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It feels like he’s cheating. He’s not, and he knows he’s not, but it feels like he is. His feet fall silently on the sand as he steps over the threshold into the land that is Las Nevadas. It’s not the first night he’s made the journey and almost definitely won’t be the last, but it is the first time he’s been since Dream got out, having been so overwhelmingly busy with making plans for Kinoko Kingdom’s safety that he didn’t even have time to breathe let alone make the trip to see Quackity. He’d left Karl with George, though he’s not sure how much use either might be for the protection of the other. He used to trust George with his life. He was shit at hand-to-hand combat but with a good vantage point George could take out three people with one arrow if he had to. But that was before Dream got put away; before George drifted into this semi-state of consciousness. He’s also not sure how willing George might be to shoot Dream, seeing he was Sapnap’s main concern right now.
At the base of the needle he enters the security code Quackity had given him months ago, ignoring the ache in his chest as he punches in the combination of his and Karl’s birthdays, and slips through doors, stepping immediately into the elevator. Within seconds he’s exiting into Quackity’s home. It’s dark, darker than he’s ever seen it, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. For a moment he thinks maybe Quackity isn’t home, maybe he’s in one of his meeting rooms or maybe he’s not even in Las Nevadas at all, but as he takes another look around he spots the glowing ember of a lit cigarette on the balcony outside. With quiet footsteps Sapnap wanders to the exit, stepping back out into the cool night air.
Quackity doesn’t startle—though Sapnap supposes from here he probably saw him coming as he slipped otherwise unnoticed into the dark city—instead just offers him the cigarette, which Sapnap takes with silent gratitude. For a moment they’re both quiet, passing the cigarette between one another until it’s barely more than the filter, and Quackity stubs it out into an ashtray.
“I’m not in the mood for sex tonight,” Quackity says, looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived. He looks tired, and Sapnap imagines he himself doesn’t look all that much better.
“I didn’t come for sex,” Sapnap shrugs, taking a step towards the door. “I missed you, was worried about you.”
Quackity lets out a weak attempt of a scoff, pushing off the railing to follow Sapnap into the building. He pulls the glass door shut, and Sapnap watches as he stands with his back to him.
“When was the last time you stretched your wings?” It’s a tender topic, Quackity’s wings, one that Sapnap usually wouldn’t bring up without Quackity first mentioning. But he can see how tense his fiancé is, how tense his movements are, and it makes him wonder.
The silence is deafening, and Sapnap hesitates only a second before reaching out to touch the shoulder of Quackity’s coat, watches as he stiffens more. He pauses, waiting for Quackity to tell him to stop, but when no words are spoken he lets his fingers wrap around the fabric, gently pulling it down. His tongue hits the roof of his mouth in a quiet tut as he realises Quackity has his wings bound beneath his shirt as well, completely hidden from the prying eyes of the people of the SMP. He knows they bring back memories, whispered confessions of the things Schlatt had done to him over their time together, irreversible damages to his wings that stopped him from ever being able to fly again. Quackity had called them once a deformity. It hurt Sapnap to think about.
“My little duck,” he breathes out, letting the coat fall to the floor as his fingers come to cup the sides of Quackity’s face, guiding his gaze up until they’re eye to eye. The scar dragging down one side of his face is no longer an angry red, but rather a mix of purple and pink that stands dark against his soft skin. Sapnap doesn’t look at it too long.
“I’m so tired, Sapnap,” the admission comes softly, croaking out past unshed tears, built up over months and months of trying to be the strong one. Sapnap’s heart breaks for his fiancé.
He presses a kiss to his forehead, “I know, I know. Let me take care of you, okay?” he whispers, feeling the barely there nod of the shorter mans head before he releases his face, carefully moving his hands to unbutton the dress shirt.
Seconds pass as layer after layer of clothing is shed to the floor until it’s just a leather strap around his waist that’s keeping the wings from spreading. Sapnap tries not to let his emotions show on his face as he takes in the sight of the golden wings, dull from god only knows how long they’ve been hidden from the sun, feathers matted and tight like they haven’t been preened since the last time Sapnap had seen him. He unties the strap, watching as the wings unfurl, spreading wide as Quackity takes what looks to be his first deep breath in a long time.
And it’s like that’s all that was holding his walls up, the second Quackity exhales the tears beginning to fall, shaking with angry, racking sobs.
