Quackity's Guide to Hiding an Alien Baby From the Government

by TheJam

Summary:

Quackity was tired, incredibly so. He was tired of things never going his way, never going the way they were supposed to.He forced himself up, ignoring the way his legs trembled. The sooner he returned home, the sooner this would be over, and soon he would be able to lay back in his bed and pretend like none of this had happened.

But then he saw it— a shooting star.

or;

Law student finds an alien baby, chaos ensues.

Chapter 1: Everyday Blues

Quackity's chest heaved as he crossed the trail one foot at a time, placing one heavy in front of the other. His head throbbed with a growing headache, as did the soles of his feet, protesting when he stepped on yet another rock.

"Hijo de su-" He kicked the rock, yelping out in pain once more as it irritated his already swollen toes.

Quackity was not built for hiking, especially not solo. Had Foolish been around he would have forced the man to carry him the rest of the way, put those stupid, flashy muscles to use.

But no! Quackity, being the impulsive dumbass he was decided to go hiking instead of visiting his family for the weekend like a sane human being, or perhaps staying in and binging another mediocre rom-com with Charlie. Enjoy some fresh air, they said. The views will be worth it, they said.

Sure, he entertained those ideas for the first fifteen minutes of the hike, snapping pictures of pleasing sights and picking flowers to give to his roommates.

He put his phone down rather quickly though, the flowers having long since wilted.

Quackity just needed a break from everything, he needed a break from the constant urge to rip his skull open and stuff it with his books because the gods knew he could not stand having to read and memorize one more paragraph.

But he dug his own grave, as he always did. He did it when he applied to law school to begin with, and did it again when he stuck around this far. All he ever wanted was to please his parents, give them the opportunity to boast about their son to their peers, look at him and see more than just a failure, so he took the fucking shovel.

He supposed he did it again when he woke up this morning, once more doing what others deemed the best way to let off some steam.
It was too late to dwell, he was well aware, so he scanned the area with each step he took, legs crying for a break.

With an exasperated sigh, deep from the soul, he flopped on the first clean patch of grass he came across. He let out a pained cry, both from the way his muscles throbbed and the fact he was quite literally on the verge of an existential crisis.

Maybe he should find himself a wealthy woman or man to settle down with. He was still twenty-two and had a pretty enough face, he was at his prime. Everyone knew those old fucks preferred anyone without a developed frontal lobe, meaning he had three years to his expiration date.
Quackity looked up at the sky, already a beautiful mix of blue and red, silently mourning the sight he would miss. Foolish said the sunset was especially beautiful on top of the mountain, but he missed it.
His eyes stung. Fuck. What kind of full-grown adult cries over a goddamn sunset?

Quackity was tired, incredibly so. He was tired of things never going his way, never going the way they were supposed to. He forced himself up, ignoring the way his legs trembled. The sooner he returned home, the sooner this would be over, and soon he would be able to lay back in his bed and pretend like none of this had happened.

But then he saw it— a shooting star.

The sky was not nearly dark enough for it to be so blindingly bright, but it made his lips quirk up the slightest bit, so he shut his eyes.

"Fuck, okay. I uhh- I hope I'm doing the right thing here." Quackity prayed to the world, knowing it was in vain. "I hope I don't end up regretting my choices."

Quackity finally looked up to where the shooting star was, taking a double-take when it seemed to... grow?

He blinked once more, doubting his vision. Except it kept getting closer and closer, headed in his direction. He could feel a wave of hot air wash over him, warming up his body, evaporating the sweat on his skin, and oh-

Quackity stumbled to get away, adrenaline pushing his aches away as he fought not to be roasted by whatever that thing was. The flaming object beeped loudly, however, swerving and changing its trajectory to not hit him head-on.

He toppled to the ground when it shook violently beneath his feet, rocks and dirt scratching at his skin as he stared, bewildered, at the cloud of smoke emerging from just beyond his line of vision.

Yup. That was it, Quackity has officially gone insane. He had finally reached the brink, the endless sleepless nights finally taking a toll on his mental health. Because surely he was not just nearly hit by a meteorite. And surely, said meteorite was not intelligent enough to swerve away from him and save his life.

He let out a pathetic whine, forcing himself on his feet once more and walking into the forest, using his phone to illuminate his path between the trees.

Hiking at night alone was stupid, but going into the forest, where wild animals could jump him at any given moment? That was a level of idiocy Quackity never knew he could reach. Foolishly, he prayed that the impact scared them off the way it would have scared off a sane human.

Alas, no law student was sane. He wanted some drama in his life, so he trod forward.

After all, what's the worst that could happen? It was not every day that he got to see meteorite, maybe this useless hike was worth it, in a way.
It did not take him long to reach his destination, trees turned to crisp around the giant impact crater that stood before him. The smoke had mostly dissipated, still, he placed his sleeve over his nose protectively, carefully making his way down the dip in the earth.

Except he slipped, tumbling forward and rolling a couple of times. Quackity was sure he had broken a few gymnastics world records at that moment, but he did not have long to dwell on it before his fall was cut short as he hit leveled ground, back pressed against warm metal.

He took a few moments to recover, letting the tears fall this time alongside a pitiful sob. When Quackity opened his eyes this time, he was met with an iron sphere, almost small enough he could wrap his arms around it.

Perfectly round with a metallic shine. Whatever this thing was, it sure as hell was not a meteorite.

Quackity's hand hovered over the sphere, apprehensive of adding another one to the long list of injuries he sustained that day alone.

After a few moments, he relented to his impatience and pressed the tips of his fingers against the object, surprised to find it cool to the touch.
The metallic sphere hissed and shook, opening up like a pill bug.

Quackity had seen his fair share of strange things and encountered his fair share of difficult situations. He thought he had seen it all, that life had no other wild cards up its stupidly puffy sleeves.

Foolish as he was— pun intended, Quackity thought he had conquered all the quests in his book.

He was running out of stupid metaphors, but you get the point.

Quackity was sure things couldn't possibly get worse. That was until his eyes met purple, wide and innocent.

A wail sounded in the forest. 

Chapter 2: I Could Hate Myself When The Sun Comes Up

Summary:

Logically speaking, Quackity was not supposed to collect his things and tread down the hiking trail as if he did not just steal an alien baby. But, logically speaking as well, none of this is real so what does it matter?

Notes:

Disclaimer! Author is not a law student. Author watched two videos in total about law school and called it a day. Apologies to any law students or lawyers out there because this fic is NOT about accuracy. I saved up the brain cells for another fic in the works

There were a good few things that Law School had taught Quackity, ranging from the ability to read ridiculously long legal cases in the car, while eating, while showering, to out-arguing his classmates in mock trials (something he was always good at, except this time he was not called a bitch for it).

What law school did not teach him, however, was how to console a crying baby.

Granted, Quackity had not known what an overly intelligent metal orb would do if he touched it. But certainly, it was not any of this.

Purple eyes met his own, wide and frightened before the creature let out a terrified screech. It shifted and morphed, losing its shape and turning into something more blobby and formless.

