Heartbreak (Never Felt So Good)

by n0thoughtsjustgay

Summary:

JSchlatt has been revived. Surprisingly enough, it actually went okay, and he’s actually a good enough guy.

No, the problem is he’s still in love with Quackity, and Quackity is realizing he might still have feelings for him

Also Quackity is already dating Wilbur

Notes:

MULTICHAPTER SHIT LETS DO THIS

uh yeah. i’m gonna do the best i can, but i don’t have the greatest track record with myself for writing multichapter fics. i’ll try to update once a week, so get that schedule in my reminders app

yeah 👍🏼

Chapter 1: I

When Schlatt was revived, it was a hell of a commotion, and Quackity didn’t know how to feel. It had been some sort of last resort from Dream, getting the feared tyrant on his side. And it had worked for a few seconds while Schlatt was still getting over what had happened. People were practically frozen in place, like someone had hit pause on them all. Dream gloated, as though no one would dare attack him with Schlatt at his side.

 

Until Schlatt actually punched him, giving the others a chance to finally take care of Dream once and for all. The revival book disappeared into the air, leaving no question on what to do with it. After that, the attention focused on the newly revived man, and most people were pretty divided on what to do with him. Some wanted him dead, some wanted him to just leave, others wanted to give him a chance. Quackity had finally stepped in, and offered Schlatt a place to stay. He was plenty grateful, but couldn’t say a word of thanks before Quackity was walking away, not wanting to part through his feelings at that moment.

 

When back at Las Nevadas, Quackity gave him a job, a simple waiter at one of his restaurants, put him under supervision, and let him go. Quackity had the manager on speed dial, and one of his coworkers reporting to him everyday after his shift ended. He wasn’t going to just let Schlatt completely loose, the man had been a tyrant. There was no telling what could happen if he lost his temper. 

 

Wilbur, of course, went out to spy. He didn’t order anything, didn’t want to go in and manage to cause an argument, so he simply observed. And what he saw was actually quite surprising. Schlatt was serving customers to the best of his ability, even biting his tongue when they sassed him. 

 

“Shit, really? I would’ve expected him to get alcohol somehow and start cursing out customers.” Quackity huffed out with a laugh. It was a little hard to believe. Schlatt, holding his tongue when someone was being rude to him? Practically unheard of. Wilbur, who was behind Quackity with his arms around his shoulders, smiled with him, before replying.

 

“Well, limbo changes a man. I remember, back then, that he had some sort of never ending whiskey bottle, and he had to drink to actually stay less drunk. Whenever he was around, he had to take giant gulps to keep any sort of conversation with me. I would imagine anything becomes tortuous if you have to do it long enough. Wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to touch hard liquor again.” Wilbur informed him. Quackity took that into consideration. Drinking alcohol to get less drunk? And having to do that for years, just to hold a conversation? That truly could be torture, even for the alcoholic Schlatt. 

 

Going out again, Wilbur had been intent on getting Schlatt as a server, see how he would react, how they both would react. Quackity thought it was gonna be a disaster. Why wouldn’t it, their last proper interaction outside of limbo was probably some sort of threat. They would probably start arguing, Schlatt was an extremely argumentative person.

 

Long mornings, whispered apologies and soft kisses, promises to be better, silent understandings that he can’t

