Chapter Text
Quackity was aware that he and Wilbur were very close. With his leg slipped a little too far between the taller man's legs and Wilburs cold fingers, calloused and long, gripping Quackity's chin, he knew this must look at least a little odd. Will grinned as he stared at Quackity, his dark eyes wide and intense.
"I am your servant, Quackity." Wilbur had said with such calmness it caught him off guard. It was a far cry from the manic tone he had taken up with Quackity earlier, though the acrid burn of cigarette smoke filling his lungs pulled him back to focus.
It took him a moment to realize that the smell was Wilburs breath. Quackity wrinkles his nose. He couldn't stand that smell, it reminding him painfully of Schlatt who was always reeking of smoke and liquor. The scent rattled around inside his chest and he exhaled sharply.
"No, Wilbur," Taking his wrist and forcing his hand from his face, Quackity leaned in close. "I saw, what you did to L'Mangberg, Will, I will not stand for that here, I will not-"
"Are you two kissing!?" Tommy cuts in incredulously. Quackity's gaze darting over to Tommy's huge blue eyes briefly gives Wilbur the chance to push the two of them apart.
Clearing his throat awkwardly he forces out, "No- No. We… we were not kissing, Tommy. Wilbur, leave. You can't join Las Nevadas."
Sputtering, the boy takes a few steps forward, "But I just saw you two! Your faces were this close!" He holds out his fingers in a pinching motion, only leaving a few centimeters of space between the flushed tips of his hands.
Wilbur laughs and waves his hand, "Tommy, no, we weren't kissing." Brushing over it rather quickly, he begins to strut towards the Las Nevadas billboard, lit up in flashing lights, glinting off the sunset beautifully in an enthralling call. "Is this your land, Big Q?"
Quackity blinks and tilts his head down to levely glare at Wilbur. "What? Yes? Of course it's my land. That's my sign."
Will only darts further, stopping when his boots rustle against grass. "And here?"
"Yes- yes, that's mine too. What are you getting at here Wilbur?" Quackity can't keep the irritation out of his voice.
"No, no, I like this, this is a fun game! Let's keep going, is this your land?" They were reaching the forest now, Tommy trailing behind Wilbur like a lost puppy.
"Yes, Wilbur. All of this is my land."
"Well surely not all of this! It can't all be yours after all, other people do live here."
"Wilbur, stop. I don't know what you're playing at here but I don't want you near Las Nevadas!"
"This is paradise Tommy, Quackity do you own this?" Will has his arms spread in regard to the forest behind him, ignoring Quackity's protests. Had they really walked that far? Las Nevadas was beginning to fade behind them across the river.
"No, Will, that's paradise, that's paradise." Tommy points to Quackity's casino.
"Wilbur," Quackity sighs, pursing his lips. "What are you trying to do here?"
Will merely grins. "You're not answering my question." A taunt hangs in his voice, his shadowed features hanging with mockery.
"No, what are you trying to do-?"
"Answer my question."
"Wilbur, what are you trying to do?!"
"No, Quackity, what are you trying to do? Why are you being petty?"
Quackity steps back, his eyebrows pressing together, "I'm not being petty. I'm trying to run a country, run a country the right way."
"You are, you are," Wilbur chides, eyes glinting as closing the gap Quackity had created between them in a few strides of his long legs, "You're being petty and I love it." He places his palms on the sides of Quackity's face, his fingers sliding behind his ears. Wilbur forces Quackity to meet his gaze.
"I— I'm not being petty, I'm not," he chokes out a small laugh to cover his nerves. He was losing what he'd earned again. He was getting fucked over again. Quackity forces in a slow breath. "What makes you think I'm being petty exactly?"
"Big Q, listen to me. The next words I want to hear out of your mouth are a yes or no."
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Fuck. Quackity closes his eyes. It was late again. The moon was already on its path back into the horizon line, Quackity could see it from his vantage point on the top of his Space Needle. In this distance he could also see the lights of Wilbur's new nation.
"That little shit…" He breathes out softly. It felt like mere minutes ago when it had truly been hours. It was small, for now, but Quackity was positive it wouldn't stay like that. Their simple stone wall would grow, and grow.
"Capitalism thrives on competition."
Will had said with a smirk. Quackity swears again, rubbing his forehead, knowing he's right but wishing his raspy voice would shut it's damn mouth.
