Chapter Text
For millennia, two Gods have been by their sides causing both fortune and misfortune on the fortunate and unfortunate.
Quackity (or Alex for his human name) has been with the God of Wealth and Wine for millennia, and vice versa. Before the modern-day, they were found in pubs and gambling hotspots, but when the 1920s and the 1930s came around, they had the best time of their lives… and at one point it wasn’t so great.
The streets were bustling with cars and people of all shapes and sizes. Women in modest clothing and men in suits. In the lights of Vegas, a certain God of Luck was in his office of the casino he owned. Donning a pinstripe fedora that had a feather nestled between the hat and the ribbon covering his straight slick back hair, he wore pinstripe slacks that were held up with suspenders. His white shirt tucked in, and a loose red tie to top it all off. Quackity’s shoes were a lightly scuffed black making them matte, but it was still presentable. Trumpets, drums, sax, and basses were playing, mixing into improvised jazz.
Opening up a casino in Vegas was quite risky. Considering that place was predominantly white… However, the god loved seeing them go into debt. He’d pass by slums and give some money to the people that looked like him. He’d wish no luck to the people who argued with him. Talk about petty, but there were good reasons.
The other god that helped him pull the strings was Schlatt. The God of Wealth and Wine. In some sick sense, they both sought out pleasure in draining the riches of the wealthy. Schlatt liked to play amongst them and dick around with them, while Quackity would only help them become broke by speeding up the process.
This merely fooled everyone still since everyone kept coming back for more “opportunities” when they would only leave with a 21st century’s worth of a penny. Practically almost nothing.
Quackity was writing on pointless paperwork that was on his doorstep when he heard a knock on the door.
“Come in!” He called out, eyes still trained on the papers. The door creaked open and in stepped the God of Wine and Wealth, donning a crisp white shirt, a red tie, a three-piece black and grey pinstripe suit, and a matching fedora to accompany it. His hair was slicked back with gel, save for the strangely slicked swirls at the front that fell slightly on his forehead. Finally, his shoes were a squeaky clean black that made light reflect off of them.
“Hey, sugar” he smirked
Quackity laughed, “the lingo is getting to you, amor”
“Yeah, though it’s nice you haven’t dropped the language, baby”
“Schlatt, you hang around with the locals too much” he chuckled, setting his pen down and finally looking up to meet with the other God’s eyes.
“And I know that you picked up some of it too, don’t lie. I’ve known you for millennia” Schlatt laughed, walking towards Quackity’s desk; leaning against the expensive mahogany.
“You’re here for a reason. What is it, babe?” He rested his chin on his hands and sighed tiredly.
“Well… you see, the night is still young. The casino is busier and I’m sure after that swell interaction with our snobby-ass business partner… you might need a little break.” Schlatt came up behind the other to place his hands on his shoulders, pressing down and massaging tense shoulders.
The casino owner sighed and leaned back against hands, “and where were you thinking?”
“Hmmm… how about Harlem? The casinos are bustling, the music is lively, we could swing around, enjoy some quality booze.”
Quackity hummed as if he was making a decision, “Harlem, yeah?”
“Whaddaya say, fruit loop?”
Quackity laughed, “you’re one to talk. Alright, let’s go then”
In a blink of an eye, the two who were once in a casino office, are standing in front of strips of bars and casinos in Harlem. It smelled of dust after rain as they stood in the middle of dark asphalt. A car honked and the two quickly scattered to the sidewalk, waving an apology. The two gods were two blocks away where they could see the marquee of the Renaissance Ballroom and Casino.
“The Renaissance?”
“Yeah? I don’t mind being bombarded with looks, hot stuff.”
Quackity shrugged, “whatever you say”
When they walked along the streets of Harlem, people of colour were scattered around, the blaring of trumpets reverberated through the streets. As they entered the Renaissance, they were already dragging themselves around. To bars, and to craps and blackjack tables. The two separated for a bit, going to different tables, testing their wealth and luck despite being gods of what they were specialized in. The two had decided to lower down their antics and lose to the people around them to give them their money's worth. By the time they were tired of gambling, they met back up at the bar.
Schlatt ordered a whiskey while the other ordered some wine.
“Holaa, mi pato~” Schlatt slurred, moving to lean against the other. Smothering his cheek against the other, Quackity leaned against him, “hola, mi cariño~”
Schlatt looked up from his shoulder, taking in a gulp of whiskey before placing the glass down.
“The band is swingin’ let’s cut a rug, Alex~”
Quackity laughed, “gods, you sound ridiculous. What do you wanna do?”
“Maybe a little bit of swingin’, you down?” He cocked his head to face the other god in a drunken smile.
He smiled back and took hold of Schlatt’s hand, “what’re you waiting for Wealth and Wine? Take me to the floor.”
Schlatt held his hand back and pulled him to the dance floor, the band becoming lively as the two were on the floor. They began jumping and pulling each other around with flair. Schlatt picked up Alex and dropped him down without letting go of his hand. Lindy hop. At one point, Quackity had to keep hold of his hat as they were flung. Eventually, Schlatt brought him close with a spin, giving a cocky smirk while Quackity gave an eyebrow raise back. He spun him out and let go. Confused, Quackity looked at the man who began swinging one leg behind the other and twisting his ankle all the while swinging his arms around to get into the swing. Quackity laughed and later joined in with him to do the Charleston. Following his lead, they kicked their legs out, and eventually, they came back together doing another swing. Taking each other's hands they spun around, kicking their legs out and running across the floor. When the song came into a climax. Schlatt pulled Quackity close and spun him around like a top, but when the beat dropped, he pulled them down to a dip. Having a firm grip on his hip so as to not let go of the god, The crowds were cheering, but they couldn’t hear it. They didn’t mind after all.
