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“Hey uh, babe…?” Quackity glanced over the sheet of paper Wilbur had used during the election results. His mind still could fathom how close he’d been to winning. He’d been so sure he’d fall behind so far it wouldn’t even be funny.
Yet there it was. And all it had taken was Schlatt’s small percentage to push him over the edge.
Schlatt had been in a fairly good mood that day, drinking just enough he seemed happy but not enough to push him to the other end of the spectrum. He’d even given the cabinet the afternoon off. Quackity wondered if it had something to do with how the two of them had spent the previous evening, it had been the first time he’d stayed the night at Schlatts.
“Yes?” Schlatt barely looked up from his own work, taking a large swig from a bottle of whiskey (Quackity had already poured himself a generous glass of the brown liquid that burned down his throat.)
“I’m just curious, we… never actually discussed who would be president.” Quackity explained, sharply inhaling a breath. “So I’m curious, if I got the most votes then theoretically it should have been me. Right?”
That got Schlatt to raise his gaze to Quackity. “Pumpkin.” The word was laced with a tone he’d rather not think about. “We both know I’m the better fucking politican here.” Schlatt laughed, looking at Quackity as if he expected him to join along.
He did. “Right!” He let out a chuckle, setting down his glass. “Yeah that’s- probably true. Sorry I know it’s ah- silly. Just, I couldn’t help wondering, you know? What if?”
“Well, you’re not the president are you?” Schlatt pointed out, his face twisting into a gentle smile “Besides, we wouldn’t want to ruin your looks with all that stress.”
Quackity grinned and let out a laugh, nodding. “Yeah, it takes work looking this good.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Schlatt nodded, standing up and walking over. He patted him on the back, “You don’t need to worry about what ifs and all that shit. Just worry about your job.”
“I mean, though-“ Quackity took a breath. “I’ve more than proven myself if I got that many votes.”
“You know why you passed over the presidency to me.” Schlatt said, voice calm as a tingle ran down Quackity’s back and he felt Schlatt’s hand move along with it. “You don’t need overthink it.”
“I, yeah, I wasn’t prepared.” It wasn’t wrong, Quackity had never been involved in politics before. He’d been so young when he’d declared his presidency, not that Wilbur had been much better, and he’d never really wanted it. He’d mostly done it because someone had to. “Sorry about that baby.” He kisses Schlatt, and on top of the alcohol it tastes like cigarettes. “Just… realized we never talked about it.”
“For a good fucking reason.” Schlatt agreed, “Anyways, tell Tubbo and uh, what’s his name… Fundy. Tell them I actually need you all for a meeting this afternoon, some contract bullshit for one of the new buildings.”
“I’ll let them know.” Quackity assured as he left the office, taking a long breath as he stepped out of the door.
As he began to step forward, he noticed Tubbo rushing past, holding a disheveled pile of papers. His brow quirked as he walked forward.
“Tubbo-“ he called out, but Tubbo kept walking as Quackity followed. “Hey Tubbo!”
Finally Tubbo jumped, looking over with a start. “Oh! Sorry Big Q I didn’t notice you there…”
“Where are you off in such a hurry?” Quackity snorted. “What, got a hot date?”
Tubbo blinked before laughing loudly at the joke. “No- no not that I was just, trying to get everything done since Schlatt’s letting us go early.”
He sighed, running his fingers through his neck hair. “Sorry about this actually Tubbo, but he took it back. We’ve still got an afternoon meeting. He wanted everyone there.”
A brief thought crossed his mind, would the ‘meeting’ have been called if he hadn’t brought up the Presidency thing? He didn’t think Schlatt was that sort of person, but contract meetings weren’t exactly urgent.
Tubbo’s eyes blew wide, “But I was going to meet-“ he cut himself off before coughing. “I… I was going to uh, go see how Niki was doing this afternoon. Can’t we skip?”
It wasn’t that Quackity didn’t notice how off Tubbo acted. In fact, it was so blatantly obvious the worst thing he could do was shove a sign in front of himself that told everyone he was suspicious. But, Quackity figured whatever it was, Tubbo probably had a good reason to keep it silent.
He only mourned the day Schlatt would become sober and wisen up to it as well. In the meantime, he was willing to turn a blind eye.
Tubbo went quiet, and Quackity half expected him to leave. Instead, he stood in the hallway before suddenly speaking.
“Hey Q, do you like Schlatt?”
“What do you mean?” He laughed, raising an eyebrow.
“I mean, he’s done a lot of good for L- um... Manberg.” Tubbo corrected himself. “He’s done a lot of good for Manberg. Right?”
“Well yeah, better than Wilbur I’d say.” Quackity shrugged. It was one of the things he and Schlatt agreed on, Wilbur had been a dictator and there was no changing it.
Schlatt had his good days and his bad days. Just like everyone else, he knew that better than anyone. He was the sort of person you loved because of the good days, and put up with the bad ones.
“Then, he’s not… he’s not a bad guy. Atleast, he can’t be all bad?”
“Where’s this coming from?” Quackity asked, face contorting in confusion.
Tubbo paused before shaking his head. “Never mind. I’ll go back to what I was doing.”
“Yeah, I should probably go let Fundy know we don’t have the day off.” Quackity muttered, walking passed him and down the hallway. What did Tubbo mean? It was a weird question for sure.
And one he didn’t know if he was ready to think about.