Wilbur awoke with blankets draped over him as sunlight fluttered though the curtains. He sat up, stretching before looking around.
This wasn't his bed.
What the fuck?
He traced his memory back to the night before, trying to remember where he was, how he got there, and what he did to get there in the first place. As he tried to remember, he looked around the room. One thing caught his eye that caused it all to come back to him; a briefcase on the bedside table with a folded piece of paper, a stack of playing cards, and three dice on top.
Of course he would wake up in a random bed in Las Nevadas. He picked up the paper, unfolding it to see writing scrawled on it.
"Hope this helps you remember where you were in case I'm not here when you wake up. Feel free to take a shower. And don't worry, I slept on the sofa. -Q"
This wasn't just a random bed in Las Nevadas. This was Quackity's bed. Fuck. Wilbur's mind went wild, as if it had looked at a pool of dirty thoughts and just too a swan dive in. They hadn't... done anything, had they?
Wilbur carefully pulled the covers off his legs. Right, he still had his pants, and his trousers for that matter, and the sheets were still clean. They didn't do anything. Thank god.
He stood up, feeling a bit like he was intruding. He pushed through the door, squinting at the much brighter light in the hallway. He made his way down it before coming to the doorway leading to the kitchen.
At least he assumed it was the kitchen, based on the still-dressed-in-pajamas Quackity that seemed to float around as he grabbed things out of cabinets. He hummed softly, occasionally singing a few words in what Wilbur recognized as Spanish.
And suddenly, Wilbur felt like he was glued to the spot he was standing in.
Quackity cut off mid sentence when he saw Wilbur. "I- uh, you're awake."
Wilbur nodded, as if anything he said would cut the thick tension in the air that condensed as they looked at each other. "Yeah."
Quackity nodded towards a bundle of cloth that sat on the counter, his nonchalant behavior almost brushing off the vulnerable state Wilbur had caught him in. "Feel free to go take a shower. There's towels there."
"What, are you saying I smell bad?"
Quackity huffed. "Yes, you smell like shit. Happy?"
Wilbur scrunched his nose a bit. "Fine, I'll go."
He walked up to the counter, locking eyes with Quackity as he grabbed the towels.
"God, you're always like this then," Quackity muttered.
Wilbur smirked, leaning over the counter. "You love it though."
"Fuck off and take a shower. It's on your left when you leave this room," Quackity said, backing away and grabbing a carton of eggs off the counter. "Crepes?"
"Uh, sure?" Wilbur said, caught a bit off guard. Quackity hummed in response as Wilbur took the towels and left, heading back down the hallway and into the bathroom.
Wilbur dropped the towel on the bathroom counter, closing and locking the door behind him. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. God, he really did look like shit. He looked away, turning on the shower and pulling his clothes off, making sure to put them in a spot they wouldn't get wet.
The hot water stung his back. It always did, but he liked the heat. For the most part, Wilbur just stood under the water. When he got out, his hair clung to the sides of his head. He dried off and quickly got dressed. He didn't have a change of clothes, but his old ones would do fine.
Taking a moment to quickly dry off his hair and comb his finger though it, he glanced at himself in the mirror before leaving. To be honest he still looked like shit, but at least he looked and felt cleaner.
Quackity had changed his clothes by the time Wilbur was standing in the doorway of the kitchen again. He was back to his normal clothes; black slacks and a white button up shirt. He had two plates that he set out and threw two crepes on them when he saw Wilbur.
"Eat," he said. "The sooner you finish the sooner you can get out of my house."
Wilbur fake pouted as he sat down. "Oh, but I though I was welcome here."
"Yeah, that was when you looked almost blackout drunk 'cause you hadn't gotten any sleep for four days," Quackity said. He shoveled food into his mouth, clearly not wanting to talk.
Wilbur decided he didn't care if the other wanted to talk or not. He examined the bit of food on his fork. "Where did you learn to cook?"
Quackity looked at him, slight annoyance dancing in his eyes. There was a flicker of something else in the gold though. "I was a bartender for years. Guess it just carried over."
Wilbur hummed. "Bartender. You like to make drinks too then?"
Quackity nodded, his shoulders tense.
"Tell me about it."
Quackity scoffed. "Why do you want to hear about it?"
Wilbur put his utensils down before propping his elbows on the table and holding his head on the backs of his hands, smirking. "Because you want to talk about it, darling."
"Don't call me that," Quackity said, almost weakly. Wilbur paused before speaking again.
"Well, go ahead. I'm listening."
Quackity bit the inside of his cheek. "Well, I was more of a mixologist than a bartender. I did do quite a bit of bartending though. Just mixing liquor and serving people. It was never routine. There was always new people, even with our regulars. I loved how I could create whatever the fuck I wanted to, and there would always be someone who would test it out. I guess that carried over into my daily life with how I learned how to cook."
Quackity got visibly more relaxed as he went on, his shoulders relaxing. Wilbur smiled slightly. Not a smirk, but an actual smile. When was the last time he had done that?
"You and I should get together and try some of your concoctions," Wilbur said. Shit, that came off way too flirty.
"I don't drink," Quackity said quickly, looking down at the table. "And having to deal with you drunk sounds like hell on earth."
