#of course this is gourmet we dont sell fuckin mcdonalds in this joint

[thatonegayship]

The little "NOoooo" I made when I reached the bottom. As fucking always, so good. I was not expecting this to lead into eventual smut, but don't catch me complaining! This is right up my alley.

I swear to God, there's always a little patch in my day where I just think about your fic, and your little one shots, and all the delicious WIPs you're keeping from us😔 I'm patient, work your magic.

For one, it is so so cute seeing Dipper and Bill all friendly with one another. It's funny- before getting into your stuff, I found pre-established relationships to be "meh" at best, but this just keeps proving me wrong time and time again. I love seeing them as intimate husband's, just the best part of each other's day, despite annoying the hell out of one another.

I love when Dipper notices the little things Bill does to show his affection, like tell him dream stuff. They were gonna go to the time thingy in the south 🥺 Dipper doesn't mind Bill going through his notes or hiding them, he thinks it's playful and charming, which is so damn endearing!

And Bill choosing not to kill the fed guy because Dipper didn't want him to 😳😳😳 wowowowowow

I was so shook when it was revealed that the federal agent was trying to charm Dipper; I really did think he was just allergic to bullshit ToT

I was just like "OH MY GOD WAIT WAIT I SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING WAIT WAIT " Damn, Dipper more resilient than previously assumed. His body had a physical rejection of the charm? Like allergies? So cool! Was the fed agent just bad at making charms, or does his charm power specifically not work on Dipper? Cause like, that's two strikes with the whole "Dipper's immune to someone else's bullshit" one more strike and we're gonna need a talk :^)

But like, can I just say? Scumbag? Who tf uses magic to try and attract the person they're into? Fr, guy thought Dipper was "under the influence" so to speak and tried swooping in for a whole damn kiss.

Um😀

Jail?

👮👮‍♀️👮‍♂️🚓🚔🚨

Dipper calling Bill his husband out loud👉👈 just gimme a minute, I need to process. Soooooo adorable. Just a sweet lil title and ugh! Bill literally lifting him off the ground with that whole "mine" thing going on. How do I live with this hilariously cute image in my head??? I want them to be so domestic and comfortable and warm with each other, just dhfjjebxjfurnsjsid gimme all of it. I can take it.

Did Bill seriously pick this boy up bridal style??? Pop quiz, since I'm always left to wonder what beautiful thing you've left my monkey brain to decide, did Bill drag Dipper around like a:

A. Ragdoll

B. Pet

C. Sack of potatoes

D. Other

THROW HIM OVER YOUR SHOULDER NEXT TIME! TWINKS LOVE THAT 👍

Or, should I say "cute young guys" 😎

Or should I say "Dipper," since the name apparently makes him shiver 👀

Can we just acknowledge that Bill equates someone rubbing their grubby magic all over his husband's brain to like, pinching his ass at a bar? Peeping toms are not allowed in this brain, which is specifically for Bill, obviously. Look at all the signs! Now he's gotta defend that honor and rip the guy a new one, the work never ends😔

Idk what's supposed to happen next, if anything's expected to follow that whole interaction with agent J.

Smut, of course. That's crucial to the plot. But, damn. Bill just assaulted a federal agent. A cowardly, slimy one, who tried to pull a whole magic-roofie spell on Dipper, who- thank God- was painfully immune to it. I'd love to see if there are any repercussions to that, but it's like- how many things are you even working on right now? I was thinking about it today. It blows my mind when someone is just constantly pumping out content, and pumping it out at such an impressive pace with such consistent quality. That quality being 10/10✨ so good. Whatever you make next, I know it'll be fantastic!!;

Federal Agent Flirtagent part three!

Parts One and Two are here.

---------------------------------------

“Just so y'know? This is one of the main recurring nightmares.”

Bill is lying on his back on the counter, one foot braced on its surface. He kicks his other leg idly, with his head draped over the edge nearest Dipper, upside-down.

Dipper glances down at what is possibly Bill’s least flattering angle. “What is?”

Bill winks, and grins.

“Look. The common nightmares include 'forgot you signed up for that class and now there’s an exam', the one where all your teeth fall out, the being naked where you shouldn’t be -” Bill lists a few more, counting them off on his fingers. “And the ‘back at your terrible job’ one.” He sticks out his tongue in disgust. “This gig you’ve got going fits the last type.”

Dipper scoots a little closer. “Really.”

He’ll admit it. That’s interesting. Bill knows everything there is to know about dreams. Volunteering information about them is rare.

