Chapter Text
Originally, Bill hadn't paid the kid any mind when he first came into the room. The young rounded face was just another in a sea of faces, easily overlooked and forgettable. Nothing special about it to draw his attention. Bill didn't know who he was and didn't particularly care to find out. The only reason he even bothered to look in the kid's general direction was from the sudden movement to the side, and now because of the incredibly blatant stare Bill was receiving. Brassy, disrespectful. While everyone else had their faced turned down to the floor this kid had his chin held high. Bill decided this boy was either surprisingly brave or completely brain dead. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to figure out which of the two it was.
It was only meant to be an assessing glance to make sure there wasn't going to be any funny business. Then, for some reason, Bill did a subtle double take. There was something in those big doe eyes that struck him as odd. It wasn't the staring itself that was strange, but something familiar in their shape and colour. Something that made him pause and slowly look the kid over from head to toe.
Average height but thin, clearly not a threat. Warm brown eyes and a little sun-kissed colouring that turned the end of his button nose pink. Bill kept thinking of him as a 'kid' because there was this annoying feature about the young face that could just as easily been seventeen as he could have been twenty-two. A sweet little face that struggled to hide the side long looks of contempt for the people around him. An interesting trait for sure.
The cheap suit he was wearing didn't exactly fit him well, looking a fraction too big in the chest and awkward on his body, though he was missing half of it. The tie was barely hanging on to its knot and the jacket was balled at his feet. Everything else was wrinkled by the way he stood with his arms crossed, sleeves rolled up to the elbows to show off a large amount of generally pale skin. From the over disarray and the unbuttoned collar Bill could have easily made a joke that the kid had been there on 'professional business' before they'd been interrupted, but he looked too clean to be a hooker and not handsome enough to be the manager's lover.
Bill let himself glance back up to the kid's face and held that stare. There was the smallest tick to his eyebrow the came it crease into a frown. Right there. That little twitch was unsettling and all too familiar. For a brief moment Bill thought he was looking at someone else entirely. His memory ran laps trying to conjure up who's face he was trying to remember but he couldn't pin them down. The harder he tried to grasp onto the distance memory, the faster it slipped through his fingers like sand.
A nagging at the back of his brain refuse to let go. His next decision was a little ridiculous and impulsive. Bill smiled at himself, trying not to laugh. He ran his tongue over his teeth before taking a hand from his pocket to point a finger.
“You too, kid.”
Dipper's eyebrows touched his hairline. He couldn't possibly have heard that right. He had done nothing. Dipper froze with his back pressed to the wall, not moving an inch even if the man was waving him forward with a crooked finger. He couldn't be serious. Dipper didn't even work here.
Dipper looked around with a question expression, half expecting someone else to stand up and take his place. Because this was mental, surely this man, Bill, had meant someone else. No one moved. If anything people were shuffling away from him. Dipper looked between Bill and Mr. Northwest who was still by his side. When he did Northwest grabbed for him roughly. For a man use to sitting behind a desk Northwest could move fast when needed. His fingers curled tightly around Dipper's upper arm and he forced him up ahead like a shield between himself and the criminals. Dipper stuttered in protest. His heels dragged across the floor as he was rudely pushed forward.
Crossing the office took no more than a few wide steps. An already minuscule distance between himself and the threatening figure at the door shrank until Dipper was practically right up against the man's chest. The grip on his arm keeping him in place also didn't stop him from almost colliding into the fabric of a well tailored suit jacket. Dipper felt his throat tighten and choke him slowly as he swallowed from nerves. He genuinely never knew how claustrophobia felt until he was sandwiched between two men, one with the means and mind to kill him.
This was where their eye contact ended and the intense heat Dipper felt abruptly stopped. Dipper was short enough that Bill could look right over the top of his head without difficulty, and his attention was now entirely on Northwest. His inclusion was practically forgotten about immediately. They stood so close that Dipper could see each variation of blue that flecked through Bill's blue eye, and it wouldn't even spare him a second glance.
Abruptly Bill turned away and stepped back out into the hall, instructing them both to follow. Mr. Northwest let go of Dipper's arm long enough to slap him between the shoulder blades and jolt him forward. Dipper felt the slap knock the air out of his lungs. He stumbled a step forward from the force of the hit. He desperately tried to hold back a frown or a comment, something. Being pushed around like a doll was infuriating. The inappropriate blush on his face was turning to a shade of an angry burn. Dipper walked on, hands balled up at his sides. He bit his lower lip to keep himself quiet, all the while wondering how long it would be until Ford and the other officers came to rescue them. Soon, he thought as he kept his focus on Bill's back.
The three men fell into step with one another, walking along the hall at a fast pace. The other armed robbers watched them pass, at the ready to step in in case someone got any bright ideas about trying to run, or fight back. Dipper didn't see a chance of either choice ending well, not with Mr. Northwest at his back and a gangster at his front. The thought did occur to him, buzzing through his head like an annoying insect. All he'd have to do would be to reach out and he could touch the expensive fabric again, that and the tall back underneath. Dipper's fingers clenched tightly at his sides, refusing to budge. The men on either side of them would shoot him dead before Dipper could lay a finger on their boss. There wasn't much he could do at all besides follow along like a poorly trained dog.
Their quick pace put them in the lobby in seconds. The echoing of their shoes the only noise. Dipper had kept his head down until now, or tried. The curiosity of the situation made him lift his chin and look to see where they were going. They made a straight shot for the tellers and the hallways tucked in behind their tall private counter. As they passed they stepped over the bodies of the men shot down next to the counter. The blood had oozed across the floor, now looking thick and dark, shining in the overhead light. Dipper sucked back a breath and covered his mouth to silence a disturbed croaking whine.
He averted his eyes and kept his head down until they moved passed. His forehead was almost pressed into Bill's back for protection. The soft wool of the suit brushed his hair and the smell of woody cologne made his tense muscles relax a little.
