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Mordecai has been raving and ranting about their latest job in the time it takes to pull up to the rather unassuming inn left isolated on this lonely dirt road. Mordecai pauses for a moment in his tirade, Viktor thinks it’s to catch his breath, before he's glaring at the older man like a petulant brat about to continue his tantrum. Lips curled and sharp canines exposed in a sneering pout. Not keen on the location it seems.
"Vat?!" Viktor snaps gesturing towards the building and hitting the steering wheel in his returned frustrations. "Vould you like to sleep in car!?"
"It's sleep in the car, Viktor." He shoots back snidely. And it takes a considerable amount of will power for the tomcat not to grab the smaller feline by his collar and punch those glasses off his face. Instead he just stubbornly waits in tense silence and it's just long enough for Mordecai to release a huff of reluctant resignation.
The inn keeper is reading yesterday's newspaper. Looking up and giving a fleeting uninterested glance to the pair as they shamble in from the storm. If she thinks anything of their ruined state of dress, the furious looks about them and the blood dried on Mordecai's snout then she’s smart enough that she keeps it to herself. Though she does stare at the smaller of the pair in that way that so many women do. Such attention wasted on him of course.
"We would like to acquire a room for the night. Preferably with access to a bath." He reaches for his wallet as Viktor looms at his back. Both appearing menacing in their own unique ways, only lost somewhat by having gotten caught in the downpour of rain.
The calico receptionist glances back at the paper to finish off the article she'd been reading when interrupted, "We've only got one room available dear, and it's got just the one bed. No tub in the room either but I can provide a basin?"
Mordecai's sharp eyes narrow in a mixture of disgust and annoyance when suddenly he finds a large hand on his shoulder. Gripping it demandingly. Though he doesn’t feel the pinch of claws in the other’s grasp it still sends an instinctive jolt through the triggerman. One that has him nearly ripping himself away from his partner. Instead he’s left sandwiched between the large man and the counter. Attempting to keep his usual stoicism as he shifts uncomfortably beneath the insistent touch. Subtly trying to shake him off without causing a scene.
"Ve vill take it. Thank you."
"We most certainly will not!" He blusters. Smacking the hand off of him and sneering glower returned to his tragically handsome face.
"You can sleep on floor! Ve are taking it!"
Mordecai holds Viktor's glare defiantly but having worked with him for so long, Viktor can tell he's exhausted. The lines around his bright emerald eyes are accentuated with today's grueling battle. His shoulders are hunched and tense, losing his perfected posture. Most importantly Viktor can smell beneath the rain and mud, the tinge of blood tainting the air from an injury he must have gotten during the fight. Superficial he's sure but Mordecai isn't one to ever risk an infection on his pride.
And Viktor's limp from the car to the lobby was painfully more noticeable then usual. Mordecai sparing him only a weakened impatient stare when the orange feline needed to pause and give himself a moment before putting more weight on his bad knee. The weather making his already sore and strained joints ache. Viktor just wants to get out of these wet clothes and get a couple of hours of rest before they return to the city. And Mordecai knows him just as well and how hard it is to reason with him when he's effectively put his foot down because there's a subtle lowering of his whiskers as his scowl falls into a more manageable frown.
Viktor lowers his voice. Trying to appeal to the mad man with a different approach, "Just for one night. The sooner ve sleep, sooner ve can be leaving. Do not be stupid. Be smart. Smart like you vere earlier. Vith da neck." Pointing at his own throat for emphasis.
Referring to when Mordecai had grabbed a fountain pen and stabbed into another cat's jugular.
Perhaps his ego stroking works, or perhaps Mordecai is steadily losing his drive to fight and is looking for an excuse to concede because he nods and rolls his eyes. Stating as firmly as he had before to the woman, "We will take the room."
