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“Do you ever think about before?”
Quackity isn’t sure what compels him to speak, but it’s enough to make Katie look up from where she’d been staring at her muddied shoes.
She stares at him for a second, contemplative and confused, before she shrugs. Both of the lenses of her sunglasses are cracked yet she hasn’t taken them off. Quackity doesn’t ask why.
”Uh, kinda. Mostly about why I decided to go on a cruise. I don’t even like ‘em.” She laughs, though it sounds closer to a sob, “Maybe I wouldn’t have been here then.”
Quackity can only nod.
He doesn’t remember agreeing to that cruise, or anything about his life outside this place, but he wonders where he’d be if he’d never stepped foot on that boat. Probably not trudging through miles of mud and sludge and the destroyed remains of what was likely once someone’s beautiful build. He's not sure how his boots have survived.
When the rain had begun to fall, nobody had thought anything of it. Not until Foolish had ran out of the mansion wide-eyed, dropping his tools and calling for Vegeta and Roier, screaming for everyone in the Northern mansion to get inside or run. Whichever they thought would help.
Similarly, on the other side of the map, Tubbo and Philza stood together stunned. Both could only look at one another and hope, hope that the rules had changed this time around.
Cucurucho’s unseen reflection promised otherwise.
“Yeah,” Quackity’s throat hurts when he speaks, “I think so too.”
They both know there's not much of a reason to reminisce, but it doesn't stop them from doing so anyways. He thinks the conversation is good for her anyways; she hadn't said anything past a muttered 'shit' yesterday since Mike had gone missing three days prior. The lack of bright pink hair had sent them all into unease, waiting to see which of the trio was next.
Schlatt, however, had been taking this alarmingly well. His house had been blown to smithereens immediately in the beginning, and sure he was pissed as all hell, but he was still somehow the one who had the common sense to run the opposite direction away from everyone else, who they soon learned were the easiest targets in the biggest numbers.
Quackity's so fucking glad he followed him (he doesn't remember a time where he didn't instinctively go anywhere the ram did). He sends a silent prayer to whoever's listening for the Polish, whose cave had been completely destroyed when they'd seen it last.
Schlatt's refused to toss his pipe though, despite the fact that any tobacco that was in it before is long gone by now. Q supposes it's for the same reason Katie still has her glasses, and why he hasn't taken off his dirt-caked gloves. They're all scrabbling for a sense of normalcy, even in the tiniest of things and ways.
"How about it, Mr. J?" Katie pipes up, though her voice is scratchy and unused and sounds like she's on the verge of collapsing and never getting up. "What've you been thinking about?"
He doesn't say anything in response, just takes a deep breath and pulls his shoe from another patch of mud. The resounding splat of his heel hitting wet ground is enough of an answer for her, for the both of them.
Quackity peers at him, eyes tracing from the sweat on his brow to the unattended ends of his horns. Schlatt had always been so particular about his horns and how fast they grew.
"Schlatt?"
He barely acknowledges the duck, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the field they'd found themselves in. It's open, almost smack dab in the middle of the server near spawn, and it makes the silence from all sides so much worse.
"What? What could you possibly fuckin' want? Holy shit," His voice is tired, so tired, but it's as strong as it would've been if he was screaming, "We're in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. All of our communication is gone, fuckin' straight up gone. Everyone could be dead, for all we know, and that goddamn bear is missing the one time we actually need him! So, what? What do you want to say, Quackity? Katie?"
"What's your issue? Okay, don't answer that, but we were there! Motherfucker, we know what happened 'cause all that shit happened to us too!" Quackity snaps back, "We're fucking scared too, okay?"
"I know, I know, fuck. I do! But your fuckin' yelling is making my head hurt."
“Okay! We’re sorry. We are sorry, okay?” Katie rolls her eyes but relents, returning to her meditative silence and sniffles every few seconds. Quackity feels a pang of guilt, but it disappears quickly as he turns back to Schlatt, who's now occupied with adjusting the dirtied suit jacket tossed over his shoulder.
"I didn't know you still had migraines."
