Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.
Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.
OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT
Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader
Word Count: 2899
Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining
A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:
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The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter.
And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway.
But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence.
Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan.
That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life.
You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together.
Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.
You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you.
“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes.
“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk.
“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop.
Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in.
“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.”
Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.”
“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.”
It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day.
Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually.
There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid.
You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did.
“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.
“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.”
“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner.
The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way.
“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude.
“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.”
Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?”
You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked.
“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully.
“What’d you do this weekend?”
“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.”
Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?”
“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.
You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word.
Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his.
“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.”
Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of.
You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked.
“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked.
Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.”
You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot.
God, you were down bad.
“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face.
“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed.
You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded.
That was all you needed to hear.
— — —
You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible.
Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little.
You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting.
After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual.
As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken.
“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.”
It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.
Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?”
You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger.
The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision.
“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.”
Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm.
Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed.
Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece.
As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice.
“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!”
“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his.
You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive.
But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless.
No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.
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And here's Bill vs Bill, aka the Pinnacle of Billmei vs Billge's Faceoff, part three. Not the finale, but that's coming very soon!
I am now going to go lie down and take a nap.
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“You’re not gonna get what you want,” Bill says.
“Thanks.” Dipper had guessed that part five minutes ago. He rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Really great to know.”
He stares across the bare dirt in front of him. The sigils are scrawled on with a stick - he didn’t have anything else on hand - and he wasn’t expecting company.
Company he’s currently trying to ignore.
“I had to say something! You’re terrible at this.” From the side of the clearing, Bill snorts. “You need all the help you can get.”
Commentary from Bill never fails to be unhelpful. For the first time in a while, Dipper finds himself genuinely, unflirtingly irritated by it. Tension has been building in his shoulders for the last day and a half and they’re starting to ache.
Bill Cipher lounges on a stump nearby. Seated in a way that couldn’t possibly be comfortable for a normal human, but has the appropriate level of drama for a demon.
He’s spent most of the last half-hour mocking Dipper’s futile scribblings in the dirt. An unwelcome interloper, in multiple senses.
Ditching this Bill to go experiment in the forest has been a total loss. All Bills are smart, and for all that this one knew so little about their situation - still doesn’t - he’s somehow latched onto being able to locate Dipper, easy as anything.
“Do you mind?” Dipper reels on him.
“Often, as you know!” Bill shrugs that off with a grin. “C’mon, you need me for this!” He adds a slow, unsubtle wink. “Besides, all our other stuff worked out!”
Dipper makes a disgusted sound, and hears Bill start to chuckle.
The one good thing about interacting with demons? Is that Dipper doesn’t have to pretend to be nice.
Even though Bill doesn’t have the entire picture, he’s clever, and he can make inferences. All of Dipper’s reactions have shown him that this human’s not servile. It’s just enough to accept it as par for the course.
He knows that Dipper knows he’s a demon - but not that Dipper knows about demons, and how they do… stuff. As far as this Bill’s aware, the non-flirtatious insults are just how they interact. That Dipper, of course, wouldn’t know that some other ones have… implications.
There’s no reason they would be flirty, anyway. He thinks they’re just -
Buddies.
God, Dipper hopes his Bill won’t learn about that part. It adds another layer to the joke, and not one that works in Dipper’s favor.
Dipper breathes in, then out. Trying to relax, though his back and shoulders aren’t cooperating.
He looks back at the interdimensional asshole and asks. “Why are you here?”
“What, did you think I wouldn’t show up?” Bill rests a hand on his chest, a near-perfect picture of surprised innocence. “Like you’d get rid of me that easy..”
Dipper tries not to grit his teeth. He stomps deliberately on the ground as he turns away.
“C’mon,” Bill’s voice is coy and almost cloyingly sweet, in a way that makes Dipper want to spit. “All this dimensional stuff you’re looking at. All that curiosity,” A tinge of something else enters his tone. There’s a soft pat, probably in his lap. “I got all the knowledge, right here! Why not enjoy it?”
Dipper picks up the stupid stick he was using to draw his stupid improvised signs into the dirt. He scrapes down a few more, simply out of spite.
He looks like a six-year old playing at being a magician, not a real one - but it’s better than letting Bill win.
For the second time ever, Dipper Pines has the dubious honor of being the focus of a Bill Cipher’s intense interest.
It’s mostly because of his world-conquering plots, of course. Somewhat because Bill’s learned that this dimension comes with… extras, he guesses. Not that he’s getting any use of them. And partly because…
Okay, Dipper’s not sure what the rest is, but Other Bill has a way of leading down tangents that Dipper would, in any other instance, pursue. He’s had to not argue a surprising number of times.
Dipper won’t let this guy drag him into some coquettish debate over…. leyline geometry, or anything else. Even if it’s tempting. Dipper’s dug in his metaphorical heels, because being led down that road can’t end well.
Maybe Dipper’s home dimension has something in the air, or… ether or whatever. An ephemeral thing that turns a Bill extra weird, because this doesn’t seem like it’s ‘universal’.
The alternative would be that this is kind of multiversal, and that would mean -
Dipper grimaces.
Demons are dangerous. Bill’s the worst of them.
Luck…. wouldn’t always run in Dipper’s favor, he thinks.
For the sake of his remaining sanity, he’s decided not to think too hard about it.
“If you want results, you should be working with my information, not whatever crapshoot you have going on in your noggin.” Bill adds, rather pointedly pointing to the papers he tossed on the ground. They’re spread out in a loose pile, even when he could have neatly stacked them. “Take my word for it!”
Dipper doesn’t have a good response. He shrugs instead.
The wind blows gently through the clearing, and Bill makes a face as some of the pages get caught. He raises an eyebrow. Jerks his head towards them, with a smirk.
And fuck that.
There’s no way Dipper’s going to rifle through that mess, much less chase after it. He has some dignity, and this Bill would just love watching him scrabble through the dirt for scraps of information. Dipper refuses to entertain him. Hell, he wouldn’t do that even for his own Bill.
