Work Text:
This was definitely
a way
too
many
Wilsons.
Maxwell was more amused than anything, but he was also well aware that having five chaotic, act-first-think-second, nosy, loud, curious and a little bit unhinged men with access to weapons around the camp was definitely flirting with disaster.
And while Maxwell would've no problem flirting with any of the disasters currently touching his arm and arguing about his shadow claws, he was only used to handling one Wilson at a time, and that Wilson was normal.
Well, as normal as a man like Wilson could ever be.
The other Wilsons, however, were different.
There was the one who, Maxwell admitted (but only to himself inside the deepest darkest secretest parts of his mind), he was a bit scared of. The one who had somehow gotten stuck in his Nightmare King timeline, and despite being free from the Throne, had those familiar shadows flaming on his body, sharp fangs and the most annoying - if not very sexy - smirk that rivaled Maxwell's own. That Wilson was arrogant and smug, and had announced himself as The Wilson among Wilsons, and was currently taking no complaints on his decision. Maxwell wanted to fuck that grin out of his pale, shadow-adored face.
The other noticeable one was the, um, survivor Wilson... Technically they were all survivors, but he was more survivor than the rest of them based on what he had apparently gone through; he had only one eye, hidden behind the self-made eye patch, unshaven stubble, shredded clothes... He didn't talk much beyond angry grumbles and short grunts. It could've been easy to mistake his attitude to aggression, but within closer inspection it became clear that it was rather defensiveness and distrust. The Survivor had gone through a lot, and it had taken it's toll on him, but deep inside that rough shell there was still the same soft, kind heart beating in his chest.
The third one was probably farthest away from the Normal Wilson, and not only by appearance. He wore glasses and there were leaves and sticks stuck in his precious hair (and other Wilsons seemed absolutely horrified of that particular crime). He seemed more interested in botany and plants than chemistry. He also appeared to be on a bit softer side than the others, which led Maxwell to believe that in his timeline, there had not been many hardships. He seemed more trusting, more innocent... perhaps even dangerously so.
Then there was the Mad Scientist. And that one was even more mad than the rest of the scientists, who had now moved their interest away from Maxwell's claws and into his serpent-like tongue and sharp fangs. The Mad Scientist one spent a lot of time cackling to himself, rubbing his hands together and making who knows what in the science station. A mutual, unvoiced decision among the camp seemed to be to just let him do his own thing, because nobody really wanted to know what the hell he was up to, when an ominous "Yes... e hehe hee... yesss" echoed into the night air followed by a small sound of bubbling and hissing of chemicals.
And, of course, there was the good old, regular Wilson. The one with nothing very noteworthy about him, the one who appeared less maniacal than the rest of them, the one who was glaring poisoned taggers at Maxwell and all the other Wilson, a sour frown on his face.
Maxwell rolled his tongue back into his mouth and snapped his jaw shut to give Wilson a smirk (and the Shadow Wilson almost burrowed fingers into his mouth in an attempt to get one more look at the tongue). Wilson sniffed in annoyance and turned his head away. He had been like that for the whole week, ever since the Special Wilsons burst out of the portal and joined their very confused and amazed group.
Maxwell could've been less smug about the attention, but it was so rare that the attention he received was something other than negative, and even more rare that he was being the object of jealousy. And, apparently, Wilson could be a very jealous man when it came to Maxwell.
Someone might've said that thinking like that was very egoistical and self-centered, and it was, and Maxwell had no problem admitting that. He was having the time of his life, watching all the Wilsons giving each other eye-rolls and death-glares whenever some other Wilson said something flirty or made Maxwell laugh or got a little closer to him than the others.
The Shadow Wilson went out of his way to get touchy, trying to sit on Maxwell's lap, playing with his hair, whispering suggestive things to his ear and clinging to his arm like a glue. The botanist took a calmer approach, and instead interrupted the situation whenever other Wilsons tried to have conversation or ask Maxwell to help with something.
The survivor was content of subtle, vague threats, sharpening his knife or snapping a twig in two while giving another Wilson a murderous stare.
The mad scientist tried to get rid of his competition by poisoning them. That only got revealed because of a certain accident that included Webber running into Mad Scientist and knocking the teacup off his hands, and a one unfortunate plant that died on impact once the 'tea' inside hit it and burned through the poor thing.
Nobody took anything the Mad Scientist offered them after that, and everyone made extra sure that he was kept away from food at all times.
