Multifandom Madness by Trash Panda

Sisyphus (Angst and Fluff)

{Fandom: DSMP}
(Ships: Quackity x Wilbur)

I am so obsessed with this ship, plz send help-

Tw:
Implied abuse, implied substance abuse, major injury, lots of death, suicide

Angst Scale:
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Third Person POV

  Quackity didn't trust it. He didn't trust this arrogant, loudmouth, bastard as far as he could throw him. And yet there Wilbur was, mingling with people in HIS party like he wasn't banned from coming anywhere near Las Nevadas.

The taller and older man looked to be having a good time, drinking shots of vodka like it was nothing, getting fucked up with people Quackity recognized as regulars, and looking so damn handsome while doing it. He looked so relaxed as if he didn't care about what people thought about him.

All the lights and the thick smoke must be playing tricks on Quackity's eyes. It glinted off Wilbur's skin and hair, it dazzled in his fucking gorgeous brown eyes, and the thick smoke made him look almost illusion-like. As if the man wasn't actually standing there, but a spirit. That just pissed Big Q off further. How dare this bastard come into his country, knowing he was banned, and steal all the attention with his magnetic charisma and painfully infectious charm that would hit you in the face when he gave you that beautifully crooked smile?

"Wilbur, what the hell are you doing here?" Quackity sighed, exhausted from dealing with Wilbur every other day.

"I just wanted to hang out, maybe see my favorite twink, is that a crime?"

"Excuse me?" Quackity snapped.

"You're excused," Wilbur said. He took another drink and got up. Then, like the sick dickhead he was, grabbed his hand and spun the two around like in a waltz. "It's a party! Just relax a bit."

"I think you relax too much, that's your issue," Quackity said. He didn't know when, but the two started ending up actually doing a waltz through this crowded room. The music wasn't at all suited to this kind of dance, but it just felt right. Wilbur seemed to be enjoying it. "You know, since you don't have a job or a house of your own."

"I do have a job, I am just self-employed," Wilbur said. Quackity huffed a laugh. "You know me, I am a dickhead who doesn't like working under someone else. It just messes with me knowing that I am not in control."

"Yeah? Well, that's not what you were saying in my bedroom last month."

"That's because you are special, my dear."

"I will never understand how you can just talk about this kind of thing in public... You couldn't waterboard that information out of me if I bottomed to you. Which would never happen."

"I know. But that's because you're an insecure toddler who is stuck in the toxic masculinity mindset." Wilbur said, trying to provoke Quackity. How dare the sexy bastard look so smug and so damn hot while saying whatever half-baked bullshit came to mind?! 'If there is one thing I am not, it's insecure!' Quackity thought.

"Toddler? Oh yeah, I almost forgot you're a geriatric. What are you? Like, 50?"

"47 actually," Wilbur said. Quackity was shocked by that. "It's been 13 years for me, Quackity. We met when I was 34, I was in the afterlife for 13 and a half years, do the math yourself."

Quackity pulled away from Wilbur, staring him down. Wilbur crossed his arms, trying to gauge what this reaction was. The shorter man mimicked him, tapping his fingers.