Mabel hadn't thought to set her alarm the night before; it was a Saturday. Still, it would have been good of her to wake up, get breakfast in, and prepare for the conversation yet to come.

Dipper was late.

So very, very late.

It wasn't any of her business what he got up to in his free-time. But, hadn't he promised to be back by ten? Last night? And, didn't he usually call in if work dragged on? She was never one to worry; freaking out never fixed anything, no matter how much Dipper disagreed. It was only by means of circumstances- Bill being back, and completely incognito at the time- that her stomach dropped when she dialed his number, and was met with his voicemail.

Had he turned off his phone?

Was the battery dead?

Did someone destroy it?

Mabel had tried getting a hold of Dipper's laboratory line, but the other end simply made her wait -ring- before going silent. What was to be expected, though? Her brother worked hard; it wasn't unlike him to get caught up in research. In fact, it may have been a bigger flag if he'd let the phone buzz, placed her on hold, before inevitably answering. Dipper was an anxious one. He was always quick to respond.

And, yet...

Mabel got out of bed that morning, surprised to find her usual cup of coffee hadn't been poured out for her; he was always around to brew a pot. She checked her phone: No new messages. Texted Wendy; Pacifica. Both said they hadn't heard from him the night before, but-.

Paz was a bit intrigued herself.

P: did he tell u where he was going last night???

P: has dipp talked 2 u anything?? like, a secret or whatevr???

P: no reason just wondering

So, he wasn't at Wendy's, and wasn't with Pacifica. He didn't answer his office phone, and still wasn't returning her calls; never a good thing. It was an unspoken rule that the two would always get back at each other's messages, lest the other thought they were in danger. No matter the domestic cover- the quaint diner, the wooden housing, the fresh air- Gravity Falls was deadly.

An unboxed text could mean anything.

Mabel pushed the thought away, getting a thing of coffee ready. It had never been her favorite beverage; years and years of dental treatment, retainers, and braces had brought a cautious gloom around the drink. Stained teeth. Cavities. She'd worked so hard to keep her pearly whites -well- pearly. The violent spike of caffeine was enough to turn her mood sour, if not for mounds of sugar to counteract it. Which only made it worse.

She drank, though. As communion, perhaps. When Dipper made a quart, poured his fill, and -without thinking or asking for payment- went out of his way to serve her a glass. Out of courtesy; the nonchalant kindness her brother willed without thought, much unlike Mabel's less modest, more boastful displays.

Mabel hummed expectantly, training her eyes on the black stream as it drizzled from a dark pool of coffee. Out of habit, not taste, did she drink it. Wrinkling her nose, wafting away dry steam, sticking her tongue out as she tried, once again, to down the beverage without cream or sugar. Two spoonfuls- three. A dollop of whipped cream. And- though they'd been packed away since christmas- a candy cane to stir the contents.

If only to calm herself. Keep from watching the clock. Keep from expecting a call. She took a sip -sweet, tooth decaying goodness- before turning on the television. Kids' shows; a blue cat and his goldfish. A sea-square. Three bears stacked on top of each other. A princess from another dimension, accompanied by her bi-racial karate boyfriend.

Mabel's mind tried to soak it all in, but the content wouldn't stick. Only splattered against her brain; slid down the side before dropping off like a dirty rag.

Don't check your watch.

Don't check your phone.

Mabel sighed, taking another, less gracious swig of her beverage. She made sure to swallow it before the drink could sit, hit her teeth, and burn through the enamel. She made a mental note to brush them again, once she was done with the cup.

There was a sudden jingle. Just left of her, placed far away; muffled with the vague sureness of impenetrability. A sharp 'click' could be heard at the door, and Mabel all but fell out of her chair when hearing it. That wasn't just jingling. Those were Dipper's keys, testing themselves against the tricky design of their apartment's lock. He had a ring, decked out in shiny silver metal, each with a service of importance.

House key.

Car key.

Storage room key.

Spare key to the shack.

Laboratory key.

Even a key from either of his homes in Piedmont and Buffalo, which he no longer needed.

It always took him a while to remember exactly which one was for the apartment door. It didn't matter either way; Mabel was at the door by the time he'd gotten a third of the way through them all. She pulled at the knob, yanking forth softwood in time to watch Dipper- disoriented as always- trail along the key still jammed in the lock, clasped haphazardly between sweaty fingers. He made an awkward hop forward, following as his sister led the knob inwards, before letting go.

And he, odd as ever, straightened up; already sweaty. Already shifting under her unsuspecting gaze.

"Oh, uh. Hey. 'Morning, Mabes. You're uh-. You're up." Dipper coughed into his fist, clearing his throat. He looked away from her, rolling back on his heels and smacking his palms together. "I thought you liked to sleep in on Saturdays."

"I... do?" Mabel responded, squinting her eyes at him. Not in suspicion. Rather, unsurity. Looking him up and down, Dipper sure didn't look worse for wear. If he'd gotten into any kind of trouble last night, it'd show; torn clothes. Bruises. Gash-marks. Twigs in hair. Mud on shoes. Dipper never knew how to clean up after an encounter with the supernatural; it wasn't too uncommon, finding him passed out on the couch, journal in right hand, bandage on the other, weathered down like a wild animal.

