Oh look, I wrote more Amnesia AU.
Dipper’s at least ninety percent sure he knows how to handle the forest.
It’s been strange, not having memories. Or knowing who he is.
But when he strides through the brush, his legs step over the brambles, before he even notices them. He moves branches aside without a thought, and never gets whipped in the face when they snap back .
A mind can be wiped. That’s clear enough. Painfully so.
But muscle memory is still a thing.
Whoever he was, whatever he was - Dipper knows now that he knows these woods. How to handle them, navigate them, travel them. Pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.
Dipper must be a local. He knows this forest on instinct alone. He must have done this for ages, exploring the wilderness.
Even though he’s hiked for an hour away from that ‘Mystery Shack’, he’s pretty sure he could find his way back. It’s a little - He looks up to check the sun - south by southwest of here. Not too far, if he went as the crow flies.
For the first time since he woke up, Dipper smiles.
He might not know who he is, but he still knows stuff. And that’s something to work with.
Fact one: a brain wipe doesn’t take everything away. He isn’t starting from step one. He can walk, and talk, and do this. Personal stuff is wiped away, but at the core of it - he’s still himself. Whoever he was isn’t totally gone.
If he could only talk to-
Dipper frowns. He looks down at the carpet of pine needles on the forest floor.
There’s. That one person. Who’s good at minds.
They’d know- Something?
That one goddamned-
Dipper rubs at his face.
That. One.
That-
Damn it.
Every time Dipper searches, it feels close - but he can’t bring it up. It’s a word he can’t remember, stuck on the tip of his tongue. A dream he knows was important, so important...
Then the instant he woke up, it was lost.
Screw it.
No point in trying. Dipper has freakin’ memory loss, he can’t dig it out. All of this is is like tonguing at something stuck between his teeth, when there’s nothing to dislodge.
Whatever it is, it’s gone, like everything else.
He’ll just have to find it again.
“Okay,” He says. He taps his foot on the ground, and frowns, looking around. “If I were me. I’d know what I’d do.” He rubs his fingers against his temples. “Time to think.”
Dealing with weird magic stuff. Dipper knows he likes to be prepared. Maybe he knew this memory gun thing was a thing, ‘cause that’s something you wouldn’t forget about in a hurry. That’s something he thinks he’d prepare for.
What really fuels that hunch is that he keeps tapping at his pockets, like he was checking for his phone. And every single time, he's worried when he doesn’t find a notebook.
“So,” He says, slow, turning in a circle. “If I were me.” He squints up at the swaying branches. “Where would I store my notes?”
The woods are naturally, unhelpfully silent.
“I mean, that’s if I thought this was a thing,” Dipper admits. He thinks for a second. Then his arms drop. “Crap.”
Damn. If he’s him. And he is! He would totally make contingency plans for a lot of stuff - but this one might have been a surprise.
Nobody expects a memory wipe. Which is super bad, because. Dipper would have absolutely prepared for one, if he thought that was a chance. Plus, Dipper knows Ford is smart. And if he knew a way to fix this, Dipper’s pretty sure he’d have done it already.
He slaps himself on the forehead, and swears.
This sucks. He can’t even rely on himself. He didn’t expect this, he didn’t prepare.
Maybe there’s nobody who can fix this.
“Having trouble, Pine Tree?”
Dipper startles, and looks up with a jerk.
At a jerk.
The eyepatched man leans up against a tree, looking casual.
Looking exactly like he did when Dipper last saw him, back when he.
Woke up.
The guy is. Young. Annoying. And handsome, annoyingly so. He’s dressed in the exact same outfit, classy in an annoying way, the same as last time.
The big difference is that this time, the jerk is grinning.
He wasn’t anywhere near this smug before.
“So,” The man says, striding forward with his hands tucked behind his back. Once he’s within a few feet, he starts circling Dipper, slow. “What brings you out here, kid?”
“Uh,” Dipper says. He swallows, briefly. “Questions.”
“Questions, huh?” The man hums to himself. He pauses in his circling, and winks. “Got a lot of ‘em in that brain, dont’cha?”
Dipper stares forward. He straightens his back, and doesn’t flinch.
Those sharp teeth. That movement. A shark would be less intimidating.
At least with one of those, he could find a way out of the water.
The man’s smile spreads wide. “Well,” He says, with no small amount of pride. “I happen to be an infinite source of knowledge. If there’s anything I’ve got, it’s answers!” He leans in, close to Dipper’s ear. “Which I’m betting is everything you want.”
Dipper nods.