"Shit- hey. Hey. You'll attract wild animals." He quietly scolded, collecting the trembling little thing into his arms best he could. He rocked it quietly, ignoring the excessively mushy feel of the creature and anxiously looking around to check for any predators, animal or not.

The metal orb, now empty, hissed once more, collapsing onto itself and folding into a small cube.

Huh. Aliens really liked shapes, didn't they?

He took the cube, examining it for a few moments and pocketing it when he felt movement in his arms. The alien was now simply staring at him, as if sizing him up, before shifting once more and transforming into something more solid.

A human baby. Human enough. They still had glowing purple eyes, patches of purple on their skin, and two erected curious antennae, but otherwise they looked human. It was almost cute.

After a moment of tense silence, Quackity felt compelled to break it, feeling a ridiculous amount of judgment radiating off the tiny thing.

"I'm Quackity." He introduced himself to the baby as if they understood what he was saying. "What's your name?"

The baby only blinked at him, scanning his face for a couple of moments. They reached up with tiny hands, grabbing his beanie and pulling it down.

Quackity chuckled, trying to grab the stolen beanie, which led to a game of tug of war with a surprisingly strong baby.

"Got it!" He grinned triumphantly after an embarrassingly long time trying to retrieve it.

The alien baby, however, was not as thrilled about the reclamation of his possession. They glanced between Quackity and his beanie with trembling lips, letting out small whimpers that would inevitably turn into sobs.

With a resigned sigh, Quackity forsook his trusty beanie to a very smug baby.

Logically speaking, Quackity was not supposed to collect his things and tread down the hiking trail as if he had not just stolen an alien baby. But, logically speaking as well, none of this is real so what does it matter?

Still, he wrapped his jacket around the barely clothed baby to keep them warm, glancing down at them occasionally to make sure his beanie was okay.

Just before he reached his car, his phone rang, startling the baby. He checked the caller ID, seeing it was from Sam.

His heart sank at the sight, dread filling him at the prospect of talking to the older man. Quackity was sure conversing with his parents was not supposed to make him want to curl up in a hole and die, but he still picked up the call.

"Hey, Sam-"

"Alex, where are you?!" Sam yelled over the phone, making Quackity move it away from his ear and curse quietly. "Are you still on that mountain? Did you see anything? Are you hurt?"

Quackity just stood there, letting himself get bombarded by questions. "I'm fine, Sam. I heard a crash in the forest but I was already at the base of the mountain." He lied through his teeth, leaning against the car and praying the baby would keep quiet.

"Okay. That's good to know." Sam sighed with relief, the sound of his car's sirens ringing in the background. "I'm going to the scene. Tell me if you see anything weird and update me once you get home."

Quackity glanced down at the baby in his arms guiltily, nodding even though Sam couldn't see it. "Will do. Stay safe."

He stayed composed until Sam ended the call, and then he let himself stumble around trying to make it into the car because fuck his dad was on his way here.

Quackity closed the zipper around the baby who looked around, confused over the fabric they were now swimming in. He tied the sleeves around their small body, tightening the seat belt around them to hopefully not get them killed trying to drive away.

He heard police sirens in the distance, the hairs standing on his body.
"Oh fuck me." He groaned out, throwing himself into the driver's seat and turning on the engine,

His mind refused to cooperate for a second, nearly driving into a tree trying to unpack, but he found himself speeding in the opposite direction soon enough, thankfully making out in time.

For five minutes or so, Quackity drove away, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to get as far away from there. He slowed down when he reached the edge of the city, residential buildings coming into view.

Leaning back against the driver's seat, he let himself catch his breath, a wide grin on his face. He hadn't felt so alive in years, not since he was in high school and sneaking out to see his (now very much ex) boyfriend.

Quackity glanced back at the baby, surprised to see them fast asleep.

He supposed they did sleep through traveling through interstellar space, a car ride was not all that surprising.

Reality began to dawn on him as he drove through the city, returning to the apartment he had lived in for almost five years practically muscle memory at this point.

Parking his car, Quackity carefully undid the baby's confinement, covering their tiny antennae with the hood of his shirt.

He was certain he did not look suspicious at all, hiding a baby in his jacket.

He tried to walk through the reception area as casually as possible, almost making it to the elevator before he heard the receptionist clear her throat.

"What do you have in there?" She asked from behind the desk, making Quackity pause in his tracks.

Puffy. How unlucky can one motherfucker be that the owner of the building shows up out of nowhere the only day she is not supposed to.

"Oh, it's just some food. It was raining so I wrapped it in my jacket." Quackity shrugged. "Spilled all over the thing. Shame, I liked this jacket."
Pretending to be distressed came naturally to a miserable man, but what's a law student to a professional therapist?

"Your food's moving." She deadpanned, pointing out the way the baby shifted in his arms, letting out a quiet whimper. Shit.

"It's a... it's a live lobster." He tried once more. "Charlie's birthday is next week. Thought we'd make him something special for dinner. I... I didn't know if it fit under the 'no pet' policy, given it won't be alive for long."

Puffy sighed, rolling her eyes. "You over-explain, it comes off as dubious." She stated, shooing him. "Pets still aren't allowed, but I'll let this one go as long as it doesn't cause trouble. Only because I know you boys are responsible enough."

Quackity visibly relaxed, nodding eagerly. "Yes, thank you." He said genuinely, rushing to the elevator at the growing whimpers in his arms. "Have a nice evening."

He climbed into the elevator, pressed number six, and waited. He couldn't uncover the baby, not now, not with the apartment building being littered with cameras.

"It's okay, we're almost there." Quackity cooed at the baby, watching the numbers increase. "Just a few moments more."

He prayed to the gods that his flatmates were sleeping. 

Chapter 3: Five Guys

Summary:

Quackity's flatmates were NOT asleep. Alien Baby gets a name.

Notes:

Well. Hi? Totally didn''t forget about this. Totally didn't lose track of time.

TW: Single mention of W*lbur. Not the content creator, we hate that guy.

Quackity was not actually stupid enough to think his flatmates were sleeping. If he were, he would have long dropped out of law school.

He was, however, endlessly hopeful that luck would finally smile in his face. And he did, also, have a tendency to misplace his hopes.

Quackity was not foolish enough to actually believe that a group of college students, during a weekend no less, would be asleep at seven o'clock.

So, when he heard the commotion in the living room, most probably his idiot friends playing some game, his best bet was to somehow sneak into his bedroom without catching anybody's attention.

And then he would worry about what he was supposed to do with the adorable little thing in his arms. A smug, beanie stealing, adorable little thing.

All he had to do was make it to his room. As in—cross the living room. Where the others were.

Surely it's doable, right? The couch faces away from the hallway.

Charlie always did it, footsteps stupidly light and soundless, and caught Quackity before he could call one of his exes or drink a cup of salt.

Charlie was an omniscient, definitely not a human, guy though.

And Quackity? He was a random guy who found an alien baby in the woods and took them home.

As is typical for Quackity's shit luck, and as is typical with a baby that had maybe three functioning braincells that only understood that crying equals food, he barely made it halfway across the room before a loud screech sounded across the flat.

