Tubbo followed along with Quackity and Charlie down the main street of Las Nevadas toward a restaurant that still had black scorch marks around the doors and windows.
"How has the refurbishment of the Tubburger been progressing?" Quackity asked as they walked.
"The kitchen is almost done, we're still waiting on the new stoves to be delivered." Tubbo said, ticking off the items on his fingers as he mentally mapped out the floor plan. "I took the opportunity to expand the walk-in fridge and freezer and the pantry so we can offer a wider variety of meats and toppings. I've almost got the dining area finished and..." Tubbo froze, staring at the man standing on the sidewalk just before the buildings, his trenchcoat flapping lightly around his legs in the desert wind.
A jolt of terror ran through him. What the f-ck was Wilbur doing so close to his restaurant? Hadn't he already done enough when he and Ranboo torched it? Even scarier, Wilbur had that look of arrogant confidence Tubbo hadn't seen in a long time. He almost appeared happy as he looked down at the two men approaching him.
Nothing unsettled Tubbo more than when Wilbur smiled, especially the seemingly carefree smile he wore now.
"And what?" Quackity said as he made notes on his phone. He stopped a few feet in front of Tubbo and looked up.
This was bad. This was really bad. Tubbo could almost feel the crackle in the air as their eyes met. Every day with Wilbur around where nothing blew up felt like borrowed time.
"Hey Quackity," Wilbur said nonchalantly, as if they were the oldest of friends and he hadn't recently committed arson against the restaurant he stood literally less than twenty feet from, then he creased his brow, squinting as though examining the man. "Is that my shirt?"
Tubbo's brow furrowed. Had he heard right? He couldn't have. He looked over to Quackity and saw his face was bright red, his hand at his chin, fingers covering his lips, even his hair seemed to be standing up a bit more.
"Well, I'll be off, then. Nice to see you," Wilbur said, and walked off toward the burger truck with a slight wave and a flourish from his coat.
"What was that all about?" Tubbo asked.
Quackity's knuckles were white against his lips. "Hey Tubbo, how's your son? What was his name, again? Michael?"
An electric jolt of terror ran up his spine. His blood froze within him. He could easily see it in his mind, his house full of TNT, Michael held in Quackity's arms - Michael who was so sweet and trusting... and so small and weak. Michael, who was the heart of their little family. "He's fine." Tubbo answered, clenched fists shaking. Quackity knew what he meant when he asked that.
"Good. Let's make sure to keep it that way." With that Quackity turned and walked off in the opposite direction Wilbur just took.
"What the f-ck was that?!" Tubbo cried in exasperation when Quackity had disappeared from sight.
Charlie shrugged. "I don't know. Two days ago Wilbur who was dead and isn't anymore was standing at the tower and accused Quackity from Las Nevadas of being in his mine. I told him he was wrong, Quackity from Las Nevadas was with me the whole day and was not tired at all."
"Wait... what? What exactly did Wilbur say?"
"He said: You must be tired because you've been running through my mine all day."
"Oh, mind! You've been running through my mind all day."
"It sounded like mine, to me."
"No, the line is mind." Tubbo started. "Wait, he really said that?"
"Yeah, but, like I said Quackity from Las Nevadas had been with me all day."
"No, it's a pick up line. I mean, unless he meant to say mine. F-ck, I hope that's not a threat that he's been under the city with dynamite. We should have security do some checks or something." His mind kept flashing to Michael, Michael in danger, little Michael all alone and exposed in the house. "Something sus is going on here." Quackity and Michael and TNT. His hands were shaking. "Hey, look, could you cover for me? I have something I need to go do."
He was antsy the whole way up the mountain as his boots crunched through the deep snow. A cloud of breath floated around his head. It made it hard to see, but he couldn't stop how fast he was breathing, not until he was home in their house in Snowchester.
He yanked open the door, causing snow to fall from the roof onto his head. He shook it off, a small dusting still sticking to his horns. There, standing in the warm glow was the little zombie piglin they'd adopted as their son. "Michael! Oh thank god!" he sighed, kneeling down and scooping up the toddler in his arms. Michael snuggled up to him.
"He's been watching from the window for you," a voice said from the kitchen sink. It was stiff, but still held a kindness to it and a warm accent that felt like home.
"Ranboo!" He was too relieved to see his husband to be annoyed with the half black, half white, half Enderman. He grabbed Ranboo, dishcloth and all, and hugged him with Michael squished between them. He pulled back, looking Ranboo in his green and red eyes. "So this is where you ran off to. I was worried."
"You didn't come to check," Ranboo said. He sounded a little hurt.
"I thought you might need some space."
"Then why are you here, now?"
"Somebody said... something... and I just really needed to see Michael."
Ranboo frowned. "I know you have your secrets and I have mine. But is this one of them?"
Tubbo glanced away from his husband. "Yes."
"But it's about our son!"
"...I know. I want to tell you, I really do. But... I'm afraid it might change things."
"Quackity?" Ranboo rarely pushed, he must really look upset.
