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To say that Impulse was overthinking this would be an understatement; it was only four in the afternoon, yet he’d already checked the picnic basket was properly packed five times, changed his outfit six times, and messaged Skizz twice to confirm that he really was going to show up at seven for their first date.
Our first date…
A shiver ran through the demon, his tail whipping behind him and displacing some redstone wiring he had been trying (and failing) to repair for most of the day. It had already been a struggle to fit a date into their cramped schedules, and all this stressing was only exacerbating the problem of how busy he was; what would normally be a two-hour fix, max, had already taken twice that, with no end in sight with all the simple mistakes the demon was making. But what was he supposed to do? It’s not like he could take a break, that’s what the date was for, and he couldn’t cancel the date, either—though, he had considered it.
He didn’t want to cancel, truly. Even with all their scheduling and rescheduling, trying desperately to make it work, the only time that worked for both Imp and Skizz for the next month was a singular hour on a random Tuesday evening; spring had everyone scrambling with tasks, no exceptions made for a budding romance—well, ‘budding’ would be underselling it, considering how long Impulse had been pining after his best friend.
He shook himself, refocusing on the wires in front of him, willing the time to pass faster so that Skizz would show up and his stomach would stop curling itself into knots. It was slow going, but there was nothing to be done about it; Pearl’s plow needed repair before she could plant, and planting season wouldn’t wait for their date to finish.
The hours passed painfully slowly—or maybe it was the demon’s brain going far too fast for time to keep up. A thousand questions were plaguing him—did I remember to pack a blanket? Is a picnic too cliche for a first date? What if it’s cloudy? What if we can’t see the sunset? Is wine too fancy for a Tuesday evening? What if we run out of time too fast? What if Skizz doesn’t like it?
What if he regrets this? What if he’s having second thoughts?
Impulse paced his kitchen, up and down and up and down, occasionally pausing to readjust the picnic basket, double and triple checking that the bread in the oven wasn’t burning, fixing his hair in the mirror. It was 7:02 and the angel wasn’t here yet—probably because he was busy, maybe because he realized he didn’t actually like Impulse in that way and didn’t know how to tell him, but either way he wasn’t actually coming and the demon had just–
The familiar sound of the pistons of his door firing had Impulse scrambling to pull the bread out of the oven, fetch the fruit from the fridge, and pack everything neatly into the prepared basket. He slid an arm under the handle, hardly registering the sound of footsteps behind him in his effort to ensure everything was accounted for.
Satisfied, the demon spun towards the door, almost knocking over his boyfriend—boyfriend—in the process and stumbling a little off-balance.
His boyfriend placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, the other coming up to cup Impulse’s cheek, face crinkling in smile. “Hey Impy,” the angel murmured, warm breath soft on the demon’s skin as he leaned in. “I’ve missed you.”
Golden eyes fluttered close in momentary contentment as Skizz pressed a gentle kiss to his lips—but only momentarily. Impulse quickly pulled back, maneuvering around Skizz in single-minded focus.
“It’s a ten minute flight to our date,” he explained, making for the door, not looking at his partner long enough to notice the concern, hurt, something in his expression. “Eight if we book it, and we need to book it if we want to get set up before the sunset.”
By now, they were out on the mainstreet of Impulse’s cyberpunk city. Draconic wings flared out, catching the wind in preparation for takeoff, as their owner looked over at his angel. “You know where we’re going, right? Or should I take the lead?”
“I know where it is,” Skizz reassured, his own feathered wings flaring in similar fashion. “We have time, you know. There’s no need to rush.”
“We have an hour,” Impulse corrected, wasting no more time before taking off. He resisted the urge to open the basket and double check everything was there; he was more likely to drop it than solve anything.
The angel followed suit, a few strong flaps of his wings bringing them well above the city, Skizz easily surpassing Impulse to take the lead.
The demon took a deep breath, letting his eyes close for a moment as he finally let the moment catch up to him; Skizz was here, they were together, headed for their first date. He could hardly believe that this was happening, after so many years of pining for his best friend—someone he’d convinced himself could never feel the same.
