Chapter Text
Wilbur’s facial expression morphed into a mix of fear and disbelief. Quietly, he uttered, “Fundy?”
Quackity bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating. Guess there’s no getting out of it, he thought. “He’s your son, isn’t he? He’s been working for me at the casino.”
“I…” Wilbur's wide-eyed stare bored holes into Quackity’s brain. “How did you know?”
“The day after we met, I had a job interview with him. He had your last name on his résumé. It wasn’t until you had your first day here that I realized you two were related.” Quackity gauged Wilbur’s reaction;
“Oh,” was all he said in reply.
“...So—”
“How did you know it wasn’t just a coincidence?”
Quackity grimaced. “He mentioned having a vampire for a father in his interview. Also, I talked to him yesterday, ‘cause we had an icebreaker for all the new employees. He said you make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.”
Wilbur turned away, but Quackity still caught the bashful smile that appeared on his face. “He did?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point. Point is, I was a dick. I used our meeting as an opportunity to get leverage.”
“Leverage over… what, exactly?”
“Over you.”
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “Oh.”
“Listen, until yesterday, I was under the impression that we were on the same page about this.”
“But—but I flirted with you! Multiple times!”
“And you weren't doing that just to tick me off,” Quackity said, unbelieving.
Wilbur bit his lip. Did he really come off that way? “No. Not at all. I—I’ve liked you from the start, Quackity.”
He’d liked him from the start. Feeling nausea rise in his throat, Quackity shut his eye and inhaled sharply, cold palms pressed against his face. When he looked back at Wilbur, his face was uncertain, his eyes the red of car headlights. Quackity couldn't decide whether he was the deer or the driver.
“Okay,” he said, and that was all.
Quackity grabbed his leather briefcase and walked out of the apartment.
Fuck. Wilbur grabbed a fistful of his own hair, pulling so hard he thought his skull might come off.
When Quackity pulled his hair, his heart leapt. Now it just made his head hurt.
∞∞∞
Quackity made himself a French 75 and threw it back in a single gulp, the champagne glass making a loud clink as he set it back down on the minibar counter. He massaged his temple with his free hand and sighed.
Behind him, a door creaked open. Then, a gasp. “Babe, you’re home!”
A smile tugged at Quackity’s lips; he’d forgotten Sapnap was staying over for the month. He whipped around to see him, and was abruptly lifted up and twirled. “Jesus!” he giggled, head swimming a little. He gave his boyfriend a peck on the cheek as he was set down gently. “Holy shit, dude. I just had a drink.”
Sapnap winced. “Sorry, I didn’t know. Are you okay, babe? Also why the fuck are you drinking at 7:30 in the morning?” He wrapped his arms around him, and Quackity buried his face into the crook of his neck. Sapnap’s hugs always made you feel like you were being embraced by a particularly affectionate bear.
“...Wait, is it that early?” With his arms wrapped around the other, he began idly playing with his hair.
“Yup! And Karl woke me up like 30 minutes ago, can you believe it? He was calling me so we could play Mario Kart online. Like some kinda freeeeaaak. Obviously, I kicked his ass at Moo Moo Meadows,” he boasted proudly. “But more importantly, why the hell are you drinking at 7:30 in the morning??? Also has the storm passed yet?”
“I… I think Wilbur might actually like me. And yeah, it has. Weirdly sunny when I left the office, actually.”
“Damn. So when are you guys going out?”
Quackity scoffed like Sapnap had just suggested eating his own shoes. “Going out? You’re kidding, babe.”
“Whuh? No, like, for real. What’s wrong with trying it out? Just one date.”
“I don’t do that, Sap, you know I don’t.”
“You’re with me right now, aren’t you?”
“But you’re different. And he’s a vampire.”
“Ah. Right.”
“You get it now, don’t you?” Quackity slowly detangled himself from Sapnap’s embrace. He couldn’t see his eyes where they were hidden behind his hair, but he knew they were making direct eye contact.
“Hey, babe, why don’t I take you out sometime soon? Let’s just have some fun, forget about work and that Wilbert dude. Anywhere you want.”
