Chapter Text
^ ^ ^ ^
"Ha! I knew you still had this thing!" Bill exclaimed triumphantly. "Whaddya think, Pine Tree?"
Dipper rolled his eyes, ready to reprimand the demon for once again getting sidetracked from the incredibly simple task of helping him pack. However, when he looked up from where he sat on the bed, stuffing clothes into a bag, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Bill stood tall- dark jeans riding low on his hips, grey question mark shirt stretched across his torso so the rough outline of bandages was almost visible- as he finished securing Dipper's signature relic on his head.
"Admit it," Bill started, flicking the faded blue brim with a smirk, "I make this look good."
Dipper gaped for a moment, mouth going dry at the sight of the other now donned head to toe in his clothing. He'd leant the shirt and pants, of course, but he couldn't have guessed how well the demon would wear them. Add the hat he'd thought lost and the way the afternoon sun brought out Bill's bright mismatched eyes, highlighting freckles littered across his cheekbones, and suddenly the ground was disappearing from beneath Dipper's feet.
"Er," Dipper shook his head, struggling to come back to the moment, "where-uh-where'd you find that?"
"Oh, just around." Bill purred, his smirk splitting into a knowing grin, "But ya know, Pine Tree," he stepped closer to the bed, towering over the other, "you didn't answer my question."
"You look fine, man." Dipper stated evenly, meeting the blue and golden eyes piercing into his, grateful that his voice didn't betray the flurry of nerves caught in his chest.
“Mhm,” Bill chuckled, rolling his lower lip between his teeth, “just fine, I’m sure.” He sent the flustering human a wink before turning back to his corner of the room.
Dipper rolled his eyes, redirecting them to his shrinking pile of clothes when Mabel suddenly ran in.
“Gentlemen,” she started breathlessly, “we have a situation.”
He exchanged a look with Bill before quickly following Mabel downstairs. Stan was standing in front of the door, staring in mild disinterest beyond the screen while slowly sipping on a lukewarm beer.
He grunted in greeting when Dipper joined his side, Bill peering over their shoulders.
"Well shit." Bill sighed. Outside the shack were what must have been dozens of black birds- cluttering the branches of just about every surrounding tree, swooping from perch to perch.
"Sheesh, didn't know Alfred Hitchcock was in town." Stan commented before taking another swig.
"What are they doing?" Dipper asked.
"Surveillance." Marge reported ominously, appearing at the back of the group suddenly, making them jump. Well, most of them, Bill remained stoic as ever, keeping his eyes out the door while the rest turned to look at the witch.
"Jesus, lady," Stan gruffed, "warn a guy, would ya!"
Marge just offered a gap toothed smile.
Dipper sighed heavily, looking back out the door, “There goes our hope of simply driving away.”
Mabel frowned, “What now?”
“Uhhh, dudes,” Soos started, popping his head around the corner of the kitchen. "Any idea what’s up with these birds? Cuz I’ve got a bus comin' in, like, 10 minutes aannndd... uh, heh heh, why is this dude lookin' at me like that?"
Dipper glanced at Bill and the wicked curl at the edge of his mouth as he spoke, "Say, Question Mark, have room for two more on that tour?"
^ ^ ^ ^
He felt ridiculous. As if the oversize Hawaii print shirt wasn't bad enough, his Grunkle's old frames were too big for his face, and the canvas fishing hat pressing down his hair was making him sweat like Waddles on a Tuesday in July. Still, as far as last minute disguises went, Dipper couldn't deny its effectiveness. He was especially glad he had been too lazy to shave that morning because the scruff only added to the illusion.
He looked like a bonafide tourist, too bright-eyed and gullible to see a trap right in front of him.
"Is it weird that I feel like taking all your money?" Stan asked. "Ya know, more than usual."
"I don't know if this is gonna work." Dipper said, self consciously crossing his arms.
"Not with that attitude it won't!" Mabel cheered with an enthusiastic pat on his back.
“Ow.”
Now Bill apparently didn't need the tourist makeover since he was already clad in Shack memorabilia. The most he had to do was "humanify" himself, mono-toning his eyes blue and this time making his hair blond throughout. That alone took enough effort that he'd had to take a few minutes to regain his strength by leaning forward on the bathroom sink. Dipper didn't say anything when his own head began to spin.