And second -
That information is absolutely, 100%, a poison pill. A trick.
A little over thirty years ago, Bill Cipher - a Bill Cipher - nearly led Stanford Pines into ruining an entire dimension. The only reason he got caught was because Ford, in pure academic diligence - noticed something very, very subtly out of place.
Ford might be oblivious to personal interactions - but he’s downright incredible when it comes to scholarship. Even then Bill nearly tricked him into a cascade failure of literally disastrous proportions.
So yeah, Dipper’s smart. And maybe he is getting pretty okay at the dimensional stuff. But he’s barely getting into this field.
He knows way better than to think any Pines is going to get that lucky, twice.
It’s pretty clear he’s already used up his own.
Behind him, Dipper hears Bill starting to ramble on about something. This time with a tinge of annoyance in his tone.
Out of the corner of his eye Dipper can see the pages caught on some bushes. Wherever the rest are, he doesn’t care anymore.
And in front of him, Dipper sees his own futile scribblings leading… precisely nowhere.
No matter how perfectly the circle is drawn, or how his sigil handwriting is second to nobody’s, it’s basically as good as Ford’s -
He just…
Doesn’t know what he’s doing.
The only person who really, truly knows exactly what to do is out of reach.
There’s a copy around, sure. Right down to the intelligence, personality, and name. Even the face is downright familiar, though the expressions it wears are strange.
Dipper swallows. His mouth feels dry.
There’s so much information to learn, infinite piles of it, offered up on a silver platter.
And none that he can trust.
“What’s with the face?” Bill sounds cheerful, though Dipper can hear the tension behind it. Other Bill isn’t getting his way, and it’s annoying him. “Frustrated? Struggling?” He claps a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, and his voice turns that syrup-smooth tone that Dipper hates - “Between you and me, we could-”
“No world-conquering.” Dipper shrugs away from the touch on his shoulder. That’s it. He’s done. “Ever.”
“Whoa, whoa, who said anything about that? I-”
“Save it for the suckers, Bill.” Dipper turns on him, backing up a step - but not far. “I never bought it in the first place.”
Other Bill looks at him with… mild confusion. But that’s only what shows on his face. By the way his head tilts, and his shoulders set - Dipper can tell he’s thinking, fast.
This Bill knows he’s been caught at something - and he’s equally sure he can talk his way out of it.
Dipper can’t work his way around Bill’s magical trickery. Even if he could, that’d take years, maybe decades of study. And all the while, he’d have to be lucky enough to avoid the many, many landmines that Other Bill would place in his way.
That’s not going to happen. Probability isn’t on Dipper’s side, he’s never going to learn enough to stop whatever this demon is planning.
But he does know Bill.
His thoughts. His motives. His emotions, too. Even when he tries to hide them, Dipper can almost always find out what he’s really feeling. This might be a different version, but Dipper still understands this creature right down to -
Well, not his bones - the few Bill has are at best non-euclidean - but Dipper gets the majority of what’s underneath his exoskeleton.
So, fuck it. Last resort.
Dipper just… asks.
“Where is he?”
“Where’s who?” Other Bill cocks his head to one side. His face flickers into an expression of not-quite concern. “You’re-”
“No.” Dipper cuts through the air with his arm. Frustration is tight in his chest. “I said I’m done playing.”
“Yeesh, you’re testy today.” Other Bill taps his foot on the ground, shaking his head. “Figures, what with all the sleep you’re not having.”
And god, comments on that have always been annoying, even from Real Bill.
“Nice try. Sure, you’re a Bill,” Dipper stomps forward. Jabbing a finger into Other Bill’s chest, and giving him his second-worst glare. “But you’re not my Bill. And I’m tired of pretending that you’ve,” He makes finger quotes. “‘Fooled’ me.”
Bill blinks at that, for a full two seconds. ”Who says I’m-”
“That won’t get either of us anywhere.” Dipper interrupts. He runs a hand through his hair. Being angry isn’t going to work, so he tamps it down. He has to make this convincing. “We should… get you back to your place.”
Other Bill watches Dipper for a long, lingering moment.Then he lets out a long, low whistle. Shaking his head again, he takes Dipper by the shoulders.
“Aaand it’s naptime for Pine Tree!” Bill strides forward, pushing Dipper along. “Boy, have you been working too hard! All this dimension stuff has really gone to your head if you’re coming up with something that crazy.”
Now Dipper digs his literal heels into the ground - something Other Bill wasn’t expecting, apparently - and manages to tear himself out of Bill’s grip. He folds his arms over himself, backing up a few steps.
Bill huffs out a sigh. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Dipper folds his arms over his chest. “Seriously.”
“C’mon, we’ve known each other for years!” Other Bill spreads his arms wide. Deep concern furrows his brow, his voice softens. “You’re overthinking, kid. Maybe all this study isn’t good for you.” He beckons towards himself. “Let’s just get you-”
Dipper scoffs. It comes out almost like a laugh. Other Bill straightens up, a brief flicker of annoyance on his face.
Bill’s bullshit isn’t going to work. Not this time. Not on Dipper.
“If you were my Bill, you would know better.” Dipper lifts his chin. “If you were my Bill, you wouldn’t suggest that, or act like that, or…” He shakes his head. Other Bill barely did any research, and now he’s surprised he’s fucking up? “You’re really bad at this.”
A muscle in Other Bill’s jaw twitches. The rest of his face maintains the same, gentle concern. “You’re making a mistake, kid.” He sounds too calm - “If you were sane, you’d-”
“Oh, I’m not.” Dipper jabs a thumb into his chest. Almost proudly. “That’s how I know.”
Hell, Dipper gave up total sanity a long time ago. Once he realized what he’d gotten into. Once he realized he liked it.
“Huh.” Curiosity, apparently, overrides a Bill’s need to keep up a ruse, because he’s starting to smirk. “Never let it be said I don’t like insanity!” He tilts his head. “Enlighten me!”