 

~~~~

 

So, Schlatt… was still processing.

 

It had happened all fairly quickly, in his defense. 

 

He was just in limbo, deciding if it was worth it to take another sip of whiskey to stay sane, or let himself get drunker and drunker. Then suddenly, he’s being revived, he’s more sober than he’s been in fucking years, and he’s shown like some sort of final threat to the people in front of him. Dream had revived him… as a show of power? Intimidation? He still wasn’t sure, but Dream had immediately told him how 

 

“I revived you!”

 

“I saved you!” 

 

“Let’s work together, shall we?”

 

And other shit he didn’t feel like recalling. He had gotten up after a few seconds, cracked his knuckles, made a much better decision, and punched Dream in the face. 

 

It was really funny, everyone would admit it. 

 

Dream had been caught off guard, and swiftly dealt with. The stupid revival book disappeared, so, of course, he was the next thing to deal with. People were angry, wanted him dead again, which he can’t really fault. Others were less… trigger happy, and just wanted him to go far away and not come back. A minority were merciful, and wanted to actually give him a chance, which he was fully confused about. He had literally been a dictator, that’s not someone you give another chance. 

 

Then Quackity stepped in to silence the argument. Magnificent golden wings, his adorable stupid beanie, a gorgeous red suit with suspenders, and a large scar over half his face. Mostly everyone expected him to decide death for the former tyrant as one of the people that was right in the crosshairs of his wrath. 

 

But… he didn’t.

 

Instead, putting him on a sort of probation, giving him a place to stay, a job even. He had been struck into incredulity, unable to speak. He was actually being spared? By Quackity if all people?

 

And when had he gotten so hot scary? 

 

And that lead him to where he was now. Getting ready for his next shift. At his job. That Quackity had given to him. Without a catch. Seemingly out of the kindness, or atleast pity, of his heart.

 

Was he blushing? Shit

 

Yeah, even after all that time in limbo, he still hadn’t really gotten over his feelings for his ex-husband. Quackity had been the last thing he had seen before the heart attack took him, so it was easy to just… think about him.

 

And the conclusion was that Schlatt had been a bad husband. Big shocker. 

 

So now that he was back, he wasn’t going to try anything. He wanted to, he wanted to win Quackity over again. He wanted to be able to wake up to him again, this time fully sober and not struggling with a hangover. But he wouldn’t. Quackity would probably hate that, and probably rescind his protection, leaving the ram to the wolves. 

 

So no. Unless Quackity showed any interest first, then Schlatt would leave him be, however reluctantly. He would go to his job, see what normal life he could live, and be as happy as he could be.

 

Then Wilbur Soot showed up at the restaurant he worked at, asking for him as a server. 

 

Fuck

Chapter 2: II

Summary:

He looked good. Like he was taking care of himself, like he felt comfortable. And Schlatt couldn’t help but notice.

He rapped his knuckles on the table, startling Wilbur and gaining his attention. The other man turned to him, and Schlatt found himself almost mesmerized.

He could only see the green, slightly zombified part of Wilbur’s face, but the other side? The other side still showed his almost unnatural beauty. Perfect, smooth skin, pale but not too pale, not a single blemish.

And his eyes. Holy shit. Schlatt felt pinned in place by them, and Wilbur wasn’t even glaring. The red was in both of them, swirling around like lava. He was struck speechless for a split second, before realizing he was ogling the first man.

Notes:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!!

i meant to post this like, 3 hours ago whoops.

so, here we go. we got some subtle gay, some explicit gay, just gay in general

When Wilbur Soot showed up at the restaurant he worked at, asking for him as a server, Schlatt thought he was having another heart attack. Because, as the president’s lover, his request was not going to be refused. 

 

“What?!” He hissed to the younger coworker, confusion shining in his eyes. The girl raised her hands in defense, obviously as confused as, and a little scared of, the ex-tyrant. And fuck, he couldn’t be even blame her.

 

“Look man, he asked for you, and he’s basically the guy equivalent of the first lady, so like hell we’re saying no to him.” The reminder that Wilbur was with Quackity still stung, but he forced it down. He could get fired for sassing him. Breath in, breath out.

 

“Alright kid, what table?” He asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. She pointed behind her towards the left, and he grabbed a notebook and a pen. She hesitated for a second, before patting his shoulder.

 

“Good luck I guess.” She walked off to do her job, and he started towards the table. Conversations quieted as he walked by, the people of the server still not used to him yet. He approached the table where Wilbur sat. This was the first time they had properly seen each other since the revival, so Schlatt had a chance to finally take in Wilbur’s appearance.

 

He wasn’t looking in Schlatt’s direction, but Schlatt could see part of his face, partly green and a large stitch running below his right eye. His eye wasn’t  brown anymore, not completely. It had currents of a deep red now, most likely reflected in the other eye too. His wire rimmed glasses sat on the edge of his nose, the glass not any sort of prescription. He had finally managed to grow some stubble around his chin, and his hair had the same white streak as Schlatt. It was still a wavy mess, but it always added to his charm, never subtracting. 

 

His clothes were alright, he had a nice dress shirt on with Quackity’s signature smile over the left breast, an obvious sign. He still had his god awful trench coat, although it looked newer and cleaner, with less patches like wearing it was less of an article of clothing and more of a signature.  Schlatt couldn’t see below his waist since he was sitting down, but he imagined he had well pressed dress pants and shoes. 

 

He looked good. Like he was taking care of himself, like he felt comfortable. And Schlatt couldn’t help but notice.

 

He rapped his knuckles on the table, startling Wilbur and gaining his attention. The other man turned to him, and Schlatt found himself almost mesmerized. 

 

He could only see the green, slightly zombified part of Wilbur’s face, but the other side? The other side still showed his almost unnatural beauty. Perfect, smooth skin, pale but not too pale, not a single blemish.

 

And his eyes. Holy shit . Schlatt felt pinned in place by them, and Wilbur wasn’t even glaring. The red was in both of them, swirling around like lava. He was struck speechless for a split second, before realizing he was ogling the first man.

 

“You wanted me as your server?” He tried to summon some of the confidence he knew he had… somewhere, putting enough where he wasn’t too bothered, but wasn’t sounding like he wanted to fight. Wilbur kept him pinned in place a moment more, before shifting his eyes to the menu, releasing the ram hybrid. 

 

“Yep!” Wilbur replied, popping his P like the menace he was. Schlatt flipped the notebook open, grabbing the pencil and waiting, expression expectant. 

 

“Alright then, do you know what you want?” Schlatt asked gruffly, unwilling to put his customer service voice up for Wilbur Soot of all people. Wilbur raised his eyebrows at him, as though he had been expecting something else.

 

“What, no witty remark? No quips? I know you used to hate when I popped my P’s.” Damn, bastard still knew him too well. Schlatt huffed out a laugh.

 

“I still do. However, I am a server at, admittedly a very fancy, restaurant. You are the boyfriend equivalent of the first lady.” Schlatt deadpanned. Wilbur chuckled. He looked at Schlatt with something different in his eyes then. Wilbur looked like he was analyzing him. 

 

And Wilbur was. He had been very surprised when Schlatt hadn’t immediately started some form of argument, and was actually doing his job. He had seen it from a distance and heard about it in the reports, but those and actually experiencing it were two (three?) very different things. 

 

It was odd. He didn’t like it.

 

“Alright then. If I promise not to say a word to Quackity about anything bad, will you drop the whole ‘customer service act’ with me? It’s weird.” Wilbur ended his offer with a small smile, one that Schlatt remembered. It was something only for friends, used to make them feel more comfortable . It was something that he used to see all the time, before this server.

 

Before the election…

 

“Yeah, alright.” Schlatt let the tension leave his shoulders, slumping a small bit. He could tell Wilbur saw, the observant bastard. He smiled knowingly at the hybrid, and Schlatt grinned back.

 

“Now come on lover boy, what do you want?” He tapped his notebook impatiently, expectant eyes gazing at his friend. Wilbur laughed, placing  his order. When Schlatt came back with his food, they antagonized each other more, like the past two and a half years hadn’t happened. And it was like they hadn’t. They bantered, Wilbur hit his forearm while laughing, Schlatt insulted him. 

 

Even when Wilbur got an obviously romantic message from Quackity, it was nice. 

 

Eventually, Wilbur had to leave. Schlatt tosses the check at him, letting him pay with Quackity’s money.

 

“Little known upside to dating the president of a casino country. Rich as hell.” 

 

As he finished and stood up, he turned to Schlatt, pinning him in place again. Schlatt unconsciously straightened, wondering what Wilbur wanted. 

 

“We should hang out at some point. I’ll come over to your place some time during the week.” He stated. Wasn’t an offer, a statement. Wilbur was going to come over after he found out where he lived.

 

Wait what?

 

“How will you know where I live?” Schlatt asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. Wilbur simply grinned at him as he turned away.

 

And he left, small wave goodbye. After a few seconds of being absolutely flabbergasted, Schlatt went back to his regular job, throwing the customer service act back on, and Wilbur went home to report his findings.

 

“Oh duckling! I’m back~!” He said sing songily into the apartment. He heard a response from the front room, where he found Quackity relaxing in front of the quieted television. They embraced, Wilbur leaving a small kiss on the forehead. 

 

“How’d it go? You don’t seem angry, and I didn’t get a call about a fight, so I’d wager nothing exploded.” Quackity said once they had both sat down. Wilbur had his arm around him, and he leaned into Wilbur’s chest, appreciating the closeness.

 

“It actually went quite well. My original server was obviously surprised about my request, but he still came over. He was definitely putting on his customer service act, which was weird as hell, but I told him to drop it. We bantered a bit, and… it was nice. It was like old times, from before everything.” Wilbur told him. Quackity hummed in reply. They didn’t talk for a while, content to simply exist together. 

 

“Might have to go there for dinner.” Quackity mumbled as he fell asleep against Wilbur. Wilbur gazed at his sleeping boyfriend, slightly surprised. Would that be a good idea? Quackity and Schlatt? What if something happened? What if they started arguing?

 

Or, conversely, what if they got along too well ? If they got together again? Would he be able to share?

 