The man’s smile spreads wider. Impossibly wider. His eye is inhumanly yellow, and his teeth are sharp and white. He waves a hand. Then strides forward, and reaches outa hand to shake. “How about we-”
“Okay, no. No, no,” Dipper waves his hands in front of himself. “And no.”
“What?”
Dipper claps his hands tight against his mouth. The words came without thinking.
“Rude, kid, I’m offering you assistance here,” The man says. His eyebrows raise. He jogs his hand invitingly. “Don’t you wanna know all the secrets of your past?”
There’s nothing he wants more. He even thinks this guy might have some of it, but…
Dipper meets this bastard’s eye.
Once… whatever happened, he was awake, and aware. And as memory serves - there were only three people around. It was Ford, himself, and-
Dipper points at this young, eyepatched asshole. “I remember you.”
The man takes a step back so fast he almost stumbles.
“Yeah, I know.” Dipper insists. He’s got this jerk on the back foot now, he has to follow up. He stalks forward, and jabs a finger into this asshole’s chest. “You were there.”
“Oh.” The man blinks for a few seconds. Horribly, the insufferable grin returns. “Back when you got your mind wiped, sure! I was around for that!”
Heat rises in Dipper’s chest. Only three people were there, when it happened. Only three. And Dipper ended up. He clenches his fists.
“Did you-”
“Whoa, whoa whoa!” The man interrupts, instantly. He raises his arms, waves his hands, defensive - but still grinning. “Nah, I had nothing to do with your mindwipe, sapling.” He clasps his hands over his chest, leaning his head back. “If it weren’t for you - I was gonna be the innocent victim.”
“Innocent?” Dipper blinks.
He glances briefly up at the sky. A lie that huge should get someone struck by lightning.
“Hey, lighten up, kid!” The man reaches up, and Dipper... doesn’t flinch. He feels the jerk tuck part of his probably-needing-a-trim hair over his ear. ”You’re the hero of that story.”
Hero, Dipper thinks.
That’s a pretty cool word.
“So! Since it’s obvious you want your memories back.” The man continues. He takes a second to pause, and offers his hand again. “Name’s Bill, by the way.”
“Bill,” Dipper repeats. He looks down at the hand, and doesn’t take it. “It’s…. Uh, interesting. To meet you again.”
“Kid,” Bill continues, face full of nothing but concern - “Listen. First things first? I’m your best friend. We’ve known each other for ages! So when I say something, trust-”
Dipper punches him.
At the last second he realizes he doesn’t know why he’s doing it, and pulls the blow.
It ends up landing hard on Bill’s shoulder, instead of his face.
“Shit. Sorry.” Dipper says. Except this guy is - “I mean, I’m not sorry.” He tries to shake some of the slight pain from his knuckles. Then he frowns. “I don’t... “
“Huh.” Bill doesn’t seem fazed. He rolls his shoulder, and sets something right with a soft crack. “Shoulda expected that.”
“Don’t. Don’t do that.” Dipper pauses. He doesn’t like to hit people, but. He sterns himself, and meets Bill’s eye again. “I can tell when you’re lying. It won’t work. It won’t ever work.”
“You really can, can’t ya?” Bill takes a second to think. Then his insufferable smile returns. “Takes some mind work, considering. You nerd! You actually listened to me for once!” Bill’s voice is loud, but. Weirdly, he’s not angry. He almost looks fond.
There’s a beat of silence. Bill’s watching Dipper, and Dipper’s not sure what to say.
He clears his throat.
Bill’s still looking at him, saying nothing, and, okay, it was weird. Now it’s getting awkward.
Dipper shrugs. “...yeah?”
Bill claps his hands together. Animated again, and acting like no pause was ever there. “So! How ‘bout some truth, sapling!”
And he leans in, very, very close, and way too fast. Dipper leans back out of sheer surprise.
Bill’s grin is literally sharp, his eye is bright, and when he darts forward, unnaturally fast, Dipper backpedals until he runs into a tree - and Bill’s hands slam against it, on either side of Dipper’s head, with a crunching sound that makes him flinch.
“Truth of the matter is.” Bill’s sharp teeth graze against Dipper’s cheek as he mutters, “I’m your worst enemy.”
Dipper’s breathing fast, eyes wide. Bill pulls back just enough to smile. Giving Dipper just enough space to look down at those teeth. Up, at that eye.
He swallows, and says, “Do your worst.”
A short silence.