He kept the bodies out of sight and tried not to think about them, grateful for when they headed down a back hallway. Soon they stood just outside the locked room reserved for private safes and lock boxes. This was not the main vault as Dipper would have expected of a dramatic bank robbery. The door was unassuming but sturdy. It wouldn't be easily broken down by force. Which explained the need for the manager. Only now did Dipper dare to look back over his shoulder.
One of the armed thugs pushed Mr. Northwest forward, straight into Dipper who was now more of a road block in such a narrow hallway. He tried to move aside but was prevented from getting far. Long fingers curled around the back of his neck and held him still, right up into the warm space at Bill's side. Dipper stopped breathing at the touch. Rough fingertips pressed down into the muscle in such a way to make his freeze.
Bill held out his free hand, politely smiling.
“Your master keys, sir. If you please.”
“Absolutely not. I don't care who you think you are but you will not order me around in my own bank-”
All Bill had to do was snap his fingers and one of his men had a pistol at the ready. The muzzle pressed into the back of Northwest's head. The man spattered and flustered over his broken words, reaching into the folds of his jacket immediately. The self righteous posturing broken down into fearful whimpering.
A small key ring was produced, the keys jingling incessantly as his hand shook. Mr. Northwest cleared his throat and tried to hold himself together. He cast a side long look at Dipper who had gone horribly pale.
“You will contest that I did this purely against my will. I will not be accused of being an accomplice to this madness.” Mr. Northwest was all too happy to hand over his set of keys and be released from gun point. He fixed Dipper with a stern glare. “You will tell your uncle. Won't you, Mr. Pines?”
Bill's fingers closed around the keys so tight they cut into his palm. He must have misheard the name but the kid was quickly nodding in agreement of what was being asked of him. Now Bill saw it. One good long look this close up and Bill could finally see what had pegged the boy as familiar. It wasn't painfully obvious which was why Bill had taken so long to connect the dots, but the resemblance was still there. A memory of a grainy photo, one pulled from the depths of his memory, was the same kid beside him. The boy was definitely older now, grown up. When Bill knew of him, the two Pines kids were barely thirteen, this boy and a sister. Back in those days Bill could still stand to be in the same room as Ford Pines.
Not now. Not after all this time. The animosity had been held onto for so long that there was no chance of reconciliation. They were too different people. Ford was the type who lived by a strict moral code of conduct that was suffocation tight. Where as people like Bill just wanted to watch the world burn.
The kid's eyebrows pulled together, the colour draining out of his face. At the mention of his uncle his eyes had gone a little wide and fearful. There was a little twitch at the corner of his mouth that almost turned into a snarling frown. Bill could have busted out into laughter. Apparent the kid was more afraid of his uncle than anyone else. He certainly hadn't been trembling up until now. And wasn't that just a little hilarious.
He didn't envy the kid for having to put up with his uncle. And thank God the family resemblance wasn't so heavily swamped by that side of the gene pool. If Bill stared at him long enough he might be able to find the similarities in there brow shape and slightly wide nose, but the kid was much better looking than his uncle. Actually, up close, the kid had some charming little features that had gone previously ignored. A smattering of freckles and a pouting lower lip that looked dry and cracked from being bitten and chewed on.
Bill felt a smile taking over his face. This was indeed a bizarre coincidence. Lady luck was surely blessing him today because this opened a whole new opportunity that he was not going to pass up. Not when he held a surprise ace literally in the palm of his hand. Bill gladly tossed the keys to one of his men.
“Unlock it,” he ordered. “You know which ones to take.”
The men went right to work, unlocking the door and disappearing into the private room. Bill glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the wall to wall rows of safety deposit boxes, their metal doors shining in the overhead lights. There was a reason he went with this bank over all the others. It was the oldest, built and maintained in its historic splendour, including its shoddy security and singular master locks. Newer lock boxes weren't so easily broken into. Bill turned back when he heard the manager snark out a comment and verbally express his displeasure.
“You brutes. I'll see to it that you're all put behind bars for good this time.”
Bill snorted on a laugh and tipped his head to the side. He didn't even look away from Mr. Northwest when he breathed out an order for him to be taken back to the offices and locked up with the others.
“When that's done, get back here. We got minutes to split. Got me?” It wasn't a question, but an order.
The last remaining gunman grabbed hold of Mr. Northwest's coat, roughly dragging him back up the hallway in the direction they came. With the extra men gone, and the others distracted just inside the next room, Bill was now alone with the Pines kid. He turned to look at him. For the life of him he couldn't remember the brat's name. Ford had spoken so highly of his nephew, doting on him like he was fragile. And Bill could definitely see the reason for it as he gently nudged the kid up against the wall, those big brown eyes wide and scared. He looked positively naive and innocent, exactly the type you wouldn't want exposed to bad people. The kid might end up tainted by independent thought. God forbid.
When Bill let his hand slip away, the kid immediately pressed himself flat against the wall. He looked like a cornered animal, scared and wild with adrenaline that suggested he might try and bolt if given the chance. Bill moved in closer to make sure the space between them stayed at a minimum. He wished he could remember the kid's name so he would have something to call him. It would have helped in this situation a lot more, but it had been so long ago and the boy had been young at the time, just a little sprig. A Sapling, if you will. A small baby Pines. Now he was all grown up into a Pine Tree. Bill snorted and couldn't help but grin wider.
His little Pine Tree was about to come in handy once the coppers finally burst onto the scene. There wasn't much time left now, minutes at best. Bill could work with that. From the hue of pink returning to the boy's pale face, it was very clear that Bill had himself a very willing hostage. He leaned down so he could look into those big eyes at a more intimate level.
“Hey now, Sweetheart,” Bill cooed in a sugary tone. “I ain't gonna hurt you.”
