Author's Note:
*****PLEASE READ!*****
Update 5/23/18: What is up my dudes! So, this might seem abrupt if you're reading this for the first time, but I have some things to say, so please read this note. Especially if you're rereading the story.
So! I finally got around to reading this story through and editing it! God, it only took, what, 3 years? Oof. Anyway, for the first 12 chapters, I was perfectly fine with this story. I even liked it well enough. Not perfect, but good. But then. Chapter 13. Ohhhh, I hated that chapter. If I recall correctly, I didn't much care for it while writing it, and even then it seemed... off, but I had no idea how to fix it. But now, that I am older, a touch wiser, and have done two years of schooling on psychology, I was able to write a better chapter and now it's... alright. It's been years since I wrote for this story, so I'm a bit rusty, but I hope this chapter is better than the last. For new readers, I'll just say that it was out of character, derivative of the last chapters, and didn't set up what I wanted it to set up. This new chapter, which I completely changed, should hopefully be better. I might have to edit the next chapter to fit this one, but I think it works? Anyway, let me know if it doesn't or if there is any issues.
But yeah. If you are rereading this story, you'll notice that this chapter is nothing like the other chapter, because I didn't really keep any of the original. I just... really, really hated it, you get me? Note that I go over a panic attack in this chapter (not sure if I did it justice, but I think I did okay enough? I've studied panic disorder, but I can't say how accurate my interpretation is), so if that sort of thing is not your jam, maybe skim the chapter, or send me a message and I'll summarize it for you.
Anyway! I hope y'all are doing well. College just let out for me, and I've got 3 months of freedom before I have to go back, so I'll probably spend more time editing the rest of the story later. Plus, I have an idea for a final installment for this story that should hopefully be good.
Hope y'all enjoy!
It was around sunset when Dipper finally awoke, heart pounding, eyes fixed ahead of himself as he tried to forget the nightmare, Bill's anger, the lashes stinging harshly on his back.
In his daze, Dipper had almost convinced himself it had all been a dream. Not the capture, he had finally accepted that as truth, but the lashes. The anger and pain. And most of all, the begging. Because there was no way he could have begged the pirate captain to get out of the cell. No way he could have begged the pirate captain for anything. Had he truly fallen so far as to beg?
Apparently yes. As the minutes passed, he grew more attuned to his surroundings, and the soft rug under his head indicated that either the brig had gotten some interior decorating, or he had finally given in. Had finally debased himself enough to beg. And the stinging of his back made that particular truth painfully clear.
For a while, Dipper had just laid there, staring into space, back stinging lightly with pain. He could hear soft snores coming from the large, four poster bed, and part of him hated it. Hated the humanity in it. He knew Bill was human. No matter how much he hated it, he couldn't deny that. As more of his mind grew awake, he recalled more of the previous night. The stargazing. The hand holding. The… kiss.
The previous night… Dipper hated to admit it, but it had been one of his best nights in recent memory. Maybe even ever.
But that couldn't be right. Best night ever? Here? As a captive? No. Yes. No. He didn't know.
Dipper sighed, before sitting up carefully, minding his scabs, and ran his hand through his greasy hair. This was all so confusing. Bill. Being held captive. His hand felt warm from holding Bill's for so long. His lips tingled from that brief, barely-there kiss. A kiss so quick, a kiss so casual, it was like they had done it every day for the past ten years. Like it was ingrained within them, like they had practiced it over and over.
It was messing with his head. Dipper could hear the snoring, could hear Bill breathing, and it burned him inside. Oh, how he wanted. Oh, how he hated.
But for once, it wasn't Bill Dipper was hating so fiercely. It was himself. It was his heart. His mind. His treacherous body, with its phantom sensation and its thrice damned wanting.
God, did he want. Something. Anything. Dipper had never had much privacy aboard The Mystery, but he had always been able to squirrel away certain… moments to himself every now and again. Times when Mabel was out talking with some of the sailors or was being girly with Wendy (who would humor his sister, despite having no interest in girly things whatsoever). During those few times to himself he would be able to… take care of himself.
