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It was 2 in the morning when Wilbur heard a knock at his door.
He was lucky he had a jacked up sleep schedule, or else he wouldn't have heard it. He stood from where he was sat on the couch and went over to the door, his glasses askew as he opened the door.
He saw the last thing he could have expected, staring in disbelief at the sigh before him.
"Alex...?"
The duck hybrid was in tears in front of him, his hands brought up to his face in an attempt to hide his red rimmed eyes and broken expression. Wilbur's eyes widened with concern. Quackity's eyes never met his, and he assumed he wasn't going to say anything.
Wil put a hand on the other's back gently, "Come in, big Q" he said, his voice feathery smooth and soft. The smaller man in question nodded a little and followed him in, letting Wilbur sit him on the couch.
As Quackity sat down, he pulled his knees up to his chest and folded his golden wings around himself silently.
"Anything to drink?" Wilbur asked carefully from the kitchen, keeping a worried eye on the other.
"Water, please" Quackity croaked. His voice hoarse and shattered. Wilbur nodded and set a glass of water down on the coffee table in front of them, sitting himself next to Quackity.
Wil gave his guest a once-over. His eyebrows raising at seeing the two golden bands that once adorned a string around Quackity's neck suddenly gone. "Your rings?" he pointed out, looking at the space between Quackity's chin and his loose tie that they used to lie.
The raven haired male nodded, "They- they took them" he mumbled, curling up into a tighter ball and looking away "Nick- No- Sapnap did- h-he-" Quackity choked on his words, causing Wilbur to edge closer and wrap an arm around the feathery golden shell Quackity had formed around himself. He felt Quackity's body freeze up momentarily at the action, before begrudgingly leaning into Wil's shoulder, his muscles relaxing.
"He what, Alex?" he asked, wanting the other to finish the sentence.
Quackity swallowed hard, his eyes still trained to the floor "I-I yelled at Karl and he got angry with me s-so them took them away-" he whined, his voice growing weak as he finished the sentence "He burnt them both-!" his voice cracked and he closed his eyes tight, leaning more into Wilbur.
That's what encouraged Wil to stop probing for answers "Hey- It'll be alright Big Q, they're assholes anyways." he reassured, one of his calloused hands gingerly gliding down the smaller male's bright feathers. The action made Quackity's wings ruffle in response, before settling into the calming motion and smiling a bit. He wiped his eyes, "They are, aren't they!" he stated with a shaky laugh.
The taller only nodded more at this, "Yeah, screw them!" he cheered, pulling Quackity closer to himself gallantly. The other only laughed more genuinely, "Yeah, you're right! Screw them!" he cheered back to Wil, smiling and laughing, leaning into Wilbur's frame comfortably.
The two's laughter quieted down, into a close quietness. Broken after a few minutes by a softer, more shy voice from the duck hybrid
"You won't tell anybody about this, right?" he asked fearfully, looking up at Wil.
Wilbur gave him a playful grin, "Who am I to tell? Tommy?" he joked. At seeing no change in the serious expression on Quackity's face, he sighed and nodded, "I promise not to tell anyone" he said finally, letting the other relax.
"This is going to sound weird- but uh- Can I play with your hair…?" Quackity asked after another long silence, in a voice almost so quiet Wilbur wouldn't have heard it. He looked at him in smug surprise and nodded "Weill if you insist-" he teased, earning himself a nudge in the shoulder "Shut up" Quackity retorted.
Wil leaned his head down against Quackity's shoulder, feeling as the other crept a hesitant hand into his curls. Almost immediately, Wil gave a content sigh, he had forgotten how calming this was for both parties.
The only times anyone had ever played with his hair was back from his L'manberg days, when he would let Fundy mess with his hair, and decorate it with ribbons and pine cones galore. The young fox would yip happily while he made a mess out of his father's head, Wil would simply sing and strum his guitar while his son did so- and later Tommy would ask him why. Wil would simply say "You'll understand when you have a child of your own, Tommy", it had earned him a childish grimace and choke from Tommy, as to be expected.
This felt different from back when Fundy would do it though, it was careful and smooth, and he could feel the slight trembling from Quackity's still shaking hand. The taller male now had his eyes closed, feeling one of Quackity's golden wings wrap around Wilbur's body in a subtle embrace, greatly appreciated.
It reminded Wilbur of his father's large, angelic and soft wings. The grand white feathers would wrap around Wil and his brothers, (Techno, Tommy and occasionally Tubbo) and Phil would read them a story. His father always had the greatest tales from his adventures, tales about their mother, or about faraway lands, past wars, and some mythology (courtesy of Techno). It gave him a warm feeling, like how it feels to sit around a campfire. Cozy, nice, comforting.
He could feel Quackity loosening up too, the shaking in his hand had stopped as the hand in his hair moved slower, more in sleepy circles. Nonetheless, they felt nice. Quackity's head leaned against Wil's and he closed his eyes. The taller male's chestnut hair had reminded Quackity of Karl's soft, fluffy locks. Similar to Wilbur's, with their own extra little poof to them.
And the warm feeling of Wil's arm coiling around his wings to keep him close, felt just as familiar as when Sapnap's broad shoulder would relax around him, pulling Quackity into an inescapable, loving embrace.
Yet, despite both of those facts, Something about the way Wilbur was felt unique. His arm didn't lock Quackity in like Sapnap's used to, Instead it lays firmly across his shoulders, and the hand loosely grips onto one of Quackity's shoulder blades. Leaving room to move in or out, while still securing him close. It felt wonderful, it felt safe.
And Wil's curls too- they were more springy and bouncy than Karl's, but they were still so lovely. Unlike his past lover's, Quackity could twirl a lock around his finger with little resistance, and let go for it to bounce back into place. Or he could shuffle his palm through the silky hair, and listen to the distinct little ruffle noised it made. All of this, is what calmed him.
The two absentmindedly drifted to sleep there on the couch, Quackity's water untouched and his shoes still on. Wil's hair looking like a pigsty, and the bodies pressed close together in a mutual comfort.
While Wilbur dreamed of the sweet past, Quackity dreamt of the potential future.
Neither of them regretted anything that had happened, and neither of them spoke of it again.