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Chapter Text

Famous Owner of Las Navedas Casino ‘Quackity’ Gets Back Together with Old Flame!

On August 4th, 2021, the owner of the world renowned casino Las Navedas known commonly as ‘Quackity’ was caught on camera in a Jewelry Store with none other than Wilbur Soot; a well known indie artist. They appeared to be looking at engagement rings and though no announcement has been made it is safe to assume the two are planning to become serious.

Quackity and Wilbur are not a new relationship however, as they had a controversial affair a few years prior while Quackity was engaged to his first partner J. Schlatt, who died of a heart attack three years ago. The affair had been rather public but had seemingly ended after Soot’s sudden suicide attempt and admission to a mental facility. Now that Soot has been released however, it appears they are back on.

Many fans and admirers of both of these men are astounded and taken aback. It is well known by now that Quackity is a serial romancer and considering he had just broken off his engagement with his former two fiancés Karl Jacobs and ‘Sapnap’ just a year prior it is no wonder why so many are confused. Many worry that this is just another relationship for Quackity to get into and then have fall apart. Others say their concern is of Soot’s more erratic behavior; as before he was released he was caught many times acting vaguely violent or out of it.

Is this relationship destined to be a shocking happily ever after or to crumble to the ground? Only time will tell.

-

Quackity has been engaged three times.

To most, he looks like a slut. Some guy who dates someone for two weeks and decides they’re the one. And admittedly, maybe it’s a bit accurate. Quackity has never seen the problem with being a little optimistic though; better to at least try then look the other way and lose your chance.

The main point is, he’s been proposed to three times over (well, four if he counted that one time but Quackity had never counted it before and he wasn’t about to start now). Each in… wildly different ways.

With Schlatt, it had been infuriatingly low key. Quackity had been working under the man for a few years by then as an intern; just having gotten out of law school and desperate for work. He’d liked his boss well enough, despite the fucker always being drunk off his ass. So, when the guy had asked him to marry him in what Quackity thought was a joke well, he joked right back and said yes.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t a joke.

Quackity still doesn’t really know why Schlatt asked him. Not that he thinks the older wasn’t interested in him (the man’s comments were enough to make it clear he was) but Schlatt never seemed to be the type to want to be married. A large part of him thinks it may have been for Tubbo; Schlatt’s son who looks eerily similar to him. The drunk bastard couldn’t take care of the kid himself so he dragged Quackity into it.

Not that he can be too angry about the Tubbo thing; Quackity loves his son.

Schlatt’s ring had been pretty shit too; a single emerald on a silver band. He knows logically it couldn’t have been cheap but it certainly looked like it. Quackity had thrown the thing into the ocean at a nearby beach while there with Wilbur; angry at the world and covered in bruises.

Later, he would look up the meaning behind emeralds in engagement rings. Unlikely to last. How fitting.

The death of Schlatt had been shocking to most. They had thought him a brilliant (if cruel) businessman who couldn’t be taken down no matter the problem. It hadn’t occurred to any of them that the fucker could simply keel over one day. 

With how much Schlatt had drank though, Quackity had seen it coming. 

He’d convinced the older to make Quackity Tubbo’s godfather and then waited with bated breath. The relationship had been hell and Quackity had been anything but sad when his fiancé dropped dead just two weeks after and Tubbo officially went under his care.

Then he met Karl and Sapnap. He’d been at some refined party trying to make connections when the two had approached them. At the time, they had already been engaged; a bright amethyst on Karl’s finger and an amber on Sapnap’s. Quackity had hit it off with them almost instantly and a few months later he was being invited into their engagement.

They’d done it at some park, late at night when the moon was out and full. It had been date night and they were all dressed nicely; Quackity pulling out his suspenders, Sapnap his tie and Karl one of his nicer dresses. The two had let out some long speech about how much they loved him and cared about him and wanted to be with him and well, how could Quackity just say no to that?

The ring was much nicer than the one Schlatt had given him. A dark sapphire settled onto a golden band.  He’d kept it around even after the engagement was called off; strung on a golden chain around his neck and hidden beneath his shirt.

Quackity doesn’t know where it all went wrong. He’d never been in a polycule before and a large part of him was worried about what the media would say. Another part of him spent his time walking on eggshells around his partners, trying to not set them off. He knows logically they’d never hurt him but… well, Schlatt hadn’t exactly been nice when he was still around. 