Now Bill’s smile is outright predatory. He licks over his teeth, a weird resonance enters his voice as his tongue flicks out. “Now that I have you, I’m going to-”
Dipper starts clapping, very slow. Once, then again, then again, and again, slow enough to be sarcastic.
Bill’s speech falters. He stumbles into silence.
“Solid performance.” Dipper keeps clapping slow, and rhythmic. He fills in the answer before Bill can open his mouth to ask. “The pause gave it away.”
Bill’s smile drops. He glances around, looking for another route, another tactic - but it’s too late and they both know it.
His ego isn’t totally deflated. It’ll be back on his tracks within the minute - But it’s lost enough of its hot air for one thing.
Dipper pushes Bill away with one hand, making him take a step back. There’s barely any resistance.
“Nice try, Bill.” Dipper kinda wants to grin. “It was even close to true. You are the worst.”
Bill cocks his head to one side. “Sure I am!” His eye flicks over Dipper. “How much do you remember?”
“Nothing.” Dipper raises his hands. He suddenly feels awkward. “It’s just. If you were my worst enemy, you’d have killed me by now. And I know you’re not my best friend, because you’re….” He gestures over all of Bill. “I mean, you’re.... You.”
Dipper is making zero sense. He sounds like a crazy person.
“Never been anyone else!” Bill grins, and throws an arm around Dipper’s shoulders. “There may be hope for you yet, sapling! So much material there! Nothing’s gonna be artificial.”
Oh good. None of that made sense, either.
Dipper feels himself relax. Maybe his own sanity isn’t the best, but Bill is definitely crazier.
“Much as I hate to cop to it,” Bill says, tone aiming for nonchalant, and missing it almost entirely. “If you want your memories back, we’re gonna need to meet back up with Sixer. He’s got some access routes to,” A careful glance at Dipper. “Stuff I can’t work on direct-like.”
“Who’s Six-” It hits Dipper easily. Six fingers. “But. He’s.”
“An arrogant douchebag? A total jackass?” Bill rolls his eye, throwing his hands in the air. “Thinks he’s got control of everything, when he’s actually a moron?”
“Are you talking about Ford or yourself?”
Bill shuts his jaw with a snap. He turns to face Dipper, eye narrowed.
Dipper flips him off.
He doesn’t know how he knows Bill. Or how Bill knows Ford, or even who Bill is. But he does know some things.
First, Bill’s a jerk. That’s clear enough.
Second... at some point in Dipper’s life - he knew Bill. Somehow, in some way.
And third, Bill’s got a problem with Ford, and it’s clearly mutual. Ford chased this guy off the second he could manage it.
But Bill wants to help Dipper out.
Dipper can’t pass up this opportunity, but that doesn’t mean he has to be nice.
Besides. Bill doesn’t seem to mind.
“Problem is,” Bill continues, as if there was never an interruption. He taps Dipper’s forehead a couple times. “I can’t do my best without some stuff only Sixer has, and.” Bill grimaces, briefly. “That’s gonna be a sticking point.”
“Why?”
“Eh, we’ll work around it. No way anyone could pull this off without me. Because I,” Bill declares, holding a hand to his chest. “Am the Master of the Mind. The greatest, most talented being at anything to do with mental stuff!” Bill peeks his eye open, and winks. “Doesn’t matter whether or not Sixer and me see eye to eye. If you’re for me getting involved? He’ll cave in. Get you fixed in a snap.”
“Oh.” Dipper says. “Okay.”
Things start clicking together.
Both of them magical - though if magic was heat, Ford’s a lightbulb, and Bill’s a damn radiator. Ford is old, intelligent, and arrogant. Bill - young, intelligent, and arrogant. Both interested in magic, and knowledge, and.
It’s obvious, once you notice.
“You’re rivals.” Dipper says, slow. The pieces fit. “The student surpassed the master?” He turns the end of the sentence up, making it a question.
Bill’s grin fades a few fractions. His eye twitches. Just once.
“Eh, there was teaching involved in there somewhere. Details ain’t important.” Bill claps his hands together, and his grin returns. “But! Before we move on, I got one little proposition for you.”
“What.”
This is going to be awful. Bill is awful.
Bill grins, white and wild. “Wanna make out?”
“What?”
“Eh, just an idea,” Bill shrugs, and raises his arms, taking a step back. He looks away, nonchalant.
“Wait,” Dipper holds up a hand.
Okay. Bill’s an asshole. But. Fuck. He’s a handsome asshole.
Bill pauses, looking over at him. An eyebrow goes up, and he’s still, unfortunately smug.
