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Despite being finally empty, the common area of our shared personal space was full of noises. There was a soft, barely noticeable hum of air moving thought the filtering system, the beeping of the cleaning bot which almost always seemed to find things to tidy and the monotone bubbling that came somewhere from the direction of Mordecai’s alchemy table in the crafting room, colorful liquids slowly heating up over burners in a set of bickers and glass vials.
Still, in comparison with the chaos brought here by the gang of changeling and dromedarian children, it was almost eerily quiet.
Katia had already retired for the night, and Donut had messaged me about being in bed while I was brushing my teeth, which meant that both her and Mongo were out cold by now, taking up almost the entirety of the bed’s surface, leaving me nothing more but a tiny sliver of it.
That was fine, because the magical enchantment of the bed somehow cared little about such things as uncomfortable postures. I was going to get rested before the stupid toy commercial, and I desperately needed it.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
Towel hanging over my shoulder and toothbrush in hand, I was already walking in the direction of the bedroom, when I heard a muffled crush coming from the opposite side of the common area, where the personal quarters of our manager was connected to it.
“Mordecai?!” I called, trying to be both firm enough for him to hear me, but also not too loud to wake somebody up. There was no response, but I heard some groans of distress and hurried to move closer, realizing at the same time the sounds weren’t coming from Mordecai’s quarters, but rather another bathroom attached to it, which Mordecai still used for personal hygiene even while not really needing it for... well, anything else. The door leading inside wasn’t closed all the way, left a tiniest bit ajar, just enough to see a thin line of light seeping through the crack. “Mordecai?” I tried again, a little softer this time as I was closer. “You ok there, buddy?”
Mordecai didn’t reply with words, but I heard a long, rugged sob from the other side and swore under my breath. Please don’t be jerking off in there, I mentally begged before pushing the door open, my eyes immediately falling on Modecai’s crouched frame beneath my feet. On the bright side, the guy wasn’t doing anything inappropriate as I was worried, but it was too early to be letting out a sigh of relief. There was glass shattered all across the white floor, mirror shards reflecting the eagle’s pained expression as he hovered over them, blood rivuletting between the tiles.
“Ah, gods damn it,” Mordecai muttered, lifting his wing to take a look at the cut on its bend, his voice slurring in a familiar manner. “Gods damn it all to hells!” he added, dropping his wing back onto the floor, even more glass crunching as it smushed under it.
Too tired for it, I didn’t think twice before leaning down and grabbing him by the wing's equivalent of a wrist, yanking it towards myself to take a better look. Immediately, I realized it was the first time I saw this part of him up close. The bend of the wing was not exactly a human hand, but there were similarities. There were two prehensile fingers and a thumb coming from the area that looked almost like a palm, which were of a normal size. The other two fingers were long, extending all the way to the tip of his wing. The palm portion of it also covered not with skin or feathers, but rather small scales, hard on the outside of it, and soft little bumps on the inside. Some of these bumps were sliced by the glass, blood gushing through the cuts and, as I suspected, a few shards were still sticking out of it.
“I’m gonna pull these out, ok?” I said, but I didn’t even wait for his response, starting to work on removing the broken pieces, while Mordecai himself was staring at me in utter surprise, his beak hanging open, as if he hadn’t expected me to appear. There was a strong smell of alcohol that was reaching me as he breathed, which partially explained the situation. “You really gotta lay off the sauce," I pointed out finishing with the task and giving his hand a final glance over to make sure I didn’t miss anything. It didn’t seem like I did, and the cuts were already starting to close right before my eyes, Mordecai’s regeneration kicking in. “We can’t have you drunk when we need manager advice,” I added.
I realized that it was a lie the moment the words were out of my mouth. And surely just a few short weeks ago I cared little seeing the guy absolutely wasted and falling asleep in a puddle of own vomit. It was a gross picture, for sure, but between everything else that’d been happening around me, Mordecai’s wellbeing had never really crossed my mind.
Now, however, I realized the grumpy shapechanger had somehow wormed himself under my skin just enough for me to genuinely worry about the guy. Not that I could ever admit it out loud, of course, so complaining about his inability to perform duties was the next best thing.
“Wasss... trying to,” he hissed, his words followed by an even more rancid smell.
“Trying to?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I... slipped,” he responded vaguely, gesturing around himself, and it was difficult to tell if he meant his attempt at remaining sober or his accident in the bathroom. Somehow, I doubted it was the latter, given it was the mirror above a sink broken into pieces. Some of it was still attached to the wall, and the cracks that run across the remaining portion looked suspiciously as if created by somebody punching the thing on purpose.
I wasn’t going to ask. “Come on, you need to get to bed. You won’t get enough sleep in two hours on the floor here, moreover with all this mess,” I tried to usher him up instead, but Mordecai didn’t budge.
