Archive of Our Own

"Okay, I want you to go in there, and I want you to tell them that they shouldn't have rivalries with other students," the teacher stated, stopping in front of the class's door. "Just. Okay I know talking to students isn't exactly your thing, but you're one of the most well known heroes with a rival." 

Wilbur, Pro Hero: Apollo, couldn't help but think that this lady had the completely wrong person to tell students that they shouldn't have rivals. But he was getting paid for this, so he smiled. 

"Read ya' loud and clear," he agreed, tail swishing behind him in vague excitement. 

Yeah, she had the wrong person to talk about this. But that didn't mean he couldn't be excited. I mean, c'mon, not every hero could claim that they taught something to the next generation of heroes. 

Course, apparently he was dealing with a problematic class. 

But, to be fair, he had to deal with Quackity in the shrike elytrian's teenager years. He'll be fine. These kids wouldn't know 'problematic' if it bit them in the ass. 

The teacher sighed, opening the door for him, and allowing him inside. She cleared her throat as she walked in behind him. 

"Alright class," she said, sounding like the life had been drained out of her just from walking through the door. "Today we have The Rising Hero: Apollo with us today to discuss the topic of rivals and rivalries. Please behave yourselves. I will be sitting out for this class, however, Apollo has been instructed to inform me if any of you start acting up. I'd rather not have to send any of you to detention again." 

She sent a pointed glare at certain students before smiling, "Now then, I'll let you take over. Do let me know if they start misbehaving." 

"Gotcha," Wilbur agreed, smiling as she left the room. Once she was gone, he stepped up to the podium and laughed. "Okay so she picked the entirely wrong person to teach a class about why you shouldn't have rivals. I am the last hero she should've asked for this."

That provoked a few snorts and snickers from the kids in the class, so he counted it as a win. 

The elytrian propped his arm up on the podium and leaned his head on it, "I'll level with you guys, rivalries are great. And they can actually be very beneficial to your hero career. Don't tell your teacher that, she'd probably kill me for saying this." 

"If I can ask," one kid piped up, an avian from the looks of it. "How exactly are rivalries beneficial?" 

"Well, that all depends on if it's a healthy rivalry or not," Wilbur hummed. 

"Healthy rivalry?" The kid prompted. 

"Well, there's a difference between being rivals and being a bully and their victim," the elytrian explained, sitting up straighter as he spoke. "A healthy rivalry is where both parties recognize each other as rivals and push each other to do better in order to one up the other. It's about constantly growing and pushing each other to be the best heroes you can be. If it's just one sided, it's not a rivalry. If it's just one person insulting the other over and over again and beating them down constantly, that's just a bully and a victim. There's a very keen difference between chasing a healthy rivalry, and just being a dick, basically." 

That earned a loud laugh from somewhere in the back of the classroom while the others started snickering. 

"Apollo, I have a question," one girl said, raising her hand. "You're well known for your rivalry with Pro Hero: Diamond. How long have you two been rivals?" 

Wilbur smiled, "Kid, I walked in this classroom on the first day of hero school, we made eye contact, and we hated each other immediately ." 

"Wait like, this classroom specifically?" A boy with a fire power asked. 

"This very classroom," the elytrian chuckled. "If I remember correctly, which I do, he was actually sitting at the desk you are right now. I walked in, he looked at me, and because we were both elytrians we just ended up hating each other purely on principle. Instead of it being a rivalry based on how different we are, it was a rivalry built on how similar we are. Me and Quackity are very different people, that much is obvious. But we had similar instincts, we had similar hobbies, and we both hated similar things. We ended up butting heads over some of the smallest issues. We would always try to one up one another during training. Hell, we even took jabs at each other's hero names when we picked them." 

The pro hero sighed fondly, "Good times. I remember one incident, specifically, where we were doing a training simulation where we had to race to find and save a 'civilian' in one of the school's mock cities while 'villains' were attacking. The class was divided into pairs. One pair would be two heroes, the rest of the class would be the villains attacking the city. Whoever found the 'civilian' first, would win. Me and Quackity got paired together, and let's just say, the rest of the class barely even got the chance to do much." 

He laughed a little at the memory. 

"We took off, insults and jabs being fired off every single time we crossed paths in the city. Because we could both fly it didn't take us long to find the 'civilian' at all. Our class barely even stood a chance. Every single time one of them would try to attack me, Quackity would drop kick them into next week before immediately turning around and insulting me for letting my guard down. I returned the favor at least five times over when someone tried to attack him and eventually I managed to find the 'civilian' before he did. Ha! I didn't let him live it down for the entire fucking month after that! Oh and when we were on the villain team for the other pairs? I feel sorry for our poor classmates. 'Bet I can stop more pairs than you', 'as if shrike bitch, bring it on', and we were off. Our poor teacher, I do not envy his position at all. The fact that he put up with our bull for as long as he did still surprises me."

"How was that at all healthy if you were just insulting each other constantly?" 

Wilbur hummed, tail swaying behind him calmly as he adjusted his wings, "Well... in the end, we both just agreed to the mutual hatred. Our instincts clashed constantly. We'd argue, and fight, and give our poor teacher enough headaches to last him a lifetime, but there was always this underlying... playful nature to what we did. I despised him back then, and I'm at least eighty percent sure he probably wanted to poison me like five times, but when it was all said and done neither of us were ever really hurt by what the other had said. I'd take cracks about his height, his aggressive nature, and things like that. He'd take cracks about my general social awkwardness back then, and how I'm a nerd. But we never took jabs at insecurities or trauma. We had boundaries and lines in the sand that neither would cross. Eventually we eased up around each other and sometimes we'd just talk casually." 

The pro hero shrugged. 

"Our rivalry never really decreased or lost its tension, but outside of hero stuff and the classroom, we were actually somewhat friends. Quackity is a right bastard, and I hate his guts sometimes, but I've never met a man who can keep up with me in the way he does. His tongue is as sharp as his wit, and the bitch was a great debate partner. During hero training and ranks in the classroom, we were at each other's throats. But we'd have lunch together, and we could still tolerate each other when working on group projects." 

"So," one kid started. "In the end... you never let your rivalry get in the way of knowing the other as a person?" 

"Our instincts despised the other's existence for a long time, but once that started to ease up and we got used to each other, our rivalry turned more friendly," Wilbur smiled. "We pushed each other to work harder and do better. We challenged each other. But we had each other's backs when we were in training simulations. If it was a competition, it was a competition. But I'd trust that man to protect me on the field any day. And I'd hope he'd trust me to have his back against some of the strongest villains out there." 

The elytrian chuckled, "Our rivalry followed us all the way into our hero careers. We didn't talk as much as we did in high school, but if we saw each other on the field the banter was just the same as it always had been. We'd take jabs at each other, we'd compete to see who could catch the most villains, and we'd constantly be trading spots in the rankings. Gods, I hated him for that shit half the time. Just when I thought I had my spot solidified in the rankings, there he was, the bastard. Always with that stupid smirk and sharp fucking taunt. It made gaining a higher spot all the sweeter. We'd constantly be moving up the ranks and competing with each other. But if we had to work together for a mission, then we worked together. And we did it well, too." 

"Our rivalry never got in the way of doing our jobs. It was never harmful to either of us. All we did was banter, and compete. We never actively hurt each other, we never jabbed at insecurities, and gods save any soul who thought it would be smart to try and bully one of us while the other was around. Gods I went fucking feral when someone called Quackity's power villainous in front of me. And mercy on whoever insulted the fact I can't use fire like other phoenix based hybrids when Quackity was in earshot. I swear, I was gone for one day , came back, and found out he had gotten in fucking detention for a week because he broke someone's nose over it." 

"Wait, what was his power again?" One kid asked, raising their hand. 

The pro shifted in his place, wondering if he should grab a chair, "He can induce hallucinations on whoever he uses his power on. I can mind control people using my voice. Our powers were called villainous pretty commonly in school, and because of our general aggression and territorial natures, lots of people thought we would never make it to becoming heroes. That, and because of my lack of fire and his predatory shrike nature, we weren't exactly... popular. But hey, look at me now!" 

He shook out his wings, ear feathers twitching slightly as he banished unpleasant memories from his mind.

"I'm the country's fifth top hero! So suck it green boy! I got a heck of a lot farther than you ever did! Fuckin' number twenty five homeless teletubby looking bitch!" 

His words caused some kids to brighten up, some to snicker and laugh while others just smiled happily. 

Then, someone cleared her throat at the back of the classroom. 

"Um... sir? Isn't... isn't Quackity a villain now?" 

Wilbur felt his wings droop slightly, the classroom going silent as his tail stopped its constant movement. 

He...he knew that someone was eventually going to bring that up. He tried to mentally prepare for it, but...

The elytrian felt his inner phoenix whistle a quiet, sad noise. The hero's enthusiasm dropped. 

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat at hearing his own shaky tone. "He is. As of last month, Quackity, Party Hero: Diamond, my rival, became a villain. He uh... he's no longer a hero. He goes by Dionysus now and has been attributed to uh..." 

He coughed slightly, "Multiple different accounts of arson and murder. His most recent move was actually a targeted attack against my father's hero agency. He... blew up the support beams and brought the entire agency down." 

There were a couple of horrified gasps from the room, some kids covering their mouths in shock. 

“Do you think that attack was in some way directed at you?” The kid with the fire power from earlier questioned. "Since it was your father's agency?" 

“I… I don’t-” 

More whispers were starting to travel between the rows, kids leaning over to their friends with hushed but terrified words.  

Wilbur felt himself start to go numb instinctively, his training taking over at the small panic in the room. 

"Rest assured, despite whatever personal relationship I used to have with him, I am doing everything in my power to bring him down," he said automatically, tail completely still behind him. "He was classified as a fallen hero directly after his first attack and trust that us heroes are doing everything in our power to bring him to justice. You have nothing to worry about." 

His words seemed to calm a few of the kids down, but not all of them. Some of which are still exchanging concerned glances. 

"Apollo, sir, if he's a villain now, are you going to find a new rival?" 

"What?!" The question snapped him out of the automatic lines instantly, his feathers fluffing up as his tail lashed in surprise. "No! No, absolutely not! Nobody could ever replace or replicate the thing that me and Quackity had! I haven't even entertained the idea of finding another rival. Nobody could do what Quackity did. Nobody could ever light a fire under my wings like that asshole could. What we had was special. You can't just replicate that kind of hatred-on-sight leading into years of rivalry and hesitant friendship. I'll bring him down, rest assured, but I will never find another rival." 

A girl leaned over to whisper to her friends while another boy raised his hand. 

"Yes?" Wilbur prompted. 

The starborne tilted his head at the hero, "Does that make him your nemesis now instead of your rival?" 

"I..." the elytrian pondered the question before simply shaking his head. "I don't know." 

The room was intensely quiet, causing orange and gold feathers to start puffing up in discomfort as his tail flicked back and forth anxiously. 

"Well then!" He clapped his taloned hands together. "If your teacher asks, I told you that rivals are definitely bad things. You shouldn't have rivalries with other students. You should be promoting teamwork and cooperation instead of competition. Yep, mhm. Rivals are bad, right kids? Right? Okay cool. Don't tell her I told you any of what I actually said. She'd probably have my head for it. Try not to give her the same amount of headaches me and Quackity gave our teacher, alright? Great. Now I have patrol. Class dismissed." 

And with that, in classic superhero fashion, he proceeded to walk over to one of the windows, open it, and leap out of it. He snapped his wings open and soared, throwing himself into his work before he could reminisce too much. 

He knew once he lost himself in his memories with the shrike elytrian, he wouldn't be able to come back out for at least an hour or two. So for now, he just avoided it. He tried to avoid thinking about it. 

He had a job to do. He had a rank to keep. 

Wilbur couldn't let himself remember those secret moments between him and his rival. He couldn't. 

Quackity was a villain now. He had to remember that.

And maybe that was for the best, in the end. Their rivalry had been healthy, but he wasn't a good person around the shrike elytrian. The other had always seemed to find a way to bring out the worst in him. Every single time they interacted the bastard had always managed to draw feral snarls and snapping fangs, or worse yet, the protective instincts of his phoenix half. 

He remembered crying faces, snapping bones, smirking, he had smirked as he-

Wilbur banished the memory, ignoring the proud huff of his inner bird. 

It wasn't good. His phoenix wasn't something he should listen to like that. 

Quackity brought out the worst in him. 

It was better for both of them if the other is a villain now, he thinks. And the phoenix elytrian tries to forget the definitely unhealthy amount of energy drinks that are currently sitting in his fridge at home.  

Wilbur returned home at sundown. Actually, it was beyond just sundown by that point. He had patrolled late into the evening, to a point where it was almost midnight when he landed on his apartment's small balcony. 

You'd expect the number five hero to have something more than just a small apartment, but he liked having the leisure of being harder to track. And being able to move his stuff quickly and efficiently. He was avoiding his goddamn family, he didn't want to make it easier for them to find him (seriously, why do they only fucking care now that he's the number five hero? Wrong'uns, all of em').  

He pushed open the doors to his balcony, entering the apartment and slipping off his boots with a sigh. He felt exhaustion pull at his wings, his tail dragging on the floor tiredly as he closed the balcony behind him. Strangely enough, the lights were out. Tilting his head, ear feathers lazily flicking in and out in curiosity, he walked over to the light switch in his apartment, which was by the main door in and out. 

Upon flicking it on, he noticed a grey feather by the door, senses immediately lighting up as he recognized a foreign scent in his apartment. 

"Hey Wilbur," Quackity greeted, the phoenix elytrian immediately whirling around with his tail lashing and feathers puffed out aggressively. "You're losing your edge. I half expected you to know I was here the second you stepped foot inside. You've always been territorial like that." 

The shrike elytrian was sitting in his chair at his desk, feet kicked up smugly on the desk itself. He had walked right fucking past him without even realizing it.

(He tried to block out the happy trill of his inner bird-)

The taller immediately tensed up, ready to call on his power at a moment's notice, even if he knew he probably wouldn't be able to keep the other under his control for very long. They had used their powers against each other so often in hero training that they'd built up small resistances to the mental powers. Quackity could very easily be snapped out of Wilbur's control and the shorter had to expend a lot of energy to send Wilbur into a spiral with his madness power. 

"Long day," the hero responded, unfolding his wings with a hiss. "What the fuck do you want Dionysus?" 

"Oh, do you like the name?" Quackity asked, tone smug as the villain stood from the chair. "It's the one you suggested in high school, remember? Such a shame that I didn't get to see your reaction to my villain debut. Were you surprised, spitfire? Were you angry? I know how you are, you get pissed off at every little thing I do, don't you? So I'm guessing you were angry." 

Wilbur felt his eyes narrow, a growl coming to his throat. 

He had been a bit of both, actually. Angry, surprised, but also vaguely hurt. Not that he'd ever admit that last one aloud. 

Dionysus had been his suggestion though, all those years back when they sat next to each other in class. They had been picking their hero names and Wilbur had peaked over to see that his rival hadn't written anything down yet. 

"You should go by Dionysus," he had suggested.

"What?" Quackity had asked, confused. "Why?"

"Dionysus was the Greek God of wine and parties, but he was also well known for driving people insane or inducing madness in people," Wilbur had explained. "It fits with your power. Since Dionysus was actually considered a madness god in some circles. You should look into it. The actual history is really fascinating."

The other elytrian had laughed with a teasing smirk, "You are such a nerd, oh my god, Wil. Who the hell uses 'fascinating' anymore?"

