Case 36: Courter in Yellow

Not the Fun Kind of Handcuffs(39)

Dipper POV

When I woke up I was welcomed by the rising sun, just barely cresting over the tree and building line. Stretching the stillness of sleep out of my fingers I pressed my hand into the warm skin of the still-sleeping man beside me. He lay facing away from me on his side but the rise and fall of his back assured me he was sleeping. A golden blond halo of messy hair obscured his face from me, but with the blanket pooling around our waist I was faced with his back.

Sunlight slowly cutting into the room from the window lit things I hadn't seen before.

Faint against the tan of his skin were scars, faded and healed from time, but there crisscrossed on his skin from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, each different from the rest. Clean swipes, large gauges with ridged edges and sharp turns, smaller marks, and rough circles filled empty spaces.

However these marks where nothing compared to the spread of ink, branching arms of black spirals like a tree reached around and through the scars, pulled at the small of his back like roots, instead of leaves or fruit, over his shoulders near the smallest branches clustered triangles, small and large, lined and filled. At the very top of the piece was the only spot of color, one yellow lined triangle centered on the back of his neck, just visible under his hair.

Slowly I inched my hand from his waist down to one of the larger scars circle by the little triangles close to his shoulder blade. His skin wasn't raised, the wound had to have been at least a decade old and well cared for to heal so well like this. What I'd read yesterday filled in my brain unprompted, this probably happened before he became part of the Northwest family. Something like this doesn't look like something they could have, or would have done, It couldn't have happened after the scars are not fresh enough, and even the ink in the tattoo is slightly faded meaning even this art piece is old, most likely done when he was living with the Northwest, as a reclaiming of sorts.

Even touching him I'd fallen too deep in thought to feel the change in his breathing. "Dipper, don't touch those." His voice was groggy from just waking up, but the edge in his words was unmistakable, it made me jump like his skin just shocked me.

"I'm sorry, I'd just somehow not seen this yet." I apologized, shifting away from him to give him the room to turn over so I wasn't talking to his back.

When he did turn he sat up, and I quickly joined him to close the difference. I waited quietly for him to say something, though by his response I suddenly doubted it'd be about the scars or the tattoo, maybe a good morning would do. I'd even take just a morning.

"You hadn't seen them before because I don't let people. It's not exactly something for the public, don't you think?" He asked rhetorically, eyeing me like he could still see the curiosity in my eyes. I tried to kill it but I was now very intrigued.

"Right, I'm sorry, can I make it up to you with a cup of coffee?" I wanted out from under that stare, but I also really did want coffee, it was very early in the morning and neither of us got much sleep.

He laughed, breaking the odd hostility coming from him, "Like you could," his eyes trailed down, "I'll get it you stay here."

Before I could argue he kissed me quick and stood from the bed, and dressed in sweats and an undershirt covering his back and officially killing that conversation. Just like that he was gone from the room and I was alone.

I sat in silence for a solid three seconds, a personal record, before searching for my phone, which was waiting for me on the side table, to check notifications and the media.

Messages followed as so,

Mable - Leo came by for you, he said you're ignoring him. He also was not happy when he saw the doctors reports on my lap. Oops. I diddd tell him tho that you were a very busy gay and to leave you alone. ;)