In all honesty, he was kind of glowing. Not literally, of course. There was just-... something fresh about him now. Dipper's skin had always been pale. Teeth, straight and white. Eyes, calculated. Maybe a bit shifty, but prepared. Nails, bitten, torn, and shortened brutishly; painful to even look at, if you got around to seeing him enough. No. This was all normal. For him, it was the same. Still, an aspect had changed, Mabel saw. Just barely, in those eyes of his; eyes like dad's.

Because, all else was mom's; thin, pink lips. Porcelain skin, untouched by sun. Slender chin. Delicate nose. Just as Mabel's. All like Mabel's. But, perhaps better suited for him. In his life, starting out as the scrawny, big-headed nerd, only to bloom into something like a woman. Male, but female. Handsome, yet oddly beautiful. Unlike Mabel, who'd always been female, and always a beauty; the transformation was far less impressive when comparing past photos.

The same face.

The same beauty.

But, comparable still.

Because, there was something to be won in it. In those eyes like dad's. Not mom's. Not owed to her, and her alone, like Mabel. With eyes like her mother's; a bit thinner at the lids. A shade lighter; still brown, but lifted with something soft- billowy. To make even the smallest of details lovely, feminine, and belonging solely to her predecessor.

No; those eyes were dad's. Wider. Brighter. Not looking to consume- to control- but simply to understand; always to know, and wonder, and discover. Nothing was needed to ensnare others; draw them in with those pretty little eyes his mother had. Instead, stern. Harsh. Dark and witty, boring into the soul. Completely male, as every boy was.

Though... Dipper's eyes then...

Not like mother's.

Not like father's.

But, his own. New; replaced. Finally opened and ready to really see things, able to return the pair he'd borrowed from his kin. Use them. Know them. Understand, with what he saw, who he was. His eyes were fresh.

Like he'd just woken up.

Yes, Dipper looked different. Not bad. Just-... The transition felt secretive. Was it too much to say that he, though unorthodox and unbalanced, looked comfortable in his own skin? For even two seconds? A quick jump, from lost to found, switching endlessly between a spiral into self-loathing grief, and newly-tread soil. Both excited and hesitant of the discovery.

A metamorphosis; caterpillar to butterfly. Baby to boy to man to... Something else.

This was not the same Dipper.

"What took you so long, dude? You didn't answer your phone. I texted you, like, a billion times." Mabel interrogated, shifting in the doorway to let him pass. He did, turning sideways to squeeze past her body. Or, maybe so they didn't touch. There was still guilt, ripe and thriving along his skin; even an instance of contact gave way to burning, hot shame.

"Oh, uh-. Yeah, I saw." Dipper made his journey to the couch, sliding his bomber jacket off and tossing it on the broken sofa. Mabel blinked, seeing his motions as a single frame rather than a collective moment. He wore a white button-up shirt; clean, unwrinkled, and pristine white. Shrunken at the waste, but leaving a bit too much room for Dipper's otherwise svelte figure.

She'd never seen him wear that before.

"Sorry. I turned my phone off at the lab." He sucked in a breath, stretched- and, Mabel could've been completely wrong. Her eyes may have just deceived her- Sniffed the slightly large shirt and huffed. "I should've texted you, I know. I'll do it next time." Dipper shrugged, lowering his arms from over his head, letting his muscles relax. Combed a hand through his hair, sucked in his lip, and rubbed his right eye. His presence felt strangely alien.

"Yeah, you do that..." Mabel's voice trailed off, observing him. She hadn't closed the door yet, simply leaning against the frame and drinking in his weirdly new, weirdly prepared response. 'I'll do it next time.' How many times did he intend on spending the night in his lab? "Did you figure anything out?" She asked, making Dipper tense.

He paused, turning rigid as the question fell over his shoulders. A breath came to him after a dot of silence, allowing his chest to clench, release; form a coherent response, void of panic- unease in Mabel's imaginary suspicion; that she knew; that she was on to him.

"Nope. Still in the dark." Dipper brought a hand up, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't looked at her, eyes trained on the mute television. Something colorful. Weird, with strings of loopy arms and gangly legs. Screaming, smiling, laughing. Sword-fighting. Monsters. A train-wreck of chaos.

Bill might've liked it.

"Was it just you up there? Geez, Dipper. You've got a partner; use him."

Dipper almost choked on his sister's poor phrasing.

'Use him.' Yeah, right. Like Dipper was the one doing the using. In his dreams. He scoffed at the remark, internalizing the irony of her response; she took it as rapprochement.

"I'm serious, dude. You and Bill should work together once in a while instead of getting in each other's hair." And pants. "Who knows? Might make a great team."

He gave her expression a once-over; for someone completely clueless on the situation, her commentary was oddly suggestive. 'Great team.' Like, what? A thing? Good fuck-buddies? Good boyfriends? God, Dipper didn't want to entertain the idea.

