The Death That Follows

Return of the Q

TW: WNF, Flirting (IDK if its major, but some people get uncomfortable), Threats, Karlnap

Quackity

When George told me I could stay with him and his boyfriend, I expected Dream. Now, I never liked Dream, the —--, but George seemed happy with him, so I held my peace. But Wilbur? The guy I used to get so drunk with that we couldn't even remember our own names. This was good —-.

Besides, I have never seen George look at someone the way he looks at Wil, not even Dream. It wasn't admiration, or disbelief, like he used to eye Dream with, but adoration. He loved Wil, probably more than he loved Dream. And I knew the feeling. Way back when, I had a crush on the guy too, though I am pretty sure all of us did, at one point. He is just too —-- cute for his own good.

"Alex?" Wilbur asked, smiling slightly, and I dabbed him up, pulling him into a hug.

"Wilbur Big Man Soot? Mucho tiempo sin verlo." I said, pounding on his back.

"I can't breathe." He gasped, and I let go of his too big, lanky body.

"You two know each other?" George asked, raising an eyebrow while holding back a smile.

"He never told you of our daring adventures? Maybe you should ditch him and pick up with me, BB." I said playfully, and Wilbur scowled down at me, his fluffy brown hair falling over his eyes ominously. George, instead of hitting me, or something to that standard, looked over at Wilbur, almost reassuringly, and blushed, smiling to himself, when he saw his boyfriend's anger.

"In your dreams." Wil said, taking George's hand possessively.

"How did you know?" I joked, and George, seeing the literal steam pouring out of Wilbur's ears, pulled him into a restraining one armed hug.

"Come in, Quackity. We have a guest room just upstairs." He said, and I looked around. The house was nice, if not a bit small, and felt more like a vacation cabin than someone's home, but there were pictures on every surface of the wall. Pictures of Wilbur and George, mainly, though some were of a huge, fluffy brown dog, or a group picture of multiple people. They also had the weirdest things on the walls, such as old ticket stubs, or newspaper clippings, or little post it notes in a language I didn't understand. I didn't know George had turned into a hoarder.

Just as I was going to take a closer look at the indistinguishable notes, however, something huge and heavy came barreling at me.

"Deek! Down." A voice said, but, as I was suffocating under the great mass of fur, I saw my life flash before my eyes. This was the end for me.

"Avenge me! Tell my girlfriend I love her!" I yelled, and the pull I felt on this Deek thing subsided, leaving the weight, and tongue that had found my face, heavier than ever.

"You don't have a girlfriend." A voice, Wilbur's, probably, said, and I tried to scoff.

"You don't know that." I grunted.

"You have never had a girlfriend, Quackity." George said.

"Tell the chick on the Wendy's billboard I love her!" I tried again, and, having apparently lost interest in me, Deek left, trampling my foot as he went.

"You need help, Big Q." George said, looking down at me as Wilbur extended a hand to help me up.

"That perro tried to kill me!" I yelled, jumping to my feet. "My lawyers will be all over this one!" I joked.

"Just go put your stuff away before I finish the job." Wil said, but he was smiling.

"Don't expect me home for dinner. I'm going out to flaunt around town." I said, smirking, and I could practically hear my new roommates cringe.