Monday came riding along a tidal wave of anxiety; a hot shower to soothe my nerves did little in the end. The walls of my bedroom appeared monochromatic as I stood, rolling a towel over my damp hair and shoulders. It had a greyness about it; washed out blues and dirty whites that simply sat there, peeled off or stained with a low energy. And, looking at the small mirror perched atop my dresser, a similar sensation climbed along my features. A chill seeping through my cheek muscles, the pastel of my lips, the edges of my flesh; what is this feeling ?

There had been a comparable emotion long ago, back in my youth. The foreboding pressure of going up against a greater evil; of deciding on personal survival. It was a battle to the death back then. Still, as I pulled black pants up my hips, zipping and buttoning the poliester to my form, an almost equally intense sensation rode through my spine. It is today, I thought to myself. A milestone, still cloaked in unsurity, but definite in its effects on my life.

Today, I die.

A ding from my phone barely registered, but all the more threw me when I looked down at the screen: Pacifica.

P: hey nerd r u gonna do it tday?

I was quick about shutting my device off.

No. Not today. Not ever. This was something far harder; to act as though nothing had ever happened. I'd trained my face for years. There was little that got past me these days, whether it be worry or regret or despair. I relaxed the grimace tingling at my lips, forcing my brow to soften and nose to unwrinkle. But, my eyes. They wavered in and out of neutrality, the calm expression of indifference easily overshadowed by mounting fear. I blinked twice, only to sense the regrettable burn of tears welling up. My throat tightened. My chin pruned.

I pat myself sharply on the cheeks, cooing words of encouragement as I tilted my head up, batting my lashes to abolish each little cry of distress.

This isn't it, Pines. This is you; the only person to control this. Only you can control this.

I set my undone tie around my shoulders, walking out into the kitchen. Mabel was already there, humming as her feet apple jacked from the fridge to the counter, where a large bowl of white froth was displayed. I looked at the container curiously, although it hardly distracted me.

"What's this?" I reached over the isle, placing a single finger on the rim of the blue bowl covered in plastic wrap.

"Icing!" Mabel cheered, smiling with the glow of a star. She toar away the wrapping, pulled out a package of glitter, and dumped the purple content in the bowl. " I'm making a cake!" She mixed the shining dust into white cream with a wooden spoon.

"Why?" Mabel had always been a horrible cook; there was no nice way of saying it. There had been a time in her life- forth or fifth grade- when she was obsessed with baking. She'd been out of bed by five, serving up rhinestone waffles by seven, and riding in the passenger seat with dad as he drove me to the ER by eight. Stomach cramps. Nausea. Vomiting. Common symptoms of food poisoning.

It never seemed to deter her, though; only mom's eventual scolding could crush her dreams. And, when she did, Mabel swore to never bake again, which was a total lie. Still, she grew an understanding of taste and disgust; a kind of bashfulness bloomed under her chin, rising to her cheeks a red blush when people asked who cooked at home. And she, very unlike her, would reply with reserved features, ' My brother.'

So, it was with numb interest I wondered why the oven was hot, the icing was made, and her apron was on. Mabel only giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before pulling the charred black cake out of the oven.

"I'm asking out someone special~." The brick of half-risen batter was placed next to her monstrous frosting, where a wooden spoon was dipped in, scooping up mounds of gritty purple before being plopped over the cake and coated.

"Oh." I replied dumbly. The interest dissolved immediately, watching clumped up waves of lavender smear over charcoal. "Good luck." My eyes were focused on a single bubble in the bowl of frosting; a cluster of purple glitter, mashed up and hard as rock, like a landmine exploding in someone's mouth once they bite into it. I took the liberty of flicking it out with the back of my nail.

"No luck needed, bro-bro! This one's in the bag, especially with a treat like this ! How could he resist?" She preened, rotating the dish to lather a generous amount of icing along the cake's round corners. It was a small, dry little thing with cracks and bubbles breaking along the surface like the abused skin of a white man's nose under sunlight. Mabel looked immensely proud, humming an unorthodox tune, swaying her hips to silent music.

"Where'd you find the recipe?" I pulled out my phone once, only to remember why the screen was black, and quickly shoved it away again. Mabel laughed at me.

"Oh, Dipper. Who needs a recipe when you've got love on your side?"

"A chef." Mabel ignored me, humming louder than before as she smoothed her spoon over the last bit of black showing.

"Hand me that bag?" She asked, pointing to the dinner table behind me. A Malwart bag had been tossed over the edge of one of the chairs, an array of colorful sticks pressing against partially-transparent plastic. I reached for it, pulled it from the seat, and slung it her way to be caught.

"What's in it?" I questioned apathetically, playing with the crease of my unmade tie.

"An icing writer." Mabel replied, pulling what looked like a pack of markers from the bag. A beam passed along her features as she opened the container and picked out a pink stick. She removed the tip with practiced hands, squeezing at the base until salmon-rose goop squirted onto the cake. " Woops !" She laughed, easing her grip.

"What are you writing on it?"

"What I always write!" Mabel replied, already tracing out square check boxes, followed by a question and the cornering responses she allowed:

Do you like me?

Yes.

Definitely.

Absolutely.

"You ever think about changing that up?" A tiny dot of icing dabbed against my hand where I'd rested it. I looked at the inconvenience, eyes slanting, examining it with the developed expression of curiosity. I almost had the balls to test a taste, only for better judgement to catch me. I dragged the dirtied finger across the isle's surface, whipping the purple goo away.

