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“Of course Grian’s doing his research on a contract.” Gem groans, Impulse chuckling as he turns to walk backwards and smirk at Gem as he speaks.
“You know he just wants to get out of the hard stuff, like a hunt.” Impulse clears his throat, pointedly turning on and off the radio.
“I do research for about five minutes, I get distracted, and I do somethin’ else for about an hour.”
Impulse climbs the stairs of the farmhouse, making his way into the ghost room on the left as Gem follows.
“Having you guys in the background, knowing that ghost hunting is waiting for me is helping with the research,” Grian defends, static crackling as he gets higher pitched at the end.
“Aww,” Gem coos, notably not over the radio. “He does like us!”
Impulse opens his mouth to agree, but the two of them are stepping in the room, met with Skizz. His face is scrunched as he squints at the camera held as close to his face as possible.
A rush of pure fondness flows through Impulse’s heart as he completely forgets what he was going to say in favor of grinning at his best friend.
Skizz speaks without looking up from his camera. “Can you come light this firelight as well, Gemstone?” He gestures in front of him to the three-pronged candlestick.
Impulse faintly hears Gem’s choked gasp behind him as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish. Gem did not have a lighter.
He glances back at Gem, panicked, as he moves and lights the candles. “Sure,” he squeaks out, wincing as his voice cracks. Gem is visibly trying not to laugh at him, that jerk. He clears his throat, moving back towards the door and fiddling with the smudge sticks in his pocket. He is very thankful that the room is pitch black, his cheeks warm with a dusty pink.
“Did you just call Impulse Gemstone?” Gem interrupts the silence, to Impulse’s horror.
In an effort to conceal his true reaction, Impulse speaks up, “He did, I feel so special.”
Impulse watches as Skizz mirrors his earlier freak out, immediately lowering the camera from his face and frowning. His sentence is interrupted by Skizz protesting, “I thought Gem had the lighter!”
Skizz puts his hands on his hips, forgoing any attempts to continue investigating the ghost. Impulse watches with horrific satisfaction as Skizz gets flustered, a very rare moment. Skizz repeats himself, “I thought Gem had the lighter,” as Impulse can feel a smirk growing on his face and Gem is dying of laughter next to him.
Not one to pass on a moment to get the upper hand on his normally way-too-confident-for-his-own-good best friend, Impulse interjects smugly, “Don’t you try to back out on that one.”
Skizz groans, running a hand down his face in mock frustration. Impulse feels a zing of electricity, a mix of impish delight and curiosity at Skizz’s reaction.
Impulse watches as Skizz supposedly shakes it off, changing the subject while a certain furrow stays stuck between his eyebrows.
There’s a quiet moment at the end of the night, when Grian and Gem had already been dropped off and Impulse had just parked the van, Skizz barely awake next to him in the passenger's seat.
Impulse awkwardly clears his throat, shifting to face Skizz. “Skizz?”
“Yeah buddy?” Skizz is slightly muffled as he sits up, blinking his eyes open.
This is obviously not his forte, Impulse thinks, as he searches for words. Ultimately, he blurts out, “Why did you call me Gemstone? Wait, no, did you-” Impulse stops. He says the next words quietly, his eyes fixed on the center console. “really do it by accident?”
There is a long silence, where Impulse is left with his thoughts as he refuses to make eye contact. With horror, he realizes that Skizz might think that he’s fishing for compliments. He flicks up wide eyes, exclaiming, “It’s not that I hate the nicknames! You’ve invented probably dozens since I’ve known you and I love them all, it’s just if you only want to call me Impulse it’s fine, whatever you-”
“Impulse!”
Impulse takes a deep breath, wincing at the fact that he had run out of breath in favor of rambling. He scans Skizz’s face, immediately relaxing at the small, gentle smile that made him giddy.
“Once you got going, you’d never stop!” Skizz teases, lightly punching Impulse in the shoulder.
Impulse crosses his arms, grumbling, but glad that he hadn’t ruined their dynamic. As he makes eye contact with Skizz again, Skizz sombers. He goes still as Skizz slowly moves his hands towards his shoulders, slightly nodding to let Skizz know it was okay. The action alone made his heart pump at the regard for his boundaries.
“You should know by now that my love language is practically nicknames.”
Impulse smiles at that, “How could I forget.”
“You stop it! Therefore, only calling you Impulse would be a deadly sin.” Skizz lifts a finger royally, but shortly after his face shifts from goofy mode to serious mode. “Unless you want me to.”
Impulse scoffs. “Did you even pay attention? I like the nicknames. It’s endearing.” He adds the last bit as an afterthought, watching for Skizz’s reaction.
Skizz either doesn’t notice or ignores it as he squeezes Impulse’s shoulders, sighing with relief. “Good. I hated you thinking that I was calling you Gemstone, who is like a daughter to me, when I have a billion other nicknames in store. It’s the principle of the thing.”
Impulse feels like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Curious, he asks, “And what would these other nicknames entail?”
Twice in one night, Impulse gets the pleasure of watching Skizz flush and ruin his confident assertion. Cocking an eyebrow, Impulse is confused as he watches Skizz take a deep breath. Skizz then shifts in his seat so he is as close to the center console as possible and moves his massive hands from Impulse’s now cold shoulders to his already warm cheeks. “Skizz?” Impulse squeaks, unsure where to put his hands but sure that his face was bright red.
“Is this okay, dippledop?” Skizz smiles gently, only a few inches away from Impulse’s face. Unable to form words, Impulse nods.
“Let’s see…” Skizz contemplates, a smug grin set on his face as his confidence returns. “Maybe darling? Honey?”
Impulse does not move a muscle, afraid that the electricity running through his body might make him explode. Each word stabs him in the heart as he yearns for more.
Skizz takes this as an invitation to continue. “Love? Sweetheart?”
That one does it. Impulse shudders, leaning forward with a groan to lightly push his forehead into Skizz’s. The van fills with Skizz’s laughter. “Success!”
“Jerk,” Impulse sighs, not truly angry. He thinks his face might flush an even deeper red as he begrudgingly admits, “I love all the nicknames.”
“Then I’ll keep them comin,’” Skizz announces, leaning back to gently kiss the crown of his head. “Burgers?” Skizz wiggles his eyebrows, moving to open the van door.
Impulse shakes his head in amazement at how quickly this man could switch gears. Still taking in the forehead kiss, he absently says, “Yeah sure,” busy committing the moment to memory.