Chapter Text
"Ayy," Quackity shouted, clapping the stranger in the front row on the back, "if it isn't bandana boy."
The taller boy winced in pain, raising a finger to his mouth. With a pounding headache, he was asking, begging, for mercy.
Quackity had never been one for mercy.
"How you feelin' man," He laughed.
"Take a wild fucking guess, dickhead."
Quackity took a seat next to the other boy. Knowing full well that the chair belonged to someone else, probably Punz or some other stupid jock.
trying to be as annoying as possible, he leaned over, scooting the desk closer to the other boy. Each move he made caused a horrible screeching sound that effectively had his new friends headache doubling in pain.
"Based on how absolutely shit-faced you were last night, I'd say. . . Incredibly hungover."
The boy merely grunted. Not exactly willing to converse. Oh well, Quackity shrugged, wont stop Big Q.
"So what's your name?"
"Seriously, dude?"
"Yes, seriously, dude."
Quackity waited for an answer, but the dark haired boy refused to look at him, refused to play into his hand.
Quackity huffed, slouching back in his chair.
"What am I just meant to just guess it?"
No response.
"Or should I know your name or something, cause you're a big famous football player or some shit?"
Nothing.
"Think you're important or something? What are you the quarterback?"
Silence.
"You would be. You've got the attitude for it."
Still nothing.
"You're a dick, you know that? I bet you think you're soooo important. All you assholes are the same."
Apparently having touched a nerve, Quackity watched as the footballer player finally raised his head from his hands, the world leaving him dizzy. Much too fast.
Quackity was winning.
"You think you're the center of the universe don't you," Quackity said, meeting the other boy's eyes, his smile barely contained.
The football player rubbed his temple in frustration, trying to remain civil with the other boy. Quackity smiled, his chivalry wouldn't last.
"No, I just don't get why you want my name?"
Finally.
"We're friends now, bandana boy, don't you remember?"
"Can't have been a very good friend, if you didn't get my name."
He could push back, Quackity liked it when they pushed back.
"To be fair, I was also very drunk."
"I, I think I remember that, how the hell are you good right now. You were keeping up with me and you're. . . so much smaller?"
Quackity's smile faltered. Asshole.
"And why do you keep calling me bandana boy?"
"First of all, I am not small-" the football player burst out laughing, "shut the fuck up alright,"
"You're shorter than me and I'm not tall-"
"Second Of All," Quackity said sharply, "I'm not a light weigh, okay, you're just a fuckin pussy, dude. And I keep calling you bandana boy because I don't know your name."
"Yeah but why bandana boy?"
"Because of your stupid tie thing from last night idiot."
"My what?"
"You weren't that drunk, asshole, you had your tie around your head, remember, like a bandana, Dickhead."
The boy next to him laughed, his laugh was hearty and deep, it sent butterflies to Quackitys stomach. Whatever. He ignored it.
"My name is Nick, you can call me Sapnap."
Sapnap extended a hand for Quackity to shake.
Quackity didn't move.
"Alright sounds good, Nick, I'm Quackity."
"Oh, Alex, I know your name. You told me already."
Quackity couldn't bite back his own smile. He loved it when they pushed back.
"Fuck you." He tried to laugh off the feeling.
"Language."
Mr. Halo had walked past the two of them at precisely the wrong time.
"I don’t believe that that is your seat, Alex."
Quackity rolled his eyes, stood up and moved back to his desk across the classroom.
Sat at his own little behavioral issue island.
Alone.