The Story of the Cat and the Mouse

RP Fic By Spug & Bianca Marou

Genre: Batman

Pairing: Gordon X Wesker

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Anthro, Yiff, Language, Misuse of Food

Summery: Anthro Setting. The Ventriloquist gets a day off for good behavior, Commissioner Gordon takes him to the Park. And then..

Cameos: Dr. Arkham, Bullock, Jerry, Montoya, & The Mad Hatter

Wesker:  If glass eyes could have held any other emotion save for the shadowed and almost empty reflection of what was stared into them, one would have bet those lifeless pupils would have seethed utter loathing.

"Run dis gy me again? Why's 'e gettin' tah parade around dah Gurg 'n I's have tah stay in yer dusty cagnet?"

The Stork adjusted his frames and stared down at the gangster dressed wooden rat dummy and quoted matter-of-factly. "Because Mr. Scarface, Mr. Wesker has behaved, you.. on the other hand, are utterly hopeless. Are you ready Arnold? Just hand Mr. Scarface to me." Dr. Arkham spread wing tips out toward the tiny mouse that stood next to the receptionist desk.

Six full months of good behavior. Six full months of no escape attempts, no fighting and taking his medication, and what did Arkham Asylum award it's prized pampered crazies with? A day out! Freedom!

Well.. with an armed escort of course. Kindly volunteered from the police department. But still a Day out. Shouldn't this rodent have worn a more chipper expression? Yet Arnold Wesker's maw was pulled in a flat line, exposing the gnawing tooth. Glasses reflecting and sheening in the bright office florescent lighting. Brows were canted with worry on his albino white furred face. Rounded mousy ears slightly lowered. He'd been dressed up in his best. Tuxedo, bow-tie, even his fashionable bowler hat. But his naked pink tail was drooping.

"Mr. Wesker?"

There were two reasons for the mouse to be vaguely put out of place. One was the worry that his escort was going to be that.. swine that was always eating donuts. Oh my yes, that mammal scared him a bit. And the other.

"Are you sure.. Mr. S-Scarface can't come?" Lip was pulled behind that jutted white tooth.

Dr. Arkham sighed and rubbed his bill. "No, Arnold."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Gordon:  He paced at the front of Arkham Asylum's lobby in front of the desk.  He could hear the faint sound of a radio as the receptionist listened to some sort of lazy sounding oldies station.  I wonder if it's too late to call this whole thing off, there are a million more things that I could be doing right now.

Swish Swish Swish.

The really rich thing would be if they sent that Hyena out.  Of course, though, realistically he'd never get off on good behavior.  Meanness was built right into every last miscolored hair of that creatures hide.  Or the Riddler, perhaps.  The migraines that weasel would give him.

Swish Swish Swish.

He twitched his ears trying to hear who it could be, bushy thick whiskers wiggling as he tried to smell the air.  Damn!  I can't tell who it is coming through the door.  In nervousness his licked the fingers of his paw and ran them back through his hair, before starting another trip back to the other side of the desk.

Swish Swish Swish.

Maybe it wasn't too late.  Perhaps he would have the opportunity to call it off and get a replacement for the person tomorrow.  He turned to go to the receptionist and ask her about this, and-

Swish Swish KLONK!

A book and a multitude of magazines upon it fell from a waiting room table as his huge, bushy tail flicked into it awkwardly, scattering across the floor.  "Dammit!" He cursed, rushing to pick up the mess.  Okay, I get this cleaned up, then I have them tell them someone'll come in tomorrow.  I'll offer Bullock and Montoya extra sick days for it.  Yes, that'll work.  He arranged them neatly in his paws and put them on top of the book, back turned toward the hall that Wesker was being brought down.

Wesker:  Pink lined ears swirled to the crashing that came from the lobby as light footsteps that wouldn't have normally sounded had he not been wearing shoes with heels. It's that pig. I know it is. He'll make me sit in his car why he sips coffee and snort at me if I move too much.

Wesker moved the fingers on his right paw, now free of Mr. Scarface open and close against his palm. He banked slightly and Dr. Arkham placed a wing on his shoulder. "Don't be nervous, you'll have a great time. "

His other wing was behind his long back, keeping the Dummy out of the small rodents view. "And don't you worry about Mr. Scarface, he'll be right here when you get ba--" The Stork trailed off as they entered the lobby.

Wesker's ears swiveled in confusion as he was greeted with fluffy... white tail. A very big fluffy white tail swinging all around as it's owner was stooped over picking up magazines. Maw parted slightly and head tilted. Long brown coat.. why this was...