That may or may not be a lie. Bill had yet to decide. Thankfully, his Pine Tree was smart enough to not take his words at face value. He stared back at him with a slight frown that was anything but trusting. It was nice to see that the kid wasn't entirely stupid. Of course, Bill didn't let it show that he knew. He continued on with a charming smile. His fingers hooked under the kid's chin, tipping it back a little so they were nose to nose.
“You're in good hands with me, kid.”
Dipper clenched his jaw tight. He swore his heart was beating hard enough to give out. It rattled away in his chest so fast his whole body was swaying from the vibration. At least, he thought it was. He wanted to run but there was nowhere for him to go.
Dipper pressed himself harder against the wall until his spine ground into the plaster. His fingers curled behind him and clawed until he was sure there were stripes left behind in the paint. He'd look but the last thing Dipper wanted to do was turn away from the man leaning dangerously close to his face. They stood so close together that he could feel each gentle breath brush across his skin and a quick burst of air when Bill chuckled in a smooth deep laugh. Dipper's eyelids fluttered when the laugh took him by surprise but he didn't dare blink.
This was the first time he'd been so close to someone before and the effect was dizzying. All he could smell was spicy cologne. Someone else's heat warmed his body. Bill was so tall and overwhelming that it made Dipper feel small. It was dangerous and he knew well enough not to try a word coming out of Bill's mouth. Still, an embarrassing pink was staining to his cheeks. Inappropriate on the best of circumstances. Here, blushing felts like it was down right insane.
If the police were to show up now of all times, or if anyone was to find them like this, it's be an enormous scandal. A pair of men, crowded up against a wall, isolated down an empty hallway. Then the fact that this man was a notorious criminal made it all so much worse. Dipper did not want his uncle to find him like this.
He turned his head but the finger under his chin gently turned him back. Dipper clenched his jaw tightly and held himself together by will. There was a wall at his back and no where for him to run but he wouldn't be made a coward of. Dipper looked anywhere that wasn't directly into Bill's eye. Up close Bill's temple had a long scar running into his hairline, a white pencil thin line that marred such an attractive face. Dipper was sure there were more little scars and marks, carefully hidden away under the layers of pinstriped wool. He wanted to shake that thought out of his head.
“Let me go,” Dipper breathed, trying to not get suckered into that catlike smile. It was charmingly distracting, all teeth with a slight uneven slant. Dipper's lips parted slightly as he gulped back another breath.
He felt thoroughly ridiculous as that smile won him over, enough that he wanted to scream. Dipper could already hear Ford's loud critical voice ringing in his ear. He wanted to drown out the noise with his own.
“I don't work here. I can't do anything for you.” Dipper bit his tongue hard. Admittedly, saying he was useless might be a terrible idea. He might come to regret saying that out loud.
Bill ignored him for a moment. The finger that had been under Dipper's chin stroked down over the skin, ticking along the side of his neck in a soft motion. It was so gentle and sweet that it had Dipper tipping his head to the side to unintentionally offer a better view of the exposed skin. He hadn't buttoned his collar back up. Something he only now remembered and felt awfully naked about. Dipper scrunched his shoulder up to his ears trying to shake the hand off.
“Oh, you're doing plenty,” Bill told him. “I'm just here collecting from a few fellas that owe me some dough. You being here provides me with a little insurance. That, and to have something pretty to look at.”
Bill's gaze was tantalizingly low, watching Dipper's mouth part as he tried to lick his lips. Dipper swallowed a raw dry mouthful of nothing.
His mouth fell open a little due to the want to speak or a need to breathe, but Dipper found he could do neither. Every one of his functioning brain cells were currently busy turning themselves to glue over a little flirt and a touch. Dipper wanted to slap himself that something so insincere could still turn him into a bubbly mess. He didn't believe Bill for a second but that didn't mean he could hold off the pathetic moan threatening to come out of his chest.
They broke apart when Bill leaned away to check on the progress in the next room. The way his pleased expression held could only be due to his men doing a good job. Dipper thought of making a run for it but a hand slapped against the wall to block his path. Bill turned back to him, smile creeping steadily higher on his face.
“You doin' alright there, doll face? You're looking a little flushed,” Bill teased. The devil was in his eye as it ran the length of Dipper's torso in a single slow pass.
“Swell,” was all he was able to croak out. His throat very dry.
“Boss.”
Dipper was incredibly grateful for the interruption after all. This had gone too far. He sighed to try and cover up his panting breath. Dipper hid his face from the man coming along the hall, not wanting anyone to see his embarrassment. It helped that Bill backed away, attention taken up by someone else.
The new space between them felt like a massive canyon, when it was barely arms length. Dipper kept his face turned towards the opposite wall. It was bland and boring, streamlined and spotless. He rubbed his face as a pretense to hide the way he kept sneaking glances at Bill.
The mere arms length distance felt horribly far. Dipper found himself immediately missing the way Bill leaned in close to talk to him. The heat the rolled off his body in waves. As much as he tried to fight off the temptation, it sunk its claws into him and tore through his body with ease. He clenched his fists tightly until his nails bit into the soft skin of his palms. The pain was the only thing stopping Dipper from making a sudden sound or determined step back into Bill's personal space. He couldn't believe he was fawning over the first person to give him more than a brief glance.
Dipper squeezed his fingers until the knuckles turned white and his hands shook from the force. He frowned over at the thug conducting his business with Bill. They ignored him entirely. His brow scrunched and his jaw tightened. The other men were leaving the lock up with bags of stolen goods, moving passed him to retreat down the hallway.
“We're done here,” someone told Bill.
“Good. Get going.” Bill jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “We're out of time as it is. Should have been out the back by now.”
Dipper deflated with disappointment. All the excitement of a bank robbery spent doing nothing. Their moment, or lack there of, now felt in hindsight as nothing more than an awkward minute of standing in a hallway next to a stranger. Nothing happened beyond a small touch. Dipper wondered what he had been so worried about.
