Wilbur Soot walked up and down the invisible boundary line that separated his land from Las Nevadas, his hands resting in his pockets and his tall, lanky body slouching in a way that said he was in no hurry. He kicked a stone along the boundary line as he took his long, leisurely paces. A gust of warm wind grabbed the red knit cap from his head, revealing a wavy mess of brown hair, the white streak of his forelock clearly visible, even in the grainy black and white feed from the video camera.
Quackity watched the screen in increasing agitation. Wilbur scooped his hat from the air, plopped it back on his head, turned to the camera and waved. His untroubled smile only fueled Quackity's rage.
"How does he know I'm watching?" Quackity shouted. "He's f-ing taunting me!"
"Maybe he doesn't?" Charlie Slimecicle, a diminutive man wearing the same black slacks, dress shirt, and suspenders as Quackity but with a green tie that matched the green slime that oozed from parts of his completely normal human body, who's youthful looks belied his age, gave an attempt at a reassuring smile, but his eyes, magnified by his round glasses, betrayed his nervousness. When the boss was this mad, it was never good for him. And he'd been mad a lot lately.
Not that there was anything to be mad about. His town of Las Nevadas was booming, the casinos and clubs were bringing in money hand over fist, and it seemed like everything Quackity from Las Nevadas touched was turning to gold. As far as Charlie could tell, this had always been the plan. So why was his boss always in such a bad mood whenever he saw or even heard of Wilbur, who was dead and isn't anymore?
Wilbur just owned a burger stand outside of the city limits that was nowhere near as successful as the least successful restaurant in Las Nevadas. He wanted to ask, but the last time he had, his boss had mentioned bringing that up could get a totally normal human, like Charlie, killed. So he kept his mouth shut.
Quackity took off his dark cap and ran his fingers through his black hair. Replacing it and straightening his red necktie, he let out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, you're right. He's just waving at the camera hoping I'm watching to see it. Wilbur's got such a big f-ing ego. Like I don't have better things to do with my goddamned time than watch him." He turned to the windows that overlooked the bright glowing neon lights of the city and the mountains beyond, craggy black peaks in the orange glow of the setting sun, darker for the tinted windows. He spread his arms wide in front of the vast expanse. "I have a whole f-ing empire to run!"
Charlie clamped his mouth shut in the interest of self preservation.
Quackity's four gold rings glinted from his left hand as he slid on a pair of sunglasses, covering the bluish-white of his ruined left eye but unable to obscure the hideous scar that ran up the left side of his face, from his lip to his brow, marring his features. He smiled, the scar mangling the left side of the smile.
Good. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. The boss is in a better mood now, he thought. "What would you like me to do first?" he asked, eagerly.
Quackity looked at the camera again where Wilbur seemed to be quite happy in kicking up dust. "Why don't you go down there and invite Wilbur Soot up for a little chat?"
Charlie's shoulders drooped. This was the opposite of what he'd been hoping for. "Of course," he said.
"And use the back entrance, I don't want anyone seeing him coming in and getting scared off. I've got a business to run." Quackity looked at the grinning face in the camera again. "Now!"
"Yes, sir!" Charlie said.
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Wilbur shielded his eyes and looked toward the sun setting behind the mountains. That was probably enough taunting Quackity today. The desert got cold once the sun went down and even his long trenchcoat couldn't keep out the chill. He smirked to himself. If he knew Quackity as well as he thought he did, he was definitely watching and stewing, driving himself crazy over it.
He popped up the collar of his coat against the rising wind and waved at the camera. "Goodnight, old friend. Same time tomorrow?" He doubted the border cameras were wired for sound but that didn't matter. None of it really mattered. Not the burger stand or Las Nevadas or any of it. In the end it was all one big game, one he'd gotten the chance to play again. Though why Dream had brought him back, he still often wondered about. There had to be more reason than just living in his dad's attic or running a hamburger stand.
Quackity had found a reason. He'd hoped Quackity would give him one too. And he had. His reason was being a thorn in Quackity's side, and that was enough for now, until he figured out his next step. Until he figured out the kind of man he was going to be. He felt like Dream knew. He had to have a plan or else why bring him back at all? He just needed to talk to him, then he'd know. He wouldn't feel so directionless.
