Chapter Text
"This is too much." Dipper said, side stepping a wayward… was that a morning star???
"I am glad you thinks so," Stan slapped Dipper on the back, nearly toppling him over.
"No, Dipper said, as he dodged yet another morning star. "this is really too much"
"Don't be a wuss, Dipper. This is awesome!!!!" Mabel said, already jumping from broken trampoline to broken trampoline in Stan's idea of an amusement park. Atleast she was happy, reunited with her friends and beloved pet pig. (Who she had tearfully left last year when their parents admitted to not being able to afford the farm animals food.)
"See? This is awesomeness, kid. You just got to soak it in and sign the safety waivers." Stan said.
"Yeah, waiving off their rights to safety." A voice grumbled and Dipper turned around to see:
"Gruncle Ford!" Dipper said, ignoring the sarcastic puff of air from a (thankfully) invisible Bill.
Ford looked worn down, stray poppers in his hair but a trumphiant grin on his face. He was holding an oversized gun shaped object, that he looked very proud of.
"How's my favorite niblings? Enjoying the…" Ford paused, looking at Stan's glare before carefully continuing: "Dangerous amusement park?"
"Close enough." Stan said. Clearly, they had been argued about this before.
"Ford was probably a stick in the mud, and called it a glorified garbage dump." Bill whispered next to Dipper.
Dipper chuckled, before quickly covering it up with a cough when everyone turned to look at him.
"I.. umm… I am pretty tired from the drive, actually. Is it okay if I lay down?" Dipper asked.
"But your going to miss the fun!!!" Mabel cried, pulling on Dipper's sleeve.
Dipper pulled away, and Mabel tearfully turned away. he didn't want to be touched right now, and he still hadn't fully forgiven Mabel.
Ford seemed to catch Dipper's discomfort, whatever he thought about it, and cleared his throat.
"I think that's a great idea. But before that, would you mind helping me in my lab? I have a project set up that you may be interested in." He said.
Stan gave him a knowing look and smile.
"Yeah, that's a great plan! Me and Mabel will have fun right here. You two fun police can be nerds elsewhere." Stan said cheerfully.
Dipper followed Ford, while Bill floated idly behind them. A gaggle of kids surrounded a few gun shaped objects, similar to the one Ford was holding. They were poking at them, but nothing came out.
"Those aren't…" Dipper started.
Ford chuckled.
"No, those are just bubble guns." He frowned. "I thought they would have figured them out by now."
Ford picked his up, twisted a few dials, and released a stream of rainbow colored bubbles in the air, to the delight of all the nearby children. The ones surrounding the guns turned back to the guns with a new found determination.
"That should get them on the right track." Ford chuckled, stemming off the flow of bubbles as they walked inside the shack.
The dusty walls triggered a flood of memories. The floors that were never cleaned, that he had once joked (an later proven) were created by dust bunnies eating their skin.A broken lamp that Gruncle Stan said was haunted, but was really waiting for someone dumb enough to buy it.
It was smelly, dusty, and weird. It was home.
"Help me with this, the doors a bit stuck." said Gruncle Ford, who was struggling with the soda machine that functioned as the 'door' to the lab. Bill was mocking him, faux pushing it from the other side.
Dipper choked back a laugh, and helped Ford open the door.
Bill went ahead, and Dipper had to hold his breath. Ford can't see Bill right now. And nothing physical had seemed to affect Bill.
But Bill had been able to affect reality. Which implied that reality could affect him. AKA, the anti-weird machines that were always dinging in the basement, searching for any traces of the real 'Bill Cipher', who had tormented Ford for years in 'that other place'.
Dipper sniffed, thesmell of sesame oil and butane in the air. Ford's normally cluttered workspace was organized. A distillation pipe took up a large part of it, the butane slowly boiling whatever was inside.
"Well…. here is what I wanted to show you. it took me a while but.. umm.." Ford said, mumbling something about time and chemicals and long hours of research.
It felt like fuzz in his ears. Bill was quiet for once. The dream demon guided Dipper to the table, and placed one of the vials lining its edge in his hand.
It was filled with a clear, viscous fluid. Next to it, was a notebook.
"He actually did it." Bill said.
Bill flipped the pages open and Dipper felt his heart start back up, slamming his hand down in the hopes Ford wouldn't notice the demon's wandering presence.
"Ahh, yes. My research notes. Impressive, aren't they? I figured I should keep the notes detailed so you could do it yourself someday." Ford said.
Dipper's hand had fallen on a page. The molecular structure of Testesterone filled one page, and the opposite had distillation notes. he turned the pages. They were all diagrams of the process to create it. All the way to sublimating it in sesame oil for transmission to the skin.
"Are you okay?" Ford and Stan said together.
Dipper's face was wet, and his chest felt like a cracking cage.
"This isn't a dream, right? It's real? I can use this?" Dipper stammered, clutching the vials to his chest.
"Of course it is! I would rather go back to 'that other place' before I failed my grand nephew." Ford said, grabbing an hand carved wooden box and placing it in Dipper's hands.
"I would never lie to you Dipper. This is real." Bill said, and it brought comfort to Dipper. Bill would have told him if this was a dream. So it was real.
It was real and he was holding a box filled with everything he needed to be a 'real' man.
"You are a real man! Anyone who says otherwise should be turned into… I don't know what, but it has to be terrible." Bill said. Dipper chuckled.
Ford had apparently been talking this whole time, because he puffed out his chest like he had gotten a positive response to one of his cringier science jokes.
"Of course, I can't take all the credit. Stan… made the box." Ford said.
The box was roughly made, with daggers carved on the side and a message: 'For my favorite nephew" and "beat up your bullies". It was…
"Super weird." Bill said with a manic grin, hands reaching out to touch the box, like it was covered in some weirdness magic. Which, Dipper realized, it probably was.
"It's certainly something." Dipper jumped, but Ford's gaze was fixed on him. He couldn't see Bill.
Dipper took a deep breath, and smiled.
"It certainly is." he said, to both of them.