mcyt writing

before you could feed your curiosity, he kicked a small pile of snow, revealing a small, damaged flower. a rare one at that, and the exact one that was the center of your bet with the deceased menace.

the sight of it made you groan, any earlier feelings and thoughts gone, knowing it meant you’d owe him days of work. wilbur, on the other hand, smiled.

“this is a scam, obviously you knew where to find them.” you watched him pick it up, twirling it gently between his index and thumb, careful not to completely destroy it.

he shrugged. “should’ve thought of all the possibilities before you agreed.”

before you could argue with him, he faded out, mumbling a ‘come along then’, leaving footprints in the snow as he retreated to his home. begrudgingly, you followed, lagging behind a little, though he didn’t seem to mind. if anything, he seemed to enjoy the quiet, soon reappearing and humming a tune.

it took a while to get back, greeting a few of the other residents walking around before reaching his place. he went inside first, shutting the door in your face, yelling: “you have to knock, the sign says so!”

menace.

after you very politely knocked on his door, he opened up with a grin and let you in, shuffling to his mini-brewing station to order things as he let you get settled. truth be told, being inside wasn’t much different than being outside.

“have you considered investing in windows that don’t have giant holes in them?” you asked, rubbing your hands up and down your arm, a futile attempt to warm up.

“i don’t mind,” he answered.

“i do.”

wilbur hummed in thought, placing the rarity you’d found in a special casing to preserve it. once he hid it away in that cluttered drawer of his, he turned back to you. “you’ll be working in the basement, anyways,” as if the basement wasn’t just as cold, it was built on top of caves for fuck’s sake. “but if you ever do get a little too cold, feel free to buy a potion from me!” he gestured to his small shelf of potions, (only a small portion of what he actually had stored away, you were sure). “or there’s blankets somewhere in that closet.”

“you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” despite your urge to ignore him, you followed his words and pulled out a few blankets to wrap around yourself and sat down. the floor was even colder.

he snorted, turning away from you, going back to sorting through his junk. “and you’re the most whiny person i’ve ever met.”

“says the guy who can’t even feel cold.”

“i— what?” he looked down at you and started laughing, wings perking up and hands covering his face. “how is that at all related to me calling you whiny?”

his reaction stunned you, leaving you scrambling for an answer. “i don’t know!” your response only made him laugh harder. seeing him laugh for the first time, and so hard, was jarring. “you can’t though, right? that’s not funny at all!”

after a few minutes of going back-and-forth, (mostly you yelling at wilbur to stop laughing so much, which only made him laugh harder), he calmed down, joining you on the floor in front of you, legs crossed. he looked at you, making you awkwardly look anywhere but his eyes.

“hm,” he reached out, touching your cheeks. “you’re warm now— is it because you’re embarrassed?”

screw being awkward. “no!” you met his eyes. “you’re actually crazy, i can’t believe i made a bet with you.” you grabbed his hands, pulling them away from your cheeks, holding them between your faces. “shit, i’m crazy.”

he smiled; he was quite enjoying seeing you so flustered. “you’re so stupid.”

“fuck you.” it came out instinctually, a natural response to his words, though his tone was gentle as he spoke, lovingly, dare you say.

wilbur paid no mind to your words, shrugging it off. “you sort of are, but that’s okay, i… like.. it,” he put his hands down, pulling yours along with his. “where’d you even get the idea i can’t feel from?”

“cold specifically!” you corrected him, earning an ‘ah’ from him. “and you never seem cold or anything! you’re a cold-hearted dick sometimes—” he laughed. “—but you don’t… shiver or shake or anything, so i very smartly and logically came to the conclusion that you can’t get cold.” you finished, looking at him for any sort of response, hoping it made sense. his face was blank, quietly humming as he took your words in.

after a moment, he giggled. “i was right, you’re so, incredibly, stupid.”

this time, you didn’t curse him, instead you pulled your hands from his (which were still partly grabbing yours) and quickly placed one on each cheek, moving your hands all around and smushing his face.

(if he were still alive, you’d probably end up killing him with the way you were blocking his nose.)

at first he jumped back a little, the sudden movement scaring him, but once he understood what you were doing, he started laughing, almost as hard as earlier. it was your way of telling him he sucked, and he knew that, and he couldn’t be more delighted at your antics.

“huh,” you said, with disbelief in your voice. “you are cold. can you feel that? do you feel cold?”

he shrugged, still evading giving you a proper answer. “you’re so silly,” his words came out muffled, eliciting a laugh from you. “told you so.”

you let his face go, resting your hands back in your lap, smiling. “you know, you were a little warm though— i do that?” you teased. “did silly little me making the wilbur embarrassed?”

wilbur brought a hand to his cheek, tapping it with his index finger as though he was deep in thought. after a comically long amount of time sitting there, he stopped, giving you a cheeky smile.

“nah, just got warmed up from the house, i guess.”

“you actually suck,” you argued. “i can totally tell you’re blushing!”

“you’re so silly, i’m not.”

“you are! definitely!”

and it was true that you weren’t exactly one for celebrations either, but something about seeing someone more devoid of holiday cheer than you made you perk up with the excitement of a six year old getting some candy as a treat.

when you had proposed the idea of celebrating halloween, wilbur was all for it, albeit not too excited, but he was happy to indulge you. plus, if it meant spending time with you, he was happy either way, even if he had to look a little silly. he expected you to suggest dressing up and giving out candy, but surprisingly, you opted for a quieter approach—

“no, no, no, no! i just decorated them!”

you stuck out your tongue and made an annoying sound. “you decorated them bad.”

—maybe quiet wasn’t the right word.

truthfully it had started out quiet. you hadn’t told him what you were planning before, claiming it was a surprise. late afternoon, you set out two bowls of candy for any kids passing through and put a sign that very politely asked for the kids to be quiet, then put on a movie and started baking some cookies. the night before, you had gone out to buy some decorations from the local market. it was a surprise that you had chosen such a relaxed sort of evening, but a welcome one nonetheless.

wilbur took the towel you were holding and threw it over his shoulder. “that’s really funny coming from the person who just splat frosting on their cookie and called it a day,” he giggled. “at least i have some class, and tried to make it looked good.”

he bent down to eye level with the cookie tray, smiling at his creation.

you piled onto him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “whatever, i’m still gonna eat yours anyways,” you said.

a few minutes passed that way, and he hummed happily, standing back up to hug you properly, letting you rest your head against his chest. he rubbed your back, continuing his teasing of how great his decorating skills were. you shot back, and annoyingly kept repeating how much you ‘totally didn’t care’.

wilbur kissed your temple, resting a hand on your head and the other on your back. “thank you, this was fun, lovely.”

“i knew you would like it! i worked so-o-o hard coming up with the idea, i’m happy!” you exaggerated a little, but he could tell the sentiment was still there.

still, he couldn’t resist. “yeah, all three of your brain cells worked hard, i’m sure.”