The group headed indoors, Mabel's hand pressed firmly against Dipper's shoulder, and Bill's leg dragging behind, weighed down by Tony, who found infinite fun wrapping himself around the older's calve, feeling the way he lifted, lowered and swung with each step. The blond kept a tight smile on his lips, if only to look his partner in the eye with the same level of smug, undaunting dominance by which he cared himself. On the inside, he was flaming. But, outside. Outside, he allowed the younger to cradle his foot like a rocking horse. Tony got to play with him, not against the demon's will, but because it was bestowed upon him.

A bit of drool from Tony's lips smeared onto his pant leg.

Bill did not like Tony.

Tony did, however, like Bill. Which was just the problem.

Dipper tossed a sliding glance at the two, and couldn't help but let his lips curl up at the sight of his one-eyed ' boyfriend' subtly trying to shake the two year old from his leg. It went without results. Bill bit back a curse. Tried not to bend down and rip Tony from the cotton of his pants. Not to let his smile drop. To look at Dipper with a pleading ' Little help here?' But, of course not. Bill was far too proud. He only straightened at his lover's gaze, tightening the grin on his lips despite himself.

Mabel took the lead, opening the porch's screen door to encourage everyone inside. Amazing how, even now, the place was as clean as Dipper remembered it. Eight months without visiting, and still the furniture was draped in dainty bits of decorative linen. The soft pink carpet of their youth was, as per usual, lying flat over the smooth wooden flooring of the living room. It was obvious their mother despised how it didn't quite fit the small area, forcing its corners to flip up and overlap.

So came a second room just right of it, in a far more open region of the house. Teal greens, soft blues, a white sofa and pretty coffee table. Thin, precise curtains that parted in favor of sunlight, cascading itself as though to admire their mother's favorite room. It was the outside coming in, Dipper thought. The neighborhood, with its perfect coats, and mailboxes, dogs on leashes, leashes on men, men on women, women on children- a constant cycle of restraint and desire to follow orders- coming in. It was a clean spot of the house, if not completely separate from what Dipper had grown up living in. Not comfortable. Not familiar. But still, a room he knew existed.

She'd refurbished it after the divorce.

A funny comparison, looking to the left of him and noting the flipped up carpet. The stained couch. The nostalgic photographs. It had been lived in, and could still be lived in now, with a splash of Danial and Mariam Pines all in one, when they'd joined forces to furnish it all those years ago. A stark contrast to the room just right of it, separated by a long wooden staircase leading to the second floor, where Mariam's living room sat. Just her's, as she had always liked it. None of Danial. None of her kids. All her, so that everything might look controlled and presentable for guests.

" Oh !" Came an intrigued tone from the nose of the second floor. The group's eyes trailed up the staircase to find a woman, tied in a pressed white apron, brandishing a broom, hair pinned high, with a mossy gaze. "You're early !" The brunette set her broom aside with a slight grin, if not a look of interruption, to make a quick descent. Her shoes ' tap tap tapped' down the steps, giving Dipper only an instance to process the little pearls around her neck, white capris and beige polo neck, before her hands were on him.

She held him around the neck, humming before giving way to release. Her eyes were bright, lips spread wide in a picturesque smile, only to push Dipper at arm's length. "You're too early." She reprimanded, shooting him up and down with mirthy disapproval. "I told you to call me if traffic was good."

"Nice to see you too, mom." Dipper huffed with a tired grin. The woman tisked, balling her fists and placing them on either hip.

"The guest room isn't ready yet. I would've gotten to it sooner if I'd known how on-time you'd be." Miriam mumbled. She cupped her cheek in hand, mouth scrunching and nose twitching in irritation. "You really should have told me." She pressed. Dipper only brushed the comment aside. He knew his mother too well to fall for her guilt-trips. It didn't honestly bother her as much as she made it out to. It only satisfied her when others were forced to acknowledge how much cleaning she did around the house, and how little they all did by comparison.

