Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was dark.

Very dark.

It was hard to breathe.

It was worse than the train station.

Wilbur could feel his heart beating too fast and too slow at the same time, the panic quickly take control of his supposed revived body right before he looses consciousness.

What he didn’t know was that not so far from him, Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo were running in his direction, wondering if he had been revived.

Arriving where his grave was, Tommy didn’t know if he was relieved that Wilbur hadn’t be revived, or sad that it meant he was really dead, and that from now on there would be no Ghostbur around.

- "Looks like there’s no life here.." Tubbo said hesitantly, trying to comprehend Tommy’s emotions

- "Maybe we should open the coffin ?" Ranboo added. "To make sure your friend is still dead ?"

They both looked at Tommy, waiting for a reaction.

He finally regained composure and turned around with a forced smile, holding tightly Friend’s leash

- "Let’s not profanate a grave guys…Let’s be honest, it’s relieving that he isn’t alive." Tommy explained, trying to let out a little laugh to prove his words. "Let’s go now."

And just like that, the three of them left, not without one last nostalgic look at the monument where Wilbur Soot, ex-president of L’Manberg and madman, had been buried under.

Hours after, Wilbur starts waking up again.

This time he takes a minute to acknowledge his new limbo, and notice some faint light in a corner of his prison.

He tries to push up what’s keeping him enclosed and manage to get out.

After falling on the floor, he looks around and tries to acclimate his eyes to the brightness of the torchs around, brighter than any lights he encountered for the past years on that train platform.

He looks back to the box he fell from- no, not a box, a coffin, his coffin.

He was dead, and supposedly revived by Dream.

But he still doesn’t quite feel alive right now.

He felt pretty dead to be honest.

Still looking around, he notices his own clothes. A costume, the kind you wear when you’re dead and buried.

That’s what he is, dead.

And he was buried.

Until he wasn’t.

He tries to sit up, maype he isn’t that dead, and take off the black jacket too tight for him.

Leaving it there, he tries standing and walking away of the proof he’s dead.

While looking around for something to put his weight on it, he sees the chest and opens it.

There’s a few useless things for a dead man, but there is also a book.

He grabs it and read the text inside.

It was from Quackity.

The man he might have loved when his heart was still beating, and capable of doing such things as loving someone.

He put the book back in the chest, as the message inside was meant for the Wilbur who was alive, before trying to stand up with the help of said chest.

Finding his balance, Wilbur does his best to remember how humans walk, breathe and speak.

One hand on the walls of the cave, he hesitantly walks out and stop, breathless, seeing the massive crater in front of him.

"I fucked up, no. Wilbur fucked up" he thinks.

Who was he right now ?

A pale copy of what he used to be when he was still alive.

Falling to his knees under the emotion he contemplates his goal, his roman empire he worked so hard for, his symphony, forever unfinished.

Ruined by his very own self.

Suddenly, he feels something wet on his cheek.

Wiping it off with his hand his first toughts is that he’s crying.

But dead bodies don’t cry. Right ?

They have no more water in their body, they cannot feel.

And that’s what Wilbur is, dead.

And that’s what he feels, nothing.

It’s only when more droplets stains his cheeks that he understand.

It might just be raining, because dead bodies are dead, emotionless.

After one last look to what had been the biggest work of his life (but not of his death), he decides to leave what has been his home, while cursing Wilbur, the one that had been alive, for messing everything up that bad.

Yet, the more he was getting away from L’Manburg, the more his vision started to become blurry.

It felt like he was slowly getting back on that train platform.

He tried to focus on his hand to stay in this new place, but he coudn’t, and he felt himself becoming more numb and less aware of his surroundings.

He was glad that he was dead, at lest he didn’t have to deal with the pain of panic attacks.

It was as if he could see himself walking from a third person.

Like watching a movie, nothing felt real.

So he watched, as he was walking away in some random direction, only stopping when his body dropped dead, as it should be, on the floor.

It stays like that most of the time, he watches his body move around without having any control on it, or sometimes he would just stay dead on the floor for a day or two, or even three.

Sometimes he doesn’t even see the time passing, just a few flashes of it.

It’s when he notices for the first time in days someone walking in the distance that he tries to get back onto controlling his dead body.

He had to pretend he was alive, because a dead body walking meant no sense.

And he didn’t want to know what would happen if someone knew he was dead inside of this flesh prison.

So he tried his best, slightly combing his long hair (way longer than he used to have them, dead bodies still grow hair and nails for a moment, he knew this, that’s why his hair was still slowly growing).

He tried to adjust his white dead man’s shirt and look alive.

Taking big breaths like the livings do and putting on a smirk, like he used to do.

He needed to look the same as he did when he was alive, putting on a mask of his confident and snarky self, to hide everything behind it.

Anyone noticing his vulnerability would probably take advantage of him.

Even dead he wouldn’t be left alone by the others.

So that’s what Wilbur did.

Playing a role, performing his whole interactions with a maybe too big smile, and maybe too much energy.

But everyone believed he was crazy anyways so it didn’t matter to him.

People who tought Wilbur was still clinically insane would leave him alone, and that’s all he wanted.

To be dead in peace.

However, he did always feel some ache in his body to be all alone again after having some company.

The curtain had fallen on his stage, he could put off the act and go back to be some dead thing on the side of the road.

At night, the memories of the train tracks were always present, like a living..no, a deadly nightmare, still too fresh in is mind.

He would feel the rough concrete of the platform instead of the grass he was supposedly laying on, hearing the sound of a train afar, never getting closer, he could smell the place too.

At night, Wilbur was back in his limbo, his own designated hell, and he feared he would never be able to get out.

Being lonely again accentuated the idea that nobody would stay forever and that it would always end up being him, just him, stuck on the concrete, unable to escape and forever waiting for a train that won’t come no matter how long he waits, how hard he regrets and how bad he is feeling.

This little game of playing a ‘normal’ human lasted a while.

Some days, Wilbur could pretend to be alive even if no one was around, sometimes even going to different places and do human things like drinking water !

On the others, he was stuck between watching the movie of his dead body rotting or nothing, just the dark.

That second option was pretty comforting, maybe that was the afterlife, a comforting space where you cannot see anything, cannot feel anything, you’re just floating around in peace with nothing else to do.

But today was a day where he could walk around, and that’s what he did.

Wilbur had no idea of where he wanted to go, but he knew he had to leave the last place he stayed at before people started asking weird questions like

« why is there a body laying there ? »

When he had no idea on how to answer.

He was drifting away from reality, thinking about how to be dead around people without having them knowing when he realized he was walking in sand.

He tried to situate himself, but he started to feel dizzy, probably his death situation coming back to him as he was struggling more and more to walk.

He squinted his eyes seeing a big sign, trying to focus on it to read.

It was written in very big ‘Las Nevadas’.

This name reminded him of something, but he couldn’t exactly remember what.

It was even harder to think about it while he was loosing consciousness.

His last tought was that he hoped the person he saw afar in ‘Las Nevadas’ wouldn’t see him collapse, dead, on the floor.

Unluckily, or not, for Wilbur, said person saw him and quickly walked into his direction.

Chapter Text

Quackity was taking a break of his paperwork, walking around Las Nevadas.

He enjoyed admiring his place, feeling some sense of peace as he had finally proven to himself he was capable of making great things.

He was worthy.

As he was about to end his walk to get back to his penthouse, he noticed a strangely familiar silhouette walking near the start of Las Nevadas.

He started walking toward this person, having an internal fight about who this stranger was.

And decided to walk faster and shutting his brain when he saw him collapse on the floor.

Running on the last meters separating them, he realized that he definetly knew this face, and that maybe Dream’s reviving abilities didn’t suck that much

- "Fuck fuck fuck, are you okay Wil ?" Quackity muttered while kneeling next to the man He tries waking him up, but Wilbur stays unresponsive "For Prime’s sake, why do this have to happen to me out of all the people on the SMP ?"

Grabbing his wrist, he looks for Wilbur’s pulse. Very faint, but he could feel it.

After pondering for a moment, debating wether he should bring him back or leave him there, he decides that a corpse at the entrance of his country isn’t good publicity.

Plus maybe it could be useful to have Wilbur owing him a favor.

Just because of this, nothing else.

Pulling his sleeves up, he carries the abnormally light body of Wilbur, deciding to carry him to his hotel.

His penthouse would maybe be more discreet, but he wasn’t dumb enough to bring the wolf inside himself.

He will evaluate his potential danger later.

The last time people underestimated Wilbur, he blew up his country.

He was determined not to let Las Nevadas have the same fate as L’Manburg.

So he carried the tall body to one of his hotel rooms, laying him on the bed and quickly leaving to go get some water to make him drink, or throw at his face to wake him up, he hadn’t decided yet.

Noticing that Wilbur was still passed out when he came back, he set the glass on the table (he wasn’t that mean, at least not to the point of throwing water at his face, for now.) and gently grabbed Wilbur’s shoulder to shake him out of his unconsciousness.

Wilbur was feeling great in his own space of nothing. Until he felt like he was leaving it.

Someone was making him leave.

So he gave up his peace to listen to the voice calling him back to the land of the living, where he didn’t belong.

- "Wilbur ? Can you hear me ? You need to wake up now." Quackity said almost whispering.

He knew from experience that screaming at someone who wasn’t ’fully’ there was a terrible idea.

Wilbur suddenly open his eyes and sit up, looking around disoriented.

It’s been a while since he went inside a place so clean, organized and soft.

- "Hey Wil, welcome back, how do you feel ?" Quackity asked, backing up to leave him some space and grab the glass of water he had set on a table near the bed . "You should go back to lying down, you seem to be in a pretty bad state..even in your..y’know, condition."

Wilbur started to assemble some pieces in his brain.

Las Nevadas, the name on the big sign, was Quackity’s project, that’s why he is with him right now.

Quackity also seems to believe he is alive, so he needs to fullfill his expectations.

- "Well hello there stranger" He put his nicest smile on "long time no see."

- "I’m glad to see you’re in a festive mood today." Quackity smiled faintly while giving Wilbur the glass of water "You should drink. You look a bit dehydrated."

Wilbur grabbed the glass. He didn’t feel thirsty, but how could he feel anything anyways.

He was about to just set the glass next to him until he met Quackity’s gaze, leaving no space for discussion.

So he brought the glass to his lips and started taking small sips, scared that he forgot how to drink because of how much time he spent disconnected from his dead body.

When he had finished his water, he gave it back to Quackity, who gave him a small nod of contentement before putting the glass back on the table.

It was nothing big, truly, but even this simple gesture brought back some warmth in Wilbur’s body, something that he tought could never happen.

It has been a while since someone cared, even just a tiny bit, about him.

- "So, how did you happen to pass out in front of Las Nevadas ? " Quackity asked

- "Oh, you know, I was wandering around, exploring, when I saw this place. Truly fantastic Quackity, you’ve outdone yourself "

Quackity couldn’t help but blush at the compliment. His wings puffing up with pride.

It was very rare to him to have people admiring what he made instead of overlooking it.

Especially coming from someone like Wilbur Soot.

- "Well thank you, I’m glad you’re appreciating it. But you didn’t tell me why you passed out, do you need help Wilbur ?" He asked, noticing a pretty quick and subtle change in Wilbur’s eyes, just like a flash of..fear ?

- "I think I was just dehydrated » Wilbur laughed. « I’m not used to theses damn desert biomes the sun must have played some tricks on me" he continued, wishing to drown Quackity’s questions.

Because he didn’t even need to make eye contact to know he was looking at him with concern, and maybe even pity.

Just the tought of Quackity being worried for him made him feel more warmth, warmth that he wasn’t supposed to feel.

A dead man coulnd’t have feelings, and Quackity’s gentle gaze was making him feel alot.

He didn’t like this confusion, and he decided that he wasn’t ready to deal with this.

He had to make it stop.

So Wilbur did the very one thing he was good at.

- "Did you build Las Nevadas all by yourself ?"

- "Oh no, haha, I wouldn’t have been able to do all of that so fast alone !" Quackity answered, noting the quick change of topics "I had help from a few different people"

- "Of course youd did." Wilbur said in a condescending tone. "Always liked to delegate things don’t you. You know, in my opinion this place is still missing something tho.. an actual leader"

Wilbur didn’t really meant theses words, he was actually quite impressed.

But he was way more used to handle people hating him.

It was just easier.

You cannot disapoint someone that expects nothing from you.

- "Goodbye Soot. You have until tommorow morning to pack your shit and leave my country. Quackity answered, wondering why he even helped the asshole in front oh him in the first place.

There it was, the hatred Wilbur was so familiar with. 

Yet, when he saw Quackiy standing and walking towards the door, he felt pain in his chest, and without even thinking about it, he weakly pleaded :

- "Quackity no ! Please..don’t leave me alone." There it was, he said it. Now Quackity will laugh at his face for hoping he would stay after the shit he had just said.

