A/N: Last chapter! Woop woop!
XxXxX
Halfway through the "Christmas Vacation" tape, just in time to tear Mabel's attention away from the TV screen before her eyeballs melted into a gooey puddle and dripped onto the carpet, the gift shop door creaked open, and the familiar click-clack of designer heels danced along the floorboards. It could only be one person; no one else in town could afford shoes that made that kind of noise.
"Pacifica!" Mabel joyfully cried out, hopping up from the floor and running over to the doorway that divided the dining room from the gift shop. Her excited outburst practically jolted her brother awake, who had previously fallen asleep on Bill's lap.
"Whazzat?" He slurred, making a poor effort to sit up.
Bill shrugged, drumming his fingers on Dipper's shoulder. "If I'm not mistaken, I'd say that Shooting Star's rich girlfriend is here."
Sure enough, Mabel and Pacifica pranced back into the den, hands intertwined. Pacifica, much like the twins, had changed a little (okay, a lot) in the past three years. She kept her bleach-blonde hair tucked into twin braids, ditched a lot of the makeup, and traded the stereotypical "popular straight girl" ensemble for fishnet stockings, purple denim shorts, and a white blouse, that of which she severed from her homecoming dress in a fit of closeted rage. Her parents still didn't know about it, and they didn't need to. She held onto the lavender pumps, though. She could never get rid of the lavender pumps.
"Hey, dorks!" She greeted, eyeing the two boys twisted into a pretzel on the armchair. "What're you guys watching?"
"A version of "Christmas Vacation" that I'm pretty sure an electricity gremlin edited," Mabel replied. "They're so funny! And their ironic jokes are on point!" When Pacifica was around, Mabel's positivity seemed to multiply by fifteen.
Pacifica nodded. "Sounds…cool, I suppose?" She still wasn't totally down with the supernatural, and probably never would be.
Just as Mabel was pulling her girlfriend to her makeshift nest of blankets on the ground, Dipper abruptly cleared his throat, nodding towards the top of the doorway. He was awake enough to notice the mistletoe hanging just between his sister and Pacifica. And Mabel would probably strangle him if she found out he had compromised an opportunity to be a walking, talking, romantic comedy cliché.
Mabel noticed it, too, and she beamed as her cheeks flushed red, the combination of color and splash of freckles making her face resemble that of a ripe strawberry. She nudged Pacifica, who took one look at the mistletoe and rolled her eyes.
"God, you are such a sap," she mumbled, but grabbed the neck of Mabel's sweater and pulled her in for a sweet kiss anyway, leaving Mabel a little love-struck when she pulled away. The familiar taste of Pacifica's lip gloss lingered on her lips; it was always coconut.
"Yeah, but you kiss like one," the brunette pointed out, giggling, "so let's just call it even."
The girls went to sit on the carpet, instantly sucked into the movie (it was one of Pacifica's favorites), meanwhile Bill looked to the mistletoe and back to Dipper, silently demanding an explanation for this strange mortal custom.
"Oh, when two people are standing underneath that," Dipper explained, pointing to the mistletoe, "they're supposed to, y'know, kiss. It's just another Christmas thing."
Dipper turned back to the movie, snuggling closer to the demon for warmth, but Bill could no longer pay attention; he was too busy processing what Dipper had said.
Bill had never really understood the concept of kissing. Like, why would anyone want to touch lips with someone else? Do you know where their lips could've been? Why in the known multiverse would you want to do that after you realize how many germs that are exchanged when you snog? That's what Mabel called it. And Bill couldn't get sick – perks of being a demon – or spread disease, just the odd chemicals in his saliva, he was just trying to think about it from a human's point of view. But humans tended to seem more…wimpy through Bill's eyes, so maybe this wasn't all too accurate.
Anyway, part of that came from never having been kissed before. I mean, how could someone have shared a kiss with him? He hadn't taken a flesh form before this past summer and his true form didn't even have a mouth. Thankfully, that had changed; Dipper, after having what amounted to a breakdown while dealing with some difficult (the word "difficult" was an understatement) customers in the gift shop, had kissed Bill upstairs as some kind of confession/thank you for helping him out. And, well…
Bill, for the three seconds that the human teen's lips were on his, fully understood why people kissed. It simply expressed things that words could not.
After that, the two had exchanged several quick pecks over the remainder of that summer and during the time Dipper had spent in Gravity Falls over winter break, but nothing like that first kiss. They were short and sweet, and often used as a mechanism to get one another to shut up. And yeah, Bill had been satisfied with that, but after seeing Shooting Star and Blondie (he'd come up with a better nickname for Pacifica later) lock lips like that, he decided that that was what he wanted, too. But with Dipper, obviously.
Bill Cipher had a new mission that night: to feel that same, soft, bursting feeling that erupted in his chest last June again tonight. That red-nosed reindeer would just have to wait for now.