Bill was...

A sadist, in more ways than one. Getting in a serious relationship with him was essentially Stockholm syndrome. He was smarter than that; both of them. Because, hell if Dipper was any better. He was just looking for trouble. It was only by public image that he didn't get his hands dirty more often.

Combining forces would only spell out disaster.

"Us? A team?" A slight skip in his voice had Dipper bordering a laugh. Mabel finally shut the door, pressing her back against the sanded down cedar. She crossed her arms, pouting as he averted his gaze from the television, passing her a light expression. Not questioning her intelligence; moreso, where she got such bizarre ideas. "Yeah, right." He dismissed her.

"Uh, yeah. Right. Aren't you guys, like, super geniuses or whatever?" Mabel blew a raspberry his way, pulling a smile as her leaning figure came off the entrance. She made a path around him, leaning up against the couch's worn corner.

"Oh, so I'm a genius now?" Dipper cracked a grin; the edges of his lips were stretched awkwardly, dimples quaking. Whatever attempt at casual he'd planned on making only worked to undo him. His hands were clammy.

Mabel laughed nonetheless, sticking out her tongue in distaste.

"No way! You're a pea-brain, bro-bro. Always." The comment was playful, willing a half-dead frown from Dipper's lips. He couldn't conjure the emotion necessary for a full-blown glower, time and energy already spent on something far more stressful. It had its perks, though.

If he squinted hard enough.

"Thanks. My self-esteem's just soaring today." Dipper sighed, though he couldn't counteract the pleasant smirk snuggly up on his lips. Slowly- very slowly- he felt the mood shift. Less awkward. Less explosive. Casual. He could hold their conversation comfortably now, unafraid of the discussion self-detonating. Everything was okay. Everything was fine.

He could still get away with this.

"Hey. What are twins for?" Mabel chirped, leaning forward to knock him on the shoulder.

"Reality checks?" Dipper asked.

"Reality checks." She confirmed, placing a hand in his hair. Her fingers went back and forth, cutting through his bouncy curls like water.

"Well, that's just great." He shooed Mabel's hand back, going to pat the strands against his forehead. It was important he stayed conscious of their placement, unless he wanted to get caught, guard down, exposed to the public. Keep those curls in place; keep them down. "I don't remember asking for one."

"You'll thank me someday." Mabel winked, pulling herself from her bent position over the couch. Her arms went up, placing themselves to hug the top of her head as her torso leaned side-to-side in a stretch. "No, but seriously." She continued. "You guys haven't figured out anything? In a full month? Back when we were kids, your average mystery took, like, a few days, tops."

"Yeah? Well, this isn't your average mystery." He shrugged, shifting. There was a break in his thoughts, registering just what he'd said. Not your 'average' mystery. Sure, yeah. That was definitely a reasonable cause for delay. But, damn. A whole month? Dipper would've at least found witnesses by now.

But, if he was being honest, things had... distracted him. First, the case with Mrs. Lass and her supposedly resurrected husband. Then, there was the thing with that damned stripclub. Vampires and prostitutes, drinks and groping fingers. And, let's not forget the biggest culprit to Dipper's scattered mind.

Bill.

Annoying. Loud-mouthed. Cocky, and so fucking eagre to drag Dipper down to his level. He wasn't all to blame, though. Perhaps the intent wouldn't have been so effective if Dipper hadn't given him the time of day. Partaking in witty debates, growling at each other from across the room, absolutely hating each other-.

And fucking on the side line.

Maybe it was frustration. Dipper might've wanted a kind of revenge, at least getting the final word in here. (Lord knew Bill wouldn't have allowed it in any other situation.) Whatever the case, he found it in him to brave even the barest of spite against his partner then.

"Besides, that jackass doesn't do shit around the place. As far as I'm concerned, I'm working on this case solo."

"Oh, stop! I'm sure Bill's doing something over there! You're just not seeing it." Mabel reassured. Dipper couldn't help his more-than-disgusted groan, rolling his eyes at her.

"Right, right. Sure. I- the guy filling out all the paperwork, reviewing hours of street footage, and triple-checking the population of virtually every state- am just sitting in front of my desk, twiddling my thumbs while Bill dusts around for clues." His sister scoffed at him.

"That's not what I meant, goofball." She moved from the couch, sitting peacefully at the dinner table just right of them. The coffee she'd brewed moments before was losing its original appeal. "It's just-. Bro, why else would they hire him if he wasn't useful? I'm sure he's really good at detective work and all that sciency-stuff." Dipper couldn't stop himself from letting out an abrupt 'Ha!', twisting his body to view her from across the room.

"Not even a little! That guy couldn't tell you the atomic number of gold if you gave him a periodic table."

"Uh... Well, I don't think a lot of people could do that-."

"He's a shit-human, Mabel. End of story." She huffed at him, taking her cooled beverage between delicate hands. A small sip- a wrinkle of the nose- as she crossed her legs and stared.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you weren't so dang difficult with him all the time. I mean, come on! What's a little friendship gonna hurt?"

