𝘽𝙀𝙀 𝙃𝙐𝙈𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂𝘽𝙄𝙍𝘿 | quacknap

Day One

Quackity doesn't ask consent before he's raking a hand across against the other's bare back, though by Sapnap's bated breath and quiet smile, he assumes he doesn't mind too much.

"Fuckin' yikes."

"Literally shut up."

It's covered in vicious and new scars—not nail marks, surprisingly, Karl likes his nails long—that stretch from his neck to below his boxers. They don't look particularly deliberate, like someone had bent him over in a prison cell and whipped him or anything, more like an unfortunate incident with a wild cat.

Quackity thumbs one carefully, more curious than kind, and it's only when Sapnap hisses in pain does he stop. "How?" he asks half-heartedly, Sapnap sighs.

"Hunting." He says. "Got reckless, I was.. Angry."

"Wildcat?"

"Ocelot, yeah."

Nailed it.

"Why were you angry?"

"Karl."

Quackity sucks in a deep breath, though has half a mind to not gasp. He doesn't probe any further, unlike how he wants to, and decides if the other wants to expand he can. Sapnap doesn't.

"Okay." Quackity moves again eventually, leaving the other to continue stripping in the middle of the bathroom so he can turn the dial on his over-complicated tap for the bath. He hesitates on the temperature for a moment, knowing Sapnap prefers it hot, but opts on his usual degree. It's petty, he could definitely withstand warmer water, but a part of him decides he deserves to be selfish. He tries not to mull on it too long.

Sapnap had praised Quackity's bathroom when they'd first walked in, commenting charmingly how "fuckin' awesome" it was. He eyed the jets in the bath large enough to be a jacuzzi and the counter long enough to be an operating table with a fascinated look; but when it came to routine the man didn't hesitate in his role.

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 they played their parts silently, neither paying attention to the silver-lined elephant in the room.

When Quackity turns around again Sapnap is fully naked, and it's enough of a whiplash to make him hesitate before he turns fully. He stares unabashedly for a moment, before a raise of the other's eyebrow has him shaking his head softly and turning to the bathroom door. He's still fully clothed himself, only ridded of his blazer and has bare feet, and he feels strangely safe for a moment. Like he has power over the other, almost. He shakes it off.

"I'll just.. Get the bathbomb."

"'Kay."

The thing is tucked, rather curiously, in a vase positioned underneath the TV in Quackity's bedroom, sat in such pride of place so when Quackity's sobbing into a pillow hysterically and with pure heartbreak he can stare at where it's hidden and know that if he had been better he could have used it.

Quackity collects the bath bomb quickly (he isn't thinking of all the explanations they need to have, of all the tears that will be shed, of the heartache he'll feel when he'll inevitably not be enough again), and promptly makes his way back to the ensuite, making sure not to squeeze too hard so it doesn't crumble in his grasp and make a mess on the floor.