Chapter Text
Bill was bored.
Not an uncommon occurrence, but an annoying one. Especially when he could easily remember all the chaos and hell he’d once unleashed upon countless, pathetic realms and dimensions before ever even encountering Earth. But right now? He couldn’t even light a simple flame if he wanted.
No, because of course not. Birds don’t get the ability to light things on fire with their sheer will. Absolute bullshit if you asked him.
Circles, what he wouldn’t give for opposable thumbs. At least then he could just light a match! The illusion of power was something and something he’d appreciate! Though then again... now that he really thought about it, did he ever actually have opposable thumbs? Technically…? Ugh, that was weird to think about. Shit... did he really not have thumbs before? No— no he did… didn’t he…?
Bill would have sighed if he could, shifting in place on his current perch with all the disdain he could muster in the motion. But since birds had a much more complex and ridiculous respiratory system when compared with the sorry flesh bags that humans were stuck with, he settled for giving a low, drawn out croak.
He preceded to drag his beak through his mismatched black and white feathers before shaking out his wings. Bill would have also loved to be able to frown right now, or burn this damn building to the ground. Thinking about the good old Bill Cipher left a bitterness in his beak, and that didn’t even touch on how pissed he still was about losing his top hat and cane.
Those had looked so fucking good on him too. Especially in his three-dimensional form? Hot damn! Watch out all you freaks and weirdos, hubba-hubba! He croaked out a laugh, mimicked and rumbling, but hey! Cut him a break! He was doing his damned best, alright? At least Mabel had made him a new bow tie.
Speaking of which… with another harsh croak, Bill decided to see what the girl was up to. The kid was often more fun than her stuck-in-the-mud brother. Fucking Mason. Just today Dipper had kicked him out of the gift shop!
Most the time Bill could mess with those bumbling meat sacks as they wandered about the Shack (as long as Soos or that Melody woman didn’t catch him), steal some shiny trinkets off them (when the older Pine twins were around, Stan didn’t say a word about it as long as he got a share of the goods), and do whatever else his dark heart desired.
Just… not today apparently.
Because Dipper had caught him mid-swoop, Bill having been aiming for the thick, tempting wallet a woman had dropped. The teen had effectively banished the raven from the store after that, going as far to even toss him out! The nerve.
An. Utter. Buzzkill.
Bill clacked his beak once more and took off for the direction of the attic, the younger Pine twins still content to use the space whenever they figured to show up.
As he flew up the stairs, Bill couldn’t help but be drily thankful that he didn’t have to deal with anything complicated like doorknobs. He usually just had to get Mabel’s or Dipper’s attention by knocking on the door or screeching at said door until they opened the damn thing.
He landed with a harsh caw, just shy of the last step up, hopping along towards the attic door before freezing. Was that music and abnormally loud girlish screaming he heard? Ha! Nope.
The raven quickly turned around and flew back towards the kitchen, firmly agreeing with himself to not get involved with Mabel’s... friends. Especially not that ‘Grenada.’ Just a human girl, yeah, right! Humans should not have voices that deep... it was just… just creepy. And that was coming from him!
Bill shuddered, shaking his head with a dull hiss. Well... now what? He ruffled his feathers and paced in place slowly.
The older Pines were around... hmm. Bill shifted where he stood on the dining room table, stalking along the edge until he lazily glided towards the floor. Hopping along, the raven slowly peered into the living room, and yup. There was Stan, passed out, currently wearing only his boxers and a dirty tee (When was the last time that thing had been washed? Sheesh) with some weird soap opera playing as the man just snorted away.
Well—! Bill turned around and hopped off back towards the kitchen. —He was not waking up that mess!
He wouldn’t admit it, (why would he!?) but he was still wary of that man. Things had been going so good for him and then what? He falls for the switcharoo! What was he? An amateur!? Then he was Gone. Just like that.
And sure, Stan still didn’t seem like much, but Bill didn’t know what to expect from him.
He’d paid too much attention to Sixer. Oh, too much attention.
Bill really fucking wished he could sigh, settling for that light croak of his again. The raven stalked towards where he knew one of the nerd’s lab entrances were. At least he could work an elevator! Just a bunch of buttons, ha! Buttons were easy to push.
