Tales of a Triangle and a Pine Tree (BillDip oneshots)

Story 26

Saturday finally came, and Dipper woke up with a headache. He hadn't done any homework all week, finding himself too exhausted to even try. Stan ignored his meek pleas of pain and schoolwork that he still had no motivation other than being less of an academic failure to do, and still plopped him down behind the cash register in the gift shop. At least Dipper would get to see Bill, the boyfriend he still didn't deserve to keep yet was selfishly glad to have. Bill's list of tasks didn't involve cleaning the portable toilet this time, thank Axolotl, but he did have to conquer dusting the Back Room That Shall Not Be Mentioned, which was full of Stan's less popular attractions and God knows what else. Bill, a dream demon with no fears, finally shut the room door behind him, visible blue eye wide with horror. His hoodie was coated in dust, and the substance clung to his blonde hair. He made his way over to Dipper, who was massaging his throbbing temples, and hugged him tightly from behind.
"That was the most terrifying experience of my life." Bill mumbled, shoving his face in the crook of Dipper's neck. "What the hell does Fez dream about??"
"Aren't you the one who gives him the dreams?" Dipper asked in return.
"Technically I can manipulate and change them. If I feel like it. But I've been too busy hanging around your dreams recently to bother with your family's." Dipper's cheeks reddened the slightest bit, and he began to comb clumps of dust from Bill's blonde hair. Bill looked up just enough to grin at Dipper and put a finger on his cheek. "Come on kid, you know you like them~." he said teasingly.
"So that wasn't just my mind then." Dipper replied, brushing more dust from Bill's hair.
"Nope. But if your Internet search history has any indicat–" Dipper quickly shut Bill up by pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
"We don't speak of that." he said lightly, causing Bill to start laughing.
"Whatever you say kid! For such a tiny little Pine Tree, you sure do have a wide range of... Knowledge." he replied, choosing his last word carefully. "Though I have to wait two more years until I can fu–"
"Bill!" Dipper quickly interrupted, clapping a hand over Bill's mouth. Though Bill's phrasing of the fact had been... Creative, to put it nicely, he wasn't wrong. Dipper decided that he wanted to wait until he was eighteen to have sex. With anyone, sexy dream demon or otherwise. Call him old fashioned, but that was what he was comfortable with. Thankfully, Bill hadn't laughed at him when he had made that decision like Dipper had expected him to, and only promised him a 'very special' eighteenth birthday gift. Bill's laughter was muffled by Dipper's hand, but the brunette could still hear his slightly-obnoxious-yet-charismatic laugh as the blonde went off to take a quick shower to get the dust out of his everything. Bill returned twenty or so minutes later, smelling freshly of vanilla. Dipper's breath caught as he stared at the demon. His freshly washed hair was a bright golden color, looking softer and silkier than usual. Bill's tan skin looked so flawless that Dipper wasn't sure the word perfection even touched on how beautiful the blonde looked at that moment. His blue eye sparkled, eyeliner accenting the deeper tones of cerulean and aqua, leaving Dipper lost in his boyfriend's enchanting gaze. Bill was clad in a yellow tank top and black pants that were just a bit too tight in *ahem* certain places, but Dipper didn't mind. Well, that much. As he drooled over his boyfriend, he happened to catch a glimpse in his peripheral vision of his own reflection in the window. Dark bags were stained under his eyes, and his shirt hung loosely off of his frame in an almost comical fashion. Dipper rested his arms on the counter, and just barely inched up the fabric of his hoodie sleeve. White scars, visible against his already pale skin leapt out at him. He winced, and shook the sleeve back over his fingertips. He ran a hand through messy, knotted brown curls, and kept his eyes resolutely fixated on a burn on the counter. The mental image of the scars kept reappearing in his thoughts, and decided to slip away for a moment. Locking himself in the bathroom, Dipper shed his hoodie. Steeling himself, he looked down at his arms. The first four inches or so of his wrists were covered in scars. Simple white lines, each with countless painful memories behind it. Anger, sadness, desperation, hurt– all of them from the first month after Mabel left as Dipper mourned behind closed doors.
Dipper felt sickened at the sight, and quickly pulled back on his hoodie. They had been a disgustingly impulsive decision on his part, and no one knew about these scars. But... They represented what he was. A shell of a human being, torn to shreds and ripped to pieces, before slowly being knit back together, only to be torn apart once more. He was just a self-deprecating, weak mess. How was Bill dating him? How did anyone even claim to love him? As Gideon and his friend's taunts rang in his ears, Dipper thought about his absolutely gorgeous boyfriend. How was someone as amazing as Bill even remotely attracted to him? ...Did Bill actually love him? Was that possible? Dipper growled at himself, before slapping himself across the face sharply enough to leave an angry red mark. He knew, deep down, what the answer to that question was. It simply wasn't possible. It was painfully obvious to him after all, that he wasn't worth loving.