"You have no class, shrike bitch," he had huffed, smacking the shorter with his tail. "See if I ever give you suggestions again!"

"Well what's your hero name then?" Quackity had retorted, smacking him with his tail in retaliation.

"Apollo!" The phoenix elytrian had stated proudly. "The Rising Hero: Apollo! Apollo was the Greek God of the sun, music, healing, and a bunch of other things. So fuck you, no matter what you pick, my name is cooler!"

"Kinda pretentious to name yourself after a god, don't you think?" The shorter had prompted.

"It fits with me being a phoenix," Wilbur had huffed. "Why? What stupid name were you thinking of?"

"The Party Hero: Diamond," Quackity had shot back, wings and tail puffing up. "That way I sound approachable and cool! I'm going to be the best fucking hero, better than you ever will be." 

"You and your poker obsession," the taller had rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Also, you hate parties. Don't even start. If you want that for your title, seriously go with Dionysus." 

"What? Trying to give us matching names, phoenix bastard? Careful, it sounds like you actually like me or something." 

"Ha! You fucking wish! Go with Diamond or whatever, we'll see which name is more popular!" 

"Oh so now you decide to have fucking class," Wilbur rolled his eyes, his tail lashing. "Honestly, I still think Diamond is a stupid fucking name. My suggestion was so much better." 

Quackity chuckled, "You know something, Wilbur? I just so happen to agree with you now." 

"OH don't even start, bitch," the phoenix elytrian hissed, wings puffing up even further. "Why are you here, Dionysus?" 

"What? Am I not allowed to check on my favorite rival?" The villain questioned. 

"Not when you're a fucking villain now," the taller said, subtly trying to reach for the communicator on his belt to send out a distress signal. "And I was your only rival. Cut the bullshit and tell me why you're actually here. Why did you attack Phil's agency? Why were you just waiting in my fucking house for me?" 

The shrike elytrian smirked, "Well, before any of that, care to explain this?" 

The villain moved his leg under the desk, kicking a trashcan out from under it. Out of the trashcan spilled multiple different cans of energy drinks and various coffees. 

"I thought the joke was that I was the workaholic. What's this about?" 

His former rival's expression was something almost concerned before his gaze sharpened, "Also, I know you. You don't stay out on patrols like that. We both know you should've been home hours ago unless you were working on some high profile case."

"Why the fuck do you care!?" Wilbur felt his tail puff out angrily, lashing even faster now. "You know what? Fuck this. I shouldn't even be bothering, should I?" 

He grabbed the communicator on his belt only to feel Quackity's power snap into place, throwing him off balance as the dizzying madness took hold. His vision blurred at the edges as the music of flutes echoed in the back of his mind, the villain's wings seeming to get bigger as his tail swayed like a writhing snake.

He knew it was just illusions, hallucinations. Fear was a huge part of his former rival's power. Fear fueled it. Made the hallucinations stronger and more life-like. The more potent the fear, the more and more you'd swear they were real. 

He steadied his breathing, keeping his eyes focused on the shorter instead of the fuzzy hallucinations dancing on the edges of his blurry vision. He ignored the creeping feeling of something crawling up his leg, ignored the sensation that something was wrapping around his tail. 

The phoenix elytrian focused on the other's eyes, breathing in and out deeply. 

"You know it takes a lot more than that to rattle me, Dionysus," Wilbur hissed, his power summoning itself to the surface. He opened his mouth, eyes beginning to glow as his control melody hummed in his chest. 

But before he could release it, the illusion seemed to...shift. 

Quackity's form almost...glitched for a second as the villain outfit he was wearing changed. And...

Suddenly he was looking at his rival again. Stupid black domino mask and all.  

(His bird was overjoyed now, twittering and flapping its wings at the familiar image-)

Pro Hero: Diamond, complete with the grey tail coat with red diamonds decorating the edges of the coat. Wilbur had counted them before. There were exactly nine diamonds, the one in the center being larger than the other eight. It was that same stupid grin, that same shit eating smile that promised some kind of challenge every single time they spoke. 

Wilbur had always called him stupid for the tail coat and overly formal armored suit. The bastard always looked like he could walk into a formal ass party in his hero costume. All he'd have to do was trade out the combat boots and belt full of knives and he'd be ready to go at a moment's notice. 

The phoenix elytrian's costume in contrast has always been more based on practicality. Quackity opted for 'stylish and approachable', Pro Hero: Apollo was very different in comparison. For one, he never bothered with a stupid fucking mask. Wearing goggles to protect his eyes and having a metal respirator around his neck on the off chance he ran into a villain with a poison based power or some kind of gas leak (it also had a built in voice changer so he could better disguise when he was using his power).

He wore an armored brown trench coat, warmer neutral color that paired nicely with the orange and gold of his feather colors. He also had a maroon scarf that he hid his respirator in for the sake of keeping himself warm while flying. Since he didn't have the regular fire that most phoenix have, he couldn't naturally stay as warm as they did. Hence the trench coat and scarf. 

His outfit was entirely based on practicality. He was still decently presentable, even if his trench coat had taken a beating over the years and was a bit tattered around the edges. Since Quackity had made fun of him for the beta design, he also included a reinforced poet's shirt so he looked a bit more put together. 

See? He wasn't a complete mess. Fuck you shrike bitch. 

Wilbur shook his head, blinking in confusion at the image of his rival in front of him. His wings ruffled uncomfortably as he tried to block out the bird. 

(His phoenix wanted, beak snapping with greedy red eyes-)

"What the hell-" 

"I've learned to better control my power since you last saw me," Quackity cut in, smirking as his form glitched back to the villain attire. "Got something of a power boost. I can actually manipulate what people see now if I so want." 

The tail coat kept glitching between black and grey, that suit constantly shifting to a simple button up before shifting back into the same damn suit he was familiar with. That domino mask would be there, and then it was gone, nothing taking up the space it used to reside in besides a new scar over one of the shrike elytrian's eyes. A discoloration in that eye.  

Was the pattern on the tail coat diamonds or vines? He-

He couldn't fucking tell. 

The phoenix elytrian dropped his communicator in shock, starting to back up slightly as he felt the power creep further into his head. He could feel the vines around his legs now, creeping up his tail and weighing it down as the sound of flutes rang in his ears. He hissed in aggression, his inner bird snapping its beak with a hissing click as it flared its wings open. 

(It wanted the shrike elytrian, but it never appreciated the intrusive mental power.)

He made himself stop, regaining a foothold on his breathing as he shook his tail and wings out. He focused on breathing. On calming his now racing heart. 

Quackity wasn't his rival anymore. It wasn't Diamond, it was Dionysus now. He needed to remember that. He shook his head, snapping out of the hallucinations with a growl. 

"Alright, I've had enough of your games," the hero stated, banishing all the memories and personal feelings he had tied to this as he snapped into his training instinct. 

He called on his power again, opening his mouth to sing his control melody when something else stopped him. 

This time, not a power, but a soft, reassuring chirp. 

Wilbur coughed in surprise, his power fading from his grasp again as his phoenix suddenly perked up at the noise. His tail stilled as his wings fluffed up. 

His former rival chuckled at him, tail swishing almost playfully as he flapped his wings a few times lazily. 

"No," the phoenix elytrian hissed, eyes narrowing. "Don't you fucking dare. Don't you dare even start. You are not doing this. I'm not letting you do this shit. We are NOT having the interview incident all over again!" 

The villain just smirked, starting to walk closer. More playfully affectionate chirps fell from the shrike elytrian's lips, each one causing the taller's breath to hitch as the hero started trying to back up again. 

"You've been pushing yourself awfully hard lately," Quackity cooed, a soft little concerned noise causing his inner phoenix to whistle almost apologetically. "Ever since I became a villain, you haven't appeared for as many interviews as you used to. And when you do, you always look so tired. I mean, just look at you right now. Even with your goggles on I can see the eye bags, Wil. When was the last time you slept?" 

Wilbur just snarled in return, trying to shove his instincts down, "Why the hell do you fucking care!? What does it matter to you!? You fucking left me, asshole! You can't just waltz into my fucking house and expect me to still play along with this bullshit! And I'm the number five hero, bitch! I have important things to fucking do! Like, oh I don't know, stopping villains!? Which speaking of, I should probably be arresting you right about now!" 

He opened his mouth to call on his song again only for another string of chirps to startle him. This time, accompanied by a low whistle that made his phoenix's wings flutter. He felt his own wings copy the movement, a trill rising in his throat as he slapped a hand over his mouth with a harsh glare thrown at the villain. He kept backing up, eventually having to dodge around the shrike elytrian in order to keep distance between them.  

"Wilbur, you look like you're about to drop. And drinking that much coffee cannot be good for you," his former rival hissed. "And I care because believe it or not, I'm still the same fucking person. I'm still Quackity, Wilbur. Being a villain doesn't change that. Also, left you? Spitfire, don't tell me you actually missed me." 

The teasing jab struck true, the phoenix elytrian glancing away before attempting to dart for the balcony. The shorter shot in front of him, propelling himself with his wings as he cut off the hero's escape, hissing a warning as he advanced quicker. 

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Quackity rumbled, something akin to a purr as he smirked viciously. "I'm not letting you leave without a fight. Also, why are you holding your hand like that, hm? Trying to hold something back?" 

Wilbur didn't know what to do, the constant chirps, twitters, and gods forbid, the whistles were getting to him. Just like that day before his interview. When they had been arguing over something stupid when Quackity chirped at him as a taunt. 

He had chirped back. 

And it turned into something of a competition until-

The hero yelped when he felt his legs hit his bed, flaring his wings out when the shrike elytrian lunged and pushed him down. He was seated on the bed now, hissing behind his hand as the shorter loomed over him. 

Bastard had the audacity to smile at him. 

"Did you miss me, spitfire?" 

"What the fuck do you want, Dionysus?" He growled back, moving his hand to support himself on the bed. His words earned a frown from his former rival. 

"You know my name, phoenix bastard," the villain hissed. "Use it." 

"Fucking make me, bitch," the taller taunted. 

Quackity huffed, amused, "Amor, we both know that I can make you. Or do I need to remind you of the last time I managed to get you alone? I had you essentially singing for me then, with all those cute little chirps and whistles of yours." 

Wilbur felt a shudder run through his wings, gritting his teeth. 

Fuck this smug bastard. Fuck that damn memory. 

And fuck that gods forsaken nickname.

The villain leaned closer, rumbling lowly with a soft chirp. The phoenix elytrian had no fucking intentions of giving the other what he wanted, moving his hand back over his mouth with a pointed glare.

"Wilbur, we both know you can't fight it," the shrike elytrian purred, reaching up and pushing the hero's goggles up and off of his head.

It only earned him a glare, the taller not backing down. 

"Fine, you can be stubborn," Quackity shrugged, tail swaying behind him. 

He shifted closer, snagging the other's scarf and respirator and tossing them aside. Wilbur moved his hand, hissing at him. 

"What the fuck do you think you're-" 

The hero cut himself off when the villain wrapped his wings around the taller, tail coming to rest on top of his own as the shorter rested his head on the phoenix elytrian's shoulder. He didn't dare look, feeling his breath hitch when Quackity nudged his face into the crook of his neck, breathing deeply. 

"I missed you," the villain hummed. 

He chirped in surprise when he felt arms hook around his waist. 

The shrike elytrian chirped at him again. 

This time he couldn't stop a responding trill, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. But by then, it was too late. 

Quackity lifted his head from Wilbur's shoulder, snatching his wrist and pulling it away from his lips with a smirk. 

Another chirp, followed by a deep purr. 

The shrike elytrian earned himself a responding purr and hesitant whistle. 

Before the hero could even retaliate, the shorter leaned closer and pressed their lips together. 

His inner phoenix purred as he kissed back immediately, unable to stop himself from tucking his wings over the villain and pulling him closer. Carefully, he wrapped his tail around Quackity's, completely overwhelmed with how much he missed this. 

Missed his rival. Missed everything about him. 

Eventually, the villain pulled back. 

And Wilbur...

The phoenix elytrian just couldn't take it anymore, wings starting to shake. 

"You can't keep doing this. You-Qua... no. No, no, this needs to stop. I can't keep doing this," the hero couldn't stop his voice from breaking, trying to calm his breathing. "It isn't the fucking same as it used to be. This isn't just making out before one of us goes on for an interview anymore! You-you can't just fucking come in here and keep doing this to me! I can't! You fucking left me! You were the only thing that fucking kept me sane as a hero, and you fucking left! You were the only thing I looked forward to when I put this damn costume on every morning! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! I hate you! How fucking dare you!" 

He couldn't help a low, distressed whine. Trying to reign back in his emotions before they ran too far with him. He tried to fight it, tried to keep it together. 

"You can't keep trying to court me, damnit!" 

Quackity didn't say anything, just listened. He felt the shrike elytrian tighten his grip around the hero's waist, a hand coming up to cup his face. 

The villain's gaze was intense, "And who says I can't? Who's going to stop me? You? I've been trying to court you for years, you stubborn bastard. You know that, you enjoy it. You enjoy every single kiss, and I know you do. And I know damn well you kept all of my gifts. So, again, who says I can't? Just because I'm a villain, doesn't mean I'm going to stop my advances. If anything, it only makes me more determined. I'm a villain, spitfire. I'm not going to back down." 

The phoenix elytrian gripped onto the blankets of his bed tightly, gloves preventing his talons from digging in. 

"What do you want? Just... why are you here? What the fuck do you want from me, damnit?" 

His voice was breaking, tearing up as he tried to reign himself back in. Unable to tilt his head away thanks to the taloned hand on his face. 

"How many times do I have to say it before it fucking sinks in, Wilbur? I want you." 

And Wilbur felt his breath hitch again. His wings trembled, but the rest of him froze. 

"You can't just fucking say that to me," the phoenix elytrian hissed, voice still shaky. "You-gods I hate you. I fucking hate you. Stop it. Stop fucking doing this. Qua-...I can't. I can't keep doing this." 

"I want you," the shrike elytrian restated, bringing his other hand up to cup the hero's face. "I want your spite, and I want your vengeance. I want those beautiful wings and every little sound you make. I want every smug smirk and I want your annoying as fuck to fight power. I want the good and the bad. I want your hatred and your love, your lips and your touch. I want every insult, every spiteful jab, every little petty action. I want you. I want your everything you glorious bastard." 

Quackity smirked, grip turning possessive, "I blew up your father's hero agency just for you. Because they mistreated you. They never gave you the attention you deserved. Don't think I didn't notice. You latch onto anyone who gives you affection because you never got enough of it as a child. You can't do anything to retaliate against him, but I can. I can take out his agencies, I can attack him, I can fucking ruin him. All for you, spitfire. Maybe I should finish what I started with Dream too, while I'm at it. Breaking the bastard's nose was never good enough for me. Maybe I should run him through with the Hero Commission's tower spike!" 

The hero closed his eyes as the shorter leaned closer, trying to suppress a distressed whimper. 

"I'll say it as many times as I need to. I want you. I want your everything. And amor?" The hands cupping his face slid to lightly scratch at his ear feathers, immediately causing the taller to purr. "I'm a shrike. I get what I want." 

"I hate you," Wilbur managed to grit out, fighting to get his words out through the intensifying purrs. "I hate you so fucking much, and I hate that I love you."

"Hate me all you want, spitfire," the villain chuckled, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Curse my name until you're out of breath. But I'm still going to want you. And I'm still going to court you. And I won't stop until you're mine. I won't stop until you let me claim you, let me have you." 