I almost opened my mouth to speak again, when Mordecai’s shoulders suddenly shook, another sob ripping from somewhere in his chest before his head fell onto my shoulder. That kicked any semblance of coherent thought out of the window, and I could do nothing but gape. “Umm, Mordecai?” I gulped, a strained chuckle escaping me. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed about this in the morning.”
Either unable to hear me, or simply ignoring my words, Mordecai leaned even closer as his shoulders continued to shake silently.
I knew I needed to put a stop to it, needed to push him away despite it seeming almost cruel towards a man who was obviously hurting, but I was completely frozen, a very old, almost forgotten memory resurfacing in my mind.
There used to be this duvet at my grandparent’s place. Living in Texas, they rarely had a need to pull it out of the closet, but a few times it happened, the duvet was offered to me. And each time it filled me with excitement, because this specific item of bedding was filled not with synthetic microfiber, but real bird down, and saying it was warm and soft was an understatement. Now, I could barely recollect what color it was, but I remember laying under the thing, wondering if it was exactly like being submerged into a real cloud.
The thing was, having Mordecai’s feathered body pressed into me now felt almost exactly like that. He was soft and warm, and somehow, I was even sure he smelled the same, even if me considering it was sort of like comparing him to an old blanket.
Without even realizing it at first, I found myself raising my hand, my palm landing on his back, fingers digging through the plumage there. It was velvety to the touch, and so unlike the feathers on Mongo’s spine that seemed almost grating in comparison. It also made me realize he wasn’t wearing a shirt now, only his blue pajama pants — exactly the same ones I first saw Mordecai in, when he was still a guild master of the Tutorial Guild. He was much smaller in stature back then, and I wasn’t even sure if they were magical or simply loose enough to fit most of his forms.
Calm down, Carl, it’s not weird, it's not weird, I kept repeating in my mind as my hand continued stroking. It’s just like petting Donut or snuggling with her as you sleep. Yet, I could barely believe it, feeling like an absolute creep for finding myself actually enjoying this otherwise simple form of physical affection. Because when it came down to it, I’ve never been given a chance to learn to accept concepts like ‘men were allowed to cry’ or ‘embraces didn’t need to be sexual’.
Mordecai wasn’t even going to remember this tomorrow. Then again, maybe because Mordecai wasn’t likely to remember this tomorrow and I was simply using it as an excuse to grope him was exactly what was making it weird.
“I don’t even remember it,” Mordecai spoke against my shoulder, his voice vibrating through my body, and the fact how much his words mirrored my thoughts left me confused.
“Remember what?” I asked.
“The sky,” he responded. “Of my world.”
My hand stopped mid-stroke, and it took me some effort not to greet my teeth in anger. I knew of course that if Mordecai had been a crawler at some point, it meant that his home world was destroyed, too, but I’ve never really taken time to think about it. At first because having my own world destroyed made it difficult to offer pity to others, and later because I’ve grown to respect Mordecai enough not to offer him pity. He deserved better than that.
Another bout of guilt twisted in my gut like a sharp knife. Mordecai could’ve been out of this by now. Perhaps, not completely out of the dungeon, but out of all his obligations to us. He could've been somewhere with his real friends, sipping Dirty Shirley if we hadn’t tricked him into becoming Donut’s manager. I felt that at some point I was going to need to come clean to him about that and wondered how mad Mordecai was going to be and for how long.
The man was certainly capable of holding a grudge, if his reaction to Chaco was any indication.
Then again, guilt was one thing and regret another. Because while I was guilty, it was really difficult to find myself regretting the decision. Both me and Donut would’ve likely been dead if not for that deceit. “Is it the first time they turned you into somebody of your own race?” I asked instead to push that line of thought away, looking up from our crouched spot on the bathroom’s floor and onto the broken mirror on the wall.
Mordecai chuckled bitterly. “No, but... It's been so, so long. And not even into a one that can fly! Every little piece of shit out there has a sense of humor, I guess. F... fuckers!”
I supposed it was a good thing we were currently in a bathroom, the only place in the entire dungeon safe from the praying eyes of both the viewers and the Borrant Corporation. I could've shared my own thoughts about it all in here, too, but I suspected Mordecai knew them well without me needing to voice them out loud. “We’ll get through it,” I said instead. I wasn’t even certain if I was making this promise to Mordecai now or to myself, but that didn’t matter. “All of us,” I added as my hand returned to stroking his back. “And they will pay.”
The last part was added quietly, barely audible, but it made Mordecai tense in my grip. He began moving next, either to pull away or to adjust his likely uncomfortable position. I wasn’t given a chance to figure out which one it was, because his movement almost pushed me onto my ass, which would've certainly resulted in cuts in very unfortunate places.
“Ok, hold on, we should probably get you to bed,” I told him, trying to balance both of us while crouched. Then I gave up on that and simply got up, lifting Mordecai from the ground. It was much easier than I anticipated, even taking my inhumanly high strength into account. Mordecai’s body was light, weighing practically nothing in my arms, which suddenly reminded me of a conversation I once had with Bea about hollow bird bones and why exactly it was so dangerous to feed cooked chicken to cats.
