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Dipper traced a finger gently along the jagged curve of his favorite mug, savoring the way it pinched on the pad of his fingertip. Not enough to bleed — he wasn't sixteen anymore, after all — but enough for his shoulders to jump at the sensation. A smile creeped onto his face so stealthily, he could compare it to a crime. A soft chuckle followed soon after, though lacked it's accomplices swiftness, alerting Dipper to the presence of both on his being.
Eh, whatever. Dipper would let them stay. Just this once. He was too enamored by the mug in his hand. His mind wandered to when he had first gotten it. Him and Mabel were allowed to get one free item from the Mystery Shack gift shop at the end of their first summer in Gravity Falls as a "thanks for not dying under my watch" gift from his Grunkle Stan. He couldn't remember what Mabel had gotten — he made a mental note to ask her the next time they talked — but he did remember bee-lining for the clearance aisle and settling on a corny mug with a smiling sun and big bold gold lettering spelling "YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE".
"What'cha giggling about this early in the morning?" Bill yawned as he entered the kitchen, stretching his arms as he did so because who was Bill without his dramatic flair?
"Pfft, it's 10:30 am. Hardly qualifies for early in the morning anymore." Dipper intentionally smiled at Bill running a hand through his messy blonde hair and wincing at the sunlight that kissed his skin through the kitchen window.
"Time is a meaningless social construct and I'm not using it in my definition of what qualifies as early or not. It's early because I'm tired and yet here I am." Bill walked behind Dipper to grab a different mug from the cabinet above him, placing a hand on his hip and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek as he did so, like always. "Honestly, how many times do we have to go over this! Aren't ya supposed to be smart."
Dipper eyed Bill as he fiddled with the coffee machine. "Oo look at you using big words like 'qualifies'. Maybe Axolotl's right, I am a good influence."
"Please, I'll have you know I invented the word back in the 16th century after refusing to admit to a priest I misspelled a word in medieval latin." Dipper smiled as he watched Bill struggle with the coffee machine, like always. "Also yeesh, it's too early to be bringing up the sparkle frog."
Dipper rolled his eyes at the word early again as he swooped in to make Bill's coffee like always. Bill grunted in protest, but made no move to resist, like always. Dipper spun around after grabbing Bill's mug in his free hand, standing still as he admired the way Bill glowed in the sunlight.
"Jeez, I'm gonna start charging you for looking at me like that." Bill laughed as he strode towards Dipper, still standing next to the coffee machine smiling like an idiot.
"You'd make me go broke." He said softly. "Do you really want that? If I go broke, we wouldn't be able to buy the good Colombian coffee you like from the market. In fact, I'd probably have to resort to filling your mug with hot water every time you ask for coffee."
Bill finally reached Dipper when he was done talking, taking a moment to grab his coffee mug and wrap the other hand around Dipper's waist, pulling them closer together. "We'd still be able to afford hot water in this hypothetical?"
Dipper took a sip from his mug, resting his mouth against the jagged lip of the mug pretending to think before answering. "It's decently easy to start a small fire, I wouldn't mind making one every morning." Bill smiled fondly down at Dipper, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "Also, if I think you'd kill me if you ever asked for coffee and gave you cold water."
"You think I wouldn't if you gave me hot water instead of coffee?" Bill mumbled into Dipper's hair.
"I mean, yeah. I give you hot creamer and sugar instead of coffee every morning and you haven't killed me yet."
"Axolotl forbid a triangle doesn't like to taste dirt first thing in the morning! We can't all be tasteless like you, sapling." Bill moved his head off from Dipper's head and used his free hand to tilt Dipper's chin up ever so slightly so their noses were touching. "See, if I didn't know you like your coffee black I'd kiss ya but nope! Someone just had to yearn for the taste of liquid dirt this morning."
Bill playfully shook his head, brushing their noses together repeatedly, laughing to himself as he did so. Dipper couldn't stop himself from laughing despite Bill's half-hearted attack on his choice of coffee.
Dipper grinned as Bill slowed down his teasing. "What if I told you I haven't drank from my mug yet?"