Maybe they’d just gotten tired of dealing with him; with his freak outs and panic and illogical requests. Maybe they’d realized that while Quackity was a pretty face he certainly wasn’t easy to deal with.

Either way, about a year and a half into their relationship the other two booked a trip to some vacation spot without Quackity. They had taken their friend George instead. Maybe if that had been it then they could have recovered, could have communicated and came to some understanding. The real killer was that they had left without telling him.

Quackity will never forget the utter panic he felt at the sight of his home empty one day; his fiancés essential items and even some more loved things just gone. He would never forget the anger he had to smother when Tubbo told him what he really happened.

He’d left when they’d come back; already having packed his things and loaded them into his car. Sending Tubbo over to hang out at his friend’s house, Quackity had waited inside their little apartment until his fiancés walked through the front door. Then they argued and argued and argued. Until eventually, Quackity got up and left.

The announcement that the engagement had been cut off spread like wildfire the next morning.

After that, Quackity had thought himself done with relationships. He’d scraped together a casino with the last of Schlatt’s money that had ended up becoming known world-wide. He’d managed to get a nice house for Tubbo and him and enough money to send the kid to college twice over if he wanted. Things were good and Quackity knew all too well how quickly a relationship could derail that.

Then, Wilbur fucking Soot had been released from the mental facility he’d been put into.

Quackity hadn’t even known at first; too busy with the casino to pay much attention to anything else. So, it’s not surprising to hear that he’d actually dropped a glass out of shock when Wilbur simply strolled into his casino and up to the bar like it was nothing. Like the last time Quackity had heard from him hadn’t been right before he’d tried to kill himself and then gotten himself pushed into a facility for years.

“Big Q!” Wilbur had crowed, smiling like a Cheshire cat. He’d changed in the years since Quackity had last seen him; hair now streaked with thick white strands and eyes hidden behind blood red sunglasses. He’d still worn the damn trench coat he’d worn before he’d gotten admitted though, still just as tattered and torn as Quackity remembered. He thinks he vaguely recognizes the ratty yellow sweater Wilbur wears as well; worn with age and held together by paper clips and blue stitching.

The two of them had fallen back into their old banter with ease; talking like they had just seen each other just a few days prior. They were flirting and bickering and it was like nothing had changed at all. It was only when Sam (the manager of Las Navedas) came up to tell him that it was time to close that Quackity even realized how much time had passed.

He’d seen Wilbur again quite a few times after that; mostly at cafés or at the bar again. It was a nice distraction from the stress of life, just sitting down and catching up with Wilbur. There was some sort of… silent understanding between them at all times that Quackity could never find the words to explain. Just that they sort of… got each other.

Maybe that understanding is what led to the sudden change in their relationship.

They had been talking at the bar when the news on the tv above switched to an… interesting topic. Quackity had found himself tuning out Wilbur’s words entirely as he turned to look at the woman sitting behind a blue desk. “As you may have seen from Karl Jacobs Instagram, the historian and his fiancé Sapnap are officially tying the knot soon. Their wedding will be held on September first and it is guaranteed to be a big event. How their former fiancé Quackity feels on this issue is unknown however-“

“Q?” Wilbur had asked, brows furrowed. “You were engaged… again?”

“Yes… though we broke up almost a year ago and it’s a long story so it doesn’t matter much. What do you want to drink?”

“Surprise me,” Wilbur had said, as he always did. Then he’d leaned forward, grinning with that look in his eyes that always said he was planning something. “Quackity, I have an idea. What if you and I get engaged?”

Quackity had sputtered, turning to glare at Wilbur who merely smiled wider. “Come on, Q, think about it! Two guys in a controversial affair getting engaged just around the time one of the guy’s ex-fiancés are getting married? There’s no better drama than that.”

“Still as dramatic as always,” Quackity had growled, “what makes you think I want anything to do with drama anymore, Soot?”

The taller’s smiled had dimmed a little, “I know you Q, you wouldn’t give up on a relationship unless they did something really awful. Why don’t we get back at them?”

“Fine,” Quackity had bit out, unable to believe what he was getting himself into. “We’ll get engaged and then break up in a few months. Sound good?”

