Bill woke up from a dream starring a blue incubus and several dozen party hats. The details slipped through his fingers, but he didn't dwell on them, more concerned with the naked shoulder he used as a pillow. A deep, sluggish groan bubbled up in his throat and he cuddled up to the warm body next to him, legs twisting in the sheets, willing himself to return to his dream.

He dozed, floating in a drowsy limbo, before Dipper's shifting roused him. Figuring his dream was a lost cause, he hoisted himself up Dipper's chest and placed a sleepy kiss on the corner of his jaw. This is better than some dream, anyway.

"Hey," he mumbled, slumping onto Dipper's chest, having used up far too much energy already. It was made slightly worth it when he felt a hand tease his hair and a stubbly chin rest on his head.

"G'morning."

Bill immensely enjoyed the husky vibration in Dipper's throat and nuzzled further into his neck. "What's so good about it? We have to get up in—" he glanced at the clock, "—eight minutes? Ughh. Pine Tree, don't make me get up."

His chuckle bobbed Bill's head. "Are you sure you can even stand?"

Bill responded by pinching Dipper's nipple, smirking when he heard a whine. "Shut it, kid. I can take anything you throw at me." Sensations of last night surfaced with dizzying intensity. Heat. Body joining body. He could still smell the sweat on Dipper's skin like a cologne. Warmth pooled in his stomach, and he pressed himself against the length of Dipper's body. "Speaking of which, if you're—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear what I—"

"No, Bill. We don't have time …"

Bill huffed. Dipper opened his mouth to continue, but the words were swallowed by a needy kiss. Dipper tensed with surprise, before sighing and relaxing underneath him. The hand in Bill's hair angled his head, deepening the contact. The heat in Bill's stomach spread and he pulled himself further up Dipper's body, relishing the soft moan he produced.

But just as things were starting to get interesting, Dipper pulled away from the kiss, much to Bill's crushing disappointment.

"Later," he mumbled. "It's Monday. Time for work."

Bill sighed, rolling off Dipper's body when he moved to get up. Deprived of his warmth, Bill bundled up beneath the blankets, grumbling sulkily under his breath. Stupid Pine Tree with his stupid responsibilities. He could hear the shuffling of Dipper retrieving scattered clothes.

A moment later, the bed dipped and a hand pulled the blanket off from over his head. He shuddered when a delightfully sultry breath whispered in his ear.

"Stop pouting, Bill. You have to get up. Go take a shower."

"Mmmngh … I am a powerful demon. Feared by all. I will pout when I want and get up when I please."

"Your breakfast will get cold, my lord."

He has me there.

Bill cracked open an eye to a lamentably clothed chest. This day just keeps getting worse. I demand retribution. Soaking up what he could of the bed's warmth, he made a big show of yawning and stretching out, reveling the soreness of his muscles. Dipper loomed over him, eyes drifting out of focus, lips parting. A smirk slunk onto Bill's face.

"Having second thoughts, Pine Tree?"

Dipper didn't respond beyond sinking his head, lingering a hair's breadth above Bill's mouth. A hand brushed his side, making him quiver. Bill was so convinced of his victory he had already begun reaching up to rip off that deplorable flannel shirt, when—

"Later."

And Dipper pecked his upper lip, patted his chest, and sauntered out of the room without another word, leaving Bill cold, naked, and alone. Bill didn't even bother hiding his disappointment this time, falling back into the pillow with a long, guttural sigh.

I'm holding you to that, Pine Tree.

…

Dipper languidly shuffled his eggs around the plate, trying his damnedest to keep his good mood from spiraling out of control. He kept it contained to a twitching, self-satisfied grin. Whenever Mabel looked up from her food he would try to wipe away his expression. He succeeded about thirty percent of the time.

Bill, unsurprisingly, practiced no such restraint. He hummed a nonsensical song as he lazily twirled his fork around his fingers, propping up his lolling head in his hand. Everything about his posture screamed I had great sex last night. Dipper was torn between annoyance at the man's transparency, and smugness, because he could still remember Bill's flushed face and embarrassingly loud moans when—

No, no. Don't go down there. We are going to be a clear minded, level headed adult.

Dipper took a shuddering breath, desperate for a distraction. "So, Mabel, uh … what did you do last night?"