Bill perks up, now that he’s caught Dipper’s attention again. “So why are you deliberately living a nightmare?” He pats Dipper’s thigh from his ridiculous position. ���C’mon, sapling. Ruining your life is my job.”

Dipper rolls his eyes, and knocks Bill’s hand off his leg. “Stan needs the help.”

“Does he really?” Bill squints up at Dipper, slightly raising his head. “You and I both know this isn’t legit.”

Okay. So it isn’t.

And nobody’s here right now, either. Bill chased every prospective customer off, with more than his usual unnerving tendencies.

“Don’t spend what limited minutes you have in your fragile life doing this.” Bill sits up, and gestures broadly over the area. Grinning wide now. “Not when there’s a whole spectrum of weird we could mess with instead.”

Dipper shifts on his seat.

Bill. Has a point.

This is boring, and it is kind of pointless, while also being absolutely not legit.

Bill, so far, has stuck around for all of it.

Which is weird.

Normally Bill would wander off to go check out the anomalies around Gravity Falls, without Dipper. And when Bill’s not in the mood for reality, he opts to go back to his realm, rather than sticking around for what’s - quite accurately - mind-numbing.

Bill is bored senseless by what Dipper’s currently doing. On multiple levels. Of course he’s egging Dipper on to leave, and be a delinquent. It’s a natural thing for him to encourage, and he does have a point.

But he’s not leaving Dipper by himself.

The last couple days, Bill has been stuck by Dipper’s side. Not in the metaphorical way, from their bond - but in a real way. It’s like he’s glued to Dipper’s hip.

Even though it’s barely been a month since Bill kind of admitted he enjoys a bit of cuddling, Bill’s not only sticking close - he’s being close. In a way that means Dipper gets multiple touches per hour.

Two days ago, Bill came back from a business trip.

Sometime during that he’s gone ahead and taken a full, head-on leap into touchy.

Dipper might have chalked it up to Bill exploring his nonsexual liberation, and enjoying the platonic pleasures of the flesh. Bill’s always loved new ideas, and sensations. It'd be par for the course.

If Bill wasn’t being so demonstrative.

Any time someone walks into the Mystery Shack - no matter the gender, or age - There’s Bill, suddenly leaning on Dipper’s shoulder. Or planting a hand in his hair, ruffling it. A palm, not-quite gripping his waist. Each and every time, Bill watches the human closely. Focused on something other than Dipper.

So unfortunately, Bill’s not doing this for personal reasons.

He’s doing it for show.

Dipper’s not bothered by the demonstrations, or the closeness. If Bill wants to pull this absurd plan, let him. Even when Bill runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up more than usual - It’s easy enough to play along. Dipper just rolls his eyes, and lets Bill get away with it.

But he’s wary.

Any sudden change in Bill’s behavior is worrying. The obvious show, even more so.

Bill, tolerating boredom. Showing more patience than usual, and sticking around in reality -

Something is going on here.

Dipper just can’t tell what it is yet.

“Go ahead and close up for the day.” Bill rolls over onto his stomach, grinning wider. He rests his chin in his hands, elbows on the counter. “Stan’s out, and I’m not gonna snitch. Who’s gonna notice?”

Bill Cipher. This.... eternally tempting, persuasive asshole. Convincing Dipper, in ways he knows will work.

Dipper could get away with this. Even if he didn’t have a clever, demonic jerk persuading him, Stan doesn’t mind a little delinquency. He’s done some stuff himself.

Dipper drums his fingers against the counter, humming to himself.

Bill's not the only one who's been bored. Or thought about abandoning this cashier post, which admittedly sucks.

There’s a thought in Dipper's head. About how they could spend their time.

But.

Bill charged off to confront Stan, instead of continuing the makeout session. Pissed off that one of his plans was foiled. And while Bill’s lounged around the last couple days in reality, he still hasn’t started anything.

If Bill wanted to, then he would have. Right?

Unless whatever scheme he’s protecting is better than -

Dipper shrugs his idle thought off, sighing No point in overthinking it. Time to move on.

“Well…” Dipper trails off, noncommittal. Though he does scoot closer.

Bill’s eye brightens, sitting upright on the counter. “Well?”

Dipper starts smiling. Leaning his elbow on the counter, and flicking Bill on the side. “I did want to check out that time-thing going on to the south.”

“See?” Bill slides off the counter and stands, arms spread wide. “Doesn’t that sound way better than trying to shill sasquatch suits to,” He waves over the shop. “Nobody?”