XxXxX
The movie ended, and dinner had to be made. But before dinner could be made, the kitchen had to be cleaned. You know what that means: bonding time, because for some reason, complaining about a chore you hate while doing said chore was the perfect way to get closer to someone!
They had a pretty good assembly line, too. Mabel washed the dishes, Pacifica dried them, Dipper put them away, and Bill…did nothing! He just floated around the ceiling light as one does, keeping the others entertained.
He had a sprig of mistletoe stuffed into the pocket of his skinny jeans, completely out of sight from the other teens. He was determined to embody Shooting Star and become a walking- er, flying, talking rom-com cliché and kiss Dipper underneath this odd plant. Bill, funnily enough, was kinda nervous? Like, he didn't really have a reason to be, he was a total catch (who wouldn't want to date an all-powerful dream demon? Play it off right, and you could get your own dimension!), but even with this knowledge, the butterflies in his stomach ceased to quit fluttering.
"Are you guys done yet?" Bill whined, reclining in midair. "I'm starving!"
"If you actually helped us, we would've already been done," Dipper chided.
"Yeah," Mabel nodded in agreement, "couldn't you just, y'know, snap your fingers and magically make the kitchen sparkling clean?" Just for fun, she flicked some soapy water in the demon's direction.
Bill hissed, violently swerving out of the way. He was not a fan of water, holy or not. "I could, but do you know how much energy that would take? I wouldn't be able to use my powers for the rest of the night!"
Pacifica, despite turning over a new leaf and becoming a nicer person, just couldn't help but contribute a sadistic comment to the mix. "Oh, what a shame that would be."
Her little remark elicited a giggle from the twins and a scowl from Bill, who descended from the air and set his boot-clad feet on the ground with a quick clunk. The mistletoe in his pocket felt like it had caught fire, burning through the grey denim and imprinting itself on Bill's thigh. It felt like it was so obviously there, when in reality no one could tell that he even had anything concealed.
Come to think of it, that would be a pretty sick tattoo.
"Mabel, what are we even having for dinner?" Dipper asked, putting the last of the plates in the cabinet and shutting the door.
She shrugged, drying her hands off on a stray dish rag. "I found some spaghetti in the back of the pantry that hasn't passed its expiration date yet, believe it or not. Figured I could just make that."
"Make whatever you want, just don't make sure everything you use is actually edible."
"Gosh, the Mabel Juice was one time! I was experimenting!"
Bill and Pacifica just exchanged awkward glances. Neither could relate to the whole "sibling quarrel" thing for obvious reasons. Well, Bill did have a sibling, but after the Ciphers had spawned, they were immediately sent out to dominate a dimension. They didn't have time to quarrel. Bill considered that a plus, although it would've been nice to have someone to practice his trash-talk on.
"Anyway!" Mabel suddenly yelled, putting her and her brother's argument to an end. "Pacifica, do you wanna help me?"
Pacifica nodded, and her and Mabel ran off to the pantry to find the pasta, leaving Bill and Dipper to their own devices. Well, this was it! No time like the present! With a shaking hand, Bill retrieved the mistletoe from his pocket and stepped closer to Dipper, and carefully hung the little plant over both of their heads. This would be the one time his height would come in handy.
"Hey, uh, Pine Tree- "he began to nervously squeak, only to be interrupted by the ladies barreling back into the kitchen, boxes of noodles clutched in their hands. Bill shoved the mistletoe back into his pocket. Damn it, he'd have to try again. Fear not, he'd get the timing right eventually.
XxXxX
"Alright, guys! Dinner is served!"
Let it be known that Dipper did not think his sister was a terrible cook. Mabel was an awesome cook; if Dipper had to be the nerdy one of the family, Mabel was the cooking/baking prodigy. She would've been working at Greasy's Diner last summer, fixing its reputation and writing its legacy in the process, but Grunkle Stan had insisted that she work as a tour guide for the Mystery Shack. Something about an overactive imagination and charming poor tourists into forking over their money.
Dipper was just not a fan of finding inedible items in his food. Like glitter. Or plastic dinosaurs. Or glue caps. And unfortunately, Mabel was notorious for putting those things in her concoctions. Except for the glue caps, that one was a total accident!
"There aren't any, y'know, inanimate objects in this spaghetti, are there?" Dipper asked cautiously, poking at the pasta with his fork.
Mabel just rolled her eyes. "Dipper, I promise there's nothing in there. And if there hypothetically was, I'd just drive you to the ER. But that won't happen! Probably."
"I shouldn't have to ask this question every time you cook for me," Dipper mumbled under his breath, but took a bite of the food in front of him regardless. At least it tasted good.
"It looks great, Mabes," Pacifica praised, shooting the blushing chef a wink. Dipper just shot Bill a "Jim Halpert" type of look from across the table. Pacifica clearly hadn't been around during the Mabel Juice epidemic. She had also clearly never almost choked to death on a tiny plastic dino.
