Chapter Text
There comes a point where you hate someone so much that the hate you have for them becomes a sort of white noise in the background of your life. Where you hate them to such a degree that every fiber of your being screams with hatred, and it is still not loud enough to expose even a fraction of the hatred you feel for them. There is a type of hatred that you can find where the mere sight of their face reduces you to blood-boiling rage, and where imagining their protracted and painful death isn’t even close to enough to sate the hatred that you feel for them.
This is the type of hatred that Bill Cipher felt for Stanley Pines. It, coincidentally, felt very similar to lust. Just like when a fire burned hot enough it suddenly felt cold, and vice versa any emotion felt strongly enough over time began to turn into an emotion mush that was almost unrecognizable to anyone who wasn’t experiencing it. Of course, just as a burning heat that feels cold still burns you, hatred that becomes that emotional mush is still hatred. Bill wanted Stanley Pines dead so much, it was like the way flesh bags needed air or water.
But, the fact that his burning hatred for Stanley Pines reminded him, in a way, of lust had given Bill an idea. He was, of course, still very committed to bringing Sixer back under his thumb, right where he belonged. And while he had no doubt that Ford would change his mind and come back to him any day now, Bill figured he could expedite the process. He could use his hatred for Stan, blinding as it was, to trick the idiot into a relationship, which would be easy because he was so stupid. And Sixer would get jealous and be with him again.
This plan was great, because it would allow him to manipulate Stanley, finally proving how stupid and useless and worthless he was, and would get him Sixer back. Plus, when he revealed that he’d only been using Stan to get back with his brother, his pain would be delicious. This was an absolutely perfect plan that contained no flaws, which was why Bill was currently standing on the Mystery Shack door step, ringing the bell holding flowers. He was impatient, as that idiot had no right to keep someone as powerful and important as him waiting.
“Listen here you absolute waste of oxygen, I’m going to cut to the chase. Considering you have no value to me or anyone else, I’m going to offer your pathetic life meaning. You will be with me, and I say will because obviously there is no way someone with as little use as you would ever reject a God like me.” Bill said seriously when Stan opened the door. He thrust the wilted and dirty flowers he’d taken from someone’s grave at the man, because he didn’t deserve any better. He expected Stanley to leap for joy at the chance to prove he had any intelligence at all.
“Nope.” Stan said, and without another word he shut the door in Bill’s face. He blinked slowly as he tried to figure out what just happened. Obviously, it looked like Stanley Pines had just rejected him, but that was impossible because there was no way that idiot conman, who had more in common with roadkill than his genetically superior twin, had the gall to reject him. “Yeah, your weird-ex boyfriend was at the door,” Bill heard Stan say from inside, and his entire body filled with the desire to smite Stan then and there, even though he had no power to.
No, obviously Stanley hadn’t rejected him, because he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to reject him, someone like him should be kissing the ground Bill walked on, groveling to prove himself worthy of one iota of Bill’s attention. No, this was clearly some sort of mistake. Maybe he was too stupid to realize that being used to get back with his brother was the greatest meaning his life would ever have. But regardless, Bill refused to let Stan think he had any sort of control or say in this matter. He was going to love Bill and then be discarded, it was happening no matter what.
“Listen, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” Bill said, after ringing the doorbell and having it open. It was the next day, and he’d decided to step his game up. Obviously, if he was too much of an idiot to listen to the basic facts, then Bill would have to lie to him and trick him, which would be easy because unlike his brother he was a clown. “What I meant to say yesterday, was that I really have feelings for you, and I want to take you out,” Bill said before offering him a bouquet of flowers he’d purchased from a store instead of stealing.
“Not a chance.” Stanley said before once again shutting the door in his face. Bill felt his eye twitching as he stared once again at the closed door, flowers having fallen from his hand. There was no way that Stan thought he was even capable of rejecting him. He’d told all the pretty lies that should have had someone that simple melting into goo before Bill’s very eye, and instead he shut the door? Who did he think he was, some sort of prize? He was nothing, dirt beneath Bill’s shoe, as significant as an amoeba to him.
