Need Cape Nor Cowl

Part Five: It's Not that Way

“Okay, Arnold. I put Scarface on the couch, try not to talk to him if you have too, only if you really need to, and don’t listen to anything he says. I’ll try not to be all day at the HQ, just.. just relax and rest up okay?” Commissioner Gordon had placed a chaste kiss to Wesker’s forehead and then hurried out the door, coffee in one hand, coat in the other. He hadn’t brushed his hair yet, and Arnold couldn’t find a voice to tell him, he just stared at the closed door for a good while.

--

Relax and rest up, huh? It felt good to soak his hands in dishwater. Both hands at that. Even though James had insisted he take it easy, the Ventriloquist could not bring it about himself to just lounge around the other mans house and do nothing. Besides, what better way to show your appreciation of room and board then with a little housework? And goodness, this place had needed it!

It had only taking the little mousy man a few searches to find what he needed. Gloves, vacuum, the duster (why it was under the bathroom sink was anyone’s guess) and an apron. Fancy it be pink, but since he was already wearing a pair of Gordon’s over sized sweatpants, and a T-shirt that went to his knees, fashion really wasn’t much of an issue.

The Chores had kept him busy and occupied. Even the few times he’d been in the living room with the Dummy, Mr. Scarface hadn’t bothered to say anything to him. Yet, Wesker knew he was there, watching him. He figured his other half was still very angry at him for not wanting to go back to the underground and keeping them both here. The silent treatment left Wesker with a bit of paranoia, but the noise of the vacuum and dusting everything he could reach helped to not think about it too much.

So many dishes! And he did them all too. It made him feel happy to be helping his own helper out, and sad at the same time. It made the little man remember that Gordon’s wife was gone and if she was here, she’d be doing this.

Yes, but if she was here, you wouldn’t be.

Wesker shook his head to clear the thought and finished up the last load of dishes. There, house all nice and clean. Maybe tomorrow he could get on the laundry. He toweled off his hands and went to remove the apron, moving back to the kitchen to the living room.

“Yah know he only wants one thing, Dummy.”

Wesker froze in the doorway and his vision shot to the Dummy on the couch. This was the first thing Mr. Scarface had said all day. The small man swallowed. Don’t talk to him, just walk past him and go to the bedroom. He took steps into the living room, and went to move around the back of the couch.

“I know yer tryin’ tah ignore me, like yah anit tried that gefore. You know I’m right, too.”

Wesker bit his lip and stopped. “I-I don’t want to talk to you, Mr. Scarface. I know you’re just going to say bad things about James.”

“You act like I anit the one whose always looked out after yah, Gummy. Me. All I ever wanted was tah let you have a life gack and get even with all those nasty jackass who what never let you live a normal life.” The Dummy’s mouth was not moving, but his voice rang loud.

“You.. You hurt people Mr. Scarface, I d-don’t like to hurt people. James’ doesn’t either, and he’s not going to hit me or .. call me names like you do.” Wesker took in a breath. Walk. Walk to the bedroom, get away from him.

“Nah, he just wants tah fuck yah, and then it’s gack to the slammer fer goth of us.”

Wesker clutched a hand to his mouth and turned back around to face the dummy. “It’s not like that! D-don’t say stuff like that!”

“Common, Dummy, gon’t ge so stupid. I can see it in his face. S’only reason his geing all nice tah yah, he doesn’t wanna help yah, he’s just got a hardon, you’ll see, just wait a night or two, he’ll get yah gent over the sink or something and the next day we’ll ge eating through a slit in ah metal door, like the good ol times.”

“Stop it! Mr. Scarface! Stop it! It’s not like that!” Wesker hurried around the couch and stood in front of the puppet. He pointed a finger at Mr. Scarface, shaking. “You’re.. you’re wrong. James’ isn’t like that… I know.. he wants to help.. I think he might actually like me..”

The Dummy let out a hard laugh. “Ahahahaa, who yah kidden, dummy? No one likes you. Yer just good at doing what yer told. This new attitude of yers tho, makes me think that yer just tryin’ tah get the Commissioner in yer pants. Why don’t yah just give it up so we’s can just get the fuck outta here already.”

“ You..” Wesker was shaking hard. He didn’t want to believe what Scarface was telling him. In a sudden act of brashness, he reached down and snagged up the Dummy by it’s lapels and shook it lightly. “Don’t say those things, t-there not true. Mr. Scarface please, It’s NOT like that. He w-wants to help us. I just like him, it’s not like that.”

“Please.” The Dummy’s lifeless glass eyes stared unblinking up at Wesker’s. “You just want him to fuck you just as much as he goes. So go ahead, ge faggots together, I know how much you enjoy getting it up the ass.”

“ I.. No.. Mr..” Wesker was fumbling. He could feel himself loosing the battle. Mr. Scarface was being so nasty he was biting down his courage. “No I..”

