A/N: Second chapter, being productive. Hooray!

XxXxX

With the tree having been decorated (and Mabel and Dipper scrambling to clean up the broken ornament before Stan and Ford came back inside) in what could be considered record time, the family had pretty much the rest of the day to themselves. Well, up until tonight, but we can talk about that later.

Mabel had commandeered the television once again and was hard at work on her own Christmas sweater, Ford was down in the basement, tinkering away as per usual, Stan was outside, preoccupied with the outdoor attractions, and Dipper and Bill by extension were just chilling in the gift shop. Dipper was balanced between the wall and the counter like Wendy used to back when she still worked there, reading, and Bill was sprawled out on said counter, making random ballpoint pens float and spiral above him. He was so easily entertained, like a baby.

"If those explode all over your face I'm not going to help you," Dipper warned, glancing up from the yellowing pages of his book. "I'm also not gonna cover for you when Stan asks who broke all of his best pens."

Bill rolled his yellow eyes, briefly taking them off of the pens. "Why do you always have to be so mean to me? Aren't couples supposed to be nice to each other?"

"In normal circumstances, yes," Dipper replied, closing the book and placing it on the counter, "but in these circumstances, I would have no choice but to let you suffer the consequences of your actions." He, himself, had personally tasted pen ink far too many times in his sixteen years of living. Oddly enough, the green ones were the best tasting.

"There won't be any consequences if you pay attention to me!" The demon whined, rolling on his side and causing the pens to clatter to the dirty floor. "I'm bored and hungry. There's gotta be something we can do!" When Dipper's face didn't change, he shoved the book off of the counter and into the brunet teen's lap, much to his…okay, he wasn't exactly shocked; startled was more like it.

"Well, what do you wanna do?"

Bill thought for a moment before a small smirk caught his lips. "We could make food and go watch a movie with Shooting Star?"

Dipper giggled. "Jeez," he mumbled, ruffling his partner's blonde locks as he stood up from the counter, "you're being awfully docile today; are you feeling alright?"

"What, is it wrong to want to spend time with your sister and maybe gather vital research on a particular deer I may or may not want to steal teeth from?"

It took him a minute to figure out what Bill was talking about, but once he did, Dipper couldn't help himself from bursting into peels of laughter. "Dude, you know that "Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer" is completely fiction, right? And even if he did exist, you could probably just bully him into giving you his teeth – not that I would let you, by the way."

"I know!" He insisted, sitting up and crossing his arms over his turtleneck clad chest. "But after you spend, um, I don't know, an eternity in this place, you begin to question what's actually real!"

True that. Dipper and Bill began to make their way towards the kitchen, which was still an absolute mess from breakfast, mind you. Dried pancake batter hung from the ceiling like stalactites, toothpicks littered the tile floor, and dishes were piled up in the sink. Seems like that little quarrel Stan and Ford were having earlier wasn't so little. But it was fine, the couple wasn't going to be needing any of that, anyway.

"What're we making, Pine Tree?" Bill asked enthusiastically, leaping into the air to avoid stepping in the toothpicks with bare feet. Sure, he was a being of pure energy with no weaknesses, but that crap hurt.

"Well, since you and my sister share a fondness for chocolate, it's bloody cold outside, and I'm not equipped to cook anything at the moment," Dipper said while scrounging around in the cupboards and slamming down two packets of powder, "I figured we could stir up some hot cocoa?"

The demon raised a confused eyebrow from up above, and Dipper waved the little packets again, making the powder inside them shake. "It's basically liquid chocolate," he explained. "These are hot cocoa packets. We mix them in hot water, and it tastes great."

"Oh. Cool beans."

Dipper snorted. "Did Mabel teach you that?"

"Yes."

After digging through several cabinets, Dipper finally found the pot and began to boil some water, ignoring Bill's offer to just heat it himself via the power of demonic blue fire, which was way hotter than any kind of heat a stove could produce. Dipper didn't entirely trust that the cocoa wouldn't be altered in any way. He wasn't sure about Mabel, but he definitely didn't want to end up with an arm growing out of his eye socket or all of his teeth to fall out. You never know what could happen.

Just as Dipper began to pour the hot cocoa powder into the mugs, Bill decided to exercise his ability to make people do double takes. It was actually a lot easier than it sounded, and it sounded pretty easy.

"I kinda wanna just eat the powder," he mumbled. "Like, straight from the packet. It looks tasty."

Dipper shuddered. "God, you are so much like my sister. Bill, you cannot do that. You just can't. It's wrong on so many levels."

"How wrong is it?" Bill queried, circling the ceiling light. "Like, just bad, or more strictly evil? Because depending on what you say, I might just do it!"

"How about you make yourself useful and find the marshmallows?" Dipper shot back.

Bill rolled his eyes but floated over to the sweets cabinet anyway. He had pretty much memorized where everything inside was. His diet would consist of nothing but sugar (considering he didn't technically need to eat, and his metabolism was wicked fast), had it not been for Dipper making sure he ate actual food. In his eyes, it didn't matter whether you were a human or a demonic force; if you were going to eat, you had to have a balanced diet. It was non-negotiable.

"Found 'em," Bill announced, grabbing the bag of pure sugar and tossing it in his boyfriend's direction. "Is the cocoa done?"