Possibly because he wanted something to happen, just so he could experience the rush of something. There had never been anything in his life worth risking, nothing that made his blood burn in the same way Bill did just by being next to him. Now, the man wasn't even looking at him. He was half turned away to watch his men. Dipper felt jealousy creeping up his back. He wanted to reach out and grab onto Bill's arm and make him do something more. Dipper didn't know what exactly he wanted, but he wanted it to be so scandalous the papers couldn't print it. Ford would scream and rave, and Dipper would enjoy every moment because at least then he would have done something for his own fun.
It was hilarious to pin so much worth on someone he'd literally met five minutes prior. He should really know better.
He watched the robbers go down the hallway towards their planned exit. This was when he'd be shoved back into a locked office to wait to be rescued. Dipper swallowed a lump forming in the back of his throat. It strangled him all the way down and lay like a brick in his stomach. He fidgeted uncomfortably, sliding down the wall to put some extra distance between himself the arm that was still next to his shoulder. Dipper stole a glance into the room. Little safe doors built into the wall had been opened. Strategic drawers pulled out and emptied of whatever the men had gone in to collect. Yet another bit of excitement he'd missed out on because he was on the other side of a damn door. He huffed on a breath.
Maybe it was the small sound he'd made but it caught Bill's attention again. He turned around quickly and closed the foot wide space keeping them apart. Dipper watched him closely, expecting to get thrown into the lock up but Bill leaned forward in a little half bow and offered him a hooked elbow. That damnable smile was twisting up on one side, crinkling the skin around Bill's good eye. It was unbelievably handsome and Dipper cursed the way his heart fluttered.
“Shall we, Pine Tree?” Bill asked.
The nickname threw Dipper through a loop and made him paused, even if it was only for a second. He hesitated, looking between Bill's face and the offered arm. Before he knew it his hand was moving on its own, slipping along Bill's forearm and letting the man lead him back up the hallway at a more casual stroll. They followed behind the thugs at a distance until they disappeared around a corner. Then it was just him and Bill. A tiny self satisfied smile wanted to tug at his mouth but Dipper bit down on his bottom lip to try and smother it to death. He kept telling himself that this wasn't real. Still, Bill leaned in closer to quietly contradict him.
“I hate to leave you like this. We didn't get much time together at all.”
“Because you wanted to spend time with me,” Dipper suggested sarcastically. No one ever actually wanted to spend time with him, not in that kind of way.
“If I weren't so busy... I could think of a lot of ways that we could spend time together.”
Another empty flirtatious remark and Dipper responded with an impulsive snorting laugh. The implication still made Dipper's ears turn red. He let Bill have his fun, pretending it was all real for a moment. His fingers tightened on Bill's forearm.
“I'm sure you could.”
He didn't doubt that Bill knew what he was talking about. For what it was worth the idea of spending time along together was tempting. Bill was attractive and Dipper was dearly smitten. Even if this was all a fantasy.
Dipper leaned into Bill's side, his fingers rubbing into the fabric of his sleeve. He walked along beside him, arm in arm like a pair of lovers. They left the hall and started the long walk through the lobby. Now the sight of two dead bodies wasn't even a bother to Dipper. He could easily ignore them because he was so high up on a cloud the nothing could ever touch him. He was special up there. For now anyway. It was probably a good thing that by tomorrow he would forget what Bill's cologne smelled like, forget what it was like to be held, and life would go back to normal.
As they crossed the lobby a loud commotion could be heard from just outside. The streets were filled with noise, muffled by brocaded doors and the thick stone walls. Dipper looked to see what was happening but only saw the closed doors to outside, locked and jammed with desks and racks. Dipper stopped walking and his arm slipped back down to his side. The police, he assumed, finally there to rescue the hostages and arrest the criminals.
A lot of options were running through his head. To fight or run, to potentially get himself in more trouble. For a second he thought he should start screaming for help, but he didn't. He could simply stand and wait to be rescued, but he didn't like that either. What he wanted was to see Bill get away. Dipper wanted to be a part of their big escape, even if he did nothing but stall for time. That would definitely make his uncle furious. Dipper mouth pulled up into a tiny smirk that he couldn't hide.
A hand came to rest on his lower back. The wide flat palm suggestively trying to lure him in close. Dipper turned back into Bill's side and took a step on his own without needing to be lead by a leash or pushed around. He tagged along as Bill made his way down another small side hallway, tucked discretely to one end of the room. A small nudge at his back brought them back up to a quicker pace.
This hall was dim and fit the two of them side by side, but barely. It ended at a short set of stairs and a low door, an inconspicuous fire exit. Dipper didn't even see the door until they were at the top of the stairs. One of the armed men was guarding it, standing just inside the slim space between the door and its frame. He didn't know what he'd been expecting and couldn't guess as to what would happen next.
He stopped at the top of the small stairwell, looking down at the door. Dipper swallowed thickly as he felt his day dreaming coming to an unsatisfying end. He watched Bill take a few steps down the stairs until he stood at a comfortable eye level with Dipper.
Fingers came back to run the length of Dipper's jaw, hooking under his chin to coax him forward. The pad of Bill's thumb touched his bottom lip. Dipper leaned into the space, impossibly tempted by the subtle parting of Bill's mouth and the silent offer. It surely wouldn't be Dipper's first kiss but it sure felt like it was. A soft press of lips on his own, the slow but purposeful movement that made him want to lean closer and closer until he was swallowed whole. Bill's mouth was warm and restrained. Dipper could feel the tension in his jaw that was holding him back from really kissing him. Knowing that made his knees weak and his brain turn to tree sap, sticky and slow and melting in the summer heat.
Dipper's hands found a place to hang off Bill's shoulders. The back of his jacket collar rolled and kneaded between his hands when he couldn't keep them still. One of Bill's was on the back of his neck too, holding him close and possessive like Bill didn't want him to be the one pull away first. Dipper groaned low in his throat, completely and utterly done in.