Three heads turned around, catching Quackity red-handed.

"... hi?"

"Quackity." Foolish stood, with all the energy of a huge golden retriever that has yet to comprehend the full scale of its size. "Oh my god. Oh my fucking god."

Charlie, across the room, sunk to the ground. "NO! No Quackity from Las Nevadas, you're too young, you're too beautiful." He grieved, sobbing dramatically. "They're gonna sue you and throw you in an intergalactic jail where you'll rot and die!"

Foolish and Fundy were momentarily distracted by the scene, leaving Quackity scrambling to console the baby. Fundy blinked. "What in the fuck are you talking about?"

"The aliens are going to take over, the Earth is gone—"

"Shut up Charlie, no one knows what you're talking about!" Foolish screamed but was quick to go quieter when it only served to startle the baby more. "This is great news, this is an infant. Quackity has girlfriend for once, we're going to have era of peace, an era of no crying over men!"

"Could be trans guy, actually." Fundy corrected.

Foolish sunk to the floor, joining Charlie and the baby in the weeping.

"It's not his baby, Foolish. It's so much worse." Charlie straightened up, rushing towards his phone. "I need to call my contacts, I need—"

"It's not your baby?!" Foolish cried further.

Quackity took a step back, grip on the baby tightening. Dear gods, he shouldn't have went on that hike, he shouldn't have investigated the crash, he shouldn't have lied to Sam.

"Quackity."

"I—"

"Quackity."

"Look— there was crash in the forest and I went to check what it was. I didn't think..."

He didn't know how to explain, but he didn't have to. The baby, who had been thrashing the entire time, finally figured out how to free themselves from the confines of the jacket, sobs turning into whimpers as they rested their head against Quackity's chest.

The room instantly went quiet. Foolish looked up from where he was perched on the floor.

"AWWW— wait what the hell is that thing?"

Fundy sunk back onto the couch, taking a sip from his coffee. "We are gonna be thrown into an intergalactic prison. We are screwed. Screwed, I'm telling you."

 

And that is how four twenty something year olds ended up sat in the living room, same way they did every Saturday, only this time there was a baby with wide purple eyes and antennae studying all of them, half curious, half judgmental.

Charlie was the first to speak. "I don't like the way he's looking at me."

"He?" Quackity questioned, Charlie nodded.

"Good, good." Quackity had never been happier about having an ominous roommate that knew everything. "I didn't... I was worried about having to find out."

"Oh, so we're keeping him? We don't even know what he eats." Fundy argued. "You can't half-ass taking care of a baby, we'll end up with a murder charge on top of kidnapping."

Quackity sighed, looking down at the baby. He was busy chewing away at his own thumb. "I don't even know what to call him. He's—"

The thumb did not suffice, the baby faceplanted against Quackity's shirt, rooting against his chest. "Oh, dear God." Quackity quickly pulled the baby away, scolding. "There's nothing for you there, I'm not your mom."

The baby took a moment to, apparently, process, expression falling from confusion, to disappointment, to sheer offense. He wailed in Quackity's face, eyes already leaking.

"Okay— fuck. Fine. I am your mom, just don't cry, please." Quackity pleaded helplessly, rocking the baby in hopes of shutting him up. The baby took Quackity's finger into his mouth.

"Wow, you're a natural." Fundy snorted, rolling his eyes.

"He is, actually!" Foolish stated genuinely, earning a dumbfounded look from Fundy. "Come on, purple dude. Wilbur'll file another noise complaint if you don't keep it down."

Quackity rolled his eyes at the mere mention of the name, turning around towards Charlie. "What would he— where the fuck is Charlie?"

The question was met with a simple shrug from Foolish and a lack of acknowledgment from Fundy, who was knee deep into researching how not to kill a baby on Google.

Quackity sighed, resigning to his fate as an unwilling teether. "It really doesn't taste that good." He muttered, watching the baby chew on his index finger. "How do I keep finding myself in these situations?"

"You think purple dude eats human meat? I mean maybe you're nutritious for him."

"Foolish, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Fundy questioned, looking up from his laptop in mock offense.

"I brought some lactose free formula!" Charlie chimed in, suddenly between the two of them, causing Fundy to jump like a cat.

"Oh, hi Charlie!" Foolish greeted the man, scooting over to make space for him to sit down. "I'm thinking about calling him purple d, like for purple dude."

"No." Quackity immediately shut down the idea. "That sounds like purple dick. Absolutely not. We are not calling our baby that."

"Oh, so it's our baby now, not the baby you literally stole." Fundy huffed, but his face softened slightly when he glanced at the infant. "Purpled. How about Purpled? Just erase the space so it doesn't sound weird."

Foolish grinned. "Purpled it is."

Charlie was already off preparing a bottle. Quackity was certain his life couldn't possibly get weirder.

Chapter 4: Reluctant Parenthood

Summary:

Just a bunch of college students and their alien baby, nothing out of the ordinary.

It still hasn't hit, not really.

Notes:

this was supposed to be out yesterday.

oops

Quackity was sitting on the kitchen table, watching Charlie prepare a bottle of baby formula. Purpled was getting antsy in his arms, putting just about anything in his mouth, and fussing when it didn't replenish his hunger. "And it's lactose-free because?"

"Because we're not trying to kill him. Kidnapping him was bad enough!" Charlie huffed, glaring at him.

Quackity blinked at the man, who was now dipping the bottle in a cold water bath to cool it down quicker. "And how do you know it would kill him?"

Charlie didn't answer, testing the heat on his wrist. He nodded approvingly, stepping closer to where Quackity was sitting.

He tried to approach Purpled, but the baby whined the moment he got close, hiding in Quackity's shirt.

With a sigh, Charlie set the bottle down, finally meeting Quackity's eyes. "You gotta hold him right, upright. Support his head." He guided the younger man into the proper position, then handed him the bottle. "Keep it horizontal."

"How did you know I had an alien baby with me?"

Charlie didn't answer, focusing on putting away everything he had used.

"How do you know how to feed a baby?" Quackity tried again.

Charlie turned his head around, his grin uncomfortably wide. "YouTube!"

Quackity huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "You're a fucking idiot." Still, he followed Charlie's instructions, bringing the bottle to Purpled's mouth.

The baby hesitated for a moment, but it didn't take long for him to latch onto the bottle's teat, suckling hungrily.

Charlie took a seat at one of the barstools, watching. Quackity had never seen him so normal before, so calm.

"Poor thing must be starving." Quackity muttered, the sight a reality check striking him right in the face.

Was he seriously doing this? Stealing an alien baby? What was he supposed to do with him?

He didn't know.

Charlie sighed, nodding along. "Yeah. It's a long journey to Earth. Purpled from Ixion is severely malnourished."

Quackity bit his lip. Charlie had always been a bit of an oddity, but he'd never felt this much discomfort — and relief all at once — in the man's company. "I don't know what you are. I don't need to know. But I can... I can trust you with this, right? I can trust you to keep him alive."