“Oh stop lying dummy, You forget I use tah watch you and doneggon going at it. You use to geg him like a gitch in heat. Fuck, I get you even liked it when that one guy in the shower…”

The Dummy was cut off by Wesker throwing it to the ground.

“SHUTUP! SHUTUP MR. SCARFACE! It’s NOT like that. Don’t you.. don’t you dare say things like that.” Wesker’s face had tear streaks down them, he aimed a finger down at the dummy and stood there shaking.

“YOU PICK ME UP, DUMMY!” Scarface’s voice Growled.

Wesker stood there. He felt his whole body trembling. Don’t let him get to you. He’s lying, you know it. Remember what James said. Don’t listen to him.

“..no…”

“What?”

“ no..mr. Scarface…”

The dummy’s voice sounded in disbelief. “What did you just say, Dummy?”

Wesker swallowed and then straightened his shoulders. “ I said.. No Mr. Scarface… NO.”

“YOU PICK ME THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW!”

“NO MR. SCARFACE, SIR.” Wesker’s brows formed a Vee down against his glasses. He suddenly felt light headed, and almost joyous. He was suddenly letting out a crazy laugh. “ NO SIR. I will not!”

“ PICK ME THE FUCK UP!”

“NO MR. SCARFACE SIR, NO!”

“NOW!”

“NO! MR. SCARFACE! NOOO!” He was.. he was joyous! He was telling Mr. Scarface no, just like Gordon told him to do.

And it felt good.

--

Gordon: Gordon stood there in the door. Staring, as if the lids of his eyes behind his glasses were frozen open. The day at work had been mundane. Paperwork. Cataloging each little shred of evidence. God, the evidence, there had been so much stuff that was picked up after the Arkham blowout that the precinct had rented a warehouse, even, to keep everything straight. And testimony after testimony of things that had gone over that night.

Robberies, muggings, destruction of private property. A little bit of everything had popped up since the incident. It certainly would keep Gordon busy, he didn't know how much time he'd be able to be at home keeping an eye on Wesker. He was sure though if he did run off Batman would have him back in safe custody any time if he tried.

And some part of him wanted to think that Wesker didn't want to run off.

That's why when he got home and heard Wesker's voice, he got excited. He actually trotted the last few steps to the door, but slowed when he heard the puppet's. The thing... he and Scarface were arguing again. He brought out his key with a shaky hand and put it in the hole. He fumbled a bit, and had it been quiet inside the sound of the unlocking would have been obvious.

Then he saw... whatever this was. He had been expecting him to be holding the dummy, not yelling at him from across the room. The keys, held idly in limp fingers, slipped out and clattered to the metal base of the doorway.

"A-arnold? .....What are you doing?"


Wesker: One last " YOU PICK ME UP, NOW DUMMY! " Followed by a shrieking of " NO MR. SCARFACE! " Wesker looked, at that moment, utterly out of his mind. That probably was JUST the case. Tear tracks down his cheeks, pink apron, untied but still hanging around his neck, finger pointing, shaking at the Dummy that laid sprawled on the floor. And he was smiling...

... Of course it was one of those 'I've lost it' kinda smiles. Complete with high laugh. Gordon himself haven had a similar break down just last night. This unusual scene interrupted finally by the commissioner standing in the doorway. Wesker startled when he finally noticed James and his hand dropped, his smile faded and blinked a few times. " S-sir.. G- James, James..I. " He sounded horse. ( attributed to all the screaming, that both he AND his secondary personality had been doing, perhaps? ) Wesker panicked for a moment, then turned away from the Dummy and took hurried steps toward the cop.

" I-l'm sorry I just got carried away, I-I-I was doing what you told me to do.. Mr. Scarface, he got .. he was... " Wesker bit his lip. I can't tell James that.. those horrible accusations... " .. I told him no. "

" Yah Yah Yah he acted gig. What the fuck ever. " The Dummy's voice echoed. Mr. Scarface sounded, pouty? " Someone getter pick me the fuck up. "

Wesker lowered his head. " please.. I.. " He didn't know what to really say. All that screaming. What if someone over heard? He could have gotten James in trouble.


Gordon: Gordon hoped that his walls, thick enough to keep the bullets of vengeful criminals from coming through and picking him off, did indeed keep that yelling inside. If not pegged for harboring a fugitive, someone would call the police alleging a domestic abuse at that residence. He quickly closed the door behind him before some snoopy neighbor peered out their window and saw the apron clad criminal standing in his home.

"Arnold! You're saying no... that's good," he said, holding out his hands in a calm down sort of way. "I'm going to go put Mr. Scarface away now so he doesn't say anything else to hurt your feelings, okay?"

He moved slowly toward the dummy, still facing Wesker. There was a reassuring tone to his voice, a tone he used with Barbara when she was a young girl and was worried. Though surely Scarface would take it as patronizing and malevolent.

