Chapter Text
Quackity stayed in the village for a couple months. He stayed with Puffy for a few days, doing odd jobs around until he could afford a room in the inn. She still came around to check on him and ask how he was doing, which was so sweet.
Every night, he met Wilbur on the beach. Every night, he sat in his arms and watched the stars. Every night, he kissed his siren’s forehead like it was something precious. Which, to him, it was.
Eventually, Quackity had given him the ring he may or may not have found from a wrecked ship further along the shore. He explained it as the human version of the braid custom, and Wilbur understood pretty quickly.
Quackity may never marry his lover under an altar, and he may never have anyone human he knows meet him, but with a braid in his hair and a ring on his finger, he decided if that wasn’t marriage he didn’t know what Hera was looking for.
“Wil,” he whispered to him. He had been drifting between sleep and wakefulness for a good thirty minutes or so, being lulled into it by Wilbur’s gentle scratching of his scalp. He had finally convinced Quackity to remove both his hat and his bandana, and then spent 15 minutes gushing about his hair.
“Hm?” Wilbur hummed back, the sound reverberating in his chest and going pleasantly through Quackity’s head.
“I think we’re soulmates,” Quackity said softly, his voice slightly slurred by his drowsy state. Wilbur’s hand stilled in his hair, but quickly resumed its work.
“I think so too.”
Quackity hummed softly. “I hope you’re mine in every universe.”
Wilbur pressed a kiss into Quackity’s hair, and a lazy smile spread on his lips.
“I hope so too,” Wilbur whispered. He settled into the sand, and Quackity dozed back off.
- - -
Quackity wiped the sweat off his brow as he admired his work. A brand new ship, put together by his own hand. He had found good driftwood, bought new wood, learnt how to sew from Puffy to put together the sail… everything he truly needed was handmade by him.
It was the most perfect pirate ship he had ever seen.
He had been landlocked for long enough. He wanted back out, to explore, to be wild. He needed to feel the salt air in his hair as he sailed through the sea. He needed to hoist the anchor every night and lean against the parapet as his Wilbur rested on a rock below the ship. He needed to stay up until the sun rose and then, finally, venture into the cabin, his heart full and his soul light.
A pirate’s life was one he simply couldn’t afford to lose. It had given him the love of his life, after all.
He had decided early on into building his new ship that he wouldn’t take a crew. Maybe one person, here or there, but never more. A crew was nothing but trouble, he had come to learn.
Puffy stepped out of her house by the beach to come inspect his work. Her two sons trailed her like ducklings.
Quackity had always liked ducks.
“A fine ship!” she said, her voice hearty and warm. He smiled at the experienced sailor’s approval.
“You’ve done good,” she nodded. “When do you plan to set off?”
“As soon as I’ve got all I need stockpiled,” he replied, setting his hat back on his head. Puffy nodded.
“Sounds good, kiddo,” she said. She gently clapped his shoulder, and his smile widened.
- - -
That’s what he did over the next week. Store food, store clothes, store blankets, store replacement items, store, store, store.
Sometimes he’d continue doing it well into the night. Wilbur would rest his head on his arms, watching from the shore as Quackity worked himself to the bone.
“Take a break,” he called. Quackity glanced over to him, and smiled.
“In a moment.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Ask for help, at least. Puffy would help if you asked.”
“Puffy is asleep,” Quackity said flippantly.
“During the day, dumbass,” Wilbur replied.
“She’s busy with her kids during the day!”
“Child labor.”
Quackity gave Wilbur a glare, and Wilbur gave him back a shit eating grin. Quackity grumbled softly and went back to his work.
“Whatever,” he mithered. “I don’t need help. If I’m gonna be sailing alone, I should do it alone.”
Wilbur hummed. His tail flicked lazily. “You’re very adamant about being alone,” he commented. “You wouldn’t even take on one person?”
“Maybe one,” Quackity said with a shrug. He pulled a rope taut, tying whatever he had down. “Why?”
“Just asking,” Wilbur replied nonchalantly. Quackity raised an eyebrow, but went back to work.
“We’ll see each other more, right?” Wilbur asked after a moment.
“Of course,” Quackity said surely. “With no crew to risk seeing you, no reason not to.”
Wilbur nodded, a small smile spreading on his face. “I think we’ll see each other much more.”
Quackity glanced back at him, and saw a scheme in those golden eyes. He narrowed his own eyes, but said nothing of it. Whatever Wilbur had planned wouldn’t be bad.
- - -
Quackity finally had his ship in order. Everything looked in order, and he planned to set off by sundown.
He had said his goodbyes to Puffy and her family. He had bought a new hat while in town, and gave his old one to Dream. The kid hadn’t taken it off since. It was endearing.
He stood on his ship, finishing the last few touches. The sea seemed calm today, which was a good omen. He put his hand over his eyes.
“Good day for sailing,” he muttered to himself. To his surprise, he got a response.
“Aye, captain.”
Quackity whipped his head around to face the new voice, and his jaw dropped.
Wilbur, his Wilbur, was right behind him.
His Wilbur.
With legs.
Quackity got closer to look him over. He was wearing clothes, which was good. Nothing really fancy, save for the pearls he always wore. Just a white button down and some black pants. His eyes weren’t their usual unnatural gold, but now just brown. And his sclera was actually white now, which was more jarring than Quackity would like to admit.
“What the fuck?” he said, dropping his filter for a moment. Wilbur gave a good laugh, his head throwing back with its force. It was cute.
“Hello to you too,” Wilbur said after calming down. The corners of Quackity’s mouth twitched, and a big smile spread on his face.
“Sorry, let me rephrase; hi! What the fuck?”
Wilbur laughed again, holding onto Quackity to steady his newfound balance.
“Is this a Little Mermaid thing?” Quackity continued. “Did you sell your soul for legs?”
Wilbur’s laughs turned into little giggles, and he wiped tears from his eyes.
“No, no soul-selling. Just a bit of research and practice.”
“Research and practice? So sirens can just…be human if they try hard enough?”
“Some, I suppose,” Wilbur replied. He gave Quackity a wink. “I’m still a siren, though.”
He rolled up his pant leg to reveal the shimmering scales that covered his calves. Quackity stared in awe until he dropped it again. He glanced back up at Wilbur, and playfully pouted.
“You’re taller than me,” he complained. Wilbur snickered and pulled Quackity close.
“Is it a shock? You’re so short,” he teased. Quackity gave a long-suffering sigh.
Wilbur just held Quackity in his arms for a moment. Quackity didn’t pull away. Wilbur pressed his lips to Quackity’s forehead, and pulled away.
“So, since I have legs, can I be your crew?” he asked with a grin.
“Obviously,” Quackity replied. “I’m not going anywhere without you. But there’s one condition.”
“Hm?”
“Get shoes.”
Wilbur giggled, and playfully saluted Quackity. “Aye-aye, captain.”
- - -
Quackity’s ship set off at sundown, just as he planned. But now he had his siren at his side.
He taught Wilbur the basics of sailing, and was impressed by how fast he learned. He was a natural.
Wilbur would get in the water a lot, of course. One of his favorite pastimes had become stepping off the ship to hear Quackity freak out until he remembered he was literally a siren.
Wilbur was able to read the sea better than Quackity ever could. Which was a given, but still. He was able to tell Quackity if he needed to stop, or if the weather would be bad, or anything else he might need to know. Quackity decided he never wanted to sail without Wilbur again.
Every night, Quackity got to cuddle with Wilbur and fall asleep in his arms. And every day, he got to spend it with his Wilbur.
He couldn’t have asked for a better life.