Their plan was simple: blend in with the tour to get out the doors. While they did that, Stan and Mabel were going to distract the birds by loading up her car with random bags. Meanwhile, Marge's job was to charm the entrance to the Shack so that everyone who stepped through it would become convinced Bill and Dipper had been with the group the entire time.
Of course, the plan had flaws- for one, they had no idea how full the bus was going to be nor how hard-headed any of the occupants were- but it was the best plan they had short of draining Bill’s extremely limited powers completely and getting maybe half a mile from the Shack in any direction before passing out again.
They didn't tell Soos the details, just that Dipper and his friend needed to sneak out with the group. He didn't ask any questions, just responded with a quick, "I got you, dude" and that was that.
The bus signaled its arrival by rattling loudly on the dirt road, singing voices carrying through the steel as it came to a screeching halt outside the Shack. Soos was ready to greet them in his mystery man suit, cane, and fez while Dipper and Bill waited in the shadows of the exhibit hall. When the tour got to the Sascrotch, Soos gave the signal, and they joined the back of the group. They ended the tour in the gift shop where Bill used Dipper's money to buy a blue pine tree keychain with Mystery Shack printed on the back.
Mabel was at the register when they checked out and gave Dipper a long teary-eyed look that conveyed the message 'be careful and call when you can'. Dipper nodded, squeezing her hand slightly when she handed back the keychain.
As he left the shack in the herd and Dipper let his eyes wander around the group of tourists surrounding him, he noticed something odd. Almost every pair of them were holding hands, and the ones that weren't were still closer than normal. His eyes widened as his mind raced with no, no, nonono! Please don't let it be-
But his worst thoughts were confirmed when his eyes fell on the bus painted with bright red letters: Happily Ever After Honeymoon Tours.
Well fuck.
/¤\ /¤\ /¤\ /¤\
Before Bill could follow Pine Tree from the safety of the shack, he felt a hard hand grab onto his shoulder.
"Not so fast, Cipher," Fez spoke sternly in his ear, "I got something to say."
Bill turned slowly, eyebrow raised, "And what would that be, Fez ol' buddy ol' pal?"
Fez stepped closer, chest to chest, back straighter than Bill had seen since the first time he'd met the man a decade prior. His face was stern, chin high, and, despite their height difference, he made Bill feel smaller than he'd ever admit. But he was careful not to show it, keeping his own posture straight and hooded gaze piercing into the other's with amusement.
"Dipper's a smart kid," Fez began, "but sometimes his heart gets too damn big and he forgets that. Now, for some God forsaken reason, he seems to think there's some good in you, that something about you's changed." His eyes grew hard as he continued, "But you and I both know better, don't we? You haven't changed at all. You're still the twisted maniacal freak show you were before." He snarled, "I know you've got something up your sleeve, but whatever it is, you leave Dipper outta it, hear? Because believe you me, Cipher," he emphasized his tone by pushing a finger into Bill's chest, "you so much as think about hurting him, I'll send you back to that hell hole you crawled out of so fast your head will spin. And this time, I'll make sure there's no coming back. Ya hear what I'm sayin'?"
Bill let his lip curl to one side. Leaning closely, he purred, "Loud and clear, Stanley."
Fez kept his gaze sternly. "Good."
Bill looked over Fez's shoulder at Star watching frightfully from the register. He sent her a wink that made her frown deepen.
"Well," he began cheerily, "I better get goin before our charade is blown. Fez, Shooting Star," he said with a clap as he stepped back, "it's been real, it's been.. well, no, it hasn't been good, but it definitely hasn’t been real good. HA! Won't smell ya meatsacks later!"
With that he turned on his heel and left the Shack for what he hoped was the very last time.
Once on the lawn, Pine Tree intercepted him, hands on Bill's shoulders, panicked.
"We gotta abort this mission." He rushed out.
"What? Why?" Bill asked.
"This just isn't going to work."
"Well it's our only real option right now, kid, so unless you got a real good reason-"
"Mister and Mister Spruce!" A high pitched voice sang in their direction. Bill and Pine Tree both looked at the woman with waist high khaki shorts and bright blue tee tucked in that mirrored the same text on the side of the bus. Bill smiled. Honeymoon, huh?
