Chapter Eighteen
Dipper leaned back against the counter in the gift shop. It was Sunday, so the place was empty. It felt strange somehow that no one would be working, because Stan had never taken days off unless the Shack was undergoing maintenance or repairs. But Soos had insisted. He wasn't particularly religious, but his abuelita had been, so for her, he took the day off each week. Even after she'd passed, it had become somewhat of a tradition for him and Melody.
Dipper tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. "Heh.. I think I'm still pretty terrible at this whole dating thing," he mused aloud, pushing himself up to sit atop the counter.
Mabel giggled at him, beaming cheerfully. "I'll give you some boy advice later, broseph," she replied, her hands on her hips. "Hey, speaking of which, where is Bill?"
Dipper made a face. "Downstairs with great uncle Ford." He looked down at his hands, chuckling awkwardly. "We got into a really stupid argument. Well... More like I said one thing and then got screamed at for five minutes... So that was fun."
Mabel pursed her lips, eyes narrowed skeptically. "But did he have a good reason?"
To this Dipper didn't really know how to reply. "I mean, yea-"
A pained scream erupted from the basement, muffled but still clear enough for Dipper to recognize the voice. Eyes wide, he darted off towards the vending machine, his sister directly behind him. "That didn't sound very promising, bro-bro. Who told you it was a good idea to leave those two in a room together?" Mabel questioned worriedly, watching him input the only code he remembered.
Dipper pulled the vending machine open and stepped inside the elevator. Mabel followed him, playing nervously with her hair. "Bill said not to follow him," he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course, he'd known that was a horrible idea. But it wasn't like Bill could hurt anyone; it went against their deal.
That certainly didn't say anything about Ford, though.
The elevator door opened up, and Dipper was happy to see that he'd used the correct code. Ford stood behind a black swivel chair, what looked like a gun in his hand. Although the end appeared somewhat strange, like it was made to pierce, not shoot. And it dripped with blood, presumably Bill's, as he was slumped in the chair with his head in his hands. He grumbled profanity loudly, eyes clenched shut. He was shaking violently, the entire back of his head stained red. "Bill, what the hell happened?!" Dipper exclaimed, rushing to his aid and kneeling in front of the blonde. Mabel lunged at Ford, grappling for the strange-looking gun in his hand, but he held it high above her head.
"He asked me to do this, kids," Ford pointed out defensively, a hand on her shoulder. She opened her mouth, brows furrowed, but nothing quite came out right.
Dipper glanced upwards at his uncle, then back down at Bill. "What did you do?" he asked, placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder.
Bill lowered his trembling hands after a moment, his palms bloody. "What I had to..." he choked out, lifting his head, although the process of doing so seemed agonizing. He winced, eyes watery and not quite focused on anything, but he seemed really intent on directing them towards Dipper. "Do you trust me now?"
Dipper might've flinched at that, stung he'd been the cause of this. But he nodded anyway, biting his lip and fighting off the urge to avert his gaze. "I'm sorry.. I was an ass and you have every right to totally be mad at me, but I swear if you do something like this again..." He sounded serious, despite the fact that Bill laughed hoarsely.
"How many more plates in my head could I possibly need, kid?" He grinned, but Dipper still didn't feel right about it.
He sighed, standing up. "I'm not joking, Bill," he muttered, leaning over him and pressing a hand gently against the wound. The blonde hissed, but didn't fight him. "You're still bleeding," he went on, looking at his hand. Bill's hair was entirely coated, and it was beginning to dry into a nasty brown. Dipper looked up at Ford, who had turned away to wipe off his gun and put it away. "Do you have any bandages?"
Ford nodded, opening up a drawer and pulling out some gauze. Mabel reached out and took them. She silently strode towards Bill, pushing her brother as politely as she could out of the way. Leaning down, she began to unwind it and dress the injury. Bill wrinkled his nose, but said nothing. He didn't look like he even had it in him to be snarky. "Make sure to change those once you two get home," Ford advised, still going through drawers in search of something. "Don't let him do anything else today either. Make sure he stays in bed and doesn't push himself. If that opens up again, you'll probably have to send him to the hospital, and the first thing they'll do is remove the plate. Ah!"
He pulled an orange bottle of pills from a compartment in his desk. He spun around and outheld it towards Dipper. "Pain killers. He won't need them long, but he's gonna have quite a migraine for a couple days. And those should ease it up enough for it to become bearable," Stanford explained, handing them over to Dipper. The young man looked over the label, interested.
"Weren't these for your shoulders?" he asked, glancing back at his sister, who was tucking the end of the gauze into itself tightly enough that it wouldn't come undone. He shook the bottle lightly, the pills clinking against each other a bit.