His golden eyes slowly opened, instinctively searching the sky for his love. Skizz was slightly ahead of him, the fond look in his expression as their eyes met sending warm shivers through the demon. Impulse smiled back, reveling in that overwhelming happiness he always experienced looking at Skizz.
Now, he had a moment to actually process his boyfriend—boyfriend, the term still had him giggling like a lovestruck teenager—eyes tracing over his form, his smile, the way his pure white feathers caught and refracted the light.
Beautiful.
Everything about Skizz was beautiful. He wasn’t wearing his normal working clothes tonight, instead sporting dress pants and that stupid button shirt—the angel categorically refused to let Impulse off the hook about ruining the sleeves on the thing, wearing it every chance he got. The demon’s nose crinkled in disapproval. Skizz stuck his tongue out in reply, earning a giggle despite Impulse’s feelings on the sleeveless look.
They were practically children around each other.
Impulse couldn’t say he particularly minded the sleevelessness at this particular moment; it showed off his partner’s arms so nicely, it was difficult not to stare.
As though reading his mind, Skizz flexed, doing a midair flip when Impulse rolled his eyes.
Children.
Still, his boyfriend was handsome. It didn’t take a genius to see that much. The demon could feel his cheeks heating up at his partner’s attention and attempts to show off. Thankfully, the wind in their ears was too loud for any potential teasing; Impulse let himself watch without embarrassment—boyfriends are allowed to do that, right?
It was difficult to tear his eyes away in order to make a proper landing, but he managed when he saw how close the sun was to the horizon. The demon touched down on a grassy ledge on the side of Magical Mountain, populated only by a single cherry tree, overlooking the lake. Skizz was already standing there, gazing off into the horizon, wings gently folding in from their flight.
“Dude, come look at this view,” he urged, turning to beckon towards the demon.
“Sun’s about to set,” he replied, hastily unpacking the basket. He grabbed the red and white checkered blanket off the top and began unfolding it.
Skizz wordlessly turned to take the opposite corners, helping Impulse lay it on the grass, before they began laying out the food. Satisfied, the angel plopped down and let his wings fall slack on the ground.
Impulse continued to fuss with the arrangements, muttering under his breath, trying to decide whether he should leave the wine in the basket for later or just pour their glasses now, should they start with the fruit or have the bread before it gets cold, the blanket was just a little wrinkled on the opposite corner, and–
“Impulse.”
Golden eyes snapped up to meet the angel’s blue. “Is something wrong? Do you not like the food I chose? Is the sun getting in your eyes?” He began to anxiously babble, tail twisting tightly around his ankle.
“Impulse,” Skizz interrupted again, gently. He patted the space next to him, nodding towards it. “Come sit with me, buddy. You’re gonna miss the sunset.”
With slight hesitation, looking again to ensure everything was set up, the demon cautiously took his place by the angel. Immediately, a wing curled around him, tugging Impulse into Skizz’s chest and encouraging him to rest there. He sighed deeply, inhaling his angel’s scent, and letting himself relax into the familiar comfort—new and old, all at once. He was certain he’d snuggled into Skizz like this a thousand times, but not like this.
His heart began to pick up for an entirely different reason, the comforting warmth against his back almost too hot.
“How was your day?” came the easy question.
Impulse didn’t dare to meet his partner’s gaze, instead focusing on the brilliant shades of gold and pink that were starting to paint the sky. “It was good—that is, I got a lot done. Not as much as I would have liked, since repairing Pearl’s plow took forever, and then Tango needed help with something, and I burnt the first loaf I baked for today—and speaking of, we should probably dig in before it gets cold. Also, I brought wine, I hope that’s alright, even though it’s a weeknight and we both have stuff to do, just one glass probably couldn’t hurt, right?” He looked up, scanning Skizz’s expression for any sign that something was wrong.
“Wine is fine,” the angel reassured, clearly about to say more, to object to something—Impulse couldn’t let that happen. It had to all be perfect.