Bill had tried to be clear and firm with him, and then he’d tried being nice but neither worked. He had made it patently clear that the two of them were going to be together, and yet Stan continued to elude him. Suddenly, Bill had to remind himself that he didn’t like Stan and therefore didn’t actually want to be with him in any way shape or form. He was just using him to get to Sixer, and so he could crush his pathetic little heart when he realized the truth. Regardless, he was going to make Stan Pines his, and so he decided that what the conman needed was to be conned.
“Hi again,” Bill started after making his way to the Mystery Shack doorstep once again. “Before you shut the door, I got you a present,” Bill offered, and Stan looked completely uninterested and unimpressed as Bill summoned it. “Tada! It's a bouquet made out of money. Big bills only, of course! And, look over there,” Bill said, pointing to further out in their yard. “It's your favorite band, CCR. I brought one of them back to life and made the rest of them young! And if you go out with me, they’ll play for you, and you get the bouquet!” Bill offered.
“I’m good. Get off of my porch,” Stan offered once again and if Bill had a chest he was sure it would be tight because he’d done all of this, gone through all of this trouble for the worthless pile of flesh and bones known as Stanley Pines and was still being rejected? How could this be happening; he was Bill Cipher! He was a God, he’d liberated countless dimensions and here was Stanley Pines thinking he was too good for him? Bill would show him, he would show him exactly how grateful he should feel being the object of his desire.
“Wait! At least take the bouquet!” Bill said, shoving it through the cracks in the door after Stan slammed it shut. This was his plan B, to look through the eyes of the pictures of him on the dollar bills and discover what it was that Stan wanted so he could give it to him. That way, Stan would grovel and beg Bill to love him, thus proving once and for all how pathetic he was and how amazing Bill was in comparison. He waited with bated breath to see if Stan would pick up the money, and once he did, Bill left the porch in a good mood, knowing he would be victorious.
“Why can’t he go back to bothering you? It was way more relaxing for me,” Stan said, placing the dollar he’d collected on the table next to him. He was reclining on the couch watching TV and Ford was sitting right next to him. Their favorite topic of conversation for the past few days had been Bill’s strange harassment. They both assumed it had something to do with Ford, considering Bill absolutely hated Stan and made that very clear, but what exactly he was trying to achieve remained lost on them.
“Hey, I dealt with him for way longer than this. He’s your problem now,” Ford joked, and with that the two went back to watching TV. For the next few days, things were quiet at their house, with no sign of Bill anywhere. They decided that whatever his weird plan was, he must have given up on it and was probably working on concocting something else. Meanwhile, they packed for their impending trip on the Stan-O-War 2 and stayed ready for any other devious tricks Bill might try to pull. All in all, it wasn’t a bad stretch of time.
Little did they know, Bill had never left at all. Instead, the entire time he was there with them, watching. He watched Stanley through the dollars he’d given him, and studied all of his habits. He watched the way that he talked, saw what things made him excited. He watched him give his tours and con those tourists who were somehow dumber than him out of their cash. He watched him eat and breathe and live a life Bill was going to be a part of. He watched him stretch and yawn, and watched the way that the wife beater he always wore rode up a bit when he did so.
Speaking of Stan’s body, Bill couldn’t stop watching that, actually. The way he posed in the mirror after getting dressed and gave himself that little wink. The way he fit into that suit, even if Bill knew that he was wearing that damn girdle underneath it. His strong arms, which he was definitely way too proud of. His messy hair when he took off that stupid fez, which showed it was still thick and healthy after all these years. The corners of his mouth when he sipped a beer or a soda, the way sweat trickled down the creases in his forehead, all entranced Bill for hours.
“No, put me down, I’m trying to see your brother!” Bill screamed to no one as he watched Ford pick the dollar he was using to watch Stanley off of his night stand and put it in a drawer. He had just been close to the good part, because during this time of night Stan got ready for bed and Bill got to watch him get comfortable under the covers. At that outburst, he paused, because, wasn’t he supposed to be doing all this to get back together with Sixer? Why was he so invested in his stupid brother that he wanted to watch him peacefully rest instead of die in his sleep?
