Bill's limp form lay- sprawled out, chest rising and falling- on the stiff, chafing cotton of his apartment's worn couch. His one eye was closed, a bare twitch of the lid signal to any outsider of rapid movement; perhaps dreaming. But, what did a demon of his status need for dreams? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The phone he'd used only last night was still clutched between tight fingers, brute strength present even while unconscious.

Laminate flooring had been decorated- it seemed- in the clear shards of a fish tank, the last of his bowls and plates, and the apartment's TV, now battered and broken against dirty white.

Hell, he'd been angry.

Angrier still, when he charged along the crumbs of glass, reached for his phone, and still found his messages ignored. Bill would have laughed at the situation, if it hadn't been aided with the grimy tang of blatant bitterness. He looked to the screen- out the window- the dripping faucet- the broken TV- and almost demolished his phone.

Had he honestly let his prey loose? Had Dipper, unknownst to Bill, been on to his little games? When he lured him in- made him feel for the partner- and molded a trend of seeing each other in secret? Kept it tight, locked and sealed from anyone who could suspect the two of any connections outside of work? Of being 'lovers' or whatever the hell they were?

Bill had played it so perfectly, though! He'd gone through the plans numerous times, and hadn't foreseen even a slight pause in the slow build of... them. And, what's worse, the benefits had been all his. When the kid came over without telling Mabel: Win. When he grew pliant and responsive: Win. When he became comfortable in Bill's presence; unsuspecting, unquestioning: Fucking win. And, if Bill had to be 100 percent real with himself- which he found to be a rather hard practice- having pure, soft white skin tucked under his chest, folded into his palms, wasn't too far from a win either.

But, he'd never admit it.

It didn't matter now. Dipper hadn't responded. He wouldn't. No matter how many texts, calls, or video chats were shot ahead, but down. How many days now? A week? Two? Bill wasn't sure. But, he was damn near tearing his eyepatch off and burning it with the frustration he felt. He was supposed to lure him in! Instead, he played at it; the whole situation was too damn entertaining to resist even a slight postponing. So, perhaps he could admit to something.

Their... whatever... had been fun.

Who was to tell a hunter not to play with his food? He'd caught it, after all. Hell, if he could hang it on the goddamn wall, he could surely pick at it on his plate. It was an attractive meal, for fuck's sake! Nice to look at, with that sweet smell about it, and maybe a tad too hot for consuming all at once. Best to savor it.

Savor it?

Savor it?

Well, fuck! Maybe so, if the platter hadn't still been kicking! A whole goddamn deer on his goddamn plate bent on the doorway, and Bill'd thought to make it a game?! Now, that Bill could laugh at. To think he'd let things get so cozy between them, convinced his pinetree was sitting pretty in the palm of his hand, when really- Fuck. That cunning little minx had gotten the drop on him.

No calls.

No texts.

Didn't dare clock in for work.

Probably on the next flight to Portugal for all Bill knew, laughing his ass off at how easy it had been to outwit the dopey woodsman.

He'd have Dipper's head for this. Sever his limbs. Drain his blood. Suck him of every ounce, just to watch that darling frame of his shrivel up, crack and fade. Yes, Bill was mad.

Perhaps that was what he dreamt of.

A sudden jerk of the knee had him coming to life, bolting from his cramped position on the tacky cabriole couch. Bill let loose a small snort, almost catching himself along the armrest, but failing still to keep from rolling onto his side, over the scratchy pillows, onto dull carpeting.

"Fuck-!" He hissed, face eating red wool when his still-clothed chest met the ground. There was a groan, the buzzing confusion of a quick fall, followed by unbridled rage. Somehow- somehow- this was Dipper's fault. Bill's nails tucked into the forestry of woven fibers, a sharp heat stuttering along his spinal cord, spilling through his shoulders, feeding slowly into the tips of his fingers.

Fire had become a bit of a challenge in the past few days. It now took Bill breaking a slight sweat to elicit the same flame needed to light his cigarettes. But, what was to be expected of someone completely consumed by the seeming failure of his own ignorance? He'd burned himself out, it would seem.

Still, lying on the carpet, clutching red with blitzes of fury, Bill found within himself the draw of easy flames licking along his nails, into the carpet. A light smoke rose from his grasp, hearing the subtle pop of polypropylene under lines of wool. He snarled, baring a tight grimace over his gums and teeth, nearly biting away a patch of red string as the heat bounced. This was his fault. This was all the work of that tricky little fuck.

Bill felt he could burn down the entire apartment complex- and all of Gravity Falls, at that- only for an odd cord to pause his sudden rage.

He... wasn't in bed. He'd been on the couch. Not that he used either products as a need for rest. In fact, he didn't need rest at all. This body- this flesh- didn't run on sleep. Ever. If he ever did sleep, it was by boredom, not necessity. There were approximately zero laws of physics within his own mind, and Bill was strictly a lucid dreamer; like being back in the mind scape. A bit of nostalgia for old time's sake.

But, Bill hadn't felt nostalgic. Not last night. Only the eternal drum of heat, rage- perhaps a bit blue balled- and revenge. He would get Dipper for this. He would have his revenge. But slowly, very slowly, the hours packed long. His calls, unanswered. His texts read but un-replied to. The phone would ring on his end, chirp, and die. Before he knew it, the witching hour drew forth, and his heavily worded threats seemed more bark than bite.

There was a weight to be felt in this. Deep breaths; going under, rising up, filling, and dispersing. The instant drop of hate, but perhaps not libido. A swallow- a blink- staring dumbly at the burning moan of blue light. He would get Dipper for this. He would have his...

