Work Text:
A creaking door and creaking stairs heralds an arrival to the sunken tavern of the Weeping Rose Inn. The syncopation of the steps mark it as two people, even before the voices.
Impulse’s voice rings out first with the indignance of a teenager caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “I was taking it easy!”
“Impulse,” Gem answers him, voice thick with reproach. “We talked about this. AFKing at a farm does not count as ‘taking it easy’. You’re gonna see the drops, and think of some project that needs tweaking, and talk yourself out of the Lazy Day you said you were gonna take. You want to have a Lazy Day, you need to actually have a Lazy Day.” She shoves on his shoulders again, and Impulse relents, down the last few stairs to the lower floor. The thick shag carpet sinks under his boots. “Remember, you asked me to sit on you about this.”
“Yeah, because you get on me about it anyways!”
“No, I make fun of you about it anyways. Different than actually stopping you.”
Impulse sighs, the lights on his forehead winking as he rubs between them. “You’re right. Sorry.” He moves to the bar, sinking onto one of the stools and bracing against it with another sigh. “It just–it always feels like there’s so much to do, you know? No matter how much I do, it feels like I’m always behind everyone, or I see something that gives me a new idea, and then I need the infrastructure for the materials to make it, and it just.” One hand twirls in the air. “Compounds.”
Gem nods. “I get it, but like. There’s never going to stop being stuff to do. And we know a Tango exists, so we’re never gonna stop feeling behind.” The snort she gets from Impulse is answered with a laugh, and she leans against the side of the bar. “See? You know I’m right. So you gotta give yourself permission to take a break every once in a while. And if the only way I can make sure of that is to drag you in here and smack you anytime you try to talk work, well.”
A wide gesture, that turns into a curtsy and a raised affect. “The Weeping Rose is at your disposal.”
Impulse laughs, and it already sounds lighter than he has in a week. “With a pitch like that, how could I refuse?” As if he’s ever refused Gem anything. “Even if it’ll be quiet down here with just me and him.” He jerks a thumb towards the copper bartender.
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you gonna ask me to stay with you?”
"I mean.” Impulse clears his throat. “If I’m not interrupting anything, I would…like it, yes.”
“Oh trust me,” Gem answers, already folding her elytra and kicking her boots to the side, “I’m not nearly so difficult to convince not to work as you are. I can even go change into the tavern dress I never get to wear! See if we can’t just take today for us.”
“Hey, this place is cozy enough to block out the outside, so it just might work. It’s a shame I don’t still have my dwarf beard from season 9, or we could really sell the bit, ey? Comin’ in from a long day in the mines, a regular here for a drink and a chat with the pretty bartendress?” Impulse mimes stroking a long beard, eyebrows raised.
Gem tilts her head, thinking, then shakes it away. “Nah. I like you better without it. Didn’t like getting a mouthful of hair.” As if to prove her point, Gem leans down, pressing her lips to Impulse’s a moment before pulling away. “I’ll get changed and put some music on for you. You sit there and do nothing.”
Impulse obediently slouches onto the bar, resting on folded arms. He tracks the copper golem behind the bar, walking back and forth from chest to chest with the same water bottle.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Footsteps behind him after a few minutes. A smile spreads on his face.
“You know,” Impulse starts, a gleam appearing in his eye, “if you use a lectern with a book on it for the ‘drinks menu’, that outputs a redstone signal, and you could probably make him actually serve p–”
And Gem’s hand comes down sharp across the back of his head.
SMACK!
“NO WORK TALK IN MY TAVERN!”