Wilbur didn't want to move when he first woke up. He felt comfortable and he was warm, so sue him.
He nuzzled his face further in a pillow he was currently holding onto, breathing in a familiar scent that made his magpie half chirp happily. It took a minute or so for him to realize through the haze of warm feelings and fuzzy instincts that he was in Ace's bed again.
Slowly peeling an eye open, he recognized the blankets and the varying scents. Mentally acknowledging that yes, he was in the villain's bedroom again.
And then he realized that there was a wing draped over him that wasn't his own, an arm wrapped around him as well. He recognized the starburst scar on the slightly tanned skin, he even recognized a few small puncture scars that were made by his own talons.
Turning his head slightly, he glanced over to see his nemesis currently clinging to his back, and could feel the shorter's legs tangled with his own.
For a brief moment, Wilbur felt a flash of panic as he wondered what the fuck had happened. Last he remembered he had been back at the tower-
And then it came back to him.
The other night...his argument with Techno. The anger and the distress. The tangled emotions that he had been trying to unravel.
How he had run to Ace (Quackity-his name was Quackity) for comfort.
He blushed as he remembered that they had kissed.
The hero (former hero) carefully reached two fingers up to lightly touch his lips in the memory, frozen as it all came rushing back.
What the fuck had he agreed to?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was a fucking traitor. He had abandoned his family.
What was wrong with-
Wilbur froze, feeling the shorter avian shift behind him, the arm that had been wrapped around him stretching in unison with the shrike avian's wing. Despite knowing that it'd be useless, the taller rested his head back on the pillows, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep.
He just wanted to avoid the conversation for a little bit longer (his magpie just wanted to snuggle back into the nest-wait. Wait, shit, Quackity had kept the fucking nest he made in tact).
The villain hummed a lazy little noise before yawning, actively pulling Wilbur closer to him with his arm and wing. The taller may have squeaked a bit, causing the other to chuckle.
"Morning, songbird," Quackity said, words slow with morning dreariness. "Er... whatever time it is. Doesn't matter."
When the magpie avian answered him with silence, actively trying to slow his breathing to make it seem like he was sleeping, his nemesis hummed a little.
"I can tell you're awake, Wil," he said. "Your heart's racing and there's not much you can do about that. Also you gave yourself away with that squeak there."
"S-shut up," the taller grumbled, voice and accent heavy with morning dreariness.
Quackity was quiet before nuzzling the former hero's back, "Your voice is hot."
Wilbur tried to stutter out a response but really couldn't figure out how to respond to that. The shorter just chuckled a bit at his reaction before sighing softly in contentment.
"This still okay, songbird? Or do you want me to let go?" He asked.
The magpie avian took a minute to self reflect before reaching up to lightly place his hand on top of the other's, "It's... this is okay."
(His magpie rumbled in approval for the decision.)
"Are you having doubts yet?" The villain questioned in a knowing manner. When the shorter was answered with the other's silence, he hummed, "I told you so."
"You're insufferable sometimes," Wilbur grumbled.
"Mhm," Quackity snickered. "Whatever you say, songbird."
Slowly the villain sat up, pulling his arm and wing away as he stretched. The taller avian turned his head to watch the other, Quackity spreading his wings open and turning a bit so he could untangle a few feathers.
As his nemesis did this, Wilbur finally saw the scar.
The shorter's mask was sitting on the nightstand, the former hero could see the jagged scar his twin had left on the shrike avian.
It was a messy wound, stretching from the villain's lip all the way up to across his eye. When the shorter yawned, the magpie avian caught sight of the other's fangs, one of which was replaced by a golden fang in the same spot the scar ran.
Quackity opened his eyes, and the former hero realized with a jolt that one of them was discolored. A milky grey color instead of the brown of the other eye.
He was not fucking kidding about that being an identifying feature. Holy shit.
The taller must have been staring for too long, the villain pausing in his preening to glance at Wilbur, "Yes, songbird?"
The magpie avian wasn't sure how to fucking explain, stuttering over his words. He paused then, trying to figure out the best way to word it.
Quackity picked up on it eventually, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face and hovering for a second as he realized he wasn't wearing his mask.