The image of a claiming bite on his neck caused the phoenix elytrian to blush, wings shuddering as his tail remained curled with his former rival's. 

The feeling of being wanted was like a drug, flooding the hero's senses as his phoenix preened under the affection. 

Quietly, he trilled. Unable to stop himself. Unable to form a coherent response.

He felt the other's wings tense up around him before there was a deep rumbling purr. 

"Can you say my name, amor? Just this once? I missed hearing you say it. I missed you a lot." 

Wilbur broke, leaning forward to wrap his arms and wings tightly around the other. 

Because he missed the shrike bitch. He missed his rival and everything they had. He missed witty banter, sharp smirks, and even those damn kisses they'd sneak whenever they were alone. 

"Quackity," he muttered, voice shattered as he shoved his face into the other's shoulder to take in that ever familiar scent now tinged with gunpowder and fire. "Quackity, Quackity, Quackity." 

The phoenix elytrian felt a hand rest in his hair, a praising rumble echoing through his senses. 

"There's my spitfire," Quackity chuckled, holding him tightly. 

The possessive hold caused his inner bird to whistle happily, the feeling of someone wanting him causing his instincts to immediately cling to the shorter. Just like they did that first interview. Just like that first kiss that sent him tumbling down this rabbit hole.

When he lifted his head from the other's shoulder, the shrike elytrian leaned forward to capture his lips again. Throwing the hero right back to that secret moment in time the two of them had shared backstage. 

Quackity twittered an insult under his breath, causing the taller hero to immediately shoot back with a mocking chirp. The other elytrian bristled and started chirping back at him. They had progressively started to move closer to each other with each and every taunting chirp and mocking whistle. 

Suddenly, Wilbur felt himself getting shoved against one of the crates they had stored backstage. He stumbled with a startled squawk, back hitting the wall as he swiftly adjusted his tail, now sat on the crate. He growled, about to stand back up when suddenly there were lips on his.

For a second, the phoenix elytrian was completely stunned before he felt a taloned hand much like his own scratch at the feathers behind his ears. He started purring involuntarily, tilting his head and starting to kiss back. He felt fangs nip at his lip, his rival earning a playful growl in response as he lashed his tail around the other's waist. He pulled away to cackle when the other stumbled due to the sudden action, but his laughter cut out when the shrike elytrian landed right there on top of him.

Wilbur felt a blush rise to his face when Quackity made eye contact with him. The situation coming into sharp focus.

"Did you just... kiss me?" The taller asked, confusion rising in his tone.

"Did you actually kiss me back?" His rival shot with a teasing smirk.

The phoenix elytrian scoffed, turning his head away, "I-I was surprised! Don't make it weird shrike bitch!"

"Mhm," the shorter hummed, leaning closer and causing a small startled chirp to fall from the brown-haired hero's lips. "Oh, that was a cute one."

Wilbur turned his head back around just to snarl at the other, "Shut u-!"

His words were muffled when Quackity leaned all the way forward, talons finding their way to the phoenix elytrian's shoulders as he pressed his lips back into the taller's.

He felt himself start to melt slightly, the shorter's tail finding its way to curl around Wilbur's in a surprisingly affectionate gesture. His rival nipped at him again, earning a purr that surprised even him when he heard it. He almost recoiled if it wasn't for the grip on one of his shoulders suddenly sliding up to the back of his head. Talons tangled in his hair as he was pulled closer.

The phoenix elytrian started nipping back, his arms curling around his rival's waist and talons coming to rest on the other's back. When they disconnected for air Wilbur couldn't stop a sudden string of chirping whistles, his instincts losing it over the situation. He brought a hand up to his mouth quickly, trying to quiet himself before someone heard and decided to investigate.

Quackity just looked distinctly amused, "Well that's nice. I always did think that you talked too much."

"Bastard," the taller grumbled, slowly starting to reign his instincts back in.

Surprisingly he was...okay with this. In fact...

He thinks he might just be craving more. 

"Tell me something, Wil," his rival hummed, eyeing the red scarf around the taller's neck. "Are you trying to hide a claiming bite under there?" 

The phoenix elytrian felt his wings ruffle at the implication, "What!? No! I don't have time for things like that with how quickly we keep moving in the ran-"

"Good, that's all I needed to know," the shorter rumbled, leaning forward and nipping at the other hero's neck. 

Wilbur felt his wings fluff up immediately at the sensation of fangs against his neck, pulse jumping as he began to trill. His instincts were chanting in the back of his mind, a low thrum of his inner bird's desires.

Quackity chuckled, pulling the scarf away before he continued to attack the taller's neck. He was struggling to suppress more trills and whistles when he felt a harder nip that made his heart thud loudly. 

"Quackity-" he muttered out, digging his talons into the other's back in warning. 

"Fucking relax you paranoid fuck," his rival muttered, hot breath against his skin causing the phoenix elytrian to shudder. "I won't claim you unless you want me to, dumbass. Though if you want to cling to me like that I won't stop you." 

He felt another hard nip, the other expertly moving around the respirator still around the taller hero's neck. The shrike elytrian didn't let up, seeming determined to draw more trills out of his rival. 

The shorter was infuriatingly successful. 

Slowly, Quackity pulled back, gaze traveling over Wilbur's neck with a satisfied purr. The phoenix elytrian could feel the slight sting, not even having to look at the damage to know that his skin had been painted with bruises and marks. 

"Y'know, you look good like this," the shrike elytrian snickered, the teasing challenge in his eyes causing the taller to snarl. 

"You little fucking shit-" 

He was cut off by another kiss. Softer this time than the earlier two. Almost...affectionate. 

If it was possible, Wilbur melted into the soft kiss a lot faster than the others. This seemed to surprise his rival, who reached up and started gently running talons through the other's hair. 

The phoenix elytrian began to purr again, pulling back to lean into the touch with a hum. 

Quackity's eyes softened a bit, "...You talk too much." 

"So you've said," Wilbur muttered, fighting to keep his eyes open and trying to ignore the fondness that bled into his rival's tone. 

"Apollo!" Someone called from the stage entrance, causing both elytrians to pull away from each other in surprise. "We need you on stage in five!" 

"C-coming!" He called out in return, blush rising to his face when he heard the door click shut. 

Ignoring the smug look on the other's face, he quickly snatched his scarf back from the shrike elytrian and retied it around his neck. 

"I swear if the damage is visible even with the scarf on-" 

"Yeah, yeah," Quackity hummed, rolling his eyes with a carefree expression. 

Feeling a bit self conscious, the taller also tucked the collar of his trench coat up slightly. Just in case there was a mark visible above the scarf. 

"We're talking about this later," he growled. 

"Whatever you say, Wilbur," his rival chuckled. "Because stuff definitely needs to be said about this." 

"Sarcastic little-" he cut himself off this time, sighting deeply. "No, I'm serious. I feel... wrong just... leaving after that so-" 

The taller didn't know what else to say, vaguely gesturing with his hand as a blush roared on his face. He took off, trying to calm his instincts and the blush on his face. 

He had been wearing those marks for weeks after that. 

They never did get around to talking about it, but Quackity's intentions had become a lot clearer when the next time they had crossed paths Wilbur left with a new earring for his small hoard. Gift giving was a universal sign of courting for elytrians and avians alike. That, on top of the stolen kisses, and how many times the hero had walked away with his neck being mauled led to the general conclusion that his rival had been aiming to court him. 

And Wilbur wasn't sure how to feel about it now with his rival being a villain, lips pressed against his own in the same manner they had always done. 

Every single touch, every single head tilt and soft nip Wilbur could feel the other's desire. How Quackity wanted him. 

And it was doing things to his head, to his instincts. 

The shrike elytrian had learned well over the years exactly what touches and tugs got the hero melting. The taller was completely helpless to it, to the feeling of someone wanting him. His instincts were chanting again, just like they always did when something like this happened. A steady rhythm of 'mine' that he tried desperately to ignore. 

It was wrong, and he knew it was wrong. 

It was wrong to kiss back, wrong to hold the villain in the same way he used to. It was so extremely wrong to let this keep going on, to not shove Quackity away or fight back or do anything really except for giving into it. 

But...it felt right. 

It satisfied his inner phoenix, it felt good. Everything the shorter did felt good. It always had. In his mind in that moment, he wasn't kissing a fallen hero, he was kissing Quackity. A man he's known since high school. 

A man he had been considering to accept the advances of. 

They've been rivals for years, and the shrike elytrian had been trying to court him for maybe four years at this point. 

He had...he hadn't expected to see the other again. Let alone for the villain still being interested in pursuing him in this way. 

Wilbur felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders as the other pulled back before planting a soft, affectionate kiss to his forehead. The exhaustion caught up to him, causing him to lean into the other elytrian with a soft sigh, letting the hands on his face hold him up as he avoided eye contact. 

"... I'm tired..." He admitted, voice quiet. "I just... I tried to not think about it. I thought that if I just... if I kept working I wouldn't think about it. I missed you, and I hated that I missed you. I don't... heroes become villains sometimes. I know that. But I... I don't understand how the people close to those fallen heroes just... move on so quickly. I couldn't. They'll go on interviews and they'll denounce their old friends and they don't seem to miss them at all... I just couldn't do that. So I worked. I worked as hard as I could to not think about it. To avoid interviews because I knew they were going to ask about you. They always do, fucking media vultures." 

He grew silent before taking a deep breath, "I don't get it... I go on autopilot with the whole 'you have nothing to worry about because I'll take him down' spiel whenever someone does manage to ask but I-we knew each other for ten fucking years! I still get pissed off when someone calls your power villainous!" 

Wilbur trailed off after that, knowing what he wanted to say, but not sure if he could bring himself to say it. 

"... I... I had hoped that if I worked hard enough I would drop and not have to think about it anymore. Not have to think of how I... how I was going to... I... Oh for fucks sake, and here I was, top of the debate club, and I can't even figure out how the hell I should word this or if I should even say it in the first place."

Quackity chuckled, gaze affectionate in that way that made the hero's heart melt. 

"Oh fucking-FINE. I was planning on accepting your courting and then you fucking went villain on me!" The phoenix elytrian blurted, squeezing his eyes shut as he heard the other's breath hitch. 

"I-Wilbur you-you were-" the villain cut himself off multiple times, a sudden, loud purr echoing from his chest. "You... you were?" 

And the taller could help but chuckle, "Ha... look at us. The two most influential and best wordsmiths in the debate club, and both of us are struggling on what to say here. So stupid." 

He found solace that he at least made the other snicker a bit with that phrase. 

"I mean... that's fair. But you did just drop an entire bomb on my head, spitfire," Quackity hummed. 

"Dumbass, I've been pining since high school," Wilbur huffed, laughing quietly at the startled chirp that earned from his former rival. "You... Once I stopped and looked past all the petty hatred and self imposed rivalry I... Quackity you were always so passionate. Ambitious. Once you had a goal in mind, you chased it relentlessly and with a stubborn drive to succeed. I... always found that admirable. Even back then I... was drawn to it, I suppose one could say. It reminded me of fire, you reminded me of fire in all the ways that it burns and consumes at a breakneck pace. And, as is common knowledge, phoenix adore things that remind them of fire. The bird fucking wanted you back then and I had to smack it with a newspaper whenever you were going on a tangent." 

There was a blush on the other's face now, the villain seemingly at a loss for words. 

"And... I know that now you're probably thinking, 'well why didn't you do something about it? You aren't the type to hesitate.' And you'd be right, I'm not. But we were always so busy in hero training that I never had time to really... consider it. Especially in those first few months where we were constantly at each other's throats. As we got closer, I wanted. The bird seemed to just get louder and louder every single day but I just couldn't act on my desires because we had so much going on at the time. And then we actually became heroes! The bird started getting really quiet once we became heroes and started seeing each other less. I never had the time to properly try and court you but then here you fucking come, deciding to just court me out of left field and I was... I was confused..."

He winced at the admission, quickly looking away from the shrike elytrian, "I was... just really confused because I didn't think that... well... I really liked you but I didn't think that-" 

"That someone would like you, right?" Quackity finished for him with a slightly pointed glare. "You didn't think that someone would like you enough to try and court you, let alone be serious about it. You thought I was joking at first, didn't you?" 

Wilbur couldn't say anything, words dying on his tongue when he tried. 

"... We're both just dumbasses, aren't we?" The shrike elytrian sighed. "My shrike has been interested since the first combat scenario we had. You remember that? Where we were all paired up against others in the class to test what everyone's skill level was at?" 

"You were particularly vicious that day," the taller recalled. "I remember you completely floored your opponent before anyone else had even landed so much as a hit." 

"You finished off your opponent exactly two seconds behind me," Quackity said. 

The hero blinked, doing a slight double take, "You... you fucking counted?" 

"Yes I counted, I literally fucking hated you and wanted to know what I was going up against. Phoenix are known for their speed and their powers, but despite me still having finished first, you-you completely fucking destroyed your opponent. Nobody else even came close to our times, even when we switched partners and started sparring again," the villain ranted. "And you just kept consistently closing the gap the more and more you sparred. Two seconds turned to one and a half, one and a half turned to just a solid one. By the time we were done for the day, we were downing opponents at the same time. And you barely even looked tired! God, I wanted to try my hand at fighting you! I wanted to see what exactly you could do! My shrike went completely insane over it. Every damn time it looked at you all I would hear was just 'strong hunter' and, pardon me for borrowing your phrase from earlier, I'd have to smack it with a fucking newspaper!" 

And...

The irony. 

The sheer fucking irony of the situation. 

Wilbur laughed, quietly seeing how he was so low on energy. He slowly leaned back and just laid on his bed with an exasperated chuckle. 

"If only we had been bolder in high school, huh? Maybe we could've... heh. But I don't think I'd trade that rivalry for the world. You always did push me to do better. I don't think I would have gotten as far as I did if you hadn't been there to keep challenging me. Oh the things we could've accomplished in high school if we had been working together. Can you imagine us as a hero duo? Rankings wouldn't know what fuckin' hit em." 

The hero sighed, staring at the ceiling in contemplation, "I think I would've liked that... being your partner, I mean. That would've been nice I think." 

"... You know, amor, we could still be something," Quackity said, leaning over and entering his field of vision once again. 

The villain's hands came to rest on either side of the taller's head, "We can still have something. Nobody would ever have to know." 

"Darling, I don't think it would work. I don't think it was ever meant to be," Wilbur replied, smiling sadly. "In the end, the best thing you can do for me is let me move on. You're a villain, Quackity. This isn't going to work." 

His former rival sighed, something frustrated in his eyes. 

"If there was one thing I always hated about you, Wilbur, it was that you always gave up too easily," Quackity growled. "I've seen you fight fang and talon for something so long as you see a chance of it being successful, but the minute it looks like all hope is lost you jump ship. You were always so quick to drop projects when you lost motivation for them." 

"I don't fight with impossible odds," the phoenix elytrian huffed, removing his tail from the villain's only for that grey and black feathered tail to lash back out and curl around his again, refusing to let him go. "I can't accept the courting now. No matter how much I want to, no matter how much my inner bird wants you, I can't. And I won't. If I let you claim me, if I let you mark me right now, I know how I am. I would want to wear that bite like a goddamn badge of honor. And I can't do that, Q. I can't. I don't want to fight you, so don't fucking make me. Just... just leave. Let me go. Don't keep doing this to me." 