And yet, here aboard the ship, he hadn't had any time. He was too busy being injured or being afraid. Being here, relatively unharmed despite the stinging, and in a modicum of comfort? It was making his body betray him. Hearing those soft noises the Captain made… watching the thick, red covers move with each breath… Dipper could feel his body respond and he hated it. Hated the reaction, hated himself.
Dipper took a breath and tried to calm himself down. He screwed up his face, glared at the ceiling, and did his best to ignore everything. He couldn't forget who he was. He had told the Captain his name in a vain hope that he could remember himself, but he feared that he had just let another small piece of him go. He had already let so much of himself go. Escape. Slip through his fingers like smoke. He barely remembered himself and he only had one thing left to hold onto, now that his name was gone. It was maddening.
He stared at the ceiling for an unknown amount of time. He tried to control his racing thoughts but found he couldn't, so he just let them race. It was exhausting, but he couldn't figure out how to stop the thoughts, so what else could he do?
It wasn't until he heard a soft keen come from Bill that he looked over at the man, hidden beneath his cover, but the barest amount of face still visible. His one good eye was scrunched tight, his body taut under the cover, mouth turned down in a grimace. Another keen left the lips, and Dipper, who was an expert on nightmares, could tell the Captain was experiencing one.
Part of Dipper, the uncharitable part that was still bitter over being a captive, felt vindicated. Glad the captain was suffering, somewhat, the way he suffered. Another part, smaller and yet growing rapidly, felt concerned. This was the part that was feeling so conflicted in himself, the part that yearned for the touch of the Cap- for the touch of anyone. The touch of anyone. Not anyone in particular's touch. Of course not.
He wasn't sure what to do. Did he wake the captain...? That probably wasn't wise. The man was often volatile, his mood shifting with the wind. If he was having a nightmare, then his mood would likely be elevated, and he might hurt Dipper.
So, he couldn't do that. Should he just sit here, watching? Dipper bit his lip, and watched as the Captain thrashed a little, fighting off unknown demons in his mind. Dipper felt his heart tug at the sight. After all, he knew nightmares. All he ever saw at night were nightmares, it seemed. And somehow, through no will of his own, he had grown to care for the Captain. And to see him in pain… Dipper bit his lip again and thought.
He looked around him and saw that near his head was a lounge, with several plush looking, yellow pillows atop it. Still biting his lip in thought, he looked at the pillows, looked back at the captain, and before he could really think too hard, grabbed a pillow, and threw it with all his might at the sleeping man.
A second after the pillow left his hand, Dipper was filled with an intense panic. Oh, God. What if the Captain was angry with him? What if he started screaming, bellowing at him for disturbing his rest? What if he came over and grabbed the whip and beat him again, and again, and again, like Dipper kept dreaming about, until he was nothing but a bloody stain on the ground, not human, not anything, just pain, pain, pain, pain-
His thoughts cut out when the pillow landed, reaching its mark. Dipper might not have been the best at sword play, but he had always been great at aiming. He could throw knives with, perhaps not deadly accuracy, but they usually hit their mark. A good hunter, in another life, perhaps. With bated breath, Dipper watched as the Captain jerked, reacting to the unexpected connection.
Seconds passed in heavy silence, as Dipper watched the Captain, waiting for him to get up, get angry, get the whip-
And yet, nothing happened. The seconds passed, and then the soft snoring began filling the room again. Dipper frowned, letting out a soft huff. Of course. Well, maybe that would have ended the nightmare. Dipper could only hope.
Taking his eyes off the Captain, Dipper spent the next minutes hoping that things would calm. That the Captain wouldn't go back into the nightmare. Then he wouldn't have to worry about waking the Captain or not. He could just go back to his thoughts and not worry. A small snort escaped his lips. Not worry. Yeah, right.
He found that, true to form, as the minutes passed and the Captain didn't seem to make any more noise, that he just got more and more tense. He couldn't control his breath and he felt more uneasy. It was almost a relief when, sometime later, he heard a soft shout come from the bed, forcing his eyes back on the sleeping Captain.
Eye scrunched tight, Bill had an anguished expression on his face. His lips were moving soundlessly, his head jerked side to side, and he looked a picture of fear and anguish.
