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Like Newlyweds Do
💚 💛 ❤️
It's those cross-legged twilights when you're both sitting on your shared bed, leaning your weight back on your hands and talking about this (talking about that) that really end up sticking with you after the games. Yeah, you've got the inside jokes - Aha! - and the murders and shared experiences tinged with yellow and red, but it's the talking…
Oh, it's the talking.
It's easier, somehow, in a way Impulse never really thought about until 3rd Life began. Because when he's on Hermitcraft, he's always being Impulse. There is no end to that. A season break is all they get. He's caffeinated, animated, and there's this crushing weight of constant pressure to always flaunt the full range of your builder's portfolio and redstone technical savvy. To prove to yourself that you're just as good as your neighbors are… that you do in fact deserve to be whitelisted here.
(Zedaph always tells him to chill out and have fun. No one's planning to un-whitelist him, so why get so worked up about it? Impulse tries to listen. He really does.)
The Life series is shrouded in the cloak of roleplay in a way Hermitcraft simply isn't. Maybe it's familiar to the Empires folks, who adopt character personas that can be distinctly different from their actual core attitudes. And there's roleplay on Hermitcraft, too. And there's a hint of roleplay threaded through Naked and Scared and Skyblock and everything else. It's just…
"I only have a tenth of my soul," Impulse once told Martyn back in 3rd Life, sitting at the end of the guy's bed. It popped out of nowhere, barely relevant to the conversation. It was down in the depths of Dogwarts. Ren was sharpening swords or something, not planning to sleep tonight. Martyn was, though. He'd been wearing his pajama skin - pale green, coated in white flowers - sitting up and stretching his arms… clearly exhausted. Impulse wasn't helping by keeping him awake. Martyn's got a phantom soul. Needs his sleep every night; can't go without as long as the rest of them. Impulse gets it. His own soul craved frequent sleep too (once upon a time), which is maybe why he told him.
"Yeah," Martyn said, arcing one arm high above, and Impulse looked at him. Martyn stretched a few seconds longer, then dropped his hand to his lap. "I mean, you do seem like the kind of guy who'd sell his soul, but still silvertongue charm the devil into letting you keep a scrap for kicks. What did you get? For the other 9 tenths of it, I mean?"
"Skizz."
"Aw, dude! I think you overpaid!"
From the distance: "HEY! I heard that!"
Cracked them both up, and life was good. But he doesn't know why he told Martyn that. Then Martyn leaned back his head, combing fingers through his ruffled blond hair. Cheeks puff. Big exhale. "Netty's been offline for 270 years, my dude. I can't even visit her AFK server; I'm not whitelisted."
"Netty?"
"Yeah, NettyPlays. My… Gah, I can't even say 'girlfriend.' We never even got that far. I guess she's just my betrothed." Martyn lifted his hand, rotating it so Impulse could see the blank knuckle. "She woke up with a partnership ring coded on her finger. I didn't. My boss never gave me one, so… I really dragged my feet over it. Didn't really wanna commit. But I wish I would've said 'Screw it' and thrown myself to the wind, hashtag no regrets. Maybe if I'd been a real partner, I would've been whitelisted. Now I just dunno."
"I'm sorry, dude. I… I can't imagine being without Skizz or Julienne for the rest of my life. I hope she comes back someday."
"Yeah, I think she will… It's just a long time to wait." Martyn shrugged, flopping back on his pillow then. "I think I would've been a good partner if I'd just been given the chance. I'll prove it someday."
"Well, I wish you luck, man."
"You too. I hope you find the receipt for Skizz. Think the return window's expired yet?"
Huge bang of the door on the far side of the room, and it's Skizz with the hoe he was using in the farms, ready to swing, and Martyn scrambled off with a yip and fled upstairs to Ren. Funny little guy, so soft and barefoot in his flower-coated pajamas. Impulse laughed and shook his head, and maybe he does still have a soft spot for his time in the Red Army even though they were never his Day 1 crew.