At the thought of Quackity being with someone else at the same time as him, he expected the old pit of possessiveness to reignite, having wanted to keep Quackity to himself, where he could take care of him, where he could be the only one to love him. 

 

But, unexpectedly… it didn’t. He didn’t feel the ugly growling in his gut, he didn’t become irritated about nothing, he just… felt. He felt Quackity against his chest, and he felt the couch beneath them, and he felt the heater pumping warm air into the apartment. He didn’t feel ugly.

 

And isn’t that a thought?

Notes:

thanks to my amazing beta reader, PimasterJ on disc, they actually came up with a few lines in here, and i’m hella grateful. once again, happy holidays!!

if you want lil updates and also other nonfic related shit, check out my tiktok, @cantimgay

Chapter 3: III

Summary:

Evidently, he was still far stronger than Wilbur (or Wilbur was probably still a fucking beanpole with no muscles or fat), because Wilbur practically shot up and forward, losing whatever balance he had and collapsing into Schlatt’s chest with an ‘oof’. Schlatt stepped back, and Wilbur stabilized himself on Schlatt, his free hand wrapping going over Schlatt’s shoulder so he didn’t fall over, and his other hand quickly tightened in Schlatt’s.

Notes:

Happy new year’s eve yall. how the night changes, huh? it’s been six months since we lost him, bout a month and a half since the Incident, and ~2.5 years since the SMP started. time changes us, it changed how we saw people, it changed who was there. things aren’t the same. things will never be the same. be there for each other, don’t let the community tear itself apart completely. support the creators, support the people around, support yourself.

Happy New Year everyone. ❤️

 

ok now on with the gay shit

Schlatt went on with his week like normal, almost forgetting about Wilbur’s promise to hang out. It was fairly easy, getting lost in the mundane routine of wake up, get ready, go to work, deal with customer for hours, go home, go to sleep. 

 

Almost. He couldn’t forget the way that Wilbur grinned at him, the way he moved as he left, how his eyes shined with the familiar glint of mischief. And of course, those wouldn’t let him forget Wilbur’s promise to find him. When he thought about it, it made some sense. Wilbur was essentially the first man, he had resources. If anything, he could just ask Quackity where Schlatt lived, he was the one who provided him with it. 

 

But somehow, Schlatt just didn’t expect this when he came home almost a week after their encounter.

 

“Y’know it’s very homey, I gotta be honest.” Wilbur commented as Schlatt walked through the door. Schlatt stood there, brain processing what was happening. Wilbur really had found where he lived, and really had come. 

 

WILBUR WAS IN IN HIS FUCKING APARTMENT.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Schlatt finally spluttered out. Wilbur glanced over his shoulder at him. His eyes still held the piercing quality that pinned him in place. 

 

“I told you, I think we should hang out. It’s kinda been years, no matter how you look at it. Do you still do alcohol? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.” Wilbur asked casually. He looked away, pushing off the couch he had been leaning on. Schlatt shrugged off his jacket, laying it over the head of his couch. 

 

“Not particularly. Why?” Schlatt asked, slightly suspicious. Wilbur turned around to face him, a grin he had practically trademarked as his signature grin of troublemaking flashed across his face.

 

“We’re going out to have fun tonight man, there’s this really good club, so I was wondering if you would be drinking with me.” He answered, tooinnocently. Schlatt grumbled to himself, walking past the dumbass intruder in his home so he could change. He looked over his shoulder at Wilbur.

 

“Well I’ll think about it. I just got off a shift and I had the pissiest fucking group of woman at the end.” Schlatt closed the door behind him, finally throwing his tie off. It landed on the floor in a heap, which was quickly joined by the shirt he was wearing. 

 

“Really? What were they like?” Schlatt whipped around to face his door, where Wilbur was probably leaning. Schlatt let his heart calm down from its flustered racing, knowing Wilbur hadn’t been watching him. 

 

“Well this beach blonde was like, the fucking leader, and she was constantly snapping her fingers when I was anywhere nearby, like to grab my attention. And this other chick with literal fire engine truck red hair kept giggling at me like she was trying to flirt with me. Then there was the third one, who apparently had any sort of dignity, and just ordered her food like a regular damn person.” He obliged Wilbur as he changed out of his work clothes into more a more club looking outfit.

 

“Damn, sounds like they might’ve had something to drink before they arrived.” Wilbur mused. Schlatt hummed in agreement, and now he could tell he was definitely leaning against the door. He turned the handle, pulling the door inwards quickly, watching as it caused Wilbur to fall backwards onto the ground. He landed by his feet, and Schlatt looked down at him as he walked towards the door, taking in his startled face, before it was replaced by that trademark grin.

 

“Yeah, I guess I deserved that for leaning.” Wilbur stuck out his hand as he began getting up, and Schlatt rolled his eyes as he grabbed it to pull him up. Evidently, he was still far stronger than Wilbur (or Wilbur was probably still a fucking beanpole with no muscles or fat), because Wilbur practically shot up and forward, losing whatever balance he had and collapsing into Schlatt’s chest with an ‘oof’. Schlatt stepped back, and Wilbur stabilized himself on Schlatt, his free hand wrapping going over Schlatt’s shoulder so he didn’t fall over, and his other hand quickly tightened in Schlatt’s. 

 

They looked at each other for a moment, surprise on both faces, as they stood there. Wilbur was leaning on Schlatt, the man having pulled him forward with such a force he had lost his balance. Wilbur was actually speechless, a very difficult feat to manage. 

 

But this did it. 

 

Wilbur quickly took in what he felt, almost unconsciously. Schlatt, somehow, was still very muscular, as he had been before limbo. He had pulled Wilbur up like it had been nothing. Schlatt looked just as surprised as him, staring at him like he had grown an extra head. Neither was processing what had just happened. 

 

Then Wilbur realized that they were very close. 

 

“HOLY SHIT!” He yelled as let go of Schlatt, almost flinging himself backwards. Wilbur yelling had woken Schlatt from his trance, and he stumbled back a step as well. Wilbur caught himself again, this time on the wall, and the two stared at each other for a good few seconds. They had just… they almost… woah.

 

“Um. No homo?” Wilbur managed to stammer out after a second. Schlatt forced himself to process what he said. When he did, he snorted so hard he nearly knocked himself over as he started laughing. 

 

Just like that, the sudden tension in the room dropped as the two began to laugh uncontrollably. Schlatt couldn’t stop laughing, which made Wilbur start laughing as well. The two continued laughing for a good while as they calmed down. 

 

“We still going out?” Schlatt asked when they finally recovered. He didn’t seem to realize the connotation the phrasing had after… that… but Wilbur heard it, and he got the image of the two actually going out suddenly, before he shoved it down, and grinned at his friend(?). 

 

“Yeah, let’s get going.” 

Chapter 4: IV

Summary:

“Yeah, I can tell.” Wilbur giggled, smile splitting his face. He looked happy in that moment. Of course, he probably was very happy in his day to day life, and why wouldn’t he be?

He was in a committed relationship, with the man he loved (that Schlatt still loved) who was also the president of the country he lived in. By proxy, he was rich, respected or at least feared, and probably went home to the most lavish penthouse suite on the server.

He was living the dream. He had it all.

And he was spending his night with Schlatt of all people.

Notes:

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They stayed silent most of the walk, not sure what to say. It had been years since they had properly been friends, and the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Like one of them should say something, but neither could think of anything to say. 

 

They arrived at the club within a few minutes, Wilbur getting them inside without so much as an ID request. The smiley face on his shirt was proof enough.

 

“Perks of fucking the president?” Schlatt asked, their conversation from the restaurant coming back to him. Wilbur huffed out a small laugh.

 

“Basically, yeah.” Wilbur answered easily. Schlatt looked around, and he understood why Wilbur wanted to come to this one specifically. There were multiple sections of the club, it wasn’t all dancing and jumping and alcohol. Schlatt surveyed one of the other areas, where people were much calmer, it seemed like there was more talking and less grinding. He turned to Wilbur, but found him at the bar, ordering himself something. He waited a moment, before walking after him, coming up behind him.

 

“What’re you getting?” He asked, Wilbur startling slightly, before relaxing once he knew it was Schlatt. 

 

“You see the sunset spill? Middle column, second from the bottom? Yeah, it’s really fucking good, and it’s like, 75% vodka.” Wilbur told him. Schlatt eyed the menu, skipping over the hard liquor, but not finding anything good. He leaned away from the counter, the bartender nodding and walking away. 

 

“Not gonna get anything?” Wilbur asked, watching the bartender make his drink. Schlatt shook his head. Wilbur shrugged, not judging him in any way. 

 

And why would he? They had seen each other’s punishment in limbo. Wilbur hated having to stay still, not being able to do something. And all he had to walk around with was a tiny train platform, barely 20 feet across. 

 

And Schlatt’s punishment didn’t seem awful, but he was constantly bombarded with memories, and the drunker he was, the more distorted the memory was. He had to drink in order to get more sober. But the more sober he was, the later the memories became, mostly memories from Manburg, his time as a drunk dictator. 

 

No matter what he did, he was miserable. 

 

F O R  S I X T Y  D A M N  Y E A R S

 

But it was fine! He was fine! He was revived now, and he never had to drink whiskey again if he didn’t want to.

 

He suddenly felt his stomach drop, so he walked away from the bar. No use staying over there if he wasn’t going to order anything. He glanced back over to the secluded area. It was behind a glass door, and it had be some sort of sound proofed if the people were any indication. Some popular song came on, and all the young adults in the crowd began screaming, but the secluded couple barely paid the clamor a glance out of the door. 

 

He turned back to bar, where he could see Wilbur grabbing his drink. Wilbur caught his eye, and headed over. 

 

“Hey, what do you want to do?” Wilbur asked, sipping from his drink. 

 

“Not feeling like dancing. Kind of eyeing that more relaxed area over there.” He jabbed his thumb in it’s direction. Wilbur nodded in understanding.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good. Wanted to get out, but didn’t really want to scream my voice out.” Wilbur laughed while Schlatt grinned at him. They walked over to the door, pulling it open. As they closed it behind them, Schlatt knew his suspicion of soundproofing was correct. Everything became suddenly far more muffled, and he recognized that this part of the club actually had soft music playing throughout, and people here were simply enjoying the atmosphere. 

 