Dipper's heart clenched fiercely at the sight, worry overwhelming him. He didn't need to think to know he had to wake the Captain. He didn't care about any punishment. He didn't care if he got whipped again, and again, and again… (well, he told himself he didn't care). He just wanted that look to leave the Captain's face. He wanted to help the man. He didn't think about why it bothered him so much. He couldn't.
Licking his lips to moisten them, he hesitatingly started to speak.
"Bill… B-Bill! Come on, wake up. Please?"
Pathetic. He could barely make his voice louder than a whisper, afraid that if he was too loud he'd shatter something. Someone. Himself.
The Captain continued to thrash, so Dipper tried again.
"Bill! Wake up! Please, wake up! It's just a dream, a… a nightmare. It's not real!"
He needed to be louder. The Captain couldn't hear him over the sound of the ocean. But Dipper didn't know if he could get any louder. His heart was pounding with fear and his lungs were constricting. He looked at the lounge and saw another pillow. Grabbing it, he tried to throw it again.
Aim true, the pillow hit the Captain straight in the face, but it wasn't enough. The Captain just let out a soft mewl, a sound that should never have passed a fearsome pirate's lips. With a soft growl of frustration, Dipper looked back at the lounge and saw a heavy looking book lying nearby. The Captain must have left it there after a late night of reading, not bothering to put it away. With a soft sigh of relief, Dipper stretched out to reach it. Maddeningly, it was a little out of his reach, his fingers just barely missing it. With another growl, he stretched farther, his back screaming as the scabs stretched, but he didn't stop. Couldn't, as the Captain let out another shout of fear. Dipper must have been mistaken, but for a second, he could have sworn that the Captain had shouted "Pine Tree!"
Shaking his head, he stretched as far as he could, his chains keeping him back. His back was screaming, but he had to keep going. He had to…
Finally, just as he was sure his back was going to burn with the fire he could feel, he felt the edges of the book with his fingers. Grimacing, Dipper struggled for a few minutes, trying to get the book to come closer. It took several false starts, a couple of times where he almost pushed the book farther away rather than towards him, but he finally managed to get the book close enough that he could grab it. With a soft noise of triumph, he grabbed the book and sat back heavily, his back and shoulder aching. It was good that his shoulder wound was almost gone, otherwise he would have been afraid he'd reopened it. His back wounds, on the other hand… he could feel a damp warmth flow down his back, and he knew the scabs had reopened. It burned like it had the first night, his mind going a touch hazy with the pain. And panic.
He tried to swallow it down, but he couldn't completely ignore the fear he felt. No matter what twisted feelings he might have had for the Captain, he still did fear him. He tried to catch his breath, his back burning, but he found he couldn't. In his mind's eye, he could see the twisted anger on the Captain's face when he had come out and seen that Dipper had tried to escape. He could hear the controlled rage, could feel the Captain's anger. Could smell the salt water mixing with copper blood.
In that moment, the memory was so strong that Dipper couldn't breathe. That he couldn't move. It was like it was happening right there, in front of his eyes. Like he was reliving the nightmare again. He hated it. Here he was, in the very same room as the man who had caused this memory, wanting to relieve him of his own nightmares. In that moment, he wondered why. Why he cared. Why he bothered. Did he think the Captain cared about him at all? That the Captain would be thankful, grateful? No. He'd probably be angry. He'd probably get the whip and whip him more. Again. Again. Again. Over and over. Until he ceased to exist. Until nothing remained.
Tears began falling from his eyes, unbidden. He still couldn't breathe. He was so afraid. God. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? He looked numbly at the book in his hands, the red cover blurring in his eyes. For a second, it looked like blood. He dropped the book like he'd been scalded, trying so hard to catch his breath. He clutched his chest, eyes squeezing tightly, more tears falling.
He heard another shout, then, and felt himself jerk so badly that his back screamed with the movement. Eyes flinging wide open, he stared at the Captain, who had thrown his blanket off and was now partially uncovered.