"No way! I got my first boyfriend with that phrase!" She finished her freakish icing of hearts and little puppy paws and rainbows around the cake, picking it up by the tray in self-satisfaction. "And, who knows? Might meet my husband with it~." Mabel shimmied playfully, tossing me a grin. I tried avoiding her gaze, an odd blow of pain pinching my gut when I looked at her.

Today, I die.

The car ride was silent, aside from Mabel's continual humming and giggling as she watched the shops of Gravity Falls pass her by. Inside my head, just outside the confinements of my brain, I felt the stern tapping of glass against defenseless flesh; the sensation refused to let up.

"Mind driving me to work with you today?" Her words were washed up, plain and dull when compared to the shrill ticking marked along my skull. I broke out in a sweat, counting within my head the distance from my car- me- to the GFPD ; Bill. The request only resonated with surface-level-interest as I pulled off the road leading to her work, instead headed directly for mine. She thanked me, oblivious of the inner turmoil swirling beneath my skin.

We pulled up early, having cut out the usual route in our routine. Mabel got out first, yanking up the handle on her cake container like a briefcase, the poor dessert beating itself against silicon walls when she swung her arm sweetly. I took my time, feeling drained as an old man when my hand finally came to rest on the door handle. Warm, wet air pressed its way into the car as I stepped out, felt the granate beneath my feet, and was instantly shot with nerves.

Today, I die. Today, I die. Today, I die.

Mabel met me at the door, absolutely vibrating with energy that flushed her cheeks, rose to her ears, and lit the brown eyes that matched mine. That only made my mood sour farther, though. I thought I might throw up now.

"Which floor's your office on again?"

"Seven." A voice ripped its way through my throat, but couldn't have been mine. Instead, the words appeared in physical form as subtitles below me, and Mabel simply read them while a foreign tone dubbed my speech. I felt remarkably lost, standing at the entrance of a facility I'd worked at for several years now. My sister trailed me along as she weaved her way through the crowd.

Elevator doors opened, closed, and opened once more like teleportation. For the first time in a long time I wished to be anywhere but my own laboratory. Even marked up as a home among the list of settlements I'd made along the years- Piedmont, California. Buffalo, New york. Roadkill, Oregon.- I couldn't stand being in it. Because, this had been a sanctuary before. I went here to feel smart and useful, in spite of the few who said otherwise; to mix formulas. Test blood samples. Evaluate crime scene evidence, like any CSI agent should.

But, with those freshly polished dress shoes kicking themselves on my desk just as they'd done the first day, I wasn't sure I had the focus to file a report.

"Well, good morning !" Bill raised a hand, cigarette blazing like it always did between slender fingers. I flinched slightly, the sharp burn of smoke eliciting a feeling unlike the usual annoyance I felt when he was around me; not the grimace of distaste or unmistakable judgement his poor habits brought me. Instead, a memory came to mind. An association of that stick pressed tightly around his lips, huffing out smoke, and the night I'd been forced to breath it in his car. I shivered.

"Bill!" Mabel cheered, rushing past me to greet him, once again slinging the cake around in the container.

"If it isn't my favorite shooting star!" Bill chuckled when she approached, wrapping her arms around him like something to be lost. When she looked at Bill, there across his lips was a heartfelt smile of warmth and true joy. Her eyes shot away with modesty, and his features morphed into a distorted grin of dishonesty. A fingertip was placed against her shooting star earrings; the pair he'd praised her on once before. Mabel wore them often now. He flicked at them playfully, signalling an unspoken break from the hug. "Whatcha doing here? Thought you had work today." His voice was light, but someone as practiced as I on anything ' Bill' knew better than to trust that tone.

"Oh, nothing~." Mabel gave away every bit of the surprise, but still found it in her to swing the cake behind her back, out of his view. Something in me, distance and disconnected from the situation, cried out in sudden agony. A piece of me was catching on to exactly why she'd baked a cake.

" Nothing ?" Bill asked coyly, smiling mischievously. With his eyes away from me, I almost found it in me to get closer. A simple shuffle had him alerted of my gaining movements, and he shot me a look ordering me to stay still. His eyes washed over me like an ice bath, freezing my feet to the floor. Bill smiled cockily, only to look back at my sister.

" Nothing... " Mabel's voice trailed off for a moment, biting her lip as she looked away. With a sudden rush of enthusiasm, she brought the cake to her front, showcasing it with pride. "Nothing but this! Ta-da!" A heaviness broke through my rib cage, almost forcing me to double over in pain.

Fuck .

No. Not good. Not okay. I'd spent too much time worrying about goddamn monsters and goddamn Bill to figure out the whole 'Mabill' issue. She liked him. A lot. Pacifica had told me that much, and she was almost never wrong. She'd warned me about it before, and it'd been up to me to prevent it. Because, hot or not, Bill was a walking, talking sociopath with no regard for emotions or care or compassion. One look in his soulless eye told it all.

But, I'd neglected it. In favor of shapeshifters; vampires; drinks; the mind-blowing sensation of fingers yanking my hair-.

The details weren't important.

"What do we have here?" The shit-eating grin Bill pulled was all I needed to tell me he was completely aware of the situation. He'd boasted before, after all. It didn't take a genius to decipher something as blunt as Mabel and her obsession. His hands came out to cradle the plastic container like a complex piece of art.

"Just a little dessert for someone just as sweet." My sister giggled, hands clasped behind her back, looking to the floor with fake-shyness; a trick that, for some reason, made all her past boyfriends go crazy. Mabel bat her eyelashes, swaying on her feet as she watched my partner examine the attrosity.

"Oh, you~ ." Bill sang with a flattered tone. He turned away from her, placing the cake down before unclasping the plastic top. At least a third of the icing had been rubbed off on the walls, while half of the wording was illegible. Still, he glanced at it with knowing features.