The remark veered off, and Bill found his mind cracked on its reserve, if only just barely. He found himself falling into queeries of mondain living, the unorthodox pattern of life, death, and dark. His thoughts wandered through a pasture, tinted dull and white- flung north to the natural habitat of lemurs and scarlet ibis. Bill's mind refused to settle- away from one, snatched for another- until he couldn't quite remember what he'd been thinking about to begin with.

His eye lingered on the screen a moment more, vaguely aware of the irritating sting of light, before his hand dropped. Still clutching the device, but now numb and weirdly calm. His lid became heavy, the alien sensation of a yawn enveloping his chest, before finally he shut his eye.

And slept.

Bill Cipher slept. On accident.

Oh, that kid was running his ragged, that was for sure.

The sudden realization almost had him, too. If it weren't for the barest strings of pride he still kept himself up with, Bill would've felt down-right disgraced. But, he was a good sport; he could play along when points went to the opposite team. So, instead of making a human barbeque out of Gravity Falls' charming airbnb, he snorted at the notiant. Well, if the kid wanted to play hard ball!

He could always do away with Shooting Star.

Of course, Bill hadn't been so bold as to force his way into the kid's apartment last week, but he'd certainly stopped by. To... 'check up' on the little squirt. And, who might-you-ask answered the door that day?

No one.

Absolutely no one.

Even after he knocked, straightened himself, and posed an endearing smirk; something he was sure Dipper would've dropped to his knees for in an instance. But, perhaps the kid had already skipped town. Bill certainly hadn't seen anything of him in the last week. Still, a glimpse of short brown hair and puppy-dog earrings would flash by every so often when he was occupied. And, wasn't it so unlike Mabel to wisk by without having a word?

No doubt, she was onto him.

Just as suspected, the door remained unanswered. Three knocks with a rhythmic chirp before backing away, sliding a hand over golden hair- and trying once more for a response. No such luck. There was however the light draw of a shadow over the peephole. A moment, lingering- as though considering- before it slunk away, leaving Bill to his own impatience. Perhaps she felt she could hide from him? Surely, he wouldn't bust down the door if Mabel refused to serve him.

Well... Not yet.

But, soon.

Once his powers were finally close to regenerating, which wasn't far from now. Give it two- maybe three- weeks. By God, was he going to have a field day then. Hell, he'd have a whole soiree after the humiliation he'd faced a decade before. That damn family was going to feel it just as hard as he had, and worse. Soon. Very soon.

Just not now.

After a moment more of waiting, Bill found his own gracious presence was poorly spent in front of smoothed-down cedar. He plucked boldly at his shirt collar, flicking away what looked to be a sapped-golden pine needle. How distasteful. The strand flew from his fingers, through the air, and stuck gooishly against the door. Bill laughed, if only to bear down the stinging last of wasted time, before turning on his heels and trudging away empty handed.

The memory stung, no doubt. But, there was clarity in it. Pinetree was gone? Fair enough. He'd be back once shooting star dangled teasingly from a fishing line. He'd always been the type to fall into Bill's hands. Maybe it was the mark of a hero, bolting full-speed into the most jarringly explicit traps known to man. Perhaps that was what kept Bill from being a hero.

He wasn't nearly as stupid.

Bill lowered his face into the carpet once more, fond of the thick smolder of burnt wool flooding his nostrils. The hint of a hum danced along his uvula before he turned, flopping onto his back, and looked to the ceiling. A bit of sunlight had seeped through the top of his drawn curtains, past where they bumped against each other's rings and refused to pull tight. Rays of light shown beyond the gap, casting upways a golden hue which formulated an isosceles triangle.

Bill smirked at the display, lining his eye to trace each corner for an hour's better half, after which he stood, rubbed away lasting soot, and made his journey to get dressed. No use questioning where someone such as Bill found dapper wear in such a town, let alone on such short notice. Just know he had them, and in determining his getup for the day, the only questions relevant to him revolved around blue or black, slim or loose, waistcoat or jacket. And, when the uniform was finally laid out before him, he'd put a fist under his chin, squint his eye, and replace the blue bow tie with something yellow.

Bill made his way down the apartment stairs, feeling an odd sense of enthusiasm. His prey was gone; lost to the millions upon millions of fleshlings that crawled pitifully. But, he was still prey, wasn't he? And Bill, the hunter. The world his forest, and Gravity Falls no more than a garden. All would go well. Once the time finally-.

He stumbled once, catching himself awkwardly against the railing. A hand rushed to clutch his lower abdomen, where an unsuspecting shock had pierced through. There, beyond layers of muscle and fat, was the odd punch of emptiness. A twitch of the gut, a low vibration, and Bill grew stiff. He noted a light growl, followed by a sharp tightness as his stomach almost sunk in. The man grew cold, lips falling as his head lowered to examine the sensation. Hitching up his shirt, Bill placed an experimental finger against his belly button.

Dull, numb pain rose from the pressure, but nothing more. Yet, he felt something like boiling inside his stomach, without the heat. Like bumping along his walls, but not breaking. He sucked in a breath, noting how his gut really did sink in a little. His frame was a tad smaller, if at all. Bill heard the rumble again, and his eye became wide.

Was something inside him?

Ah, fuck.