“Perfect.”

Things had moved quickly after that, from purposely getting caught in the jewelry store to all kinds of other places around town. The media was pouncing on every scrap of it, desperate for every little detail. The main thing they were all wondering was who proposed and how?

Quackity nor Wilbur would ever tell them but it went down like this; they had first gone to the engagement store to get a ring. Wilbur had picked which one it was out and Quackity had paid for it (because really, Wilbur had no money). It was a nice ring actually, a silver band with ornate designs and a glistening red ruby in the middle. Quackity couldn’t find it in himself to complain about the price when it was beautiful.

Originally, that was supposed to be it. They would get the rings and say Wilbur had proposed and Quackity had said yes and that would be that. Wilbur, the dramatic fuck that he is, apprently had other plans.

He’d taken Quackity out to a very familiar beach early the next morning. So early, in fact, that it was dark outside when they entered the park. They had stood out there for awhile, talking quietly to each other while Wilbur fiddled with the ring he’d insisted Quackity give back to him.

Then, the sun had began to rise. It colored the sky in beautiful yellows and pinks and oranges and Quackity was so busy staring at it that he had almost missed Wilbur getting down on one knee.

“Wilbur, what are you-“

“Will you, Quackity,” Wilbur had interrupted, voice soft as he took Quackity’s hand and pressed a light kiss the back of his palm. “Marry me in the name of publicity?”

Quackity had certainly had more genuine proposals given to him before but he could say with absolute certainty none of them had ever been quite that beautiful.

“Yes.”

Three engagements, three rings; one in the ocean, one around his neck, and now, one on his finger.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck is this?”

Wilbur glanced up at the table as his son slammed down his phone onto it. Right there, in bright red bold, was the title Famous Owner of Las Navedas Casino ‘Quackity’ Gets Back Together with Old Flame! 

“Oh good,” he hummed, reaching forward to grab the phone and skim it while bringing another mouthful of cereal to his mouth. The stuff was awful (full of an utterly disgusting amount of sugar) but anything beat the slop he was forced to eat for three years in the institution. “They’re already talking about it. They didn’t even catch that the proposal already happened either; bet that will blow up soon.”

Fundy sputtered, snatching the phone back with far more force than necessary and shoving it into his jacket pocket. A lot of things had changed about his son in the time Wilbur was away but the boy’s fashion sense certainly wasn’t one of them. He was still wearing the same ragged hat and jacket he’d always worn, wearing a simple white shirt and black ripped jeans underneath. Wilbur would insist until the day he was dead that Sally had some influence on their son because Wilbur had certainly never dressed that well; even before his life went to shit and he stopped caring.

“Why are you so fucking casual about this?” Fundy demanded. That was a new thing, the cursing. Wilbur figured he’d gotten it from Tommy. “You can’t just- just get engaged and not fucking tell me!”

Putting down his spoon and reaching forward to grasp his son’s wrists, Wilbur tugged the boy over until Fundy was standing right in front of him. Before he’d been admitted, Fundy had been at eye length with him even when he was sitting. It seemed the boy had gained a growth spurt though and that he took after Wilbur in the height department. Now, he had to look up slightly to meet his son’s eyes; the brown ones that looked so similar to his own.

“Fundy,” he said softly, “it's fake alright? It's a publicity stunt. We’ll break up in a few months and then you’ll never hear anything about it again.”

“...Grandpa said you loved him. This- this Quackity guy. I think I can kind of remember him too- you brought him over sometimes before you left, remember?”

Wilbur sucked in a sharp breath, glancing to the side for a moment as he thought. A streak of anger runs through him at hearing his Dad had aired such private information. Not that Phil had ever been particularly good at keeping secrets but Wilbur had told him that in confidence. It doesn’t particularly matter though; it was years ago and if Fundy remembers Quackity visiting then he was smart enough to put two and two together.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wilbur said eventually, “it was three years ago and Quackity has moved on. I’m just helping out a friend, alright?”