“Oh my love,” Sapnap tugs him in against his chest, pressing his lips into his hair with soothing whispers. “Let it out, good. I’m here, I’ve got you.”
Sapnap doesn’t know how long they stand there, Quackity’s tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers grasping tight to the back of it. Sapnap’s own fingers rubbing soothing circles into his shoulders where the top of his wings meet his skin. He whispers quiet reassurances into the air between them until finally Quackity’s sobbing stops. Sapnap can feel every trembling breath he takes, unsure if he’s actually spent all his tears or has just pulled enough of his walls back up to stop.
“Let’s get you in a bath, yeah?” Sapnap offers, stepping back from him just enough to see his face.
It doesn’t take long for the tub to fill with hot soapy water and Sapnap smiles sadly to himself. He remembers the early days of their relationship, the three of them crowded around a tub waiting for it to fill, Karl mumbling his frustrations of how long it’s taking. It amazes him, the little things that Quackity had considered while building Las Nevadas. Makes him sad now, knowing it had been built for them and knowing that Karl had somehow in whatever was going on with him forgotten everything they had built together with Quackity.
He lets Quackity strip free of his pants and step into the large tub on his own, taking the time to peel off his own tear soaked shirt, setting it to one side. Sapnap opens the cabinet, pulling out the special soap Quackity used for his wings and some shampoo before returning to the tub, kneeling by the porcelain. It’s quiet as he washes him, the silence filled only by the occasional hiccup from his fiancé and the soft sloshing of water as Sapnap works the soap through the feathers, massaging as best he can the tight knots at the joints. It breaks down the preening oil that naturally builds up until they’re no longer hydrophobic. Quackity had come up with the formula himself, all natural ingredients that didn’t hurt him or his wings. It was just an easier way to clean them—especially after he’d stopped being able to fly.
It's near an hour later that he’s helping his fiancé from the tub, wrapping him secure in a large fluffy towel. He lets his fire burn inside of him, warming the towel until the water that soaks Quackity turns to steam that dissipates in the air around them.
Quackity lets out a quiet sniffle, burrowing closer to Sapnap, “Thank you.”
“Of course, of course my little duck,” Sapnap reassures, letting his fingers trail down his spine and then back up. “I love you so much.”
“Not as much as you love Karl though, right?” There’s no malice behind the question, none of the bitterness that Sapnap might have expected hearing the other man’s name out of his mouth, just quiet resignation of what Quackity thought to be fact.
Sapnap pulls him back by the shoulders and frowns as he’s met with sorrow filled eyes. There’s something hollow in his gaze, like he’d accepted the fact a long time ago and was just waiting for confirmation to take hold of the void that had formed. Quackity had such a sad life, full of people who used and abused him and left him to pick up the pieces of himself alone. There was only so many times a person could piece themselves back together before parts of them went missing, and Sapnap fears for how large that void might be for his partner.
“I love you equally to how much I love Karl,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead a gentle pressure against Quackity’s, “There is no more or less when it comes to you two.”
“But you stayed with him, after everything he said and—”
“I know,” Sapnap cuts him off, guilt seeping through the pits of his stomach. “I know, I know I did, and I know how that must’ve felt for you. But something is going on with Karl and I just—I can’t leave him alone. He’s not strong, like you, Quackity. You saw him he’s a whole different person and I don’t know why, and I just can’t leave him alone.”
Quackity’s bottom lip trembles, and Sapnap thinks he might begin to cry again, “Can you stay tonight?” he asks instead, lifting a towel covered fist to wipe at unshed tears.
Sapnap nods, guiding Quackity over to the large bed. He helps him to dry his wings and to dress and then runs his fingers carefully through his hair to detangle any knotting. Quackity stands, watching and silent, moving when he needs to but otherwise letting Sapnap be in control of the situation. Once he’s done Sapnap turns off the light, stripping down to his boxers once it’s dark. He helps Quackity into the bed and follows him under, letting the duvet fall like a comforting weight on top of them.
“I love you so much,” Sapnap whispers, tugging Quackity in close until he’s practically on top of him. His fingers smooth over his sides and up around to his wings that have already found their place curled snug against his back. He feels Quackity nod against his chest, feels the shaky intake of breath.
“So much, Little Duck. And no matter what’s happening outside of these walls I want you to know that’s not going to change.”