Tommy sighs with contentment, being able to feel fully relaxed for the first time in a long time. He carefully turns the jar around, getting a better view of his eight-legged friend that's crawling away from sight.

"Oh, Shroud," Tommy coos playfully, getting on his knees to see better as he laughs lightly. "Are you shy of Wilbur and Quackity, Shroud?"

Tommy waits as the spider stops, fuzzy and black contrasting with the bright green leaves it's living in. Tommy still remembers placing Shroud right on the stand next to the couch before quickly claiming the couch as his own. Since then, Shroud's been watching the three of them from the comfort behind the glass jar that Wilbur demanded Shroud stay in.

But Wilbur isn't here, he's standing outside of the apartment doorway and "sorting some things" as he said it. So Tommy twists off the lid gently, grabbing the wooden twig with two fingers and waiting for his lovely friend to climb on.

"Come on, they're not even here," Tommy says with encouragement, grinning as Shroud crawls onto the twig, settling in as Tommy lifts it out of the jar. "Now, just because we're living somewhere new doesn't mean the rules have changed, you still have a time limit for how long you can be out of the jar, okay?"

Shroud remains still on the twig, Tommy sighing before hovering a finger over the furry insect. "If you weren't a spider I would have said you need a haircut, Shroud."

And Tommy expects the reaction he gets, Shroud crawling backwards at the mention of a haircut. Ew, absolutely no way. Tommy knows Shroud doesn't like even the idea of haircuts, so he holds back a laugh. "So predictable."

Shroud tilts on the thick twig, leaning to the side and Tommy watches with amusement. He absolutely loves Shroud, the spider is such a joy to have around, which is obvious seeing as there wouldn't be any other reason Tommy would be carrying around such a large glass jar if Shroud isn't. He lets Shroud crawl onto his hand, each eight leg tickling his palm and fingers.

Shroud is around two and a half inches from head to… what is that part? Tommy doesn't actually know much about spiders. He just knows he's thankful enough to find a particularly big jar to hold Shroud safe at his side.

But the moment comes to a stop as the door creaks open, Wilbur humming something before eyeing the crawly furball in Tommy's hand. Wilbur's face drops. "What the fuck Tommy?"

Tommy tries not to panic as Shroud startles at the intrusion, crawling up Tommy's sleeve and making Wilbur step back before he groans with annoyance.

"I hope it crawls up into your fucking ear, I said to keep that spider in the glass," Wilbur says rather rudely, crossing his arms despite the slight fear his eyes betray. Tommy huffs, ignoring him and reaching up to capture Shroud.

"I hope he bites you," Tommy retorts, managing to take hold of Shroud and place him back in the jar. Shroud seems much better in the jar, not even attempting to escape as Tommy grabs the lid and screws it on.

"Well maybe I hope so too," Wilbur grumbles with a sharpness that makes Tommy pause before going silent and looking away because darn, Wilbur really is a mood.

At least, in Tommy's words. For the first time he's using that phrase unironically and not sarcastically. Ever since he met the guy, Wilbur doesn't seem to be a happy man in the slightest. Which is fair seeing as it's the actual fucking apocalypse, but also not because Wilbur just has never smiled, not once. Whenever he talks, especially to Tommy himself, he seems uninterested or upset and Tommy even says sad too.

With all this collected information Tommy can for sure say, yes, Wilbur is a mood.

And honestly, Tommy can't say he isn't a bit curious about the reasoning behind Wilbur's mood without lying. Of course, it is about curiosity and not any concern whatsoever.

So Tommy pulls out a bold card, eyeing Wilbur as he tilts his head. "So... How have ya been?"

It looks like Wilbur is considering completely ignoring him, arms crossed and a pointed look at the ground. But then he just lifts his head up ever so slightly, a deadpan expression on his face. "Why?"

"Because I'm wonderin' 'bout it," Tommy says and it is barely anything but the truth so he doesn't get why Wilbur scoffs in return.

"Well why don't you go wonder how somebody else is feeling?" Wilbur asks sarcastically, huffing as he turns around leaving Tommy to stare at the back of his head with great dissatisfaction.