"Here I was thinking you knew me better," something dark had come to the shorter's tone. "I've always had problems letting go. And you said it yourself, once I set my mind on something I pursue it relentlessly." 

He saw in the corner of his eyes how the other's talons dug into the blankets under them. When he looked back up, he saw sharp and dangerous possessiveness in his former rival's eyes. The grey feathers behind Quackity's ears puff up with a low growl. 

"I'm not letting you go. I will never let you go. I'll say it again, Wilbur, nobody has to know what happens here tonight," a talon lifted from the bed to trace the crook of the hero's neck, right above the collar bone. "I can bite right there, spitfire. It'll be covered by your coat, scarf, and respirator. Nobody would be any wiser as you stand as Apollo. But if you go out as a civilian, as Wilbur, then you can still wear the bite proudly. Only we'll know, after all." 

The villain leaned closer, smirking widely as Wilbur shuddered. 

"I want you, Wil. So let me claim you. Let me show you that I'm serious." 

"And what if we have to fight, huh?" The phoenix elytrian snarled. "What are you going to do then? We both know that our instincts aren't going to let us hurt each other. It'll be suspicious." 

"We just don't fight then," the other shrugged. "We avoid each other during daylight hours. A few days a week, when night falls, I can come here. It can work, amor. You just have to take the gamble with me." 

"This isn't-this is impossible. It won't work." 

"Wilbur, your fangs are already sharpening. I can see it. You want to claim me as much as I want to claim you." 

"... Shut up." 

"Nobody has to know, spitfire." 

Wilbur hesitated, his morals arguing with the overwhelming chirps and whistles of his instincts. 

It was wrong. It would end in disaster. Part of him knew that, acknowledged it. And yet the rest of him just couldn't accept that. 

He wanted. His bird wanted. It chirped, twittered, and snapped its beak with a possessive anger. Because it had been wanting for years. He had been wanting for years. 

The phoenix elytrian had always tried to fight his instincts. 

In the end, he found his inner phoenix impossible to fight against. Every single time. 

"... Nobody... nobody has to know," he muttered back, ignoring the smug expression on his former rival's face. "I... fine. Fine, fine. I'll take your stupid gamble. I... I want to be wanted... just... don't rush in-"

"Shh... I know, amor," Quackity voice was gentle, eyes softening immediately upon being accepted. "I'll take my time." 

"I'm going to fucking hate myself in the morning," the hero grumbled, tilting his head to the side for the other elytrian. 

"No you won't," the shorter purred reassuringly, starting to nuzzle at the phoenix elytrian's neck. "I'll make sure of it. 

Claiming is something very important to elytrians and avians. A long standing ritual of marking a partner for life. It should not, by any means, be rushed. It was a process of looking for the perfect place to leave your mark, a spot that could be hidden easily enough if your partner needed to hide it, but obvious enough to keep other elytrians and/or avians away from your partner. A spot that was easy enough to sink fangs into so it wouldn't be harder on your partner than needed, but a spot that was sensitive and got them chirping for you. 

It was a process of nudging and kissing until you found the right spot, typically being informed that it's a good place by a chirp or whistle from your partner. After biting and leaving the mark, it was important to help clean and bandage the mark afterwards. The process of care afterwards was just as important as the mark itself. And the entire thing would be repeated by your partner for you once you were done. 

It was all extremely intimate for avians and elytrians. It had to be a slow process to make sure you didn't accidentally nick an artery or hurt your partner badly. 

And Wilbur never expected to experience it with anyone before. Least of all Quackity. 

The shrike elytrian had always been the type to put passion in everything he does. It's one of the many things that drew the hero to him in the first place. But it had never been more shockingly clear in his mind than that moment. 

Every small nudge and soft kiss was accompanied by a purr or reassuring chirp. Every move the shorter made was proceeded by a touch of some kind to help him relax. Slow and purposeful, small details that left the phoenix elytrian reeling. Passion in everything he did, love and desire clear with each flirty growl and comforting purr. 

Part of him knew that he never should've agreed to it. Knew that now that his former rival had the ability to, he was not going to give Wilbur the chance to ever regret it. Because that was just the type of person Quackity was. 

He came at things with everything he had. He always gave a hundred and ten percent effort in his tasks. 

It was a quality that made him an excellent hero and a worthy rival. But that constant effort paired with the shorter's stubborn nature is also what made the man such a workaholic. 

Wilbur had teased his rival relentlessly for it in the past and would commonly force him to take breaks. After all, he couldn't be the phoenix elytrian's rival if he dropped, now could he? 

The memories and soft affection went straight to his head, bringing purrs as his inner bird whistled in approval. 

The devil was in the details, as they say. 

Wilbur always appreciated fine details. He's surprised the other seemed to remember that. 

Eventually, Quackity found a good spot that brought an instinctive chirp from the hero. 

"Right there's good?" The villain hummed, turning to lightly nudge the phoenix elytrian. 

"Feels right," the taller agreed, words barely audible over the growing purrs. 

"Good," the shrike elytrian smiled, pressing another quick kiss to the spot and earning a small trill. "You aren't going to try and back out on me, are you?" 

"You aren't exactly giving me room to regret it," Wilbur mumbled, feeling his pupils grow wider as his instincts came to the forefront of his mind. "Bird is happy." 

That seemed to be all the confirmation that Quackity needed. 

The next thing the phoenix elytrian knew, there were fangs digging into his neck. And before the pain could even register, his phoenix let out a loud, high pitched whistle. His bird half immediately drowned out the pain with satisfaction and an overwhelming sense of joy. 

He was claimed, marked, wanted.

Partner, partner, partner! His instincts chirped and trilled, chanting in the back of his mind like a broken record.

Once the shrike elytrian was satisfied with the bite, he swiftly grabbed a med kit and got to work on patching up the hero's neck. 

Wouldn't be the first time they've had to help each other with wounds and the like. Wilbur always kept medical supplies on hand and Quackity had a nasty habit of consistently getting himself hurt. Though sometimes the phoenix elytrian got nicked pretty badly in combat. 

Once his neck was bandaged up, it was his turn. 

And he knew exactly how to get his former rival. Able to feel the way his fangs sharpened in anticipation. 

He carefully wrapped his arms around the shorter's waist, nuzzling the villain's neck with a soft purr.

He was able to feel the way his instincts started to take over, could feel the monster rise with possessive red eyes. It wanted to mark, claim, take what was rightfully his. What should’ve been his years ago.  

He would take what he wanted. 

"You remember that time I broke a guy's hand at school because he called your power villainous?" He pressed a soft kiss right on the border of where he knew the shrike elytrian would want the bite, relishing in the way the other shuddered. "How I only ever did it once?" 

"Y... yeah?" Quackity hummed, shuddering at a small nip from the hero's fangs. 

"That was actually the fifth time," Wilbur chuckled, feeling his phoenix's approval. "And I did it two more times afterward without getting caught. My bird has always been like that. I went for their dominant hands every single time so they'd be suffering until they got healed. I wanted them to remember it. Remember what I'm capable of. Remember what happens when they call my rival villainous." 

He planted kiss after kiss around the spot, knowing exactly where it was. Because he knew the villain like the back of his own hand. He had known the shrike bitch since he was fifteen. And he made certain that the shorter knew that he was aware of where the spot was, nudging occasionally with a smirk on his lips.

"I don't consider myself a good person when my phoenix is dictating my actions. In fact, I barely even consider myself a good person to begin with. I can't blame everything on the bird, now can I?" The phoenix elytrian questioned. "After all, I'm the one who gave in to what it wanted. I'm the one who broke their hands and sung them into silence. I'm a phoenix, darling, I'm a protective bastard who probably has no right being a hero for how often I contemplated mauling your bullies. But you were never bothered by it, were you? You never called me out for going too far when I would destroy them in training. You never called me out for hovering around you during breaks or refusing to let anyone else sit with us at lunch. You saw my protectiveness, you saw the borderline possessive nature of my actions, but you never felt the desire to call me out on my bullshit, did you?" 

Wilbur felt his grip tighten slightly, "I hate you. I hate you for downright encouraging it. I hate you for doing the exact same things I did. I hate you for the way you make me feel. I hate you for coming here tonight and making me think about all this bullshit all over again. I fucking love you and I hate that I love you. I hate it so damn much. I hate how well you know me, and I hate how much I know you." 

He planted a kiss directly on the spot that he knew would get Quackity chirping. Earning a trill from the shrike elytrian. It was so achingly obvious, a spot that couldn't easily be hidden by the villain's clothes or even a scarf for that matter. Because the villain was just like him in that regard. Was just like him in that desire to show off a claiming mark.   

"You do not make me a good person. You make my phoenix act up in all its stupid possessive and greedy glory. You know, we always got accused of being villainous more often when we were around each other. I don't think I make you a good person either. But I know for certain that I'm not a good person around you. I never have been, and I doubt I ever will be. Our rivalry was healthy in the ways we never went too far with each other, how we pushed each other to be better heroes. But this isn't our healthy rivalry. This is twisted, this is wrong, and I know that. But I want it. And I hate you for it. I hate that I want it, hate that I want you. I hate that I adore the way that you want me." 

He pulled away briefly to glare his former rival right in the eyes, a smirking snarl on his lips. 

"You said you wanted my hatred? My everything? Fine then. Have it your way shrike bitch. Have every twisted thing that I am. Have everything that I hate about myself. Have every negative trait that drove people away from me. Have my hatred, have my love, have my goddamn obsession. Gods only know that you're the only one who's ever wanted me and everything that comes with it." 

Wilbur snapped forward, sinking his fangs right into the shrike elytrian's neck. 

He knew Quackity. 

He knew exactly the way his villain would want him to bite. All fangs and passion. 

The phoenix elytrian bit down until he tasted blood, listening to the high pitched trilling from his partner that told him he was spot on with what the other wanted. He latched on, talons and fangs both. And he wasn't going to let go. 

You want the feral side of me? You want the part of me that's all desire? You want the part of me that's a monster? Fine. Fine! Have it! 

His fangs dug in harder, actions fueled by anger and that twisted desire that curled in his gut every single time he saw Quackity. 

"Holy shit Wil," the shorter laughed softly, voice strained with slight pain. 

He felt a hand rest on the back of his head, almost holding him there, "You knew exactly what I wanted, huh?" 

Wilbur glared out of the corner of his eyes, growling softly as he remained latched to the other's neck. He knew his eyes were burning red by this point, knew exactly what it looked like when he went too far. 

He didn't have the fire of a phoenix, but every other trait was there. Including burning red eyes that happened when instincts ruled your actions. 

Slowly, he removed his fangs from Quackity's neck. He felt hot blood stain the corners of his mouth, knew that currently his fangs were painted red. 

He reached for the med kit, about to start treating the bite when hands came to cup his face. The villain held his gaze with a smirk. 

"Fuck you look good with blood on you. Just-shit-let me process that. Holy fuck. More of this, please." 

His phoenix preened under the attention, but he still eyed the other's bleeding neck with concern. Slowly coming back to himself now that his instincts were satisfied (for now, he knew they wouldn’t stay that way for long, they always wanted more). 

Though the chants of 'mine' were as loud as ever. Maybe even louder. 

He rumbled a soft purr, nudging the shrike elytrian's hands as he turned back to the med kit. Grabbing it, he started to treat the bleeding wound. Whenever Quackity winced at the sharp disinfectant, he nudged the shorter with a reassuring chirp or purr. The exact same thing the villain had done for him when the bite on his neck was being treated. 

The adrenaline from the moment was fading, bringing his sore neck into the sharp focus. And that was with the shrike elytrian being gentle with him. He couldn't imagine what the other was dealing with currently. 

Once Quackity's neck had been bandaged up, Wilbur felt dread prod at the edges of his mind. 

Because he was a hero, and he was borderline obsessed with a villain. He had always been obsessed, granted, but it was just so much worse with the other being a villain now. All of that twisted curling possessiveness was so vivid in his mind now. 

He was able to remember the tears and pleas from the bullies whose hands he had broken. 

He didn't feel remorse for what he had done, and that was what scared him. 

"I'm not a good person," he muttered, mostly under his breath. As if restating that fact would make it easier for him to accept. 

"You aren't, and I love it," the villain laughed, tail and wings wrapping tightly around the phoenix elytrian. "But I'm not either. So you're fine." 

"You don't make me a good person," the taller sighed, slumping in defeat and surrendering to his partner's hold. "That side of me is a fucking monster. I hate it. I hate you." 

"Hate me all you want amor. But you're mine now, and you claimed me back. I bet your instincts are satisfied right now." 

They were never satisfied, always wanting more like a consuming inferno. But they were content for now, and he fucking hated it. 

He felt his earlier exhausted pull at him again, felt the way his wings went slack as he struggled to keep holding himself up. 

He hated the way his villain lowered him into his bed and tucked a blanket over him. Hated how he could feel the other elytrian right next to him the entire time. 

Wilbur hated how he was able to sleep easy when a goddamn terrorist was right within talon reach. 

Hated how Quackity woke him up a few hours later to let him know that he was leaving before the sun came up so no one would see him. He fucking hated how considerate the bastard was being. 

And, again, hated how much he loved the shrike elytrian. 

And he despised watching the other leave. 

Wilbur wasn't having a good day. 

Then again, he never liked days when he had to move apartments because his goddamn family tried shit. Can't they see that he doesn't want anything to do with them or their stupid hero agency!? The fact that he kept letting them chase him out of his home was infuriating, but what else could he do? 

He couldn't face Phil. Couldn't face Tommy either. He had barely existed to them when he was younger, why the fuck do they care so much now? 

Oh whoopty fucking doo, he was a successful fucking hero who was above them in the fucking ranks. Good for him. Take your fake apologies, your fake love, and shove it right up your fucking ass Craft family. 

He changed his name when he became a hero, the least they can do is respect his wishes to never see them again. 

And then there was Quackity. 

Fucking Quackity. 

A goddamn nuisance, a fucking villain, a right bastard who was probably murdering someone in the city right now. 

And...they were partners. 

They had been partners for a month now. 

It was a confusing mess of hatred and his stupid twisted love for the shrike elytrian. It was something dark, fueled by some corrupt desire for each other. It was downright obsession and curling possessiveness that wasn't healthy for the hero's already fragile mental state. 

The villain made good on his words, visiting once or twice every week when he was able.

Wilbur was never sure how to feel about those nights. Every single time there was a part of him who loved it, waited for the shorter every night. But he always wound up hating himself when the sun rose. Those nights were always filled with passion and burning hatred. His eyes always turned red as Quackity never failed to bring out the worst in him. They would tease, they would argue, and yet somehow he always ended up on that damn bed with the other's wings around him. 

The scar on his neck burned in reminder of those stolen nights. Nights where he could sleep easier. Nights where the pressure seemed to be eased off. 

He could get it all out. The villain always drew out his darkest frustrations and desires. 

Quackity would whisper poison in his ears on those nights. Curled up in each other's wings with tails wrapped around each other. A sweet kind of poison that fed his itch for attention. His desire for love, for someone to want him. The shrike elytrian would whisper promises and temptations, talons seizing his own in a possessive grip. 

The villain wanted him. Wanted Wilbur to fall with him. Wanted his mind, his kiss, his powers, and every negative trait that he hated himself for. Quackity wanted his darkness, his obsession, his absolute everything.

And the phoenix elytrian just couldn't understand how. 

Wilbur was perched at the edge of a roof, overlooking the rest of the city as he crouched there with his wings tucked around him. 