"No. Well... yes and no."
"You can just leave."
"No!" he caught himself. "No. Don't get me wrong, I love working at the Tubburger, I love living in Las Nevadas and waking up and seeing the city in my window. But... You know, this wasn't the plan and Quackity... He's been harder to deal with lately."
"Why did you give him the outpost?"
"I didn't want to, I had to. And it's not like it's 100% his or anything."
"Why did you have to?"
Tubbo looked down into the face of the little piglin clinging to him, "It was better for Michael this way. Look, I don't want to talk about the outpost anymore. It's done. I know it's not what you wanted, it's not what I wanted either, but I really do think it was for the best. And Quackity, you know, I've known him for a long time. He's not so bad. It's just whenever Wilbur's around - he was in town today. Look, I know you think Wilbur's got some goodness in him."
"He does," Ranboo said.
Tubbo stroked Ranboo's arm. "I'm not saying you're wrong. I mean, I've known Wilbur since the beginning, since Philza found me. Him and Tommy are like brothers to me. I know there's good in him. But you know, when he came back to life and saw L'Manberg... He was practically giddy with excitement when he thought he was the one who turned it into a crater. He was actually disappointed when he found out it wasn't from him. You were there, you remember."
Ranboo nodded his head.
"Look, Ranboo, I know you want to believe the best in people, and I love that about you. And I'd never tell you to stay away from Wilbur, hell, the only reason I feel safe working at the Tubburger is because I trust you to keep him in line. But, you know, Wilbur is good, he can easily manipulate the truth so you think you're doing a good thing or acting on your own accord, when you're really not."
"And you're afraid he'll trick me?"
"Ranboo, you helped him burn down the restaurant. He makes people do things, and you don't realize how far down you've gone until it's too late."
"Are you saying you don't trust me?"
"No." Tubbo tilted his head, looking at his husband as he bounced Michael. "No, I think you're just about the only one I do trust. I just want you to be careful. Wilbur's acting really weird. He seemed like he'd been waiting for us to come by and all he did was ask Quackity if he was wearing his shirt. I don't even know what that means! Does he mean Big Q's acting like him, or is a fan of his or what? And he said something weird a few days ago when Charlie was around, too. Like, it sounded like a pick-up line but maybe Wilbur changed one of the words and it was a threat and I just don't know what any of this f-ing means! I think he's worse off than he was when he died. It just feels like he's teetering on the edge of insanity. Wilbur f-ing scares me, Ranboo. A lot more than Quackity ever did."
"But if there's even a chance we could help him, shouldn't we try?"
"At what sacrifice, though? Our happiness? Our family? Our souls? I'm not going to stop you from trying, but I've sacrificed enough for Wilbur." He squeezed Michael tighter, his hand sliding down Ranboo's arm to take Ranboo's ghost white hand. "I have people I need to protect from men like Wilbur, now."
Ranboo shut his eyes. It was clear he was thinking. He finally spoke, "I'm going back."
"You should. You're rarely wrong about people. I know that." Tubbo ran his fingers through his hair, letting his bangs fall over his horns. "Just... just watch over him, ok? He's my brother."
Ranboo leaned down and gave Tubbo a kiss on his forehead. "Ok." Ranboo stepped over to the stove and began taking out pots and pans.
"Aren't you going?" Tubbo asked.
"I don't have to leave tonight. Let's have dinner together, like before."
Tubbo's shoulders relaxed. He let Michael down, holding his tiny hoofed hand. He smiled as he let out all the tension of the day in a sigh. He was where he belonged. "Sure. What are we making?"
"Spaghetti."
"I'll get the colander. Come on, Michael."
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Quackity watched from the trees to make sure no one was coming. He didn't need to have worried, from the way Wilbur was sitting, leaning heavily over the counter and vaguely doodling on an order pad, he probably hadn't seen a customer all day. He could still go back and Wilbur would never know he was here at all. Watching him.
What a f-ing kick he'd get out of that! Sh-t! Wilbur was playing him like his goddamned guitar and here he was humming along!
It had to stop. He took a deep breath and strode out of the forest to the burger stand.
"Quackity!" Wilbur said.
Wilbur's smile made Quackity's stomach flip. He should turn around. But wouldn't that be all the worse?
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Come, have a seat. I'll make you a Wilburger. On the house."
"I don't want a Wilburger." Quackity said as firmly as he could muster. "Wilbur, you can't keep coming into town like that."
"Like what?"
"Like today and yesterday and the entire last week. You can't keep coming around and hitting on me. People are asking questions. You're lucky Charlie's a f-ckwit and Tubbo's too f-ing scared of you to be able to think clearly."
"Well, you're the one who wore my shirt out."
"This is not- it's not..." Quackity stammered. He looked down at the shirt. F-ck! It was, wasn't it? "This is my shirt!"
"I think not." Wilbur raised an eyebrow and gave Quackity an appraising look. "But it looks good on you."
Oh sh-t. His mind was swimming. "You see this! This is what I'm f-ing talking about!" Quackity almost shouted.