The inn keeper smiles and their transaction is rather straightforward after that though she jokes that she should charge more for all the water they trudged in. Neither man laughing alongside her light chortles. She's more restrained afterwards as she walks them through the relatively small building to their room. Listing off ground rules and what services they offer as she pauses to grab more blankets and towels for the men from closets on the way. The breakfast she passingly mentions sounds so nice to Viktor that he asks her to confirm the time. Thinking maybe they could grab a bite before taking off if it’s early enough. Not acknowledging Mordecai's aghast huff at the idea. The older feline offers a simple farewell to their host who wishes them a goodnight in return. It’s not often Viktor is the more polite one in their dealings. His partner’s mood is just that foul that he hardly cares about presenting himself with more tact or concealed contempt at the moment.
Mordecai checks the windows, paranoid as always, as Viktor begins to disrobe.
"What do you think you're doing!?" He sounds more horrified then anything.
His answer is to drop his soaked jacket on the floor, followed by his shirt. The shorthair pinches the bridge of his snout, indignantly storming past Viktor to pick up his things. Hanging them on provided hooks adorned to the room’s walls. He holds out a hand as Viktor continues to undress. Politely averting his gaze when the other is left naked. Though hissing through grit teeth, "Of course it's too much to expect of a brute to put up his own things."
Viktor cocks his head in silent judgement but simply takes one of the towels the woman had provided for them and begins drying off. Wet fur is the worst and demands immediate attention. Especially with his thick coat, gets too heavy and much too uncomfortable for him to tolerate if possible.
Mordecai's jacket and much of his suit is hung up as well but he remains in his damp trousers and soaked shoes. Pointedly refusing to look at his partner.
"You act like voman. A blushing virgin schoolgirl who hast never seen a man as god made him." He teases in a mocking but lighter manner. He wraps the towel around his waist to make it more bearable for the other's sensibilities. Mordecai wouldn't last a day in the army, of that Viktor was sure. He’d probably have a meltdown in the communal showers or a complete fit hearing how men spoke amongst themselves in the barracks. "Ve are fine. Stop making of the big deal."
"Stop making it a big deal." He corrects his English once again but more out of habit than outright malice. Though it still annoys Viktor to no end. He might struggle with some grammar and pronunciation but people understood him just fine and English was a stupid confusing language anyway. Mordecai continues less confidently, "It is... Indecent and outlandish."
"You are dripping."
He frowns petulantly and wants to keep arguing instead of changing the subject but Viktor is right about that. He pauses to consider his options and laments catching a cold of all terrible things. Physically recoiling at the mere thought of snot and bile. Losing the rest of his clothes in defeat. Until he's left awkwardly standing in his undergarments. Going as far as to remove his sockets and garters.
He wipes up the access water and pooling puddles that have formed during the whole affair. Being sure to leave a towel under their hanging clothes to catch any water that will continue to drip and fall. Seemingly just to spare the floor. Worried about it for whatever reason, as he does. He tries not to think about how dirty the floor itself probably already is and when the last time was that it was properly washed.
A knock at the door is both an unwanted disturbance and welcomed distraction. Mordecai opens it just enough that he can take the bowl of heated water and avoid the calico’s prying eyes by giving her only real access to his hands. Trying to ignore how awful it would be to be seen by a woman in just his briefs and undershirt. Like he was some sort of hooligan or floozy like the disastrously dressed Zib chap back at the club. Giving her only a detached ‘hmph’ of acknowledgement and monotone farewell to their host's wish of goodnight.
He’d gotten so caught up in everything that he’d forgotten his own paranoia and had not answered the door with a gun or knife on him. Sloppy.
He sits on the bed next to Viktor, because there's no where else to. Not so much as a wooden chair left aside for one’s convenience. Setting aside his glasses and making quick work of cleaning himself with a washcloth and the hot water. Saying nothing as Viktor takes the opportunity to lay down. Stretching out, his pawed feet hanging irritatingly over the edge. A heavy laboured sigh escaping from the deep confines of his chest, Viktor finally allowed a moment of relief.
He opens a single functioning eye to look at his partner. Familiar scent of blood once again catching his senses. He spots the red angry line slashed across the other’s back. Torn through his fancy undershirt into tender pink flesh.
