Dream SMP and Other MCYT Oneshots

Line Without A Hook- Jschlatt x Quackity

Thanks for the request Daisylavenderflower :)
Ricky Montgomery is king. Always will be. Yeah this is another song-related fic. I can't control myself. It'll still make sense if you haven't heard the song though (you should listen to it anyways it's such a bop).

"Oh, baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you...I need you here to stay...wait, fuck."

Schlatt slapped his forehead in frustration so hard he might've given himself a concussion. He and Quackity's one year anniversary was coming up and he wanted to do something. So, he was writing a song.

Their marriage was going downhill, anyone within a hundred mile radius could see it. Schlatt was controlling, so controlling that Quackity even mentioned, in the exact words, that he was suffocating. Schlatt wasn't an idiot, he knew about his own flaws. Admitting them, however, was a whole other story. Still, he wanted to do something special that could maybe remind Quackity that his love for him wasn't gone, without directly addressing the situation and having a serious conversation.

"I need you here to stay...stay? Fuck, what rhymes with stay? Gay? No. Well- no! No."

Schlatt mumbled to himself with annoyance as he tucked the scrap of paper underneath some important documents to work on later. He'd gotten a grand total of two lines down so far, and he'd been working on it for a week. What could he say, he just wasn't the romantic type. Unlike Quackity, always writing him beautiful ballads to remind him of his love. Or maybe to remind him that he was still there, with him, dealing with his bullshit even though he could have left a long time ago.

'No more pushing him around. He's your husband, not your slave,' Schlatt had told himself thousands of times. His empty promises were always forgotten, however, and he returned to bad habits of treating Quackity like a lesser human. 'Sign this, do that, but don't do that, you're allowed to go here but not there, you can talk to him, but dear god not him.' That was how their relationship was. Quackity was sick of it but too weak to leave, and Jschlatt was guilty but too strong to back down.

This time, Jschlatt crossed the line and payed the price by losing the one person he loved more than himself.

He wasn't sure why he pushed the idea of tearing down the Whitehouse so much. A showcase of power, perhaps? The reluctance to take Quackity's concerns and feelings seriously was another problem. Schlatt knew how he felt about the Whitehouse. Honestly, he didn't care.

He certainly cared when he felt a weak fist punching him in the jaw. Physically, it didn't hurt at all. It was laughable, even. But seeing Quackity's broken expression, his eyes swimming with so many emotions like betrayal, fury, helplessness, misery, that snapped Schlatt's heart in two. Angry tears stained Quackity's face as he retracted his hand, shocked at his own actions, and made his escape before Schlatt could react. He'd never seen his lover run from him so quickly, with so much fear.

By the time Schlatt's mind caught up with him, Quackity was long gone. Anger pulsed through his veins as he returned his attention to the Whitehouse; it was already deteriorating from neglect. Similarly to his marriage.

He left the building alone and went searching for Quackity. He didn't like what he found.

Schlatt was careful to make as little noise as possible, dodging tree branches and twigs. He navigated his way to a clearing between the trees, the sound of quiet sobbing guiding his way. He found Quackity sitting at the edge of a lake that Jschlatt didn't even know existed. It wasn't a forgotten area. There was a small pile of stones, a firepit, and even a guitar leaning against a nearby tree. 'Is this where he goes when he disappears on me?' Schlatt questioned to himself.

He watched silently as Quackity skipped stones across the lake with great practice, calming his nerves to quieter sniffling. He tore off his beanie to run his hands through his unruly hair in frustration. It wasn't often that Schlatt got to see Quackity with his guard down like this, unafraid to show his emotion in the reflection of the water that he probably visited more often than his husband.

He'd seen enough. Schlatt felt his face heat up with guilt. Guilt for all the times he'd made Quackity feel so unsafe and unloved that he created his own retreat, a place where he could avoid his problems, skipping stones and writing sad songs.

***

It wasn't easy for Schlatt to focus on his work when he returned to his office, knowing that Quackity was in the middle of nowhere. 'Nowhere' for Schlatt, but a sanctuary for Quackity. He attempted to get through the growing stack of papers on his desk, but the small scrap of song lyrics caught his eye. Picking it up, Schlatt read the words yet again, mulling over everything that had happened in the span of a few miserable hours. It was, in a dark and depressing way, inspiring. Taking a pen in his hand shakily, he scribbled some new lyrics beneath.

"I broke all my bones that day I found you crying at the lake."