"My pride. My ego. The tiny shred of self-respect I have left-."

"The specifics aren't important." Mabel rushed in, waving her hand at him. The next sip she took was far more pleasant. "What matters is that- God, Dip. If what you say about him is true, then you're not helping yourself at all."

"I'm not getting all buddy-buddy with that guy, Mabes." He rolled his head back, resting his arched neck against ruined orange fabrics and overflowing cotton. "It'll only make things worse."

"Psh. Hog-wash! Friendship makes the world go 'round, Dipper!" Which was not what he meant. Sure. 'Friendship' was great. But, that opportunity was out the window now. They had two sides to this relationship. Hate or fuck. Or, sometimes a hybrid.

Like the way Bill bordered choking him to death hadn't been fueled by even a sliver of pent up rage. Like how he humiliated him- called him names- teased him during and afterwards- wasn't packed full of despise for Dipper. When he was more than rough the first time, and only abused his already-spent ass the following morning- Hate. He and Bill hated each other.

And, fuck if it wasn't a fun pastime.

"How are you supposed to make a rainbow if all the colors don't get along?"

"No rainbow, I guess." Dipper shrugged, turning back to the TV. A quick motion of Mabel's hand had the device turned off, forcing Dipper to snort. "Oh, come on. Why do you care if we get along, anyways?"

"Because, that's my future husband you're talking about!"

A choke. Dipper definitely choked that time. Not physically, but mentally.

He was so much deeper in this than was possible.

'Oh, yeah. I'm just fucking my sister's crush behind Wendy's back. Who's Wendy? Aw, just my girlfriend of over a year. We've known each other since we were, like, kids. So, it's pretty serious or whatever. I don't know. I haven't gotten a bone for her since I was maybe sixteen, and we've never had sex, so really, it's only fair I get to fuck around with other people. Who cares, right? It's not like these people have feelings or anything.'

"You-... Don't mean that." Dipper tested his own voice, making sure it came out loud and clear. Not lost. Not confused. Confident. She didn't mean that. She never meant that. It was a common phrase for her, obviously. No boy was safe from her hand in marriage. None. But... This was Bill. And, Dipper knew better than anyone how he differed from Mabel's past love-interests. This wasn't a boy. This was a man. A full, complete man. There was no guarantee she could keep her hands off of him, and only him, for so long.

He was an asshole, after all.

He didn't have that kind of reserve to stop fucking Dipper on the down low, if it meant sparing Mabel's precious feelings.

He'd only bask in the glory of crushing her.

"Heck yes, I do!"

"You two barely talk."

"We... text. Sometimes. Like-. Like, a lot."

"When was the last time he messaged you-?"

"The time doesn't matter!" Mabel piped in. "The point is-." She repositioned herself, shimmying her shoulders as her posture became upright and uncharacteristically reposed. It was otherwise ruined by the outright childness of her aura. "I don't want you two fighting, okay? When we start dating- and we will, bro-bro- I want you guys to be like brothers, right?" She knit her fingers together. "So we can hang out, and go mini golfing, and eat pizza, and tell embarrassing stories about you!"

"It sounds more like a friend group. Let's just make it a friend group." Dipper's voice came out rushed, body angled to give every ounce of his attention to her. She shook her head.

"Ah-ah-ah, bro. You know me: I like what I like. And, I. Like. Bill. Say 'hello' to your future brother-in-law!" Nightmare. Absolute nightmare. There wasn't much to make it any worse-.

Dipper felt a buzz in his pants, and with every fiber in his body, thanked God for an excuse to completely discard their conversation-.

Scratch that. Still no God; still no luck.

'Incoming call from 'Fuck-Face''

"Speak of the devil..." Dipper growled, looking down at his screen. He'd specifically told Bill not to call him in the mornings, and definitely not before 8 PM. His lips curled, cursing himself for what he'd just said in front of Mabel. It wasn't too hard to guess who 'the devil' was. She gasped.

"Is that Bill?!" Her body lurched forward, eyes vibrating in sheer excitement. Her coffee mug tilted, jumped, and spilt a bit of creamy black gunk on her sweater, but she didn't so much as blink at the inconvenience. "What's he doing? Why's he calling so early? Heck; why's he calling at all? Oh, geez! Does my hair look okay? How do I look?"

"Desperate." Dipper spat. "He's not gonna see you over the phone, Mabes. Calm down."

"Easy for you to say. You've already got a lover." Mabel shot back, arms crossed with a pout. A heavy blow to the gut, forcing him to literally clench his stomach. If that hadn't hit a whole bunch of nerves-. He shook his head, running a trembling hand through his hair.

It hadn't been his idea to do it like this; he had to hide his screen before Mabel could see it. It'd been done during, once again, their most vulnerable instances together: The afterglow. Dipper had asked- No. That was too chummy. Ordered- Bill to fill out all other fields of information on his contacts. His full name. First, middle, and last. Age. Birthday. Email address. Dipper'd taken the liberty of establishing his screen-title: Fuck-Face. Whatever; Bill didn't care. Simply took his phone, filled in the information, and finished it off with a shirtless selfie as his profile.

