Work Text:
Ramram:
Help! How do I get this guy to acknowledge that I ‘like’ like him?
I’ve been fuckbuddies with this guy for a few months, I met him at a friends party and he was a really fucking good lay. I went through a whole thing with internalized homophobia (and am still battling it) but I’ve finally kind of accepted that I have growing feelings for him. Problem is he only sees me as some kind of stuck up dickhead who only calls him to fuck. The truth is that I’ll try to invite him to hang out and he declines because he thinks that its just for sex and gets really annoyed. This whole time I’ve just been trying to get him to consider me at least as not just a begrudging fuckbuddy. Any advice?
Quackity’s ass HURT. Schlatt had called him around two last night, drunk out of his goddamn mind and horny as all hell. Quackity accepted, having nothing better to do and wanting to do something other than review his international law class notes. Quackity stared up at the ceiling, listening to the ram hybrid's soft snores beside him, wing tips brushing the sides of his arms. Quackity knew Schlatt wasn’t the type to lie or say things he didn’t believe, but at that moment, Quackity wasn’t sure that was completely true. Schlatt had been spouting nothing but mushy bullshit the whole time, calling Q pet names and other terms of affection. It felt…for lack of a better word, eery. His thoughts began to spiral, before he got too fed up and began getting up. He grabbed his clothes from the floor, making sure his beanie was well situated before leaving for his own dorm.
Arriving at Nevadas, his roommate, Slime, sat on his own bed, legs curled under him as he flipped through flash cards, growing agitated as one of them stuck to the masses of slimy goop leaking from his fingers. He perked up hearing Q enter the room, smiling widely, his skull showing through his translucent green-tinted skin.
“Quackity from Nevadas! Welcome back! Will you be staying in our room today, seeing as Punz is in room 12119?”
Quackity let out a low curse, he was hoping to crash with Foolish. Nothing against Slime, he could just be a bit much. Loud, overly trusting, slightly naive, more fitted for an elementary school than the top ranked university in the country.
“Yeah sure, I’m going to go shower.” Q gathered his things, slipping out to head to the showers, jumping at the sight of an alien looking boy chewing gum and leaning outside the rooms, nodding at Quackity as he passed.
“Who even are you?” Quackity asked, sizing him up. He looked to be around 6’3, two purple antennae poking out of his hair, which was blonde with purple streaks near the fringe.
“M’ Purpled.”
“Yeah, but how did you even get here? This is a keycard activated dorm complex.”
“I’m Punz’s brother,” Purpled replied, looking thoroughly fed up, eyes narrowing as he shoved his phone in his hoodie pocket. Quackity looked him up and down once more, making sure to get all outstanding physical descriptors in case he was ever in a police lineup (if law school taught him anything, even the softest looking people could be dangerous) before leaving in the direction of the dorm showers once more.
After the shower, he felt slightly better, groaning as his 30 minute class warning sound went off. He slipped into his room, Slime too busy listening to his music with headphones to notice, before grabbing a protein bar and leaving the room.
Class was boring, the professor relying on them taking personal notes while she read her shitty paperback romance (and judging by the way she would look around suspiciously before remembering to turn the slides made him guess she was at a sex scene). Quackity could feel his phone buzzing with texts through his pants pocket. He knew who it was, given by the custom pattern (he had ones for friends, family, people he ignored, and Schlatt) and frequency of the messages.
Dickhead: Hey Q, you just left without saying anything.
Quackity: oh I’m sorry
Was i supposed to tell you that I was leaving? May I remind you this is a conditional exchange, not a relationship.
Dickhead: wow, ok.
Someone still sounds dtf
Quackity: Shut up🖕
I’m in class
Dickhead: wow, didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, sexting while in class
Quackity: I’m not fucking Sexting you
Especially while in class.
Go get one of your other human fleshlights
Dickhead: wow
Do you really think that’s how I think of you?
Quackity: we are not having this conversation now
Or frankly ever.
I’m busy, go ask for nudes somewhere else
Quackity shoved his phone into his pocket once more, ignoring the last few texts before Schlatt finally understood he had no interest in discussing the situation more. Quackity scanned the room, noticing a teenager, no older than 17, hooked onto the rafters by his legs, dangling upside down, writing something. He quickly fished his phone back out, ignoring the texts on his homescreen, instead swiping to the camera and capturing an image for Karl and Sapnap.
Q: [one image]
Ah, the wonderful world of civil affairs class
Sap: wtf, how did that kid get there
He part enderman or smthg
Q: dunno, just spotted him after you know who tested me
*texted
Karl: i want to do that :(
Anyway, what did he want
Q: what else, some horny shit
This time, nudes
Sap: ugh just dump his ass.
You don’t need him
Q: he’s a reliable source of sexual pleasure, good at what he does and gets it over with
All j have to do is ride out the annoying day to day texts
And you can’t dump someone you weren’t dating dumbass
Karl: wdym day tk day
Q: keeps trying to get me to “hang out”
Too bad I know that’s just him asking to know if we can fuck.
I hate those
Sap: why? It sounds like he either wants to be friends or just fuck
Q: exactly
I don’t want to try and get to know a guy who just sees me as a human shaped fleshlight
Karl: yeesh
Has he said that?
Q: nah, but I’m not stupid
Sap: ofc
Q: a large part of my major is reading people and figuring out what they’re thinking
It’s why I’m so good at gambling 😎
Sap: what have we said about emojis
They’re ugly and they remind me of minions
Q: see, you just answered your own question, good job
Sap: fuck off, I hope you have to talk fo Schlatt
Q: ur an asshole
There are lines we don’t cross Mr. Sapnap Halo
Karl: oh shit, he pulled out the full name
Q: I’m leaving. I’m a good student
Sap: and my brother doesn’t like skeppy
Karl: wait
He doesn’t????
I thought they were dating
Why don’t they like each other anymore???
Did they break up?
When???
Sap: no, Karl
It’s sarcasm
Karl: oh
Q: LMAOOOOOO
Karl: so are they together or
Sap: nah, just pining like idiots
Karl: oh lol
Remember when we werre like that?
