silly tnt duo oneshots (discontinued)

🌩️ The stars are nice, but not as nice as you. [c!Quackbur]

I'm considering rewriting all of the (not good) chapters in this and redo the formatting but I have finals soon with a shit ton of requests that I need to finish 🤕 umm I really like this chapter. I think. I've been getting better at writing. I think. And I suppose I should've mentioned on like. day one. that the personalities are based off of my perception and a shit ton of headcanons affecting the two and their canon personalities so... 

---

"Why are you here?" he sighed, not bothering to look towards the ever so agitating man. Wilbur tossed his arms carelessly over the railing and scrutinized the night sky, following Quackity's actions after exiting the elevator to the top of the Space Needle. 

It wasn't odd for Wilbur to somehow find where Quackity was then silently intrude on whatever he would currently be doing, Quackity didn't mind this as much as he showed.

"Thought the view was nice tonight." Wilbur shrugged, struggling to keep his gaze on the large, illuminating moon and the surprising amounts of stars (despite the bright city lights of Las Nevada).

"Bullshit." Quackity spat, though there was a lot less venom in his tone then he originally ought there to be. Wilbur found amusement in this.

"You're just such a delight to be around, I couldn't help myself." he continued sarcastically, finally shifting his gaze to Quackity, causing his red shaded glasses to slightly inch down his nose, while holding a small smirk. 

Quackity scrunched his nose for a brief second and rolled his eyes away from Wilbur. 

"Hm." he shallowly hummed without showing little to any care. "It'd be such a shame if those prissy glasses of yours happened to slip off your nose and down the building." Quackity clenched the railing and glared at nothing.

"It would." Wilbur blinked, then regained his smug behavior. "What's got you in a mood?" he asked, leaning in more towards Quackity.

"I'm not in a mood." Quackity replied bitterly, broadly scratching the railing with his fingertips, which manage to act as a perfect display, compared to Wilbur's own, bitten fingernails, with his painfully calloused hands.

"Your feathers are ruffled, clearly something is causing a form of bothersome towards you." Wilbur says with a fake layer of concern plastered in his tone and on his stupid, worthless, zombified face (as Quackity called it, Wilbur remembers it quite often, but chooses to ignore it).

Quackity bites his tongue, then looks at Wilbur once more for a brief second, but shifts his gaze to the sky once again. Wilbur is interesting, in Quackity's eyes. The ravenette doesn't have a firm opinion on the man. He wants to help him, gaining a protective ache in his chest when around Wilbur, but when he starts his whole cocky ordeal, it sets Quackity off. It's really a cycle when you think about it. 

Maybe if Wilbur could keep his mouth shut for a solid five minutes, then they wouldn't have this infuriating relationship, Quackity thinks. 

"Yeah, you." the avian retorts, and Wilbur boredly huffs at his dry vocabulary. (Boredly Is Not A Word, Author.) 

"Big Q..." he whines dramatically, lying his head on the railing as his arm falls limp over the high balcony, Wilbur leaning his body on the railing carelessly, giving Quackity a brief sense of panic, as if the railing were to break. He knew Wilbur wasn't heavy, but he hasn't checked the sturdiness of said railing in a while, and his malewife instincts were screaming as he watched Wilbur's facade, his own body as stiff as a board. 

Quackity huffs, straightening his posture and perking his wings higher, looking back at the nightfall abyss in front of the two, in an aloof manor. Wilbur chuckles. 

It's quiet, Quackity notices. When Wilbur isn't talking or whining about something, it's actually quiet, and he feels a small sense of security and peace at that moment, which is something he'd never expect from himself. Maybe when he was younger, immature and small-minded, during Pogtopia, he wouldn't be surprised over this observance, but now.. 

"You're so pretty." Wilbur says quietly, breaking the silence, causing the other to feel a flare of annoyance and somewhat impatience. 

Quackity hates when Wilbur compliments him. He hates when Wilbur says stupid things, or makes stupid attempts at flirting. When he does stupid things to impress people or to get attention (like a troubled child, Quackity compares), like when Wilbur blows his shit up, it's definitely not the most enjoyable thing Wilbur does.

(Quackity distinctively remembers the most dreadful, antagonizing punchline Wilbur told him the other day, it was an absolute flabbergasting experience. "Are you from the Jurassic period? Because jur ass is-" Quackity considered punching Wilbur, who seemed so giddy about it.)

"Wilbur, please shut up."

"Because you asked so kindly." Wilbur smirks, tapping the railing repeatedly with his index. 

He huffs, and sighs a few times, bored, or maybe he just couldn't physically help himself from not talking every two minutes. His eyes flicker from Quackity, over to the stars, then to Quackity again, over and over.

"The stars are nice." Wilbur points out, though he wasn't very interested in them, it seems, as he watched Quackity for a reaction or response. Quackity hums, biting the inside of his cheek, without removing his deep gaze towards the scenery. 

"But not as nice as-"

"Wilbur." Quackity interrupts firmly. Wilbur stops, not wanting to anger Quackity more than he already has.

Quackity is stargazing, while Wilbur has his gaze directed completely at Quackity.