Bill grinned, setting his own mug down on the counter behind them and nudging Dipper against it in the process. With two hand's now, Dipper watched with amusement as one of Bill's hand snaked up Dipper's neck to cradle his jaw and the other ran through his tousled brown with both gentleness and precision in avoiding knotting his hair further. Dipper didn't need to wait very long before he felt Bill's lips — warmer than usual, probably from the coffee — meet his own with a tenderness that rivaled his hands. Dipper leaned into it as best as he could, enjoying how he could feel Bill smile against his lips as he did so. It didn't take very long before he felt Bill's tongue prodding against the curve of his bottom lip, and he rolled his eyes behind shut eyelids before parting his mouth. Dipper ran his free hand through the hair on the back of Bill's head as the blonde nibbled on Dipper's bottom lip, gently sucking on it. After a few seconds, he moved on to run his tongue against his gums, lazily caressing Dipper's jaw as he did so.
The kiss broke after…one minute? Five? It was moments like this where Dipper secretly agreed with Bill's insistence of time being a meaningless social construct.
"You liar."Bill's hands dropped down again to Dipper's waist as he pressed one soft kiss to his forehead. "I definitely tasted dirt."
Dipper chuckled before making a point to look at Bill while taking a long sip of his coffee. Bill huffed indignantly, mumbling to himself about being betrayed, though Dipper could see the amusement in his eyes. Eventually, Bill disentangled himself from Dipper and leaned against the counter next to him, sipping his coffee and joining Dipper in staring mindlessly outside the kitchen window, seeing nothing and everything all at once.
The two drank their coffee in quiet peace, glancing at one each other every few minutes out of habit. Dipper drummed his fingers against the faded yellow sun on the side of his mug as he sipped, enjoying the tactile sensation of the chipped mug against his lips far more than the coffee itself.
"So what's the plan for today? Got a new cryptid you want to hunt down? A new anomaly to investigate? " Bill hummed, eyeing Dipper curiously. "If not, give me five minutes and I'll give that cute little brain of yours to agonize over for the next five months!"
Dipper's eyes didn't leave the kitchen window. He stood in an almost frozen bliss, nonreactive to Bill for a moment. Bill raised an eyebrow, his perpetual grin twitching down ever so slightly.
"I really like this mug." Dipper said, finally breaking the silence as he took a sip of the now cold coffee.
Bill's expression shifted into a more confused one. "I've noticed? You've drank out of that stupid thing since well, jeez! Since I started paying attention to you I guess, probably before that too!"
Dipper absentmindedly traced the lettering — "YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE" — and hummed as Bill spoke. "I've had it since I was thirteen. It's honestly a miracle a cheap thing like this has lasted this long anyways."
Bill shrugged. "Yeah, sure kid. I bet 300 years from now aliens will put it on exhibit in a museum. Anyways—"
"Did I ever tell you how I chipped it?"
Bill gave Dipper a weird look — which, okay was fair for once, he was being weird but then again Bill had done weirder — and shook his head. Dipper took a sip of the remaining liquid and let out a satisfied sigh. "I dropped it while washing the dishes when I was fourteen."
"WOW!" Bill clapped his hands together. "What a RIVETING story sapling! You should've gone into creative writing. Really, the plot, the main conflict, the resolution just ugh, beautiful!" He pretended to wipe a tear from his eyes.
Dipper rolled his eyes, "Stop being an asshole." He brought the mug up to his face, inspecting the way the dull colors brightened as the sunlight hit it. "I just…I wonder sometimes if it's time to get rid of it. I mean, it would be the best choice logically. It has terrible insulation, I've cut my tongue so many times on it, hell, I'm pretty sure I've had it down in the research lab so many time it's radioactive."
Bill squinted intently at the mug for a full minute remaining silent, before reaching for it. "Yep! You definitely shouldn't be drinking dirt outta that ceramic bomb! To the fire it goes—"
Dipper jerked the mug away from Bill in an instant, startling both of them. Dipper's hands shook as he clutched onto the mug so tightly, he was surprised it hadn't cracked yet. His back was to Bill, yet he could see his worried frown every time he blinked.
"Sapling?" Bill started cautiously. He could feel a warm hand rubbing his shoulder. "Is something—"
"I want to be buried with it."
The room went completely silent — hell, it felt a little colder if that was somehow possible. Dipper didn't turn to face Bill, he couldn't yet. He knew his husband well enough to know that turning to face him as he talked about something so heavy would make him change his answer to try and keep up an appearance.
"I've been thinking about being buried a lot lately." Dipper continued slowly, shifting so that he could stare out the kitchen window again. "It's a really strange tradition when I step back from it. Where you around when it started?"
Dipper drummed his fingers against the lettering while he waited to see if Bill would respond. He knew he wouldn't, because well, this is how he always responded when the topic came up.
"Well anyways, it's just…hard to imagine that one day, all my thoughts, feelings and stuff will be just well, gone. All I'll be is flesh consumed by nature."