"Yeah. All the damn time. So stop talking so much, for fuck's sake! What do you even have to talk about anyways?" He rambles on, but Quackity can only look at the hunch of his shoulders and the faraway look in his eyes as he scolds the two like schoolchildren.
"Okay, man, we said sorry. Jesus."
”Yeah. Okay.”
The conversation ends there, but the thoughts linger in his mind. The duck reaches a hand out, carefullyslotting it between the wringing fingers of Schlatt’s hand without a word.
His hands are shaking, haven’t stopped since they last found out Mike was gone, but Schlatt doesn’t comment on it.
He only lets the other hold his hand with a gentleness that doesn’t belong in this wasteland. The ram’s eyes don’t look, or even glance, back at Quackity. Though his horns have been blocking his face, the downturned corners of his lips can be seen, and there’s a half-dead look to his eyes that he’s only ever seen once a long, long time ago.
The sight makes his heart heavy.
The eerie silence returns quickly, and Quackity’s honestly not sure how much longer he can take this. He looks at Katie, who is now counting something on her fingers. He thinks it may be how many days it’s been since thing’s have gone to shit. After some thought, she holds up what might be 7 fingers. Or maybe 8, he can’t tell if the fractured middle finger she’s struggling to keep down counts.
Something catches their attention all at once. There’s a bag on the ground a few feet away, empty. The first sight that’s not barren land or muddy puddles in a while.
”Oh god, I think that’s Fit’s.” Katie winces, reaching an arm out to touch but quickly rethinking and retracting the hand. “Do you think he’s…”
”A lot better than us at this shit? Yeah, I think he is.” Schlatt turns around, almost dismissive in the way he sighs, “Wherever he is, whatever he’s doin’, he’s probably in a better place than us. Let’s keep going.”
“What else is there to do?” Katie mumbles, not sad or angry or scared. Just honest. And correct.
---
"You know, I thought about you when I said yes to that damn cruise."
There is a fairly large chance that Quackity was hallucinating at this very moment. The ram wasn't one to ever admit something as emotionally charged as this, and while holding his hand? They all must be in some really deep shit now.
A few hours ago, or days since Q's sense of time was pretty messed up by now, they'd been ambushed by mobs, and nearly lost Katie in the process of getting away. The cavern they'd taken shelter in shortly after she collapsed is so dark he can't really see Schlatt's face.
She keeps startling herself awake with a yelp, only to have her head roll back and fall unconscious again seconds later. Neither really knows what to do but wait, all huddled in the corner to avoid the bubbling pool of lava inches from their feet.
"Really? You think about me often?" He musters the energy to quip back, red bitten lips spreading into something resembling a smug grin. Schlatt only scoffs, tapping his finger warningly against the back of his hand.
"You wish. But it's probably why I agreed to get on, anyways." He stops for a second to breathe, other hand coming to rest on his stomach like it pained him to speak, "I thought 'hey, this is some bullshit Quackity would've liked, maybe I'll try it out for once'. Look where that's gotten me, fuck."
"Don't act like it's my fault you're here, asshole."
"Never said that, but I guess I didn't not say that either. You've gotten me in a lotta shit, even if you didn't know it, you know that?" Schlatt's eyes land on Katie, who's currently drifting in and out of consciousness, one blue eye blinking at a time when she's awake. "Lotta deep shit."
"Oh yeah, like what?"
Without a word, the ram raises their intertwined hands, squeezing tight enough to make Quackity wince and yelp. "Okay, okay! I got it!"
Despite the new ache in his knuckles, he feels his face warm and his heart stutter in his chest.
The admission was more than enough to make him feel like everything was alright, even though they were stuck in a cavern the size of the world's tiniest room and there was water soaking through his overalls, and they weren't sure what was wrong with Katie, and the entire server was fucked to all hell, and he wasn't sure how many of his friends had made it out alive.
"You didn't call. Or text. Or message me." He finds himself breaking the momentary silence. "You could've. You didn't have to just think about me."
"I know.” Schlatt’s voice falls to a grumble, the way it always did when he didn’t want to talk. “I know. But it was easier if I didn’t.”
”For you? Or for me?” There's no answer from the other man. Quackity doesn't think there's an answer in general.