But Dream was in prison. Wilbur couldn't just waltz in and visit him like he'd thought. Sam wouldn't let him in. Ranboo had, but Ranboo also didn't remember how he'd done it. And that was the most frustrating thing of all! But it wasn't Ranboo's fault, he couldn't help that he had memory lapses, Wilbur reminded himself as his breathing slowed and his fists unclenched.
Time to go home. He turned toward the Paradise Burger Stand where he worked and lived. He didn't know if all this walking, alone with only his thoughts, was good for his mental health or deleterious. He'd been alone on that train platform for thirteen years with just his thoughts for company. As much as he hated to admit it, he was more comfortable with them than with people these days. Every conversation he had felt like he was being fake. Or maybe that's how it had always been. It seemed to all run together in his memory now. Like ink on parchment left out in the rain.
He'd built a city with his mind, started a revolution, and then burned it all to the ground. And then thirteen years. Who even was Wilbur Soot, anymore? Who had he ever been?
He heard a strange rumbling sound in the earth just across the border between his land and Las Nevadas. He turned just in time to see the earth crumble away revealing the bespectacled, beslimed face of Quackity's assistant/spy, Charlie.
"Greetings Wilbur Soot who was dead and isn't anymore. I bring a message from Quackity from Las Nevadas." Charlie's face kept contorting as he spoke.
"What are you- Are you flinching?" Wilbur asked, confused. "I'm not going to hit you. I just washed this coat, I don't want to get slime all over it."
"Slime? From where? I'm just a normal human made of meat and bones and blood, just like you. With a completely normal skin sack holding everything floating around in there, just like yours."
Skin sack. That was a disturbing way of putting it. Not wrong, but so f-ing weird! Couldn't Quackity have normal friends? Not that he was one to talk. He sighed. "Never mind. What does Quackity want?"
"He asked me to extend an invitation to meet with him in his office."
Jackpot! He must have pissed him off good. Wilbur couldn't hide his grin. It was bigger than it should have been. Finally, he'd get to see his dearest friend again. "Sure. I accept."
The totally normal human not-a-slime's face portrayed his relief. "Good. Let's go." He grabbed Wilbur's hand and began walking toward the city.
Wilbur slipped out of his slimy grip. "What? Now?" he asked in astonishment as he wiped his hand on his pants.
Charlie tilted his head. "Of course. Why not now?"
"Well, it's getting late and I've got to help close the burger stand and-" The image of Quackity's face when he said Wilbur couldn't join Las Nevadas popped into his head - so afraid Wilbur's unpredictability would mess up his city - he'd looked so... cool... confident... it was f-ing hot (not that he'd actually admit that to Tommy, it had been just a fleeting thought)... - not like the Quackity he'd known. And he wanted to see that look on his face again. "Forget it. Ranboo can handle it, himself. Let's go."
"Good!" Charlie grabbed Wilbur's hand again. Wilbur involuntarily shuddered at the feeling of warm slime around his fingers but ignored his revulsion. Quackity was pissed. This was going to be fun.
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Quackity sat behind the large black desk in his office, leaning back in his cushy desk chair. He wasn't going to do this in public like before, not after the things Wilbur had said. Tommy wasn't here to try and impress, this was just him and Wilbur, like the old days. Back when he used to admire Wilbur. Before Wilbur blew up L'Manberg and so many other things with it. Before he died on his father's sword, spared from having to live with the consequences of his actions, unlike everybody else. And now he thought he could just f-ing waltz in and it would be like old times.
But that moment when he saw him standing on the stepped plazas of Las Nevadas...
But he saw it in Wilbur's eyes, heard it in his words, that ambition for power, the slight, unhinged note when he spoke and all his memories of those last months of L'Manberg came flooding back. He hadn't changed; even if he insisted he was turning over a new leaf, that didn't mean what was under that leaf was good.
Tommy wasn't here. It was time to f-ing end this sh-t.
His intercom buzzed on. "Wilbur Soot is here to see you," Charlie's voice said.