He sits up and asks for the washcloth. Mordecai looks like he's going to argue once again but releases an exhausted sigh himself and promptly nods. Handing it over with no further fuss or snide comments. He doesn’t move or flinch, instead he’s quite tense, as the orange feline lifts up the back of his shirt and wipes away any stubborn blood. Viktor isn’t being gentle about the cleanup but he’s not being cruel with it either. Simply cleaning the wound with a straightforwardness that Mordecai appreciates at times like this. After pushing aside dark fur to see the full extent of the wound he confirms it to be minor.
"Vill bleed but vill be fine. No doktor necessary."
Mordecai nods once more in understanding, also in genuine thanks and finishes up without prolonged delay. Wiping himself down with their third and final towel before taking a moment.
Viktor can see his ears twitching and the unsure sway of his tail before he asks. "Who takes first watch?"
"Bah!" He falls back onto the bed, springs groaning under his hefty weight. "No one vill find us here. You are too… -paranoid. Scared."
"I'm not some frightened child," he spits back defensively. Viktor nearly rolls an eye, "But while I don’t know about you, I would rather not have my throat slit in my sleep."
"Then you have first vatch and second and third." The behemoth yawns and scrunches up his whiskers. Hand lazily scratching at his chest, “Congratulations Mordecai. The prize yours for taking.”
"You're being belligerent."
"Set trap at door. They open door, hit canister, vake us up. Simple."
Mordecai must be far more worn from the day then Viktor initially thought because he doesn't refuse him or winge more on it. If he were to keep arguing about anything it would be that. Though he can see from the flicking of the shorthair’s thin tail that he's not convinced so even more surprising when he does as Viktor said and immediately after is left standing in the middle of the cramped room. Looking at his scarred partner's large form stretched out in the modest bed before looking to the cold, harsh and probably dirty floor. Viktor doesn't indulge him or his self inflicted plight. Getting comfortable under his portion of the blankets and preparing himself for a well earned sleep.
Mordecai lingers where he’s solemnly standing before he takes the blankets left for himself and takes his spot on the floor. Front facing towards the door and knife within reach. With the nightstand light turned off they sit in relative silence and darkness.
Once one stops moving and settles in, the damp chill becomes much harder to ignore. Only seemingly continuing to worsen as the thick Missouri air stills. Viktor tucks his fluffy tail in to try and conserve his body’s warmth as he hears Mordecai shift restlessly on the frigid hardwood. He can perfectly envision the small dark form trembling under the couple of blankets he'd been left with. Miserable but resigned to his fate.
The enforcer isn’t as heartless as his companion.
Viktor sits up and switches the light back on. Glaring at where a Mordecai shaped lump is pitifully curled up. "Get in bed."
"I'm fine." Mordecai hisses and pointedly refuses to look up. Shivering through his speech.
Viktor isn't in the mood. He gets up. Wincing as his knee cries out but still manages to pick up the bundle of an triggerman without much issue. Tossing him into the bed as if he weighs nothing. Mordecai blathering in indigent shock and looking at Viktor, emerald eyes enraged and bewildered. Fur bristled and claws out. Ready to frantically scramble back to his feet and start a well and proper fight with the brute for manhandling him. But the larger cat follows him onto the mattress, and shoves him down onto the pillow demandingly. "Sleep. Naow."
A harsh growl and baring of fangs more fearsome then his own. Mordecai’s breath hitches. Oddly enough it’s not because he’s been briefly overpowered by another. He isn’t sure what it is. When his rage should only worsen at the order barked at his face instead he falters. Distracted by the stripe like details of the fur around Viktor’s sneering mouth. How the dark hairs naturally curve in tandem with one another and follow a perfect and quite beautiful symmetrical pattern.
Blinking as he’s let go and Viktor’s features blur together as he gets further away. His silence had been taken as a sign of acceptance.
He pouts but after much shifting and second thoughts, takes his place next to Viktor. A bit of shuffling with the blankets provides them both some more relief from the cold. Likely owed as well to shared body heat if one were to be honest. Mordecai still keeps his front to the door per his habit which puts his back to Viktor's chest.
