Alone With Him

Past, Present and Patience

It was like a movie scene.

Wilbur, surrounded by flames like a satanic halo, confessing just how much he adored Quackity.

He was love struck in that moment, so many bubbling emotions filled him up.

Quackity was no longer a hero, he was okay with that. (For the most part)

Wilbur had killed thousands, he'd killed two people.

He knew that some twisted strings had come inbetween them before but Quackity witnessed the cutting of both. Wilbur was his Siren now, he wanted to be Wilbur's angel so badly he'd do anything to be called it again.

He would beg, cry, steal, kill all to be called Wilbur's again.

Held close in Wilbur's arms, how had it only been 4 months? Had it really only taken that long for him to turn on everything he once stood for....
No
No he turned a long time ago now.

The moment he'd managed to sneak away from Wilbur's hideout only to come back substantially redder in the face, the rush that you get killing always made his heart race and his cheeks flush.

He looked up at Wilbur, this time it would be perfect. It wouldn't be something rushed and accidental, something he used to simply stop the taller from breaking down.

He reached up and tangled his hands into the tresses of brown curls that crowned Wilbur's head. Slowly, he pulled Wilbur to a more assessable height. His eyes fluttered shut, his hands shook only slightly.

Quackity kissed his once enemy.

With tounge.

The hero commission cleaned up the mess Wilbur had caused, not that it did much, his acts sent a message loud and clear.

He was retiring.

Siren would cease to exist as anything more than villainous inspiration, Wilbur would keep on living his life.

Rushing home inbetween fits of giggles the two embraced eachother. Quackity's senses were alive, his bird was free and happy embracing the reptilian beast within Wilbur's soul.

"Darling you're so cute! Oh just the sweetest most precious angel ever!"

"My angel, the most perfect being ever!"

"Such a pretty bird, my baby bird, beautiful angel"

All of these things, strings of sweet nothingness, whispered to him while he was dragged to their bedroom. Quackity jumped/flew onto the bed, the comfy, warm bed that they shared.

He layed down and let Wilbur roll onto him, hugging the other close with a smile plastered across his face.

They met eyes, red on gold and white.

Inching closer, hands finding purchase on Wilbur's back and beside Quackity's head, they locked lips again.

Quackity leaned into the kiss as much as he could, he tugged and gripped Wilbur's shirt as he melted in the other's embrace.

Wilbur kept him close, the taller doing everything he could to deepen the already passionate kiss. The perfect kiss.

They pulled away, kissed again getting closer. They pulled back for a breath only to kiss again and the cycle repeated, over and over.

In eachothers embrace; hero or villian didn't matter, the past didn't matter nor did the furture.

The only thing that mattered was that they had eachother, they....loved eachother so very much.

The 4 months of build up was nothing, compared to this Quackity had not a single good memory. It didn't matter what their titles had been once apon a time, they were together.

He wanted that.

He needed to be Wilbur's.