But of course, Tommy, ever the stubborn teenager, simply copied Wilbur's body language by crossing his arms. "No I don't think I will. Now, how are you-"

"Why does it matter?" Wilbur whips around, both hands raised at his sides before he walks over towards the kitchen slowly. "I think we have more pressing matters to deal with, like zombies and surviving."

Now, sure, surviving from zombies is very important and a major priority nowadays. But the two of them (plus Quackity, of course) are all still human and Tommy doesn't want to forget what that means, even if it's something as simple as asking somebody how they've been. So he definitely glares over at Wilbur, making a hmph sound before pushing off of the couch and standing next to Wilbur with a very firm expression. "Although those are very, very important, we are currently not being faced with life-threatening danger so I'd like to have a conversation like a normal person would if that isn't too much to ask for."

Seeing as Tommy chose his words carefully he hopes for a much better reaction out of Wilbur. He waits, eyes scanning over the taller's expression while trying to remain a patient and formal composition. When Wilbur's eyes flicker, eyeing something before he considers something deeply, Tommy can only wonder if he's succeeded in convincing him.

Then, Wilbur's eyes focus on Tommy with an unmoving odd mix of fatigued and unamused in his expression as the teen waits for an answer. Finally but unfortunately, Wilbur turns away. "Nice try but a no is a no."

Tommy just doesn't agree. His reasoning is so, well, reasonable . How does Wilbur not wanna talk now? Tommy stands there trying to figure out the explanation for that question as Wilbur gets bored of the kitchen and walks away. He doesn't even say anything more.

If it is going to be like this from now on, Tommy can be like that too. He crosses his arms, looking awfully offended as he strides over to the couch and slumps into it as he mutters a resentful, "Fine then."

He watches with a glare as Wilbur closes the bedroom door, leaving Tommy in unwanted silence before he hears the doorknob of the useless bathroom door open and Quackity finally shuffles out into the living room after being in there for around a good twelve minutes or so. Something about "needing a second", however, that was certainly much longer.

"Hello," Tommy greets, his disappointment from Wilbur's lack of socialism only curving his tone ever so slightly that Quackity simply shrugs in response, not minding it.

"Hey Tommy," He says plainly yet it's kind so Tommy accepts it as Quackity's gaze wanders around and he gestures towards Shourd. "Why don't you take it out of its container or something for a bit?"

Tommy hides his smile with a sigh. "I did try but Wilbur says he doesn't want me taking Shroud out at all."

Quackity scoffs, waving away at his words. "Wilbur's like, outside or some shit, you'll be fine."

Tommy blinks as Quackity points a lazy thumb to the front door before he starts making his way towards the bedroom door. Tommy clears his throat. "Well, actually he's in-"

But Quackity smiles with a hand reaching for the door. "Whatever, Shroud's not his spider."

Oh, true. Tommy shifts, a hopeful smile on his face as his eyes light up with realization. "Oh, I was also wanting to ask you guys-"

"Don't ask, Shroud isn't mine either," Quackity says and closes the door. Tommy blinks again, it wasn't about the spider but sure, fine. He looks around, his energy dissipating as he huffs, slouching back into the couch.

"Okay…" He drags out, situating himself on the couch to prepare to just sit here before he gives up and carefully grabs Shroud's jar and steps outside the apartment, pausing in the doorway and turning to face the bedroom.

"I'm just gonna be out in the hall." Quackity hears him call, back facing the door. He turns around, calling out an "Okay."

After that the room returns to its previous silence as Wilbur stares at the ground from where he's sitting on the edge of the bed.

Quackity opens his mouth, nothing comes out. So he closes his mouth and steps away from the door, the massive weight of awkwardness and guilt pulling him down as he inches over.

But it's difficult when all those moments he ignored Wilbur trickle into his mind, each time he slipped out of a conversation replaying and he can't help but sink into the other side of the bed with a big sigh because he has been a big dick. It's almost fitting that Wilbur's turned the other way, kinda how Quackity always is these days.

He doesn't like the silence, but in a way, he put it there.

He clears his throat, swallowing the thoughts before they can with him as he messes with a loose string on one of the blankets.

