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Security in Las Nevadas was a joke. Usually, it was more fun for Wilbur to hang around the big sign welcoming people into the city until Quackity came along and sent him away, but something in his gut told him to wander the streets of the flashy, young nation. And so he did, encountering very little resistance along the way.
Quickly he noticed however, that the scorching desert heat was not kind to him and he found himself ducking into one of the large buildings to avoid being boiled alive in his sweater and trenchcoat. He sighed as the cool air of the air conditioning hit him as he waltzed right in. Taking a quick glance around he tried to figure out what building exactly he had entered. It did not look like the casino and thank Prime it wasn’t the strip club either. From the looks of it, Wilbur guessed it was an office building.
His boots clacked on the fancy stone floor as he ventured a little deeper than just standing in the entrance. To his knowledge, Quackity didn’t have a lot of employees. It wouldn’t be weird to have offices for people running the finances of the massive casino and resort, but the sound of Wilbur just walking around echoed through the empty hall, adding to the empty atmosphere.
A sign near an elevator caught his attention finally. ‘The boss’ office’ was written on it, with just an arrow pointing up. A cruel smile spread on Wilbur’s face and he let out a small chuckle. Wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek into Quackity’s office now, would it? Whether the man in question was actually currently there or not, either Wilbur could snoop around for information or pester the man himself for it.
The ride up was long and boring and Wilbur cracked his neck as the annoying tune of standard elevator music crackled through the speakers. Eventually the elevator doors opened into a hallway and he walked up to the single door at the end. He lifted his hand and without much hesitation, knocked on it.
A heartbeat. And then two, and more followed. There was no answer.
He guessed that meant ‘the boss’ wasn’t in and he tried the doorknob to see if it was locked. To his surprise it wasn’t, and it opened with a creak. What he saw inside however, was not what he’d expected. Quackity was in fact present in his office, but had fallen asleep behind his desk. His chest slowly going up and down, lifting and falling with his deep breathing, suggesting he was very fast asleep. Papers covered almost the entire surface of the desk, Wilbur could see several blueprints and important looking letters as he carefully stepped closer, making as little noise as possible.
He scanned his eyes over the documents and then over Quackity’s sleeping form as he wondered what his next move should be. This was the perfect opportunity to gather information on Las Nevadas, find out any dirty secrets he could get his hands on. Tommy would probably see this as a chance to play a practical prank on Quackity, he would probably try something childish like draw on his face or stack stuff on his back.
A blur of motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he automatically jumped back, fearing that Quackity had woken up and he would be kicked out immediately. Quackity remained asleep, but Wilbur saw what had nearly given him a heart attack.
Two wings, very obviously too small to fly, too little to carry the weight of an adult man, positioned just above Quackity’s ears were twitching and flapping gently while their owner slept. Everyone who had met Quackity knew the man was an avian hybrid, his small wings had always been visible, but Wilbur had never seen them move- even though it made sense they could. They had been stationary every time Wilbur had seen Quackity, from the elections, to Pogtopia, to even yesterday when they had briefly met.
It was fascinating to see them move now as one would do with their other limbs during sleep, presumably matching with movements their owner was making in whatever dream he was having at the moment. Wilbur found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the expressive little wings and he leaned over the desk slightly to run his finger over the feathers on one of them.
Immediately, the wings stopped and Wilbur held his breath for a split second, once again afraid Quackity would wake up, but then the wings twitched again and resumed their flapping at seemingly random intervals.
It was cute.
It’s a way he had never thought about Quackity before. He’s had several thoughts and opinions on the man before; ‘useless’, ‘walking second place medal’, etcetera. But never soft. Yet as Wilbur carefully pinched the extremely delicate yellow feathers between his fingers, felt it twitch as the wing on Quackity’s other side began to flutter again, wanting to join in with their other half but stopped by Wilbur’s touch, it’s a word he considered using for the man.
