Quackity awoke with the sun peeking over the horizon and casting rays of golden warmth across his cheeks and nose. It was as gentle as the slight breeze blowing through the cracked window which disturbed his hair, strands tickling his eyelids until he was forced to open them.
The room that he was in looked familiar, but he immediately knew that he was not in his home. First of all, it didn’t reek like the stale, rancid air that had infested his house after the death of his Tilín. This space smelled like freshly baked bread and cinnamon and cloves. Secondly, Quackity noticed that the bed he was lying on was a lot softer and warmer than his. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept in his own bed, hopping between houses in a desperate attempt to not feel so alone.
That’s probably what was happening now. He’d probably just crashed at one of his friend's houses, and it would be any second before they walked through the door and told him it was time to go.
He would enjoy this comfort while it lasted, though. There was no telling what kind of shit he was going to get into today, so it made sense for him to linger in peace for as long as he was allowed.
It wasn’t too long before he heard a couple of soft footsteps scurrying into the room, and before he could register what was happening, the mattress dipped with added wait and there was loud, high-pitched laughter in his ear.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”
“It’s time to wake up, Pa!”
Two twin voices bounced up and down with the mattress, small hands on his shoulders shaking him.
And ice settled in Quackity’s veins because it had been a long, long time since he’d heard that little voice, had heard the smile behind the words, had heard that laughter ringing in his ears.
Even when Tilín was alive, he rarely ever heard her laugh, so hearing it now sent chills up his spine in the best way.
Quackity’s eyes snapped open, and he was met with the sight of Tilín’s rosy cheeks, her mouth stretched upward into a smile. Tallulah was on the other side of her, still bouncing up and down, not noticing that Quackity had already woken up. He didn’t waste any time lurching upright and pulling his child into his arms, feeling the ribbon placed in her hair tickle his cheeks as she hugged him back.
Fingers carded through onyx strands that smelled clean, like rain and meadow flowers. Her small fingers did the same to his hair, and she giggled a little to herself when they got caught in tangles. “It’s time to get up, Pa,” she whispered, but she made no move to pull away from his embrace.
“That’s not fair! I want Pa Quack hugs, too!” Tallulah scoffed playfully, her smile growing wider when Quackity tugged her into the hug, newly-awakened mind scrambling to find an explanation for why he’s woken up to such a blessing, how this was even possible, where the fuck was he.
Tilín and Tallulah pulled away after what seemed like too short of time, and his eyes adjusted to the sun-drenched room he was in. It didn’t take him too long to recognize the wooden walls, the crampedness, or the familiar smell.
He was in Tallulah’s tower. Specifically, he had woken up on the second floor, in the room that Wilbur had claimed for himself. He was currently in Wilbur’s bed, hugging Wilbur’s child along with his own, and Quackity tried to ignore the pang of loneliness that always reared its ugly head when he thought of Wilbur.
Before he could even think to question the two children who had woken him up about what was going on, what was he doing here, Tallulah clambered off the bed as quickly as she had bounced onto it, clutching at her red beanie as she made her way to the ladder that led downstairs to the first floor. “You better hurry up!” She was yelling. “Papi’s going to be mad if you miss breakfast.”
