Lavish - Elm (Xx_poetry_witch_xX) - Dream SMP [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter Text

Wilbur whistled. It was about all he could do in response to the grand display of wealth that was laid out on display in the sands in front of him. The sand itself was a display of hard work and money to spend as this certainly hadn’t always been a desert. Maybe a small one if Wilbur’s memory served him correctly, it often didn’t so maybe he shouldn’t put too much stock into that, but certainly not one of the caliber he found himself firmly rooted in out of pure shock.

Quackity had surely out done himself this time.

He had some how even brought the heat of the desert with the sands, something Wilbur noticed once he had managed to get his feet to move again. Beads of sweat began to collect along his hairline and the soles of his shoes were sticking slightly to the asphalt and the heatwaves that made the country dance in his vision were starting to make him dizzy. He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a slight detour towards one of the smaller buildings. Just for a quick drink and a blast of air conditioning, because surely if Quackity could afford all of this, he could afford a little AC.

The blast of cool was like sweet relief and blessing enough for him, but the display did not simply stop at the door. Though it was one of the smaller buildings within Las Nevadas, the inside was dressed in as much expense as the outside. And thank the gods it was dimly lit, because otherwise the shine from the gold, and crystals, and polished wood would have given off enough of a reflection to blind anyone before they had the chance to look away.

Wilbur made his way to the corner of one of the bars away from the tables in the center. It was hard to tell what exactly the patrons were playing, but whatever it was gave him a pang of jealousy. Oh to still be able to enjoy something as mind numbing as a card game without your head getting lost in some distant railway that probably didn’t exist for anyone else but him. And Tommy. Tommy had mentioned seeing it the one day too, but then he got that far away look that was so uncharacteristic of him that Wilbur didn’t have the heart to ask him to elaborate on it.

“Vodka tonic, with more vodka than tonic.” The words came tumbling from his mouth in an automatic response as the bartender came over. He had originally intended to come in for a water, just something to sip at for a few minutes to cool off before continuing his walk. But thinking about how much Tommy had changed made his heart ache and thinking about those damned tracks drove him crazy so alcohol it was. It wasn’t like he had any time limit or anywhere to be really. This was just a stop on his way towards trying to see what all had changed in the thirteen years he had been gone.

Or no, he had only been gone for about a year at this point. He kept forgetting that time in limbo was so, so much different that it was here. It was disorienting. Sickening. Like the thirteen years he had spent in his personal hell meant nothing because it hadn’t even been real. Well, a year of it had been, but in comparison to the other twelve that felt like nothing.

He was relieved when the bartender finally came over with his drink. In reality it had maybe only been a minute, but with how his mind had been wandering his mouth had gotten unbearably dry and he was desperate to get rid of the small tremor in his hands. He muttered a thank you, flashing them a smile and accepting the drink, taking a much needed sip.

It burned on the way down, but not like the heat from outside. Like taking a cold sip of water with a mint in his mouth, but with a little bit more pain. He appreciated that, it was grounding. And the cool from the drink and the ice helped to chase away that pesky regular heat too. He downed about half the drink before he felt like he could breathe normally again, thoughts of limbo and time stolen from him already long gone, replaced by the dull buzz of inhibition and poor judgement.

Two and a half drinks in was when he finally decided to sit down at one of the tables playing blackjack. Most of them were playing poker, but he had had enough of that during limbo. Countless hours with just him and Schlatt on that stupid f*cking platform playing games over and over, making bets with whatever they happened to have on them, Schlatt too drunk to realize that Wilbur was cheating in every game until it was too boring to cheat, and then-

“Wilbur f*cking Soot.”

In any other circ*mstance he probably should have kept his head down, started with and apology, ignored the apparently angry voice. But now he was about four drinks in, and quite drunk. So instead he picked up his head with an award winning smile.

“In the fresh flesh.” His eyes met Quackity’s, and his smile grew impossibly larger. It was just the man he had been looking for! Or at least it had been maybe an hour or two ago. As of late he had been a little bit more preoccupied with trying to keep his brain sober enough to count cards and win bets with the little money he had.

“Fresh isn’t the word I’d use.” Quackity made a face as Wilbur pushed to his feet, taking his winnings and striding over to the shorter man, taking him in.

Because Quackity looked grandiose too.

Wilbur tried to remember the last time he saw Quackity. It was right before the fight before he, well, moved on, so to speak. There hadn’t been anything particularly attractive about him in that moment. No one looked good while clad in iron armer, but even the clothes he had worn underneath had been, well, plain. A white t-shirt, blue jacket, pair of jeans. Nothing to really write home about. But now, right now, with that look of intrigue, and mild disgust but Wilbur was ignoring that, looking that good…

“You look hot.”

