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"Who... who am I?" Wilbur sighed, turning away from the dirty mirror in the bathroom of the burger van. "I don't recognize myself, but why is that?" It wasn't the scars, he'd known them, he'd gotten used to them. He felt them as a part of him, a part of his story. He had always had scars from his childhood of adventuring and scraped knees. He never really liked his appearance, but he didn't ever linger on it. The white streak he'd gotten used to. The ruggedness he'd known for a while. His facial structure was the same, his eyes had seen different things, but they still were the same deep pools of ink that had always stared back at him.
"What's wrong with me this time?" Wilbur turned back to the mirror, fingertips grazing his cheek as if he were making sure he were real. "God, why can't I be fucking normal for once?" He sobbed, turning away and propping himself against the tile wall.
He felt sick, but he was not sick. He felt angry, but he was not angry. He felt everything, but he felt like he was nothing.
Weakness came as night fell over the land. Wilbur walked in the direction of Las Nevadas, lights blaring upon visitors who do not exist, looking for a balcony to smoke off of.
...
Quackity sighed, placing his pen down and cracking his knuckles. For a city that hadn't opened yet, he sure as hell had a lot of paperwork to do. Maybe he should do something about that. Could he make paperwork illegal? God, that would just require more paperwork.
He placed his head down on the desk, moving papers out of the way and closing his eyes. Why did presidency have to be so stressful? At this point, he was wishing that Wilbur would rethink his offer of vice presidency. At least that way he would have a bit less work to do.
Then again, when didn't Quackity burden those around him? He's a burden to his citizens, working to create perfection that can never exist. He's a burden to his exes, one of which he burdened with a bullet. He's a burden to himself, he's a burden to those who try and help him.
Quackity feels heavy, held down by a ball and shackle, fastened out of fool's gold.
The elevator chimes.
"Oh. I didn't realize you would still be in here. Don't you get off at what? Nine?" Quackity grumbled.
"Wilbur, please leave." He heard a shuffle, and a click of a lock.
"I'm working on it. Just out on the balcony. Feel free to kick me out after I've smoked." Quackity raised an eyebrow. "Sorry for any inconveniences." He wasn't normally like this, was he? Was this just another stupid trick he was playing in order to get Quackity overthinking and tripping over his thoughts? Quackity looked up out the window. He watched as Wilbur lit his cigarette and put the lighter back in his pocket, leaning against the railing that he knew for a fact was unstable. Hm. Decidedly not normal.
Quackity stood from his desk, stretching and feeling his back crack as he did so. He dimmed his desk lamp and walked out onto the balcony where Wilbur stood.
"Kicking me out already? Sorry, I can leave if you need me to-" Quackity cut him off.
"Wilbur, what is up with you?" Wilbur stopped, staring at the man before him.
"What do you mean?" Wilbur questioned, feeling his heart drop. He didn't mean for Quackity to notice. Did he? He doesn't recall having that intention.
"I mean that you'll normally put up a fight. You just apologized to me for something I didn't even say I was mad about. Wilbur, are you okay?" Wilbur stared dead forward into Quackity's eyes, not knowing what to say. "I mean it, Wilbur. You know that railing is unstable, and you complain about limbo, so why are you leaning against it like you're waiting for it to fall?"
"I forgot about that."
"Don't lie to me. Please, not right now." Wilbur looked out upon the city. It looked gorgeous at night. It reminded him of
"I don't know what's wrong with me." The wind brushed the brunette's hair out of his face. He closed his eyes and breathed it in.
"Elaborate, please?" Quackity asked, not knowing why he cared so much.
"I just- I looked in the mirror earlier, Quackity." Quackity recalled the apparent lack of mirrors in pogtopia. It threw him for a loop.
"Are you... self conscious?" He asked genuinely. Wilbur shrugged.