Frowning, his son nibbles at his bottom lip with sharp teeth. It’s such a familiar action that Wilbur can feel his heart pang in his chest. There was so much of Sally in Fundy; from the straight red hair to the littlest of habits. Wilbur had used to wonder if his son had anything of his other than the eyes. Now, he supposes, there's height and the chance for white hair streaks. “The kids at school are going to bother me about it…”

“You’re in high school now, right?” Fundy nods and christ, his kid is in high school. He’s getting old… “Then I’ll send Tommy to beat them up for you, alright? That kid gets in enough fights anyway, might as well make them worth it.”

“I’ve gotten into a couple fights!”

There's a scoff and both of them look up to find Techno entering the room. Wilbur’s twin looks… far less like his twin then he did three years ago. His hair is a soft pink color, long enough that Techno has pulled it back into a messy bun. There’s scars running across his face now that weren’t there before and truly Wilbur doesn’t want to know how those got there. The other still has the exact same square frames he’s worn their entire life though and Wilbur finds a sense of comfort in the familiarity. “I would hardly call those fights, kid. You threw one punch that barely did anything and then got beat up.”

Fundy scowled, “they deserved it.”

Sighing, Techno grabbed his usual pink mug out of the mug cabinet and began pouring himself coffee. “I know, kid, trust me. I would have punched them too if it wasn’t ‘illegal.’ I told you though, you gotta play to your strengths. With those scrawny arms a fight is the last thing you want to be starting.”

Wilbur is hit with the fact that he’s missing something. That he’s missed multiple things. It feels important too, like a part of his son’s life he should have been there for. Instead, he’d been forced to stay in a damn institution because the fucking bastards deemed him a danger to himself. As if he wasn’t still one. What a bunch of fucking idiots. 

“Phil said he was going to take you, Ranboo, and Tommy out to get school supplies.” Wilbur cut in quickly, turning back to Fundy. “Why don’t you go get ready?”

The younger groaned, “do I have to?”

“You have to get the supplies eventually, might as well get it over with.” Wilbur told him, falling into the more familiar conversation easily. He can handle simple parenting like this, where the correct thing to say is obvious. It's… harder when it gets to the more complicated stuff. “Don’t wear your binder either. Tommy told me you wore it too long yesterday.”

Fundy groaned and Wilbur reached under his hat to ruffle his hair. “I know it sucks, but it's worth it to not mess up your ribs. Alright, my little champion?”

“Fine,” Fundy growled, scowling at Wilbur’s babying and pulling away. Then, as he always seemed to say at the end of their conversation now, “I still hate you.”

“I know, Funds… I know.”

The younger scurried off and then Wilbur was left in the kitchen with a soggy bowl of shit cereal and his twin brother. As always, Techno didn’t seem keen to say anything and it wasn’t like he was about to break the silence. What was there to say? He’d almost died, disappeared for three years, and then come back and gotten engaged almost immediately. That was all there was to it.

 “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Techno says, because apparently he’s decided that talking isn’t something to avoid now.

“It’s my life,” Wilbur finds himself growling back, “you can’t control what I do.”

Techno holds his hands up in surrender, “never said I could. Just... be careful alright? I would really prefer it if I never have to see you being rushed into a hospital again.”

“I’m not going to go off and try to kill myself the second things go wrong, Tech.”

“If you say so.”

With that Techno leaves and Wilbur is alone. 

After the institution, Wilbur has found that he really hates being alone. There's something about it that just makes his chest feel tight and his hands clammy. Its not that he was ever left alone in the fucking hell he was admitted to (in fact the lack of privacy was… astounding to be honest) but he was alone in every way that mattered. No contact with the outside world could make anyone go just a bit insane.

So, washing out his bowl and leaving it to sit in the sink, Wilbur texts Quackity. He’s not in the mood to have more conversations about his engagement and ironically his fucking fiancé is the only one who wouldn’t bother him about it.

Wilbur: Where are you? 

-

Despite knowing him for years, Wilbur somehow still finds new ways to surprise him.

They’re at the casino again; Quackity behind the bar pouring drinks while Wilbur sits on one of the stools and sips at a punch romaine. Personally, he doesn’t understand why people drink so early (or why they drink at all) but he’s not about to stop them if it means getting paid. His focus isn’t truly on the few customers milling around though, instead it's on his newest       fiancé who’s apparently found yet another way to be an absolute idiot. 

