Disclaimer: I do not own GF. This goes for this entire...thing.

I quite literally should not be working on this at all. I should be working on Life is a Fairy Tale.

But this had to be written. Has no one seriously haven't thought of this before?

This is the Marching Band!AU no one asked for.

This will contain trans!Dipper, shy!Dipper, chubby!Dipper, human!Bill, and not a demon at all!Bill. No supernatural stuff in this at all.

Don't expect a plot.

~~0~~0~~0~~

Bill sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

He had been standing here for ten minutes. Ten! All because the stupid trombone section didn't know how to march.

You'd think the way the drilled everything in every second of every day some people would eventually pick up on how to put one foot in front of the other in time to a simple beat.

That wasn't the case, however.

Miffed and unable to sit down, not that he wanted to anyways considering the turf, Bill fingered some of the keys on his flute some, staring around at some of his fellow flute-players, who were looking just as annoyed as he was.

Bill turned his eyes from his fellow section to around the field. Just like the flutes, every other section was looking a bit annoyed at being forced to stand while the trombones were retaught the basics. Trumpet players whispered loudly to one another while saxophones took turns passing a bottle of water around.

However, neither the talking nor spit-swapping grabbed Bill's attention. No, it was the sousaphone player he had never seen before, standing rigidly, eyes front, trying his best to keep his position.

Bill felt his lips twitch a bit. Kid must be a freshman if he was acting so uptight. Sure, the directors said that you had to be looking "top-notch" all the time, but that didn't mean you had to stand in that position the entire time!

Bill couldn't help but chuckle, eyeing the brunet.

The kid was cute. There was no denying that. He had a soft, circular face and even from his position Bill could see the large, liquid brown eyes. His hair was just as equally brown and fluffy, a blue and white trucker's cap pulled down low to block out the heat. He wasn't wearing much- just the standard gray shorts and a faded orange tee-shirt.

The kid wiped his hands on his shorts nervously while puffing his cheeks.

Bill felt a smile tugging at his face. Freshman or not, Bill definitely wanted to introduce himself.

And maybe, just a little bit more...

~~0~~0~~0~~

Bill stretched briefly, popping his back before running off the field with all the others, wiping a light sheen of sweat off his brow. He didn't care if the sun was indeed going down, it was still hot and they were still doing a lot of physical exercise without enough water breaks.

He thought that was plenty enough reason to grumble and complain before nabbing some random water bottle someone hadn't grabbed yet and taking a swing.

He had stopped caring about germs a long time ago.

Dropping the nearly drained bottle, the blond readjusted his grip on his flute, propping the instrument against his shoulder before turning and pushing through the people around him, trying his best to catch an eye for the new brunet he spotted.

Bill bit his lip as he shoved a clarinet player out of his way, ignoring the other's angry protest. He had a cute boy to find and nobody was getting in his way.

Finally he caught the sight of that large golden bell, gleaming brightly under the sharp, overhead lights. It shifted around a bit, showing how the boy carrying it was trying to move, which is to say not a lot.

Bill frowned. Normally, people moved out of the way when it came to tuba players simply because of the size of their instrument, which in turn oftentimes carried over to the size of their players.

Squeezing through one last group of chattering trumpets, Bill was finally able to land his eyes on the kid he say before.

Being much closer to the boy, he could see how much smaller he was compared to the rest of the students around him.

Definitely a freshman. Either that or a really, really short sophomore. On top of that, Bill could now see the chub on the boy, mostly in his puffing cheeks, arms, and tummy, which bulged out through his baggy shirt, most likely trying to cover it up.

Bill shook his head. Somehow, the tuba player had gotten caught behind a large group of mellophone's.

Cutting through the rest of the crowd, Bill eventually made it to the kid's side.

"Looks like you're having a problem, kid!" Bill chirped right into the kids ear.

The brunet made a small, surprised sound at the too-close voice, trying to flinch away only to almost bump into a saxophone.

Bill rolled his eyes.

"Anyways, need any help?"

The kid glanced up at the much taller upperclassman, his brown eyes meeting with the other kids weird nearly gold ones.

"I- I guess." He practically whispered, obviously being a bit shy.

"HEY! GROUP OF MELLOPHONES WHO CAN'T PLAY FOR SHIT! MOVE OUTTA THE WAY!" Bill suddenly shouted over everyone, causing people around them to roll their eyes with mutters of Cipher under their breath, start laughing, or even scowl openly.

Bill ignored all of them, throwing the now insulted group one of his infamous grins.

Upon seeing it was him, the group quickly split in two, making a clear path.

"Finally!" Bill leered, grabbing a hold of the kid's upper arm and dragging him through the gap made for them. He could hear the brunet softly apologize. Well, at least try to. His voice was so quiet that Bill was sure no one else beside him could hear.

Once through the majority of the congestion, Bill let go of the brunet's arm, already missing the soft, warm, and squishy skin.

The kid absentmindedly rubbed his arm in turn, not used to being suddenly touched and grabbed by strangers.

"Um, thank you." The kid muttered, blushing slightly at how close the other was still standing to him.

