The Night We Met ( DadSchlatt AU)

Chapter 1

"Ugh. What have I told you," he drunkenly burps, shoulder bashing into the wall as he stumbles. "I'm not having kids. They are a waste of my time and piss and crap everywhere."

Jschlatt, or Schlatt for short, was currently staggering down a moonlit alleyway with a empty bottle of booze gripped between his grubby fingers. Schlatt wore a tight fitting suit, but the collar was loosened to allow air flow and the deep, blood coloured tie hanging on by a thread.
"Shut up, I know where I'm going," his voice slurs, holding a conversation with thin air.

Schlatt continued to stumble down the alleyway, pushing a rough hand through his oaky hair which was slick with sweat and odours. After a few minutes, he felt a vibration in his pocket. He roughly shoved his hand into the pocket, tugging out a smashed flip phone.

"What?" He hisses into the phone as he answered. "I'm... Busy." Schlatt slurs, slumping against the wall to focus on the conversation.
"You're an idiot. I was going to tell you something before you got shit faced." The person snaps on the other side of the phone.

"Oh boohoo, cry about it. You told me there was free alcohol, so I showed up. I didn't show up for you." Schlatt scoffs, tossing the empty bottle in his hand to the side. "Schlatt, I need to talk with you. It's important." The voice urged which made Schlatt groan loudly. "Well, if you really want me back so desperately I wouldn't oblige." Schlatt barks out a laugh, grinning wildly.

"My house in the evening. Don't be late." Quackity hung up, leaving Schlatt alone again in the foreboding alleyway.

"Whatever... Its not important..." Schlatt mutters to himself, continuing on his walk back to his own apartment.

***

Apartments are smaller than a regular house, most of the time. Most would think they are easier to upkeep. But, in Schlatts case, it was near impossible to keep his apartment tidy. Beer cans were slung about the place, weights in irregular spots which caused injury to Schlatt on a daily basis (but he never bothered to move them.)

In his bedroom, Schlatt sat on the side of his bed, head in hands as he groans loudly. Morning sickness never sat well with him. Begrudgingly, he stood and moved around his apartment to sort himself out and get ready for the day.

He slipped on a suit after a wash, making himself look decently presentable before grabbing his slick black suitcase, marching out of the house.

It was a miserable day. Rain slipped down roofs, splashing on Schlatt's face as he went from door to door, trying to sell a new product that he was being forced to promote. He had always thought to himself, if it was his own product, he would've sold thousands by now. But no, it was made by someone else who thought it was a revolutionary idea.

Schlatt hated working for this company. They barely paid him anything.

The day was long and left Schlatt exhausted and battered, but it wasn't done with him yet. Dark clouds hung over the city as the night drew in as Schlatt reluctantly hauled himself over to Quackity's house, hoping there was more free alcohol inside. Schlatt knocked and without receiving an answer, he entered with a stretch and yawn.
"I'm here, asshole. What do you want?" Schlatt strode into the kitchen which was dimly lit. Quackity stood inside a dull blue tracksuit, beanie tugged over his hair.

He glances over, gulping nervously as he gestures to a cradle. "Schlatt... I'd like you to meet your son."

Schlatt stiffens, gripping his suitcase as he stared down into the cradle. Inside sat a tiny baby, huddled up inside a blanket, asleep. With small horns poking out from either side.
"Oh shit..."