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Mocha eyes bore into a yellow pill on his palm, a triangle with an eye as the imprint on both sides, furthering his doubt on taking it. If it’s Bill’s, then it has to be safe, he thinks, but if it’s Bill’s, then it has to be dangerous. These thoughts repeat themselves in his head until they’re blurring together, and he’s bringing the pill closer and closer to his mouth.
An arm lands heavily around his shoulders, knocking the air out of him and – thankfully – the pill out of the palm of his hand. “Y’know, PT,” a familiar body leans against him and then there’s another pill in his hand, “you get a better kick if you snort them.”
“Not gonna happen.” Despite this, Dipper encases the pill in his hand, walking off to their bedroom, focusing all of his attention on his thoughts and how fucked up he’s going to become and how he’s going to regret it when the sun rises, but he doesn’t care as he’s opening up their door, Bill following behind, opening up his ass and pulling out a mortar and pestle, taking the pill from Dippers hand, crushing it up and lining it in two neat rows for the both of them on their dresser.
“What is it?” Dipper questions, the roar of the music downstairs barely masking the sound of his pounding heartbeat as he stares at the powder in front of him.
“What do you mean?”
“Pill. What type of pill is it?”
“Ecstasy.” Dipper never knew that a single word could make him rethink his life choices, wondering how the fuck he got with a demon who sells drugs on the side for a bit of extra cash to fund his weird demon parties so he can sell more drugs to afford more parties, creating a never-ending loop of a shitty existence.
Bill is leaning down, taking his line, and Dipper is busy delaying the inevitable by overthinking the outcomes and how it’s his first time taking anything except over the counter cold medicine. Then, “What’re you waiting for, PT?” It’s the extra push he needs to take his own line, his nose stinging slightly afterwards, and at first all he feels is regret and anxiety, wondering what Mabel would do to him if she ever found out. His heart beats even faster, thinking about what his parents would think about him taking random substances from a demon.
Then his thoughts take a full 180 and he’s suddenly thinking about Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and Bill’s hand on his arm. He laughs and playfully shoves Bill away, the action doing nothing to the demon as he’s crushing more pills to get a better high.
Finally, this is the ultimate yiff experience, Dipper thinks, eyeing the crushed pills and deciding fuck it, rubbing his face in the powder, laughing hysterically.
“Pine Tree, holy fuck. Calm down.” Bill’s hands are on his shoulders, pulling him away from the pills and facing him towards him, and then suddenly there’s a tongue on his face.
“Bill, what the fuck?”
“Well, I’m not wasti– “
A large, bellowing voice cuts Bill off. “Where’s my fucking money, Cipher?!”
Dipper stays still as Bill moves in front of him, shielding him, both boys losing their bedroom door to an enormous 9” tall man with messy, spiked up maroon hair, his ratty overalls matching the colour. All Dipper can think in this moment is how hot this man is as he’s throwing the door out their triangular window and how he wants those huge fists up his ass.
Bill pushes Dipper back, shouting, “It’s in the fucking basement of the Fearamid like I fucking told you it was, Ralph!” Bill’s face drops as he runs over to the window, looking at the remains of their door. “That was Gucci!”
“I’m gonna wreck it!” screams Ralph as he yanks Bill from the window, chucking him against a wall, furiously beating him to a pulp and all Dipper can do is stare and wish Ralph was doing that to his ass.
Dipper moves towards Ralph, and Ralph turns towards him, stopping his attack on Bill. Ralph is covered in Bill’s blood, the golden ichor standing starkly against his clothing, causing him to glow and Dipper begins to fluster because he must be a mess compared to this god before him.
Giant hands are on his shoulders, causing Dipper to stumble a little, but it’s OK, because he’s right there to catch him and keep him grounded; then there’s eyes staring straight into his own, looking right into his soul and showing him the meaning of life, which is Ralph, Ralph, Ralph.
And then Bill’s fucking ruining it with his shitty voice, even if it is just a singular word. “Police.”
Ralph’s hold on Dipper’s shoulders tightens a fraction before it’s gone altogether and Ralph is making a move to leave. “I must go, my chili flake.”
“Don’t leave, Ralph. Take me with you, I beg you!” Dipper shouts, tripping over Bill as he tries to get closer to Ralph.
Hands are pulling Dipper up, deep brown eyes staring into his own, a mouth against his, cutting off the world from them and then Dipper is in Ralph’s arms and they’re flying off into the rising sun, leaving behind the sounds of the sirens, drugged demons and Bill bleeding out on the carpet, and replacing it with love.