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“UGH!”
Paintbrush storms into their empty shared bedroom and slams the door behind them.
Blackjack. 10 rounds. All of them busts.
To say they were upset was an understatement. Even as they pace around to try and calm down, they can still feel the tips of their bristles beginning to smolder.
“Stupid… fucking… UGH!” Paintbrush steams as their steps become stomps and they still their paces, beating the ground in one place with their feet.
A growl rises in their throat as they replay the game over and over in their head, recounting when they should’ve just folded.
The aftersight just serves to make them more upset.
They were usually great at games like this. Sure, luck wasn’t always on their side, but they trusted their intuition. They were, at the very least, about 70% right at any given time.
So why had they…?
Suddenly, their opponents flash in their mind’s eye. Soap, Mic, Clover and…
Nickel.
Of course.
Him and his stupid luck! It must’ve drained away any and all of the sense Paintbrush usually had without them even noticing!
Oh, that stupid coin was going to get it. And he was going to give them back the 50 they lost.
Now determined and with purpose, Paintbrush storms towards the door and flings it open.
…Only to be greeted with a big smile on a yellow background.
“Yo! Painty!” Lightbulb beams. “Nick-le man told me I’d find you here!”
“Nickel?” Paintbrush spits. “That asshole told you where to find me?”
“Woah, hey, hey!” Lightbulb chuckles, holding up her hands in a placating manor. “No need to be callin’ people names and whatnot.”
“That stupid bastard conned me out of 50 freaking dollars, Lightbulb!” Paintbrush shouts.
“That would explain why he seemed so happy…” Lightbulb mumbles, shaking her head afterwards. “But, that ain’t the point. See, ‘cause the point is this point!” Lightbulb says, pointing back into the room. “...Where I’m pointin’, that is.”
Paintbrush squints at her. “You… want me to go back inside?”
“Won’tcha look at that! Looks like I’m not the only bright light in the house today, huh?” Lightbulb laughs. She then, without any further warning, begins to push Paintbrush back in the room. “C’mon!”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Paintbrush huffs, digging their heels into the carpet. Lightbulb blinks and steps back, clearly confused.
“What is it, Paints?”
“I’ve got to go get my money back!” they frown. “Nickel cheated! And I’m not about to let him get away with it!”
Lightbulb hums, tapping her chin. Then, her face lights up. “Alright, alright, how about this? You come back with me in the room ‘til you calm down and then you can go talk to Nickel. I’ll even come with ya!” She sticks out her arms, doing little jazz hands.
Paintbrush is unimpressed.
But, they sigh. Unfortunately, they knew she had a point. They’d just end up blowing up at Nickel, which would paint them as the bad party. That would get them nowhere. Plus, maybe if Lightbulb was with them, she could actually find a way to weasel their money back with a lot less trouble than they could on their own.
“Fine,” they sniff, turning and walking back into their room voluntarily. “How exactly do you expect to get me to calm down, though? ‘Cause, I don’t know if you know, but that’s not exactly the easiest thing in the world for me.”
Even now Paintbrush could feel their pent up anger taking a toll on them, what with their face pulled in a frown, posture stiff and arms crossed. They were the picture of a righteously upset person.
As a perfect juxtaposition, Lightbulb stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, a giant, determined grin on her face. “I think I gots an idea or two,” she says, walking in and closing the door behind her. “But you’re too tall right now.”
“Too… too tall…?” Paintbrush asks, thoroughly confused. “What does—woah!”
Lightbulb walks over to them and, in the middle of them asking, pushes them onto her bed without a word.
“What’s the big idea?” Paintbrush barks, lifting up.
“Up, up, up!” Lightbulb smirks, pushing them back down. “Didn’t I just tell you? You’re too tall when you’re standin’!”
“And what is me laying down on your bed going to accomplish what exactly?” Paintbrush questions, a halfhearted frown on their face.
In lieu of an answer, Lightbulb simply climbs up to be beside them, smiling the whole way. Then, she lifts them up a bit and repositions them. Now, their head is in her lap and she’s looking down at them excitedly.
“...Yes?” Paintbrush asks finally.
“French or Dutch?” Lightbulb asks, sounding completely nonsensical as always.
“French or…?” Paintbrush echos, trying to put two and two together. “Wh—Lightbulb, what the hell does that mean?”
“French? Or Dutch?” she repeats, holding one hand up for each option. “Or,” she says, closing her palms, “Dealer’s choice? ‘Cause, I’ll have you know, I’m a great dealer. Fantastic, even.” She pulls her hands down and gently pushes them into Paintbrush’s hair before continuing. “Heh, Fan-tastic. Did you know Fan barely breaks that one out anymore? It’s a shame, ‘cause it’s a good one! Always makes me laugh at least! Y’know, there was this one time—”
“Lightbulb,” Paintbrush cuts off, knowing she could go on like this forever. “Hold on.”
