Chapter Text
Quackity woke up, taking a minute before slowly sitting up in his bed. He felt good, much to his surprise. There was no headache pounding in his head, he felt well rested, and his wings weren’t aching in constant pain like they normally do when he wakes up in the morning. He went to gently stretch them, only for nothing to happen. He furrowed his brow, going from confused to fearful at the sudden realization he wished hadn’t hit him. His wings were fucking gone.
He instantly shot out of bed, only to stumble and faceplant into the floor when he couldn’t keep his balance. He picked himself up, swaying unsteadily as he slowly got used to holding himself up without…without his wings. He needed to know what happened, he needed to see, he needed—he needed a mirror.
Heart pounding, he raced to where the bathroom was. He ended up stumbling and spitting out quiet curses instead, trying to get used to balancing his body without the weight of his wings. His frustration along with his panic grew when he spotted a wall in place of where the bathroom should’ve been. Eyes wildly scanning the rest of the room, he came to the conclusion that he was no longer in The White House. Panic clutched at him, but confusion took a larger hold when he went to grab a weapon from his inventory, because, well, it wasn’t his inventory. What the fuck?
Okay. One thing at a time. His wings came first. He scanned the room again, spotting a side door that looked to be the bathroom. With a destination in mind, he took shaky steps until he made it inside, the only thing keeping him from having a full-on panic attack being the need to see what the hell happened to his wings. He grabbed a hold on the sink, the grip grounding him as well as helping him find his balance, and took a moment to prepare himself for what he might see. Hacked off and bloody wings, abused body, broken human.
Anxiety thrumming through his body, Quackity took the plunge and looked in the mirror. A man wearing a porcelain mask and a lime green hoodie stared back.
“What the fuck?” At the sound of his own voice, he jumped back and spoke again.
“What the fuck!?” His voice wasn’t his voice. It sounded like Dream’s but—but how? A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He only had a second before someone unfamiliar came in the room. A man he only talked to once, Sapnap, he thinks was his name, barged in.
“Oh hey Dream, you’re up. Breakfast is done whenever you're ready.” Quackity could only dumbly nod in response.
“You good, man?” Sapnap asked, expression twisting into one of concern. It was only thanks to years of experience he had in hiding his emotions that he was able to plaster a smile on his face and answer the question.
“Yeah. I’m—I’m good.” He needed to get out of this place. He was barely holding on as it was.
“Look, I know this whole L’manburg thing has been stressful for you, but I’m on your side, ok? You're my best friend, man. You can always talk to me about anything.” Quackity’s heart was pounding too fast to process the meaning behind the ravenette’s words. He just needed to get out.
“Thanks, uh, Sapnap. I appreciate it, but I-I actually need to go meet up with somebody—you know how it is. No time for breakfast, sorry.” The man paused, searching his expression. Shit, did the ravenette catch his stumble? Did he know he was lying? His heart rate picked up speed, mouth going completely dry. His poker face was usually spot on, but too much has happened in the last ten minutes for him to properly focus on wearing a convincing one. He couldn't let the man know what was going on. He couldn’t, at any cost. After what felt like an eternity later, the ravenette let out a sigh.
“Alright, but just…promise me you’ll eat something, ok?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll—I’ll make sure to eat. See you later.” Quackity shot Sapnap a smile to ease the man’s worries, only to realize he was wearing a mask. It didn’t matter now. He practically sped out of the house, running towards any destination as long as it got him away. After a while he developed a rhythm. The sound of his breaths in the wind, the vibration of his feet pounding into the ground, his heart pumping blood throughout his body. When he couldn’t run anymore, he stopped, catching his breath and finally letting the facade of strength he put on fall.
The only thing that held him back from a full-on panic attack earlier was the confusion he felt. With that gone, his anxiety shot through the roof, overwhelming him in practically an instant. He didn’t want to feel weak, to be helpless, but here he was, stumbling around in the middle of nowhere like an idiot. Fuck, he couldn’t even stop his hands and legs from shaking.
It wasn’t until he started getting dizzy that he realized he forgot to breathe. He inhaled, trying to ignore how shaky his breath sounded, and tried to get a hold of himself. It had been longer than a week since his last panic attack, he wasn’t going to break that streak now. Not over something as stupid as losing his wings. It was probably just a dumb prank anyway, maybe a potion someone splashed on him that changed his appearance for a while, or a mod to the server Dream added. His heart rate slowed down as he continued to think of more reasonable explanations, and just as he was settling down his communicator buzzed. He opened up his messages, only for his stomach to plummet when he saw who it was from.
Quackity: We need to meet up. Now.
He checked his communicator, and sure enough, it wasn’t his but Dream’s. Which means he had access to Dream’s communicator and somebody else had access to his. But that…that should be impossible. Communicator’s can only be accessed by the player who owns it. They’re foolproof, only opening if they recognize the player code of the person opening it. Every person’s player code is unique—on top of that, it’s something that’s impossible to change or mimic. No way to hack or glitch into someone's communicator either. Which then begs the question, how the fuck did he just get a message on Dream’s communicator from his own?
Dream: Who is this?
Quackity had a strong suspicion it was Dream, but he had to make sure.
Quackity: Who do you think? It’s Dream. Meet me at these coords. [coords]
Call him narcissistic but being right soothed his anxiety, helping lift a small weight from his shoulders. He started heading towards the coordinates, digging through his/not his inventory as he did so. He’s no idiot. This could very well be a trap, and he was determined to be prepared for anything. And if it was a trap, well, he’d make sure the green bitch regretted ever trying to pull one over on him.