Ford shrugged. "I'm old, my boy. Everything hurts all the time," he replied blankly, waving a hand dismissively. "Take them."
Bill scoffed, forcing himself to stand. "Aww gee, Fordsy. You do care," he remarked, smiling innocently at the man.
Ford didn't seem amused, though. "Okay, kids, out of my lab. I'm busy," he mumbled, turning away from them to do his own thing. Bill chuckled, stumbling over himself a bit until Dipper rushed to his side and steadied him. The blonde wrapped an arm around his shoulders, balancing him. He felt dizzy, and the back of his head might've been bashed in, it hurt so badly. His vision was blurred. He was seeing double, but Dipper was guiding him where he needed to go, so he didn't feel all that lost. Mabel exchanged a few words with her uncle before following after the boys, the rest of the guaze in her hands.
They rode the elevator back up to the ground floor and Dipper helped Bill to the exit. Mabel darted ahead of them and held it open. Dipper nodded appreciatively at her, leading his boyfriend to the car. Bill nudged him off, pulling open the car door and sitting down inside on his own. "Thanks," he muttered, leaning forward and cradling his head in his hands once again. Dipper closed the door for him, sighing in exasperation.
He shared a look with his sister. "You're a life saver, you know," he said, smiling at her, though he seemed tired from the day's stress, and it had barely even started. it was only about one in the afternoon, after all.
Mabel hummed, giving him the gauze. "Oh, I'm well aware, Dippingsauce," she replied playfully, running a hand through her hair. She smiled jubilantly. "I'll text you some stuff about how to deal with him over the next few days, alright?" Dipper nodded gratefully and she winked. "Plus some of that dating advice I mentioned earlier," she giggled. Dipper rolled his eyes.
"Thanks, Mabes." He hugged his sister for a few moments before letting go of her and turning back towards his car. "I'll see ya later." She nodded at him, giving a slight wave before going in the other direction and back inside the Shack. Dipper got in the car and put on his seatbelt. He grabbed the water bottle that sat in one of his cupholders, then handed it to Bill, along with the gauze. He opened up the pill bottle and poured two of the white capsules into his palm. "Take these," he ordered, holding them out. Bill did as he was told and tossed them into his mouth. He took a swig of the water, tipping his head back to swallow the pills. They left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he didn't bother complaining.
Dipper twisted the lid back onto the orange bottle, then leaned over to put it in the glove compartment. He started the car, pulling out of the driveway. "Those are narcotics, so expect a bit of a high," he warned, and Bill choked out a sound to show he'd been listening.
Dipper was actually a bit worried the medication would be too strong for him. He'd taken only a handful of them before, and never once something quite so potent. People built up immunities to pills with time, but Bill hadn't even started. So he'd probably be more than a little out of it that day.
Of course, Dipper had been right to believe this. By the time they'd gotten home, Bill was grinning ear to ear and making triangle puns like it was going out of style.
Or more accurately, like it had ever been in style.
But at least that meant he didn't feel much of the pain. The brunette decided he preferred it this way over having to watch Bill be miserable for the next few days. He guided his boyfriend into the house, then sat him down on the edge of their bed. "Tip your head," he said, unravelling more of the gauze to replace it. Bill did what he'd been asked.
"I meant downwards, stupid," Dipper huffed, rubbing one of his temples.
Bill giggled like a child before tilting his head the way his boyfriend wanted him to this time. Dipper pulled the bandages off of him, then began the process of replacing them. This of course, was difficult because Bill was so fidgety under the effects of the drugs. But he somehow managed to do it after some time. "Lay down," he said as softly as he could, trying really hard to be patient with his boyfriend.
Bill pulled at Dipper's arm. "Lay with me," he replied drunkenly, stumbling over his words.
Dipper sighed, gently pulling the blonde's hand off of him. "Bill, I have other things to do today," he explained, a sympathetic expression on his face.
But his boyfriend wouldn't have it. "I'm more important," he insisted, a simper adorning his lips. Bill was clearly pouting, and the problem was, it was kind of adorable. "Pleeaaase?"
A few seconds passed. Dipper really couldn't say no to that. He was too weak to put up a fight against Bill's neediness. Especially when he found it so endearing. "Alright alright. Just let me get rid of your old bandages first," he conditioned, and Bill nodded cheerfully. Amused, Dipper spun towards the door and made his way towards the kitchen. He threw away the bloodied gauze, then decided he'd check his phone for any messages from Mabel.
Surely enough, he'd gotten one.
Lots of water! And sleep too. Don't use any bandages after it's closed up, and don't let him take those pills more than ONCE a day. Even if he complains. Also no physical exertion. So that means no naughty business until he feels better! Got it, broseph?