"So is it dah swine or what?" Scarface's voice bit behind Dr. Arkham rather bored. The Stork cough and tucked the Dummy under his coat.

"Commissioner, how are you? Do you need help with that?"

Commissioner James Gordon. Well HIM Wesker had not expected. Not at all.

Gordon:  "Huh?" Gordon stood, his tail still swishing awkwardly as he finished.  Well it's too late now, but it's...  Hey, it's the Ventriloquist.  Without the puppet this day should go along smooth enough.

"No, actually, I just took care of it," he gave sort of a nervous chuckle and glanced over at the receptionist.  His face lost it's smile.

She was just sitting there, completely oblivious, gecko tongue helpin her blow a large bubble before she turned the page to the files she was reading.  Well, it's nice to know how secure Arkham can be.

He looked back toward Dr. Arkham.  "Well, is this our guy?"  He walked over to Wesker, towering over him.

Well, now that he thought about it, he was a lot taller than Wesker.  More than he ever realized from a distance or seeing him brought out of a patrol car.  I must look enormous from down there.  

He kneeled, leaning his elbow on his knee so he was looking up at the mouse slightly.  Age was catching up with the old cat, he had to grunt a little on his way down, but he didn't seem pained when he was resting. 

"So, Mr. Wesker, did you have any plans today?  Anywhere in particular you wanted me to take you? ...That's legal of course," He added, grin making his bushy whiskers fluff up.

Wesker:  "H-hello Mr. Gordon." The mouse said rather softly, craning his head upward at the tall cat till the Commissioner decided that kneeling would be a better ideal. How's the weather up there? His brain quarried. Warrant a chuckle, no Wesker just sniffed.

The rodent's face followed along as Gordon took his new position and came eye to eye with the schizophrenic mouse.

Glasses hid all the emotion of his eyes. But ears and nose were a different story. Those satellite items swiveled back a little and his nose wiggled nervously. It perhaps could have been just natural rodent - feline charisma.  Pink tongue darted over his lips and he shifted a shoe almost like a child would against the ground. "Maybe... Maybe the p-park.. I d-don't really have a plan, anywhere you think is nice. "

Honestly, as long as he got to go out. It would be nice. Since it wasn't that hog, it was bound to be somewhat enjoyable. After all, Gordon didn't seem like a bad feline.

"Oh you'll have a wonderful time. Just remember, back by six. Any problems, just bring him in early." The Stock nudged the mouse again and Wesker's belly brushed against Gordon's knees. He stammered slightly, going to apologize but atlas interrupted.

"DUMMY! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME 'ERE 'ND GO THE FUCK OFF!"

The stork actually jumped as the mouse threw his voice. "Goodness." Scarface clattered to the ground behind him.

Ears snapped to the sound of wood hitting ground and the mouse turned tail, literally, the pink thing nearly slapped the feline in the face.

"A-are you sure Mr. S-scarface can't come?"

Gordon: He rose to his feet, nodding as he went.  "That shouldn't be a problem, Dr. Arkham.  I-"

The huge feline hissed between his teeth slightly at the sound of the dummy's voice, eyes widening in alarm and turning toward the sound of the clatter.  His own ears wiggled every which way at the surprising conversation with himself.

"Um... How about us hurry on our way to the park, huh?  I don't think Mr. Scarface would like grass stains in his suit."  He put an arm around Wesker's shoulders and turned him toward the door, pushing him slightly to encourage him to keep walking.

"Hey, I bet the food in here isn't all that great all the time, how about I get you a hot dog or something while we're at the park?"  He walked toward the front doors.  Oh please don't let it talk anymore, hide the thing, Dr. Arkham!  You'd almost think that Gordon was thinking of the puppet independently from Arnold with that reaction.

His swishing tail became so agitated that the fluff came up and puffed at the back of Arnold's head every once in a while, fur tickling at his mousy ears.  "Bosses you around a lot, doesn't he?" He said once the door was closed behind them.

Wesker:  Oh God. Mr. Scarface was so angry. He yelled a lot, but like that. Wesker almost wanted to balk and run down the hallway back to his cell right then. A day out wouldn't be worth the torment he'd get when he returned.

Would it?

No choice, big feline arm was around his shoulders and he was heading for the door. For a moment the rodent pressed back against the inside of that coated arm. Scarface could still be heard growling as Arkham scoped the dummy up and took off down the hallway with it.

As soon as the door was clicked shut behind them, Wesker let out a sigh and his head sunk a bit. Ears flickering instinctively to the tickling fur that was bushing up against them.