“It’s Wilbur. And thank you, Sap, but I don’t really feel like it right now.” Quackity bit the inside of his lip. “Let’s do something else instead.”
Sapnap cocked his head to the side. “Oh?”
Quackity grabbed his hand and led them both to the bedroom.
∞∞∞
“Fuck happened to you?” Wilbur heard Tommy ask from somewhere above him. Most likely, he was sitting at the top of the shelf again, swinging his legs back and forth. The shelf made disturbing squeaking noises with each swing. How it hadn’t fallen yet from the copious amount of times he’d perched there like a gangly bird was beyond Wilbur, but he hoped it wouldn’t fall now.
“I told Quackity I liked him and he walked out on me,” came Wilbur’s muffled reply as he laid face-down on the pile of pillows in his coffin. That was probably the most accurate summary of events he could say without going through each detail of the past several days, and he really didn’t want to tell Tommy about their one-night stand.
Tommy let out a window-breaking guffaw before quickly correcting himself with an obviously fake cough—“I mean, um, sucks for you, I guess.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes, and then, for Tommy’s benefit, he added, “I’m rolling my eyes right now, by the way.”
“Wow, real mature, Wilbur. I’m flipping you off, by the way,” Tommy responded mockingly. But he must’ve felt somewhat bad, because a second later Wilbur heard the flitting of dragonfly wings as he slowly descended to the ground. “Alright, Big Dubs, you can stop sulking now. We got some crime to do.”
Wilbur sat up with a groan.
Tommy instantly cringed. “Jesus, man. You a vampire or a zombie?”
“Maybe both,” said Wilbur, hoping his makeup wasn’t too smudged. It was.
As Tommy watched him get out of his coffin, he talked about how he was just dying to mess with this new guy Tubbo was hanging out with. “And it’s just—CHRIST, Wilbur, he’s not even that exciting of a guy! He’s like a wet noodle, Wil, one that’s been dunked in unsalted water for too long and somehow Tubbo likes him enough to choose to hang out with him over hangin’ out with me! In fact I’d say he’s simply infatuated with ‘im! Downright lovery-dovery heart eyes and all that gross romance shit. Might I add, I’m way too high above that puny romantic… hogwash. Blegh. I’m married to The Grind and LOYAL, if I do say so myself! Never once cheated. Aside from Hot Girl and Hotter Girl, but, well. That was a very low time in my life, I don’t really like talking about it—”
“So what are we gonna do about it?” asked Wilbur, already used to his brother’s extended tangents.
Tommy took on a malicious grin and leaned close. Then, he stage-whispered, “We’re gonna egg ‘em. Dude’s got this massive, and I mean massive, haunted mansion they live in? Like some kind of aristocratic Victorian pussy? Yeah. We’re gonna egg that shit, top to bottom, get yolks in places nobody’s gonna expect. It’ll be carnage.”
Hmph. Maybe a night of mildly illegal fun would be just the right thing to take Wilbur’s mind off Quackity. He smirked mischievously. “Let’s do it.”
Tommy smirked back, although his looked kind of like a knockoff Kubrick stare.
∞∞∞
Quackity leaned against the bar counter, one ear listening to the club’s speakers playing Megan Thee Stallion’s rock remix of “Cobra” featuring Spiritbox (his request), and the other ear listening to Foolish prattle on about work.
“When’s the bunker gonna be done?” he asked, taking a sip of his second Darkside cocktail that evening.
“Mm, hard to say. You can probably tour around inside by next month though,” said Foolish, sloshing the liquid of his nearly empty Negroni cocktail in its glass. Quackity watched him gingerly pick the orange peel out of the alcohol and drop it into his mouth, then chew it up and pull it back out a couple seconds later, now practically chomped to shreds.
(Even in his humanoid form, Foolish retained most of his rows of teeth; a trait Quackity envied, as he was used to retracting his back row and shortening the height of his remaining teeth to look a little less terrifying than it normally was. Quackity also enjoyed ogling Foolish’s teeth for other reasons.)
