Dilemma [Pumpkin Duo]

5: I was sober, now I'm drunk again

Schlatt didn't know what to think when Quackity announced his plan. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was missing something. What scared him the most is that he would be good at it: he'd be so fucking good at being a double agent for Quackity.

"I'll do it," Schlatt said, and Quackity grinned.

"I knew you would," Quackity replied. "I trust you won't let me down?" He asked, putting out his hand for Schlatt to shake.

"Oh, I won't. I'll have some fun with this," Schlatt smirked. "Can we share a drink? I miss having an office in which you get your own bar in."

"Sure thing. Third this evening," Quackity commented.

"Yeah, but.... Yeah. It's practically morning anyways," Schlatt argued.

...

The next thing he could remember was Quackity, and that was it. Quackity's lips on his, Quackity's hands on his thighs, Quackity's breath on his neck. He remembered pushing Quackity against his desk, knocking the skull onto the floor, downing all of Quackity's liquor, and then Quackity disappearing to get more, and returning and they shared more. Schlatt kissed him everywhere: his lips, down to his neck, his chest, removing his shirt-

Fuck.

He woke up leant back by Quackity's desk, still in his office, still sat in the dark office chair. Quackity was sitting on his lap, slumped over his desk, his hair splayed out down the top of his back. There were two scars parallel on his bare back, and Schlatt felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. The scars were warped and cut through his higher back like elongated diamonds.

Quackity was still asleep, and Schlatt didn't want to wake him. Schlatt just leant back, with a searing headache and every bone in his body ached, and his skin felt like it was still on fire. Taking a sharp inhale, he glanced around the office, the drawn curtains, the bird's skull and assorted stationery knocked onto the floor in their fit of passion.

A moment later, Schlatt glanced down to hear Quackity let out a quiet hum, before propping his head up on his hands. "Fuck... My head-" Quackity mumbled, rubbing his temples, before stopping dead.

"Schlatt?" His voice had fallen to a whisper, and he didn't even want to turn around to see Schlatt's face.

"Yeah?" Schlatt whispered back, an eyebrow raised.

"Fuck! Fuck! No, no, no, no!" Quackity exclaimed, standing up, before realising he was naked other than his boxers, and he picked up his jacket and held it close to his chest. "No, I didn't mean for this to happen- fuck, my head!" Quackity leant against the wall, his head throbbing in pain.

"Quackity-"

"Shut the fuck up, you're in the bad books," Quackity spat, screwing his eyes closed in anger and anxiety and nerves and a mix of different nerves that really didn't make him feel great about himself.

The two were in complete silence for a couple of moments: Quackity was too stubborn to let Schlatt speak and Schlatt was scared shitless.

"This is history fucking repeating itself!" Quackity exclaimed, almost shaking with anger.

"Quackity, I'm-"

"No! Didn't you hear me the first time-"

"Let me fucking speak!" Schlatt exclaimed, standing and picking the bird's skull off the floor. "I can't say how sorry I am, and we both fucked up. Last night was your fault as well, not just mine. You may not have been aware, but you gave consent. And now, we have to find a way to keep Dream away from Las Nevadas, because it's the only thing we have left!" Schlatt spat, turning to Quackity, and picking his shirt and trousers off the floor. Quackity was shocked into silence.

Quackity inhaled. "Yeah. I'm sorry. This was a big mistake."

"Yeah."

Quackity turned around, and Schlatt did too, and they both got dressed quickly and in silence. There was nothing left for them to talk about concerning the previous evening.

"How are you gonna get to Dream?" Quackity asked once they'd turned around again. His hair was still messy and Schlatt really wanted to put a disobedient strand of hair in its place but decided over it because that'd be weird and gross and ew-

"I know my ways," Schlatt commented, not elaborating. "I'll make it work, I promise." His grey eyes were unreadable.