"I thought I'd surprise you." Miriam clicked her tongue, fists pressing more firmly into her hips.

"You know how much I hate surprises." She remarked in a playful, partly-true tone. Dipper would have laughed, if not for the cruel, macabre of its origins.

In that case, she'd hate the surprise he'd brought for John.

She would hate it.

Instead, Dipper smiled; ducked his head and pet his hair down, subtly avoiding her gaze.

"Sorry." He told her. "I'll give you a head's up next time." Like that, her air of plastic-inconvenience lightened and became breathable again. Miriam's smile grew a quarter inch toothier, crossing the wide road of similar features she and Mabel shared. Just a moment; an instance of flitterish warmth before her eyes reset themselves in alert absolute. No, no. They were too different. Too separate. Miriam had given up long ago, trying to impose on her wayward daughter's expressive nature.

" Good ." Dipper's mother chirped, placing a dainty hand against his cheek. Her smile dampened as his eyes rolled up to view her. His lips were hers, with that cute cupid's bow in the curve of his mouth. As were his cheeks and chin. Along his hairline, he had the ghost of a widow's peak, just as she, and beautiful, full sets of eyelashes. Miriam could only wish her son would resemble her, and her alone. There wasn't a thing in that house that prided her more than her children's striking resemblance to their mother. Still, Dipper's eyes had always been a shade too perceptive for her taste. He looked just a percentage too much like his father, if only in his gaze. Miriam pursed her lips.

"You look tired." She remarked in curt honesty.

"I am tired." Dipper laughed, rubbing his neck.

"Well, you shouldn't be. Did you read that article I sent you on sleeping cycles? It says you shouldn't have screen time an hour before bed because of the-."

"The blue light. I know."

"It suppresses melatonin levels." Miriam warned.

"I know, mom. I know." Her hand slid from his cheek, going now so her arms would cross.

"If you know so much, why are you still so tired ?"

Because he'd been up nights on end trying to figure things out.

Because he'd spent a week's wage on drinks at the bar every month for the past two years.

Because he'd been living it up at some one-eyed beauty's apartment, doing anything but sleep.

Because of the horrible, treacherous nightmares he'd been having on a consistent note for almost a month and a half now.

Because he felt undeniably guilty, and he couldn't stomach sleep at the risk of falling apart within his own subconscious.

Dipper smiled.

"Work's been kicking my ass." He shrugged, unable to avoid his mother's swatting hand.

"What have I told you about cursing in the house?" Her arm went out, tapping him brutishly about the shoulder. "I raised you better than that, Mason."

An unprecedented gasp struck a line through their conversation, alerting Miriam to the unfamiliar tone seated at the mouth of her home's entryway. Her gaze was calculated, pinning the voice within an instance of revealing itself; snapping free of Dipper's tired, weak grin in favor of trailing back to find a tall, slender youth standing casually at the door. Too casually, she decided, in his dapper apparel, sleazy grin and slicked hair, with little Tony slung over his shoulder like a potato sack. The child would be only inches from sliding his tiny digits under the groomed blond's eye patch when- tap- his hand was dusted away.

His greedy smile was nothing short of unnerving.

" Mason, you say? Finally, a name with some class!" Bill chortled, preening at what he considered outright flattery. It was touching. Truely, it was.

Miriam took a step forward- one back- before shooting her son an odd look. Something that bordered honest inconvenience. She really didn't like surprises. And here, standing before her, was an extra mouth to feed, an added guest room, and twice the required hospitality for a non-family member. Her lower back became a bit hard, lips cracking into woeful tightness when she coughed up a smile, shoulders rolled back, and took a passive step in his direction. Not before setting her son with a far less pleased expression.