"I'm sorry," the woman started, looking at her clipboard, "but we really are on a tight schedule."
"Of course," Bill said, bringing his hands to rest on Pine Tree's hips, "we'll be there in just a moment!"
The woman sighed, but turned away.
When Bill looked back at Pine Tree, he was met with dagger eyes.
"That's what this is about?" Bill snorted. He pulled him closer by the waist. "Stop being such a prude, and get with the program cuz," his fingers dug into his hips, "trust me when I say, pretending to be married will be a small price to pay to stay out of… the other demon's hands. Now," he leaned forward quickly to press a kiss to Pine Tree's cheek, "let's go, sweetums!"
Pine Tree stared at him, face taking on a beautiful shade of pink that made the demon smirk. He stepped back, and when Pine Tree's hands fell from his shoulder, he scooped one up and pulled the human along. He heard a loud groan at his back, which only made his smirk grow into a Cheshire grin. This was going to be fun.
/¤\ /¤\ /¤\ /¤\
For all intents and purposes, they could have ended up in much worse circumstances. For one, Annie could have them dangling over a pit of nightmares or worse. For another, even if their original plan had worked, they'd be stuck in Fez's too small beat up car that smelled like old socks and beef jerky. No, a relatively smooth ride in a roomy cushioned seat was by far the superior way to travel. Well, short of teleportation, but seeing as that was off the table for now, Bill would settle for the bus.
Pine Tree, on the other hand, much to Bill’s annoyance, couldn’t seem to stop squirming.
“Will you stop that?” Bill hissed.
Pine Tree frowned, “I don't like this."
Bill rolled his eyes, "So you've mentioned."
"I don't think we should have left Mabel and Stan alone. I mean, the," he paused, leaning close to whisper, "demon already got to Grunkle Ford, so who's to say-"
Bill placed a finger directly over Pine Tree's soft lips. "First of all, guess I might as well tell you, her name's Annie."
"Annie?" Pine Tree repeated without moving back from his finger, which made Bill smirk.
"Yep," he drawled, finger catching on the other's lower lip as he slowly began dragging it down, watching in fascination as Pine Tree's Adam's apple bobbed nervously. "Second of all…" Bill continued, curling his finger beneath the other's sharp chin as he leaned close enough that their noses brushed together, "you worry too much."
Then he pulled back, settling into the plush seat with a contented sigh. Beside him, Pine Tree let out an irritated huff.
"Annie's not interested in nobodys like them," he finished casually, ready for that to be the end of it. Then he caught sight of Pine Tree's frown in the reflection of the window, and for some unworldly reason, it made him feel like actually comforting the sorry bastard. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes trained on the window. "Even if she was, Fez and Star are annoyingly competent at taking care of themselves."
Reflection Pine Tree's mouth curved into a small grin, eyes catching Bill's before the demon could pretend he hadn't noticed.
"Thanks, Bill." He muttered, gently knocking his knee against Bill's.
Bill shrugged, hoping to cover up the fact that heat was rising to his cheeks and his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "Just stating the facts, kid, no need to get all mushy."
“Yeah, yeah.” Pine Tree shook his head. He paused for a moment, tricking Bill into thinking he’d finally found his way into silence before asking, “So, do all demons have such lame names?"
Bill rolled his eyes, turning his face back toward Pine Tree. “This coming from the guy who goes by ‘Dipper’'?”
“Hey, at least my name’s interesting.” Pine Tree shrugged. “Nobody ever asks why someone’s named ‘Bill’.”
^ ^ ^ ^
The drive lasted only a couple of hours before stopping for the evening at a small motel outside another small town. The rooms had been pre-booked, so there was some confusion at the front desk at the announcement of another couple, but they managed to get a room together for “the Spruces” free of charge because the guide was so certain the motel had made a mistake. This, of course, made Dipper feel a little guilty, but he also had virtually no money on him, so he sure as hell didn’t mention anything. Bill, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms about accepting the room without offering to pay for it, which didn’t surprise him in the least.