Teeth were tugging on his lower lip and Dipper let them part on their own. Whatever sound of content pleasure he would have made next was cut short by a tongue slipping into his mouth and licking over his gums.
Dipper's knees finally gave out and he found himself falling into a willing embrace. Bill caught them both before they could be sent sprawling down the short stairwell. Dipper never opened his eyes once, not even when he tripped on the step. For some reason he blindly trusted that Bill would hold him up.
His hands found their way into Bill's hair. He vaguely remembered the man wearing a hat before. It wasn't there now, maybe somewhere forgotten on the floor by their feet. Had he knocked it off? Either way, Dipper was more than happy to thread his fingers into the blonde hair that fell free of the styling pomade, loosening with ever scrape of his nails over Bill's scalp.
The sound of loud shouting was the only thing to make Dipper flinch and break the kiss. Very quickly he was taken into Bill's arms, his feet leaving the stairs suddenly as he was spun around and set on the lowest step. Bill moved behind him, wrapping an arm about his shoulders to hold him still against his chest. The police came running into the hallway in a mad rush of bodies, guns drawn and ready to fire. They blocked the hall and its exit, shoulder to shoulder, as they came closer.
Dipper gasped as Bill's mouth touching his ear again. His lips were wet.
“It's been an utmost pleasure, my dear,” Bill cooed at a whisper for him, and only him, to hear. “I hope to see you again very soon. But in the mean time, try to look scared.”
The subtle warning was followed quickly by the muzzle of a gun being firmly shoved into the side of Dipper's head. Every breath completely left his body. The funny little blur his brain had gone into over the kiss had run a ground, halting painfully fast. It was replaced by a panicked rush of adrenaline, drawing his muscles tight and shaking in an attempt to get away. The metal of the gun was cold against his hot skin, solid and deadly. It followed his movement like an extension of his body, never leaving his head when he thrashed and tried to break free. Bill held him tighter, squeezing him close.
The violent display of a hostage made the officers freeze at the top of the stairs. Though the guns remained trained on the two, no one fired in case they hit a civilian. Especially one recognizable as the detective's nephew. Bill ducked his head into the crook behind Dipper's neck. His lips placed a light kiss against the slip of bare skin right above the loose shirt collar.
The crowded officers shouted various orders. Variations of, 'let him go', 'freeze'. Uninspiring in comparison to how the kiss at the back of Dipper's neck made him stop wrestling. Adrenaline had already leached into his muscles but now it was pooling between his legs rather inappropriately.
Bill lifted his head, a wide smile on his face that Dipper only saw out of his strained peripheral vision.
“If you insist.” Bill addressed the officers and gave Dipper an abrupt shove. Everyone jumped back, guns moving to aim anywhere but the young man being thrown at their feet.
Dipper tried to catch himself before he landed but the stairs came up too fast. He fell over them in a graceless heap, hitting his knees and an elbow in painful ways. By the time he regained himself and was able to look back over his shoulder at Bill, the man was gone. The door slammed shut and something heavy hit the outside, no doubt blocking the way through. The thieves disappeared and left him behind. Dipper dropped his head to the bottom steps, breathing hard from the rush of blood trying to find a new home between his thighs. He squeezed his legs together tightly to fight off the obvious sight of an unwanted erection. He swore under his breath.
No one thought anything of it. He definitely 'looked scared' balled up on the floor. Officers moved passed him to check the door but it was indeed blocked. Someone stopped long enough to offer Dipper a hand up but he refuse.
As the officers scattered to chase down the criminals, someone was left to keep Dipper under surveillance until he was able to move on his own. The assumption of 'catatonic shock' was tossed around. Though the fact he was physically uninjured was suspicious. It was rare for Bill to leave someone unharmed like this after a close encounter. Dipper denied all accusations about being involved, even if none were being made to his face.
Dipper sat on the stairs for a good twenty minutes watching the door until his uncle showed up to collect him. Bill was long gone from the scene and the bank staff were being let out for questioning.
Ford ran down to him and took him by the shoulders, shaking him to his senses before double checking to see that he was in fact in one piece. Ford's face looked haggard and aged by a decade when it was scrunched with such worry and frustration. Guilt hit Dipper like he'd been punched in the gut with a set of brass knuckles. How he'd acted with Bill earlier had been so unacceptable that he couldn't tell Ford any of it. Dipper kept his face turned down and let himself be moved without argue when he was taken by the elbow and ushered out of the back hallway.
Ford dismissed the other officers from questioning his nephew further. The man wouldn't stand to hear anyone make such accusations about Dipper like that. It was all nonsense anyway. Once Mr. Northwest was questioned and all, Dipper's innocence was made obvious. Ford lead him out of the bank in silence because Dipper's mind was miles away already.
Dipper had been entirely wrong when he believed he'd easily forget the smell of Bill's cologne. It had been three days and he could not only remember the smell but he could still feel Bill's body against his. No matter how hard he clawed at his skin, the tingling sensation of the kiss still haunted him. Nothing he tried seemed to get rid of it, no amount of scrubbing with a hot towel, food, sleep, time.
Dipper was going to go crazy if it didn't fade away soon. Because the way his mouth missed the barely restrained touch made him start thinking, and nothing good ever came from him thinking. When he thought too long his imagination started to run wild and reach havoc on his senses. Now Dipper couldn't sleep or eat. He was lost, wishing to see Bill again. A useless wish because Dipper knew full well that the man was out of his life for good. Unfortunately, knowing this and accepting it were two very different things.
So, for three whole days Dipper stayed in what felt like a fever dream, deliriously wandering in circles around the small house, not allowed to go out passed the front steps unless someone watched over his shoulder. Ford's needless panicking over his safety was reasonable for the first day but now Dipper felt like he was under arrest. He might as well be, confined to one small place, unable to leave or do anything without supervision and criticism. His sister had even abandoned him there after the first day, too bored at home to keep him company.
