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Quackity narrowed his eye, just for a moment, as he tightened the blindfold around Wilbur’s eyes, making sure not to catch his ears.
“Stay still, gato. This can still be a punishment, if you don’t behave.”
Wilbur obediently went still, even though he’d only been fidgeting a little. Kneeling like that couldn’t be comfortable, Quackity knew, but he was sure the cat could manage.
Satisfied, he let go of the blindfold, petting Wilbur’s ears affectionately as he circled him. The cat whimpered softly at Quackity’s not so gentle touch against ear piercings that were probably still raw.
“Shush, puppy. You’re just mine tonight, remember? If anyone tries to touch you, you’re allowed to bite them.”
Quackity grinned, feeling Wilbur nod, his tail flicking in vicious satisfaction. There was the trickster he knew.
Honestly, he sometimes wondered if Wilbur still remembered who he was. If he’d been a betting man, he certainly wouldn’t have put good odds on the idea a demigod would let himself be dressed up and dragged around by a gambler. Maybe Quackity was the one being played, this whole time.
It didn’t really matter. Wilbur was here, and his, and a beautiful trophy to show off, no matter the moment.
“Try not to embarrass me tonight either. I’ve got heroes coming, so you can only imagine how interested they’ll be in you, gato.”
Oh, they’d be interested alright. Quackity had deliberately got Tommy working the floor with him tonight, instead of Charlie, just to see the ripples spread. Two of the Angel’s sons, Lady Death’s sons, under his control and on display for the whole world to see. It would certainly send a message.
Hand on his hips, Quackity pursed his lips, trying to channel Karl’s effortless critique for outfits and aesthetics. He was warming to the art form, although perhaps not in ways the peacock hero would have been so fond of.
For instance, where Karl would probably have been drawn to makeup or accessories, subtly bringing together a dramatic look, Quackity preferred something a little more pointed. Besides, his cat looked cute in a ruffled dress, black and white to match the strap of his collar, his gloves, and the blindfold pressed over his eyes.
When he was satisfied, Quackity reached over to an end table, and picked up the last piece of Wilbur’s costume for the evening. The cat was lucky, to be honest, his possessiveness was definitely the only thing stopping the avian from dressing Wilbur in practically nothing.
“Stand, puppy.”
Hesitantly, Wilbur stood, a little unsteady as he found his footing without sight. Quackity clipped the leash through the ring of his collar, giving it a firm yank for the hell of it. Wilbur didn’t move. Clever gato, he’d been expecting it.
“Good boy. Do you trust me?”
Quackity’s grin was sharp enough to kill, but all Wilbur could hear was his teasing voice. Still, the demigod nodded, a nervous smile tugging at his lips.
“Good choice.”
——————
Tommy was having a weird night. He’d been having a weird life, to be perfectly honest, at least for the last few months. Maybe before that, if you counted the divine-heritage thing.
Idly, his fingers found the necklace, done up just a little bit tighter than usual. It wasn’t like Wilbur’s, wasn’t a collar or anything like that. Not that he needed that sort of reminder. But it was visible, and it served the same purpose. He belonged to Quackity.
Tommy let his hand drop, glancing over at Charlie, who was busying himself with various stacks of paper.
“So, what’s this big event Q’s been all excited about?”
Charlie looked up, eyes shining a little too bright in the dim light of the office. The same lights as everywhere. Dark violet, scattered with bright, neon shapes and pinpricks, feeling more like an arcade than a casino. But Tommy knew first hand how well the purple filter hid blood.
“Oh, just some heroes, I’m pretty sure. That was what he said, at least.”
There was something evasive in Charlie’s tone that made Tommy frown. He wasn’t exactly suspicious- what was the point, when everything he’d normally be suspicious of had already been confirmed?- but something seemed off.
“Who?”
“Oh, you know…” Charlie’s hands shook as he tidied a stack of papers, and finished lamely. “Heroes.”
“Come on, you can tell me.” Tommy put on his best grin, no trace of his nerves in his voice. His mother’s son, putting on a perfect, deadly act. “I’m all dressed up and everything, I might as well know who I’m impressing.”
The clothes had been delivered by Fundy this morning, who’d been delighted by whatever he’d gotten, some sort of dress or something. Tommy hadn’t found anything in explanation, aside from the certainty that they were meant to be worn today. Not that he was complaining. He had no problem with a nice suit, in his colour and everything, and the waistcoat made him feel a little closer to being seen as a real adult for once.