Wilbur pursed his lips. "You don't drink?"
"No."
"May I ask why?" Wilbur asked, his voice softer than he intended. God, he was still way too tired,
"No."
"Okay then," Wilbur said. They are in silence for a few moments before Quackity spoke.
"That note that we found in Snowchester, remember that?" He said. Wilbur nodded. "That wasn't random letters at the end, it was a Caesar shift. With the eleventh key to be spesific."
Wilbur stopped moving. "How did you figure this out?"
"It wasn't once as in something you did once, but once as in eleven. Like in Spanish," Quackity said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world. "The Gas Me Up gas station in three days at two p.m sharp, got it?"
Wilbur nodded. "Yeah, got it."
He quickly finished up his meal, grabbing his coat from the bedroom. It was much later in the morning now, with the sunlight having shifted from where Wilbur's eyes had been to a bit below.
"Well I need to get going. Tommy and Techno are going to kill me," Wilbur said. Quackity nodded, grabbing a piece of paper from the counter.
"Here," he said. "In case you wanted to look it over."
It was the note they had found in Snowchester, except now it had little scribbles and writings in blue ink. A phone number was scrawled onto the back.
"I- um, thanks," Wilbur said, stuffing the price into his pocket. He gave a small nod goodbye before opening the door.
"Oh, and Wilbur," Quackity said. He came close to Wilbur, lowering his voice. "If you tell anyone about today or yesterday I will-"
"Yes, agreed," Wilbur said quickly. "Trust me, nobody will know."
Quackity gave him one last look before he stepped back and closed the door.
...
"Alright what did you do," Techno asked as soon as Wilbur had walked through the door.
"What, no hello?" Wilbur said, shrugging off his coat to throw on the next to Techno, who raised an eyebrow. He closed the book he had been reading.
"You spent the night there," he said. "Are we gonna talk about that or-"
"No, we are not," Wilbur said curtly. "Where's Tommy?"
"Out with friends," Techno said. He tilted his head, his hair almost falling out of the extremely messy bun he had it in. He opened his book again, skimming over the words before finding his place again. He glanced at Wilbur. "You look better."
"Better than what?"
"Than when you left yesterday. Whatever you did worked," Techno said.
"I went to sleep," Wilbur said. "That's it."
"Sure," Techno said, scrunching his nose as he looked at his fingernails.
"You're a dick. Nothing happened," Wilbur said.
"I never said anything happened," Techno said. Wilbur huffed, sitting down on the table in front of the couch. "You do realize there's a place to sit on the couch, right?"
Wilbur didn't respond, instead just giving Techno the middle finger, which Techno copied without looking up from his book.
"What are you reading?" Wilbur asked after a minute of silence. Techno lifted up the cover of the book for Wilbur to read. "Oh. What's it about?"
Techno held up the back of the book for Wilbur to read the synopsis. Wilbur huffed. A few more minutes of silence passed over them. Wilbur slumped over as he hit the inside of his cheek.
"Tech?" He said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"What if I'm not straight?" Wilbur said, his voice getting quieter as he spoke.
This got Techno to look up from his book. He sighed loudly. "Wilbur you've been drooling over this man for the past month, what do you mean 'what if'?"
"Fuck off. No I haven't," Wilbur said, trying to defend himself. Techno just raised an eyebrow.
"Wilbur, I had honestly thought you were bi, but apparently you somehow still think you're straight," Techno said. Wilbur huffed, fiddling with the paper he had stuffed into his pocket earlier. Apparently, Techno had noticed. "What's that?"
Wilbur pulled out the piece of paper; the note from Snowchester. He flashed it up for Techno to see, who instead of just looking snatched it from Wilbur's grasp.
"Wilbur. You idiot. You absolutely moron." Techno looked at the note before turning it around for Wilbur to see, the phone number in blue ink clear for him to see.
"What?" Wilbur asked.
"Quackity's?" Techno asked. Wilbur nodded, looking down to the floor, feeling a mixture of shame and apathy.
"Yeah, we're trying to solve a goddamn murder. Of course we need to contact each other," Wilbur said.
Techno sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Whatever. You are hopeless."
"Fuck off, you prick."
Techno's response was cut short by the door clicking open. Tommy slipped in, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.
"Tommy!" Wilbur called out. Tommy jumped, spinning around.
"Wilbur! You're back," Tommy said, holding his hands behind his back. His eyes darted around, almost as if he was looking for something.
"Toms, are you okay?" Wilbur asked. Tommy quickly nodded.
"Yeah. Tired," he said, starting to walk towards his room. "I'm gonna go rest."
"Sure, go ahead," Wilbur said slowly. Tommy walked to his room, about to close the door before Techno spoke.
"Tommy!" He called. Tommy looked up quickly, flinching. "Where were you?"
"Out with Ranboo and Tubbo," Tommy said quickly. "Um, goodnight?"
"Sleep well," Techno said. Wilbur pursed his lips.
Tommy was lying. The slight twitch of his pinky finger, his tell, told him that much. Before Wilbur could ask about it, Tommy had closed the door. He locked it too, by the sound of it.
Wilbur and Techno looked at each other, worry dancing in both of their eyes. Wilbur glanced to Tommy's door.
"He's lying."