Day 13: Bottles and Blood - Schlatity = Angst
CW
Death
Bleeding out
Alcohol
Murder
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// Third Person POV //
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Quackity had spent all-day cleaning the house making sure it would be to Schlatts liking.
Doing the dishes, sweeping the floors, cleaning up empty beer bottles around the house, cleaning the counters, and vacuuming.
Anything that would make the house more pleasant for their dinner that night.
He had told Schlatt he wanted to have a nice Christmas eve dinner with no heavy alcohol just a glass or two of wine.
Schlatt had begrudgingly agreed but told Q he would be home a little later than normal, something about stacks of paperwork that no one else wanted to do.
Quackity had told him it was fine as long as he was home before 10:30.
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. . . 10:58 PM . . .
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Q was sitting at the table pouring his 3rd glass of wine while staring at the empty seat in front of him, and the candle that was still burning.
Schlatt was late.
Quackity expected him to be but was still disappointed when he was...
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. . . . 11:31 PM . . . .
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Quackity sighed and blew out the candle on the table that was just melted wax, he wasn't gonna stay waiting for someone who would just take a bite and complain that the food was cold.
So he stood up and took the plates to the counter and left them there, he would deal with them later.
Just as he drank the remainder of his 9th glass of wine the front door opened revealing a drunk Schlatt.
"H-hEyyy... Pum-pkin-"
He stumbled over to the pissed-off duck and held him by his waist.
"You were late. And you're drunk."
He held onto the edge of the counter and stared down at the sink.
"S-so? You sa-aying I had a drunk problem-?"
The intoxicated man's grip tightened.
"I'm saying you were late."
"Yeah, yeah... whatever. Where- where's dinner you fat ffFffuck-"
Quackity's wings folded closer to his body.
He had learned to not let the things his husband said to heart, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt him.
"You were late, so I started cleaning-"
"Well, you did a shit job at it."
He pulled Q away from the counter and let go of him throwing him into the island.
"LOOK AT THIS MESS!"
He motioned to the dirty plates on the counter and the wine glasses in the sink.
"I was still-"
"SHUT UP SLUT!"
He shouted raising a hand up making Quackity finch back into the counter, he put his hand down and turned around looking at the nearly empty bottle of wine Quackity was drinking from.
(Perfect is playing right now :])
"Oooo, what's this now?"
He grabbed the bottle by the neck and stuck his thumb in the mouth of the bottle flipping it upside down as we turned back to Q.
(Literally looked up wine bottle anatomy. Thank you google <3)
"Don't you think this would just look so pretty in your head-"
He raised to bottle up as Quackity leaned more into the island raising his hand up to protect his head.
Schaltt lowered the bottle and looked at Q sympathetically, "Pumpkin... did you really think I would do that to you?"
The shorter lowered his hand and looked u at Schlatt only to be met with the glass bottle hitting the side of his face breaking on impact and forcing him to the ground.
"You thought right-" He laughed staring down at Q as blood flowed from his head.
He stayed there not moving as more blood covered the floor under him.
"Pumpkin?"
He stared down at his husband and set the bottle down on the counter.
"I'm going to bed. You can join me when you're ready to talk."
The duck didn't respond.
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-.. . .- -.. The Next Morning -.. ..- -.-. -.-
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Schaltt had woken up alone but just assume Quackity was already down stares cleaning up from last night, so he got out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
"Pumpkin! You down here?"
Schaltt made it down stared and stared into the kitchen (Atlantis is playing rn :])
where Tubbo was crying in a pool of red.
He approached the child confused until he made it to the island and looked down.
He hadn't moved a muscle and his blood dripped over his eyes creating a pool of blood that nearly filled the whole kitchen floor.
(Why did Nothing just start playing-)
Schlatt just started down at the duck not knowing what to do.
He'd always gotten up before and always cleaned up the mess the next morning.
But not this time.
This time he escaped.
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-Word Count: 721-
Hehe
Death go BURRRRRRRRRRRRRR
Tomorrow it'll be more wholesome -v-