Charlie looked up at him, and yes, his eyes were definitely glowing now, two bright dots of neon green. Tommy felt his throat tighten, not enough to be fear exactly, but his intrigue was turning to apprehension.
“I- uh- I don’t know. I… forget. No one important. Definitely no one important.”
As he nodded seriously, Tommy nodded back, smiling like it had just been an academic question. And, frankly, it was. It wasn’t like whoever it was would change anything. Quackity would absolutely have mentioned if it was Phil, and if it wasn’t someone he was related to, it didn’t matter too much.
Besides, Charlie was so easy to get information out of, it almost wasn’t even fun. That was something Quackity had taught him. If he didn’t have a reason for something, enjoying it would be enough. Not that Tommy needed that much encouragement to that effect.
“Oh-“ Charlie glanced down at his communicator, which had just lit up, the brightest light on the small room aside from the two of them. “He wants you on the floor, Tommy from the world beyond.”
Such a pretentious way of saying it. Tommy pulled a face, even as he grabbed his own comm from the desk, and set off towards the door.
“Sure thing, Charlie from weird-land.”
They could just call it the afterlife. Or limbo, or whatever really. Tommy rolled his eyes as he walked down the corridor, trailing his hand along the golden dado rail. The place his mum was from. The place all humans ended up. So many names for it. He just wanted to be Tommy.
His fingers, now coated in scarlet smoke, danced across one of the mirrors set into the wall, and Tommy grinned at his own reflection. He wasn’t a shapeshifter, not like Fundy, or Wilbur to a certain extent, but he didn’t look older than sixteen, at most. Forever young. His nails tapped against it, solid gold, like his eyes if you caught them from the wrong angle, and sharp enough to almost be claws.
Then he moved past it, and raised his arm, watching smoke the colours of an inferno curl down towards his elbow. Holding his arm out to the side, he watched the energy curl into the air, smoky tendrils poking at this human world.
“Tommy?”
Shit. Tommy clenched his hand into a fist immediately, smothering the scarlet flames and blinking hard to wipe away the gold sheen to his eyes.
“Uh- yeah, coming!”
He hurried the last few steps, nearly colliding with Quackity, waiting just inside the door to the main floor. The avian looked up at him, eyebrows raised , but smiling just enough to let Tommy know he was in the clear.
“Look who decided to turn up. Ready for an exciting evening?”
“Fuck yeah.” Tommy beamed, before dumping his blazer on the floor with a huff of irritation. “Hot as hell in here, is that just me?”
“I think it might be you.” Quackity smirked, eyes flicking over Tommy’s markings, tanned flames etched into his arms. “Don’t think that’s me hitting on you either, I’ve got my hands full with your brother.”
Tommy shrugged, not really minding. It had been an accurate assessment, if nothing else. He was always hot, a fire inside his chest. And he preferred not to think about Wilbur too much. Made him uncomfortable, to be honest.
“Whatever. Not like I’m actually sixteen or anything. Anyway, what’s going on?”
No one else on Quackity’s staff would probably have dared to ask him head on, except maybe Charlie, who could insult him to his face and still be treated better than anyone else. Tommy didn’t have quite that freedom, but he got a pass for demigod-related reasons of flamboyance.
“Big event. Important.” Quackity showed his golden tooth in a wolffish smile. “Lots of boring assholes looking for sex or another way to waste their money.”
“Which of those am I helping them with?”
Tommy liked to think this was why Quackity liked him. He could match the avian’s energy, match his innuendos and razor sharp humour effortlessly.
But, at the same time, he knew the necklace weighing on his throat was more than jewellery. Quackity liked him for his power, for what having a demigod on staff represented, and the only thing his affection had gotten Tommy was some personal freedom. He was still on a short leash.
Still, that was ok. Better than being with Phil, or being a hero. Tommy thrived here, even if he was just another cog in Quackity’s ruthless machine.
“The money, mostly. Wouldn’t look so good if my prodigy was propositioning himself to every powerful person in the room.”
Quackity patted his shoulder fondly, and Tommy laughed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Good. Don’t like doing the sex appeal.”
“And I would never force you. Ready?”