“Maybe.” Dipper says, after a second of thought.
Because he’s stupid. Because he’s blushing. Because attention like this doesn't feel familiar, or normal. Because Bill is unfortunate, in many ways, but some of them are attractive ways, so. It’s. Maybe.
Dipper absolutely should not do this.
He really kinda wants to do this.
“Alright then. Pucker up, kid,” Bill says, eye shut, leaning in.
Dipper looks down at the lips, up at the eye. Glances at the eyepatch, which is mysterious, what is under that thing.
He can’t bring himself to move.
Bill waits for another few moments - then leans back, and sighs. “And this,” He says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Is why I want your memories back.”
“I don’t.” There’s no good way to say it, so. “I don’t remember anything.” Dipper shuts his eyes. “I’d screw it up.”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.That’s why you’re-” Bill looks incredulous for a full five seconds, then rolls his eye. “Oh for crying out - Get over here.”
And he yanks Dipper in.
Dipper has precisely zero memories of doing this, with anyone,and there’s no way he’d ever, ever kiss this jerk, for any sane reason.
Except. Maybe. If it felt warm, and close, and good. And maybe if their mouths fit together really nice. Like they’d been working on a complex puzzle, independently, and this was the solution.
Maybe if Bill kissed like he knew exactly what Dipper liked. Maybe if Bill’s tongue flicked against Dipper’s lips, and when Dipper let him in -
Dipper holds Bill’s face in his hands and pulls him closer.
Okay. This. Not a problem. Dipper was just being paranoid, like an idiot. He buries his fingers in Bill’s hair, and moans.
The bark of the tree thuds against his back again.
Bill knows what he’s doing, and it feels good when Dipper runs his fingers through his hair And if he pulls at it, Bill presses against him, their hips against each other’s, and that’s definitely on the list of things to do, forever.
Bill’s taking the lead, and Dipper isn’t surprised. He’s too demanding to not take the lead. And Dipper grips onto Bill’s shoulder and slides his other hand up and under Bill’s shirt.
A hand cups Dipper’s thigh, trailing up the inside, until it slides around to reach his butt, and squeezes-
Dipper shoves Bill away, and gasps for air.
“What?” Bill’s been pushed a couple steps back. He looks confused, for some reason. He beckons Dipper closer with a grin. “We were having fun there, sapling, let’s-”
“Shut up. I.” Dipper runs a hand through his hair. ”I need to think.”
God, he’s been stupid. How could he have gotten this carried away. He’s known this guy for all of ten minutes, and Bill’s trying for. And it’s. Dipper claps a hand to his forehead.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Bill Cipher,” Bill says, and winks. ”At your service.”
“But-”
“Now,” Bill continues, as if the interruption meant nothing. He rubs his hands together. “How’s about-”
Dipper smacks a hand over Bill’s stupid smug grin, and leans into it. When Bill takes a step back, Dipper follows. He’s not letting this jerk get a word in edgewise.
“Are we involved? And,” He has to ask, because he’s already learned Bill’s a liar. “How?”
“Kid!” Bill raises his hands. He looks surprised. “Of course we’re involved! We’ve been on dozens of dates!”
“Okay.” Dipper folds his arms. “Name one.”
It’s kind of interesting. Watching things unfold.
Bill, opening his mouth, starting out, so confident, only needing a brief moment to come up with his next lie.
Then noticing that he paused.
Noticing that Dipper noticed the pause.
Noticing that Dipper noticed that Bill noticed that Dipper noticed, so on and so forth, ad infinitum.
Bill’s smile falls, a fraction at a time.
They watch each other for a moment, in silence.
“You still owe me seven hundred for the dinner.” Bill nudges Dipper with an elbow. “Cripes, you’d think two margaritas’d be enough, but no. Apparently not for you, kid. You had to get a full dozen.”
That’s -
Dipper buries his face in his hands, snorting. “Bill.”
Bill is. Bill. A lying awful jerk. Just like Dipper thought. Who’s doubling down - no, tripling down, being straight-up ridiculous, because-
“I’m not even gonna get into how you got into a fight with the bartender. Totally embarrassing. Can’t believe I hang around you still-”
“Bill. No.” Dipper's not laughing. He holds his breath.
“Don’t complain, sapling. You should be thanking me for spending so much on a nerd like-”
“It’s zero,” Dipper interrupts, leaning in. His forehead thumps against Bill’s shoulder. He wishes he wasn’t smiling. “We’ve never been on a date.”
“That,” Bill says, haughty. “Depends on your concept of ‘date’.”