Both his uncles promised it was temporary. Ford wanted to see the mess at the bank cleaned up before they allowed Dipper to run off again. This was obviously an excuse because Dipper knew there were no leads as to where Bill was now. No one had been caught. He doubted anyone would be.
As annoyed with his uncle Ford as Dipper was, he was even more impressed by what Bill had pulled off. He sat around his room for hours trying to figure out how Bill managed to all without a hitch. The only minor flaw was Dipper's roll in it. When he thought about it, if he hadn't been there, Bill would have been long gone before the police ever entered the bank. They would have found everyone in the locked offices and the safe boxes emptied. Dipper felt a tad smug that he was able to interfere in some small way with Bill's big plan. It made him feel special again.
Dipper knew it wasn't good to fixate so much on what happened, but what else was he going to do with his day? He couldn't go out and had nowhere to be. It wasn't like he had a job to go to. Even if he did, Ford would probably resign in his place.
For now he sat in the living room, watching the street slowly clear of people making their way home after a long work day. His fingers were busying themselves with a loose string he'd tugged off his shirt. He wound it around his fingers tightly, then unwrapped it, knotted it, chewed it. Whatever he could to distract himself.
Dipper's eyes stayed glued to the road, but they had a glossy quality to them like he wasn't really seeing anything he looked at. He curled his lower lip into his mouth and let his teeth graze over the smooth skin. Maybe if he was in his right mind he'd be able to see how unbelievably silly he was being. It wasn't possible to miss someone he didn't even know.
Dipper was left alone to debate this with himself for quite a while. He hadn't spoken or moved in so long that Stan was starting to worry. His normally reclusive uncle kept walking by on the hour like clock work.
Stan didn't ask about the robbery or how Dipper was doing. His prolonged silence making things somehow worse. Dipper felt responsible for the guarded look on his face. There was always some small lie in Stan's expression but the fake smile he'd been putting on was bothering Dipper to no end. He wished it would all stop. Again, Stan walked through the living room to get to the kitchen for the umpteenth time that afternoon, Dipper nodded like he only just noticed him before looking back outside. He could hear Stan walk away.
While watching the setting sun bath the street in golden tones, Dipper thought he was having a bizarre case of deja vu. He frowned a little as he stared outside. There was probably a good reasonable explanation as to why he thought he saw the same car driving by the house that day. Not just once or twice but repeatedly. Dipper didn't know cars very well. To him they looked more or less the same. This car stood out. It was too nice for this area of town. They live so rural that the only vehicles around were trucks but this car was shiny and new. Definitely not some dirt covered cab either. The paint was such a deep shade of red, glossy in the fading light. Dipper brow scrunched and he leaned into the window pane as the car rolled passed the house. They drove too quickly. Dipper couldn't see the driver's face or if anyone was sitting in the back. Peculiar, he thought. Dipper sighed and let his head rest against the glass.
Heat off the window burned his forehead like the touch of an oven. The glass had been soaked up the afternoon sunshine. As did he. Sitting in the window all day had been hot as hell. Sweat had dampened the loose collar of his thin cotton shirt hours ago. Dipper couldn't find it in himself to care. He didn't want to move. The odd longing he felt in his chest had already made him think he was in hell. He might as well get use to the weather there. Dipper closed his eyes and almost fell asleep there as the sun set off in the distance.
“Mason, get away from the window before the neighbours start to think something is seriously wrong with you.”
It slowly dawned on Dipper how long he'd been sitting in the window. The lack of of sunlight wasn't enough to give give it away. It was his uncle Ford standing in the hallway, one foot inside the living room. Dipper jumped slightly when he heard his uncle snap at him. He lifted his head in time to see Ford shuck off his long outer coat and drape it over a crooked arm. His uncle looked exhausted from another long day at work. The deep cease in his forehead a constant frown ever since the bank robbery. Ford would not talk about what was bothering him so much about it and Dipper knew better than to ask too many questions. Not that it stopped him from wondering.
Dipper pulled himself from the window. He stood slowly. His legs wobbled and became numb with sleep from the knee down. Sitting for so long had made his feet heavy like dead weight. Dipper stumbled a step, grabbing onto the wall for support before he could trip.
“I'm alright,” Dipper said quickly when Ford took a step toward him. He wasn't so delicate to need help. “Pins and needles, and all that. I'm fine.”
“Well, if you're sure.” Ford looked him over thoroughly before nodding without a fuss. A first for him. Maybe he knew Dipper was starting to get tired of the constant hovering, or he was too distracted from work. Either way, Dipper smiled innocently and sweet.
“I just need to stretch. Or, uh... a little fresh air.” Dipper tipped his head towards the window. It was a silent question but Ford understood him loud and clear.
Ford took one look outside at the darkened street. He grunted at the back of his throat ready to object. He gave pause when Dipper made a small pout. Both Dipper and Mabel were masters at playing nice, often getting what they wanted because of a sad look. Ford closed his eyes and sighing in defeat. He took off his glasses and rubbed at tired eyes.
“A few minutes of fresh air and no more. Don't leave the yard, Mason. It's getting dark,” Ford said as he stepped away. He shifted the coat in his arms and waved Dipper through. “I'll be in my office.”
“It's not that dark,” Dipper said under his breath. There were reasons for Ford's caution and Dipper knew he should be more grateful, but he couldn't stop the snarky comment as he walked slowly on numb legs towards the front door. For the sake of being polite to his uncle he said a bit louder so he's be heard, “won't be long. I'll just be out front.”
Ford had moved down the hall. His office sat just beyond the side stairs. He nodded and went inside. When the door was shut Dipper stretched and felt a little more relaxed. Everything in his back popped or cracked and he groaned at the feeling of tension releasing. He swore quietly and rolled his head against his stiff shoulders.