"Hey Quackity!" Wilbur's voice interrupted. "I've missed you!"
Quackity's hackles rose in irritation. He pressed the little red button. "Send him in."
"Thanks slimeboy," Wilbur said as he entered the room.
"Not a slime. Normal human," Charlie's voice replied as the door shut.
Wilbur turned toward the desk, a crooked half smile rose on his lips. "Hey Big Q."
F-ck!
In an instant, he saw the old Wilbur smiling at him in the warm glow of the evening sun. Then he saw the lines on his face, the white streak in his tousled hair and that vision of the past was gone. Buried in a grave in the ruins of L'Manberg.
He stood and slid on his sunglasses. "Don't call me Big Q."
"Why not?"
"That's for my friends to call me."
"Am I not your friend anymore?" Wilbur gave a small pout.
"Were you ever?"
"You said so in your book."
"That was a long time ago. Back when I was younger and stupider. I've grown a lot since then."
Wilbur's eyes traveled up Quackity's body. "Yes, I see that."
Quackity scowled. He hated that he liked hearing Wilbur acknowledge it, especially in that way. He collected himself. "Look Wilbur, I didn't want to say this in front of Tommy, I wanted him to make his own choice."
"Wait wait, before you say anything more, could you take off the sunglasses?"
Quackity's irritation rose. "Why?"
"Because if you're going to - if you're going to say what I think you're going to say, I want you to look me in the eyes when you do."
"Fine." Quackity took off his sunglasses, folded them up, and placed them on the desk. He looked Wilbur squarely in his large brown eyes
"So this is- so this is really happening?" Wilbur's eyes had the hurt, bewildered look of an abandoned dog.
Quackity turned his gaze toward the window where a light snow had begun to fall. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Don't act so surprised, you had to know this was coming."
"Why?"
Why?! Never mind, this was going to be the easiest f-ing thing he'd ever done. "Why?! How the f-ck can you even stand there and ask that? You built a f-ing giant penis in the lake just because I wouldn't let you join Las Nevadas when you just f-ing showed up out of the blue. Like you can just waltz in and I'll f-ing give you a job and make you my partner."
"You wish I was your partner," Wilbur mumbled.
"What was that?" Quackity was almost shouting now.
"I said, you were the one who invited me."
"That wasn't a f-ing invitation. I thought you were gone forever."
"And I wasn't."
"From every f-ing thing I've seen you do and say, maybe it would have been better if you'd stayed dead."
Wilbur was taken aback.
Good. He'd finally struck a real nerve.
"Quackity, you can't mean that," Wilbur said.
"I f-ing can." Quackity rubbed his eyes with his fingers in frustration. He could feel the jagged lump of scar tissue from Technoblade's pickaxe. He met Wilbur's gaze again, all trace of injury was gone from those brown eyes now, replaced with he wasn't sure what. "Look, I tried to give you a chance, I really f-ing did. Why do you have to be such a f-ing a-hole, Wilbur?! You put a f-ing burger stand up just to compete with my city! You'll never beat me."
"I don't want to beat you! I just want to remind you!"
"Of what?"
"Of everything I built. And I can build it all again."
Ambition, challenge, that what he was seeing. The old revolutionary Wilbur. But there was that flash of instability, of fear of losing, too. If there was one thing Wilbur Soot could never stand, it was to lose.
"Then why don't you? All the time you've wasted on that f-ing burger stand you could have built half of a city by now. But no, you can't do that because then you wouldn't be messing with me. Always trying to talk with me, always hanging around the border making sure I notice you. Guess what? This whole city is wired with cameras! I f-ing see you, Wilbur!" Quackity pointed to his wall of camera screens. "Every single f-ing day I see you! Taunting me like it's your f-ing job!" Quackity slammed his palms on the table and stood. "You're f-ing obsessed with me, Wilbur!"
Wilbur did the same. Their faces were only inches apart, Quackity's eyes flashed with anger; yet Wilbur's eyes and voice were calm. "Don't flatter yourself. You aren't even worth my time. Why would I do all this just for you?"