In the rush of things, they were only able to smuggle Dipper’s backpack and one of his duffle bags into the carriage of the bus. Better than nothing, but definitely not enough for however long they were going to be in Portland (if they could even get there from where they were). That knowledge made a rock sink in Dipper’s stomach as he watched the bus driver unload both bags. As of right now, they were way off book. They didn’t have all their supplies, any money, any backup, and still didn’t have a place to stay when they actually got where they’re going. Stan had offered to put them up in a seedy motel somewhere for awhile, but that wasn’t even an option anymore.
“Yeesh,” Bill started in a low voice as he walked up to him, “lose the frown, Pine Tree, we’re on our honeymoon, remember?”
Dipper sighed, shoulders slumping, “Right.”
“You could stand to sound happier about it.”
At that Dipper plastered on a grin and repeated with zest, “Right!”
Bill rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to respond when the tour guide approached them with room keys.
“Here ya go, Mr. Spruce,” she smiled, handing them off to Dipper, “room 117.”
“Thank you,” Dipper said sincerely. She nodded then turned away to keep delivering keys to couples.
“So,” Bill started, looking at their bags, “you wanna grab the big one and I’ll take the backpack?”
Can you even manage that? Dipper wanted to ask, but knew that would just worsen Bill’s mood, which had actually become somewhat tolerable since they officially left Gravity Falls. So he simply nodded and headed toward the duffle. His vision swam when he swung it over his good shoulder as his other cried out in protest, but he hid it behind a tight grimace. Bill took a little longer to go for the backpack, but eventually managed to pick it up by the top handle and carry it with its bottom only a handful of inches off the ground. His discomfort was a little more noticeable- his jaw was clenched tight as he pulled breaths through his nose at an even rate. They made it to their room, though, which was all that counted. Once inside, Bill immediately dropped the bag beside the door, and Dipper hardly made it to the bed before letting his slip off his shoulder.
“Fuck,” he groaned, gently rubbing at the patched wound hidden beneath his shirt as well as layers of bandages.
“Yeah, no kiddin’.” Bill huffed, falling into the chair beside the table. Dipper watched his eyes slip closed as he caught his breath, looking incredibly human as he did so. Dipper gulped and silently excused himself to the bathroom, wanting to give the demon a private moment of vulnerability.
When he came back out, Bill was lounging on the bed, thumbing through what looked like a worn copy of a romance novel.
“Where’d you get that?” Dipper asked.
“Found it in the drawer."
“And you’re reading it?”
Bill shrugged, “Couldn’t figure out the tv.”
Dipper furrowed his brow, marching to the tv stand to grab the remote. After a few clicks, the black screen came to life in the middle of a laugh track for Seinfeld. Dipper looked back at Bill with a raised eyebrow. “Remote seems fine.”
Bill frowned. “Never had to use one.”
Ah. Right. Bill had never had to know how to do mundane things like turning on a tv. All he ever has had to do is snap his fingers and whatever he wanted to watch would manifest on screen. Dipper didn’t answer, just turned and sat at the bottom of the bed. He went to the tv guide and started scrolling.
“What do you feel like watching?” He asked nonchalantly.
“Tango de Coraźon? " Bill suggested.
Dipper snorted, "Didn't realize you were into Spanish soaps."
"What can I say, it's a good show."
Dipper smiled to himself as settled back against the duffle bag and searched.
Somehow he was actually able to stumble upon a marathon, much to Bill's delight. Bill protested when Dipper went for the subtitles, so he just left it alone. That of course meant he could only pick up every 6th word or so (thank you high school Spanish), but Bill seemed to enjoy it, so Dipper just did his best to follow along.
After a couple episodes, Dipper found himself nodding off. The third time he caught himself, he craned his neck over his shoulder to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. The angry red numbers told him it was 10:25, which wasn’t terribly late, but considering that last night was spent passed out from power overload (thanks Bill), and the few nights prior he’d been sleeping on a cold lumpy couch in a damp cave, Dipper felt that he deserved to let himself succumb to rest. So, heaving a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and started rummaging through the duffle.
“What are you doing?” Bill asked.
“Getting ready for bed.” he replied, taking out a pair of sweats and a shirt.
“What, now?”
Dipper sighed, “Yes now, I’m fucking exhausted.”