Quackity stopped, his hand on the door handle and sighed.

- "So now you want my company ?" He said, without even turning to face him. Keeping his wings between his face and Wilbur’s eyes. So he could easily hide his emotions. "What kind of fool am I to you Wilbur ? Do you think I have nowhere else to be around ?"

- "I’m sorry, so sorry, I know I’ve just been an asshole but please Quackity don’t leave me alone or I’ll be dead again and I can’t handle it!" Wilbur started rambling.

He had no idea how to convince Quackity, but if he kept talking more, Quackity would stay some more seconds.

He didn’ care if he ran out of breath, he would keep talking to hold him back as long as he could.

He had to.

- "I can’t handle going back there.." He started shaking at the tought, wondering if at this point he shouldn’t better leave his body alone and go back to the comforting darkness that came with dissociation.

Quackity was troubled about the appropriate reaction he should be having.

Between staying upset and leaving, or giving in and trying to understand the man.

- "I don’t want to I swear I’ll keep my moouth shut, you won’t even remember I’m here, I’ll stay calm I promise, I’ll even do whatever you want, truly anything. But I can’t- I don’t- please don’t leave me alone..please I don’t -"

- "Wil, Wil it’s okay you’re not alone right now" Quackity interrupted him. "Just take a deep breath alright ? We will figure out a solution."

Quackity could be mean, and dangerous even, but he didn’t consider himself as a monster.

Even if some masked asshole would say the opposite.

So when Wilbur started ranting, and presenting many symptoms of a panic attack, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Not when he already noticed the man’s distress earlier.

So he sat next to him, trying to find a solution.

Trying to help the mess next to him calming down.

- "Here. Do you feel better ? I should maybe bring you some more water."

- "No- please, i don’t need water right now. Don’t leave" Wilbur muttered, ashamed of this display of weakness.

- "I will have to." Quackity answered. "I’ll have to go get you some food eventually."

- "I don’t need food" Wilbur muttered, because the dead don’t need to eat.

But in that moment, with Quackity next to him and the warmth he left thanks to this presence, he wasn’t sure of what he was.

Because dead people cannot feel, and the angst in his chest, never seeming to leave, was definetly something he could feel right now.

And it was painful

- "Of course you need to eat dumbass. Everyone needs to."

Looking at his watch, Quackity started planning.

He had at least 2 hours of work before the evening, and a hardly skippable meeting in 30’.

Wilbur and him would have to make some compromises.

- "Listen Wil, I have to leave for probably an hour for work." He looked at him, trying to ignore the betrayed eyes the other gave him. And before Wil could open his mouth he continued. "I’ll be back the moment I finish it. Don’t worry. I’ll work from here. I just need you to stay alone a little hour. Could you do that for me, Wilbur?"

Wilbur knew Quackity had places to be, and better things to do than being with him.

It was already a miracle that he brought him in, stayed, even after what he said, and were suggesting he would come back whenever he could.

Still, he was an egoistic man, and wanted him to stay.

But that was an already very kind, too kind even, gesture from Quackity.

- "Alright. I’ll stay here waiting for you." He said reluctantly. "Do you have TV here or something so I can entertain myself ?" He tried to joke

- "Good." Quackity answered, relieved that he didn’t have to deal with another start of panick attack that he clearly didn’t have the time, nor the mental energy to deal with. "TV is up here, and the remote is in your nightsand, first drawer." He pointed. Standing back up. « Seeya in an hour or something."

- "Bye Q"

And just like that, he left. Wilbur was alone.

Again.

Chapter Text

Quackity was speedwalking to his office to grab the necessary material for his upcoming meeting.

He tried to remember the exact theme of said meeting, to already prepare his speech, but his mind wouldn’t stop coming back to him;

Wilbur has just shown up basically at his door.

Alive.

Not in a great condition, but still alive.

And Prime, his attitude was erratic.

First he compliments him, then he hides some emotions behind words laced with venom, and finally he ends up having a panic attack at the idea of being left alone.

He also remembered the state he arrived in, malnourished, dehydrated, probably sleep deprived too.

"I don’t need food" He told him, without really thinking about it.

There was something dysfunctionnal, and worrying in Wilbur.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what this something is.

For now, Quackity decided that it was just probably some little PTSD from bein dead mixed with Wilbur’s personnality, that sounded logical, but something in his guts was telling him he wasn’t close enough to the truth.

Putting all his toughts in a corner of his brain, he finally focused back on the meeting, preparing the room and try to make some order in his documents, and brain.

He would have more time to think about the broken man later.

He couldn’t compromise his country for what he considered as a minor issue.

The meeting went well, some little complaints about the sound at night, that travelled well in the desert, and the light pollution, but nothing he couldn’t fix.

A few more subjects were being discussed, but Quackity barely participated.

He would write everything down automatically to review and brainstorm later, while his mind was wandering elsewhere, again.

It’s only when everyone got up to shake his hand and leave that he stopped his train of toughts, thanking everyone for their time and ideas and wishing them a good evening.

When he was the last one in the room, he quickly shut it down.

He would clean it better later.

With his computer under an arm and his documents under the other, he walked to he hotel where Wilbur was resting.

He caught himself hoping he didn’t take too much time.

Entering the room, he found Wilbur captivated by the TV.

He didn’t even react when Quackity entered the room.

"Hey Wil, I’m here. How do you feel ?"

Again, no reaction.

That’s when he started to worry.

"Wil ?" He got closer to the other male, waving his hand in front of his face, but Wilbur remained sat on the bed, eyes open but not seeming to see anything.

Quackity tried to shake him gently instead, but his body remained lifeless.

He knew Wilbur was alive.

He could see the slight raise and fall of his chest, meaning that he was breathing.

But it was as if his consciousness left his body for a moment.

Dissociation

Quackity was familiar with that.

So he sat on the other edge of the bed, turning off the TV and opening his computer.

He would wait until Wilbur comes back to himself.

He was starting to feel guilt invading him.. He left him alone with himself after all.

But how could he know this would happen ?

"Hey Wilbur." He said, keeping his voice down not to startle him. "It’s Quackity. I have no idea if you can hear me, but I’m back. I’ll stay this time, so don’t worry about coming back to an empty room."

On theses words he started working, glancing from time to time at Wilbur, hoping to see some clues that he was coming back to himself.

After Quackity finished enough work to call it a day, he decided that he was hungry, and that Wilbur will need too eat too.

He considered going down to grab something, but the idea of Wilbur coming back alone, unlike he promised stopped him.

Instead he grabbed his phone, called his best friend Slime and asked him to bring him food.

He felt bad that he had to ask him that, even if Slime didn’t seem to mind at all, so he noted somewhere to give him a raise or something, for all theses non proffesionnal tasks he asked him.

The guy deserved it clearly.

So when half an hour later his friend was knocking on his door, he thanked him for that service and suggested he would repay him very soon.

But he didn’t tell him about Wilbur.

For now, nobody should know.

Not until he figured out which side Wilbur would take when he’s in a better state.

Wilbur didn’t know for how long he had stayed in his dark little void.

Maye five minutes, or an hour.

Maybe even three days.

Since his failed revival, he had been used to miss, or forget chunks of time passing.

Sometimes he wouldn’t be conscious for days, or weeks.

He didn’t care anyways.

He wished he could be fully dead.

Completely, this time, no limbo, no consciousness.

Just stop existing.

It’s on theses toughts that he felt himself slip away from his inner calm world.

He blinked, trying to become more aware of his surroundings.

That’s when he noticed someone sitting next to him.

Turning his head, he met Quackity’s gaze, who seemed relieved.

"Hey Wil, how do you feel ?"

"Alright. I sometimes do open-eyed naps. How do YOU feel ?" He answered, coming back with some random lie, hoping Quackity wouldn’t question it.

"Wil..i’m not an idiot, and I’m familiar with dissociation." Quackity sighed. "Do you want to talk about it? It pretty often helps you know."

Wilbur tensed at the question.

He did not want anyone to know he was struggling.

He did not want help.

He was helpless.

Nobody could help him.

He was dead.

..Part of him wanted to be honest with Quackity, to tell him he was wasting his time with a corpse and that he should probably leave Wilbur to wander alone and forever in hope to completely die someday.

The other part wanted wanted to talk about normal human feelings he could maybe feel, clinging on the warmth Quackity’s attention made him feel.

"I don’t need help, Q" He settled for, instead .

"Alright then." Quackity answered, a bit disapointed.

They stared at eachother in silence for a minute, before Quackity rememebered about the food.

"Oh yea, while you were out I brought some food. I wasn’t sure what you like to eat so here’s different kind of stuff." Quackity explained, grabbing the food he set next to him.

"Thank you.." Wilbur said, looking at the different foods, not feeling hungry. "I’ll take this." He gestured to some random food and Quackity nodded, taking another meal and starting to eat, while looking at the other with expecting eyes when Wilbur didn’t make a move to start eating.

So Wilbur reluctantly started eating.

He had to pretend to be alive after all, even if it felt wrong to lie like that.

The warmth in his chest grew bigger the more Quackity was showing crumbs of care for him.

He still didn’t know how to deal with it tho.

After he finished his little meal, he looked at Quackity, then at the hour.

"Will you spend the night here ?" He asks, hopeful, but not sure of what.

"No." Quackity’s answer was firm. "I’ll leave at some point. But I can stay until you fall asleep if that would make you feel better."

It wouldn’t make him feel better.

He needed him to stay at his side forever, or leave him be.

He wasn’t sure yet.

At the tought of Quackity leaving again, Wilbur felt himself slowly getting lighter, he couldn’t see his fingers normally.

Everything felt like he was looking around through a camera lense.

The process was slower than usual, he was only half there instead of being completely gone, but he was glad to go numb little by little again.

"I’ll be okay, you can leave now." He heard himself say, but it didn’t sound like his voice.

Just like in a movie, he watched Quackity gather his things and leave, letting out a little "seeya tomorrow..sleep well Wil."

And Wilbur layed on his bed, in between everything.

He couldn’t sleep.

Dead poeple cannot have the luxury to sleep.

He is just a corpse dirtying the clean sheets with his rotting body.

He doesn’t want Quackity to be annoyed tomorrow when finding his body ruining the probably expensive fabric.

He doesn’t want Quackity to be mad at him.

So he lifted himself out of the bed, everyting still felt unreal, and he sat in a corner, brining his knees against his chest.

He closed his eyes.

Letting himself be fully dead for a while, trying to ignore the train sounds he was sure he could hear

Chapter Text

It was 7am when Quackity woke up, tired.

He had slept badly, nightmares following him every single time he closed his eyes.

PTSD was a hard thing to go through alone.

Well he wasn’t completely alone, of course, but he felt alone, not wanting to display weaknesses to anyone.

He knew it could very easily be used against him.

Quackity was a careful man.

Still, he enjoyed watching the sun rise every morning, letting him know that every day was new and he could work to make it better.

He decided he would bring his laptop with him when going to see Wilbur, in case the man wanted him to stay like yesterday.

He wasn’t going to admit it to himself yet, but in the back of his mind, having someone like Wilbur wanting, no, needing him was delightful.

Dressing up quickly, he left his penthouse and walked in direction of the hotel Wilbur was in.

Quackity didn’t expect to bump in someone at the entrance, his grip on his precious computer getting stronger, ready to get annoyed at the stranger who almost made him drop it.

That was until he realized who it was.

"Wilbur ?" He asked, confused.

"Oh, hey big Q, I didn’t expect to see you there.." Wilbur answered, embarassed.

He looked as tired as the day before, maybe even worse.

"Well, I wanted to come and see how you were doing. Have you eaten anything this morning ?"

"I did, delicious croissants you have in there Quackity. But I have places to be too. Seeya. "Wilbur answered, putting on his confident mask again.

He wanted to escape Quackity’s gentle gaze.

Or he would break.

He hoped he would have been able to leave just like that.

Like he was never there.

But of course.

Of cours Prime decided he had to face him.

His inside monologue stopped when Quackity grabbed his arm.

"Wilbur, I don’t think youre okay enough to go back to wander around. I bet you’re going to pass out at any moment." Quackity said, hiding his worries the best he could.

"Quackity." Wilbur let out an exagerate, annoyed, sigh. "You’re no doctor. I know myself. I am fine. I am sure you can easily go find another broken thing to fix. I’ll leave, now."

Quackity didn’t say a word.

He didn’t know what to say.

If that guy wanted to go die outside, then so be it.

He couldn’t save someone who didn’t want to be fixed.

Actually it was even better that he was leaving by himself.

He didn’t need more things to worry about.

It was better to leave the past at his place.

So he let go of Wilbur’s arm.

"Then goodbye Wilbur." He simply said, putting fully back on his walls between the outisde and his heart, not allowing himself to feel anything about him anymore.