Quackity dares to glance over his shoulder and see Wilbur's still position and honestly, it's painful the way his chest tightens at the sight and he wonders if it's going to be too much if the silence carries on.

Quackity orders his lungs to take a deep breath. He just needs to recollect his thoughts before trying to bring the topic up. Because right now, he doesn't feel all so confident. But he will talk about it, just, first he needs to refocus his mind a little.

But when Quackity sits up to leave Wilbur says his name and gods it's the worst timing. Quackity stands there as Wilbur sighs.

"Quackity-"

"Wilbur I've got-"

"Can't you just talk to me?" Wilbur asks and he sounds just like he did last time as his expression deepens. "At least once?"

Quackity would say something to take up the offer but his throat involuntarily swallows and Wilbur isn't finished.

He looks at Quackity, everything is so heavy in the air as it all stills, then he drops his head with a mutter, "Can't we just act like none of this happened? Since you clearly don't like what did . Maybe-maybe that's what we need-"

"But it did happen. I don't think we can just forget anything we want," Quackity says, lowering his voice as his hands drop to his side.

"So now you get up to leave when I try to talk to you?" Wilbur asks with a small, quiet laugh and Quackity frowns.

Well, technically yes, he was about to leave. But it was so he can come back with a much more certain and clear thought process. Or something like that. Though, no, he's not leaving just because Wilbur was trying to talk to him.

"Uh, well," Quackity begins and he faces Wilbur with an almost guilty look. "No," He tries to say firmly, standing up straighter and catching the unimpressed expression on Wilbur's face. "I mean, I was leaving. But I- not because you-" He stops himself, looking down and back up. "I was already planning to before you tried talking to me."

Wilbur's face drops ever so slightly. "Oh."

And that's when Quackity realizes how that sounds as silence takes over them. Damn, he is just not good at this. Wilbur shuffles in the bed, crossing his legs and Quackity starts wishing he could go back to that night and change it so that they don't end up here. But they are here and that's reality.

"Not like that," He mumbles and well, he's only been digging a hole here so he has three options: drop the shovel and just talk to Wilbur, continue digging and make this moment even worse than it already is, or just jump in the hole and accept how things are. Except never mind, that isn't an option. Quackity won't let that one happen. So he drops the shovel and sits back down on the bed.

Wilbur only glances over at him for a second. Quackity continues.

"I was just thinking it'd be smart to clear my mind and think my words through before I, ya know, bring anything up," Quackity admits and now he thinks he knows what Wilbur's been feeling each time he asked Quackity to talk about it. But Wilbur's better so he doesn't shut Quackity down and his eyes flicker.

"Bring anything up?" He repeats, doubting Quackity's words in a very obvious manner and Quackity feels awful about it. Wilbur's face says it all, it's the no way he ain't doing this now look where you don't believe someone. Quackity clears his throat and fully turns towards Wilbur.

"Yeah, I mean, we clearly have some things to talk about," Quackity murmurs out, pushing past the walls he probably built up… Or definitely put up as soon as he pushed Wilbur away and started ignoring him. But now, instead of blocking Wilbur out every time he tries to climb over, Quackity's gonna tear this wall down.

"But are you willing to?" Wilbur asks quietly, so faintly yet it echoes loudly deep in Quackity's mind because for the first time Wilbur's asked that question, Quackity isn't saying no- or nothing for that matter.

Quackity nods, blinking away and he feels a bit stupid sitting here for Wilbur to judge. "Uhm yeah. I finally realized that it was pretty rude of me to continue ignoring you."

Wilbur stiffens, like Quackity directly addressing him suddenly has that effect and he's contemplating how honest Quackity is being here. Which admittedly sucks, but Quackity brought this situation upon himself in the end. The room falls silent and that's definitely not the direction he's going for.

"I'm sorry," He whispers and it's the least he could do for how he's been treating Wilbur. It means much more than a simple two words and he waits on the edge for Wilbur's reaction.

He watches, anxious and still guilty as Wilbur's eyes focus on the bed sheets, one great puzzle he's solving before he looks up at Quackity, deep and intentful that Quackity has to stop the urge to squirm under his gaze. He fails, shifting around and Wilbur sighs.