Well, no use worrying about it now. Bill would have to dig it out when he found time for himself. For now, he had to go to 'work.' Honestly, he wasn't sure why he still went if pinetree wasn't there. 'Just a waste of time,' he thought to himself. But, still. The appeal was there when he kicked up his feet and lit a smoke without being nagged on, as well as the lingering looks of admiration from lackies. 'Criminal mind expert,' they'd call him, and Bill was anything but humbled by how easily the title had taken flight.

By the time his car had pulled up to the GFPD, the weird sensation in his lower abdomen had softened, but not deceased. It was more like a soft moan now, and only clutched along his waist rather than strangling his stomach. Still, the discomfort was irritating. Bill made his way to the elevator, only stopped once by a slim lady with her hair pinned up. Shining green eyes, rosey lips, and curly black hair laying taut across her head. She'd smiled at him, raising a hand as though for his attention.

Her mouth had opened, closed, and opened once more like a gaping fish, as though unsure how to approach the dapper male. Off at the corner of her cubicle, pushed ahead by a trio of three handsome-faced women, all of whom thumbed up her efforts with cooing remarks. Bill didn't so much as spare her a glance, and her stuttering whatever had quickly died away as he stepped into the elevator, pressed for the seventh floor, and disappeared.

He had no intentions of hunting other prey.

Bill's reflection seemed to corner him as he waited, the temptation of fixing himself both appealing and pointless now. He rode a hand over his sleeve, drawing away wrinkles, before remembering that the laboratory held no one worth stunning. But, perhaps it was in his nature to keep himself clean and trusting, for he couldn't resist the urge of straightening his bowtie even a little.

But, the few golden strands still dangling over his vision were left untouched, and what looked to be uneven cuffs weren't so much as straightened. To everyone but himself, Bill Cipher was the height of fashion. Of course, a town full of barefooted, overall-wearing inbreds would think that of anyone who showered regularly. To himself though, he felt his appearance was severely lacking. What was the point of dressing up now? It wasn't like he had anyone to flaunt it for- get that cute little response out of- anymore.

Might as well conform to Gravity Falls' flannel fad.

The elevator doors slid apart.

Bill quickly fixed his hair, and straightened those damn cuffs of his when he saw who stood, bending over the modest paperwork he'd gotten done in his partner's absence.

Pinetree.

Who was there.

In the lab.

After a fucking eternity.

Bill almost tripped over himself, body on autopilot just by seeing the kid. Dipper wasn't gone; he hadn't escaped his grasp. He was right. Fucking. There. And, hell if Bill was gonna let him get away again. No way. He'd played with his goddamn food for too fucking long, and now-! Now, he was back! Because he knew he couldn't outrun Bill. He knew Mabel wasn't safe. He knew there was no escape.

Or, perhaps he was just that dumb.

Whatever the case, Bill's mood was quick to skyrocket, seeing that pretty little thing crawl back to him on all fours, smirk, and fall asleep in his hands. Oh, the fucking beauty of it all! He could picture it now: The final moment. Flight 64, taking off for Korea in T-minus 2 minutes, and Dipper's luggage in hand. He'd take a breath, stand up, and start digging for his passport to get the hell out of this crazy state. But, oh~ What's this? A text from Mabel, perhaps? A picture maybe, with her beaming features and the sappy caption, 'Don't forget about movie night, bro-bro!'

He'd sniff. Battle tears. Curl in his lips, all the while the plane prepared for takeoff. In the mists of his sudden turmoil, he'd have a change of heart. Take his luggage, pocket his phone, and head back home without sparing his self-preservation a glance. What a hero. He'd never leave his sister behind, after all. He wouldn't even leave a fucking stranger behind, if it made his moral highground that much more untouchable. A goddamn marter.

A goddamn fool.

Bill steadier himself before he could pounce. The absolute adrenaline coursing through his veins was near drug-endousing, but he couldn't let this persona give way. Pinetree was there, that was for sure. But, at work? For what reason? Surely, he'd spread the word, right?

Had he?

Did he?

No. Impossible. The town would be on lockdown without a second thought; the people there were crazy after all. They wouldn't so much as hesitate before picking up their pitchforks in a fit of mobilism. Perhaps that was the reason for caution. Dipper couldn't risk running Bill out of town before containing him. Or, maybe he didn't have enough evidence. Fuck, he probably didn't have any evidence. But, what did a 'savior' of Gravity Falls need evidence for?

Bill cleared his throat.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cop dragged in!" He sang coolly, a steady smirk enveloping his features from the way Dipper's eyes shot up. He was quick as a deer in headlights, expression blown wide at the startle of Bill's sudden presence. Most-likely wired from being so on edge around his partner now.

If so, why did pinetree's features almost look... fond? Bill dismissed the thought, making his way towards him in an effort of intimidation. Dipper shrunk a little, but not out of fear. Something a bit familiar, but alien in the moment.

"Hey..." His partner replied simply, taking a step from the thin file of work done in his absence. "You, uh-... You did paper work. I'm surprised."

Which was not what Bill expected his first words to be. Something more along the lines of 'I know what you're up to, Cipher.' or 'We're gonna bring you down, just you wait!' This was a bit coy for his liking, but he'd been coy from the get-go. Might as well play the part.

Bill blinked rapidly, before darting his gaze with a snort. He was in front of him soon enough, swiping the filing from his desk.

"Well, someone's gotta do it." His arm went up, batting the papers against Dipper's head softly. He didn't miss the way those curls coiled, tightened, and bounced up from the quick impact, nor the slightly dirty look across his partner's face. His smile strengthened. "After all, you disappeared like a ghost." Bill couldn't help the threatening edge of his tone, casting it for soft ears to catch. And, catch they did.

