A Series of Smokebreaks

Chapter 6

A/N- Hellllooooo

Yay! Hopefully I'm back, still taking it easy but doing much better :) Had a ton of trouble with this chapter but I'm really happy with how it came out. Enjoy! 

Content warning: trauma, yelling, harsh language. I'll put a summary at the end of the segment, you know the dealio :)

Image cred: @/Bxberri on twt

The morning sun streamed through the window, slowly rousing Quackity as it creeped across the carpet and onto his face. He yawned and tried to stretch, but was stopped by a pair of arms around his waist holding him still, warm huffs of breath against the back of his neck reminding him of the previous night. He rolled over and was faced immediately with a pair of half-open eyes peering at him through a mess of hair. 

Wilbur looked so grumpy at being awoken that Quackity couldn't help but laugh at the sight, brushing the hair aside so he could see Wilbur's face better. 

And oh. 

Quackity's breath was knocked out of his lungs by the sheer beauty of it, unable to do anything but watch Wilbur's soft brown eyes disappear from his smile, notice a warm rose creep through the apples of his cheeks, see his mouth turn from a fake pout to a wide smile displaying his perfectly crooked teeth, hear the beautifully genuine laugh that slipped through his lips before he could hide it. And he remembered with sudden clarity why he'd tried to distance Wilbur from himself, why he'd tried to drive him away. 

Because Wilbur was the sun, and Quackity couldn't help but try and soak in his rays. He knew that someone like Wilbur would burn him again and again, and he'd still keep coming back for that addicting, all-consuming warmth. He'd already felt the terrible terrible pain, already knew how bad it burned. So he'd tried to keep his sun at arm's length. It couldn't hurt him if he didn't get too close, right? 

But Quackity hadn't been careful enough, and now the sun had fallen out of the sky to sleep beside him and look at him like he was the only important thing left in the world. 

As he burrowed his face beneath Wilbur's chin, he decided that maybe burns weren't so bad after all. 

Wilbur ran his hands through Quackity's hair, humming softly. "Good morning, Q. You sleep well?" 

Quackity swallowed at the lump that appeared in his throat. He eventually managed to choke out a, "Yeah, fine," but it came out mangled. 

Wilbur drew back to lift Quackity's chin and look him in the eyes. "What?" he said, his curling vowels once again reminding Quackity of that incredibly unfair, stupidly sexy British accent. Faced with that smile again, Quackity tried to duck his face down but was stopped by Wilbur's hand under his chin holding his face in place. The smile on Wilbur's face turned to a smirk as he leaned in closer. "Is there a problem, Q?" 

Quackity knew he was absolutely bright red but managed to get out, "I said I slept fine." Gaining some of his usual bravado back, he continued, "Would've slept better without your spider legs taking up half the bed." 

Wilbur scoffed. "Oh really? Well then I suppose I should just leave you be then." He began to pull away and sit up. A grip on the back of his shirt stopped him in his tracks, then yanked him back down. 

"You leave, consider yourself dead," Quackity said, pulling the collar of Wilbur's shirt forward so that they made eye contact. 

Stunned, Wilbur went still and wide-eyed. Quackity wondered if he'd gone too far and almost started to apologize, but before he could get the words out Wilbur leaned in close and whispered, "Clingy, are we?" as he wrapped his arms back around his torso. Quackity almost wondered if he had gone too far in a different sort of way, judging from Wilbur's hazy eyes and dark red cheeks. He gripped Wilbur's shirt again, pulling himself close to his chest. "Maybe," he muttered into the worn fabric. Wilbur's arms tightened around him, holding him close. As their legs entangled, Quackity could've sworn...