My twin was silent, looking away and back at him several times, unsure but eager for a response. Angle was smiling at the broken pastry lying before him, crumbled up and disposable. But, he always smiled. No matter what went on before him, those teeth had a way of displaying themselves shamelessly. It only added to the mystery; his allure. His appeal. There was nothing to draw from such a one-dimensional man when all he did was smile at every little thing that came his way.

" So ." Mabel drew her words long, rocking on the backs of her heels as she spoke. Bill moved to the other side of the desk to get a full view of the awful cake, all the while I fought against paralysis. "What do you think?" She asked, gesturing towards her hard work. And, for a single moment, I felt the overwhelming sting of second-hand embarrassment. It really was an ugly cake. I almost had it in me to approach them. A simple glance my way had me stapled in place, though.

"What do I think?" Bill asked, almost flabbergasted as he placed a hand on his chest, a look of shock scribbled along his features. "What do you think I think?" He laughed, reaching over to give her shoulder a firm pat. Not romantically. Not sexually. Friendly. Mabel grew pale, only to regain herself.

"I think... You should read the icing ." Mabel's half-hearted laugh in response climbed up her throat, fell from dry lips, and shattered against the floor.

"Oh? Did you write something?" He squinted his eye, peering down more closely at the frosted dessert. Perhaps it had been an overstatement to say the words had been smeared and smudged against the plastic container, making all understanding incomprehensible. If anything, it was her curly handwriting that made what had survived completely alien to any english-speaker. Still, something told me Bill knew exactly what was on that cake. Maybe by the way he grinned smugly at the pastry, rubbing a hand over his suit; how he pulled a finger under his bowtie; when he shot me a look of conceited superiority.

"Yeah, it's-." Mabel looked over it, tisking at the overbearing messiness before her. She pulled out an icing pen from her pocket, as she'd planned on sucking it down later. "Hang on. Lemme redo it real quick." She bent down shamelessly, pressing at the pen's base before yet another blob of goop splashed along the cake. Hissing, her eyes shot up at Bill before going back to fix the blunder. A kind of connection was trying to formulate as her cheeks tightened, forcing a chast grin over her lips.

Bill looked as though he might say something, only for the office phone to ring. His already glowing face lightened at the sharp ring, and he swung around to view it.

"Oops! Would you look at that? Excuse me." He ducked past Mabel with a grin, eye closed, looking more than pleased when he picked up the receiver.

" Y'ello ?" Bill sang, chest puffed as he gazed out the window, sliding against a filing cabinet. He placed the phone to his ear, holding it casually with a lifted shoulder to press it in place. My partner took a moment to himself, nodding once, humming, and suddenly bursting to life with a welcomed laugh. "Oh, hey you!" Bill went, now turning to rest his back against a wall.

Mabel jerked at the loud noise, hand reflexively streaking blue icing from one corner of the cake to the other. She gasped slightly, looking up at him once with eyes like a baby's; someone who'd done wrong. Bill didn't seem to care either way, only shrugging his shoulders and pointing at the phone's base. " It's the boss." He mouthed out, turning from her for privacy. Mabel blushed as she ducked her head in shame, groaning poorly at the messy cake. She tried flicking away the rogue lines of blue icing, only for it to splat over purple frosting and stick.

With his eye away from me, I was able to take a few steps forward. I shuffled away from the coat rack, placing myself against one of the black tables like a crutch keeping me upright; I couldn't stop my knees from buckling around him. Bill acted as though neither me nor my sister existed as he twirled the phone's curly cord around his finger.

"Yes... Oh, right ! Absolutely; we're on it, chief!" He was pleasant in all forms, speaking into the phone with the practiced dialogue of a friend. It would've been something to bask in if the person performing such charmed activities wasn't a complete asshole.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a slight tug in his direction. The barest of pulls to get a little closer; within arm's reach, perhaps; just enough to smell the cologne he was wearing. I shook my head of the thought immediately, only more firmly gripping the table when I felt my legs angle to face him.

"Uh-huh. Uh- huh." Bill went on, nodding and stroking his hairless chin. His eye shifted towards Mabel with a flicker, viewing the gloomy girl to the left of him.

She was pouting now, having pulled out the other four icing pens from her pocket and somehow emptied every one of them onto the dessert; red, green, pink, and orange combined into one mesh of colored lines, with neither style nor meaning. The original text was completely lost under her second, third, fourth, and fifth attempts, and she'd even managed to lodge one of the pen's caps into the cake's rear.

"I'll make sure to tell him for you." Bill looked away, curling his lips in to stifle his mounting laughter. I furrowed my brows in distaste, watching him pretend to have not seen her. Well, damn. I didn't want him dating her, but he could at least show appreciation for the effort! My head turned, angled to view Mabel and any embarrassment she might feel, but the only expression she bared was one of determination. She looked as though she would give up on the cake's message and simply tell Bill how she felt once he was done on the phone.

I felt a rush of panic draw over my nails, through my elbows, up my arms to my neck. Bill definitely liked dancing around the whole topic; he and Mabel as a thing. It was probably good fun watching my sister sweat under the light he put her beneath, and even more to pretend her intentions weren't completely obvious. But, all good things must come to an end, and when she finally got her proposal out, he'd either take Mabel in spite of me or crush her for fun. My stomach curled inwards at the thought.

Time passed in the laboratory; fifteen or twenty minutes. Bill kept himself busy on the phone, conversing endlessly. Whenever it looked like he might stop talking, he'd shoot me a look, then Mabel, take in a sharp breath, and say something else.

