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“Skeppy?”
“Badddd~ Badboyhaloooooo”
“Oh my goodness, Skeppy. It’s been a while since you’ve called me drunk.”
“What makes you think I’m drunk? It’s really late~ this is just how I am when I’m tired.”
“No, I know your ‘tired voice,’ this is your drunk voice.”
“Hmmmm… What's the difference?”
“You’re like– smaller.”
“Oh fuck off, Bad. A short joke doesn’t work over voice call. ”
“That wasn’t the right word umm… I don’t know. You sound like a bunny.”
“I don’t sound like a bunny.”
“He says. Bunny-like.”
“What does this sound like?”
“A bunny performing a metal concert.”
“Okay whatever dude. Bunnies don’t even make sounds.”
“If they did, they would sound like you. Drunk you.”
“Okayyy, and my tired voice? Since there’s an obvious difference to you.”
“Tired Skeppy is quieter. You’re like a muted version of yourself.”
“Hm. I guess that makes sense.”
“So now that we’ve established I know you’re drunk, what’s up?”
“Nothing really… Just wanted to talk.”
“You’re not out with friends?”
“Well I was, but I got home and doordashed some food and more alcohol. You’ve ever put soju in a Baja Blast slushie? Barely even fucking taste it.”
“Skeppy…you shouldn’t drink by yourself.”
“That’s why I’m calling you, Bad! If you don’t want me to drink by myself then you can’t leave meee.”
“Mrn. Muffinhead. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now.”
“That’s right, Bad boy. Why’re you awake?”
“My sleep schedule’s all backwards. Spent all night working on a project the other day so I don’t get tired until 5am. I’ll fix it eventually.”
“What’s your project?”
“I’m making a little cinematic thing for my character on the Realm.”
“I remember when you had me record lines for Dream SMP. We were like soulmates or whatever.”
“Technically that was never canon.”
“What? What was– like, the point of the Egg stuff then.”
“Oh what you think my very cool story had no point, hmm?”
“No, I mean didn’t you go to the Egg for me? And then you wrote it so I did the same? It was like Romeo and Juliet, right? Soulmate stuff.”
“I– well, no, it wasn’t– that’s not why we– the characters– did that… It’s… we were best friends forever.”
“Okay Bad… whatever you sayyyy…”
“No! We had a conversation about this. You were crying about sand and then you asked me to choose between saving the world or saving you and I chose you.”
“Hmm… Sand. I like sand.”
“We are not doing this again.”
“Fineee. What does that have to do with the Egg though?”
“Well, both our characters chose to doom the server if it meant a chance to get each other back. I didn’t really see it as a soulmate thing because I would do it because we’re best friends.”
“We can’t be best friend soulmates?”
“Of course we can! I didn’t mean–”
“That makes me Romeo because he’s blue.”
“Okay, if anyone is Romeo, it’s me.”
“You’re red so you’re Juliet don’t be sexist, Bad.”
“I’m not– okay, shut your muffin, I’m Romeo because you became red and if we go by the story Romeo dies because he thought Juliet was poisoned. I only joined the Egg because I thought it was the only way to save you.”
“What?! I’m the one that dies first because you punched me into lava! You’re being dumbboyhalo.”
“Romeo dying was a sacrifice for Juliet. Who died first doesn’t matter because I made the first sacrifice to you.”
“That’s straight up not true. I only joined the Egg the first time to save you.”
“No, that very first time you did it to save the server.”
“Who are you to say what my motivations were??”
“I wrote the script?!”
“Well I played as myself! Who’re you to tell me my thoughts?”
“Are you seriously retconning years old lore so you can be the Romeo?”
“What if I am?”
“Whatever. I don’t even care because our characters still weren’t soulmates.”
“But you said we can be soulmates?”
“I don’t–”
“Wowww I see how it is. Can’t even be platonic soulmates with me.”
“I’m having a hard time understanding if you mean us or the characters.”
…
“The characters. Unless soulmates exist in real life too.”
“I think they do.”
“Okay.”
“Do you think we’re–”
“Yeah.”
“In rea–”
“Both.”
…
“I think I would’ve written my character differently if I thought they were soulmates.”
“Yeah? What wouldja change?”
“I would’ve bargained with the Egg way earlier. Losing my other half would drive me insane.”
“So…”
“But we’re soulmates irl.”
“You think that?”
“I do.”
…
“I really hope I remember this when I wake up.”
“You’re not throwing up so I doubt you’ll black this out.”
“Don’t. Don’t talk about throwing up because I still might.”
“Aw Skeppy, you should drink some water.”
“I’ll do it after I finish my slushie.”
“Muffinhead.”
…
“Baaaaaddd.”
“Skeppy.”
“Badboyhaloooohhh!”
“Skeppy!”
“Bad.”
“Skeppy. Skeppy. Skeppy.”
“Badbadbadbadbadbadbad.”
“What?”
“Hiii.”
“Hi.”
“You. Are a potato.”
“No, you’re a potato.”
“The next time I see you. You’re mashed potato.”
“Nooo! Don’t mash the potato.”
“Why not?”
“Baked potato is better.”
“Damn Bad you get baked?”
“I do not.”
“Did you know I can’t get high? It doesn’t work on me.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t work?”
“I get like— panic attacks. I thought I was dying the first time.”
“Skeppy! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Secret.”
“What was that? You whispered something.”
“Shhh secret.”
“Secret?”
“Mhmm.”
“Gotcha.”
“Want more secrets?”
“Tell me when you’re sober.”