God. Yeah, it absolutely does.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Dipper hops off the stool, feeling bright, and eager. Today is looking way better than it was going to be, and for once, there’s zero downsides.

As Bill hops off the counter, starting to grin - Dipper asks, very casually. “Have you seen my notebook?”

“Oh, that?” Bill responds, just as casually. His grin doesn’t change by an fraction. He wags a finger at Dipper. “You gotta stop losing that thing.”

‘Losing’. Right.

Every time Dipper’s notes disappear, they turn up later. With commentary, written in all capital letters.

“You’re better at finding it.” Dipper heads to the door, flipping Bill off. With his back turned, he doesn’t need to hide his smile. “I’m sure you can manage.”

“You’re a mess, sapling.” says Bill, almost fondly. There’s a soft tut, then. “Alright, I can humor you! Only this one time.”

For the twentieth ‘only’ time, Bill stalks off. Back straight, looking self-important, and proud.

Dipper watches him go, leaning on the door to the Shack.

The lie is obvious, entirely transparent. Dipper could call him on it, but then... what would be the point? It's just another game.

Bill Cipher's invaded every aspect of Dipper’s life, right down to his notes - and he doesn’t even mind.

Marriage is weird.

Dipper sighs, leaning against the door.

He listens to Bill trying to be quiet about where he hid the notes. And thinks about how Bill's stupid, and arrogant, and - actually, if he can catch Bill stealing his notes, then that'll be something he can use later. Like -

As the door opens up behind him, in a sudden, disorienting swing -

Dipper’s thoughts turn from Bill to 'oh shit'. He swears, unbalanced - he nearly falls.

But his elbow gets caught in a firm grip. Dipper kicks against the porch, finding his feet. The fall sent his heart pounding, he grabs at his shirt.

“Are you alright?”

“What?” Dipper gets his balance. Shaking his head, he tugs his arm against that grip.

Bill's not here, he's in the Shack. If it's not him, then.

Dipper glances over.

Where Suit-guy’s holding onto his arm. Head tilted to the side, and looking faintly surprised.

“Hey, uh. Thanks.” Dipper stands and shakes his elbow free, rubbing at it.

Okay. This is awkward.

Suit-guy smiles, and lets go. "It was my pleasure." His head tilts. "I'm glad I caught you."

Dipper rolls his shoulders. "Uh." The timing is off, though he doesn't know it. He charges forward anyway. “Actually, the Shack’s closing up for the day. So-”

“That’s alright,” Suit-guy shakes his head slightly, offering a smile. “I’m not here for the shopping.”

Not that he ever was.

This guy’s a federal agent. After something illegal, definitely trying to implicate Stan in something, and the last twelve times he’s come by, he hasn’t even bought a keychain.

Dipper still isn’t a snitch. So he shrugs, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “So?”

“It’s about my investigation, actually.” Suit-guy admits, with a slight smile. “The information you had about magical anomalies was.” He huffs out a laugh. “More accurate than I believed.”

Dipper starts frowning.

There's no way he went and actually looked into things. Nonmagical, kind of dumb - that'd be an easy way to get injured. If not killed.

But when Dipper looks him over - Suit-guys’ suit is barely damaged. Actually, he’s unharmed.

Hell, doesn't look like he even has gnome bites. Even Dipper has trouble getting away from those guys once they’re riled.

What the hell.

Half the things he told this guy had some reasonably dangerous creatures around, and he shows up looking fine?

Did he even look into them?

“Oh.” Dipper says, flatly. “Really.” Is this some kind of setup?

“Accurate to a tee,” Suit-guy insists. Meeting Dipper’s eyes now. “Impeccably so.”

Dipper almost flinches back - but blue eyes are normal for humans. Bill’s weird eye is a thing unto itself. He shrugs instead.

“You seem like you made it out well, then. I mean,” He gestures over the unbroken bones, and the distinct lack of bruises. Shrugs, offering an awkward smile. “I’m glad you’re okay?”

“Ahem." Suit-guy clears his throat, straightening his back. "Well. I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.” He taps the side of his head, and adjusts his tie proudly - then his face turns serious. “All lawfully applied, of course.”

Right. Because that’s not suspicious at all.

Dipper folds his arms. “Sure.”

Turns out this guy is magical. He's semi-admitted it.

And there’s no way he would have handled a Gravity Falls anomaly unscathed, if he didn’t have something. The area’s notorious, and for a lot of good reasons.

Whatever magic this guy has... it's not element manipulation, or energy projection. Nothing visible, at least. The major talents shine out from a person - but the the subtler ones are hard to detect.