Charlie's eyes met his own, and for a moment they shone that bright lime green, the way Quackity often pretended they didn't. "Yes. I want him to live."

"Okay." Quackity nodded, glancing back at the bottle. Almost finished. "Do we feed him more?"

"No. He hasn't eaten in a long time; it would probably irritate his stomach." Charlie explained, trying to touch the Purpled again. The baby didn't fight it this time, too drunk on formula to really comprehend what was happening around him. "He's dozing off anyway."

"Anddd we're back!" Foolish burst through the door, bursting the pair's bubble with it.

"Shhh." Quackity glared at the man, but it didn't last long when he noticed Purpled squirming in his arms, eyes wide, startled, and very much wet.

It was a matter of seconds before sobs filled the room, and Quackity was left fumbling, rocking the baby back and forth in hopes of getting him back to sleep.

Foolish stood at the door sheepishly, holding a bag of diapers, onesies, and some toys. Fundy walked closely behind, hands empty, then flopped on the couch. "Good job, Foolish, you scared the baby."

"Fuck. I'm sorry." He closed the door carefully before crossing the room and placing the bags on the counter. "We got him some stuff. Maybe we should change him before he sleeps again."

Quackity, despite his slight annoyance, nodded, taking Purpled to the couch and placing him beside Fundy.

"Do we pull out the YouTube tutorials?" He asked, glancing between his friends to check if any had a clue what to do.

Fundy let out an exaggerated groan, but got up nonetheless. "Scoot over."

"You know how to do it?" Foolish asked, settling on the floor beside him.

Fundy shrugged, taking out a diaper and a purple onesie. "Little cousins." He simply stated, but Quackity wasn't too happy about the look in his eyes. He didn't press, though.
Purpled, now fed and no longer crying, was glancing around the room curiously, as though everything was new to him.

Everything truly was new to him, Quackity realized. He watched as Fundy dressed Purpled, taking note of the little things, keeping in mind anything he found potentially useful.

Because Quackity had an alien baby on his couch, and his roommates were all sat around him, each a degree of invested like this was some side quest, and not an actual life. One that could potentially get him in trouble with the cops. Because Quackity was not an idiot— he knew the laws here well, knew that everything that fell from the sky belonged to the government unless they let you keep it.

Quackity wasn't sure he was exactly best suited to take care of a baby, much less one from outer space.

"Do you think they would experiment on him?" It was Foolish who asked the question, and it was none of them who answered it. "I mean— look at him. He's just a little dude. He'd pass for human without the antennae. And the freaky eyes. I don't know if they would care, though. I can't think of a scenario where we hand him over and he doesn't get hurt in the name of science."

The silence was heavy in the room. No one knew who the hypothetical 'they' even was, but it was Charlie who broke it. "Then we don't let them get to him." He said cheerfully, holding Purpled's too-small hand in his own. "Whoever sent him to Earth wanted him safe. We'll keep him guarded until they're ready to have him back."

Purpled cooed at Charlie, taking his finger into his mouth and endlessly chewing on it.

Fundy fastened the buttons of the onesie. "Guess we're fostering an alien baby, then."

Charlie smiled wider. "I'll tell my contacts we'll be fine!" And with that, he got up, earning a whine from Purpled at the loss of his chewing toy.

Something in the air changed that night, and despite the oddity of it all, Quackity took one look at the baby on his couch and decided no one could take him away.

Chapter 5: Not So Fun Times

Notes:

Should I stick to the not so very thought through titles or just use numbers at this point… who knows. Chapter 5 is on time this time WOO

Quackity, tired from a terrible hike and the abolute mindfuckery the rest of the evening was, dediced to sleep the sore limbs and racing thoughts away.

That was until Fundy stopped him in his place. "Where are you going?" He had asked, pointing at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

"To sleep." Quackity stated simply, glancing down were Fundy was gestured. "Figured I'd get some sleep before he wakes up."

"And where are you planning to put him?"

Quackity raised an eyebrow, voice a little too defensive. "Why are you interrogating me?"

Maybe it was the exhaustion pulling at his limbs, maybe he was at his wits' end for the day.

"I'm not interrogating you?" Fundy snapped back, tone matching Quackity's. "But you can't keep him in your bed. One wrong turn and he's squished to death."

Quackity blinked, suddenly feeling very stupid. "Ohhhh. Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

And that's Quackity and Foolish ended up building a nest of the softest blankests and pillows under Charlie's bed.

"You're sure you don't wanna take the bed? I really don't mind." Quackity tried to convince Charlie once more, though both of them knew Quackity did mind. He was just being polite.

"Of course not Quackity from Las Nevadas. I like to sleep on the floor, it reminds me of when I was in the ground!" Charlie said gayly, flopping face first into the pile on the floor. "I can also catch Purpled from Ixion if he falls off the bed!"

"You think we're violating any intergalactic law not having a proper place for him to sleep?" Foolish had asked, moments after they laid down the baby at the bed, on the edge nearest to the wall.

Quackity was in the middle of making sure nothing around Purpled posed a suffocation hazard, one earbud in listening to a Youtube video on how to avoid sudden infant death. "I think we're violating many laws keeping him here to begin with."

Foolish chuckled, sitting next to Charlie on the floor. "This baby is gonna be so expensive."

"Yup."

"We are fully broke."

"Uh huh."

"What are we going to do?"

Quackity paused the video, running a hand through his hair. Purpled was asleep now, he can probably retrieve his trusty beanie. "We sleep. We'll worry about the financial and legal implications later."

Foolish hummed in acknowledgment, stretching his arms. "I have a lecture at eight. I should probably head to bed."

"We all should." Quackity replied, watching the man head to his and Fundy's room.

That left Quackity and Charlie alone, with a baby in Charlie's bed.

"What are we going to do?" It was Quackity that asked the question this time, now that he was alone with Charlie and could afford to freak out.

"We sleep, like you said." Charlie shrugged, getting comfortable under the pillows. Sleeping on the floor, under the mess of a nest instead of under it.

"You're really dedicating yourself to the whole being a pillow bit, huh?" Quackity said with a snort, climbing into his bed.

"I can be anything you want me to be, Quackity from Las Nevadas."

"I think I like you the way you are, Charlie."

The silence that followed was comfortable, and before long Charlie was out cold, the way he always was the moment his head hit the pillow— the floor, in this case.

"Good night." Quackity mumbled to himself, exhaustion from the day finally catching up.

Sleep didn't last long.

Quackity didn't understand what it meant to be in possession of an alien baby until he woken up only three hours later to Purpled screaming across the room.

Charlie was already up, standing over Quackity's bed. "Pssst. Quackity from Las Nevadas." He whispered, as though they needed to respect the quietness of night when there was a baby wailing next to them. "I will prepare his bottle. Make him shut up."

Quackity groaned for a moment, glancing at the time. Two in the morning was an ungodly hour to be woken up.

He forced himself out of bed anyway. "Okay." He nodded along, yawning, and made his way across the room where Purpled was still crying.

He climbed into the bed, carefully picking Purpled up.

What was he supposed to do?