"He was named after my grandfather." Miriam led her words quaintly. Not gritty like her red lipstick, or broad like the taut pink of her skin. Pleasant, as all good liars were."He was a proud FreeMason in his hayday." Bill's stretching cheeks looked close to splitting at her almost braggish tone, held off only by Miriam's poorly cloaked annoyance. Any other day, she would have become twittery if handed the opportunity to describe what was probably a long, devastatingly influential family history of passed down secrets, fraternity memoirs, and the presence of their speculated relation to the illuminati.

Bill wasn't sure Dipper could look an ounce more appealing than he did now, outright branded in legal print like property. And, to whom exactly?

Bill , of course.

"I don't think my son told me about you. Are you a friend?" Miriam Pines continued. Her hand went out to hover, not reach. She held it firm for her guest to grab, shake and introduce. Bill did so, just as practiced. Just as poised. Perhaps a bit haisty, diving for it as quickly as a nubile brunette on his queen-sized. He'd developed a recent hankering for handshakes.

"You might say that." Bill led on coyly, notwithstanding a quick, leering jab in Dipper's direction, who grew pale at the subtle allusion. Before he could work his way to cut in, Cipher was taking a single step further. "He and I are very close." His grip tightened, released, and went to seat itself in the depths of a cotton pant pocket.

" Oh ?" Miriam turned back to her son with a query expression. Dipper was efficient about jumping to fill in the blanks.

" Co-worker. " He croaked. A bit too fast. He tried for a more casual approach in response to Miriam's balanced gaze. He cleared his throat. "He was just recruited this summer as a temporary partner." He emphasized not to his mother, but to Bill. His partner smiled and blew a kiss in Dipper's direction, just out of Miriam's view. "We've been really busy with our most recent case, so I thought I might bring him along to get things finished up."

"So, you brought work?" That question was anything but. It was disinterest. It was hesitation. It was annoyance. Dipper tried to counter Miriam's quirked brow with raised, flailing hands. He broke out in a crooked, cracked smile- the one that'd always reminded her of Daniel.

"What? No, no, no, no, no ! It's just-. He and I-. Isn't this easier? I-. It wouldn't have been good to miss work." Her expression hardened, focus chilling.

"You brought work then." She replied. Not questioning this time. Instead, to announce the crime of his actions. Dipper felt much smaller, curling his lips in at the sight of his straight-backed, traditional mother. Who hated inconveniences. Hated excuses. Hated surprises.

And somehow found the time to reprimand every infraction.

The two seconds she spent shooting him through the veins with blatant disamusement seemed lost upon the three distance party members, who simply stood and observed. Tony had made his way down the side of Bill's waist coast, hanging now onto the flaps of Cipher's clothing, kept steady by his tippy toes as he looked up and grinned. The adult placed his cold, tan hand across the boy's face and nudged Tony towards the floor, until his bare feet set flat against oak paneling, and the child could do no more than fight against the hand and try for another feel at what looked to be the same fancy fabric of his mother's favorite dress; she would never let him touch anything so extravagant, though. Not like Bill. Tony liked Bill.

Mabel had slipped off to the side, a few feet at best from the entryway, but farther still in focus where she'd placed herself in the living room to the left. It had been an unspoken rule to leave everything untouched, even after the divorce. In which case, Mabel wasn't so much in the cozy interior of her childhood home, as an intact reminisce of her past adolescence. Her hands remained cupped behind her back, rocking on the balls of her feet, admiring the stiff, white-clothed family photo Miriam had forced the family along for.

Two or three years before Gravity Falls, and lightyears from the current moment spent knowing what would come after. It was a large, tacky picture. The kind of clean perfection she and Dipper could never live up to, and the kind of high-end suburban normality Miriam craved in her orderly demeanor. But, aside from the blatant white patch of fabric taped over Daniel Pine's face, removing him from an otherwise family-like scene, Mabel decided it was a nice picture. It was something she could accept as real.

"Yeah... I guess so." Dipper admitted finally, too exhausted to give anything but defeat. He couldn't risk throwing every ounce of energy out for what was to come. He'd have to preserve himself. That was all it took for Miriam to let out a heavy breath through the nose, pat his cheek and turn to face Bill.