Dipper should know. He’s got a couple himself.

“That’s part of why I wanted to talk to you,” Suit-guy continues, stepping forward. “After my overview of the local anomalies. Accurate as you were.." He gives a rueful smile. "I can’t say I’ve found anything relevant to my investigation.”

“What. Not anything?” Dipper gives that the confused look it deserves.

That’s a little weird. There's a wide variety of stuff around - though he guesses none of it involves scams. Or Stan. Or Bill, either, no matter what scheme they’ve got going. Dipper’s not sure why -

“Truth should be told,” Suit-guy admits, even as Dipper’s thoughts run onward. “This is the least successful assignment I’ve been on.”

“Oh, wow.” Dipper nods along with his words. Keeping his face serious. “What a shame.”

This doesn’t make sense. Searching for magical stuff doesn’t track with what Stan would be doing - and while Bill might try something, on this plane he's too limited to pull most of it off.

But it must be connected. Dipper saw them muttering about something, so the two of them have some point in common. After all, they both wanted to stop this agent from accomplishing... a thing.

“But you.” Suit-guy takes Dipper’s hand in his own, gripping it carefully. Dipper starts, thoughts interrupted. “Your information was accurate. Astoundingly accurate.” Suit-guy smiles, his normal teeth a dentist-perfect white. “Of all the sources I’ve gone to, you’re the most knowledgeable by far.”

“Oh, well.” Dipper looks away, face warm. Maybe rubbing at the back of his neck. He does know a ton about the area. “I’ve. Picked up a thing or two. About. Stuff.”

“More than you know." Suit-guy's voice is warm. His thumb rubs the back of Dipper's hand. "So I thought” He says, and taps his temple again. “If I’m going to find what I’m looking for - I should go to the best person around.”

‘Best’ is an exaggeration, really. But.

Dipper looks down. Still rubbing his neck. He is smart, and he is kind of a local expert. Something he did just by himself. And he's proud of it.

It's a little awkward to hear it from someone else, he's really only thought it in his own head - but it's true.

He sniffs.

And the breeze must have changed directions, because - ugh, that cologne again. It’s way too strong.

Dipper makes a face. Coughs, briefly, into his hand. “What?”

“Tell me all about Gravity Falls,” Suit-guy says, with a bright, and almost convincing smile. He taps his chest. “Trust me. I can keep any details in confidence.”

Dipper shuffles in place. His sinuses tickle, and his head is starting to ache. “Uh. Okay?”

Suit-guy perks up, squeezing Dipper’s hand in his own. Even lays another, on top of it. Dipper glances down -

“When was the last demonic incursion?” Suit-guy asks. Light, yet eager.

Oh. Great.

Demonic incursion. That thing.

Dipper clears his throat again. Then again. He stares down at Suit-guy's hand on his own, and pretends he’s staring at the porch.

Demons only happen when there’s a horrible breach in reality, or a summoning. One of those is incredibly rare, and the other is incredibly illegal.

Not that most people do the latter. It doesn't happen often; you’d have to be out of your mind to try it. Most of those don't last long enough to get the government interested. What with the huge risk of death, and all.

But if. Say. An entire town was cursed at one point. And lasted for like, a week.

That might end up getting some attention.

Dipper looks up.

Suit-guy is looking at him. Intense, and apparently he's magical. But not magical in a way that Dipper knows, and hell, he's not going to take a non-answer, because he’s not Ford, he’s after real answers.

And he's almost certainly not investigating Stan.

With growing nervousness, Dipper swallows. He searches for words, and fails. He struggles for something to say, but his head is fuzzy, and clouded, and wow is there too much cologne in the air -

“Mr. Pines?” Suit-guy asks. His expression has changed. The smile fades by a fraction.

Dipper breathes in to speak. Even though his heart is pounding.

And sneezes.

Then again.

And a third time, into his hand. Hell, there’s a fourth. Dipper pulls away from Suit-guy’s grasp, covering his face.

Damn it, the smell’s too strong. Every time he breathes in, it tickles.

Suit-guy blinks at him, but Dipper can’t do anything but wave, and then - ugh, he needs a handkerchief. He wipes a hand on his shirt instead.

“Sorry.” Dipper says, once he gets a moment. His sinuses feel awful “I think -” Another sneeze - And great, he’s starting to get a headache.

He's also being stared at.

“I think it’s, uh.” Dipper sniffs, and hesitates. “Allergies?”