Being allowed to get a spot of fresh air was honestly a blessing. Even though the air was still hot and humid, compared to spending the afternoon in the window the evening was cold. Dipper's skin felt burnt and sore from the sunshine so he stretched out in the wide open air and let himself enjoy a moment of freedom. For a few minutes he stood on the front step, eventually crossing his arms over his chest and watching the empty street. It was just late enough now. No one walked along the curbs. There were no cars. He was alone and genuinely felt it. His family was just inside the house behind him but he felt like the only person for miles.
Dipper sighed and walked as far as the walkway would take him. There was the tempting few steps just beyond to the road but he felt obligated to his uncle by keeping his word and stayed put.
He hadn't been outside five minutes before there was the sound of squealing rubber. He heard the car before he saw it. In the dark all he could really see were the pair of headlights heading towards him. The light bounced off the uneven road in flashes and stars. Dipper didn't even flinch until the car started to slow and the headlight were cut leaving everything in darkness once again. Dipper stood on the curb, a foot away from a fancy town car. He moved a little closer without a second thought or invitation to do so. He was curious to see the driver but the man behind the wheel didn't turn to look at him. Instead, the rear door opened quietly.
Dipper's heart leapt into his throat. A familiar giggle of excitement warming him from the inside out. All at once he was back in a fever dream, staring glossy eyed into a shadow. Too close to a body that towered over him, leaning down until a hot breath blew against the shell of his ear. A shiver ran all the way down to Dipper's tail bone. His knees buckled all over again. Fingers were touching his elbow, coxing him in closer and he went all too willingly.
It is probably never a good idea to let a stranger start leading you into dark corners. Dipper didn't even realize they were moving until he was already being walked halfway across the yard. He looked back to see the car pulling away from the curb and leaving them on their own. He should have felt nervous. Instead, he was giddy and grabbed onto Bill's arm excitedly to pull him around the side of the house where the shadows were thick and they wouldn't be seen from the road.
There was a place up against the bricks, hidden by the fence at their backs and the lip of the rain gutter. No one could see them there. There further they got into the dark hiding place the more Dipper wrapped himself into the folds of Bill's suit jacket. His fingers did a fine job at crushing the material of the jacket, wrinkling the dark wool until it was a right old mess. Dipper didn't know why Bill was here now and he didn't care.
It was almost a tie over who moved first. Dipper liked to think it was Bill. Though he was sure he lunged forward at the slightest tilt of the man's jaw. Lips crashed together in a kiss that was far too violent to be called simply a 'kiss'. The restraint on Bill's part completely gone. Teeth were biting and rough. The sweep of a tongue over now swollen skin left behind a tingling sensation.
Dipper shivered again and leaned into the feeling in search of more. The hot press of a mouth on his own was disorienting in a way he'd never experienced it to be. It was like being blind drunk, absolutely sloshed. His arms and hands shook from pent up nerves. His breathing was coming fast and short through his nose because his mouth was too full of another person's tongue to let in a breath.
A hand curled around the back on his neck, rustling the loose curls along his nape. A small tug at the short hair tipped Dipper's head back to expose all the naked skin of his throat.
This also shoulder have set of alarm bells in his head, warning him of potential danger, but his ears were filled with his own hard breathing and the rush of blood pumping through his veins. And there was a mouth on his neck doing horribly sinful things. Dipper swallowed a wad of saliva that had collected at the back of his tongue but it still went down dry and slow.
Dipper's face was on fire over the croaking moan that came back up on him. Bill's damned fingers were skirting over his shirt, drawing a straight line down his side to where the fabric was tucked into his trousers. Dipper wiggled under the touch but didn't fight him. If anything he was leaning into the touch at ever opportunity until their chests touched and a sturdy thigh was being neatly shoved in between his own. They couldn't possibly get closer, unless they shed a few layers of clothing, but out in the yard like they were it was hardly a wise thing to do. It didn't stop Bill's busy fingers from seeking out each curve of Dipper's body through the loose shape of his shirt, unbothered that he couldn't touch skin.
Dipper groaned a little louder but caught himself quick, closing his mouth tightly. Bill chuckled close to his ear.
“You don't want anyone to hear you, do you?” he whispered in the smallest voice. Bill's breath tickled his skin. His head ducked low to place a lingering open mouthed kiss along the soft curve of Dipper's jaw.
“Bill...” Dipper's hands slipped on the bunched up fabric of Bill's vest. They caught on buttons that he desperately wanted to tear open. He closed his eyes and gave into the smell of cologne and the heat branding a mark where each kiss pressed against his neck. “We can't do this here. Someone's gonna see.”
“You just need to keep quiet, sweetheart.”
Dipper's knees were starting to give out. His back pressed harder into the wall of the house. Brick bit into his shoulder blades but the pain went unnoticed. There were hands moving lower to grope possessively at his backside. A little poke from a brick was hardly enough to distract him from that.
Bill kissed him again, only softer and deliberately slow. It was enough to make Dipper sigh with a strange sort of contentment. The tightly wound excitement that was shooting through his blood was turned to a bubbling fizz. Bill kissed him like he was being savoured and enjoyed, like rich melted chocolate or another delicious sweet confection. Dipper forgot who he was for a split second in that kiss. He could almost believed that he was someone special and precious, being held up from falling to the grass and kissed like a lover.
Dipper didn't know what to call this other than some insane rendezvous between two strangers. A short lived affair and nothing more. The hands cradling his lower back were doing a fine job of suggested something horribly genuine. But the fact this man was a criminal left Dipper assuming the worst. He still arched his back to press and grind their hips together.
Another spark of pleasure had Dipper biting his lip to keep his voice in his throat. Bill told him to be quiet but he was doing his damnedest to pull the filthiest sounds out of Dipper like it was some sort of game. Every rock of their hips or the firm squeeze of his ass. He dropped his head to Bill's shoulder and buried his face into the smooth suit jacket.