"Oh …" Mabel paused in chewing her bacon. She swallowed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "Uh, nothing much. Just working on my projects. And … blasting some music."

Huh, that's weird. Mabel never listens to music when she does her homework. "Why were you—?" Mabel cleared her throat, staring at her plate. A crimson blush snuck onto Dipper's face. "Oh." Bill pressed his hand to his mouth and sniggered, leaning back in his chair. "Sorry. About that," he mumbled, wanting to bury his face in his plate.

Mabel offered a weak smile, and the awkward silence returned. Bill continued his humming, which now escalated to drumming fingers. Fingers that Dipper spent an unhealthy amount of time fantasizing about. Oh boy. Stay cool. For Mabel if not for yourself.

"So," Mabel started a moment later. Dipper waited for her to continue, but she only stared at her breakfast like it was her one greatest regret. She stirred when Bill called her name. "Right. Um, so, what are you guys going to do today?"

"Work in the gift shop," said Dipper.

"Do it on the staircase," said Bill simultaneously.

Mabel blinked. "What?"

Dipper glared at Bill. Bill only grinned and took a bite of out his bacon, stretching out his legs. "We are going to work," Dipper said firmly, turning back to Mabel. "I'm manning the gift shop. Bill's taking inventory."

"Ah. Okay. I'm going to run with Candy to the crafts store later today. We're both working on this sculpture for Professor Fink's class, so if there's anything you…"

Dipper's attention span trailed off around the same time he felt a foot pushing up the hem of his jeans, brushing his ankle. He willed himself not to turn around and glare at Bill's likely smirking face. All the willpower in the world, however, couldn't smother his shiver when Bill dragged his nails up his calf.

Mabel dropped her fork and hid her face in her hands. Dipper's blush worsened, and he kicked Bill's cursed foot away. "You guys are getting impossible …" she groaned.

Bill giggled, resulting in another kick from Dipper – which ended up missing. "I'm really sorry, sis."

"Oh, no you're not," Mabel sighed, picking up her cleaned plate and walking around them to the sink. "You're happy and in love. It's not your fault you're being a little insufferable. For the most part."

Dipper couldn't even speak, so great was his embarrassment. He couldn't even look up from his plate when Bill resumed drawing circles on his ankle. I'm getting you back for this later.

"Look, guys, I'm happy for you, don't get me wrong," she said, placing a firm hand on their shoulders. Dipper finally looked up from his cold bacon. "If you two had gone another day just staring at each other like a couple of dorks I was going to join you together by a sweater stitching. But please." She tightened her grip. "Please, for the love of God, please stop planting the image of you two having sex in my head. I am begging you."

Bill guffawed. "Can do, Shooting Star."

With a smile, she tapped their shoulders and left the room. Dipper waited until she was out of earshot. This time, he managed to land a successful blow on Bill's shin.

"Ow!" Bill squirmed away and brought his leg up to his chest.

"Knock it off," Dipper hissed, standing up with his plate and walking over to the sink. "I already told you we have work to do today. I'm not letting you distract me."

"But I'm such a good distraction." Dipper rolled his eyes, pointedly turning on the sink and beginning to wash his dish. He tensed when a pair of fingers looped through his belt straps. A husky voice sighed in his ear. "You're not so bad yourself."

Dipper's stomach fluttered, and he cursed his traitorous body. No! I'm not letting him have his way today! Biting his cheek, he flipped off the sink and turned around, crossing his arms. Bill didn't hesitate to press up against him, trapping him against the counter. Dipper's train of thought instantly derailed. "I … um …"

"Eloquently put, Pine Tree," Bill chuckled, floating just above Dipper's mouth. Dipper's resistance crumbled further. God, how does he do this to me …?

"We're not a couple of hormonal teenagers, Bill," he choked out. "We shouldn't be acting like this."

"Pine Tree, you are twenty. That isn't much better than being a teenager. You aren't exactly at an age of discipline." Bill said in exasperation. "You really need to learn how to relax." With a smirk, he gently untucked Dipper's shirt, digging his thumb into the groove of his hipbone. "I'd be happy to teach you, you know."

And because Dipper was weak and because Bill's words made just a teeny bit of sense, he slowly uncrossed his arms, his hands settling on Bill's waist. Bill eagerly filled the space, standing flush against his chest.