"Oh, how's the misters, by the by?" He stood there patiently, smiling as his head lifted and lowered, completely enthralled by the conversation.

Mabel had moved over by me, seating herself quietly. Hands closed, back straight, she watched and waited for him to finish up. But, he only added to the discussion. Each time he changed subjects, Mabel took a look down at her Pink Kitty Glitter watch. She'd only expected to swing by, drop off the cake, get a kiss, and head out for work. It was going on eight now, and she could only imagine what her employer would say.

"Uh, Bill-." She cleared her throat, lifting a single finger to signal his attention. Bill's head tossed itself in her direction, looking from the window to view her. With a thin digit, he pressed it against his lips, shushed her, and went right back to talking. Mabel's face grew red, chewing her bottom lip anxiously.

There was a moment of pause. A kind of sensation drawing through her eyes in contemplation as she continually looked from Bill to the elevator doors. It wasn't like Mabel to miss work without calling in first, and something told me she hadn't said anything about making a detour to her boss. She took pride in her job; it was one of the few things she understood without need of an explanation. One final look at her watch.

8:15

" Hey, Dip ." She lowered her head, speaking softly so as not to alert Bill. " Can I borrow the car today? " But, of course. I was already at work. Mabel would have to drive herself to the crafts store.

Not waiting for confirmation, she took the liberty of digging her hand in my pants pocket, drawing out the keys as an unfitting gloom rode the corners of her lips. Mabel looked at them hesitatingly, holding the keys out and letting them jingle; I felt my ears perk at the sharp sound. She tossed one final glance back at Bill, growing tired when he sat down, kicked his feet up on my desk, and laid his head back with phone in hand. That seemed to determine her next move.

Sighing sadly, Mabel put the keys in her purse, gave me a soft side-hug, and approached the elevator.

I noticed Bill's eye trailing her the entire time, all the while he spoke into the phone's receiver.

"Yeah, I can do that. No prob, boss." His head tilted just slightly, watching as she pressed the 'down' button, waited for the elevator to open, and stepped inside. She entered and the doors slowly slid closed; Bill kept an eye on her the entire time. When she was gone, he sighed, rolled his head back tensely, and hung up the phone.

"God, I thought she'd never leave." My partner stood from the chair, going to the front of the desk to lean back.

"W-what-." I steadied myself, chewing the inside of my cheek to keep from stuttering. Nothing happened, Dipper. Nothing happened . "What did Bulbs want?" My voice was made even in an instance, but I couldn't help my eyes darting away. Shifting weight from one foot to the other, clearing my throat, I chanced a look in his direction; neutral. Completely cool and indifferent to my anxious demeanor. I tried to breathe, but my lungs wouldn't allow it.

"Nothing." Bill mused, sliding his hand into his pocket. He pulled out his own cellular device, wiggling it proudly. "I just called the lab's phone so it'd ring. Couldn't have shooting star profess her love to me, after all." A sick, sharp grin washed over his features as he leaned back smugly, eye slitted dark. He combed a hand through his hair before looking at his pearly nails and rubbing them over his dress shirt. "You'd get so jealous ." Bill cooed.

"In your dreams." I willed, forcing my hands to let go of the table. Part of getting past this was acting casual; though my legs shook and my throat tightened, I couldn't afford to give up this position. This 'normal' act. I rubbed my hands against my pant legs, dabbing away the sweat of my palms.

"In your dreams, pine tree." He shot back with a laugh. "You're lucky I'm such a considerate guy." The cell phone slid away, back into his pocket.

"Should I be moved?" I crossed my arms, taking a step towards him, this time with a kind of half-confidence. It wasn't all that hard, now that I thought about it, to relax around him. Not too much, of course. I knew what would happen if I let my guard down. That's what got me in this situation in the first place.

"A few tears of joy would be nice. Then again, seeing you cry in general would be nice." He leaned forward with a smug grin, tilting his head to the side as his gaze hardened. A chill ran up my spine, unsure what kind of 'crying' he wanted to see from me. I tried not to linger on it.

I squared my shoulders, sucking in a breath as I approached the desk, which Bill was currently leaning against. It was like an invisible barrier placed between us as I circled him, keeping a solid four feet up until the point I broke the distance and grabbed at the files on my desk. A part of me screamed within the skin, every nerve amplified around the arm I reached with, expecting Bill to leave me with some kind of contact. A touch; grab my wrist. Twist me around.

He remained docile though, momentarially intrigued by the lint clinging to his sleeves. As if rematerializing between us, I stepped back quickly to regain the original four feet. Bill looked up at me then, cocking a brow at my hasty demeanor. I could almost hear the taunting intent in his gaze, but what he said in place of teasing refrained from it.

"You weren't half bad that night." His voice was uncharacteristically serious in that instance, only for a smile to break out over his features. "Have you been practicing?" I stiffened.

" No-."

"So, you're new to this?" I grew cautious, watching him shuffle in place. He made it sound like that hadn't been the first and last time.

"There is no 'this' . It was an accident ." I winced at my own excuse. 'Accident,' I said. Oh, yeah. Definitely. I just slipped in the car, and his pants so happened to be unzipped.

Woops .

How stupid.

"You're pretty damn clumsy, sweet heart." He laughed cruelly, seating himself on the edge of the desk before pulling a very serious expression. The color on my face drained away, looking into that eye. It was animalistic. Sharp. Just like last time. "You wouldn't happen to know how to clean cum out of nylon, would you?" He quipped.

