MCYT Oneshots [Pt. 1]

Anything You Can do I Can Do Better- TNT Duo 😊

CW: choking (0:]), mention of Schlatt and Quackity's relationship (It's only very brief and the Ram man isn't directly mentioned)

Plot: Wilbur and Quackity start a challenge to see who's the better leader of a country and it revolves into a petty discussion of their talents and well...it doesn't get much better from there.

~
Quackity's POV.

"Anything you can do, I can do better," Wilbur says. "I can do anything better than you," he reiterates.

"No, you can't," I tell him, leaning towards him slightly, a sneer on my face.

"Yes, I can," he insists.

"No, you can't," I say, the scent of stale cigarettes filling my sense, making my face twist as my nose itches.

"Yes, I can," he tells me. "Anything you can be, I can be greater. Sooner or later I'm greater than you,"

"And yet I have a nation and your nation...oh wait..." I answer, smiling teasingly as I lean back in my chair. The old leather creaking at the movement.

He scowls and says, "I can shoot a partridge with a single cartridge,"

"I can get a sparrow with a bow and arrow," I counter.

"I can live on bread and cheese! And I lived in the dark for thirteen years!" He points out, his features twisting into something of annoyance.

"And only on that?" I ask, mockingly putting my hand to my chest in an impresses manner,"

"You bet," he says, closing his eyes and leaning back. Crossing his arms and tilting his chin up in a proud way.

"So can a rat," I state flatly. His eyes flying open in surprise before melting into a smirk.

"Any note you can sing, I can sing higher," he says in a sing song tone. "I can sing any note higher than you,"

"Sure you can," I tell him, screwing up my face in a mocking way.

"I can, ready?" He asks, to which I mod and he sings a relatively high note for a man of his bass-tenor voice octave.

I nod to show that I'm semi-impressed before taking a deep breath in, sitting up to extend my diaphragm. I sing out, a note that's around an octave and a half higher than him. "How do you sing that high?" He asks once I've finished, looking genuinely surprised.

"I have a good range from training when I would perform in taverns for money to eat before the nations were formed," I tell him with a careless shrug leaning back into my chair.

"Okay, well anything you can say I can say softer," he tells me, crossing one of his ankles over his knee

"No, you can't," I whisper.

"Yes, I can," he whispers back to me leaning forward a little in his seat.

"No, you can't," I tell him, my voice softer than his, leaning forward as well.

"Yes, I can," he whispers, his breath warm and smells of smoke as it falls from his lips. "And I can drink my liquor faster than a flicker,"

"I can drink it quicker, and not get at all sick," I tell him leaning in more a she does the same, our faces no more than six inches apart.

"That's just because you were engaged to an alcoholic, love," he tells me with a soft chuckle, making me roll my eyes.

"Shut up," I tell him, pushing his face away from me, only for it to come right back to where it was before, if not a little closer.

"I can also pick a safe," he tells me proudly, his voice lower than before.

"Without being caught?" I ask, my faux surprised back I don't move away from his cigarette scent. He nods proudly. "That's what I thought, you crook," I tell him, laughing at his playfully annoyed face.

"I can also hold my breath longer than you," he tells me as he leans his elbows onto his knees.

"It sounds like you're trying to impress me, Soot," I tell him, reaching out to his trench coat flap and tugging on it.

"And if I am?" He asks, his voice low.

"Shut up," I tell him, my face hot as I push him away and lean back in my chair, refusing to make eye contact.

"You're flustered!" He points out happily, accidentally placing his hand on my knee that's now resting against his.

"Shut up!" I tell him. "I bet I could make you more flustered,"

"Is that so?" He asks, his voice low again as he leans closer, still seated.

"Yep!" I insist.

"Prove it," he says in a whisper.

"I don't need to prove anything to you," I tell him.

"Is that so?" He asks, leaning back a little, the warmth form his body leaving me.

"Mmhm," I say, biting my lip and making a split second decision. "That is so," I grab the flap of his trench coat again but I pull him towards me. Stopping just before our faces make contact.

"I'd love to see you try," he says calmly despite the obvious red on his face. He reaches out and grabs my tie, not pulling yet. "But I doubt you would be able to do anything the second I do the same,"

I roll my eyes. "You wish you had that much power over m—"

I'm cut off by a tug on my tie, Wilbur's hand quickly letting go and moving to my throat, restricting the blood flow as I gasp. The grip causing my back to straighten into an arching posture. "What we're you saying?" He asks, a wide and proud grin on his lips.

"N-Nothing," I gasp out.

"That's what I thought," he says before promptly letting go of me and standing up, towering over me as I stay seated. "I really do love our chats, sweetheart," he tells me with a smug smile, lifting up my chin with his finger tips to make me look at him.

"I hate you so much," I tell him.

"Sure you do," he responds in a mocking tone before walking away. Straight through my office doors where only an hour ago he walked in challenging me to see who was the better leader. Now leaving me with a situation to deal with and a bright red face.

This was done all at once and I will not be reading over any of it (spoiler alert: I very rarely do)