Get A Load Of This Monster

Chapter 3

Their rivalry grew worse as the weeks wore on. Wilbur would sneak into Las Nevadas almost nightly, and Quackity barely tried to hide anymore when he spied on Paradise. The two had settled into something of a routine.

Wilbur was just following that routine when he waltzed into the glittering city one night. If he thought it was magnificent in the day, it was glamorous at night. Blinking colored lights, delicious smells floating through the air, and the feeling of luck was shooting through the air like electricity.

He tried to keep his head down as he weaved through the crowd, ears tucked under his beanie and tail hidden in his pants leg. It wasn't a good disguise, but a good disguise was boring. He wanted Quackity to find him, to drag him out of the public eye. See what would finally make him snap and actually touch him.

It took a little longer than most nights, and Wilbur managed to net a few more gold bars and diamonds from the slot machines before Quackity appeared by his side. "How much?"

Wilbur moved his beanie back to allow his ears, a vibrant red like the speckles of fur on his face, to pop out. "Not much." He shrugged. "More than I came in with, so better than most of the folks in here." He gestured around.

Quackity didn't look amused. "What are you doing here, Wilbur? You didn't come here just to take my money."

In the near month since his revival, Wilbur had re-learned Quackity. He knew how to read him again, what each twitch of his mouth or quirk of his eyebrows meant. It sent a rush of glee to his head.

"Big Q, I am a loyal patron!" Wilbur pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I would never be caught stealing your money." He smiled innocently, but with just a hint of mischief.

Quackity's eye darkened, and Wilbur felt a spark of hope. He just needed to push a little more!

He stood up, pocketing his winnings. "Besides, I have my own profitable business." He smirked, relishing how he towered over the duck hybrid. "Besides, I have no plans for this money to travel any further than the bar." He waited to see what Quackity would do. Begging that he would grab Wilbur by the arm and haul him out of Las Nevadas.

He watched Quackity's fists clench and unclench, and his blind eye twitched. "You aren't even allowed in here." He growled. "Get out."

Wilbur shrugged. "Make me." He pushed his glasses further up his nose, just in time for Quackity to pull him down by the collar of his shirt.

"I will." He snarled, showing off his two golden teeth. "I'll grab you by your ear and drag you out of my country."

Wilbur couldn't resist. "Promise?"

Quackity's hold on his sweater loosened. "What?" Shock overroad his anger, along with what Wilbur thought was amusement.

"I am yours to drag." Wilbur did an exaggerated bow. "By hand, shirt, or my poor ear." He looked up at Quackity through his eyelashes, one of the few things he actually picked up from etiquette classes (Phil's worries that he wasn't 'ladylike enough' by society's standards, especially for the child of two gods, turned out to be unfounded).

Quackity stared at him for a long moment. He could see the internal conflict on his face as he debated if Wilbur was actually serious. His hand twitched, but it wasn't enough.

"Or my tail." Wilbur straightened. "Though that'd be a bit of a hassle-"

"Wilbur!" Quackity hissed. "We're in fucking public!"

"Well, you could take me somewhere a little less public." There was not even a hint of shame in the tall man's voice. He stood up to his full height, looming over Quackity.

They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Wilbur waited, half expecting a slap, half expecting a kiss. Instead, Quackity grabbed his hand. "One night, astuto." He said softly.

Wilbur smiled slyly at the familiar nickname, trying to cover his elation at being touched. It felt like heaven on earth. And if this was going where he hoped it was going, it would only get better.

______

Wilbur cuddled closer to Quackity as the other man lit a cigarette. The bed they rested in was massive, almost absurdly so. But Wilbur wasn't one to complain about a massive, comfy bed.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a moment to breathe in the scents surrounding him. The acrid, yet nostalgic smell of Quackity's cigarette. The undertones of whatever soap he's used to clean the sheets. The almost lemony smell of his cologne.

It felt like a snapshot of earlier times. Times when they were both in pieces but formed something out of those broken bits. Now, they weren't making anything. They were just curled up together, enjoying the feeling of having another person in their arms.

The warmth surrounding him and just how soft the bed was, probably in combination with the euphoria of the past few hours, was making Wilbur incredibly sleepy. If he had been more aware, and not in the most comfortable bed he'd slept in in his life, he would have tried to wake up more. He was still in bed with his enemy. Quackity could use his state to his advantage.

All thoughts left his brain when he felt Quackity scratch behind his ears. The rush of pure happiness was more than he knew how to describe.

It pushed him over the edge, and he fell asleep to the smell of lemons and cigarettes. He hoped, though probably in vain, that it wouldn't be the last time.

It was a few hours later that he woke up, his stomach rolling. He darted out of bed, disoriented and not actually knowing where the fuck Quackity hid the bathroom. He could tell he didn't have long, he needed to get to something fast. He tried to remember the layout of the apartment Quackity had taken him to, but he'd been a little occupied at the time.

His panic only made the nausea worse, and he resorted to throwing open random doors until he found a bathroom. Thank Prime, it didn't take long. The second door he yanked open had hidden a bathroom, and Wilbur scrambled for anything that wasn't the floor.

Everything he had eaten or drank came back up, and he was left leaning over the toilet feeling like shit. He felt too cold and too hot at the same time, everything burned, and his limbs felt like jelly. He barely noticed when the light turned on, too occupied fighting another wave.

He jumped a little when he felt a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. It was reminiscent of a time before everything. Before L'Manburgh was even the barest hint of an idea. As scary as it was, leaning into the comfort was second nature. Not being alone in his suffering, if only for a moment, was too good of an opportunity.

So he let himself be comforted, and stubbornly refused to think about why exactly the entire situation felt so familiar.