He did notice, while he moved toward the wooden figure, the smell in his house had changed. More like detergent than dust and his carpet seemed a shade brighter than the night before.


Wesker: " O..o-okay. " Wesker nodded slowly. Relieved. He was relieved. But somehow he knew that James wouldn't have gotten angry, it was just, so well beat into him that anything out of place he did was always bad. Where had his place always been? Dummy on his hand, standing there, looking submissive, acting submissive and letting Scarface do alllll the talking.

Well the Dummy wasn't just talking now. He was bitching, pleading.. almost sounding ..desperate? " Wait? What? NO! Not again! Dummy, don't let him put me away. YOU NEED ME! DUMMY..ARGH! "

Wesker bit his lip and turned away from both Gordon and Scarface. " I'm sorry Mr. Scarface, b-but it's for the better. "

" .. why you NO good gackstaggin' son of a gitch. Next time I get my hands on you I'll pop yah so hard yer fuckin' parents skulls ge spinnin' in their graves. "

" Stop it Mr. SCARFACE, PLEASE! " the little man rather ran out of the room at that, clutching himself with a whimper. But not so far into the kitchen that the Dummy couldn't get one last
crack of " You whiny sissy!! " A momentary pause and the voice sounded quieter but a hell of a lot more dangerous, and the last remark was obviously at Gordon himself. " You'll pay for this. You wait. "

Wesker tossed the apron onto the kitchen counter and the leaned over it and drew in panicked breaths. His throat hurt, his head hurt, and so did his heart. He'd NEVER fought so much with Mr. Scarface before. Never.

Somehow, because of James, the little man was determined. He'd promised. He wanted out of this nightmare. No matter how much it hurt. Another little laugh escaped him, he placed his head into his arms and then broke down crying.


Gordon: Gordon watched him leave, and shifted his gaze between the fleeing Wesker and the still Dummy. He could almost imagine that voice that obviously was coming from Arnold was coming from the other side of him, from that mean piece of kindling. That sent a shiver up his spine and made his hair stand on end. Once Wesker was out of sight, he picked up Scarface by the arm and walked quickly into his bedroom and opened up the gun-safe.

Once he had slammed the thing shut and spun the dial away from any recognizable number, he walked into the kitchen. He reached down and put his hands on Arnold's shoulders. "Arnold....?"

He hated the sound of the sobs, but the laugh, the laugh made the hair on his arms prickle. He felt his chest tighten. "You did a good job! The place looks clean!" he quickly offered.


Wesker: One could imagine how much his brain was hurting right now. Already torn between two worlds, and now he was trying desperately to separate one completely, shove it off and be done with it. But the Scarface personality, having had it's vicious fingers so deeply embedded into him, was in no mood to just be shoved under because Wesker thought he might have actually fallen for someone who could help him.

No it would just have to wait. Maybe that little laugh was just a sure sign of how damaged the poor man's psyche really was. Wesker, for once, didn't flinch when Gordon touched him. He let out a few more chest shaking sniffles and finally lifted his head. " I ..I'm glad, I .. had fun doing it. "

He swallowed hard and turned away from the counter toward Gordon. Hands reached up to wipe at his cheeks and the little man straightened. Deep breaths were drag up and he finally lifted his head to look up at the Commissioner. Brows canted upward as he tried to regain his composer.

He wanted to jump at him. Cling to him. Hug. But Scarface's hurtful and disgusting words were still bouncing around in his head. He didn't want to seem that way. .. it wasn't that way. He just needed help. Feelings were genuine. Weren't they?

" I-I'm glad you're back. H..how was your day? "


Gordon: He stared at him. It was almost more eerie than the laugh, seeing Wesker go from laughing insanely to looking perfectly normal. He finally blinked, eyes needing moisture. "It was... rough. Those goons tore Arkham apart. We're having to pick all the pieces up."

He pulled up a chair and sat beside of him. He rested his hands on the table. "We can order out, if you want. You look like you worked harder than I did." Honestly, Wesker did. He must have exerted the hell out of himself fighting the darker persona. It was incomprehensible to him, thinking of fighting with yourself like that. Understanding or not, though, he wanted to help him. That definitely was genuine.

As far as he knew, though, the only reason this started was that Wesker wanted the puppet. Wesker had triggered Scarface for no reason. He didn't want to believe that. He wanted to believe that something had triggered it. "Wesker... What did Mr. Scarface want you to do?"


Wesker: The sound of the chair being pulled out was overly loud to Wesker. Under his smudged glasses he winced and swallowed again. A few nods to Gordon's suggestion to dinner, even though he didn't feel hungry at the moment. It was probably the stress.

