mcyt one shots that i write at 3am

Like Cake on My Birthday

[ship: tntduo]

[title: birthday - all time low]

i wrote this on wilbur's birthday and mever posted it.

kinda cringe but annoying asshole c!wilbur my beloved

•

Quackity wouldn't usually care this much for such a pointless ocassion like someone's birthday, but for some god-forsaken reason he'd made a deal with Slime that he would do something special for Wilbur; and Quackity never went back on his word.

So here he was, in the kitchen, at 3AM, trying to make a cake for the very first time. Why 3AM, you may ask? Because there was no way in Hell he would let anyone else catch him doing this.

"What the fuck am I doing..." Quackity muttered to himself aloud as he looked down at the recipe that Slime had given him. Apparently it was Wilbur's favourite, so he had to make it. He had no idea how Slime even knew that, but he'd learnt not the question it anymore. He opened a cupboard that no one ever used, surprised to actually find ingredients in there. Good job, Foolish.

"Quackity?"

Quackity jumped when he heard a sudden voice behind him and almost dropped a bowl.

"Quackity isn't here," he replied, hoping the other person - whoever it was - would leave him alone. But he had no such luck. The newcomer hopped up on the countertop next to him and sat cross-legged in the surface. From this action alone, Quackity could immediately tell who it was.

"What you up to, man?" Wilbur asked.

"I'm slaying a dragon- the fuck does it look like I'm doing?!" Quackity snapped sarcastically. Wilbur laughed.

"Alright, no need to get your tits in a twist!" Quackity flicked a middle finger up at her and went to get the milk from the fridge.

"Is that a cake?"

"No."

"Is it chocolate?"

"No."

"Chocolate is my favourite!"

"Really? I had no idea."

"It's my birthday tomorrow."

"No it isn't."

"I like cake."

"OKAY FINE, IT'S YOUR CAKE, WILBUR! HAPPY NOW?"

Wilbur nodded. "Yep!"

He was quiet only for a second before jumping down and hugging Quackity from behind. The action surprised Quackity and he let out a soft squeak, his heart hammered in his chest. He was tired, and so far more vulnerable than he'd like to admit.

"Aw, did I fluster you, Big Q?" Wilbur teased. Quackity grumbled and pushed him away.

"No, get off. I'm busy."

"Can I help?'

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'm not leaving until you say yes."

"Then you're going to be here a long time."

"Quackity."

"Wilbur."

"Alex."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Quackity hissed. He thrust a jug at Wilbur, "fill that with water to the marked line." Wilbur smirked, pleased he had got his own way, and did as Quackity asked. Wilbur went to fetch the water while Quackity started on measuring out the ingredients into a bowl. She soon returned and placed the water jug on the counter, then stood aside to watch Quackity work. He watched with amusement as Quackity struggled to stir the mixture properly, getting easily frustrated when it wouldn't go the way he wanted.

"Let me help," Wilbur offered and stood behind Quackity, placing his own hand over Quackity's on the spoon to assist him. Quackity could feel the taller man's breath against his neck and shivered at how close Wilbur was. He swatted Wilbur's hand away and shrugged him off, willing the heat in his face to fade.

"I can do it myself, thank you," Quackity insisted, though he really couldn't. Wilbur snorted and jumped back up on the counter top.

"If you say so!" she taunted. Quackity grumbled and continued struggling with the mixture. He'd given up on getting the lumps out of the dry mixture and just moved on to the wet ingredients instead.

"What's got you in such a weird fuckin mood then?" Quackity questioned as he attempted to crack an egg, probably getting more shell in the bowl than egg itself. He cursed under his breath, trying to pick it out while Wilbur laughed at him.

"That's just what death does to a bitch, Big Q!"

"All it did is make you even more insufferable..." Quackity muttered, giving up on the eggshell too and just half-assing it at this point as he messily whisked the wet mixture into the dry.

"You're pretty shit at baking," Wilbur pointed out.

"Thanks for noticing," Quackity grumbled and flicked some loose cake batter at Wilbur. Wilbur gasped and snatched his beanie, shoving it on his own head. "Hey, asshole! Give that back!" Quackity cried.

"Nope! You attacked me, this is only fair!" Wilbur insisted and crossed his arms, smirking.

"You're acting like a child."

"Am I a cute child?" Wilbur teased.

"I- What?- No??" Quackity stammered and dismissed Wilbur's mischievous laughs with yet another lazy flick of the bird in the other's direction. He picked up the mixture and divided it into tins before putting them into the oven and setting a timer.

"Look at me! I'm Big Q!" Wilbur mocked. Quackity growled and snatched his hat back, placing it firmly on his own head.

"No touching," he insisted.

"No touching at all?" Wilbur gave him a fake innocent look, Quackity raised an eyebrow.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" he questioned. Wilbur shrugged.

"If there's no touching allowed, then that means I can't do this." Wilbur leaned forward and grabbed the front of Quackity's shirt, pulling him towards him and pressing her lips against Quackity's. Quackity stiffened in surprise at the action, too in shock to return the action. Wilbur let go of his shirt and pulled away, letting him stumble back as he caught himself..

"That... Was unexpected..." Quackity muttered breathlessly, and Wilbur just shrugged, hopping off the countertop and disappearing back to whatever hell-hole he'd emerged from. Quackity would be lying to himself if he said kissing Wilbur wasn't something he'd ever thought about, he just never thought it would actually happen. For obvious reasons, Quackity was under the impression that the other hated him and wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Then again, there were those moments in Pogtopia...

The oven alarm went off, and Quackity removed the cakes. They would cool overnight, he could leave them there. Heading to bed, Quackity couldn't get the feeling of Wilbur's lips on his own out of his mind. It was insane, to think of his enemy like that.

But then again, was Wilbur the real enemy here?