Karlnapity One-Shots

Wisteria

Quackarl doting, teasing, and sharing secrets ft. moodbreaker Sapnap; a sequel to "Read my lips"
CW: Cursing

Curiosity has never killed Karl more than now. He chews on the inside of his lip, swirling the thought around in his mind as he sits on the edge of the bed.

A day earlier, he and Sapnap talked about Quackity's wings. Out of the blue, they seemed to flare out of his back, then the avian violently attacked Sapnap with kisses. The two couldn't find the time to ask Quackity, together, why his wings appeared.

But tonight is the night. They're all here. Sapnap's in the shower, and Quackity just got out. Karl could ask Quackity now or wait five more minutes until Sapnap's finished, but something in Karl's brain screams for progress like a desperately germinating seed in fresh soil. He needs to know, and he needs to know now.

Is it routine? Is it benign? Is it out of love? Am I insane for thinking so much about it?

Luckily, Quackity strolls in just in time, calmly drying off his hair.

"Hey, babe! I have to ask you something." He presses his hands into the white sheets beside him.

Quackity stops. He looks him up and down and then smiles. Karl's heart began to pound like pouring rain.

Quackity always answers back immediately.

Instead, just as Karl lightly fears, Quackity trods closer and suggestively flicks his wrist, throwing the towel off from around his shoulders. Karl chuckles, but in a moment, he gasps, butterflies flooding his body as Quackity suddenly pushes his chest down, back falling flat against the bed.

In a second, he smells sweet earth and vanilla as Quackity cages his body, placing both elbows around his shoulders, keeping their faces close enough to respirate the same oxygen. As devilish as the move is, the noirette only smiles angelically, his brown and hazel-blue oculars peering down at him eagerly.

"I have a question, too."

"Okay," Karl breathes expectantly.

"Can I kiss you?"

The words pass his ears daintily, yet Karl paralyzes further under the sound. He shakily nods.

Quackity smiles another second before closing his eyes and connecting their lips. Karl nearly drowns, blissfully wracked by the forwardness of the avian's syrupy kiss. Quackity hums and shifts his elbows closer to Karl's in a shiver. Suddenly, a harsh breeze picks up in what sounds like a blustery wind of feathers.

Just in time, Quackity draws back. Karl's eyes flutter open, and he gasps.

It happened. It really just happened again.

Karl's face relaxes in awe, the marigold glow drowning out his urge to laugh, to talk, to move. He revels in shock of beauty.

"Hey," Quackity calls.

The fibers of each feather open straight and strong, yet soft and delicate. He wants to run his hands through them.

Quackity squeezes their knees together, breaking him from his daze. "Look at me."

Karl blinks, then meets his eyes.

He smiles.

"My beautiful wisteria."

A swell rises in Karl's cheeks. Quackity has never called him that. It's so lovely. His thoughts disseminate like wind blown leaves in autumn.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Karl almost can't tell who's talking, nor who's moving anymore. He knows that's a ridiculous thought. Of course Quackity just asked that, but he can't even dote aloud, affirmation ready in the back of his throat.