The brunet nodded, catching the bag and carefully opening it. If the bag exploded, mayhem would ensue, and Dipper was not currently equipped to deal with that right now. Bill was generally hyper all on his own, so any sugar added would be too much to deal with. He poured about a handful of marshmallows into each of the three mugs and plopped a few extra into his demon boyfriend's awaiting palm, much to his pleasure. Yeah, sure, he did just get done talking about how Bill shouldn't have extra sugar, but five tiny marshmallows couldn't hurt. Besides, Bill was right; he should be nicer to him. It was Christmas, after all.

"Thanks, Pine Tree!" Bill purred, descending down from the ceiling and pressing a quick, soft kiss to Dipper's cheek.

"You're welcome, you little hell-raiser," Dipper replied, reaching up and scratching the back of Bill's neck, making the demon's purr louder. "If you start trying to terrorize the Mystery Shack, I won't hesitate to lock you out of the attic tonight. I'd rather not cuddle with a vibrating ball of light, y'know?"

Bill rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't. You love me too much."

"We'll see about that."

Not sticking around to wait for his partner to respond, Dipper carefully balanced the three mugs in his hands and made his way towards the den, where lo and behold, Mabel was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, her almost finished ugly Christmas sweater in her lap, but she wasn't working on it. Her chocolate eyes were glued to the television, where the cartoon "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" was playing on the screen.

"Hey, fellas!" Mabel greeted, turning towards where her brother was standing in the doorway, followed by his dream demon, who was trailing behind him. Wow, he was actually using his legs for once. It's a Christmas miracle. "Came to watch with me?"

Dipper nodded, handing Mabel her respective mug of cocoa and sitting on the carpet beside her, leaving Bill to take over the armchair. Which, in reality, was the worst seat in the house, but he liked it for some reason.

"What's this?" The blonde demanded, puzzled by what was on TV. "What happened to the deer movie?"

"Oh, I finished that one this morning," Mabel shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. Ah, yes, hot chocolate really was one of the finer things in life, even if it did burn your tongue. "You and Dip-Dop over here declined my invitation, saying you'd rather grab breakfast or suck face than watch it with me. No worries, though! They're showing it on almost every channel at 7:00 tonight."

Bill's manic grin sort of faltered, and Dipper shot him a sympathetic glance over his shoulder, squeezing his hand. "It's okay; I'll watch it with you tonight."

While Bill's smile became a tiny grin, Mabel's tripled, and her eyes began to sparkle like one of those elegant snow-globes you'd see in a toy store. "I just got the best idea!" She squealed, pausing the movie and shifting on her knees to face the boys. "You two, me, and Pacifica can all watch it together! It'd be like a double date!"

Dipper raised an eyebrow. "Pacifica is coming over?"

"Yeah!" Mabel nodded. "Did I not tell you?"

He shook his head, and she simply shrugged again. "Well, she is! Her parents are driving her wild and she needed a night away from them. So, being the gracious girlfriend that I am, I told her she could just come over here!"

"Pacifica…" Bill mumbled, trying to remember who she was. He snapped his fingers, the lights reflecting off his shiny black nails. "Was she the llama sweater girl? The one with the annoying dad whom I may or may not have disfigured during my first attempt at world domination?"

Mabel blinked. "Yep, that's her."

He hummed in reply, going to take a swig from his mug. Unfortunately for him, his drink was still piping hot, and the hot, chocolatey liquid set his tongue aflame the moment it made contact. Bill instantly pulled away, discomforted whimpers escaping his lips. Naturally, Dipper turned around to see what was the matter.

"You okay, Bill?"

The demon forcibly swallowed, seething as the scalding drink dripped down his throat. "It's hot," he whispered, sticking his tongue out.

"No kidding it's hot," Dipper chided, accompanied by a dry chuckle that made it sound like he had drowned in cheese graters. "I took the boiling water off of the stove less than five minutes ago. Did that just not cross your mind, or what?"

"Don't bully me," Bill grumbled, setting his mug on the skull end table and curling his knees up close to his chest.

Dipper rolled his eyes; abnormal being were so over dramatic. Placing his own mug on the makeshift coffee table (he still had no idea where it came from or if it was even real – he'd have to ask Stan later), he walked around the back of the armchair and let his scrawny upper body tumble over it in a rather "Bill Cipher-like" fashion. He wrapped his arms around Bill's shoulders, burying his head into the other male's unruly blonde locks and pressing a quick smooch to his forehead.

"I'm sorry," Dipper sheepishly apologized, giving Bill a "you-know-I'm-actually-not-sorry-but-I-love-you-so-I'll-apologize" kind of look.

"In my defense, I only did it because she did it and seemed fine," Bill claimed, pointing towards Mabel, whom had been sucked right back into the cartoon.

"Y'know, there's a lecture about this, but I'm too lazy to give it to you," the brunet giggled, swaying back and forth a little. "But you should know, Mabel has basically no regards for temperature whatsoever. She survived three summers with thick, long hair, even thicker knit sweaters, and knee high socks. She's basically invincible. You, on the other hand, not so much."

It was Bill's turn to do a doubletake. "Are…are you forgetting that I took over this entire town, turned almost everyone here into stone, and created an entire dimension bubble for Shooting Star?"

Dipper shrugged. "You were taken out by a can of spray paint. That cancels out all of that other stuff."