And of course, the regular, normal, everyday Wilson. Who was much snappier and more short-tempered than usual, and had started to scoff and mutter under his breath constantly.
It was fun.
Well, at first at least.
Maxwell reveled in the attention. He enjoyed every single bit of it, watching all the Wilsons fighting for him. Finally! He was getting the admiration he deserved! He knew it had been just the matter of time before Wilson would start to crack and reveal just how much he wanted Maxwell, but he could've never guessed it took a bunch of stray Wilsons hustling around him to dig out his feelings.
But now the situation was starting to turn upside down. Maxwell had expected, hoped, that Wilson would take control and drive the intruding Wilsons away, tell them to stay away from his Maxwell and go find their own, but it didn't happen. The more time it took to work on a portal to send the Other Wilsons back to their own timelines, the farther the real Wilson seemed to pull away.
And it was getting noticeably less fun for Maxwell. For all the immense enjoyment he got from the attention, he'd never trade it for the little fraction of notice of his own Wilson.
So one day when he managed to draw himself away from Shadow Wilson's touchy claws, he figured it was a prime time to have little chit chat with his favorite pawn.
He found Wilson feeding the beefalo that were in the process of taming. Figures that the man would be doing something like that, he seemed to like animals. Which made it a little terrifying to think how easily he could turn off his emotions in order to hunt them for food.
"Why, good morning, Higgsbury."
Wilson gave him only glance over his shoulder before turning back.
"What do you want?"
Maxwell didn't let the ire wipe the smirk off of his face and only landed a friendly (that most of the others called 'unwanted') hand on his shoulder.
"Why do I always have to want something?"
"You mean to tell me that you came here just to watch me work?" the hand was shaken off as Wilson muttered without looking at him. Maxwell hummed.
"I merely wanted to see how my little redbird is doing."
Wilson gave him a look that was perfect a mix of disbelief and bemusement.
"One: I am not yours, and two; that's a new nickname."
"Just for you, dearest scientist." Maxwell promised, smirk on his face, ignoring the first part of the statement. Wilson could argue about it all day long if it helped him cope with it, but something in him was most definitely Maxwell's - why else would he so willingly tag along with the former King to team up, why else would he be so eager to sleep side by side, why else would he moan so sweetly into Maxwell's skin when they engaged in their private night-time intimacies?
Oh, yes. Wilson was Maxwell's, whether he liked it or not.
"And I am guessing you have similar names to call your other Wilsons?" The man in question grumbled bitterly. Ah, straight to the core of the issue. Well, easier for Maxwell that way.
"But of course I do. I call them 'Wilson'."
Wilson scoffed loudly and took a step away, back still turned to the other man.
"Go bother them, then. I'm busy and I'm sure they have plenty of time to spare."
Maxwell knew he was teetering on the edge of messing this up, but he just couldn't help himself; Wilson was way too easy to provoke and tease. And well, that just so happened to be what Maxwell was the best at.
"Oh, do I sense some jealousy?" he practically cooed. Wilson gave him such a deadly glare that Maxwell was almost proud. Almost.
"I am NOT jealous! Just because you like being around all those- those-"
"Wilsons?"
"- Interlopers, doesn't mean that I am jealous of not being one of them! I have better things to do than flock around you like you are something special!"
"Oh how you wound me, Higgsbury. As if I'm not special to you."
Maxwell barely dodged the razor that Wilson threw at him, and then gasped in very horrified way, straightening his jacket "Watch the suit, would you!?"
Wilson only rolled his eyes and turned back around to pet the beefalo, muttering under his breath, and Maxwell hated that now he was actually starting to get kinda jealous that the damn cow got all the attention that should've obviously been directed at him.
This needed to be corrected. Immediately.
A slow and sly smile swam to Maxwell's lips, stretching them wide to reveal his pointy teeth.
"Hmm. Allow me to hand you an olive branch." He suggested, a hand dancing through Wilson's shoulder to finally lay down to rub at the crook of his neck "A sort of offering at peace, if you'd like."
"... Are you apologizing?" Wilson turned to glance at him, rising an eyebrow.
"For what? I haven't don't anything wrong."
Wilson gave him the deadpan stare, and Maxwell frowned ever so slightly.
"This time I haven't."
The scientist didn't seem very convinced, but he ended up letting out a long sigh before turning his back to the other man again.
"Fine. What's on your mind?"
Maxwell reached a slender finger out to curl around a of lock of Wilson's neck hair playfully.