Quackity rocked him awkwardly, glancing helplessly at the doorway like Charlie would immediately return.

Stupid idiot, it takes longer than that to prepare the bottle. Quackity sighed, holding the baby up.

"Can you please keep it down, we don't want to wake up the others." He pleaded helplessly.

Purpled did not seem to like it, as he grabbed Quackity's hair with all the might of an infant.

"Jesus— okay, okay. I'm sorry." He carefully pried his hair away from the baby's dead grip. "You're lucky you're cute, I would have thrown you out otherwise."

Purpled, still fussy, squirmed uncomfortably in Quackity's arms.

Okay. Yeah. Diapers.

Was this really what being twenty two was like? Changing diapers in the middle of the night when you had class the next day?

Quackity relented to his circumstances, trying to focus on the technical side of things, like recalling how Fundy did it, how the man in the video did it.

Soon, Purpled finally settled down, not quite happy but not wailing either.

"God, you're such a baby." Quackity snorted, wiping away a stray tear. "Are you hungry? Charlie will be here soon."

Quackity never planned to be twenty two with a baby— there was a reason he never dated women.

Multiple reasons, actually. Mostly his anxiety around them. And the way toxic men keep approaching him. Pregnancy was never a major reason, but still.

Charlie was back only moments later, bottle ready in hand. "Want me to feed him?"

Quackity considered it, shook his head. "Next time, maybe. You'll be alone with him for most of the morning anyway."

Charlie nodded, sinking back on the floor. "I think I'll go back to sleep now."

"Yeah. Good night, Charlie." Quackity muttered, holding Purpled close.

The baby was more than eager to take the teat into his mouth.

Quackity smiled. "Greedy fucker."

Purpled kicked his arm.

Chapter 6: Attached/Imprinted

Summary:

One thing about Quackity is that he was definitely, totally, always normal about things.

Quackity did not want to leave Purpled alone with Charlie.

Don't get him wrong— he trusted Charlie, he truly did. But oftentimes, he worried about leaving the man alone with himself. How was he supposed to trust him with a literal infant?

Maybe Quackity was just drained from being woken up twice during the night, struggling to go back to sleep afterwards. Maybe it was the way Purpled cried as Charlie rocked him, insisting that Quackity should leave or he would be late for his morning lecture.

Quackity could not focus on anything throughout the day. He had attempted to do some reading on the bus, like he did every morning, but all he could think about was the alien baby that had clung onto him like he could shield him from the world.

The alien baby that was currently in Charlie's care, hidden in their tiny apartment, away from anybody searching, away from anyone that would look at Purpled like nothing more than a curiosity, away from Sam, who Quackity had shamelessly lied to for the sake of a helpless baby.

Quackity could not focus, but could one blame him?

It had not hit him the previous day, while he was running on pure, unadulterated adrenaline and age-old exhaustion.

He pushed through, making it through his first class. He had failed to answer a question his professor had asked him, and every word the woman uttered sounded like gibberish, but he pushed through.

During the half-hour break between his two classes, Quackity managed to get something into his system. It significantly reduced the brain fog, but the anxiety clung to him like an old friend.

He kept checking the time, only slightly focused on the material being discussed. He paid his classmates no mind, not even flirting back to Tyler this time. He had more important stuff to deal with than a half-hot college frat boy.

Did parents do this full-time?

Quackity couldn't comprehend it. How can someone possibly survive through not being able to constantly make sure their baby is okay? How could someone cope with the uncertainty of not constantly knowing how they were doing?

Was Purpled hungry? Was he still crying, confused why Quackity was leaving him behind? Did he think Quackity had abandoned him?

Did Quackity seriously get so attached to a baby that fell from the sky within the course of twenty-four hours?

He found himself texting Charlie throughout the day — and later on Foolish too when he returned home — to check that everything was going smoothly. Each time Quackity's gut churned with concern, Foolish would send a sheepish message about Purpled being fussy, or hungry, or simply inconsolable.

When his second lecture of the day ended, Quackity was the first to leave class, rushing across the campus and barely managing to catch the bus.

He did not care what it looked like to other people, did not pause when Tyler chased after him, asking if something was wrong.

Quackity has a clear goal and a nausea that would not settle. His mind would not possibly relax until Purpled was in his arms, safe and sound.

Somewhere between getting off the bus and reaching his apartment building, Sam began calling him, but Quackity let his phone ring.

Until he opened the door, until the dread and unease dragged him across the apartment to his bedroom and Charlie's bedroom, where the odd man and Foolish were trying to soothe Purpled.

Purpled reached out for him the same way he did, tiny hands grabbing onto him full force while his body writhed in Quackity's arm.

"Hey. Hey, baby." Quackity practically collapsed on the bed, holding the baby close and rocking him gently. Purpled seemed content to stay where he was, if a little offended the man dared to leave at all.

"I've got you. I've got you." Quackity reassured, suddenly feeling odd at the way his friends eyed him.

What the fuck was that?

Quackity did not understand. The moment Purpled's wails died down, a weight fell off his shoulders, the world suddenly far clearer— as though a blanket had been lifted off his head and he could suddenly breathe.

Charlie felt it too, Quackity could tell; the man scanned him, expression unreadable as always. "Purpled from Ixion is hungry. He wouldn't let either of us feed him." That was what he settled for, handing the Foolish a now cold bottle of formula, still full. "Can you please heat it up?"

Foolish blinked once, hesitating for only a moment before nodding and doing as he was told. Silence settled over the room, Quackity unsure whether he should focus on the odd feeling in his chest or the way Purpled was already mouthing at his hoodie, clearly starving.

"You felt that, right?" Quackity apprehensively questioned, eyes landing at the oddly — yet very much so typically — calm maybe-man.

Charlie smiled, that strange way he always did, too wide and too eager. "No, Quackity from Las Nevadas. Only you can feel it."

"Huh?" Quackity asked dumbly, holding tightly on Purpled's small body. "What do you mean?"

"He imprinted on you!" Charlie stated as though it was common sense, tone still far too cheery. "We won't feel it until he trusts us, but for now, you'll have to be his caretaker. He won't accept food from anyone else!"

The words were not meant to be mocking or deceiving, and perhaps that contributed to the way Quackity was left completely and utterly dumbfounded for the nth time in what felt like longer than just a day.

Because somehow, this impossible being in his arms had bonded to him, and now Quackity was no longer sure he had full reign over his feelings or full access to his logic.

Still, when Foolish returned to the bedroom, Quackity took the bottle. He tested it on his wrist, just to be safe, and then offered it to the still fussy, still hungry baby.

Purpled showed no sign of struggle, hands gripping onto where Quackity's fingers wrapped around the bottle.

And when those wide purple eyes met his, Quackity did not have it in him to raise any objections against it.

Chapter 7: A Whole Lot to Learn

Summary:

my brain is fried from writing idfk man

Notes:

totally didn't forget uhhh. still saturday it's fine?

Quackity finished his readings with a baby in his arms.

He finished them with a baby in his arms.

The idea alone was baffling to him, but with Purpled pressed against his chest, toying quietly with a small rattle, he did not even know what to think.