Q: Ok I’m leaving fr now, take it to the dms
Schlatt frowned. He was fine with challenges, better yet, he welcomed them. But Quackity was seemingly determined to stay as far away from Schlatt as possible. He invited him to hang out and Quackity assumed it was a booty call. He attempted to have a normal conversation, Quackity assumed it was him trying to sext, it was like nothing Schlatt carried would get through to him. He sat back on his couch, watching his friend, Wilbur, wander around while humming notes.
“What am I doing wrong?”
“Well for one you’re an asshole. Number two: you act like you don’t care about anyone, number three: you’re an entitled prick, four: you’re always wearing that damned smirk like it’s superglued like that. I could go on, would you like me to?” He asked, smiling faux innocently at Schlatt. Schlatt scowled at Wilbur, who laughed and said “Wow! I made you learn a new facial expression, how cool!” Schlatt bared his teeth, before turning back to his message history with Quackity. Schlatt didn’t usually care about what people thought of him, especially his fuckbuddies, but Q… Q was something else. Maybe it was because he was the first guy Schlatt had ever slept with, maybe it was the way he was able to challenge him even knowing who his family was (well, Q knew they were rich, but maybe not HOW rich) or maybe it was because of the way Quackity was really REALLY cute. Everything about him was interesting to Schlatt, the way he thought, the way he held himself, his facade of superiority to hide his inferiority complex, even his constant ability to pull him in while still being so cold. Everything about Quackity was what Schlatt wanted.
“Have you even told him about the party?” Wilbur asked, finally taking a seat on the sofa beside him. Schlatt let out a harsh laugh in response, turning to his friend.
“Please, he won’t even respond to my texts asking to go grab lunch. How do you think he would react if I said ‘hey, I kinda accidentally snapped at my parents about not wanting to date for status and volunteered you. Can you be my fake boyfriend for the extended weekend?’”
Wilbur let out his own bitter chuckle, holding his pencil between his teeth, seemingly lost in thought. He laughed quietly, before looking back at Schlatt.
“Did you say something?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Mm, at least I didn’t sign my fuck buddy who hates me up to meet my parents and pretend to be into each other.” Wilbur responded, fishing his phone out his pocket and letting out a low curse.
“I’ve got to get home, Phil, Techno, Tommy and I have to make sure Ranboo gets his weekly shower.”
“Weekly?! That kid must reek.”
“Dunno how he doesn’t. Anyways, I’ll be back in about a week.”
Schlatt waved Wilbur off, turning back to his own phone and continued pondering about his situation.
RamRam:
Update: semi related to last post
So about that guy, I should include that he hates me, and I kind of snapped at my parents and their elitist bullshit (something about dating and marrying within my own economic circle) and basically said he was my boyfriend… so uh. I’m fucked
Popcicle_butgreen:
How did you manage to do that?
Pants:
LMAO ur screwed
Ruler:
Ha, couldn’t be me.
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Beeboy:
It actually could if you stole their skin
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Ruler:
Dude wtf
Quackity was going to kill Karl. And Sapnap probably. All throughout karaoke night at the local bar they kept trying to set him up with people. People he didn’t know and probably didn’t trust coming anywhere close to his dick.
“Come ON. I’ve shown you like 5 different types of people and you haven’t found even one that’s attractive?”
“Listen, any of these people could be the type to bite your dick off.” Both boys cringed at that, giving each other pained looks before looking back at Quackity.
“Ok, maybe that’s true. But didn’t you randomly get with Schlatt at a bar?” Karl asked. He was right in a way. He had met Schlatt in a bar, but the first time they had just done a lot of kissing and rubbing up against each other uncomfortably, before leaving the bathroom holding each other’s numbers (something Quackity regretted). Quackity shrugged, muttering something along the lines of “people change” before requesting another drink from the bartender. As he downed his tequila shot, his phone buzzed with a text from Schlatt. Scowling he read the message, taking another shot to stave off the inevitable headache he always got from dealing with Schlatt (though in hindsight, you shouldn’t drink alcohol while dealing with a headache).
Dickhead: Quackity
Quackity: whag
Dickhead: I gotta talk to you about smtg important, can u come over
Quackity: so what, you can sitck ur dick in my ass
Dickhead: wtf no.
Aren’t u still sore from yesterday?
Anyways fine, can I at least call?
Quackity: jokes on you, I’m at a bar haven’t. This time of my life
Dickhead: well that explains the shit ass spelling
But this is serious
Quackity: oh sure
Like every other text you send me.
Dickhead: This is meeting the parents serious
Quackity: savw that for your girldfirne
Dickhead: problem, I don’t have one.
Quackity: wonder why
Dickhead: other problem, I kinda said I had a boyfriend
Asshole
Quackity: why’s that my problem?
Dickhead: I showed them a picture of you
Schlatts phone buzzed with the incoming call. Grimacing, he answered, unprepared for the sheer volume of Quackity’s scream.
“YOU WHAT?! SCHLATT, I SHOULD KILL YOU, YOU DUMB SONOFABITCH, TU HIJO DE PUTA ESTUPIDO, DEBARIA MATARTE Y ENTERRATE DONDE NADIE PUEDA ENCONTRAR TU CUERPO-“
“Listen! I panicked, they were challenging me and were being dickheads.”
“So it’s genetic, good to know. How do you fucking panic and show your family a picture of me as a boyfriend?!”
“You were the first in my message history, I just pulled up the contact photo of you!”
“Schlatt, please tell me the contact photo isn’t something bad.”
“It’s not something bad?”
“Are you kidding me? What picture is it.”
“I’ll only tell you if you agree.”
“I could hang up on you right now,” Quackity threatened, no doubt hovering his thumb over the red button.
“Mm, but you wouldn’t without knowing. You’re curious like that. Besides, after this I promise to leave you alone.” Schlatt teased; Quackity letting out an audible growl and shifting in his seat.
“Fine. Text me the information, I’m going back to having fun. You do whatever big man shit you do.” He responded, hanging up. Schlatt let out a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding, smiling at his screen. Though the situation wasn’t the best, a guy could still be happy about the prospect of spending the weekend with his loaded parents in an attempt to win over the guy he accidentally fell for.
Quackity woke up regretting all his decisions, something that had (unfortunately) begun being a pattern. A massive headache blooming through his forehead and a bad case of dry mouth, coupled with a wake up text from Schlatt was not how he’d like to start his Saturday. Something about terms and conditions, a rundown, and some kind of NDA that Quackity DEFINITELY would be reading thoroughly and not signing. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and listening to Slime hum along to his music.