I was planning to simply give him a shoulder to lean as we walked towards his own personal space, but Mordecai’s legs were shaky, and even as he gripped tight around me, he almost ended up sliding back onto the floor in his drunken state. That was a dangerous thought, because I had no idea how well his feathers were going to protect him against the glass, and I didn’t want to sit here for another half an hour trying to pluck the shards out of his skin.
“God damn it, Mordecai,” I hissed, feeling his sharp talons digging into my skin through the jacket as he tried to use me for better balance. It wasn't working well, but my words made him giggle this time, which I supposed was an improvement from tears.
He’s not going to remember this, I reminded myself after considering my options. I didn’t have many, and the ones that were available to me were not particularly dignifying. Still, bearing his state in mind, I simply reached down and hooked my arm under his knees, lifting him from the floor completely. And surely, carrying somebody into a bedroom bridal style might’ve looked incriminating for people still watching the events unfold as we exited the bathroom together, but at least if he was going to throw up, he wasn’t going to do it on me.
It was the first time I was stepping into Mordecai’s personal space after finishing the third floor, but it hadn't changed much. It was still the same large room with a fireplace and a bed dominating one side of it, same shelves filled with items the purpose of which I couldn’t even start guessing, same famed pictures. Even the urn with his mother’s ashes was still there, which meant Mordecai did manage to collect as much of it as he could. I couldn’t explain it, but the thought left me relieved.
The bed was different this time, however, undergoing the same upgrades as the rest of our base of operations, and the classroom-like chairs were gone from the grey carpet covering the other half of the room.
“Please just sleep,” I said to Mordecai as I deposited him onto the bed without even pushing the blankets out of the way. Mostly because I knew the bed’s enchantment didn’t care about it, but also because my hands were occupied.
I was almost about to pull away, but Mordecai reached out, his hand landing onto my bare forearm. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and still slurred, but there was something else in it that I haven’t heard there before, some kind of quiet clicking sounds that his beak was making. In quick succession it sounded almost like a purr.
“I’m not fetching you buckets,” I said immediately, because something in this entire interaction suddenly became very different, my stomach twisting in a knot. “If you fall asleep fast enough you won’t need it.”
Mordecai didn’t respond, his head pressing further into the pillow, his eyes raising to lock gaze with mine. Or at least I was certain they did, because it was a little difficult to tell with their position, but from where I stood his expression changed to almost a seductive one. Then his hand began moving, a gentle caress that slowly traveled up my arm. It felt nothing like my mindless ruffling of his feathers from before, too intimate, too sensual, his touch leaving goosebumps on my skin.
No, this couldn't have been right, I was most definitely imagining things that were simply not there. Not that I could say that I knew Mordecai well. Hell, we’ve met less than two months ago if you added it all up, and I certainly couldn’t postulate about his preferences despite seeing him only with women with my own two eyes. Besides, he was really drunk right now. For what I knew he was thinking I was some pretty chick. Literally.
“Sleep,” I insisted firmly, moving completely out of his reach and began turning around. I thought Mordecai said something else, but I wasn’t listening, excusing myself out of his room as fast as my legs carried me.
It’s fine, he’s not going to remember this, I told myself once again, this time truly hoping that it was the case.
When I finally made it to my room I saw that I was absolutely right, and both Donut and Mongo were already soundly asleep splayed across my entire bed. Yet, as I also suspected, I felt absolutely no trace of annoyance at the fact, climbing onto the sheets and trying to arrange myself around the two.
There was something different I noticed about my surroundings as I finally settled. To my complete astonishment, the duvet covering the bed was not the same as before, which almost made me gasp. Not that it wasn’t perfectly soft prior to this moment, but now it felt like my body submerged into a cloud, exactly as I was imagining it as a child. I didn’t know if it was the exact copy of the one my grandparent had, or was a very good approximation of my memories, and it didn’t matter. What mattered were the emotions that flooded me that moment.
It was not the memories of my childhood that caused them this time, however, but the events of this very evening. Closing my eyes I could do nothing but remember Mordecai’s soft plumage against my palm, against my chest.
I expected to be more alarmed about it, but I was simply too tired for it, or at least I hoped my exhaustion was the reason, because I really had no desire to start figuring it all out now. Besides, even if the last part of our encounter had turned a little strange, I really believed it wasn’t as much of a big deal as it seemed.
As if to accent my point, Donut chose that moment to roll in her sleep onto her back, her side pressing more snuggly to my shoulder, her fuzzy tummy on full display. She opened her mouth, murmuring something about interviews and let out a sound that couldn't have been anything else but a soft snore. It brought a smile to my face and I found myself relaxing, starting to slowly drift into a restful slumber.