#skizzscottpulse

Brrring

Brrring

Brrri— 

Scott picks up his comm on the third ring, greeted by the sight of his two partners. Skizz is flat on his stomach on a pile of pillows on his and Impulse's bed—the Totem in question sitting behind him, almost on his legs, gently picking out stray feathers in his Angel's wings with practiced care. Scott grins at this, and grins more when Skizz raises his head lazily, face brightening as he sees the holographic image of his favorite boyfriend (as he always says, when he wants to annoy Impulse).

"Scottyyy!" He tries to get up and hug the hologram, but Impulse holds him back with one set of arms while the other continues preening. Skizz doesn't even fight it, just pouting and going boneless in Impulse's hands. 

Impulse sighs affectionately. "Can you tell he hasn't been preened in a while?"

"Yes, yes I can."

Skizz flops over, making grabby hands at Scott's projection, and Impulse gently reminds him, "Comm holo, buddy."

"Aw..." Skizz lets out a dramatic sight. "Miss y' Scott..."

"I know. I miss you too. We can try and meet up soon, alright?"

Skizz nods sleepily and closes his eyes, making little pleased hums and chimes as Impulse continues to preen him, halo floating lazily, flickering in and out—almost dropping down onto the soft blankets under him. Impulse and Scott continue to speak to each other in soft tones as their boyfriend drifts off. Eventually, when Skizz is fully incoherent, the conversation changes tone:

"You know, I... really love him. You do too."

Scott smiles softly, the twin ringed gas planets in his eyes sparkling. "I do too."

"Yeah." Impulse is quiet for long enough that with anyone else, it might be awkward, then continues in a hushed voice: "And I, um... miss you, and obviously Skizz does too, and since we all love each other so much, and we're hopefully meeting up soon, I thought it'd be a great time to suggest, um... getting married. Yeah." Impulse's cheeks are glowing a bright green now, and his voice is small. He looks like he wants to gather up all the long-gone, broken-off bits of his shell, glue them back onto his plates, and go back to his fledgeling stasis forever. It is, quite frankly, adorable. It also hurts Scott's core a little. To relieve some of the tension, he lightheartedly says, "Isn't it a bit risky to talk about proposal right in front of the guy we're gonna propose to?"

(Hook…)

"Nah, he's basically asleep... plus Totem culture is all about risk, remember?"

Scott quips, "Is that why there are so many of you?"

(Line…)

A not-actually-upset scoff. "You know we don't reproduce that way."

"You almost do, though. You're like those lizards!" A smirk. "I should know, given that I've gotten some free lessons on Totem reproductive systems in the very bedroom you're sitting in."

(Sinker! Perfect opening to make all the jokes he wants.)

Impulse turns even brighter green, if that's possible—even his eyes start glowing. "A-ah. Yes." His voice cracks in the middle and Scott giggles—his gold-plated boyfriend is almost comically easy to fluster. 

Impulse crawls across the bed to where his comm is sitting, projecting the Scott-hologram (Scottogram?), and glares into its eyes. He opens his mouth, probably to lightly scold Scott over the joke, but—

"You know, Impulse, I appreciate whatever it is you're trying to do, especially given that the camera's placement means I'm just getting a faceful of your crotch." A pause. "I mean, it's a very nice faceful."

Impulse almost throws his comm across the room, then thinks better of it. He leans back enough that Scott can see his whole body, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. "Sometimes I wonder why I date you."

"It's probably because of how hot and sexy and kind and smart I am," Scott deadpans, then ruins the monotone by tacking on a little wink. Impulse laughs, fondly responding, "Yeah, probably."

And then Scott leans forward, until his holographic image is almost nose-to-nose with Impulse. "Anyways. Speaking on a previous topic... we should discuss proposal plans. Oh, and... it's been so long, I think my knowledge of Totem biology and reproduction has somewhat dulled. Think you could give a remote lesson?"

The green's back. Impulse squeaks, "Holy shit, Scott. I can never tell if your pickup lines are smooth or just really lame to the point they go right back to being smooth."

Scott shrugs, tilting his head so the stardust freckles on his face twinkle. "Avoiding the question. Can you multitask?"