"You really are a piece of shit." I growled, tossing aside files on the 'Bill dilema' in favor of placing my hands on my hips. My partner smiled back, shifting his gaze to the documents for only a moment before looking at me.

"You like it. Don't pretend." Bill purred. "You like the disrespect."

"How fucked up do you think I am?"

"On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd guess Jeffrey Dahmer."

"You guessed wrong." My teeth were clenched, grinding together in a fit of frustration; for both his arrogance and my mounting intrigue. "I'm not like you."

"Aren't you? We both enjoyed it-."

" You enjoyed it." I corrected him. Bill laughed.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" He crossed and uncrossed his legs, swinging them slightly as his body became angled towards me. "You hate my guts , darling. It wouldn't have gone that far if you hadn't wanted it."

"Yeah? Well, it's not exactly easy to just stop." Which wasn't a lie. It was hard to stop something heated like that. Especially when the other party was so set on getting things rolling. It was awkward. Clunky. Things would be different between the two afterwards, and they'd start having doubts about the whole relationship. Why had they stopped? Why didn't they want it? Did they do something wrong?

Did Wendy do something wrong?

No. She was fine.

It was just me.

I was the problem.

"Maybe you shouldn't have gotten things started, then."

"And, what exactly did I start? Last I checked, you kissed me. " I put a hand over my chest, leaning in just barely. Still too far to touch, but close enough to feel claustrophobic.

"You really are something, sapling." Laughing, Bill shook his head lowly. He took a single drag of his ignored cigarette, blowing the smoke in my direction as though he knew the effect it had on me. The newly forming effect.

I stifled a groan.

"I think you know what we've been doing the past month or so. There's no need to be ashamed. It's fun! "

"What's fun?" I asked against my better judgement.

"Flirting." Bill responded bluntly. I choked on a bit of saliva. By the way his face lightened up I knew he'd seen my expression of vulnerability. "You." He gestured towards me. "And I." His hand flew back, pointing to himself. "Have been flirting." He finished cockilly. I felt my cheeks burn.

"Oh my god, Bill. Will you fuck off- ?"

"Watch your mouth." Bill broke in coldly, shooting me a glance unlike his usual smile. It looked almost annoyed; just short of it, and with a slight twist of mischief. Like he was playing, but still boarding honesty.

"Or what ?" My voice quivered, and I cursed myself when he returned to his usual beaming self.

"I'll remind you just how good it felt to shut you up." The way he kept a straight face; how he maintained eye contact the entire time; killed me. I bit down on my tongue, hoping to gain some kind of wisdom in not shooting back instantly. That only made me look slow, though. It gave him just enough time to add on. "You seemed pretty happy about it last time." He went, shrugging his shoulders.

"The only thing that could ever make me ' happy' is watching you clock out for the last time ." I took a step forward, unable to control the sudden rush of embarrassment and infatuation. Nothing happened, Dipper. Nothing, nothing, nothing!

That's a lie.

You can fix this. Just ignore it, and it'll go away.

You're lying. This is a lie.

" Aw . You don't mean it; do you, baby?" Bill faked heart ache, as though he had one. His cigarette was starting to ash against his pant leg, half-burnt and dying away.

"Fuck yes , I mean it!" I threw my hands up in frustration, taking yet another step. I felt so amazingly tense around him. All the time, I realized, there was an unbearable load of stress lingering over this laboratory. And I'd always assumed it was because of Bill. It had to be Bill; who stole my seat.

Smoked in the office.

Acted like a smart ass.

Was an endangerment to my sister. He was trash.

"All you ever do is fuck with me! Don't you get it? You confused me!"

"I've been honest with you since day one, pine tree. Don't go pulling the victim card on me now. We were both playing to win." He chuckled.

"No, I wasn't! I was never playing your game!"

" My game? Oh, honey no . Now you're confused!" Bill pulled a pitying look, sitting further back on the desk. "This was all your idea."

"How in the hell was it my idea?" One final step brought me before him; like a fawn to a bear. But, I was doped up on adrenaline and self-preservation.

Nothing happened nothing happened nothing happened.

Lies lies lies.

Today, I die.

"You're so coy about it; the flirting. Don't think I never noticed you watching me." Bill's words were followed by mild action. Now that I was close, he took a kind of lead, wrapping his arm about my lower back, pulling me closer, and I couldn't bring myself to slap it away.

Like always.

I couldn't let go of such a good thing.

"You act like you hate me..." His head lowered with a pout, but it was too artificial. I could already see his smile overtake the expression. "But, that's not true, is it?"

"It is-." He placed a finger over my lips, shushing me.

"It's not." Bill corrected. "You're just making an idiot out of yourself now. Don't. I like you when you're smart."

"Oh, so I'm smart now?" I glared down at him, fighting back a slight smirk in triumph. I hoped with all my heart it killed him to admit it. A part of me was sure it did.

"For an idiot; yeah." He pulled me in just a little closer.

You know where this is going, Dipper. You know where this road leads. Listen to me, it's just like last time! Don't let him touch you! Don't let it fog your mind! You'll regret it! You will. Just like with-.

With-...

But, don't you want this?

"You love me." Bill looked into my eyes, knowing in every aspect. "Say it." He purred.

I said nothing, though. I couldn't. Everything was coming one after the other, and it zoomed past me like a speedy train. Say it. Love. Like hell, I loved that asshole. I had more chance loving a terrorist. This? This was toxic. Dangerously infectious, and if I let him into my life the way he wanted, there was no denying he would consume all I held dear.

I wasn't sure I minded, though.