“Like the taste. It’s a bitch to digest, though.” He picked a string of orange pith from between his teeth and set it on the counter next to the beaten-up rind.
“Right?” Quackity paused. And then, “Hey Foolish, do you wanna—”
“HIYA, BOSS!” a sudden voice exclaimed from Quackity's blind side. He faced the new presence and couldn’t help but feel the weight on his chest lift a smidge. “Hey, Charlie!” Today, Charlie looked mostly human. Kind of like a gaming Youtuber, but otherwise human.
“Hi, Quackity from Las Nevadas!” He proceeded to greet him with a comically loud kiss on the mouth.
“Yo,” greeted Foolish. “We were just talking about the bunker.”
“Cool, I was just inside! Hey, Jack Manifold from Manifoldland—”
“Don’t call me that,” Jack Manifold from Somewhere Else interjected.
“—get me a couple o’ those.” Charlie pointed at a plastic pump bottle filled with green liquid and wiggled his eyeballs at him. (Maybe a little less than “mostly” human.)
Jack Manifold blinked. “That—that's just dish soap, Charlie. That is literally dish soap.”
“Yup!”
Jack Manifold shrugged. “Alright, if you say so.” He rimmed a Martini glass with powder detergent and filled it up with dish soap, topping it with a maraschino cherry.
Charlie licked his lips loudly. “Yum! Just how I like it!” He grabbed the glass and gulped it down with earnest.
Foolish stared, both morbidly fascinated and disgusted at once. “Huh. Wait, did you say you were just inside‽”
Charlie finished off the glass and wiped his mouth. “Yeah!”
“B-but how?? It's locked on all si—”
Quackity clicked his tongue, sick of all the talk about work. “Can we change the subject?”
Charlie threw him a thumbs-up. “OK!”
“No, wait—” began Foolish, but Charlie was already talking.
“So yesterday, I was sludgin’ around like usual on my break time after you told me to send the dudes to clean up the office, when I saw this guy this really spooky looking Guy who kinda looked like an anime character, so I decided to follow him. And he was giving me these really vampy vibes, Quackity from Las Nevadas. Super vampy vibes, like more than Wilbur from Club L'manburg. He was wearing this…”
“Wait, did you say Club L'manburg?”
∞∞∞
Egging Tommy's rival's house did not help. Not only did he mess up most of his throws and get yolk all over himself, he also thought about how just a couple weeks ago Tommy would've been goading him into egging Quackity’s house instead. By the time Wilbur got home, his skin was crawling from the texture of dried eggs and eggshells all over him, and he ended up taking an hour-long shower before collapsing in his coffin.
He woke up sometime during the weekend to the sound of his phone ringing. Blearily, he picked it up:
“Wil?”
“Ah, hey Niki.” Wilbur rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked the grandfather clock across the room: it was 11 pm. “What's up?”
“Sorry, did I wake you? I texted last night and you didn’t answer, so… Anyway, I wanted to ask if you were up to hang out tonight,” she said. From the other end, Wilbur could hear another, much higher voice say something. They must've been a demon or some other type of malspecies, because the phone's audio was overtaken by intense static that disappeared once they finished speaking. Niki briefly turned away from the phone to respond with an “Oh, sure” before returning and telling Wilbur that Tina would be joining them too.
Wilbur had seen Puffy once, briefly, but Tina and Hannah he'd only perceived through photos. It was a lot worse for Tina, as cameras could never quite capture her features; they would end up either pixelated, glitchy, or give her an extra head or maybe a sinister shadow. It seemed ridiculous to him that most phone companies hadn't fixed that issue yet, as demon-made phones could capture them more or less fine, give or take a few hiccups. The added mystery made him even more curious to find 0ut what she actually looked like.
“Cool. So, our usual spot?”
“Yes! 1:30 am?”
“It’s a date!”
Wilbur put down the phone and took a deep breath. Shit, was he even in the right headspace to be meeting a new person today? What if he didn’t know what to say? What if it was awkward? What if he ended up third-wheeling and it made him miss Quackity so bad he’d just bring down the mood entirely?