Impulse takes a big breath in, then blows it all out in one go. "Y'know what? Yeah. Yeah I can."

...When Skizz wakes up, it's to the warmth of his first boyfriend lying beside him in bed. Impulse is shirtless and—weirdly enough—clinging to Skizz in his sleep. Impulse never clings.

Skizz scrutinizes Impulse for a moment, even going so far as to press the back of his hand to the Totem's forehead—then, when he feels nothing out of the ordinary, just shrugs and wraps his arms and wings around Impulse in return. He'll take the opportunities he's given, you know?

After a moment's consideration, he concentrates and shifts in an extra set of arms—to both match and cuddle Impulse. It's... it's nice. He can afford to sleep a little longer.

(The ache of Scott’s absence, though, is persistent.)

Scott wakes up to clouds covering the skylight over his bed—a complex, webbed structure meant to imitate the patterns of the stars on his home server. Not the most stable, sure, but it's... comforting.

And he has a second bed, anyways, in a different room; one he sleeps in when there's company over. Which doesn't happen often, but... he has it. Just in case.

...Damn he misses Impulse and Skizz. Biweekly calls aren't enough—he needs to actually be physically there, all the time. Well. Maybe not all the time; that's, that feels—possessive—but. A lot of the time. Unfortunately, busy schedules and respective duties (organizing an event televised to the multiverse isn't easy, and neither is filming your life in a way that's engaging to an audience) keep them all apart. Maybe when they get married, that can change. Probably not though.

He'll admit: at the beginning of their relationship, it'd all been kind of "my boyfriend Skizz and his boyfriend Impulse," but... over time, it'd kind of changed. More "my boyfriend Skizz and his boyfriend/my ambiguously romantically involved partner Impulse" now. Scott snorts to himself at the thought, as he gets out of bed and goes to make breakfast. Some people (Impulse) prefer the more efficient, easily-transportable crafted foods—even on free days!—to actual home-cooked meals. Not Scott.

Which is why he's standing here, adding strawberries and powdered sugar to his already very delicious, very unhealthy french toast. Comfort foods, y'know?

He and Impulse decided on meeting up in two weeks—that's the soonest time all three of them are free. Impulse'll tell Skizz about it when they're both awake, if he hasn't already. It'll only be a weekend's worth of time together, as per usual, but hopefully soon it can be more. Maybe then he can make this meal for his boyfriends.

Two weeks can't pass fast enough. Impulse is buzzing with excitement, so much so that he can hardly sleep, much less focus while trying to work on his city. He spends most of his time leaning against Skizz in his first boyfriend's nest (the sheer joy has made him a bit more open to physical affection) while texting Scott. He's just—he's happy. Happier than he's been in—a while. A while. Yeah.

...Yeah.

Impulse sighs, and, next to him, Skizz glances over. "What's up, Dippledop?"

A shrug. "Tired. Physically, but also tired of the wait to meet up with Scott. I just... wanna be there already, you know?"

Skizz blows out a breath. "Yeah, I feel ya."

They lapse into comfortable silence, until— Impulse leans a bit too far onto Skizz, and they both end up collapsing into a pile in the nest, giggling like schoolgirls (...well, after some overdramatic pained noises).

...Man this would be so much better with Scott here– Impulse huffs. Can he stop thinking about his second boyfriend for, like, one minute?!

(To be honest, he's really mostly thinking about the proposal. Oh, great Dragon, the proposal. It makes a kind of queasy anxiety and anticipation form in his gut.

Right. Try not to worry too much about it, breathe, don't blow it out of proportion, all that. Years ago, even the thought of something as big and important as that would've sent him into a full-blown spiral. Now it just makes him feel... a bit short of breath. Lots of coping mechanisms developed since then. Or something.)

Impulse squeezes Skizz tight. Skizz squeezes back. It's nice. Like a big 'ol, warm, weighted blanket. With feathers, sometimes. Pressure therapy!

Believe it or not, sometimes being crushed is the best feeling imaginable.

Finally, finally, the day is here. The day. The day Skizz and Impulse reunite with Scott—for a whole weekend! Yeah, it'd be nice if it was even longer, but... a weekend is a lot, at least with their schedules. And Skizz is gonna enjoy every second of it, he knows it.

