Imagine your OC eating pie underneath the dining room table, as Thanksgiving family madness happens around them.
Dipper frowned. Thanksgiving was going fantastic; Mabel had invited Soos and Melody and all seven of their kids over, and between the horde of children running around, the knife throwing display Candy and Wendy were giving, and the whole raw turkey he had gotten to stay physical for the night, Dipper was having a grand time.
But someone was missing and-oh.
Dipper stepped into the kitchen, the table abandoned and covered in a small mountain of dishes. He peeked under the table and yup-
“Hey Little Fighter,” Dipper said gently, crawling under the table with Willow. “Everything okay? Is your bubble holding up?”
“It is Uncle Dipper. I just-”
Dipper smiled sadly. “It’s a lot, I know, and you needed a break.”
The second grader nodded, sending her braids flying around her head.
Dipper snapped. “Hey, know what will make you feel better?”
Willow smiled. “What Uncle Dipper?”
He snapped again and the pecan pie from on top of the oven appeared between them both.
“Uncle Dipper, Mommy and Daddy haven’t said it’s desert time yet-”
“Well you got to listen to me too, like you do with Grunkle Stan yes?”
“Well, I say that we are going to have special under the table pie now.”
Willow giggled. “Are we going to use our hands?”
Dipper, who had already began to dig in with said hands, paused.
“Yes. Yes we are.”
(When Henry thought to look for them an hour later, he found them asleep with distended bellies and an empty pie tin between them.)