A reveal
So @altadoodler has this lovely duck!Quackity AU that is absolutely fucking adorable, and they’ve posited several ideas for the reveal, so I wanted to add my own spin to the inevitable reveal. You can check out the rest of the AU stuff here: the fic references a lot of their art, and they’re also just super cool in general. Go follow them!
Hope you enjoy!
Fandom: DreamSMP
Characters: Quackity & Technoblade (Dreamsmp!verse)
Ships: None
CW: mention of past injuries, mentions of death
Quackity has never had as comfortable a life as these last few days (weeks, months? time feels different when you’re a duck. Everything is slower and faster all at once).
He hadn’t had much of a choice, at first - he’d needed to recuperate and build up his strength, and he knew he couldn’t do that as a human. Not here. Not with Techno, who carried the pickaxe that had split his head apart and two of his lives like trophies around his neck. The cracked gems sparkled in the stark arctic light and reminded Quackity that he wasn’t safe there.
But a duck didn’t have problems, or vendettas, or plots. And so he’d rested there, by the warmth of the fire and the softness of pelts.
That didn’t mean that Quackity hadn’t been scared when Techno found him for the first time after returning to the house unexpectedly. He was sure their little staring competition would end with Techno tossing him out, or worse, hurting him.
Instead, Techno had just sighed, muttered something about an Edward, and left him alone to get what he’d returned for and then left again.
So Quackity, always one to test the limits, had stayed in front of the fire until Techno had returned for real that evening. He’d pretended to be asleep, hoping that the undeniable adorableness of his duck form would sway Techno into, you know, not murdering him on the spot.
He’d heard Techno enter, stop, and mutter to himself once again. There were a few more minutes of shuffling as Techno got settled, and then - a large, calloused hand settling around his body, and for a second Quackity was sure he was about to die.
Then the hand dragged softly along his feathers, repeating the motion until Quackity realized that Techno was petting him.
The realization made him startle and flop over,quickly resettling with a discontent sound that was met by - was that a giggle?
“Aren’t you a cute duck,” Techno’s voice was different when he wasn’t being threatening. He sounded content and amused, resuming his petting when Quackity didn’t move. “Adorable. Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”
And he could have left after that, once he’d regained the strength to.
But he hadn’t.
Well, he’d tried, once, leaving in duck form and then switching to human to get through the cold tundra. He hadn’t succeeded, and felt himself reverting back into duck form as the night fell and the snow grew thicker, too tired to maintain a human shape.
He would have died there, he knows that with cold, horrible certainty - if it hadn’t been for Techno finding him, clutching him to his chest and returning with worried speed, muttering to himself the whole way. Hands that had once hurt clutching him close all the way home.
Home.
Home where Techno was… calm, where he never raised his voice and spent his time reading or crafting or sewing little hats for his duck friend.
Where he spoke to himself, to Quackity, in a relaxed tone. Where he admitted to fear and hope and worries to the, as far as he knew, uncaring duck snuggled into his cape.
And Quackity has always been one to test the limits, but this is one he finds himself unwilling to try.
Because he likes this. He likes having a home, having someone who cares about him. Quackity could not remember having anything like this: Not even back in Pogtopia, where every bit of comfort and friendship was shaded by the overhang of revolution and danger.
He didn’t want to change it.
But he knows he has to.
And after all this time of living together, of seeing the softer side of techno, Quackity grabs his courage and the only thing he's ever been good with: his words. And he writes a letter, explaining everything - how he'd ended up there, why he'd stayed at first... and then the most difficult part:
Why he'd stayed after that.
Why he was explaining this now.
The letter is two pages long, endless crumpled versions littering the desk, when he's finally satisfied.
He hesitates on how to deliver it, at first: toys with the idea of just leaving it on the table and getting out of there, staying away until Techno makes the first move.
But in his heart, he knows that there's only one way he can do this. So he lays the letter gently on the pile of blankets and furs by the fire, a big "to Techno" scrawled across the top.
He turns back into a duck, tucking into a form that has become as familiar as his human one. And he settles down on his customary pillow, just above the letter, and he wills himself to go to sleep - just as he has a million times before. And he hopes.
I’m gonna be real with you Techno: this is mostly a plea for you not to fucking murder me. Which I know is rich, considering our history, but just hear me out, k?
Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a very cool and sexy and handsome prince. This prince was just minding his business, being cool, when he got injured. It doesn’t matter why, not really - but he ended up lost in the arctic wilderness, alone and dying.
And then he found a castle. It was big and terrifying, but the prince had no other choice but to sneak inside. Once inside, they realized that someone already lived there - his enemy, a great hulking beast, who had already hurt the prince twice. A beast whom the prince had tried to slay, but who had killed him instead in his escape. One who had hurt the prince - and who the prince had hurt in return.
Safe to say, the prince would not have been welcome.
But the prince had a secret: Whenever he was hurt, too deeply to heal by normal means, his body would shift into that of a small, adorable animal: A duck. And it was in this form that the prince took refuge in the castle, for no matter how terrifying the beast was, the prospect of losing his last life was much worse.
At first, the prince could stay away from the beast, for he was small and easy to hide - but he grew comfortable, and the beast found him.
The prince was terrified. But then the beast did something he had never expected:
He allowed the prince to stay.
Still in the form of a duck, the prince saw a side of the beast he had never seen before: One that was caring, and sweet, one who joked with his friend and cared for his animals and was deeply, unflinchingly protective of the things he loved. One who made little hats for a stray animal that had wandered into his home, one who saved it from the storms when it foolishly ventured outside.
The prince saw this, and the prince realized that this castle felt more like a home than his own ever had.
And this put the prince in a conundrum. He was sure the Beast, no, the warrior, hated him. He knew he had every reason to. And he knew that if the warrior found out that his secrets had been laid out for the prince to see, the warrior would kill him.
The prince did not want to die: The prince did not want to continue lying to someone he was starting to realize could be more than an enemy, more than a warrior: someone who could be a friend, if the circumstances had been different. The prince did not want to leave: The prince could not stay.
And the prince cared for the warrior. How could he not, after listening to his worries, after watching him fail to make a cake, after countless nights in front of the fire? And he knew that no matter what he did, he would hurt the warrior. He had made a mistake: he had made several mistakes, over long years, and there was no way to right them. There was no way forward that did not include pain.
But the prince knew that things could not continue as they were. The warrior deserved better than that. So he decided that the best way to explain, not to defend himself, but to explain - would be through a letter.
If you hadn’t guessed, Techno, I’m the prince. and I am so, so fucking sorry. That doesn’t even begin to cover it, but - it needs to be said.
I have more words, obviously I do. You know me. Never stop talking if I can. But I figured you should get this chance to, I don’t know, make the first move.
Just. Uh. I’d like to live.
Signed,
Quackity
Techno stared at the final line for… he didn’t know how long.
Huh.
Well. He was not dealing with that right now.
He crumpled up the letter, tossing it into the fire. It was failing, slightly, so he stocked it with a few more logs, poking it while his mind remained very carefully blank.
Even the chat was quiet.
He turned back to the pile of furs and pillows, eyes catching and stilling on the small duck resting there.
No. On Quackity.
Drawing a deep breath and letting it out in a slow, weary sigh, Techno settled into the pillows, pulling a blanket around himself - and then, gently, as to not wake him up - he lifted the duck - Quackity - and settled him on his customary spot on his chest, right where the blanket folded.
It didn’t feel any different than before. The rush of home, safety, comfort was just as strong - even if it was mixed with confusion and anger.
Quackity had lied to him for months. The man that had threatened to kill him, who had come closer than anyone else, was here, had been in his house for months. Had seen Techno make a fool of himself, be vulnerable, had spied on him: had betrayed him. Just another person using him.
But… hadn’t used him as a weapon. Hadn’t forced him to do anything, in fact. And he had stayed: Hadn’t sold Techno out. Had been a comfort, more than anyone except Philza, had wormed his way into Techno’s heart like a damn leech. Nothing had changed, except that Techno knew.
Had paid for his attempt at Techno’s life with his own, he realized, remembering the deep, permanent scarring on his face.
He drew his thumb softly over the slightly broken beak and lost feathers that marred the duck form’s face. Techno had always wondered how a duck had survived an injury like that.
Turns out he hadn’t.
The fear in the letter had been almost palpable, but no matter how angry Techno was, he could recognise that Quackity hadn’t needed to worry.
Nothing was going to hurt his friends. Not even himself. And if Quackity was the duck, then he - despite Techno’s better judgement - was his friend. A friend who was never going to live this down, but a friend nonetheless.
His house was never going to be quiet again, huh?
