Impulse did not expect to fall in love at 44.

Nor did he intend to fall for his best friend of 25 years.

Then again, who ever does?

Skizz is sitting at the dining room table, doing something with the bills (hopefully filling them out but Impulse can never be too sure) while Impulse is in the kitchen making dinner.

From his spot at the stove, Impulse can see Skizz hunched over the piece of paper they had gotten in the mail, copying something down from his phone to the paper.

Impulse is about to turn away, smiling to himself at his ~crush~ best friend being productive for once, when he notices something.

The bills have been pushed to the side.

Skizz is writing on a normal lined sheet of paper.

Slightly concerned and debating whether this was an issue of attention span or stupidity, Impulse spoke up.

"Hey, Skizz? Whatcha doin'? That doesn't look like bills."