COWBOY UP • TnT Duo Western AU

HABITUAL DURESS

Plans of finding a hotel are out the window. Now, Wilbur thinks only of survival. He tries to stand, but another bolt of pain makes his foot slide, and he's down again.

Quackity rushes to his side. "What is it? Your hearts giving out?"

Wilbur can hear his heart loud in his ears. He manages to shake his head, hands curling into fists. "No, that aint.. it." His breathing is short and choppy, hair damp with sweat.

The palms of his hands sting like hell underneath the gloves, but he manages to crawl closer to the wall with the aid of Quackity, rolling over and sitting up.

Quackity kneels, glancing at Wilbur's face. "Let me know if you think you're gonna be sick, I don't want all that on me."

He does a quick scan, noticing not only the bullet hole in Wilburs leg, but the various scrapes and twin revolvers holstered on his thighs. Several pouches are strapped across his waist, most of which are littered with red stains. Quackity frowns.

Wilbur scowls at Quackity, trying to fix his coat back so that he isn't so exposed. Now that Quackity knows he's injured- knows he's prone- anything could happen. And he knows of the guns. Wilbur blinks, trying to get his eyes to focus. If Quackity was going to pull something, now would be the perfect time to do it. Wilbur groans. Everything hurts.

"Woah." Quackity makes a noise, eyebrows furrowing. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Wilbur moves, trying to push Quackity away, trying to curl in on himself. But his arm trembles, and another one of those sharp pains go through his leg. He locks his jaw to keep himself from making a noise, blinking rapidly. If he could just get Quackity away... grab his gun... Wilbur could be out of here.

One hand lands clumsily on Quackity's revolver, to which Quackity laughs. "Come on, you're in no shape for shooting, Wilbur. And stop moving, you're makin' things worse."

He forces Wilbur's hand off the gun, eyeing the ones strapped to Wilbur for a beat too long.

Wilbur glares, but Quackity just sighs, drawing both revolvers and sitting them on a table nearby.

"I'm gonna go get some supplies from the back, right? Stay here, don't move. I'm surprised you've lasted as long as you have, out there. But then again, you.."

Quackity makes a face, giving Wilburs shoulder a pat before standing. He grabs Wilburs hat off the ground, sitting it on the table with his revolvers, and then he's off to gather bandages and other medicines.

Wilbur moves his jacket aside, looking at the bullet hole in his leg. How he's gonna get the damn thing out, he's not sure.

Wilbur looks around, spotting his guns laid up on the table.

Quackity had taken enough care to light several candles earlier, but the room is still rather dim with it being so late. It was filled with the noise of Quackity burrowing through what sounded like several boxes and Wilbur's heavy breathing.

Wilbur pushes back against the wall, which hurts. There are more than a few pieces of debris stuck in his back, next to a few cuts and plenty of bruises, and the pressure it puts on his bad leg makes him shudder.

Wilbur holds his breath, getting far enough to be able to put all his weight onto a window sill. His entire leg feels numb now, and his heart is pounding.

Quackity comes out of the backroom when he hears Wilbur stumble towards the table.

He stares, bandages, knife, and bottle of alcohol in hand.

Wilbur grabs one gun, raising it and almost falling backwards as he aims. He wills his hand not to shake. His entire body goes rigid.

His eyes are hot with fever, Quackity thinks, and suddenly he is back behind the glass, watching as Ranboo readies himself to jump. "Wilbur," he starts, swallowing thickly.

"I never told you my name." Wilbur would remember if he had told Quackity his name. The only way Quackity could possibly know his name is from the wanted posters, which means he has to know of the bounty. Of the reward money, the price. Wilbur hisses out a breath, pulling the hammer of his gun back, blinking when it clicks. "The bounty, right? That's what you want."

"I don't care about a bounty, Wilbur, just... sit down. You're going to hurt yourself." Quackity holds Wilburs stare. He relaxes his posture, dropping his shoulders and tilting his head.

There's this sickening wave of nostalgia that washes over him, one that makes his chest seize. Yes. Quackity is back atop the Space Needle and Wilbur has just slammed his hands down on the table, talking about how Quackity is just a second place medal to him, how Quackity is only a shadow to Wilbur. Of Wilbur. He swallows. The suddenness of the memory, the vividness... Quackity reminds himself to breathe.

Wilbur's teeth are bared. "You can't- can't lie to me. I know you're after the money." Everytime he speaks, Quackity is reminded once again of the Wilbur with red eyes and rimmed glasses, the one that said he was off to Utah.

"I don't know about any money, Wilbur. Please.. just sit down." Quackity squeezes the bandages. "I... you're going to hurt yourself."

"If I put down this gun, you're going to kill me. I... I can't.... I have to go." Wilbur starts to feel for his other gun, the shaking of his hand worsening. "I'll shoot you, you- you hear? I'll do it. Just- Just let me out."

Quackity stares. Wilbur had been just like this, hadn't he? He asked Wilbur several times to just come to the restaurant one night, Tubbo's, or the casino even, just to let Quackity fix him up because he was looking more than rough after revival.

As much as Quackity loathed it, that stopped after Wilbur blew up Ranboo. He just couldn't trust the man anymore, he was dumb to trust him at all. And yet.

"Im not trying to fucking test you, okay? I'm just trying to help you! God, Wilbur... put down the gun. You can have it back when I'm done, okay? But let me fix your leg first. And then you can leave. Or you can leave right now, I don't give a damn."