“Ah! Quackity from Nevadas, you’re awake! This guy has been trying to call you, but I made sure he didn’t wake you!”
“Thanks Slime. What did he want?”
“I didn’t answer your phone, personal business and all. I answered Foolish’s once and it didn’t go well.” Slime said, his face slowly slipping into a pained frown, as if remembering a traumatic memory, before smiling once more.
“So, what are you up to today?”
“Sleeping off this damn hangover. Can you run to Punz and ask him for Advil? Or any pain med? Hell, I’d even take a joint.”
“You shouldn’t smoke while dehydrated or hungover,” Slime replied, already slipping on his shoes and heading to Punz’s room. Quackity flopped back down on his mattress, groaning, an arm thrown over his eyes dramatically, before fishing his phone out from under his pillow. He began scanning the texts with Schlatt, cringing at the picture he sent. It was Quackity during one of the freshman mixers two years ago. A bunch of new students had gotten together and gone go-karting, Quackity videoing the entire thing and posting it on the private Freshman boards. Apparently Schlatt had taken a still of a scene, one in which Quackity’s mouth was open mid-laugh, eyes crinkled shut, one hand holding his beanie in place, the other somehow holding both the screen and the wheel.
The texts under the photo were an outline of conditions, making Quackity curse his past self. Why didn’t he wait until he wasn’t fucking plastered to make big decisions? He scowled as the messages went on, the explanation asking more and more of him. He thought it was going to be a ‘hold my hand for the night’ kinda deal, not a ‘call each other adoring pet names and flirt with me’ kind of deal. Quackity better have been getting some compensation for this.
Quackity regretted this, he didn’t have many regrets, but this was one of them. Possibly the biggest one, right after meeting Schlatt.
“Come on, baby, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet already?” Schlatt purred, wrapping an arm around Quackity’s waist as they stood in front of the high end skyscraper. Quackity felt like he was walking into the set of some bad New York ceo worker rom-com. A small town girl moves to the big city and finds a job at the high ranking firms but falls in love with her rich boss, stuff his mom would watch. He chuckled under his breath at his jokes, before scowling at remembering who he was with.
“Don’t call me that, and get off me. Is this where they work?”
Schlatt removed his arm, smoothing over his lapels before tisking.
“No no Amor , this is my home.”
“Don’t call me that either, or any pet name to be clear.”
Schlatt shrugged before leading Q into the building. The lady at the desk greeted Schlatt, watching Quackity out of the corner of her eye. He could feel the suspicion radiating from her. She probably assumed he was some gold digger, ready to drop Schlatt when he got money from it.
“ I’m getting something better than money from this, Lady,” he thought, smirking to himself, “I’m getting a verbal restraining order.”
As the two were buzzed up to the housing floor (the penthouse, which made Q raise his eyebrows) Quackity surveyed Schlatt. His usual air of nonchalance was gone, replaced with a kind of fidgetiness that only came from forced confidence. If it were anyone else, he may have made jokes or nudged him to give him a calming smile, but seeing as this was Schlatt, he elected to stay still and quiet.
“ He’d probably be insulted that I thought he was weak.” He reasoned, picking invisible lint off of his shirt and ruffling his wings slightly. As the elevator doors slid open, Quackity finally regestered that Schlatt’s family was fucking LOADED. The main area was laid out with an off white sectional, with a faux fur throw on the arm. Slightly reflective marble flooring to match the countertops, and white cabinets. It was all very chic, not in the ‘comfortable living with friends’ way, more of the ‘monochrome high tech dream home’ way. Schlatt stepped out the elevator, smoothing his button up out for a second time, seemingly an anxiety response, freezing when Quackity, fed up and perturbed at seeing the usually calm and collected Schlatt nervously fidget, took his hand and laced their fingers together. After a few beats Schlatt relaxed, leading Quackity around the first floor, meticulously cleaned and put together, like Schlatt. He chuckled to himself before noticing the beautiful ivory white piano; untangling his and Schlatt hands, he walked over to it, sitting on the bench and beginning to pluck out a simple tune. The music was addicting, drawing him in the play more, letting him get lost in the familiar way his fingers danced over the keys. At some point he registered Schlatt sitting beside him but he couldn’t care less, the song was enough to keep him from focusing on his situation, allowing him to delight in the way his fingers were seemingly magnetically drawn to the notes to play Minuet.
As he finished the song, exhaling a breath with an air of finality, he heard clapping. Looking over to Schlatt, he saw his eyes still closed, ears twitching quickly, before they darted open at the noise. He turned around to see a woman, a sheep hybrid, around 5’7 with shocking blonde hair cut right below her jaw and a white pencil dress, applauding politely.
“Schlatt, you never told me your friend knew how to play piano, this is a welcome surprise.”
“I didn’t know until recently, my boyfriend, always full of surprises,” he responded, recovering quickly. Quackity resisted the urge to roll his eyes, faking a bashful smile before noticing the way his mother’s lips pulled into a tight line.
“Ah, so I’m assuming this is the ‘boyfriend’ you spoke of. Nice to meet you-”
“Quackity,”
“-Quackity, My husband, John, should be here soon. Schlatt, show him to your room.” She finished, before glancing at her phone, scoffing and walking off. Quackity turned to Schlatt watching him deflate before noticing Quackity watching him.
“Sorry about her. She can be kind of…snobby.”
“Guess that also runs in the family, anyways where am I sleeping?”
Schlatt escorted him to a room as immaculate as the rest of the house with a hotel-made queen bed, computer desk in the corner, walk-in closet the size of his dorm, and a panoramic view of the city.
“If you ever want privacy there's a remote in the bedside cabinet. Has a mirror function,” He said, retrieving the remote and pressing a button. The windows dimmed, reflecting the room back, bathing the room in a reflective darkness. “There’s also a dark mode setting if you don’t want the windows or mirrors out. If you have any other questions I’ll be down the corridor,” Schlatt finished, still looking nerve wracked. Quackity rolled his eyes, “‘ Corridor’ who are you, Wilbur? It’s called a fucking hallway you preppy ass bitch.” The joke managed to make Schlatt crack a small smile, before regaining his composure and leaving the room.