It was nighttime, his new apartment not quite feeling like home yet. It felt empty, then again, all of his apartments did. It was one of those nights where he was a horrifying mix of exhaustion and restlessness. He was too tired to try and do hero work, but too restless to try and sleep. So he perched, and he waited. Staring at the blinding city lights as if they held all the answers. 

Sometimes he wished he could just...fly away. Explore the world and forget who he was entirely. He wanted to chase the sun as it set and fly under the stars that he couldn't see in the city. 

Maybe he should've been an actual bird instead of an elytrian. He doesn't think birds have to constantly question if their instincts were bad or good, birds didn't have to question the morality of being together with a villain as a hero. Birds didn't have to fucking deal with stupid family drama. 

Well. Most of the time. Some birds had really bad family drama. But that's beside the point. 

He wanted to scream. Scream into the sky until his throat was raw and all he could do was lay there and pass out. Scream all of his frustrations into the inky black of night until all that was left of him was the perfect hero image he had crafted for himself. After all, the sky wouldn't judge him. Not like it could tell anyone either. 

Maybe he should just fly until his restlessness settled. Loop around the city a few times until he dropped and slept on one of the buildings. 

Wouldn't be the first time, the pigeons in the city all knew him personally. 

Wilbur had been so lost in thought that he didn't realize that the sound of wing beats was steadily getting closer, a certain villain landing behind him. 

"Hey, spitfire." 

He didn't jolt. He couldn't even say he was surprised. 

The phoenix elytrian sighed in reluctant defeat, "There goes my peaceful night of wallowing in my hatred of everything. To what do I owe the pleasure, Dionysus?" 

"Do I seriously need to break you down into saying my name every single damn time I visit you?" The other huffed. "Or are you finally going to get it through your skull that you're never going to get rid of me? We're partners, Wilbur. You can't change that." 

The scar on his neck burned in reminder under his scarf, a matching fang mark clearly displayed on Quackity's neck. The villain never hid the claim, not that the taller expected him to. 

He knew his partner, after all. Knew that the shrike elytrian was very proud of the claiming bite marred on his skin. 

"I really can't decide if you have the best or worst timing in the world," Wilbur hummed, ignoring the shorter's statement. "By the way, I'm moving out of my apartment. Figured I should let you know." 

Quackity smirked, "I appreciate you letting me know, but I was already aware." 

"Stalker," the hero accused half-heartedly, rolling his eyes. "When you were still a hero, dearest former rival, did you ever feel like you had the energy to fly around the city five times but also feel like you're going to drop any second? Because that's my current predicament. That, and I'm arguing with myself on if I'm a bad person or not. Hey, is it wrong of me to not want to talk to the family that neglected me for twenty something years even if they're apologizing profusely for it? Am I the asshole here?" 

"They're still trying to get in contact?" The shrike elytrian questioned, shifting to sit behind the taller and start absently preening the other's orange and gold wings. 

"They never stopped," the phoenix elytrian sighed deeply. "They got even more persistent when you went villain too. They keep citing that they're worried about me, how, as the number five hero, I need an agency. Hell, they even tried the whole, 'oh well Dionysus already targeted us once, he's probably going to go for you next'. Even though the logic behind that is stupid." 

"Well, they were right about me going for you next," the villain chuckled. "Just not in the way that they thought I would."

"It's not like anyone really thought we had anything outside of our rivalry... except for those crack theories online. Did you ever read those? I'm pretty sure I sent you a couple," Wilbur felt an involuntary smile pull at his lips. 

"Oh yeah!" Quackity laughed. "So scandalous. They thought we were making out backstage before interviews, can you believe it?"

The taller began to laugh quietly, shoulders relaxing at the careful talons running through his wings and straightening his feathers. 

The banter was familiar, something they had always done, even as heroes. Especially as heroes in fact. It was easy to fall back into that dynamic. 

"But in all seriousness, Wil, no. You are not the asshole in that situation. Phil needs to respect your goddamn choices in life," the shorter stated, huffing in quiet frustration. "He gave up his parental rights when he ignored you for all those years. You aren't a bad person for not wanting to let them back into your life." 

Quackity had always made for a good distraction when he was upset. That was why he always looked forward to seeing the other when they were heroes. It was why his main motivation in the morning to put on his hero costume was getting to see his rival. Was getting to hear a jab about how he needed to find a more stylish trench coat. His favorite part of being a hero was getting to banter with the shrike elytrian. 

And now, here they were.

Somethings just never change, do they?

"Yeah but it feels wrong to cut Tommy out too," Wilbur admitted. "And that's what keeps getting to me. He wasn't exactly the... best growing up. But he's trying now. I feel like I should... give him a chance at the very least but..." 

"Wasn't that the brat who called you weak because you couldn't fight as well as your twin could at the time?" Quackity asked, frowning. "He was a kid, sure. And being raised in that kind of household doesn't help, but your family isn't exactly healthy, Wil. Your father is neglectful when you aren't perfect, your twin has an entire list of fucking issues and went villain ages ago, and that Tommy kid is as entitled as they come. You cut them out of your life for a reason. You aren't in the wrong here." 

"Kinda hypocritical to say when we aren't exactly healthy either, innit?" The phoenix elytrian prompted. 

The shorter smirked, "I'm different. I think you're at your best when you're at your worst. I don't want you to be perfect, because you're just fine the way that you are. And I know for a damn fact that you aren't weak, you could put my ass on the fucking ground if you wanted to. Your negative is just as fun as your positive. I want you, Wilbur. And nothing you say will ever change that." 

"This is all so fucking twisted," the hero grumbled. "You nearly killed my goddamn family when you took down Phil's agency. I shouldn't fucking love you." 

"But you do," the shrike elytrian purred. "And the bite on my neck is proof of that. You want me as much as I want you. You're just as possessive as I am, just as fucking obsessed with me as I am with you. I adore that side of you, spitfire. And I'll keep drawing it out until it stays." 

The villain's hands moved from the taller's wings to around his shoulders. Pulling Wilbur into a slight hug, talons digging possessively into whatever they could reach as that grey and black tail wrapped around his waist. He was pulled away from the edge of the building, pulled into possessive wings and greedy talons that he knew could draw out that monstrous part of him.

"I hate myself every single time you fucking leave," the taller hissed. "That part of me is a monster, Quackity. Just... stop." 

"Never," his villain chuckled in reply, nuzzling his shoulder with that poisonous affection. 

The night air was biting against whatever exposed skin the hero had, causing him to slump further into the shorter's hold. Quackity couldn't retain much heat either, but he was warm enough. 

The phoenix elytrian curses whatever genetics he had that prevented him from summoning a phoenix's signature fire. He ran hot, sure, but not nearly as warm as other phoenix. Elytrian or avian.  

He got really cold on nights like this. He'd stay out for as long as he could, but he was eventually forced back to his empty apartments. To his blankets and pillows. 

He supposes the villain could probably keep him warm enough to stay out longer.

"You're tense, amor," Quackity hummed, the arms around his shoulders tightening. 

"Maybe that's because I have a mass murderer clinging to my back," Wilbur hissed, voice cold like tonight's air. 

The shrike elytrian huffed, a taloned hand coming up to tilt his face back in order to force eye contact, "A mass murderer who's also your partner mind you. Do I need to make you relax?" 

"You can't make me do shit," the taller growled, reaching up and grasping the other's wrist as he moved his head away. "I don't... why can't you just let me be? Why can't you just abandon me and forget me like everyone else does? Why can't you just-why?" 

"Because I fucking love you asshole. And I want you because I love you," the villain growled back, the tail around his waist shifting to pull him closer. 

Slowly the shorter managed to turn the phoenix elytrian around, holding his wrists in an almost bruising grip, "I'm not going to leave you. You're unhappy as a fucking hero, anyone with eyes can fucking see that. I'm not going to let you be. I'm not going to let you go through shit alone. There's a bite on your neck that means you're mine, and there's a bite on my neck that means I'm yours. Why can't you accept that, Wilbur? What's stopping you? What's stopping you from falling with me?" 

"Fear," the hero snapped back, snarling with his fangs bared as his tail lashed aggressively. "The absolute crippling fear of the monster that I damn well know that I am. Fear of the part of me that enjoyed watching them scream for mercy when I broke their hands. Fear of the part of me that dug fangs into your neck so damn brutally. Fear of the part of me you keep fucking dragging out. Because that thing is a fucking monster. Do you know why it's so damn hard to even be allowed in the hero program as a phoenix?! It's because of how volatile we are, it's because of our vengeful and violent nature. It's because every damn phoenix-hybrid has to fucking fight every day to not lose control of their fire." 

"I'm afraid of what I'd do. Afraid of what I'd become. Because I'm a fucking monster, Quackity. That part of me is a monster. I can't fall with you because the second I stop fearing it is the second I lose what little thread of sanity I'm still hanging on with. I was born a phoenix and that's why my father distanced himself. That's why I'm solitary. Because of what I am. Because I'm protective, because I'm greedy, because once I see something as mine I'm willing to burn the entire damn city to the ground to protect it." 

He lunged forward, freeing his hands to support himself as he came nose to nose with Quackity. 

"I'm fucking afraid. Terrified. I'm tense, paranoid, fearful every single day because of what I am. I've been living like that for years. You can't tame fucking fire, Quackity. We burn, we consume, we take and take and take until there's nothing left to fuel us. So read the goddamn warnings on the wall and back down." 

He spoke his last sentence slowly, emphasizing every word with care. 

Quackity huffed, shifting to cup the phoenix elytrian's face with his hands, talons gently scratching his ear feathers. His partner's gaze was intense as ever, a deep rooted inner flame that had his bird purring at the sight of it. 

"It sounds like you're underestimating me. Do you not trust in my abilities, spitfire?" The villain hummed, grey ear feathers twitching in amusement. "I'm not backing down. I'm not afraid of what you are, and neither should you. What you are is beautiful in all your vengeful glory. What you are is breathtaking in every cruel smirk. No matter what you say, I couldn't back out now even if I wanted to. Claiming bites, remember?" 

The smug tone the shrike elytrian took brought another snarl to the surface, "You're fucking insane." 

"Love makes a man do crazy things, doesn't it amor?" His former rival chuckled. "How about you show me that monster you're so afraid of, hm? All of it. I want your everything after all." 

"No," Wilbur hissed, trying to pull away. "Absolutely not. Let go of me. You're fucking insane-"

"I'm a villain. I don't know what you were expecting," Quackity smirked, pulling him closer with his wings and tail before pressing his lips onto the taller's. 

The phoenix elytrian couldn't help himself, feathers ruffling in a pleased manner as he immediately melted into the affection. Because it was his drug, an immediate way to pacify him. He couldn't help himself with those wings around him, with those talons lightly scratching at the feathers behind his ears. 

It filled his head with fuzz, his instincts pleased by the contact with his partner. Especially as the shrike elytrian deepened the kiss, pulling him ever closer. 

This was how Quackity broke down his walls every single time. This had been his tactic even as heroes. And the worst part was that it always fucking worked. 

The villain's will was just unshakable like that, when he wanted something, he found a way to get it. The shrike elytrian just kept pushing, and pushing, breaking the kiss only for a few seconds before diving right back in again. 

It was making Wilbur's head spin as his talons searched for somewhere to rest. Anywhere at all as he felt his world spinning. 

At first he was too stunned to kiss back, surrendering to his partner's touch. Once his talons found purchase on the other's shoulders, however, he started pulling. 

Quackity pushed and he started to pull the other closer, because his instincts wanted. Wanted his partner closer, wanted the shrike elytrian in his talons and wings. He started to kiss back with something almost akin to desperation. Desire conveyed with every tug of his talons as his grip tightened. 

He felt his tail lash around the villain, a wing tugging him closer. 

For a second he swore he tasted fire, suddenly feeling a lot warmer than the night air around them. 

But before he could pull too much, he snapped out of it. He pulled himself away with a stuttered breath.  

Too close. He warned himself, jerking his talons away from the other's shoulders with a grimace. 

He felt his face flush pink, could feel the way his eyes had begun to turn red. There was a matching pink across his partner's face, but before he could pull his talons away completely Quackity caught them in a strong grip. 

There was that inner fire again in the villain's gaze. Desire alight in his eyes like a burning inferno that made it hard to catch his breath. He felt like he was pinned to the spot under that intense stare, orange wings fluttering in slight nerves before he could stop them. 

The hero yelped slightly when the shrike elytrian yanked him closer again, refusing to let the taller back out. 

"More," his partner hissed, voice taking a lower octave that sent a shudder down the phoenix elytrian's spine. "Quit trying to fucking back out of it. Show me your passion, show me your desire. If you want me to be fucking scared of what you are, then you need to show me what I need to be scared of." 

Quackity pushed closer, grip tightening on Wilbur's wrist as his other hand reached out to hold the taller's face, "Or are you more afraid that I'm going to like what you show me?" 

They were barely inches apart now, practically sharing a breath despite the current struggle for the phoenix elytrian to breathe. He couldn't tear his gaze away, completely entranced by the mismatched colors in front of him. 

His phoenix was screeching in his mind, the chirping twitters and loud whistles making his head pound as he tried to hold it back. His talons twitched in the shrike elytrian's grip, a small hiss slipping past his lips as he tried to fight it. 

But he just couldn't look away. He couldn't move his wing from around the villain, he couldn't remove his tail from the other's waist.

The hero wanted to pull the other closer. Just a bit closer. Taste that fire again and let Quackity's inferno consume him.

He could feel it now, that old competitive spark. That thing that always drew out the feral half of him. The need to prove the shorter wrong, the desire to completely decimate the challenge set for him. They've always been like that. Always pushing each other until one of them snapped. 

Just this once. A part of him whispered. Just indulge this one time. Prove him wrong. Show him exactly why he should be scared. Give it everything you've got and end this. It's always driven others away before, why would he be any different? It'll silence the instincts, pacify them for now. 

The idea of the shrike elytrian leaving was painful. 

But it would be better for both of them, wouldn't it? There's no way the shorter could keep loving him if he just...saw.

"Are you afraid of driving me away?" Quackity hissed. "Because no matter what you do, you won't be able to." 

"It drives everyone away," Wilbur growls back, still sharing the other's breath. "You'd be no different." 

"That sounds like a fucking challenge," the villain snarled. "Because I'm not backing out of this." 

"You don't even know what it's like. You don't even know what you're asking me to give in to," the phoenix elytrian snapped. "What you want is a dangerous fucking creature. The embodiment of fire itself. I'll fucking burn. It'll be nothing but fangs and fire. I'm not some sweet thing that'll be satisfied by soft kisses and cuddles. It wants a challenge. It wants an equal. It'll leave burns and scars and expects every last one of them to be returned. It wants a fight, it wants to be put in its place. And if you can't do that it'll fucking consume you. It'll sink its talons in and never let go, it'll leave marks you'll never be rid of. It ruins people, it's ruined me. Because that's the type of monster I am." 

"If you're trying to scare me off, it's not working," his former rival smirked. 

"Oh my fucking gods, you're impossible!" 

The hero snatched the shorter's coat and yanked him closer, immediately pulling the shrike elytrian onto him and slipping his wings and arms around the other in one smooth motion. 

Damn bastard always knew what buttons to push. 

He dug talons into the other's back, tail and wings tightening to a nearly suffocating degree, and only when his hold was impossible to escape from did he lean back in and start kissing his partner. 