Dipper just stared, heart stopped, breath gone, at the rumpled form he saw. The Captain was dressed in his black undershirt, the buttons nearly undone with how much the man had thrashed around. Dipper could see the golden skin under the black and a heat filled him, despite himself. He let out a soft sob at that, wanting to tear his eyes away but he was unable to. He had eyes only for the Captain, even as his chest constricted, as his back burned, as his mind screamed at him to look away. Away from the monster.
But he couldn't. Couldn't. Bill's face had looked so anguished. So afraid. It cut through the panic that Dipper felt and suddenly he could breathe again. He gulped the first breath greedily, eyes never leaving the prone form of the man he had grown to care for. The man that terrified him and intrigued him in equal measures.
It took several long minutes, staring at the debased form of the terrifying pirate, before his breathing went back to normal, before his eyes dried their tears and he could see properly again. The memories became just that, memories, and he was finally back in the moment. Bill let out another shout, and Dipper remembered his plan.
The book was in his lap, red cover worn and beaten. There was no title on it, just a small, golden triangle with a diamond eye in the center, staring into his very soul. Dipper was almost distracted in his goal of waking the Captain, mind hazy, hands itching like they always had to open the book and find out what was inside, but before he could he heard the Captain let out a small groan, and he remembered his plan. Tearing his eyes from the book, he looked back at the Captain, and took a small breath to steady himself.
The Captain would be angry. He knew he would be. He shouldn't do this, but he had to. He had to. So, before he could think on it anymore, Dipper lifted the book, ignoring the stretch of his back, and chucked it at the prone figure on the bed.
Dipper winced slightly as the book hit the man straight in the face, even as part of him felt gleeful at the minute amount of pain he might have caused the man. He was almost afraid it wouldn't work and he'd be back at square one, but before he could think of anything else to try, the Pirate Captain shot up, an ornate knife somehow materializing in his hands, a mad, frantic look in his one eye. The eyepatch that usually covered the other eye had either fallen off, or had been taken off before bed, because Dipper could see the scar that covered the empty socket, two inches long and jagged. If he had not had a spike of fear, his earlier panic returning at the terrifying picture before him, he would have felt sorrow and possibly disgust at the sight. As it was, he could barely contain his panic, his breathing much too fast to actually be taking any air in.
Long moments passed like that, Bill looking frantically side to side, knife brandished outward, Dipper on the verge of a panic attack.
Finally, it seemed that Bill realized he wasn't being attacked, and his eye turned confused. He frowned and looked down at the bed, Dipper's eyes desperately following the movement. Please don't get the whip. Please don't get the whip. Pleasedon'tgetthewhippleasedon'tgetthewhippleasedon't-
Bill looked up, then, and his eye fell on Dipper. Dipper's breath stopped, as Bill's eye bore through him, Dipper shaking so badly he thought that the ship was about to sink it was so fierce.
"What," Bill started, eye ablaze, chest heaving, "was that?"
He sounded furious. Oh God. This was a bad idea. So bad. Dipper tried to shuffle back, but he moved too quickly, and his back reminded him of the pain. He let out a sharp yell, folding over with the pain he felt. Tears filled his eyes again, his breath was gone, he could see Bill, anger, pain, whip, whip, whip-
He heard the Captain get up, the bed creaking slowly, and his head whipped upwards. Bill was moving slowly, his shirt barely hanging onto his shoulders, his chest exposed to the elements. Dipper felt nothing at the sight, though, his heart so full of panic. Please don't hurt him. He just wanted to help. Please. Please. Please-
Bill moved closer. Dipper tried to scuttle away again, ignoring the pain this time. He had to get away. He didn't register the frown that Bill had on his face, the anger and confusion leaving his eye, concern replacing it. He didn't register the way Bill put his knife down, hands out in a placating manner. He didn't register anything but his fear, a faint buzzing sound in his ears that he ignored, his mind replaying that moment on the mast again, and again. Over and over. God. Please. Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!
"I'm not going to hurt you, Pine Tree. Dipper. See?"
The voice was distant, but it was false. You already hurt me, he thought wildly. Bill flinched at that, and Dipper realized he was speaking. Saying his thoughts. Abruptly, he closed his mouth, and the buzzing noise he had been hearing stopped. He tried to breathe but he couldn't. His chest hurt but he couldn't breathe. More tears escaped his eyes, unbidden. God he was afraid. So afraid.