With those thoughts in his head, Wilbur put on a fishnet top embedded with tiny crystals, a long black velvet draped dress, an authentic blessed catholic underbust corset embroidered with crosses and some kind of Bible verse in Latin that burned whenever he touched it with bare skin, black winter stockings, black platform ankle boots, and several layers of jewellery, including one ornate silver cross necklace to keep up with the Catholic theming. After hair and makeup, it was time to go.
The Nocturnal Mall was Niki and Wilbur’s favourite hangout spot. Not only was everything made for monsters, but a lot of the clothing shops were alternative as well. He spotted her by the weeknight market, waving at him and standing next to a slightly shorter, leaner girl with long dark hair. He noticed that she had on the sweater they’d bought the last time they were together, paired with the pink skirt he suggested and mismatched thigh highs (the right was black with leg bones embroidered on it, and the left was a pink and purple gradient covered in tiny cartoons of My Melody and Kuromi), as well as chunky black ankle boots, although hers had far higher heels and far less buckles than his.
“Niki!”
“Hey, Wil! This is Tina,” said Niki, gesturing to the other girl, who wore a long-sleeved black turtleneck under a white spaghetti strap minidress and fuzzy white kitten heels. She smiled at him, flashing pointed catlike teeth. She also had white cat ears and a tail that curled behind her in a question mark.
“Hi, Wilbur! My name’s Tina Kitten, but Niki’s probably already told you that. It’s nice to meet you!” She held out a clawed hand for him to shake, but he waved her off sheepishly.
Odd, I thought she was a demon, thought Wilbur. But out loud he said, “Sorry, not big of a toucher. But it’s nice to meet you too, Tina! You’re much prettier than the pictures.” Shit, did that sound creepy?
“Aw, man, not the pictures! They always do me dirty,” she giggled, appearing not to be too bothered.
Niki, on the other hand, was. “They do! And we still haven’t gotten that import from Hell so we can have a phone that doesn’t freak out whenever you exist within 6 feet of it.”
“Nah, don’t rush it! I’ve never been the photogenic type anyway.”
“So, um, where to?” Wilbur cut in. “I heard a new place opened up somewhere in the outdoors section.”
“Ooh, yes! I’ve been starving since this sunset!” Tina grabbed Niki by the hand and began leading her to the escalator. Swivelling her head back a little too far, she added, “Let’s go, Wilbur!”
∞∞∞
On Friday morning, Quackity was watching hamster videos on the Internet when he found an ad for a newly-renovated hot spring nearby:
LUXURIOUS AMENITIES, ARTFUL ARCHITECTURE, AND A MODERN SPIN ON TRADITION…
Interested? Come to Mazu’s Palace, a soothing oceanside hot spring resort perfect for relieving the stress of a hard day.
Call +XX XXX XXX XXXX or visit mazuspalace.com to make your reservation. A world of relaxation awaits!
Quackity chewed on his casino chip in thought. Maybe this was just the thing to get his mind back on the right track…
He looked up their website and checked out reviews on a myriad of different sites—all seemed legit. The worst review he found was from someone complaining that the preparation process was confusing and the stay was too short, of which the former was subjective and the latter was changeable, as the resort offered stays lasting up to 72 hours.
Now, who to go with? He definitely wasn’t going there alone. Going with his boyfriend would just make him think even more about his other romance situation, which was precisely what he was trying to avoid, and going with one of his guy “friends” like Foolish would be even worse; he’d fret over them gaining romantic feelings like Wilbur, or worse, he’d be too focused on the sexy aspect to properly rewind. Charlie was just a wildcard in general—not really the type to take to a place like this. Those who didn’t fit in any of the previous categories were few and far in between, and he had his own reasons for not wanting to ask any of them.
Well, there was one person he could ask.