"Meet me at our spare camp this evening. I'll be waiting." He didn't bother to stay and wait around for Wilson to start either complaining or asking questions. He had more invitations to hand out before he could make his own way around the smaller camp that stood unused for the majority of time. A perfect place to relax away from the nosy and loud survivors. A certain viking and one mechanic came to mind in particular. Also an automaton with no respect for privacy.
Maxwell was lucky that he himself was the one planning out this thing, because he wasn't above sneaking around and peeking into other people's business, either. Actually, he was probably the worst one of all. But he would rather blame everyone else for his own faults, so that thought would stay tucked nice and neat inside his own head where nobody else would find it.
He felt very self-satisfied as he headed back to the main camp to find all the other Wilsons working hard on the almost finished portal, but not nearly as hard as his own always did.
---
Wilson was tired, annoyed and exhausted. He sincerely hoped that for once Maxwell was actually intending to do something nice for someone else, because he was kind of short of temper today, and was in no mood for any bullshit.
Then again, getting away from people was probably gonna do him some good right now. He already had hard time dealing with the doppelgängers as it was, and perhaps what he needed right now would be a small get-away from all the chaos and noise and mayhem of the full campsite.
Wilson arrived to the smaller camp and, as he heard conversation from the tent, headed inside - and came face to face with four different variations of his own face.
He was going to kill Maxwell.
He was going to kill Maxwell, resurrect him, and then kill him again. He had a particular variety of methods in mind already.
"I'm so glad you could make it, pal. It would've been so empty here without you~"
Oh, speak of the devil. Wilson looked behind his shoulder, giving Maxwell the most 'I will end you' look he could muster, but the other man's face didn't falter. Quite the opposite, Maxwell seemed even more smug than he already had before.
"Why such a face, doll? Cheer up, you're the guest of honor."
"Seems to me that you're already entertaining quite a lot of other guests here." Wilson snarled quietly between his gritted teeth. If Maxwell invited him here only to get on his nerves, Wilson would seriously consider a homicide. He wasn't planning on giving the magician a chance to mess with him, he would only stay just long enough to find out what the hell the other man was planning, and as for the clones...
Wilson glanced at the other Wilsons. The survivor gave him a small shrug, looking almost disinterested of the whole thing here. The shadow king was smirking, and it looked even more annoying than Maxwell's own smirk. The botanist stared at him and wrote something on a big, makeshift notebook he had brought with him, and the Mad scientist rubbed his hands together in the corner, as if all of this was going just according to some secret plan he had been brewing up.
"Care to tell me what the hell-" Wilson started, but his words were cut short as the long, gloved finger appeared under his chin and lifted it up, a tender hushing sound whispering into his ear.
"Now now, Higgsbury... Allow me to ease up this tense air here a little bit."
Wilson swallowed, his cheeks starting to warm up as Maxwell's hands slowly started moving from his shoulders and neck to his chest and his arms, adding just enough pressure to feel a little bit possessive without hurting him. Wilson felt his stomach making and excited flip. Maxwell knew just how to touch and what to do to arouse him, and it was unfair.
"But- No, not in front of-" Wilson managed, before Maxwell shushed him again and pressed his lips on his ear.
"Why not? Let's show our little friends who's the most wanted Wilson here."
The triumphant one scoffed silently and rolled his eyes, but it went ignored by everyone else in the tent.
The Survivor stood up, silent as a stone, and took a couple of calculated and confident steps closer, until he was directly in front of Wilson. He tilted his head, and with a voice that send shock waves through Wilson's spine, the other man whispered:
"It's for science."
The survivor dragged the back of his hand up and down Wilson's cheek one, twice, before taking his chin between his fingers and tilting his head into an appropriate angle. Wilson was hesitant, but the familiarity of his own touch, his own voice and own face put him at ease. Despite his uncertainty, he obediently cracked open his lips and allowed the Survivor to press their mouths together into an experimental, soft kiss.
It was surprising how gentle the man was. His rough and hard exterior gave an impression that he would've been harsh and demanding, but when their lips touched, the hand on Wilson's chin slowly let go, and rose to cup his cheek tenderly.
The Survivor kissed him like a lover. Slowly and tenderly... Adoringly. He kissed like a man whose whole life had been hard and difficult, and all he wanted was for it to be, if only for a moment, soft and kind.
Wilson didn't protest when the other man slipped his tongue inside his mouth and a shameless moan escaped him before he could stop it.
"That's right, pal..." Maxwell's silky voice pressed into his skin "Let it feel good... You deserve this... let it happen..."
