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The morning air was cold against Quackity's bare skin, sat on the steps to his house as he exhales smoke from his cigarette that was balanced between his two fingers. He had barely thrown on his boxers again before he had wandered out the front door to get some space, the room suddenly feeling far too small as if the walls were all pressing against his skin. Jay had fallen asleep, as he often did after they fucked. The energy it took from him for such a draining exercise mixed with the drowsiness of the booze always knocked the ram out right after. A small snicker to himself. He wasn't complaining, gave him some time alone to consider his life as it was right now.
A mess. A confusing fucking mess.
Another drag from his cigarette, squinting out over the hills through the early morning darkness to see the orange glow starting to rise.
Despite his boyfriend asleep in the house directly behind him, he's not sure he's ever felt quite this alone. He would often find himself nostalgic for others while being held by his current partner, seeking their scent among the booze. If he close his eyes really tight he could sometimes pretend...
But, Jay wasn't all bad! He had to remember that! Breaking himself out of the fantasy of someone else's arms.
There were lots of good moments, but also lots of bad, and he found himself desperately clinging to the good that came fewer and farther between. His standards for what it meant when he said 'a good day' with Jay soon lowered and he's not even sure when it happened. It went from "Jay complimented me today" to "Jay didn't insult me today", or "Jay took me on a date today" to "Jay didn't throw something at me today". It was fucking miserable. And yet, his snoring that kept Quackity awake at night was infinitely better than being alone in that stupid bed. Because if he was alone, he'd feel his own bad habits start tingling up his arms among the track marks.
He had been clean for a little bit now, since just before the election. So how long? One month? Maybe two? It was still an everyday battle. Especially while he lived with Jay who gave into his habits so easily. Quackity did his best at hiding bottles while he wasn't looking or pouring it down the sink, but he always found a way. Not that himself can say much, by the end of the night he'd be tipsy too just to make it easier to get through the sex and fall asleep after. It'd numb any pain if any slaps had been thrown as well.
It was rare, but sometimes if Quackity shouted back too loud, or said something too out of line. It was those moments he, Prime forbid he'd ever admit this out loud, he'd miss Wilbur. Sure, they had been fucked up, but he never hit him.
He starts chewing on his thumb, feeling a weight in his chest and stomach thinking of the other man. Daily, he went between feeling guilty and feeling proud and satisfied. He hoped he and Tommy were okay. Though of course, they would be fine, they had Blade on their side. A small snicker at the thought. Jay was scared shitless of Blade, and Quackity was too, so Wilbur had one advantage over them at least. That, and Dream. Dream hated Jay more than he hated Wilbur, which was saying a lot. It wouldn't be out of the question for the Dream Team to get involved at some point.
"Why are you out here?" A voice suddenly asks, forcing him from his thoughts as he turned. Relaxing as it's just Jay in the doorway, blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders. A sigh as Quackity turns back to look at the sun that was now peaking over the horizon, sky fully orange and gold.
"Just needed a smoke and fresh air." He shrugs. There is a moment of silence between the two of them before Jay moves, closing the front door behind him as he sits down next to Quackity on the steps. A slightly pained grunt as he lowers himself before settling, moving an arm around the other's shoulders to wrap half of the blanket around him.
"Yeah, but it's fucking cold out here. Can I have your smoke?" He rolls his eyes, handing the cigarette to the other and he pulls the blanket around himself more, sliding closer to Jay to share in his warmth. It was cold. But the prick on his skin had been precisely what he needed against his clammy skin from the sex.
From the corner of his eyes, he watches the other take a deep drag, coughing loudly as he breathes out, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth and not offering the cigarette back. Not that Q expected to get it back at this point. He was both disgusting and beautiful and it infuriated him. Looking back to the horizon so he didn't have to think about the breathing contradiction that was next to him anymore.
"Sorry if I woke you up." He quickly apologizes, while the air felt calm between the two of them right now, it would often suddenly spark suddenly with tension or anger if he said something wrong, so he trod carefully. Being so hyperaware of the other's mood, he was able to notice the slight antsy fidgeting. What was on his mind that kept making him pick at his nails, or scratch at his face?
"Nah, you didn't. Don't worry," the older giving a dismissive wave. "I was barely asleep anyway."
"Oh..." he can't tell if he's in trouble for leaving Jay in bed alone or not. But silence follows the short conversation so he can assume he's okay for right now anyway.
Q leans his weight onto the other, his warmth more welcoming than he expected even if they were both only in their boxers with a blanket over their shoulders, it was enough to feel comfortable, lulling him into doziness. He didn't realize he was tired before right now. The pricking of his skin had been keeping him awake.
"I'm going to ask something really fucking stupid," Jay suddenly speaks, a slight shake to his voice that Q had never quite heard before.
"Everything you ask is stupid-" He teases out of anxiety, eyes slight lightly closed, earning a huff from the ram.
"Okay well, this one is the most stupid."
"Shoot then, Mr President, I'm all ears."
"What if we got married?" His blasé tone and the rather unromantic setting leaves Quackity humming in acknowledgment before he has time to fully process what he's said,
"sure, why not," and what he's agreeing to. Maybe if he was more awake, maybe if Jay had made it a bigger deal, he'd be crying and clinging to the other man from joy, but this... felt more fitting for their relationship. Casual and awkward.
"Oh-uh cool then," is all Jay can respond with, moving to press a kiss to the top of the other's head. The ring box, he had bought a few weeks ago sat at the bottom of his chest under some clothes. He hadn't bought it with serious intentions, more of a joke, wanting to see Quackity's stupid reaction since he was the sentimental type... but the longer it sat the longer he liked the idea. He'd go back a forth, he'd want it, then he'd rather die than be engaged to Quackity. He hadn't come out here to ask this at all... but for some reason, a sense of ease settles over him as a weight from his chest lifts. Q was his and only his now. Humming happily at the idea of it.
And Q liked the idea of being engaged. The idea was that he'd always have them to lean on when he needed them. It was the kind of reassurance and stability he needed that the rest of his life had lacked. Maybe this is exactly what their relationship needed! Maybe this would force Jay to sober up? Maybe, he could imagine a better future with the two of them now.