Welp. He asked for it.
The smart thing to do would be to play nice. To work with this Bill, as much as is possible - to be flattering, and convincing, and massage that ego until he did want to cooperate, instead of obfuscate. It could even be easy.
But fuck this guy.
“Okay, so we’ll forget how you’re fucking up basic rules of this dimension, your obvious lack of knowledge,” Dipper starts. He rolls a hand in the air, in the way Bill does when he’s lecturing, and watches Other Bill’s eye twitch. “And how your acting sucks-”
Other Bill folds his arms over his chest. He starts tapping his fingers, in a slow, rhythmic beat. “More proof that you’re delusional, but sure!” He shrugs. “Why not!”
“You might have pulled it off in another world, but there’s too many details in this one.” Dipper admits. This dimension is pretty weird, if you think about it. He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. “We’re, uh…. Kinda out there.”
“A lotta suppostions, and zero facts.” Other Bill waves them away casually. “That’s hardly evidence.”
Dipper shrugs, almost casually. “No,” He says, very slowly. “I guess it isn’t.”
Other Bill starts to grin.
And Dipper shoves his left hand right in front of this smug asshole’s face. His palm - and its mark - on full display. “But this is.”
Other Bill violently recoils, letting out a sharp, startled swear in that strange language -
Then instantly realizes he’s blown his cover. He grimaces, hissing something else vulgar. Other Bill rubs at his eye, ducking his head.
Holy symbols don’t affect Bill, but that threw him right the hell off. A minor victory at best - yet oh, is it sweet.
Dipper waggles his hand in Other Bill’s view, and watches him turn away in disgust. “Well?”
Other Bill clapped a hand over his eye; now he draws it slowly down his face. “What. The hell. Is wrong with that guy? I thought the body was bad, but nah, that was just the beginning!” He shudders, shoulders rising. “There’s an entire conspiracy of awful.”
“Answer the question.” Dipper insists. The jig is up, the ruse is gone. Other Bill can’t lie his way out of this now. “Where is he?”
“Eesh, put it away already.” Other BIll flaps a hand at him. After a moment, Dipper reluctantly lowers his arm, while Other Bill sticks out his tongue. “Trust me - if you knew what that mark really meant, you wouldn’t be champing at the bit trying to find the other guy.”
This… asshole.
He thinks Bill never told Dipper -
And okay, he didn’t, Stan had to point it out first -
But it’s like he thinks Dipper’s an idiot. That he doesn’t know exactly what he signed up for. That nobody would ever want to be -
Dipper takes a step forward, fists clenched tight by his sides. “Where’s my husband?”
Other Bill just. Looks at him. For a long moment, face blank and staring.
After a while, he slowly shakes his head. “I dunno what kinda demiurge got their tendrils into this particular space-time weave,“ Other Bill says carefully. Almost consideringly. “But boy, do they have a sick sense of humor. It’s almost impressive!”
“Oh, I get it.” Dipper ignores the distraction and folds his arms. This will get to him. “You don’t actually know. Do you?”
“Ha ha, very funny. Of course I know! We’ve been talking theory for days and you still haven’t guessed?” Other Bill waves his arm over the forest, vaguely skyward. “You see any big magical storms going on? Or any nice convenient rifts? No! Not even one! Things are still,” He curls up his lip as he makes finger quotes. “‘In balance.’”
And that kinda tracks. With what Dipper knows.
Passing into another dimension is difficult for a long, long list of reasons. At the core, it’s because they’re… mostly incompatible with each other.
The very fabric of reality keeps the planes apart, and healthy. Literally a skin between realms, since having different rules in place is like having a separate immune system. They can’t mix unless something is already compatible - or unless something’s gone terribly wrong.
But. Theoretically.
If you knew how. And if had the magical capital to pay the tolls - You could trade out an equal measure of mass, or magic. As long as it was similar enough, it might get overlooked.
And Bill Cipher’s a huge weight in the fabric of existence, simply out of sheer magical heft. Even if his realm is the Mindscape, he’s still linked to this dimension. If a nearby place suddenly had two Bills - or no Bills - there would be some major ripples in the fabric. Causing strange phenomena. Further anomalies.
But that didn’t happen. There was only one big surge, until everything sort of….
Evened out.
“So.” Dipper shuts his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. “He’s at your place.”
His Bill wasn’t randomly transported into the beyond. He hasn’t even gone all that far.
Somewhere out in the infinite multiverse - There was a triangular gap that he could slot right into.
“I guess you’re not totally slow.” Other Bill grins. Weirdly, he sounds pleased. “Yeah, it’s the ol’ switcheroo. Usually a decent time!” He heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh. “But I guarantee that guy’s having a way better day than I am.”
One mystery solved. Bill’s location. Relatively nearby, as these things go -
Dipper looks up, suddenly intent. “Bring him back.”
Other Bill raises an eyebrow.
“Just…” Dipper fumbles, he tries to wave vaguely in a dimension-adjacent direction, which ends up being everywhere. “I mean, we’ll reverse it, right? It-”
“Oh yeah? With what?” Other Bill snorts, and sets his hands on his hips. “I’m not sitting on infinite power and influence right now, kid.” He shrugs. “Even with that it takes a lot of finagling. No dice.”
Dipper leanis his head back.
Shit.
“But there’s good news!” Bill sounds surprisingly cheerful, and Dipper glances over - “Ripping a hole between realms is a hell of a lot easier with a native. And I don’t qualify, on several counts.” He tilts his head thoughtfully, starting to smirk. “You could really come in handy.”
Dipper simply stares.
Double shit.
“Hey, you’ve already worked with a Bill. A real messed up one.” Other Bill makes a face, glancing at Dipper’s left hand. “You wanna dick with dimensions, then you got a way better opportunity, right here.”
Dipper breathes in, then out. Right.
He… kind of figured it would come to this.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Other Bill gives him a surprised look. Dipper flips him off.
He’s had a lot of bad ideas in his life, but this is clearly the worst deal he’s ever been offered.
