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He just couldn't figure it out. It should work, he'd double and triple checked that the components were undamaged. He'd taken the engine apart and painstakingly reconstructed it just to make sure. All he had to show for his effort were oil covered hands and an engine that still didn't run.
Frustrated, Quackity backs away from the table. He wasn't getting anywhere with this project. He never thought it'd be easy, but making an engine small enough to fit on his back and powerful enough to let him fly was much harder than he thought it'd be. He didn't have much experience working with vehicles, so maybe that was why. He understood the mechanics of the individual parts, but figuring out the logistics of it was beyond him. If only he had a reference...
Quackity shakes his head and stands, feeling the soreness of his body for the first time in hours. He'd been working for a while, as he tends to do, but it probably hadn't been that long. Maybe a meal and quick nap would help. His permanent freeloader probably has had dinner by now, he could eat whatever was left over.
With a plan set in mind, Quackity finally leaves his workshop. It's only once he enters a room that actually has windows that he realizes just how long he was in there for, the rays of the rising sun shine clearly through the blinds. It's already morning. The workshop has no windows to keep his work from prying eyes, so he'd never noticed.
"Well fuck," Quackity mutters aloud to himself. No wonder he felt so worn out, he'd worked through the night without eating or drinking anything. The worst part is it's not even the first time. It's easy for him to forget, considering that it was almost a complete afterthought. He needed it to keep his body moving, it wasn't any more complicated than that. That being said, he'd have to take a longer break away from his project just to deal with his biological needs.
Quackity sulks his way up the stairs, unhappy with himself and the passage of time. He had an important prosthetic maintenance appointment scheduled that day as well. The idea of cancelling briefly crossed his mind, but that'd be a paying customer lost for no real reason. It wasn't as if he was flush with cash either.
As if to taunt him further, when he goes into his kitchen, there are no leftovers for him to scrounge. Techno wasn't asleep on his couch, so maybe he had left while Quackity was occupied. He was always coming and going as he pleased like he paid rent, eating Quackity's food and using his bathroom. The very least he could do is be a reliable source of fuel, but seemingly even that was out of reach today.
Now at a loss, Quackity turns to his fridge for answers. He hadn't gone shopping in... A while, but surely there was something he could eat in there still. Unfortunately once he opens it, all that's displayed to him is a few miscellaneous things. Milk, butter, mayo, and cheese. The freezer only yields old, grey-ish green frozen meat and ice. He can only marvel in wonder at the disappearance of the food he knows he bought only a couple weeks ago. Techno had to have eaten it, but how could he eat two or three months of food all on his own when he leaves a plate of leftovers behind every time he cooks? Why the fuck did he leave nearly exclusively dairy products behind?
He only spends a few moments considering the presence of dairy products in his nearly empty fridge before he's interrupted by a voice carrying into the kitchen. "I heard you stompin' your way up the stairs Q. Better not break 'em again," he yawns as he says it, walking into the entryway of the kitchen.
"Don't act like you give a shit when you won't even chip in to fix it," Quackity gripes, pulling the milk out of the fridge. It probably has enough calories to keep him going.
"Don't drink that, it's spoiled."
Sure enough, when Quackity looks again, the "Best by" date was a week ago. Needing to save face, Quackity sputters out "I wasn't going to drink it, I'm throwing it away like you should've done when you noticed it'd gone bad!" he quickly pours whats left of the spoiled milk down the sink and throws away the carton. Unfortunately for him, that draws his vision away from the fridge towards Techno.
He realizes three things simultaneously. Techno was shirtless. Even though he went without a shirt frighteningly often, Quackity was always blindsided by it while doing his usual routine. This time was no different. Like always, he found it extremely difficult to tear his focus away from the horrible, distracting sight. Second, Techno has clearly just woken up, but he wasn't on the couch.
"Not my job to clean your fridge. Try looking at what you're eating first, dumbass." Techno yawns again, walking over to him. "I couldn't even make any dinner because there's nothin' here t'eat. All that stuff is expired." He leans on the counter next to Quackity, leveling him with a slightly annoyed look.
Not that Quackity is looking at his face. His camera's field of view is large enough for him to see the entirety of his body, but he's focused in on Techno's chest. There was just... something about it that always made it impossible for him to focus on anything else. He'd been working as a mercenary or something close since they were kids, and his body certainly reflected it. Quackity wouldn't hesitate to say he was in peak condition, possibly the ultimate manifestation of the male physique.