"Bye, Q." Wilbur answered, already letting himself slip away, automatically walking toward the end of Las Nevadas.

Wilbur lied.

He had nowhere to be.

He didn’t want to be anywhere actually.

He considered going back to his casket.

But he knew he would hate to be alone in the dark again.

He wondered if he should try to end it all ?

But how do you kill what’s already dead ?

The afterlife sucked.

His limbo sucked.

He didn’t want to go back in there.

But this afterdeath wasn’t that much better.

While he was thinking, his dead body walked, to the forest.

There he wouldn’t be alone.

The animals around him were the best company he could gain.

No question, no judgement.

They were just there.

So he stayed with them.

He didn’t have lots of conscious moment for the next few days, or weeks, it was way more comfortable to ignore it all.

But every time he did, he was hit with a feeling of emptiness.

He was cold.

He missed Quackity’s warmth.

He didn’t want to admit it, but this day spent with him was the best he ever had after his fucked up and failed revival.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He hated that he could remember that feeling so well.

He wasn’t supposed to feel.

Just be dead.

...

But maybe he could be more than that ?

Maybe, with Quackity he could find a way to get fully revived ?

That was probably an awful idea.

Quackity hated him.

Quackity probably believed he was clinically insane.

He probably was.

He would never help him.

He couldn’t even imagine it.

But maybe he could make him find a solution.

Yes, maybe instead of asking for help he could just go and find a way to make Quackity help without him knowing.

He used to be someone.

He used to be Wilbur Soot.

And within him was still some crumbs of this mighty man.

Wilbur wasn’t going to show any weaknesses, no.

He tried to convinced himself of that.

Because it was easier to be seen as an insane annoying manipulaive asshole,

Than to be seen for who he truly was right now.

He didn’t even know who he was anymore.

And he wasn’t going to show this hesitation to anyone.

Not even Quackity.

Or so he tought.

Chapter Text

Quackity was in his office continuing his endless paperwork when he got interrupted by weird knocks on the door.

"You can enter Slime." Quackity answered without looking up from his statistics paper.

"Hello Quackity from Las Nevadas !" Said Slime happily while entering. "There’s someone here asking to talk to you !"

Quackity took a moment to think, he could use a break from writting.

"You can let them in Slime, thank you." He sighed, sitting straighter on his chair and pushing his papers on the side.

"You’re welcome Quackity from Las Nevadas !" Slime simply said while walking out of the room.

Quackity was pulling out his notebook when he heard someone enter.

"Well hello, what can I do.." He stopped mid sentence, recognizing the person walking to him.

It has been a while since Wilbur left.

Almost enough time for Quackity to forget the ever came back.

Seeing the grin on Wilbur’s face, he quickly composed his face.

The lost and scared man he encountered a while ago was well hidden behind this fake confidence.

Again.

"Are you alright Quackity ? You don’t seem very happy to see me." Wilbur said with his fake confident tone. "That’s surprising because last time you were almost begging me not to go, right ?"

"Oh, I just didn’t expect to see you still alive." Quackity answered sharply, sitting back at his desk. He opened his notebook and took a pen, starting to write down all sorts of things. "As for last time, I wasn’t begging. You were just in an awful state, you still are, and I don’t want to be responsible for more deaths. Now, what can I do for you Soot, why did you come here."

Wilbur winced hearing Quackity call him by his last name.

But that didn’t stop him.

He walked closer, sitting lazily on the chair that was at the other side of the desk.

"I missed you." He answered.

Quackity stopped writing, taking a moment to register Wilbur’s words.

He missed him.

He missed him.

Setting his pen down he looked at the other’s eyes, trying to find a lie in them.

But was surprised to see that even tho Wilbur was still wearing a stupid and annoying grin, he seemed sincere, somehow.

And the tought of someone missing him made Quackity's heart beat quicker and blush slightly.

He had no idea on how to react to this, but his mind, racing, was already making him forget the sweetness of Wilbur’s words, instead forcing him to remember how everyone that has said theses words before deeply disapointed him. The walls weren't easy to break down.

"Are you blushing Q ?" Wilbur asked proudly. "That’s what I missed about you the most. How easy it is to fluster you. I mean, seeing how low the bar has been set, it’s not very surprising. Did your lame fiancees never tell you that ?"

That’s where Quackity decided to draw the line.

"If you aren’t here for anything productive, Soot, I suggest you go back to where you came from or I’ll make sure Sam, or anyone will escort you out of my country."

"Wow, easy there tiger, I did come here for a very important matter ! I would like citizenship !"

Quackity blinked once, then twice.

"No." He tried to sound confident, preparing to argue with Wilbur.

"Why Quackity ? I’ve ruled a country before, I could be a great help." Wilbur tried to debate.

"Wilbur, listen to me." He sighed. "I saw what you did to L’Manburg. And I’m not gonna let Las Nevadas have the same fate as L’Manburg."

Wilbur’s grin faltered hearing this.

His brain taking him back to that day, the sound of tnt exploding all around him,

the excitement and the fear,

the welcomed desperation while seeing his oh, so great nation reduced to ashes,

the cold metal of his father’s sword piercing him,

the warm blood flooding out,

everywhere,

on his hands and the floor and-

Wilbur needed to leave.

Fast.

He told Quackity he would come back another day when his precious ass would be in a better mood, and walked outside of the building walking as fast as he could.

Outside, he layed against a wall, trying to calm his breath and his heart, beating definetly too fast.

That’s when he realized.

His heart, was beating.

He could feel his heart.

He could feel that ache in his chest.

That meant he was alive.

Right?

Quackity was making him feel alive.

His theory was right.

So he enjoyed the feeling of having a panic attack while it lasted.

Once he couldn’t feel anything anymore, he walked away, the feeling of being nothing overtaking him.

He wished it lasted longer.

He tried to remember his encounter, to bring back anything that would make him feel something.

But it wasn’t the same.

He couldn’t hear his heart beating.

It wasn’t anymore.

It stopped when he got away from Quackity.

He lived with him.

He could swear he was alive at that moment.

He promised himself he would come back and obtain even more life from Quackity.

On that tough the walked to the small dirt house he made not to get killed by mobs and kept thinking about their next meeting.

He could maybe try to shake Quackity’s hand !

Feel the warmth !

Maybe some of it would get inside him and for once he wouldn’t feel cold.

He was going to drain the life out if Quackity if he needed.

He had to be alive.

For once in a long time, Wilbur didn’t feel completely dead.

Chapter Text

During the following days, Wilbur decided to learn about Quackity’s schedule.

Since his last encounter didn’t end up all nice, he expected to have been put on some kind of blacklist and that employees wouldn’t let him try and come around their boss.

So he watched, when Quackity would start his days, when he would take a break in the afternoon walking around the city, when his staff left.

He often noticed how Quackity didn’t seem to take alot of breaks.

Starting early in the morning, probably eating in his office, if he was even eating, and staying late at night finishing whatever he needed to.

Wilbur didn’t remember L’Manburg to be that much work, but Las Nevadas and L’Manburg didn’t have the same ideals.

He also could’t help to notice that the other man often seemed tensed.

Like some things were bothering him.

That was good for Wilbur, it meant that he would be easier to annoy, which would make Wilbur feel more things.

This was good.

Very good.

When he decided he was ready for another altercation, Wilbur waited until all the employees left and snuck inside.

It was pretty easy.

He guessed nobody dared to try and see if the doors were unlocked before.

Once he was inside, he walked around, noting all the different hallways and trying to remember which way that weird slimey-looking guy that led him to Quackity’s office.

Wilbur would finally feel alive tonight.

When he noticed light behind a door, he knew he was very close.

He took a moment to breathe, like a human, and compose his attitude.

Quickly combing his hair with his hand, he knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

"Quackityy, it’s been a moment !" Wilbur smirked, noticing Quackity’s look going from confused to immediatly annoyed.

"Wilbur- how did you even-" Quackity started, before noticing the dark sky outside. "Don’t you know the times I have planned for meetings with other people is definetly not at 11pm ?"

"But I’m not people Q, you should know that." Wilbur said, his grin even bigger while sitting on the same chair as the last time. "Beside you wouldn’t even have let me in."

"Well if you’re aware of that fact, why are you right here ? In my office ? Ditrying everything ? Prime Wilbur, if you’re so smart why the hell are you still there." Quackity sighed.

"Because I wanted to see you silly ! Beside you didn’t clearly say you didn’t want me here. Just that I would never be a citizen of your not so great country."

"Wilbur-" Quackity stood up, cleaning up his office. "Listen. I tried to be nice with you right ? I didn’t let you die when you showed up at my door, I would even have kept you longer if you didn’t run away. Prime I would have given you another chance the other day, if you gave me any good reasons to keep you. But you simply came into my office, thinking I would give you what you wanted just like that, and now you’re coming back while knowing I don’t want you there. I usualy am the bigger person in conflicts, but I don’t think I want to try with you."

At his words Wilbur stood up his chair.

Internally loving Quackity’s tone,

wanting more,

needing more.

"You indeed cannot be the bigger person here, Q. Look at you, you still look so small and fragile."

"Get out." Quackity’s tone was way darker now.

He had a bad day and the last thing he wanted was someone getting on his nerve and making him remember the main reason why he struggled so much in the past.

But instead of getting away like he hoped, Wilbur took a step closer, easily towering Quackity, his undying smirk stuck on his face.

"What if I don’t want to get out Q ? What will you do ? Poor little man."

That was enough for Quackity.

He didn’t want to leave Wilbur any more space to get even more confident.

"Wilbur. It’s either you go out by yourself, or I’m dragging you outside, not particularly alive."

"Can’t kill what have been dead for years Q.." Wilbur muttered before taking another step closer.

So Quackity grabbed his shirt, and with a suprising strenght started dragging Wilbur outside.

He was clearly mad.

His eyes throwing daggers at Wilbur, but Wilbur didn’t care.

He was almost floating from the sensations Quackity was giving him.

Nobody, exept Quackity when he carried him while he was dead, had touched him after his failed revival, and he was starting to get obsessed with his warmth.

So he put up a fight, a small one because he didn’t have much strenght, but enough for Quackity deciding to grab both his wrists instead of his shirt, still draggim him toward the entrance, fuming.

That felt like heaven.

His wrists felt warmth, he could feel Quackity’s blood pulse, and right then he was thrown out on the concrete, still thriving with the ghostly feeling of Quackity’s touch.

He needed more.

This was the first time Quackity treated him roughly and he wished it would never end.

He was fucked.

Deranged.

But alive.

When he stood up, the euphoria leaving his body and being replaced by the usual numbness of his dead body, he noticed that Quackity had left.

So he took his confident mask off, letting his face become emotionless.

He would have to get creative if he wanted Quackity to be worse.

His mind didn’t even consider the fact that maybe Quackity’s niceness would make him feel even better.

That would probably never happen anyways.

Chapter Text

Quackity’s life had been a living hell since Wilbur decided to come back. Some stores were getting robbed at night, very often for alcohol or cigarettes, lots of people reported sights of him in Las Nevadas, and he, multiple times, got threatening letter from Wilbur.

That man had brought hell back with him and decided to unleash it on him.

Even tho no parts of Las Nevadas had explosed, yet, he couldn’t help but being tensed up everyday. Wilbur himself would visit him sometimes , often. Too often. Always with snarky comments about anything, like his height, his ability to rule his nation, his new scar, his wings.

Actually, for the two lasts, it was more flirting than mean comments. That was the worst. The man had the audacity to come in his office, where he wasn’t allowed, insult him, and then call him pretty ? That was sick.

The more the days passed the more Quackity knew he was anythinh but mentally stable. Wilbur always knew which buttons to push to piss him off. And the weirdest part was that his twisted mind seemed to enjoy bothering him, seeing how he would always come back, even after he had been dragged around, pushed, even punched, once.

Quackity wasn’t sure if he should have been proud of that moment or not. Wilbur totally deserved it, but resorting to violence did bring back some nasty memories. Even if Wilbur didn’t seem bothered at all, when he just received a breath-cutting jab to his stomach, he still couldn’t help but feel guitly. He had talked about this issue once, with Slime, who told him that if he kept coming back, then he was definetly enjoying it, and trying to push Quackity to do all of theses to him.

After that Quackity decided that if he started ignoring the man, he would leave him alone. So for his next encounters, he did just that, internally enjoying Wilbur’s annoyed face when he didn’t get what he wanted.

The last time he had seen Wilbur, he almost gave in. The man kept trying to push every single one of his buttons to try and get something out of him. But he fought back his urges and instead focused on if he wanted the beds in the Spike’s suite to be white, red or black.

Wilbur left, he was sure, devastated.

Since then, he hasn’t heard about him. Finally getting the peace he deserved. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if Wilbur had left, or if he was just planning to do something bigger. The latter wouldn’t surprise him at all, but since any of the brunette’s previous treaths had never become real, he guessed it probably wasn’t something to worry about, right?