"Oh!" The shrike avian said, laughing a little. "This is your first time seeing the scar."
The shorter smirked, gesturing to the side of his face that was typically hidden, "Well? Whaddya think, Wil?"
The former hero felt his face heating up, quickly dropping eye contact.
He didn't find it attractive. He didn't. He did not think that the scar made the shrike avian look hot. Nope.
The villain hummed, tilting Wilbur's head up while raising an eyebrow.
"Songbird," he chuckled, the taller still avoiding eye contact as the blush got more intense. "You're blushing very heavily. Any particular reason for that?"
"N-no," the magpie avian stuttered.
"... You aren't denying your emotions again, are you?" Quackity asked with a knowing look.
Wilbur was quiet. The shorter man sighed.
"Alright, come here," the shrike avian said, carefully pulling the former hero up into a sitting position and turning him around to fully face the villain. "You need to work on being honest with yourself. You wanted to do that, right? Be honest with yourself?"
The magpie avian nodded slowly, causing the villain to nod, "Okay then. That's what we're going to work on. I'm going to ask you something, or give you a word, and I want you to tell me how you feel about it. The key here is to be honest with yourself. Think you can manage that?"
When the taller nodded, Quackity gave him a reassuring smile.
"Okay, we're gonna start with something simple," the shrike avian hummed. "Which patrol hours do you prefer? Your day or night patrols?"
Wilbur didn't really have to think about it much, "Night patrols."
"Why?" Quackity asked.
"Why?" The magpie avian repeated. "Well..."
He thought about it for a minute or so before responding.
"Night patrols are... quieter in a way," he said. "I don't have to talk to other heroes since most don't patrol at night. The vigilantes are actually really fun to work with... and while I'm nothing really special to them, they don't treat me like I'm an extension of my family. They don't call me 'The Blade's brother' to my face at the very least. I also get paid during night patrols since I can typically pick villains off the streets."
Quackity hummed a little, reaching up and pushing a strand of Wilbur's hair out of his face, "Alright. How do you feel about this?"
The villain started ruffling the taller's hair, causing the former hero to start laughing a little at the playful action. Once the shorter stopped, the magpie avian considered it for a minute.
"It's... it's fine. I... liked it," he admitted.
"That's good," the shrike avian said. "How did you feel about me cuddling you earlier?"
The taller blushed, looking down at the bed sheets as his wings got a bit puffy, "It was... I was confused a bit at first before I remembered what all had happened... and it was nice. It... it felt good."
"Touch starved," Quackity lightly teased. Wilbur huffed, shoving the shorter with no real force behind it, causing the villain to cackle.
The shrike avian hummed, "How do you feel about the word 'villain'?"
The taller found himself glaring absently at one of the pillows, trying to sort through a bunch of different flooding emotions. Some he was more familiar with, others less so.
"Confused," he settled on responding.
"What about 'vigilante'?" His nemesis(?) prompted.
"Vigilantes are alright," Wilbur said. "They've been nice to me."
"And 'hero'?" Quackity asked.
The magpie avian hissed, "Resentment."
He surprised himself with the sudden answer, pausing as his eyes widened.
"And..." The former hero's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Now I'm confused... because I have no idea where that came from. I... shouldn't I have more positive emotions associated with the word 'hero'? Why is it... why is it mostly negative...?"
"Because heroes hurt you," the shrike avian soothed, resting a hand lightly on top of one of Wilbur's hands. "Because heroes have hurt a lot of people. You have good reasons for feeling resentment towards the word 'hero'. Can you admit that, songbird? Can you say 'I have good reasons for feeling resentment'? Think you can do that for me?"
"I..." the taller trailed off, words locking up a bit. Quackity lightly squeezed his hand in a reassuring manner, giving him an encouraging look.
"I have... I have good reasons," Wilbur started, slowly at first. "I have good reasons... to feel resentment."
He...he felt better after saying it.
"Good job," the villain smiled, giving his hand another squeeze. "And how are you feeling now?"
The magpie avian paused to evaluate his current emotional state. After a moment of self reflection, he muttered softly under his breath.
