16
There were the sounds of plaping water hitting the hard carpet, also, there was the sound of stifled giggles.
The elevator was just tall enough for Pulse to stand in, but not so much where they didn't have to crouch, and not enough room where their cowlick didn't feel like it was getting stuck in the light above them.
There were thirteen more floors to go; the trio was heading to the top of the tower, where Leo assured the two there would be a warm bed waiting for them with a smooth tone to her voice.
Pulse was shifting around, fidgeting within the steal box, trying to give everyone else room to move. They were shoulder to shoulder, and if not for Pulse, Quark and Leo would be quite comfortable.
“Sorry,” Pulse said again after bumping into Leo for the third time.
“Don't sweat it, darling,” she said, bumping them back playfully. “We will be there soon.”
“The elevator is taking a while, isn't it?” Quark asked. It was an older elevator, after all; one with a steel gate and deco designs on the walls in red and gold. Again, Pulse's cowlick got caught in the light.
“I am going to rip this out, I swear,” they grumbled. This was the fourth time they smoothed their hair back, for it to spring back up.
“No, don't!” Leo pouted. “It's adorable on you.”
“It's a pain to deal with, though,” Pulse pouted back, more genuinely. “I can't keep it down worth a damn. I should just cut it.”
“But that's part of your charm!” She poked their chest firmly. Even more, Pulse found her amazing in a way they never thought possible.
They never thought of them–dreamers–as meaningless byproducts as some other named stars would; rather, it was a somber thought.
Their lives were so short compared to the rest of the universe, and it didn't always slip past Pulse that Leo was one of those blips.
That one day, in a mil-fraction of their time, she would be a long distant memory.
But she was as bright as any star in the Galaxy. What she lacked in physical luminescence, shone through her personality.
“Five more floors to go, dolls.” She said to them. Five more, agonizingly slow moments.
Pulse looked over at Quark.
Quark's hair moved; he was looking at Pulse.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing really,” he blushed.
“You, of course!” Leo didn't take the cue that Quark wanted it secret. “I mean, look at you.”
Pulse had undressed their jacket and tied it around their waist by the time they reached the building.
Their shirt, nothing more than a white, loose-fitting tank, clung to their body and exposed the contours of their slender and trimmed frame.
Until now, Pulse wasn't aware how risque it looked, how they may as well not have been wearing a shirt at all, and, ever so subtly, a red-rose tint appeared on their cheeks.
“Sorry...”
“For what?” Leo was genuine. She tilted her head to the side, face soft.
“It's inappropriate to be looking like this... I should have kept my jacket on...”
“For a wet shirt?” She was now incredulous as she looked at Quark. “Are you hearing this?”
“Remember,” Quark came to their defense, “The Cosmic Choir is more formal than other groups of stars. More... Posh.”
“Pfft, So Pulse's is a prude?”
Pulse spoke indignantly. “I am not!”
“You're getting flustered over wearing a wet, white tank. I know you're not being self-conscious either. You're a total babe.”
“Oh stop it.”
“Am I getting you flustered there?” Leo's grin became monstrously devious. “Don't be so uptight. You need to loosen up. You're a hottie and you should own it.”
“I-I do!”
“Okay? Are you going to prove me wrong?”
Quark snickered—it would be hypocritical to tease the pulsar after scolding them for the same thing, but Pulse's pout and huff were too much for them. A proper dose of Karma. He hid his smile while Pulse was glowing hot enough for freckles of stars to appear on their cheeks.
“You're laughing...” Pulse crossed their arms.
“I am not...”
“Yes, you are...”
“Because, babe,” Leo hummed, “you're being adorably prissy.”
“Am not.”
“You're cute when you pout too.”
“I am not!”
“You're flushing red all over, and you have the sexiest little freckles now.”
“Don't talk like that.”
“Like what? Saying things like "sexy?”
The air was humid because Pulse's was steaming the water out of their clothes. “It's... It's lewd.”
“That's not lewd.” Leo corrected. “Saying you have a perky ass and delicious-looking hips is.”
“Leo!”
“Don't they, Quark?”
Not even Quark could be spared from Leo's teasing. But yet, he agreed with her. Reluctantly.
Pulse and Quark became hot, pink, and red messes before the elevator dinged and Leo halted her remarks.
Mercifully dropping her antics so her stars were willing to follow her down the hall.
A cold blast of air shocked them when the elevator doors opened, but it was refreshing.