It was late at night, Quackity had finished his work and decided to indulge himself in some drinks at one of his bars. He was slightly drunk when he got out and had the wonderful idea to take a stroll near the border of Las Nevadas.

That’s when he saw him.

Wilbur.

He was sitting on the floor, his arms around his knees and his head resting in the middle. Quackity found that concerning. It had been a while since he saw Wilbur in a position of weakness like that, and to him it sounded very wrong. So without thinking much, he walked to the guy and crouched in front of him, trying to keep his balance while he was more than tipsy.

"Wilbur ? What are you doing there ?" He said in a neutral voice. Not wanting to startle the man in front of him, but not wanting to show any form of kindness either. When Wilbur didn’t answer, he tried again. "Wilbur ? It’s me, Quackity ? Prime, can you even hear me ?"

The other slightly lifted his head at his words, and that’s when Quackity noticed he seemed to be crying. And by his smell, he might be as drunk as him.

Or maybe worse.

Probably worse.

"Q..Quackity ? wha’ are yud oing here ?" Wilbur whispered, his words slurring because of the alcohol.

"Well, I was walking around and saw you there, alone. And you’ve been crying. Are you alright ?" He asked again.

"I can’t be alright Q." Wilbur whispered, in some strange tone of secret confidence. "I am dead. Empty. Lifeless." And he started crying again.

Quackity was stunned. And lost. What did Wilbur mean ? He wasn’t dead ? He was right here ? So he akwardly pat Wilbur’s shoulder while the other was crying, still mumbling things Quackity could barely understand, probably about being dead.

And then came his not so bright idea. He wasn’t going to let Wilbur in that state alone right ? Okay that guy had been a total dickhead. Even worse. But it did look like he had some serious unresolved problems. So once Wilbur had calmed down, he helped him get up and supported half his weight to walk to his penthouse.

He knew he was getting himself in more troubles, but that would be an issue for sober Quackity.

Chapter Text

Wilbur had no idea where he was when he opened his eyes.

He was sleeping on something way nicer than what he had laid on for the past few months of his revival. Squinting his eyes, he took in the place he was in and noted that he was in a living room, with pretty expensive furnitures.

Slowly sitting up, he tried to remember how he ended up there. He got drunk last night, pretty drunk actually, ended up laying somewhere to cry when the effects of alcohol made him feel even worse, more dead, instead of helping him throw his problems away and laugh every situation off. He barely remembers what happened next. He had started to dissociate again, then someone talked to him ? He wasn’t sure.

It was all foggy in his brain.

The hungover and lasting dizzyness doing nothing to help him. He got interrupted in his toughts when a door opened, revealing a not completely woken up Quackity. He was dressed rather simply, not in his usual work attire.

He blinked at him, like he just remembered the stray he apparently brought home, and then walked over to his kitchen.

"Good morning Wilbur, want anything to drink ?"

Wilbur sat there startled. He was in Quackity’s house. On Quackity’s sofa. In Las Nevadas. He internally started to panic.

Quackity hated him.

There was no way in hell he could have brought him here for nothing. He probably wanted something from him in exchange. Surely that was it.

But what did Wilbur have to offer ? He had nothing. Nothing left. Or maybe Quackity wanted to make sure he would’nt bother him again.

Would he harm him ? Was he going to kill him ? Surprisingly, that tought scared him.

He didn’t want someone else to put a sword through his body again. He knew Quackity could get violent. He just needed the right setting.

Anyone, even morally good could do something awful, if there’s the right settings. He had read this while exploring psychology books. The theory was called something like the Lucifer Effect. And maybe he had filled all thoses conditions for Quackity to become truly violent against him.

His clothes said that he wasn’t going to work today. Seeing the sun outside itw as probably around ten am, if Quackity had work he would already be outside, in his office. That meant he either was on his day off, which he doubted he had any, or he cancelled what he had to do for the day. And both hid the same threath in them. Quackity surely had a whole day to do whatever he intended to do.

Fingers snapped in front of his face.

"Wilbur ? Earth is calling you back. Do you want to drink something ? I have water, coffee, juice ?"

Wilbur regained his composure. He wasn’t going to show his fear. No. That’s probably what Quackity wanted. He would remain calm and make up an escape plan. He needed to control the situation.

"I’d like coffee actually..please."

Quackity stood back up and went back to make said coffee without a word. So Wilbur started to scheme.

There was two corridors he could see from where he sat. One, from Quackity arrived, probably led to his bedroom and other unimportant rooms. On the other side, the other corrider was probably a hallway. With an exit. The door was probably locked tho, so he would have to find a key.

Looking back at the window, he tried to evaluate which floor he was at. Maybe he could jump from here ? He tried to stand up, to see something else than the sky, but he ended up falling back on the sofa, the dizziness becoming worse.

Great. He could barely stand. That would make running away more complicated.

Maybe he could convince Quackity to let him go harmessly ? With a big great apology and the promise to dissapear forever ? Would this even work ? Would he be able to leave and never come back ? To say goodbye to the only thing, no, person, that made him feel ? He had no idea.

Maybe he was better off dead.

Actually he was sure of that.

But still the idea of being brutally murdered didn’t light his mood up. So when Quackity brought him his coffee, he drank it very slowly, and cautiously, to try and detect anything he could have spiked his drink with. Surprisingly, the only thing he tasted was black coffee, very good quality, and no trace of weakness potion of anything like that.

Maybe Quackity wanted him to go better to make his downfall even worse, and way more enjoyable.

After they both finished their drinks, they sat a minute in an akward silence, then Quackity spoke first, again.

"You’re not very vocal today, thats unusual." He said carefully.

"I’m suffering the aftereffects of getting awfully drunk Quackity. So bare with my silence." Wilbur answered more harshly than he wanted. He was defensive. Too defensive. Quackity will know. He will get angry. He will finally fully show that side of his.

But Quackity did none of that. Instead he just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before lookig back up.

"You should go take a shower. I don’t know when was the last time you did, but it was way too long ago. I’ll show you the way." And with that, he stood up, grapped the cups and put them on the counter to wash later, before showing the way to his bathroom.

"You have warm towels here, washing products in the shower, please don’t use the silver one tho, it’s my personnal favorite and it’s not easy to find. Oh and I’ll go get you some spare clothes while I put your current ones to wash. Anything else you’d need ?" He asked, holding the door open.

"No, I am alright I guess." Wilbur said, stepping in.

Quackity let out a 'perfect' and went to grab oversized clothes that could fit the more-than-average tall man in his bathroom.

Wilbur now had some more time to think about his future escape plan.

Chapter Text

Quackity decided that, knowing how dirty Wilbur was, he had a good 30 mins before he ended his shower.

So he went outside his penthouse and to the nearest casino’s employees room. There he could find clean clothes that could fit the other man. He grabbed a black button up and some equally dark trousers. Nobody would notice it was missing, there was so many.

Plus Quackity was the fucking boss so he could go borrow any single thing he liked.

He then tought about lendind him socks and underwear too. But for thoses he would have to take from his own wardrobe.

Wilbur, on his side, had trouble getting under the shower.

He was preoccuped with finding an escape plan. There was a small window in the bathroom, but he wouldn’t fit. He could try and leave by the door, as he remembered the way, but he was too scared of Quackity finding him before he could reach that door.

So he settled for actually taking a shower. It has been a while since he had been able to get warm water to wash him, and even thought it didn’t bother him that much before, the only thing he could feel right now was how dirty he was and how uncomfortable he felt.

He stripped before fidgeting with the shower’s buttons, trying to get the right temperature, and then slipped under the warm water.

He let it wash away his current, many, issues and tried to relax his body as much as he could. He grabbed some of the products, being wary of not using the one Quackity mentionned, and while he was trying to scrub everythin he had in his hair, he started thinking again. Clearer this time. He was in a bathroom. There wasn’t any true escape. But maybe he could find and steal something weapon-like ? To protect himself when Quackity would finally give him what he deserves ?

He washed himself multiple times before being satisfied and stepping out of the shower. He felt better. Drying himself with a towel, he looked around, before finding a razor. There was his weapon. He grabbed it and put it in one of his shoes. It would be useful later.

He jumped when he heard knocks on the bathroom door, before hearing Quackity’s voice, muffled.

"Hey Wil ? You finished ? I brought you clothes. I’ll let them in front of the door and wait for you in the living room."

Wilbur counted to ten, to give Quackity the time to walk away before quickly opening the door and grabbing the clothes. He then dressed up, silently appreciating the new fresh clothes he was wearing, even thought it wasn’t his usual style. The socks were a bit too small, but he didn’t mind that much. They were almost new, dry, and comfy. Just like everything else.

He wondered why Quackity was giving him all theses clean clothes if he intended to make him suffer for everything he’s done afterwards, but maybe it was another strategy again.

Back in the days he was really good at reading Quackity.

Even now, he noticed alot more than people usually did.

All the little details in his body language, that said way more than his mouth would. But he also learned that Quackity got better at hiding himself now.

His nice demeanor could hide a cold-blooded murderer. He knew how Dream suffered alot at the hands of this man, and he was pretty sure he would get the same treatment.

Maybe he could easily read Quackity’s weaknesses, but he knew the other could probably read him like an open book.

He was colder now, more calculating, confident.

Some very attractive qualities if you asked Wilbur, but in this case it was like the calm before the storm.

He slipped the razor in one of his pockeets and got out of the shower. He considered trying to find a new issue that wasn’t the door, but since Quackity had told him he’d wait in the living room, that meant he expected him to join. So with his old clothes under one arm, he reluctantly walked to Quackity.

"Oh great theses fits you ! I was worried I brought the wrong size." Quackity said, looking relieved. "Give me your old ones, I’ll throw them in the washing machine."

Quackity stood up and Wilbur gave him his clothes, wary. He looked at the shorter man leaving, and when he couldn’t see him anyore, he quickly walked to the front door, to then notice it was closed. Great. And he couldn’t see the keys anywhere, probably put somewhere in a drawer.

He almost ran to the sofa when he heard Quackity come back.

"Um hey Wil ? I was thinking you probably needed an actual good meal and not just takeout so I was planning on going to buy groceries. Do you mind staying in the appartment ?" He asked, fidgetting with the ring on his index, almost looking sincerely apologetic. "It’s just- you’re probably still tired, you need to recover because man, you still look like shit, and I don’t really want the whole population of Las Nevadas to know I let YOU of all poeple in, that I’m walking around with you, a possible and dangerous treath.. Do you mind ?"

Wilbur took a minute to think. He had a great opportunity to leave ! Once outside he could run away in the woods and come back when he felt better !

But Quackity was a pretty healthy man, at least more than him. He would direclty notice if Wilbur were to take a run. He could probably catch him and then he would know that he understood what would happen to him.

And somehow that was worse. Here, Wilbur could pretend he had no idea of what would happen, and maybe that will make Quackity question his decision and maybe he will just let him leave freely at some point if Wilbur acted good enough ? Harmless enough ? He didn’t know.

He could feel he was starting to panic again. The edge of his vision becoming blurry. He wouldn’t be able to run, or even walk in that state. So he muttered a faint "I’ll stay" before crashing on the couch.

Welcoming the darkness like an old friend.

It occured to him, at that moment, that it he didn't think that much about his death today. Weird.

Chapter Text

Quackity was quick to go get the groceries he needed. It felt good to breathe some fresh air after spending the whole morning with Wilbur.

He had no idea of what to do now. He had brought the man home while being drunk, and he didn’t really remembered why. He had noticed how bad the man looked, just like the first time they met in Las Nevadas, he looked very weak.

Broken.

He had no idea on how to properly describe him. A stray he had brought home. But it was Wilbur instead.

Someone dangerous. Who had alot of unresolved issues.

Leaving the store once he got all he wanted, he walked back while still thinking about how he was going to handle a man broken into multiple pieces but too prideful to admit it, with his own issues and the country he was running. It would be hard. But Quackity felt like he owed it to him. Because a while ago, he helped him grow, be more realistic, he had shared alot with him, into the darkness of Pogtopia’s caves, and Quackity reciprocated. He decided it would be his way of saying ‘thank you’.

Opening the door of his penthouse, he got surprised to see Wilbur nowhere.

"Wil ?" he called. "Wil I’m back. How do you feel ?" Still no answers. Quackity was starting to panic. Did anything happen while he wasn’t there ?

He dropped the groceries on the floor and started looking around worried.

"Wil ? Wilbur ? Are you okay ? Where are you ? Can you answer me please ?" Quackity was getting more worried as the time was passing.

He had checked all the rooms in his penthouse ? Where could Wilbur be ?

The library !

He had forgotten he even had one because he spent so little time in there. He didn’t plan it for himself actually. The books he needed were either in his bedroom or his office. The library was truly just for decoration purposes and guests.