“What?” Other Bill has almost mastered the innocent look. “Don’t you wanna see your dear hubby again?” He tuts softly, resting a hand on his chest. “Poor guy might even,” He hesitates. Dipper thinks he’s trying not to gag. “‘Miss’ you!”
“Nice try.” Dipper waves it off, ignoring the slight pang in his chest. Asshole. Manipulative jerk. “But I know you didn’t leave your dimension just to sightsee.”
Other Bill’s face sours. Possibly the first genuine expression Dipper’s seen; it weirdly makes him look more like the real Bill -
“So. no.” Dipper looks away. Clearing his throat, once. “Not a chance.” He lifts his chin. “If you hate it here, that’s your problem.”
This demon might not have enough leverage, or magic, in this realm to pull it off - but he did say ‘Right now’.
Other Bill makes a low sound in his throat, so. Yeah, Dipper’s right. Again.
For this to happen in the first place. This strange and bullshit switch -
Someone had to start it.
“What was wrong with your place?” Dipper asks, because - okay, it’s dumb, but Bill loves talking. And hell, he’s always curious. “Too much competition?”
“Pfft, hardly! Kinda the opposite.” Other Bill flicks his fingers dismissively, then examines his nails. Starting to smile again, that ego bloating with pride. “I did that dimension already, y’know? All conquering, no contest.” He shrugs. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting a little novelty.”
Greedy jerk. One wasn’t enough for him. A second, like he’s obviously trying for - Dipper rubs at his eyes.
How many is ever going to be enough? Will there ever be? If his world’s Bill Cipher seems messed up, it’s only because all of them are.
“I’m your only chance, Pine Tree.” Other Bill has mastered the convincing tone. It’s almost a shame he’s wasting it on the wrong person. “How about you-”
Dipper flips him off. Both hands this time.
With a huff, Other Bill folds his arms. “Fine. Be like that.” He turns slightly away, looking disgruntled. “You’re a stubborn little mortal.”
“I didn’t help my husband take over the world.” Dipper mimics his stance. Turning away a bit himself. “I’m not lifting a finger to help you.”
God, he’s exhausted.
And damn it, now he’s going to have to get Ford to help. It’s going to be ten times more difficult, and way slower. Half of that will be convincing him that yeah, actually, they should try to get Bill back. Throw in whatever this Bill pulls in the Mindscape, and Dipper can already tell this is going to be a huge pain.
“Y’know, if there’s any upside to all of this,” Other Bill starts, slow. Dipper feels himself tense. “It’s that the other guy might make a recovery.”
“I-” Dipper hesitates.
This is a trick. Manipulation, Bill’s all about that - He grits his teeth. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”
“Oh, how cute. You’re fully delusional!” Other Bill’s tone turns syrup-sickly sweet. It makes Dipper grimace. “Guess other me pulled a great scam on ya! But I gotta tell you…” A slow, serious shake of the head. “He’s sick.”
That’s obviously not -
True?
Dipper meets Bill's eye and finds nothing but smug sincerity.
“Being back at my place will be great for him! All the power and influence and stuff you could ever want!” Other Bill spreads his arms at some invisible grandeur. “He’s spent too long in this body, being powerless. You think that’s good for a demon?” A raised eyebrow. “Even the slightest bit healthy?“
And… okay, Bill does spend a lot of time in reality - but he has the Mindscape - Dipper didn’t take that away, that - that has to -
“No wonder he came down with something! Without other people to manipulate, he had to let it out somewhere!” Bill shakes his head pityingly. “In all this time, the only trick he managed to pull - “ The smirk turns mocking - “Was convincing himself he wanted you.”
Sincere, still, though - maybe it’s just out of spite, that’s a major part of any Bill’s makeup - But. the way he says it -
Dipper doesn’t know what to say, he tucks an arm over his stomach.
For the first time in a while, he really, really wishes he knew less about Bills.
“Yep, I figure a few days of actual autonomy will get his angles straight.” Other Bill sets his fists on his hips, nodding to himself. “No gross body, no boring reality, and most of all - “ He snorts. “No ball and chain.”
Dipper stands up straight, indignant. “I-”
“Sure, you’ve got an okay brain, I guess.” A sharp, dismissive wave. Dipper feels his face heat up - was he looking? “But your guy’s spent about forty-eight hours getting a taste of real freedom.” A shrug, fingers waving away some invisible stink from Dipper’s hand. “Trust me. He’s already wondering why that seemed like a good idea.”
“He wouldn’t.” Dipper stands firm. No, fuck that. The marriage was Bill’s idea in the first place. “He-”
Dipper stops himself before he says something stupid, shutting his mouth with a click.
He can’t talk about the… other part.
That thing is true, too. Even though it sounds improbable. Impossible, in fact. It’s too weird, even for a Bill, and definitely too sane. No version of Bill should ever, or would ever do it.
Other Bill will only think it’s bullshit, and mock him for thinking there was a chance.
Dipper lets his arm drop. His fists clench.
He knows better.
“Oh, please. And people call me arrogant!” Other Bill stalks forward. “He's already forgotten you, kid. Think about it!"
Dipper doesn't back up - he won't give in, now or ever - but he holds back a flinch. Other Bill is right in his face, now.
"What's better - Infinite power, freedom, and control over a slice of the multiverse -” He hisses. Teeth bared white in his smile. “Or one mouthy little brat.”
Dipper meets that single, strange, and glowing eye. Not backing up, even an inch. He watches Other Bill’s sneer turn into a glare.
They’re so close that Dipper can feel the heat of that illusionary body, worn like an ill fitting suit by this… jackass.
Who’s also a complete, absolute idiot.
“If your place was so great, you wouldn’t have ditched it.” Dipper states, watching Other Bill blink in surprise. Dipper sets his jaw. “So yeah. I think I know what he’d pick.”
No snappy response - Other Bill’s caught off his footing.
For once, shoving a Bill with all his strength actually makes him back up a step. Dipper straightens his back, suddenly proud.