“Hey, it’s got a small food thing. Wanna grab a bite?” Wilbur pointed out to Schlatt. 

 

“Yeah, I’m getting hungry.” Schlatt agreed. They made their way over, the server noticing them as they approached. Schlatt noticed how they straightened, and the smile they plastered on as they approached was slightly faked and forced. So, naturally, before either the server or Wilbur could say anything, Schlatt cut in.

 

“Hey man, you can knock the act off. I know what it’s like.” Schlatt assured with an easy grin. The server blinked in confusion for a second, before their posture slumped a small bit, becoming more natural. 

 

“Thanks, any idea what you want?” They asked, and the two friends looked up at the menu, quickly ordering food. The server nodded, walking off towards the kitchen. They stood there, Wilbur still sipping on his sunset. Schlatt observed he already had the start of a drunk blush on his cheeks. 

 

“You’re already turning pink, how is your alcohol tolerance that low?” Schlatt pointed out, teasing him. Wilbur scoffed.

 

“I told you, this thing’s like, um, mostly vodka by weight.” He answered, only stumbling once. 

 

“Yeah, I can tell.” Wilbur giggled, smile splitting his face. He looked happy in that moment. Of course, he probably was very happy in his day to day life, and why wouldn’t he be? 

 

He was in a committed relationship, with the man he loved (that Schlatt still loved) who was also the president of the country he lived in. By proxy, he was rich, respected or at least feared, and probably went home to the most lavish penthouse suite on the server. 

 

He was living the dream. He had it all. 

 

And he was spending his night with Schlatt of all people. 

 

“Hey, got your food. Enjoy you two.” The server came back from behind the counter, carrying two plates with both their desired meals. Schlatt said a quick thanks, grabbing both. Wilbur made a grab for his, Schlatt quickly moving it out of his reach. 

 

“Come on lover boy, let’s sit down then you can start eating.” The nickname came easily, and Schlatt didn’t think anything of it, but Wilbur started blushing. 

 

Yeah, he was drunk. Schlatt held a sigh in, knowing that Wilbur was going to get…interesting. He found a booth, sliding into one of the seats, and Wilbur slid in behind him. Schlatt’s brain stuttered for a second, before putting Wilbur’s plate of food down. It was some light shit, like he was expecting it to be difficult to keep it down when he ordered. 

 

Schlatt got a loaded burger, not having eaten much that day. Since he wasn’t the one drinking mostly vodka, he knew he’d be able to keep it down. So, the two dug in to their food, and Wilbur finished off the rest of his drink. He had a prominent pink to his face.

 

“Don’t remember you being a lightweight, what happened?” Schlatt asked, gesturing to Wilbur. His companion shrugged, taking another bite of his food. 

 

“I mean, it-it-it was mostly vodka. I’m not that much of a lightweight.” Wilbur defended himself. Schlatt shrugged, acknowledging his argument. They sat in silence for another minute as they continued eating. Schlatt finished his burger, grabbing the nearby napkin. He glanced over as he cleaned his face, seeing Wilbur staring off into space. Schlatt sighed internally. 

 

“Hey. Hey, you with me?” He snapped his fingers by Wilbur’s ear, getting his attention. Wilbur turned to look at him and fuck. 

 

His eyes were half lidded, hiding the brown in his eyes and showing off the deep red. The blush on his face almost glowed in the soft lighting of the relaxed room. His hair with the stupid white streak fell over his eyes in a way that the strands landed in front of the eyes. He was leaning forward slightly, the alcohol messing with his balance. Schlatt swallowed, forcing himself to focus.

 

“We should uh, get you home. You’re pretty drunk.” Schlatt told him. Wilbur nodded. Wilbur slid out of the booth seat, stabilizing himself on the table. Schlatt got out, eyeing him to make sure he didn’t need to hold him. Wilbur waved him off, and Schlatt raised his hands in surrender. They began walking, Wilbur barely stumbling. When they opened the door out of the lounge area, the music startled them both, having forgotten the fact they were in a club. 

 

“Sheesh, didn’t realize how loud the music was until we got out.” Schlatt mused to himself, the music drowning out anything he’d want to say. He turned to the direction of the door, looking for anyone that looked like they would start something with them. When he turned back, however, Wilbur had vanished.

 

Goddamnit

Notes:

check out my tiktok at cantimgay, and leave a comment here ❤️

Chapter 5: V

Summary:

“OY! HANDS OFF!” He yelled, grabbing the guy’s shoulder. He jumped, whirling to face Schlatt. He paled at the angry look on the ram’s face. Schlatt grabbed Wilbur, pulling him into himself. Wilbur went with worryingly little resistance. His eyes fluttered, like he was trying to stay awake. Schlatt had to hold him up, his legs giving out on him

Notes:

TW!! non-con drug use

Wilbur gets roofied this chapter, but Schlatt steps in before anything bad happens!

stay safe y’all!

Looking around for him, he spotted Wilbur at the bar again, probably ordering another of the drink. He sighed, debating if he wanted to just go over and grab him, or let him get another. In the end, he let him get another, and just turned to watch the crowd on the dance floor. 

 

It was some club version of a popular song, one that he didn’t really know. People seemed to be having fun, so good for them. After a few minutes, he looked back to the bar to see what Wilbur was-

 

Wilbur was talking to a guy. 

 

It was fine on it’s own, if it was just a guy. But the guy looked shady, and seemed like he was trying to make moves on the obviously drunk Wilbur. Schlatt felt something flare in him, some protective feeling over his friend(?). He began walking towards him, but with the worst timing, a group of girls swarmed into the dance floor, completely blocking his path. 

 

When they cleared, the guy had an arm around Wilbur’s shoulder as he led them off, Wilbur clearly resisting. Schlatt cursed to himself, walking, then running after them. He was still in shape, alright? And he had a very bad feeling about this. 

 

“OY! HANDS OFF!” He yelled, grabbing the guy’s shoulder. He jumped, whirling to face Schlatt. He paled at the angry look on the ram’s face. Schlatt grabbed Wilbur, pulling him into himself. Wilbur went with worryingly little resistance. His eyes fluttered, like he was trying to stay awake. Schlatt had to hold him up, his legs giving out on him. 

 

“Shit.” Schlatt cursed, quickly picking Wilbur up into a bridal carry. He shot a withering glare to the man, before quickly making his way to the exit. People gave him concerned glances and moved out of his way. A young woman opened the door as he raced by, and he couldn’t get out a quick thanks before he was out. 

 

The cold night air hit him like a truck after the heated inside of the club. He shivered, but started his way towards the casino. His attention turned to Wilbur, still managing to stay awake.

 

“Wil, can I use your communicator to call Quackity and tell him what happened?” He asked. Wilbur sluggishly nodded after a few moments, and Schlatt shifted him in his arms until he could get his communicator out of his pocket. He flipped it open, and quickly went to the contacts. They were labeled slightly odd, but he managed to find what was most likely Quackity’s contact. Pressing it, and lifting the device to his ear, he pressed it to his shoulder so he could continue to hold Wilbur.

 

“Wil? Hey what’s up, I thought you were still out with Schlatt?” Quackity’s voice filtered through the small machine, and Schlatt felt his heart skip a beat. His breath hitched, and suddenly all he could think about was soft, golden wings, quiet spanish, and the feeling of skin on his. 

 

He shook himself out of it, knowing that this situation needed his full attention. 

 

“Yeah, we were, but I think some guy roofied Wilbur while he was getting another drink. He’s out of it, barely awake, and he looks like he could throw up any second now.” Schlatt answered, definitely stunning Quackity for a moment. Then…

 

“WHAT?! HE WAS DRUGGED?! WHERE ARE YOU, I’M COMING TO GET YOU!” His panicked voice rang through Schlatt’s ears, and he hissed in pain. He was just outside the main casino, the lights almost blinding him. 

 

“I’m just outside the main casino, to the left of the door when coming out.” Schlatt told him, receiving a frantic acknowledgment. He stood there for a few minutes, keeping an eye on Wilbur as he began to drift. 

 

Approaching rapidly, all Quackity could think about was that Wilbur was hurt. He had gotten hurt, someone had tried to take him, he was in danger. His anxiety was barely calmed at the sight of Wilbur in Schlatt’s arms. He managed to slow down enough to not crash into the ram, and immediately began checking on Wilbur. He had seemingly passed out, head hanging as Schlatt held him. Quackity took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts and heart long enough to make a decision. 

 

“Ok, there’s a back door that will lead straight to the elevators. Follow me.” He said, taking a step back towards the casino. Schlatt hurried to do what he said, and they quickly walked around the side of the large building, finding a door that Quackity unlocked with a keycard. 

 

“So what happened, I want details.” Quackity managed to get out. He could hardly hear himself over his thumping heart, even if it was slowing down knowing that Wilbur was safe. 

 

“We were about to leave the club, and Wilbur left while I wasn't looking to get another drink. Some guy came up and was talking to him, and I tried heading toward the bar but a bunch of girls got into the dance floor and it blocked me for a few seconds. I went after the guy because he was leading Wilbur away, and when I grabbed him, Wilbur almost collapsed on me. He was struggling to stay awake, and he couldn’t speak, so I realized he was probably drugged by the guy.” Schlatt relayed the back end of the evening as they walked, the only sound beside it being their footsteps. 

 

Quackity forced himself to keep breathing, in and out. It would do no good if he went into a rage or broke down crying. He continued forward, only stopping when the hallway opened into the elevator room. He could hear the music and shouts emanating from the closed door that led to the main casino. It was almost too loud, but not quite, and Quackity was in no mood. He hit the button for the elevator, waiting for it to come down. 

 

He glanced back over his shoulder, and his eyes caught Schlatt’s. They hadn’t really seen each other before this, having only talked at Schlatt revival. So, he took the small moment to observe how Schlatt had changed. 

 

His hair, of course, had a stark white streak. It was combed down like the rest of his hair, parted through the left side. He had a plain white shirt on, not work appropriate but also not casual enough to be worn around the house. He had a small bit of stubble, something he would most likely shave away in the morning, and his stupid mutton chops were still there. 

 

Schlatt shifted, slightly uncomfortable, and Quackity realized he was staring. And, at that moment, the elevator dinged, signaling that it had arrived. They walked in quickly, and Quackity hit the button for his penthouse. He took the Presidential Keycard from his breast pocket, holding it to the scanner to recognize him. 

 

“Fancy keycard.” Schlatt remarked. Quackity smiled to himself, quickly absorbing the compliment on his work. 

 