"I know I hurt you, Pine Tree. But I won't do it again. Okay? Promise."
"Liar," he whispered, knowing he was right. Bill would always hurt him. His presence burned. His burning back reminded him of that fact.
He watched as Bill faltered at that, before he steeled himself up. His one eye hardened and the dead socket just glared at him. Bill looked terrifying in that minute, more so than usual. Dipper watched as the man came closer, taking strides to cross the suddenly too small room. Dipper let out a shout, trying to scramble back but unable to do so. He felt himself get lifted by his arms, felt his back hit the wall, fire traveling up and down the surface, tears falling freely, please don't hurt me, please stop, stop, stop!
"Snap out of it Pine Tree! Stop this! I'm not going to hurt you, but I will if you don't stop!" Bill shouted, face close. Dipper let out a sob, turning his face away. He couldn't control his breathing. It felt like he was about to die. Bill would take his knife and run it through his stomach, taking his life, taking everything, please don't hurt me, please, Bill, stop, I-I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe-
"Try. Come on, Dipper, try to breathe. Shit. I'm not…" he heard a soft growl, before a knee was placed between his legs, holding him upright. He then felt a hand in his hair, gentler than he would have expected but still rough. Another hand grabbed his hip, warm, and bracing. He felt something touch his forehead, and distantly realized it was Bill's forehead. He could see into the man's golden eye, his dead socket covered by hair. The hand in his hair grew gentler, and he felt it begin to move, softly running through his unruly hair. It would get caught on tangles, but it never pulled. It felt. Nice.
He distantly recognized soft words being said. Nothing words. I'm not going to hurt you, calm down Pine Tree, please, I'm not good at this but you need to calm down, you need to calm down, I'm not going to hurt you-
Soft air puffed against his lips, a warm body was pressed up against his. He could feel warmth all around him, and slowly, he found he could breathe again. It came haltingly at first, but soon he found a rhythm, unconsciously matching the breathing of the body before him. He tried hard to stop his panic ridden mind, to stop the remembered anger, remembered pain, but it was hard. Even with the soft comfort of Bill, he felt trapped. God. This was the same man, he thought wildly. Same man. Same anger. Yet. He was helping, here. Why? Why? Why?!
"Why?" He whispered, soft, confused, eyes boring into Bill's eye. "W-why? I don't. You. Hurt. M-me, you hurt… why… you-" he cut off to take another breath and felt Bill press against him further. It hurt his back, but everything hurt his back.
"I-I know I hurt you, Pine Tree. I didn't… you tried to leave, you tried to leave me, what else could I do? I had to hurt you, you hurt m- you went against me. I couldn't let you go without a punishment, I had to- why did you try and leave?! This never would have happened had you just stayed put. Had you just," he felt the hand in his hair clench into a fist, and he let out a soft sob. The hand released, out of his hair, and he wanted to cry again.
"Shit. I didn't, I'm. Shit."
He heard a breath get taken, before the body left his. He let out a soft keen, wanting the warmth again, the cold invading him. But the body stayed away, hands back on his shoulder, holding him upright. He stared ahead of him, eyes glazed.
"I couldn't let you go without punishment, Pine Tree. I had to. They, they would have been angry had I not- They would have- I- Shit! I don't have to explain myself to you! I am Captain, I have the right to punish people on my ship, Goddamn it!"
Dipper said nothing to that, just looked blankly ahead, eyes unfocused. He heard another sigh, before he felt the body return, the warmth a comfort despite everything.
"But. I. Didn't want to. Hurt you. I'm. Sor- Shit. Shit. Come on Cipher." A pause, before a breath was taken. Dipper distantly heard it, eyes glazed. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."
Dipper blinked slightly at that, before his eyes scrunched up. Sorry? That was strange. Sorry. Why would Bill be sorry? He was never sorry. He was a pirate. Filth. Scum. Unable to feel regret. Unable to feel anything. Eyes becoming sharper, he looked at the face that was inches from his own and scowled softly.
"Why? Why does… why does it matter? Why do you care?"