“This universe already has a Bill Cipher. Yeah, maybe he hasn’t taken this plane over. Yet.” Or ever, but that’s a minor detail. “But he's a better actor. And smarter. And more vicious, and clever, and…” Saying all of this out loud feels strange. Sheer irritation carries Dipper onward, though he stumbles getting it out. “And funnier, and way cooler than you.”
Other Bill glares at him, but stays silent. The corner of his mouth twitches.
“In every way that counts, he’s better than you.” He stabs a finger into Other Bill’s chest with each word, back tense and face hot with anger. Stepping forward even as a part of him recognizes this might not be great - “You’re just some dull-witted, myopic knockoff.”
There’s a long silence.
Dipper heaves out a breath, trying to calm down. This was. - He shakes his head, disgusted.
“Alright.” Bill nods slowly, almost thoughtful. He lifts his hands in the air with a simple shrug. “I see how it is.”
A sudden crack sends Dipper reeling.
He hits the bare ground on his side, breath forced out of his chest.
When his vision comes back, Dipper stares numbly forward.
He's on the ground? His left eye doesn't want to stay open, and - and strangely, his ear is ringing, and moments later the pain blooms in his cheek and jaw. Sharp and throbbing all at once - a splitting headache follows it up a moment later, and Dipper groans. The light hurts his eyes - the one that’s cooperating anyway - so he shuts it.
There’s a muffled sound, and Dipper feels a hard impact on his side, a voice hissing, “-et up.”
This time Dipper rolls onto his back, breath escaping in a huff. Above him, BIll’s standing and smirking, one hand extended downward. Dipper reaches up to take it.
And the crushing grip, tight around his wrist, sends pain down his arm and the sharp, sick reminder that. Oh. Right.
This isn’t his Bill
“You,” Other BIll says, grip tightening - Dipper groans, teeth clenched - “Have been spoiled rotten.”
He hauls Dipper up. High up -
Bill raises him until his feet barely skim the ground. Suspended like this, his whole arm aches, shoulder wrenched upwards -
“Funny thing, though.” Other Bill muses, cupping Dipper’s chin in his other palm. “Maybe I can’t coax you-” His thumb digs, hard, into Dipper’s cheek, and a burst of pain sends Dipper’s vision swimming again. “But one good swat and you’re way less mouthy!”
Dipper can’t pull away, he can’t even find his feet. Grabbing Bill’s arm makes his grip tighten into something sickening, he thinks he feels a crack - kicking out only puts more tension on his already aching arm, twisting it in the socket.
“Still feisty, huh?” Other Bill tuts softly. Then smirks. He tilts Dipper’s head back. “Now that I know how to handle ya, that's no big deal.”
Bill’s body is unnaturally strong, and he wasn’t pulling the blow. Through a kind of haze, Dipper’s faintly glad Bill went for a slap over a punch. He’s hurting, it’s hard to concentrate - but he doesn’t think his jaw is broken.
More than anything, Dipper wants to glare, but he can’t lower his chin. He can’t tense his jaw to speak, either. Bill’s thumb burns into his cheek like a brand, a point of stabbing pressure.
“Aw, what’s the matter?” Other Bill shakes Dipper’s face roughly, like a dog worrying a bone. “Not got much to say anymore?”
“Ghnnn.” Not… much of a protest. Best he did was bare his teeth, and the throbbing in his head is twice as bad now - Dipper shuts his mouth before he can make a stupider sound.
Weirdly, this Bill starts grinning even harder.
“Boy, you got some fire in you, Pine Tree. And y’know what?” Bill tilts his head to one side. He chuckles, grinning wider. “I almost see why he didn’t try to snuff it out!”
Other Bill swings him lightly, side to side, before giving him a toss.
Dipper hits the ground again, hard. He props himself up, only to find one wrist won’t support his weight and swears. Sitting up turns from a simple move into an awkward scuffle.
The whole time, Other Bill watches him, with a smirk on his face. Like he’s admiring his work.
Frustration surges in Dipper’s chest.
Pushing this guy into the Mindscape has moved from a ‘soon’ priority to a ‘now.’
There’ll be a chance. Once he stops being grabby. It has to be when he’s not holding on, or Dipper will get dragged along for the trip - and it’s not like things would get better after that.
Dipper takes a slow, shaking breath. “You’re not-”
Other Bill backhands Dipper with an idle smack. “Ah ah ah!” He wags a finger. “I’ve heard enough from you.”
Dipper’s elbow hits the ground, his vision swims. That slap wasn’t as hard as the previous, probably. Just in the same-ish place, resonating with pain like a bell. Normally he’d have a followup, but nothing comes to him.
Damn it, he’s been through fights, more than a few at this point - but this one is messing with him.
“Despite everything, you could still be useful.” Bill says, low soothing. He kneels in front of Dipper, one elbow on his upraised knee. “Once I get this dimension under my thumb, it’s back to business!”
Dipper wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. It comes away streaked with red.
“Work with me here! We could get the whole shebang started,” Other Bill continues, eye bright. “When I’m back in power, things are gonna be great.”
He holds out a hand.
Dipper stares at it.
“Infinite power. No more bullshit rules.” Leaning in, Other Bill smiles, white and wild. “Help me out, and I’ll even be generous!” He waggles his fingers. “When I control reality - you can have anything you want.”
Dipper looks up at… this Bill.
At a stranger, puppeting a familiar face.
It’s a face that Dipper knows so well.
Knowing when it’s happy. When it’s upset. When it’s about to burst out laughing, or starting to sulk. When it’s a different monster behind that mask - when it doesn’t have that hidden contempt behind it - it’s even handsome.
The distance between them is so close, and his husband’s still a million miles away.
Other Bill makes a low sound in his throat. Maybe he saw something in Dipper’s own face, because he slowly rises up.
“Anything,” Other Bills hisses out the words through gritted teeth. “Except that.”