Quackity placed his things on the bed, he was going to have to deal with this shit for 4 days. According to Schlatt, his father had scored a big deal that required rich people partying, leading him to needing a date. Quackity had to make it through four whole days full of rich people partying, fancy meals either with executives or Schlatt’s family, and making sure nobody caught on to the plot while keeping Schlatt from trying to fuck him over any surface. Suddenly, the gravity of the situation along with the hustle of the day caught up with him, making him tired. He flopped over the bed, messily kicking off his shoes and curling up on the bed that wasn’t his own.
“What do you mean I’m not sleeping in my room? What happened to it?”
“Well, after you left I converted it into a workout room. My old work out room started feeling cramped and now it’s my office. I had planned for you to use the guest room if you came over but, well…” his mother trailed off. Schlatt dragged a hand down his face, rubbing the stubble on his chin before facing her again.
“So where do I sleep? The couch???”
“Well, considering you and that…man… are in a relationship, you should have no problem sharing.”
Schlatt scowled at his mother, she had always been like this; cold, calculating and sharp-witted. The way she spoke of Quackity grinded on Schlatts nerves, but he swallowed down his retort, simply crossing his arms and giving her a slight nod, before walking back to Quackity’s room. He knocked lightly, before letting himself in when there was no reply. Inside he saw Quackity, curled into a tight ball on the tops of the covers, wings covering as much of his arms as possible (barely any) as he slept. Schlatt relaxed, before raising Quackity slightly and (with some trouble) pulling the covers out, allowing him to tuck him in. Quackity moved around a bit, adjusting to the new position, before returning to slumber. Schlatt let out an exhale, quietly grabbing a book and sitting in a chair in the corner to begin reading, watching Quackity over the rims of his reading glasses. Schlatt could see the outlines of his wings poking out of the sheets, shifting and flapping slightly. Somehow his damned beanie stayed on, held in place by his face pressed against the pillow. Schlatt also took the time to study Quackity’s face. Soft, round cheekbones with a sharp nose. Not as sharp as Foolish or Jack’s per say, but sharp enough, and rounded lips. God, what Schlatt would give to kiss those lips. Every time he and Quackity kissed it had always been demanding; filled with lust and slight aggression. Schlatt longed for a situation in which he could just kiss them, regardless of the situation; soft and tenderly, to show he loved him; playfully, as a way to shut him up in an argument, small pecks to show fleeting affection, domesticity he could never possibly have. He shook his head, Quackity made him soft, something he would have to shut away when his father arrived. He already knew he would have to work hard to get anything edgewise generally, but with Quackity being both a man and a person of color, he would have to hold back any weaknesses to make sure nobody could exploit it while still defending his so-called “boyfriend”. The world of high octane business was brutal, especially when it was run by a bunch of old stuffy white men with hotter takes than the bright side of Mercury. Choosing to go with Quackity was an objectively bad decision, but one Schlatt didn’t regret. On the downside, he’d have to field thinly veiled racist and homophobic insults and make sure Q didn’t murder anyone while also making sure he didn’t reveal his massive fucking crush to every exec in the party.
This was going to be a long ass weekend.
Quackity woke up 8 hours later, fully rested and confused as hell. Where was he? Why was he in a hotel? Who’s paying for this room, he certainly couldn’t afford this fancy place with his college student salary, even with his job. Why is Schlatt in the room? Why does he look so cute sleeping? Why do I want to pet him, his ears look so soft, would that be rude?
Slowly but surely the memories began rushing back in, he was with Schlatt this weekend trying to convince half the professional business community he was dating (and banging) the son of the owner of one of the biggest cryptocurrency and tech companies in the world. No big deal. Quackity wanted to go right back to sleep, pretend this was all one big nightmare, and awake to Slime watching him sleep, only to announce that he missed his 2 pm mock trial. Hell, he’d (possibly) be happier failing his BAR exam over doing this. Quackity hoisted himself out of the bed, approaching the door before hearing muffled speech from down the hall.
“I just don’t see how OUR son can be into that… behavior.”
“We should have just sent him to that Catholic college, then he would have a nice girl instead of him .”
“-A private Catholic school, less chances for exposure somewhere that accepts people under this class.”
Schlatt’s mother hummed in agreement before speaking to her husband once more.
“So what do we do? We can’t have him going to the party with a man on his arm.”
“You know how our son is, he won’t listen. I could get someone to dig into the boy’s past and show him that they aren’t fit for each other.”
“That could make him rebel more,”
Now it was the man's turn to hum, seemingly in thought.
“We just have to hope and pray our son doesn’t get tempted by this man for much longer. Hopefully he hasn’t bought anything too expensive with the money we left him.”
Quackity startled upon hearing Schlatt speak.
“So, now you know what we’re dealing with. Any ideas?”
He hadn’t heard him wake up, much less make any noise up to that point. Quackity resisted the urge to take inventory of how he looked, button down collar skewed, the sweater thrown over top of that becoming folded and wrinkled. His jeans hugging his legs, his hair an absolute mess, curled around his horns messily. He looked like a rumpled businessman, which was strangely extremely attractive. He huffed, turning back to the door, simply replying “they’re YOUR parents, shouldn’t you have the ideas?”
Quackity was surprised to hear Schlatt let out a laugh, not his usual dark chuckle or even a polite one, but a true, genuine laugh, before smiling softly at Quackity.
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason I left.”
He surprised himself by blushing. Something about the smile was so rewarding and friendly, like Quackity earned that smile. He hated himself for wanting to see it more often, the way the corners of Schlatt's eyes crinkled, his lips not pulled into his usual sneer, instead resting gently in a natural smile. He wanted to kiss the corners gently, hoping to seal that expression both in his memory and on Schlatt’s face. Quackity shook his head, aggressively dismissing the thoughts. He was still sleep drunk, yeah. His sleep-addled brain was so lonely and desperate for love and affection it fabricated that feeling towards Schlatt, that's the only plausible answer. Nothing else. Quackity dragged a hand over his face, attempting to shake off the sleep delirium, before asking Schlatt if it was safe to leave the room. Schlatt shrugged, opening the door and peering out, before nodding. Quackity grabbed Schlatt’s hand, following him into the living room, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting. Then Quackity noticed the man near Schlatt’s mother; tall, broader than his son with salt and pepper facial hair and a stern look.