They were panting, their faces close to the point where they could feel each other’s breaths on their faces.
“How ‘bout we hit the deck in this place and go to the Cotton Club, huh?”
“A-are you sure? You know how that place is, look at my appearance!”
“We’ll just make a little ruckus. Something like this”
His head dipped down and their lips touched. At that moment, they didn’t feel the air of the Renaissance and they could hear the gasp of patrons in the air.
They smirked against their lips and when Schlatt let go, he whispered, “let’s go to the Cafe Lafitte in Exile. We’ll be better off there.”
“Will the others be there?”
“I dunno, Jacobs might be there. Who knows”
With that, the two vanished from the Cotton Club and came to the front of the Cafe Lafitte.
“You think we pissed off many people?”
“Oh definitely”
The two walked into the vicinity and sat down at the bar. After the two had settled down, they let out loud barks of laughter. The two held their respective drinks in their hands, leaning against each other in a way where no historian should say that they were “close friends”
“Gods, did you hear those fuckin’ high and mighty asses on their seats.” Quackity laughed.
“Don’t get me started when they realized who I was kissin’”
Quackity put on a face that said offense, but they both know he didn’t mean it, “how dare you!”
“You love me”
“I know”
The two laughed giddily until Quackity sighed, “thanks for tonight.”
“I noticed it. You was actin’ stressed and didn’t come down to have a good time.”
“I don’t know, I’ve been feeling tired all of a sudden.”
“You down on your luck?” Schlatt half-joking, earning a sarcastic remark,
“Haha, very funny. How did you manage to go through prohibition?”
“I tried everything I can, sugar. Even now I feel like I’m growing weaker by the day.” Schlatt said, swirling his glass of whiskey before taking a gulp.
“Well… thank you for tonight, babe.” Quackity smiled and went up to plant a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go out and take a walk. I don’t know if it’s just me or it’s getting hot in here.”
Schlatt hummed before being dragged outside of the Lafitte. They took in the sights of late-night New Orleans in Bourbon Street. It was empty save for some jazz in the buildings playing. Some cars were parked outside and the two were trying to stand up straight but failing. Trying to lean against each other for support. They stumbled into a wall in an alleyway. Leaning against the wall, the two panted. They didn’t know why they were so tired, maybe it was the dancing, they concluded.
Without realizing, Quackity took hold of Schlatt’s hand, their fingers interlocking. Quackity still had his hat on his head, but loose strands of gelled hair fell upon his face while Schlatt’s hair became undone and messy. They looked at each other, eyes blown.
“I loved you, you know that right?” Schlatt started
“I know, you dumbass”
“And I mean it, prick”
Quackity gave a soft smile, “I love you too, fucker”
Schlatt laughed and before he knew it, a pair of lips were on his, but only this time it’s soft and for them.
Alex wrapped his arms around his neck while Schlatt brought him close by cupping his face in his hands.
But the sound of a gun being cocked, red and blue lights, a flashlight blinding them and a booming voice calling out their names interrupted their moment. Startled, the two separated in haste and faced the authorities; hands in the air.
“You two are under arrest for tax evasion, illegal gambling, prohibition charges in the last decade, and homosexuality. Hands in the air, let me see 'em.”
Both of their eyes widened at the last statement that the officer yelled, so Schlatt yelled back in a curse, “THAT’S BULLSHIT!! I WISH YOU NO GOOD FORTUNE COMIN’ OUT OF YOU!”
“Shut the fuck up, ******”
The officer took a punch in the jaw from the god,
“SCHLATT!!” Quackity shouted, but he was held back by officers who cuffed him from behind. He struggled against the cuffs, cursing himself that his godly magic isn’t working for some odd reason. Frustrated, Quackity cursed at the cops, “I wish you all no good luck in the days to come.”
A cop violently jostled his arm to stop talking.
Schlatt was held by more cops and was punched back by the officer, making him topple and allowing himself to get handcuffed.
The two were thrown into the cop car and were being sent to the slammer. In the car ride, Quackity looked up and met Schlatt’s gaze with confusion.
“What?” Schlatt huffed with a black eye and a busted lip.
“I can’t feel it…”
“Feel what?”
“My divinity…” Quackity panted out, not because of the weight that carried the night, but the slow depletion of his powers. “Don’t you feel it too?”
His breathing became shallow, before promptly passing out. His hat falls to the floor exposing his now mussed-up hair.
“Quackity? QUACKITY?!” Schlatt tried to help him but was restrained. The cop car stopped in the middle of the road and the door to the driver’s seat was opened before Schlatt heard a shout from the back doors where he and Quackity were thrown into.
“QUIET BACK THERE, YA ***” The doors of the back were opened slightly.
“I’d like to see you try, BITCH!”
The next thing Schlatt knew, he saw that the officer had an aura. Everyone had auras, but this one… had a godlike one. It caught Schlatt off-guard and the last thing he saw before he muttered out, “what the hell…?” with furrowed brows.
WHACK!
...
thump
The god laid unconscious in the back of a cop car heading for the slammer.