#also the line of dialouge i tried the most to get in character was niiki's singular line lol

[yourfavouritetragedy]

First Kiss

bringing to you the content that matters in life... (tntduo funnies instead of angst in this trying time) seriously shoutout to @tntduo-brainrot-is-real because I haven’t written this much in this short a time period (even tho i’m not doing the official timeframe) for ages. can’t believe prompts can actually work giving you ideas if you’re determined enough lol

TW for referenced (mental) hospitalization in this one (it’s vaguely a university AU) (still using Nicholas as headcanon cquackity name to differentiate between cc)

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The first time Wilbur saw him, he knew. He had found his match. This one, this one — he will be my rival. He walked too confidently, spoke too much, and had the most annoying voice Wilbur had ever heard. 

His name was Quackity — Nicholas Quackity, but people only ever called him by his last name; he was that kind of bastard. Wilbur Soot f*cking hated people who go by their last names — pretentious, “popular” pricks, the lot of them. Quackity fit the bill, attracting friends and admirers alike. Wilbur assumed they were all vapid. 

The first time Wilbur spoke to Quackity, he was rude. He looked surprised, and then hurt, but Wilbur didn’t feel bad because they were already enemies. The pathetically short man just didn’t know it yet. (Much later, Wil would learn that Quackity had even admired him before this fateful first conversation. He felt a bit sorry then, having developed a more amicable relationship with him.)

Their relationship progressed from there, escalating from passive-aggressive exchanges to pranks and even sabotage. Things that would be too cruel towards other people they did without question, their relationship occupying some space apart from normalcy. 

The first time he touched Quackity, he had grabbed Wilbur’s hand as he was trying to swipe his pencil. Wilbur, in a fit of lacking any thoughts whatsoever, grabbed the wrist grabbing his with his other hand. He didn’t even realize he had never touched Quackity before until he could feel the blood under his skin. Quackity ran warm. 

He blushed, for some reason. It was effective (the wrist-grabbing, not the blush) in getting Quackity to let go of his hand. Wilbur also dropped the pencil, but he held on to Q’s wrist. 

“Soot.” Quackity always called him “Soot” because he knew he hated it. He paused, trying to figure out what to say, then slightly shook his head to dismiss any unusual thoughts. “Let go of my wrist,” he demanded. 

Wilbur let go. He had the strange urge to punch Quackity in order to get him to grab Wilbur again. 

(He gave into the urge a few weeks later.) (It was worth it, it was totally worth it, consequences and all.) 

Quackity was probably the most interesting part of his life, he reflected. Wilbur didn’t have many friends, especially since he was hospitalized last year and that scared some foolish people. Quackity didn’t care about that. He hated Wilbur like he would any other person — or rather, he hated Wilbur especially much in a special way (Wilbur was certain about this because he wanted them to be special) but not because of the mental illness at all. 

He enjoyed hating Quackity back, because he was unpredictable. Fascinating. Captivating. If Wilbur ever realized he was as enthralled as the groupies he despised, he would have been ashamed. 

The first time he realized he was attracted to Quackity, it was Tommy’s fault. Wilbur was ranting about him again, going on and on about how Quackity had such an insolent look on his face all the time, how he (probably) was a goddamn capitalist bootlicker who (probably) thought money had real value, how he made such repulsive dirty jokes that made Wilbur feel all wrong. Tommy got a funny look on his face when the topic turned to how Quackity’s eyes were too unique, what a bastard, I could look at them for hours, and have you seen his face? It’s unfair that he’s blessed with that pretty face with those pretty f*cking lips. 

Wilbur paused. “What?” he exclaimed, needing to know the reason behind Tommy’s strange face. 

“Nothing, nothing!” he said, throwing up his hands. He had his phone in one, which showed a “how to support a gay or bisexual friend” page that Wilbur either ignored or didn’t notice.  

“Seriously, tell me, Tom.” Wilbur got serious. “If it bothers you that I complain about him too much, I’ll stop.” He didn’t want to #toxic. 

Tommy quickly shook his head. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just…” He sighed. Deeply. And painfully. Long-suffering-ly. “Are you sure the only thing you’re feeling for this guy is hatred, Wil?”

“What? Yes, of course! What do you even mean?” Wilbur asked animatedly, afraid of where this was going. 

Tommy’s cheeks turned pink, and he turned his face away. “You seem to ah, you seem to be a bit hot for him, a little, y’know….” 

It was Wilbur’s turn to blush, but he pretended his face was red out of anger. “Me? Be attracted to Nicholas Quackity? I'm offended that you would even think that possible!" He jumped up. “I need to take a walk, Tommy, after hearing you habour that ridiculous notion.” He ran out of the room to promptly daydream about kissing Nicholas Quackity. 

He would continue to deny it for about two days, before resigning himself to the fact that he was miserably, hopelessly, pathetically in love with the guy he hated most. 