His mind was a mess of chanting instincts and curling want. He chased the adrenaline, chased the fire, pushing and pulling in equal measure. Quackity pushed closer, unbothered by the tight grip. He pushed until Wilbur felt his back hit the roof they were sitting on, the kiss not being disconnected for even a second until he felt his lungs begin to burn. 

Slowly, the phoenix elytrian let go. Feeling his instincts take complete hold of him. 

He surrendered himself to the fire. Closed his eyes and breathed in the ashes.

Let's see how Quackity likes him after this.

Wilbur didn't know where he was when he woke up. He could recognize that he was in a nest, much larger than the one in his apartment. He wasn't able to hear any of the usual city ambiance he was used to, but part of him really couldn't be bothered by the strangeness of it. 

His entire body ached, which was his most pressing concern. But at the moment it was all more of a low burn than anything. 

Looking around in the nest, he realized that there were some gleaming gemstones within the blankets and pillows that were currently surrounding him. It all made his instincts purr. 

They were suspiciously satisfied, purring in pure bliss. 

He purred along with them, reaching out slightly to run talons over some of the gems he could reach that caught his eye. He liked the rubies, the red glow appealing to the side of him that liked fire. 

It was all early morning haze and fuzzy instincts, his inner bird being more than pleased. Though, the more awake he became the more pain he realized he was in. 

Nothing he couldn't handle, he was a hero, he'd nearly had his arm chopped off before. In comparison this was nothing. And even so, the sting might've even dulled his mind a bit more. He curses his slight masochistic tendencies. Quackity always made fun of him for-

Quackity.

And just like that, he snapped out of the instinctive haze. 

Wilbur sat up, hissing in slight pain as he looked around the room. It was still nighttime, he registered. His internal clock informed him as much as did an actual clock sitting on the wall. This was definitely not his apartment, the bed he was in too big and only one entrance to the room. He always stayed in apartments that had balconies for obvious reasons. And his beds were never this big, same with his nests. And he didn't have gemstones like the ones he saw hidden among the blankets. The only things he had that were even close to that were the gifts Quackity had left for him. 

He shifted to get up and look around when his instincts screeched at him. 

The phoenix elytrian froze up, tail stilling as his ear feathers twitched. His instincts had started throwing a hissy fit the second he shifted to try and get up, the feral half of him recoiling intensely at the idea of leaving the nest. 

Stay, stay, stay, nest, flock, safe, safe, flock. 

Flock? He thought at his bird, confused. 

Shaking his head, he attempted to block out his instincts. Whatever this was, he needed to find out where the hell he is and how the fuck to leave. The last thing he remembers was the rooftop and...Quackity. 

Fucking Quackity. Of course. 

Did he get kidnapped or something? Did the shrike bitch take him while he was instinctive? 

...Judging from how sore he feels, it's barely a question as to what happened. But considering that the shrike elytrian isn't anywhere to be seen, he can only assume that the gambit had worked and the villain had given up on him. 

He'd probably find a note somewhere in the room for him explaining where the hell he was and how to leave. Probably with some snarky comment about how he needs to get his ass out of the other elytrian's room as fast as possible. Quackity was always one to prefer to do things face to face, but the hero gets it. Nobody really wants to look at him after seeing his phoenix in all it's monstrous glory.

Look at the kids whose hands he had broken in high school. They had legitimately dropped out after those incidents just to avoid seeing him ever again. Any bully who was brave enough to stick around would flinch whenever they were around him. Would do anything to avoid being in training with him. 

And that was only the surface level of his instinct's cruelty. He couldn't imagine the lengths Quackity was probably going through to avoid him right now. Hell, the fact that he woke up in the villain's nest instead of in the street or on that damn rooftop was really fucking nice. 

At least his former rival was a good sport about it and didn't kick him to the curb while he was out. Probably because they've been friends for so long, he imagines. 

He needs to find his hero costume, he's realizing. Looking at himself and the red house robe he was wearing right now. He has no idea where his things are, so he hopes that whatever note Quackity left for him would have the answers on that. 

His mind flew to the claiming bite on his neck, curious on how exactly the shrike elytrian was going to try and take it back. Would he just avoid Wilbur forever? Cover it up with makeup and pretend it doesn't exist? 

There's probably some healing power out there that can erase scars with a touch. Maybe that's where the other elytrian is right now. Getting the mark removed. 

His heart twisted painfully at the idea, but that's just how the dominos fall he supposes. It was always going to end in disaster. Rather sooner than later he guesses. At least now he can hopefully move on (he knows deep down he's probably going to lock himself in his apartment for weeks after this, he's going to curse that damn shrike's name for decades for making him love him so damn much). 

Wilbur felt tears prick at his eyes, but grit his teeth. He doesn't know why he's crying now, he knew this was going to happen. That's why he let it happen in the first fucking place. He needed to drive the damn villain away before they both crash and burn with this. 

Moving to step out of the nest, his instincts, again, start throwing an immediate fit. The hero sighs deeply, fighting through and shifting forward to the edge of the bed to hop down. 

Suddenly a sharp growl cut through the quiet room, a deep, rumbling sound that had the phoenix elytrian's inner bird twittering out apology after apology. Instinctively he immediately shuffled back into the nest, instincts pulling him back like a snapping rubber band.

Once he was back in the nest, the growling stopped. Snapping him from the instinctive reaction. 

"What the hell," he hissed, whipping his head around to search for the source of the growl. His tail lashed in irritation, feathers puffing up as he searched. 

The scent of cigarette smoke hit his nose, drawing his attention to a dark corner of the room that he hadn't noticed before. 

Quackity was sitting there, cigarette lazily hanging in his fingers as he kept a sharp gaze on the phoenix elytrian. He was wearing a loose-fitting white button up, the first two buttons being undone and showing a few bruises and fang marks that were along the villain's shoulders. He was sitting at a desk, a paper clutched in his other hand. 

"I was wondering how long you were going to sleep," the shorter commented, raising an eyebrow at him. "Where do you think you're going?" 

"I... didn't expect you to still be here," Wilbur admitted, quickly tilting his head away and wiping the tears from his eyes hopefully before the other elytrian noticed. 

"It's my room and my nest. I don't see why I wouldn't be here," Quackity huffed in slight amusement. "Now again, where do you think you're going?"

The hero wasn't sure why the question felt like a pointed jab. Felt like some kind of vague threat. 

Slowly, he shrugged, "Figured I'd better not overstay whatever welcome I had before. Kinda figured I'd find some note telling me to get my ass out of here and where the exit is. So uh... did you just want to tell me to fuck off in person? I guess that fits... you're not the type to hide behind notes or distant messages. You would be the type to do it face to face. I can respect that. Just uh... try not to be too harsh, I guess? I mean, I've heard it all before but it's going to hurt a lot more coming from well... you... Just... can you not call me a demon? That one always stung a lot more than the other insults I've heard..." 

The phoenix elytrian risked a glance at the villain, finding that ever sharp gaze staring right at him. 

The shorter took a long, deep breath, something vaguely frustrated coming to his eyes, "And what, exactly, do you think I'm going to say to you? What do you mean by 'telling you to fuck off' in person?" 

"Well..." Wilbur wasn't sure why he felt like he was treading on ice now, anxiously picking at his talons as he tucked his wings around himself. "I mean... aren't you here to like... tell me we aren't... I... I mean you've seen it now. Clearly it hurt you, I can see the bruises and bites from over here. I um... s-sorry about that. It uh... it's possessive. That's not an excuse, I know, but just... yeah. I just... you're being awfully nice for someone who probably doesn't want to even look at me right now. And, it's not like I blame you, really. The fact you're even here right now is surprising. But... y'know. I'm a monster, so... Like what do you want me to say? I'm expecting you to kick me to the curb and never talk to me again. Can you just get it over with instead of beating around the bush?" 

The other elytrian was silent, processing. That frustration in his gaze turned to something stormy, the villain putting the paper he was holding down and stabbing the cigarette rather violently into an ashtray that was sitting on the desk. 

"Defeatist motherfucker," Quackity swore, standing up and striding over to the nest with an angrily lashing tail. "What all do you remember? Use your fucking head you stubborn bastard." 

"I-" the phoenix elytrian's words got caught in his throat, trying to summon what all he could from his fuzzy instinctive haze. 

"Well?" Quackity snapped, seating himself on the edge of the bed with a pointed look, ear feathers fanning out slightly. 

"I... remember the rooftop," the taller started, unsure of why his instincts started twittering like they did. "I... vaguely remember getting brought here... I think. Everything is fuzzy after... it took hold." 

The villain sighed deeply, "I can't say I'm surprised. Suppressing your instincts like you do and then letting them have complete control like that sunk you really deep down in them. I'd be surprised if you remember any of what happened at all naturally. Though, maybe this will jog your memory." 

The shrike elytrian turned to fully face him and snarled, something deep and commanding that went straight to his bird half. His inner phoenix twittered, and Wilbur felt his body move without his permission. 

He shifted closer to the shorter, immediately at the other's side and nearly tripping over his own wings to get there. 

"What the fuck," he muttered, eyes wide. 

Quackity hummed, reaching up to carefully cup his face with a taloned hand and a smirk. 

"You underestimated me, amor. Monsters know monsters, and you didn't think to consider that maybe I'm a monster too," the shrike elytrian purred, tucking a wing around him and pulling him closer. "Have you bothered to take a look at yourself yet? Because I guarantee that every mark you can find on me is reflected right back onto you." 

"You... I..." The hero was at a complete loss for words, processing. "You-but-that's-how? That's... that shouldn't be possible. It can't be satisfied, it always wants more, how did-"

"Wilbur," his name felt like poison when it came from the other's tongue, a shudder running to the tips of his wings. "You aren't getting rid of me. You keep calling yourself a monster, you keep fearing the lurking want and desires of your instincts. You keep fearing the part of yourself that you keep locking away. But maybe you should've been more attentive to me, and what I'm capable of. Maybe you should've been more wary of the monster sitting in front of you." 

"You-" the phoenix elytrian cut himself off, lowering his head slightly. "You aren't a monster... you never have been." 

"Then neither are you," his former rival hissed at him. "Because I'm exactly the same as you are. We're a twisted mirror image of each other. I'm possessive, I'm greedy, and I want to keep you all to myself. I want to keep you in this nest and never let you out of my sight. I want to decorate you in all the gems of my hoard and call you mine for eternity. And I've never wanted you more than I do right now, after seeing exactly what you are. Because you're exactly like me. You're greedy like I am, you crave the same things I do. I always knew that you did. Your instincts are satisfied, spitfire. And do you want to know why?" 

The villain pushed, pinning the taller back down into the nest and bringing an involuntary chirp to his lips.

"Because we complete each other, Wilbur," his partner chuckled. "I'll admit, you made me work for it. Your phoenix is a hard thing to please. But you're breathtaking when you start taking what you want. I've always enjoyed the challenge you bring, I was more than willing to work for it. I returned every bite, every claw, every hiss, and every growl. And I'll prove myself to your instincts over and over again if it means I can have you. That claiming bite was just the beginning, spitfire. You're mine now. You're mine, and I'm yours. And there's nothing you can do about it now." 

Any protest Wilbur might've had was immediately swallowed as the other leaned down and kissed him, brain immediately fuzzing up as his instincts purred deeply. 

They were...satisfied. Just like Quackity said. His phoenix was satisfied. 

It was quiet in the back of his mind, chirping and purring at the kiss and attention, but not demanding more. It was happy. 

The shrike elytrian pulled back, smiling with a rumbling purr of his own, "I've seen your 'monster', spitfire. And I still want you." 

Wilbur was quiet, processing. His memories came back to him in short images. Snapping fangs, sharp talons, fire fire fire. 

Quackity was just like him. Had that same kind of darkness. Had that same twisted desire.

Part of him always knew that, he thinks. He just didn't want to admit it to himself. Didn't want to get his hopes up that maybe, just maybe, someone would stay. 

But he doesn't think he can fight it anymore. Not when he still sees that dark twisted love in the villain's eyes, not when his instincts kept purring like they were. 

Wilbur considers himself a creature of darkness and desire, something that can never be satiated. Something that burns, a stormy wildfire that can't be tamed. 

But his instincts answer to the shrike elytrian. The bastard had done the impossible and tamed fire. 

He doesn't think he can fight it anymore...not right now at the very least. 

The phoenix elytrian sighed deeply, letting the tension bleed out of him as he melted into the nest. Melted into the talons that were currently holding his face. He slowly wrapped his tail with his partner's, reaching up to pull the other closer to him. 

"The unstoppable force to my unmovable object," he sighed. "The yin to my yang. It's always you, isn't it? It always ends up like this. We collide and look at what happens. You stop for a split second, and I move just a millimeter. You draw out my darkness, I draw out your good. But we make each other worse, don't we? You're really not going to leave, are you?"

"No, I'm not," the villain muttered, playing with his hair now. 

"Stubborn," the taller laughed softly, a grin playing at his lips. "Just like I am." 

"Relentless," his partner hummed, tapping at one of the bite marks on his shoulder with a teasing smirk. "Just like I am." 

"Fuck you, I'm sore as hell," Wilbur hissed, feeling the low burn of pain on almost every inch of his body. "How the fuck were you able to even get up?" 

"Spite and because I'm not a bottom." 

The hero huffed, smacking the other with his wing for that and earning a laugh from his partner. 

"But either way, just relax amor. I'll take care of you," the shrike elytrian muttered, continuing to run careful talons through his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp. "I know it hurts, I actually think I did a bit more than necessary so..."

"No wonder the damn bird is on cloud nine then. You didn't fucking hold back," the taller huffed. 

Though the prospect of being taken care of sounds...nice. His phoenix purred softly, satisfied, but definitely supportive of the idea. Can't blame him, really. It's been a long time since he's been able to rely on someone. 

"But um... if you... if you're serious about taking care of me I could uh... I could definitely use a day off, I guess. I probably have one saved up, y'know. I can just call in and-"

Quackity chuckled, interrupting with a soft kiss on his forehead. 

"Relax," the shrike elytrian purred. "I've got you." 

"Y-yeah," Wilbur blushed, trying to smother a loud purr and dumb grin. "Sounds good."

...

"Wilbur I'm burning your trench coat." 

"No! I've had that thing since High School!"

"I'm aware. It's old, tattered, and you need a new one. I'm getting you one that's custom made. No partner of mine is going to keep running around without at least having something more stylish." 

"Quackity-!" 

"Hush. You're not winning this argument. I'll keep the design roughly the same out of respect for the old version but I'm at least putting some gold in there to match your wings better." 

"It's sentimental value-" 

"I don't give two flying fucks. Future is now bitch. You're literally the number five hero, you deserve more than a ratty old trench coat that you've had since the first rendition of your costume. It's a relic, Wilbur. I'm not standing for this."

"It's about practicality!" 

"You're literally the most attractive fucking hero in the rankings, Wilbur! Your costume should compliment that!" 

"You're only saying that because you're my partner!" 

"No, it's an objective statement. You're literally ranked the most attractive. Popular vote." 

"You look at those!?" 

"Yes! And this is why the old trench coat is going!" 

"Prick."

"Keep talking like that and I'm redesigning your entire hero costume." 

"QUACKITY!" 

"Y'know what? Fuck it. Costume overhaul. I'm going to make you fabulous." 

"YOU'RE LITERALLY A VILLAIN! YOU ARE NOT REDESIGNING MY COSTUME!" 

"Villain, hero, I don't give a shit. I think we should lean more into reds and golds to compliment your phoenix half. Oh, and you're wearing jewelry from now on. Wear the ruby earrings I gave you a while ago. They make your eyes pop." 