" Mr. Scarface he was.. " Wesker's mouth twitched as he tightened the muscles in his jaws. He pulled the glasses from his face and began wiping the tears off the inside of them with the T-shirt. What do I tell him? I can't just tell him what Mr. Scarface was saying. " He was trying to get me to leave, he .. he kept saying awful things about me and .. about you. I got .. I got mad. "

Wesker squinted at Gordon and then turned his vision to the floor. Mr. Scarface can't be right. But.. what if he is? No.. don't think like that. James is nice, he's trying to help me. It's not like that. " and then I threw him. I .. I've never done that before. I probably shouldn't have.. I might have hurt him, but.. he was being so mean I couldn't take it. "

The small man twiddled his glasses in his hands. Shaking almost in his nervousness. He bit his lip, not able to look at James right now. Not with his chest tightening. He didn't want to look at the other mans face, see the kind eyes and handsome features and still be hearing Scarface's words. " He ordered me to pick him back up.. and I said no. "


Gordon: That shock, that unnerved feeling that he'd had whenever he'd walked in started to disappear. He could feel it alleviating and he smiled. He reached over and put his hands over Wesker's. They'd gotten sweaty from being so nervous, so worried that Wesker was going to snap right there in his house. Instead he was fighting, he was trying to get better. He was helping save someone.

...He was doing it for you Gordon.

The thought made him blink behind his own glasses. He cared enough to fight the dummy when it was insulting him. THE DUMMY. He'd seen them together. He knew that had to take a fuck of a lot.

"That's probably the best thing anyone's done for me in years, you know. Just saying no."


Wesker: Indeed, clammy and twitching, but the twitching stalled when the larger hands landed on his own. Part of him wanted to yank away, but a stronger ( or it could have been weaker and more infatuated ) part was far to relieved and needed that touch. Blue eyes finally looked up at Gordon with a confused expression.

" I .. I don't really understand what you mean. But I want to do it more often. I.. want to say no so hard Mr. Scarface will get fed up with me and go away. " Saying that made his lips tremble. An
indication that he wasn't so sure of how long he'd last even if he did drive the puppet away.

I'd be okay, as long as James was with me.

But would he stay? Wesker pulled one hand out from the others and slid the glasses back onto his face. He was facing down Scarface for this man, and for himself, but he could NEVER do it alone. He needed this man's help.

He needed this man.

I don't believe Mr. Scarface. Wesker suddenly dropped to his knees and threw his arms around Gordon's waist. The smaller man buried his face into the taller one's lap and muffled out into Gordon's thighs. " I want to do all the nice things I can, j-just as long as you don't go away. "


Gordon: Gordon looked down at him. There was no mistaking this man was sick, but he really wanted help. He wanted to be safe from his own self. He lowered his hands and petted the back of his head, fingers running through what was left of soft gray hair.

"I didn't bring you here to use you, Wesker. I just want to help," he said. He didn't know what his excuse would be after the Black Mask was found, and why he even felt the need to find excuses.

"The best thing you've been doing is staying. I've been lonely for a long time, I just never let myself think about it." He meant it innocently. Had he not, Wesker would surely have felt something from the position of his face, yet those words were cryptic against the earlier protests of Scarface.


Wesker: Gordon would no doubt feel the lump the little man swallowed then. Shhh Shhh. Don't cry again. You cry too much. Don't think about it. Mr. Scarface is going to say mean things. He's just mad you're not doing what he wants. Believe this man. Believe him.

But it's hard to truly believe anyone, even someone stroking your head and telling you it will be alright, Not when everyone else in your life has lied, hurt or used you. But oh how Wesker wanted to. He wanted too so bad it made his heart thump and it gave him butterflies in his stomach. Hands curled into the fabric at Gordon's sides and Wesker nodded his head into the other's lap. " I .. I won't leave. I want to stay here with you .. " Forever. " ... till it's safe. "

Yes. He did. He honestly did. Gordon was the only one he felt safe around. Why was he even doubting him?! Wesker squeezed his eyes shut. He DID believe him. He DID! Why.. it was just going to have to be HIM who showed Mr. Scarface who was right.

Another one of those creepy little giggles rumbled against the Commissioners thighs and Wesker finally pulled his face out of the other’s lap. He rested his chin so he could look up at Gordon. " I p-promise. I'll try so hard. "


Gordon: His eyes widened again. Wesker not only wanted help, he was desperate for it. James wasn't a psychiatrist. A cackle like that out of the Joker would have meant that Gordon was about to lose a very important body part, but from Wesker it seemed a different sort of disturbed. Like he needed to desperately attach himself to something.

Like he was attaching himself to Gordon right then. He could feel the fingers ring into the fabric and slightly pinch the skin of his sides. "I'm right here. I'm really here. Scarface isn't in here right now, Arnold. It's just you and me, so you can hang on all you want to."

Gordon wanted to give Wesker something real to hold on to. Something tangible besides a doll to protect him from the big bad world. Something with a pulse and the capacity to give him a kind hand. He rubbed his shoulders. "You don't have to try so hard," he insisted. "I just want you to feel better."


Wesker: Maybe this was a bad idea. For the both of them. It couldn't end well. Or.. maybe it could. But the realistic theme, as it was with most things in Gotham, it would fall apart faster then a bamboo chair at the finger tips of Poison Ivy.

