Multi-Fandom Oneshots

Casino Royale

Ship:  Quackbur

Quackity was perched ontop of one of the large casinos he owned, the bright lights of Las Nevadas shining on his pale frame and highlighting the bags under his ever-knowing eyes. He had been sat there for longer than he had anticipated, the cold air had just felt so gentle agasint his bare arms that he figured the breeze from this height would do him some good. As n hour had ticked its way by, he learnt to block out the cries from below, hearing their disgust as they were splatted with small droplets of crimson from above, Alex smiled. He liked hearing his 'friends' think aloud about how disgusting and vile he was, how they hated him and how it should've been his grave mounted on the hill, not Schlatt's. 

'At least I'll get to see him again, he put some sense into me.' he concluded. The footsteps came closer behind him as cigarette smoke clouded his vision. The tall brunette sat down next to him, slinging an arm around him and talking in a hushed tone, as though any louder would shatter the duck to pieces. 

Alex hated that feeling. The feeling that people saw you as a fragile good-for-nothing. As though he was eye-candy and that he was meant to be seen, not heard, and should always wear a smile on his face. That smile had been wiped for a long while. It felt like his face sagged from how long he kept that grin on it. That sickeningly sweet grin. The type that makes you want to cave their face in. He hated it with every atom his body contained. 

Wilbur sighed. He knew no words were getting through the thoughts that clouded the Mexican's mind, so he sat and waited. Occasionally, he would run his hand up and down his shoulder, or feel his heart beat to calm his own nerves. He puffed in his cancer stick as he watched people disperse slowly, they didn't care. It was blatantly obvious they didn't, yet he knew that his business partner knew no better. He saw himself as Alex's eyes, just a tool there to help him know that he was still there, that he still mattered. 

Slowly, Quackity lent into Wilbur's chest and started emitting soft snores; he looked a lot more peaceful now, as though all his troubles had been picked up and discarded of. Eerily enough, he looked like he did back on SMPlive, when he was so happy and carefree, before Schlatt corrupted and manipulated his brain with those toxic strings the duck was addicted to.

Nonetheless, the brit knew he couldn't do much to help him, so he picked him up and walked him back to his office. He slumped Quackity over in his chair and laid his head on the desk, crouching down so he could play with the soft, midnight hair. 

And for a while since his revival,
he smiled.