Dipper could've swallowed his tongue with how much saliva had built up in his mouth.

"Us singles gotta stay in top shape if we plan on snagging a man!" The smile on her face was absolutely blinding. So much so Dipper almost found it in him to shield his eyes. He didn't, however. Just took the light as it came, like a spotlight of punishment.

He looked to the phone in his hand- the blank TV- the cold coffee mug- Bill's borrowed button up- and finally at Mabel. A thick ball sprouted in his throat, essentially cutting off all oxygen to his brain. Did answering the call... Mean anything? He certainly didn't mean to betray his sister like that. And, Bill-. Hell, who gave a shit what that guy had to say to him? He'd have to wait til 8 if it was important. Even if it was work-related. Even if he had new updates on the 'Bill Dilema.' Damn it all, even if he was Bill Cipher, calling to have himself turned in; he'd have to wait for the right timing.

Still... The ringing didn't stop. He thought he'd made the right decision to let the call die away, only for yet another stream of vibrations to reattach themselves. He sniffed, huffed, and sighed lowly at the screen, unable to answer the phone, but unable to outright reject the call. Dipper twitched, vaguely aware of Mabel's nonsensical drabble as she prepped- with little use- her appearance.

It occurred to him, with a rush unlike anything he'd ever felt before-

Like being struck by lightning.

Head under water, begging for air.

So close to it all, but held off by this one little thing.

...

God, would he give anything to hear that guy's voice.

He stifled a groan, looking at his profile picture. The username. The number, even. He wanted to seep into it. Envelope himself in that name. 'Bill.' Fuck. Maybe he was still screwed from their morning-sex. It'd been just as good as last night, with the position set perfectly. Dipper didn't even know he was so flexible, but Bill was only positive it would work.

He knew Dipper's body. It was only a means of practice, now.

But, who cared? Whatever he had to say wasn't worth hearing. The ringing died away... Came back again. Died. Came back. Died. Mabel didn't so much as blink at the noise, still spritzing her mouth with breath spray and double checking how low she let her sweater hang. The vibrations seeped into his hand, making his fingers near-numb from the sensation. And, each time, over and over again, that same picture showed up, coupled with that name. 'Fuck-Face.'

Just a reminder how he liked to be used.

Dipper hissed- cursed at himself- before finally getting up and walking out of the room. Mabel was startled by his sudden actions.

"Hey! Where're you going?" She called after him. He lifted a hand, phone cupped against his ear.

"Privacy." Dipper couldn't spare a glance, afraid even one look into those clear, naive eyes would only force him to crumble. But, it was impossible now. He wanted to hear that voice, if only to insult him. Dipper could take it. Hell, he liked it. Mabel grumbled, watching him walk off, taking his conversation with him.

He ducked around the corner, down the hallway, and swung open his door much harder than necessary. If only to release even a little bit of the tension around his shoulders. The phone in his hand was close to turning down the call again, only for Dipper- groaning and slamming his door behind him- to press 'answer.'

"What do you want, asshole?" Perfectly unsuspicious; he didn't want to talk to Bill, but God if that ringing hadn't been so damn annoying, he would've just ignored it!

The other end was silent, hearing the slight ruffle of bedsheets in the background.

"You certainly took your precious time getting back to me." Bill finally said, voice strangely eerie. He sensed a slight smirk in his voice.

"So sorry to keep you waiting, your highness; I didn't give a shit."

"Oh, but now you do?" Bill cooed. Dipper sniffed, pressing the phone against his ear as he made his way to the window. They'd finally gotten a replacement for the one that'd been shattered by Mr. Fang. He lifted, very slowly, the blue curtain placed before his view, taking a peek outside; nice day. Too nice to be spent yapping it up with this asshole.

"Did you call me for a reason?" Dipper tested, turning away from the window to look at his feet. He placed his hands on his hips, cell expertly balanced between his ear and shoulder. There was a laugh on the other end, followed by something like thoughtfulness. Bill shifted, stretched, and pulled away the blanket across his bed, swinging his legs out from the covers.

"Your shirt's clean." His tone was anything but modest, giving him a reminder of exactly what they'd gotten up to that morning. Dipper flushed.

Pants off. Boxers, too. At least for him. Bill had made the mocking decision to fuck him fully-clothed, with a pair of red-flannel pajama pants and a white tee. Legs over shoulders, tummy in, back curled as most of his weight was forced onto Dipper's shoulders; Bill had lifted him by the calves, folded him in two, and somehow gotten his knees to touch either sides of his head. Which Dipper didn't even know he could do.

The whole experience had been fine. It's been more than fine, in fact. It'd been awesome. Each thrust hit exactly where he needed it to. And, God. Did he need it. But, for every blessing in life, there was always to be a downside.

Dipper should've taken off his shirt.

Reaching his climax in that position certainly hadn't done his local laundromat any favors, and whatever didn't hit his shirt either dribbled down his neck or splashed across his cheek and lips.

Which Bill loved.

"You should probably pick it up soon. Nice shirt; you looked good in it."