Normally, the noise would have annoyed him.

Normally, having a baby in his arms would have.

Normally, the readings would have taken twice as long.

Something about having Purpled in his arms helped. Or maybe the Gods simply chose to show mercy on the poor law student they handed an alien baby to.

Either way, Quackity found himself free by lunchtime, with a baby gurgling quietly and only Fundy in the apartment.

He waddled to the older man's room, poking his head in and praying Purpled would keep quiet in case the Fundy happened to be sleeping.

He wasn't.

"Fundy," Quackity crossed the room, holding Purpled up in front of Fundy's face. "This baby is fucking magic."

"Mind your tongue," he grumbled, pulling his headphones down. "I think this baby is a lot of things we don't understand, Q."

Quackity shook his head. "No, no. I'm serious. He helped me study."

"I don't think so, actually." Fundy blinked at him, snorting. In a quick demonstration of wits, Purpled seemed to discover his left foot, bringing it to his mouth. "That is some impressive core strength, though, I'll give him that."

Quackity invited himself into Fundy's bed, sitting across from him with Purpled in his lap.

"I don't like your attitude." He admitted, watching Fundy work on some code he could only dream of understanding. "I feel like you aren't taking this very seriously. We have a baby now—"

"No, you have a baby. And maybe Charlie does too. Foolish can be the weird uncle." Fundy corrected. "I never signed up for this. And I'll have you know me not reporting you to the cops and teaching you how to change a diaper is the most you'll get out of me."

Quackity huffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm just kidding, man. No need to take it so seriously."

"You're just bored." Fundy deadpanned, not bothering to look up from his laptop.

Quackity felt an odd sense of defensiveness growing in his chest, but he pushed it down. "Well, no shit. This little guy helped finish my homework fast. Now I have nothing to do."

Fundy eyed him warily, nose crinkling. "Maybe start with changing his diaper."

Quackity was quick to leave the room.

"Stupid fucking Fundy. He doesn't know what he's talking about." He grumbled to the baby, taking him back into the bedroom. "Let's get you changed, yeah?"

Purpled tilted his head, antennae twitching slightly. "Ba!"

"Yeah, exactly!" Quackity grinned widely. "I don't know what drugs you've got me on, but I haven't felt this excited to do anything before, much less changing a diaper."

Purpled was changed in a matter of minutes. By then, Quackity had lain down beside him on the bed, quietly watching him slam the rattle on his own hand repeatedly.

"You've got an odd idea of fun, Patito."

The rattle slipped out of Purpled's hand, smacking against Quackity's head.

He hadn't the heart to feel angry at him.

By the time Foolish and Charlie returned from the gym, Purpled was fed once more and asleep.

Quackity just lay there, watching videos about baby milestones and trying to figure out how old he seemed to be.

He turned to Charlie the moment he left the bathroom. "How old is he?"

"He is five months and three days old!" Charlie said cheerily, walking closer. He patted Purpled's head apologetically. "In almost two weeks, Purpled from Ixion will have a very bad day."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Quackity questioned, unable to conceal the confusion in his voice.

Charlie did not bother to explain.

He simply sat across from them, smiling eerily and staring at the wall.

"Okayy. Fine." Quackity shrugged it off, turning his face back to his phone. "Yeah, whatever."

He search up five month old milestones.

"He's not in danger, is he?" Quackity asked after moments of scrolling through TikTok.

"He always is!" Charlie did not even glance Quackity's way. "But if Quackity from Las Nevadas is asking about what I said, then no. Purpled from Ixion's worst day is purely mental torment for the rest of his life."

"Charlie, that is not exactly exactly relieving—"

"He will not be harmed." Charlie asserted, voice suddenly a whole lot more serious. "I won't allow it."

Quackity nodded, feeling Purpled stir beside him.

He turned to the baby, already too invested to pay Charlie any mind.

Purpled cooed at him, tiny hand gripping at his hair but not pulling. Quackity did not fight it.

He did not look away from the baby, but he heard the footsteps echoing against the walls, felt the dip of someone's weight on the bed.

Charlie smiled down at Purpled, running a gentle hand over his antennae. Quackity had never seen him so at peace, so at home.

Purpled smiled up at the man, fingers wrapping around Charlie's index finger when he offered it.

"He likes you now," Quackity muttered, very relieved and a tad bit shocked.

Charlie nodded. "He's family now!" He uttered the words like a promise, gathering Purpled into his arms. The baby surprisingly did not fight it. "Babies on Ixion are not supposed to have only one or two parents like on Earth. He needs community to thrive."

Quackity hummed at the words, leaning his head against Charlie's shoulder. "You seem to know a whole lot about Ixion, Charlie from Everywhere."

The words earned him a stare, Charlie only shrugging.

"I know a lot about everything." He bragged casually.

"You know everything about everything," Quackity mumbled, watching as Purpled stared up at both of them, no thoughts in his head.

"There's always more to learn." Charlie corrected, tickling Purpled's sides. The baby giggled in return. "There is a lot more I would love to learn about Quackity from Las Nevadas. And Purpled from Ixion. And everybody else."

Quackity could not help the smile that graced his face.

Chapter 8: The Rules Set

Summary:

Caught up in their little world, Quackity forgot to adhere to his family's ways of being.

Or, daddy issues. Just the basic, obligatory amount in any Jam work.

There were a few unspoken rules in Quackity's family that felt practically illegal to break. Like which chair each member of the family took at the dinner table and the fact that they were all supposed to be present during holidays, even if the world was ending, because for a family that was barely holding it together, family time was holy.

Quackity had typically managed to keep a clean record, either by never breaking any rules or concealing it the odd time he did, but there was one fatal, fatal mistake he kept making.

Quackity, very much distracted by the fact that he now had a baby in his care, forgot to call.

And for his friends? That was normal. Sometimes, Fundy would forget to call his parents for months, only visiting for holidays. Quackity was not even certain that Charlie had any family at all.

Quackity was a grown man— he had moved out over four years ago, started his long journey of becoming a lawyer, of becoming an adult, of becoming an independent human being.

But for one single school week, between changing diapers and timed feedings, Quackity forgot to call either of his parents.

"Oh, fuck my life." He glanced nervously at his phone, vibrating on the mattress beside him.

Purpled was in his arms, playing drowsily with the purple rattle he seemed to favor.

It was Friday evening. Quackity was alone. All his roommates either had lectures or other errands to run. And he had an unpredictable baby in his arms, at the threat of a full-on breakdown at any given moment, for any reason that did or didn't make sense.

He was fucked. He needed to pick up the phone before it stopped ringing— that alone would be a whole other crime.

"Hello, Mom," Quackity answered sheepishly, rocking Purpled gently and praying the gods would choose to have mercy on him for once in his life.

"Q!" Ponk's voice rang with false enthusiasm, the sharp weight of disappointment unspoken but present. "Where have you been? We haven't heard from you in ages. We could die and you wouldn't even know."

It had not even been a full week.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I've just been busy, you know." He tried to keep his voice leveled, unassuming. "Just... law school stuff, you know how it is. Lots of readings."