"My wife and I don't share a bed," Impulse told Etho once in the wool castle, curled up at the foot of Etho's bed this time. "Her player only logs on at the end of a long day, when my boss takes over childcare and house responsibilities… When I come home, she leaves our server. Goes out to see her friends. I just… We just don't share much. We talk over dinner and sometimes in the evenings… We just don't share."
He doesn't know why he told Etho that.
"I usually sleep with a plush creeper," Etho whispered in the semi-dark. Then he rolled over, pulling the blankets a little tighter over his shoulders. Impulse adjusted to give him more slack in the sheets. They said mostly nothing else that night. He wonders if Etho doesn't know why he shared that information, either.
"I used to have a nipple piercing," he told Jimmy in the Southlands. Jimmy hadn't even gotten in bed yet, still sorting through the stuff in his chest. He'd been in his PJs, though. Impulse wore his pajamas too: his old ones with the yellow creeper face on the front. He actually did play with his demon traits visible throughout Last Life. Most of them let a little something of their hybrid traits show, even if no one's wings were extended to full length and they weren't supposed to use their claws. He waited on the end of Jimmy's bed, curled up with cheek resting on his folded arms as he always does, and ticked his tail gently on the floor.
"I still get nightmares about the End Poem," Jimmy said back, closing the chest lid. He braced his hands atop it, exhaling hard, and fluttered the tiny yellow wings normally hidden behind his torso. His face twisted in a grimace. "I get… I get, like… literal night terrors and sometimes I snap awake and I've got sleep paralysis. I just try to move my body and it's like my soul forgot. Sometimes I feel like I'm literally not in control of my body anymore, or that I broke it."
"That happened to me once," Impulse said, because he wasn't thinking.
"Ah. Nightmare buddies, then."
"No… It happened to me once. My skin was peeled away. My soul ripped in pieces and flipped inside out. I fell apart and lost my mind and saw the place where universe touches skin."
"Oh," said Jimmy, and turned around, and Impulse looked at him because he was not afraid. A thousand unsaid things passed between that silent glance. Jimmy sat down on the bed beside him. "I'm… I'm sorry. Martyn said that's what happened to Grian… Bro, I had no idea. Are you okay? You wanna talk about it?"
He doesn't, yet they talk for a long time. "I did it for Skizz," he says. He doesn't cry because it's just a fact. "I took the hits so he didn't have to. I didn't expect to wake up. I only pulled through at all because he shared his soul."
"I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, well… It doesn't hurt anymore." It just is.
Then they sleep - Jimmy snuggled beneath the blankets, Impulse resting on the end of the bed - and they wake, and they're in the Southlands with work to do, and they do not talk about it again. They build and farm and mine and when night comes calling, Impulse slips off to find someone else to share a bed with, like he does every time. He rotates. He can't share too much with any one person. It might come back to bite.
It's like being handcuffed, the soulbond. Bdubs hesitates for a few heartbeats too long before placing down the second bed, and in that moment… Impulse knows he won't be sleeping with anyone else this season. That all his late-night musings - those little flickers of escape he gets when roleplay pulls back and they're all so very real and no one's keeping up a professional workplace farce - belong to Bdubs now.
"Uh…"
Bdubs half-turns his head, still clutching his shield. He's still holding his shield inside their house, eyes firmly up instead of trailing on the ground. One hand waits above the bed, ready to pick it up again. And he's stiff and frozen and staring for a few seconds until he forces out the next dry, coarse word.
"Y-yeah."
"If that's all right." Bdubs braces one knee against the bed. Hand still hovering. Still waiting for the greenlight before he double pats it to set his spawn.
"That's all right."
The beds are white, the sheets blending automatically in a blur of pixels… sealing together into one single blanket where they rest. Impulse stares down at the bed, opening and closing his hands against his sides. He's no stranger to sharing a double bed, but…
Uh-oh.
