Chapter Text
“Move it, whore, I’m trying to cook.”
Wilbur grinned, and allowed himself to be shoved out of the way.
“And I’m trying to help, thank you very much.”
Niki huffed, somehow carrying a mixing bowl, a recipe book and a large knife he was fairly sure she’d stabbed someone with a week ago.
Christmas was always fun in the Underworld. A season of chaos and somehow even more noise than normal, and one that consistently brought them closer together. Memorably, last year Tommy had locked them all in a storage cupboard over Christmas Eve.
This was the third Christmas they’d spent together. Three years, and somehow they all still tolerated each other. Miriam was ten now. He’d been Siren for three years. It had been four since he met Quackity.
Speaking of his husband…
“Oh Persephone~!” The sound of an excessively smug shrike echoed through the kitchen, and Niki threw her hands in the air in utter defeat.
Wilbur got the hell out of the arsonist villain’s way, and came to meet Quackity, standing by the doors.
“Yes? What is it, sunrise?”
He took a moment to take in Quackity’s outfit. Eret, Tommy and Miriam had all been the driving force behind demanding they all wore Christmas jumpers, and the shrike was in no way excused just because he didn’t live here.
Quackity’s jumper featured a small line of ducks carrying baubles and lights and the knitted words ‘Merry Ducking Christmas’. That one was definitely from Tommy. Slime had got him one that was just a Christmas tree with various stacks of TNT in the place of presents, which the shrike refused to admit he loved.
Wilbur himself was wearing a jumper that was simply the word ‘revolution’ written in an aggressively festive font. It was yet to fail to make Niki collapse laughing every time she saw it.
Anyway. Jumpers later, husband now.
“I got you something!” Quackity was unnaturally excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was about to take flight.
“Shouldn’t you wait a few hours?”
They were planning to wait until after dinner to do presents, but Quackity shook his head and thrust a small, badly wrapped box into his hands.
“Nope. Now. I want to see you wearing it.”
Chuckling, Wilbur sighed and walked out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to Niki who called back that it was a good riddance too, and that Quackity needed to control his husband.
He leaned against the wall and unwrapped the box grinning at the shrike’s eager chirping.
“Calm down, I’m opening it- oh, Q.” Eyes wide, he took the bracelet out, holding it up in the fake sunlight.
It was a silver chain with five small charms hanging from it. A tiger’s eye stone, set in a fox tail. Two discs, one of them with an emerald in the centre. A miniature laurel with amethyst. A tiny sun made of a ruby. And a music note, with the tail rising from a gleaming sapphire.
“Oh… that is very pretty.” He half moved to put it back in the box, but Quackity grabbed his wrist, and he laughed.
“Nope, you’re wearing it.” The shrike clipped it onto his wrist, the opposite one to his comm, and trilled happily. “Do you like it?”
“Of course, sunrise. I love it.” He spent another moment admiring the charms, then kissed Quackity’s forehead. “Don’t expect your present now. You’ll have to wait until after dinner.”
“As if that’s the only thing I’ve got you.” Quackity scoffed derisively.
“Hey guys.”
Hecate’s voice surprised both of them, and Wilbur had wrapped an arm around Quackity’s shoulders and pulled him close before he fully recognised the villain. Or… not a villain. Hecate was unaligned, and one of the Underworld’s most private residents. Hence the permanent code name.
“Hi, Hecate. What’s up?”
Hecate’s eyes lingered on Quackity for a moment longer than normal, and he tugged at the sleeves of his purple, strangely psychedelic jumper. The shrike looked a little confused, frowning at Hecate’s face mask and goggles he wore to conceal his identity.
Tension swelled in the air for a painfully long moment, and Wilbur felt an unease in his stomach he hadn’t felt for a while. Then Hecate shook his head, and his mask moved as if he were muttering to himself.
“Shit- sorry, never mind. Uh- Captain wanted you. She- she said we- they wanted your help. Sorry.” Hecate cast one last glance at Quackity before hurrying away, smoothing down his skirt in a desperate attempt to keep calm.
“Well they were weird. Who’s that?” Quackity’s feathers were tense, even if his expression was relaxed and curious.
“Hecate? He’s an odd one. Pretty private, but this is the place for it I guess. Niki says he’s a runaway hero or something like that. Not one I know.”Wilbur shrugged, dropping his hand to hold Quackity’s. “C’mon, we shouldn’t keep Cara waiting.”