Speaking of buttons to push… despite good ole Sixer having gone through a whole little ‘panic and go into a spiraling frenzy’ at the realization that Bill was back, after he got over it, the man was honestly so much more chill. He was going to ignore the fact this was all a result of Bill being quite literally powerless to do much of anything against the Pines save maybe peck an eye out or scratch someone.
Sixer also was just so easy for Bill to mess with. And that never grew old. So that was decided! Off to see what Fordsey was up to now.
(Especially now that the man had come back from that trip he’d gone on with Glasses. Ford would probably loooove having someone to ramble to about it all to be honest.)
With his mind made up, Bill made his way down to the lab. And while sure, it may have taken a hot minute to actually find the guy in the familiar mess of it all (as well as Bill admittedly getting distracted here and there by something just too damn shiny or flashy for him to ignore), he did end up finding the idiot at his desk. Of course the guy had some new journal open, writing away til his little heart’s content!
Or until Bill decided to announce his prescience with a harsh caw, “LOSER!”
And oh! How the bird cackled when the man jumped at the sudden noise, pen jerking off the page with a splattering of ink. Ford swung about, tense as he glared at the raven happily settling on his shoulder. Bill just kept laughing.
The man finally gave him a loud, annoyed sigh, turning back to his journal. “Hello to you, too, Bill. Though, would you stop doing that?”
Bill cawed cheerfully, “No.”
Ford gave a harsh huff, shaking his head though a touch of an amused laugh broke through. The raven would have smiled if he could at that, but since he couldn’t, he settled for turning to regard the page Sixer was writing on.
The man glanced at the bird over his glasses, shifting his shoulder lightly, “Collected a few curious samples of some mushrooms yesterday.” He tapped his pen absently against the few jars sitting on his desk, the raven turning to regard the odd, mangled looking specimens before gazing at the pen within Ford’s grasp.
Ford didn’t notice, swinging his pen as he began to talk again, “Fiddleford was convinced they were flashing some kind of Morse code, but I think it’s just co-“
Bill subtly adjusted himself as Ford got going, listening vaguely to the talk about the oddity Sixer had found as he followed that pen’s irresistible sway. Just begging to be taken, shimmering slightly in the lighting. He just had to have it!
Ford shook his head, now going on about some theories of his, the pen coming close enough that Bill was sure he could get it in one clean swoop. The raven was off before Ford could register the sudden wing slapping him in the face. The pen slipped right from his fingertips a mere second later.
Bill cawed excitedly as he landed on the desk, tail and wings flaring out before he pushed off with pen held high.
“HEY! Bill! Oh come on— give that back!”
The raven landed briefly, looking back in a giddy taunt. He launched himself off the ground the moment he heard the scrap of a chair against the floor and the fumbling of Sixer to his feet. Bill was already landing on an overhead beam by the time the man was stood. Ford marched over, settling for standing under the bird. Bill glanced down, tilting his head at the annoyed frown plastered on the glaring man’s face.
Bill loved it. The expression was just priceless! Particularly when that little frown became a sour pout, just perfection! Ha!
“Bill! Seriously, that’s one of my few remaining pens! I swear if you don’t give it back-“
Bill crinkled his eyes in absolute delight, bending his head down to dangle the pen tantalizingly over the man’s head. A six-fingered hand took a swipe at it just as Bill hurriedly took it just out of reach.
Ford groaned.
The two stared at each other before Sixer caved, waving a dismissive hand as he wandered back to his desk. Bill watching with a newly blooming glee as the man’s search grew more and more frenzied. When Ford realized that the stolen pen was his last, he just turned to fix the raven with a dry, dry stare.
Bill cackled.
He might have lost his powers, but it was surprising what trouble Bill could get into in this body. The wings alone were an absolute delight!
After a moment, Ford sat down heavily in his chair and spun around to just stare. “I… will get the broom.”
Bill returned the look before rolling his eyes, “Fine.”
The man perked up, the raven flying back down to land on Sixer’s shoulder once more. He held out the pen, and after a moment of hesitation, Sixer reclaimed his stolen property.
Bill leaned back before turning to gaze back towards the mushrooms. “Explain,” he cawed.
Sixer lit up, “Oh, so you really were listening?”
The raven clacked his beak, settling himself as Ford began to happily continue what he’d been saying.
Bill couldn’t help but find the man’s enthusiasm charming.