Dipper grunts as Bill grabs him by his hair. He tries to jerk away, but he already has a headache, this just makes things worse.
“He’s outta here, kid. Vanished. Kaput!” Other Bill yanks him forward, and Dipper smacks a palm on the ground before the hold in his hair is the only thing supporting him. “He’s gone.”
Though Other Bill turns his head upwards - Dipper shuts his eyes.
“Face it, Pine Tree.” The low words ring in Dipper’s ear’s, and there’s hot breath on his face - “You’re stuck with me.”
Dipper’s been injured before - bruised, some burns, a broken bone - but it wasn’t like this. He knew Bill was strong, but it wasn’t supposed to hurt so bad.
He feels his head get shaken again. The grip is too tight - Dipper’s eyes are stinging, and frustration burns so hot in his chest that it feels almost physical.
The second this asshole lets go, he’s out of here. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, or how much Dipper has to work, he’s going to get rid of this jerk, and get his own jerk back. Even if it takes years. Even if it takes decades.
Anger surges inside him, and he struggles. When Dipper looks up at that horrible, smug laughter, he almost sees red in the corner of his eye.
Only…
Other Bill stops cackling.
He glances over to Dipper’s right and quirks an eyebrow up.
EIther that’s some complicated ruse, reading Dipper’s emotional state, maybe even what he’s seeing -
Or - now Other Bill lets him drop, stalking away, eye narrowed - it’s not.
Dipper glances over, and his own eyebrows shoot up.
Okay.
That's different.
Living in Gravity Falls shows you a lot of weird stuff, if you’re the kind of person who really wants to see it. Not many people get into the gritty details, or do a lot of research.
Dipper and Ford are probably the only two people who ever really got into it, and Ford’s not here all that often. That leaves Dipper to be the resident Gravity Falls expert.
This is one even he hasn’t seen before.
The glow isn’t a figment of his imagination, it’s real.
Real, and weird.
There’s a long, bright eggshell-crack in the middle of the air, glowing in shades of white-yellow… Something. That one color that Dipper has only seen in the Mindscape. The one Bill thinks is ‘pretty’.
This thing is the source of the red light, radiating an eerie hellish aura, as the cracks start to grow and spread.
Judging by the way Other Bill looks at it, eye alight with pure avarice - rubbing his hands together, too -
“Ha! Now there’s what I was looking for!” Other Bill strides forward, grinning wide.
Dipper grimaces.
Well. There’s his freaking ‘wound in the skin of reality’, apparently.
Just great.
“A rift.” Other Bill purrs. He clenches his fist, grinning wide and triumphant. He starts laughing, loud and wild, lifting his arms - “Finally, a good surprise!”
And around him, the earth shifts, and changes.
Several rocks totter away on unsteady, newly-formed legs. A bird darts overhead and sprouts several more wings - and a the head of a deer - before it burst into flames with a squawk.
Dipper feels his blood run cold.
Shit.
The skin of a dimension keeps its internal rules in place. When there’s a break in that, things get shifting, and strange, it isn’t meant to work like this. Just like Bill in the Mindscape - in a place where he isn’t restricted -
When nothing enforces ‘you can’t’ - he has enough power to stand up and ask ‘why not?’
“It’s about time.” Other Bill’s laughter turns into a cackle. He stands in front of that new break in the universe, shoulders squared. “I can’t wait to get started!”
Proud, and full of his own power.
All of it.
“Welp, guess I don’t need you anymore!” Other Bill shrugs, tilting his head with a coy grin. “Credit where it’s due - it wasn’t boring, Pine Tree!” He waves, and winks. “I’ll at least give ya that!”
Dipper watches as he paces forward - then pause. Other Bill lifts a finger in the air.
“But then again…” Other Bill hums for a moment. Dipper feels a tendril of dread seep into him.
Then Other Bill curls his finger towards himself, and Dipper gets dragged over the dirt by an invisible force.
“When it comes to you, eh.” Other Bill waggles a hand, and winks. “Maybe I’ll-”
The world goes ‘zmm’ for a moment with a taste of oranges, and a smell like earwax. The air wibbles like it’s under intense heat, only with a paisley pattern.
Other Bill starts. He turns back towards the rift, somewhat surprised. "What."
And Dipper skids to a stop, bracing himself on the ground. He clutches at the bare dirt like it’s a lifeline, heart pounding in his chest.
He can’t tell what’s going on. He doesn’t know what to do. But whatever’s stopping Other Bill from acting, he could practically kiss it, he’s so grateful.
And a hand bursts out of the rift, cracking it further open.
The motion sends not-real splinters of unreality shattering to the forest floor, bubbling up into nothingness. Dipper stares as it pats around for a moment, until it finds another part of the crack, and pushes.
It’s a weird hand. A strange hand, black and formlessly weird.
Instantly recognizable.
The hat pops out next. Then a top corner emerges, with a single eye shut as he strains.
Other Bill smacks himself over the eye, muttering. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Dipper feels his heart surge, and he starts to smile.
Bill Cipher always comes back.
His Bill is there, Dipper can feel the bond bright inside him, like a light. Showing exactly who it is, and where he is, right down in his soul. Not distant anymore, not gone anywhere, Bill’s right there.
Bill swears, and shoves, and pushes against that interdimensional wound until his bottom angles follow him out, popping fully into reality -
And he instantly flops to the ground. Surface first, with a resonating ‘thud’. There’s some muffled swearing. Bill’s legs flail in the air.
“Blegh.” Bill shakes himself. “Stupid friggin’-” He shoves himself up off the ground, muttering in a distinctly grumpy manner. “Lousy hack built the worst goddamn-”
Other Bill coughs into his fist, turning away and looking distinctly uncomfortable. A bad look for one Bill must bruise both their egos.
“Whoo! Now that was a trip,” Bill says, finally over himself. He starts dusting off his sides. He glances back at the rift, rolling in its socket. “Not as dramatic an entrance as I’d like, but eh,” He shrugs and floats in the air, lower eyelid lifted and arms raised. “Hey, Gravity Falls! Good to be back!”