“Yep. One of two keycards that lets you go up to the President’s Suite, Wilbur has the other.” Quackity explained. Schlatt hummed in reply, having to shift Wilbur around in his arms. Quackity glanced at him.

 

“I could probably carry him for the last bit, give you a rest.” Both had begun to calm down, Wilbur being somewhere safe having an effect on them. Schlatt

shook his head in response to the offer.

 

“Nah, he’s a damn string bean, and hybrids like me are stocky as shit. Like holding a couple grapes.” Schlatt told him. Quackity remembered the many times during the marriage that Schlatt would just lift him up without warning, and seemingly without any struggle. His chest grew warm. He stamped it down cold .

 

The elevator dinged once, letting the two out into the grand space. Quackity could hear the near silent “jesus” Schlatt let out, and he let himself be proud of his work. He looked over his shoulder, checking on Wilbur as he led them both towards his bedroom. He caught Schlatt staring at everything, seemingly in awe. 

 

Quackity’s home was massive, a sparkling monument to everything he had made here. It was sleek and chaotic and lived in and picturesque and all sorts of contradicting ideas. The living room had a massive window overlooking the entirety of Las Nevadas, its neon lights penetrating into the one sided glass. The floor was deep maroon hardwood, consistent in most of the floor plan, until they hit their destination. 

 

Quackity and Wilbur’s bedroom was just as beautiful as the rest of their home. A large circular room, double doors led into their walk-in closet, easily as big as Schlatt’s bedroom. On the other side of the bed, an open door  led to a darkened bathroom, and all that could be made out was a granite sink. The centerpiece of the room was a large bed, easily able to fit three people. It had a dark colored wooden headboard, a deep redwood. The bedsheets were mussed in a way that told the story of someone that shifted in his sleep. 

 

“Right here, just set him down. He’ll be able to sleep it off, and it makes the instincts feel better knowing the flock is in the nest.” Quackity instructed. The last bit of tension finally left his shoulders, and Quackity felt a wave of relief sweep through, and he felt like he could lay down and sleep for a week from that crash.

 

“Woah, don’t you collapse on me too.” Schlatt put his hand on Quackity’s shoulder, guiding him to sit down. He muttered out a small thanks, feeling the bed duvet under his hands. He shifted, eyes locking onto Wilbur’s sleeping form a small distance away. He let out a breath he was holding, tipping backwards to lie down. He considered falling asleep right there, but he knew he had to do something about Schlatt.

 

“What time is it exactly?” Quackity asked. Schlatt checked the communicator, relaying the late time. Quackity frowned.

 

“It’s too late to walk home. I wouldn’t risk it, and you probably shouldn’t. I’ve got a guest bedroom that way. Night.” Quackity waved Schlatt towards a certain direction, and Schlatt left the room to find the guest bedroom. He was gracious enough to close the door, and Quackity moved until he was under the covers, and threw them over Wilbur as well. He held Wilbur close, listening as Wilbur slept. 

 

He couldn’t even consider getting changed before the adrenaline crash forced him asleep.

Notes:

ok so writer’s block hit HARD this week, and i barely got chapter 6 finished, so it might be a week or two after next week before chapter 7 gets out

comments help tho wink wink nudge nudge

Chapter 6: VI

Summary:

He looked at Quackity, trying to recall the events that led him home. Worryingly, the last thing he could remember was the guy that hitting on him at the bar. But he was home, and he wasn’t hurt, so…

Oh shit, what was that noise?

He perked up, listening to the footsteps walk by their closed door. They were fairly heavy, and Wilbur quickly slid out of bed, intending to stay quiet. He stumbled, nearly hitting the door, cause fucking hell where did that headache come from?! He opened the door, attempting to peek out. He saw a familiar shirt, but he couldn’t really focus on that when he was tipping over and holy shit he fell and he was in the ground and oh it was just Schlatt. They stared at each other for a second.

Notes:

hi. i actually made the breakfast mentioned in this. it’s just some sunny side up eggs, salsa and tater tots

When Schlatt woke up in an unfamiliar bed, he instinctually panicked. He jolted up straight, eyes raking the room for threats while he tried to remember how he got there. It was a very nice room, with bedsheets much softer than his own, and a larger mattress. You’d have to be rich as hell to- oh.

 

Okay, he remembered. He was still in Quackity’s penthouse. The night’s events trickled back to him as he got up, stretching his sore limbs. Peering out the door and listening for any movement, he found that Wilbur and Quackity weren't currently awake. He couldn’t smell anything either, and their bedroom door down the hall was still closed. 

 

He was glad today was his day off, otherwise he’d have to get going in a hurry to his job from the casino. Instead, he took his time getting on the shirt he’d thrown off, same with his socks. He gazed at himself in the large mirror, noting how his hair was disheveled. He patted it down and combed through it, which did something at least. Leaving the comfortable room and heading out into the living area with an attached kitchen, he immediately prepared to get going while the couple still slept.

 

No doubt, Quackity and Wilbur lived a lavish life. Knowing he didn’t belong, he went over to the elevator as quickly as possible, so he could grab his shoes. Before he could leave though, he heard a thump behind him, and as he turned around, he saw Wilbur on his knees.

 

They were both silent for a second, then Wilbur yawned, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he began speaking.

 

“Hey… I didn’t know you were here.” He said, sleep still coating his voice. And hey, why would he?

 

When Wilbur woke up, the first thing he had noticed was that Quackity was still asleep. That wasn’t rare, but it definitely wasn’t common. The next thing he noticed was that they both still had their clothes on. Sometimes one of them (usually Quackity) were so tired when they got home, that they just kicked off their shoes and fell into bed. But it was never both.

 

He looked at Quackity, trying to recall the events that led him home. Worryingly, the last thing he could remember was the guy that hitting on him at the bar. But he was home, and he wasn’t hurt, so…

 

Oh shit, what was that noise?

 

He perked up, listening to the footsteps walk by their closed door. They were fairly heavy, and Wilbur quickly slid out of bed, intending to stay quiet. He stumbled, nearly hitting the door, cause fucking hell where did that headache come from?! He opened the door, attempting to peek out. He saw a familiar shirt, but he couldn’t really focus on that when he was tipping over and holy shit he fell and he was in the ground and oh it was just Schlatt. They stared at each other for a second.

 

“Hey…I didn’t know you were here.” He told the other man. Schlatt stood silent for another second, taking in what he said. Jeez, he knew he was on the ground, but was it that weird?

 

“U-uh, sorry for staring, I’m just a little surprised you’re up. I kinda expected you to still be out for a few more hours.” Schlatt explained. He walked over to Wilbur, offering him a hand, which Wilbur accepted gratefully. Schlatt was careful not to pull him up with too much force. Wilbur sucked in a pained breath, shutting his eyes and holding his head.

 

“ Christ, my head is absolutely killing me.” He hissed. Schlatt held his shoulders, stabilizing and eyeing him with a concerned look. He sighed softly.

 

“C’mon lover boy, let’s get you some water.” Schlatt slung Wilbur’s arm over his shoulder, guiding him to sit down on the large couch. He quickly made his way into the kitchen, managing to find a glass without too much difficulty. He filled it up with water from the fridge, bringing the glass to Wilbur. Handing it to the other man, Wilbur gulped it down gratefully. He set the now empty glass down, reaching up to rub his temples. 

 

“This is so much worse than a hangover, what the actual hell happened to me?” Wilbur groaned. Schlatt stiffened, catching Wilbur’s attention.

 

“Schlatt…what happened?” He asked tentatively. Schlatt sighed, turning his head to face Wilbur.

 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Schlatt asked. Wilbur was silent for a moment, recalling the last event.

 

“Um, I was at the bar getting a second drink, and this guy had come up to talk to me.” Wilbur answered, worried. His headache was still pounding, reminding him of the fact that this was not a normal hangover. 

 

“Yeah, uh, the guy roofied you. I managed to grab you before he could leave, but you passed out on the way here.” Schlatt sat down beside him, giving his friend a sympathetic look. Wilbur stared at him, eyes wide. Schlatt could see his mind processing his words, putting pieces together. 

 

“Shit man.” He finally said, leaning back into the couch. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, not sure what to say. The decision was made when Wilbur’s stomach growled, loudly. Schlatt huffed out a laugh, getting up to walk towards the kitchen.

 

“I’ll make you something lover boy. Anything you’re in the mood for?” He asked, opening the fridge and eyeing the ingredients and food in the fridge. Wilbur made an non-committal noise from the couch, and Schlatt grabbed a few eggs and a half empty container of salsa. He peered into the freezer, not even surprised that they didn’t have frozen hash browns. 

 

“Hey, where are your pans?” Schlatt called. 

 

“Cabinet above the oven.” Wilbur answered groggily. Schlatt stared at the three cabinets above the oven. He sighed, reaching up to the first one. Then the second, then the third.

 

“You sure Wil?” He asked, projecting his voice back into the front room. Wilbur grumbled, and Schlatt retried the three cabinets, taking care to look into the back of each. 

 

“Oh shit, I was wrong. I meant to the left, here.” Schlatt startled, Wilbur’s voice having come from behind him. Turning around, he saw Wilbur stabilizing himself on the counter beside an open cabinet. 

 

“Hey, you’re still a little fucked up, I’ll handle the food, you keep resting. I’ll grab you another glass of water, alright?” Schlatt took Wilbur by the shoulder and pulled him back gently. He went without resistance, head lolling back onto Schlatt’s shoulder as he groaned in discomfort. Schlatt froze. He suddenly realized just how domestic the morning was. 

 

It was something he hadn’t had in a long time, a morning with somebody he cared about. Yet, here he was, making breakfast for someone other than himself, worrying about the man in his arms, trying to get him to rest. It was almost surreal. How was this the morning he had been thrown into? Could he have this everyday?

 

Wilbur groaned again, and he mentally slapped himself. Okay yeah, his morning was wack, but Wilbur was in pain, hungry and probably thirsty. Steeling himself and pushing away any thoughts of how cozy it all felt, he bent down and picked Wilbur up, almost an exact copy of the night before. 

 

“Fucking hell! Warn a guy!” Of course, Wilbur was far more coherent than the night before. His arms wrapped around Schlatt’s neck, and he took a deep inhale. He relaxed as Schlatt strode into the living room, depositing him down on the couch. He sat himself up, turning to watch Schlatt disappear into the kitchen. 

 

Wilbur was doing alright honestly. Besides the pounding headache, the knowledge he had been drugged, the fact he still wanted to throw up, the feelings started to make themselves known.  

 