"Ah, so that's it." Dipper nodded his head, as though finally understanding. But, he understood from the get-go. He knew what was up. "I thought we made a deal about calling at this time."

"Well, excuse me if I misunderstood, but I remember you specifically saying 'no texting.'"

"You know what I meant." Dipper shot back. Bill snorted.

"Hey, buddy! I'm not a mind-reader, here! You're gonna have to be more specific next time."

"'Next time.'" Dipper mocked.

"Yes, next time." Bill gloated back at him, a fat slice of derision in his tone. "How's tonight sound? Got any plans for yourself, aside from a panic attack?" Dipper scoffed at him, tucking his arms under his elbows.

"I'm supposed to be throwing myself off a water tower by 4. Maybe take a rain check?"

"Alright, then." Bill snorted, sounding oddly charming through the call; Dipper had to admit, he liked his phone voice. It almost distracted him from exactly who he was talking to. "Then Monday; you busy?"

"Uh, yeah actually. Doing my job, Bill."

"Hmm. Tragic." He responded, combing a hand through blond hair. "Too bad you insisted on the 'no office-stuff', or it wouldn't be such a big deal." Bill chuckled to himself at the thought. "Maybe consider-?"

"No. Office. Stuff. Ever."

"Oh, come on! A little PTA never hurt anybody!"

"Uh, it has, and it most definitely will."

"Prune!"

"I'm hanging up now." Dipper warned, pulling the phone from his ear. Bill was quick to rekindle things.

"Kidding! Kidding! Calm down, sapling. No need to get hasty." He laughed, rolling his nails over his shirt, looking at how they gleamed in the sunlight. Only hours before, they'd been buried in a hot prick-teaser's heat.

Dipper led the phone back to his ear.

"I'm telling you, kid. We're gonna have to teach you how to take a joke once in a while."

"Believe it or not, I don't find any part of our..." He puckered his lips, searching for the word. "-agreement funny."

"Oh, but isn't it-?"

"No." Dipper huffed painfully, combing a hand through his hair. He squinted his eyes, only to completely close them after a beat. "If anything, I'm more stressed than ever now."

"What's got your boxers in a twist, slick?" Dipper ground his teeth at yet another pet name added to the pile. 'Pine tree, sapling, baby, cutie, Dippy.' And now...

Slick. Which sounded like an okay name, until you picked at his brain and understood exactly where it'd come from; lube. 'Oh my god because it's slick so funny you're a genius Bill.'

"Wha-? Bill, have you forgotten what we're doing here? Why do you think I'm stressed? Take a wild guess."

"Hmm..." The line went silent, as though Bill were actually considering his question. But, Dipper knew him better than that. He had his response lock-and-loaded. "Well, if you're so scared I'm carrying something- first off, I'm offended-."

"Oh my god, will you shut the fuck up?" Dipper rolled his eyes, flopping back on his bed. He hit the mattress with a thud, body lifting slightly at the impact. "For real. Can we just-. Be serious for a second?"

"Uh-oh. Looks like someone's trying to get intimate-."

"You'd better be scared the next time my mouth's around your dick." There was a slight rustle at his bedroom door; a creak. His heart jumped in his chest, concerned with the true level of privacy he had in his own home, only to relax. It was just the building settling.

"So, there will be a next time." Bill assures. Dipper rolls his eyes again, but allows himself to smirk for the time being.

"Maybe. If you're not a complete jerk about it again. You do know humans need air to live, right?"

"Is that so?" Bill sounds genuinely intrigued. Dipper could taste the smile across his lips. "You sure you're not a fish in disguise?"

"Ha-ha." Dipper mocked. "Thank you for the commentary. Your sex card has officially been revoked. Goodbye." Again, he pulled the phone away, reaching to end the call. He waited a beat, finger lingering over the crimson dot as he bit his lip, waiting for Bill to stop him. And stop, he did.

"Hey, hey, hey! Woah there, cowboy. No one said 'fish' was bad. 'Fish' is great! Got a real good thing going for you, guppy."

"You really are my greatest fear come to life." Dipper joked. There was a pause on the other end; a strangled gasp, like holding back the most vibrant laugh to ever grace human ears. Dipper cocked a brow at the receiver, giving it a queer look. After a moment, Bill sighed, cleared his throat, and licked his sharp canines.

"You have no idea." Okay, so... Not as sexual as Dipper had hoped. Fuck if he was that naive; he'd thought they were flirting. The slight dent in his pants attested to that. Even the teasing had worked to build up a little heat. But, with the way Bill said that...

Bit of a mood killer.

"Um... Okay?" He replied, shifting over his covers. He cleared his throat, eyes darting across the room at the window, curtains cracked open a peep. Just enough to peer through the bars of the fire escape ladder. It really was too nice a day. Maybe he'd go for a walk later.

Depended on if Bill could still save the conversation.

"What? Don't like my tone?" He wasn't even phased by Dipper's uncomfortable response; still so confident he had his pine tree where he wanted him.

