Quackbur Oneshots- [TNT DUO] (requests open)

In The End, I'm As Human As You Are, I Think

What even is this

This went in a different direction

Not suuuper proud of this buuuuut I missed writing these two suckers in the Las Nevadas setting 

Alcohol and drugs are mentioned once very briefly just fyi

Quackity swears he hates Wilbur Soot.

He hates him for wandering around Las Nevadas like he owns the place, hanging out in the back of the club, lights distracting and flashing but Prime Quackity hates how easily he can see that it's him.

He walks over to him and ignores all the other party goers with grabby hands and honestly ridiculously expensive drinks, pawing at the nearest chest and thigh.

Quackity makes Wilbur leave. He is only thankful Wilbur hasn't drunk or inhaled anything because it means he doesn't have to deal with any people thinking he's just thrown out their golden homeless boy out onto the streets when he isn't in a very stable state.

Another reason he hates Wilbur. The man's somehow made the citizens adore him, hanging out with the rich and bathing in the gifts they give him just to keep his smooth words and smug smile around. Joining the others that don't have the luxury of wealth, showing off his pricey gifts and giving away some just because he thinks it will make them like him more (screw Wilbur, it works) and shouting "a whole round on me!" in the small overly crowded bar the rich never dared to go to.

It's ridiculous, honestly, how Wilbur has found people of all kind, some old, some his age, different jobs and everything, but has toyed them into actually liking him.

Quackity can get a migraine just thinking about it.

Which he does, because apparently golden homeless boy isn't so homeless.

Some rich fuck has been letting Wilbur crash out in some sleek penthouse for the past days.

And Quackity's only now finding out about this because he may or may not have discreetly followed Wilbur.

But hell, oh hell, how- why? He's been living it up in this city, in Quackity's city, despite all the times Quackity has pushed him to the pole with the blinking lights and the flashy sign reading 'Las Nevadas' in bold lettering.

Of course, no matter how much Quackity expresses how unwelcome Wilbur is in his country, he forms himself a place here that is nothing but inviting towards him. In fact, some people here are eager for his company, eyes lighting up when he walks in just because they don't know anything, it seems. They just want energy, gifts, something to look at, and mischief. Which of course Wilbur has no problem morphing himself into it so naturally it might as well be his own skin now.

Quackity's blood boils, his head is clouded with anger because he's never hated a man this badly.

He hates, hates- fucking hates Wilbur.

Because he's here, never listens. Because he left, months ago, when Quackity thought they needed each other. It's stupid but he did. Back when the high ceilings of the casino were just stone, a room carved out in their little ravine, a single flickering lantern set on the nightstand as they mumbled nonsense, rambling about anything late at night, the cold unable to touch them because they so warmly wrapped the others arms around each other.

Quackity hates to look back on it. Back when some days might end up in the same bed, but instead they'd whisper to each other, breathless, bodies hot and pressed close, and lips swollen.

Others they just fell asleep, no conversation, no suggestive stuff, just moving up next to each other and resting.

But now it's different. Wilbur left. Then he came back. And again when Quackity refused to let him join, making Quackity so incredibly frustrated.