There's not much room on the bed. Especially since one of them is too big, all muscle and fat meant for the farms or war. So they end up brushing against each other when attempting to get more comfortable. Mordecai's tail brushing accidentally up against the other man’s naked navel before being tucked in, curled around himself in assumed disgust or embarrassment. After switching off the light Viktor can see the outline of Mordecai laid beside him. Can feel him despite the other’s attempts to leave a measure of space between them. Viktor wasn’t an overly affectionate or touchy type of guy by any means and liked keeping his personal space private more then most but even then he doesn’t understand Mordecai’s sheer unraveling contempt for even the most chaste and common of touches. The visceral and should be by his own standards irrational reactions he has to things that Viktor would call no big deal. Like everything Mordecai has to take all that he does to extremes, even his dislikes. Understanding his bizarre behaviours or not, Viktor does his best to respect his partner in this moment. Having pushed so much already, even if for his own sake. Trying to consciously keep the tiny bit of space that’s been left between them. Not stretching out any further. No teasing or jokes or any more orders.
Like this the triggerman seems so small and vulnerable, but Viktor knows better than even Atlas what he's truly capable of. Hears him sigh in the darkness before he gives in and seems to relax. As much as he's capable of it anyway.
Viktor follows suit. Closing his eye and falling blissfully to sleep while listening to the sound of Mordecai's quiet mumblings.
Mordecai gradually comes to with the morning. Still facing the door, but the distance between partners has grown nonexistent in the night as they slept unawares. The orange tom’s larger form pressed against him. A strong arm wrapped around Mordecai startles him out of lingering sleep. Not constricting him or carelessly thrown over him but instead just... holding him. Like in some loose embrace beneath the sheets.
Far too intimate.
The man’s deep snoring breath ghosts over a black and pink ear, which flicks and brushes up against the older man’s lower lip before it’s shifting backwards.
Mordecai is otherwise totally frozen in place.
A subtle shift from the shorthair has Viktor adjusting himself, tightening his hold briefly and drawing Mordecai in closer to his chest if that’s even possible. Nuzzling the top of his head in a way that is so completely foreign to the man. A deep sigh leaving the slumbering giant as he settles back into all encompassing sleep while Mordecai holds his breath.
His claws extend and tail thumps against the mattress in a powerful series of flicks.
He's intent on shoving Viktor off and out of the bed. Even if it risks the man hurting his leg in the fall and slows them down for the rest of the day. Plan is once he’s thrown off then Mordecai can get dressed as quickly as he could, storm back to the car and wait for Viktor to take them home.
But he doesn't move.
He doesn’t shove Viktor at all.
It's strange.
His frustration and disgust while so tangible and familiar have been pushed back and seemingly softened by an almost comforting sensation he can’t properly name. Finding it strangely soothing to feel Viktor's strong heart beat steadily against his back. Easy enough to count and focus on. An unbroken rhythm measured in seconds coupled with the rise and fall of his breath. The weight of his arm and this silly thing meaningless thing they perhaps call a hug or god forbid a snuggle, Mordecai doesn't understand why it feels… feels so necessary?
He's reminded of being embraced by his sisters or mother as a child. Resting his head on his mother's pregnant belly or being cradled to her chest and gently swayed to the sounds of old songs.
He's warm but not too hot and is oddly comfortable as they are. Even if his repulsion lingers at the edges it isn’t as damning or violent as it should be. He isn’t overwhelmingly compelled to kick the other away and reclaim his desperately preserved space. Doesn’t feel frantic or out of control as he would have, had he been otherwise caught in these circumstances and as he almost had been when he first properly woke up.
Resting his paw above Viktor's after sheathing his claws. He’d seen these hands tear people apart and splinter wood like it was nothing yet Viktor can manage to be so gentle. Mordecai feels the soft texture of his fur beneath the flesh of his pads. You would think his fur would be more coarse and matted given how rough and unkempt he was but it’s not. Though it’s hard for Mordecai to imagine Viktor brushing himself to keep his coat so nice, he must. Abruptly he catches himself in the midst of his odd pounderings and quickly lifts his hand away from Viktor’s. Why did he do that of all things? Why would his thoughts wonder as they had to such trivial observations?