Dipper's face seemed to dip- just an inch- like the ears of a fawn folding against his head. He looked just shy enough to seem almost remorseful, if someone like him was even capable of such a thing around Bill. Which, he wasn't. Or, more so, he hadn't been for the past month and a half. Not that Dipper's partner knew, though.

He shuffled on his feet, hands rubbing at his neck with an odd quirk of the lips.

"Oh-. Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. That was sort of-. Yeah, sorry." Pinetree offered, coming off as a bit smaller than before. His cheeks grew rosey.

'Grade-A actor, apparently.'

That's when it hit him.

O-o-o-oh! So his pinetree was going to play dumb? Make him put his guard down? How cute! That, whenever Bill thought to share even the tiniest of details with him- considered playing his little games- Dipper was already well-prepped enough to follow along with a notepad in hand. So, 'hide-n-seek' was now 'minesweeper?' First to step on a bomb had everything blowing up in their face? What a quaint wager.

The scale was always tilted in his favor.

So, with pleasant features and an even more relaxed shell, he laughed.

"Well, you should be! What's a guy like me supposed to do up here, all by my lonesome?" Bill remarked, throwing the files aside. They made a fluttering cut through mid-air, before sliding atop one of the black tables in a slew of paper. The slight disregard gave Dipper's features a hardened expression.

"Your job, I'm guessing." The man sighed before leaning up on his desk. Dipper's mannerisms weren't much different from the usual day-to-day motions, but there was definitely something new in them. A bit more flowy. Not as chopped up or restrained; stiff. He didn't so much as hesitate before dusting away a bit of eraser, seating himself on the mahogany desk, and crossing one leg over the other. "Not that you'd ever stoop so low, right?" Dipper cocked his head to the side.

Bill short-circuited.

Oh, he was definitely playing at something here.

Those motions- that body- were baiting him, no doubt. He wanted Bill loosening up so he'd finally trip. What else could those signals mean? Dipper had never done them before. Hell if he ever would. He was a stubborn fool after all. No way was he showcasing anything so openly... Uranian without an angle to it. Because, this was Dipper Pines: Desperately lost in the closet.

He'd never look so appetizing on purpose.

"Look who's talking, Casper." Bill laughed. "In case you've forgotten, I've been holding down the fort while you were off partying it up with The Congos."

"A vacation well-earned, Bill." Dipper shot back, leaning ahead with something like a challenge across his face. There was a smirk along those lips of his; flirtatious. Maybe even happy to see Bill. But, that was impossible. Again, impossible. He would never.

"I'll be the judge of that." He paused, giving pinetree a once-over before continuing. He just had to know how invested Dipper was in this role. "Last I checked, that cipher-guy's still out and about clicking his heels, balling it up at gentlemen's clubs, scott-free." Bill was almost impressed at how easily his partner took the statement. He'd probably prepared for the taunt.

"Oh, so now it's my fault work hasn't been getting done around here?"

"It sure as hell isn't mine, Sapling!" Dipper almost choked on a scoff, rolling his head back like the statement was unfathomable.

"Jesus, I need a real vacation after this..." He chuckled weakly, the bareness of emotional strain and outright fatigue lost on Bill, who simply thought him (slightly) more clever than before. Dipper really knew how to play an ignorant role when he felt like it.

"Can I come?"

"A real vacation away from you."

"Well, that's easy! Just turn off your phone again." Even Bill's playful tone couldn't mask his underlying annoyance. He'd ditched him. He'd really ditched him. Like a half-assed coward, no less. That wasn't easily forgiven. And, strangely enough, his partner looked as though he agreed.

"...I should've texted you."

"Damn straight! Imagine; just leaving a polished man on read like that. How nasty of you, pinetree." Bill sniffed. Dipper snorted at the display, only for his face to fall again.

"Yeah, I-. I know. That was cruddy. I'm sorry."

"...Okay, stop apologising. It's making me feel gross." Bill made a disgusted expression, nose wrinkled and tongue extended, eyeing Dipper with even more hesitation. Well, he could sure play the dumb part, but staying in character was a whole other subject! Dipper? Saying sorry? This much? Jesus, either Bill had missed the ultimate character arc of the century, or Dipper was playing this whole 'naive' card past its worth.

"I know. I know, Jesus. I'm just-. Trying to be a little more honest lately..."

"Oh, God. Don't tell me you're proposing! I don't think I could stomach it." This time, pinetree didn't resist the comment. He laughed out loud, head nodding back at the outright absurdity. Dipper would never.

"Of course. Fucking of course." Dipper laughed, shaking his head. It seemed to be an inside joke of his, to say 'only Bill would ever,' and the motion was surprisingly endearing. He slid from the desk, and Bill was shot with underlying disappointment. His pinetree looked rather appealing up there. "'Cause I'm just dying to put a ring on it, right?" Dipper moved behind the desk, lowering himself in his seat, but not settling. Instead, he bent over, seeming to fish for something.

"You always did come off to me as the marrying type. But, oh! Woopsie. I forget you're betrothed to red, right?" Bill leaned in, happy to watch Dipper's playful glow drain away into a kind of caution. 'Red.' There was no doubt he was connecting the nickname with what Cipher used to call his precious little girlfriend. He must have been trying to fight off any signs of recognition.

Still, the look of pain along his features were bare and overt. He cleared his throat once, blinked quickly, and ducked down to hide his scarlett features.