And definetly not another person who enjoyed reading.

That’s where he saw Wilbur. Finally. He had fallen asleep while reading a book about..self defense. Quackity had no idea there was even one. Did Wilbur have ennemies ? Well obviously he did, but did he have any he was worried enough to read, and probably learn self defense ? That was a first.

He decided he woud let the man sleep. He needed to. So he simply grabbed a blanket and threw it against the sleeping man’s body.

He then went to start cooking. His stomach making hungry sounds difficult to ignore.

It was about an hour later when Wilbur had shown up, very cautiously, as if any wrong movement he could make would make the whole world shatter. That was a new kind of behavior.

"Hi Wilbur, slept well ?"

"Uh..yeah I did."

"I made beef today. Would you like some ?"

Wilbur nooded while approaching the kitchen. He was looking around. Especially at the door. Was he worried someone would come for him ? The same people he learned self defense for ?

It then occured to him that he might had forgotten to lock said door, while he was worrying about Wilbur.

"Wil ? Can you watch the food a second ? I think I forgot to lock the door ahah, I’ll just check." He hoped it would make the other man feel safer in there.

It’s only when he got out the key of his pocket that he felt something quickly moving behind him. He turned just in time to see Wilbur grab both his shoulders and throw him against the wall, snatch the key from his hand and running toward the door.

It was locked.

Good habits never failed Quackity. So he stood back up, trying to ignore the pain he could feel at the back of his head and reached Wilbur, who was trying to figure out which key would open the door.

He reached to put a gentle hand on his shoulder, to understand what was happening, but Wilbur took it as a threath, seeing as he reached inside his shoe and grabbed the old fashionned razor he hid there, holding it between Quackity and himself, fear taking control of all his body.

Quackity was stunned. All the gears in his brain were turning too fast for him to understand. His life was being threathened. By th man he was trying to save.

Had he been that blind ? Did he do anything wrong ? Did he deserve this ?

His worries came to a stop when he realized Wilbur was in a way worse state. He was shaking, looking like he was about to die.

Calming him down was the main thing to do. He’ll think about the rest later.

"Wilbur ? Nobody will hurt you there. I don’t know what is making you so scared but I swear you’re safe." He tried, lifting both his hands in the air and taking a step away.

That was right, he tought. One step at a time. No quick movements. Just like with a stray cat.

Wilbur was shaking even more now. Even if he wanted to, Quackity knew he wouldn’t be able to properly harm him and therefore was harmless.

He could make this work.

He had to make this work.

"N- NO. I’m not safe here. There’s no…There’s no fucking way in hell you’re just being nice to me. Too nice. You definetly want something. Revenge. This can’t.. This isn’t right. This can’t happen. You hate me. You can’t. You can’t be nice to me. You can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t.."

There was the root of the problem.

Trust.

Thankfully, Quackity had became good with his words thank to a quite deranged acquaintance.

He could handle this.

Step by step.

Chapter Text

It had been a few hours since Wilbur had his meltdown. He was now resting in Quackity’s bed, and Quackity was working on his computer right next to him, making sure the man wasn’t alone. It gave him and impression of déjà vu.

Quackity had learned alot during theses hours. Wilbur was scared. Of everything. Surprisingly. That was pretty different from the cocky man he was used to.

How come he didn’t notice this before ?

He worked in a goddamn casino, he was supposed to know when people were lying or putting on an attitude. But he didn’t with Wilbur.

His act seemed so natural.

The same attitude he had back in the days, before the fall of L’Manburg. Was this all a lie back then too ? How many times had he hid everything behing his stupid smirk and annoying remarks ?

He wondered how many people knew about this.

Wilbur had also explained that he was dead. For quite a while now. It didn’t make sense. How could someone be dead and walk, talk, breathe ? That’s what he told Wilbur, but the other man wasn’t buying it. He was convinced he was dead. He wasn’t being rational. Maybe words weren’t what he needed at that moment. So against every single ounce of reason in his brain, he went to hug the man.

He hugged a man with a blade and the intent to murder him.

He was still alive, tho. Wilbur had been too shocked to do anything exept cry and shake even more. They both ended up on the entry hall floor, one hugging the other like his life depended on it. (Maybe it did). And the other mumbling nonsense about his death.

It had been a hell of a ride.

But at least, he hoped, Wilbur felt safer now. He hoped he wouldn’t try to leave again.

He clearly needed help. He needed to be brought back to reality. He needed to learn how to live again.

And Quackity egoistically hoped that while helping the other to stay in the land of the living, he would find a way to save himself too.

He needed to prove to Wilbur he was alive. A proof that would leave no space for doubt. He could find something like that right ?

His train of thoughts was interrupted when Wilbur moved in his sleep, almost knocking Quackity’s laptop away.

He looked clean, for once, but very pale. Almost corpse like..No. He couldn’t let this get to his head. He just wasn’t healthy. At all.

The man barely ate, drank or slept in the past few days. Quackity was sure of that. He needed proper care.

Quackity decided to leave his work for later. He was working on a day off, the workaholic he was, and instead looked up how to help someone in depression. That was probably a part of Wilbur’s endless list of issues.

He made a new document on his laptop, and wrote everything he currently knew about the other’s mental health, reactions and what he found useful on the internet. He needed to have everything somewhere. To adjust.

Still, he was surprised of himself. He didn’t feel like this situation could beneficiate him in any ways, it was more the contrary. Wilbur was some kind of handicap and would probably require alot of attention, energy, work. As if Quackity wasn’t exhausted enough with his own issues, but he still decided to help him.

He seemed commited to lift this man up.

That was new.

It had been a while since Quackity did something else than a power move that would bring him closer to any of his goals. And helping his nemesis to stay alive wasn’t one of them. He convinced himself there was something he would get in the end.

Some people would call this a narcissit personnality disorder, Quackity just called that being confident. And most people don’t like it when others are confident.

Going back on his notes, he organised them so the most importants problems were on top of the page. He would try to start here.

Bring back the man in a living state.

Piece of cake, he hoped.

But sometimes hope isn’t enough.

Chapter Text

The morning had been hell for Wilbur. He had been begging Quackity not to leave him. And he knew the other almost gave in. Almost.

It was probably very selfish of him. But he couldn’t be alone. He just couldn’t bare that tought. He knew Quackity had work, and that skipping said work would have big consequences. Wilbur wasn’t the center of the world.

Especially not the center of Quackity’s world.

Prime, he was already lucky the other didn’t have any intent to harm him. Even after he tried to stab him. That didn’t make too much sense in Wilbur’s brain, but he would figure this out later.

The last 24hours have been full of emotions. Neither of them really had the time to actually sit down and think about everything. His own freetime had been used to elaborate an escape plan. And Quackity’s was probably spent thinking about how dumb he had been to take him under his wing.

But here they were.

Wilbur still wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to trust Quackity. But he didn’t have any other option. And he liked the attention. And not being alone.

He just wished he could read Quackity’s mind, know what was up with him. Know if at any point he was regretting taking care of him or if he was thinking about turning up on him. Some parts of Wilbur just wouldn’t stop being scared of Quackity still being evil and doing everything he did for a much more bigger plan.

But for now, Quackity had been anything but evil. So Wilbur was going to be good. He knew staying with Quackity would benefit him. He just had to shut the scared voice in his brain. The tought of being good did exactly that. Then Quackity would have no reason to be mad at him.

It is with this mindset that he had started to play cards with Slimecicle ? Slime ? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of is that ths guy was definetly not human, but also, apparently, Quackity’s most trusted friend.

That was the deal. Quackity could leave to do his duties, and Wilbur wasn’t alone.

That Slime guy was chill. And a bit disturbing. He seemed clueless, silly, a tad dumb, and at the same time Wilbur felt like this thing was holding centuries of knowledge.

"Wilbur ? I believe it is your turn ?" Slime called, breaking Wilbur out of his toughts.

"Oh yea..my bad." Looking at his cards, Wilbur sighed. They weren’t good. Him and Slime had played multiple card games, blackjack, casino war, poker, the ones played in Las Nevadas, because Slime hadn’t learn any other game.

But the guy was always winning. No matter how good Wilbur’s poker face was, he could see through it.

It scared Wilbur. Thankfully, they weren’t betting any money, beause Wilbur wouldn’t have anything left.

"There’s no point in pretending I have a good hand now. You won big man, congrats." Wilbur announced while letting his cards fall on the table. A flush. He knew he was right when Slime did the same, content with winning. He had a royal flush. His luck was insanely good. Or Quackity had taught him to cheat. That wasn’t impossible either.

"I think I’ll have a nap now Slime, do whatever you want." Wilbur said while dropping on the sofa.

He was very tired. Just a few card games had exhausted him. He didn’t understand why. He needed to zone out. Focusing on something for too long was really difficult. He wanted to forget about everything for a moment.

It felt like he had been away for five second and ten years at the same time when Slime came to announce him it was time to eat. So he tried to get back in touch with reality while following the green man to the kitchen. Surprisingly, Slime was great at cooking. And taking care of him. Like he was used to this.

Maybe Wilbur wasn’t the first stray Quackity had brought home.

"Wilbur, now that we have spent some times together, will you finally tell me where are you from ?"

"Why are you so obsessed with knowing this ? I’ve noticed you also called Q ‘Quackity from Las Nevadas’. That’s not really where he is from you know ?" Wilbur answered, taking a bite in his food. It had an okay-ish taste. He could easily eat this.

"It is just, to me family names are only important if you like your family. And it can change, if you get married. But the place you were born in never changes, it is where you belong. That’s how it is from where I come from. As for Quackity, he made Las Nevadas and expressed a deep sense of belonging to it, so Quackity from Las Nevadas it is !" Slime answered with a smile.

"What if I don’t belong anywhere ?"

Slime frowned and took a moment to look at him. Probably staring into his soul. If he still had one. It scared Wilbur. What if he noticed he belonged to death ? He already told Quackity he was dead, but as reassuring Slime seemed to be, he didn’t want him to know.

So instead he looked down at his plate and took another bite, to convinve Slime he was eating. As if he knew, Slime didn’t add anything . Didn’t push to know more.

He knew.

The rest of the day had been calm. Slime noticed alot of small things Wilbur didn’t say out loud, and Wilbur was grateful for it. He was starting to understand better why Quackity liked that silly looking guy: He was honest, blurting out things as if society norms didn’t reach him. He didn’t press to have answers, and didn’t make a fuss about anything. It was comfortable to be around him.

Even if sometimes his lack of knowledge about alot of things was absurd. Who doesn’t know a record player needs a different disk to play a different music ? He was weird. Odd, even. But not a bad company. Way better than having no one. And he was harmless. Or at least he looked harmless. Who knows maybe he could transform into a enormous pile of goop and eat whatever he can find. But he wasn't sure he wanted to find out an answer to his interrogation.

Chapter Text

Wilbur had spent the rest of the day on the sofa, being too tired to play anything more. He didn’t really know what to do. Before, he would use all his energy to come and be around Quackity, but now, he had no idea on what to look forward to.

Slime didn’t bother him during the afternoon, asking if he was okay from time to time, but didn’t push.

"Hello ?" Quackity called from the entrance. He didn’t know what to expect when returning. At least his penthouse was still standing, and it didn’t look like someone died.

That was good. He had spent the day worrying about Wilbur, and Slime. He hoped they got on well.

"Hi Quackity from Las Nevadas !" Slime answered, happily. "How was your day at work ?"

"It went alright. As usual. How’s Wilbur ?"

"Oh, he’s been asleep for quite a while I think. A very tired man, your friend Wilbur."

"Yeah, he needs sleep." Quackity chuckled. He wasn’t sure about talking mental health with Slime. He should probably let Wilbur himself talk to him about it if he wishes to.

For now, Slime would make a great caretaker for Wilbur during the days.

"Thank you very much for your help Slime, you can take the night off. I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye Quackity from Las Nevadas ! Sleep well."

"Bye Slime, you too." And with that he closed the front door.

After pondering it for a while, he decided to go see Wilbur. It felt almost domestic to go kneel by the sofa next to the sleeping man and gently shake him awake.

"Heya Wil, how are you feeling ?" Quackity asked, not really sure of what to expect.

"Hey..I’m okay." Wilbur answered, still waking up, and definetly not looking okay. "What about you ?" He asked, hoping to focus the subject on the other.

"I’m alright, a little bit drained by work but that’s all. Want to eat something ? I was planning on making beef tonight."

"Oh, I’m not really that hungry, but thanks for asking. I’ll skip tonight’s meal I think."

This wasn’t concerning at all for Quackity, nope, that’s why he went into his kitchen, cooked himself food and then decided to cut an apple instead for Wilbur.

That would at least be something in his stomach. Wouldn’t be good if he started to pass out randomly , he did that enough.