“So, this is the boy you’ve brought home?”
“Yes, sir.” Schlatt answered quickly but relaxed, seemingly calmed by the hand holding.
‘Why would this calm him? It’s not like it means anything,” Q reassured himself, attempting to stay focused on the scene before him.
“And you are?”
“Q-Quackity. Quackity Eichque…sir,” he added quickly at the end. The man huffed, a laugh of sorts that Schlatt was also prone to making. He forced himself not to crumple under Mr. J’s gaze as he sized him up; Quackity felt a hand gently squeezing his own, making him remember he was holding Schlatt’s, before looking up at him. Schlatt’s face was still steely and cold, but his eyes flicked over to Q’s, just for a moment, as he cracked the slightest of smiles, before turning back to his parents. Quackity felt something stir in him, a feeling both familiar and foreign. A feeling he never wanted to associate with Schlatt .
‘It’s that one theory, you know the one that says you feel like you’re in love when scared. Yeah, it’s just the fear talking, nothing more.’ Quackity repeated this in his head a few times, making sure to push down his fear (and that annoying feeling that went with it) before attempting to rejoin the conversation. Schlatt’s father was still sizing the two up, before giving an approving snort and settling on the settee with his wife.
Schlatt exhaled noisily, grinning at Quackity. His wild expression, eyes wide, lips curled back with glee rather than in a defensive snarl, and eyes sparkling. Quackity felt the emotion arise within him once again, before tamping down on it with all his strength.
“You did a good job, I know my father can be a bit…intimidating.”
Quackity scoffed at the descriptor, “yeah, and Wilbur kinda likes music.” Schlatt laughed again, the same one as in the room, an earned one that warmed Quackity’s heart before he too, tamped down in that one.
“So,”
“So, what now?”
“Now we eat and listen to my parents plan all the important stuff.”
“So you don’t do anything?
“Well, when I was younger I had schoolwork and occasionally went with my dad for work, which I guess I still have to do one day this weekend, but I could take you for a tour?”
“A tour? Of what; your ridiculously huge house or the town?”
“Definitely the town, I want to avoid my family as much as I can. Not to sound ungrateful but they can be a bit...cold.”
Quackity huffed again, before asking where the food was. Schlatt pointed to the cereal bowls, “I want to make this breakfast go by as fast as possible,” before the two of them left for the room to get dressed. Quackity selected a normal outfit, white shirt, blue track jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. He tucked his hair and ears (wings?) into his beanie, before exiting the room. Schlatt, like always, looked effortlessly put together. White button-up, the sleeves rolled up and cuffed at the elbows, form-fitting slacks and subtle horn jewelry.
“Like what you see?” Schlatt teased, Quackity flushing, before he knocked into Schlatt, causing the other to stumble slightly.
“Shut up, I was just saying that you looked way too dressed up for a tour of the town.” A slight lie, but one that could still pass seeing as Q was just wearing class clothes. Schlatt sniffed, replying simply “You're right, but I wanted to impress mi novio caliente ,” and smirking at Quackity.
“You know the pet names don’t have to be in Spanish, right?” He asked. He already had problems with mixing up what languages he was supposed to be using, especially with translations. He didn’t want to have to switch to receiving Spanish in the middle of a conversation.
“Aww, but they sound so much better in Spanish.”
“You remind me of those people that insert Japanese everywhere for ‘aesthetics’, annoying ass motherfuckers.” He replied, rolling his eyes dramatically at his ‘boyfriend’ (if he wanted to sell the act he’d have to start actually, y’know, playing the part). Schlatt let out a bark of laughter, startling the shorter man, before asking, “Is mi amor still allowed?” Quackity thought for a moment before agreeing. It was a simple phrase that wouldn’t make him do a double take (unless, you know, context). Schlatt smiled at him again before finally grabbing a jacket and ushering him out of the apartment and onto the elevator.
Driving downtown was full of road rage and traffic. The two men had been seated in the car due to a faulty stop light for 40 minutes. Schlatt let out another curse, Q moving the hand from his phone to shield Schlatt from honking the horn for what felt like the 50th time.
“I understand you hate sitting in traffic, but making obnoxious noise won’t change anything,” He said, continuing to scroll through his (107,847) unread emails, scowling at the spam. Schlatt let out another groan, looking over at his companion.
“Well what do you suggest I do while these idiots hold up the line?”
“I dunno, wait?”
“Waiting isn’t as fun as it's advertised.”
“Wouldn’t that be false advertising?”
“Yeah.”
“Couldn’t you sue them for that? I mean, I’m assuming since I’m not the business major here.”
Schlatt thought for a moment, before shrugging.
“Depends on the user. Someone could be fucking estatic with waiting, if it was like, a marketable thing-“
“Of course.”
“So it mainly depends on user enjoyment. A false advertising is categorized as something being advertised with a different using experience than shown; but that’s ignoring personal opinion. I personally hate waiting, someone else might fucking love it, but the fact is the ‘product’ in question: sitting and preparing for something to happen, is just that. It would only be false marketing if, for example, it was advertised as immediate, no preparation or stalling time-“
Schlatt prattled on about the inner workings of false marketing, content to fill the conversation space with legal and business jargon, which most flew right over Q’s head, face becoming lively and animated as he explained. Quackity enjoyed the change in tone, smiling as he listened to Schlatt explain the job’s ins and outs, before they noticed they had begun moving once more.
“Fucking finally,” Schlatt smiled, before getting into a faster lane. They coasted down the roads, Schlatt stealing glances at Quackity as music played quietly through the radio. From an outside perspective it would look either like two completely platonic guys riding downtown, or like a lovestruck couple depending on if you took the time to study their faces. Neither assumptions were true though, they were neither simply platonic nor a legitimate couple, something that haunted Schlatt. He reminded himself of that as Quackity’s eyes scanned the city roads and downtown bustle.
“There are so many people here, and I mean like, adults.”
“We’re adults.”
“No I mean like,” Quackity gestured with his hands, “ ADULTS , like genuine adult people with jobs and mortgages and down payments.”