+ + + + +
Quackity warily looked around, confused when Dream wasn’t anywhere to be seen. These were the right coords, right? He pulled out his communicator to check, when his instincts screamed at him that he wasn’t alone. He strained his senses but visibly played it calm, acting as he would if nothing happened. At the right moment he turned around and swung his sword, but quickly lowered it upon seeing who it was.
“How. the fuck.” Quackity asked, speaking to what seemed to be his own body.
“We switched bodies.” He took a moment to process that new piece of information before realizing who he was talking to.
“Wait so you’re—”
“Dream? Yes. And you have some explaining to do.” He scoffed.
“What, you really think I had something to do with this?”
“No, I want to talk about something different. You hid you were an avian for years, and I want to know why.” Quackity stood stock-still, probably for a moment too long, because the second he zoned back into reality, Schlatt Dream was reaching out towards him. He instinctively flinched away, and Dream’s hand shot back like he just touched fire. Quackity scowled at the man not a second later.
“You tell anybody, you green bastard, and I’ll unmask you to the whole server.”
“I wasn’t planning to Quackity.” He thought he saw something almost akin to worry flash on the blonde’s face, but it was gone too quick for him to be sure. Yeah fucking right, like he was naive enough to fall for that shit.
“Then why did you bring it up in the first place?”
“You’re my player. My responsibility. It’s my job as an admin to know these kinds of things. You hid it from me and I want to know why.”
“Well too fucking bad for you then, because there’s no way in hell I’m giving you any more cards you can use against me.” Dream stared him down. Stubbornness and determination fueling his actions, Quackity pulled off his mask, and stared right back. After about half a minute, Dream placatingly raised his hands in the air.
“Alright, I’ll drop it. For now. As for the whole Freaky Friday situation, I don’t know how to switch us back, and even if I did I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because you got my admin powers when we switched.” Quackity struggled to keep his face neutral at that revelation. He had admin powers!? Holy shit. The whole server was literally in his hands. A flick of the wrist and he could make it night. A twitch of a finger and he could summon any mob he wants. Hell, he can—he can fucking kill people.
“Look Quackity, admin powers aren’t what you think they are. You have to use your powers with the intention to help the world and the people in it. And if you don’t, they—your powers, they’ll turn on you. Whatever you try to do will backfire, and if you go far enough…well, the whole server will be against you, and I don’t just mean the players. The literal world will turn against you.”
“How do I know you're not lying?” He asked, glaring at Dream while thinking about both the power and the leverage he just gained. He now had a trump card against the man, something he could threaten to use if he’s ever caught in a sticky situation—not to mention almost complete control over the world. That was bound to come in useful in the future.
“You’re smart, Quackity. You’ve probably heard stories of admins driven to insanity by the power they possessed. Legends where they get sucked into the world itself, never to be seen again. If you really don’t believe me, you can try doing something light with them and see for yourself how it backfires, but I don’t recommend it.”
Fuck. Everything Dream was saying checked out. He heard stories about what could happen when an admin abuses his powers, and knew for certain not all of them were made up. He knew there were consequences, but he hated being in a situation where he was forced to believe Dream. The man was smart, cold and calculative. His whole character screamed danger, and while Quackity was a powerful individual, even he was dim in comparison to the blonde. It made him hate having to trust the man. He already made that mistake once, when he joined the server to begin with.
“Fine.” Quackity said, refusing to let his frustration show. “Then how do we switch back?”
“We’ll have to stay like this for a while, until we figure out how we switched in the first place. Hopefully it won’t take more than a week.” A fucking week. Goddamnit.
“Alright. Then we need to set some ground rules. First, don’t screw with my life or I’ll screw with yours.” Dream nodded.
“Fair.”
“Second, we don’t tell anyone. Can’t trust certain people with something like this, so better to make sure it doesn’t get out at all.” Dream nodded again.
“Third—”
“Third, no using my admin powers unless you get my permission first, or you’re in a situation where you absolutely have to.” Quackity looked Dream in the eye, the sheer stubbornness coming off the man making him pause. He inwardly smiled—this card held more power than he thought.
“No telling anybody about my wings either, just to reestablish.”
“Guess that’s only fair. One more thing. We need to train ourselves how to act like the other. That means staying in communication and meeting up with each other on a daily basis.”
“You’re fucking kidding.” Dream narrowed his eyes.
“Not in the slightest. If we don’t want anyone, and by extension everyone, finding out, we need to be able to fool the people who know us best. For me, that means Sapnap and George. For you…well, I don’t know. Tubbo and Schaltt, if I had to guess.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Quackity asked, rolling his eyes while pulling his sword across his shoulders and leaning against a tree. Might as well play it casual now that he knew the man wasn’t going to trap, maim or murder him.
“You think I want this any more than you do?” He shrugged, his mind heavily leaning towards agreeing with Dream. But why tell him that when it’s so much more fun to watch him work for it?
“Come on Quackity, we both need to be in on this for it to work. Besides, it’s just until we switch back. One week, that’s it. Two if everything somehow ends up going to shit. You in?” Dream asked, extending his hand. He side-eyed the man before reaching out to shake it.
“Fuck it.” He smiled dangerously.
“After all, what could possibly go wrong?”