Archive of Our Own ^beta

Thunder strikes again, rumbling through the house and following the flash of light that'd just come through his window. The rain is falling too hard, slamming against the front of his house and shaking his walls, curtains, making things that are inside move and that thought has Skeppy panicking.

He presses his headset tighter, shuts the curtains, and cranks his music up. This is fine. He can watch Bad's stream, continue blasting trashy pop to block out the noise, maybe even call him and talk to cool down.

He turns back from where he's still fumbling with the curtains, facing his computer in time to see the monitors shut off and hear the fan whirring slowly, painfully, come to a stop. His music cuts off, abruptly, and the noises outside are louder than ever.

The power's out. 

Rain crashes against the outside wall again, and Skeppy is trembling, losing it, hands fumbling to shove his headset off.

He blindly grabs for his earbuds dangling off a monitor and dives into bed, pressing himself under the covers and slamming hands against his ears just as another shock runs through the house.

Distantly, as he sits up, he realizes he's crying, the corners of his lips stinging with salt. He doesn't care, doesn't notice, is only slipping his earbuds in and rushing to play music before-

Thunder strikes again, quite possibly the loudest yet, and Skeppy is scurrying back under his blankets, hands returning to pressing over his ears. But his earbuds are in, no music playing, and he's forced to dig them farther into his ear to avoid the sound.

It hurts, yes. But it's better than being thrown deeper into this weird, panick-y state of his, he decides.

Skeppy cowers there for what feels like ages, and he can only think of Bad helping him. It's selfish of him to think of his friend like this, but he finds his mind drifting off when the evening ends and night begins, when he doesn't have to think about his problems.

It's harmless as long as they're kept to himself.

So he allows his mind to drift. If Bad was here with him, god. Maybe Skeppy would be resting with Rat while Bad did some work, tilting his head every few moments to murmur reassuring words to his two very scared companions.

Maybe Bad would join him, slide up right next to him and pull him to his chest, allow him to choke and cry into neck as a hand scratches through his hair, reassuring and firm and so comforting that Skeppy would just know everything would be okay.

Maybe Bad would pull him out to the living space, push him down on the couch in a nest made of blankets and pillows and maybe a certain couple dogs, challenge him to cards and dares and dumb games until Skeppy falls asleep on his shoulder and the storm passes.

But Skeppy’s alone.

He raises his hands and pulls himself out from under his blankets, hesitantly, to find that the rain and thunder have ceased, at least for a moment. His ears hurt bad from where the earbuds were digging in, his trembling so violent that it's shaking the bed but he doesn't care, doesn't care , he just needs to get music playing.

And he does, finally, blindly clicking on a playlist and cranking the volume up as loud as it'd go. Lightning flashes agan, lighting up his room for a moment before it disappears as fast as it’d come. He really needs to close his curtains- and yet, he makes no move towards them, instead pulling the covers back over in his head in preparation for the thunder that’s sure to follow.

He could watch Bad's stream right now, if he wanted to. Data and Twitch mobile are things that very much exist but he's tired and just wants to sleep.

But then a text comes through from Bad and all thoughts of sleep are gone in an instant. A second one follows as Skeppy unlocks his phone.

hey Geppy,-

Skeppy snorts. Bad can't let go of that name, huh?

-stream chat is telling me that there's a storm over in your area right now and i just wanted to make sure you're okay D: i know how much you hate them

When did Skeppy even tell him that? His mind's racing already and this had to be so, so long ago and the idea, the fact , that Bad had remembered is doing weird things to his chest.

He scrolls to the second message.

i just ended the egg lore bit so i'm getting a little sad, as i do o-o you can always call me! love you, muffinhead <3

It's still an emoticon. Typing it out doesn't make it more meaningful. It's exactly the same as if Bad just slapped a heart emoji on there like he'd done a million times before. Doesn't mean anything.

But it doesn't stop Skeppy from theorizing, from closing his eyes and taking a deep, long breath to heal the aching in his chest.

Bad's tired, and he's typing differently. That's all.

So Skeppy doesn't think twice before calling, and the call being picked up before it can even ring once does nothing to ease the knot in his throat and ringing in his ears.