That was radical to think. This could destroy my life. My family relations. Close friends. Wendy . Mrs. Wendy Pines. It hadn't sounded half-bad in my preteen years. But, perhaps the wording was off a little, and Dipper Corduroy just felt wrong for some reason. We could figure it out, though. We could keep our last names. Or learn to appreciate the new ones. There was nothing to fear.

Bill's features expressed a kind of falseness about them; playful. 'Love'. Like Bill cared any for someone who 'loved' him. That wasn't what he meant. 'Love.' He'd misspoken. That wasn't what I felt for him in the slightest. Never. Never in my life would I feel that way towards another man. It was something far more vulgar. Less clean. More demanding. A selfish desire, meant to devour each other in spite of attraction. It was to ravish inflicted pain and bestow obsessive ownership over the weaker of the two.

Lust.

I shook my head lowly, keeping eyes from him at all costs. It felt like something being peeled away; a thin sheet of pride used to obscure a large wall of shame. He got me. For once, Bill had really gotten me.

"Why?" I ignored his order, shaking my head in disbelief. Something's wrong here. He shouldn't have won so easily over me. This shouldn't be happening. "I thought you wanted Mabel..." I whispered thoughtfully, trying to understand. Bill chuckled at my growing distress, lifting me just slightly to place his thigh between my legs. My chest heaved, looking up to view his sharp grin.

Bill turned from me to face the cake placed just at the edge of the desk. Without hesitation or remorse, trailing the pastry with an uncaring eye, he took his index finger, placed it against the base of the dish, and slid the entire thing off the desk, into a waste bin. Pain rode through my chest, hearing an ungrateful splat caught by a plastic bag. She'd worked so hard on it, too.

A dark, far off voice told me I was happy to see it gone.

"A man has the right to change his mind, doesn't he?" His leg came up against me, bucking once under my groin, forcing me to hiss. It felt so sensitive. I had to fight the urge of grinding into the intrusion, even as my hands shook in fear.

Today, I die.

" But- ." His hand slid down to cup me from behind.

Too much. Too much. Just like last time. That one night. It's all too forward. Too chasing. And, you're willing to let him.

"You've always got something to say, don't you? I'll give you a life lesson right here: never look a gift-horse in the mouth. Don't overthink it, dollface." He cut in with a 'wink', pulling me up by my thighs to sit more comfortably on him. "I'm not asking for a commitment." Bill confirmed.

A flame of unsuspecting delight ignited in the back of my chest, hearing him say that. For some odd reason, that soothed a bitter, reserved piece of my mind. This wasn't romantic, after all. Just a little fooling around. Everybody does it. It's natural.

"You-." My voice was strained, weak and oddly chaste considering the circumstances. I swallowed once; closed my eyes in hopes of seeing the bigger picture, but the leg between my thighs was giving me severe tunnel vision. I could only understand the widespread heat spiking along my skin, hot when I placed my hand against his chest. "-make me sick."

" Love sick?" Bill questioned as he pressed his chest against mine. I almost hissed, feeling my bullet proof vest rub over warm skin. It was far too stimulating.

"More like Covid 19 sick." That made Bill laugh, and a strange pride overwhelmed me. It was kind of intriguing, seeing his features lighten up like that. How he leaned us both back so his elbows propped himself on the desk, and I allowed myself to lie on his chest. When he scooted farther back, forcing my legs up so we were seated completely on the desk. I felt shameful pride.

"I'm just happy I got to infect you, then." A flash of Wendy hit the back of my mind. Her smiling; laughing and being otherwise rebellious. The weakest of burns crawled against the tips of my ears, and I tried to ignore the pain. Not in betraying a loved one. My partner. My friend . But in the mounting despair I felt when realizing how little it mattered to me how this would hurt her. I didn't care. I don't care. At all. It was a numbing sensation, simply there to remind me what I could lose if I went ahead with this.

The situation outweighed Wendy's entire existence.

I leaned in, pressing my lips against Bill's before trailing fingers through blond hair. He lowered himself on the desk surface, pulling me with him to lie on top. The kiss felt ridiculously gentle in the moment, considering everything else we'd done, but I still couldn't help the hitch in my breathing when he shifted, moving that leg between my thighs. He smiled against my lips, nipping me cheekily.

His hands remained almost entirely on my ass, rubbing and squeezing with satisfaction when I not only let him touch, but rolled back a few times against his leg when he did. I could feel a small chuckle against his tongue, sliding out to graze my bottom lip. I met him with my own, sticking my tongue out to attack his; curling along the tip; sucking on it playfully; it wasn't too different from... Other things. Bill took the liberty of pulling our lips together, delving into my mouth.

A poor moan ripped through my throat as he once again brought his leg back to rub me. He used his hands placed on my rear to push back, lift and lower me down against thick, black polyester. I couldn't help but break from the kiss, rest my forehead against his chest, and clench at the sensation. Bill only chuckled at my response before tilting my head up by the hair and bringing me to his lips again.

I willed myself to relax in his hold, though paranoia ate me inside. Someone could easily walk in on us. Who's to say there aren't any cameras in the laboratory? What if we're being watched right now?

The tongue in my mouth kept me distracted.

"You know-." Bill broke away to say, only for my lips to reattach and stop him. He spoke between heated tongues. "You're not-. Half bad-. For a virgin." I snorted, letting the comment slide in favor of his growing tolerability. He wasn't half bad, either. For an asshole .

His right hand regrettably abandoned my ass, only to ride down my pant leg and rest at the back of my knee. I almost whined, feeling almost ignored now that the physical contact was being dampened. That didn't last long.