Green floral wallpaper and stiff, well-tread carpet stretched before them.
Both stars wondered how Leo knew of this place, how she was able to find it, and know it existed.
'Come to think of it,' Pulse thought, 'she seems to have a knack for dreams.'
It was apparent with how she interacted with the environment, from the bravado while talking with ghosts, to the confidence in her stride when going and coming from locations.
Increasingly, Leo was becoming more of a captivating curiosity.
Pulse followed behind Quark, unable to stop themselves from really looking at him. How slowly he moved while he studied the flowers on the walls, the ivy that hung from tall vases of gold and bronze, how his bare feet felt against the carpet as he would pause between steps to feel it on his heels.
Above all, it was the colors that drew Pulse in.
Quark had such a soft pallet. Lavenders and cyan and pinks and grays that blended so well together; colorful but subtle. Easy on the eyes, most would say. Other stars were bright and neon, vivid and garish; not Quark. Quark was a subtle pleasure to look at.
It was Pulse's turn to pretend they weren't just staring at him.
Then there was Leo—she swung open gold-gilded doors into an open-floor suit.
There was a kitchen that opened up to the dining area, giving way to the living room, and on a raised floor, was a bed big enough for six people.
It was greens and blues, mixed with oranges and yellows, mahogany woods, and copper decorations.
The air had a scent that reminded the stars of Gamal's office.
The entire room was pressed against a window, stretching from one end of the room to the other.. Outside the window, the city lights blended with the stars in the sky, blurring the horizon into one empty, vibrant space.
The stars ambled over to the window, mouths agape, eyes wide, reflecting the stars that danced along with the stillness of the buildings lights.
Quark commented softly, "almost spooky, huh?"
"Yeah," Pulse agreed, "but look at all the celestial;s. They look like they're celebrating something today."
"Looks like it's mostly the choir. Something special going on today?"
'Is there?' Pulse believed they would have been the first to know. Since being here, their waking life faded more into the background. They scratched their head like that would summon a memory. Nothing occurred.
"Could be anything," Pulse admitted, "the choir will find any excuse to party."
"Must be hard to manage some days, huh?" Quark nudged Pulse with their elbow. He was playful, yet it was hard to read his intentions. Was he flirting? Being friendly?
Pulse wanted to believe it was Quark flirting. Maybe he's getting more comfortable; Pulse smiled at him. They nudged Quark back, "Got quite a few protostars now. They are rather– impish."
Quark laughed, once again making the energy in Pulse's chest spike. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore—this was something they wanted to mention to him, yet couldn't. 'Why is it so damn hard to bring it up?'
Leo pulled their attention away from the window towards the king's bed. “Can you guys tell me again how new you are to this job?”
"This is our first time," Pulse explained. They started to reach into their pocket for their pack of smokes.
"We only got to hear the stories," Quark confirmed, "I heard quite a few stories about it. Honestly, I don't know anything about how this world works yet."
"And your bodies?"
Quark and Pulse looked at each other quizzically.
"I mean, we are just balls of plasma." Pulse tapped the butt of their cigarettes, "having a body like yours? Well, not yours—But flesh in general. It's odd."
"You know how they work?"
"I suppose not, no."
Leo pulled her top off over her head, tossing it to the floor, "then I have a lot to teach you two."
Pulse and Quark froze. The room was dimly lit from outdated lamps with bulbs in need of replacing, so the two illuminated the space like spotlights.
She laughed, amused as she took their hands, and led them to the bed. "C'mon you two, I promise to take it nice and slow."
Pulse could feel it. That familiar sensation: stage fright. They remember when they first got to perform for the choir; they kept thinking about that moment, auditioning, with Black Star listening. Pulse had choked up when they had to perform their first solo.
'What am I doing? What is she doing?'
Leo was gentle, guiding Quark to lie down, then to Pulse to sit next to his celestial friend, who was no longer gray, but a fuchsia from their cheeks to his throat.
Pulse was becoming hyper-aware of their body. Biology they had never considered, while Leo had them strip. She, without words, taught them about their forms, using sensations and touching to show them the beauty and ecstasy of a physical form.
Clothes vanished when they touched the floor. Leo was an excellent teacher. Pulse, though feeling apprehensive, was quick to understand her body and her needs. Her desires were as articulated as they were intoxicating. Under their hands, she was soft, malleable, and realer than before.