Wilbur started running, dragging Quackity behind him as the shrike squawked in protest, then in laughter as he struggled to keep up, nearly tripping on the fallen heros coat.
“Slow down, Will!”
“Keep up!”
It felt like they were kids, chasing each other down on the playground, brimming with energy and excitement and hope.
Quackity caught up as Wilbur grabbed a doorway as they passed by, doors propped open. The shrike nearly ran into him, and ended up clinging to his waist, half laughing and half complaining.
“You- you awful- you made me run.”
“Aw, I’m sorry sunrise.” Wilbur ruffled his hair, making Quackity simultaneously pout and blush. “You hungry?”
“I’m not a dog.” He snapped, then smirked. “You though…”
Wilbur choked with laughter, feeling heat rising in his cheeks and glancing around. “Menace shrike.”
“Come on, pretty bird.” Quackity grabbed his wrist, dragging him through the doors as they both laughed.
As soon as they crossed the small threshold, music, laughter and conversation washed over them. The normal minimalist and sleek dining hall had been transformed by the efforts of various children over the past few weeks, and the effect was rather impressive.
Bunting and paper chains were draped from the warm lights, and paper snowflakes decorated the walls. A large Christmas tree sat in the corner, unable to contain the mountain of presents beneath its branches. Someone- probably Tubbo- had managed to get a real fireplace in too, which was roaring merrily on the opposite wall.
“Persephone! And Hades, good to see you!” Cara bounded over, brown and white curls pinned back by a festively bright headscarf, her horns poking through just by her ears. Her arms were laden with yet more wrapped parcels, and a young boy no older than ten ran up beside her as she opened her mouth.
“Captain Puffy! I- I haven’t seen my mama yet, and I don’t know where she went, what if she-?” The boys eyes were brimming with tears as Cara bent down, shifting the presents into one arm so she could place her other hand on his shoulder.
“Thanatos told me no one’s left today, duckling, and I saw your Mama yesterday. So she’s here, and she’s coming. She’s probably just got distracted by helping, ‘kay?” Her eyes were as warm as the fire crackling behind them, and the boy sniffed, smiled shakily, and nodded.
“O- ok. Thank you!” Now smiling fully, he skipped off again, back to his friends gathered in the corner.
Cara watched him go with a soft smile, then turned back to the two avians. “He arrived a week ago. Separation anxiety, this is the longest he’s been apart from her. Sorry, I- I get distracted. How’s Nat doing?”
“Happy for me to be gone, I think.” Wilbur chuckled, pulling Quackity close beside him. His magpie was all nervous about the number of people in the large room. “She said she was nearly done, and she was just waiting on Blink to drop off a few cakes.”
“Blink’s making cake?” Cara looked horrified, and glanced to Quackity for confirmation. “Who let him make cake?”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just here for the eye candy.” Quackity went on tiptoes to kiss Wilbur’s cheek, making the blush that had just been fading rush back with vengeance.
“Yeah, I… he wanted to, ok?” Wilbur felt suddenly defensive, and not a little bit scared of what Blink might do. “Why?”
“You have clearly never encountered Blink’s cooking before.” Cara’s eyes were still wide, but she shrugged and laughed, pressing a small pile of gifts into each other their hands. “Come help me set these up.”
They let themselves be lead over to the Christmas tree, and Wilbur watched Quackity begin sorting present arrangements with an enthusiasm he hadn’t quite expected. Care made a noise of impressed satisfaction, and stood up, saluting at the two villains sitting on the floor.
“I’ll leave you boys to it. Have fun, and Merry Christmas!”
With that, she walked away, and Wilbur looked at Quackity in shock.
“Did she just leave us to sort decorations?”
“Like hell she did songbird, now hand me that tinsel.” Quackity held out his hand, which Wilbur dutifully placed tinsel in, and the shrike stood up, draping it artfully across the branches.
“Wouldn’t have marked you down as this festive, Q.” Wilbur remarked, glancing around the small huddles of children, teenagers and adults, heros and villains alike chatting as they set up crockery and table centrepieces.
“Oh, you’d be surprised how much Slime is into the ‘holiday spirit’, for someone who barely identifies as human.” Quackity chuckled, and nodded in approval to the tree. “I should come here more often.”
“Sunrise… you know I don’t like you being here too much.”
“I know songbird, I know. Protective and all. Should I be worried?” Quackity elbowed him playfully, and Wilbur rolled his eyes.