As it is, he's already looking over his clothes. Not much really stands out, to be honest—his comfiest pajamas, two days' worth of pants, socks, general underclothes, shirts (both tank tops), one pair of shorts... Oh, yeah, and the actually-really-nice (but still sleeveless) vest that Impulse insisted he bring, and then insisted he give to Impulse to pack. His boyfriend is both very strange some of the time, and very prepared all of the time. Everything fits neatly into two backpacks—they're not going to have inventory access for the weekend, because Scott's home is in one of the main World Hubs, and none of them quite trust the iffy beta designs for cross-world Hub Access enderchests yet.

He slept over at Impulse's base last night, just to make things more efficient—it's mid-afternoon on Friday right now, and if they play their cards right, they'll be able to get on the train in their Server Hub, ride it for two hours, and end up at the portal that leads to the World Hub hosting Empires and MCC's Server Hubs—a.k.a., the big ol' city that Scott lives in when he's not participating in any SMPs. Minor timezone differences across world hubs mean that it'll be about the same time when they arrive as it was when they left Hermitcraft—which is perfect, because it means it'll give them time to drop their things off at Scott's house (and give Skizz time to walk off the portal-hopping-induced nausea—not as bad as direct comm-hopping, but still pretty bad) before the Starborne himself shows them around the city... and all the good spots to eat lunch. 

Skizz can't wait.

As expected, the moment Imp and Skizz step out of the portal that took them from their own World Hub to Scott's, Skizz has to sit down at one of the benches installed nearby, for this very purpose. Scott would know: he got there ten minutes early, buzzing anticipation leading him to meet his boyfriends as soon as they arrived rather than waiting for them to get to his house.

He gets up from the bench he'd been waiting at, across the way, and moves to stand in front of the one his boyfriends are at (making sure not to block the path for everyone else in the busy Hub—he's not an asshole!).

"Hey there, strangers."

Impulse looks up and grins. "Hey, yourself." Skizz manages a half-smile from where he's leaning against Impulse's shoulder and a, "Heya, Smajor. I'd kiss you if I didn't think I'd end up just vomiting all over you." Scott chuckles. "And how about if I leaned down and kissed you, instead?"

Skizz brightens. "That could work!" Scott does just what he said he'd do, making it short but sweet—they have places to be. He doesn't even try with Impulse, knowing the other man isn't super comfortable with PDA involving himself. A few deep breaths later, Skizz says, "Okay, I think I'm good now." Impulse stands up instantly, saying in a quiet but very intense manner, "Oh thank the great Dragon I wasn't going to say anything but all the people and sounds were driving me insane."

Scott nods understandingly. "Bad day?" Impulse shakes his head. "No, just... Portals. You know how it is."

"Alright. In that case... c'mon, we gotta drop your bags off." Scott starts walking, to the quieter part of the Hub—to home—and his boyfriends follow.

Impulse will admit, he's a little embarrassed by how quickly he got overwhelmed once arriving at World Hub 95—the one Scott lives in. It'd just been—bam, step through the Portal, bam, suddenly he's sitting on a bench and Skizz is leaning on him and now Scott is talking to him and he's responding and oh great Dragon, Illageking, and Wither, this Hub is so much more crowded than his own and—well. You get the point. To be honest, Impulse is surprised he'd kept up any semblance of being fine and normal throughout all the time it took to get to Scott's house.

But they're finally, finally here, which means he can take half an hour to lock himself in a dark room and recover from all the outside-ness. Unfortunately, he'll have to ask Scott where in this house he can find a dark, lockable room, because he's never been in this Hub before, not once in his life (MCC doesn’t count, he always comm-hops there), much less this house. Fortunately, he has two understanding boyfriends, and one of them happens to be fantastic emotional support. Impulse drops his bag in the entrance hallway of the house, then turns immediately towards Scott and asks (in a relatively quiet voice, sticking awkwardly near Skizz), "So, would you mind, uh... showing me to your smallest, quietest, darkest room?" He tries to say it like a bit of a joke, but it falls flat. Scott blinks (he and Impulse haven't been in any kind of relationship with each other for nearly as long as they have been with Skizz—Scott and Skizz started dating a year after Legacy's end, Imp and Skizz started dating in their late teens—which is why they're both only proposing to Skizz), then answers (his mouth quirking up a bit, before he forces it back to normal), "I mean... there's the hallway closet, I guess—"

"Cool thanks going there for a while now if you hear screaming ignore it—" Impulse moves to open a door in the hallway, then stops, turns back around to face Scott. "Oh you fucker." 

