There had always been that little something about the man, that Wilbur just adored.
Maybe it was the way Quackity so easily fired back insults without thinking. Or perhaps it was the way he looked at Wilbur - his eyes filled with anger and gay tension, and that cocky smile of his. But even when he'd been mad at Wil, infuriated, even, there was always that one soft spot that the Brit always managed to hit.
The hesitation, the reluctant sigh before giving up and telling him to leave, and that he was too tired to fight with him today. Wilbur found himself 'visiting' las Nevadas more often lately. He insisted it was to see Tommy, however he couldn't hide his smile, that flutter of happiness when he sees Quackity trudging through the sand with his grumpy expression to fight with Wilbur again.
But Quackity had power. Quackity was sane, and he had power. Wilbur did not. But why did Quackity run to him - Wilbur, the man he supposedly hated so much, when he needed to be touched? This question intrigued Wilbur. If he were to ask the man, Quackity would laugh it off and insist there was no connection- but even then, Wilbur sees the way his eyes light up when they talk; how he can't help but smile when Wilbur's around, and how easily Wilbur can make his cheeks warm up. All these little things, tiny details that nobody would notice, not even Tommy - But Wilbur notices.
He notices everything. He observes them and remembers them, and hopes that one day Quackity would say the highlight of his day was seeing Wilbur waiting for him. Waiting for him to try and kick the taller out, leading into hours of bickering. Neither of them could hide the fact that they didn't like it, though.
They just wouldn't admit to liking it.