“About who? Scarlet? She may not be active anymore, but we have been getting closer…” He was teasing, with the slightest hint of a suggestive smirk.
The shrike tensed ever so slightly on hearing her name, but they were two of the few people in the country who knew exactly why the former number one villain had dropped almost entirely off the charts.
“Ah, I trust you amor. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s stupid enough to go near you.” Quackity stroked his wing, smirking with a gleam of the dangerous villain Wilbur had first fallen in love with.
Chuckling, Wilbur didn’t move his wing away, but did glance over his shoulder to see if there was anyone else they knew already there. His eyes landed on a certain shapeshifter, but Eret just nodded giddily and sashayed over to set a plate down on one of the tables before twirling and heading off again.
Next was Aimsey and Guqqie, who actually noticed when he waved. Aimsey’s eyes lit up, and ze dragged the arctic fox over.
“Hi! This is so cool! Guqs was telling me you all do this every fucking year, which is so cool by the way, and I just-“
“Aims.” Guqqie smiled, placing a silk gloved hand on Aimsey’s shoulder. “Chill. Sorry Persephone, are you busy?”
“Not at all. Hades, have you met Angel? They’re one of our new recruits for Tartarus.” Wilbur chuckled, as he always did when he remembered what they called their training program. “How are you doing, Angel?”
“Really great, thanks! This place is awesome!” Aimsey was wearing several strings of rainbow fairy lights, matching with Guqqie’s soft white lights. “Happy Christmas by the way!”
“You too.”
Wilbur’s voice was warm, and he watched with interest as Aimsey lit up, turned to pick up a sprig of holly, and grew it into a garland which ze placed on his head with a small jump and a giggle.
“Early present! See you around!” Ze grabbed Guqqie’s hand and dived back into the crowd.
Wilbur watched hir make a beeline for Purpled, standing silently in the corner, and felt a small smile tug at his lips. He’d had his doubts about those two, but… it seemed to have turned out alright.
“Huh. You really do just collect children, don’t you amor?” Quackity nudged him, snapping him out of his proud-parent haze.
“I suppose I do.” Grinning, Wilbur turned back to shrike, completely at ease from the reassurance he was surrounded by his people. “How goes the casinos? Any new recruits?”
As he reached up to adjust the surprisingly not spiky garland, Quackity shrugged.
“Not really. No one you haven’t met already.” Quackity was still half focused on Aimsey, chattering away on the other side of the room. “Songbird, is that a mercenary by the name of Purpled by any chance?”
“Ah- uh, yes. Yes it is.” Ooh, he probably should have told Quackity this already. But the shrike seemed carefully neutral, merely raising his eyebrows and nodding.
“Interesting.” He smirked, meeting Wilbur’s eyes mischievously. “Say, amor, would you mind if I murdered him?”
“Sorry Q, I actually would.” Wilbur smiled apologetically, even as his magpie chirped for him to give his husband whatever the fuck he wanted. “Basically my whole deal with him is he’s getting protection from you.”
“Shame.” Quackity sighed, a hint of genuine rage lurking behind his composure. “I’ve been looking for him for a while.”
“This is a season of forgiveness, remember darling.” Wilbur deliberately turned the shrike’s head away from Purpled, then leaned in to kiss him to make up for it.
Quackity returned the kiss with a soft smile, chirping instinctively as Wilbur pulled away.
“I’d say I’m being pretty damn forgiving already.” Rolling his eyes, a slight smile played on the villains lips as he pointedly didn’t look at Purpled.
“Then you’re in the festive spirit.” Wilbur grinned, and noticed Cara calling them over to one of the tables.
They came over, lining up behind the chairs like schoolchildren. There was something Wilbur rather liked about the equality of Christmas. Just for one day, he’d answer to Cara because she was kind. Not powerful, not dangerous. This was the one day of the year when the only thing that gave you status was love.
Cara gestured for them to sit as she circled the table to stand next to them, still harried but grinning ear to ear.
“Thought I’d talk you through seating arrangements, just in case.” She smiled awkwardly, and Wilbur nodded, accepting the point. “We’ve got most of Tartarus over there, young children at the back, and most of everyone else is distributed randomly. Apart from our table, that’s… well, us.”
“Sounds great. Where’s Angel sitting?” Maybe he had a bit of fondness for the fallen hero, sue him. He saw some of himself in hir.