Part of him wanted to yank the wing, startle Quackity awake and ruin this peaceful moment. But he doesn't, he just settled on tormenting one of the wings.
Wilbur realized he’s never seen Quackity’s back before, and doesn't know if he actually has wings under his shirt. He craned his neck to look at the way Quackity’s back is bent over his desk, looks at the way his shirt is stretched over his form and tries to find bumps in the fabric that would suggest a pair of wings were concealed.
He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, but that could still mean he was concealing them in other ways, like Phil often did with his enormous wings.
He stretched the wing out to its full length, admiring the way the yellow feathers mirrored the sunlight through the large office windows. He slowly returned the wing to its original position and started fiddling with the softer feathers at the top.
Moments stretched out and passed and Wilbur enjoyed the quiet afternoon, sun slowly but surely dipping towards the horizon, as he let his fingers continue to play with the delicate wings.
A groan, and Quackity was moving his arm as the man was finally starting to wake up. This time, Wilbur made no move to get away from him. If he was to be facing Quackity’s anger and be kicked out again, so be it. At least he had had this moment, and he could possibly tease the other about it later.
Another groan and this time Quackity’s eyes slowly blinked open. They focused on the wood of his desk first, before registering another person in front of them and looking up.
“Hello there. Had a nice nap?”
Upon realizing who was actually in front of him, Quackity jumped backwards and Wilbur immediately let go of the wing he was still holding.
“Wi-wilbur, what the FUCK?!” His hand flew up to partially cover the wing Wilbur had been pinching and investigating, probably feeling the ghost of his touch still there.
His little wings had never moved as much as they were doing now, moving in short but rapid motions that probably signaled Quackity was angry. Wilbur now realized Quackity had most likely been focusing on keeping them still every time he’s met the guy.
“You fucking touched my wings while I was asleep?!”
“I- uh, they were moving.” Pathetic excuse, but he really couldn’t think of anything better at the moment.
“How did you even get past security?”
“Uh, this guy just let me through? I forgot his name- Dave?”
Quackity kept moving backwards until he was almost pressed up against the window behind him, still cupping his wing and mumbling something to himself about making sure his office was locked next time and to fire anyone named Dave. Slowly the movement of his wings died down and Quackity took a deep breath before lowering his hand, the wings completely stilled after he did.
“Why do you keep them still? Isn’t that like fighting your instincts?”
Quackity snorted. “What the fuck do you know about it?”
Wilbur shrugs. “Phil’s my dad, remember? He hides them most of the time now because of the damage that I am mostly to blame for, but when he did have his wings out he was always complaining about needing to stretch them.”
A silence stretched out between as Quackity bit his lip, seemingly deciding if he should tell Wilbur the truth or not.
“They’re too expressive. You’ve heard of the phrase ‘having a poker face’ right? Can’t do that if my fucking wings are flapping and shit.”
“Do you have wings on your back as well?”
He was met with more hesitation, which basically already gave Wilbur his answer.
“L-leave, just go Wilbur.” Quackity turned his back to him, staring out the window to look over his kingdom, his empire. He had made his decision to stop sharing personal information and Wilbur knew that at this point there was no use in pressuring him for more. Not that it would ever stop him from trying, but he’d like to get home in one piece tonight.
He held up his hands in fake surrender as he walked backwards to the door. “Alright, I’ll be out of your feathers.”
Wilbur closed the door behind him just in time to hear something heavy being thrown against it and he laughed out loud. He’d be back, he was sure about that. Every small bit of information he learned about both his friends and rivals, willingly given or not, intrigued him. What he planned to do with the information was something to maybe think about another time.
For now, he made his retreat back out into the heat and buzz of the busy city of Las Nevadas, sparing only a small glance back over his shoulder up towards the office window. The reflection of the sun blocked most of his view of the inside, but the silhouette of Quackity was still there for a second before it quickly moved away.
For now, this was enough.