"Why has it taken this long to talk with me?" Wilbur asks and the need to know isn't raw like last time, he seems much more collected than Quackity who takes a deep breath, blocking out his doubts because that isn't fair to Wilbur to pull back.

"At first, because I was nervous," He mumbles, embarrassment raising his shoulders and ducking his head. "And then because I was confused and nervous."

Wilbur's silent for a bit, like he's waiting for a pin to drop and break the silence before he does. But nothing happens and his brows furrow but he isn't angry in any way. "Don't you think that not addressing it would just make both of us confused?"

Good question. Quackity is an idiot. "Well, yes-"

"But you were too nervous too?"

Quackity is still nervous. He mutters, "Yes."

There's another pause, a moment of waiting almost on the other side of the line before Wilbur is definitely looking at Quackity, his gaze feels like it's burning him as he sits here. "Why?" He asks quietly and despite it being one word, it's hard for Quackity to figure out even his first sentence to answer such a question.

Why was- Why is he so nervous to talk about it?

Quackity hates how weak he thinks his response is, wincing as it comes out. "Because of what happened."

Whatever Wilbur thought about dies on his tongue, the world stills for only a second before Wilbur straightens his posture like it'll help. "Maybe we should start there," He whispers the suggestion, blinking up at Quackity whose face isn't quite decipherable until he nods slowly with a hum of agreement.

"Okay."

"So," Wilbur starts and he stops only so shortly to choose his words with heavy care like it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance he can't afford to throw away which in honesty, neither of them can so it's fair. "What do you think about that night?"

Quackity ignores the weight of non-exist bricks on his shoulders, only stiffening so they don't fall. There's a strange burning in his cheeks, the type somebody got when they were too close to a lamp light. Maybe there is an imaginable one right here with them, directing the light right at Quackity's face for Wilbur to pick and judge as the room waits for an answer.

His shoulders go slack. "I just…" He is fine, Wilbur's gaze isn't scrutinizing. "I didn't know if you were just messing with me or not so I-" He catches the falter in Wilbur's face that slips into confusion, making him trip over his own words. "I don't know so I just- I pushed you away and then you were all confused but I was tired so I couldn't tell if you were being serious or not." He slows down, blinking up at Wilbur and desperately trying to avoid ever acknowledging how embarrassed and exposed he feels in this moment. "So I just ignored you," He mumbles in full confession and it fits perfectly because it's like those moments when people tell someone they did something mean to them but the guilt is so ever written across their face. It's this moment, actually.

Wilbur doesn't exactly say anything at first, he just makes a couple of noises like he's about to say something but then is too lost to actually say it. He clears his throat, looking down at Quackity and tilting his head slightly. "I- Quackity, what do you mean messing with you ?"

It is now absolutely confrontation and confession time as Quacktiy stiffens, the light brightens and it would almost blind him if it is real, but there's not a cold and hard desk anywhere so this isn't some intense interrogation. He's just sitting on a bed, face to face with Wilbur to finally address what needs to be.

Doesn't mean he no longer feels dumb. He can't maintain eye contact any longer, it's too much for how this might sound to Wilbur. "Well, like, I thought you-" wait, so does this mean he has to bring up the fact that he likes Wilbur in a most definitely only friends type of way? Oh shit. Quackity's hands don't feel clammy at all, nope, his chest is most certainly not twisting itself into knots. Quackity takes a deep breath. "I didn't think you meant any of what you were saying," He says, surprised his voice isn't wavering as much even though this is one of the hardest bits. "Or doing," He quickly adds and Wilbur blinks heavily before refocusing. "I thought you were just doing it to get a reaction out of me. Kinda like, making fun of…" He doesn't finish that sentence because he already thinks he looks so childish right now.

But Wilbur only looks at him, no sign of any thoughts that show Wilbur thinks Quackity is foolish, not even an unimpressed look. But his words arrive a moment late like they mean something more. "Why would I do that?"

Quackity stops himself from hiding himself away again even as undesired thoughts wander about in his mind, creeping up that he has to mentally shove them away. Still, their energy remains. "Because other people have," He mumbles in the best nonchalance tone he can manage to attempt.

