Grandeur | BillDip One-Shots

Something Just Like This

//1920s AU//

Dipper Pines has this problem. His problem is that he can never say no to his sister. One time this had resulted into sneaking into their great uncle Stan's room to steal his radio for the day. That did not end too well.

Not even when she suggests a bar, of all things. Y'know, with drinking and dancing and music and loud people and more dancing and drinking.

This was obviously not Dipper's forte.

Dipper Pines was more the type to stay at home and write his book. Not party. That's right, Dipper is 22 years old and has his life figured out...but does he?

In the taxicab, Mabel screamed, "We're here!" which made the driver with the handlebar mustache cringe, but he didn't say anything.

Pacifica Northwest, Mabel's friend and Dipper's ex-enemy, rolled his eyes.

Dipper pursed his lips when he looked out the window at the bright building: it was brick like the rest of the buildings of the streets were and there was a row of light bulbs on a string above the door and the windows. There were a few people outside sitting in chairs and Dipper could hear the instruments being played inside and he hadn't even gotten out of the taxi yet.

Someone knocked on the window. It was Mabel. She was already outside the taxi with Pacifica and Dipper was too spellbound by the exterior that he hadn't even noticed that she got out in the first place.

Dipper said his thanks to the driver and opened the door. The sounds and the smells of the street and the bar and of people was like a punch in the face as soon as he left the car.

Dipper adjusted his hat and his vest and his tie self-consciously as he followed the girls through the door.

And wow. Yellow-orange light, chatter, loud music, and the smell of alcohol greeted him and the new sensations were so new and different and sudden that he just stopped in his tracks.

"Dip! Come dance with us!" Mabel knocked Dipper out of his own thoughts as she reached for his hand. She was fixing the clips in her carefully-done hair with her free hand.

Dipper smiled politely at his sister. "Maybe later. Lemme get a drink first, okay?"

Mabel stuck out her tongue at him. "Suit yourself, brother! It's only gonna be Paz and I experiencing the fun!"

Dipper waved goodbye to her and chose a cushioned stool to sit on at the bar. The bartender went up to him and asked him what he wanted to drink. Dipper was about to say something, but—

"We'll both get vodka sodas, sir. On me."

Dipper's head whipped toward the new person sitting next to him and his eyes widened.

Anyone with eyes would know that this man did not belong in the state of Oregon with his flashy yellow vest and slacks and bowtie—were those sequins? To top it off, golden hair that was combed to the side. His choice of style easily put Dipper's blue and brown outfit to shame.

"Um, thanks," Dipper said slowly, "Do I know you?"

"Nope. Just a man wanting to buy a drink for you," the golden man said, and put his cigar back into his mouth and took a long drag. Dipper noticed the bartender give them both the drinks and he nodded at him while the other man blew out a thin cloud of smoke.

He put the cigar to the side and sipped his drink. "Well, your name?"

Dipper blinked. "Oh! You can call me Dipper. But my real name is Mason."