Yep. He was doing great.

 

It wasn’t like he was suddenly realizing how much it meant that Schlatt was making him a homemade breakfast because he had a headache. It wasn’t like it made his chest and his cheeks warm. It wasn’t like he really liked the fact that Schlatt was strong enough to pick him up without trouble. 

 

Nope! He was a perfectly loyal boyfriend, and Schlatt was just a very good friend! 

 

The door to Wilbur and Quackity’s room clicked, and Quackity came running out, business clothes shoved on hastily. Wilbur attempted to get up, before the headache forced him back down. 

 

“Hey, I have a really important meeting in half an hour. Are you okay being alone? I can reschedule if I need to.” Quackity asked, reluctant to leave. Wilbur waved him off with a small smile.

 

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not alone, I’ll be fine.” Wilbur took Quackity’s hand in his, kissing the knuckles. Quackity looked vaguely confused, before the sound of the stove turning on reminded him of their guest. He breathed out a sigh.

 

“Alright. You better take it easy, Soot, or else.” Quackity jokingly threatened. Wilbur huffed out a laugh at his boyfriend.

 

“Yes sir, Mr. President.” He replied, the teasing words rolling easily off his tongue. Quackity leaned down, and pressed his lips to Wilbur’s. Wilbur’s eyes fluttered shut, hand coming up to cup his cheek. Wilbur swore he felt his headache calm. 

 

Quackity pulled away, checking the time and cursing. With a quick ‘love you’ thrown at him, Wilbur watched him run towards the elevator and get in, presumably going to his office. 

 

Wilbur heard Schlatt take the pan off the stove, and begin looking for plates. Wilbur just had to lay there, get some rest, and Schlatt would take care of him.

 

Schlatt would take care of him.

 

Yep. This was fine.

Notes:

so there will probably be a few weeks of hiatus until this returns. there will still be other stuff, expect some oneshots here and there, but mostly i’ll take a few weeks to write out a few chapters for here. leave a comment, they always help!

Chapter 7: VII

Summary:

Wilbur stared at himself in the mirror, trying to compose himself.

Fucking hell. He couldn’t do this. Why now?! Why, when everything’s been good, when he finally feels loved, when almost everything had been solved, why did he always have to fuck it up!?

Notes:

I LIVE!! WELCOME BACK TO THE CIRCUS MOTHERFUCKERS

Even after the disaster at the club, Wilbur and Schlatt still hung out together. Although it was mostly at Schlatt’s apartment, eating greasy pizza and watching whatever was on. This night was no different, and the two friends were sat on Schlatter's couch, watching some knife show that they were paying rapt attention to.

 

“Oh god!! That thing’s just a hunk of metal! How can he call that finished?” Wilbur groaned, leaning back and covering his eyes. Schlatt had his arms in his knees, burying his head in his hands. He reached forward, grabbing another slice of his pizza. 

 

“Ok. I’ll admit you were right about this new place, pizza’s great.” Schlatt remarked. Wilbur smirked at his companion from where he was sitting a few feet away. 

 

“I told you~.” Wilbur replied, almost singing. Schlatt huffed out a small laugh, taking another bite. Wilbur yawned, reaching up to stretch his arms. He eyed the ram, debating what to do. 

 

He could turn his attention back to the television, tune back into the fire and hammer. 

 

Or he could let himself stare, and reflect on his the feelings and butterflies swirling in his stomach. 

 

But he couldn’t really, could he? He was already in a relationship, which he was happy and content in. He should be satisfied, he shouldn’t be feeling this. And worse, he was feeling this about his boyfriend’s ex . This could ruin both his relationship with Quackity, and his friendship with Schlatt. 

 

He grit his teeth, forcing his eyes back to the screen. The contestant was stringing some thick wire around his handle.

 

“‘S too thick, it won’t let the judges get a good enough grip.” He noted. Schlatt hummed in acknowledgement, still focused on the slice of pizza he was eating. Wilbur’s eyes drifted back to him, despite his efforts. Even sitting down on his couch, eating a slice of pizza, he had a visible strength to him. Wilbur knew from experience that those arms could pick him up, throw him over the other man’s shoulder with ease. 

 

Wilbur felt his face heat up, throwing his attention back to the tv once more. The tests had begun, and like he had predicted, the judge couldn’t get a comfortable grip with the wire. 

 

“Wire’s gonna send him home.” Schlatt remarked, leaning back into the couch beside Wilbur. Wilbur forcibly relaxed his posture, keeping his gaze on the screen. 

 

They fell into a comfortable silence, and his attention returned to the show. They stayed like that for a few more minutes, before Wilbur sat back up, cracking his back. He eyed the last slice as he did, debating grabbing it. As he decided, Schlatt sat up, unaware, also looking to grab the final slice. 

 

They reached at the same time, fingers brushing. Wilbur snatched his hand back like he’d been burned, leaving Schlatt to stay in place.

 

“Uh, you good?” Schlatt asked, staring at Wilbur. 

 

“Y-yep!” Wilbur exclaimed. Schlatt narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“You sure? Cause you’re acting very… flighty.” He said. Wilbur felt scrutinized, swallowing nervously. He had to throw suspicion off himself.

 

“Bathroom!” He gasped, shooting up and off the couch. He was out of the room before Schlatt could get another word out.

 

Schlatt stared at the door that Wilbur disappeared through. He had noticed Wilbur staring at him, he wasn’t very subtle. He had two options now, he could let Wilbur stay in his little bubble of denial (because it was obvious how hard he was trying to deny it), or he could do something to pull him out of it. 

 

Hmm.

Wilbur stared at himself in the mirror, trying to compose himself. 

 

Fucking hell . He couldn’t do this. Why now?! Why, when everything’s been good, when he finally feels loved, when almost everything had been solved, why did he always have to fuck it up!?

 

He felt like crying. He wanted to break down and sob because he didn’t want to ruin it all again.

 

A knock sounded on the door. 

 

“Hey Wil? You’ve been in there a while. Pizza make you sick or something?” He heard Schlatt call. He froze. Ice flooded his veins and his limbs locked up and he stared at the door. They were both silent.

 

“Wil? If you don’t answer I'm gonna assume something happened and I'm gonna come in.” Schlatt threatened, and Wilbur swore, turning and unlocking the door, pulling it open. He and Schlatt stared at each other, and Schlatt assessed what had happened.

 

“Have-have you been crying?” Schlatt asked, reaching out. Wilbur turned his face away, blinking rapidly. 

 

Schlatt realized his earlier plan was out the window, there was no way he could let Wilbur stew in whatever feelings and denial he was in. He had to do something. He reached forward, grasping Wilbur’s wrist, causing Wilbur to look back at him. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were blotchy. He looked vulnerable, and one wrong word could set him spiraling. 

 

“Hey, let’s head back to the front room, you look like you should sit down.” Schlatt pulled lightly, and Wilbur followed without complaint. Schlatt eyed him, and he sighed, rubbing his thumb on the back of Wilbur’s wrist. He visibly swallowed a sob. 

 

They sat down, and Schlatt faced Wilbur. The other man stared straight ahead, not daring to look at Schlatt. 

 

Schlatt wasn’t sure how he felt about Wilbur, his emotions swirling in and out of view before he could identify them. But now, here, with Wilbur in front of him, the man vulnerable and anxious, on the edge of spiraling, he could pin down something. 

 

He cared about Wilbur. A lot. He wanted to see Wilbur everyday. He wanted to be one of the reasons Wilbur smiled. He wanted to be close, and he wanted to be there for him when his smile faded and his breathing faltered. He wanted to hold him, and he wanted to simply be there. 

 

Was it love? It had felt like years since he felt loved. He wasn’t sure. But he could see how someone would label it love. How long he had felt like this, he couldn’t tell. Maybe he has felt like this since he and Wilbur had met, maybe he had felt like this since the club, maybe it had finally bloomed into it just now. 

 

Damn. I’m in love with Wilbur.

 

“Hey, look at me.” Schlatt cupped Wilbur’s cheek, and his head snapped to meet his eyes. His eyes were wide, extremely surprised at Schlatt’s actions. Color rose to his cheeks, and he gasped quietly. 

 

“What’re you thinking pretty boy?” The nickname slipped out easily, and it caused Wilbur to flush deeper, breaking their eye contact.

 

“C’mon now. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Schlatt tapped a finger against Wilbur’s temple, bringing his attention back to himself. He felt more than saw Wilbur swallow at the action.

 

“Uh-um, I-uh…” He stammered out. Schlatt kept his gaze steady.

 

“Tell me what you’re feeling.” He changed how he said it, hoping for a better response.

 

“I-i’m feeling confused. A-and scared.” He managed out. Schlatt smiled, noticing Wilbur fidgeting with his hand. He took it in his own, threading their fingers together. The brunette flushed an even deeper red, and whatever he was about to say lodged in his throat. 

 

“You- you’re holding my hand.” He was quiet, almost whispering, as he stared at their now intertwined hands. 

 

“I am.” Schlatt replied casually. He could tell Wilbur still needed someone to listen, and by god he was going to listen.

 

“Keep going. What else are you feeling?” He prodded gently. Wilbur took a breath.

 

“Guilty, and frustrated, a-and ashamed.” He stopped speaking, swallowing nervously.

 

“Alright, why are you feeling those things?” He asked, gently poking for answers.

 

“I-I shouldn’t be feeling this . I already have Quackity, why can’t I just be satisfied with him? Why do I have to go ruin everything again?” Tears welled up in his eyes again, and his free hand was immediately at his face to wipe them away. Schlatt brought their heads together, pressing their foreheads together. 

 

“You’re not ruining anything. And you can’t blame yourself for feeling. You shouldn’t feel ashamed. And if you’re expected me to criticize you for having feelings for more than one person, then I’d be a hell of a hypocrite.” He spoke softly. They fell silent, but they held eye contact.

 

Was Schlatt right? Was Wilbur just spiraling again? What did he mean by being a hypocrit-

 

“Wait. Do… do you feel what I’ve been feeling?” He asked, voice shaky. Schlatt’s lips quirked up into a small smile. 

 

“More or less, pretty boy.” Wilbur blushed again, looking away, then looking back. His eyes fell to Schlatt’s lips. The other man chuckled. And then they were both leaning in, they were both blushing and Wilbur suddenly only had one thought.

 

Oh.

Notes:

mlep :p

Chapter 8: IIX

Summary:

“Uh uh. You’re gonna spill why you’re all out of sorts, or I’m telling Phil you’re bottling again. And I’ll tell Quackity.” Tommy threatened. Wilbur frowned. He wouldn’t…

Actually, yes he would. The little shit.

or, omg tommy's being mature, everyone run

Notes:

hihihi, i'm still here, have fun

“What’s up with you? You’ve been acting…weird.” Tommy narrowed his eyes at his brother. Wilbur huffed out a laugh. 

 

“At Least i’m not a child. And a clingy one at that.” That works. When in doubt, deflect. Calling Tommy a child worked like a charm every time. Instantly, his expression fell to severe annoyance.--

 