Wilbur's shoulders sink with his expression, the room dimming as Quackity sheds light onto the reason behind all of the tense silence between them, the hesitant looks and words- all of it.

Quackity straightens himself up, getting in a comfier position on the bed as he chuckles weakly, "Remember that casino I worked at?"

There's a pause as Wilbur's gaze traces over Quackity's before he nods slowly and unsure. "Yeah, I do."

"Well," Quackity says with a sigh, kinda like some old person when they're about to tell a story. But he forces out a grin, looking up. "I had this boss."

Wilbur's face dims and his lips curl down into a frown as his voice lowers to a worrisome whisper, "Quackity…"

Quackity stops for an unnoticeable second at how genuine Wilbur's concern was there, clearing his throat and placing his hands in his lap. Luckily, the air isn't as thick as it was before so he doesn't have to worry about overheating from the dread of possible judgment in his shirt as he goes on. "Well uhm, I kinda liked him," He says quietly, regretful and embarrassed. Then, he shakes his head, "And he knew that."

Something about how Wilbur's brows furrow in thought, picking the pieces and putting them together as what is to come of the story sets in, he conveys the thinking process so deeply Quackity can't help but feel, well, cared for ?

He doesn't exactly know.

But it helps battle the stiff coldness this topic brings with how it brings a familiar warmth to his chest, one that Wilbur is unknowingly really good at causing.

So Quackity stops to think about what to say next, trying to get it all across in a pretty sufficient way. He thinks he finds the right words, biting his tongue before he carries on, "Because of that, I was, ya know, doing shit for him- but just work stuff. Like his papers or… yeah," His voice dies out at the end, nervously fidgeting with the sheets on the bed as Wilbur tilts his head.

"So he knew you were," Wilbur shrugs. "-into him and decided to use that?"

"Yeah," Quackity says with a nod, mumbling a "Yes." for extra confirmation mainly to himself. He puffs out a breath of air, looking all around with a remorseful look. "God, that- he made me so stressed out. I lost like, a really nice friend of mine because I was working too much. I just- I don't know, I was overworking myself just to earn his affection ," He says the last word with quotation marks and though he does see Wilbur's eyes flash, the man doesn't question anything and instead takes a deep breath that leaves him staring at the bed.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," He mumbles and before Quackity can tell him anything along the lines of it's fine Wilbur shakes his head, hair covering his face with the way he is looking down. "I- you don't deserve that."

Quackity reaches a dismissive hand out. "Oh, well, it's nothing too serious-"

But Wilbur is already disagreeing, "Quackity, you shouldn't have to had to go through-"

And now Quackity is cutting him off, placing a hand on his shoulder with a slight shake of his head. "I'm fine," He says firmly and he believes in himself when he does. Even when he tilts his head down with a sigh. "I only wish I was able to tell him how much of an asshole he was. But he's for sure dead."

He smiles lightly, scanning over Wilbur curiously as the other blinks away with heavy shoulders. Quackity presses his lips into a thin line, sitting back normally as the room shifts to its previous admit-your-stupid-reasoning once more.

"That's why I pushed you away," Quackity states in an almost shy manner because it has finally been said. All of this- it starts because Quackity's brain decided to remind him of some stupid man in a business suit and a whole bunch of expectations that past Quackity thought he had to meet. Now all it has led to Quackity being a dick to Wilbur because he didn't want to face that again.

Wilbur seems to consider his words for a good while, opening his mouth only to close it as he looks away. "So- so you thought I was going to use you?" He asks with a sudden melancholic tone it catches Quackity off guard.

Quackity doesn't find the way his chest tightens too pleasant as the room falls silent for a good few seconds. Then, Quackity breathes in with a half-shrug and neither of them are making an effort to look at each other. "I guess yes I did."

Something about that makes Wilbur pause before he has some sort of realization and peeks over at Quackity, eyes attentive like he's searching for something. "So you don't think that anymore?"

Oh. Quackity gets it now.

Well, does he still think that? He did phrase it in the past tense. But he has been contemplating this topic for a day or so meaning that the option of still believing that is well, still an option.

But then he remembers some of his very first thoughts, carefully formulating a sentence as he scans over Wilbur's waiting stature. "Uhm, well, were you?"