Dinner wasn't filled with awkward silence, surprisingly. Mabel told her girlfriend all about the ugly Christmas sweaters she was busy knitting, claiming that she was going to take the Gravity Falls winter fashion scene by storm (and tried to convince her that Bill wasn't an evil supervillain anymore), Dipper talked about his newer episodes of "Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained," which featured everything from garden gnome festivities to the edited Christmas tapes Grunkle Ford had uncovered, Pacifica complained about how much Christmas at her house was going to suck, and Bill explained his fascination with a certain fictional reindeer and picked the blonde girl's brain about rich life, since he was curious to see if it was anything like being a god (which he was, in some dimensions). Her answers did not disappoint.
And thankfully, another opportunity to smooch a certain mortal presented itself again. After clearing the table from supper, Mabel and Pacifica scampered back to the living room, presumably to search for a channel that was showing "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer," which left the two boys alone, blah, blah, blah, you know the rest.
This time, however, Bill was going to do something different. Against Sixer's better judgement, he'd been practicing with his powers, specifically on manipulating inanimate objects. Sneakily, he ran his claw over the spine of the mistletoe, and just like that, it began to levitate. He carefully made it float over their heads, just slow enough so Dipper wouldn't notice.
But before he could even get his attention, Dipper stood up from the table and turned around to face him. Bill quickly let the mistletoe fall to the floor.
"Hey, um, I'm gonna go upstairs for a second. I have something to do really quick. I'll call you when I'm done, okay?" Dipper's face had taken on a soft pink glow, Bill noticed.
Bill nodded, and Dipper disappeared from the dining room. He cursed under his breath; why was this so damn difficult!?
XxXxX
"Bill! You can come up now!"
Honestly, after two failed attempts, Bill wasn't in the highest of spirits. What he had perceived to be a simple task turned out to be a lot harder than he ever thought it would. Maybe being a cliché wasn't all that it was cut out to be. Shooting Star made it seem so easy. He'd have to ask her for her tips and tricks later.
He was excited to see what Dipper had to show him, though, so he pushed his disappointments to the side for now.
Deciding he was too lazy to clamber up the stairs like a normal person, he kicked off the floor and hovered his way up there. Humans should really learn to fly; it's fun, much more enjoyable than walking, and things would move faster in day-to-day life. But, alas, they cannot, and probably won't be able to until the year 3000, and the development would probably just be starting. And humans would probably have absolutely ghastly little wings that they wouldn't know how to use, making them even more unappealing and incompetent than they already appeared. Hey, Bill's words, not mine.
Bill fell back to the floor at the top step, swaying a little on his feet. He slowly walked to the attic door, his combat boots scuffing along the old boards. Before he could even move his hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing his Pine Tree, who had ditched the jeans and hoodie for black and white striped shirt and red sweatpants.
"So," he began to explain, blushing nervously, "I, uh, saw how you reacted to Pacifica and Mabel's little public display of affection. And I kinda noticed what you've been trying to do all day. You're a little bad at being sneaky."
The demon rolled his eyes, a scowl tugging at his lips. Was he really that obvious? And all this time, he thought he was being a little sneaky-sneak.
"But I thought it was really sweet! And I wanted to do something like that for you, but I don't exactly have telekinesis, so it probably won't be nearly as cool as what you tried to do, but, uh…" Crap, he'd gone off on a tangent. Dipper buried his face in one of his sweater paws and pointed to the top of the doorframe. "Just…look up."
Bill obeyed, and lo and behold, a little thing of mistletoe was tied to the doorframe with red ribbon.
Both of the boys' faces turned redder than they already were, and Dipper, desperately not wanting to just continue standing there like an idiot, grabbed Bill by the collar of his dress shirt, bringing the lankier male down to his level.
"Merry Christmas, you dork," he grinned playfully. And with that, Dipper closed the space between his and Bill's lips.
Why were kisses always portrayed as this big, passionate, explosive thing? In Bill's observations, they weren't like that. He didn't feel fireworks exploding in his mind or the world just fall away; he just felt warm. And soft. And safe. Just like how he felt whenever he was with Dipper, as mushy as that may sound.
They separated after a few moments (damn you, oxygen), with blushing cheeks and happy, dazed expressions.
"How the hell did you get to be such a good kisser?" Bill joked, gently nudging his boyfriend like he was saying "c'mon, spill your secret!"
Dipper just snorted, grabbed Bill's hand, and began walking downstairs. "Come on. You don't wanna miss your movie."
XxXxX
A/N: Oh, lord, I am not going to make the same mistakes I did this year when writing Christmas fics. This entire thing was basically written in three days and finished on Christmas Eve. But at least I finished, and it (hopefully) doesn't suck! I hope you enjoyed this sappy little piece, and I look forward to writing more in 2021! I'll also be posting things on AO3, for anyone who's interested, and you can find me there radio_antlers. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!