He had to go better now or he will die, again. That thought sent a shiver in Quackity’s mind. Remembering that the man had been dead for a while, how did he not end up completely insane ?

Well..he was insane. Which was logical. But Quackity had no idea of what he would do if he died, and stayed alone for years in an unescapable place. The loneliness would kill him.

He came back to Wilbur and set the apple next to him.

"Mind moving up a little bit ? So I can sit next to you ?" Quackity asked while puting his own plate on the coffee table.

Wilbur grumbled something before sitting up and scooting to one end, so the other could sit comfortably. He didn’t try to argue, knowing it was useless.

"Sooo, how was your day ?" Quackity tried to start a conversation. He wasn’t sure if small talk was a great idea, but he couldn’t think of anything else for now.

"It was..weird ? Your friend, Slime, he’s good at card games. A bit too much if you want my opinion."

"Oh yes he is." Quackity laughed. "I taught him myself. He’s a talented individual."

"Yeah haha, altought he is talented in many things. And knows how to respect boundaries in his own way. It’s..nice ? I guess. Didn’t bother me too much, and Prime knows how easy it is for someone to bother me." Wilbur chuckled.

Quackity stayed silent. It was true that Slime could be comforting somehow, and also annoying some other times, but he had this way to be that made him great to be around.

He wondered if he himself was good company for Wilbur. Maybe he was too much ? After all they did use to fight all the time, because of Wilbur of course, but they were still fighting. And maybe his need to absolutely put Wilbur back on his feets was too much, or overwhelming ?

Did Wilbur feel like he had enough space to breathe ? Was he feeling trapped ? Was he feeling controlled by Quackity ? Was he doing well enough to help him ?

"Quackity ? Are you, uh, okay ?" Wilbur asked, uncertain.

"Do I bother you ?" Quackity blurted out, not really thinking about it.

He immediatly regrette dit when seeing Wilbur’s face. He shouldn’t have asked something like that, it was clear he was not a good caretaker.

"Nevermind. I shouldn’t have asked that. Goodnight Wilbur." And on theses words, he took his plate and left alone a very confused Wilbur, hoping to put some reassuring distance between the two of them.

Wilbur didn’t understand what he had done wrong.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since Quackity decided he should give space to Wilbur, and it has been two days where Wilbur fellt like he was dying again.

He knew this would happen. Quackity was already tired of him. It took him a few days to understand Wilbur was a lost cause and now he had given up.

Quackity had been spending the last two days completely in his work, trying to not let his toughts wander back to the other man living in his house. It was hard not to check on him every time he wanted, but he didn’t want to come out as controlling like before. He would give Wilbur his space even if it meant discomfort for himself.

This situation lasted two days until Slime took the matter at hands.

"Quackity from Las Nevadas ?" He said after knocking at Quackity’s office.

"Yes Slime ? Is Wilbur alright ?" Quackity answered, lightly worried. He knew Slime would have bursted in his office if something bad happened but he couldn’t help but being worried. He had somehow grew attached to the stray he brought back home.

"I don’t think he has never been alright..But it looks like he’s getting worse. There’s something bringing him back in the dark each time he tries to walk away. Just like with you, before." Slime finished, quietly.

Quackity smiled sadly at that. He remembered quite well his last depressive episode. Prime he had no idea if he ever got out of it. Work was a good distraction. But he had no time to be distracted by something like his own mental health anywayw.

"Have you tried asking him what was wrong ? If it could be helped ?" He inquired. "Yes, but Wilbur is unresponsive. Maybe you should try to ask him yourself ?"

Quackity tought for a moment. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad ? He did want to know if he could help Wilbur after all.

"Yeah, I’m taking a break and will ask him." Looking at the clock, Quackity noticed it was already 10pm. "You should go home Slime, you should have left two hours ago. Why did you stay ?"

"I just didn’t want Wilbur to be all alone. That’s what you asked me to do. Since you were locked up in your office I tought I would stay a bit longer so he has company until you get out. You seemed rather avoidant."

"I just need to give him some space. He is afraid of me, I don’t want him to spend everyday worrying because he believes I will hurt him. Out of sight out of mind as the saying goes."

Slimed sighed. Humans were very dumb sometimes. He had lots of work to do in there. Thank the stars he has time. He quickly left hoping being alone would bring the two to finally talk.

Quackity walked to the living room, making each of his spets know as to not scare the other. He then sat next to Wilbur. He was staring in the void in front of him. It was…scary.

"Wilbur ?" Quackity asked gently. "Are you there ?"

Wilbur blinked, as if he was coming back from a long mind trip and made a visible effort to stay conscious and look at Quackity with a confused expression on his face.

"Quackity ?" He whispered, not understanding the reason of his visit. "You don’t look mad."

"Why would I be mad ?" Quackity answered, now equally confused.

"Well, you’ve left annoyed last time and then ignored me, so that means you’re mad, yknow ?" Wilbur muttered, still struggling with pushing th words out of his mouth. The good thing with dissociation and derealization was that he cared less about what he was saying. It probably wasn’t even real so why not telling everything he feels to this fake-Quackity ?

"What ? No that wasn-"

"You don’t have to lie, Q. I know you’re already tired of me. I’m sorry for taking up space and time in your house, and for making you have Slime babysitting me all the time when he could be doing so much more important things. You just have to say a word and I’ll leave, to be honest I don’t think I can get out of this state of mind ? I know you’ve given up with me so you can just-mff"

Quackity had put his hand on Wilbur’s mouth, to stop him from going on and on. It was a thing Wilbur often did when he was exhausted by everything, speak nonsense.

"I haven’t given up on you Wilbur. Believe me. I just tought you woulkd be better with some space, away from me. I dind’t want to scare you, again." He whispered while taking his hand away from Wilbur’s mouth. "This was all a misunderstanding. I’m not mad, just confused about how I am supposed to act with you. And I haven’t given up. I won’t."

Wilbur couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. It didn’t really matter since he was hallucinating, but still, this fake-Quackity was gentle, with honey coated words. He wished he could stay like that with him forever.

"You’re the only reason I’m still alive, Quackity. You made me feel alive. In the best and worst way possible, but I was alive, and it was wonderful. Don’t leave." He sobbed.

A gentle hand started tracing circles on his back. A reminder.

A reminder he was there.

This hallucination of his couldn’t get better. Or it could, but Wilbur didn’t know how he could guide it to end up like he wanted. So he closed his eyes instead and prayed to stay there forever and never wake up.

Quackity’s brain was storming. He couldn’t quite place what he had just heard. It was weird. Odd. And so full of sincerity. But that didn’t sound like Wilbur.

He abstently continued to trace patterns on the other’s back while debating. He knew this kind of declaration meant Wilbur was out of it. Way more than he expected. And way more desperate, and alone, and everything included.

But on the other side, a tiny part of him he hated was thriving to know he was everything to Wilbur.

He was completely dependant of him, he had control.

He shaked his head, hoping to dissolves theses unwanted toughts, knowing very well he will have to deal with them later.

But for now he had to help Wilbur. He was his only hope.

He fell asleep next to the other without even realizing it. His hand still tracing circles.

Chapter Text

It was finally dark outside.

Wilbur felt like he had been waiting for this to happen for so long. He giggled at his awesome idea to surprise Quackity. He was always working and never took enough time to take care of himself. Thankfully Wilbur was there to fix that.

One passion of his during his childhood and some of his homeless era was stargazing. During thoses times he learnt the stars, galaxies, how to recognize constellations, etc. He loved doing that.

But since he had been living with Quuackity in Las Nevadas, the lights of the city were making all the stars disapear. So he had decided to organize something special for Quackity.

Some days in august, the earth would be perfectly positionned for meteor showers. Roughly 100 per hour. He did not want to miss that. So while Quackity was working, he planned a trip to the outside of the city, built a small tower not to be disturbed by mobs and hid food and blankets in a chest. He hoped Quackity would be as excited as he was.

He was lost in toughts, about how awesome he was, when Quackity got home.

"Hi Wil ! How was your day ?" He asked while putting off his shoes.

"It was great Q, how was yours ?" Wilbur answered, hoping to keep the surprise as long as he could.

"It was hell as usual, but at least I’m sure Las Nevadas is well managed." He sighed.

"Listen, I know you’re tired, but while walking around, I think I saw something suspicious outside of town. An unknown building..I didn’t really want to get close because I wasn’t really armed or anything, but I was thinking maybe we should go check it ? It could be dangerous ?" He asked, trying to compose a slightly worried tone.

"Mmmm" Quackity took a moment to think. It could be a random thing someone made to spend the night, but if Wilbur was worried about it, he wanted to reassure him. And a little walk would be enjoyable. "Yeah it’s probably better if we go inspect this now. I’ll go grab something for just in case it could be dangerous, he said while going back to the chest near the door.

Wilbur did his best not to show his jubilation. His plan worked.

"It is far ?" Quackity asked once they were outside.

"Not really, a 15 minutes walk I think ?"

"Good then, wouldn’t want you to skip dinner."

Wilbur’s heart melted at that. Quackity was often putting him first. It was heartwarming if you asked his opinion.

The whole walk was spent talking about different topics like noise complaints from the neighboring towns, they were just jealous of Las Nevadas’ prosperity according to Quackity, Slime’s latests ideas, some scarier than others, and Wilbur’s music.

Once arrived in front of a very simple looking cobblestone tower, Wilbur insisted they go inside, and Quackity understood there was something fishy.

Arrived on top, Wilbur grabbed the blankets for them to lay on and the snacks, and happily exclaimed a "surprise Q !!!" while setting everything down. "I noticed how absolutely no stars were visible from Las Nevadas, and I tought it was a shame, so I decided to surprise you to come here and try to look for shooting stars !" Wilbur continued happily.

Quackity was..surprised. Indeed. He used to try and look for stars at first, and their comforting light, but gave up after a moment.

He felt kinda stupid for never thinking about taking the time to get out and look for them again.

But Wilbur did. Wilbur always found ways to surprise him. Somehow knowing what he enjoys or not. Wilbur was always there, and he was very grateful for that.

"Thank you Wil, really." He gave the other a hug before laying down on the blankets.

The view was breathtaking. He listened to Wilbur explaining how shooting stars were debris or meteor entering the atmosphere, combusting because of the friction with the air molecules. And that the stars they could see were very probably dead since quite a while, because of lightspeed.

Wilbur knew alot of things about very specific subjects. It was always interesting to listen to him talk. When Wilbur had no more thing to rant about, they fell in a comfortable silence.

Quackity saw 7 shooting stars, and Wilbur only 4. It maybe was because he wasn’t very focused on the stars, but much more another even prettier view, right next to him. But for each the stars he saw die in the sky, he wished he could stay with Quackity forever.

At some point when the moon started to get very high in the sky, it’s light hiding the stars’, Wilbur tried to measure the distance between two very bright stars that they could still watch, when he noticed his hand looked weird. There was something odd, but he didn’t understood what exactly. He tought maybe he was tired, but when he was looking around, that impression of unreal stayed.

And when he looked at Quackity, lying next to him, admiring the view, his face basked in the moonlight, making him even prettier than usual, it felt even more weird. Too perfect too.

Looking at his hand again, he tried counting his fingers but couldn’t.

Then everything started distorting, until he woke up.

It took him a moment to understand where he was.

On Quackity’s couch, with Quackity next to him, sleeping peacefully.

Fuck. He tought.

That was all a dream.

His first nice dream since his revival, and it was with Quackity.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He still had feelings for Quackity.

Chapter Text

When Quackity woke up the next morning, he found Wilbur staring at him.

That’s when he noticed he had slept on the sofa. With Wilbur. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but at least he could recall the both of them resolving their miscommunication. That was an awesome step. He will have to go to work today, but he had an idea that would hopefully help Wilbur get better.

"Goodmorning Wil." He finally said, noticing the two of them staring at eachother for quite a while now.

"Morning Q." Wilbur answered, hoping his blush wasn’t too visible, the memory of his last dream still very fresh in his mind. "Uhh, you were asleep and I had no idea whether to wake you up or not.."

"It’s alright, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep there, it’s your space. I apologize."

"I didn’t mind !" Wilbur blurted out, not wanting the other to feel bad about it, before realizing it could imply some other of his desires.

Thankfully, Quackity didn’t say a thing about it .

"I was thinking of taking you to my workplace today, so you can occupy yourself with something else than usual. Interested ? You can stay here if you prefer obvioulsy." Quackity hoped Wilbur would say yes. He hoped giving him easy enough tasks would make him feel better, that achieving them and therefore still being able to do things correctly would cheer him up. He could be patient enough to explain him everything he wanted. And maybe, who knows, Wilbur would show himself to be a great asset to his workers.

"Yes, I think I would like to come with you." Wilbur answered, hiding his joy. The idea of having a good excuse to be with Quackity for even longer was doing a very good job at making his life lighter. Maybe he’d stop being dead again.