But Wesker didn't care, not anymore. Not at this moment. Even all of Scarface's warnings had been shoved back down into his psyche. Scarface isn't here. It's Just James and you. Just the two of you, and he's not going anywhere.

It was okay to hold on. It was good to feel something warm and caring next to him. It was the closest thing he'd felt to compassion since Donnagon use to pause with grinning grunt before shoving him off the bed. " T-thank you. "

God, Wesker was like a beaten dog sometimes, even more so, when he was suddenly climbing into Gordon's lap. Legs slid on either side of the bigger man's thighs, arms wrapped around the cops neck and he hugged tight and needy to him.

Face buried into the other's throat with a sigh. Gordon might of caught a small relieved smile on the smaller man's lips before they were pressed against his collar bone.


Gordon: He felt the warm body against his then the trickle of hot breath against his skin, ill protected by his loosely buttoned shirt. He rested his hands on his hips, palms flat against the slightly fleshy area. He rested his head against the side of Arnold's, feeling the heat from him. It was comforting. The way his legs around his thighs were arranged soothed aching muscles from having stood all day.

He wrapped his arms all the way around his back and squeezed. The corners of the bigger man's mouth turned up, mustache budging into a grin. He liked the way this felt. It had been so long since he felt this, felt someone so close.

For a bit, it was just that. Just enjoying him. But then something happened. He felt that gurgle in his core, that feeling that no man could physically resist, and beneath Wesker James swelled to capacity gradually. He drew in a careful breath. "Just hug me, please," he pleaded, controlling himself.


Wesker: They hadn't shared a moment like this since a few months back in Wesker's pretty little padded cell. Just sitting and holding. No painful talking about the past, no hiding Mr. Scarface behind a coat. Just hugging on tight.

He really liked the feel of Gordon's arms around his back. They were strong and he felt like he could melt against the other man's chest. Just breathing him in deeply. The scent of paperwork and sweat on his skin. It was intoxicating to a point.

Even before he felt the disturbance below him, his body was started to realize that he might truly want more from this man then just his help. A tight grip like heat in his lower belly that was almost a painful vibration. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Wesker shifted slightly against the hardness beneath him. A hard breath was dragged in and he nodded against the other's neck. " o-okay. " You feel that? Scarface was right about that much. You do want him. Maybe he wants me too, and not just because.. but what if that's all he wants? No.. Not like that.. What if that's not so bad after all. No I. A whimper escaped him, trying to control his own thoughts with brooding arousal tugging at him was difficult. He curled his hands tighter, shifted his knees to the chair and nuzzled his face even harder down into James' throat. He licked his lips nervously and got the salty tastes of the other man's skin in twine. That didn't help slant his nagging desire.

He knew he should have probably pulled away. But he didn't want too, and James wanted him to hold him. He wasn't going to let his brain ruin a moment, not like this.


Gordon: Obviously telling him to just hug him didn't work. That shift of weight on his lap, innocent though it may have been, didn't help his physical situation at all. He hugged a little tighter as an electric throb coursed through him. He felt Wesker's mouth move against his skin, the light touch of tongue and then the surprisingly cool feel of the moisture evaporating in the following breaths.

He rolled up his eyes and fought it. It had been so long. I wonder what he feels like? the thought slowly crept into his head. Warm? How would he feel in my hand? He bit his lips. The thoughts were so hard to resist, especially with a pure ball of need and longing squirming for attention in his lap.

But it wasn't that sort of attention he wanted. James knew this. That sort of attention could break him, could send him spiraling back to Scarface. So it's better to keep it in your pants, Gordon.

"Actually... how about you cook something, and I'll go..." he didn't finish that, he didn't know what he'd do to distract himself but he'd think of something. First though he'd have to convince his arms to let go.


Wesker: Wesker's head had started to throb with his own heart. A light sheen of sweat on his forehead. He muffled out lightly as James' arms tighten to the point where he was mashed up against the other man's chest. He could feel it. Straining and hard beneath him.

Feel's good, hm? Wait no. A hard pant left the smaller man. He was on the verge of panicked confusion. Most of him wanted cling even harder to Gordon, rub against him, be more then just half flaccid pressed to him. But another part was pushing Scarface's nasty comments right back into his brain. And what if he did try? Could Wesker say no? He highly doubted it.

Then Gordon asked him to cook. See that? He's holding back. He doesn't want to use you. A softer breath left Wesker and he pulled his face from James' neck and he came face to face with the other man. He let his legs slip from the chair, and his arms slip back up onto Gordon's shoulders.

For a moment the smaller man just drew in a few breaths to calm himself and then slowly looked past his glasses into James' eyes. He could see the strain in them, the inner desires he was biting back. He was a good man. He was trying. Wesker nodded his head and pulled his lips into a smile.