It was a little more blunt that he had meant it to come across, but Quackity’s reaction made it worth it. His jaw dropped, physically reeling back. The look of utter disgust was much stronger, and Wilbur would be lying if he said he was disappointed, but that was beside the point. There was almost a little taste of power there, watching Quackity physically react to something he said. And maybe it was the alcohol in his system, but Wilbur made a discovery that would haunt him for several months.

“You’re drunk.” Wilbur shrugged at the words. It was true, he wasn’t going to argue that. “You’re drunk, in my country, fresh from the grave, and you didn’t even bother-“

“I thought you said you wouldn’t use that word to describe me.”

“I wouldn’t use it to describe your half rotten flesh- that’s not the point. What are you even doing here?”

“I was coming to see you, actually.”

“And you got sidetracked by booze and gambling.”

“That’s not true!” Quackity raised a brow, and Wilbur sighed. “Okay, so it’s a little true, but I only came in to get out of the heat! It’s quite impressive what you’ve managed to build up here. Who’s you get to help you?”

“I build it myself, prick.” It didn’t escape Wilbur’s notice how Quackity’s jaw tightened, his shoulders straightened, like maybe this had been a conversation several times before, just not in a while.

“Quite impressive for you.” Quackity scoffed.

“I’d offer you a tour except I don’t encourage people to go wandering around the streets clearly intoxicated.”

“Oh but I wouldn’t be just wandering the streets, I’d be walking with you, and whatever you are to this great city!” Quackity seemed to seethe at the comment, and a few more people were beginning to watch. They were like an audience, and Wilbur couldn’t get enough-

“Just go home Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s heart dropped, watching Quackity sigh and turn around to leave.

“What?”

“Go home. You do have a home to return to, don’t you?” He paused a moment, turning to give Wilbur almost an amused look when Wil’s face flushed red a little.

“Of course I have a home.”

“Good. Go there. Don’t bother coming back.”

And with that the door shut, leaving Wilbur with an audience he no longer wanted, especially if he wasn’t sharing the spotlight anymore. Still, it took his drunken brain too long to realize that he could actually follow him. He set his glass down on the bar, fumbling to pull out the iron needed to pay for his drinks, probably putting down too much but he was too frantic to pay and get out of there to try to chase Quackity down. He always prided himself on being a good tipper anyways.

He flung the doors open, nearly panting at the wave of heat that washed over him. He had forgotten just how hot it was out here and it was not going to mix well with the alcohol in the pit of his stomach. But the flat landscape made it easy to spot Quackity, even though the waves from the heat were trying their best to obscure him. Wilbur jogged over to where he was walking, his long legs and brisk pace making it easy for him to catch up to Quackity.

“Wait! Wait Quackity-“

“What do you want Wilbur?” Quackity answered with a huff, scowling at Wilbur, who suddenly felt like he was the small one.

Because what did he want? Why had he even bothered chasing Quackity? Maybe because he was the first person to not really have anything to say to him post revival. Maybe it was because Wilbur was desperate for some sort of human interaction that wasn’t Tommy’s. Not that Tommy wasn’t good to talk to, but he was the most obvious reminder of how much time had passed, just by how different he was. And Quackity was different too, but not in a depressing way. Was it a good way? Wilbur was still a little too drunk to want to really go down that train of thought.

“I want that tour.” He forced a confident smile, letting his shoulders relax and straightening his stance, doing his best to will the drunkenness away. It was hard, the heat was making him feel sicker by the second, but he wasn’t about to get sick in front of Quackity. “You mentioned a tour, I want that.”

“Why?” Quackity scoffed. “Why do you want in my country so bad Wilbur?”

Country?

Wilbur was going to have to remember that.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with everyone, see what’s new. It’s been forever since I’ve been gone.”

“It’s been less than a year.”

Wilbur felt like he had been punched in the gut, but he forced the smile to stay put.

“And some how the world has still changed so much! Really Quackity, you can’t blame me for being curious.” Gods this heat was starting to get to him.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Wilbur. Las Nevadas is not some ball of yarn for you to play with, kitty.” Quackity sneered, clearly annoyed.

“Satisfaction brought it back.” He was loving this, and if he wasn’t feeling so sick, he might be tempted to keep this up all day. “Just one little look, Q. Just you and me.”

“You and me, huh?”

Please.

“What could be better?” Quackity studied his face before huffing, and shaking his head.

“Fine. But you have to be sober.” Wilbur grinned.

“You won’t regret this, Q.”

“I already do.” Quackity waved Wilbur off and walked away. He stood there waiting until Quackity had turned a corner and he was safely out of sight before dashing over to the nearest trashcan, emptying his stomach of whatever was left of his vodka.

Next time he would definitely have to be sober.