"Why hellooooo, S'geppy!"

Bad's slurring his words and he's not even whining. He's definitely tired.

(He doesn't think about how cute it is, doesn't think about that voice slurring through a good morning, doesn't think about rolling over to face Bad, morning sunlight dusting over his eyes as he tilts forward to just give him a small kiss. It's stupid, and cliche, and out of his reach, so he doesn't think about it.)

Skeppy lets himself breathe and relax, lets himself sink into his covers and press his head into a pillow.

"Hey Bad."

He barely recognizes his own voice. Bad's tired? Because holy shit, he's one to talk.

"Aww, Skeppy, are you tired?" Bad does that stupid cute giggle of his and Skeppy suddenly feels very, very stupid. 

Bad's tired, yes, but he's used to this. He's accustomed to staying up this late. Skeppy is the one who isn't and he suddenly feels so small, so overwhelmed, and settles for not answering.

"Skeppy's very sleepy right now. Let's be nice to him, okay chat?

Skeppy doesn't even have to check to know how chat reacted to that one, but he makes a mental note to read chat when he's watching the VOD later, anyways.

"Seriously though, Skeppy." Bad's voice is lower, sincere, the way he speaks when he's only around him and Skeppy knows he's muted. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's still fucking terrifying." His voice is wavering, shit. He clenches his eyes closed. "But you're here. So. I'll be okay."

There's a pause.

"Language."

“Bad!”

Bad giggles and unmutes, focusing back on his stream.

If this were any other day Skeppy would have been fine, laughing along with him or apologizing mockingly. But Skeppy was vulnerable, wanted comfort, and Bad had said that so lovingly, still in voice for them, and only them, to hear that Skeppy can't help but read into it a bit.

Just a bit, he tells himself. But it gets away from him so fast. He’s imagined scenarios with Bad in nearly every room in his house, every room in Bad’s that he’s seen from video calls and photos, at parks and beaches and events. Kissing, or simply talking, holding hands and loving each other and Skeppy wants to stop.

But he can’t. It’s so wrong, and he’s so ashamed of himself. The feelings, the panic, the previous fear return tenfold and Skeppy can’t listen to the stream, can’t focus. He shouldn’t be thinking about his friend like this.

Calling him was wrong too. Bad is busy, streaming for fuck’s sake, and here he was, needing him for his own, selfish reason. He’s drowning, hysterical, and he hates that he puts it all on Bad to deal with.

He hates it, hates that he does it, but Skeppy’s vulnerable. That’s how he’s justifying this. He’ll allow himself to be selfish for this one night only, and then he’ll leave Bad alone.

Skeppy guesses he started crying, because Bad is shushing him, presumably muted again. Skeppy doesn’t really know what he’s saying but he knows he’s pouring his feelings out. Maybe not about wanting to kiss him- even in his frenzied state, he knows where the line is- but about his awful, no good, selfish thoughts.

About wanting Bad to be there with him, about how horrible he feels, and he just wants things to be over, over, over. Back to normal.

“Skeppy. I messaged you, yeah?”

Skeppy nods pathetically, before he remembers Bad can’t see him and hums in confirmation.

“I wanted to call you. I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay! I want to be there too, you know I do. If you’re selfish, then I’m worse. Or at least just as bad.”

Bad wants to see him. Bad wants to be here with him, Bad wants this just as much as he does, oh my god .

The knot in his throat tightens and it was much, much easier to think he was being a burden than deal with whatever this is. Bad’s just being friendly, but it doesn’t do much to help his heart, especially not when he’s staying muted, all focus off his stream and directed on Skeppy, waiting for an answer.

“Okay, Bad. Thank you.” Quite possibly the lamest option, but Skeppy doesn’t really know what to say.

Bad hums, turning back to his stream. He knows what was meant and knows he doesn’t have to say much else. He’s always been good at reading through the lines and Skeppy couldn’t be more thankful.

The next boom of thunder doesn't even faze him, it can't, not when his blankets are pulled around him tightly and Bad's chattering on stream is all he really cares about at that moment.

He just barely makes out the muttered "love you, Skeppy" before falling asleep.