“Dickhead, I’m not a child! Not maturity wise, and not age wise! Not anymore, bitch! I am the biggest man, and you wish that you were half as mature and cool as me, motherfucker!” Hook line, and sinker. He always fell for it. Except, Wilbur caught his eye again, and he had his arms crossed. 

 

“But seriously, what’s up with you man? You’re not, like anxious, and you’re not scared. Kinda jittery. Flighty? Jittery? Eh, close enough.” He shrugged, muttering to himself as he trailed off. Wilbur stared at him, shocked that Tommy could see through him that easily.

 

“Damn, when’d you grow up? You’re actually slightly mature now.” Wilbur ruffled his younger brother's hair. Tommy swatted at his hand. Wilbur tried to stand up from his seat, only to get pushed back in.

 

“Uh uh. You’re gonna spill why you’re all out of sorts, or I’m telling Phil you’re bottling again. And I’ll tell Quackity.” Tommy threatened. Wilbur frowned. He wouldn’t…

 

Actually, yes he would. The little shit.

 

“Fine, fine. You won’t like it, child, but I’ll tell you.” Tommy barely reacted to the barb, only furrowing his brow. Damn, Wilbur really couldn’t deflect out of the situation now, he was too far in.

 

“Alright, you obviously know about Schlatt being revived, you were literally there.” He started, getting interrupted immediately.

 

“Oh wow, really? No brother dearest, I had no idea that the infamous dictator that’s your boyfriend’s ex was revived. No clue at all.” He said faux innocently. The two brothers stared at each other for a few moments, Wilbur’s eyes narrowed. He sighed.

 

“As I was saying. Quackity gave him the job, you know about that. So I go to see him in action, see if he’s causing trouble, y’know?” He gestured around as he spoke. Tommy looked thoughtful.

 

“Making sure he’s not stealing your job, since making trouble for Quackity is your job, right?” Wilbur sighed as Tommy laughed at his own joke. Wilbur pulled him onto the couch next to him, causing him to yelp. He scowled at his brother, frazzled, but not really upset. Wilbur grinned at him.

 

“Will you let me speak now, dearest younger brother?” Wilbur turned the words back on his brother, who scowled, turning around and crossing his arms. He made a ‘go on’ gesture with his hands however.

 

“Alright then. I go to where he works, this fancy restaurant, and I ask the lady for Schlatt as my server. She recognizes me, so it’s not like she can really refuse me. So Schlat serves me, and it’s…nice. I invite him to hang out, and we do a few days later. And we hang out some more, and we have a lot of fun together, and I realized something…” He trailed off as he noticed Tommy covering his ears. He stared for a few moments, locking eyes with Tommy when he turned to look at Wilbur. 

 

“Yes? Is there a reason you’re covering your ears?” He asked, amused. Tommy removed his hands from his head, sprawling out on the couch (and over Wilbur’s legs).

 

“Big man, I can see where this is going. And I, for one, do not want to hear about you hooking up wi-” Wilbur stood up, flushing a bright red. Tommy fell off the couch, cackling his awful gremlin laugh. 

 

“For the record, I did not hook up with Schlatt!” He exclaimed loudly. 

 

“What’s this about you hooking up with Schlatt?” Phil asked, walking in the room. Tommy laughed louder. 

 

“Nothing! I did not hook up with Schlatt! Tommy’s just being an impetuous child!” When in doubt, blame the sibling. Tommy aimed a kick a Wlbur’s ankles, the older man dodging out of the way just in time. The two had their spat for a few minutes, Phil watching on fondly. Tommy finally laid down on the couch again, preventing Wilbur from sitting down. Wilbur sighed in irritation as he sat down on the floor. 

 

Phil swatted Tommy’s ankles, and he begrudgingly moved them so Phil could sit down.

 

“So what’s all the talk about Wilbur hooking up with Schlatt? Last I knew, he was working for some restaurant in Las Nevadas?” Phil sipped his tea, eyeing Wilbur. Wilbur groaned as Tommy snickered. Phil leveled Tommy with a stare, and he grumbled, looking away. 

 

“Well first of all, I did not hook up with Schlatt. I just…realized that I am not against polyamory.” He trailed off, trying to avoid saying it in front of his family. Phil ‘hmm’d in response, and Tommy just stared at him, confused.

 

“Polyarmory is when you fuck two different people at the same time, right?” He asked. Phil spat out his tea as he laughed. Wilbur groaned, hiding his growing smile in his hands. Tommy’s head whipped between the two of them, an indication of his genuine confusion. 

 

“Poly am ory, Tommy, not polyarmory. And, more or less, I suppose. But I wouldn’t phrase it like that.” Wilbur corrected his brother. Tommy frowned again.

 

“Ew. I don’t want to hear about you fucking Schlatt, I am leaving. I’ll tell Tubbo you say hello.” Tommy swung his legs off the couch (nearly kicking Wilbur in the head) and made his way out of the room. Wilbur sighed, getting on the couch where Tommy had been sitting. He eyed Pil as he returned from the kitchen, having toweled himself off from the tea. The father and son sat next to each other, quiet and comfortable. 

 

“So, you developed feelings for Schlatt?” Phil asked, though it sounded more like an observed statement than a question. Wilbur squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable. One look at Phil, however, told him he wasn’t escaping the conversation. 

 

What is it today with the family being so damn observant?’

 

He nodded, in lue of a proper response. 

 

“Well, have you talked to Quackity yet? You are going to talk to him about it, aren’t you?” Phil prodded. 

 

“Yeah, I’m going to talk to him about it. I’m not just gonna pursue a relationship with Schlatt without talking to Q, that’s fucking cheating.” Wilbur shot back. He ran his fingers through his hair in irritation. 

 

He watched as Phil got up, warming up some water. 

 

“What kind of tea do you want?” He called from the kitchen.

 

“Nothing with caffeine.” Wilbur called back. He heard Phil reply, but his mind already had wandered away. He hadn’t hung out with Schlatt since they confessed their feelings to each other. But it wasn’t that he was avoiding Schlatt… he just… had to talk to Quackity first. 

 

Yeah. 

 

That’d go fine.

Chapter 9: IX

Summary:

“Ok.” The one word was like thunder, signaling lighting soon to come. Quackity nudged his chin, and Wilbur remembered his head was on his thigh. He shifted, letting Quackity rise to walk with Foolish.

Notes:

oooooooooo that chapter summary sure spooky sure hope nothing bad happens to our main three :)))))))))

on a different note, hi. i have finals next week (kms) so there might be another week of delay between 9 and 10. there might not, there might be. idk how harsh finals will be for me this tri. so just in case, be prepared to not have a chapter next saturday! alrighty, let’s get onto the chapter :)))

“I know what you’re going to ask Wil, you’re not subtle. You can go out with Schlatt, I won’t be the one to stop you.” Quackity said, interrupting Wilbur before he even got to speak. Wilbur’s mouth snapped shut. He stared at Quackity, who was still writing away, signing contracts and writing up documents. He stared some more.

 

“You alright?” Quackity asked, with an amused grin on his face. Wilbur blinked a few times, not sure what to say. His jumbled thoughts struggled to come out of his mouth.

 

“You…knew?” Ah yes. Very eloquently put Wilbur, excellent. Quackity chuckled, leaning back in his chair and locking eyes with Wilbur.

 

“Wil, you know I’m polyamorous? And again, you aren’t subtle. You would come home after hanging out with him, rambling for half an hour, and you blushed more than once. I’m surprised it didn’t take you longer to come talk to me.” He smiled, the words comforting to Wilbur. He relaxed, tension bleeding from his shoulders. He stepped around the desk, sitting down on the floor and leaning against the drawers. He looked up, meeting Quackity’s eyes, the quiet moment settling their hearts. He shifted to lean against Quackity’s legs. They stayed like that for a few moments, Quackity returning to his work. 

 

A knock at the door sounded, causing Quackity to look up.

 

“Come in.” He called out, slipping into his business persona. Wilbur stayed quiet, content to bask in his boyfriend’s presence. The door opened, footsteps, and the door closed.

 

“Ah, Foolish, what do you need?” The two voices faded into the background as Wilbur went back into his head. 

 

Thinking about it, it made sense that Quackity hadn’t been completely against Wilbur having something with Schlatt. He said himself, he was polyamorous. And he had to have interacted with him when everything at the club…happened. And Schlatt had been at the penthouse, so Quackity had to have invited him. So they had to have interacted positively enough for Quackity to let him stay the night. So it wasn’t as bad as his anxiety made him think it would go. Thankfully. 

 

So how was this going to go moving forward?

 

Ok, it won’t be that complicated, it’s just an open relationship. He’d keep meeting with Schlatt, and they’d probably go out a few times, properly . It would be practically the same as the dates he’d been on already, although he’d be the one paying for dinners, rather than Quackity. It amused him, for some reason. 

 

Movement brought his attention back to reality. He looked up, seeing Quackity still looking at Foolish, looking very annoyed as he tapped his finger against his thigh.

 

He tuned back into their conversation.

 

“Why do you need me to deal with this? This seems like something you could very easily fix yourself.” His tone was clearly irked. Something had clearly happened, and apparently needed Quackity to deal with it. He could hear Foolish shuffling around.

 

“It uh… involves Schlatt. And since you’re kinda like, his parole officer, kinda, your presence is… requested.” The tension in the room ratcheted up by several notches, and the silence was suffocating .

 

“What. Happened.” 

 

“Th-there was an…altercation at the restaurant he worked at. A patron got upset, started insulting him, and threw his plate at Schlatt. One thing led to another, and the situation finally ended when Schlatt pinned the guy to the ground after he hit another server that tried getting involved.” Foolish explained as quickly as possible. Wilbur felt his concern rise. Someone had tried to fight Schlatt? Were they stupid? Brave? Both? What were they thinking? And was Schlatt alright? Was the other server alright? 

 

“Ok.” The one word was like thunder, signaling lighting soon to come. Quackity nudged his chin, and Wilbur remembered his head was on his thigh. He shifted, letting Quackity rise to walk with Foolish. He waited for a minute after the door shut, before rising himself. He looked out, not seeing which way they went. Although, it was obvious they went to the elevator. He resisted the urge to go after them, and damn did he want to go after them . But he knew if he did, he’d make a stupid decision, and get himself, and probably Schlatt somehow, into trouble. So, he waited another minute, before making his way to the elevator, calling it to his floor. He scanned his keycard, allowing access to the penthouse. He walked in, observing the lonely feeling that inhabited the home when one of them was gone. 

 

He collapsed onto the couch, placing his head in his hands. This was such a damn mess. Did he want to turn on the television? Would he get bombarded by news reports about the incident? Did he want to risk it? 

 

He walked to the bedroom, grabbing a book off the shelf, and began to read it. Anything was better than thinking about all that. .

 

Even a damn cookbook about rice.

