A/N: Secret Santa for irl-alcor on tumblr, who wanted Bentley, Dipper, and Torako in a pillow fort drinking hot cocoa.
When Bentley woke up, he felt only slightly less exhausted than he had when crying himself to sleep in Torako's arms. His eyes ached, but at least the jumping, gut-turning fear that had crawled up from his stomach to strangle his heart at the sight of…of…of Dipper's stomach—at least that fear was gone, weighed down by sleepiness.
He blinked his eyes open from his position curled around his favorite body-sized pillow. He'd been squeezing it tightly, and so he relaxed his fingers and rubbed his cheek against the soft, fuzzy surface twice. It was lit by blue, and Ben wondered for a moment if they'd pulled out one of his old glass animal nightlights. He blinked again, and then realized that the direction of the light source was all wrong—it was coming from above, wasn't making dark enough shadows to just be one. With more confusion than exhaustion than fear, Bentley rolled onto his back and looked up.
There, on the underside of what he recognized as two of their darkest sheets for his bed (and was that Torako's seafood-patterned one in the corner?) were hundreds, thousands of tiny little blue lights, flickering like pinpricks of flame, like the thousands of glitter crystals on his third-favorite headband. Bentley blinked and further released his hold on the body pillow next to him.
"What the…"
"Torako's idea," Dipper said from behind him, and upon closer look he was perched on a couple of pillows. The rest of their considerable collection couldn't be seen on the bed. "She wanted a pillow-blanket fort. With stars, because those are 'fishing,' apparently."
"…Where's Tora?" Ben asked, and he hated how hard it was to keep Dipper's gaze after an exposure session. He swallowed down the unease and reminded himself that he was fine, Dipper wouldn't hurt him on purpose. He had, like, the equivalent of the rare unlimited-use escape-combat-free token from Entrepeneural War.
"Getting hot cocoa," Dipper said. He shuffled a little closer, wings drawn in tight against his back, shoulders down, hands kneading the pillows under him.
Bentley sighed and laid back down, pulling the pillow so that it was between him and Dipper. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, "C'mere, idiot," because anything longer would have set him to choking on his own words, and making Dipper second-guess him wasn't conducive to getting cuddles.
Surprisingly, Dipper was relatively slow about coming closer. He laid down across from Bentley, gingerly pulled one wing across them both, and pushed the top of his head against Bentley's hand. After a moment, Bentley let up his grip on the pillow and started smoothing Dipper's hair down.
Dipper purred almost immediately, pressing closer to the pillow. Ben's mouth twitched upward in a smile.
"Where are all the pillows?"
"Mmm," Dipper said, tilting his head so that Ben could scratch behind his ear. "Holding the sheets down on the stools and chairs."
"Is one side tucked into the closet?" The 'ceiling' of their fort tilted down across the room, and was barely high enough to sit under on the far end of the bed where Dipper had been.
Dipper nodded and let out a trilling purr. "Tora got that too."
"I got everything," Torako said, and Ben picked his head up just in time to watch her crabwalk her way under the edge of the sheets closest to the door. The hot cocoa—thankfully in spill-resistant mugs—were precariously perched on her stomach. How she did that, he didn't know. "I am the amazing one-man show."
Snorting, Dipper curled his wing closer around Ben, then relaxed it when Bentley stiffened on reflex. "I was the one who put the lights up."
"I had to get all the pillows out of your grubby little talons," Tora said, her voice closer now. Ben would guess she was next to the bed. She grunted. "And I put up the sheets."
"I got the sheets out for you!" Dipper said. "And I kept Bentley company when you cruelly abandoned him!"
"I was bringing him extra-chocolate hot cocoa," she retorted. "There was a reason for my absence. You're just too useless."
"Am not!" Dipper grumbled into the pillow. "I'm not useless. Right, Ben?"
For a moment, Bentley considered the payback he could have. The power he held, the revenge he could dish out for all the times they'd made fun of and embarrassed him, and probably would in the future. But then Dipper whimpered, and Ben saw his eyes go soft and wobbly and well there went that plan.
"You're not useless—you made all the pretty lights, didn't you? There there." Bentley patted Dipper's head, looked over his shoulder at Tora with three mugs in one hand. Her hands, he was reminded, were much larger than his.
She climbed onto the bed next to Bentley and ruffled his hair with one hand. "Lookit you, being so nice! C'mon, sit up, these things are spill proof but you'll still tip it all over if you try to lay down and drink at the same time."
Grumbling, he batted her hand away but pushed himself up and against the wall. "If we had the pillows…"
"We wouldn't have a cool fort, would we!" Torako said, and passed him his favorite lemon-lime patterned mug. He wrapped his hands around the warm, glazed surface, his thumbs brushing the slight indentations of the pattern. "You too, idiot Alcor!"
"I have more knowledge than any other living being on this plane of existence," Dipper grumbled, pushing himself up and curling against Bentley, the pillow between their shoulders. He accepted the mug from Torako.
"Still an idiot!" She said, and took a sip of cocoa. "Mmmm, love this brand! Where did you get it again, Ben?"
"Dr. Stimmjar gave me the recipe. I mixed it." Ben took a sip and felt the warmth through his whole body. "Good to know you like it, though."
"Ben, you are a wonder." Torako said, leaning against him so that her chin was on his head, her arm behind his neck and hand curled over Dipper's head. "What would I do without you?"
"Live off Moffios, energy drinks, and protein shakes," Bentley murmured into his cup, grinning.
"Die," Dipper said, teeth clacking against the mug. They'd have to get rid of it soon—it had too many indentations in it.
"Probably!" Torako said with a laugh, and pressed a kiss against his scalp. Ben brought his knees up to his chest and perched the mug on them. He closed his eyes, felt warmth all around him, a comforting lightness in the backs of his eyelids from the light overhead. This was good. This was fine.
"Love you lots, Bennyboo."
"I hate you," he said flatly. "Why did you have to resurrect that nickname. Why."
"Bennyboo is a perfectly valid pet name!" Dipper protested. "It's cute. Like you are."
"Shut uuuuup," Bentley groaned, but he was grinning anyways.
"He's right! Bentley's the cutest. The most adorable."
Bentley let out a gurgle and hid his face behind one hand. "Stoooop."
Above him, Torako let loose a list of similar adjectives, and Dipper retaliated with some antiquated ones. The cocoa still sweet on his tongue, Bentley huddled between them—Torako on the right, Dipper on the life—and wondered what he'd done to deserve such wonderful, such awful and embarrassing friends.