“Oh!” Suit-guy fumbles in his pocket for a moment, then offers a handkerchief, looking awkward. “Here.”

Dipper nods thanks, yanking it out of his hand. He can't stop sneezing, but at least there's less of a mess, now.

This sucks.

Dipper’s never had allergies before, but he thinks this is what they’re like. It can't be pollen, it's not the season. It's not a pet, and Dipper's not allergic to those - Strong scents. Right. He's heard that's a thing -

Crap. It's the cologne.

Dipper blows his nose, and tries to think.

Okay.

Federal agent, in front of him. Investigating demonic energies.

There’s an easy way out of it. There’s some lie that Dipper can provide. He’s been around Bill Cipher for hell’s sake, he can come up with something. Though it’s harder than usual. His head hurts, and it feels kind of foggy.

Somehow, he powers through anyway.

“Yeah, there’s been a few demons who’ve popped through.” Dipper says, and sniffs. Suit-guy’s expression brightens, and Dipper continues - “But my uncle’s taken care of all of them.”

A beat of hesitation. “...Really.”

“Um, yeah? Stanford Pines? My great uncle?” Dipper sneezes again. Even though it’s starting to hurt, he can’t stop. He shakes his head, and gestures around the yard. “It’s kind of his thing. And,” He adds, just as Suit-guy starts looking like he’ll ask another question. “He was just here two weeks ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Dipper spreads his arms, handkerchief dangling from his hand. “You really think he’d let a demon hang around?”

Suit-guy looks… confused. Somewhat disappointed. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, faintly frowning.

“I saw him take care of one once,” Dipper adds, helpfully. He grimaces at the memory - true as it is, it sucks. “There was blood everywhere on the lawn.” He hates recalling it, but it should convince this guy - "Like popping a balloon."

It takes a beat.

Then, much like a balloon, Suit-guy starts deflating. The hopefulness drops from his face, settling into tired.

Dipper feels himself relax. His arms drop.

It’s not his best coverup, sure. But none of that was technically a lie.

Ford was here two weeks ago, and he has handled every demon he’s ever run into in Gravity Falls. It was pretty gory, that one time he ‘took care’ of a demon.

And if a certain demon keeps hanging around, it’s not for lack of Ford trying.

Suit-guy seems disappointed, at least. That’s one win.

Even better, the wind has shifted. Dipper can’t smell the cologne anymore. The headache is sticking around, but he doesn't need to sneeze.

“Thank you for the information. I’ll add it to the report..” Suit-guy takes his phone out jotting something down. There's a beat, and he hesitates. “I. Did have another reason to visit, though.”

“Hm?” Dipper glances over - then up, as Suit-guy comes in close.

“You.”

Dipper stares.

Wait, he thought they went over this already. This guy’s already mined all the info he could, and that wasn’t useful. “What?”

Suit-guy sighs, almost fondly. He slowly, smilingly, shakes his head. “You.” Reaching towards Dipper’s face. A finger nudges under Dipper’s chin, tilting his face up.

It's oddly close. It's weirdly intimate.

Dipper flinches back, shifting in place. “Uh.” He steps towards the door, suddenly uneasy. “I don't think-”

And the door slams open.

“Dipper!”

Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin. Suit-guy’s hand jerks back, with a start.

It’s just Bill, though. Grinning in the doorway, and loud as always.

Dipper relaxes, though he feels a shiver run through him. He’s never gotten used to Bill saying his name, much less shouting it.

Bill sweeps onto the porch, wrapping his arm over Dipper’s shoulders. Raising an eyebrow at Suit-guy, who’s backed off half a step.

“Found your book, sapling. It's back inside." Bill slaps Dipper’s chest. "But I can’t believe you let it get out of your sight!” Bill grips Dipper's waist loosely, fingers trailing circles on his stomach. “You gotta be less careless with your stuff.”

“I’m not careless.” It only disappears out of malicious - or graffiti-ous - intent. Dipper nudges Bill’s wrist, but it doesn’t deter him. If anything, he traces wider circles on Dipper’s stomach. Bill's other hand joins in, trailing over his hip.

“Oblivious, then.” Bill tuts softly, shaking his head. “You never notice the important details.”

Dipper makes a face. But he's used to this. If anything, it's part of a puzzle.

This is Bill, double-talking again. Adding extra meaning to something that should be straightforward. This time, he's on about…

…What’s he on about? Normally Dipper has a hint, but this doesn’t seem connected to the anomaly they were going to check out, or about the nightmare thing Bill was rambling on about earlier.