"Good," he muttered. "I feel... I feel good..."
"Alright," Quackity said with a nod. "How do you feel about last night?"
The first thing that came to mind was the kiss they shared, causing him to blush slightly. Quackity didn't jump at the chance to tease him, giving Wilbur time to process all the events of last night.
He thought of the argument between him and his twin, causing him to grit his teeth slightly.
"I feel angry at Techno," Wilbur admitted. "I feel so fucking pissed at him. And I'm also ticked at Phil. Why the hell did he agree with Techno's fucking plan!? They didn't even check with me about how I felt about it! But..."
He paused before he continued, sighing out shakily, "I'm also scared. If I go back I'm going to be in so much fucking trouble for storming out and shouting at Techno. And they're definitely going to force me to sign those damn papers and I can't. I don't want to go back. I want to be remembered. I don't want to be his shadow aga-"
He stopped himself, before feeling another squeeze on his hand. The action caused him to look at Quackity.
The villain tilted his head at Wilbur, "What was the argument about?"
The magpie avian weighed his options before sighing out slowly.
"Techno wanted to take me off your investigation," he said. "He ran it by Phil and the higher ups who agreed that it would be in everyone's best interest. Techno said that the higher ups thought I was at risk of becoming a Fallen Hero..."
(His magpie rose from the nest, clicking angrily at the memory.)
Anger flashed in Quackity's eyes as he moved to hold Wilbur's hand properly. The expression smoothed over quickly, the villain sighing in slight irritation.
"They can't just do that," he hissed. "I chose you. They can't fucking change that. You're my nemesis."
"According to Techno, there is a way," the former hero grumbled. "He wanted me to sign over the investigation to him. Said the police chief would come over today with the paperwork."
"Fucking bullshit," Quackity hissed, wings fluffing up a bit. "You're not going back then. Not today at least. You can't get rid of me, I'm not letting you sign the papers. I'll fucking burn the damn documents if I have to."
That got a laugh out of the magpie avian. Something genuinely happy.
"That's the entire reason I stormed out," he chuckled, calming slightly. "I refused to sign the papers. I wasn't going to let them force me."
"Good," the shrike avian huffed.
"Possessive," Wilbur teased.
The shorter looked him directly in the eyes, his pupils getting a bit bigger as he leaned closer and wrapped his arms around the magpie avian, "Mine."
The former hero blushed quite heavily at that, his wings getting extremely fluffy the closer the villain leaned towards him.
"That's hot," he blurted out in flustered panic before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth.
The villain paused, processing.
Wilbur groaned, cocooning himself in his wings as he hid his face in his arms. He could feel the way his cheeks burned with embarrassment.
"Please tell me I didn't actually just say that?" He grumbled out.
At the sound of Quackity's laughter, the former hero just sunk deeper into his wing cocoon.
"Ignore that," he pleaded.
The shrike avian laughed harder, "Absolutely not, I'm cherishing that memory now."
"Fuck off," the taller groaned.
Carefully, his nemesis slowly pushed Wilbur's wings away from him, gently tilting the other's face up to look at him.
Quackity smiled, "I'm proud you were able to admit that. You never would've said that a week ago."
Those words gave him pause before he felt a faint smile pull at his lips, "I... suppose you have a point."
"I'm still going to tease you relentlessly for it."
"Fuck off. I'm going back to my cocoon."
The villain rumbled a little, leaning closer and resting his head on Wilbur's shoulder, "Nope, you don't get to cocoon again."
"Fuck you, you're going in the cocoon with me then," the magpie avian stated, pulling the other into his wings and using their size to completely envelope the shorter.
The shrike avian chirped at the action, allowing the former hero to pull him closer.
(His inner magpie trilled at the villain's chirp, absolutely delighted.)
Pretty soon they were both laughing, their wings wrapped around each other and Quackity basically using him as a pillow as he sat up in their nest.
He felt himself blushing again when he realized that he was mentally calling it 'their' nest. Remembering that his instincts considered the shrike avian as a potential partner.
The villain hummed, glancing up at him.
"What's with the blush, songbird?" The shorter asked.
Wilbur avoided eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck slightly, "Nothing. Just instincts being weird."