Bill's fingers tightened around my leg, pulling me open. I gasped, almost crashing my pelvis against his with how quickly he swept me apart. I caught myself just above him, my rear still pressed against his thigh, looking at him with unsure features. My lips hardened against his, and for a moment, I wasn't sure I could still go through with this. But, this had already gone so far, it wasn't like there was much to be done about his intentions.

As if already knowing my response, Bill added pressure to my left cheek, forcing my crotch down the extra inch between us. I choked on his tongue, feeling the unmistakable incline of his bulge against mine. Something told me I should have felt jealous of the size, but I was overcome with an alien expression of hesitant joy. It felt so good, even unmoving, to have him pressed to close to me like this. The contact made us groan.

I bit my lip, pushing myself up during the fuzzy lightheadedness of my blood being redirected. I placed my hands on his chest, huffing lazily at his bare presence underneath me. It felt amazing, even as a stagnant piece of flesh, to know the kind of response he was giving me. The size was nothing to sniff at, throbbing heavily, though motionless. It didn't help my evolving arousal in the slightest; only worked to fuel my frustration.

"You seem a little excited." Bill gave a breathy laugh, hands going back to my ass. I stiffened, shaking at the remembered contact now amplified by added heat. "Ready for round two?"

" Please- ." I rolled my head back, a hot flash hitting my veins when he just barely twitched below me. " Just shut up and do something ." I couldn't help myself, taking the initiative as I rolled my hips against his, feeling his hard cock through a dry pair of slacks.

Bill was hard as marble, but the way his features stayed level and smug annoyed me. He bucked up into my hips, forcing a cry from my swollen lips. He cackled, slapping my ass once before giving a second buck; I barely withheld a whine behind bitten lips.

" Aw ~." Bill purred cockily, rubbing small circles around the cheek he slapped. " You like it ." I glowered, looking down at him in distaste, though the quickening grind of our hips contradicted my expression.

" So-so d-o yo-u ." I hated how my voice sounded, chopped up against every bounce his hips made under me. He was getting harder; faster and less considerate under me. Our pants were still on, but I couldn't help but feel like he was almost fucking me with the motions he made. Heavy bumping could be heard, just short of pain when his clothed dick dragged hot lines against mine. Every particularly good grind had my head shooting up; the perfect ones made my neck roll.

Chills overtook me when I sensed a vague wetness against my zipper. I groaned sadly, looking at the dark spot that formulated at the peak of my bulge, causing Bill to laugh. He couldn't care less.

" So messy , baby ." Bill tisked, a loose smile breaking along his features when he looked at my pre-cum soaked pants. My cheeks grew scorching hot at the low draw of his tone. " Calm down ." He snickered.

" N-o ." I choked on a gasp when he made one of his 'perfect' thrusts, forcing my head back unexpectedly. It was all I could do to stop from begging him to bend me over the desk and fuck me. It didn't seem to matter what I said, though. Bill would always be a smug piece of shit, whether I jacked him off or not.

" No? " He asked innocently; an amazing feat considering our current position. " No what? No, you won't calm down? Or no, you can't? " He slid his hands to either side of my waist, forcing me down a little faster than before. It was at such a good angle, too. Just right, so his tip slid from the base to the top of my penis; it made me forget his question for a moment as my eyes rolled back, cooing words of praise and agreeance.

Oh my god, yes.

Please, Bill. Please.

So good. So good. So good.

His arms stiffened against my hips, forcing me to still above him. I was unable to hold it this time; the deafening whine of frustration and need. I throbbed shamelessly, trying with all my might to wiggle despite my own pride, desperate for more friction. He chuckled darkly.

" Answer me ." He smiled. I couldn't help my whimpering, trying a final time to grind down before I died of excitement. His grip was firm, though; holding me just above his bobbing dick. I hissed, taking my hands from his chest to rub the stimulated sides of my thighs, hoping to relieve some of the tension. It only worked to flame my skin. I contemplated for a split second just touching myself. On top of him, just rubbing and watching the man I hated so much either laugh or stare with entertainment. The thought felt amazing.

But, something far deeper kept me patient. The thought of him touching me was absolutely drug-inducing. The idea of him holding me here, whining and eagre, unable to relieve myself without his help, took a heavy shot at my ego. Still, excitement overtook me when the image came to mind. To think I belonged to someone, and they controlled every second of my pleasure, was both fucked up and strangely arousing.

My mouth fell open when he teased a single stroke along my cock. Working quickly, I wracked my brain for his question, trying to remember his exact words. The contact. I needed it so bad, it hurt to accept.

" C-Ca-n't ." I summoned from within, the purest sheet of humiliation coating me as both punishment and a strange reward. It felt so good to be controlled. So harsh. So comforting. I was backhanded with the embarrassing realization that Bill was probably right about me liking the disrespect. That I liked to be talked down to by him. I liked to play the brat sometimes. It made my face burn even worse.

" Good boy ." He praised in a condescending tone, laughing when my face brightened at his shifting body. The returned contact was enough to make me tear up as my mouth fell open again, head falling back as his hands guided my hips.

" Fuuuck." I moaned, far more appreciative of the friction than before. My hips bucked sharply each time he lowered me in his lap, high whines of protest cutting through every second away. The view, I had to admit, definitely added to my excitement. He just laid there below me; watching me; admiring me; It drove me crazy when the barest of grins passed his weakening lips.

I cried out, feeling the painful erection pressed tightly against my zipper. My crotch was embarrassingly damp with pre-cum, but I didn't care anymore. Bill had a dark spot of his own too, and it only added to the clean glide of slick polyester clothing our hungry cocks. No, I couldn't care less. All that mattered now was Bill's hands roaming me. Running up my back. Down my ass. Over my chest. Rubbing circles over my belly and thighs, but never touching the important stuff. His hands stayed clear of direct stimulation.

