And I Told Them I Invented Times New Roman [billdip]

Speaking Japanese

a/n: sorry for disappearing for a hot minute, I had surgery on my wrists and was recovering! 

SATURDAY, AUGUST 20TH

The weekend had started out rocky. Bill had spent the night on Thursday, following Dipper's panic attack, and stayed again last night. Thursday night was filled with constant reassurance from Bill that he wanted to be different from those previous people that the brunette had dated and that he wanted to be his rock. Dipper had eventually tired himself out from the tense fight-or-flight response of his body and passed out from exhaustion on the couch, laying his head in Bill's lap. Bill spent most of the night awake, lost in his thoughts, playing with the brunette's hair.

Last night was similar but it Bill could tell that Dipper was starting to feel better. In fact, it was actually a lot better than the night prior. Dipper was breathing steadily, talking coherently, and they were making just fine conversation. Of course, the topics were light, but it was alright. Even learning the smallest details about each other made them both content.

This morning, Bill was up before Dipper — which was starting to be the usual occurrence — and had a great idea. One that he needed to wake the other up for.

"Pine Tree," Bill said, gently shaking the shoulder of the boy resting on his chest.

Dipper grumbled in his sleep and did not wake up.

"Pine Tree," Bill tried again, poking him with slightly sharp stabs. The brunette was starting to stir but it was clear he was fighting very hard to stay asleep. Bill didn't quite understand why — supposedly he'd stopped having dreams (which was very concerning!) and he'd already slept for eight hours. So he should be fine to get up.

Bill shook his shoulder again, a teensy bit more violently than the first time.

"Kid!" Bill spoke louder. He wasn't trying to scare him awake, but it was seemingly what was going to have to be done. He let out a sigh before yelling out, "Dipper!"

"Wha— what?" Dipper groaned, his eyes fluttering open with alarm. It took him a moment to realize where he was, who he was with, and the fact that the blonde was yelling in his ear. "What the fuck, Bill?"

"Kid! I know what we are going to do today."

"You had to wake me up to tell me this." It wasn't even a question. It was a statement.

"Yes," Bill grinned as Dipper lifted himself off of his chest and turned, facing the blonde. "I want to get a tattoo, and you are going to come with me."

"Um. Okay?" he raised an eyebrow, not understanding where this was coming from. Or why. Bill didn't seem like the type of guy to be interested in tattoos or piercings or anything that someone would deem 'alternative' culture. He was always wearing clothes that were more on the classy side than casual: always a button-up, a sweater vest, or both, and plain jeans that were usually black or a dark washed-out grey. He liked bow ties and sometimes he wore loafers instead of his usual brown boots — which Dipper is only just now realizing look suspiciously similar to his brown hiking boots.

"C'mon, kid, it'll be fun," Bill urged, his grin growing wider. Dipper scoffed but relented anyways.

"Fine, but don't expect me to be joining you in on that."

"You don't want to add to your tiny pine tree, Pine Tree?" Bill smirked, giving him a knowing look. Dipper's cheeks flushed with heat and his hand flew up to his arm to cover the small tattoo. He didn't even know that Bill had seen it.

"No," Dipper murmured, rubbing his arm sheepishly. "It's a stupid tattoo."

"No, I think it's cute," the blonde disagreed. His hand reached over towards the brunette's and gently moved it away. He lifted his shirt sleeve and reached over, pressing his lips to it, before moving back to his original position on the mattress.