his father so affectionately coined him with. If only he hadn't been so good at his job. If only he hadn't been so skilled with a pistol, or knives, or his hands. If only his victims hadn't made it so easy, if they weren't so stupid… Bill's hand was shaking as he slid his card for the Penthouse, a signature smile slipping on his face, distorting his features. The elevator door opened and he stepped out. A monster, huh? The Matrice Sanglante, eh? Maybe that's what I am. I have to accept it, sometime, right? I can't outrun it. Can't escape the rising blood. Why not-

"H-hi Bill." Pinetree stood peeking into the room, looking unsure. Bill started to say something, stopped, and went to the kitchen instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dipper looking in a familiar way. He poured himself a drink while he thought of it, realizing half way the orange juice, and topping it off with that. The burn felt good as it tumbled down. Pinetree had stepped to the counter and Bill suddenly pegged the look; fear. He grinned wider, uncontrollable in his emotions and feelings, half numb, half fire. His eye caught something, ever so briefly- an invitation to a dance, the reason his father had called him over, someone to kill while he mingled with up and coming celebrities and puppets. Having a popular son had its advantages, didn't father? Do your dirty work and meet a few people worth using; convenient, isn't?

"Bill, are you, uh, okay?" said a small voice. His world was dark, and before him flickered a small light. The question was, did he put it out or let it burn?

He finished his drink and pulled Dipper forward, grinning into the boy. An idea was forming and Bill couldn't stop it. "Why yes, Pinetree. Couldn't be better. In fact, I was just thinking of something absolutely fun we could do." Bill liked the fear that flicker in the kid's eyes. Maybe he had wanted something before, but it was dying as he pulled Dipper close to his chest and asked, "Howa bout a dance, kid?" Pinetree makes some kind of noise, but he ignores it grinning into Dipper.

…..

Two days later:

Dipper is scrubbing a spot on the floor vigorously, when Bill walks in. "Ah, good. Let's dance." A pale, panic look crosses Pinetree's face as he tries to scramble backwards and refuse. Bill darts a quick hand out and sweeps the boy from the living room, down the hall, and spinning him into the piano room in a series of intricate dance moves. Bill giggled at the green look on Dipper's face. When he finally swallowed it down, he wheezed, "What was that?"

Bill adjusted his gloves as he moved to the piano and played a few notes, "Dancing. Well, very poor dancing on your part. I was perfect!" He grinned at the disoriented teen. "Now show me what you know, Pinetree!" He blinked back at him at first before turning a bright pink and stammering. Bill snapped his fingers and a door behind a curtain, opened and a servant stepped out. "Yes, Master Cipher?" Bill nodded to the piano and the older gentleman took a seat. "Play Beethoven's Fur Elise". It seemed that Dipper was still trying to figure out where the man had come from as Bill stepped up to him and reached for his hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute. I mean" He laughed awkwardly while Bill stared at him. "Yes?" The music stopped.

"Well, I mean, where both men, we can't dance together." He replied, rubbing his neck with a hand.

"Oh?" said Bill. "Two men can have sex on the couch, but not dance to Beethoven?" Dipper changed color immediately. "W-w-we-well…"He stammered. "Mmm-hmm" smiled Bill, pleased with himself for teasing Dipper further. He took his hand suddenly and placed it on his shoulder and the other in his own. "Now we will attempt the Waltz." He heard Dipper swallowed, resigning himself to his fate. "Gerald." The music started again. "Now. One, two, three. One two three. One two- no two, not toe, Pinetree. Again."

It took quite a bit of time for Pinetree to learn the simple dance, but by the time Gerald stood and dismiss himself, he had perhaps taught the kid enough the pass for the day.

The kid, himself, was trying once again on his own. "Okay, so one, two, three, one…" Bill watch from the newly empty piano seat as Dipper attempted the dance on his own. "one, two, and turn?" He asked aloud, unsurely. "You turn on your third one, Pinetree." Dipper gave a frustrated sound and threw his hands up. "Why are we even doing this Bill?"

Bill pursed his lips, "I've told you, have I not?" Another grunt for the younger. "Yeah, you have fancy dance and you want me to come as your date and for that I need to know how to dance, BUT I still don't understand why you don't just have that girl go with you instead?" Bill frowned, "Because she bores me. You don't." he said simply.

Since Dipper didn't know how to reply, he instead folded his legs and plopped down on the hardwood, resting on the cool surface. Bill observed somewhat removed. His father's words still carved themselves in the back of his mind obsessively. His eye so quickly shot to the boy's form and back often; an onlooker would have thought he had a twitch. The kid was his solution. His chance to show he wasn't…

….