"I never really liked the way I look, but I still saw myself as handsome? If that makes sense?" Quackity shook his head. "It's like... I liked how I looked, but my reflection felt like a stranger. Even before the scars, before everything went to chaos. I just never liked mirrors, not because I didn't like what I saw, because I didn't see myself as my reflection?" Oh. That sounded all too familiar to Quackity.
"I understand that." Wilbur's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"You do?" Quackity nodded.
"Yeah. I felt that way before I transitioned." Wilbur's expression dropped.
"Wait. No. I'm a guy. I am a man, aren't I?" Wilbur looked confused, looking down at his hands and the still burning cigarette between his fingers. "Quackity, please tell me what you mean by that."
"I was born a girl. I am not a girl. I feel more comfortable looking in the mirror now that I present in a way that's more masculine." Wilbur recalls Fundy, quickly shutting the thought of him out of his head.
"How did you realize you weren't a girl?" Wilbur cut himself off. "Sorry, Jesus, I really need to get going-"
"My reflection looked like a stranger." Wilbur stopped. "I thought about what I would like to look like, what I think of myself as. It took some deep thought and pondering, but now I am myself." Wilbur stared blankly at Quackity, thinking about what he saw in the mirror. "What would you change about yourself if you were given the chance?"
"I'd be shorter," he began, running a list off the top of his head. "I'd be less shaped like a fucking beanpole, more curve, no ribs poking out." Quackity nodded.
"What about things that could be changed within a couple months, days, even?" Wilbur thought for a moment.
"I've always wanted to grow out my hair. That's why I didn't cut it after I got out of limbo." Quackity raised an eyebrow. "I want to learn how to care for it better, care for myself better. I want to look presentable, well kept and clean. No crusty lips or unshaven beard. I want to look like I take care of myself, because I think I want to be better." Quackity looked blankly at Wilbur.
"You're telling me that you want to be shorter and curvier, use lip products, shave your beard more regularly, and have long and well taken care of hair?" Wilbur nodded.
"Precisely." Quackity smiled. It almost warmed his heart how clueless Wilbur was.
"You want to look more feminine, Wilbur?" Something clicked in Wilbur's head. He looked down at Quackity, something brewing behind his eyes.
"Quackity..." Wilbur began, a hand on his hair with an expression of disbelief. "I think I want to be a girl."
…
“What do you think?” Quackity asked, looking Wilbur up and down in curiosity.
“I-“ Wilbur began, feeling the flory fabric of their dress between their fingers. “I don’t know…” Quackity hummed before handing them a different outfit.
“I want you to try this one for me.” They nodded, going back into the penthouse bathroom (they were quite flustered to be in there, quite frankly) and getting changed.
As they unfolded the turtleneck, they noticed an additional article of clothing that they had never experienced before. Oh fuck, that was a bra. It wasn’t a normal bra, either. It was padded fairly heavily as well. Wilbur thought about it for a second before deciding that yes, they would in fact like to try on the boobs.
They slipped it over their head, not trusting their ability to clasp a bra yet. They put the turtleneck on top of it, then looked in the wide mirror over the sink. Oh.
Their lips fell agape, and their hands went up to touch their chest. It almost felt wrong but… it felt like a part of them. Wilbur quickly put on the rest of the outfit, including a cute chain belt and high waisted black dress pants with sailor’s buttons (two on each side). They slipped their heeled boots on and opened the door nervously.
Quackity stared at them, looking them up and down. It wasn’t a super flattering outfit, but it worked almost too well for Wilbur. It hugged their hips in just the right places, it made them look powerful. Beautiful.
“Wow,” he spoke up after a long silence. “You look… stunning.” Wilbur blushed, looking away from Quackity.
“You’re just saying that to flatter me…” Quackity shrugged.
“I mean it. You’re gorgeous.” Wilbur’s breath hitched. They didn’t remember the last time anyone had complimented them like that, especially not with that word. They were always “handsome” or “manly” or some other word that didn’t necessarily apply to their appearance. But gorgeous? They had never heard that one before. And with the way Quackity said it, they believed it, too.