“Tartarus. Ze’s been getting on really well, actually.” Cara beamed in pure, radiant pride, like a mother hen watching her chicks take their first steps, and clicked her tongue with a small chuckle. “Nat said she’d be here in a minute.”
“Sounds like everything’s going well. What about you? Too much?” Wilbur was genuinely a little worried about the sheep hybrid. She took on a lot of the people side of the Underworld, and he knew as well as anyone there was only so much responsibility one person could shoulder.
But she just laughed airily, waving Wilbur’s concern away like it was nothing. “I’m fine, Persephone. You worry about your family, I’ll take care of mine. Speaking of- that’s Nat over there. See you around!”
Cara waved a cheerful goodbye as she made her way over to Niki, who set down the basket she was carrying before turning to hug the sheep villain.
“You know, I miss the days when you were scared of Anarchy.” Quackity’s remark seemed casual as he leaned on the magpie’s arm, but there was an emphasis- or lack thereof- that made Wilbur sigh lightly.
“You know? Me too. But just look around, sunrise.” He waved at the warm lights, bulbs specially made by Tubbo for this, Purpled showing a questionable number of guns to a crowd of enthralled children, groups of people who might have never known each other without here. “Isn’t this worth it?”
“I never said it wasn’t worth it, songbird.” Quackity murmured, head resting serenely on his shoulder. When he didn’t continue, Wilbur turned to him expectantly, but the shrike just shrugged. That was all he had to say. Fair enough.
The bubble of quiet in the steady chatter only lasted a few seconds before a blur of orange sped through the door, somehow scampering onto the ceiling and curling around one of the lights.
Wilbur watched for the half second Fundy glanced around nervously, then flinched as there was a high pitched chirp, and a flutter of grey feathers as Miriam launched herself at him from one light over. Wait- what?. How long had she been there?
The two of them fell to the ground, somehow avoiding landing on anyone except Sam, who just sighed and got the hell out of the way as Miriam got the fox pinned, wrists held down by long, teal painted claws that matched the bells on her reindeer hairband.
“Ha! Take that, zorro.”
The room quietened to almost silence. Quackity and Wilbur shared a look, both of them holding back laughter, then Quackity picked his way through the crowd to his sister.
“Sweetie, what did Fundy do to you?”
The fox was breathing heavily, but still managed to reply in Miriam’s stead, grinning with adrenaline. “Made a bet with- her yesterday.“
“Dumb zorro.” Miriam’s eyes were gleaming with an icy sheen as she dug her nails in further, making Fundy squeak. “I knew you were coming.”
Wilbur joined the rest of his flock- almost- standing beside Quackity in staring at their children with a mix of amusement and despair.
“Melinoë, don’t call your brother dumb.”
“But what if he is?”
The two shrikes spoke in unison, and Miriam threw Quackity a grin that was nothing short of evil.
“Oh you little…” Quackity grinned and stroked her hair, an action he still wasn’t ready to accept didn’t have the same effect on her as it did Wilbur, although it did make her chirp happily. “I let you live with Wilbur for like, a year, and this is what happens.”
“Hey, my parenting is faultless. Right, Fundy?”
“Will-“ Fundy’s plea was cut off by Miriam’s claws actually drawing drops of blood, and Wilbur moved on instinct.
He pulled the younger shrike off her brother, lifting her into his arms with ease and holding her tight as she struggled.
“Hey! Get- off!” Eventually, she gave up, and pouted, looking like a wet kitten. This wasn’t helped by the fact Wilbur decided to coo over her, nuzzling against her ear feathers. “Hey…”
He pulled away just as she started chirping, not wanting to actually mess up her instincts. Quackity had helped Fundy up, and Eret was waving for everyone to carry on, which they obliged to do. They saw weirder things daily down here.
“Feeling a little less violent, Melinoë?”
“Hmph.” She huffed, batting her wings in his face, and Wilbur set her down before he got feathers in his mouth, ruffling her raven hair.
Speaking of ravens… no sign of Tommy. He turned back to his daughter, smiling.
“Hey, Melinoë… when’s Tommy coming?”
She stuck out her tongue and held her wings snobbishly. “Not telling you. You don’t let me attack Fundy, I don’t give you prophecies.”
“It’s a fair deal, songbird.” Quackity pointed out, and Wilbur glared.
“Like you know about fair deals.”