“Let me get this straight,” he mutters, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “You didn’t tell anyone in your massive fucking family that you got engaged. So now all of them are finding out through the media and think it's completely serious?”

“Well I told Fundy it was fake when he asked,” Wilbur bit back, as if that made it any better. “I don’t see the big deal. I mean, did you tell Tubbo?”

“Of course I did! He knew the second we introduced the plan.” Quackity sighed, “Wilbur you have to keep people in the loop about this type of shit. How the fuck did you think that was going to play out?”

“I… hoped they wouldn’t find out?”

“...you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

Quackity scoffed, ‘you’re not my anything, dipshit.”

“The ring on your hand says otherwise.”

He can’t even complain about Wilbur being a dick because technically he signed up for it. Even worse, Quackity can’t bring himself to hate it. At the very least it makes his job more tolerable. 

“Are you going to tell them?”

The taller shrugs, spinning his drink around with his straw idly. There’s a hunch to his shoulders, more than there is usually at least and Quackity gets the feeling there’s more on Wilbur’s plate then the other is telling him. Not that it's really his business; if it's important Wilbur will let him know. They may be engaged but that didn’t mean they had to tell each other everything. “Do I really need to? Fundy will probably tell them and at that point what does it matter?”

“It matters because they care Wilbur,” the taller snorts but Quackity continues, “you can’t just try to kill yourself and disappear for three years and then get engaged a few weeks after you return without raising some fucking questions.”

Wilbur glowers at him and instantly Quackity knows he’s somehow overstepped. It's always been hard to tell with the taller; sometimes saying something won’t set him off one day and the next even a mention of it will send him into a spiral. Quackity feels a bit like he’s walking through a minefield.

It's not the same as it was with Schlatt though. Wilbur’s explosions barely graze him; Schlatt’s always aimed to hurt.

“I’ll figure out,” Wilbur mutters.

Quackity goes to reply and is thankfully saved from doing so as two new people arrive at the bar. He glances over to find the familiar face of his son and his… kind of son (what's the word for a kid who sleeps on your couch every night and is your kid’s body guard?). He reaches down into the mini fridge he keeps below the bar just for the two of them. “You two run into any trouble?”

“This one guy tried to rob us,” Tubbo said, putting his bags up on the counter. “Purpled showed him his knife though and he backed off pretty quickly.”

The kid in question shrugged, sitting down in one of the stools. “The guy was an idiot anyway. Who tries to rob a famous kid in the middle of a store? Also, who’s the racoon?”

Quackity’s brows furrow as he looks up to find what the kid’s referring to. To his great amusement he finds Purpled pointing a thumb over at a very bewildered Wilbur. Tubbo seems to find the whole thing hilarious as well; busting out into loud laughter. Standing up, Quackity passes Purpled his Gatorade and Tubbo his Monster. “That would be Wilbur. The one who gave me the ring?”

Purpled looked the other over and hummed, “I thought you’d have better taste. You usually like nice-looking stuff.”

Quackity choked as Tubbo burst into another fit of laughter and Wilbur sputtered. The taller’s face had gone as red as his glasses and he was left floundering for a response. ‘I- I am not a fucking raccoon! I-”

Considering you call Tommy a raccoon all the time maybe it runs in the family,” Tubbo cuts in, struggling to speak between his laughs. Quackity finds that he too has a large smile across his face that he couldn’t smother even if he wanted too.

“Yeah Wilbur,” Quackity hummed, “you do look a bit like a mangy raccoon. You have the dark circles around your eyes and everything.”

Groaning, the taller buried his face in his hands. “I can’t stand you.”

“The fact that you proposed says otherwise.”

They stay like that a bit longer; joking and teasing. Customers come in and out but Quackity finds that he doesn’t remember a single one of them. All of his focus is on his kids and the man he’ll be stuck pretending to love for the next few months of his life. He can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun and it's going well until Wilbur gets a phone call. Quackity can see the taller’s face physically drop as he looks down at the caller ID and the fun atmosphere quickly dissipates into something much more subdued.

“It’s my dad,”  Wilbur bites out with a sigh, “I’ve got to take this.”

“Bye, love,” Quackity hums out mockingly and he could have sworn he saw Wilbur’s face go red before he disappeared into the growing crowd of customers.

Oh well, he must have imagined it.