Quackity chuckled a little, "Regarding the nest or me?"
"Both," the former hero admitted.
"Oh?" The shrike avian questioned.
The taller just shoved his face in the other's shoulders, "What... what are we? Are we still nemesis or...? I'm... I'm confused. How do you see me?"
"Aw... songbird," the villain rumbled again, that deep soothing sound as he reached up and played with Wilbur's hair slightly. "We can be whatever you feel most comfortable with. I see you as mine, Wilbur. You've been mine ever since that first talk we had on the rooftop."
He tightened his grip on the magpie avian, "I'd love to have you as my partner, but my instincts are satisfied so long as I have you here. So, it doesn't matter what you want to call it. All I know is that I'd like to keep being able to do this."
Quackity gently kissed his forehead, causing the former hero to blush even harder.
"Only if you're okay with me continuing to do that, of course," the shrike avian teased with a wink.
"Confident asshole," Wilbur muttered, wings closing around the shorter more securely.
He trailed off before nuzzling the top of the other's head, "But... that works. I'm... I'm okay with being yours. But if I'm yours, that makes you mine. Alright? Does that work for you?"
When the magpie avian moved to glance at the other, the shorter looked stunned. A blush creeping across the shrike avian's face, he laughed.
"Yes," Quackity said, breathless. "Absolutely, yes."
(Wilbur felt his magpie twitter and chirp in approval.)
"Finally gonna admit you're possessive now?" The villain questioned with a slightly flustered smile.
The magpie avian hummed slightly, resting his head on top of the shorter's with a satisfied rumble, "Aren't you typically spitting villain propaganda at me by now?"
"I'm not going to rush you into it," the other huffed, still playing with the taller's hair. "We can start looking into villain stuff later. It wouldn't be right for me to throw you into it immediately. You need time to process things, so you'll be getting time to settle in. Besides, I want you to work on being open with your emotions right now."
"That's..." Wilbur paused at his words. "Considerate of you..."
Quackity rolled his eyes, "I'm a villain, songbird. Not your broken hero system. You'd be surprised, but a majority of us are actually really decent people. We just live by the whole 'society fucked us over so we're going to fuck over society in turn' rule."
The former hero winced a little, "Okay... noted. Can I ask how it is that society fucked you over or...?"
"Asking about my tragic backstory now?" The shrike avian chuckled. "Eh, where do you want me to start? I think it goes all the way back to childhood, but the direct cause was more or less the fight with your brother that gave me this scar."
The villain shrugged, "It was really bad, but he didn't seem like he was quite... himself at the time. Almost like he wasn't there. Either way, he used a piece of broken glass and nearly took my eye out. Being a vigilante, I kinda had to look into alternative ways of getting the wound treated. Basically I stumbled into the underbelly of society looking for a power that could save my eye n' shit. Made a couple of deals and fell into villainy from there."
"Oh," Wilbur muttered. "You fought him while he was having an episode. No wonder the scar is so jagged."
"An episode...?" Quackity questioned.
The former hero nodded, "He has... I don't know, really? I know he's diagnosed with something but him and Phil never bothered to tell me about it. He has auditory and visual hallucinations from time to time. Specifically auditory, but his 'episodes' as I call them are typically visual as well. You're right about him not really being himself when that happens. He gets a lot more vicious and less clean when he's having one. I'm not sure what happens when he's hallucinating, but he'll lash out against anyone and everything."
The villain's eyes narrowed, "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
"I've seen it happen enough times," the magpie avian shrugged. "And well... I've placed myself between him and Tommy once. Tommy had a question for him and it was a... bad time to say the least. I have a scar on my back from the experience. The hit was meant for Tommy but I took it instead."
Upon seeing the way the shrike avian was fuming, Wilbur hummed softly. A quiet little tune as he carefully ran his fingers through the other's wings to get him to calm down.
"Easy there, he didn't mean to hurt us," the former hero soothed. "Believe me, for as insufferable as Techno is, he wouldn't intentionally harm us. From what I understand, his hallucinations are intense enough to make him see other people instead of who's actually there."