His absence will be blatant if he disappears in the night. Their alliance… their soulbond… the roleplay…
Um…
He's never had to roleplay marriage in the Life series before. He tries to brush his hands down the front of his shirt, ignoring Bdubs' patient stare. Back home, on his AFK, with Julie and Skizz and Vera…
… Julie doesn't mind that he sleeps on the end of Skizz and Vera's bed instead of hers. But it's okay, because the black ring coded on his finger still binds him faithfully to her. He's still her husband, even if she sleeps alone at a different time of day. But that's different. They've talked about it. The understanding's fully there.
Bdubs is still waiting, one hand hovering mere pixels from the top of his bed. The bed with the shared sheets.
Impulse opted out of his visible demon traits for Double Life. Thought it might give too much away; he didn't enjoy being such an open book back in Last Life and he'd rather keep his private thoughts safely to himself. His imaginary tail, however, writhes behind him.
Well…
You can't just sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and sleep with someone who isn't your husband. That's… That breaks the roleplay. He shouldn't. He can't.
His invisible tail slips through its own curl and ties itself a knot.
It wasn't like this back in the Crastle, where Bdubs and Cleo snuggled together among the pillows and Impulse rested at the foot, one arm dangling off the bed and the other tucked against his chin. Sharing a bed with Bdubs is easy, if you only want the foot of the bed. He's not a tall guy. You get plenty of room, especially because despite his shortness, he scrunches up his legs. And Cleo never minded him, or if they did they never said. He left them plenty of nights in each other's company, only stealing in every now and then (and stomaching the snickers of 'secret girlfriend' when they welcomed him to bed). The air was cool and light back then. They slumbered in peace together, waiting out the whisper of bats and owls and bugs until the morning birds and sun came up again.
"That…"
How exactly - even in roleplay - do you bring up to your husband, I want to sleep with other people? I get claustrophobic wanderlust if I spend too many nights in a row under the same roof. Even if I like you. Unless it's Skizz.
"That…"
And it's not like this in Hermitcraft where he's always had Tango and Zedaph to rest with, alternating between them depending on the day. Or more recently, Pearl and Gem.
"… That works."
It hadn't been this way in the Southlands, with four different friends to pick between (and Pearl, though Scott certainly didn't like it. Pearl's a weird one, though; she's part bat. She hangs upside-down except on days her hybrid traits are super scaled back).
Maybe I CAN do this? … It's been a long time. I should probably make the effort for it. Look, come on, man. It's only one series. You can handle it.
He's aching for Skizz, though. Skizz, who isn't playing Double Life. Skizz, who carries a piece of his own soul. There's more of Impulse inside of Skizz than there is inside of Impulse. Standing here in the room next to Bdubs… there's more enderman in his code than the phantom hybrid he used to be.
"I'm comfortable," he tells Bdubs, and sits down on the end of the bed to prove it. He flops back, kicking up his legs. The pillow's lumpy beneath his head. Bdubs flops beside him, mimicking the movement with considerably more fanfare. He locks his hands behind his neck, bracing one crossed leg against his knee.
"Okay, good, good," Bdubs says, and Impulse tries to laugh and it comes out in a scratch. Bdubs, sensing this, places two fingers on his arm. "I'm comfortable with that as well."
"Good."
They don't talk about it then, in the flustered rush of the moment with the cam accounts watching. Impulse can't. But they do talk later, when it's twilight. Bdubs has a phantom soul, so he has to sleep every night instead of every three. Maybe there will come a time when Impulse works through the night, covering Bdubs' vulnerable points so they don't lie like sitting ducks. But tonight, he changes skins to the one with his pajamas and lies at the foot of their bed. Their shared bed. He curls up with nose in his arm and feet tucked around one side of him. At least… the best his human form can. Out of respect for… (He respects none of these people; can we just say 'The Watchers?'), he pruned back the visibly "modded-up demon" parts of his code before entering the game. Technically his pixels can lie that way, although it takes a few minutes for them to shift around. It probably leaves him looking like he's got crooked legs, though, while it would look more natural in his demon form.