Scott shrugs. "It is my 'darkest, quietest room'."

He's met with unimpressed silence, before Impulse sighs and gives in. "Yeah, all right. I'll come out in half an hour."

"So proud of you Dippledop," Skizz says, in the most flat voice Impulse has ever heard from him—before cracking a smile. "Alright, go decompress. We'll be fine and waiting patiently; we've got three whole days to be together."

Impulse gives two thumbs up and retreats into the (not actually that small) closet, shutting the door behind him.

It doesn't take half an hour for Impulse to come out. In fact, it takes exactly one hour and twenty-seven minutes. Neither of his boyfriends comment on it when he walks into the living room. Neither of them give any hint of anger, annoyance, pity, or patronization, which Impulse appreciates, given that—

"Good to see ya, dude! Ready to get—well, not lunch... linner? Dunch? Eh, whatever."

—given that he just wasted almost half of their first day. Despite all that, Impulse finds himself smiling; a real, genuine smile. Skizz has that effect on people. "Yeah, man. Linner it is, I guess," Impulse teases. "Lead the way, Starshine."

Skizz gapes, and Scott raises an eyebrow. "Starshine? That's a new one."

Impulse pouts. "I thought it was cute! Romantic!"

"It's out-of-character is what it is."

"Out-of-character? I—what do you mean out-of-character! There's no out-of-character! Everything I say is in-character 'cause I'm saying it!"

Witnessing Impulse's visible and audible distress, you know what Scott does? He laughs. The bastard.

(Impulse loves him.)

"Alright, so... hm. You guys like sandwiches? 'Cause that's the best option I can think of for our linner."

Skizz rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I'm never gonna live that one down, am I?"

"No, it's a good portmanteau," Scott assures him earnestly, at the same time Impulse says, "Nope."

"Getting some real mixed reactions here," Skizz says drily, then, "but yeah, sandwiches are nice!" Impulse nods emphatically.

Scott takes mental note of that, then starts in the direction of the little deli on the corner three blocks down. It's, like, four PM. That's a good time for sandwiches, right?

Right. And even if it isn't, well, that's when they're eating sandwiches regardless. It's only a five-minute walk, so they go there, get their sandwiches, and head to the park. If Scott's being honest, he... doesn't exactly get out much. Travel around the Hub? Sure; it's necessary with his job. Actually take the time to look around? Nope. He doesn't remember the last time he went to this park, even though it's so close to home.

...Buuut he's going now, and he's taking his boyfriends with him. Huh. Who knew that having people staying over at your house can have similar health benefits to having pets you need to take on walks? They're getting him outside, and everything!

Once they've found a good spot (up on a hill, overlooking a little pond in the middle of the park—hey, this might be nice for the proposal tomorrow night!), the three of them sit down, grass probably staining their clothes because hey, no picnic blanket, but oh well. Skizz takes a big bite of his sandwich, the bread making a nice cracking/crunching sound (or something between the two), then gives Scott and Impulse an equally-big thumbs up. "'S good," he mumbles around a mouthful of sandwich, and his boyfriends wince.

"Skizz, that's gross." Impulse's voice is flat, but—

"You love me!"

"Yeah, yeah, now close your big mouth and eat."

Scott watches on fondly, taking bites of his own sandwich, all the while absorbing the energy from the slowly-setting sun and rising stars; it'll be an hour or two 'til they're visible, but he can feel them, and that's what matters.

He wonders what star fits Skizz best; Lyra, maybe? She's a rare and beautiful star, full of voidstuff that makes her glow impossible colors (a glance is taken at the bright red streaks in Skizz's hair), and she's an orbiter. The chances of that in a star are slim to none, but orbit she does.