“Do you even know what those are?” Schlatt laughed, watching Quackity as he continued watching the outside. Quackity shook his head, “of course not, all I have to worry about right now is not strangling you.” Schlatt smirked, quirking an eyebrow as the duck hybrid chuckled and shoved him lightly.
“God, I don’t know how I’ll survive.”
“I’ll be going out in my favorite way then.”
“Fucking gross dude.”
Hours later, as Quackity toed his shoes off at the foot of the bed, he sighed. Schlatt was…different. Not in the romcom snap-of-the-fingers way, more of the way mold creeps in from the ceiling. Schlatt had treated him with all manner of gifts, along with taking him to lunch. Everything with Schlatt was giving him whiplash, how he thought of Schlatt was subverted with every kind gesture. The way Schlatt was giving him gifts with no expectation of sex. If he was a different type of person he would jump Schlatt’s bones (but he wasn’t...right?) Quackity took out a charm Schlatt had bought him, a small duck, and turned it around in his palm.
“Look, they put you on a charm!”
“Huh? Oh, haha. Very funny asshole, it’s just a fucking duck.”
“Yeah, like I said. Or would you have preferred a cat, y’know since you're such a pussy.”
Even though the words were slightly harsh, Quackity knew they were just friendly banter. Considering the fact he routinely called his own friends dumb and borderline rude nicknames he wouldn’t be offended by being called a pussy; it was the sense of familiarity. Schlatt was easy to talk to, conversation flowing easily and able to go for hours, something he hadn’t expected. Quackity shoved his face into a pillow, before screaming into it quietly.
RamRam has updated Help! How do I get this guy to acknowledge that I ‘like’ like him?
So, the party is in two days (counting today) which is stressing me out. I have two days to convince him that I like him before he goes back to hating me, any advice?
Offbrandsonic:
Idk, tell him?
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RamRam:
Well that’s dumb and I hate you for suggesting that.
Q had his limits with anything, he could only eat two tubs of ice cream before his body forced him to become temporarily lactose intolerant, he could only get so much hot Cheetos dust off his fingers without a napkin, he could only cough with his mouth open once before being branded as an iPad kid (and even if he did have an iPad and a habit of asking people to play games on their phone, that was nobody but his business) and this trip was testing a new one.
“How much time do you have to spend with someone to convince yourself you like them? Oh god, that sounds like the plot to some romcom.”
“Or an elevator porn,”
“Definitely an elevator porn.” Karl agreed. Quackity smoothed his brow, resisting the urge to drive another 2 hours just to disembowel his friends. Dream laughed, pitching in his own opinion about the hypothetical elevator porn as Sapnap yelled at George about sponsoring the production.
“Guys, this is serious.”
“Yeah George, this is serious. So lend me the money!”
“I’m not going to lend you the money so you can record yourself boning Karl in an elevator,”
“So if it wasn’t me and was, say, you and Dream, would you lend me the money?”
They both spluttered, causing Sapnap and Karl to burst into hysterics, Quackity taking a moment to calm down before reclaiming the groups attention.
“Seriously guys, they would probably fuck in the elevator for free, but that’s besides the point. I need to know.”
“Why? You catching feelings for someone?” Dream cooed, ignoring the prior comment.
“No! It’s just…for science.”
“Leave that to the chemists, focus on your gambling addiction-“
“-and your cocomelon you snotty ipad kid, last time you asked me something it was where babies came from. You thought women peed them out, and then you asked to play games on my phone.” George complained.
“George, if you derail the conversation from my problems one more time I’m going to fix your crooked ass British teeth without anesthesia.” Quackity replied, causing the call to go silent before they all began laughing.
“What the fuck?”
“Where the hell did you get that from? ‘ threats and insults to use against British people?’ ”
“And I’ll steal your entire beanie collection, what about it you dumb duck?”
Quackity startled upon hearing the bathroom door open, signaling Schlatt was out of the shower.
“Gotta go, nobody say anything incriminating while I’m talking or I will come to your house and take a shit on your pillow.”
“Jokes on you I’m into tha-“
Quackity hung up the phone, tossing it to the edge of the bed as Sapnap finished his sentence, before attempting to look as innocent as possible. As Schlatt entered the room (with no shirt, holy SHIT he was ripped,) he took one look at Q, simply responding “I don’t wanna know,” and going to rummage around in the closet for clothes.
“Anyways, my parents invited us to dinner, get dressed; And wear something nice, knowing them, they’ll pick the swankiest joint in the city,” Schlatt scowled, before selecting one of his many red ties. Quackity watched him for a while more before Schlatt turned back to him.
“Did you not hear me? I said get ready, if we’re late my parents are gonna be ruder.”
Quackity snapped out of his trance, murmuring an affirmation before grabbing clothing from his suitcase (he had no plans of unpacking it, it was only a four day trip) a button up, slacks, suspenders, and a blue overcoat, before ducking into the bathroom to take a shower. As he scrubbed down, he thought. How was he doing? Were they a convincing couple? Why was he feeling something other than misdirected lust or disdain towards Schlatt? Stepping out of the shower finally and toweling off he probably had the most concerning thought, was he being the asshole?
The men arrived at the restaurant on time, with a few moments to spare. They were quickly ushered to the private dining area of an extremely classy (and overpriced) eatery (and if you called it a restaurant all of the patrons and workers would give you the stink eye). Quackity spent most of the night, cuddling up to Schlatt in an attempt to sell the act, shifting often to make sure the ram didn’t brush the undersides of his wings.
“So, Quackity, was it? What are you majoring in?”
“Law, sir.”
Mr. J looked shocked, eyebrows raising as he and his wife had a silent conversation. After a moment (in which he felt like he ran a marathon) Schlatt’s father turned back to him.
“Really? And you hope to be a…”
“Domestic affairs attorney, sir.”
“Mm, yes. Criminal affairs aren’t for everyone.”
“I just wouldn’t feel comfortable having someone’s life in my hands, metaphorically speaking,” Quackity responded, almost as if reading off a script. Both parents yet again shared a look, before nodding.