Bdubs' clothes stop rustling on the other side of the room, by the furnace. Impulse waits for footsteps, but when none come, he cracks open one eyelid. Bdubs, halfway out of his ragged white shirt and looking awkward as all get-out because of it, gapes back at him.
"Is… Is that how you always sleep?"
Impulse re-evaluates his position in silence. He's flopped on his side, one elbow crook snuggled under his cheek. His other hand drapes over the edge of the bed. In his demon form, he'd have his tail curling and uncurling lightly against the floor, tapping in a way that constantly reassures him he's not drifting off the ground. He's often got wings to shuffle back and forth too.
What's wrong? You've seen me sleep like this before. Am I… 'ugly' in my human form? Am I 'weird?' And he just forgot to notice until now?
Then he snaps right up, staring at the head of the bed. "Oh! Because most people use pillows. Right, yeah. I… didn't even think about that. I don't like being trapped under covers, so I usually sleep on Skizz's feet."
"Oh, no wonder you're always so grouchy in the morning! There's no way… There's no WAY, Impulse, that can be comfortable."
Impulse grunts, shifting his legs around again. He straightens them like normal. They're sore, his pixels rushing back and forth to rebuild them in a humanoid way. "I'm grouchy because I'm a caffeine addict and I've gone a couple days now without coffee. My sleep has nothing to do with it. We need cocoa beans… That's my next prerogative."
"Do you always sleep with Skizz?"
"And his wife." It… it sounds awkward in the air once it leaves his tongue. Impulse backpedals while Bdubs looks at him in mild taken-aback curiosity. "I don't… I just…"
"I'm not judging," Bdubs insists, running fingers through his hair. Then he turns, going back to working with his shirt. He didn't take off the clock that hangs on a chain at his neck. It bumps and ticks as he fumbles around. "I just sort of thought you were keeping up the roleplay by threesome-ing with me and Cleo back on 3rd Life - 'secret girlfriend' stuff - even though you sort of kept a distance. Just wondering. That's all."
It's late. He can be a bit of a blabbermouth when it's time for sleep. "Julie and I don't share a bed. We have different play schedules. I sleep with Skizz. And Vera, when she's there. Or just Vera, when Skizz is out Solo Skizz'ing." He feels like he's tied to a rock, struggling harder and harder while the ocean rises all around him. He can taste the salt splashing at the corner of his mouth. "It's… I… It's cool! Julie and I are cool."
"Hey, it's fine! Don't have a heart attack." Bdubs, now shirtless, evaluates the bed a second time. "Huh. Does it have to be on top of feet, though? This might not work great. When I'm alone, I sleep with my feet over the side of the bed."
"It doesn't have to be feet," Impulse mutters. "Uhh… What do you do when you're not alone?"
"Well, I'm always the big spoon, obviously."
Impulse has enough tact not to slide his eyes up and down his partner then. Bdubs shrugs, then walks away to look at himself in the bit of glass they set up as a full-length mirror. Impulse probably shouldn't be staring. They aren't married outside of roleplay, but he can't help a couple glances. Since the soul-sharing kicked in, he's started sprouting light bruises on his own skin. Not as dark or wide as Bdubs' are… but they're still there. He's growing a streak of white in his normally brown hair.
And even in the twilight, with lanterns dim, he can see the little mark he's searching for in the proper place on his husband's arm, too. Bdubs stands before the mirror, craning his neck to see his reflected back. His fingers trace along his skin. Impulse watches from the bed, face half-buried in his folded arms. If his tail were out, it would be ticking back and forth, counting out the seconds before Bdubs asks him why he never fixed that scar behind his right shoulder.
