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Fuck.
God had given Quackity the wonderful ability to hallucinate Wilbur goddamn soot.
Walking into Wilbur during morning was unusual. Being contained in four walls that weren’t coated in each others blood was unusual, but that became habit Quackity grew used to, sucked up and moved on. Walking into Wilbur during morning- scratch that waking up next to him, using his shower and then walking into him? Adjustment couldn’t explain what Quackity’s decaying brain needed.
A lobotomy maybe.
In the midst of pulling a shirt over his head, Quackity freezes. The nip of the cold morning wind sinks him further into the reality of the moment. Wilbur with books in hand, building a messy wall around him for a reason Quackity could not fathom. Hobbies, yes Quackity had many himself but was rather… well normal about it? Whole reason why he got the guy his own place compared to living at Quackity’s apartment which now free of cigarette ash and crushed cans of coffee. Wilbur just had to make a show of his appearance wherever he went.
Still stuck scanning over the floor, Quackity locked eyes with Wilbur as the other looked up. His eyes narrowed in question.
“Oh this?” Wilbur starts, a buzz vibrating through his tone. “Organising.” Said simply before attention is strung by the loose pages in hand.
Okay…
Great.
“You don’t do that.” Quackity blurts, skeptics hung in every syllable. Once he hears it himself, he bites his tongue weary of the attitude he’s putting forth. It had been peaceful for too long and quiet frankly, not having a whiney bitch by his side every time he tired to do paperwork was better than what rocky foundations was practiced before.
“No?” Wilbur repeated, raising a brow. “Well I suppose if you think I don’t then-“
“Not what I meant.” Quackity rushes, a nervous chuckle as he gestures in hasty defence. “I’m only stating what I- well,” Clearing his throat, Quackity shrugs to fight off the slight embarrassment and the inching reminder of how fucking freezing it was in here. “Where’d the idea come from?”
“Good morning, Quackity.” Wilbur deadpanned in slow taunt.
Right. Yeah, wake up first.
Letting a sigh through his teeth, Quackity decides to sit, dragging his sleep lulled body to function in full capacity. See, as he sits upon the cold floorboards Quackity now notices how grey the sky roared from the window they lingered beside. He should’ve woke up hours ago. He should’ve tended to layered paperwork, should’ve chugged grande cups sold cheap and he should’ve made a home in his office by now but Sourly he knows he doesn’t miss it, squinting at the endless view of clouds hung over dark architecture.
“Have you ate?” Quackity mutters, bringing his knees up to rest his elbows upon. Wilbur had detested to Quackity buying him furniture for some prideful fight. While he wasn’t complaining, it wasn’t a consistency in Quackity’s life to be a floor hoarder.
Looking over, Quackity finds he might as well not of asked, glasses fell low upon the bridge of Wilbur’s nose with curls dipped over his face. Once it may of shone in grease but Quackity’s… help proved worthy. Help, influence, they both had their preferences.
“I think I’m-“ Wilbur lifts a loose page in gesture but his eyes don’t meet, hyper trained in search. “I’m missing something aren’t I? I- I must be it’s not…”
“Morning Wilbur, have you ate?” Quackity repeats now in a blunt tone while leaning forth. Still no reply. Drawing his lips into a thin line, Quackity huffs through his nose now victim to Wilbur’s panic.
“Shit! Shit where did I-“ Wilbur turns behind him, hands patting over piles of jotted books some purple in enchantment, some covered in cracked leather. Dusted with remains of time or imprinted with scribbled notes the peeked over the edge.
“Where the fuck did you get this many books?” Quackity puzzles out loud, finally earning a snapping answer.
“Oh just uh-“ Wilbur groans, quick before turning back offering a quick glance to Quackity’s search. “Philza. Kept away in some chest and I… I never took them with me when pogtopia was-“ Wilbur chuckles, “Well, I forgot about them for the most part.”
“But now, with your…” Wilbur leans his head over, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Grand gesture of appreciation, I can now find a place to put all my shit.”
“All?”
“Every. Little. Thing.”
Wilbur will be drowned in his obsession, won’t be able to leave the fucking building without parkouring from his bed but even then Quackity thinks against the warning. Gives Wilbur a reason to complain. A reason to see Quackity even on the most slow nights.
“Right.”
This is the point where most people would drop the subject and allow Wilbur to his interests. But their relationship had never been so simple, had never been so dull in exchange. No, in the great wise words of the man before him he was to ‘pick his brain’, study what fucking keywords had Wilbur activated for the morning.
The drive in his chest wasn’t anger like it may of once been, blossoming interest instead. Funny how all Wilbur had to do was shut up to be the centre of Quackitys attention. And talk, and laugh and-
“Wilbur.” Quackity starts, a softer tone with the name. It felt it, like a honey layered word that slipped right past his teeth.