"I hope you don't mind rooming with my son. I'm afraid I don't have any other beds, unless you would prefer the couch." Her head tilted to the right, a nearly prideful glow to her cheeks when given the chance to direct Bill's attention to the most picturesque part of the house. It had a very nice-looking couch on display. Not like the flat, cardboard stiffness at his own place. Something you might find in a mancave, if not for the pristine white, and a sturdiness about the cushions, as though no one ever sat on them. He was anything but intrigued by the offer.

"I don't mind at all, Mrs. Pines. It'd be an honor to bunk with your son, in fact." The look on his face seemed to say all that needed to be said for everyone already in the know. To Miriam and her small son alone, did it look Bill may simply be eccentric. A few characters too odd to pass as charming, but not too unhinged to come off as cryptic or malice. Instead, exciting. A bit strange, but nothing so unordinary that he couldn't mold into society.

But of course, Tony was too young to know better, and Miriam would give any dapper male a small pass if they looked the part. Should they appear even half-way important, if only by looks, she would bow her head just a little more. Even the shifting gaze of paranoia wouldn't tip her off if the right watch was matched with the right dress pants.

A distracting kiss on the lips, even though her son was calling her cell, by a man who could do his hair with just enough gel, was able to wrap his hand around her wrist, slide the phone from her hand, and send it to voicemail without so much as a fuss.

She wouldn't so much as bat her eye if he, very slimily, very creepily, informed her that Dipper was now calling him- had asked for a ride home- if his dress shoes had been polished the night before by his own hands.

Wouldn't even flinch if he pecked her lips, promised to be back 'soonish,' and headed upstairs, supposedly to grab his car keys, if it meant he knew how to wear a tie.

Press in cufflinks.

How many unbuttoned buttons were sexy on a dress shirt, and how many were tacky.

How to measure for his jacket size.

She could always overlook it.

Even when she saw him in his car, after getting what he assured was a ring of keys, holding up a compact bottle of lube near his face, and admiring the way the sunlight reflected off of it.

Miriam could overlook the slight probability that John wasn't headed to pick up her son, but was in fact headed to another woman's home, if he looked to be even half the gentleman he promised he was.

The reality of the situation hadn't prompted itself.

"Please, please." Miriam cooed at Bill in her world-class hostess voice, though the strain behind it was apparent to all. " 'Pines' was my ex husband's last name. Just Miriam's fine. And you are?"

"Bill." He began, catching himself smoothly before 'Cipher' could slither its way up his throat. He was coy enough to go without stuttering at what would've been a massive fuck-up. Instead, he took the second of pause as a moment to soak up the glory that was his presence . Miriam saw it as poise, if not admirable pacing on his part. Dipper rolled his eyes. "Bill Angle." He finished with a grin.

Miriam was a bit more charmed now, previous inconvenience suddenly overshadowed by the jarring eloquence by which he introduced himself. She didn't often come across men who might say their first name twice, and last once. It was a bit fancier than she'd prepared for, and so was left vulnerable to the effect of his suit, tie, and well-polished shoes.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Angle." Again, she held out her hand. Again, they shook. This time, a bit different. This time, welcomed. And she, caught off guard by his daunting grace, didn't so much as register the hungry look he'd shot Dipper when warning him that Bill was an ' active sleeper .' A cloaked 'wink ,' interrupted only by Mabel as she cleared her throat.

"If it gets to be too much, I can always share the guest room with Dipper, so you can have a bed for yourself." Mabel offered. Well, threatened . Cutely, no less. And so, so generous-sounding. If Bill didn't know her warped mind better, he might have missed the edge in her tone.