Tommy wished he believed Quackity. No, he wished he didn’t. He wished he didn’t know exactly why Quackity would never force him to do anything. He wished he didn’t know too much about what he had forced Wilbur to do, what his brother had seemed like he enjoyed, and how he was only different because he was useful in other ways.
So he just smiled, smothered all of his worries in childish joy, and nodded.
“Like fuck I am.”
Quackity nodded, and lead the way into the main floor. Tommy didn’t need to ask to know he was expected to follow, just at the avian’s shoulder, just being himself.
Without prompting, he let gold flood his eyes, and kept his power just at arm’s reach, ready for a visible demonstration of exactly who he and Quackity were at a moment’s notice. See? He could do things right.
Tommy wasn’t a shapeshifter. Fundy- whose eye he caught across the room, receiving a brief, playful wave from his nephew- could change anything about himself, change anyone’s mind with just a smile. Tommy could only destroy things. But still, he felt wings forming on his back, dripping like honey, only made of amber and fire. Not to fly. Simply to terrify, to tell any mortal who set eyes on him that they should bow down or be obliterated.
Tilting his head, he looked around. Scanning for threats, maybe. Or perhaps he was just taking in humans, so foolishly mortal and weak.
Tommy blinked. Oh, he did not like when that happened. He wasn’t the looking-down-on-mortals sort, thank you very much.
Somewhat belatedly, he waved back at Fundy, now fully focused on some poker game. Tommy let his hand fall, and refocused his attention on wherever Quackity was leading him.
Oh. He hadn’t realised this was an actual event event. Tommy swallowed nervously, eyes flicking across the large table, set just in front of the stage. About half the seats were full. Everyone was wearing masks.
Just once, he’d appreciate Quackity actually telling him what he was meant to do. Whether he was just there to be endearing, there are security, as a trophy, or as a friend.
Because as Tommy’s secretly crestfallen eyes landed on his brother, blindfolded and drumming his gloved fingers against the table, he knew he wasn’t here to actually do anything. He and Wilbur were a power play, like always.
Still, he didn’t let it show. Just bounced along behind Quackity, grinning at the necessary heroes and others.
“Sorry I’m late.” Quackity’s voice had smoothed over, all charm and composed arrogance. “Sit, firebird.”
And that nickname was back. Wonderful. Tommy wasn’t even sure why he was so disappointed, this was what always ended up happening when Quackity had someone important. Maybe next time he could be a waiter or something. At least be useful in a more practical way.
As Tommy dutifully took the proffered seat as Quackity sat between him and Wilbur, the latter of whom perked up immediately, and purred in soft excitement.
“Yes, hello, songbird, I’m sorry for leaving you. Apologies for him.” Quackity switched to addressing the group seamlessly, one hand resting on Wilbur’s knee. “Are you all comfortable?”
Songbird. Firebird. Tommy swallowed, trying not to look at his brother, wearing a maid dress and silk blindfold, sitting nicely for Quackity while the avian petted his ears.
He’d rant about this to Fundy later, who never had to do stuff like this. No one was interested in the grandson of Lady Death, apparently. Tommy held on to that thought. It would be over soon. He just had to smile, and laugh when he was told to.
Which he was doing, of course. This whole time, even as Quackity made polite small talk, Tommy’s smile hadn’t wavered. Perfect on the outside. Perfectly behaved.
A figure seemed to materialise out of thin air behind Quackity, his own wings trailing down to the floor, leaning over to hug the gambler’s shoulders and giggle, murmuring something in the shorter avian’s ear.
Quackity smiled indulgently, patting Karl’s shoulder while shooting knowingly amused looks around the table.
“Mhm, I know, amor, it’s been too long. Go sit down, we can talk later.”
The peacock hero finally pulled away from Quackity, clearly already high out of his mind as he waved to the rest of the table. Tommy held up his hand, which Karl high-fived on his way to a seat at the other end of the table, giggling all the way as his emerald wings fluttered.
“Is this everyone?” Quackity looked around, composure perfectly intact despite the appearance of another of his little trophies. He’d had Karl longer than either Tommy or Wilbur, and their relationship was considerably closer to actual partners than almost anyone else.
“I imagine so.” Bad straightened a little, and Tommy briefly felt the demon’s burning gaze on him, before the hero carried on looking around the table. “Is Dream not coming?”