You said you wouldn't give into him. The shop opens in fifteen minutes.

I know, but—

You can't just take the day off every time you want to pin him to the counter.

But—

You'd never get anything done.

But I—

DIPPER!

Sighing, Dipper wished just once he could just shut off his better judgement. Why do I have to be the mature one? He only allowed himself the pleasure of a soft, lingering kiss. "Go take a shower," he murmured against his mouth.

Bill's lips thinned. "Only if you join me."

Dipper's pants became painfully uncomfortable as he thought about it. God. Why can't he ever make anything easy?

"Maybe later," he said a moment too late. Bill smirked, but before he could get a word out, Dipper grabbed his wrists and gently pushed him aside. He scurried out of the kitchen, trying to think about anything other than Bill. Bill in hot water slathered in soap. Bill panting, his skin bright red, pushed back against the shower wall—

AAGH!

Dipper readjusted his pants, grumbling frustrated nonsense under his breath as he cursed his infuriating boyfriend in his mind.

…

After spending around ten minutes thinking about nothing but Grunkle Stan's back hair, Dipper was finally able to get his fantasies under control. And it's all Bill's fault. And. Okay, maybe it's a little bit my fault, too. But he's not helping!

Dipper kept a stern vigil behind the cashier counter, only looking up from his book whenever the phone rang. When Bill entered the shop a half hour later, hair dripping with water from his shower, Dipper pointedly kept his eyes trained to the pages.

He heard a light humming and the scratching sound of pencil on paper. When Dipper glanced up, he saw Bill standing in front of the t-shirt stand with a clipboard in hand. He wasn't looking at Dipper, seemingly engrossed with counting the number of panther shirts, but the way he chewed his bottom lip made it clear he knew he was being watched. Huffing, Dipper returned to his book.

He kept expecting Bill to make some sort of move. With every hum and sigh Dipper was forced to glance up, only to find Bill dutifully working. He's planning something. I know it. But Bill only wandered further away from him, moving onto the snow globes in the far corner of the shop. Conniving bastard. He's just waiting for me to lower my gua—

The phone rang, interrupting Dipper's paranoid tirade. He picked up the phone. "Good morning, thank you for calling the Mystery Shack." Bill had leaned over to adjust one of the snow globes. His shirt bunched up to reveal a hint of skin. Dipper swallowed. Breathe. "This is Dipper Pines speaking, how can I help you?"

As Dipper spoke with the customer, Bill tucked the pen behind his ear, still infuriatingly biting his lip. Just when Dipper thought he was finally going to make a move, he was surprised to see Bill instead stroll towards the Employees Only door, completely ignoring him. Dipper went slack with surprise. The voice on the phone roused him. "Sorry, ma'am, could you repeat that?"

Do my eyes deceive me? Is Bill actually going to behave himself today? It didn't seem likely. Bill couldn't behave himself if his life depended on it, especially if there was an inkling of fun involved. And he's made it perfectly clear that annoying me is one of his favorite past times.

But it looked like Dipper had won for the time being. He found himself slightly disappointed with the thought that Bill wasn't going to try and pounce him. His better judgement quickly snuffed that feeling out, replacing it with the sense of victory. Good. It's about time we both acted like adults.

Dipper wondered if victory had always felt like simmering frustration and tight pants, before deciding it didn't matter. He returned to the phone call. "Yes, we have a hiking trail nearby. No, there aren't any venomous — Excuse me?"

By the time Bill reemerged from the living room twenty minutes later, Dipper's frustration had manifested into a headache and drumming fingers, still on the phone with the same customer. He kneaded his temple, shifting his feet as he stood. Alright … so maybe taking the day off wouldn't have been the worst idea …

Dipper barely looked up when Bill moved behind him to open an adjacent drawer, figuring he was looking for some more pencils. The eighty-year-old woman chatted ceaselessly in his ear. The drawer closed. Dipper moved to let Bill out of the counter, a second away from snapping. "Look, ma'am, I don't claim to know anything about how to suck out snake venom … Yes. No. No, ma'am, I already said that there aren't any snaaaah—"

All at once, he felt a pair of soft hands smooth down the plane of his stomach and hot breath in his ear. Goosebumps broke out on Dipper's shoulder, and he gulped down a haggard gasp.