"Nope; Your talking's what keeps me up at night." Dipper threw him the bait, shakey as he was. 'Allure' wasn't his strong suit.

"Your damn right, it is." Bill caught it effortlessly. Alright. Back in the mood. Get things in motion again. "I get the feeling you don't mind it as much as you say you do."

Dipper smiled this time. Not a grin. Not a smirk. Not fighting back the urge to beam at his remark. Bill couldn't see him anyways; he didn't know what he did to Dipper. This was still war, and the battles were hashed out every instance of their existence. But, as time stood still and the wall between them became non transparent, it felt safe to soak it in. The attention was euphoric; like when his lips were wrapped around his length. Eye trailing him, hand in hair, smile all his, words like a gift-.

The attention spoiled Dipper like nothing else. It'd never been so potent in his life. Only then, in those instances of intimacy, could he fully appreciate it.

And, here.

He could hold the tease, and mold onto it; feel it.

But, this was still war. The call, a battlefield. No matter what he wanted to say, his pride held him to a standard of expectations. In the bedroom, there was peace; a middle ground for them both to stop, bare themselves, and lock eyes. Only there. All else was combat.

"I get the feeling you've been paying too much attention to me. Anything you wanna confess?" Dipper shot coyly, placing his arm over his eyes with a snicker. The pleased sound Bill's throat made had him tingling in all sorts of ways.

"Depends on if you're willing to hear what I have to say." A shiver up his spine. He rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin in his hand.

"Is it good?" Dipper asked. Bill laughed.

"It's great." He responded with a tune. "Maybe a bit complicated for a vanilla guy like you, though."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Oh, baby no!" Bill's voice switched up to something soft and caring, but the outright vulgarity of their conversation kept him dirty. He smiled with the grin of a beast, cocking his brow with a purr. "It's a threat."

Dipper grew lightheaded from that single comment, letting out an involuntary huff at the remark. He couldn't help but smile at the warmth enveloping his cheeks.

"You're a threat." He snorted, shaking his head. Dipper rose from his position, kicking his legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe he would see Bill tonight, after all. He couldn't think of a better way of spending the evening, now that he put his mind to it. But- Dipper tapped his forehead- he couldn't make a habit of it. This would all end soon. The trouble, the guilt, the sex.

It would all come to an end.

"What've I been telling you, slick? I'm deadly, aren't I?"

"God, Bill. If I have to stroke you, I don't wanna stroke your ego, too." A small creak at the door again. Dipper shrugged at the noise; the apartment was settling-.

Under the doorframe...

A shadow. The base of two feet, standing just beyond his door.

Dipper's fingers went cold.

"Oh, but you're so good with your hands, baby!"

Bill's words were far-off. Stretched out and dream-like. He could hardly hear him through the rushing of blood against his ear drums. Two tiny feet with little white toes curled inwards, rocking slightly...

Shaking.

His breath caught in his throat. Dipper thought he might puke.

Cold. Across his lips. Under his chin. All inside his chest. And, damn right his boner was quickly redistributing all the donated blood it'd taken moments before. His mouth was dry. His eyes, trained just below the doorframe, where someone stood, waited, and eavesdropped.

"Hey. Dippy. You still there?" His hands shook, placing themselves on the bed to have him pushed up.

"Ay, mack! Earth to pine tree!" His legs were wobbly, blinking away whatever mist drew along his eyes. But, they remained dry. For now, they simply stared in disbelief.

"Ring ring ring! Telephone call, for Mr. Pines!" Dipper made a slow, treacherous journey over his carpet, sliding his bare feet over cheap wool. He recalled vaguely hearing the 'apartment settle' once prior to this scene. Had that been-? How long had she been there?

"I'm getting bored over here, pine tree; come on! Entertain me for a sec, woulda?" Dipper tried to swallow, but his throat only clenched, strained, and ripped along bone-dry flesh. The door kept getting closer and closer, until finally his hand rested on the knob.

"I'm gonna count to three-." He ended the call, numbly aware of Bill's voice no longer dancing in the back of his mind. Only this; the cool of metal against his skin. In his palm. It felt awful.

The door came open slowly, skin-splitting creaks driving nails through the air. Like a statue- Some marble expression etched with the collective magnitude of dread. Pain. Betrayal- there was Mabel. Glass cup in hand, still pressed firmly against the pine-frame.

She just couldn't resist. Hearing Bill's voice- even by filling in the blanks with how Dipper responded- made her giddy. Oh, so happy. So, could anyone really blame her for wanting a peek? Invading a little privacy to get the scoop on some business call- if only to imagine what Bill would say- had only been done out of infatuation.

Who could blame her?

No one.

Mabel's eyes met Dipper's with a searing stab in the chest. Her lip trembled, finally tearing up as she forced her gaze to last, never breaking. It was like destroying her greatest fantasy.

"Y-you..." She began, only to cup a hand over her lips. Her gaze left him in an instance, head lowering with newly-achieved embarrassment. Hadn't it been so funny, watching her fawn over his partner?

His... Partner.