"Y-yes." Slowly Arnold tilted his head up at the feline, brows were canted sad. "B-but I d-deserve it.. I guess, It's not really fair he has to stay, even if he didn't behave."  A paw reached up and he scratched at his little pink nose and took a few steps forward, not wanting to keep pressing back into the felines arm.

"I'd like a hotdog, thank you, that would be nice." His gaze shifted out toward the gate. What would they ride in? A police car, or the Commissioners own. I hope it's not a police car.

It was a nice day. Not too hot, A light breeze made his white fur and bow tie ruffle. He looked.. completely innocent. Certainly not like he belong in that nut house they'd just exited. But looks were so deceiving.

After all, this large ( he'd say enormous, but he rode around on Charles Dales' shoulders quite a bit, now that was enormous, a damn nose bleed! ) feline taking him for his reward day? Tiger without stripes, or just a sweet kitten? This mouse would hope for the latter.

Gordon:  Fortunately for Wesker, it was indeed the Commissioner's car, complete with siren in the glove box and radio set in case of emergency.  It was an older model brown boat of a thing, but still in nice shape.  

"Well, you were good, so you get to go out, and he was bad, so he has to stay.  I think that makes sense to me."  Like a giant feather duster that thing tapped against Wesker's back, running up and down the other's bald pink tail.  Obviously the Commissioner had a lot of issues on his mind.  There had to have been to make him swish his tail that much.

His face is so sad, maybe he really needs this.  "I need a little break from work anyway, how about we make the most of our day?"  He nodded toward his vehicle through the gate as they reached it.  "See that ugly piece of crap?  That'll be the H.M.S. Oldsmobile and I'll be your captain this evening, I hope you enjoy the entertainment aboard the ship and feel free to refer to any of the helpful staff... all one of them."

It was a lame attempt at a joke, but it was something to put the little mouse at ease.  Obviously his kittens must have warped his sense of humor.

Wesker:  It could have been the Flintstones car and he could have rubble-rubbled his way along the floor, anything but riding in a marked police car was good as gold. Those round ears shifted forward as he looked over toward the hunking brown vehicle and listened to the large feline crack a poor joke in his favor.

That's sweet. A slow chuckle left the mouse and he took a deep breath as they walked toward the car and looked over his shoulder at the feline. Maybe this day without Scarface won't be so bad. It sounds like he's going to keep me safe and try to enjoy my company, boring as I may be. "I'm sure I'll have a great t-time thank yo-umph"

Big ol fluffy white tail smacked right into his little muzzle as he turned his face to talk to the feline. Not hard enough to hurt but he did jolt back a bit in surprise.

Oh my that was.. nose wiggled. He could still feel the soft fur that had slipped across the delicate smelling item. Nose Wiggled. Okay.. Not hurt just.. Nose wig-

"Chu!" Sneeze!

And Again. "Chu!" "Chu!"

"Chu!"

Each time his head shook, and glasses slipped down his nose, exposing blurry blue.

"Chu!"

It was just the tiniest squeaking little thing too.

"Chu!"

Gordon:  Gordon turned away, thankfully ridding Wesker of that damned annoyance under his wiggly little pink nose.   A thick, white digit planted itself in the middle of Wesker's glasses and pushed them up on his nose.

He does have pretty eyes.  The thought crossed his mind briefly before his pushing finger concealed them again behind the thick lenses once more.

Swish Swish Swish his tail patted the door.  "You can hop in the passenger side, I'll hop in the driver's side, and maybe if you're really good in a while you can get out for good."  The sneezing, now that he thought about it, had been kinda cute, too.

No Gordon, don't go thinking things like that about your ward.  As he got in he had to move his tail to wrap his lap and buckle it down so it didn't flail about and get in his way as he drove.  He did it quickly, like he was used to it, but it looked a little awkward when he was done, like he'd strapped one of those overly fuzzy pillows to his lap.

"...Okay, park, hotdogs, anything else?"

Wesker:  Big fluffy finger to the rescue! Another sneeze like that and those glasses might of ended up on the ground. Another wrinkle of his nose and the mouse sniffed lightly and nodded his thanks to the large feline. "O-kay."

He did as he was instructed. Stepping around the vehicle and climbed into the passenger seat. He sat down carefully, letting his own little naked tail curl next to him as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest and lap and buckled it.

He wiggled to get the chest harness out of his face and then turned to look at Gordon.

How does he get around with such a behemoth tail? Wesker blinked under his glasses and just stared at the felines buckled down back-swisher. If my tail was that big I'd be falling over it, even compared to his body. My Goodness. At least it's soft.

Unlike his own tail, which actually stung if he whipped it around too hard. I wonder what else he's knocked over with that thing... you're staring at his lap.