The sun outside seemed to shine a little brighter on them.
Dipper circled his finger around the lip of the mug again. "It's not going to happen overnight, of course. Assuming I'm in a sealed coffin and embalmed — which is a hefty assumption considering the life I live — it could take decades before I decompose. Honestly, I have kind of mixed feelings on—"
"Shut up." Bill's voice was unnaturally cold, scary almost.
Almost. Not for Dipper, though. He had been half-expecting this type of response — deflecting fear with anger. He shrugged, throwing a lazy glance at Bill, still staring out of the window beside him but his jaw was tightened and his eyebrows furrowed. A small voice in his head cautioned Dipper against continuing — it was such a beautiful morning after all, why ruin it?
But Dipper was never one to run away from things.
"I'm not trying to start an argument by bringing it up." Dipper settled on opening with, "But it's been on my mind a lot lately. End-of-life mumbo jumbo that is."
Dipper cringed as the words left his mouth. A part of him wished he had a secret earpiece that Mabel could use to give him pointers on what to say, like in that one spy movie they watched when they were kids ( he made another mental note to ask her the name of it, it was bugging him that he didn't remember). She would know what to say, whenever he tried to talk about actually serious things like this it felt like his tongue disconnected from his brain.
Just as Dipper opened his mouth to try again, Bill began talking, his voice carrying a tone that Dipper couldn't quite put his finger on: "I know, I can hear your mindscape whirling on about it even from outside the entrance."
Right right, his mindscape. Things had changed since Dipper was little, Dipper trusted Bill up there and had for a while, much to the surprise of the rest of the multiverse. That being said, Bill never really had "free" access, he had taught Dipper how to sense and kick-out intruders (including himself! Ford had really begged Dipper for that ritual.) from his mindscape after a nasty possession incident, so Dipper knew he couldn't just waltz right in and pick-up on the things that were plaguing Dipper's mind like back in the good ole days.
"We haven't been in a while." Dipper held up his hand as he noticed Bill open his mouth, "To my mindscape that is."
Bill perked up at the mention of a lighter subject matter, "Hey! Maybe that can be our adventure of the day. 'The Great Bill Cipher conquers the—'"
"I changed my mind, I don't want to be immortal anymore Bill."
The rest of the world went quiet.
Dipper closed his eyes. It wasn't supposed to come out like that, he wasn't supposed to sound so harsh, he was supposed to ease Bill into it. That's what that article said online, ease him in and explain your reasoning, never start by ripping the proverbial band-aid off , oh god Bill is gonna be pissed and misinterpret this and its all Dipper's fault—
"Okay."
Bill's voice came out shaky. He repeated again with more conviction — still not moving his eyes from the forest. "Okay, sapling."
Dipper wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. What? "Just okay?"
Bill nodded. "I kinda saw this coming, kid."
Something within Dipper broke at hearing that. He placed his hand on Bill's — still gripping his coffee cup — and tried to find…..something to say that was worthy of representing feelings he couldn't even name. Nothing came to mind.
"I get it," Bill began, setting his cup down on the windowsill to interlace their finger, "I knew you'd change your mind once you experienced real grief. Seen it happen with a million other mortals."
Dipper wanted to be offended at that. It was a real asshole way of putting it (was that Bill's move here? Piss Dipper off to deflect on his own feelings?) and Dipper wanted to jerk away from him, curse him out for not treating him seriously and to be serious for once.
But Dipper wasn't really, because it was true. Instead of shoving Bill away, he leaned his head on his shoulder. Bill himself probably wasn't expecting that as Dipper's response based on the little way his shoulder jumped, but the next second he was wrapping his arms around Dipper so at least he wasn't upset.
"I miss her…so much." Dipper's voice cracked as he buried himself deeper in Bill's collarbone.
"I know sapling," Bill rubbed circles in Dipper's back, like he had countless times the past six months, "I know."
Suddenly Dipper was crying again, fuck, of course he was. This wasn't supposed to go like this, Dipper was supposed to be composed and explain himself well — he had prepared — and he was most definitely not supposed to hiccup into his husband's shirt and stain one of Bill's last clean shirts with his snot. "It feels like a part of me died that day. Like, its wrong that I'm even here without her."
"Don't say that, sapling. She wouldn't want you to, uh, hold on." Bill was guiding Dipper somewhere now — the couch? It was probably the couch — it was always the damn couch. "She wouldn't want you to cut-off your mortal life to catch up with her."