"I like it," Bdubs says, prodding the old gash with one finger. It's white, glowing faintly. "I've got a clock from you and you've got this from me."
In that moment, Impulse wishes he could kill on green. But he does not, and he turns his head. His nonexistent tail would be curling close around him there and then. "I don't really want to sleep with you," he says, and silence smacks down across the room. He doesn't know why he said that. His fingers curl against his skin. "I mean… in the bed."
Bdubs doesn't falter. "In or out of roleplay?"
"Does it matter?"
"Huh. Tell me more."
They end up talking for an age. They sit together on the bed, both leaning back on their arms and staring at the ceiling. Bdubs might be nervous. Either that or a little bored. He keeps bouncing his knee.
"Can't you stay?"
"I don't know. It's hard, Bdubs, under one roof."
"What do you do on your AFK server? 'Cuz I know you don't sleep with Julie."
"Yeah? Sometimes I do. It just depends if our on-server time overlaps. It doesn't always; she has stuff to do on other worlds. I mostly sleep with Skizz."
"Every night," Bdubs checks, and Impulse shrugs.
"Mostly, yeah."
"So… You don't get bored of Skizz."
"It's not that I'd get bored of you…" His toes fidget with the back of his other heel. They're both in their pajama skins. They changed skins right in front of each other, which isn't something Impulse has done a lot of in the past. Definitely not with Bdubs before. It flickers his hearts. He presses on his heel, catching it between his big and second toes. He scrapes it down. "I'm sharing souls with Skizz. I told you I only have a sliver of mine left, right? Well… Skizz has another shred. And I have bits of him. We gravitate towards each other like that."
I miss Skizz.
"You're soul-sharing with me," Bdubs points out, tightening his fingers in the blankets. Which is true. Impulse flops his head sideways, fingernails picking at the bedsheets too. Bdubs isn't any less bruised under his shirt than his battered face suggests. The bruises are decorative. Logically, Impulse knows they're decorative and don't go down all the way to soul level. They don't fritz and spark like real damage would and Bdubs wears his unblemished skin without a problem back on Hermitcraft. The last wisps of setting sunlight trickle through their windows, painting Bdubs' face in a rosy evening glow.
"What did it feel like when you got your soulbound roll?" Impulse asks. Bdubs scrunches up his nose, picking through the memories from a couple days before.
"I felt… a rush of cold, when it hit. At first it was faint like the trickle of a stream. It's stronger now that the code's fully in place. Yesterday it felt like standing on the beach with water lapping at my ankles. Now it feels like I'm knee-deep. It feels cold and wet and it tugs around my body. Not just around, but through me. I feel solid and weightless at the exact same time." He pauses. He lifts his eyes to Impulse, the O of understanding already on his mouth before Impulse even nods.
"You're feeling Skizz. Not me."
Bdubs looks down at his chest, prodding gently with his fingertips. He never did put a shirt on- only took it off. He didn't even change into a more comfy skin for this. He's maintaining roleplay even away from cam account eyes. Those dark bruises - those thwack marks down his chest - are undeniable. It sends a tremor down Impulse's spine. Bdubs didn't wear that skin back in 3rd Life or Last Life. He wants to say something about it. He just doesn't know what. Impulse creeps his hand along the bed, wrapping it around Bdubs' knuckles.
"When I got my roll, it felt like flying. Or diving, more specifically. No panic. No fear. It wasn't like falling is. I felt like I was diving and safe and in control, and I can still feel that steady confidence in me now. I… I can feel you, even if you can't feel me. I used to have a phantom soul, though, and you already have one. You probably wouldn't have even noticed much difference."
Bdubs studies their fingers, playing their hands back and forth against their knees. They're touching. They're just touching on the bed and it's cool in the evening air and Impulse didn't even realize they'd broken the touch barrier this far, to the point where he can handle sitting on the bed with Bdubs and touching him like this again without all ten of his hearts pumping in hot alarm. Bdubs says, "I don't want to sleep in this big house alone. Do you have to go?"