Wilson shivered when Maxwell sneaked his hands under his shirt, letting out another moan as he pressed backwards closer to the magician. The survivor took that as his cue to pull back, and Wilson felt immediately sad for the loss of lips against his own. He reached his head forward to chase the kiss, but the survivor pushed him back, and instead got on his knees in front of him.
He gave Wilson a short reassuring look, before throwing his head on the side to glance behind himself.
"You." he called out to the Botanist "Come here. Kiss him."
"Uhh," the Botanist said dumbly, looking around like he was a bit lost, his cheeks turning red. Wilson bit his lower lip. Did he really look like that when he got flustered?
"It's okay." he reassured the Botanist, the same way he knew that he himself would like someone to calm him down in this weird situation. Because after all, they were all him, weren't they? Different sides of him, differently lived lives in different shells, but still, in the deepest depths of the bottom of his heart, still; they were him.
The Botanist stood up, corrected his glasses, and gave the notebook he had been holding to the Mad Scientist.
"Here. If I can't take notes, you will take them for me. Don't leave anything out. I want to study this later."
The Mad Scientist looked like the heaven had just dropped a divine gift onto his lap as he clutched onto the notes and started immediately scribbling down who knows what. The Botanist seemed satisfied, but when he turned around, his confidence melted back into nervousness.
"H-how should I...?" he started, giving everyone else a look of pure and utter insecurity.
Maxwell loosened one arm away from Wilson, reaching it out in an invitation for the Botanist, and Wilson immediately felt angry and betrayed for the loss of touch - those hands were for him!
"Here, let me show you how it's done..." Maxwell cooed in his soft, yet always a tiny bit patronizing tone, and as the Botanist fidgeted with his glasses and stepped closer, Wilson surprised himself by opening his own mouth and hastily stuttering out:
"I can handle it."
Maxwell leaned to give him a pleasantly surprised look, rising his brow questioningly. Asshole. As if he wasn't completely aware of what he was doing.
Determined to not give Maxwell the satisfaction of seeing how jealous Wilson was about the attention the magician gave to the other versions of him, he just pulled the poor Botanist closer and slotted their lips together. There was an earthy taste to the other one's lips, something a bit dusty and moldy, like he'd tasted every single sample he had studied (Which, to be fair, would definitely be something Wilson would do).
The Botanist kissed clumsily, a bit embarrassed and uncertain. It crossed Wilson's mind that maybe this was, quite possibly, the poor guy's first kiss ever. It was experimental and awkward but twice as intense, as if the other Wilson was afraid that if he didn't give it his all he might fail some secret test. It was kind of adorable. And a bit sad.
The two other Wilsons who hadn't taken part in the action yet watched silently, but then the Shadow King turned to look at the Mad scientist.
"Do you wanna make out?"
"Can I take notes while we do it?"
"I don't care. I need attention." Shadow King pouted.
Wilson only caught a glimpse of the Mad Scientist shrugging and another one of the two of them leaning closer, but soon he was pulled back to the kiss by the Botanist who was getting very hot and bothered about the intimacy. Wilson tried his best to give his attention to the other man, but it proved a tad bit difficult when he felt the buttons of his trousers being opened. It didn't take long for the Survivor's rough-skinned fingers to dig his throbbing erection out of his underwear and start slowly pumping him.
Wilson's lewd moan was swallowed by the botanist, and he held onto the other him even tighter. This was by far the strangest and best things he had ever done.
"See...? I told you it would feel good..." Maxwell's smug voice hummed into the back of his neck. Wilson would've retorted something back, had he not been too busy being ravished by the botanist.
The Survivor had started to drag his lips on Wilson's erection, mouthing along his shaft, and then, finally, lapping his tip with his tongue, pressing against him, tasting the pre-cum gathered on there.
"Nhh-" Wilson flinched, heat rushing to his face, spreading over his chest. He wasn't given even a couple of seconds to gather himself again before he felt Maxwell's talons prodding his asshole, one finger slipping in. A gasp escaped him as Wilson threw his head backwards (and the Botanist made an unhappy sound of losing his mouth).
Maxwell and the Survivor found an unfairly perfect rhythm pleasuring Wilson, making his knees wobble as he tried not to melt into a puddle on the ground.
"Hmm, getting too much for you, doll?" Maxwell snickered into his ear, and Wilson would've answered if he was able to, but the sensation of being sucked and fingered at the same time was disturbing his thoughts, making his head reel. Maxwell's tongue slithered out, licking his earlobe.