"Oh, no. Don't worry about it. I wouldn't feel comfortable taking a lady's room." Miriam put a hand to her chest, and Dipper could almost swear she was asking God to pledge ' that wholesome gentlemen ' to her out-of-control daughter. He thought he might get sick if he lamented on the idea any more than he already had. "Besides." Bill went on. "I don't sleep nearly as well alone."

"I'm sure you don't." Dipper spat, and somehow that was what alerted Miriam to any kind of sexual innuendos.

" Mason." She didn't shout, but it was so abrupt, the surprise of her stern tone made up for it. "Not. In the house. Understand?" Miriam pointed, smile cracking under the slight mortification of what looked to be her dear, intelligent son making a vulgar remark. Dipper didn't so much as nod his head at her cold tone. Only looked away, sighed, before turning back when her eyes were off him, to badger Bill with a nasty scowl. "I'm sorry about him." She apologised.

"Oh, it's alright. I don't mind." Mabel and Dipper both rolled their eyes at him, and it felt as though something had connected between the two. However, where as the moment had started, it had also ended in simultaneous avoidance, when they turned to smile at each other and remembered the strain in their relationship. They looked away. One in resistance. The other in shame.

"Are you sure?" Miriam asked, stretching her tone. "I could always move Mason to the couch if you don't feel like sharing a room."

" Mom- !"

"No, no, no. That's alright. Wouldn't want to inconvenience my partner, after all." Tony wrapped his entire body around the older's arm, clinging to him like a monkey. Bill's body became a bit tilted, but not an inch out of posture. "Besides, I always liked the mouth on your son."

Somehow, that flew over her head.

"Well, I don't know where he gets it from. He's been like that since he went to live with his father."

"I'll bet you're the better influence, then." And the sheer glow of her features. Dipper could have honestly disintegrated. Miriam laughed- with composure, of course- keeping herself occupied just a fraction of a scene by dusting the stray dirt from her apron, pulling a tuft of hair behind her ear, and sculpting out her most generous, most appealing grin. She was weak to flattery, after all.

"Would you like a tour of the house?" Miriam offered. By the way she asked, it might have been the taj mahal. From how clean she kept things, it wouldn't have been too far-fetched to believe she valued it just as such. She was prideful of her work. Just like her son, Bill noted. She had her work; her space. Miriam took joy in the pinpointed spot of Piedmont, where she cupped her hand and the whole house seemed to fit. Where she had control. Where she had order.

"That sounds fantastic-! " Bill had readied himself with a hand-full of preordained remarks to flatter her. Just to get under Dipper's skin, so he might hear later down the road what a charmingly exceptional man his partner was. Now, wouldn't that be the icing on the cake.

Tony had other plans, though.

"No!" Tony went, yanking on his dress shirt. "No, no! " Bill sighed, looking down at him.

"What is it, kid?" He kept his tone light, hoping to refrain from leaving the observant woman with a bitter taste. Would she admire if he was good with kids, or prefer a more serious, stubborn gentleman? He couldn't wage the matter, and so decided to play on both ends.

Tony just jumped, bouncing on his feet and repeated. "No! No, no, no!" He pointed at his mom. Then, up the stairs. Sticking his tongue out, he made an openly distraught expression. Bill only sighed, looking away from the toddler. He really didn't like kids.

"Now! Now! " Tony finally said, in a slurred, drooling manner that gave the impression of fighting against his own tongue. He yanked on Bill's sleeve, making the grown man sigh.

"What do you want ?" Tony kept bouncing. His little hand went up, a pudgy finger pointed at him. The little boy pointed to his own mouth, then his stomach, and finally the home's wooden door.

"Now! Now!" He said again. Bill looked as though a light bulb had gone off in his head, and he began to feel very tired.

" Now? " Bill asked. Not questioning its meaning, but the simple disdain of ' why now?'

"Now!" Tony confirmed.

"Geez, kid. You're runnin' me ragged here." He drove a hand through his hair, giving himself a disheveled look. He sucked in a breath, clenched his one eye, before opening it back up to address Miriam. "There wouldn't happen to be a grocery store around here, would there?" Bill asked crossly, the weak smile on his lips finally waving aside.