Bill decided that he must be going even more insane than he already was and that this was just the intensity effect rolling over. How could it not when Bill was being constantly rejected by that idiot. That idiot who Bill loved listening to the laugh of, who he loved staring at the hands of, that idiot who he wanted to do unspeakable things with. Not to, but with. Well, he was never one to deny his own insanity, so Bill decided he was going to get this out of his system by successfully wooing Stan, previous plans be damned.
“Did you miss me?” Bill asked, standing once again on the doorstep, prepared to sweet talk his way into Stan’s heart. Unfortunately for him, the one who’d answered the door was not Stan Pines, but his brother, the intelligent and treacherous Sixer. “Oh. Hello again. I don’t suppose your brother is home,” Bill offered because while under any other circumstance he’d be dying to talk to Ford, he was kind of focused on something else at the moment. He did his best to peek around him into their house, where Stanley was sitting.
“Listen, Stanley and I will be setting off soon, so whatever plan you’re concocting to harm me that requires pestering him about a date would you please just get it over with now,” Ford asked him seriously and Bill couldn’t help but let out a laugh because not only would that not stop him, that wasn’t even close to what he was thinking about now. He continued peering around him to get a better look at Stan. He wasn’t in his normal lounging outfit today, but instead wearing sweatpants and a boxing T-shirt. Bill let out a wolf whistle which got his attention before turning back to Ford.
“Listen Sixer, me and you had a good thing, we really did, but I’ve moved on, and you should too,” Bill offered and when Ford stared at him with utter confusion he explained himself further. “I don’t want to harm you, and I especially don’t want to harm your brother. In fact, I want to make love to him. Sweet sweet love, do you hear that, Stan!” Bill called into the house. Stanley ignored him, but Bill could tell he was blushing. “Yeah, he wants me. Anyway, this has been a good chat, but if you could please tell him I’m here.” Bill said.
“Just leave us alone,” Ford said, before slamming the door and walking back inside. Outside, both himself and Stanley could hear Bill still yelling for a bit about how he’d take care of Stan, and how he’d never stop wanting him. “Jeez, I can’t believe I ever fell for that guy,” Ford acknowledged as he sat down next to his brother, who was holding the paper close to his face. Upon pulling it down, Ford could see that Stan was in fact blushing. “Don’t even think about it.” Ford said seriously and Stan looked away sheepish.
“I’m not gonna.” Stan said seriously, and for a moment there was a pause in the conversation. “But… you know if you got to-” Stan started before Ford launched into a rant about how terrible of an idea it was and how he’d never talk to Stan again if after everything that had happened he threw it away for some geometric booty call. Stanley laughed at this, and agreed, even though in the back of his head he was thinking about how it was pretty cool to reunite CCR just to try and impress him, and that it had kind of worked on him a little.
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“You did great, Bill!” a voice said, echoing through the room. Bill sat up quickly and looked around where he was, only to find himself back in the Theraprism, where he’d been held since his deal with the Axolotl. He had no clue what sort of inane mental health tricks he’d been subjected to this time, and he hated how they’d started to blend together. In the corner of the room was an ethereal being, supposedly one of his therapists but actually one of his wardens. “Unpacking your subconscious desires went very well. How do you feel?” they asked.
“I feel like I want you, everyone here, and the entire Pines family to die.” Bill retorted, and the therapist tutted and wrote something down before leaving him alone to his misery. Still, the words echoed in his head, about his subconscious desires. There was no way that was in any way true, that he’d have any subconscious feelings for the human worm known as Stanley Pines was laughable. And yet, as Bill laid there on his cot, looking at his “Be a Try-Angle!” poster with scorn, the lustful image of Stan’s shirt riding up revealing a bit more of his stomach stayed burned into his mind like a brand.