"Let's sit down, shall we?"
Wilson barely had time to think what was happening when Maxwell had lowered them on the ground already, and without any warning pulled Wilson so sit on his erect cock. Wilson let out a startled gasp that faded into a horny whimper halfway through. He felt suddenly so full, and his dick was pumping pre-cum out like crazy, spilling out between the Survivor's lips. The stimulation was getting a bit overbearing, a bit too much to handle.
"M-Max-" Wilson begun, but he was very quickly and efficiently silenced by the Shadow Wilson, who had taken the opportunity to join the fun, grasping a bunch of Wilson's hair in his fist and pressing his mouth against the bulge on his crotch.
"Mmmnh~" the Shadow one moaned, sharp teeth biting into his lower lip "... I know what that mouth can do, g-go on..." the lust was practically dripping from his voice, and it wasn't like Wilson didn't know himself inside and out - of course he would know what to do with his mouth to make himself squirm.
He obediently parted his lips, slipping out his tongue, and the Shadow King's smirk only grew as he unfastened his trousers and slipped his already very hard, very throbbing and wet dick out for Wilson to receive.
Wilson felt hot, shaky and unsteady. He felt Maxwell's tongue snaking up his neck, licking the little sweat droplets greedily on it's way. He felt the Survivor hollowing his cheeks around his dick, rubbing his tights in a calming, strong movements. He felt - well, more like sensed - the Botanist kneel down, clearly unsure of what to do now that Wilson's lips weren't available anymore.
"Here," Maxwell's honeyed, rich voice made shivers strike through Wilson's spine like lightning "Let me lend you a hand." Maxwell took the Botanist by the wrist, pulled it closer to kiss the knuckles softly, and then guided it on Wilson's chest. Wilson felt a curious touch on his nipple and flinched, groaning around the member in his mouth, which in turn made the Shadow King hiss between his teeth and tighten his hand in his hair.
"Oh..." the Botanist gasped with a tremble in his voice, clearly very much pleased with the reaction he caused. His fingers returned to play with Wilson's chest, swirling his nipples, pushing and pulling and sometimes pinching, never parting from his skin again.
It was very distracting in the middle of the storm of other, equally as delicious distractions. It was, well it was good and amazing and, and it was a way too much for Wilson to concentrate on anything, so he decided to concentrate on nothing at all, letting his mind be swallowed by the tingle and shivers, letting his body be used while his consciousness took the back seat.
He was just an object of desire, the embodiment of degenerate thoughts, lust and passion. His body was weak, his head was empty, and all he could feel was an overwhelming thirst and satisfaction and greed and delight.
He was so full, he could swear he felt the head of Maxwell's cock in his stomach, in his lungs. His lips hurt from the invasion forcing them apart, flirting with his gagging reflex with many thrust when his nose was buried in the dark pubic hair. His nipples were aching and pulsing with pain, almost numb from teasing that didn't stop for a second. His whole lower body was on fire, the heat and wetness around his own cock prompting his release, pushing him closer to the edge.
Too much. Too much too much yet never enough.
The pressure was building inside, like a boiler about to burst and overflow, the inevitable explosion so close. Distantly Wilson felt the hot, wet trails on his cheeks, and his eyesight was blurry and unclear when he fluttered his lashed enough to catch a glimpse of the world around him.
"Don't hold yourself back, precious... let go." Maxwell's voice whispered into his head from somewhere in the chaos of senses mangling together, and Wilson sobbed out something that he supposed were meant to be words, but he couldn't concentrate enough to form a coherent sentence, nor was he able to speak when his mouth was being used for other purposes. He just wanted to feel this good forever but at the same time it was so much that he wanted to disappear altogether.
And suddenly Maxwell pressed a small, light kiss on his neck, and Wilson's orgasm ripped through him almost violently and he felt like he lost all the control of his body, shaking and crying and wriggling helplessly as the pleasure swallowed him whole.
The wet heat around his oversensitive cock made room for the cold, prickling air before a rough texture curled around it, pumping it slow and steady. Something salty and sticky shot into his mouth, and a grip on his hair tightened almost painfully as his face was mushed against the crotch, the hot semen coming in spurts onto his tongue and down his throat.