"Lotta stuff happened when you were gone. Didn't know if you wanted to see me." Schlatt turns away, letting go of his hand in the process. The duck doesn't let him get too far, wrapping his hand around his wrist with a soft huff.
"I did." He says even more firmly, "I always do. Dude, I've been following you around for weeks, why wouldn't I want to see you?"
"This was before. And it's not like I cared, I just..." His words trail off there, and even after a few seconds the rest doesn't come.
Quackity wraps his arms around broad hunched shoulders, finding himself in an awkward half-hug position that he admits he doesn't mind at all. Schlatt doesn't say anything, just stills at the contact.
It's nice, holding someone like this, and he doesn't blame himself when his head drops onto the ram's chest with an almost long-forgotten familiarity. When they were younger, when there was no such thing as the Federation and they had a proper bed and there were rings on their fingers instead of bruises, the contact wouldn't have been a rarity at all.
"I thought about you too. Where you went, what you were doing, if you were doing someone else." Schlatt snorts at that, flicking the feathers at his neck with a badly hidden fondness. "But you know you, so I kinda just never reached out.”
"Yeah, thanks for that. I did alot of reflection during retirement. I think I get why old people are so damn mad at everything now," Quackity feels the ram shift his body so that his cheek was smushed against his shoulder and there was a hand on his lower back, "If I had that much time to think, I'd be too."
"Yeah? What'd you think about? You know, besides me." Q's laugh is hoarse but conveys the most genuine emotion he's felt in days.
Schlatt hesitates for a second, before waving his free hand dismissively. A flare of irritation at the motion boils in Quackity's gut, but he ignores it in favor of draping himself over the ram's lap.
He thinks about a few years back, when they'd first met and had an actual label to whatever the fuck they were doing, and Q would practically wrap himself around the other whenever he got the chance, clutching any part of the ram’s body he could reach and attaching himself like velcro.
He wonders if Schlatt would let him do that anymore.
"Retirement stuff. You know, regretting my past and all the skeletons in my closet, whatever the fuck that means." Schlatt exhales, and if things were normal, there'd probably be smoke in Quackity's face right about now. "Trying to be better, for myself and for others. Mostly, uh, you. I think."
"Could've fooled me. No, I'm kidding!" Quackity snickers, using his elbow to keep Schlatt in place as the ram moved to disentangle their limbs at the comment. "I said I was kidding, stop fucking moving!"
"You know what, you don't deserve to lay on me. Get offa me-"
"We're in a cave, motherfucker, where am I supposed to go? Katie's taking up the other side, and you're way more comfortable than the stone!"
”Spoiled. You are so fuckin’ spoiled, you know that?”
“Whose fault is that?” Quackity doesn’t try to stop the grin that appears on his face.
“You know, when we get out of here, and we go back home, I’m not gonna tolerate your shit anymore.”
”But you will. Oh, you will.”
”When we get back home…”
Schlatt suddenly sits up straight, realization on his face.
"Shit, Katie. In this state, she’s not going anywhere. What're we gonna do with her?"
"I... I'm not sure."
Both of them turn to stare at her, suddenly aware of the situation again. She's less pale now, which is good they think, but still passed out with her eyes squeezed tight like she's in pain. Quackity's wing moves to cover the cold, uncovered part of her legs, courtesy of her newly ripped pants.
"Keep waiting. That's all we can do anyways, until we find someone who actually knows what they're fuckin' doing."
"Do you really think we will?"
The question sits between the two, untouched for a second, before Schlatt sighs, hesitantly wrapping an arm around Q's middle and pulling him closer. The warmth is immediate, blooming from where his hand rests against his side to his head, which is still leaning comfortably on the broad shoulder tucked against rock-hard stone.
"I think..." There’s a hand brushing at the hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, "I think it's worth waiting to see. Just to see where things go."
"And us?"
Schlatt’s face moves closer to the duck’s, so close that his nose is pressed softly against his hat, ”I think. It’s worth waiting to see. Just to see where things go.” He repeats, hand still stuck firmly in Quackity’s hold.
Neither makes an effort to move away.