"Oh-. Uh... Yes." She began, only to turn towards the glossy staircase of oak. "Would you like me to show you after the tour?" Tony's chant grew louder.

" Now, now, now, now!" Bill groaned.

"Maybe another time. I forgot I've got something to buy ." He shot Tony a dirty look. The child looked back with euphoria.

" Yeah !" He went, raising his arms. Tony tried to clamber atop the older, only to be nudged off. "Come!" He continued. "I come, too!" He began to wrap his arms around Bill's leg. The man grabbed him though, holding him off in mid air and raising him from the floor.

"Not a chance, kid." Like that, he handed the toddler off to Dipper, who was more than a little confused at Bill's sudden change in demeanor. Tony ' aw' ed sadly, not that the blond cared. He was waved off as the man, very quickly, very efficiently, shoved a hand down Dipper's back pocket- cold. Dipper's body ran very cold- and fished out the car keys. "I'll be back." He began, making it as far as the porch before his path was cut in by his partner, still holding on to the young child.

"Whoa, hey. Where are you going?" Dipper asked. "What about-" He shut the house door behind him, effectively blocking the two women's curious glances. "The- the plan?"

"Jesus, kid. I'm not going out for milk . I'll be back before you get a chance to miss me."

"What are you going out for?"

Bill shot Tony a nasty look- sneered- and leaned in on Dipper.

" This is why I don't deal with kids ." Nothing more than that. He simply stepped back, bound down the steps, and slid in the passenger's side of the car. He buckled himself in, only to weigh the toddler in Dipper's arms with a heavy glance. One Tony met with interactive fun and excitement. Bill's hand went up, fingers pressed tightly to one side of his lips, before sliding to the other edge with a zipping motion. He flicked his fingers, like throwing away the key, making Tony giggle and mimic the motion. The car sat in the driveway only a moment longer until he finally snorted, snapped on the engine and drove off.

"Yeah, yeah!" Tony cheered, watching the car mosey down the street, hit a turn and disappear. "Go! Go!" He continued. Dipper looked down at the toddler in his arms, currently cheering, clapping and drooling over his trucker shirt collar.

"Go where, Tony?" He lifted the child a bit, so their eyes would meet. Dipper, if he was quite honest, hated how he had to dumb his speech for the child to understand. Not 'Where's Bill going?' Instead, 'Go where?' Because for some reason, it didn't connect otherwise. Tony continued to clap his hand.

"Store!"

"For what?" Dipper picked at the base of Tony's shirt, using the tip to rub off lingering dribble. Miriam had expressed before her concerns of his excessive spittle. But, it couldn't be helped. He would learn, Dipper had assured her before. She just couldn't let it go, though. She couldn't let it go.

"Ice cream!"

"... Why ?" The spit he'd rubbed away was quickly replaced with another two lines on opposite corners of the mouth. Dipper sighed, dabbing away once again.

He recalled one particular moment in his own life when he too couldn't help but be this young. Couldn't help but be a child, with things that simply weren't teachable at his age. When he'd run through the living room spotted in mud, and Miriam all but collapsed, screaming and crying over her new tiling. And his father had told Dipper to wash up, and Miriam to calm down. But she'd been in such hysterics, all she could manage was to yank out a mop, push about the mud, before throwing the stick aside and outright howling in distress. When Daniel had tried to comfort her, it was met with a piping hot coffee mug targeted for his head. He'd almost laughed then, remarking how her aim was getting better.

She hadn't found it nearly as amusing.

" Secret ." Tony whispered, placing a finger over his lips. At that, Dipper smiled. He leaned in a bit, until their foreheads bumped against each other. The younger noted bits of raised skin on his older brother's, and closed his eyes for just a second, making a mental trace of Ursa Major. He'd always wanted one for himself, going as far as tracing a duplicate on his stomach.