“Well, I wish you the best.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Quackity let out a silent exhale as the focus was on Schlatt, giving statistics and reports to his father about the state of some business matters. As they talked, Quackity began zoning out, not to the point where he looked catatonic, just a bit in his head; however, he was jerked out of it by a hand, Schlatt’s hand, brushing his inner wing. He assumed it was an accident, however Schlatt continued as he talked, carding his fingers along the feathers, caressing the downy on his wings. Quackity sucked in a shaky breath, whimpering quietly as Schlatt thumbed a single feather. The attention Schlatt was paying to the wings, petting the soft feathers on the inside in a way that felt, for lack of a better word, intimate. The thing is, the inside of duck wings are sensitive, Quackity’s more so than normal, so each brush of the hand, slowly roaming the golden feathers was, in some places, an invitation. Quackity, salvaging any remaining shred of dignity left, ruffled his wings, before clamping them shut tight against his back. Schlatt frowned slightly, eyes flitting to Q for a moment before continuing to explain.
On the car ride home, Quackity tried to fight the rising arousal, zoning out from what Schlatt was saying. He kept feeling ghost sensations of fingertips against his wings, combing through relaxedly with no idea what it was doing to him.
“Dude, you alright? You look like you just pissed yourself,” Schlatt said, glancing over at the younger man, who in turn startled and began mumbling.
“Seriously Q, what’s wrong?”
“Why were you touching my wings?” He asked finally, the question coming out much more aggressively than intended.
“I dunno, I thought it was something couples did. Like running fingers through hair.”
Quackity laughed, albeit awkwardly, before explaining.
“No, it’s like…intimate,”
“…so like holding hands? Is it like a weird preening thing?”
“Kind of? We only really let our mates touch us there, because uh…they’re really sensitive.”
“Like… ‘cold ice cream on teeth’ sensitive?”
Quackity blushed, fighting the urge to strangle Schlatt. He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself before continuing.
“No, like…” Quackity looked for the best way to describe it before looking at Schlatt’s horns. He carefully lifted a finger, running it over the grooves, studying the texture. The ram hybrid slammed on the brakes, head snapping to look at Quackity with an expression between fear, anger and embarrassment.
“Don’t… don’t do that.”
“Are your horns, like, sensitive sensitive?”
Schlatt flushed, looking away as he snapped, “yes. So hands off.”
Quackity grinned, trailing a nail down the side; watching Schlatt attempt to keep a stoic expression.
“Yeah, my wings are like that too.” He replied, still smugly teasing his horns. Schlatt’s eyes darted to Quackity, scowling as he took in the younger's shit eating grin.
“You are so going to get it when we get back to the apartment.”
Quackity lay awake hours later, wings splayed underneath him, hair fanned out on his pillow, and Schlatt laying asleep beside him. He couldn’t for the life of him figure Schlatt out. One minute he was an asshole, then he was a begrudging trust fund baby, then he was a good friend, before becoming more like a lover. The emotional whiplash was astounding. The sex had changed, at college where it was casual hook ups it had slowly changed from aggressive, almost animalistic sex to softer, less about chasing individual pleasure and more about making sure both of them were satiated. But this sex, something about this was…open. It felt loving, Schlatt whispering sweet nothings to Quackity, trailing kisses along his collarbones instead of his usual harsh bite marks, listening to any signs of what Quackity was enjoying and attempting to replicate it. Everything about it was softer, as if he wanted nothing more than to make him happy. And yeah, if he cried a bit at the uncharacteristic softness and Schlatt kissed away the tears, that was nobody’s business.
“Mm, amor , I can hear you thinking from here, go to bed.” Schlatt whispered, gently grabbing Quackity and pulling him into his chest. The duck hybrid froze for a moment before curling into the embrace.
The party was today and Schlatt was dreading it. Sure, he had been selling the act for the whole weekend but there were going to be some grade A assholes at that party and if anyone would explode it would definitely be Q. Schlatt felt the aforementioned man shift beside him, tucked into his side before sleepily murmuring “w’u time ‘s it?”
“10:45, don’t worry. You didn’t sleep too late,” Schlatt assured him, while he just huffed and turned over.
“M sore.”
Schlatt blushed softly, remembering the events of the last night, apologizing.
“Sorry, I tried to make sure you weren’t hurt.”
“‘Appreciate it, doesn’t mean it hurts less though.” Schlatt laughed, rolling his eyes at Q, before walking over to the wardrobe.
“Got any nice clothes to wear besides that atrocious outfit you wore yesterday?”
Quackity gasped in faux betrayal. “Atrocious?! I thought it was a wonderful outfit!”
“Yeah, well you also thought coming with me was a good idea, so can I really trust you?”
“You trust me to not bite your dick?”
“Touché”
Schlatt grabbed his things, leaving for the shower quickly before closing the door. He was proud of himself. He had survived most of the weekend and nothing had gone hideously wrong. If he were a lesser man he would have cried happy tears, but he wasn’t. Instead he took a deep breath, gathered all his courage and steeled himself for that night. Lord knows what would go wrong.
Quackity was WAY out of his zone. He thought everything up to this was bad, but everything at this party basically said “hey, you know the money you make? These people have triple that, have fun being broke, scrub.” Quackity has already been treated as the token minority, the forbidden arm candy, and a gold digger all in under an hour of the party, suffice to say it was going as well as expected.
“You’re doing great amor , just 5 more hours.”
“6 hours?! I don't think I can handle even one more!”
Schlatt chuckled darkly, before turning to his date and whispering “Welcome to my world, we have snobs.” Before turning and waving to a couple a foot away, detaching Q from his arm to make polite conversation. Quackity scanned the floor, picking out the open bar in the corner across the room. He dodged and wove between gossiping socialites and old business men before popping down on a well worn bar stool.
“How can I help you,” The bartender asked, cleaning a glass and looking at Q under their eyelashes.
“Dunno, what do you recommend?”
“You armcandy?”
“Mhm.”
“Vodka shots, anything that makes you intoxicated and less prone to acting up. Makes you and your date's lives easier.”
Quackity shrugged, telling her to put it on Schlatt’s tab for the night, before downing the drink. It felt like white hot flames were searing through his tongue and taste buds, but he swallowed, holding back a grimace. The bartend laughed, before turning to a lady in a side cut dress. She looked around Schlatt’s parents' age and was side-eyeing Quackity.
“Can I help you?” He asked, trying to tell her to fuck off without sounding rude.