"Fuck you." 

"Oh, and you should take breaks more often. You're starting to get a streak of white in your hair from stress." 

"Geez, I wonder what that's from." 

"Probably from constantly having to move your apartments to avoid your family. Say, why don't you move in with me?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"It's only a matter of time." 

"I budge a singular fucking inch and this is what happens. I'm still not going to fall with you." 

"We'll see about that." 

"Alright, fuck off. I'm leaving." 

"Without your trench coat?" 

"You motherfucker-" 

His costume was still mostly the same by the time Quackity was done with him. He couldn't do a complete overhaul in the time Wilbur spent there, but he wasn't kidding about the new trench coat. 

It was still brown, keeping the accented neutral that matched the phoenix elytrian's brown eyes, but there was now a golden trim on the very ends of the coat and decorating the cuffs of Wilbur's sleeves. The trim was, infuriatingly, the same kind of vine pattern on Quackity's black coat as Dionysus. The white poet's shirt he was used to using was still there, remaining unchanged along with his scarf and respirator. 

But the bastard hadn't let him leave without decorating him slightly. 

There were now some tail cuffs on his feathered tail, a slight weight difference that took a while to get used to. Each cuff was embedded with rubies, which would match with the earrings he had at home.  

The changes were small but...nice. 

Course, there was one small detail that had Wilbur glaring at the other elytrian once he had noticed it. 

On the inside of the coat's collar there was a small red diamond with black vines surrounding it, thorns on the vines. 

A mark. Another claim. 

The hero couldn't bring himself to be mad about it. 

Wilbur's had a number of bad days during his hero career. 

He's had days where he never stops moving, days where he has to interact with Phil, days where he's had to deal with the aftermath of one of Quackity's attacks. But today had just seemed like one of those days that was determined to screw him over. 

He was just...tired. 

The hero was perched on top of the tallest tower in the city, standing as he tilted his head up at the sky. He felt blank, numb almost. Which is what happened on really bad days. He was exhausted, but he didn't feel like going home. He felt like the walls would be too suffocating. 

That's why he went to the tower. The tower was the closest point he could get to the open sky without flying all the way up. Which is why he decided to perch up here. Well, he says perch but he's just standing there watching the inky black night above him. 

The cuffs on his tail kept him grounded slightly, but he found his mind drifting anyway. The gems hanging from his ears were warm due to his body heat, but he still felt cold. 

Sometimes he liked to compare his mind to an endless ocean. Beautiful to look at, whether it be night or day. Friendly at the surface, though sometimes volatile with sudden waves and raging storms. 

But the true horror lies deep below. His mind was like the ocean in the ways it was deep and mysterious. Never able to see clearly to the bottom. The further down you went, the deeper it seemed, the darker it got. 

When he tried to stop, tried to pull himself back up from his thoughts, he only fell deeper. He went further down, until he eventually couldn't see the sunlight anymore. Even the constant chants of his instincts got distant when he was like this. 

It was easy to lose himself in his thoughts, in the constant push and pull of currents in the water. And he just felt like he was getting dragged down further and further. The more you struggled, the faster you got dragged down. He learned that a long time ago. 

His thoughts ran circles around him, consuming him, causing him to question his own thought process. 

Questions, questions, questions. 

It was always the questions, wasn't it?

His ear feathers twitched, hearing the sound of wing beats. 

He came back to himself, feeling the cool metal of the golden clasps on his tail and the earrings hanging from his ears. He felt his talons pressing into the palms of his hands, carefully relaxing his grip. 

There was a thud on the roof of the tower, Quackity having landed decently close to him. 

"You've been awfully active today. Villains were running circles around you, huh?" His partner teased. "Are you struggling now without me there to watch your back? Oh, and congrats on the new ranking. Number one most attractive hero in the area code and number three hero overall. You must be pretty proud of yourself." 

In some ways, he was. 

But in other ways...

Wilbur felt his words get locked in his throat, tail eerily still at his side as his wings drooped slightly. 

Quackity was quiet, tilting his head at the taller's silence, "Wil? Is something wrong?" 

He doesn't want to remember. He doesn't want to take into consideration his new rank. He doesn't want to think about how close he is to number one. 

Anything but the cursed throne. 

He opens his mouth, tries to force words out, but they just don't come. 

He feels like he's drowning again. 

Wilbur closes his mouth, frustrated. 

The phoenix elytrian doesn't want to think. 

"Wilbur?"

Quackity walks close to him, brushing his tail lightly against Wilbur's in a comforting way, "Amor, why are you so... tense? Is something wrong? Did you get hit by some weird power that made it hard to speak?" 

The hero didn't know how to explain. Even if he could use his words. 

So, instead he held out his hand to the shrike elytrian. Turned his body to face the other with his hand outstretched. The shorter gave him a confused look, raising his eyebrow before gently placing his taloned hand in Wilbur's. 

He smiled softly, the expression a bit easier for him now. Slowly, his movements purposeful, he gently tugged his partner into a small dance. He didn't want to think much, so he just moved, letting the instincts he could barely hear have a turn at the helm. 

Once Quackity picked up on what he was doing, he began to lead, tucking a hand around Wilbur's waist and pulling him along in movements they both knew.

It was easy to get lost in it. Lost in the subtle brushes of the shrike elytrian's tail, lost in the ever so slightly possessive grip, lost in the look of his partner's eyes. He let the villain lead, following the sways and twirls as the nighttime wind ruffled their wings and stirred their hair. Part of him felt like he needed this, needed to feel like he was flying without putting in the wing work. The warmth of his partner helped to ground him, the feel of talons in his hand and talons on his waist. 

And it helped pull his head above the water. Kept him afloat. Memories and thoughts came and went, his focus was on moving, following Quackity. He didn't stop the thoughts or try to suppress the memories. He simply let them flow, trusting that his partner would keep his attention away from them. The villain wouldn't let him drown, he trusted that much. 

It was dark up there on top of the tower, the city lights glinting down below like thousands of stars. But this was the highest point in the city, meaning that they were shrouded with shadows, hidden perfectly from any prying eyes. Knowing that nobody could see them helped him relax, his movements becoming less stiff the longer they twirled and danced. 

He felt himself loosening up, his smile getting a bit more relaxed. 

It was a breath of fresh air, he felt like he could breathe at last. The only eyes on him were those of his partner. A gaze he was oh so achingly familiar with at this point. But it was a welcomed gaze, perhaps the only gaze he actually wants. 

The irony of it brought a small snicker to the surface, causing Quackity to give him a look. 

"What's so funny, spitfire?" He questioned. 

The question only caused him to laugh more, which in turn caused his partner to start laughing. 

"What? What is it?" The shrike elytrian chuckled. 

They twirled with a bit more energy, pulling back slightly to connect both their hands and continue spinning. Quackity, being the dramatic bastard he is, got excited and flew up into the air slightly with a loud laugh. 

Wilbur kept him grounded, never letting go of his hands. A dumb grin came to his face as a giddy feeling rose in his chest. He pulled the shrike elytrian back, catching the shorter in his arms with an affectionate purr. His partner locked his arms around the taller's neck, having a bit of difficulty due to the general high difference. 

It caused them both to start laughing again, melting into each other's respective holds as the phoenix elytrian carefully gathered his villain in his arms and picked him up. It earned him a soft kiss on his forehead, Quackity reaching around to lightly scratch at his ear feathers. 

Wilbur couldn't stop the loud purring that followed, smiling with ease now.

He hadn't even realized that his eyes turned red. 

He felt so much warmer now, his inner phoenix chirping something happily, despite its still muffled state. 

The taller elytrian just felt...free. 

The hero relaxed fully, not trying to hold back his purring. His ear feathers flicked up and down happily with the affection, his tail swaying back and forth with relaxed motions. 

He was warm, warm, warm. 

Quackity made a surprised noise, his talons stilling in the phoenix elytrian's feathers. 

"Wilbur. Wilbur look at your wings," his tone was breathless, causing Wilbur to chirp a bit in curiosity. 

He turned his head, eyes going wide at what he saw.

There, on his back, were his wings, obviously. But on his wings were dancing sparks and embers, flames licking harmlessly along the feathers and bringing with them a bright glow. The gold and orange feathers were shining, glittering like molten treasure. Some of the feathers seemed to turn red as the flames raced up and down his wings, making them look like there was fire in every feather. 

Wilbur had never been able to use fire before. He always thought that he couldn't. He's never been able to feel the spark that other phoenix do. 

Both elytrians were completely stunned, and for a second the taller felt like he was dreaming. 

Slowly, he shifted his wings, raising them up slightly. 

The flames burned brighter when he did so.

"Quackity," he muttered, that giddy feeling from earlier starting to rise in his chest as a grin pulled at his lips. "Quackity look. I'm not seeing things right? That-that's actually-"

"Wilbur, you have fire," his partner laughed. "Wilbur, you're using fire!" 

"I'm using fire!" The phoenix elytrian agreed, a chirping trill rising in his throat as he laughed. "I have fire!"

He carefully set his partner down before turning his head to try and get a better look, chirps and whistles falling from his lips as he turned and twisted to see the sparking flames. He raised his wings again and the fire climbed higher, burning even brighter. He flapped his wings a few times and embers raced down to scorch the building under him, leaving slightly blackened marks where they hit. 

Wilbur would admit that he only started chirping louder, until he had a thought. 

"HA," he laughed, a vicious smirk racing to his lips automatically. "TAKE THAT DREAM! I HAVE FIRE BITCH, BET YOU FEEL FUCKING STUPID NOW! SUCK IT GREEN BOY!" 

The fire on his wings raced with his excitement, making the rubies hanging from his ears shine and the golden clasps on his tail shimmer. The light from the flames illuminated the top of the tower in a warm glow, casting the phoenix elytrian in a beautiful array of warm golds and reds. 

Quackity felt a blush coming to his face, smirking slightly, "Yeah! Tell him off!" 

The hero only seemed to brighten even further at the encouragement, the glint in his eyes getting even larger as he laughed loudly. A high pitched, musical laugh that the shrike elytrian hasn't heard since high school. 

He tried to reach for the spark, he had a spark, holy shit, finding it there. It was resting in his wings, where most phoenix fire ignites from. With practice, he could probably move and direct the spark just like he'd seen other phoenix do.

Wilbur had fire. 

He had fire. He could use fire.

Carefully, he slowly eased the fire away. Not wanting to potentially draw any attention to themselves. Eventually, all the evidence that the fire had happened were the scorches on the roof of the tower, the red feathers in his wings, and a few stray embers that he was attempting to shake out of his wings. 

"Great, now you're even more pretty," Quackity teased. 

"Oh shut up," Wilbur rolled his eyes, but his grin never faded. The giddy feeling in his chest refused to dissipate, making him fidgety and full of energy.

The shrike elytrian was quick to notice the other's fidgeting and shifting, smiling slightly as he offered a hand. 

"Do you want to keep dancing?" 

The hero felt a blush race to his face, but only felt his grin get wider. He was quick to accept the invitation, taking the other's hand in his own. 

"Yeah. Yeah I do, actually." 

And if eventually they wound up in the villain's nest by the end of the night, then that was their business. 

In Wilbur's opinion, he could indulge for a night. Forget who he was and what he was supposed to be. Forget his rank and everything that came with it. 

For that night, he was himself. He was Quackity's partner. 

And that was all that mattered to him in the moment.  

Despite popular belief, any hero in their right mind fears rank number one. 

The number one rank of heroism was not an honor. It was a curse, a prison. A gilded cage that spelled disaster for any person whose name took the rank. 

Rank one was the cursed throne, as most heroes called it. A rank that would spell your doom. Either killed by a villain, or driven to madness by the Hero Committee. It was a painted target on your back. The rank locked you in the position until you died. You would no longer have any individuality as a hero, you were turned into a symbol the public could look to. The Hero Committee would wrap you up in contract after contract, constantly pestering you. 

You worked for them. For the public. And you could never back out of it once you were trapped there. 

Every number one hero died soon after reaching the rank. Killed by a villain, or sometimes taking their own lives out of desperation to escape. It was horrifying. 

You'd never escape eyes on you. You'd be forced to live under Hero Committee protection. 

Like a songbird in a cage. 

"What happens if one of us makes number one?" He remembers asking Quackity one day, when they were both still heroes a few years back.

"Why do you ask?" His rival had questioned, handing him a drink and sitting down next to him.

The phoenix elytrian remembers humming softly as he accepted the drink and thus the other's company, "Well, we keep moving up in the ranks because of this little competition we have going on. What happens if one of us becomes number one? Whoever reached the rank first is going to get locked in. I... saw an article earlier that got me thinking about it."

"What? Afraid of the cursed throne, spitfire?"

Wilbur had gotten very quiet after that, opening the drink absentmindedly and slowly taking a swig. 

Quackity had watched him, eyes softening slightly under that stupid black domino mask. 

Wilbur remembers the sunset they had watched fall during that talk, the colors painting his rival in a warm glow that made it hard to look away from him. 

"Well," the shrike elytrian started, turning away to watch the sunset. "If that happens, we should start an agency together."

"What?" The taller had asked, surprised.

His rival laughed, giving him a look, "Yeah! That way if one of us gets locked into the cursed throne, then the Committee can't do shit or try to force us into their shitty contracts. We'd be able to watch each other's backs. Y'know, you can drop villains with your voice, I can make em' see their worst nightmares. Maybe we could share the spot. Become a hero duo."

Wilbur remembers feeling genuinely touched by the offer, but opting to smirk instead. 

"But there goes our brand! C'mon now, what's the public going to think if we work together instead of fighting all the time?" He had laughed. "Our brand Q! You gotta think of the brand!"

"Fuck the brand," Quackity had huffed, flicking him with his wing while wearing a grin. "We should totally go for it. But I do have to ask, what was that article about that brought this up?"

The phoenix elytrian had trailed off at that point before sighing. 

"Pro Hero: Apollo, Future Number One Hero?" Wilbur had shook his head. "That was the headline. It uh... yeah."

"Oh," his rival had muttered, eyes suddenly sympathetic. "Wil-"

"Not like I'm expecting to be the number one hero or anything like that," he had dismissed, forcing a laugh. "It's not like I'm a great hero. The only reason I'm as popular as I am is because of how often I feel the need to one up you. I keep pushing myself because you keep egging me on. But... yeah. The article was all about my interviews, my power, how fast I've been traveling in the rankings. It mentioned you as well. Talked about how our constant growth in the rankings could be attributed to each other. But... it said that out of the two of us... well... yeah. I just told you the headline." 

Quackity had been really quiet at that point before carefully wrapping the tip of his tail around Wilbur's. 

The phoenix elytrian pretended that he didn't notice. 

"If that ever does happen," the shorter began, words slow. "I'll have your back. Loosen up a bit, Wilbur. You're acting like the number one spot is a death sentence."

"Quackity we both know that it is a death sentence," Wilbur hissed. "It's always been a death sentence. Nobody acknowledges that it's a death sentence, but everybody knows it. I-"

He cut himself off, staring at the drink in his talons. 

Slowly, he had curled his tail around Quackity's, reciprocating the shrike elytrian's touch silently.

"I'm scared," he admits softly, turning his head away in shame. "It... it's really daunting knowing how close we are."

"Spitfire we're literally in the top fifty. Nowhere close yet," his rival huffed.

Wilbur had sighed, taking another drink as he continued to watch the sunset. 