Quackity grit his teeth, "Does he take any medicine for it? I know there's things to help with hallucinations. Or does your father just not give enough shits to help any of his sons?"
The magpie avian continued to hum that soft tune, moving from the shorter's wings to his hair as he started braiding it absentmindedly.
"Wilbur?" The shrike avian questioned, anger fading from his eyes slowly. Like it was drained out of him.
"Yes?" The taller responded.
The villain chuckled a little, "What are you doing?"
"Stuff," Wilbur shrugged, continuing to hum.
Quackity seemed to relax more and more the longer the magpie avian continued to hum, causing the former hero to chuckle.
"Nobody can resist my songs," he joked.
"What? Do I get the honor of hearing your singing voice now?" The shrike avian questioned.
The taller smiled a bit, "We'll see. Typically I only reserve it for special occasions. And helping to calm people down. Works wonders when I'm trying to get a panicking child to calm down."
"Also works for calming yourself down apparently."
"Yeah that too-wait, what?"
The former hero met the shorter's gaze, finding a teasing smirk there.
He had only ever sung around Quackity when he was spending the week molting in this very bed.
He had sung a few times to relax while the villain was sleeping.
"... Fucking hell, you weren't asleep were you?"
When the villain started laughing again, Wilbur just groaned, pushing the other back slightly and laying down. He pulled a blanket over his head and turned away, blushing in embarrassment.
"You have a wonderful singing voice, by the way," Quackity said, tone smug. "I'd love to hear you sing again, songbird."
"Fuck off with that nickname right now," the magpie avian grumbled, shoving his face in his hands as his wings puffed up.
"In all seriousness though," the other began, the bed shifting next to him, signifying that the other had laid down. "I wasn't exactly awake for a majority of it. You'd start singing and it'd kinda just... drag me into sleeping after a while. You're very soothing to listen to, just in general. Probably your accent or something, but your voice is comforting."
"I get that a lot, actually," the former hero chuckled a bit. "Whenever I sing with the intention of calming someone down, they typically do. Same if I'm trying to get someone to sleep too. A lot of the kids I sing for tell me that my voice is really comforting to listen to. When Tommy was little, he'd ask me to read him stories n' shit. Y'know, little kid stuff. But like, he was always out like a light whenever it was a story night. Techno would do it too, but Tommy always said I told it better. Said my voice made it easier to get sucked into the story."
Wilbur shook his head, "Personally I don't believe it. Techno has a wonderful storytelling voice."
There was an older memory. Before mum left to go work across the seas, before Tommy was born. Techno had found an old book about Greek Mythology and they would read it to each other whenever they got nightmares.
Before they ever told their father that they wanted to be heroes like him.
It was a simpler time, Techno's voice weaving the tale into a vivid painting before his very eyes. Spinning stories of great warriors and tragedies to life.
A part of him longed for those times again. When they were kids with stars in their eyes and were inseparable from each other. It was before Techno had dyed his hair, before Wilbur had grown his wings. They looked so much like each other when they were little.
But that was in the past. And his instincts no longer recognized his twin as flock.
There was an ache in his heart when he remembered it.
(His magpie cooed sadly; almost apologetically.)
"I'd believe it," Quackity commented, drawing Wilbur from his thoughts. "Well, if you and Techno told Tommy a lot of stories, got any fun ones to share?"
The taller huffed a laugh, rolling over (being mindful of his wings) so he could face Quackity, the blanket shifting away from his face, "Well, what do you know about the old Greek Classics?"
It was something that had persisted throughout the years. No matter how old they got, him and his twin adored Greek Mythology.
Since he was thinking about it, might as well share one of his few persisting hobbies, right?
"Greek Mythology?" Quackity questioned with a raised eyebrow. "What are you? A nerd?"
"It's actually very interesting," the former hero smiled, faintly remembering how him and Techno would argue over the details of certain myths and call each other nerds because of it. "For example, did you know that sirens were originally bird-like creatures? Modern adaptations show them as being more like mermaids n' shit, but originally sirens were more like harpies than fish people."
"How the fuck did that happen?" The shrike avian questioned.