Doing the impossible is in Bill’s purview, and usually Dipper tries to figure it out. There’s always questions when it comes to his demon. Always the urge to make it seem reasonable.
This time, Dipper has no questions, at all. Bill can do whatever the hell he likes.
“And boy, lemme tell ya,” Bill continues, brushing his hat off. He plops it down to float over his top corner, fists resting on his sides. “You would not believe the day I’ve had.”
Other Bill clears his throat, and steps forward, halfway blocking Dipper’s view. The jerk.
“Huh.” Bill folds his arms over himself, leaning forward, eye narrow. “You.”
“Well, well, well,” Other Bill says. There’s a smile on his face, with no humor behind it. “If it isn’t Bill! Nice to see ya!”
“Bill.” Bill floats closer, looking him over. His fingers drum on his other arm. “Real nice to meet ya.” A clear and blatant lie.
There’s a long, awkward silence.
“So….” Other Bill trails off, clearly searching for a topic. Once he alights on one, he grins. “How was the vacation?” A wink. “ Thought you might need one, considering…” He waves over… everything. “Your place.”
“Oh, ‘vacation’, he says.” Bill makes the finger quotes, flaring bright gold. “Sure, I've had a good look around your digs.” He sets his fists on his sides. “And lemme tell ya, I was not impressed.”
Other Bill snorts - though his back straightens in offense “C’mon, it’s pre-conquered! Free reign over a whole plane!” He spreads his arms wide with a smile. “Compared to this craphole, what’s not to like?”
“Oh, of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Bill smacks his top corner, low and sarcastic. “Except that taking things over is seventy percent of the fun!” Bill glows brighter, slightly tinged with red. “You plopped your pre-chewed gum of a dimension in my palm outta friggin’ nowhere!”
Other Bill draws himself up self-importantly. “Like what you’ve got is-”
“Ah, cram it. I didn’t come back for this.” Bill shoves him to one side, dismissive, and floats right past him. Other Bill stays upright, but his shoes leave a streak in the dirt. He sputters, indignant. Bill glares, pointing two fingers at him. “I’ll deal with you later.”
As that single, strange eye finally alights on him, Dipper scrambles to get to his feet.
He wants to see Bill again. He wants to grab this stupid triangle and shake him, and yell at him, try and crush those metal angles like a tin can in his arms, even though it’s impossible -
“Hey there, sapling!” Bill spreads his noodly black arms wide, lower eyelid raised, and glowing. “How’re you-”
Only when Dipper moves to prop himself onto his feet, he forgets about his wrist.
It fails within the first push - Dipper swears - and he thumps back down into the dirt.
Across the clearing, Bill’s slit pupil narrows to a thin line. His arms drop.
Great. Instead of leaping up, and being cool and dramatic, Dipper looked dumb.
He lets his head drop onto the ground. Even the rest of his face feels hot now.
Shit, he should -
“Hm.” It’s a low, displeased sound.
Then Dipper hears Other Bill speak up -
“Oh no. No no no no, and no. C’mon, you’re smarter than this.” Other Bill sounds almost… scolding? “Believe it or not, I got an understanding of your particular damage.” His voice holds a sneer. “You gotta know how messed up you are!”
Okay, what?
Dipper rolls onto his side, pushing himself into a sitting position. He has to see this.
His Bill’s gone fully red now. Growing, and - actually, he keeps growing, eye black and full of golden symbols. He cracks nonexistent knuckles. One hand, then the other.
“Oh come on! This is bullshit!” Other Bill looks up at him with disgust, head tilting back as Bill grows. Some confusion flickers over his face. He glances over, waves an arm at Dipper. “He’s just a-”
One enormous hand draws its index finger back, and flicks.
Watching Other Bill sail over - then through - some of the treeline makes Dipper feel the best he has in at least two days.
By the distant, but loud cracking of branches - Dipper winces at a particularly loud one - That Bill… might not be out of commission. But it’ll be a long, long walk to get back to the rift he wanted.
“Welp!” Bill shrinks down again, brushing off his hands. Golden again, and bright. “That’s a problem for later.” He casts a glare at the arc Other Bill made through the branches, and sets his hands on his sides. “Jeez, what a prick.”
Bill floats over, and Dipper glances up at the irritated, eerie shape in front of him “As for you, kid. -”
Bill’s triangular form starts to wobble and shift. Weirdly bright, and oddly silent. Dipper shuts his eyes against the light. When he looks again, it’s at -
A recognizable face. With a bright grin on said face, charming and pleased.
“Bet you’re glad to see a familiar look. Huh?” Bill - in a human shape, the one he’s always in - winks. “Get it?” He waits for a beat - then rolls his eye, and holds out an arm towards Dipper. “Alright, get up already.”
Dipper just… stares at him for a moment.
He did know Bill could shapeshift. Size and color and some varieties of geometry he’s seen, but he wasn’t aware it could be this… thorough. Though he supposes Bill hasn’t really had much reason; he’s not typically out of shape.
Bill’s grin falls by a fraction. “Sure, don’t break out the party crackers and champagne or anything. Totally wasn’t a pain in the angles getting that mess sorted.” He jerks a thumb in the rift’s direction. He waits a bit, then pushes the smile back on his face. “Aw, you’re too stunned to react! C’mere!”
Dipper gets hauled up, Bill holding him under his arms. He shuts his eyes, and clenches his jaw tight. Bill’s grip isn’t hard - if anything it’s less so than usual - but Dipper’s wrist really didn’t like being moved again.
“What, did you think I wouldn’t show up?” Bill’s grin widens. He’d probably be preening if he wasn’t holding Dipper up like he just won a carnival prize - though his gaze keeps darting over Dipper. “Like you’d get rid of me that easy.”
Dipper doesn’t have a response ready. He… should probably think of one.
Nothing comes to mind, though. Mostly there’s headache and faceache and just… ache, with relief and surprise fighting for the steering wheel. Wit’s so far in the backseat it might as well be in the trunk.