“Nooo that’s not fun.”
“I don’t want you telling me anything you’re going to regret saying.”
“Isn’t that the point of alcohol? Sober thoughts are drunk words and all that.”
“You can still say true things and regret it.”
“I won’t though. I’ll say it and you’ll just have to mute me if you don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m not muting you.”
“That’s your choice-sssaaahh!”
“Mrrn.”
“You’re pretty.”
“That’s not a secret.”
“Just checking to see if you muted me.”
“…”
“You make me nervous.”
“Nervous?”
“Not all of the time. Not when we’re on call and only your voice. Irl… I was never not nervous.”
“Not even when you spat that Hershey’s kiss at me?”
“That was me being nervous! Seriously!”
“Alright… obviously I was pretty nervous to meet you too, but I thought we mellowed out after hanging out for a while.”
“Maybe you did. But like— your eyes.”
“My eyes.”
“And your hair… your ha— you’re pretty, Bad. How can I not be nervous?”
“… were you going to say something else?”
“I could say a lot of things, Bad.”
“Things you’d regret?”
“Only… I’d only regret it if you didn’t want to hear it.”
“I want to hear it.”
“Bad…”
“Skeppy.”
“You’re… making me nervous.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Tell me more.”
“Your hands. Your cologne.”
“Really?”
“I never thought about what you might smell like when we met up. But you get here and it’s like. You’re real. I can experience you with all five senses.”
“Well, not all five.”
“Didn’t I?”
“Did you lick me and I didn’t notice?”
“I’d only lick you with permission.”
“Okay slow down.”
“What? Nervous?”
“Skeppy. You’re drunk.”
“Then mute me. End call.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Yeah, because you can’t ignore me. Not even for a minute.”
“You’re right.”
…
“Would you let me?”
“Hm?”
“Let me taste you. Get the full Badboyhalo experience.”
“Taste… taste what?”
“Naughty, Bad.”
“You’re the one bringing up the fudging licking bit.”
“I never did that. You did.”
“Fine. Now tell me what you’re tasting specifically.”
“Cheeks are the most tender, apparently.”
“And then?”
“And… lips. If you’d let me.”
“So I get a taste as well?”
“Of course.”
“You’d want me to have a taste?”
“Yes.”
“Mm, your neck?”
“Fuck.”
“Chest?”
“Mhm~”
“You doing okay?”
“Bad. You’re trying to kill me.”
“So you want to stop?”
“God, no. This is the best fucking day ever.”
“Perfect. Your arms too. Can barely keep my hands off of them. I’m getting a taste.”
“Fuck, Bad. Taste whatever you fucking want.”
“Tongue?”
“Yes yes yes.”
“You sound perfect.”
“Like a bunny?”
“Like a bunny in heat. Skeppy, your voice is a siren call. You sound meek. You sound like you’re waiting for me to tell you what to do. At my damn beck and call.”
“Yes. Exactly. I’m so— I’m tired of thinking. All I want to think about is you.”
“You call me when you’re drunk so I can tell you what to do?”
“Feels good. Taking care of me.”
“I make you feel good?”
“So good. Warm and fuzzy. Want to drown in it.”
“Only warm and fuzzy?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“Nervous, happy… another h word.”
“Are you h word?”
“Yeah.”
“Probably squeezing your thighs together, right?”
“Mm—“
“Again. Open your mouth.”
“Ahn—“
“So pretty.”
“Really?”
“Beautiful. I’m in awe of you, Skeppy.”
“Mm, I need— can I—? Touch. Let me—“
“Do it.”
“Ahn~ fuck. Fuck yes. Slow? Fast?”
“Fast.”
“Thank you, Bad. Oh~”
“Tell me when you’re close.”
“Ah-ah-ah-ahn~ fuckkkk. You know I love you, Bad?”
“Of course. I love you, Skeppy.”
“Bad bad bad bad bad…”
“That’s it… use your spit. Faster.”
“Oh my god. Hnghh… Fuck.”
“Pretty Skeppy. Louder.”
“Ah-ah-ah-ahn—! Ah~”
“You’re right there, Skeppy. You know what I want to taste?”
“Oh fuck.”
“I’m all over you. Eyes and cologne and tongue.”
“Closecloseclose.”
“Give it to me. Let me taste you.”
“Fuck! Bad! Unghhh~ ah—! Ah—! Ah…”
“Breathe.”
…
“Fuck.”
“You alright?”
“So fucking good.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
“Hm?”
“It’s the next available flight I can take to see you.”
“Skeppy… you’re going to sleep through it.”
“I’ll sleep when I’m at your place.”
“No, you’re not traveling tired. We’re not meeting tired.”
“Day after tomorrow?”
“…”
“Let me repay the favor.”
“You don’t have a debt to owe.”
“I’m not— I need to see you. Experience you. Crawl inside you.”
“…”
“Why deny yourself?”
“Wait until you’re sober.”
“Oh my god, Bad.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay.”
…
“Skeppy.”
“Yeah?”
“You should go to bed.”
“I know… are you going to brush your teeth with me?”
“Yes.”
…
“Done. Getting in bed.”
“Perfect, me too.”
“Yeah?”
“You tuckered me out.”
“Pft, you’re so dumb.”
“Dumb. Shmumb. Drum. Gum.”
“Who’s the drunk one again?”
“Still you.”
“Right… G’night, Bad.”
“Good night, Skeppy. See you soon.”
“Ha, 'soon'… Sooner than soon.”
“The sooniest.”