“Sorry, I didn’t think the staff would be drinking with us tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
She tittered, which made Quackity’s blood boil, as she responded “I just didn’t think they would hire people like you. We were afraid that you would attempt to pick out pockets.” Quackity must have looked like he’d been punched, because the woman just smiled at him before saying “Well, we can’t win them all.” Before whispering to the bartender to “keep a lookout for him” and leaving. Quackity wanted to cry, he wanted to fight someone, hell he wanted to apologize. For what? Being Mexican? Not being a rich white person? He was a lawyer in training for god’s sake, if presented with the opportunity he could ruin this woman's life! He shook it off, asking the bartender to give him another shot. They looked at him, before pouring another and studying his face. To be honest he couldn’t give a flying fuck at this point. No wonder Schlatt left, it was full of elitist, homophibic, racist assholes. He staggered through the crowd, acutely aware of the eyes following him as he moved, before coming up to Schlatt.
“Huh? Oh! Meet my boyfriend, Quackity. He’s a law student.” Shclatt sounded proud, introducing him to a group of men in suits.
“Hm, would you trust him with your case?”
“I would trust him with my life sir, he’s had ample opportunity to slit my throat or give me an impromptu castration,” Schlatt jokes, causing the group to let out scattered laughs.
“I just mean, would he really be the best for him to represent you? I’m sure your firm has better available. I mean, how do you know he’s not going to bankrupt you?”
“Isn’t that your job? Besides, Q is one of the best damn Lawyers-in-training I know. Hell, he’s in advanced law classes.”
“I’m just trying to warn you, those kinds always try to exploit you.”
“Lawyers? Then maybe you should be more worried.”
“No, I mean-”
“Now Schlatt, I know you aren’t intimidating our esteemed pool of guests?” Schlatt’s father says, emerging through the crowd. Schlatt laughs, dismissing it all as small talk, before turning back to the men.
“I pray that none of you ever have to go up against him in court,” Before sweeping out into the courtyard with the duck.
“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think they would try and pull that shit right in front of either of us. To be honest they shouldn’t have tried to pull it at all.” Schlatt explained, messing with the scruff at the back of his neck.
“S’alright. Not the first racist encounter of the night and probably won't be the last.”
Schlatt’s eyes narrowed, before grabbing Quackity’s hand. Quackity’s eyes shot up to meet Schlatt’s as the man demanded to know who it was.
“I dunno anyone here man, even if I did what could you do? Give her a stern talking to? Besides, that's going to happen anywhere. Maybe not as bad as it is here, but maybe worse. I can never know and I don’t need a white man to defend me every time.” He explained, kicking a pebble. Schlatts eyes fell, looking away.
“Let’s go home.”
Quakcity looked up at him, shocked and wondering if he actually heard him, “What?”
“Let’s go home. Nothing is happening here and I don’t think anyone would notice. Come on, I’ll go get the car.”
Schlatt helped him up, not letting go of his hand as they walked through the party, a few partygoers looking at them, others waving goodbye. They emerged from the other side, Quackity letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, as Schlatt looked at him giddily. The look Schlatt was giving him was affectionate, borderline romantic. Quackity rolled his eyes, pulling Schlatt down for a kiss. The kiss landed squarely on his cheek, above his facial hair, as the older stood stunned. Quackity huffed out a small laugh before the car rolled up. The valet handed Schlatt the keys, before returning to the stand, as Q guided his “date” to the car.
The ride home was nice, soft jazz playing through the radio, the wind through his hair and on his ears, everything about it was perfect...or it would be if Quackity wasn’t going through every stage of grief at once. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t feel something for Schlatt. Something other than some kind of dislike that felt somewhat like romantic attraction. Quackity fished his phone out of his pocket, opening up his group chat briefly, being greeted by his friends talking about pegging and scat fetishes, before grimacing and quitting the chat, switching over to the school forums. He glanced over the top results, one about a himbo and gyms, something about how someone was scared of thanksgiving, before seeing something about someone trying to win someone over. Selecting that one in the hopes that it could make him laugh and feel better about his own situation he scrolled through. As he read through it, it started getting more and more recognizable; hostile FWB, internalized homophobia after meeting; the party, oh GOD this was Schlatt wasn't it? He should have seen this coming… well, he shouldn’t have but he also should have. I mean, he knew he was hot and shit, but everything about this was… not about his appearance, and the way he was asking about how Quackity was so hostile and meanwhile he was just trying to befriend him was...lowkey heartbreaking. Everything added up, the reasoning for being nice, the attempts to try and BE nice, the invite. Schlatt wasn’t dumb, and wasn’t one to do things on a whim. Quakcity felt… Well, he felt a bit foolish.
“Q! You’ve been mumbling for the past 20 minutes, you good?” Schlatt asked, eyes flicking away from the road for a moment.
“Huh? Oh yeah. Focus on the road asshole.”
Schlatt chuckled, before continuing to cruise along the highway. He opened his mouth briefly, before closing it, and then finally reopening it to speak.
“Q, I-”
“I have a crush on you.”
Schlatt swerved, before pulling the car over and flicking on his hazard lights. Eyes meeting Quakcity’s in the dark.
“PARDON??!!”
“I have a crush on you, I knew you were old but I didn’t think hearing loss started this early.” He joked, as Schlatt’s eyes darted across his face.
“Dude, not funny, you almost made me have a heart attack.”
“Wasn’t a joke, dude.”
“Haha, ok Q, now drop it.”
“I’m serious, it's not a joke.”
“Seriously, drop it. Now.”
Quackity rolled his eyes, before grabbing Schlatt’s tie and pulling him towards himself. The two connected in a kiss, at first Quackity panicked expecting Schlatt to push him away, before being kissed back. After the two disconnected, needing air, Schlatt spoke.
“How do I know you’re not just dicking with me?” Quackity shrugged, “No matter what I say you won’t believe me. You’ll just have to trust me.”
Schlatt’s eyes narrowed before he muttered “fuck it” before pulling Quackity into another kiss.
Schlatt lay awake, dopey smile on his face. He could feel Quackity curled against him, wings covering his arms and hair tickling his chin. He looked down to study the duck hybrid, the hair fanned in a halo around him, brushing his winged ears. Schlatt slid his arm around Q, the other on his phone.
RamRam:
Update: we got em boys
[him and Q, cuddling. Quackity sleeping peacefully and him having a soft smile]