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Impulse froze as the sounds of choking reached his ears. His fingers shook as they tightened around the smudge he was holding, and against his will, he turned back to face the top of the stairs.
There he was. Skizz, eyes rolled back in his head as the ghost’s pale blue fingers squeezed tighter around his neck. Impulse’s heart pounded with fear fear fear, like it did every time Skizz died in their Phasmo sessions. Luckily, that didn’t happen often, but when it did, you had situations like this.
Impulse ran forward, dropping the smudge and reaching out in an attempt to grab the ghost’s arm and pry it away from his- his partner’s neck.
He was a professional at the whole ghost hunting business, all of GIGGS was at this point, he knew not to touch the ghost, but seeing Skizz get hurt unlocked some side of him he didn’t like.
It felt like getting plunged in a bucket of ice water, both from the contact with the spectral figure and the way Skizz’s body slumped to the ground as the hunt ended and the ghost dissipated.
Logically, in the back of his head, he knew that Skizz wasn’t dead for real, that he would be right as rain when he got back to the loading zone, that he was a ghost probably hovering over Impulse now. But the front of his mind only screamed in panic.
What kind of ghost hunter was he when he couldn’t even stand his partner dying? Why did he keep reacting in this way? Usually he had Grian and Gem and sometimes Scar to balance the grief out with some humor. Usually he could move past this. Usually he could do his freaking job.
He growled, shoving his hands through his hair. Hold it together, Imp. They let you have this job for a reason. They looked past your hybrid status because you were good at your job.
He was shaking now. He hated that Skizz was probably watching. He hated that he was having this big of a reaction over what was essentially nothing. Why’d he think this was a good idea?
And on Case #333 of all things.
Impulse took a deep breath and walked out of there, trying desperately not to look at Skizz’s body underneath his feet. He forced himself to walk straight out of the house and climb into the van. He didn’t even bother touching his notebook, didn’t spare the bulletin board a glance.
He mashed the code to close the van’s doors, and sunk into the driver’s seat.
He didn’t start driving yet though. He held his head in his hands, sucking in breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He knew Skizz must have been watching all this. He knew he would be asked questions when he got back to their main quarters.
In that moment, he was overwhelmed. Case #333. He’d said it at the start that it would be bad. And he was right.
Burying his emotions into that pit deep inside of him, the one that held so many things he hated, he stuck the key into the ignition and started driving back. He ignored all the thoughts at the back of his mind, the wriggling doubts and self-deprecating feelings, and let himself just drive.
Skizz, luckily, didn’t comment on it when they arrived back at their home base. But Impulse didn’t miss the odd looks Skizz kept giving him on the way to the house. It hurt more than he thought it would.
Impulse acted on autopilot; stiff movements, shallow breaths, resolutely steeling his mind away from any and all emotions. Grab the flashlight, the night vision goggles, a smudge, a camera, and a thermometer. He led the way into the house, fixing his eyes on the changing temperature readings on the little device in front of him.
“Breaker’s on?” He distantly heard Skizz call nervously over the radio, and mumbled back an affirmative.
He stumbled his way through the starting motions of a case. He found the ghost room quickly. It took several trips back and forth from the van, gathering supplies and setting them up, before the ghost finally decided to hunt.
Impulse whipped out his smudge, hurrying over to the basement and down the steps. He crouched behind the train set, free hand fisted in his mouth in an attempt to not make noise.
For a second, all was silent. And then he heard it. The distant sounds of choking to death.
Impulse broke. Tears flowed down his face, blurring his vision. His body shuddered with sobs that he was trying desperately to hold in.
Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he do his job?! They were going to fire him. He was going to be jobless yet again, and he was going to lose Skizz and all the rest of GIGGS and if only he could just do his job all of this could be avoided-
The ghost’s solid fingers around his neck felt like a relief.
It wasn’t long before he woke up, head still slightly spinning from the sensations of Ghost Paralysis. He didn’t even get into a standing position before he saw Skizz. Who was watching him with a concerned expression on his face.
“Hey, you okay, man? That was… What happened back there?”
Impulse tried to scoot past him, hurry into the next round and through the last remnants of his energy into that.
Skizz didn’t let him past, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not readying up until you talk, Dippledop.”
Great. So this was really happening. Impulse would be forced to explain something he wasn’t quite sure how to explain to himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself against the waves of emotions still washing over him occasionally.
