𝙇𝙀𝙈𝙊𝙉 𝘿𝙊𝙑𝙀 | karlnapity

Chapter Seven

When Sapnap first showed up on Quackity's doorstep a few days ago, the duck-hybrid had been wary. True, their trio never would have been fiances if it weren't for Sapnap proposing to Quackity first, but it would be a lie if he said he didn't think the blaze-born had a favourite.

Karl had always been the focus of the three's relationship. He decided the activities, the chore list, who sleeps where in the bed every night. Sapnap and Quackity just went along with it like the love-sick puppies they were.

And while looking back on it makes Quackity want to crush that weak version of himself under one of those satisfying compression machines—because yes, that particular crushing would be very satisfying. Particularly if Karl was under there too—he can't remember a time in his life where he was happier than with his two fiances.

So despite how all his blissful memories are focused on Karl and Karl's laugh and Karl's grin. Half of what made it so fun was Sapnap's impressively dirty humor. His vulgar touches, his comforting warmth. Quackity and Sapnap were two sides of the same coin: make Karl happy, ask what she said.

And then he had chosen Karl. Quackity wasn't remotely surprised when Sapnap didn't follow him after their.. argument, but that didn't make him any less petty. He hates Sapnap, he decided, he hates Karl and he hates love and he hates anyone who tries to love him ever again.

And he decided at that moment if either of them ever tried to apologize he'd pick it up, scrutinize it, and then drop kick it as far into the sun as he can. Or maybe the moon. The sun doesn't deserve such utter bullshit.

Then he let Sapnap in.

Although, in his defense.. he caught Quackity at a really bad time.

That night he had been really tired. One of his workers, in all of their collective genius, had managed to order a thousand marble pillars instead of a hundred. Costing Quackity more money than he'd prefer to spend on marble pillars.

After almost six hours on hold, two minutes actually talking, and then thirty pages of paperwork: he'd managed to get a sort-of refund. It wasn't nearly as much money back as he spent, but at least it was something.

He had been leaving his office building, body begging for a warm bath, and muttering how—"It was probably Foolish. That idiot's brain seems to match his name half the time"—when the man had appeared in all of his human-furnace glory, practically begging for a second chance.

And Quackity had been tired. He stared at Sapnap and all he could remember was the time he had managed to convince him to give him a massage after they had a long day in El Rapids. His hands had been warm and the sex jokes had been soft and after they were done, the cuddles had led Quackity into arguably one of the best sleeps of his life. So that day in Las Nevadas he had stared at his ex-fiance and really, really wanted exactly that.

There had been one too many moments of silence after Sapnap had basically poured his heart out, while Quackity was thinking of that lush bath bomb he has and whether or not Sapnap would be allergic to it or not, so the ravenette broke the silence. "Q?"

And all Quackity could say was: "you came."

Sapnap was here. In Las Nevadas. Quackity was tired and desperate for warmth and comfort and Sapnap was here. Right where Quackity needed him.

Sapnap had stared at him, face inscrutable, and finally said, for all of Las Nevadas to hear: "that's what she said."

Quackity had blinked at him. Sapnap blinked back. Both of their expressions were blank, and Quackity is thinking; we're the same person, we both make sex jokes in uncomfortable situations and we both know how to keep your face expressionless after years of trauma.

And Quackity had broken. Because he was tired, and Sapnap was here, and he had a lush bath bomb at home that he's sure has probably expired but he is really craving right now. So he rushed into his ex-fiance's arms and sobbed.

Sapnap held him. He picked him up. He let Quackity ruin his shirt with his snot and tears. He raked expert fingers through Quackity's wings because he knows how to do that without getting them all mixed up. Quackity had been thinking, please please please. I just want this back, I want them back, please please please.

After a good few minutes, Quackity had guided them back to his penthouse, and then directed Sapnap in the direction of his lush bath bomb (it was definitely expired, but neither of them cared). They went straight to the bathroom and while Sapnap filled it up, Quackity gathered up all of their clothes—except for Sapnap's headband; that's never allowed to be washed—and dumped it in the laundry.

Because this was a dance they knew well, Karl was a lover of baths and therefore a lover of bathbombs and a big lover of his fiances, so put them all together and you have an adorable date night that usually ended in wet sex jokes that usually ended in actual sex.

But neither of them acknowledged that, nor did they acknowledge how Karl's familiar endless chatter was missing from where he was usually perched on the edge of the bath, or how he used to take off their clothes for them with soft fingers and quiet kisses just as an excuse to touch them for longer.

Instead the two dropped the bath bomb together so the entire room smelt like expired lemons "or something". Then they had giggled and laughed and climbed into Quackity's jacuzzi bath and fought over the temperature because "not everyone was born in a fuckin' volcano you fiend".

The next morning they argued. They had both woken up comfortable, well-rested and entangled in each other, so in usual fiance fashion they decided they needed to mess it all up.

Looking back, Quackity isn't exactly sure why he was mad. But he does know that the night before he had given in too easily, so now Sapnap was in his house and smiling at him and cooking him food and it wasn't fair. Because Quackity needed this months ago, but the blaze-born had been too busy falling to his knees around a man who insisted he was an optimist and then favoured bad memories over good ones.

"You always loved Karl more than me." he probably said, and then Sapnap said something like. "Well you never loved me at all."

And then they argued more, and talked, and then they kissed. When they separated they were both laughing and shaking their head in disbelief at themselves because when was the last time they did that?! ("That was so awkward, aha.." "I don't think we should do that again.")

Then they did it again, and again. And then they argued, and then Sapnap cried, and they kissed again, and then they laughed and joked "I'm pretty sure this is where we have sex", but they didn't. They cuddled and fell asleep and it was good.

The next day Sapnap didn't leave, nor the day after that. Neither of them mentioned it. Quackity knew about Karl's disappearances from their long conversation, and he knew how Sapnap's guilt of how the brunette would go home to an empty house was picking at his nails. But neither of them brought it up. On night five Sapnap woke up to a nightmare that caused burns on Quackity's hips where they were holding eachother, but they treated eachother's wounds together, they kissed, and they didn't talk about it.

Quackity had to go back to work eventually, but Sapnap didn't even ask to come along before he was trailing behind him, greeting random workers with a grin and a wink, or lazing over the couch in Quackity's office as he made witty (mean) comments about the decor.

Quackity didn't seem to mind though, which was a first for him. Back in El Rapids, you interrupt his work you give him the pen and paper to write your death sentence. But Quackity knows why. Ever since the fight he's been thirsty, he knows that now, but because of the lack of water he was ignoring it. But now he's got Sapnap, so he's chugging as much as he can before it inevitably disappears again. Because being dehydrated is a lot better than waiting under a broken tap.

So that's why, on day nine, he can't say he's remotely surprised when the water supply suddenly runs out. Because he and Sapnap were never supposed to be soulmates, there's a reason two opposite sides of a coin never touch.

1468 words.

perspective change :O

getting to the real angst soon.