"Well, we-... Actually, um..." Dipper's eyes darted away, lip curling in with a contemplative naw of the teeth. After a second to himself, he made a look of surprise, as though finding buried treasure. "Oh, look!" The smaller shot up, lifting with him a plastic container. Bill gave him a raised brow.

"Whatcha got, Slick?"

"It's a- don't call me that. It's a thing of cupcakes... Mabel made them, actually."

And, just before him, Bill picked out blatant hurt and remorse. Perhaps he'd said too much? Maybe he'd put his sister in danger by saying it? Oh, god. This kid needed to stop being so paranoid. He snorted at the pastries.

"Aw~ What a sweetie. Hey! You remember what happened last time your sis baked goodies! Any chance of a repeat?"

Whether Dipper looked at him with distaste or longing was lost in the instance he set the container down, popped open the top, and showcased Mabel's arts and crafts. Which were so pathetically spotted in glitter and random swirls of icing, not even a homeless man would've been enticed. Yet, Dipper looked at them appreciatively, if not with apprehension. He took a step back.

"She... hasn't been feeling great the last couple of days. But, uh-. She made them herself, and wanted me to bring them for lunch."

"You sure they're safe to eat?" Bill quipped, making Dipper glower.

"Yes." He gave them an unsure look. "...Probably. Whatever, man. I'm eating 'em."

Now, that made Bill laugh.

"I'll get your hazmat suit ready." He turned as though to exit, only to stop at Dipper's scoff.

"Sure. You do that." The smaller went, picking up the pastry with pausing fingers.

He turned the unicorn wrapping in his hands once, admiring the ironically placed rainbows and hearts, before peeling it away to display a muddy pink undertone. Not the most appetizing dessert, that was for sure. Probably gritty with bits of glitter; maybe some poorly-placed rhinestones. But, Dipper was pretty sure it was due to Mabel's lack of cooking experience, and not an effort to poison him and his... whatever Bill was to him.

The moment between his first bite and the groan he let out at its sandy texture was lost on Bill. When the sweet, sweet smell hit his nostrils, and its soft texture sunk in against white teeth, Bill- for whatever reason- felt his mouth salivate. Just a little. The pain he'd felt that morning suddenly came back, and the bubbling sensation almost made him groan. He tried to fight the burn away, but when his stomach finally let out that odd rumble again, Dipper's ears perked up and he smiled.

"Hungry?" He teased beyond the under-done batter, lips buried in the crevice his teeth had made. Bill liked that look. The way his eyes rolled towards him, nose almost dipping into the froth, lips taking it all in. It reminded him of-.

The tight squeeze came back, and Bill found he couldn't even indulge in his own lude fantasy. Instead of admitting defeat, he crossed his arms, rolled an eye, and gave a smirk with enough bravado to fuel the Seawise Giant.

"How's it taste, hun?" He asked, leaning against the desk. Dipper smirked into the pastry, humming before taking another bite. The scene was just enough to give Bill another reason the last two weeks had been hell without his puppet around. But, he pushed it away.

"Glittery." Dipper huffed aloud before pulling back, flicking off a bit of rouge frosting from his nose. Bill watched at pinetree's lips bulged against the proding of his own tongue, sliding over canines to dislodge sprinkles of shiny dust and- yes- tiny rhinestones. Which should've sounded disgusting. Instead, the display had his stomach almost turning.

"One out of ten?" Bill asked. Dipper drew away from the dessert, giving the thing a testing look.

"Hmm... Four? I guess? It's really... gross, actually. But at least it's sweet." Bill's stomach growled, and this time he wasn't sure he could pull off a cocky pose. It didn't disturb his partner in the slightest, who in turn suppressed a smirk.

"Do you.... Want some?" Dipper drew the words long, holding a second one out for the other. His eyes were playful, if not condescending, and Bill couldn't find any reason to indulge his teasing offer. Again, his body didn't need food. At all. Still, the sweet aroma was unexpectedly tempting, and even the sparkles weren't able to deter his interest. Perhaps some kind of craving? A weird side-effect to the slow regeneration of his powers? Like being pregnant; maybe this form experienced a similar need for energy to sustain his growing abilities?

He'd never heard of it before.

Nonetheless, the offer was tempting, the food sweet, and the one offering it up even sweeter. Plus, no need to look suspicious of him. Not that Dipper would ever try poisoning him. If he did, he'd be greatly disappointed to find that Bill's body was unaffected by not only poison, but toxins, illnesses, and a complete lack of resources needed by every fucking human on the planet. So, no fear. No regrets.

Bill smirked, taking the pastry up.

"Thought you'd never ask." He cooed, giving his partner a sharp 'wink.' Dipper hummed a little, looking down at his ¾ of a cupcake left. When he looked back up, the one in Bill's hand was already gone, the only signs of it lightly dotted at the corner of his mouth. Dipper couldn't help but gasp.

"Whoa." He said simply, leaning back in his chair. Bill, though not showing it, was almost as surprised himself. His body... really wanted that, and as suspected, the weird emptiness in his gut began to subside. The indent of his stomach mellowed a little, as though buffing out a scratch on someone's red paint job. "What are you, a vacuum cleaner?" Dipper meant to joke, but the whimsical glint in his eye kept it from landing. Bill's speed was... impressive.

Well, he could always do with another ring to his ego.

"What's that? Do I hear admiration?"

"More like concern. Did you even taste it?"