"I assume like how most things happen," the taller shrugged. "A mix of events. Lost descriptions, localization, someone decided to say 'okay, but what if it looked like this instead', and mixing creatures. I think that out of everything, probably because mermaids were said to have enchanting voices, which was one of the main traits of a siren. And if I'm being honest? Someone probably just wanted to draw a sexy fish lady instead of a harpy."
That provoked a laugh from the villain, in turn causing Wilbur to chuckle.
"What exactly is a siren though?" The shorter eventually asked. "Like I get the whole voice thing, but what's the actual lore shit?"
"Well," Wilbur began. "I believe in the original myth, there were three sirens. They could lure you in with their singing voices, making it so that when you heard the call you wouldn't be able to resist going to them. Sources vary a lot on how exactly the singing worked. Some said it was like a charm effect, making sailors fall in love with them. Some say the voices were so beautiful that it was impossible to ignore. Either way, the general consensus is that once a siren sings, there is no escape if you hear it."
The former hero chuckled, "They say that sailors would throw themselves overboard to swim to them, only to drown or impale themselves on the rocks the sirens would sit on. Once again, sources vary on if the sirens would actively hurt them or not. Some say the sirens would drown them, others say that the sailors were overtaken by the waves of the sea. Knowing how most Greek Myths work, I'm assuming the latter to be true."
"That's... dark," Quackity said. "Why would you assume they just drowned themselves?"
"You really don't know a lot about Greek Mythology, huh?" Wilbur questioned, opening a wing in invitation.
The villain shifted closer, letting the former hero drape his wing over him with a content sigh.
"The thing about Greeks Myths, Quackity," he began. "Is that nothing good ever happens to the heroes of the story. Not typically at least. There's like, one guy who's famous for being the only Greek Hero whose story doesn't end in tragedy. But either way, nothing good ever really happens to them. And typically, that's because of their own hubris."
The shrike avian listened intently, his entire focus on the taller.
Wilbur lost himself in the familiarity of holding someone's attention like this. His voice shifting into the tone he defaulted to whenever he told stories.
"The Heroes of Greek Myth are typically legendary warriors who ended up getting in over their heads, and would die as a result," he continued. "Slain by someone they once trusted, dying in disgrace, being cast away, self sacrifice, blind rages, all that. But almost always, their pride was their undoing. Whether their prideful actions snowballed into what killed them, or being too overconfident and believing they could handle something they couldn't, it was almost always pride. Sometimes, these heroes would even become the villain of another tale. Which is where the saying 'you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain' comes from."
"I wonder why they don't teach this shit in schools anymore," the villain grumbled, but still listened with rapt attention.
The magpie avian chuckled, "But that's why I believe the sailors died due to their own stupidity. That's just how Greek Myths work. The sailors were overly confident, they didn't read the warnings on the wall. They believed they could survive the sirens, believed they could resist the call."
"So they died," the shrike avian snickered. "Like dumbasses."
"Precisely," the taller agreed.
Wilbur had to question when he had gotten so casual with his former nemesis.
He had to ask himself when it just became...easy to talk to the shrike avian. How long has he been able to talk like this with Quackity?
There was a part of him (that sounded suspiciously like Phil and/or Techno depending on the day) that was hissing violently at all of this. A part of him that screamed about how wrong this all was and that he was in danger.
Because Quackity was a villain.
Ace was a mass murderer and, that side of him couldn't stress enough, a literal terrorist.
But that voice was tiny in comparison to the overwhelming satisfaction of his instincts. Because he hasn't felt this safe since his mother still lived with them in the tower.
His magpie was silent outside of those quiet, satisfied rumbles. The bird was happy with the current situation.
Wilbur was satisfied with this.
This comforting warmth, the easily flowing conversations, the overwhelming chirp of 'safe' from his instincts.
He felt like he was betraying his family, of course he did. It twisted in his gut like a thrashing viper.
But here, his wings wrapped around Quackity (who had trusted him with his fucking real name of all things), he didn't particularly care about what side he was on. He could decide that shit later, right? He could just enjoy this for now.
You're selfish. A part of him hisses.
His magpie glared at it with a snap of its beak. Who gives a shit?
