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Wilbur doesn’t know why he’s back here. He should be with Tommy, or plotting a way to kill Dream. But regardless, he was back in Las Nevadas, trying to find a certain beanied man. He told himself it’s to get his help to fight Dream, but that felt like a lie. He lies to himself a lot. But it’s more to keep him going, to make sure he doesn’t get consumed by doubt. But the lies he tells himself about Quackity seem different. They are hiding something, something the rest of his brain didn’t want to acknowledge. So he lies.
“Wilbur?”
Wilbur heard a voice call from behind him, and he turned to see Quackity stepping out of the strip club.
Wilbur smiled wide, raising his hand as a greeting.
“Quackity! Just the man I was looking for.”
Quackity raised an eyebrow at him.
“And why were you looking?” He asked.
Wilbur paused, unsure of how to say what he wanted to say.
“I need your help with something,” he ended up saying.
“No.” Quackity responded without hesitation, pushing past Wilbur towards the casino.
Wilbur followed.
“Quackity, it’s important.”
“Not interested.”
“If you would just hear me out-”
“And why would I do that?” Quackity said, turning on the top of the steps of the Casino to face Wilbur. He towered over him, something the 6′5″ man not used to.
“It’s about Dream.”
There was a flash of something that crossed Quackity’s face at the mention of Dream, but Wilbur wasn’t able to discern what it was. A skeptical look quickly replaced it as Quackity eyed him, thinking. His gaze seemed to burn through Wilbur, making him feel exposed, as if Quackity was trying to see if he was tricking him. After a few seconds that felt like hours to him, Quackity spoke.
“Follow me.”
Wilbur nodded and hurried up the steps to follow Quackity into the Casino. As they walked, Wilbur tried to speak, but Quackity kept cutting him off.
“Not now,” he would say in a hushed tone.
So they spent their journey to the penthouse in anticipated silence. As they stepped into the elevator, Wilbur fidgeted with his coat to avoid looking at Quackity. He chanced a glancd up and he saw Quackity looking at him.
“This better be important,” He muttered before looking away.
Just then the elevator dinged and they both exited into the lavish penthouse. Quackity made his way over to the couch and sat down. He looked up at Wilbur and gestured for him to sit on the adjacent couch. He quickly obliged, hurrying to sit down. Quackity stared at him and a few moments of silence passed by.
“Well?” Quackity asked.
Wilbur cleared his throat, “Sorry, em, I need help killing Dream.”
Quackity raised an eyebrow, bemused.
“I though he was the one who revived you. Why would you wanna do that?” He asked.
Wilbur thought for a moment. What Tommy shared with him was personal, and it wouldn’t be right to blab about it to others. But, in this moment, if it can help get Quackity on his side, telling a very summarized story would hurt. Who knows, maybe Tommy already told him.
“Tommy-” Wilbur exhaled, “Tommy told me about his exile, and the things that Dream did. Horrible things that he can never be forgiven for. And to this day, Tommy is still scared of him, and I don’t want to see Tommy scared anymore. I did something that helped, but it’s only a matter of time before Dream sees through the trick.”
He paused, giving Quackity time to take in what he said. Quackity nodded, indicating Wilbur to continue. So he did.
“And I think the only way to truly free Tommy is to kill Dream. But I can’t do it alone.”
Quackity furrowed his brow in thought, thinking over what Wilbur had said.
Wilbur stared at Quackity, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he waited for his answer.
After what felt like too long, Quackity spoke.
“Who else have you asked?”
“Just you.”
Quackity thought for a moment more.
“Why me? Did Sam send you?”
Wilbur looked at him, confused.
“No, why would Sam send me to you?”
Quackity was silent for a moment before speaking.
“When Dream was still in prison, I tried to get him to give up the revive book.” Quackity said
Wilbur sat in silence, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t.
“And?” Wilbur said, trying get Quackity to continue, “Did you get it?”
Quackity sighed, “No, Dream, of course, wasn’t very cooperative. Even after hours of... ‘persuading.’” Quackity said in air quotes.
Wilbur stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant by ‘persuading.’
“How did you ‘persuade’ him?” he asked.
Quackity chortled, “With an axe, a sword, a pair of pliers, and a potato. Just giving him a taste of his own medicine after what he did to Tommy in the Prison.”
Wilbur’s eyes went wide. Was Quackity saying what he thought he was saying?
“You... tortured Dream?” Wilbur asked.
“Well, I was trying to avoid the word torture, but yes-”
That was all Quackity could get out before being cut off by Wilbur suddenly surging forward, connecting their lips.
“What the fuck?” he muttered against Wilbur’s lips, but not pulling away.
Wilbur pulled back and started kissing Quackity all over his face.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he chanted before Quackity pushed him off.
“What the fuck?” Quackity said again.
“What was it like?” Wilbur asked kneeling in front of Quackity, “Did he scream? Did he cry?”
“Yes, but-”
“Oh I would pay good money to see his face all bloody-”
“Wilbur-”
“-and he’s probably missing a few teeth now, isn’t he?”
“Wilbur stop-”
“-also regrowing his fingernails probably-”
“WILBUR!” Quackity shouted.
Wilbur stopped talking, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“What the fuck was that?” Quackity asked.
“What was what?” Wilbur said, mind buzzing with excitement of the news he just received.
“You... You kissed me!” Quackity exclaimed.
His words cleared the manic buzzing in Wilbur’s brain, allowing the realization of what he had just done to sink in,
Wilbur quickly stood up from his kneeling position in front of Quackity, and sat back down on the couch.
“I...” he didn’t know why he did that. He was just here asking for Quackity’s help, nothing more. Nothing more. Nothing. More... Right?
“I dunno.” He answered.
“You don’t know?” Quackity said, surprise in his tone, “Wilbur, you can’t just kiss someone and then say, ‘I don’t know’“
“I think...” Wilbur thought for a moment. It was just because he was excited, right? “It was because you tortured Dream. I was happy that you had caused that man pain after he cause so much pain to many others.”
“Don’t lie.”
Those two words shook Wilbur. Don’t lie. But he doesn’t lie, at least, not to others. He only lies to himself.
“I...” Wilbur trailed off, unable to come up with a sufficient answer. He wasn’t lying! … Right?
“Wilbur, you claim we are rivals, but for some reason, you always find an excuse to talk to me-”
Quackity stood up from the couch.
“-You always try to one up me, but it feels more like you're also trying to impress me-”
He stepped towards Wilbur, standing over him.
“-you try to get under my skin, but I can see it’s just a sad attempt at getting my attention-”
Quackity grabbed his face, holding it between his hands.
“-Well you have it now. So don’t. Lie.”
Wilbur’s heart raced. He stared into Quackity’s eyes and tried to speak, but his tongue didn’t cooperate. He wanted to tell Quackity that it meant nothing, just a heat of the moment thing. But he knew that was a lie. He lies to himself, but he can’t lie to Quackity.
“I... I have feelings for you,” Wilbur felt himself say.
Wilbur’s eyes widened at the realization of what he had just spilled; a secret he had been keeping even from himself. But before he had time to backtrack, Quackity was kissing him.
Quackity was kissing... him.
Wilbur melted into the kiss, placing a hand on the one Quackity had on his cheek.
Quackity pulled back.
“Don’t lie to me ever again,” Quackity said.
Wilbur nodded.
“Never again.”