“Now I’ve noticed I’ve been away too long!” Bill shakes his head, pressing a kiss on Dipper’s forehead. He slides his hands over Dipper’s sides, nudging his shirt up. “A mistake, I admit.”

What?

Dipper’s too stunned to say anything. He blinks instead, even as Bill's touch trails up his chest.

Bill adds another kiss on his temple, with a hint of a smile behind it, and Dipper turns his head away. The motion gives Bill space to move onto Dipper’s neck, and his mouth is warm -

Dipper shuts his eyes, sucking in a breath. “Not now.” He hisses, shoving Bill off. There’s someone else here, and -

Bill pushes his shirt up most of the way, hands roving. Dipper tugs it back down with a grimace. Rubbing at his neck, where there’s almost certainly a hickey forming.

“Excuse me,” Suit-guy starts. He adjusts his tie, looking as legal and starched as if he was pulled out of a law brief. His face is entirely blank. “Who are you?”

Bill turns towards Suit-Guy. Tapping his fingers idly against Dipper’s stomach. He’s very still, and oddly silent.

When Dipper glances up at him, Bill’s entire demeanor is calm, and pleasant. That eternal, unnerving grin is nowhere to be seen.

Shit.

This isn’t good.

“Well, well, well, sapling.” Bill blinks at Dipper, feigning surprise. “Who’s this?”

“Uh.” Dipper fumbles, he drops the ball. Shit, he’s been told the name multiple times - but he can’t remember. It never seemed important.

“Then I guess introductions are in order!” says Bill, sounding cheerful again. He slips away from Dipper, striding around to offer his hand. “You are?”

Suit-guy takes a second, but he takes the offered hand for a shake. “Agent J-”

The agent is bodily yanked forward, as Bill pulls him in. Keeping him trapped in the continuing handshake.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Bill says, slowly. He takes a step forward, which in turn pushes Suit-guy back. Bill still hasn’t let go of his hand. The grin is starting to slide back onto his face. “That’s your whole thing, isn’t it?”

Suit-guy tries to pull away, and grimaces. “Sir, this has been interesting, but.” Another yank, to no effect. “I think you’re making a mist-”

“You try that crap on everyone?” Bill continues over him. The handshake has gone on long enough to surpass awkward. Now it fully explores the realms of uncomfortable. “Or just cute young guys who catch your eye?”

“I-" Suit-guy's eyes go wide. "It wasn’t for that.” His jaw is clenched, tight. Arm shaking, and not from the greeting. “During a legal investigation-” Bill’s hand squeezes tighter, and he groans, hunching over. “Jesus.”

The agent starts tugging at his wrist with his other hand. Then hauling at it, adding with his full body weight, trying to free himself.

“Who cares what it was for? This is about what’s mine.” Bill’s eye is glowing red now. As he stalks in, he rolls his free hand in the air, almost contemplative. “Like, say. Someone putting their hands all over ‘em. Or prying at a certain mind.”

Suit-guy’s face goes pale as something crunches under the demon’s grasp. He almost falls to his knees.

"With some voyeur," Bill bares his teeth in a vicious grin. Another crackle comes from his grip.“Taking upskirts of his parietal lobe.”

Dipper sucks in a breath through his teeth.

Right. There’s the problem.

Shit, Bill’s always been possessive, and this guy did touch Dipper, a little. Bill’s always hated someone putting their hands on ‘his stuff’.

And with the magic. Because there must have been magic, Suit-guy basically admitted that he was doing some - what kind was it, what was he trying.

Whatever it was, Dipper’s not sure it merits this.

Bill rolls the twitching hand in his grip, and the agent nearly falls, gasping. Not pulling away anymore; he doesn’t look like he dares.

Bill continues, unrelenting, driving him over the porch.

Suit-guy, to his credit, stays upright. Even though Bill’s hand squeezes tight, and sweat is starting to build on his forehead. “I-”

“So truth is your thing, I get it!” Bill twists Suit-guys’ wrist, taking the last two steps to slam his back up against one of the supports of the porch. "And the truth is... that you didn’t have backup for this mission. Did you?”

As Bill squeezes tighter, the agent kicks out, struggles, and gets zero reaction.

And for all that Bill’s eye is glowing with anger, he’s downright delighted now.

Fuck it. Nobody deserves this.

Dipper sterns his shoulders, storming forward.