His mind races. Struggling to find reason or logic in his own motives and actions. Seeking out answers that will explain all of this in a way he can wrap his head around. Put a label or meaning to that which he cannot grasp or understand. Gets frustrated at that which he fails to dissect or overcome.
He frets and curses under his breath. Foolish. Meaningless. Illogical.
Viktor rouses once more. Long leg pressing further between the black cat's as he shifts and stretches. Mordecai pauses. Waiting for his snoring to return before he dares make any noise or movement again. Falls easily back into counting the beats of the man’s heart and the time between his breaths. Mordecai didn’t think Viktor was this heavy a sleeper either. What kind of career criminal was able to sleep this soundly? Risky. Mordecai could kill him. Could slit his throat like their imagined intruders or place a pillow over his face before firing a pistol into the cotton. Snuff out his life without Viktor even being there to experience it. Let alone be able to defend himself. Thinking about it people would definitely think Viktor was stupid or careless to let his guard down this badly around Mordecai of all people. He shot their driver for less.
But Mordecai wouldn’t kill Viktor, not unless he had to. Viktor knew that. So maybe that’s why he was able to sleep so soundly while they shared a bed. Mordecai mutters to himself that the man really is stupid and careless to trust him so much. It’s bad for business.
He is still quite tired. Able to admit as much to himself in this strange early morning. He will be forced to question his decision later along with reevaluating the rest of this odd confusing mess but he allows his exhaustion to win once again. Heavy eyelids falling shut as he's swayed by Viktor's powerful heart and the odd sensation of being held. A touch that maybe isn’t so terrible when it’s with the man he can trust with his life.
Nearly drifting back to sleep before catching Viktor uttering the name of a woman under his breath as he dreams.
It sends a shard of ice straight through his stomach and makes his throat tight.
Viktor jolts awake when Mordecai hastily and rather furiously moves his arm off of himself. Blearily realizing he's cuddling the other before forcing himself past the chains of sleep to move back, as if it had never happened. Helped by the firm hands shoving against his chest. Viktor isn’t sent to the floor as instead it’s Mordecai who now freed from the hold slips out from the covers and into the room. Hastily grabbing and trying to put on his clothes. Not caring that they aren’t fully dry and quickly seem to suck out all of the warmth they'd momentarily shared from his limbs.
Viktor yawns and cracks his joints before stretching tight muscles. Taking his time to get out of bed. Still a bit sore but as expected the rest had done his body a lot of good. Sparing his partner a glance when he catches Mordecai staring. In the night it seems the towel around his waist had come loose and unlike before now he's gawking at the man's exposed body.
Mordecai’s face feels impossibly hot and his collar suffocating. Flushed with shame and embarrassment after he’d been thrown back to the realm of sanity and reason. Violently tossing Viktor’s pants at his face before storming out the door.
The orange cat rubs the back of his neck. A bit of an intense start to their day and the younger man threw the trousers with an extra bit of venom behind it but Viktor assumes he knows why. Of course Mordecai is the type to freak out waking up like they did. Even if he knows it was an accident and wasn’t done to intentionally upset him. Maybe he should apologize? He doesn’t want Mordecai to be more strung out and weirder then usual. Opting for the better option.
When he joins Mordecai in the car he doesn’t say anything.
They won’t acknowledge it and will ignore it ever happened.
Letting the assassin sit and stew as they pull out and get back on the road. Picking up where they’d left out yesterday. Leaving behind the little inn.
He notices Mordecai fidgeting with his cufflinks and making faces as his mind no doubt goes a mile a minute but doesn’t comment on it. Unwinds and loosens up himself as the hours drag on and the sun reaches higher. Able to move past it and forget the minor details. Thinking instead about how to debrief Atlas when they’re back and what he should eat for lunch.
As Mordecai practically flees from the car the first chance he gets Viktor’s gaze follows him. Tracing where he knows that cut lies beneath his coat and having the fleeting thought about how he’d felt pressed against his chest.
The few seconds he had of consciousness to realize it at least. He swears Mordecai held his hand at some point as he was waking up but brushes it off as nothing but crazy dreams.