He was distracted by a sudden weight on his back and tugging at his hair.
“HEY! What the-“ Spinning around, he heard giggling, and sighed, looking to his darling husband who was trying very hard not to laugh. “Miriam’s on my back, isn’t she?”
“Yep. She’s gotten better too- ooh, sweetie, mind his hair.”
Quackity winced as his warning went unheeded, and Wilbur felt a sharp yank just above his temple, enough to actually tear some of his hair out.
“Right. Gremlin child, off.” He reached behind his head, but felt arms wrap around his neck, and spun in a circle for a solid few seconds before just accepting that he had a ten year old on his back now. Yep. That was happening. “I take it back, the gremlin child is staying on.”
Quackity was just about dying with laughter, and Fundy was in a similar state. Wilbur could see several other people chuckling too, and crossed his arms in displeasure.
“Excuse me. I have a reputation.” His stern tone wasn’t helped by the face a smile was forcing itself onto his lips, and his magpie was really rather enjoying seeing his flock so happy, actually.
“Yeah, one for being a stuck up bitch, urraca!” Miriam yelled it in the tone of voice of a young child parroting something they’d heard, but it still made Quackity freeze, and Wilbur chuckled.
“Did Tommy teach you that, sweetie?” Quackity’s voice was lightly dangerous, a threat disguised by a gleaming smile.
“Yep! And he said you were a rich bastard who-“
“I’m going to stop you there, Melinoë, before Q starts killing things.” Wilbur gently lifted her off his shoulders, and she let him, hissing playfully at the still slightly terrified Fundy. “I will have a talk with Tommy.”
“You’d better.” Quackity was still glaring at the doorway like the raven might walk through any second, making Miriam giggle. That probably meant he was going to be late.
“Siren! And- the other Nevadas-s. Happy Christmas!”
Quackity, Wilbur and Fundy all turned to glare at Smile simultaneously. Well he hadn’t been invited.
“Smile. What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” There was a hint of a melody beneath Wilbur’s words, enough to add an edge to his voice. Not that it was really needed, with the hostile looks from around the room.
“Visiting my boyfriend, of course.” The villain’s face was covered by his signature mask, but Wilbur could just tell that he was grinning like a fucking wolf.
Before anyone had a chance to protest, Smile reached over and grabbed George from the crowd, pulling him in by an arm around his waist.
George blinked in surprise for a few second, then his face softened and he leaned against Smile, a decidedly vacant look in his eyes that suggested he was several planes of reality over from this one.
“Hey, Gogy.” Smile took his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness, and George beamed, giggling breathily.
“Hiya Smile~”
“You’re not welcome here, Smile, no matter which poor sod you manage to pull.” Wilbur finished with a threatening chirp, but became uncomfortably aware of Miriam shaking her head with a wide grin.
“Oh, but Hypnos invited me. And it is a season of hospitality, isn’t it? Shelter all those who need it and all? Besides, no weapons. I come in peace.” Raising his hands, Smile tilted his head to the side, daring Wilbur to challenge him.
The magpie would have been more than happy to oblige, if it wasn’t for Miriam, in two ways. First, he didn’t want to murder anyone in front of his daughter. Secondly, she was still shaking her head. And they’d all learnt by now nothing good came of ignoring her prophecies. Normally whatever it was happened anyway, and you ended up in pain.
“Fine. But if you try anything…”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Smile chuckled at something, as did George. “Sorry Gogy, just wanted to show Siren I’m not the one looking for a fight. Lets go.”
The two made their way elsewhere, and Quackity patted Wilburs shoulder in sympathy.
“Everyone knows he’s a dick, if it helps.” The shrike’s reassurance made him relax, his tension slipping away.
“Can’t say it does. Why is he here-?”
“Because of love, songbird.” Quackity twirled around him, keeping his hand on the magpie’s cheek and smiling softly. “Makes you crazy.”
“You’d know.” Despite the gentle bite to his words, he closed his eyes and leaned into his husband’s touch, humming quietly.
They stayed like that for gods only knew how long, long enough for Miriam and Fundy to get bored and slip away, long enough for Eret to pat him on the shoulder on his way past, long enough for the giggles of young children to drift over and melt into his quiet song, just for Quackity.
Eventually, Wilbur’s hand rose to rest on top of the shrike’s, and he opened his eyes, a slight haze in his eyes and lips quirked into something that was just a little more than a smile.
“Dinner?”