"Yeah, I know. But you need to find balance, Quackity." There it was— unsolicited advice. A whole lecture he didn't ask for. "You can't let your studies consume you and prevent you from talking to your own family."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"I worry about you. How will you survive being a lawyer if you can't even find time for a five-minute call?"

"Mom, that's—" he bit his tongue, bit down the defensiveness. Purpled squirmed in his arms. "Yeah. Yeah. You're right."

He did not believe it, but he knew arguing would get him nowhere.

"I missed you." He muttered, trying not to panic when Purpled flung the rattle around like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "How's Dad?"

"He's fine. Been worried about you. And about a lot of things." Ponk, on the other end of the phone, seemed to be busy, shuffling around and seemingly grabbing plates. Quackity hoped they couldn't hear the rattle over the noise. "Especially the whole commotion that happened last Sunday. There's a huge crater in the forest that nobody's figured out what caused it. I think it's bothering him, but he never talks about his work much."

Quackity nodded along, hand over Purpled's, trying to still it.

"I'm sure it's nothing." He said after a moment, his heart hammering at the idea of Sam still looking, still searching.

What would he do if he found out about Purpled? Would he take him away? Hand him over to people who wouldn't care about him?

Purpled squirmed in his arms. Quackity bounced him on his leg, trying to calm him down.

He couldn't stand the idea of it. Purpled was always fussy when left alone with Fundy or Foolish. He wouldn't be able to handle being alone, being away from him.

Quackity couldn't handle the idea of being away from him.

Ponk was talking, but the words didn't register.

Purpled let out one whimper and Quackity was snapped out of it, his heart suddenly dropping when that quickly turned into shrieks and little whines. Purpled was trying to move the rattle again, frustrated at it being held in place. Because to the mind of an infant, secrecy was not a concept.

"What's that noise?" Ponk was a little too observant, a little too demanding.

Quackity felt panic pool in his guts, rocking Purpled with trembling limbs.

"It's nothing." He lied through his teeth, as though the sound of a literal baby crying wouldn't alert the pediatrician.

"Quackity?" Ponk's voice was clearer this time, the distrust in their voice more than paranoia this time. "Whose baby is that?"

Purpled let out another thrill shriek, still fussy despite being given what he wanted.

Because babies don't understand suffocating parents and badly kept secrets, because the sound Quackity wanted gone was Purpled's only way of conveying that something feels wrong, that he feels hurt, that he wants care, and Quackity simply couldn't reprimand him for using the only method of communication he knows.

"It's— just babysitting. I'm babysitting, that's all." The lie sounded dull to his own ears, and he knew his parents simply knew him too well to let it pass.

"Quackity."

The name was uttered in the same tone he got when he used to sneak out at night, the same tone he got when he began reeking of weed too often during junior year of high school, the same tone that he got when his parents found him with poorly concealed bruises at the ripe age of nineteen.

Disappointment. Always disappointment.

Always the same question at the tip of their tongues— not 'how are you', not 'are you okay', but 'how did you fuck up this time?' Only 'Which mess are we going to pick up after you this time?'

Quackity's family had many unspoken rules, and that night, with Purpled still crying in his arms and tears in his own eyes, Quackity broke yet another one of them.

He closed the line.

Chapter 9: Hide, Tuck It All Away

Summary:

The police is at their door.

Notes:

i've been playing the sims 4 all day and kinda forgot to post this earlier. oopsie

The bathtub had never felt more comfortable.

Quackity knew it would be only a matter of time before one of his parents came knocking at the apartment door, maybe even trying to break it down.

That, perhaps, explained him being here now, back pressed against the fiberglass.

Sam was in his living room at the moment, chatting away with Fundy who has agreed to keep him distracted and have him convinced no one was home.

Quackity was not sure he would survive the day, but everything was fine. Purpled had sensed his anxiety earlier, antennae twitching as they always did before a wave of peace would wash over Quackity, muscles relaxing and head if just slightly quieter.

Everything was gong to be fine. It felt an easy lie with Purpled curled against his chest, fed and changed and already starting to get sleepy.

The sight alone made him smile, a shy little thing, rocking Purpled in his arms and fighting the urge to hum the tune of a lullaby he'd never heard before but somehow still knew by heart.

Fundy would tell Sam that Quackity was out studying with friends. The baby present was simply Charlie's nephew, and the freak out that happened over the phone earlier was simply due to the unimaginable amount of stress that came with Law School.

He could make out with Fundy right now. He really did owe him a lot for this, but he knew he couldn't dwell on it.

Quackity being conveniently out and not having to face his parents would definitely cause even more tensions— he could almost hear Ponk talking in his ear, scolding for avoiding his family, for making his friends do the dirty work, for scripting a scenario where he didn't have to face his issues.

His head was already starting to ache. The story wouldn't hold up for long, he knew that. Just how long could he hide an alien baby from the government?

Footsteps sounded through the hallway, getting terrifyingly close to his bedroom door. He held him breath, holding Purpled close, as though that would keep him still, quiet.

Purpled was already napping at this point, but Quackity did not let himself relax for even a moment, hand pressed again his lips.

Heavy footsteps rang closer, now possibly in the bedroom. Quackity could hear the two men talking, but he couldn't quite make out the words.

This was stressful. This was far too fucking stressful.

He pressed his face into the tuff off hair on Purpled's head and breathed in deeply, his antennae tickling his face. The baby cuddled closer.

Charlie had said something about Purpled's hair being too long, about it needing trimming, but Quackity fought against it.

Partially because it's patchy in places and it being long concealed that, and partially because it was the cutest thing ever. But mainly, it was the fact that every time Quackity imagined scissors being anywhere near hi— the baby, it ended in gore. Truly, the chance of someone accidentally chopping off Purpled's little antennae or accidentally cutting his scalp was small, but it was never zero.

So long hair it was.

He focused on Purpled for a moment, continuing to hold him close. It was almost grounding, in a way, to let the hugeness of having a little baby in his arms make all other problems fade away.

Hold him, soothe him, care for him, and most importantly protect him. Those were Quackity's priority. He was not more scared of his parents thinking he'd knocked someone up — which was most probably the scenario they were convinced to be true — than he was that someone would take away Purpled or hurt him.

So he kept his mouth shut, rubbing at the baby's back until he heard the footsteps again, this time moving further away.

Quackity did not leave the bathtub when the door of his and Charlie's room was closed, nor did he leave it when the door of the apartment was shut and locked.

He stayed where he was until only one pair of footsteps found him— slower, lighter, safer.

Fundy opened the curtain, looking down at where Quackity and Purpled were with something akin to amusement. "You gonna keep sitting here or what?"

Quackity did not answer, he only took the older man's hand, letting him help him up and out of the bathtub.

The moment Quackity's feet met the floor of the bathroom, he took careful, fast-paced steps back into the bedroom, and placed the baby on the bed.

Only then did he turn to Fundy — who was standing there, looking as conflicted as he always did when he looked at Purpled — and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I owe you, man." Quackity sighed, feeling the way Fundy stiffened before melting into the hug.