He paused a moment, looking at the other before pulling out his spare set of sleepwear. He tossed it to Bill who caught them with a frown.
“What’s this for?”
Dipper shrugged, “In case you get tired.”
“I don’t get tired.” Bill said monotonously.
Dipper suppressed an eye roll. “Sure, because you’re completely healed and don’t need anymore time to rest.”
Bill glowered at him, but didn’t argue. So Dipper took his things into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. When he came back out, Bill was completely changed. When Dipper raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged.
“These are just more comfortable, Pine Tree, doesn’t mean anything.”
Dipper nodded, unconvinced. When he got to the bed, he slipped beneath the sheets, laying on his side as close to the edge as physically possible. “Feel free to keep watching your show, just press the red button on the remote when you want to turn it off.”
“Kid,” Bill started, “you sleep that close to the edge, you’re gonna fall.”
“‘M fine.” he yawned.
Bill scoffed, then his weight shifted on the bed. Dipper looked behind him to see that the demon had actually scooted over.
“C’mon, there’s plenty of room,” Bill said, eyes never wavering from the screen. “I won’t bite unless you ask.”
“Uh, okay then.” Dipper replied dumbly, heart picking up. Survival instinct wanted to stay close to the edge, but the desperately tired part of him wanted some comfort after everything. So he forced himself to take up a little more space on the small mattress while still keeping his back toward the demon. There was at least half a foot between them, which exhausted Dipper could live with as sleep finally pulled him under.
^ ^ ^ ^
As Dipper’s consciousness swam back to the surface hours later, he became acutely aware of three things: 1) he was ridiculously warm, 2) his pillow was a lot harder than he remembered, and 3) it was breathing. That last one is what snapped his eyes open. Dipper blinked to adjust to the shadows- slivers of moonlight cutting through cracks in the curtains. Sensations from the rest of his body followed suit, making heat rise through his neck and cheeks. He had one leg tangled with Bill's as he curled cozily into the other's side, head resting comfortably on Bill's right pec.
The demon's breath was even, and when Dipper dared move to look, his face was tilted toward Dipper- eyes closed, long lashes fanned across his cheeks. Dipper's mouth went dry at the sight and he found himself fighting the impulse to reach out. He gulped, carefully sitting up to extract himself from the temptation. Bill grumbled when Dipper moved away, protesting the loss of heat. He tossed his head to the other side, exposing his long neck to Dipper who's heart skipped a beat as an image of his lips working up Bill's flesh crossed through his mind.
As soon as the image passed, he quickly scrambled away. What the fuck is wrong with you, Dipper Pines? asked himself in a panic. It's Bill for fucksake. You can't be having thoughts like that about him!
He shook his head as though that would cleanse him from anymore thoughts. Which did work for a moment. Until, of course, Bill groaned once more, tilting his head into a sliver of moonlight. The beam illuminated half of his face, painting him in ethereal light that caught on his sharp features and two toned hair. His lips were parted ever so slightly, soft and plush and inviting.
A warmth erupted through Dipper's core at the sight, overwhelming him with the need to feel them to taste . So before he could rationalize the situation, he found himself leaning over Bill, arms caging the other in on either side of his head as he slowly leaned down. His eyes fluttered closed when their noses brushed, and then his lips were pressed, featherlight, against Bill's. He pulled back, chest tight as he watched for Bill to open his eyes. When he didn't, Dipper let out a sigh of relief. He was still leaning over the other, logical mind slowly catching up but not before he gently swiped a lock of hair from Bill's brow. He was about to run his thumb along the sharp jaw when it finally hit him.
He froze, blood turning to ice as he looked down in shock and horror at Bill's sleeping form.
What. The. Fuck.
Dipper jolted back, heart hammering loudly in his ears.
What. The. Fuck.
He- he didn’t mean to do that. Why did he do that!? It was just- Bill looked so- and he couldn’t help but- shit, something was definitely wrong with him.
He quickly slipped from the bed, grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the ground before following suit. There were no extra blankets, but he'd make do with just the sweatshirt he grabbed from his bag. He couldn't go back up there. Clearly couldn't trust himself to deal with whatever the fuck was going on with him. So he curled tightly in on himself, staring at the blank wall ahead until sleep eventually dragged him from consciousness once more.