The pleasure was overwhelming, so intense that it almost bordered on agony already, but just when Wilson was sure he was going to die from the overstimulation-
"That's enough." The Survivor's voice cut through his incomprehensible thoughts with a comforting clarity, and suddenly the dick pulled out of his mouth and the pressure on his chest let up, and he was lifted up until the other dick inside him popped out of his ass, leaving him empty and cold and bare, vulnerable.
He fell forward, weeping out breaths, collapsing against a clothed chest where he clung with all the strength he had left - which wasn't much at all, so it proved very easy for the Survivor to lift him away and Wilson was so weak and confused, until his back thudded against another chest... this one much more familiar. The safety of the smell of cigarette he had learned to associate with someone dear lulled his wildly beating heart to a slower, calmer rhythm, and suddenly he was feeling very heavy and warm as the exhaustion settled in completely.
"You did so well..." Maxwell's deep voice purred into his ear "I hope you appreciate this little treat... Although, I'd be happy to remind you of how desired you are again if needed."
And soon Wilson was wrapped inside a blanket, pulled closer and laid down, and he could only blink with bleary, unfocused eyes before letting his mind fade into the blissful nothingness.
---
When Wilson woke up the morning after, the first thing he registered was the ache, the soreness... but his chest didn't feel as tight as it had yesterday. As if a giant worry had been lifted away. Wilson sat up and immediately noticed the weight on his waist - Maxwell's hand resting over him. He blinked, cheeks getting gradually warmer as he eyed the sleeping man beside him. He hadn't even realized that Maxwell was holding him, but he remembered falling asleep in his arms. Had the other man been holding him through the whole night...?
The scientist smiled faintly, carefully lifting the arm out of his way as he sat up, trying not to wake Maxwell up. Maybe Maxwell had been right. Maybe Wilson had been jealous and afraid of being replaced. But, strangely enough, he didn't think he felt that way anymore. It felt kind of stupid to hold a grudge against other versions of him after they had gotten so very intimate with one another.
Wilson still wasn't sure if he should bring the last night's events up or to pretend it never happened, but only a one glance at the Maxwell's sleeping face, that for once didn't look so infuriatingly smug, made him lean towards the former. He wanted to remember, and make Maxwell remember, that he was much more desired than he had thought... And maybe, in time, he would even learn to accept it.
And Maxwell had been holding onto him for the whole night, keeping him comfortable and warm and safe. As if Wilson was strong enough to ignore such a clear sign of affection. For all the big talk about how bad and evil he was, Maxwell sure was always so quick to try everything he could to make Wilson feel better. Wilson felt a warm pulse beat inside his chest as he left the other man sleeping inside the tent, getting up to get something to eat.
He wasn't really surprised to notice that the rest of the bunch were all up and awake already. The Survivor was cooking something, the Shadow King beside him trying to get his attention in vain, and as soon as Wilson stepped a foot outside the tent, the botanist was striking up a conversation with him, his notebook back in his hand, ready to ask questions and document all he needed.
Wilson's eyes soon found the Mad Scientist sitting on a log, scribbling away something, and they made eye contact (At least Wilson thought they did, it was hard to tell under the goggles the Scientist was wearing).
After politely telling the Botanist to wait, Wilson made his way up to the Mad Scientist, rubbing his neck awkwardly.
"Hey, um... I'm sorry you didn't get to participate last night, or uh, didn't get to have fun..." he gave the other man an apologetic frown, but the Mad Scientist just cocked his head.
"I didn't?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised by the revelation. Wilson blinked. Was he remembering something wrong?
"Didn't you just, um, sit in the corner taking notes...?"
The Mad Scientist tilted his head even further, looking like a confused puppy.
"...Yes?"
They blinked at each other quietly. The Mad Scientist seemed completely baffled over the possibility that taking notes wasn't the most fun part of everything, and Wilson decided that he agreed. If the other one didn't feel like he had been left out, well then, he supposed there wasn't any issue after all.
Wilson decided to leave it at that, returning to the others to eat some bacon and eggs with them. He had actually started to like their company a bit.
Maxwell watched them all from the tent, feeling a bit left out but ultimately satisfied that his Wilson wasn't feeling so insecure anymore. He much preferred it like this. The old man stretched and closed the curtain of the tent, pulling the Codex out and opening it up on his lap. He'd better find out the way to send the others back, as they couldn't stay here forever, and perhaps he could even discover a way to open the portal for them to return in the future. Who knows when Wilson would start feeling unloved again.
Maxwell lit his cigar and started studying his book, distantly listening the many voices of Wilson outside and feeling a warm sense in his chest, like he had done something right for a change.