"Hey; food is food, buddy. Don't go putting things in boxes. You'll ruin the appeal." Bill shrugged out, moving around the desk so he could stand by Dipper's seat. Without warning, he pulled at the man's swivel chair, swung it outwards, and sat happily on the smaller's lap. Dipper weazed when the wind was effectively knocked out of him.

"Oh, fuck-. B-ill!" Dipper slapped at Bill's back, but was promptly ignored.

"But, now that I think about it..." He began, leaning ahead and plucking another cake from its case. Screw it all; his body craved it. Bill dripped a hand into the icing, eye cringing when the taste met his taste buds for a second time. He wasn't so proud that he'd deny scarfing the dessert without so much as savoring it. Bill was a fan of instant gratification, after all. But, maybe Dipper had a point about the quality of materials. "Maybe too much glitter."

"Bill, get o-ff!"

"Well, I tried to, but you wouldn't even answer your phone."

"Oh my g-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-d!"

"Now, don't be rude. I'm not that heavy, am I?" Bill looked at the cake one last time, far less tempted than for the first one, before tossing it over his shoulder onto the floor. He chuckled. "Should I lay off the pastries?" Bill sent the question behind him, where Dipper fought fruitlessly to get out from under his weight. He got up after another moment of struggling, satisfied with the redness of his pinetree's face.

"Ugh." Dipper sucked in a breath, shooting Bill a deadly glare. "You ass." He pulled at his shirt, fighting away tight creases and wrinkles.

"Takes one to know one, darling."

"You fucking-." Dipper's eyes sharpened in his direction, only to move away with a kind of pout. He tilted his head, angling his features away from the smirking man, and Bill was absolutely preening from that expression. His annoyance was down-right flattering! He still had it. "I can't believe I missed your dumbass..."

Words spoken low, out of the corner of his mouth.

Like they weren't meant to be heard.

But, they had to have been. Otherwise, what was the point of saying them at all?

This was just another move, Bill knew. Dipper just wanted to sedate him. Reel him in, like he was actually still under his spell. But, Cipher wasn't dumb, unbeknownst to his partner. No. Bill was quick-witted. Cunning. He could see right through that cute little tsundere ploy and defuse it when the time came. And, what better time than the present?

He was done playing with his food.

Time to make a move.

Any other day, Bill would've taken that poorly whispered comment and run with it for days. But, it was so obviously bait on his end, the fun would've been at least half-faked. There was no savoring that kind of play-time. So, Bill did the next best thing: he took it. What's a guy like him gotta lose by indulging a horny catch on its deathbed? Nada.

His shoulders cringed up, chest lowering so his chin nestled sweetly against Dipper's shoulder, to which the other flinched away. That didn't deter him. Never hesitate in front of the enemy. Never.

"Yeah?" Cipher purred, once again closing in the gap between them. Bill found himself smiling a bit more meliciously than before, but he hoped Dipper would take it as something territorial, and not predatorial. He did; face lighting up, breath hitching from that simple airy remark. His skin was already heated from so long without touch. Too long. Far, far too long. "I missed you too, pinetree."

He felt the younger shiver, clam up, and slowly dissolve into the contact. Bill could sense Dipper's conflicting push and pull of both leaning in and driving away from the chin rested peacefully on his shoulder. Bill tested a kiss on the cheek, only for the other to scoot away once more.

"Bill... I told you no office stuff." Dipper gave him a trying expression, like those words killed him to say. Still, his partner was avid about moving things along. He chased the cheek, laying upon it one slow, sweet draw from his lips, snickering against the skin when his pinetree started to heat up.

"Heeey..." Bill remarked slyly, cupping Dipper's other cheek to pull him in. He broke off once to place a kiss at his jawline, speaking into the bone. "Who says I'm trying anything? Just wanted to say 'welcome home.'" Dipper laughed at that, turning his cheek from him in an instance to look at Cipher.

"What? Did you miss me?" Dipper asked.

Bill almost lost his shit.

He forced his fingers not to tear into the other's cheek, and instead nipped his jaw a bit harder than necessary, causing Dipper to yelp.

Pinetree had used his line. That was supposed to be his thing, and the kid was just dangling it now, because Bill had never thought to say it again.

'Did you miss me?'

'Admit it; you missed me.'

Oh, he was gonna enjoy his revenge, if he wasn't already going to before.

"Don't act so proud." Bill forced out a laugh, though the dripping hues of resentment were daunting. Dipper didn't seem to hear it as he leaned in to the larger's touch just a little more. Cipher was at his neck for a moment, riding up, and up, and up, lacing porcelain skin with purple and red marks from the mouth. Pinetree let out a groan, smiling when his hand snaked into Bill's hair and gave a soft tug.

"You're one to talk." Dipper remarked cooly, head rolling back as the kisses spread over his Adam's apple and under his chin. He snickered, feeling the slight tickle of eyelashes dust his cheek, all the while ignorant to Bill's growing irritation.

Pinetree was a much better actor than previously suspected. He seemed so pleased to be in Bill's present, it was as though his own identity was still locked up tight. But, he knew better than to entertain the idea. His partner thought he could bide his time as everyone figured out their plan; how to defeat him once and for all. Bill shouldn't have let things go this long. He should've gotten rid of pinetree long before things go-... Well...

Intimate.

He groaned, feeling Dipper tug at his hair again, forcing Bill's lips from his neck. Pinetree stared at his partner for only a moment, plastered prettily with this unsure, waggish expression, before pulling Cipher in like he couldn't stand the distance. Their lips met, pressing flush against each other, forcing a beautiful heat into either of them; one volunterially, the other fighting tooth and nail not to feel it. But, he did. And, he hated the familiar rise of pleasure each second invoked.