∞∞∞
“What about this one? Better or no?” Tina stood in front of a full-length mirror, trying to decide between several pairs of white leg warmers. One was lined with ribbons and lace, one was gartered and covered in fur, one was frilly and had tiny pom poms hanging from the top, and of course there was the classic woollen type often worn by dancers and fans of certain fashion subcultures. The one Tina was holding up now fastened down the side with little black buttons and scalloped edges.
“Ooh, I love that one too,” cooed Niki.
“Right?” Tina looked between this pair and the several other previous ones. “Which one should I get?”
Niki’s grey-green eyes darted between the options, scrutinising each one. “Damn, I don’t think I can decide, Tina. They all look really good on you!”
“Me neither! Darn.” She pursed her lips and looked to Wilbur. “What do you think?”
“Oh! Um.” Wilbur chewed his bottom lip in thought. “I think the furry one looks best.”
“You know, I think you may be right! You’ve got a good eye, pal,” she grinned, trying it on. It matched surprisingly well. “And it matches with every outfit ‘cus I’m always in fur!”
“What kind is it?” Niki piped up.
Tina bent down to check the inner lining. “Hm, the tag says it’s from a fur-bearing trout.”
“Ooh, that kind’s super rare. I hear it’s the softest too,” said Niki, at the same time Wilbur said, “I’m more of a fox guy myself.”
“Really? I thought it was mink or something.” Tina stood back up and tossed the furry leg warmers into their basket.
She didn’t reply to what I said, Wilbur thought. Wait, I wonder if Quackity wears fur. He seems like the type to wear one of those super extravagant fluffy coats that cost a million bucks and—
“Really? You like fox fur, Wil?” asked Niki.
“Yeah.” Excited she’d asked, he added, “It's the colours, mostly, but there’s the coolness factor to it too. Never been able to find some at these types of places, though.”
“Oh, so that’s what you said! Sorry, man, I didn’t really hear you, since Niki was talking too, but that's cool!” (So why didn’t you just ask me to repeat what I said? Wilbur wondered bitterly.) “Honestly, I don’t really buy much fur, myself, since I’ve got some of my own, but I trust your judgement.”
“Wilbur, I had no idea you wore any colours other than black,” Niki teased good-naturedly.
“Oh, man. You should've seen me in my cyber goth phase, it was awful. Black and bright candy red all day every day.” He shivered at the memory. Actually, most of his stuff hadn’t been tossed yet, so if he really wanted to, he could recreate the way he used to look. God knows he didn’t, though.
“When’d you have that?”
“Mm… 2000s, I think. Memory’s blurry though.”
Niki’s jaw dropped in sudden horror. “2000s? I was born in that decade! I keep forgetting you’re an old man.”
“Wh—am not!” Wilbur scoffed, appalled.
Tina appeared with a tiny pink paper bag in tow, finally done paying. “What? Wilbur’s old?”
“I just said I wasn’t!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, in your 60s now?” goaded Niki.
Tina leaned against her, stifling her laughs in her shoulder, and Niki leaned back. Wilbur tried to hide his jealousy at their easy, unashamed affection towards each other. “Oh man, you really are lookin’ good for your age, Wilbur!”
“I’m not 65! Vampires only age once every 50 years after their turning!”
“Alright, whatever you say.” Tina’s sharp grin glinted under the store lights.
“Anyway,” said Niki, expertly redirecting their conversation as they exited, “where do we go now?”
Wilbur had really been craving blood bitters (vampiric blood-based candy with a bitter taste rather than a sweet one) lately, and he recalled there being a small confectionery a couple floors down. “Maybe—”
“Ooh, we should get some drinks!” Tina pointed at a store nearby called EyeBubble Tea—the logo was of a typical bubble tea drink, but with eyeballs in place of tapioca pearls.
He opened his mouth, about to continue his suggestion, when his phone dinged and he froze in place. A message from Father. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind:
Fuck. Phil never messages. What could he want? Is it bad? Maybe I’m finally going to meet Mother? Or I’m being disowned? Does Phil work for Quackity too???
He looked up and found the girls already heading in the direction of the store. Niki stopped for a minute and asked, “Wil, you coming?”