~~~

To say Quackity was pissed would be an understatement . He was more than pissed, he was seething, with smoke practically blowing out of his ears! Not only had someone caused a fight in his restaurant, injured one of his employees, wasted his time, but they had decided to pick a fight with the guy he was already trying to keep from getting murdered. Asshole was lucky Schlatt hadn’t gone for his damn throat! 

 

Yeah, he was pissed. 

 

Approaching the restaurant, he first saw the crowd gathered around the front. Then he saw the news stations reporting, and finally, the ambulance with Schlatt and a server sitting in it. His attention was first brought to the girl, who seemed extremely shaken with a bandage on her wrist, but no other injuries. Satisfied, he looked at Schlatt. He clenched his fists in anger.

 

He wasn’t awfully injured, of course he wasn’t, but he looked like he was forming a black eye, and seemed to be holding an ice pack to his jaw. 

 

“Move it!” He barked, the people around him parting immediately. He saw cameras swivel to him out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care as he made his way to the ambulance. Schlatt met his eye, before quickly looking away. The other server held his gaze.

 

“G-good afternoon Mr. President.” She greeted cordially. Now that he was closer to her, he realized she was the one he instructed to report to him for Schlatt’s first two weeks. He nodded to her. He looked at Schlatt, who kept his gaze away. He crossed his arms, listening to Foolish try to keep the reporters away. 

 

“I want you two to tell me what happened. I heard from Foolish, but I want to hear it from you.” Did Schlatt flinch? What a change, Schlatt being scared of him for once. 

 

It didn’t fill him with any sort of satisfaction or catharsis.

 

“Well, I didn’t see the whole thing, but I heard yelling, and when I went to see what was happening, I saw a man getting in Schlatt’s face, yelling at him about Manburg'' There was a flinch from both of them, “and how awful of a person he was, and Schlatt was trying to get him to sit down. I went in to try and convince the man to stop yelling, and he grabbed me and yelled at me for backing ‘a horrible creature like him’. His breath smelled like alcohol, and he had an empty glass of whiskey. He was gripping my wrist so hard that it began to hurt, and that was when Schlatt stepped in, physically. He tore the guy off of me, and he started yelling at him. The guy threw the first punch, hitting Schlatt in the jaw. Schlatt then grabbed him and pinned him to the ground. I think the man’s date had already called the police at this point, because I heard sirens around that point. The guy got an elbow out, hitting him in the eye. The police have the guy now.” She finished her explanation. It all checked out with what he heard from Foolish, and it explained the ice pack and bandage. He nodded, turning back to Schlatt, who was grumbling something.

 

“I can hear you grumbling about something. Anything to share with the class?” He prompted. Schlatt froze, weighing the pros of not saying anything more to piss off Quackity and the cons of lying and pissing off Quackity. He made the right decision in the end.

 

“Elayne’s making me look better than I was.” Came the answer. 

 

He had forgotten what Schlatt had sounded like.

 

His voice still held the deep pitch that had always drawn him in before, and this time it lacked the drunken slurring that had always put him off. He sounded annoyed, but almost passively annoyed. Annoyed that he wasn’t working, wasn’t cooperating with his team. In fact, he seemed very annoyed at the cameras very obviously pointed at him. But he also sounded apprehensive. About Quackity being there? Did he think that Quackity was going to toss him out to the wolves? Did he think he was in trouble, even after being completely in the right? Should he say something?    

 

“Why do you say that?” He prompted again. The other server looked at Schlatt too.

 

“Cause I was provoking the guy, and just making the situation worse.” It was almost amusing how he sounded hesitant about his answer, like Quackity was expecting an answer to a question he hadn’t asked. 

 

“Well, let me hear your version of the events then.” 

 

It was silent for a moment, as Schlatt turned to finally face him. The world seemed to fade away as they locked eyes, the crowd’s muttering and the reporter’s jabbering suddenly sounded muted and far away. For just that moment, it was just the two of them, alone together. The only ones that mattered in their bubble of silence. 

 

Elayne watched them go silent as they locked eyes. It was kinda weird, if she had to say so. They just…stared at each other. She let it go on for a few seconds. When nothing happened, she cleared her throat, startling the both of them out of whatever trance they were in. Schlatt started telling his version of the event. It held more detail than hers had, like how the argument had started…

 

“The guy sneered at me, and loudly said to his date that ‘monsters like him should get a bullet between the eyes’.”

 

And how he had tried to get him to sit down…

 

“‘Sir, you are causing a scene, and I am trying to do my job. I’m sure the pretty lady you’re with would appreciate you stopping.’”

 

But besides a detail here or there, his account was the same as hers. She had noticed he always seemed harsh on himself, and would sell himself short or paint himself worse than he was. It was a definite problem she had noticed, but she was instructed to report how he interacted with customers, not his self-destructive behaviors.

 

“So yeah, that’s what happened.” He finished. She could see the remaining reporters trying to desperately get to the president for a word. 

 

Vultures.

 

“Hm. Well, I for one didn’t hear a difference in your accounts. Are you two able to go home?” He asked. Elayne nodded, and after a second, so did Schlatt. 

 

“Good. Then go home, you get the rest of the day off.” With that, he turned around, calling all attention to himself. Reporters swarmed him, bombarding him with questions. The two coworkers looked at each other. 

 

“Well… by presidential decree, I guess we have the day off?”

Notes:

did i make you worried? haha. L. come check my tiktok out, https://www.tiktok.com/@agingerbiatch and there will be neat little ramblings, as well as fic updates for when something’s about to go DOWN

also fun fact, Elayne is the female server from chapter 2

Chapter 10: Sorry…..

Summary:

let’s talk yall

so a person on my tiktok told me that schlatt is uncomfortable being shipped, even his character. my goal with this fic was never to make him or wilbur and quackity uncomfortable, so this fic is going to be discontinued. i’m sorry to all of you who enjoyed reading, but writing this while knowing it breaks his boundaries would just make me feel awful. even if he has changed his boundaries regarding shipping, i didn’t find anything about it. if you do find something that’s recent that says he’s okay with shipping his character, then tell me, because i’ll continue then. but i kinda doubt it, so this fic goes on the shelf. i’m sorry
have a great day everyone