The kiss wasn't fast. Instead, it was slow. Savoring. God, did Bill hate that word more than ever now. But, he had to admit, the tempo was appealing in its own special way. Dipper cupped either of his cheeks almost lovingly, if not a bit compact on his grip. He'd pull in, turn his head, peck, and pull away. Turn his head, pull in, peck again. Much, much slower, and with a kind of passion that was beyond soft.

Bill wasn't sure how to feel. The changing pace sure didn't send him running for the hills, but it was... weird. Emotional, even. He could almost feel this looming cloud of affection drop over them, and the way Dipper kissed, and how his breathing slowed. When pinetree slid his eyes closed, and his lashes brushed over either cheek, bumping their foreheads together before leaning in for another peck. It was...

New. Not bad. But, not helping things.

Still, Bill hadn't gotten a taste for so long. He'd take the other's last time in strides if need-be.

Bill returned the kisses as 'soft' and 'lovingly' as he could, but that wasn't so easy. His teeth brushed along the plush layering of Dipper's bottom lip, tugging it along every so often just to hear the other's strangled whines. Bill found, when the tempo slowed and they had more time to examine each other, Dipper had his little kinks about him; the stuff he really loved done to him. Tongue flicks across bite marks. Nibbles along the jaw. A hand in his hair.

Savor.

Bill had to savor this.

"God, I missed-." Dipper began, before pulling himself back into the kiss. He had a hand against Bill's neck now, thumb rubbing pleased circles on the skin. And, in his instance of breaking away, coming back in, and pulling off once more, he found his lips trailing elsewhere. Over the chin. Along the jaw. Up to his cheek. Against the earlobe, before sliding down to his neck to plant new, rouge kisses. "-this." Dipper finished. The wording felt awkward though. It wasn't exactly what he meant to say, but it was close.

Bill was unable to stifle his groan, feeling the smaller add suction along his throat. Well, he was certainly aware of Dipper's... abilities. But, having it focused somewhere that wasn't between his legs had its perks. The sensation was light, but strong. Dipper seemed to like leaving bite marks around the edges, purple rings on the throat, and soft pink crescents where his nails dug in. And, Bill had to admit: he was a fan of the enthusiasm. An arm came around Dipper's waste, pulling their hips flush against each other, and the hickey-making became ten times better. Up his neck. Down his trachea. Brushing kiss upon kiss over his clavicle.

It gave him a bit of time to think.

Okay. One last time. Then, business as usual. He couldn't have his pinetree running from him again; not when he'd just gotten back. They'd go at it- a final round- and Bill would wait for night to fall. Dipper was surely comfortable enough to stay the night. He'd done it before. And, as far as he knew, Bill was none the wiser. He didn't have any reason to think Bill would end it all tonight; he'd spent so much time playing around, after all. Things didn't seem any different.

But, they were. Bill was ready to deliver the final blow.

He let out another groan, grinding into the space connecting their hips. Dipper ground back.

"So..." Bill began with a cheeky grin. His partner was still buried in his neck. "I'll see you tonight, then?"

Suddenly, Dipper froze.

Shit.

There was a moment's hesitation, teeth still sunken into tan flesh, before he found himself pulling up and away from Bill. There was a glint of internalized reproachment behind those brown eyes.

"Now... Might not be the best time..." Dipper responded awkwardly, hand going to rub at his neck. Bill steadied his expression.

"Oh? Why's that, kid?"

Because he knows what Bill's up to.

He's not falling for it.

That sneaky little minx.

"It's just-. Things are kind of weird right now... Listen, I don't feel like getting into details, but my friend group's kind of in shambles at the moment and-."

"What does that have to do with us?"

Of course he'd tell his friends about this.

Pinetree's too goddamn honest.

He'd come clean eventually, and tell everyone who Bill really was.

It was all just a matter of time.

"Nothing! Well- actually, a lot." Dipper's face lowered contemplatively, before snapping back up with a challenged expression. "That's not the point. The point is-. We just can't. Right now. Okay? It's-. I don't think it's a good idea with everything that's going on with everyone."

Everyone?

Had he told everyone?

Aw, fuck.

"Mabel's in a really fragile emotional state right now, and I don't even wanna think about Wendy, alright? It's just-. Bad idea. No. You and I-." He paused, gesturing between them before putting his hands up in resistance. "No."

Bill.

Was.

Furious.

Not that he'd ever show it.

He smiled back peacefully, capturing Dipper's slender waist in his arms once more with a grip far too gentle. If anything, he wanted to squeeze the floating spirit out of him. But, this was all part of the game. The easy entrance wasn't an option; he should've known that from the get go. Well, fair enough. He could always try for the back door. Or underneath. From the roof. Damn it all, he'd blow the house to bits if he had to. Who said the front door was his all-or-nothing?

Bill laid another sweet kiss on Dipper's lips, and the smaller looked almost drunk off the simple affection. His eyelids slipped down, giving a sleepy look when he held himself up, cheeks burning, lips curling in and watching Bill's sharp smile like something new.

Because- oh, hell- he liked Bill's smile.

He liked him.

And, it was so much easier to understand now, why he put up with the other's bullshit 24/7. Bill was eccentric. And, intelligent. Interesting. He had his own way of doing things, and was a stranger to social norms, and Dipper admired it. All along. If Bill hadn't been such a narcissistic asshole from birth, maybe the knowledge would've come to Dipper easier. But, he was, and so every quality about him became a fight for disgust. He wouldn't let that jerk be intelligent. He wouldn't let him be interesting.

