In Cold Blood (A Tntduo Fic)

XXXV

A/N: some tntduo for the soul because the last few chapters have been pure angst lol

Tw: light gore related to murder victims, past abuse, harassment
...

Wilbur hadn't slept. He could, technically. It would be easy to. But he still didn't.

Instead, he stared at report after report, reading and reliving each death until he felt sick to his stomach. Puffy's autopsy paperwork was the worst. Somehow, seeing the blue pen marks on the paper we'd just as bad as seeing the actual bleeding wounds.

Wilbur guessed they wouldn't be bleeding anymore. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. She'd be stabbed twice in her throat, on each side of her windpipe. The killing wound, however, was the long slice that cut deep through her throat.

The few minutes it would have taken her to die were too long. Wilbur felt as if every part of him was crawling. It was a horrible way to die.

Had Connor died this way? The body had been too mutilated to even tell who it was, maybe it was too damning to call them Connor. Wilbur frowned, wishing he could go back and tell himself what he knew now. He groaned under his breath, feeling sick to his stomach again.

"Wil."

Wilbur looked up, humming as he caught Quackity's gaze. He stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm calling it quits for you," Quackity said. Wilbur opened his mouth to protest. "Nope, you don't get to argue, asshole. You haven't moved from that spot all day."

Wilbur frowned. "I'm working-"

"Not anymore," Quackity cut in, walking up to the table and taking the papers from Wilbur's hands. "Go get ready, we're going out."

Wilbur scoffed, ignoring the way his face felt hot. "At least tell me where you're dragging me off to."

Quackity shrugged. "No idea," he said. "You just need to get out of the house."

Wilbur sighed. There was no way he was getting out of this, and part of him didn't even want to. He rolled his eyes, muttering out a small, "Fine, dick," before standing up and leaving the papers behind him.

He and Tommy shared a room here. Tommy had asked, and there was no way Wilbur could have refused. He opened the closet, glancing away from the mirror on the inside of the door. God, he was a mess. Maybe Quackity was right.

He thumbed through what limited clothes he had the mind to bring over when he had first arrived. A dress shirt and jeans would work fine, right? Surely Quackity wouldn't be taking him to a black tie event.

"Need something back at the house?"

Wilbur turned around, seeing Tommy sitting cross legged in the center of his bed. He shook his head, gesturing to the white shirt that hung from the coat hanger in his hand. "No, this'll work."

Tommy hummed. "What are you doing?"

Wilbur shrugged. "Quackity and I are going somewhere," he said. Tommy pursed his lips. "You won't be alone in the building. I think Foolish is on the floor below us."

Tommy nodded slowly. "So," he said, a teasing glint in his eye. "Is this related to the case, or is this your first date with Q?"