He panted for air, dizzy and trembling. His forehead was damp with sweat but neither of them care about that. Bill didn't seem to care a lick about what state his suit was in. It could be loaded with grass stains and he wouldn't bat an eye. It could get that way, covered in grass, if only Bill would lay him down.
Frustrated, Dipper pulled on Bill's tie. They didn't have time for all this teasing. By now Dipper had been outside long enough for someone to start wondering where he'd gone off. Someone, most likely Ford, was abound to come looking for him any minute. He couldn't be found like this, tangled in the arms of another man in the dark corners of the house.
“Bill, please, do something,” Dipper said in a hurried whisper. He was a little impressed he didn't stutter over his words. The rush of being caught and the arousal in his blood was making him bold and desperate. He didn't care what Bill did as long as he did something and fast.
Bill's hand left his backside to flip open the buttons of Dipper's trousers with a determined coordination. Long fingers snaked their way inside to touch bare skin. The simple touch and a little pressure was everything Dipper needed right then. Embarrassingly so, because it took at most a dozen strokes of the hand to get him to finally give a loud groan of pleasure and shake violently against the wall.
Bill chuckled again but it held a fondness to it, light and teasing. He kissed Dipper's cheek softly before he pulled away to look at him. In the dark corner they could make out general features but the smaller details of each other's faces were lost. The colouring of Dipper's face was muted to the shadows but his eyes were obviously half lidded, lips parted as he tried to catch his breath.
From somewhere passed the ringing in his ears Dipper thought he heard his sister calling his name through an open window. But his attention was absorbed in everything that was Bill. Their noses bumped and he leaned forward to try and steal one more kiss before his fantasy had to end.
His Pine Tree kissed him feather light and sweet. Such a romanticized touch that should be solely reserved for poetry. Bill froze under the kiss, taken completely aback by the way his chest seized. His heart might have stopped until it gave one shuddering thump like he'd been punched. He blinked in the dark and watched the kid lean back against the wall, a deliriously happy expression on his face. Tired and doe like, it was an enduring thing. Stupid, ridiculous, and darling.
Sure, the kid was greener than grass. He was a sloppy kisser and probably didn't know what to do with a cock, but he kissed Bill like a starved man that needed him hopelessly. Those brown eyes were staring up at him like he was the most wonderful thing in the whole world. Bill swallowed a lump in his throat as his brain tried its blood damnedest to set itself back on track. He heard a girl calling from inside now. The noise kicking the cotton from his ears. His head perked up, listening.
Their time together was almost up and this was where Bill had to make a quick decision. He could easily let the kid go back inside. This could all end here and everything would be neatly tied with a bow, finished with a mostly satisfied ending. But Bill's body wouldn't letting go. His fingers tightened around Dipper's hips, dragging them closer. The kid was looking at him expectantly and Bill was honestly stunned stupid.
That word was being called again, and what the hell was she even saying? Whatever it was the kid was being jolted back to reality when he heard it and looked panicked. Bill put his hands on the brick, caging the smaller body between them. Dipper frantically tried to make himself look respectable in his rumpled clothes and messy hair. Bill watched him even try to duck under one of his his arms before Bill caught him and pulled him back in. He bent down until his lips brushed the kissed bruised skin of Dipper's neck. His teeth light nipped.
“How's about you run away with me, Pine Tree?” Bill offered impulsively. The thought simply came to him. A bit of fun on his part. Another way of getting under Ford's skin to drive the man mad. And if it earned himself a little pleasant company for a while, who was Bill to argue. This was all such a rare opportunity that he wanted to see where it would go.
He kissed Dipper's cheek next. He asked again when there was no immediate answer, smooth and low this time like he was begging. Dipper turned in his arms and grabbed the front of his suit. Those fingers were shaking as they bunched around the lapel.
“And go where?” Dipper stared up at him.
That young round face was pretty as a picture, all wide eyes full of a glittering hope. A smile tugged at Bill's mouth.
“Any where you want to go, just say the word. We'll go together. Just you and me. What do ya say, darling?”
A few soft words and the kid was turned to putty in his hands. Bill rubbed the pad of his thumb into one of those warmed cheeks. Dipper nodded and allowed himself be taken by the hand.
They hurried out of the shadows and back towards the curb side and the empty road. The front yard was mostly lit by the still open front door. They stood in its light, hesitant and obvious together. The second they left the safety of the fence Bill's car came rocketing down the street, the headlights still off for discretion.
Bill caught the kid taking a hesitant look back towards the house. There wasn't any doubt on his face that he could see. It was more apologetic and thoughtful like a prolonged goodbye. The little hint of resentment in his eyes softening to something indescribably. When Bill opened the car door and offered him a hand inside it was accepted. Dipper took a deep breath and slipped into the car's backseat, happily waiting for Bill to join him with a smile and that worshipping gaze.
Bill grabbed the hat from the backseat where he'd left it and hooked it off one of the posts along the garden fence. No doubt within minutes Ford would come storming outside in search for his nephew and Bill wanted his hat to be the first thing the old man saw, just so he would knew exactly who had been here and where his precious boy had gone off. Bill laughed, personally satisfied with the rushed turn of events. He climbed into the car after that.
Bill slipped an arm around Dipper's shoulders and pulled him close against his side. The kid made himself comfortable under the weight of his arm, resting his head on Bill's shoulder and one hand rubbing at his thigh.
Bill waved a hand at the driver and almost immediately the car lurched forward down the road at top speed to put a great deal of distance between them and the Pines' house. Bill found himself relaxing into the pressure of a warm body at his side. The want for closeness felt unnatural outside of sex. The heady arousal he'd been entertaining had settled to a simmering warmth, content to simply exist in another person's company. He oddly let himself be wrapped up in those clinging hands. He had never kept someone before. Not for any significant amount of time, a night, a week long vacation, but never long term. Bill had no immediate plans to keep Dipper for too long. He was taking this one spontaneous step at a time. He closed his eye a while as they drove, convinced this couldn't possibly go belly up any time soon.