The curious look Wilbur threw him was familiar. Grounding in the attention granted, so much so that Quackity smiled with a narrowed look. Maybe if he turnt it into a challenge maybe then Wilbur would listen. No, not maybe- Quackity knows. There’s so much he knows.
“Have you ate?”
Lighting up, Wilbur laughs sweetly with crinkled eyes and a sharp grin, slightly hidden by fingers against lips that had fallen there naturally in focus.
“What is there to eat Quackity? Look at this place!” Wilbur gestures out, the emptiness incredibly clear with Wilbur’s echoing voice.
‘Told you so’ Quackitys stare said, sinking deeper into a playful warmth with brows furrowed in scrutiny.
“Plus, if I had it would have to be…” Wilbur hummed, opening the forgotten book in his lap as he raises it to his face. “Well, rather quick considering I haven’t left your side since last night.”
“I took a shower.” Quackity pointed out.
That makes Wilbur scoff, a mirth that creeps a soft smile onto his lips. “Don’t think I have that much responsibility for myself.”
“Wilbur.” Quackity tutted before Wilbur added in rushed defence;
“No! No, Big Q- you’ve become extremely soft which-“
“Soft?!” Quackity squawks.
“Which I appreciate fully. I mean, it’s great man it’s nice to know that someone cares! Some would say freeing however, I do not need you fretting over me.” Wilbur decreed with a pointed finger to halt the words about to tumble from Quackitys lips. The fight, the battle, the two both stubborn enough to know it.
It’s a touch humiliating to let Wilbur have the last word but Quackity doesn’t feel uneasy about it. No, no weight crushes at his chest, no popping heat within the joints of his fingers, no blistering pain by his temple.
Wait-
“Whoa, whoa Wilbur. This is-“ Quackity gestures towards him. Wilbur focused back on his book as if his winning was final. Decided. “No, I get what you’re doing here, I get it!”
With quirked brow and an unmoved look through lashes, Wilbur says, “Do you?”
“You’re using your… how dependant you are against me.”
“Me?! Oh Quackity I am everything but dependent! Far from-“
“You use my time, my energy, my money, my-“
“All your choice. You are-“ Wilbur laughs, voice louder with a chittering disbelief weaved through. “You are a grown man after all. I mean big Q, don’t let me dictate-“
“You don’t dictate anything-“
“Simply kick me out, stop seeing me, we could end the.. well the bond we have all together if you please!”
Quackity scoffed, hands curled upon his knee compared to Wilbur’s wild gestures, “Yeah, but who do you always come back too?”
“Oh come of it! Someone needs to take you off that high horse of yours Quackity, God forbid-“
“My high horse? Mine?” Quackity repeated, narrowed eyes in question before following suit, gesturing to the place. “You now live in Las navadas dude. Live! In- inhabit an apartment in the very region you claimed would fail! That’s-“
“You could always force me out.” Wilbur taunts in singsong tone, bringing a curdling annoyance with his nonchalant display, eyes to page. As if Quackity doesn’t concern him.
“You’ll come back! You- you never leave dude! Even when you were dead you had that stupid ghost following me about as if the guy was a dumb pet. A pet Wilbur, that’s what you are.”
Wilbur shrugs, “A pretty loved pet no?” Then, he raises his gaze, a narrowing glance that could barely hide the tinkering smile on the corners of his lips. “You’ve made it clear what I-“
“See?” Quackity snaps, the motion to follow. Silence and then, “Dependant. It’s like it’s your natural instinct, huh?”
Quackity gazes forth, into the unamused flicker of light that sits stagnant in the man’s gaze. Breath soft and slow. Then, he snickers taking the silence as his winning call, the wind cheering him on, brushing his side in well done. He needs it, body a touch hot from the dead glare that scrunches into a defeated eye roll.
Thought-“ Wilbur sighs, plunging himself face first into words Quackitys not even sure he’s focusing on at this point. A mere front for the uncomfortable truth if needed. “Thought that whole hospitality thing was a rouse.” Wilbur ends up saying, a mere hum in wonder.
“If only it wasn’t in my nature.” Quackity comments more to himself sarcastically, arms crossing over his chest.
Wilbur finds relief is simple enough. Conveyed through a puff of mirth, a soft breath that had the other smiling along.
“Did you want anything or…” Wilbur glances and so does Quackity, straight gaze that has Wilbur drawing back with a blink. Biting back the curling urge to smile Wilbur glances away. “Just here to entertain me?”
Ah the question of a lifetime. Could be asked as equally on both parts and if dotted on long enough, then maybe about the whole goddamn scenario. Why help Wilbur if not for entertainment? Why learn about him if not for entertainment? If not for future notes, if not for leverage if not for some half assed argument that never quite held the same screaming malice as before. Why stick around? Why let it? Why try?
Too early to question actually.
Fuck that.