Dipper was right, it was the couch. He vaguely registered that he was being rocked gently by Bill — when did he start crying so much? "I don't care. I'd rather her hate me but be around then lose her for forever." He was being irrational right now. He needed to stop talking. "That's why I can't be around forever. I can't do it. I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry."
Fuck that was way too rough around the edges. Dipper was an idiot. And an asshole. A terrible, horrible, asshole. He was going back on a promise he made with Bill — in doing so, apparently proposing the demonic equivalent of divorce — and he didn't even have the self-regulation to explain himself in a less blunt way.
He had a way out still — the mortal-to-immortal pipeline for demonic spouses required a lot of bureaucratic nonsense in the demon realm (probably as an extra sign of caution for people that chickened out last second, like him) so Dipper technically was as mortal as just about anyone else in the forest once you stripped him of his protective wards.
Still though. The grief he was feeling now was horrible. It made him want to go, dig a hole and bury himself. He was a zombie those first three months — only alive because Bill forced him to eat and drink water. He had such bad panic attacks that he thought he was getting possessed again. Everything reminded him of her, he couldn't live with himself without her.
Dipper wondered if Bill's grief would be as heavy when Dipper died.
Well, Dipper knew that it wouldn't be a 1:1 replica obviously. They were very different people, and knowing Bill his grief would probably be violent. Then again, Bill had also been around a lot longer than Dipper had. Dipper knew that Bill had had past lovers — none as "serious as Dipper" according to Bill but still, he had to have experience in dealing with all…this. But Dipper wasn't Bill. Dipper would never be able to walk through the rest of eternity carrying around that terrible, terrible weight in his stomach.
And yet Dipper was only going to add to Bill's by going back on his word. How cruel.
"Tell shooting star I say hi, when you see her okay?" Bill pressed a kiss to Dipper's forehead. "Which, isn't gonna be for a long time, whether mortal or immortal."
"Y-you're an angel."
Bill snorted. The crying was definitely creating some delirium in Dipper's mind. "Only yours kid."
"I love you." Dipper choked out, moving so he could make sure that Bill could see his seriousness.
"I-"
"Let me finish," Dipper's voice shook, threatening to collapse into sobs again, "I'm not going back on my word because I fell out of love with you or any of that bullshit. There is no one else I'd rather spend eternity with. That's why I said yes at first. But after Mabel.." A sob escaped him, "died, I realized I'm not strong enough to deal with the grief. I can't promise you that anymore. The world is so…without her."
Bill nodded, pressing his lips to his temple. He didn't say anything. Neither did Dipper. They just sat there, letting Dipper's tears and time drape over them, together.
When Dipper felt he could finally catch his breath, he moved to sit upright. His head was dizzy — he probably shouldn't have had that coffee in that damn radioactive mug. "Promise me you won't blow up the dimension when I die?"
Bill smiled, "Don't be greedy now Pine Tree, best I can give ya is I'll move your family's graves to a pocket dimension. Maybe a few trees from the forest if I'm feeling especially sentimental."
Dipper rolled his eyes, "You cheap bastard, I'm definitely haunting you. You owe me tons of gifts and flowers and crap when you come visit my grave."
They both ignored how Bill flinched at the mention of Dipper's grave.
"Aww c'mon sapling, if I put anything more than a tree in the pocket dimension then I'll have to add fertile soil which means bugs, and bugs would eat all that pretty little flesh of yours." Bill squeezed his shoulder.
"Whatever eats my corpse would be so infested with my love for you it would spend the rest of its days searching for the taste in anything else it eats."
Bill was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned to look at Dipper with an expression Dipper couldn't quite read — something caught between devastated and completely, helplessly charmed.
"...You know," Bill said finally, his voice rough around the edges, "I've been alive since before your sun had a name." He exhaled slowly through his nose. "And somehow you're the one who keeps finding new ways to absolutely destroy me."
Dipper shifted, "Okay last death related request: when I die, plant seeds on my grave so that when they bloom, you can pick me and hold me again."
Bill didn't say anything for a long moment. Dipper wasn't sure he expected him to.
Then Bill pressed his lips to Dipper's hair, slow and deliberate, the way he did when words failed him — which, for a being who had existed since before language, was rarer than it should've been and meant more because of it.
"...Deal." Bill murmured into his hair.
Dipper exhaled. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
He leaned back into Bill's chest, and together they sat in the quiet of the morning — the sun still coming through the kitchen window and the mug still in Dipper's hands.
And in that moment, just for a seond, Dipper could see spending an eternity with Bill. He wondered if he'd ever change his mind again.
Only time would tell.