Wilbur comes to a halt and so does everything around them as Wilbur looks right at him and meets his eyes. Quackity doesn't know what he's expecting as the imaginary clock ticks loudly, marking each second that they go without anything.

Until Wilbur's face softens and he now looks embarrassed as he shakes his head. "No," He whispers softly. "I just-" He takes a deep breath, chuckling dryly as if it'll help with whatever he's tackling before he hides his face as best as somebody can with their sleeve, letting it drag down his face before his hand flops down onto the bed. "I guessed I just wanted to tell you," He slows down, wondering what to say before waving a hand around, "All that. But then you… pushed me away," He says and Quackity still wants to fix how hurt he sounds saying that.

"I know," Quackity says and he hopes Wilbur can sense the weight of all that's been said so far piling up as much as he can, "and I'm sorry."

Wilbur only nods and the room sits quietly for a moment. At least that means Wilbur heard him say it. He hopes it means Wilbur accepts it too.

Quackity tries to focus on that as his mind wanders to what else Wilbur said. So, as it turns out, Quackity had really jumped to conclusions that night and Wilbur was simply trying to be… nice.

He had just been wanting to tell Quackity how pretty his eyes were.

Quackity ignores the warmth that comes from the realization that Wilbur meant it. Wait- yeah, he probably meant it.

"Wilbur?" Quackity breaks the silence with a not-so-confident mumble, shifting around to face him fully as the need for confirmation gets the better of him. But he is also suddenly hesitant to ask and he doesn't manage to say anything for a good three seconds before stammering out, "So did you mean what you said?"

Just like that night, Wilbur's cheeks become dusted with the lightest pink so Quackity can safely say he was not imagining it back then. Wilbur clearly hasn't prepared for such a question as he blinks, clears his throat, and finally composes himself. "Uh, well, yes."

Well then. Quackity's face is most certainly not burning right now and his eyes did not just widen a bit.

"Oh." Is all that he manages. Dammit, that makes him look like an idiot. But Wilbur literally just said yes, he did mean it. So Quackity can't help the lack of energy he can focus on forming a sentence that makes sense as he matches Wilbur's soft gaze.

The air most definitely shifts as they sit here, any previous idea of coldness gone out the window as Quackity's face heats up. Then, he sees that same look Wilbur gave him that night, eyes half-lidded and that gentle small smile before he seems a bit closer than before.

Quackity's heart probably just sped up as they both inch closer, only leaving so much space in between as their eyes drop to awaiting lips and back up. Quackity involuntarily pulls the tiniest bit on Wilbur's shoulder, about to start a war with the immediate humiliation the action brought until Wilbur stops him short and his hand barely taps his.

"You know," Wilbur starts and Quackity wonders if Wilbur can hear his heartbeat or his guts twisting seeing as Quackity can literally feel Wilbur's breath on his lips. It's silent, then it's slow and soft as Wilbur says, "I still think you're eyes are really pretty."

"Really?" Quackity's lashes flutter, he can almost picture his face a complete deep pink as he sits there, baffled. This is real. And that is crazy yet amazing.

And Wilbur nods, mumbling a "Yes, really." for the two of them that has them watching the sparkles in each other's eyes until Wilbur lifts a hand to cuff Quackiy's cheek, tilting his own head with such admiration that Quackity doesn't waste any second leaning into it.

They are so close, Quackity's heart is pounding. He wants this. So he nods.

Then Wilbur kisses him and it's one of the best things ever. Quackity gets hit with a wave of warmth, pulling Wilbur closer by his shoulders who doesn't do anything but comply, sparks around them as Wilbur rubs his cheek with his thumb.

It's so kind and gentle that Quackity melts into the hand Wilbur brings to press against the small of Quackity's back. He slings his arms over Wilbur's shoulders, craning his head and deepening the kiss and being in Wilbur's arms feels like he's right where he should be.

They only part for a couple of huffs of air, but when they do, Wilbur leans impossibly closer and rests his forehead against Quackity's with a breathy laugh that slips past his drunken soft smile. The moment is so sweet. Quackity loves it. He thinks he can get used to this.