Dipper leaned back on the floor, and rolled over on his stomach. The cool surface so nice on his cheek. Outside the open windows, purples, pinks, and blues danced as the stars begin to show themselves with the sinking sun. He didn't always take in the city, not with his and Mabel's busy lives, but looking now, at the highest floor of the hotel, he thought he'd have to paused more often for life's little pleasures. A single note took to the silence air. Then another and another, until a hauntingly soft lullaby filled the room. A deep humming replaced his earlier clumsy waltz and intertwined with the music. He laid still, afraid to move, afraid to disrupt a beautiful swaying above and around him. He glanced sideways- the fading light cascaded across Bill's face, igniting his hair and eye- liquifying his golden features and making fluid his soft movements, reminding Dipper of a living wave.

He moved slowly into a sitting position, crisscrossed legs, leaning forward. Bill seemed in a different world, on an entirely different level from him as his fingers played the piano. They stayed like that till the song ended, drifting and disappearing with the last of the sun. Bill stared at the black and white keys, fingers resting dutifully. Unsure and awkward as ever, Dipper cleared his throat, "Um, that was really pretty. I mean, not pretty. Uh, um, like elegant? Yeah" he said, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a weird laugh, "Elegant." He could feel Bill's eye on him, but was too embarrassed to look up. It had grown dark around them. Then a 'humph' sound and the bench scratching against the floor as it's owner discarded it. Dipper, curious, look up and watch as Bill moved across the room towards the exit. Did I offend him? Shit. But Bill paused and turned, "Coming, Pinetree? I think some tea sounds intoxicating at this hour. What's better than dulling the senses before falling into a sleep you may never return from?" Okay, not mad. But still raving mad in general.

Dipper stood and stretched, before following him to the kitchen. The fluorescent lights felt ugly after the sunset and stars. He set to making the tea. After having to deal with Cipher's 'pickiness to put it lightly, Dipper was becoming fairly expertise at making certain dishes and drinks for the man.

He watched Bill churn the tea with a spoon, blending the sugar and honey. Dipper blew on his own nervously. Bill hadn't taken his eye off him since they had come to the kitchen. It felt like Bill was counting the breaths he was taking, which, because he was nervous, was a lot. Unsurprisingly, when Bill spoke, tea splashed onto Dipper making him yelp. "Well-" *insert semi-girly yelp from Dipper* Bill snickered and then continued. "Ahem, before I was interrupted, rudely too." Dipper shot him a glare as he dabbed himself. "I am still waiting for an answer from you concerning my formal invitation so adoringly given." Dipper stared back blankly. "Formal invite?" Sighing heavily, "To the 'fancy dance'." Responded Bill.

"Pfft, you call that an invite? You literally walked in one day, drunk, and asked 'Howa bout a dance'" Dipper inserted finger quotes. "and then passed out on the couch and now TWO DAYS LATER, are teaching me to dance. How am I supposed-" Dipper caught a glimpse of Bill's face, and realized, even after the rant, Bill was going to still ask, 'So howa bout it Pinetree?'. Bill must have realized his line of thought because a smirk played around his lips as he leaned on his cheek on his palm. Dipper, instead took a sip of his tea and thought about the sure consequences of saying yes to Bill Cipher and a dance.

One: He'd have to dance. Two: It was going to be some fancy party that he definitely didn't belong at or want to belong at. Three: He'd have to talk to people, probably. He hated people. Four: He'd have to dance. Five: He'd have to wear something nice and poorly fitted. Six: He'd have to dance. But the positives… there'd be great food, hopefully. It might, on the very off-chaotic hand, be fun. And, an image of Bill softly playing the piano, fingers light and magical. He wondered briefly how skilled they were elsewhere. "Pinetree? Thinking of something naughty?"

For a second time Dipper splashed tea on himself. "N-no!" Bill's playful smirk bloomed into a full-fledged grin. Trying to save face, Dipper changed the subjected. "I was thinking of my schedule and if-if I had time, which I do!" He said to the raised eye-brow Bill cocked at him. In retrospect, of course he had time. His schedule was composed of waiting on Bill hand and foot. "So, since I'm free, it should be a problem." Bill prompted, "And that means what exactly, my dear boy?"

Dipper breathed in deeply. "It means yes."

Hello everyone. I'm so so so so Xtimes a many so sorry that I haven't updated this in forever. I'm going to try to finish the story in the coming weeks. I just went back to grad school and DAMN, school is hard T.T I received all A's though! I also lost a family member and it has been hard to think about writing anything. But I have reconnected and will continue! Also, check out my other story! "A Summer Away". It's a Danny Phantom X Vlad fanfic. Or don't! You do you honey pie!

And thanks, I appreciate you all.

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