"Perfect then." Quackity smiled while getting up. "I’ll make breakfast and call Slime to tell him. You go wear something more professional than pajamas alright ? You can go grab something your size in the dresser next to my closet. I put everything that would fit you in there."

"Thank you Quackity." And here, again, Quackity had planned everything. He met Wilbur’s need without even needing to hear them and just managed everything perfectly. That was sweet.

But Wilbur tought it could also be slighlty concerning. He seemed to be in care of everything and everyone, but who was taking care of him ?

It was good that Quackity had let him come to his office. He hoped he could get some weight off the other’s shoulders.

Arriving in Quackity’s room, Wilbur looked around curiously. He had only seen it once or twice, when he left the safety of the sofa to wander a little bit around. It wasn’t exactly clean, Wilbur noted. But that didn’t keep him from reaching the dresser.

Opening it, he picked a light brown shirt, Quackity even took in consideration his usual clothes colors, Prime he was so caring with him. And dark brown pants.

He quickly went to brush his hair and wash his face, hoping to get at least slightly presentable, and went back to the kitchen.

"I’m glad it fits you !" Quackity happily said while putting the breakfast he made in two plates. "I’ll eat this quickly and then go change too !"

The two mens sat down to eat. Wilbur reluctantly put the food in his mouth. Not that the food tasted bad, absolutely not, Quackity was a great cook.

Maybe all people with cannibalistic tendencies did.

But simply because he had barely ate during the past weeks and his stomach wouldn’t enjoy it in peace. He still did his best to eat, hoping to please Quackity, so he would keep him longer.

When he didn’t finish his plate, Quackity wasn’t mad. He just put it in the fridge, explaining that Wilbur could eat it later if he was hungry, or tomorrow, and then went to change.

Wilbur felt bad about not eating everything. He knew it wasn’t a good thing. But now he couldn’t force himself to eat when he would throw it all up later right ? That would be wasting.

Hoping to ease his guilt, he started doing the dishes. There was something comforting about doing repetitive things with hot water. He was just finished when Quackity came back, surprised.

"You did the dishes ? Why ? I mean thank you that’s adorable, but you didn’t have to."

Adorable.

He had called him adorable.

That made Wilbur’s heart flutter.

If doing basic chores like this meanrt gettting called adorable, he would do this everyday.

Office jobs were boring. But for once, Wilbur didn’t mind that much. He did everything he was asked the best he could.

He was being helpful.

He needed to be.

And Quackity seemed proud of him. Wilbur had followed him around all day, like some kind of dog. But at least, to him, being a dog was better than being dead.

So he didn’t complain and kept doing what he was asked.

Quackity was satisfied, and it was all that mattered.

He didn’t get outside thought, because Quackity didn’t want everyone to know Wilbur, the number one troublemaker was here, even if now, he was pathetically harmless.

But that was alright. Quackity wouldn’t do this just to bother him. It was the contrary, if anyone saw him getting out of building, hem ay get in trouble!

He silented the voice in his mind that whispered he wouldn’t need to hide if Quackity made his citizeship official.

That right now, he was a secret that couldn’t be shared.

A bad one.

It didn’t matter in the end.

Quackity could do whatever he wanted with him, because Wilbur was now sure he loved him.

Chapter Text

The days were passing smoothly. Wilbur was helping Quackity work everyday, getting more and more confident in his abilities.

Having a purpose was helping him feel a little better.

Being with Quackity also had that effect.

He was slowly but surely forgetting himself in his need to please the other, but it was alright. Wilbur couldn’t ask for better. That’s what he wanted to believe. But still, he hoped he could have more. More of Quackity.

He had no idea how to approach him with this. The old him wouldn’t have hesitated and gone straight for his goal, flirting endlessly until he got what he wanted. But this new Wilbur was careful, fragile.

Everything he currently had was thanks to Quackity, and he was scared of ruining it. The old Wilbur could always find a place to go sleep at for the night and come back the next day, or not, depending on his mood, but this Wilbur needed Quackity. To the point the idea of leaving him for too long made him panic. An unhealthy amount of anxiety.

Quackity saved him. He was his light. His fire. His life. He was everything.

Wilbur would die again if Quackity left. So he had to be careful. Very careful.

He first started to make flirty comments, very few, to test the waters, and when Quackity didn’t curse him out, but instead flirted back, Wilbur allowed himself to hope he could win his heart.

It started very small, but the more Quackity allowed Wilbur close, the more confident Wilbur grew.

And now they were flirting any second they got the chance to, brushing past eachother, hands lingering closer and closer.

They were always in Quackity’s office with no one in the world disrupting them. They were alone and free to say anything that came in their minds.

And Wilbur wanted even more. It still wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel Quackity, better than with words.

Wanted to hold his hand, feel his warmth, keep him close to him, forever.

He had been staring at the other for a moment surely, because Quackity, noticing it, opened his very kissable mouth to talk to him.

"..Bur ? Wilbur ? Get back down to earth Wil. We need to finish theses reports before dawn." Quackity said, snapping his fingers in front of Wilbur’s face, in a very bossy manner.

"Sorry Q, I was thinking." Wilbur answered, too embarassed to elaborate the reason of his inattention.

"What were you thinking about ?"

"Uh..food. Dinner." He answered, hoping his awful lie would do it.

Quackity smiled, amused. And Wilbur knew he wouldn’t get out of it as easily as he hoped.

"Must have been some kind of dinner then, seeing the face you were making." He smiled even more. "Care to elaborate ? I might want to try a bite too."

Wilbur lost. He wouldn’t be able to hide it from Quackity anyways, so why not make something fun out of it ?

"You, actually. I was hoping I could get you lying on the table just for me to taste one of theses days." Wilbur smirked and laid back in his chair. Analyzing every single detail in Quackity’s face.

He watched it decompose at what was implied, the start of blush on his cheeks, then how he carefully recomposed himself. All of this in a fraction of seconds. An untrained eye wouldn’t be able to catch half of theses, but thankfully for himself, Wilbur was an expert in Quackity’s poker faces.

He spent hours training to notice everything, in order to be able to assess what the other was okay with and what made him uncomfortable in matter of flirting.

Quackity’s face was currently saying he wasn’t expecting this. Not that confident. But the little upward tug on the corner of his lips meant he was enjoying it more than he wanted.

This was good. Very, very good. Quackity would soon be his, and nothing would stop him.

"Well, if I’m so distracting for you to focus on your own work, it might be better if I leave." Quackity stood up and gathered his papers. "Let’s work in separate rooms." He added. Watching Wilbur directly swallow up his pride, he knew he won.

Wilbur would either have to stay on his fake confident act, or give it up and ask for Quackity to stay.

And Quackity knew he would take the latter.

"No ! I’ll focus. Stay here. Please..?"

Bingo, he won.

"Are you sure you will be able to focus, even with me being in front of you darling ? It did look like you were reallyy distracted not too long ago." Quackity sat back down, teasing. He then leaned in, delighted by the face Wilbur was making, and added three last words. "One more chance."

He then leaned back in his chair, grabbing his own paperwork and reading the news about some of his buildings.

"You didn’t say no for dinner, thought." Wilbur’s voice wasn’t as proud as before, but he stayed sure of himself enough to say this out loud.

Quackity sighed, when something came to his mind.

"Finish your tasks before 5pm and i migh.."

"Quackity from Las Nevadas ?" Slime bursted in.

This wasn’t unusual, but just this time Wilbur wished he didn’t, because he was dying to hear the end of Quackity’s sentence.

"Yes Slime ? What is happening ?"

"It’s just, we recieved an invitation. For a country opening party of some sort."

Wilbur, as he always did, noticed Quackity’s face loose some of it’s color. His tone also changed, less confident, more..anxious ?

"From who Slime ? Which country ?"

"It is from our neighbors. Kinoko kingdom. I think they’re inviting most of the SMP members."

Quackity’s face grew whiter with the seconds. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to see them moving up without him. It was way too soon.

But not going would show them he was as weak and worthless as they tought.

He didn’t realize he was breathing way too loudly and pulling at his hair until he felt Wilbur’s hands on his. The tables has turned. He tought unironically.

"I.. I’ll think about it. Calmly. Don’t answer yet Slime. I’ll tell you tomorrow." He composed himself, again, putting on his calm and relaxed personnality.

He needed to find a plan.

"I could go with you ? If you want of course. I can pretend to be a threat." Wilbur tried, almost whispering. He loved the idea of getting outside with Quackity. To have their partnership officialized in some ways.

Even if it meant others would think Wilbur was Quackity’s scary dog, at least they would think he is his dog.

"I’ll see Wilbur. I don’t think this is that much of a good idea, but it would at least be enjoyable. I’ll sleep on it. Let’s finish our work now."

"Yessir !"

Chapter Text

It was 24 hours before Kinoko Kingdom’s party, and Wilbur was very excited. He had been working extra hard, hoping Quackity would be pleased.

He had accepted to go to this ball, but had been anxious about it since then. He kept saying it was only networking, only to be a diplomat and create good partnership between the two countries, but Wilbur knew it wasn’t only for that. Quackity was apprehensive of seeing his two ex-fiancees, the two men that were supposed to stay with him forever, happy.

That made Wilbur’s blood boil. He wasn’t jealous, he tried to convince himself, it was a totally normal thing to wish them a horrible, slow and painful death.

Especially since they hurt Quackity. And especially since they were still in his mind.

Since he received that letter, Quackity had been less flirty, Wilbur never got his, oh so appetizing dinner.

They had ruined his accomplishments.

He would ruin their ball.

But for this he needed Quackity’s approbation. And seeing how he was pacing in his room right now, he might not get it. Unless he was able to prove the two traitors weren’t worth befriending.

He looked over his shoulder, to stare at his ball outfit. A red button up shirt with black trousers, tie and vest.

Him and Quackity would be matching. Like a couple.

He hoped it would annoy Sapnap and Karl. At least a little bit.

He was going to make Quackity the happiest man of the party, so all the attention would go on them.

So everyone knew how superior Quackity was.

But for this he would need accessories. He will ask Quackity tomorrow. Right now, it wasn’t a great moment.

He grabbed one of the books he took from Quackity’s library and went to read. It was something about a guy named Pavlov. It seemed to talk about dogs, sounded cute.

In his own room, Quackity was just a little bit anxious. He was only going to see his two exes, that he wasn’t on good terms with, that he maybe, just maybe, still had a minuscule feeling of love for.

He probably shouldn’t have accepted this. But saying no would have meant he was even too weak to try. And Quackity was not too weak.

So he would pretend everything was okay, that he moved on, and that he was very happy with his country.

That he was successful.

That he needed no one to achieve any goal he had...

He at least hoped he would.

Wilbur would be there too anyways. He knew the other would help to keep him in check.

And it was a great power move to come to a party with a well-known danger at the end of a leash.

Figurative leash, of course. Even if the idea of owning Wilbur and displaying him the way he wanted, in front of others was very attractive.

He had seen how well Wilbur could act, and wear this cold, calculated, manipulative and authoritarian personality. Everyone would fear him. And then Quackity.

He now had a mad dog at his feet. This was a great strategy.

Wilbur didn’t even seem to mind having this role, so the other felt less guilty at the idea of using him for his own comfort. Of course it wasn’t the only reason why he kept Wilbur, but it was still a useful addition.

He decided to review one last time his plan for the next evening and night, the notes he left for Slime and the others, to make sure he forgot nothing, and then, when he felt satisfied, downed a bottle of wine and went to sleep.

The next morning was spent in a blur. Quackity was doing his best to pretend he was fine and unaffected by the event, and Wilbur, who had just learned a very interesting book about behavioral programs, thanks to Pavlov, was trying to find a good stimulis to condition Quackity into being happier in his life.

It would need some training.

They worked in an uncomfortable silence, until Quackity decided to break it.

“So, are you still up to accompany me tonight?”

“Yes? Why? Do you not want me there anymore?” Wilbur answered, confused and scared his plans would fail.

“No!..No, I just wanted to make sure. Actually I’m glad you’re coming with me. You always leave such a great impression on people.”

“Haha, yeah, sure. A great impression indeed.” Wilbur smirked.

The silence after that was nicer, both comforted by the presence of the other.

When they got dressed, Wilbur asked for jewelry, and Quackity agreed. They both now had matching red accessories, with rocks that looked very much like rubies. Wilbur felt really important knowing Quackity was trusting him with such nice things. And Quackity knew he could buy it all again anyways, how both of them would appear tonight was way more important.

They rode on horses, Wilbur complaining about how uncomfortable the tight costume was, especially on a horse, and Quackity laughing at his face. It started well.

But the closer they got to Kinoko, the more Quackity tensed. And no jokes of Wilbur helped him relax.