That would mean he'd won.

But, now. Standing in his arms, feeling that warm spread of heat between their lips, Dipper could at least admit to this one thing: he liked those lips. And that hair. And his suit. And-. Maybe not the smoking, but the memories it entitled. He liked Bill. A little? A lot? Didn't matter. He'd find out eventually. Bill might only be a stepping stone to figuring himself out; that final push that sent him flailing from the closet to open sunshine and daisies. Someone to thank in the instance, but let go of once he found his footing. They could go their separate ways, see different things, hold other people, and remember one another with an unorthodox fondness only they understood.

Or...

They could grow together.

"Alright." Bill spoke finally, breathing between plush lips. "Call me when things are puppies and rainbows again." And, Dipper smiled at him. He rested his forehead against Bill's, looking into his partner's one eye. Dipper had always been about detail. Always about seeing things closely; deciphering them. Noticing the little spots and flecks from a mile away, and never forgetting. His mother used to take pride in her son's photographic memory. But, perhaps the hype was overblown. For, looking into his partner's gaze as though for the first time, Dipper felt an inkling to point out one small detail.

"Your eyes are blue." He remarked dumbly, still stuck somewhere in the clouds. The sentence felt so innocent, it was hardly something worth lingering on, let alone distracting them from their kisses any longer. Dipper leaned in for another peck-.

Bill pulled away in shock.

"What-?" Bill's voice was like thick, scorching venom, arms shooting out to grip the boy by either shoulder. Dipper hissed out at the pressure. "-did you say?" A grave expression folded along the creases of Bill's brow, and his pinetree soon found himself snapping out of it. Whatever fear existed in his expression was outweighed by his blatantly confused expression. Had he said something offensive? Uh, no. Actually, the comment was almost a compliment if anything. And, either way, Bill shouldn't have looked so hurt by it. Still, there they were.

"Uh... Your eye? It's blue, Bill."

"My eye's black." He shot back, almost frantically. Dipper's brows furrowed.

"No one's eye color is black. That's not possible. Maybe, like, dark-dark brown, I guess." He paused, squinting his own eyes to view Bill's. "No. Your eye's blue. Really muddy, but-."

"Where's the bathroom?" His partner cut in, making Dipper jump. He was scowling at Bill now, making subtle movements to shrug out of Bill's uncomfortable grip. His head tossed back, looking to the elevator with an annoyed look.

"There's... one on the 4th floor." Dipper responded cautiously, looking his partner up and down. Bill didn't spare another second, stepping aside as he made his way to the doors. "Whoa, hey! What's gotten into you, Angle?"

Bill didn't reply, only pressed the button, stepped inside, and nearly freaked once the doors were safely closed behind him.

This isn't happening.

He made quick work of exiting the metal box, legs switching with purpose as Bill's head swang side-to-side before finding the men's bathroom.

It's not possible.

And, it shouldn't have been.

But, it was.

Before him, over the sink, staring daggers into a smudged mirror, was Bill's own reflection. Blond hair ruffled. Shirt collar a mess. Dotted red lines of formulating hickeys, riding up and up and up, as though someone had tried taking a bite out of him. And there, encircling the jet black orb of his pitched iris, was a slight lift of color. Just barely. Something so small and minute, no one would have noticed without having excellent observational skills.

Which Dipper had.

Beyond the black, was a tiny film wrapped along the ball, bits of sky blue spiking into darkness. Like acid eating away at iron, dissolving into the solution at ready. Not a complete take over of color, but slow. Crumbling with a new purpose.

Wasn't it odd how Bill fell asleep last night? On accident? Couldn't his body function without regular charging?

And how his powers had been on the fritz lately? Fire certainly didn't come to him as easily, now that the summer was drawing to a close. But, shouldn't his powers have been getting stronger as the time closed in for them to return? That's what he'd thought.

The cravings, too. Those were very odd. Not even once had he felt the need to eat before. The strange emptiness of his stomach. The growling. The rolling. The squeeze.

And... here. In front of the mirror, watching flecks of blue replace black. His body didn't need food. His body didn't need sleep. His body sure as hell didn't need a goddamn makeover! Still, here he was, watching the transformation's slow effects. A seeping away of power, like a flat tire. How the skin circling his bones felt more like a cage than a suit he could slip on and off. How his ragged breaths seemed more mandatory than for show.

How his eye, though unneeded, began to redefine itself and mold into color. Like the body Bill was uneventful stuck in looked to form... DNA. Which was impossible. Bill Cipher didn't have DNA. He didn't need DNA! The ritual was supposed to make him a God. Gods didn't have-.

There was always the off-chance of something going wrong...

Rituals were complex. Shitty little get-togethers meant for amateurs. And, teenagers certainly didn't help the equation.

A single misstep.

Breaking hands.

Disrupting the chant.

Stopping for even an instance made for catastrophic consequences.

But, Bill couldn't have known that at the time of his resurrection. He'd been borderline unconscious when brought into his new form, not to mention busying himself with a multitude of human snacks. There wasn't any way of him having the foresight to understand that something had gone wrong. Things had been disrupted. And, the consequences were jarringly obvious now.

He needed to sleep.

He needed to eat.

And, his goddamn body that was supposed to be goddamn temporary kept getting tighter and tighter.

That eye looked back at him, black but slowly turning blue.

From DNA.

Like he was turning...

Human.