For a while, Quackity could hear the faint strum of a guitar, and the distant melody of Will's voice, singing. He could even make out the faint outline of his figure on the grassy waterside. He had sounded better than Quackity last remembered hearing. Thirteen years alone must've paid off at least a little.
Not long after Wilbur had stood from the river side and retreated into the dark. The night had been silent for the past few hours, though the lights stayed visible, glowing dimly against the black night.
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"This was a one time thing Wilbur." Quackity's voice rang low with irritation.
Nodding with a quiet hum, Will curved his lips in a thin smile as he stood across from his place on his bed. When Quackity had been pushed down to the thin blanket, he could tell it wasn't used often, if at all. "Nothing but a tryst. A fling that came from us being drunk out of our minds."
Quackity took Wilburs glasses from the nightstand and turned them over in his hand. The lenses were smudged and cracked in a few places.
Will snatched them away with a scowl and slid the frames onto his face, musing his brown curls briefly. "Don't touch those."
Quackity rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever."
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Quackity could tell you now that he and Wilbur had not been a one time thing. It had been back when Wilbur was exiled, living in Pogtopia. He had been married to Schlatt at the time, and Wilbur was a welcome escape from the hellscape that was their relationship.
He reaches up silently to tug his beanie down further on his head, the thoughts in his mind filling him up, and leaving him more empty than before.
Wilbur's amused drawl from behind startles him. "Someone's up late."
Nearly jumping out of his skin, Quackity spins. "The fuck Wilbur!? I thought I locked up the elevator behind me!" He snaps, eyes sharp and stabbing into the man's gaze.
The visible anger in Quackity's eyes elicits a smirk that dances across Wilburs face wickedly. "And?" He tugs a crude knife of flint from his belt and twirls it. "Locked doors never stopped me before." He chuckles, though a small wince runs through him.
Hardly detectable, but Quackity notices. His eyebrows raise. The vitriol laced laced smile slips Wilburs lips briefly, a small crack in his mask and he darts his tongue over his chapped lips, pushing back the grin, more resembling a grimace than anything. "Well? Not able to sleep, hm?"
"None of your business."
Shrugging, Will tucks the knife away and strikes up a match. Smoke begins to wreathe through the air. Quackity frowns. "Could you not." It isn't a request.
Wilbur snorts softly, cigarette in mouth, haze puffing from the sides of his mouth. "If I wanted to, maybe."
Quackity grinds his teeth together, jaw tensing. "You come into my country, start up a rival nation and blatantly disrespect my rules, the least you could do would be snuff out a damn cigarette! Fuck you!"
"Maybe later. I'm a little busy right now." Wilbur takes a long drag, stepping up beside Quackity, lifting his face to the sky and closing his eyes, a devilish curve still tugging at the corners of his lips.
Quackity wrinkles his nose. "That can't be good for you."
Pausing and glancing at him, Wilbur arches both eyebrows, taking the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers. "Does it look like I really give a shit?"
Quackity sighs. "No." He glares over at Will as he leans over the glass railing lazily.
"What don't you like about this anyway?" He waves the joint teasingly.
"Just bad memories."
Wilbur tilts his head in mock sympathy, and fakes a pout. "Schlatt, huh? It's alright, the fucker screwed me over too. Glad the bastard's dead." He stops for a moment before taking Quackity's hand. He runs his thumb over the glittering bands on his ring finger. "Oh? A special someone?" His thumb stops on the second ring. "Two?" Wilbur bursts out in laughter. "Have you been busy, Big Q?!"
Quackity jerks his hand back. "Fuck off! Seriously, learn some fucking boundaries!" His voice is wrought with bitterness. He had no right to ask about his personal life. Especially not...
"Hm, seems I've struck a nerve," Wilbur purrs, smirking down at him pitifully. He taps a finger against his hollowed cheek before picking at Quackity’s fingers again. He grips his hand tightly, and dips into a faux bow, pressing his lips to Quackity's knuckles.
Wilbur doesn't break eye contact, flames licking at his dark irises.
"Fucking–" Quackity tries before clearing his throat and snarling, "Fucking boundaries Will!"
"I'm sorry." He wasn't.
He didn't let go of his hand either, only using it to pull them chest to chest, face to face, their warm and cool breath mingling between them. "It just feels so damn good to live again, Alex."