"Guess what, Pine Tree?"

One of the hands crept up his chest, while the other set to work on his belt. The hot breath was replaced by a wet tongue, and he tightened his grip on the phone.

"It's later."

Water fell from the tendrils of Bill's damp hair, soaking Dipper's shirt. The scent of his shampoo overwhelmed Dipper's senses, bringing his mind to a screeching halt. Bill buried his face in the crook of his shoulder, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

The voice on the phone roused him from his stupor. Sneak attack! "N-no, sorry ma'ammmgh—" The hand on his chest had begun massaging a nipple. Dipper choked on a moan. Bastard! "A-as I was saying, the hiking trails around here are among the best in Oregon …"

His voice left him when he heard the telltale sound of an unclasping belt buckle and a zipper. Before he could get a word out edgewise, the hand slipped beneath his waistband, trailing down sensitive skin. He made to grab Bill's wrist, trying to get his hoarse breathing under control. Can't let him get to me. Can't let him win. Can't— oh god.

If thinking had been a challenge before, it was now damn near impossible, with Bill leisurely stroking the length of his cock and teasing the sanity out of him. Dipper's knees buckled, his moan loud even in his own ears. His hand hung limply on Bill's wrist, being damned useless as Bill made a jelly-legged, needy, hormonal mess out of him.

"No, that wasn't a … unf," he gasped, willing his traitorous hips to stop thrusting into Bill's grip. "I already told you we don't sell snake repellent—" Bill blew into his ear, having utterly ransacked his neckline. "Christ."

"You know what I think Pine Tree?" Bill whispered, nibbling the shell of his ear. "I think that what you want to do, is you want to put down the phone, pin me to the floor, rip off my clothes, and fuck me so hard I won't be able to remember how to even spell my name—"

Dipper slammed the phone on the receiver.

To Hell with this.

He only got a glimpse of Bill's smirking face before he wrestled him to the ground. He grabbed Bill's wrists and held his hands above his hands, ravaging Bill's mouth with a rough, forcible kiss. Bill hummed deep in his throat, wrapping his legs around Dipper's waist and arching his back. Dipper rocked his hips, the friction driving all sensible thought from his mind. He pried their bodies apart just enough to reach for Bill's zipper. Just as Bill tangled his hands in his hair, yanking him back down and knocking off his hat—

—a spurt of water nailed Dipper in the back of the head. Yelping, he straightened up when another one hit him in the cheek. Bill propped himself up by his elbows, legs still loosely hanging from Dipper's waist. He squirmed when some water bonked his forehead.

Mabel stood at the entrance of the counter, holding a spray bottle in her hands, expression deadpanned. "Bad," she said, dousing them both more water, much to their vocal distress. "Bad boys."

Embarrassment twisted Dipper's gut. He couldn't look his sister in the eye. "Sorry, Mabel."

Bill showed no such remorse. "Come on, Star, I was just finally getting that stick out of Pine Tree's ass."

Mabel twisted her lips, setting the bottle onto the counter. "Get a room. This is a sacred place."

Bill groaned, throwing his head back as Dipper nodded. Heat flooded his face. Mabel readjusted her purse and, with one last pointed look, walked towards the door. "I'm going to Candy's house," she called. "Try not to burn the Shack down with all your blasphemy!"

Dipper sighed. This is what I get for thinking with my other head. He made to stand, when Bill grasped his collar, keeping him from moving. He was about to say something when Bill rolled his hips underneath him. The words got caught in his throat. Bill smirked.

"I'm not done with you yet," he murmured, reaching up for a slow, steady kiss. Dipper trembled when Bill sucked on his bottom lip.

Fuck it.

"Mabel?" he choked out, pushing Bill back onto the floor. "Can you change the sign from Open to Closed? Please?"

An aggravated groan answered him, but Dipper barely stirred, pulling Bill's jacket over his head. The front door slammed shut about the same time Bill unbuttoned Dipper's shirt, both of them lost in each other's bodies.

"You're incorrigible," Dipper muttered a few minutes later, shivering as the air conditioning assaulted his bare back. He reared up as a smiling Bill began ridding him of his pants.

"I know," he said, placing a tender kiss on Dipper's collarbone. "But let's face it, I wouldn't be me if I weren't."

He's got me there.