It hurt. God, did it hurt. Maybe it would've been okay if Bill had just had a girlfriend. A boyfriend, even. She could come to terms with it if she really put her mind to it. But-.

Dipper?

Her brother?

'Betrayal,' Mabel's heart shrieked in pain. He knew she liked him! He knew. And-.

Why hadn't he told her?

Why?

Because of Wendy. Her gut shrank.

"Yo-u weren't a-at the la-b, were you?" Mabel hiccuped, pulling her lip in before shooting him a glance. Dipper's eyes were plain; whatever shine they'd held this morning at the door, was wiped clean. And, in place of it, yet another 'new Dipper.' Worse. So much worse. He didn't answer, but the bare paleness of his cheeks only confirmed her fears.

He was seeing her crush.

Behind Wendy's back.

Behind everyone's back.

Mabel cried out with a choked, broken sob, balling her fist up and placing it against her right eye.

He hadn't even told her.

"This-... Dipper, you fucking jerk." His chest heaved, the first spark of life in his glazed expression. Mabel never cursed. Never. Not even if something was completely, absolutely, entirely unfair. Kept from justice; deprived of kindness; lost or forgotten. She. Never. Cursed.

Dipper's eyes welled up, pulling in his lip. His face began to burn, red-hot with shame. She'd heard it. She'd heard them.

'Disgusting. Dipper, you're disgusting.'

'Why did you say that?'

'What had you planned on gaining from all of this? What could you have won?'

'Were you supposed to save Mabel with this? Did fucking her crush help her somehow?'

'You sick bastard. Sick, sick, sick, sick.'

'Why did you want that kiss, Dipper? Why did you want that kiss?'

Because...

He couldn't explain why.

"I kn-ow." Dipper replied brokenly, rubbing the back of his hand over his nose. The tears swarmed, overwhelmed, and ran down his cheeks in an instance, forcing him to soak them up with his sleeves. Mabel shook her head, but said nothing of his response. Only grew darker; quieter. An achieved decency she'd acquired after years of broken hearts. Not to beg, or complain, or debate. Simply stand, listen, and wallow.

"H-how long... How long have you been like this?" Was it possible to break so easily?

'Like this,' Dipper thought. Like...

'Have you ever kissed a man?'

'Would you like to?'

He trembled, rising a hand to the roots of his hair, yanking sharply.

'Don't remember don't remember don't remember don't remember.'

"I-." Dipper stopped himself, cut off by his dry throat tightening, loosening, and hoping to strangle him to death. He shook, blinked away a tear. The broken sighs leaving him were lost to the shrill ring of his phone. He didn't dare to look. "I-... I-I don't know."

Mabel stiffened at his grave tone. He sounded so... lost. She almost lifted a hand to him, only to remember her own ailments and deny him comfort. This wasn't okay. None of this was okay, and-. Could he have ruined more lives with this? He'd hurt her. He'd hurt Wendy. Lord knew if mom and dad found out, he'd hurt them. And...

He hurt himself.

She needed time to process this. A lot of time. First and foremost, Dipper was cheating on Wendy, which was a bombshell of information. What was she to do with it? Tell her? That was certainly what her conscience said to do. But, what about Dipper? This could kill him. Everything he had, everything he worked for; gone.

'Should've thought of that before stabbing her in the back.'

'Come on. This 's Dipper we're talking about. He wouldn't hurt her on purpose.'

'But, he did.'

'You know him. He doesn't have a cruel bone in his body.'

'Or does he?'

'He's always stuck by your side, Mabel. Do him this one solid; just bend the rules a little.'

'Think about Wendy; you guys've known each other for years. Are you really willing to destroy her trust for Dipper, who broke hers and your heart?'

Mabel looked at him, blinking rapidly, trying to bat away stinging tears. He was shaking his head, hand in hair, hiccuping and crying and...

She needed time to process this.

Sucking in a breath, Mabel forced her eyes to trace his once again. And in them, naked regret swam through salty tears.

Adult time. Now is adult time.

"You-... You need to go somewhere, Dipper." How to find the right words? He didn't flinch at the statement, only growing darker with every breath he took. A radical thought tried to make its way through the cracks of his reserve, telling him to go somewhere. Somewhere so much farther than this apartment; this state; this country. No. Much farther than that. Beyond the continent, the planet, and the stars. Past the solar system; the milky way; the galaxy. Curl up, fade into blackness, and spend eternity within the fabric linen of axolotl's coat pocket. Die, Dipper. Die.

He pushed the thought away, hanging onto every motion Mabel made.

"Just-... leave, okay? F-for a little bit." She froze, biting her lip, only to let out another pained sob. "I'm sorry, I just-... I ca-n't loo-k at y-ou ri-ght n-n-ow. I just-." The pain was back. The voice was back, so much louder this time. Not this planet. Not this galaxy. So much farther. Through the veil of infinity; God's corner; resting in a patch of dormant souls and the whimsical blare of string theory. For what other tune could death truely play?

Dipper said nothing, simply nodding at her wishes. He heard something soft, high and crushing just left of him. It was his phone.

Bill was killing him with text messages.