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After spending time with Vinnie Dakota, there comes a tolerance to a certain amount of weirdness. Most of it is food related, stacking his meals into pyramids when permissible, or eating burgers enough to make Cavendish wonder if he thinks it is an essential food group. As such, he's come to accept that any 'errands' made in their off time were just snack runs under a more palatable title. So it really is a surprise when he opens the knock on their door, after a careful inspection that it was not Mr. Phillips demanding rent, to find a wall of vaguely pink fabric.
"What in the world is that?" he demands as he squeezes past, crossing his arms over his chest and moving his hat up one half of a degree so he can see the full extent of his glare. Not that Dakota ever seems to appreciate the effort.
"Good afternoon to you too, Cav. And it's what it looks like, a mattress." he says, indicating the rectangular blob he's trying to push through their door, despite it clearly being too big to fit. A cursory glance confirms this statement.
"Where did you get it?" he asks, genuinely curious. They haven't gotten a paycheck in the last month, probably because all the pistachios they were supposed to protect caught on fire, or exploded. Or both. Because pistachios sometimes spontaneously combusted for some reason.
"Oh this is a good story. So get this, I was heading towards the Paul Bunions, where the food is good, but not too good eh? They have a special on pancakes this month, all you can eat for five bucks!"
"Dakota. The mattress."
"Right. Anyway, I had to walk by the edge of Tri-State State to get there and there it was! It was too big for some poor sap's dorm room, so she was giving it away. I figured it would be nice to not have to sleep at a desk for once."
Cavendish instinctively winces in remembrance of many mornings with a kink in his spine, or the ache in his shoulders from holding his head in his palms. It would be nice to not have to endure that, even temporarily.
"I see. That was very resourceful of you, Dakota." he compliments carefully. He's stingy with his praise, not because he doesn't have any, but owing that too frequent laying of it would make his affections seem obvious. Dakota was best kept in the dark on that particular matter.
"Yea, whatever. Just help me get this thing inside, will you?" he says, throwing his shoulder against one of the faces and defying physics enough to get one edge inside. Cavendish tries to bend the other corner over the lip of the door when hands pull at his shoulders.
"You're going at the wrong angle, you've got to apply it here." Dakota corrects, moving his hands to a proper place in order to get the last of the monstrosity inside. He feels the warmth of the contact even after they manage to get the mattress across the threshold and flip it horizontally, spreading it across the no man's land between their desks. They stare at it, a little breathless from the effort.
"Now what?" Cavendish wonders aloud, looking over at his partner, who shrugs.
"I guess we sleep on it. I am feeling a bit tired from dragging this thing around." Dakota says, flopping inelegantly onto the pink fabric before he can say a word about sheets or pillows or anything. Instead he sighs.
"I suppose it's only fair you get first turn, having found it." he says, though his back will hate him for subjecting it to torture now that there's another option. Dakota blinks up at him owlishly, hands behind his head.
"Turns? This thing's huge, Cav, we can both fit." he says, and Cavendish almost faints at the mere thought of it. Him and Dakota, in the same bed?! Even in the most innocent of manners, it is still a rather intimate action. Being able to feel the rise and fall of his chest, see his asleep expression up close. Maybe even brush a stray curl away from his eyes, eyes he's never seen without a barrier. Strange, how he's never noticed that before.
"Cavendish, buddy? You in there?" Dakota questions, his head tilted to the side. A bit of him is annoyed at it, a grown man shouldn't be able to look cute like that! He shakes his head of the thoughts, they're wildly inappropriate. There's plenty of room on the mattress for them to lie separately, no intimacy required.
"I just don't see the point in sleeping on a mattress with no blanket." he bluffs, unable to think of a better fake reason for his hesitation. For his part, Dakota doesn't even blink, just rises slowly to his feet and pads to his locker, pulling out a quilt with stallions printed across it.
"You've just had that this whole time?" Dakota shrugs.
"I get hot easy, so I don't use it much. It used to be my cousin Izzie's. She was going through a horse phase." His expression turns soft as he mentions the relation, gazing down at the fabric. "Sweet little kid. I haven't seen her since the Mississippi mission. Not sure if she exists anymore." he says, with a mournful calm Cavendish doesn't know what to do with. Instead of speaking, he reaches for Dakota's hand, pulling him towards the mattress.
"Let's get some rest." he says, meaning 'I'm sorry.'
"Yea." Dakota responds, squeezing his hand as a silent 'thanks.'
The next few minutes are filled with the shucking off of shoes, the removal of outerwear. Cavendish places his glasses on his desk, making sure they're still within reach. Looking at his partner is less intimidating when he's been reduced to a brown-yellow blur. He settles himself on his side of the mattress, carefully balancing as close to the edge as he can risk without falling off, covering himself with the blanket. Unfortunately Dakota does not seem to have gotten the message about personal space.
"Pssst, Cav. Come over here, I'm cold." he demands, his arm-blurs reaching out towards him.
"I thought you said you got hot easily." he accuses. Cavendish certainly is, with all the blush pooling in his cheeks.
"It's a trend, not an all or nothing thing. Tonight I'm cold."
"What are the consequences if I refuse?"
"I steal all the blankets." he says matter of factly, and Cavendish curses himself for giving in. He should have just slept at his desk, back be damned. Instead he moves closer to the man of his dreams, a pun Dakota would have found hilarious if he said it aloud. Assuming he didn't hate him.
Dakota is much clearer up close, though there's a little edge of fuzz around him, almost halo-like in the dimness. He's also much less clothed, his jacket gone, the undershirt clinging tightly to his skin. He gulps hard as he sees the indents from the chain across his collarbone, resisting the instinctive urge to run his fingers over them.
"Much better." Dakota says, slinging an arm around his waist and pulling them close enough that he's all but draped over him, a self satisfied smile on his face. It's even prettier up close. Cavendish closes his eyes and wills his heart not to explode in his chest. That isn't how he wants to go out of this world.
"If you say so." he huffs, but there's something calming about the pressure of him, the tickle of his breath against his chest. Without thinking, he reaches to fix an unruly section of Dakota's hair, flattening it towards his scalp with slim fingers. It feels nice.
"Night, Cav." he says with a yawn, and seemingly within an instant, he's passed out. Cavendish merely shakes his head and twirls a curl around his finger.
"Goodnight, Dakota."