Chapter Text
1
The last two months have been… better. Yeah, Quackity thinks they’ve been better than before.
Everything is different now. The three of them have been talking a lot, about all sorts of things. They’re trying to take things slow. Karl and Sapnap have been keeping a careful eye on him, always on the lookout for self-destructive behavior. But for now, it’s comforting instead of suffocating. They’ve talked about how to help Karl with his memory loss by providing gentle reminders if he looks lost in conversation and leaving notes for him around the house. Sapnap confided in them about his own insecurities, that he thinks that everyone assumes he’ll hurt them because of his past, how more than anything he doesn’t want his boyfriends to feel that way about him. They’re all working on improving themselves and each other.
Quackity doesn’t pluck his feathers anymore. For the first time in years, soft down feathers are growing in the barren patches. He wonders what his wings will look like with their full plumage. He doesn’t remember what they used to be like but he’s excited to learn again.
Instead of hurting himself, now he tells Karl and Sapnap that he loves them. He says it a lot which is good and bad, he supposes. Good because it’s true and he means it and they believe him. They say it back each time. It’s bad because Quackity thinks about hurting himself often.
He didn’t realize how automatic it was until he had to keep his hands from involuntarily twitching towards his poor feathers, looking for something to snag on. Nowadays he tangles his fingers with Karl or Sapnap’s and waits out the feeling.
He hasn’t been nesting as much, happy to spend time in bed with his boyfriends. The guest room closet has gone blissfully unused since the last time he nested there. The first time he nested again, just wanting somewhere to curl up and try to ignore the itch of his regrowing feathers, he invited Karl and Sapnap in with him. The next time, he asks them to stay out. His own surprise at their easy acceptance of it made him feel a bit sick. He’s working on not being surprised by his boyfriends listening to him and caring what he thinks.
He’s been working on a lot of things during these months and he’s been shocked by how much the changes have made him happier. He’s always been scared of change because change meant making mistakes and mistakes meant getting hurt. But now everyday he reminds himself that he’s safe with them. All they want is for him to be safe.
-
It’s late at night when Karl stumbles into the living room. Quackity startles from his spot on the couch, a blanket around his shoulders as he waits for Sapnap to come back. Sapnap is stoking the fire but as soon as Karl comes over for a hug, his hands extinguish their flames. Luckily the fire is already catching and it bathes the room in soft orange as the sound of crackling wood fills the room.
“Hey baby.” Sapnap kisses Karl’s forehead as he snuggles into him. “Where’d you go today? How are you feeling?”
Karl groans quietly. “Don’t wanna talk about it. It wasn’t… it wasn’t nice.”
“I’m sorry. I wish we could help more,” Sapnap sighs, holding Karl a little closer.
Karl leans up to kiss Sapnap’s cheek and whispers, “You’re doing more than enough. I’m always happy to come home.”
When Karl pulls back, his gaze lights on Quackity. “Quackity!” he exclaims. “I had a question for you. What… What was it?” He pads over. “Can I… your wings… Oh! Can I preen your wings?” His nails seep gold as Quackity lets him slide the blanket off his shoulders.
Quackity has taken to wearing shirts with slits in the back more regularly, so it’s easy to let his wings slip out into the open. He stretches them to the sides and cringes at his crooked feathers and the patches still in the stages of recovering.
“I guess you can. Do you really want to?” he asks. Karl has assured him he likes his wings, loves them even, but Quackity still has moments of cold doubt where he remembers all the reasons he hid them away.
But Karl doesn’t flinch or look away in disgust. Instead his eyes fill with praise and he strokes a gentle, reverent hand along the top of Quackity’s wing. Quackity shivers and Karl giggles.
“I do. I actually read in…” Karl’s hand pauses. His breath catches and Quackity looks up at him in concern. Then Karl shakes his head, seeming to snap out of it. “I read somewhere that it can help me relax. Like meditating.”
Quackity’s brow furrows. “You read somewhere that preening my wings would help you relax?” It seems awfully specific. It’s not like there’s a lot of bird hybrids on the server and the way Karl said it, it sounded like it was meant for him and Quackity, not as general advice for anyone who happened to read it.
