A Promise to Deliver (BillDip)

Chapter 8

By the time the sun had begun to set, tensions were high around the kitchen table. Stanley was sat back in his chair, his arms crossed, an irritated frown stretched across his face. Ford had taken to pacing back and forth, the small kitchen causing his trips to be short and with snappy turns. Wendy sat with her head in her hands, strands of red hair falling into her face, displaced by her anxious fidgeting. The dream demon, who was determined not to let the brunet start ignoring him again, was stood behind the chair Dipper sat in, his hands resting on his shoulders. As if he could sense the helpless distress that was beginning to suffocate the teen's heart once more, Bill shifted one of his hands ever so slightly so that his thumb could brush gently against other's neck.

The contact seemed to work to deter the anxiety in Dipper, because the moment the dream demon's thumb brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck, heat flooded through him. His shoulders tensed at first, caught off guard by the touch, but within a few quickened heartbeats, the gentle movement became soothing, and sent relaxing waves down his spine, calming his heart.

Bill was relieved to feel the brunet relax beneath his touch, hating how anxious and tense the room was. He understood that this was a distressful time to for the Pines family, but he never knew how to act or react in these kinds of environments. With Dipper, he'd usually just pull him into a hug or give him a kiss to improve his attitude. However, that wouldn't work in this situation... Bill got the feeling that if he halted Ford's pacing for a hug, he'd be blasted into a million bits before he could even pat him on the back and give a half-hearted 'there, there.'

"Twelve hours..." Stanford finally spoke, never slowing his step. "Almost twelve hours of planning, and we're no closer to figuring anything out. All of our plans are either overlooking major issues, completely ludicrous, going to get us all killed, or all of the above," he growled. Dipper opened his mouth to object that they had, in fact, come up with a legitimate plan, but Ford raised his finger in warning, halting in his tracks.

"No, absolutely not. We're not doing that," he insisted vehemently. "There are too many risks involved and too little a chance of success." Dipper shifted in his chair, the comfort from the one standing behind him enough to give him the energy to argue.

"But Gruncle Ford, it's the only plan that we've come up with that addresses the issue with the deal, and I think that-" Dipper was cut off again, but this time, it wasn't by Stanford.

"Pine Tree," Bill interrupted him, his voice gentle and low, "your Great Uncle's right. Your plan, it's... it's got a lot of risks. A lot of moving variables." Dipper looked up at him, his lips pursed in a pout, but he didn't say anything else. "As a last resort, maybe, but... until then, we should keep coming up with ideas," the blond added. The teen simply settled into his chair again, crossing his arms and nodding in defeat, looking down at his feet. The dream demon gave him a sympathetic smile, squeezing his shoulder lightly in apology. After watching the pair for a moment more, Ford nodded firmly, turning and continuing his pace.

"Well, I think we've milked our brains enough for today," he decided after a few more moments of silence. "We should call it a night."

The two at the table began to stir. Wendy got to her feet with a sigh, stretching out her arms. Stan got to his feet as well, wandering over to the fridge and scouring for food.

"Oh, right. Dinner," Stanford muttered, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "Wendy, would you like to stay for dinner? I don't know if we have much, but I'm sure we can scrounge up something to your liking," the tired man offered. Wendy smiled kindly but shook her head.

"Thanks but no thanks, Mr.Pines. I've got some leftover barbecue waiting for me at home," she explained as she collected her things. She ruffled Dipper's hair as she passed, leaning over to whisper something to Bill.