“Someone didn’t expect you to come back from this. And hey, they might win the betting pool!” Bill’s voice turns low, and intimate. Close to that sweating, pale face as he starts grinning, wild and white. He taps Suit-guy’s chest. Then sets his forearm against his throat, and starts pressing. “Do you really think anyone’ll follow up?” A wink. “‘Cause I don’t.”

“Bill.” Dipper yanks at his husband’s elbow, hard. "Quit it."

“Little busy, sapling.” Bill keeps his eye on the agent’s face, arm braced. Staring at him, eye to eyes. “Gimme a minute.”

Damn it.

In an abstract way, Dipper knew that Bill could - even would - kill for him. Bill might even be thrilled to hear the request.

In some people’s fantasies, having someone so devoted to you that they would go that far, that they’d take that ultimate step - that might be romantic.

Right now.

As Dipper braces both feet on the porch, straining his back as he pulls at Bill’s chest, trying to his husband from committing outright fucking murder -

It’s not as cool as some people think it is.

He hears a gasp for breath from the victim, and tugs harder. Dipper's shoes are sliding over the wood as he tries to get enough leverage.

For Bill, killing somebody isn’t bold, or dramatic. It's not even romantic. it’s his day job.

Preventing him from committing atrocities is Dipper’s.

The choking sounds stutter, go silent. Dipper swears, and pulls harder, straining against what feels like an immovable force.

The long-suffering groan Bill lets out is almost as good as the sudden, startled gasp for breath.

Dipper doesn’t even have time to feel relieved before he’s dragged away, Bill’s arms wrapping around him. He squirms in place, legs kicking in the air. Feeling his back pressed up against a firm, demonic chest.

On the porch, Suit-guy is breathing again, in slow, pained rhythm. Watching them with bloodshot, stunned eyes, and holding his throat.

“So, uh. This is my husband, Bill.” Dipper says, awkwardly. He gestures behind himself. If he squirms enough, he manages to get his toes on the porch again. “He’s, um. A little possessive.”

Suit-guy had already slid himself halfway upright - but now his eyes widen. He finds his feet with surprising speed, choking out a sound.

Dipper can’t see behind himself, but Bill’s almost certainly glaring at his somewhat-victim. He’s always annoyed when he doesn’t get his way. Judging by the way Suit-guy backs up -

Yeah. Bill’s still pissed.

“And, uh,” Dipper hesitates. Grunts, as Bill’s arms squeeze him tighter. “Yeah. You should probably go.”

The agent makes an awkward, limping retreat. Dipper watches him go until Bill grumbles something under his breath - makes a rude gesture at the agent - and drags Dipper right back into the Mystery Shack.

Dipper doesn’t even get a chance to protest, which is weird. Bill usually leaves some space for that. Instead, he’s picked Dipper up, which is annoying at best. Then carried him around, and dragged him around like he’s some sort of -

Dipper doesn’t think the word. He hates it. Bill better not be thinking it, either.

As the door slams shut behind them, Bill finally lets him drop with a grunt.

Glaring over Dipper, eye still bright with rage - but oddly, not at him.

Possessiveness. Right.

Dipper sighs, and pats Bill’s chest. “Okay. You’ve made your point.”

Bill’s ominous, deadly, slightly opaque point. He doesn’t like other people touching ‘his stuff’ - but he’s never taken it this far.

Bill mutters something under his breath, storming forward. Pushing Dipper back, step by step, until he shoves him right up against the shop counter.

His eye trails over Dipper as he breathes in - then he sneezes, looking disgusted. “Ugh.”

Dipper braces himself on the edge of the counter, and frowns. Right. There was magic around - “What’s going on?”

Bill’s been possessive before. Been aggressive before. But casually homicidal or not, he’s normally had the decency to keep it out of sight.

“You got a lot of vultures circling your rotting carcass, sapling. And fine, I get it! It comes with the territory!” Bill starts brushing something invisible away from Dipper’s chest, and off his shoulders. He licks the pad of his thumb, and scrubs at Dipper’s cheek with a grimace. “You can’t expect me to ignore this.”

Dipper leans away. But he lets Bill wipe at his face, and fan something away from his body. His grip tightens on the counter. “Ignore what?”

“Charm.” Bill says the word like it's a synonym for ‘slime.’ His hands are roaming over Dipper, and his touch is comfortably warm. He starts tugging Dipper’s shirt up, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Ugh. He spread that junk all over you.”

Dipper lifts his arms without protest, letting Bill slide his shirt off, then wraps his arms over his exposed chest. If it helps get rid of any magic on him, then he’s not going to argue.