“So definitely zero.”
“Only if you look at it your way.” Bill pats his shoulder, voice warm and slightly mocking. “But sure. Fine, sapling. You caught me.” Even when he admits defeat, he manages to sound smug.
“So why...” Dipper trails off. He doesn’t know anything about relationships, or what this is. If this has been. A thing. Then.
Bill answers the unstated question, and it comes so quickly it has to be true.
“Yeah, let’s just say Stanford Pines approves of this,” He gestures briefly between them both. “About as much as he does murder.” A pause. “Nah, murder’s more acceptable.” Bill grimaces. “We don’t exactly…. get along.”
“Huh,” Dipper says. He rolls the idea around in his head for a while. “Makes sense.”
Ford and Bill hate each other.
It’s one of the very first things Dipper remembers. Their argument, when he ‘woke up’. And Ford has been very protective, ever since then. Plus, it doesn’t seem like Bill’s lying, for once.
With enough facts, Dipper can put the pieces together.
Bill, and Ford. Student and teacher.
Both of them smart, both really full of themselves - but they could have cooperated, once upon a time. Probably, Dipper met Bill when he was still learning with Ford, and maybe they got. Close? Something must have happened there. And then, when Ford and Bill had a falling out….
Jeez, if that happened. There’s less than zero chance that Dipper could ever go on a date with Bill, not with Ford looming over his shoulder.
Dipper looks up at Bill, and rubs the back of his head. Smiling, slightly awkward. “So, uh. Something of a... ‘Two houses, both alike in dignity’…?”
“Oh please, neither of us are so sappy. And only one of us died in the end.”
Dipper stares.
“I got better,” Bill adds, still grinning.
“That’s. Disturbing.”
“Stanford thought I’d ‘steal you away’ or something,” Bill says, amused. “He’s literally deadly opposed to ‘us’. It’s gonna make stuff weird when it comes to fixing your brain!” Bill claps his hands together. “But I’ve got some ideas, and with you backing me up-”
“We have today.” Dipper interrupts.
Bill looks over at him, confused. Dipper feels his face heat up, and charges forward anyway.
“I mean, if someone wanted to steal me away for a few hours. My family isn’t going to look around for. At least a little while? I-”
He stutters to a stop.
God, what is he doing.
But when he looks up at Bill again, the man’s eye has lit up. Literally lit up. His face neutral, and his eye glowing.
“I didn’t mean-” Dipper starts.
“No, no, go on!” Bill’s grin is so wide it looks like it might hurt. “Keep that train of thought going.”
Dipper takes in a deep breath, and lets it out, slow. Bill’s basically said he’s interested already. Hell, Bill’s kissed him. Dipper shouldn’t be nervous about this.
“So. Ford’s not here. We could, uh.” Dipper straightens up, and attempts a smile. “Turn the zero into a one?”
Oh god, that’s such a bad line.
He rests his face in his hands.
The first time Dipper’s ever asked someone on a date - as far as he remembers - and he’s really bad at it.
“Dipper. Pines,” Bill says.
It catches Dipper’s attention instantly. He looks up with a jolt.
Bill grins, grabs Dipper’s hand - and sets it to rest on his arm, just above his crooked elbow. He winks. “You’re about to have the best date of your life.”
Dipper squeezes Bill’s arm. Its. Not bad.
“This is the only date of my life.” He points out.
“Including your life before losing your memories!” Bill says. He’s leading them out of the forest and towards the town. “You were right to be nervous, kid. You’re crap at this.”
Maybe true. Definitely rude. Dipper didn’t need that part of his unremembered life pointed out. He walks with Bill, mouth working for a while, then says. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’m an interesting asshole,” Bill says, with a smug and certain smile. “Don’t you wanna know what I’ll do next?” He leans in, and plants a infuriatingly soft kiss on Dipper’s cheek.
Dipper grits his teeth.
He’s being taunted and it’s working. He’s deeply, desperately curious.
He wants to know everything, and to be there for everything, because Bill is a mystery. One that the jerk’s not fully revealing, because he wants to be a mystery. He wants to be some kind of. Infuriating, difficult puzzle.
Dipper spends a few seconds to simply watch that handsome, irritating face.
“You don’t play fair.” He hugs on tighter to Bill’s arm. Someone like this can’t escape. Not before Dipper figures him out.
“Never have!” Bill says, cheerful. “And trust me,” His smile is so wide it’s inhuman. “Things are gonna get way more weird than this.”
279 notes
·
View notes