"I dunno. I just… rotate where I sleep. I always do. Even Skizz rotates with me; sometimes we sleep in my room and sometimes we sleep in his." The clock ticks on its chain around Bdubs' neck. He's still wearing it even while they're settling in for bed. Impulse tightens his fingers against Bdubs' again. "Look, If it's going to be a problem, with the married life roleplay-"
"Not problem," Bdubs cuts in, lifting his free hand. "I just want to know! So like, thanks for telling me." He looks at the beds, patting lightly with his palm. "We can sleep down here tonight, then. I want to build nice bedrooms upstairs anyway. We'll sleep in here and then we'll sleep outside under the stars and then I'll make us bedrooms and we'll sleep up there. We'll rotate. I can even change my pajamas between nights. It'll be like I'm a different person. Does that work?"
"That might work," Impulse says, and they push and press lightly with their words, trying to work around each other. The glow of twilight saps away behind the trees, plunging Bdubs' face in shadow. Their eyes glint green and quiet anyway. Shared lives. Shared hearts.
"This'll be fine," Bdubs says, because he really wants to make it work and Impulse doesn't even blame him. At least he's being all calm about it. He's not shouting or sparking his voice too high. "We're double phantom'ing. It'll be like flock roleplay. I'm the captain, usually, but I don't have to be. We can do it like I do it at the station roost. That's fun, right? It'll be like you're a full phantom soul again! You know, back before…" Bdubs, with significantly less tact than Impulse had over the 'big spoon' comment, makes a head to toe motion to indicate modded up with demon code. Or rather… got patched up with a mess of random scraps and calling it 'demon' is the softest way to say it.
Impulse drops his eyes to his speckled arm. It's flabbier now than it used to be. It's not bad. It's just different. "I, uh… I don't know how flock roleplay really works."
"I show you! You can be captain! You can be captain!" Bdubs dangles his hands like cat paws, his eyes big and bright and glittery. "Can you toggle your demon traits out for this? Oh please, please let me crawl beneath your wing. I never get to be low-rank, Impulse… You can nip me. You can drag me back in line. You can preen my wings. You've preened before, right?"
"Um…" There's context here. Probably. Impulse pulls back anyway, exhaling hard. "I never had a flock before I joined the New Star portal hub. I had Skizz."
"You didn't have a flock?" Bdubs leans across the bed, eyes shining with invasive curiosity now. The mattress squeaks and dips. When Impulse tightens his lips, Bdubs throws his arms to either side. "Oh, no way! I was there when Skizz brought you to the station! They called me in to check you out! You were spawned beneath the full moon like me, right? 'Course you were; it shows. Only phantom hybrid I ever met whose wingspan beat out mine. 'Never had a flock;' Judas priest… I don't believe that for a second." He slaps the lower part of Impulse's back, which jolts them both as they briefly drain half a heart. They tick up again. Bdubs falls back on the bed with a whump. "Impulse, I was drooling over you and I wasn't even insecure about my status. You were captain material if ever I saw one."
Impulse, um… shrugs. What do you even say to a guy who just confessed to ogling your unconscious body while you were under emergency medical procedure to get your code patched? "I had Skizz."
"Well, just roleplay flock dynamics with me. Come on, it'll be fun!" When Impulse doesn't move, Bdubs butts his head against him, wriggling under his chin. "I'll teach you. It's fun. We can pretend my bruises are all the times you nipped me for trying to cross a line. Oh, but don't tell Martyn. Martyn would lose his mind if he found out rank-swap roleplay is one of my fantasies. I have a reputation, you know. I can't let him captain for me even in roleplay; give an inch, take a mile… He'd treat it like blackmail gold."
Impulse takes him by the shoulders, gently pushing him away. Bdubs doesn't protest, letting Impulse put him where he wants. He waits, blinking in silence, as Impulse runs his eyes up and down his husband's battered form.