He didn’t even need to act different to get romantic payoff out of their interactions: They had long ago started teasing and flirting with each other. Gratuitous touching went along with that territory, and keeping his face cold let any amount of staring pass unnoted as glaring. 

The worst part was not knowing what went through his rival’s pretty little head. Did he really blush just then, or was that anger? When he talked about wanting Wilbur carnally, was any part of that serious? As an unpracticed liar himself, Wilbur was no good at figuring out what was an act. Being left in the dark nearly drove him mad, trying to figure out Quackity’s true intent behind every action. 

The first time Wilbur Soot kissed Nicholas Quackity, he wasn’t sure if he meant it back. It was a dare, or a challenge, or something. (Maybe it was an excuse.) 

“Yo, you taking out your girl for dinner?” Quackity had called out upon seeing him leading Niki to his car. He casually strolled over to them. 

Wilbur instantly turned away from his car and closed the door he just opened for Niki. “Not f*cking cool, dude,” he said, “Niki is my platonic gal pal. slash gen.” He crossed his arms. 

Niki looked at him weird, and then simply sighed. Quackity smoothly replied, “Well, maybe you can fit me into that opening in your schedule, baby.”

Wilbur scoffed. “Please. You wouldn’t be able to handle my charm, dear Quackity.” Figuring that statement needed elaboration, he added, “You would perish on the spot from the sheer power of even just a kiss of mine.” 

Quackity laughed. “You’re so full of yourself, Soot. Prove it.” 

Niki preemptively opened her phone to look at #girlbossing posts on Instagram. “What?” Wilbur startled. 

He took a step forward. “You heard me. Prove it. Kiss me.”

Wilbur laughed. Nervously. “Well, Quackity, there’s no chance you’ll actually perish from my kiss, I’ll admit that, so I see no way for me to win here.” He didn’t move away. 

“You win,” Quackity said, “if I say you’re a good kisser. Objectively. And remember, I’ve kissed a LOT of guys.” He winked, just to be an asshole like that. 

Well. Wilbur was fairly confident, having gone through a few casual relationships himself, some of them with the same people as Quackity, and he was never one to back down from a challenge, at least not one from his beloved rival. And here it was, a chance to finally kiss him  with no possible repercussions. “Okay,” he said. 

Quackity drew back in shock. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d agree to go this far. I kinda thought you were homophobic because I’m gay and you hate me.” At Wilbur’s concerned and then affronted  look, he said with a glint in his eye, “Oh no, I’m still very much up to kiss you. Let’s do this, sweetheart.”

Wilbur leaned down, but stopped. “You’re too short,” he said with a grin. Quackity was, indeed, a full head shorter than him. 

“No, you’re too tall. Bastard.” He sighed. “Lift me into the roof of your car,” he said with the air of someone tired of having to solve all the problems in the relationship.  

Wilbur did just that, and for a fleeting moment Quackity was in his arms. He put one hand on the car to balance and he leaned in. “Don’t knee me in the balls,” he whispered. 

“Don’t give me ideas,” Quackity replied. His breath was hot on Wilbur’s lips, and he suddenly couldn’t bear it a second longer. 

Wilbur didn’t bother to start off soft, pressing into him, so Quackity reciprocated. Damn, this is as good as I hoped. Wilbur scraped his lip, too afraid to bite him outright. Quackity bit him outright. Okay cool. He moved his other hand to tip his head back, and Q pulled him down. Wilbur felt him run his fingers through his head and shivered. They kissed way longer than was necessary and there was definitely a lot of germs exchanged. 

“Okay,” Quackity admitted, breathless, when they finally pulled apart, “I will give you this one thing: you are a good kisser. Let’s do this again sometime.” 

Wilbur couldn’t help but push his luck. “Do it again, like, for fun?” He turned away. “Or, y’know, seriously… with. feelings,” he mumbled out. 

Quackity stared at him. “You f*cking idiot. I’ve had a crush on you since at least a few weeks after we started flirting. Even Slime could tell, and you know it can’t distinguish between romance and friendship.” He neglected to mention that Slime “Charlie” Slime figured it out because 1) Quackity explicitly told it that kissing was romantic previously 2) Quackity talked to it quite a lot about how much he wanted to kiss Wilbur. 

He refused to let Quackity trap him like this. “Okay, then can you tell me how long I have liked you?” he retorted. 

Quackity blinked. “Um. Either forever or a week.” He had no idea. 

“Wrong. Kiss me again,” Wilbur requested, leaning in. 

The second time Wilbur kissed Quackity, he knew it was meant fully, which made it even sweeter. 

Niki turned to Tommy, who had magically appeared at the scene, unable to ever escape the homoerotic tension between these two, and handed him five British pounds. “I really thought they were going to announce they have been secretly dating for weeks. By the way, I’m homophobic now.”