The voice that sounded like his former flock shut up after that.
"Have I ever told you what my vigilante name was before I became a villain?"
Wilbur zoned back in, glancing at Quackity who was currently clinging to him.
"No?" He responded in a questioning tone.
"Most people don't remember it," the villain shrugged. "Hell, I doubt many people even heard of me. I'm very different now, of course. Back then I was trying so hard to make things better. Protecting those that heroes wouldn't. I wanted so badly to make the world just a little bit kinder. But that all fell flat on its face real fuckin' quick. I know I would've gone villain eventually, a lot of vigilantes do after all. But... it was really just a buildup of things happening over time."
The shrike avian leaned a bit closer, resting his head against the taller, "I changed my name when I changed my goals. Course, my whole 'card' motif has always been a constant, even before I ran the casino n' shit. Gambling has been a huge part of my life for a long time, used it to make money for funding my vigilante activities."
"Aces are the strongest card in the game, right?" Wilbur questioned, curiosity peaked now.
Quackity snorted in amusement, "Debatable. If you remove the jokers from the game, then yes. But a joker can beat an ace, because jokers can be anything needed. We call them wild cards because they're like shapeshifters. They can become something stronger than an ace if desired. That's why I originally used Joker as my vigilante name."
The former hero raised an eyebrow, and the villain chuckled a little.
"I changed my name to Ace because I decided to finally be firm in my stance," the shrike avian admitted. "Jokers are constantly changing, adapting. They become whatever they need to be. When I was the vigilante, Joker, I was never firm in my stance on hero society. I would go around trying to fix it without directly confronting it. Now, I stand firm in my beliefs. Hero society fucking sucks, and one day, I'm going to tear it down."
There was a pause before Wilbur asked, "Is that why you're a villain?"
"I'm a villain, for admittedly, very selfish reasons, songbird," Quackity said. "I'm a villain because I wanted to carve out my own space. I'm a villain because society tried to fuck me over and I wasn't going to stand for it. I'm a villain because I wanted to keep the people I care about as close to me as possible. I'm a villain because in order to protect the people I care about, I have to get my hands dirty with hero blood. I'm a villain because if society wants to treat me like a ticking time bomb, then I'll be the fucking villain. And I'll have a good fucking time while doing it just to spite them."
Wilbur hummed, leaning a bit closer to the other avian when he noticed the other looking angry again.
"That's okay," he muttered without really thinking, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Cause I'm selfish too."
His words seemed to give Quackity pause before the other smiled a bit.
"So you're serious about last night then," the shrike avian gestured between them. "About this."
The former hero nodded, using his wing to pull the other closer. Their noses were nearly touching by this point.
"You wanted to show me what it's like," the magpie avian said. "So I'll hear you out."
The shorter's wings puffed up under Wilbur's feathers, causing the taller avian to chuckle.
The villain leaned closer, planting a kiss on his lips with a satisfied rumble.
He hummed quietly, kissing back with a slight smile.
It wasn't as long as the last one they shared, but it made the magpie avian's brain go numb for a minute.
Quackity slips his hand in Wilbur's, giving a gentle squeeze like beforehand as he slowly pulled away. They were both smiling like idiots by this point.
"I could get used to that," the former hero admits.
They sat in comfortable silence for a minute or so, Wilbur's wing wrapped around the shorter as Quackity's arms found themselves around the magpie avian's waist.
It was nice to simply enjoy another's company.
"So are you going to tell me one of your stories, songbird?" The villain asked.
The former hero thought for a minute, shifting through his mental catalog of Greek Myths before he landed on one.
"Have you ever heard about The Abduction of Persephone?" He questioned, his inner magpie letting out a trill that sounded almost like laughter.
When Quackity gestured for him to continue, Wilbur smiled, beginning to recount the tale.
"There once was a beautiful goddess named Persephone," he felt his voice slip into his 'storytelling' tone. "She was the daughter of Demeter, Goddess of The Harvest. Persephone was a very kind goddess, good natured and lighthearted. Demeter was very overprotective of her daughter, and would treat her like a child even as the young goddess grew into a woman. She intended to keep her daughter with her forever, innocent and at her side for eternity. But that all changed one day."