Bill’s grin continues falling by degrees; it falters. Glancing over Dipper, up and down, turning him slightly side to side
“C’mon, sapling, speak up.” Dipper gets jostled, just a quick couple bounces. Now Bill’s face is strange, and serious. He even pauses, and Dipper dimly realizes he hasn’t seen this expression before - “I hate it when you won’t talk.”
True enough. His Bill hates not getting a response, the attention hogging, narcissistic -
Dipper breathes in, shakily, and sighs. He looks at his stupid demon, exasperated. “Put me down, Bill.”
The grin blooms again, even brighter this time. “Ha! I don’t think so!” Dipper watches Bill’s posture change as relief rises off him like steam. He pulls Dipper closer, pressing an overly-dramatic smooch on his jaw. “You already had your vacation from me, Pine Tree. I’ll do whatever I want!”
It’s ridiculous, and - and maybe a little sentimental, but Dipper feels heat rise to his face. Like warmth spreads out from where Bill’s touching him.
Dipper blinks rapidly, and clears his throat. “Let me down?” He tugs at Bill's arm, just gently.
“Alright, alright,” Bill, surprisingly, relents without much fight. He sets Dipper on his feet, smile fading somewhat. “Let’s have a look at ya, anyway.”
“I’m fine.” Dipper lets his forehead drop against Bill’s shoulder. It’s solid and warm. Tension is dropping out of his shoulders, which is probably why they’re shaking.
Dipper’s been in worse shape - and in better - but things are a hell of a lot finer than even three minutes ago.
“Right,” Bill says, very dry. Dipper gets pushed slightly away, a knuckle tilts his chin upwards. “‘Cause this just screams fine, like a horrorshow!” Bill’s eye darts over his face - frowning now, lips drawn tight. “Where else did he get ya?”
Weird question. "Nothing serious.” Dipper tries tucking his arm by his side, but that only makes Bill's face turn down more. “It’s cool.”
"It's only 'cool', for a guy who's lost all sense of thermoregulation." Bill tugs Dipper’s arm up by the elbow, glaring at his wrist. Admittedly, it is swelling a little. “You’re real crap at lying.”
Dipper watches as Bill taps a warm finger on the reddening skin, and sucks in a sharp breath. Bill’s lip twitches. He lets the arm down carefully, only to grasp Dipper’s sides.
“Don’t bother covering stuff up, ‘cause for once I’m not messing with you.” Bill says, flat this time. "Own up to the rest, already." And at Dipper’s look of confusion - Bill tugs him closer, strangely serious. ”He wouldn’t have started with the face.”
Dipper swallows, and nods.
Sure, he knows Bill - but Bill definitely knows himself, so that’s. Deeply unnerving, on multiple levels.
But also, thankfully, wrong.
Bill’s running his hands up and down, squeezing like he’s checking for a soft spot on some produce. Not finding much - though there’s a spot on Dipper’s ribs he hadn’t noticed himself. For some reason Bill’s only more insistent after that -
“Hey.” Dipper taps Bill on the cheek. He offers a half-smile, the best he can manage. It startles Bill enough that his inspection slows. “I missed you.”
Maybe Bill has a follow up to that. Maybe he’s going to insult, or - something, but fuck it, Dipper did miss him, and -
He wraps his arms around his husband. One can’t join in properly, but Dipper thumps Bill between the shoulders, and hugs on tight.
Let him try to get away from this.
Possessive arms clamp around him in response. A comforting bear trap that Dipper intentionally set off, even if it isn’t nearly as squishing as usual. Like Bill isn’t certain how much to hold him, even though he’s had plenty of experience.
Dipper relaxes into it anyway.
When Bill shapeshifted, he must have used the body template he’s used to wearing. Even now, Dipper can feel his heart, steady and comforting, beating somewhat faster than the usual second-and-a-half pace.
Then Bill sighs. “Well, whatever. You’re pretty intact! All limbs accounted for and everything!” A firm kiss gets planted on Dipper’s forehead. Then another on his temple, before Bill basically shoves Dipper’s face against his neck. Adding a couple thumps of his own on Dipper’s back. “Not too shabby, all things considered.”
Bill finally squeezes Dipper’s waist with one arm. His other hand cups the back of Dipper's head, fingers carding through Dipper’s hair, once, then twice.
Every time Bill wants to hug Dipper close, he throws in human-abnormal pressure. Not painful, just to one side of uncomfortable; like he’ll never, ever let Dipper escape his grasp.
Dipper matches it as well as he can. He kind of gets it now.
With the sounds of the forest, and Bill here, and holding him, it’s almost like things are normal. Quiet and still, while he feels the warmth of Bill's body his arms, and the bright red glow of the air -
Dipper jerks his head up.
Staring at the still-extant crack in reality.
Thankfully it doesn’t seem to have grown since, but if he looks too close it kinda hurts his eyes. And part of his brain.
“Uh.” Dipper taps Bill a few times on the shoulder. There's a sigh against his scalp, as Bill hums something quietly. Dipper taps a little harder. “Bill?”
“What?” The word is slightly muffled by Dipper’s hair.
Dipper nudges him. “Should I be worried about that?”
“Hm?” It takes Bill a moment - he tilts his head, following Dipper’s gaze - then smirks. He snorts, like Dipper pointed out a big scary bug in the bathroom. “Pfft, oh, that.”
True to form, a ten-foot eggshell crack in the flesh of the universe doesn’t seem like a big deal to him. Dipper leans back and meets his eye skeptically.
“That’s barely a papercut, not a genuine fistula. Nothing important..” Bill waves over the rift, other arm staying tight on Dipper’s waist. “We got bigger fish to fry!”
Dipper hesitates. “Uh.” He darts a look at the rift, then back again. “Really?”
“Oh, definitely! That Bill and I have some unfinished business,” Bill’s eye glows red, and his grin shows an absurd amount of teeth. “We’ve gotta have a little chat.”
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