" You want it so bad, don't you ?" Bill's husky tone had me almost bawling. It was like being shot through the back, the way his voice got me completely hypnotized. My pride was gone. I only chased after pleasure now.

" Y-es." He caught me between thrusts, making my words breathy when I nodded my head in reassurance. This was humiliating. I knew. I opened my eyes to look down at him; I wanted to make sure he knew, too. In this single instance of clarity, I felt deep in my soul an undeniable need to be used for someone else. It only seemed to quicken my already speedy grinding. Bill whistled up at me.

" Do you deserve it? Do you think you've earned it? "

" Yes-."

"Are you sure?"

"Ye-s, B-il-l."

"How do I know I can trust you?" My eyes pricked with tears, feeling a floor of need crash into me. I was so close, it could've torn me apart. Whining, I bit down on my tongue, steadying myself just enough to plead for it.

" I-'ll be go-od-. So- good." A single tear slid down my cheek, running over my lips to dangle at my chin. That was when Bill leaned up, halting all grinding. Once again, I cried out in frustration, only for him to readjust himself and rub against me with new-found heat. He held me upright, chests pressed together as he gripped me tightly around the ass. His tongue slid out to lick away the single tear.

" I knew- it ." Pure pride overwhelmed me when he stopped himself, biting his lip before a heavy moan could grace my ears. I hummed gleefully, feeling his teeth trail the underside of my chin. " You're a crier." He mocked before sucking along my neck, my collarbone, and stopping to bite my shoulder blade.

An undignified yelp cursed me as I flinched up, away from his nipping. It didn't deter his intentions, following my skin when I pulled away or bunched up against his teeth. My yelping quickly turned into slight snickering when his lips tickled over my neck. The snickering dissolved into hitched moaning afterwards as I once again lifted and lowered myself against his throbbing cock. Moans transformed into cries of both joy and frustration, only to finally settle on indignant dirty talking.

" Yo-u're s-o big-." His lips danced along my skin, sinking teeth and sucking dark purple spots over my collarbone and neck. " I- wan-t it so b-ad." Bill said nothing, face buried in the crook of my neck as he pulled at delicate skin. A part of me feared him leaving marks too big to conceal. The fantasising, less realistic part of me hoped he did a lot worse than leave hickies. I wanted him to absolutely destroy me.

After a few deep, searing chomps at my flesh, Bill pulled back just a little. His hands road up from my rear, over my shoulder blades, stopping to massage the abused flesh of my neck. I hissed, but allowed the prodding. I was getting so ridiculously close, I found myself almost blacking out a few times now. I looked down at my burning erection, and was filled with both impatience and anticipation.

Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I arched my back, allowing his cock to hit me with perfect impact.

" Oh my- God! " This was perfect. Hot. Fast. Stimulating. Every motion rippled through the fabric of our pants and shot heated waves of pleasure around us. I could feel myself growing erotic, my hips no longer able to function with exact thrusts; I caught myself miss his throbbing dick once or twice, making him growl into my ear. Even with his smug demeanor as a safeguard, Bill couldn't shield the obvious pleasure this brought him. It was only a matter of time before-.

" Ah! Yes-. " His hand found its way to the front of my pants to massage around the hard meat inside. The embarrassing squelch of fabric soaked in pre-cum could be heard as he worked his fingers, rubbing up and down teasingly; not grabbing against the restrictive polyester, but pressing wonderfully.

His hand lowered, pressing just under the hood of my penis, forcing me to cry out as I came. I could feel my balls tighten, sending a ridged shock up my back as I curled inwards, arched, and rode out my orgasm with a pathetic wail of indulgence. My thoughts chanted endlessly, both praising and booing the electric burn that hardened my muscles.

Yes yes yes.

No no no.

Bill came moments later, growling feverishly against rosey lips as his hips stuttered, dampened, and stilled. He huffed then, obvious fatigue coating the smile he wore. He laid back, forcing me to follow along when his arm refused to retract itself from behind me. Heaving, I couldn't help but grin at my partner, now beaten down and tired. It would've been a perfect chance to tease him if not for the similar exhaustion I felt.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, just breathing and sweating and rolling out hands over our foreheads with goofy grins plastered over our faces. Grins. We were grinning at this. I pretended not to notice the gross slosh of white cum seeping into the front side of my pants as I slid off of Bill finally. Still panting, I cleared my dry throat, looking anywhere but the beautifully limp body before me.

"We should-. We should probably get to work." I commented awkwardly, bracing myself for Bill's inevitable mockery afterwards. He only sighed though, turning on his side to get off the desk onto his feet like nothing had happened. But, that would be a lie. Something happened. Something definitely happened.

"You got it, boss." He yawned, stretching tightly against hard muscles. I made a point of looking away when he did, like there was still modesty to be maintained between us. Even though I'd sucked his dick and ground against his cock; oh no. But, this is a Christian partnership. I rolled my eyes when the thought passed over me.

"You know what? We should do that again some time." Bill offered, and I bordered along furious when my mind still considered that a good idea. Post-nut clarity was supposed to keep me from making the same stupid mistake twice. Or, at least the same mistake in one sitting. But, it didn't. All I could think when he said that was 'can't wait.' That wasn't what I said, of course.

"Sure. Whatever." I shrugged my shoulders, turning away from him. The mess in my pants was really starting to disturb me. Taking a tissue, I pressed circled along the wet fabric, blooming red when it did virtually nothing in effect.

"Great. Pick you up Friday, pine tree."