“T-thank you,” Wilbur stuttered. Quackity smiled, before raising his eyebrows and pulling something out of his pocket.
“Oh! One more thing!” Quackity handed Wilbur a dainty gold necklace with a matching gold pip of a spade on it. “I thought you might like this. Handmade in Las Nevadas, fourteen karat gold filled brass. It’s about five percent gold, but that makes it more durable, still with that same shine to it.” Wilbur blushed heavier, hands almost shaking as they took it.
“God, Q, you really don’t need to-“ Quackity cut them off.
“I know how it feels to be in your shoes right now. The one thing I wanted more than anything was to be accepted for who I am, and that included all the doubt and the desire that came with it. I wouldn’t leave you without any help, because that’s where I ended up when I realized I was trans. Nothing about it felt good, I don’t want you to have to go through the same,” Quackity explained.
“Quackity…” Wilbur’s voice cracked, holding the necklace close to their chest. “I thought you hated me.”
“I hate some of the things you’ve done. I don’t hate you for being yourself. Really, I should thank you. You inspired this city, anyways. As much as it pains me to say it, you bring joy to my life, even if it’s forced upon me when you break into my office.” Wilbur laughed, shaking their head, tears threatening to fall. Somewhere in the depths of their mind, they felt weak. They couldn’t hold back those feelings anymore.
“I don’t deserve you,” they whispered, looking into the eyes of their so-called rival. Quackity’s expression softened as he replied.
“You deserve the world.”
…
“Oh, Quackity!” Revie sang, knocking on the door to his office. Quackity rolled his eyes with a smile.
“What do you want, Soot?” She huffed, entering his office and closing the door behind her. Quackity looked her up and down, his signature smirk on his face. “Oh, look at you, all tidied up. Got any special plans there, little miss breaking and entering into my office for the fifth time this week?” Revie smiled sweetly.
“The only plans I have are here with you, mister president,” she teased, bending over Quackity’s desk, just a foot away from his face. Her necklace dangled in front of him, the gold shining in the natural light from through the windows.
“Sure, sure. It looks to me like you’re going clubbing. Mind telling me why you’re dressed like a whore?” Revie rolled her eyes, blowing a hair out of her face.
“Hey, you’re the one who gave me this outfit! I didn’t choose the miniskirt,” she retorted. Quackity chuckled silently to himself.
“Touché. I don’t have the body to pull it off anymore, it would have gone to waste otherwise.” Revie raised a brow.
“You’ve worn this?” She asked genuinely.
“Well, yeah. Where do you think I got all the clothes from?” Revie stared at him, down at her skirt, then back at him. “What?”
“I don’t know, I think you could pull it off. It’s yours, after all.” Quackity shook his head. “Wait… where did you get the fake boobs from, then?”
“You’d be surprised how influential the drag community is in Las Nevadas.” Revie hummed, mildly confused at the random bit of information, but satiated by the response nonetheless.
“That will do it, I guess,” she joked, standing back up and walking over to the side of the desk where the President sat. “You’d look good with a cinched waist.”
“I do have some corsets, actually, if you’d like to try one on,” he mentioned. Revie quickly shook her head.
“No thanks. I wore them during my presidency, they remind me of the wrong things.” Quackity nodded.
“That’s alright.” He set his pen down, giving Revie his full attention.
“Plus, I like breathing.” Quackity laughed, running a hand back through his hair.
“I do too. They look nice, but god damn do they squeeze you! Like, damn! No need to relocate my ribcage!” Revie giggled with him, recalling the time she nearly passed out in a corset after standing up after finishing some paperwork.
“Why have a corset rearrange your organs when you can do it for me?” She said without thinking. “Oh god, wait- no I didn’t mean it like that-“ Quackity cut her off with howling laughter, smiling wide enough to show off his gold tooth.
“Oh my GOD-!” He cried, shaking his head. “I’m sorry- that was just- that was good. That’s a good one. Sorry,” he replied, face red, supposedly with laughter. “I didn’t mean to laugh that hard.”