The words were a whisper. Soft. He had wanted to sound angry, to be biting, but they just came out honest. Truthful. Questioning. Why, indeed. Why did any of this even matter to Bill? Why did he care that he hurt him? Why?
"Why? Shit, you think I know? I don't. Pine Tree. Dipper. I don't… this is all your fault. Had you just- had you not… had you never come here, had you just stayed on your Goddamned ship, had you never come here this never would have happened! I wouldn't… you're going to be the death of me, Pine Tree."
He didn't know how to feel about the words. He looked at Bill, at the confusion and anger there, and didn't know what to feel.
"Had you just killed me, none of this would have happened. Why didn't you kill me?"
Soft. Questioning. Dipper felt his entire body stop, then. His thoughts. His heart. His breath. The panic faded, his mind blank as he looked at the Captain. Everything was numb. He couldn't feel anything. He just… he needed to know the answer.
Bill started at the question, breath hitching. He pulled back farther, still touching Dipper but far enough that he could see his whole face. Bill's hair had moved, and his dead socket was visible, his one eye creased, eyebrows furrowed. They spent several long seconds like that, staring at one another, the air frozen, time stopped.
Then, slowly, like he was testing the waters, Bill spoke. Softly, slowly, haltingly. Scared.
"Because… because I care about you, Pine Tree. God knows why. But I saw you and knew… you were different. You mattered. And I couldn't kill you. I couldn't…"
He trailed off, and a look of confusion and anguish filled his eye. He seemed far away, his face looking decades younger. Like he was a child, afraid he was about to be spurned by a parent. Like he had revealed everything he had always kept hidden, his heart exposed, and was waiting for the knife to plunge into it.
Dipper… he looked at the man, and all thought faded. He didn't care. About the pain. The anger. The fear. This man… God. He was beautiful.
Before he could stop himself, Dipper moved forward, erasing the space between them, and pressed his lips softly to the Pirate Captain's.
The world stopped, then. Nothing moved. He just stood there, lips pressed to Bill's, heart pounding fiercely.
And then he felt the lips move against his, and nothing mattered.
It felt like fire. Like lightning. Like everything and nothing and God was it glorious. He had never known kissing could be like this. The first two kisses that Bill had stolen were nothing like this. This… this was magic. Was worth the glory that those stories gave it. Worth the pain, and tears. This was the kiss that epics were based on. That gave life to so many people.
Time was stopped as Bill kissed him, softly, sweetly, and then greedily. He felt sharp teeth bite his lower lip, copper blood flooding his mouth, alongside a curious tongue. He felt the tongue caress his own, the bitter blood masking the foul taste of rot and alcohol. It didn't matter, though. Dipper could think of nothing but this kiss. Nothing at all. He felt lightheaded, but it mattered not. God, it didn't matter.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Bill pulled away, causing a soft keen to be released from Dipper's mouth. He froze when he heard the low chuckle come from Bill's lips, but relaxed when he felt another soft, chaste kiss on his lips. Then Bill pulled back entirely, only his hands on him, holding him up. Slowly, the man let go, and Dipper sunk down. His back ached but he barely felt it.
Bill noticed, though, and sighed softly. He moved over to his cabinet and took out some medical supplies, the medicinal alcohol and herbs in his hands. He also took out some clean bandages, before he moved back over to Dipper. Dipper almost flinched away, but he stopped himself. Why was he afraid of Bill? He- they had just kissed. That meant- that meant he was safe, right? He wouldn't- he's not going to- he's safe. He's safe. He's safe.
So, he kept still as Bill leaned down, and didn't flinch (much) when he reached out to touch him.
"You need to turn, Pine Tree, and take your shirt on. I need to take a look at your back."
Biting his lip, Dipper nodded. He slowly turned around and carefully peeled his shirt off, grimacing at the pain. He then grimaced when he saw the blood that stained the back. It wasn't as bad as he would have thought, but the blood left deep stains over a majority of the back. He felt a pang of sorrow at it. The shirt was the only thing he had left of Before. Of his sister.