"I can't help it. I'm happy, Quackity. I'm actually happy." There was laughter in the lilt of his voice. "I can't remember the last time I was happy."
Now that he said it, Quackity really couldn't either. How long had it been since he'd seen Wilbur smiling like this? Before Schlatt, probably.
"I can't be what you want, Wilbur."
"And what do you think I want?"
"I don't f-ing know! But I can't f-ing be it."
"You can't be yourself?"
"No! I mean- Sh-t! Stop coming around Las Nevadas!"
"Do you really want me to, or do you just want the questions to stop?"
The questions to stop, he thought. F-ck! Wilbur was messing with his mind again! "This was a mistake." Quackity turned quickly to walk away.
"No! No, wait! Quackity!" Wilbur grabbed Quackity's arm.
Quackity's gaze traveled from Wilbur's hand to his eyes. Large. Brown. Desperately pleading. Sh-t. F-ck! Whatever Quackity's eyes were telling him caused Wilbur to loosen his grip.
Wilbur gave a shaky smile. "You know, I don't think anyone would notice if I closed down the stand for the day. They probably wouldn't even care if I didn't open at all tomorrow. Ranboo's not here. I don't know where he is, but he's not here. He hasn't been here for a few days. Why don't you... Why don't you stay for a while?"
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Hours later, Quackity lay on a mattress on the floor of the back room, staring at the ceiling. Wilbur slept peacefully beside him, a few of his fingers entwined with Quackity's hand that lay by his side.
This was so f-ed up. It was so f-ed up. He glanced over at Wilbur. He looked so content. How could he look like that after... after everything.
This wasn't a one time thing anymore. It wasn't something he could blame on a moment of weakness. This was the third time they'd ended up together and, if he was honest with himself, it probably wouldn't be the last time.
And Wilbur was so goddamned happy, so goddamned f-ing elated to have him there. Giddy. Actually f-ing giddy! He hadn't expected to see that as a side of Wilbur. But it was charming in a sweet way. Wilbur had charmed him. It hadn't been the desperate rush like the last times, the all-consuming need that swallowed them both; it felt more intentional, like something he'd chosen, something he wanted. Someone he wanted who wanted him, too.
He had wanted Wilbur, hadn't he? Wilbur hadn't been the only one laughing and smiling awkwardly at points. His giddiness had been infectious. And it was nice. It was nice to be with him, to see him smiling and laughing like he'd never seen before after a kiss.
And that's what made it all the more f-ed up! This was Wilbur f-ing Soot! The man who'd blown up L'Manberg with all of them in it rather than fight Schlatt with them. It didn't have to have ended that way! It was so easy to forget in a kiss, but, with Wilbur sleeping soundly next to him, it was all he could remember. The ambition, the betrayal, the lies! Wilbur couldn't be trusted, and here he was trusting Wilbur with his body. His whole reputation, really. Not that he couldn't just deny it, but people would always wonder.
Trusting Wilbur was the stupidest f-ing thing he'd ever done!
He looked over at the man sleeping beside him, his eyelids moving slightly, dreaming.
And the stupidest f-ing thing he was probably going to do again.
F-ing hell! Sh-t f-ing goddamned hell! Sh-t sh-t sh-t sh-t sh-t! He really did feel something for Wilbur, didn't he? A litany of curses ran through his brain as he gazed at Wilbur.
How the f-ck was he going to work this?
How was he going to work this?! He'd actually f-ing thought that?! He wasn't going to be working anything! He was going to leave in the morning and pretend none of this had happened.
Wilbur tossed slightly. "I've named him Friend," he murmured.
Quackity's eyes shot wide open. "Wilbur? What did you say?"
Wilbur began to toss back and forth violently. "One... two... three... four..."
"Wilbur what are you counting for?" A streak of fear traveled through Quackity.
"Five... six... seven... eight... nine..."
"Wilbur! Wilbur, wake up!" Quackity took Wilbur by the shoulders and shook him.
"TOMMY, PLEASE! TOMMY, I DONT WANT TO DIE! Tommy, you said it would be ok! You-" Wilbur's eyes flew open. For an instant he looked terrified, then his gaze softened. He smiled and carelessly brushed Quackity's bangs to the side. "Hey, Quackity. Was I dreaming?"
Quackity was trying not to shake as he held Wilbur's shoulders. "You don't know?"
Wilbur shook his head. "I don't remember my dreams. Tommy tells me I can be very loud, though. I think it annoyed him. He stopped sleeping in Fort Big not long after it started."
Sh-t. Holy f-ing sh-t. Quackity grabbed Wilbur and rolled onto their sides, embracing him tightly. If that was what he thought it was, no wonder Tommy started sleeping elsewhere.
"Woah! Quackity! What is it?"
"It's nothing," Quackity murmured into his neck.
"It doesn't feel like nothing."
"Go f-ck yourself."
"Ok then," Wilbur laughed, tightening his arms around him.
He was going to work this sh-t situation somehow.