The initial reason why Quackity had any interest in biomechanics was because he was fascinated by the way natural processes could be augmented and improved by technology. How he could bring order to the chaos of nature's design. Techno's chest just made him want to chase that admiration even more. He wanted to study him, to measure every part of him and make sure he understood exactly how every muscle flexed and moved until he could replicate it in his sleep.
"Sorry I didn't consider the needs of my freeloader instead of focusing on my shop," he says instead of any of those thoughts. Techno scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Alright. I guess we'll both starve then, since last time I checked, ya can't drink lubricant. I'm gettin' in the shower." Techno walks off, turning away from him. Quackity kicks himself for the slight disappointment that shoots through him. He can worry about the food later, if they don't have any there's nothing he can do about it now. It's too early for anywhere to even be open. He should probably just go to bed.
He's ready to just plop into his bed and pass out, but something gives him pause. There's stuff on the floor of his room that wasn't there before. He picks it up, realizing quickly that it's Techno's clothes. His shirt, pants, jacket, and socks, even his holsters are strewn about his floor. He's seen this before. Techno usually does this when he gets ready for bed, it's not like Quackity has anywhere for him to put his clothes. But there's only one thing this could mean.
Quackity looks at his bed. It's in complete disarray, pillows and blankets scattered like someone had been tossing and turning in it for hours. Techno had been in his bed. It was undeniable. He'd been sleeping in Quackity's bed, not on the couch like he did usually. Why? He could hardly even process it. He can feel the sensation picking at him, the temperature monitor he'd hooked up to help prevent catastrophic overheating. It barely processes under the confusion befalling Quackity as he stares at his bed.
Techno, sleeping in his bed. Techno, pressing his face against his pillows, his body against his sheets, sleeping. Laying in the same spot Quackity's been sleeping peacefully for years, like he just belonged there. He can hear his coolant starting to bubble in his head, and that's what finally gets him to do anything but stand still.
"T-Techno, I'm overheating, I'm-- !" he tries to shout so Techno can hear him. His camera is usually the first thing to go on the fritz when he starts malfunctioning, and this time is no different. His vision flickers and warps a bit, and he curses, shaking his head to try and get more airflow through. It doesn't help much.
"Oh shit," he hears Techno exclaim from the shower, "I'm comin' one sec!" Quackity can hear the water shut off, the curtain pull open. This is embarrassing every time, but he feels so especially now. It only makes it worse, the agitation from the alarm pushing him to rush over to his kitchen. He opens his freezer, pushes the random items in it aside to make a space and promptly shoves his head in.
This time it does actually help some, and Quackity relaxes a little as the agitation reduces. He still feels lightheaded, but the slight clarity is nice.
"Okay I'm here, where's the coolant?" Techno rushes into the kitchen, Quackity doesn't look up to see him. He can't handle it right now.
"Downstairs, in the workshop." Even his voicebox is failing, apparently. His voice is pitchy, static filtering over his words. He hears the padding of Techno's feet, then the stairs creaking. This has been happening more often lately, always because of that freeloader hanging around. He doesn't have the time, parts, or death wish required to try upgrading the cooling system in his head. It was a miracle he got it working at all. The only solution was to get rid of the cause.
Techno comes back with a bucket and the jug of coolant and puts them both on the counter. Quackity shakily steps back from the freezer, going over to the bucket. He opens the valve on the side of his head and lets the old coolant drain out.
"Any clue as to what caused it this time?" Quackity's camera focuses in on him. Techno's hair is still wet from the shower, clinging to his skin along with droplets of water traveling down his--
"No," Quackity lies, keeping it simple. He can hear the final drips of the old coolant leaking out of his head and closes the valve. Techno picks up the jug of coolant and starts pouring it in the intake valve on the top of Quackity's head. The movement puts his chest right in front of Quackity's camera.
"Right. Well, next time, can you at least try and avoid whatever it is that's causing it until I'm out of the shower?" It only takes a couple seconds of careful pouring to refresh his cooling system, and he can hear the quiet whirring to life of the pump. Just in time for him to take detailed, delicate notes on the goosebumps that raise on the swell of Techno's chest.
"I'll do my best."
"I can literally feel the heat risin' off your screen."