" Okay..Any.. anything particular you want me to cook? " This sudden task he'd been appointed actually helped quite a bit. Cleaned his house and now gonna cook him a meal? Aren't you becoming a regular little housew--helper, helper? He could do this..

..Once the other man released him, that was.


Gordon: He could almost hear them pop. Them being his fingers as he forced them to open from their tight hold on Arnold's clothes. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it until he felt the sharp pain that came with the sudden relaxation of them. He dropped his hands to hold to the seat of the chair beneath him inside of Wesker's knees.

"I don't care, whatever you want to fix. Don't know what's in the fridge but maybe you can find something." His voice was almost sputtering. He looked down from Wesker's eyes. He didn't want him to see his look, show what had been thinking after he'd trusted him with such a harsh, painful secret.

"I might have mashed potatoes or something, I don't know. I went shopping about a month ago, most of it's microwavable. Make me a list and I'll stop by the grocery store tomorrow on my way home from work."


Wesker: The smaller man's brows tweaked at the drop of Gordon's head. It made him swallow. He certainly didn't like seeing the man who was doing his best to help him, keep him safe, and keep him sane, looking like he'd done wrong.

At that moment, Wesker felt like it would be worth the satisfaction on Gordon's face just to fall back against him, whisper and stroke and just give into anything the man wanted. He could owe him that. But that would be just playing right into Scarface's theories. It shouldn't be like that. Not over a desperate psychodrama of lonely men just looking for someone to hold onto.

Wesker coughed lightly and then leaned over toward Gordon. Shakingly lips pressed to the other man's forehead, just a quick chaste kiss before the smaller man scooted backwards and turned toward the fridge.

" Okay, I'll.. I'll throw something together, it's.. it's been a while since I've cooked. But I used to do it all the time. "

He shot Gordon a soft smile and then opened up the refrigerator, knelt down and began rummaging through it. " W-Why don't you go clean up? "


Gordon: Gordon mumbled lowly, "thanks, I think I will."

He got up slowly and moved around Wesker, and brushed his shoulder with his own, heading out of the room. He hated himself for thinking these things. He just wanted to help Arnold, but it seemed to keep getting harder. Maybe he should start asking Wesker to sleep on the couch.

But Wesker needed the company! Asking him to sleep on the couch would leave him just as vulnerable as being thrown onto the sidewalk. It would leave him open to Scarface, and he didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night and hear that insane giggling with a pair of shining glasses standing beside of his bed.

He could still feel his forehead tingling as he headed into the restroom. The door closed with a quiet click behind him and he stuck his hands under the faucet. He happened to look up and see his face in the mirror. Flushed. Small beads of sweat had formed under his temple. Hell, even his underarms were a little sweaty. No wonder Wesker wanted him to go clean up.


Wesker: Amazing that such a mousy little man could be so creepy when though about in that light. But it was seriously only Scarface that made him dangerous. Any other time he'd acted rashly had been because his own life had been in danger. Wesker hadn't created Scarface because he wanted to be a psychotic little freak, it was the city that had driven him mad.

Wesker's heart skipped a beat as Gordon brushed past him. He peeked around the fridge door and watched the other man trudge out of the room. A flurry of his brows and he let out a sigh. He really wanted Gordon to be around him, but obviously, he couldn't be around him twenty four-seven. The smaller man was just going to have to get use to it. But he was already doing far better then if he'd been on his own.

A moment alone and not needing Scarface. Instead he was concentrating hard on what to make for Dinner. Ten minutes of rummaging around the kitchen and such and Wesker finally laid what he'd gathered down on the counter. He'd found a tin of flat spaghetti, some parsley, some parmesan in a shake container, butter and two cans of tomato soup. It would probably be easier to just pop a few Microwave dinners, but he wanted to actually cook Gordon something.

Pot of water was set to boil and Wesker busied himself with the cooking. His own flirting arousal had long since drifted back down, hopefully Gordon was not suffering himself too much.

It was also nice to cook with BOTH hands. Ha! The last time he'd TRIED to cook, had been in the middle of a heist with Jervis Tetch. Trying to make a meatloaf with Scarface bitching about how much ketchup he was putting in it and that twit of a man insisting he make the tea at the same time had ended up with a burnt dinner and them just eating Chinese takeout.

That had been a nice heist, it was too bad the Bat had came down on their heads. Ack. Water boiling!

Gordon: The toilet lid thudded as it went down against the porcelain and Gordon sat on it. His elbows found his knees and his face buried itself in his hands. His shoulders were still at first, until he could feel salty water trickle out from between his fingers. Then they began to shake. He sniffed then softly made a vocalization. He moved his hands to clasp his mouth to silence it before Wesker heard it.

He felt his chest begin to hurt and air wheezed through his fingers. He clenched his eyes and tried to hold them back. He'd done all this, he'd taken the opportunity to get Wesker out of Arkham. He'd brought him home. His innocent quest to save Arnold though got perverted somewhere along the way into this amoral desire he felt. He clutched his stomach and leaned forward. Teeth were bared and mouth was open in what for the moment was a soundless sob.