“It’s all good! Just said the first joke that came to mind, which happened to be… well…” she trailed off, looking away from him to hide her flushed face.
“Wait… do you-“ Quackity stopped, thinking through his words. “I’m not asking if you meant it, I know you didn’t mean it like that, but… is there any particular reason why it came to mind first?” Revie could have died then and there from embarrassment.
“I- oh my god, Quackity!” She yelped, hiding her face in her hands.
“I’m sorry! You just seem- a little embarrassed? More than you would be normally? Oh god I made it worse, didn’t I?” Quackity chuckled awkwardly to himself. “Ah, Shit.”
“No, no! It’s fine! I shouldn’t have said it, now I’m paying the consequences of my actions!” Revie’s voice wavered unsteadily. She probably looked like a tomato at this point.
“I’m sorry, I’m like this. I just get a bit hopeful, that’s all…” Okay, now she DEFINITELY looked like a tomato.
“H-hopeful?” She stuttered. She felt the room’s atmosphere change as Quackity quickly realized his mistake.
“Hopeful as in- like- I could make it better-? Like, not awkward, less awkward, at least- oh god damnit, Revie…” he sighed. Revie heard him rise from his desk. She took her hands off of her face, briefly looking at him as he stood and walked towards her. She hid once again. “Revie, why the fuck else would I literally give you my gold necklace?”
“What?” Quackity placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m an avian. It’s called courting. I knew you wouldn’t understand it when I did it, and that’s why I did. Well, I did it because it would make you happy, too, and it did. But it made me happy as well to see you wearing it. I’d have given you more, but that would have been suspicious,” he explained. Revie squeaked.
“I- oh, wow. I’m- I’m flattered, I-“ The avian sighed, shaking his head.
“You don’t have to accept anything. You don’t have to turn me down, I know your answer.” Revie took her hands off of her face, shaking her head.
“No, no, no! It’s not that, I just- I’m too flustered to even think straight, Quackity, god-! Don’t do me like this…” Revie trailed off as Quackity played with her necklace. His hands were scarred and calloused, but so were hers. She wishes hers weren’t, even if she found Quackity’s hands unfairly attractive. “Quackity?”
“You’re even more beautiful up close,” he whispered. Revie’s face flushed as she stuttered, unable to respond in proper English. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No, but a certain birdie does,” she replied quickly. Quackity’s eyes widened as he blushed, then he began to grin.
“Christ, you’re fast. No wonder I’ve got the hots for you,” he teased. Revie’s heart felt like it was beating out of her chest.
“For me?“ The avian nodded.
“For you, my dear.” She held a hand to her cheek, feeling how red she was. “You’re blushing up a storm.”
“And I think you know why.” He smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“May I kiss you?” Revie smiled, looking away for a moment to compose herself.
“It would be an honor, mister president,” she retorted. Quackity rolled his eyes before cupping her cheek and kissing her. She leaned into the kiss, hands finding their way onto his shoulders.
“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Quackity admitted, the first to break away.
“I don’t want you to ever wait again.” He smiled, still holding her face in his hands.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to.”
…
Revie grumbled, turning over and looking at her lover beside her in bed.
“What time is it?” She asked groggily. Quackity rustled around, looking at the clock briefly before turning back towards Revie.
“Too early. Go back to bed.” Revie giggled sleepily, scooting closer towards him.
“I could never say no to more cuddles.”
…
“Fuck, I’m late!” Quackity jolted, scrambling to get out of bed. Revie laughed, causing her lover to shoot her a glare. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s Saturday, dummy!” Quackity groaned, flopping back down onto the shared mattress. “Did you forget what day it was?” She chuckled, patting his head.
“Shut up. Cuddles.” She sighed, pulling him in closer and kissing him on the cheek.
“Cuddles is right!” Revie smiled, feeling loved and not even doubting it for a moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that way. It was peaceful, it was love.