As he thought, he felt the shirt get taken out of his hands and he almost resisted. But he let it go, feeling numb as he watched it leave his hands. Taking a deep breath, he laid down, so that he wouldn't have to worry about the pain while sitting up.
He could feel Bill kneel beside him, before feeling the alcohol hit his back. He hissed with the pain, trying his hardest to not scream. His throat was starting to hurt, and he didn't want it to hurt anymore. He didn't want anything to hurt anymore, but he didn't really have much say in that.
Bill said nothing as he worked, cleaning the wounds out carefully but clinically. Soon he was placing the ointment on the wounds, which helped numb the pain. Finally, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, pressing softly.
"Alright, all done Pine Tree. Sit up so I can wrap it up."
Sitting carefully, Dipper turned back to face Bill, and tried to not let his breath catch when he saw Bill, his shirt hanging off his chest. He truly was a gorgeous man. And seeing his chest reminded him of their kiss from earlier. He bit his lip again and looked away, cheeks red. He looked back at Bill when he heard a soft chuckle, blushing harder when he saw the grin Bill was sporting, his eye alight in amusement.
"Like what you see?"
Dipper scrunched his nose up, giving Bill an unimpressed look. He couldn't help the smile, though, when Bill laughed. It was hesitant, and weak, but it was still a smile. It felt strange, on his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled, honestly.
"Come here, Pine Tree. Sit up straight."
Sighing, he came closer, and sat as straight as he could. It hurt, but the ointment helped numb the pain. He held his breath as Bill pressed up close to him to get the bandages around his chest, his breathing shallow as they pressed close together. He felt when Bill finished binding him, but Bill didn't move away. If anything, he moved closer, his arms lightly wrapping around him.
They stayed like that for a few moments, and Dipper felt warm. He could barely remember his panic from early. He barely remembered his fear. All he could remember was this warmth. And their kiss from earlier.
When Bill finally pulled away, Dipper let go reluctantly. There was very little that gave him any joy or pleasure when on this ship, so he would take whatever he could get. Bill chuckled again, and he felt a soft kiss on his head.
"Don't worry, Pine Tree. We can do this some more tomorrow."
Bill pulled away at last and Dipper could see the grin on his face. It was a nice grin, not the chaotic grin he usually had. It made Dipper want to grin back, so he did. The largest grin he had worn in ages. Considering that he hadn't really grinned at all in recent weeks, it wasn't really saying much, but still.
Bill moved away after that and moved over to the bed. He picked up the covers and carefully put them over the bed, leaning down to pick something up. It was after the man stood up and brought his hands to his empty socket that Dipper realized that it was the ornate eyepatch the man usually wore. Dipper felt a little relieved when the patch went over the dead, empty socket. Now that his panic was over with, he had to admit that the sight of the scar was very gruesome.
Once Bill was done with that, he buttoned up his shirt (something Dipper was a tad disappointed in, to be honest), tugged on his jacket, and began heading for the door. Dipper frowned at the action, looking out the window and seeing it was now pitch black out. The moon was waning, with only half of its light shining.
Bill noticed the curious look Dipper shot him and grinned in response.
"After all of that, I'm not sure I could get back to sleep. Might as well do something productive, eh, Pine Tree?"
With a careless grin, Bill waltzed out the room, not waiting for a response. Dipper didn't particularly care. He didn't think on it, but part of him was relieved the man was gone. And yet, another part of him, growing exponentially, was disappointed. After all, he was looking forward to getting closer to the Captain. That kiss… oh, that kiss. Now that he was alone, he let himself think on it and he felt the heat flood his veins. A grin rose on his cheeks, stretching the underused muscles. God, did he lo-like Bill. He couldn't wait to see him again, to get the closeness that the man had promised.
As the hours passed, Dipper entertained himself with thoughts of what the two could do together, body flushing with heat. Oh, he couldn't wait. He wanted to see Bill again soon, wanted to feel the man, touch the man.
He refused to think about any unsavory business, anything that might ruin his good mood. He pushed his fear down, his panic away, and focussed only on the good parts of Bill and their interactions.
After all. Everything else was a nightmare, so why not hold onto the dream?
Did he not deserve the right to dream within this nightmare?