"Because you're a petty a-hole and you can't let me even have this one f-ing thing if there was even the risk that I might be f-ing happy!" Quackity shouted, Wilbur's calm tones only raising his ire.
Something seemed to snap in Wilbur, an inferno flared behind his eyes. "After everything you've done, you don't deserve to be happy!"
Quackity drew back a few inches in disbelief. "After everything I've done?! You- If anyone deserves to be unhappy it's you!"
"I'm not the one lying to everyone pretending I am. You've built this whole city filled with people so you could pick and choose who you let in and you're still alone and miserable."
"F-ck you! At least everyone's not afraid I might snap at any given moment. Even your father flinches at you. Your own brother was terrified when he heard you might have been brought back."
Wilbur glanced away. "He's not my brother, anymore. He's just an old friend."
Quackity let out a huff. "Well, I guess we're both alone, then." He looked at the screens bustling with smiling people. "F-ing pathetic." The barely audible words escaped his lips.
"What did you say?" Wilbur's eyes were back on him.
"I said you're f-ing pathetic!" Quackity shouted.
"So the f-ck are you."
It happened so fast both men barely knew how it did. Their eyes met and suddenly Quackity's tie was being gripped in Wilbur's hand as his fingers combed through the brown waves of Wilbur's hair. Their lips met again and again with the urgency of two people who'd been starving for this moment for an endlessly long time. Whispers of fingers tugging at buttons. "No. Leave the shirt on," Quackity managed to say between kisses. The hands traveled up, around his shoulders, pulling him in closer until he lost himself.
The bedside clock displayed 7am. Quackity sat on the edge of the bed, still in his shirt and underwear. His hair and shirt were both badly disheveled. Wilbur sat next to him in a similar state of undress and bewilderment. They stared at their clothes strewn about the room. And beyond that, Las Nevadas and the mountains gleaming in the dawning light.
"Last night never happened," Quackity finally said.
"No," Wilbur agreed, shaking his head.
Their eyes met and they suddenly grabbed each other, kissing with complete abandon.
The bedside clock showed 12pm. Quackity sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt wide open, revealing the bindings beneath. Wilbur sat next to him. Neither looked at the other one but Wilbur's fingers rested on Quackity's hand, not quite holding it, but keeping it. Quackity made no move to shake them off. Wilbur's hand was large, heavy, the fingers rough from building, he liked the feel of it on his own.
"This morning never happened," Quackity said, stretching his hand out so Wilbur's fingers could fall into the gaps between his.
"No," Wilbur agreed, his voice soft.
Quackity knew if he looked over at Wilbur he'd probably lose the rest of the day. He wasn't sure he minded that idea. But he minded that maybe he didn't mind. Suddenly, from the pocket of his trousers which hung half on the nightstand, his phone began to ring and vibrate. He slid his hand out from under Wilbur's and looked at the screen. It displayed Tubbo's name. He let out a deep breath. "I have to go," he said.
"Yeah," Wilbur pulled a shirt off the bedside lampshade. "Me too."
They tried not to see each other as they quickly grabbed their things. Quackity sat on the bed, working at the knot in his tie, his phone lay on the bed next to him vibrating with texts, first from Tubbo, then from Charlie, then from Sam.
Suddenly, Wilbur stood in front of him, fully dressed. He smiled and leaned over. "You're right about me, Quackity. All of it. Except one thing." Wilbur bent down, his hands resting on Quackity's knees. "It's not that I can't stand to see you happy. I just can't stand to see you happy... without me." He leaned in and kissed him.
Quackity stared at the empty door frame as Wilbur's footsteps disappeared down the hall. He fell back onto the tangled mess of silky sheets, pillows, and a comforter. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Wilbur's scent still clung to everything. He nuzzled into them. He could still feel Wilbur's embrace. His thin arms were surprisingly strong.
His eyes flew open. What the f-ck was he doing? He dialed Charlie. "Hey Charlie, have a maid come to service my room. I um, I spilled a cup of coffee in bed. No, don't worry, I'll have them bagged up for her when she gets here, I just need new ones. No, don't bother trying to save them, just incinerate them. It's not like we can't afford new sheets."