“Well, that depends, what’ll you do if I’m naughty?”

"Mm. Haven't decided." It is really unfair how Wilbur is so tall. "Might leave some bruises to remember me by. Of course, I might do that anyway." 

Wilbur’s breath catches in his throat. “Gonna be honest, you’re not exactly convincing me to be good.”

He reaches up and grabs Wilbur by the hair, physically drags him down to Q's level. "No," he agrees, "I'm not. But do it anyway." 

It's fun. It feels good. It gets him out of his fucking head. True to his word, he leaves plenty of bruises; true to his word, he doesn't break skin. By the end of it he's thoroughly out of breath, draped heavily across Wilbur's lap, clothes on the ground beside them-- they'd moved deeper in the woods when those came off-- with his head on Wilbur's shoulder.

Wilbur pets his hair absently for a little bit, but not for very long, because there's an itch under his skin that nothing is ever quite enough for and it doesn’t let him sit still. A cigarette might at least help, though--he left it in the pocket of his jacket--and so he collects up the clothes.

(Quackity's clothes, unlike Wilbur's, are named items. They are named: "Completely Normal Shirt I Feel Completely Normal About (Capitol's)", "Okay The Pants Are Like Actually Legitimately Fairly Normal (Capitol's)", "Not Heels! Could Be Worse (Capitol's)", and "Schlatt's Jacket".)

"...Interesting name scheme you have going," Wilbur says. "Do you name all your clothes or are these special? Where or who is the Capitol? I assume this is your Schlatt, mine wouldn't have been caught dead out of a Zegna suit."

Blinkblink.

"—uh, I didn't name anything on purpose? These aren't special, they're just what I had on when I got here."

Then the rest of the sentence catches up with him. "And yeah, that's my Schlatt, he wore suits when we were in the Capitol but back home there weren't cameras really, so. —the Capitol is, uh, either my government, the city in which my government is based, or my employer, depending on context." 

“And would you say you feel normal about this shirt?” He holds it up. 

No. 

"I wouldn't really say I have feelings about it period," he says, not very convincingly. 

"You can tell me if you do, you know. I won't tell a soul. Scout's honor." He holds up three fingers in mock-salute.

"Sure you fucking won't." Can he at least have the clothes back. Probably not but it's worth trying to reach for them. 

Yes but he'll have to jump for them for a bit before Wilbur relents and gives them to him. Wilbur is 100% taking advantage of being a head taller than Quackity for this.

For an hour or so there, he was actually fucking happy. 

Wilbur relents before Quackity gets frustrated enough to stop trying and just kick him in the back of the knees, but it's a pretty close thing. 

"Awwwww, Quackity, what's wrong?" He's affecting an exaggerated pout.

"I don't know, Wilbur, do you mean at the moment or just in life?" 

"Either. Whichever."

"Then the thing that's wrong is that I do not own clothes that don't either belong to my dead ex or announce that I'm a fucking party favor." 

That was a bad idea. He should not have fucking said that. He knows, as soon as it's out of his mouth, that he should not have fucking said that. 

"...I could give you my coat? I don't have a ton of clothes but Tommy could sew something--I might have my old revolutionary outfit around somewhere, if you don't mind getting weird looks--"

That's--

That's actually kind of sweet?

"I'd been considering asking other-me, actually, I think he's somewhat more likely to have something that'll fit. ...thank you, though." 

"Tommy made half of my clothes, seems only fair to offer." 

"...I guess that makes sense."

He finishes getting dressed, shoves his hands into his pockets; everything's still there. He's not thinking, right now, about those headphones. 

"Right, speaking of Tommy, I'd been wondering. You guys are brothers?" 

"Yeah. Well, adopted. I found him in the woods as a kid, gave him a name, he never left. He's not Phil's son, really, but he's still my little brother."

"...huh. Cute. At some point I'm going to get used to there being few enough people around that everyone knows each other, I guess." 

"There are some people I don't know? I obviously can't, uh, give examples, but I know we got some new people while I was dead. I've met Ranboo since being revived but none of the other new people. Tommy and Tubbo, though, I've known them since we were kids. Since before we moved to this server. And Phil, obviously, and Techno because of Phil. Just about everyone else I met here. --Oh, Schlatt! I knew Schlatt before he came here. Used to tell Tommy stories about him. Fuck, I hated him by the end, but he was funny when he wanted to be, I'll give him that."

"Right, yeah, but it's like, 'there are some people I don't know, I had reasons to be away when they moved here,' not, 'I walk into a room and there's thirty people and I know two of them,' you know? I'd be surprised if my Wilbur and the Tommy I know had ever even met." 

That gets a lot of complicated emotions on Wilbur’s face. 

Eventually: “Is he happy? In your world, is Tommy happy?”