Even through his disgust with himself, through his efforts to mentally reprimand himself, that tingling sensation remained in the pit of his torso, heating his loins. This wasn't what it was supposed to be about?! This was supposed to be about saving someone! Finally not letting horrible things happen to those he cared about!

But here he was, knowing full well what Wesker had been through, and wanting to do him himself. He felt sick to his stomach, and cursed himself when he found his hands dropping to the button of his pants fly.


Wesker: It was probably a good thing that Wesker was too busy with the boiling water and not burning himself to hear the turmoil that Gordon was going through in the bathroom. Had he know he might of been clawing at the door in desperation, or hiding under the table. Gordon was doing a good job. So far So good.

He was helping him. Only the second day out of Arkham and he was already spending ninety percent of his time not worried with the puppet. In the sanctity of the other man's house, he was safe, and .... happy? At least as happy as someone in his position could be. Not all the time. But just cooking a meal brightened him up. Already over the panicked confused state he'd been in.

The flat noodles were finished boiling and Wesker spread them out in a baking pan. A can of tomato soap, the parsley and half the cheese added. He flipped them a bit. Working the mixture into the food before popping the pan into the Oven to bake for about twenty minutes.

He leaned on the counter and wiped at his brow with one of those oversized sleeves. I hope he'll like this. It's generic, and certainly not anything fancy. It seems like he may not have had a home-cooked meal as long as I haven't. Wesker swallowed down a sigh. Poor man.

He stared past the door into the hallway. Half tempted to go and check on Gordon. A foot slid against the linoleum but he stopped himself. No, let him be. He doesn't need you following him around like a dog. So Wesker turned back around and pulled out another pan to prepare the other can of soup. All the bread he'd found had been moldy, so they'd have to make do with soup.


Gordon: Gordon listened to the teeth of his zipper being undone, grating like road machinery on his nerves. He was giving in, and while the undone pants provided a much needed release on the strain he was making on the cloth, it made him feel filthy that he'd do this. He wasn't huge, just a little larger than average, but he was still big enough to throb tauntingly.

"You bastard," he muttered about himself as his fingers made contact and encircled his shaft. Once wasn't enough for you, huh, Gordon. Instead of waiting here you are about to yank your cock off in private. Hell, instead of holding the fuck off altogether and just helping the guy you're in here about to jerk off. What sort of good guy are you?

He sniffed as a rub upward pushed blood through pulsing veins and made his head seep a bit of fluid. He tried to hold back more sounds in his throat as tears fell from his face, dripping down in the way of his moving hand. He gritted his teeth and made a pained noise. Ah well, if he was going to be a sick bastard and do this, he could at least go and get it over with quickly. He pursed his lips and breathed sharply through his nose, and thought of the days with Sarah, tried to at least turn his attention to that. Tried to think of his time with her.

The thoughts drifted back to Wesker, though. Thoughts that made an extra surge of blood pulse under his palm as he pondered what his mouth would feel like around him, salt water from his own cursed tears giving his hand glide.

His spine quaked as he gave in and white hot fluid spilled out over his fingers, using his other hand to clamp over his mouth and muffle his sob. He then let his hands rest and he panted. His face was streaked and his throat hurt. He was sweating. "Damn, you bastard," he repeated to himself.


Wesker: " Ow.. owwowowoww. " Burnt fingers were giving a shake as Wesker stood before the oven. Mrgh, that had been really smart. Pans are hot, you should no better then to grab them by the edges. Well the soup was ready. Popped all over the damn stove. Wesker sighed and slid the two burnt fingers into his mouth and used a pot holder to move the pan this time. At least as an added incentive, it be painful to work Scarface's controls for a day or so.

While the rest of the meal finished baking, Wesker stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway. Still idly sucking in his fingers. He's taking a long time. I hope he's okay. It dawned on him he hadn't heard the water in the pipes yet. He figured Gordon would have wanted a shower. His mouth pulled around his fingers. He was starting to worry a bit.

Psh. Stop that. He's a grown man, unlike you, he can take care of himself. But what if he fell, or was sick? Wesker almost couldn't bare the fact that Gordon might not feel well. With how much the man was helping him, he'd hate for him to be not able to do anything if the Black Mask showed up.

Why? Because he wouldn't be able to help you? Or because you actually care about him. I.. care. Wesker wasn't Scarface, at least not his true personality. He didn't like seeing people hurt, especially those he ... liked. Cared about. Yes, he had feelings for the other man. Wither out of desperation or because James was kind to him. He liked him. More then liked...

A glance at the stove timer and then Wesker stepped down the hall toward the bathroom. But as he reached it heard a muffled sound. Almost like a gasp or a cry. He stiffened and his own throat caught.