With a groan of dramatic pain, Quackity rubs his hands over his face, coming to rub at his temples that did sing the light roar of a headache. That was built from the light rather than Wilbur though he wouldn’t be surprised.
“I overslept. A bunch.” Quackity huffs, grimacing at the ache in his temple, pushing his fingers against the skin as if to prod it away. Soothing never worked, an old wife’s tale to shush men and children for years to come. “We overslept.” He adds.
“Eh…” Wilbur winces with a ‘so and so’ motion with hand. “You did, I occasionally raise early.”
“I messed up my day anyways.” Quackity told, ignoring Wilbur’s input. “Gonna have to prepare myself for a fuck ton of meetings later on. Speaking of, do we have coffee?”
“No, I don’t and by the sounds of it…” Wilbur sits back on his hands, full attention finally given as Quackity lessens from irritating his headache further. “Big Q have you ever taken a day off?”
Quackity blinks, “What do you mean?”
“A sick day. A day where you decide not to go into office?” Wilbur questions slowly, cautiously with matching slant of gaze.
Huh.
“The- the president can’t do that?” Quackity denied with fragile insecurity in his words. There was nothing stopping him in actuality, maybe the occasional message from Foolish if buildings needed looked over but nothing he needed to actively be there for.
“No! No, dude, paperwork.” Quackity reminded while trying to train Wilbur into denying him. Who was he kidding Wilbur was bound to do so anyways, somewhat reliable in that sense.
“Just stay Q. Stay, I can entertain you!” Wilbur cheers with a charming smile that falls short upon Quackitys Bore.
“With books.”
“No, no I’m sure I can find something better to with your time.” Wilbur dismisses with messy wave of hand.
The idea, while unclear is a lot more appetising than dressing in suit and tie to shake some hands. Even with the blurred plan for the day, somehow Wilbur being there gave it a lot more clarity, at least he was familiar.
Thumb pressing lightly on the joint of his fingers, Quackity scans around in thought.
Wow.
He should’ve let Wilbur stay with him.
This is weirdly more depressing than the plain walls of Quackitys place, dark browns and creaky floors with dusty corners. May embody the eerie beauty of Wilbur’s personality but sat like salty Liquorice on Quackitys gum. Sucking his teeth, Quackity sighs.
“Furniture shopping?”
The offer finds more boring once touching the air of his audience.
Wilbur stares at him, burns the side of his face as Quackity glances around because he knows. Oh god he knows the squirming embarrassment crawling up Quackity’s ribs. He’s never asked someone to live with him before Wilbur happened to stay out of needless acknowledgment and soon mutual care. No questions asked before in all honesty, Quackity had forced him to stay for the sake of surveillance. To make sure Wilbur didn’t cough up blood, or try and weed a sword through his chest for the sake of guilty recompense.
Then it was habit over months and for some reason, for some stupid reason Quackity needed to keep up the show of not caring. Some parasite told him so, some decrepit old promise told him so. Push him away he thought! It’ll be better for the both of you he thought! Stupid to think after making Wilbur light of day that he’d shun from it. Goddamn stupid.
So, with a breath and raised shoulders Quackity asks.
“Yes.”
Quackity pauses, a bit lightheaded from the awkward build up on his tongue.
“What?”
Wilbur nods, a sheepish smile that plastered lopsided upon lips. “Yes, uh- I’ll- I’ll move in with you.”
Oh.
Oh?
“Oh!” Quackity blurts, blinking furiously toward the sudden focus on light that highlights Wilbur’s side, every cut, every frizz in his curls, the dark circles that only enhanced the healthiness that grew into once hollow bones.
Then, he smiles, a cocky grin unstoppable with a pulling string built into his cheeks. “You were waiting?”
“No! No, it’s not like I-“ Wilbur snorted, obnoxiously anxious and in turn cute. “It’s not like I was expecting you to- Quackity do you think I’d wait for you? I’d never…”
Thier eyes meet, Quackity is leaping with a smug grin sat in his spot while Wilbur creeps away with a skittish glance away, pursed lips in awkward chew.
“Get up.” Wilbur orders.
“Uh huh.”
Quackity pushes himself up, shaking out his dead legs that scratch upon his bones. Offering Wilbur a hand he pulls the other to his feet with ease, a scanning glance as he stands before him.
“So, which room you taking?” Quackity asks as Wilbur dusts himself off.
“I was hoping I’d take yours.” The other mutters in hushed tone, a wave off as if taking silence as a no.
“But-“
“No! No, uh- yeah. That’s fine.” He stumbles, words numb when pressed. “That’s… that’s great.”
Quackity forgets how awfully tense he is when not under the added influence of frustration and alcohol. Both end up creating a sore mess similar to this, but not quite.
Not as confusing.
With a sharp inhale, Quackity watches over as Wilbur picks up books in hand. Always the books! Always! What was so fun about reading rather than experiencing? Than action!
Speaking of;
“Wanna get something to eat?”