He would have to do with it. It’s going to be okay. And if it doesn’t, Wilbur will find a creative solution to save his reputation. He was certain of that.

Arriving at the ball, everything was already too much for both of them. The music, the lights, the people, everything sounded fake. A fake party for a fake country.

Immediately, people started staring at Wilbur, the menace, and his supposed partner for the night, Quackity. They did love seeing the fear on their faces.

They were in power.

Acting as if they weren’t aware of the reaction they provoked on people, they walked to the middle of the room, grabbing two drinks off a server’s plate, owning the place, and waited. Soon enough, Quackity felt his body tense even more, and he knew Karl and Sapnap weren’t far.

“Wilbur..”he whispered, squeezing the other’s arm, “they’re coming.”

Wilbur squeezed his hand in return, a way to say don’t worry, as he looked around. It didn’t take long for him to see two men looking vaguely elegant walking right toward them, not so pleased to see him.

So Wilbur did what he knew best: act. He straightened his shoulders, let his smirk grow wider and put one of his arms around Quackity’s waist.

It had been weeks since he wanted to do this, and today he could, with the excuse of acting.

He felt very proud when he noticed Sapnap’s face tightening at his little gesture. Karl, him, looked mad at Quackity instead. Wilbur didn’t know why.

“Karl! Sapnap!” He exclaimed, dragging their attention toward him. “Thank you for inviting us to your grand party! It looks great, really, especially for your kind of people.” He felt Quackity’s shoe hitting his, too far.

“What the fuck are you saying man?” Sapnap started, struggling not to immediately fight the other man. He dared coming at his party, in his country, with his ex fiancee, and he was planning on insulting them too? He wasn’t going to let this slide. That man was dangerous, insane, he belonged in a mental hospital, not walking around freely.

“Q, are you really going to let him out of everyone talk like this to us? To me?” Sapnap kept going. “Damn, I really thought you had respect for us."

Quackity snapped his head, that was previously trying to look away at all costs, back up to stare right into Sapnap’s eyes.

“I had respect for you. But you lost that privilege when you didn’t really try to save whatever relationship we used to have when he turned up on me.” Quackity breathed in, pretending to calm down while bottling up his anger. He had to be diplomat, which meant being the bigger person here. “But that doesn’t mean Wilbur can talk to you like that. Wilbur, apologize.”

“I’m very sorry Sapnap and Karl, for insinuating you two weren’t party people earlier.” Wilbur directly said, not missing a second. Quackity told him before entering, that if they wanted to be convincing, Wilbur would have to do anything Quackity asked him.

Everyone had to understand that Quackity had Wilbur wrapped around his finger. And Wilbur was loving this idea.

Sapnap sighed, knowing this petty argument wasn’t worth ruining their opening party he and Karl had worked so much for. He could always come back for Quackity and Wilbur later, with no witnesses.

“We accept your apology, Wilbur” Sapnap gritted through his teeth.

Seeing the face Karl made, Wilbur knew he already succeeded to put some oil in their relationship. Hoping to get even more on Karl’s nerves, he looked at Sapnap, only him, and lit up the match.

“Thank you for your kindness Sapnap, I knew you were reasonable. Especially since you worked so hard to put all of this in action, truly impressive.” He started, showing around with his arms while keeping eye contact with him, ignoring Karl.

Sapnap, surprised but flattered, let out a proud “Thank you”, and Karl, right next to him, was furious. Game, set, match.

“I worked really hard too, you know? Probably most of it.” Karl jumped in, annoyed.

That’s when Wilbur finally looked at him with wide eyes

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was under the impression that..” He then looked at Sapnap. “Man, why didn’t you say anything? You let me give you all the credit while he’s standing right here? Oh, I’m embarrassed. And so sorry Karl, truly.”

Quackity was stunned, watching the situation getting worse and worse for his exes in front of him.

Wilbur was leading the conversation like Eris, the goddess of discord, possessed him. He had identified the wounds and pressed right on them. It was impressive how good Wilbur was at the art of pushing everyone off their limits, and putting the blame on others.

He quickly apologized again, adding that he should better not get involved in their domestic issues, before turning back to Quackity and grabbing him by the waist to lead him somewhere else with his signature grin on his face. This party will be very interesting, and this was only the start.

It was now midnight, when the second argument between Karl and Sapnap happened. Quackity knew it had something to do with Wilbur, who had suspiciously left for a while before coming back.

Quackity had allowed him, after their first interaction with the two others, to discretely sabotage the party, while leaving no proof of their involvement. And it was working very well.

Quackity had spent time with old acquaintances, suggesting that they help each other with food, goods, or anything tradable if needed and networking with every other person he crossed paths with.

And Karl and Sapnap’s mood grew worse with time. Everyone wanted to avoid them, or acted like they would bite the moment they heard something they didn't like, and Wilbur, who should have been the real danger of the party, was just being friendly with everyone, joking or complimenting around, staying feared, but making people respect and like him better.

He was doing his best, hoping Quackity would be pleased with him enough that he would stop thinking about Karl and Sapnap and let himself fall in Wilbur’s arms.

Quackity’s plan was perfect, and going well. They both had the upper hand, the most feared and respected of the room, while not being in their own building, nor country.

They danced, so much, both ending up enjoying the party way more than expected, re-experiencing some of their old closeness. Quackity was still tense, but he followed Wilbur around happily anyways, letting him in control, just for a little bit, so he could rest.

They drank a lot, too, and really gave the impression of a happy, but deadly, couple.

Karl and Sapnap, them, were failing to hide their annoyance. They couldn’t kick two people out for nothing, could they?

They did anyway. With the excuse that some guest they didn’t want to name to protect their anonymity, complained about feeling threatened by Wilbur.

Only he had to leave, but Quackity expressed his annoyance very loudly before leaving with Wilbur, both holding eachother up very close.

A few other guests followed them, wishing to go home before it got too late.

Thanks to these people who kept talking with Wilbur and Quackity afterwards, they could attest that it wasn’t the two lovebirds that detonated the TNT, which was hidden very close to Karl and Sapnap’s house. Everyone knew it was them. But with no proofs, nothing could be made official.

Especially since everyone either took a liking to Wilbur and Quackity, or feared them too much to dare speak up against them with no proofs.

That night went perfectly well.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since the TNT incident, and Wilbur felt like he was still doing something wrong. When the euphoria left them, Quackity was back to pacing, worrying about the consequences.

He didn’t want the night to go that way. He had regrets about both him and Wilbur’s actions. And Wilbur couldn’t comprehend why he cared so much about them. They had been assholes with him, tried to humiliate him in public, never tried to do anything to help their situation get better, and still Quackity was still worried about them.

A small part of him couldn’t stop caring.

Wilbur didn’t understand the other. Wasn’t he better than them? Then why did Quackity keep him around if he was of no use? Would he throw him out soon? Could he ask him about this?

For the last few weeks, Quackity did his best to show him it was safe to speak, and that communication could be very useful and needed. But could he talk about this? Would Quackity get mad?

He needed to stay in his place.

He was nothing, he shouldn’t expect to be more.

Quackity was nice enough to still keep him. He shouldn’t complain about anything.

And with that, Wilbur fell a little back in dissociation again. It would be easier like that. He wasn’t strong enough to face whatever consequences him complaining to the only person who had been nice to him since his revival would have.

he was tired. So tired.

He almost couldn’t believe how a few days ago he was laughing and flirting with Quackity. It sounded like a dream. He hoped he could dream again.

It was nice, dissociating again, suddenly everything was easier to live.

Quackity had gotten Slime back to check on him. He had noticed Wilbur wasn’t entirely himself.

Wilbur didn’t know when he became that observant. He was trying his best to pretend to be a living human, like before.

Did that get him more mad?

Would Quackity like him better dead?

No, probably not.

Then he would have to take care of a corpse, and that would just add more work on his shoulders. No, Quackity would want him alive, useful, ready to do everything he asks.

Wilbur had to be that. So he kept trying. He tried to ground himself with pain, exercices, but the only thing really helping him was being with Quackity, suddenly, the only thing that mattered was the present moment. Nothing else.

Quackity was spending his days working, trying to forget what happened and wishing to get back to his usual life. But there was no more of his usual life without Wilbur around.

It had only been for a short amount of time, but Quackity was so used to Wilbur’s presence it didn’t feel normal to be alone in his office anymore.

He would try to talk with the other tonight, see if he would mind coming back. Not to work, of course, he seemed too exhausted and out of it for that, but just to keep him company, and so Slime could get back to work.

Slime had just left when Wilbur heard Quackity get back. He had been intensely focusing on reading a book to make sure he wouldn’t be dissociating when Quackity got home. He wanted to be there with him and not miss a single moment.

"Hi Wilbur, how are you doing?" Quackity asked, noticing Wilbur was being responsive.

"Hi Q, I am alright, reading one of your books. How was your day?"

"It was, alright. But I could use a little company."

"Oh." The deception in Wilbur’s voice was hard to notice, but Quackity was now used to hear the unsaid.

"Will Slime have to go back to work?"

"Well, yeah, but I meant I could use your company, it was nice, with you."

Oh,

oh.

Wilbur wasn’t prepared to hear that. It felt nice. Still he wasn’t sure why would Quackity want his company, he wouldn’t be able to work properly.

"I- I don’t think it’s a good idea? I can’t help you Q, as much as I want you I don’t think I can be of any use."

Quackity sighed.

"Wilbur. I don’t care. I’d rather have you in my office doing nothing but existing than here. At least you could entertain me with your thoughts? Like before? That would be a great help."

Wilbur nodded, still confused, but confident he would do his best to speak about interesting things. He was given another chance.

He had to please Quackity. And he would.

"You hungry? " Quackity asked, walking to the kitchen

"Yes." Wilbur lied. "Do you need help?"

"Would you mind dressing the table? I’ll cook us something nice."

"No problems, and thank you."

They both started doing their things, silently enjoying the domestic ambiance. It would be nice if things could keep going like that.

The rest of the evening passed by fast, the two men wishing each other a good night before leaving for their own rooms. Wilbur liked the room he had been given. It was big, simple,and comfortable.

He wished Quackity didn’t have one so he could sleep in the same room as him thought. He knew he would sleep better, and more, with the other closer.

But Wilbur couldn’t put his feelings on Quackity.

Not now tat he had been given another chance, not when Quackity was still worried about his exes.

But his time will come, he knew it. Or at least he hoped.

His time came sooner than he expected, the next day.

Wilbur was sitting next to Quackity, staring at him like he was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He used to be good at hiding his admiration, but today he didn’t want to. And of course, Quackity ended up talking about it.

"Do I have something on my face Wilbur? You seem rather absorbed by something here." He started, with just a little tease.

"It’s just, hard? Not to stare. You’re beautiful."

Quackity tensed at that, flustered. He was not expecting something that direct. Or that sounded this genuine. Looking back at Wilbur, relaxing, he noticed the other was also blushing. There was something building up in the air he wasn’t sure he recognized.

"Why thank you Wilbur, do I need to worry about your sudden kindness? Did you break something? Do you have something to ask?" He wondered out loud.

"Maybe I have something to ask you, yes." Wilbur leaned in.

Somehow he saw an opening here. He felt that maybe this was the moment he was waiting for. Quackity seemed to reciprocate his energy, and he might not walk away if Wilbur pushed his luck.

"And what is it that you want to ask, Wil?" Quackity leaned in too.

He could feel the rise of the tension in the room, unsure of what started it, as they had flirted before, but it never felt like that. He didn’t mind thought, he needed a distraction, and Wilbur was perfect in that role.

His work could wait. Leaning even closer in Quackity’s space, Wilbur whispered.

"Can I kiss you, Quackity?" The request was so polite, and nothing at all like Quackity expected. It was almost…sweet?

He didn’t think about it more than three seconds before closing the gap between him and Wilbur.

The kiss was complicated, like everything was between them two. It felt passionate? desperate? Something like that, and weirdly pleasant coming from Wilbur.

Quackity, who noticed the other was doing nothing to take the lead, grabbed his shirt to pull him closer.

THEY START GETTING PHYSICAL DOWN BELOW

Wilbur, more than happy he succeeded with his awful flirting, followed the other’s silent request by completely leaving his chair and settling in Quackity’s lap. He had waited for this moment far too long, and he was not going to ruin it because of whatever pride he had left.

Maybe the old Wilbur, the proud and confident Wilbur would have, but not this one. He was more than happy to be with Quackity in this instant. More happy than he had ever been.

It didn’t stay nice very long, though. The long wait, frustration, despair and passion (?) made both of them impatient.

One of Quackity’s hands very quickly went on Wilbur’s waist, gripping it tight, while the other was in the other man's hair, keeping him in place.

Wilbur’s were on his shoulders, nails digging in and out of his shirt.

Grinding down in Quackity’s lap, kissing the man he always wanted, Wilbur never felt more alive.