The miracles don't stop there, though; the planet she orbits? It circles her right back. They're drifters, a bit, but they always stay locked 'round each other. A kind of unwavering loyalty. There's no third star in their equation, not yet, but Scott's sure there will be soon enough.

...Yeah, Lyra's a good fit, he thinks.

The rest of the day is wonderful, but uneventful. They hang out at the park, explore the Hub, head home, Scott and Impulse set up the guest bedroom while Skizz orders food and rummages through Scott's collection of movies, et cetera, et cetera. The only thing that really changes from normal visits to other Hubs is that Skizz gets to sleep next to both of his boyfriends now.

It is a pretty awesome change, though… 

Regardless—uneventful, as is the next morning; Skizz wakes up after both Impulse and Scott, to the smell of brewing coffee and some kind of sweet. French toast?

Hmm… pause to shift in a nose with a better sense of smell… yeah, plain Wolf hybrid should work… and… definitely French toast. Skizz grins to himself, shifting back to normal and leaving the bedroom. Scott’s home is pretty open-plan, with plenty of skylights and windows to let him absorb all that energy from the stars, so Skizz sees his boyfriends almost immediately upon exiting. Impulse is doing… something, sitting at the little kitchen island with a paper and pen, while Scott’s checking over the still-in-the-pan toast. Skizz hums, stepping into the room. “What’s all this about?”

Impulse looks up from his paper. “Sorting stuff out.” “For what?” A puzzled look. “...Picnic? Tonight? You know, the one we discussed having three days ago?”

Skizz’s mind goes blank. “Uh.”

Impulse shakes his head fondly. “Yes, Skizz, we talked about having a picnic at some point while we visited Scott. Three days ago.”

“Oh.” Skizz laughs sheepishly. “Slipped my mind.” Actually, he still doesn’t remember the conversation, but it’s not like the forgetting part matters much—he forgets things allll the time. 

Speaking of forgetting. There’s a perfectly good plate right there on the table, clearly meant for him and the delicious-looking (and smelling) French toast, and he’s been entirely ignoring it! “Hey, Smajor, do you serve us or do I get to portion my own food?”

Scott laughs. “You can have as many slices as you want, provided they don’t run out.” “Awesome!” A cheer, and then Skizz grabs his plate and heads over to the stovetop where Scott is standing, taking a moment to snatch the spatula out of his boyfriend’s hands and serve himself what he wants. There’s an array of different toppings on the counter, but—

Well, actually, Skizz doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Most people are surprised when they learn this about him, but it’s true. He grabs a handful of cut-up strawberries from one of the bowls on the counter, “sprinkling” them (for lack of a better term) over his toast. That’s all he really needs, and he moves to sit down at the island next to Impulse—who immediately blocks Skizz’s view of the paper he was writing on with one hand. It sparks a bit of curiosity in Skizz, but for once, he doesn’t follow through with that curiosity, just moving to eat his breakfast. It’s a nice day, but it feels like a quiet one, too. There’s no need to be talking much (another rare occurrence for Skizz). 

He peeks at Impulse’s breakfast—looks pretty normal, but given that there’s a carton of one of those non-milk milks on the counter, it’s probably not quite the same as Skizz and Scott’s. And if it is the same, well, that's pretty unusual, given that Impulse isn’t the type of guy to enjoy being curled up in pain on the floor over a stomach ache. 

They eat their breakfast, continue talking about the day ahead, and then get ready to leave for the day. There’s more exploring of the Hub, a look around MCCI, a brief stop at the cute little café that’s all the way across town but so nice it was worth it—then, it’s all heading home, going to the bedroom and getting fancied-up for dinner. Scott says it’s a nice place, “not crazy fancy, but definitely don’t wear your usual clothes”, so Skizz puts on a nice white, button-up, short-sleeved shirt under the vest Impulse had made him pack—oh, hey, is this place why he’d done that? Huh—and then waits at the door for his more appearance-conscious boyfriends to be done.

On the walk there, all three of them make small talk, and Skizz finds that his fingers are getting cold in the night air. He stuffs them in the vest’s pockets, and—huh. His fingers make contact with smooth, cool glass.