"Bdubs?" he says.
"Yes?"
"Can we talk about you wearing that skin? I mean…" It doesn't feel good, because it's a little unfair and he little bit wants to cry. Or shake him, anyway. Impulse keeps a steady grip on Bdubs' shoulders, breathing in and breathing out. When Bdubs doesn't answer, waiting for more information (or something), Impulse draws in one more steady breath. "Where exactly are you planning to take your soulmate roleplay? Am I supposed to be, like… your abusive partner?"
That's not fair. That's not fair…
"No, no!" Bdubs' hands wave back and forth, eyes brimming with concern so real, Impulse almost believes it. "It wasn't from you! These aren't your hits. And they don't go down to soul level- I can take it off, I can take it off!"
Why didn't you? Before we crawl into bed?
"It's, you know… the wither from Last Life. All these series taking their toll on me."
"I spawned that wither." It tumbles out. He doesn't know why he says it. He looks away.
"I'm injured," Bdubs says, draping pathetically forward. He cups Impulse's hands in both cheeks, peering up at him with pouty lip. "It's all these Life series, Impy… They've taken a heavy toll. They're old war wounds, old scars… You can look after me, though." This part is said… more tentatively, and Impulse gazes at his eyes only because Bdubs is sort of pinning him there, forcing their stares to lock together. "You can take care of me. If that's cool. I can sort of grumble and grouch and complain while we snuggle together."
Every word careful. His heartbeats tremble in his fingertips, and deep down in his writhing guts, Impulse knows that Bdubs is like him right now. He's talking in the twilight. They're sharing secret whispers, like newlyweds do on their wedding night. There's patience and care in the way Bdubs holds him, chin tilted, eyes to eyes. Their breath mingles on each other's faces.
"You can tell me it's going to be okay. That you 'pologize… for the wither."
"… I'm sorry. I can't."
Bdubs' eyes trail up and down his face for a moment, fingers patting like raindrops against Impulse's skin. It sort of makes him itch and squirm. One hand trails down then, looping under Impulse's arm. He winces on instinct. His breath stutters. Didn't mean to. Bdubs' fingers graze across the white scar on the back of his shoulder. That one, unlike Bdubs' bruises, goes all the way to his soul. It shows up, clear and glowing, on every skin he takes. And it always will, until Impulse has wrestled with the other demons inside his own mind and finally lets it go.
"What are you doing?"
He doesn't get an immediate answer. Bdubs is very quiet, his cheek so close to Impulse's that he can feel the lightest scratch of his beard against his own. Bdubs' fingers trace a circle around the glowing mark. He says, voice low, "Do you… want to do roleplay with me where I fawn over this? … Do you want me to be your flock captain tonight? I can… if that's what you want me to be. I'd maybe like to, um… If you're comfortable on other nights, though… maybe…"
Hhhh…
"I don't want that scar taken care of with roleplay."
Bdubs blinks, long and slow, as though his lashes get stuck with honey when they close and it takes effort to peel them up again. He withdraws his hand, sliding it slowly back around to Impulse's front. "Well, I'm not doing it out of roleplay. That's not… We just do roleplay in this series, I think? Yeah. Yeah, I don't think we go past roleplay lines. I'm not… No."
"That's okay." Impulse brings his own hand gently (always gently) behind Bdubs' head. He leans his head forward, cradling Bdubs' and pushing him inward too. Their foreheads brush. They exhale together, in the quiet, with fingertips gripping in each other's soft pixels. "We sleep without talking, then. For tonight."
"I guess we do." His voice is even and unconcerned. He speaks like a man whose bruises are only skin-deep, nothing more. "Do you want a pillow, Impulse?"
"I'm fine curling up at the end of the bed. It's how I always sleep with Skizz. Just try not to kick me behind the shoulder. It's sore."