The shorter was quiet before reaching over and holding his shoulder gently, "Relax. I'm not letting some weird fucking hero curse take you out. That'd be stupid. You're my rival, I'm not letting some gilded fucking hero rank take that from me."

He had smiled then, something soft. 

"Thanks..."

Wilbur remembers that conversation as he heard the news of the number one hero's death. 

Another to the pile, the throne sat on a pile of corpses after all. 

He was the number three hero. He was in the running. 

He prayed to whatever god would listen to him to not let him be chosen for the cursed throne. He didn't have Quackity to watch his back anymore in that regard. 

Quackity watched the news with piqued interest, the broadcast having caught his easy attention.

It always did when a new number one was being chosen. 

The process was always a long one. The number one would die, and the four heroes behind the rank would all be taken into consideration for the spot. And after long winded debates among the Hero Committee, the new number one would be announced in a broadcast just like this. They liked to make a spectacle out of it. The number two hero wouldn't always be chosen. Sometimes it could be number four, number five. 

Sometimes it could be number three who gets bumped up to the top rank. 

They had the top four heroes there on the broadcast as the Hero Committee Representative ranted off a speech about the previous number one. All four were lined up in chairs behind the podium, in order of their rank. 

Quackity's eyes only found the form of his partner, watching the subtle way Wilbur's wings would shift and move as his tail was curled tightly around his leg to prevent it from moving. People always cited that the phoenix elytrian was hard to read, but that was only because they didn't bother to look. Wilbur was achingly expressive in his movements, in his eyes.

You just needed to know where to look. 

The shrike elytrian was all too familiar with fear. He knew what it looked like, he had experienced it, he had witnessed others experience it, and he, of course, inflicted it. His power fed off of the fear of his victims, using the primal emotion to make the hallucinations stronger. He had driven people to madness with fear, he had tasted fear. 

And Wilbur was afraid. Afraid of his name being the one called, afraid of the cursed throne that all heroes learned to fear. 

Quackity didn't blame him for being afraid, in his position, the villain admits that he would be afraid to. He had been afraid, in fact. When he was still a hero he had feared the cursed throne, feared the restraint and loss of freedom.

He had feared the cursed throne taking Wilbur away from him too. 

So he watched, and he listened. He carefully analyzed his spitfire's movements. All the subtle ways his wings would ruffle, a new permanent red gaze darting to the man on the podium to the heroes sitting beside him.

It had been a year since they had become partners. He liked seeing the red eye color becoming permanent, seeing how his former rival's wings glowed with health now that his fire had been unlocked. 

God that night had been breathtaking, truly. 

Eventually the Committee Representative's speech wound to a close. 

"But when one bright flame passes, a new one burns brighter to take its place. Pro Hero: Creative will be dearly missed, but we must remain strong in the face of tragedy," he rumbled, turning to gesture at the heroes sitting behind him. "And here behind me we have four bright lights ready to step up to the mantle. Give them all a hand folks!"

The crowd that was hidden off screen all began to clap. 

Quackity and the villains working under him did not. 

"After careful debate and consideration, it became clear to us that one hero seemed more prepared than the others to take the position."

"Bullshit," Sam muttered at his side, a fallen hero just like Quackity was. "Nobody is prepared to take that spot."

The shrike elytrian nodded in agreement, eyes locking on his partner who looked progressively more nervous as time continued. 

"So, without any further adieu, I would like to announce our new number one hero!" The Representative grinned brightly, all plastered gold and poker grins. "Give it up for The Rising Hero: Apollo!" 

"Oh no," Slime muttered, worry lacing his tone as he glanced at Quackity.

The villain sighed, "I knew it. Damnit Wil, if you would stop being a workaholic for five fucking seconds." 

He saw the way his partner locked up in fear before forcing himself to stand. The crowd roared, but the other three heroes looked at the phoenix elytrian with pity. The Representative gestured for Wilbur to join him up by the podium. 

The hero did so seemingly automatically, tail still tightly wrapped around his leg as his wings tremored. Barely visible, unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it.

"I'll do my best to live up to the standards set in place for me," Wilbur said, voice chillingly cold, carefully even. "This is... truly an honor. I'll give it my all for the people of this city."

"He looks terrified," Foolish muttered sympathetically. 

"He is," Quackity sighed, talons clicking dangerously on the counter he was sitting at. "Bastards."

"They planned this," Sam growled. "They're trying to use him against us, aren't they?" 

"You think so?" Slime questioned. 

"Definitely," Purpled agreed. "They were probably counting on Wilbur's old rivalry with the boss, knowing them. Realize the only thing he's said on record about Q turning villain is that he has full intentions of taking him down. Which, if you recall-"

"Is an automatic response meant to pacify the masses," Quackity cut in, ear feathers flaring out angrily. "We're trained to say stuff like that as it concerns villains. But you're right, they're definitely counting on his rivalry with me." 

"So what does this mean for us?" Foolish questioned, giving him a knowing look. 

Quackity sighed, "As much as it pains me that this is how it happened, it means I'm expecting a visit tonight." 

"You think he's going to run?" Sam prompted. 

"I know he's going to run," the shrike elytrian huffed. "A few years back when we were still heroes together he told me he was afraid of the cursed throne. I doubt that's changed much." 

Slime tilted his head at the villain, "You made a promise, didn't you?"

"Kid, it scares me how good you are at reading people," Quackity sighed, giving the younger a look. "But yes. I told him I'd have his back if something like this ever happened." 

"An out," Purpled muttered, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the counter. "You've left the door open for him then." 

"Let's hope he takes it," Sam rumbles, turning back to the broadcast as Wilbur shook hands with the Committee Representative. "For his sake." 

"At this point I say just kidnap him." 

"SLIME!"  

Quackity was arranging his nest in preparation when there was a knock on his door. 

"He's here. Just like you said," Sam called from the other side. 

"Bring him up," the shrike elytrian called back. 

He continued adjusting and fixing his nest, inner bird twittering like a motherfucker that the nest needed to be just right. He made sure to decorate with a lot of rubies, god did Wilbur look good in rubies. 

After a minute or so he heard a soft, hesitant knock on his door. He settled in his nest, facing the door. 

"Come in," he called. 

There was a pause before the door slowly creaked open, Wilbur shuffling inside. 

The phoenix elytrian looked extremely frazzled, feathers ruffled and exhaustion pulling at his wings and tail. His trench coat and poet's shirt were wrinkled and a bit tattered in some places, probably due to fidgeting talons and villain fights over the months.

He lingered by the door, looking hesitant. 

"Hello spitfire," Quackity greeted. "Rough day?" 

Wilbur didn't say anything, not making eye contact. Slowly, he sighed, shoulders tense as he shrugged off his trench coat and placed it on the coat hanger by the door. He kicked off his boots next before pushing his goggles up and off of his face, hanging them on the coat hanger as well. He hesitated again before slowly taking off his respirator and scarf as well, catching the shrike elytrian's attention immediately. 

Normally he had to pull the scarf and such off of him. 

His partner walked over to the side of the nest, pausing. As if waiting for him to say something. 

Quackity huffed, opening his wing in clear invitation. 

"Come here. You look like you're about to drop," his words were teasing, but his tone gentle. 

The hero caved to it, all but throwing himself into the shrike elytrian's hold. 

"Fuck," the taller's voice was strained as he swore under his breath, starting to shake as the villain tucked him tightly in his wings.

"Easy amor, it's alright. I've got you," he hummed, tail curling around his partner's as he ran careful talons through the other's hair. "It's alright." 

"It's not alright," Wilbur snapped, grip tightening on the shorter. "It's the fucking cursed throne! They-I'm-I can't-I-" 

He buried his face in Quackity's shoulder, wings trembling as he warbled in distress. 

The villain felt his power hum just under his skin, helping him sense the potency of the other's fear. 

He sighed softly, nuzzling the top of the phoenix elytrian's head with a comforting rumble. 

"You're not going to die, Wilbur. You know I wouldn't allow that," the shorter huffed, feeling his talons tighten their grip around his partner. 

"It's not the whole DEATH thing I'm scared of! No, what scares me is the fucking legally binding contracts their going to drown me in! FUCK, what if they try putting me back under Phil's care!? I don't have an agency, I can't fight what they're going to do! I-"

The shaking got worse, causing the shrike elytrian to wrap his arms fully around the hero, holding him steady. 

"You don't have to go along with it," he muttered, reaching around to comb his talons through the other's hair again. "You know you don't have to accept this. You have an out." 

Wilbur got quiet at that, talons digging into Quackity's shoulder. 

"I'm serious, Wil. The door is open. I've left it open for a long time now, and it'll remain open for as long as you need it." 

"I hate you," the phoenix elytrian spat, though it lacked any heat or true emotion behind it. 

"So you've said," the villain hummed. "Y'know what? How about we don't talk about it right now, okay? We can talk about it some other time. Right now you're frazzled and need some preening. We can focus on that. Would that make you feel better, spitfire?" 

There was a pause before he received a slow nod, bringing a smile to his face. 

"Excellent. Though you're getting decorated once I'm done with your wings. I hope you know that." 

He knew that Wilbur didn't mind. Just pretended to. 

He liked being shiny almost as much as Quackity liked decorating him. 

"I've got to leave in the morning," the phoenix elytrian said as he carefully carded his fingers through the taller's wings.

"No you don't," was the villain's reply, focusing entirely on preening his distressed partner. 

Wilbur had gotten quiet after that. 

The hero didn't leave in the morning. 

Or the morning after that, or the next, and then again on the day after.

Quackity is decently sure that he saw his partner toss his communicator in the trash at some point after shutting it down and taking the batteries out. 

He didn't comment when, after a week, Wilbur still hadn't left. 

The shrike elytrian smirked in secret when he spotted the former hero burning his hero license.

They had all been sitting together in the lounge of his hideout watching the news when Apollo was announced as MIA. They all turned to glance at Wilbur, who was sitting next to him at the time.

He didn't give them an answer, just shrugged before returning to his drink. 

That was enough for now, in Quackity's opinion.

He had his spitfire all to himself. It was more than enough.  

...

"Hey, Quackity?" 

"Yeah, what is it?" 

"You know card suits, right? Like the symbols n' stuff?" 

"... Wilbur I named myself Diamond. Yes, I know about card suits."

"Each suit has a different meaning behind it, right?" 

"Yeah. Diamonds, for example, represent money, wealth, and good fortune; but also rarity and beauty. Diamonds embrace strength of character, ethics, and of course faithfulness to ones self and others. They focus on the materialistic side of things, being considered quite charismatic in some circumstances." 

"Huh, is that why you named yourself-"

"Yes, Wil. That's why I named myself Diamond. Why do you ask?" 

"Well... I was wondering if you have like... a classification in your head for what suit represents people better." 

"You're asking if I catalog people based on card suits." 

"Yes you poker obsessed lunatic, now answer the question." 

"Hey! I do not have an obsession with poker! ... But to answer your question, I do sometimes assign suits to people I'm close to." 

"Even me?" 

"Especially you." 

"What suit?" 

"Hm... honestly I feel like you fit better with spades. Sometimes known as the brains of the deck, spades represent death, loss, illness; but also wisdom beyond their years, and the ability to move past hardships based on experience. They focus on mentality. And thanks to that they make really good liars. Spades are more often than not associated more commonly with the spiritual side of things while diamonds focus on the material world. It just seemed fitting to me." 

"So even in your weird suit classifications you make us two sides of the same coin?" 

"We're twisted reflections of each other after all. How could I not?" 

"Alright, whatever. I got what I came for. I'm out." 

"Hm, hang on a minute. Why were you asking?" 

"Would you believe me if I told you it was curiosity?" 

"I'd be almost convinced considering you're great at lying, even to yourself." 

"Oh quiet you." 

"Wilbur you apparently broke seven hands in High School and only got caught once. I've seen you lie through your fangs to a teacher, to the fucking principal for that matter, actually. How?"

"Well for the hand bit I just kinda sung people into silence with my power. Though most dropped out in order to avoid me. But they'd never tell a soul with the order being implanted in their head." 

"... Okay then."

"What about the whole 'death, loss, and illness' bit?" 

"Isn't your mother literally Lady Death? As in the hero that villains commonly call 'The Reaper'? Y'know? The hero that has a license specifically to kill villains-"

"Alright, you've made your point about the death thing. Doesn't help that I work on a lot of homicide cases, huh?" 

"Worked on homicide cases, yes. As for the loss thing, well, I'd say you've lost quite a lot growing up."

"Can't consider it loss if I never had it in the first place, Q." 

"Your argument is invalid because you lost what all children are entitled to. You lost your twin when he went rogue, you lost your family when they all but abandoned you." 

"I lost you-" 

"You never lost me. I was always going to come back, and we both know it." 

"Alright, alright. Fine. And the illness?" 

"Your lack of fire. The fact you got sick really easily in High School. Didn't your twin also have some kind of mental issue?" 

"Schizophrenia. He had auditory hallucinations, voices in his head."

"And just like that, my points are made for me." 

Wilbur had huffed at that point, "Well alright then. Thanks for helping me pick a villain name then." 

Quackity dropped everything he was doing immediately.

"Wait, what?!" 

His partner simply smiled and walked out of the room. 

"WILBUR GET BACK HERE-"

Wilbur considered his logic pretty sound in this case. 

Quackity had used his suggestion for his villain name. The name of a Greek God, Dionysus. 

As a hero, he had used Diamond. A card suit that he felt represented him. 

Wilbur had gone by Apollo for so long now. The Greek God of the sun, music, and much much more. That had been his hero name. 

He found a sort of twisted irony in using a card suit as his villain name. Because eventually, he did plan on becoming a villain. He wanted to support his partner as best he could. He wanted to release his fire on the people who had hurt him.

He wanted to make sure they could never trap him on the cursed throne. 

They had been Apollo and Diamond. Rivals since High School. 

Now, they were Spade and Dionysus. Partners in a bit more than just crime. 

Quackity wanted his everything. Every negative thing that he was, all of the traits that he hated about himself. 

He had started to hate himself a bit less now. It was hard to continue hating parts of him that always seemed to make his partner happy. The shrike elytrian loved his possessiveness, adored his fury and raging temper. 

Wilbur considered himself twisted. A creature of fangs and fire, a thing without a shred of mercy in his body left. 

He wasn't a good person. If Quackity so wished for him to burn a city block down, he'd do so. He knew he would. 

A part of him had always known that the villain would drag him down. Make him fall. 

But you can't blame him for making the shrike bitch work for it. 

Either way, he was himself. 

He was free in the arms of his beloved, free from being a hero, free from the pressure, free from his family. 

And this city would come to fear the name Spade. 

He would ignite this city in righteous hellfire, sing the heroes into eternal sleep with his mind control. 

And Quackity, his partner, Dionysus, would feast on their screams. Using their fear to twist their vision into vicious nightmares that would leave their hair white from the stress of it all. 

Together they were unstoppable. 

Wilbur had lost all of his inhibitions. 

Let them all burn, let the city become ashes as he drowned them with his voice from the shadows. Let him be the monster they all demonized him as. Let him be the creature lurking in the dark that parents tell their children about to scare them into behaving. 

He was every bit a monster they claimed him to be. A creature with venom on his fangs and fire on his tongue. 

But at least he was a monster of his own choosing. 

Quackity loved him, loved him and his red eyes. Loved him and his fire. Loved his cruel smirks, possessive grip, and his constant desire for more. He was loved, he was wanted. 

Quackity loved him. 

And that was all that fucking mattered to him anymore.