Non linear oneshots of Schlackity

An attempt at relaxing

Schlatt watches as the duck hybrid shifts on his bed, with discomfort and unease. He really doesn't see the point in him being here, he's clearly not relaxing. But who is he to tell his boss that?

The ram moves slightly in his nest, smelling the fabric under his nose that can send him into different emotions all at the same time. The gentle vanilla caresses his senses as the cinnamon punches him with the hint of green peppers. He could smell it for weeks upon weeks.

"Is this all you do?" Quackity finally speaks up, narrowing his eyes at Schlatt's unmoving body. Apart from the soft breathing. Q envies his calmness.

"Not really, I usually go to Fundy to see how the progress is coming along, this is how I detox," he moves a bit more, so his head is facing his boss a little more, eyes still lightly shut. "Huh.." the Mexican looks around the American's room.

It's quite bare and plain, little to no decoration. 'He was never the home designer,' he thinks to himself as his stomach feels sick just thinking about their past.

His eyes are drawn back to his ex husband's body, watching it rise and fall with every breath he takes. He wishes he could relax, he feels too uptight.

"Y'know for a man sayin he's tryin to relax and forget about issues upstairs, you're awfully the opposite of that," Schlatt yawns out, still not opening his eyes. "How would you-" "I know you." That's all the tanned man needs honestly. Schlatt knows him, whether he likes it or not. And he knows Schlatt whether he likes it or not.

Quackity sighs and falls back onto the bed, listening to the mattress creak weakly with each bounce. "Why don't you decorate?" He's asked this before, in a different room, in a different situation, in a different time.

A part of him longs for it once more, another part loathes him for remembering. Yet both times, he's awaiting the answer intently, needing an escape from his boredom. "Don't have anything to decorate with," Schlatt moves again, his tone unchanging.

'Oh right, he doesn't have anything of his.. wait-' "so is this all you have?" Quackity sits up to look at the former president, trying to get a read on him. And annoyingly so, he still doesn't manage to grasp one. "Yep."

Something twinges in Quackity and he blames it on the union of workers. "If someone were to check this, it would count as below average for a worker I'm pretty sure Schlatt. You don't even have ventilation." His feathers ruffle and he smoothes them out as he waits for Schlatt's response. "Oh well."

Alex scoffs and looks at him. "Oh well? Really? That's all you've got?" "I'm tired, and I won't file a complaint about you, Q. Just try to relax," he moves again, smelling the fabric again. Not that he needs to hide it, but it's hidden under another sweater.

Because Schlatt will only keep one secret, one filthy lie from Quackity; and that's how much he misses what they had. Had. No, he can't cry here.

Quackity sighs and falls back, listening to the creaks of the bed again. He gets tired of it and moves around on mattress, unable to relax. He huffs irritated, as he reaches for his wing and starts smoothing it out, preening just a little.

"Want to swap?" Schlatt is heard sitting up and Q looks back at him. He notes how tired he looks, how unbothered, how lifeless. He always has the tint of lifelessness on him, maybe it's the situations he's in, or he's still adjusting to real life. Because he did spend over a decade in limbo as well.

"Would it really help?" His tone comes across as aggressive, and Schlatt backs down quicker than expected. Then again, he is tired. "Have it your own way, but I am going to fall asleep so don't rob me please." He lays back down, shifting slightly in his nest before stilling, comfortable once more.

Quackity watches him and his wings flutter a little as he groans. "This isn't helping me." He huffs out. Silence rings his ears and he looks over at Schlatt. "Schlatt?" A tired hum responds. "Did you actually care?"

It's clear it's been bothering him for some time, and Schlatt tries his best to ignore the lull of the vanilla as he cracks his eyes open. "Care or cared?" "What does that mean?" "Are you talking about the past or present?" Quackity stares at him before breathing out, sitting up.

"Past." Schlatt nods, thinking his wording over. "I cared about a lot of things in the past. About my place in the world, my destiny, how people perceived me. About people and what they meant for me in a business standpoint and a personal standpoint. About money, later control. I cared a bit too much I think," he shrugs, watching his former Vice President in interest.

He hasn't changed his expression, and that always means something bad. "Is that all?" His tone is heavily controlled, and it hurts to listen to the strain. "You clearly want to know something specific Q. Fire away, what else have I got to lose?" Schlatt leans back in the nest, noticing how Alex's wings twitch.

They meet eyes and Jonathon could beg him to ask, so he could answer, just so they could open up a lock on the door that they've slammed at each other. Schlatt's banging on the door as much as he can, and Quackity backs away. "Just wanted to see if you had more to add," and he turns away, subconsciously shielding himself away with his golden yellow wings.

Schlatt sighs and closes his eyes, having felt the water well up. He won't gratify him with an answer, not again. He'll fall asleep and ignore the heartache. He's trying too hard obviously, maybe Quackity wants that door shut forever. Maybe.