Karl bites his lip and Quackity can sense his distress building. His eyes cloud with darker hues. “It was in a journal. My journal. It’s complicated.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “It’s not important but it said— I said— Whoever wrote it said that it can make me relax and it might help me remember more.”
Quackity is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s dating a time traveler. It sounds like Karl is leaving notes to himself from the future. Or the past? But that’s all secondary to the want to help in any way he can. Karl’s memory loss has been one of the hardest things to tackle between the three of them. Any possible solution is worth trying.
Instead of saying anything, Quackity just extends a wing and pats the space behind him. Karl gives his hand a thankful squeeze and sits. Sapnap joins them, taking residence behind Karl and watching as he runs his fingers through Quackity’s feathers, straightening them.
Quackity doesn’t know the right way to preen. He never learned the proper way, always just resorting to whatever was enough to keep his feathers passable. Vaguely he remembers that there’s wing oil that should be naturally spread from his glands to keep his feather sleek and it’s supposed to help remove old feathers.
He doesn’t think it’s supposed to hurt like this.
Quackity’s muscles lock up as he feels Karl tug on another feather as he runs his hands through. He bites at the inside of his cheek to hold back the tiny whine of pain in the back of his throat. At least they can’t see his face. Quackity isn't doing a good job of hiding his expression.
Karl’s not collecting any oil to smooth out the transition. Is it intentional? Maybe it’s supposed to feel this way. After all, Karl is the one who read about preening. He probably knows better than Quackity.
Or maybe Karl wants it to hurt. So Quackity can prove how badly he wants to help Karl because this is for Karl and his memory after all. Could this be another test of love?
Quackity abruptly recognizes the twisted thought for what it is, harsh conditioning left over from his last lover. This is what Karl and Sapnap are trying to teach him, how to realize when he’s being self-destructive.
They told him he should ask instead of allowing himself to be hurt.
As he suppresses another wince, Quackity timidly murmurs, “Um, Karl?” Karl’s hands stall to show that he’s listening. Quackity’s fingers twist together as he stares at the couch cushions, working up the nerve to speak. “Can you… are you… are you trying to make it hurt? On… on purpose?”
Karl inhales sharply. “No, no. Does it hurt?” Quackity can hear him getting upset with himself. “I read that I needed to be careful with you. I was— I was trying to be gentle. I didn’t realize—”
“It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay, Karl. Really. It didn’t hurt that much.” Quackity turns towards him, relief flowing through him. So it was unintentional. Karl doesn’t want to hurt him, he would never. Quackity gestures to his wings. “Can I show you? I think there's a gland that makes it easier so your hands won’t catch as much.”
Karl nods eagerly and is attentive as Quackity takes him through the steps of preening. Sapnap watches over Karl’s shoulder. Quackity can see him taking in each bit of information and storing it for later.
“Think you got it?” Quackity asks at the end.
Karl nods. “You’ll let me know if it feels uncomfortable, right? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know, darling. I’ll tell you. I trust you,” Quackity says and Karl’s eyes soften. Quackity turns back around, leaning his head against the couch as Karl gets back to work.
There’s an immediate improvement. Each time Karl runs his fingers over his glands, Quackity gets a burst of fuzzy pleasure. The oil helps his movements glide through Quackity’s feathers like water. As he straightens some feathers, he eases away aches that have been with Quackity so long that he almost forgot they were there.
Quackity feels himself melting into Karl’s hands. He lets out a contented chirp as Sapnap slinks over to his other side and starts carding his hands gently through Quackity’s hair.
“Are you remembering anything?” Quackity whispers, trying not to disturb the moment.
“That I love you,” Karl whispers back with a smile. He presses a kiss to Quackity’s spine between his wings.
“I love you both,” Sapnap rumbles. His voice echoes the crackling fire as his fingers warm and caress Quackity’s scalp.
“I love you too,” Quackity breathes, a chirp catching the end of his words.
The moment is warm and peaceful and safe. Quackity doesn’t worry that it will end. He knows it will. But he also knows that there will be more moments like this in the future. That’s his future with them, with Karl and Sapnap, his lovers.
Warm. Peaceful.
Safe.