"Considering the name of this myth, yeah, I'd assume that much," Quackity joked.
Wilbur snickered, "Hades, the God of The Underworld, had fallen in love with Persephone. He would look up from his kingdom and observe the goddess playing with nymphs in her fields. Struck by her kindness towards them and her beauty. He would watch her, feeling his heart soften each time she smiled. Hades loved her, and went to his brother, Zeus, King of The Gods, to ask for her hand in marriage."
"Isn't that something he should ask Persephone's father?" The villain asked.
"Ah, right, so," the magpie avian started laughing. "That's the thing with Greek Myths. The genepool as it comes to the gods is... small. Zeus had an affair with Demeter and that produced Persephone. So yes, Zeus was Persephone's father. Yes, Hades is trying to marry his niece. The standards were very different back then."
"That's fucked up," the shorter said. "God that is so fucking wrong."
"Welcome to Greek Mythology," the former hero droned. "Where kidnapping your wife was the normal thing and marrying members of your family happens every other week."
That got the shrike avian to laugh.
"Continuing," Wilbur hummed, a low rumble in his chest as he settled into the familiarity of storytelling. "Zeus approved the marriage, but knew that Demeter never would. So the solution? Kidnapping!"
Quackity wheezed a bit, "Mother doesn't approve? No problem, just kidnap the girl!"
"Zeus, number one sponsor of kidnapping!" The taller joked with a laugh. "But yes, Hades kidnapped Persophone. She was alone in her fields one day when the ground split open. From the opening came Hades on a huge chariot being pulled by black horses. He leaned over the side of the chariot, scooping Persophone up and launching back into the underworld before she could even scream. Demeter was quick to notice her daughter's absence and asked around to find anyone who saw the event. Eventually she tracked the event back to Zeus and he got quite the verbal lashing for this scheme."
He continued, "Down in the underworld, Persophone missed her mother and the world above. Hades was saddened by this, but he was patient. He showered Persophone in gifts and placed her throne right next to his. He treated her like an adult, allowing her equal rule alongside him. She was treated, not like property, but as someone who could potentially be a friend. This caused the goddess to be conflicted. She missed her family, sure, but Hades treated her kindly. Like an equal. She was beginning to fall in love with him."
"Yeah, that'll do it," Quackity hummed. "Being treated like a kid all your life and then suddenly you're an equal to one of the most powerful gods? No fucking wonder."
Wilbur chuckled, "This next part of the myth is really unclear, and probably the most debated part of it. If you ate something from the underworld, you would be bound to it. You would never be able to leave forever. Persophone ended up eating seeds from an underworld pomegranate. Some say that Hades forced her to eat them, some argue that she ate them herself so that she could never fully leave her husband no matter what her mother tried. Other sources say that a gardener offered the pomegranate to her and she ate the seeds before being whisked away to see her mother. Depends on the version. But either way, she ate them."
"With her being bound to the underworld, now a resident of it, she could not stay in the overworld. But her mother was throwing a temper tantrum and was killing everyone with freezing cold temperatures. She brought forth the first winters, no crops could grow and people were dying," the former hero said. "So it was agreed upon that Persophone would spend most of her months in the underworld, and then some with her mother in the overworld. She's called The Goddess of Spring because the months she spends in the overworld with her mother are the ones in which plants grow and flowers bloom. But it's not Persophone that makes Spring, it's her mother, Demeter. Persophone is the wife of Hades. Queen of The Underworld. And she grew to be quite the feared goddess after that."
"After all," Wilbur smirked. "Taking her kindness for weakness was a mistake that most never lived for making. She was kind and fair, but her husband was Hades of all gods. She picked up on his zero tolerance for bullshit."
And with that, his story was finished.
"Hm, I don't know why, but I feel like there's a reason you told that story specifically," Quackity commented, a knowing look in his eyes.
Wilbur shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. Did you like it?"
"Songbird, I think we've established that I can listen to you talk for hours. I loved it."
When the villain smiled at him like that, he felt like he made the right decision to be here.
He feels like he doesn't need the boxes for his instincts and emotions now. Not anymore.