"No problem!" He replied, waving him off with his hand. "Name's Bill by the way. Bill Cipher!"

"Dipper. Dipper Pines." Dipper responded, shacking his outstretched hand before shifting his instrument around on his shoulder a bit, staring up at the much taller teen. Bill had shortest, bright blond hair that fell in messy waves, covering up an entire eye. The eye visible, however was an almost golden color- something that Dipper had never really seen before. His skin was much darker than his own, with a splatter of freckles still to be seen across his nose and cheeks. He wore a simple yellow tee-shirt which was by now, partially translucent from sweat along with a simple pair of black shorts. Finishing off the look was a pair of beat-up yellow and black Nike's.

"So...are you new here or something, kid?" Bill asked at the two walked back to the school.

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Me and my sister recently moved here."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why'd you move to a backwaters town like Gravity Falls?"

Dipper's face immediately darkened and slight panic flashed in his eyes. "Um...that's personal..." He replied awkwardly.

Bill shrugged. "Okay then. Are you a fish?"

Dipper turned and stared up at the older teen, surprised he had dropped the manor of his moving so fast.

It took a few more seconds for him to process what Bill had just asked in. Blushing and once again mentally cursing himself for his small stature, Dipper shook his head.

"Nope. Sophomore." He corrected.

Bill cocked an eyebrow at that. So the kid was only one year younger than him?

Interesting.

"Oh, so you're just short."

Dipper pouted. "I am not short. Five foot five is perfectly average!"

Bill rolled his eyes. "For girls, sure. But not for guys."

Dipper flinched back some. He knew that Bill didn't mean what he said in that case, but it was hard not to take it that way.

Seeing Dipper's face fall and his lips, which had been turned into a tentative smile fall, Bill quickly backtracked.

"Not that guys can't be short! In fact, short guys like you are pretty cute!"

Dipper scowled lightly. "I am not cute!" He retorted, thrusting his chin high in the air, ignoring the heat spreading across his face and the fact that this weird guy had just called him cute.

Bill shook his head. "But you are cute-" Bill glanced at the hat the kid was wearing, more specifically at the blue pine tree decal. "-Pine Tree!" The teen finished with a laugh.

"What? Pine Tree?" Dipper protested, making a face at the weird nickname. He hadn't known this guy for five minutes and he was already giving him a nickname!

Bill poked the boy's hat. "Yup! Pine Tree! It suits you!"

Dipper rolled his eyes. "We just met and you're already giving me a nickname?"

Bill sent him a wide, beaming smile. "Sure! Why not?"

Dipper groaned and rolled his eyes, unable to keep a smile off his face.

Bill sure was weird, but that didn't mean he wasn't friendly.

The two finally reached the school, having to walk up the hill and through sharp crabgrass to reach the large and heavy metal door, which Bill pushed open with ease, holding it open for the younger boy.

Stammering a thanks, Dipper twisted his tuba around some to fit it in the doorway, not wanting to ding the smooth metal or scratch it up even more than it already was.

Bill snickered at the brunet's unease at thanking others, letting himself in and the door close on some other kids behind him without a second thought.

The blond followed the teen to the rack where all the marching sousaphones were kept. Dipper carefully wriggled out of his, setting it gently into the rack marked with his name with a little trouble, though nothing Bill had to help with. Popping off the mouthpiece, Dipper pocketed it before turning back to Bill, scratching his neck awkwardly as he fished for something to say. Now that he didn't have his instrument in the way, Dipper could fully look up at Bill, which caused another blush to rise to his cheeks.

Not only was Bill tall and thin, but he was also pretty handsome, with pointed, almost impish features.

If the blond noticed how flustered Dipper was, he didn't say anything. Only gestured him to follow him into the instrument room so he could find his case and put his marching flute up for the night.

"So Pine Tree, need a ride home?"

Dipper took out his phone and stared down at it thoughtfully. Stan had said he'd pick him up...

...But then again, it this was Grunkle Stan he was talking about.

However, if there was one thing Dipper knew, it was that you shouldn't get into another guy's car if you just met them- fellow student or not.

Even if he was kinda hot.

Dipper quickly shook his head. "I'll be fine. My Gru- I mean, Great-Uncle is going to be picking me up soon."

Bill shot him a slightly confused smile as he locked his locker up for the night. "Okay then. But here-!"

Before Dipper could say anything, Bill somehow whipped out a sharpie and wrote down a phone number across his arm in scrawling script.

"There's my cell. If he's a no show, feel free to call me or whatever, okay?"

Dipper nodded mutely.

Who gave their number to someone they just literally met?

Bill sure was weird.

"O-okay then." Dipper replied, trying his best not to ogle at the number now on him. "I-I'll do that."

Bill's grin widened. "Great! Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Pine Tree!"

"Yeah- I guess so. Bye, Bill."

Before he could even completely finish his farewell, Bill was already out the door.

Dipper sighed and followed slowly, already dialing Mabel's number. He knew Stan wouldn't pick up the land line unless the Shack was actually open, in which case it wasn't now.

"Nice meeting you." Dipper finished under his breath.

~~0~~0~~0~~