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Loving Skeppy is…
Hm. Well, it’s new.
Bad glances at the household menace tucked against him, head on his shoulder. He’d come into his room about half an hour ago and, whether it was because he was tired or stressed or just needed a hug, had been dead set on putting himself there. The book Bad had been reading before the bedroom invasion is discarded off to the side somewhere, and he’s probably lost his page, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to mind as he brushes his fingers through Skeppy’s hair.
No, he thinks to himself fondly, as Skeppy sleeps on. No, he doesn’t mind at all.
He loves most people, if he’s being honest with himself. That’s just the way he is; the way he’s always been. He treats every new person he meets kindly. He adores his family and friends. He picks out the little things in the world that make him happy and loves them with all his heart - his rat, the sky on a nice day, chocolate muffins.
But when it comes to Skeppy, the love that bubbles up so readily every time he looks at him or talks to him or thinks about him is… different. It’s intense and it’s sweet and it’s terrifying all at the same time, the kind of feeling that sets off butterflies in his stomach and an embarrassingly obvious blush on his face and turns him into a stuttering mess, but also just so… warm. Before Skeppy he was never really the type for hugs, and whilst he still doesn’t initiate them himself, he’s come to love every time the muffinhead decides that he needs to wrap every limb around Bad and he has to do it right now. He feels needed and wanted and loved, and that’s… nice, and warm, and so startlingly familiar because he needs and wants and loves Skeppy right back.
He brushes his lips against Skeppy’s forehead, the ghost of a kiss, and that’s new too, because he’s never really found himself wanting to be so open and affectionate with anyone like this before. That’s the difference, he decides. He doesn’t just love Skeppy. He’s in love with him, utterly and helplessly.
The household menace stirs, blinking up at him sleepily, and snaps him right out of his thoughts.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he murmurs, still gently carding his hand through Skeppy’s hair.
“A little,” comes the response, mumbled in the quiet sleepy Skeppy voice that he’s come to love so dearly.
There’s a slight pause as he yawns, and then there’s a nose nuzzling at Bad’s neck, arms insistently wrapping around his middle. The angle they’re at is too awkward for Skeppy to be able to hug him in the way he seems to want to, so Bad turns so they’re face to face and almost immediately gains an armful of Skeppy. He hesitates for a second, embarrassingly unused to this, and then slowly curls his arms around his shoulders, automatically bringing one hand back up to his hair. Skeppy hums appreciatively at that, and for a little while, the only noise is the quiet hum of Bad’s computer in sleep mode across the room.
“I love you,” Bad says quietly, for the first time in the way he means it.
Skeppy pauses, the hand he was idly playing with a bit of Bad’s hair with stilling. He sits up and looks at him for a moment, the look on his face unreadable, and then his glasses are being removed from his face and there’s arms being draped loosely over his shoulders and a forehead gently pressed against his own.
“I love you too,” comes the uncharacteristically soft reply, full of heavy affection, and Bad knows his face is burning at this point but he can’t bring himself to care as he closes his eyes and traces aimless circles into Skeppy’s hoodie with his thumb.
Loving Skeppy like this is new, and it’s warm, and it’s so, so natural to do, and he wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.