Frowning, he pulls the—whatever it is—out, glancing it over. It’s—a bottle. Just a little glass bottle, shaped strangely (like a series of bubbles all stacked on top of each other), but. Just a bottle.

Weird, but it wouldn’t be the first time he left something in a pocket and then forgot about it for months. That’s kinda his thing. So he puts it back in the vest pocket, and runs his fingers over the glass. It’s a nice texture. Fun shapes. 

Before he knows it, they’re standing in front of the restaurant, going in. Nice place, like Scott had said. Skizz likes the lighting. They get seated (wow, reservation, fancy), order their food, talk and laugh and just generally be so full of affection that it all turns into a blur. 

And then, it’s time for the picnic. Skizz still doesn’t know why they’re doing this; it’s nice, and a good opportunity to make memories, but they just ate!

Still, though, he goes with it. They climb up the hill in the park they went to yesterday, and Scott lays out a proper picnic blanket this time, with a little basket that he procured seemingly from nowhere. He sets that down on top, and then they all sit, looking up at the stars. Eventually, Scott speaks.

“...You see that little star right there? The one that’s kinda blinking?”

Skizz and Impulse both look where he’s pointing, and Skizz murmurs a, “Yeah.”

“That’s Lyra. She’s a very special star. One of my favorites. I love her a lot. Kinda reminds me of you two. Especially you, Skizz.”

Skizz, who took one whole class on cultural differences between species in college, has an idea of where this is going (especially with the bottle from earlier), but he’s not sure he actually believes it. Surely, it can’t be this. It’d be fantastic if it was, but—there’s no way.

“Me and Impulse both have been thinking about our relationship towards you for… a while now. And we both thought—it might be… time to take it a bit further. Skizz. There’s no real fancy way to say this, so I’ll just say it: we’d really, really love it if you married us.”

Skizz gapes.

Wait. Really?! This is real?

No way.

…Scott and Impulse both are watching him with an air of trepidation. He should. Say something. 

Skizz opens his mouth, and what comes out is, “Yeah, sure.”

Come on. You can do so much better than that, Skizz—his thoughts are interrupted by Impulse’s bark of laughter. He shakes his head, still chuckling: “No one does it like you.”

Skizz grins. Y’know what? Yeah. This works. 

Scott’s voice, now: “As much as I’d love for this to continue, I do have a very important thing to do…” Oh! Right! Skizz fishes the glass bottle out of his vest pocket, handing it to Scott gently. “Is it this?” A soft smile. “It is.” 

The Starborne takes something from his own pocket: a string, attached to a cork. Then, he raises the bottle to the night sky, and with the hand holding the cork, almost seems to pinch that blinking, glowing dot. He draws his hand back, and there’s strings of light connecting his fingers to Lyra. He pulls at it, like cotton candy, and ever-so-delicately threads it through the wide mouth of the bottle. It slowly fills with starlight, and, halfway through, Scott cuts it off, giving the leftovers back to Lyra. Then, the cork, and Scott hands the freshly-bottled light to his now-fiancee, and—wow, that’s a crazy thing to think. Just like that. Fiancee. Skizz takes the string, puts it over his neck and tucks the bottle beneath his shirt. It rests right against his chest, making him feel warm all over despite the cold night air.

Impulse’s turn. Skizz knows a lot more about Totem courting rituals, and he doesn’t even have to ask what’s going on, just offering his hand to his lifelong friend. Impulse takes it, closes his eyes, and murmurs something under his breath, tracing a glowing pattern into the back of Skizz’s hand: his signature “i”, stylised with the practical runes Totems always use for protective charms and the symbolic ones for love. Skizz teases, “So you’re just making me part of your brand now?” Impulse laughs. “Come on, man! I’m doing a big important thing here!” Skizz rolls his eyes affectionately. He is; Totem charms always involve their main Plates, the ones protecting their chest and stomach. Impulse’s just happen to be in the shape of a lowercase “i”.

Impulse goes back to his tracing, and eventually, leans forward, presses a kiss to the charm he’s placed. “It’s done. We’re bonded for life now.”

“Like we weren’t already.”