“Huh?” she asks, still playing with their hair. They do their best to not melt into the touch. “What’s up, Painty?”
“You…” They sigh, enjoying the sensation of their bristles being raked through. “You never explained what you meant.”
“What, the Fan thing?” she asks. “Well, you cut me off, so…”
“No, not the Fan thing,” they scoff, but it’s playful. “Dutch? French?” they remind.
“Oooh!” Lightbulb giggles. “That thing.” She hums, pulling and twisting at the other’s hair. “Well, see, ‘cause you got me all distracted ‘nd stuff, I just started and went with French. ‘Cause I don’t know Dutch.”
“Lightbulb,” Paintbrush says, tone flat, “You are quite literally just saying words at me now.”
“I’m braidin’ your hair, silly!”
Paintbrush blinks. “Oh,” they say smartly. And, yeah, now that they know they can feel the distinct motions of braids being formed. “Can I… ask why?”
Lightbulb’s hands still. “Do you not want braids?” She sounds pensive, worried. It’s unlike her and stirs emotions within Paintbrush that they really don’t feel like analyzing right now.
“Oh, no!” they backpedal. “Braids are—braids are fine. I just… I didn’t know you knew how to braid hair, I guess.”
Instantly the smile on Lightbulb’s face is back and she continues with her work. “Heh. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Like, for example…”
Paintbrush lays in Lightbulb’s lap for what feels like hours as she tells them fun facts about herself. She gets distracted and goes on a tangent about every other fact, but it’s… nice. Paintbrush interjects every so often, but for the most part they just listen, eyes closed and small smile on their face.
“Aaand done!” Lightbulb says eventually, pulling her hands from Paintbrush’s head. “Some’a my best work yet, I thinks!”
Paintbrush blinks their eyes open sleepily. They were just about to doze off…
“Wanna see?” Lightbulb all but beams, looking down at them.
Paintbrush, maybe against their smarter judgment, simply shakes their head. “Not right now,” they murmur.
“Aw, what?” Lightbulb pouts. “I done did such a dang good job, though!” She makes movements with her hands that Paintbrush can barely see, but they chuckle at her regardless.
“Too sleepy,” they explain. “Can I just… nap here?”
“What about your money?” Lightbulb asks.
Paintbrush lazily waves a hand in the air. “He can keep it,” they sigh. And then, a bit bitterly, they add, “...For now.”
Lightbulb laughs openly. It makes Paintbrush smile warmly.
“Alrighty Mx. Sleepyhead,” she says after calming down, “I’ll uh, get outta your hair ‘nd let you sleep.”
Paintbrush huffs a small laugh. “Thanks, Lightbulb.”
“No problemo, Paints! Anytime, anytime.” She moves in a way that suggests she’s about to get up, and, in a move that Paintbrush would later deny if asked, they reach out and grab one of her hands.
“...Can… Can you stay?” they all but whisper, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “Tell me more stuff about yourself? Or—or about anything, really.” They glance away. “Um, only if you want to, of course.” They blush furiously as they continue. “I… I like your voice."
When they look back at her, Lightbulb’s smile is huge.
“You want me to sit here ‘nd ramble you to sleep?” she asks, pumping her fists at her side a bit.
“If you want to,” Paintbrush repeats, suddenly extremely shy. “You don’t—if you want to go you can—”
“Paintbrush,” Lightbulb says, cutting them off in an extremely uncharacteristic way. It catches them off guard.
“I—huh?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Close my…?”
“Just do it.”
Paintbrush blinks a bit, confused, before complying.
“I ever tell you the story about how I met Starfruit?” she asks, smile evident in her voice.
“Um…” Paintbrush mumbles, thinking. “I don’t think so.”
Lightbulb claps excitedly. “Okay, okay, okay. So! There I was, a bar in the middle of nowhere, watchin’ a comedy show…”
Paintbrush smiles and softens as Lightbulb tells her tale. Before they know it, they’re about two seconds away from sleep. Lightbulb’s voice has gotten quieter, and they’re barely paying attention, but they hear it as soon as she says it.
“Love you, Painty,” she sighs happily. “Glad I could help ya.”
It’s surprisingly tender. Paintbrush can’t tell if she thinks they’re sleep or not, but they smile softly regardless.
This was nice.
This was really nice.
Lightbulb pets Paintbrush’s face lightly, and before they know it, they’ve finally fallen asleep proper.
In their dreams, the two of them are at the beach. They’re out for dinner. They’re in the middle of nowhere, at a bar, watching a comedy show.
Paintbrush’s smile never leaves them throughout it.
Lightbulb…
They’d have to tell her later, maybe not for a while, but eventually…
They think they love her too.