“I was just worried that you wouldn’t like it,” he hastily explained, looking away again. “I– I tried to plan it all out so that things would go well, but we only have an hour, and we almost missed the sunset—I feel like wine is maybe a little too fancy for a quick picnic, but I also wanted this to be memorable, you know? But maybe it wasn’t a good idea, maybe it…”
The words died in his throat as a warm hand cupped his cheek, tilting his head to look up at Skizz once more. He swallowed thickly, blush flaring at the concern in his angel’s face, the way his brows furrowed, sapphire eyes studying him with the strength to unravel his soul.
“Dipple Dop?” Skizz asked, thumb brushing over his stubble.
Impulse barely managed a small “Mhm?” in answer.
The angel continued to examine him, holding him carefully, as though the demon might break if he was too rough. “What’s got you all worked up, buddy?”
Something warm bloomed in him at the question, the simple act of Skizz noticing and caring that he was so stressed out about it—but what if he told him the reason and it made his fears come true? What if admitting he was worried that Skizz was having second thoughts was what made him reconsider? What if it ruined his one chance?
“I just…” Impulse began hesitantly, anxiously watching the angel for a sign that it was over, that he’d ruined their friendship. “It needs to be perfect,” he explained meekly.
Skizz hummed softly, pressing their foreheads together. Impulse’s eyes instinctively fluttered shut, leaning into the contact like a sun-starved sunflower.
“It’s perfect, Impy. Woulda been perfect even if we’d missed the sunset and you burned the bread,” he reassured gently.
“No, it wouldn’t have, what if the wine spilled all over your nice pants and–”
“Impulse.”
The demon promptly shut up.
“It’s perfect because it’s you.”
His eyes snapped open again, scanning his angel for any insincerity or sign that he didn’t really mean it. There was none; Impulse had to suppress the urge to purr. “You’re so sappy,” he teased quietly, not yet willing to pull away to pour the wine.
“Only for you,” Skizz mumbled.
Impulse snorted. “No, it’s not. You said the same thing to Gem the other day about her new tower.”
The angel giggled, continuing to caress the demon’s cheek. “Okay, for everyone, but you have to know how special I think you are by now,” he countered, continuing to give a look that felt dangerously like love.
“Impulse?” he asked after a moment, voice suddenly a lot less certain.
“Hm?”
“Can I… can I kiss you?”
Cherry red immediately spread across the demon’s cheeks, voice caught in his throat for a moment. “Uh- of course,” he managed to stutter out, heart racing.
Skizz sighed like he’d been holding it in, leaning a touch closer. “I was worried I made you uncomfortable earlier, since you pulled away so quickly,” he murmured in explanation.
It took Impulse a moment to recall what he was talking about—looking back, he hadn’t even processed that Skizz had kissed him in his rush to get out the door. Now, he was feeling the effects of it.
“Sorry,” he hastily apologized, beginning to pull back to properly look his partner in the eyes.
The angel’s grip on his chin tightened, stopping him from getting far. “Don’t apologize, just–” Skizz finally closed the gap with a frustrated huff, sparks shooting through the demon as their lips connected.
The purr Impulse had been holding in broke out, filling the quiet between them as the angel captured his lips. He felt warm and rough, stubble gently grating against Impulse’s chin as Skizz pressed forward with a hum. All the tension and fear was gone in an instant, replaced by a bubbly elation and overwhelming happiness—everyday emotions when it came to Skizz.
The angel’s free arm snaked around Impulse’s waist, tugging them even closer to one another, forcing Impulse to hold onto his shoulders for balance.
“Skizz–” Impulse broke off after a minute, pulling back.
He barely got the word in before the angel was against him again, insistently pressing forward, demanding more. A low hum buzzed in Skizz’s throat, warning him not to try that again.
The demon did it anyway. “The bread–” he began again, cut off just the same as last time. The bread’s gonna get cold.
“I’ve found,” the angel murmured between kisses, never letting Impulse get more than a breath before recapturing him. “That I’m not… really… that hungry.” He gave another insistent kiss. “For bread, anyway.”
Teeth nibbled at his lower lip, and the demon groaned, opening his mouth to let Skizz’s tongue sweep in, feeling the shape of his fangs for the first time in their twenty years of knowing each other.
Impulse was starting to agree.