Bill casts the shirt aside, setting it on fire. He levels a glare at the ashes - then another at the doorway. His mouth moves like he’s wrestling with an unpleasant piece of gristle, and his fingers twitch.

Oh hell. Now that Dipper thinks of it.

Charms are mind magic.

Of course Bill would notice. Dipper wonders if ‘oozing’ charm is literally how his husband perceives it.

But before Bill can get too furious again - or murderous - Dipper reaches out. He lets his fingers trail over Bill's cheek. “Hey.” He offers a smile. "It didn't work.

Instantly Bill’s attention snaps back towards him. The smirk returns, and he takes Dipper’s hand in his own.

“Well, he shouldn't have tried it." Bill grimaces. "Any sane being trying to prod around in there shoulda seen the signposts.” He’s faintly frowning, stroking Dipper’s sides. Then perks up, as if he had a thought. “But hey! It’s been a couple weeks!"

Signposts? Dipper straightens up. “What?”

Bill leans in, and winks. "Exactly! They need some refreshing. Showing that you’re my mortal.” He slides his thigh in between Dipper’s legs, arms caging him against the counter. Eye narrowed, and still red. “All of you.”

Dipper grabs onto Bill’s shoulders. Not shoving him back yet - but holding him away, and glaring.

Damn it, Dipper is not property. Despite what Bill says.

He’s made that clear, over and over again. It’s both in the contract, and elsewhere. Bill has zero power over Dipper, no matter what he says. No matter what he tries.

The only way he can have any is if it’s handed over.

Dipper hesitates. He lets his hands slide onto Bill’s arms, running over them. Feeling the muscles relax under the touch. God, he really hopes it wipes away some of the charm.

Bill's staked his claim a long time ago - argued about or not - and he's defended it viciously, and Dipper...

Honestly. If he had to be someone's.

He looks up.

Bill’s eye is still red - but the pupil is slightly wide, blown out with excitement. He's also started smirking, eminently smug.

For all that he's a demon, and insane. Bill’s both comfortably warm, and comfortingly close. The heat of his skin is just one side of inhuman, and Dipper likes that.

Nobody else will ever manage to be where this demon is, right now. Not if Bill has anything to say about it.

And god, it’s been a while.

Between the couple of weeks of nothing, and Bill’s words. The fact that it’s Bill shoving him up against the counter, that these are Bill’s teeth on his shoulder.

Dipper shudders, grabbing at the edge of the counter. He’s been caught. He shuts his eyes, breathing faster.

“I can see what you want, sapling.” Bill’s voice is low, and it sounds like the smirk is turning into a grin. He rubs his thigh between Dipper’s legs, nipping at his neck again. “You want me.”

Dipper turns away, face hot. “You-”

Then Bill's thigh rolls against him, and Dipper feels his body respond so quickly it's almost sharp. He digs his nails into Bill's shoulders, rakes them down his back.

“Eager, huh?” Bill's voice lowers to a purr. His breath is hot on Dipper's neck. There's a thumb sliding under Dipper’s waistband. “And ready for me.”

Fuck Bill. This smug, arrogant, demanding -

Dipper shakes his head, with the back of his hand pressed against his mouth.

He’s not eager. If anything, he’s been neglected, and that’s on Bill.

“Maybe I should make it clear.” Bill's hand slides into Dipper’s hair, tugging his head back. His smile is dangerous on his face. “Exactly who you belong to.”

Dipper drops his hands. Gripping the counter in a tight, heart pounding. God, that's-

Hell. Dipper's only human.

“Okay.” Dipper licks his lips. Then, as Bill raises an eyebrow - he smiles, though it comes out awkward. “That’s- Yeah. That’s cool.”

Bill snorts. “Welp. You’re still a work in progress.” He rolls his eye, leaning in to plant a wet kiss Dipper’s cheek. “But hey, I taught you everything else! I don’t mind teaching you how to beg for it.”

“Fuck you,” Dipper says, slightly breathless. He licks his lips.

Bill kisses his mouth - pulls back to wink - then kisses him again. Deeper this time, and holding Dipper in place with his grip on his hair.

Dipper made a mistake, once. One that summoned this dangerous, insane monster. This possessive, murderous maniac.

Bill thinks he owns Dipper, acts like he owns Dipper, thinks of it like it’s a foregone conclusion - and he absolutely never, ever will be able to stand another guy touching Dipper, at all.

Right now, Bill's grinning. Eternally pleased and horribly smug. Dipper rolls his eyes, and pulls his idiot demon husband in close.

His only mistake today was not starting this sooner.