Flustered and Under the Weather

Prologue: A Much-Expected Visit (Tubbo pov)

Tubbo sighed heavily. He'd been making burgers for hours. The sickening smell of toasted bread and sizzling meat was starting to get to his head.

The owner of the van, known as Quackity, Alex to his friends, was straightening the vintage chairs, the whining sound of the legs against the floor blending into the background of scuffed wooden flooring. Using an old rag, he haphazardly wiped down the tables. They were always clean, so much so that one could see their reflection in the checkered plastic.

He'd been doing this ritual of meticulous cleaning for about half an hour now.

The burger van didn't get as much business as it used to. The very prospect of fast food had brought customers from Snowchester, Las Nevadas, even Pandora's Vault took orders. The Greater Dream SMP couldn't get enough of burgers. But that all changed with Quackity's rival, Wilbur Soot. He had the nerve to open up a competing burger van right next door! And even worse, he employed Tubbo's husband to work there. Thankfully, it didn't cause a rift between them. Ranboo and him would exchange burger recipes- it was a minor bonding experience.

Quackity, however, would angrily rant about Wilbur, cursing out his plagiarized business and "the audacity of that fucker!" Some days, it was a bit much.

The burnt smell of smoke interrupted Tubbo's thinking. Shit. He charred the patty.

A small ding resounded from the door, a crack of bright light filtering in through the gap. The heavy footsteps of black boots echoed through the small establishment. Wilbur adjusted his glasses and fiddled with the collar of his tan trench coat. "Hello Quackity," he said with a sly smile.

"Fuck you, Wilbur." Quackity glared at him from across the counter, Wilbur making his way over quickly. Tubbo assembled the burger methodically, carefully stealing glances of the heated exchange. "You left your damn guitar in here yesterday."

Wilbur towered over Quackity. "Oh, it's still here?" His eyes flicked around the room, finally finding the instrument behind the counter. Quackity held it up to him.

"Just take it. This isn't your storage center."

Wilbur pulled off his fingerless gloves and set them on the counter, picking up the guitar with practiced ease. "Thanks for keeping it safe, darling." Quackity flushed, busying himself with clicking the pen used for scribbling orders.

"Um, what can I get you?" he hesitated, blush still high on his cheeks. Tubbo had to look away; the tension between the two was honestly unbearable. He pulled a container of fries from the grease and dumped them into a nearby bowl.

"A cheeseburger with fries. That is on the menu, right?" Wilbur said with a smirk.

Quackity narrowed his eyes a bit. "Your order will be out soon. Tubbo!"

"Already got it, bossman!" Tubbo slid a plate with Wilbur's order onto the counter, and rang the diner bell beside it just for fun. Grabbing his gloves and slinging the guitar across his back, Wilbur carefully took the plate and sat down at one of the tables. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it; Quackity quietly seethed from afar. He didn't want customers or employees smoking in his business, but Tubbo could tell he didn't mind when it was Wilbur. Well, not as much as normal.

Wilbur took a bite of the burger, which oozed ketchup and pieces of lettuce, spilling onto the plate. Burgers weren't exactly the cleanest meal.

"So, Quackity," he started, licking the salt from his fingers. "Have you seen the statue recently?"

Tubbo knew Wilbur was referring to the giant statue of DreamXD that Foolish was building. Taller than any pyramid in Las Nevadas, the statue had come to symbolize the protection of a god. No one knew that full story, but it was rumored the statue was constructed as a favor. Ever since his revival, Wilbur had been more invested in Dream and his various "relatives" than ever before.

"Yeah, it's getting closer to the block limit every day." Quackity responded curtly.

"I love what he's done with the wings. They look glorious."

"I'll be sure to tell him."

Weeks of this same routine has led Tubbo to the realization that the two seemed to only talk in clipped sentences, ones that conveyed more meaning than the average visitor would be able to read. Unless they were flirting- that was an entirely different story.

Wilbur picked up a fry, observing it before plopping it into his mouth. "Did you know French fries aren't actually French? They were made in Belgium."

Tubbo had remembered telling Quackity about that when they were planning the menu. Quackity had wanted to put "French fries," until Tubbo had informed him the term was technically incorrect- they settled on calling them "Q fries." They couldn't actually find fries shaped like a Q, though.

"No, I didn't. Where did you hear that?" Quackity said. Maybe he forgot? Ranboo does all the time.

"I've got a small collection of novels." Wilbur declared proudly. He finished the last of the fries and stood up, tugging the gloves back on. "You could always borrow one if you wanted."

Quackity grunted in acknowledgement. "Maybe I will."

"You could come back to my place for a cup of coffee. A bit of literature. Or a bit of something else, if you want." He winked- literally winked- at Quackity. Hoisting up the guitar, Wilbur made his way to the door. "I'll see you around," he said, exiting the van.

Quackity sighed deeply, and Tubbo could see his shoulders sink, like his boss had released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and the still-visible tinge of red on his cheeks.

"Um, Big Q?"

"Yeah Tubbo?"

"He forgot to pay again."