What Wilbur intended to say was, Hold on, I have another idea. Can we discuss where to go first? But what he said was, “Oh, I—I’ll catch up, don't worry about me.” Then he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Father wouldn’t be ruining his night out this time.
Wilbur got home at 6:13 am and slowly began getting ready for bed. He felt like he should've been stewing in that happy feeling he got whenever he hung out with Niki, but for some reason he felt oddly tired.
He switched on his phone and found that same message notification staring him in the face. Ah. He'd forgotten about that. He unlocked it, about to open it when another popped up, this time from Niki. Deciding to delay the inevitable as much as possible, he opened her message first.
Wilbur smiled and responded:
Giddy with excitement and hopefulness, Wilbur clicked on the remaining notification from his father. It can’t be too bad, right? he reasoned.
He scanned the message, and his stomach dropped.
∞∞∞
Ghostboo stared at Tubbo as he wiped down the counter, not-so-subtly admiring his scars and the contour of his muscles as they moved. Ghostboo themself hovered dumbfounded in front of a table, with a similar washcloth in their hand.
Tubbo looked up for a second, and they locked eyes. Tubbo was one of the few people Ghostboo could do that with; anyone else and he’d dissipate in fear. Tubbo cracked a smile, suppressing a laugh. “Hey, Boo, I know you don’t work here, but maybe stop starin’ for a minute and help me out so we can close up and”—he lowered his voice—“get that creep outta here, you know?”
“Ah, yeah, right. I’ll—I’ll get on that right now.” Ghostboo flew over to the next table and began wiping it down, stealing a (obvious) glimpse at the figure hunched over at the table in the corner. From underneath their hood peeked out a pair of furry cat ears and long white whiskers. Tubbo said they had ordered a single glass of milk three hours ago during lunch and had refused to leave until they saw the CEO of Las Nevadas.
Obviously, they couldn’t just summon Quackity because some random sketchy guy in a hood said so, so Tubbo decided to force them out once the restaurant closed to prepare for dinner.
As Tubbo and Ghostboo finished off the last couple tables, the door swung open and both glanced up momentarily to see Quackity stroll in, past the figure who was now very much alert. “Hey guys! How’s business going today?” Tubbo vaguely registered him coming closer to watch him arrange the table condiments. Quackity never went in when the place was packed; it attracted too much attention. Usually, he’d come in like this, during the break periods when hardly anyone was around.
“Pretty good, we were completely packed for all of lunch, and breakfast was fairly busy too,” said Tubbo, then he got a better look at Quackity and immediately wrinkled his nose. “Jeez, man, did you get attacked by a piranha or something?”
Quackity’s eye widened, realising too late that he forgot to cover those when he got ready earlier. “Wrong marine animal, but nice try, Tubbo,” he snorted. He waved half-heartedly at Ghostboo, only now noticing them. “Hey man.”
Ghostboo waved back.
Tubbo pulled Quackity closer by the arm and hissed, “Look, that guy over there in the corner has been wanting to see you since lunch. They won’t fucking leave. Could you talk to them and see what’s up, please?”
Quackity nodded almost imperceptibly. The figure was on his blind side, so he turned on his heels all the way to the right to face Ghostboo. He glanced at the figure for a split second before clapping his hands together and loudly announcing, “Well! You guys should be on your break too, y’know? I’ll assume the rest of the cooks are preparing already, so why don’t you go take your rest outside?”
“Yep, they are, and we’ve basically got the furniture all fixed up, so. We’ll leave you to it, Big Q!” Playing along, Tubbo grabbed Ghostboo by the elbow—his hand briefly phased through it before they remembered to be tangible—and escorted them out the restaurant.
Quackity pussyfooted (now that’s a great word!) towards the table in the corner, wary yet acting completely blasé. Acutely aware of the blade strapped to his leg, he pulled back the empty chair across from them and asked, “May I?”
“You may.”
He sat and eyed the empty mug of milk on the table. “So, you wanted to see me?”
“Yeah. There’s someone I need you to take care of—”
Quackity leaned forward and heard the chair creak.
“Her name is Captain Puffy.”