What's wrong?! Oh no... Right hand was pulled from his mouth and he began to sweat himself as he knocked so gently on the door. " A-are you o-okay, J-james? "

Please. Please. Please. Be.


Gordon: Eyes opened wide at the sound of the knock and he frantically adjusted himself and zipped. "I'm fine!" he called out in a half broken voice, caught it, cleared his throat, and repeated. "I'm fine." He leaned over to wash his hands in the tub faucet.

He cupped water in his hands once he'd cleaned them and splashed water in his face, not wanting him to see him upset. "I'll be out in a minute, Arnold. I just got a cramp." Yeah, he'd believe that.

Not that you were being a filthy bastard.


Wesker: Wesker stared at the door handle as he heard Gordon's voice. Something was off at first, but then he sounded okay. It made the small man blink and bit his lip. He might peek in on a person sleeping, but never when they were in the bathroom.

Did I upset him? Teeth dug even more into his bottom lip. The small twinge of pain, along with a throb from his fingers reminded him to ease up on it. " O..okay. Sorry for bothering you. "

The alarm on the stove going off would yield any more thoughts of just standing outside the door for James to come out. Wesker had to dash back into the kitchen, and remembering the damn potholders this time, removed the pasta from the oven.

He fished clean plates and two bowls from the cabinets and got busy dishing out the Baked Butter Spaghetti onto the plates. He added more cheese to the top. The whole time he was preparing, he took long breathes to keep from dashing back to the bathroom.

Oven and Stove turned off, he carried the plates and bowls to the table and sat them down. Crap Drinks!

He walked back to the fridge and began to dig for some liquid. Ergh.. the milk looked like mush.


Gordon: Gordon finally stepped out. His hair was wet from the sloshing, but the rest of his clothes were unchanged. He walked into the kitchen, hoping the cold water had chilled the red out of his eyes. He squinted as he dried his lenses on his shirt and stood in the doorway.

"Yeah, I probably should have thrown that out," he mused. "Gets in my mustache so I don't drink it too often."

He walked to a chair and had a seat and looked over the feast that Wesker had managed to prepare. "Wow, you managed to scrounge this up out of what I had?" Well, not really a feast in the truest sense. But it was a feast to a man who wasn't used to it.


Wesker: Wesker jumped a little when James spoke. Silly when he'd all but been on his toes waiting for the other man to arrive. He set the milk back into the fridge and stepped back from it. " I .. I don't drink it much myself, even though I should. "

He glanced toward James as the other man sat down. He looked okay, but Wesker could still feel a strange air about him. That lingering depression that everyone had, even if they tried to hid it. He was so familiar with how if felt around himself.

He didn't say anything about it though. He couldn't bare too. Instead he got some ice and some water and reproached the table. Setting the cup down before the other man and took his own seat.

A low nervous laugh left him and he rubbed at the back of his head. " It's.. it's not much really. Just noodles, butter and tomato paste. Certainly not anything to scream about, b-but I hope you like it. "

Eyes never left Gordon's face. The man looked stressed. He badly wanted to ask what was wrong, but instead he just wrapped his hand around his water glass, forgetting about his burnt fingers ( which had him wincing as he lifted the glass ) and took a long sip of the water.

"I'd-I'd like to cook you something extravagant, if you still want me to make you a list, maybe in a few nights? "

Gordon: He's trying so hard. I don't deserve this, James thought to himself. But it's selfish of me to think so much of this is about me. It's more about him, and if he'd like to cook you something you should let him.

"You don't have to go through too much trouble. But I wouldn't mind it. List whatever you want and I'll stop off and get it, alright?" He forked some noodles onto his plate and reached for a bowl for the soup.

He finally slipped his glasses back on and looked at Wesker. He picked up his fork. "Really... Thank you very much."

Wesker: " Y-you're welcome. " Wesker nodded his head and smiled lightly at Gordon. In truth he did WANT to cook for the other man. He'd get down on the ground and clean the floor with his tongue if he figured it would make Gordon happy. Maybe he truly did need to have someone telling him he was doing good for once.

Stead of someone screaming at him that he was dumb and never did anything right. Wesker wasn't stupid. Some where locked inside his head with Scarface was a criminal mastermind, it was just a shame all that cunning and knowledge was wasted on the puppet half of his psyche.

He dug into his own plate and took a few bites. A silent moment of eating passed before Wesker looked back up at James and blinked a few times. " I'm not sure what I should make though, it's been an awful like time. The last time I tried to cook for someone, I burnt it beyond recognition. "

Maybe there was something the other man hadn't had in a good long while. With enough time to manage a decent meal. Wesker nodded and then feel silently into his meal. Yes, he most certainly wants too.

That would be wonderful. It you managed to do it right, let him come home from work and you can have something decent put together. Hearing his belly growl at it would be worth the effort alone. Wesker felt giddy for a moment, the panic and worry he'd had over Gordon's stressed face slowly leaving him.