#i'm not even the biggest fan of their teamup in DL (i like the soulmates by choice best) but impulse is so fucking funny abt it we ended up

[bellshazes]

can i get a little bit of DIA bdubs feelings towards scar and grian OR impulse flitered through the end of third life (scar wont kill me because i killed impulse because scar gave me a clock?) 👁

Having finally made sense of his past life (past lives) memories, Bdubs realizes too late the consequences of asking Impulse a favor. I think DIA flows into HCS8 in 'canon' but in a universe a little to the left, it precedes DL, so...

“Hey, thanks for this,” says Bdubs. It’s ten minutes past closing at the Southlands, and Impulse is the only one behind the counter. 

Impulse smiles at him, all genuine in a way that makes Bdubs’ stomach twist. “No problem, man. I’ll be done in a second, just gotta wipe the counters down. Have a seat.”

Bdubs obeys because he’s trying to be on his best behavior, trying not to be weird in public again. It’s been hard even now that he knows where all the strange deja vu and haunting feelings are coming from - sure, Impulse and him have barely interacted in this life, but he knows from his time as a ghost before it was Impulse’s wither that killed him, and the more he’s talked to Cleo about it all the more the clock from another even older life weighs on him.

But for all he knows, Impulse doesn’t know anything about it. He watches him clean with his chin propped up on one fist, Impulse humming under his his breath as he hangs up the towel with practiced precision.

“So you said you had this clock that’s not working,” Impulse says, taking the seat across from him.

Bdubs digs it out of his pocket, trailing his thumb along the weathered edges that never will get fully restored no matter how much he tries to polish it. “Yeah. Something’s stuck and I’m afraid if I try and take it apart I’ll never get it back together again. Etho’s mentioned you were good at tinkering before, so...”

“I’m not half bad,” Impulse says, taking the clock from his hands. He twists the crown and Bdubs knows he’s feeling the strain, something sticking internally. When he pops the face open, the hands are still. “I see. Probably just needs some careful cleaning, and I think I’ve got the right tools at home.” He brings it closer to his face to peer at the inner ring where the internal gears are visible and casually - too casually? - says, “Etho couldn’t do it?”

“Um,” says Bdubs. “He’d never let me live it down if he knew I’d let something this important break, since he complains all the time about me nagging him.”

“I see. You’ve had it for a long time - a gift from Scar, right?”

Bdubs freezes. “Is that - is this some kind of trick question?”

“An honest one,” Impulse says, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Clocks are important to me,” he retorts, more acidly than he means it. “Sorry, sorry, I’m making this weird aren’t I? Got to be better about that. It’s just, the concussion you know, it’s been really tough since then and now this stupid clock  not working, and everything. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”

To his surprise, Impulse laughs all full-bellied, setting the clock gently back on the table to wipe at the corner of his eye. Bdubs narrows his eyes, suspicious at someone out-weirding him. “No, don’t be sorry. We’re cool, you know that right? It all evens out in the end. It’s not a problem at all.”

Bdubs pauses. “You’re not... you don’t mean...”

“It was just a little joke! I got my revenge. I mean it that we’re cool now.” Impulse has the gall to wink at him. “Skizz and I talk all the time, you know. It’s not the clock.”

“Oh. Oh! Well, in that case,” Bdubs sputters. He doesn’t want to ask which revenge Impulse is referring to, the pretending or the incidental murder. It doesn’t really matter anyway, not in this life or the ones to come. “I’ll graciously agree to let bygones be bygones then, not that there are any byes to be gone. Going. Oh,  you get it.”

“I do,” Impulse says solemnly despite the sparkle in his eyes. “It’s an easy fix, I promise. I wouldn’t want to tarnish Etho’s good opinion of me, now that I’ve been recommended.”

“Etho’s good opinion is overrated,” Bdubs pronounces, relieved to be off the hook. “Uh, but if Etho says you’re a genius, I bet it’ll give you no trouble. Thanks, though. For the clock, and for being... cool about this?” It comes out as a question.

“Genius, huh.” Impulse nods, and moves to stand already. “Anytime. I gotta get going since it’s time to lock up, but I can drop your clock off at your place this weekend. Or... if you don’t want Etho to know, or you wanna talk about weird dreams you’ve been having or something, you know where to find me. Whatever’s good for you.”

“I’ll let you know,” Bdubs says, torn between secrecy and a well-developed sense of skepticism about people who promise to lend an ear and turn it around on you from years of hanging out with Scar. It’s more attractive an option than he expects it to be, but he’ll decide later. “I better get going too.

Impulse is smiling when he opens the door for him on his way out, since he’s got to lock whatever complicated mechanism is always getting the sliding doors stuck before shoving out for the evening.

Not this time, but maybe Bdubs will take him up on the offer, someday. It's not life-or-death here, he can't accidentally betray Impulse again, and maybe if he can have a do-over with Etho, he can have other do-overs too. He's got plenty of time to find out.