"Secret? From me ?" Dipper asked. Tony nodded, a bit guilt stricken.

"Mmhmm."

"Even from your big brother?" The child paused then, placing his small fingers across his lips. He pressed a finger to the corner of his mouth, and looked as though to search for the metal flap of his zipped lips. When he supposedly found it, he pinched his fingers, pulling the imaginary restraint in an opposite direction.

"' Zip.' " Tony said, unclasping his lips. He smiled, leaning further in on Dipper, cupping his mouth behind his hand. " Don't tell. "

Dipper laughed, tilting his head to catch the tail end of Tony's low voice. Well, whatever he knew that Bill didn't want others to know what probably a beautiful secret. How he'd found dirt on him so easily, Dipper couldn't fathom. He could only work out a wave of admiration for the little guy, far more than was appreciated at his age.

" I won't." He whispered back, zipping his lips and flicking the key. Of course he would. If it was good, at least. And, it had to be good, didn't it? Bill wasn't so weak he'd do some kid's bidding without cause. He was on his way to buy a tub of ice cream, just to keep Tony's mouth shut. Now, that. That was a beautiful thing.

Tony leaned away, giving a stern look in either direction. Checking to see if the coast was clear. Dipper had to stifle a laugh, keeping his features as serious as the two year old's, currently about to spill the beans. Tony ducked his head, covering his mouth with shining eyes.

" I saw." He said finally, followed by a giggle. His little hands went up, ' kekeke' ing at something both hilarious and completely new to a child at his age. Dipper bounced him up in his arms, so Tony's body didn't slip through his arms. Once his grip was back in place, he gave the kid a confused look.

"Saw? Saw what?" Dipper asked, cocking his head. Tony mimicked, his black hair falling to the left, just as Dipper's brown curls did. He giggled again, putting either hand over his mouth. He put a single finger out, drawing it out to point at his eye.

"I saw! " He repeated, far more excited.

"What? With your eye?"

"No, no!" His finger tapped just under the lid, pulling all attention to his brown orb. "Saw. Saw! " Tony covered his entire eye then, only to lift it up. "It! I saw!" Dipper took a moment to decipher his little brother's words, as well as his actions. He watched the way Tony repeatedly covered and uncovered his little eye, and suddenly Dipper got it.

"Ooooh. You saw Bill's eye? Under the eye patch?" Tony, of course, had no idea what an ' eye patch' was, but he was sure enough Dipper got the idea.

"Yeah! Yeah, I saw!" He started bouncing in Dipper's hold, pointing at his own eye with exhilaration.

"Oh, yeah Tony. That's cool." But, it really wasn't. It certainly wasn't blackmail. If anything, it was just more proof Bill was undeniably, outrageously obsessed with himself. He'd go so far as to bargain with a child if it meant keeping what he saw under wraps. But, what was the big secret? Everybody knew what was under it. Dipper became a bit annoyed, thinking about it. Of course, the guy he liked was also a raging narcissist.

"Cool! Real cool!"

"I'll bet it was gross, huh?" He offered, if only to get the satisfaction of knowing someone thought it was. It felt like everyone Dipper introduced Bill to found the asshole charming . Which couldn't be true in his universe. It couldn't be.

"Nu-uh." And, there went that hope. Dipper sighed. " Kitty eye !" Tony continued.

"What?" Dipper asked with a laugh, cocking his head in the opposite direction. Once again, Tony copied.

"Kitty eye! Kitty eye!" He pointed at his own eye again, covered it, uncovered, and smiled. "He had one. He's a kitty !"

Dipper paused.

Looked down the road Bill had driven.

Lifted a finger at it and smiled. Tony wouldn't know what giving the finger meant anyways. He could get away with it.

"That's right, Tony. Bill's a real cat."

At least someone in his family thought he was a pussy.

He turned around and headed inside.