He balled his fists against his legs, shifting back and forth. “Is it too much of a cop-out to say I don’t know what happened myself?” He asked hoarsely.
It wasn’t entirely true. He knew that seeing Skizz die had triggered some dark place inside of him, where the doubting thoughts lingered, the ones that screamed about how he shouldn’t have this job. The ones that shamed him for his demonhood.
Skizz just gave him a look. “Think about it. Something had to have caused that reaction in you.” His voice turned slightly pleading at the end.
Impulse thought as much as he could. He wanted to do as Skizz asked. At that moment, Skizz could have said jump and he would have asked how high.
And somewhere deep in his head, in a place he’d never looked before, came a sudden thought. Skizz looks hot like this. It sent his head reeling, a blush blooming on his cheeks before he fully realized what that thought insinuated.
Skizz is cute. No. Impulse couldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts. But Skizz was standing there, tapping his foot and raising his eyebrow expectantly. “Figure something out?”
Impulse spluttered, trying to stall. What could he say? Skizz knew him so well, could read every little emotion hidden in his expression. There was no way he could lie.
“Spit it out, Impulse.”
The demon swallowed. The use of his real name meant this was serious.
His face in his hands, cheeks burning, he blurted it out before he lost his nerve. “I like you. Like like you.”
Silence. Impulse peeked between his fingers, panic gripping him by its claws. Oh shoot. He shouldn’t have overstepped like that with his friend. Now he was going to lose one of the only good things in his life. GIGGS wouldn’t be the same without the S, but why would Skizz want to hang around after-
“You do?” Skizz had an odd expression on his face. He didn’t look super angry, so that was a plus, but his emotions were still terrifyingly indiscernible.
Impulse didn’t think he could have responded if he wanted to. His throat felt dry, his body tense as he waited for a further reaction.
He wasn’t expected to be gripped by the shoulders and pulled into a standing position. He hadn’t even fully processed the movement before a pair of lips were pressed to his, and he froze in place.
His mind completely blue-screened, and it wasn’t until Skizz stepped back before he was able to breathe again.
“Dippledop? Are you okay? Shoot, was I not supposed to do that? I’m sorry, I just-”
Impulse cut his friend off with a kiss back. This one was a lot more intense now that he was thinking somewhat clearly again, and it lasted far longer than the first. They only broke apart for the unfortunate necessity that was air, although they didn’t move far.
Impulse felt all fuzzy inside, and he was sure he was smiling. Skizz was grinning back, both of them panting as they stared into each other’s eyes.
The demon broke the silence first. “Wow. Just… wow. I’m assuming that means you return the feeling?”
Skizz nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes.” He broke off into a laugh. “Well, I’m glad the rest of GIGGS isn’t here.”
Impulse agreed. Impulse wouldn’t have wanted his first kiss with Skizz to be in front of all the others, especially Gem. The girl loved to get into other people’s relationship business. And now she was probably the only one in their crew not in a relationship. Grian and Scar had always had something between them, although they avoided the question whenever Gem tried.
“We’re still going to have to tell them.” Impulse murmured.
Skizz hummed in response. “So, what were you thinking about during your breakdowns? How handsome I am?”
Impulse flushed even deeper than he already was. “No, I didn’t even realize I felt like this until like ten minutes ago. I-” He bit his lip, hesitating. “I was thinking about how I don’t deserve this job, you know, because I’m a demon? Because if I was out here having breakdowns that got me killed, I could lose the one job I’ve managed to score in who knows how long.”
“Oh, Dippledop.” Skizz pulled him into a hug, nesting his chin into his shoulder. “Need a kiss to make it feel better?”
Impulse spluttered as Skizz pressed his lips to the top of the demon’s head. “Wha-wha- Stop it!”
“I have so much flirting up my sleeve. You’ll love it.” Impulse could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Skizz…” Impulse groaned, but there was fondness in his tone.
Now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t unsee the way kissing Skizz had filled a hole in his heart.
“But seriously. Ghost Hunters LLC isn’t going to drop you for anything. You’re their best worker!”
Impulse wished he could believe that. But for now, he would play along. If it made Skizz happy, it was worth it. A happy Skizz made a happy Impulse. Especially if the angel bothered to kiss him again.
He could deal with it later.