“Oh, no, I’m not looking for a fight in here. This is strictly a social event.”
Tommy kept an eye on Bad as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of composed disregard and subtle power. The demon hero wasn’t watching him anymore, but he was one of the few with little patience for Quackity’s charms. Nice to know someone around here stayed loyal to their partner.
“How so? Because all I’m seeing is another power play from a sad little avian who doesn’t know he’s peaked.”
Sally’s smile was unapologetically insincere, scarlet lips shining in the violet light. Now there was a hero that seriously made Tommy uneasy. Technically a step sister, but she’d never made an effort for Wilbur or Fundy. No, her problem was solely with Quackity, and she didn’t seem to much care what happened to her family if she couldn’t use it as an attack on the gambler. Honestly, some heroes weren’t any better than villains.
Actually, with that little bombshell of a second family member seated around the table, Tommy paid a little more attention, searching for any more faces he recognised. Puffy was here, but no Niki. Hannah too, sitting next to Bad. The rest were unfamiliar, aside from on the news. He let out a low sigh of relief. Not that he cared about being recognised, Quackity normally pointed him out if no one remarked on his presence, but there was something comforting about strangers, or almost-strangers.
“Sad? The only ’sad’ one I’m seeing here is you.” Quackity leaned forward, playing into the game, playing into the drama of the moment. “Have you even seen your son since he was born? He’s over there.”
“Yeah, and my child’s father is there, and I’m not really fancying talking to him either.” Sally gave Wilbur a disdainful look, shooting a glance around the rest of the table. “Seriously, is no one else finding this weird?”
No one spoke. Tommy grinned, eyes locked on Sally in a challenge. Fight him, fish girl. Quackity may be weird, but she was a fucking homewrecker, and he was not afraid to play that particular card.
“Of course not. Too scared of a tragic bird who has to kidnap gods just to be noticed.” Sally sat back in her chair, scowling, her words tinged with just enough bitterness to show she knew she’d lost. “Fine. I’m done. Continue, Quackity.”
“No, I’m not sure we’re done here, actually.” Quackity was still grinning, and Tommy inwardly groaned at his utter inability to let someone else have the last word. “Kidnapped, hm? I’d say they’re here pretty willingly. Your son certainly is.”
Sally didn’t reply, staring determinedly ahead. Her own fault for picking a fight, really. Tommy had seen Quackity do worse to people for less.
“And, I mean, Wilbur’s definitely happy to be here…” Quackity’s clawed fingers trailed through Wilbur’s hairband across his cheek. “Tommy?”
Oh. Quackity was actually talking to him. Tommy paused, mind racing at lightning pace as he tried to find the best answer. No, fuck it, he could be honest. Or would it be better to be diplomatic?
Maybe he could just be himself. That was all he normally had to be.
In that spirit, he chuckled, rolling his eyes dramatically.
“No, Big Q, you’re fuckin’ totally holding me against my will in this awesome casino, where I get absolute bank just for starting a few fights.”
Tommy made a derisive noise, really getting into the bit now, feeling scarlet flames start to lick across his temples as he tilted his head. Animalistic, but confident. Powerful. A perfect act. A perfectly crafted persona, entertaining and engaging.
“Yeah, no. I fucking love it here. If anyone fancies helping me escape, kindly take yourself and your pussy ass to the door.”
Mostly true and everything, if he was being honest. A little embellished, but that was just his style, and that had been a pretty decent bit, as they went. He was fine here. It was weird, and sometimes a little creepy, but he’d be uncomfortable anywhere, with who he was, so he might as well be valued for it.
Quackity patted his shoulder in a gesture only a little shy of the way he touched Wilbur, and Tommy dared anyone around the table to argue silently.
“There we go. Are we all happy with my sad little bird life?”
Much to Quackity’s amusement, there were nods all round the table, and Tommy got to bask in the nervous glances a few strangers shot him. Just to really drive the point home, he hissed playfully, propping his feet on the table to really make himself at home.
Inwardly, he sighed, keeping an eye on the people whose gaze lingered too long. He might as well make himself comfortable now. Q was probably going to want him all night. A whole night of laughing on cue, making other people laugh, and pretending to be someone he wasn’t so sure wasn’t him, these days.
It wasn’t the best, but it was probably the best he was ever going to get.