Touch-starved and rarely showing affection; the duality of man, of Fundy.

"Yeah," Fundy sighed, peeling himself off Quackity. "Your parents are fucking nuts."

"I know," Quackity sighed, getting seated right beside Purpled on the bed. "He give you a hard time?"

"He give me a hard time?" Fundy snorted, flopping on Charlie's bed. "He went into cop-mode, searching the house and just— asking a whole lot of questions. I think he was trying to make me fumble and catch me in a lie."

"Yeahh," Quackity cleared his throat sheepishly. "He tends to do that."

"You don't owe them shit, you know." Fundy's eyes wandered outside, glancing at the very amazing view from Quackity's room that was right out into a parking lot. "They keep treating you like a child. They're not entitled to every detail of your life."

"But..." Quackity grew prickly. Stupid. Stupid. Why is he getting worked up in their defense? "It is fair, sometimes. They're just worried. Have been, since him."

"There is no Schlatt anymore though," The name alone made Quackity stiffen, nails digging into his arm to keep himself from snapping. "And you're not eighteen anymore. You've reached a point in your life where you can just— go to them for guidance on your own accord, or go to us for guidance. You don't need your apartment raided."

"I don't need another lecture, Fundy," Quackity hated this, hated how worked up he'd already gotten. "I don't need another person to tell me what to fucking do."

Fundy blinked at him, and where Quackity was already grasping for straws trying to find something to be offended by, all he found in the man's eyes was sadness.

Quackity could throw up. "Please leave," it was pathetically choked, pleading. His arm stung. "Don't make me say something that I'll regret, please."

Fundy only nodded, quietly complying with Quackity's request and heading for the door. Quackity fought the urge to reach out.

Fundy paused at the door, glancing back only once. "I know you're upset right now, but... I'm not trying to tell you what to do. You're grown, I trust you to make the right choice here."

Quackity wasn't sure he deserved that trust.

Chapter 10: I'm Gonna Pack My Things (And Stay)

Summary:

A bit of a slower day. Quackity was not okay, not yet, but things were finally starting to settle.

There were many points in Quackity's life where he contemplated running away and starting anew.

Today was one of those days, the restlessness and dread in his chest an old friend he had grown used to ghosting.

Don't get him wrong— he loved his family and friends, he really did, but sometimes the expectations that came with people knowing him were too high and suffocating for him to ignore.

A clean slate would relieve all the pressure. Quackity would be able to lose his cool or own up to his shortcomings without others demanding more or expecting better.

But Quackity had a baby now. And sure, it has only been ten days since he returned with an alien infant hidden in his jacket, but it had been long enough that waking up for late-night feedings and routinely changing diapers became the new normal.

And Purpled, oh Purpled. Under whose care can he be placed when Quackity has classes or work? Because he knew the only reason he could afford to keep him safe and taken care of was his full-ride, having three other people to pick up after him, and the exceptionally low rent in this building.

All of these circumstances had miraculously come together to create the perfect environment for Quackity to take Purpled in, to guard him in a way he wasn't sure he could trust someone else to. Quackity wouldn't have been able to afford rent and groceries without stretching his stipend and the occasional loan he worked to pay off during the summer. Truly, it was a miracle that he had been handed so much in his life, and maybe it was for this specific purpose.

For years, he struggled to understand what made him worthy of all of this, why the world kept giving him handouts, and maybe now he knows. Maybe it was a little odd to make a baby that wasn't even his own carry this weight, but maybe, just maybe, the world had been preparing for this very moment. Maybe everything in his had led up to this, to now.

Was he truly selfish enough to take that away from Purpled because he didn't want to face his parents?

The answer was he wasn't. Not with everyone out of the apartment and him being stuck home alone with Purpled like he usually was when he didn't have classes. Quackity was not sure how much of his attachment to Purpled at this point was magicked and how much was simply him projecting his need for a purpose onto the poor baby.

Either way, he had finished his readings early — as usual, now — and was now left forcing Purpled to stand up.

There was more work he could have been doing, but he didn't actually want to do any of it. So baby time it was.

All Purpled could muster currently was bearing down some weight on his legs, with Quackity doing most of the work. He usually either fully gave up, having Quackity just hold him there, or toppled forward, hands grasping and ending up cuddled close to the man's chest.

Quackity found it entertaining. He found it to be fulfilling, in an odd way.

Sometimes, he would get frustrated, overwhelmed. He would place Purpled down with some toys, maybe cry about not knowing what to do, then go back to being a half-assed guardian to the oddest baby on earth.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Purpled needed a crib that they couldn't afford at the moment, Charlie and Fundy had fucked off to wherever, and he needed to make dinner for both himself and Purpled, but he couldn't physically move.

He was so, so tired. Purpled looked up at him with those wide eyes, and he felt his throat go tight. It was fine. His finger was now an unwilling chew toy despite Purpled owning a teether, but it was fine.

"Quackity from Las Nevadas!" His lord and savior, Charlie, had finally returned. "We got a crib!"

Quackity's head felt heavy as he glanced up at the doorway, where Charlie was dragging in a bag with, presumably, crib pieces.

"Gods, do I love you." Quackity breathed out, a huge weight off his chest. "Where'd you get that?"

"Old crib from a family member," Fundy explained, entering with a tiny mattress in his hands. "I messaged them a few days ago asking if they still had it— luckily for us, they did."

Quackity was only half listening, mind pacing. He didn't need to worry about Purpled falling off the big bed, or Charlie developing some sort of back condition, or secretly resenting him for having to sleep on the floor.

Assembling the crib was easy. Fundy and Charlie handled it while Quackity did the hard part of holding Purpled in arms, chatting to him about how amazing it was going to be now that he had his own bed.

"At this rate first word's gonna be 'shut up', quiet it down, why don't you?" Fundy grumbled from where he was sitting on the floor, trying to figure out where each of the pieces went.

"That's two words, dumbass." Quackity huffed in return, getting up and heading for the door. "I'm gonna go feed the little guy. Good luck with the crib."

"You could help out, you know!" Fundy shouted from the bedroom, voice a little muffled now that Quackity was in the hallway.

"Be a man, Fundy. That's a man thing to do!"

"You're a man, too!"

"Nuh uh!"

Now, that was a lie. Maybe. Quackity was a man, sure, but he was not Purpled's dad. He was the mom and everyone agreed to it, for some reason.

He was not sure what gender roles they were pandering to here, but he wore the title like a badge of honor. And maybe he would lose sleep tonight questioning his gender, but that was between him and the stars.

Oh, well. Preparing bottles was now muscle memory. Quackity went through the motions with Purpled placed on his hip.

It was easy, repetitive, and hopefully the rest of this whole new arc of his life would be, too.

The crib was the first step, the next would be figuring out how to break the news to his parents, and maybe forge some papers to legalize Purpled's existence.

But that all did not matter at the moment— the water was boiling.

Notes:

i drew the last chapter for funzies :3 hope the link works

q and baby alien hiding in the bathtub