skia-oura:

A/N: Hammered out in about an hour or two after Zoey opened their mouth and this came out. 

Ao3

Basically, Bentley gets stuck on homework, and Dipper and Torako take it upon themselves to…help. 

---

          Bentley stared at his blank sheet of
paper, pencil limp in his hand, then back up at Torako and Dipper’s expectant
gazes. “I have no idea what my furry would be. Can we stop. I need to write my
final paper, half my grade depends on it.”

           Torako groaned and flopped back,
splayed across the ground of the living room floor. She did not, Bentley
noticed, show her own sketchbook. “This is why
we’re figuring out furries! You’re supposed to take a break and have fun,
goddammit.”

           “My paper,” Bentley said.

           “You’ve been staring at your reader
for about three hours,” Torako said, “And we’ve been seeing you decline on the
essay-writing front for about a week now. Hence the furries.”

           “I don’t know furries,” Bentley
said. He lived a very deliberate lifestyle of trying to be ignorant of Torako
and Dipper’s furry-related shenanigans. So far, ignorance really was bliss.

           “We can always figure out what your
furry is together,” Dipper said. Bentley raised his eyebrows at Dipper, who was
uncharacteristically wearing a lime-green…suit? Bentley didn’t know how to
classify it. He did know that he didn’t
like the gleam in Dipper’s eyes, or the way his smile edged a little too far at
the corners. It was his sneaky smile.

           “No,” Bentley said, flat.

           Dipper and Torako moaned in unison.
Bentley glanced at the time display on the opposite wall—after eleven, he
really needed to write that paper—and made a decision. It was probably a
decision he would come to regret, but he needed to stop relaxing and get
working, and the faster he got this over with the faster he could get his paper
done the faster he could lie in bed and think about how much his teacher would
hate it. Bentley also knew, from experience, that Torako and Dipper were
tenacious little shits who would keep distracting him in the name of relaxation
until he gave in. There was no avoiding his fate

           Bentley huffed and ruffled his hair.
“Fine,” he said. “Just—show me yours, I guess. For reference. You first,
Torako.” It would be better to get the more chaotic of the two over and done
with, he thought. For his own sake.

           Torako sat up in a feat only
possible through the power of her impressively toned abdominal muscles. She was
beaming. Dipper pouted on the couch next to Bentley, but didn’t say anything.
Instead, he clutched his datapad closer, having insisted on ‘newfangled
technology’ instead of paper.

           “I love you,” Torako said. She
lowered her eyelashes and grinned a grin that made Bentley tense in
preparation. “Are you ready to see it?”

           He took a deep breath, tried—then
failed—to relax, and nodded. “Go for it.”

Keep reading