Dipper felt his face heat up at her mention of 'naughty business', but he ignored it. He noted her directions, sending her his thanks. He'd always thought she'd make a great nurse or doctor. It was a shame she hadn't gone into the medical field. Since she was little, she'd had a real talent for caring for sick people and making them feel better. But Mabel hadn't wanted to go to college. She'd said it just wasn't her thing, and she would've much rather started her own clothing line from the comfort of her home in Gravity Falls. And she had.
Or at least, she was working on it. She made money selling her products online, and with that money she planned to open up her own shop in town. But it was a long, difficult process. Dipper would probably end up asking Bill to spare some of the gold he seemed to have hidden all over the place to help her further her career. And there was no doubt the blonde would do it in a heartbeat. Pacifica would as well, but her parents were stingy with their money more so than ever after getting their mansion back from Fiddleford.
Just when Dipper spun around to go back to his room, his phone buzzed again. Another text from his sister, most likely the boy advice she'd offered him. He chuckled quietly, opening it. He read over it and scoffed, once again sending her a thank you in reply. He pocketed his phone and stepped back into his room, where Bill was sitting in his desk chair with his legs crossed and a book balanced on top of his head. He stared back at Dipper with a toothy grin. The cover of the book read 'Unsolved Mysteries and Paranormal Phenomenon'. Dipper sighed, taking a few steps towards the blonde. "Bill, what are you doing?" he questioned, caught between amusement and annoyance.
Bill pulled the book off his head and held it out. "Going through your dork stuff," he cooed teasingly, standing up. "Read it for me. I can't really see the words well right now." He snickered at his own intoxication.
Dipper sighed, taking the book and pressing a hand against Bill's shoulder. He led the blonde to the bed. "Lay down then. You're going to hurt yourself more if you move around too much," he pointed out in as sweet a tone as he possibly could. Bill seemed dissatisfied by this and grabbed Dipper's hand when he sat on the bed's edge.
"Only if you lay with me," he whined, repeating himself. "And read. I like listening to it."
Dipper found that it was impossible to refuse the blonde when he was so affectionate and needy, like all he wanted in the world was Dipper's attention. Honestly, it was just too damn cute. He chuckled, reaching towards the nightstand and picking up his glasses. He put them on and sat down on the bed. Delighted by this, Bill scooted to the side and gave the brunette room to actually sit without falling. Dipper adjusted himself to allow Bill most of the space, then leaned back against the head board.
Bill watched the brunette open up the book and got closer to him. He didn't want space. He wanted to be as close as possible. He wrapped his arms around Dipper's torso with his chin against his boyfriend's shoulder. Dipper laughed softly before picking up the words where he'd stopped last time, reciting them aloud. Bill had always enjoyed listening to him read, which was good because the brunette often muttered the words out loud when he was focused on them anyway. He spoke clearly, tone light and soothing. It was nice, to say the least. And the process of Bill squirming around every sitting or laying position childishly until he eventually settled with resting his head on Dipper's lap was certainly an entertaining one to witness. Dipper smiled down at the blonde. "Comfortable?" he asked, glancing back up at the book.
Bill hummed contentedly, then raised up a hand to tug at Dipper's shirt. "Come down here," he mumbled through his half asleep, inebriated haze. He didn't even bother opening his eyes.
Dipper huffed, though it sounded less irritated and more fond. "Make up your mind," he responded, putting his bookmark between the pages and once again sitting the book down on the nightstand. He pulled the specs off his face and put them away as well. Bill took his arms away from the brunette so he could lay beside his boyfriend. Dipper chuckled, moving closer to let Bill nuzzle into his chest and hold onto him until they both fell asleep that way.
And that was just about how they spent their time over the next few days. When Bill woke up in paralyzing pain each morning, Dipper would give him two of the pills and comfort him through his agony until they kicked in. And then Bill would be out of it the rest of the day, either in the process of connecting himself to Dipper's hip, sticking his nose into whatever interested him at the moment, or simply sleeping the drug off. It was all he could do until his headaches finally died down to a dull throb, which happened after what Dipper told him had been five days. It had all just blurred together for Bill, but upon discovering it was the twenty-sixth before he was finally in his right mind, he began to panic a bit.
It would be his boyfriend's birthday in only five days and he had no idea what to do for him. Did he even have time to think of something good? He felt like he'd lost the time that had gone by, though it was of course his own fault. He decided he didn't like the sensation of being high all that much. Everything felt too out of his control. And his personality in such a state was a bit too obnoxious for his liking. He much preferred drunkenness, if he really had to choose.
But at least the constant affection from Dipper had been pleasant, even if it was just because Bill was either groaning or begging for it at any given moment in time.
He supposed he could be content with that, though.