Wesker felt the skin under his white cheeks starting to mildly burn and he quickly turned his attention to the dash board and nibbled his lip. "I’m not really sure.. I think the parks good for now, I think about it while we're there. "

Park. With green grass and the pond. He'd always liked going there, Mr. Scarface so rarely let him.

Gordon:  He's looking at your lap.  Curse that thing for being in the way all the time.  Just had to swish it under his nose.  His own skin blushed, beaming through his fur slightly.  "Park then, very well."  He started to drive.

He glanced over at the small mouse in the seat next to him.  He reminds me of a kid at a playground who's sad because no one'll play with him.  I suppose that's why he has Scarface.  He's the tough kid to watch over him when other kids are picking on him.

"How long has it been since you've been there, because they've added another fountain there-" that someone was killed by last week "-and some of the fruit trees are starting to turn-" the reports said that leaves kept covering up evidence.

It was sad, now that he thought about it.  Most of the nice changes in the city of Gotham were always seen through a Crimson haze for him.  It was altogether depressing anymore to go anywhere.  Maybe going with a fresh pair of eyes could cheer it up a little for him.

Wesker:  Funny how you miss little details like the cracks in a glove department when you don't bother to stare at them, or how the car smelled a bit too much like paperwork and coffee. The feline fur smelt the same way, but in a nicer fresher way. Not the stale grinded in seat of a coffee stain ground into the floor boards.

He's talking to you, pay attention. The mouse finally jerked his attention back up to the feline. He caught the tell-tale signs of the blush fading away under those fluffy white cheeks. A head tilt and his brows flurried up. "Not in two years." With Socko. He didn't bother to mention that part. Socko had been much nicer, wanted lesser crimes, just liked to go to the park and feed the..

"Are the Ducks still coming around?" Ears perked up at the sound of the new fountain. That sounded nice. If they did, he could sit with Gordon and watch them awhile, fed them some of his hotdog bun.

These little thoughts brightened the mouse up a little bit, his shoulders straightened and he raised his chin to look out the car window now. His tail flickered a bit and the tip brushed against the feline's thigh.

For a moment he just stared out the window before slowly turning back to Gordon. He licked his maw and his pink nose crinkled. "You don't have to keep me out the whole time, if you don't want too, I know this is probably a burden, I think just a trip to the park will suffice. "

Gordon:  Really, was it a burden?

When he'd set out that morning, he'd fully expected it to be.  But no, it was hardly a burden....  Well, it might have been if it had been some other inmate.  But this was Arnold Wesker, and he was completely saaAAAAAAAAA-

His back tensed up as the tail tickled his thigh and made his own bush up underneath the seatbelt.  He squirmed and tried to discretely wiggle away from it.  Luckily the thicker tail was hiding any reactions that he was having.

The park wasn't far, and it wasn't long before they saw it.  "See?" He nodded toward ducks in the sky.  "There're still some here."  There was a smile in his voice.  Far different from the gruff, demanding voice he used before the press and captured criminals.

"Do you want to go and see them?"

Wesker:  Ah yes, Wesker had that light innocence about him. It might have been all a subconscious act, with what he'd been through in his life, there was just no way in hell could have maintained that much naivety. No, the mouse was just timid, kind, everything the gnarling snarling EVIL personality he'd left back at the Asylum wasn't.

To tell the truth, had he known his tail was causing the feline cop some 'discomfort' he'd have held the damn thing in his paw the rest of the day.

Those ears rotated completely forward when Gordon pointed out the ducks and Wesker actually gave a little squeak. "Yes please, I would like that very much."

He was already unbuckling himself as the car came to park well.. in the park's .. parking lot.  Once the commissioner killed the engine the rodent slipped out of the car and stretched a moment.

Glasses reflected the sunlight as he looked about. The air smells nice. No medication. No slate glass, or plastic chairs. At least for his credit he didn't bounce up and down like a giddy child while he waited for the feline to walk around the car. He didn't take off running. His chest tightened a little as a family of hares walked past him. What if someone recognize me and panics?

Though honestly, without Scarface, rarely did furs notice him. With things like Joker Gas and killer plants rampaging around, there was hardly room for a Ventriloquist and his Mob Boss Dummy on the front page of the Gotham Times.

Gordon:  Gordon pressed the button to lock the doors, then closed his loudly.  While Wesker sans dummy had little to worry about recognition, the large feline had a little more to worry about.  The last thing he needed while chaperoning an Arkham resident was to have some fussy housewife wanting to spout political rhetoric about the police's responsibility in the latest crime spree, or some small time reporter to suddenly stall him for an interview.

Between the slit up the back of his coat, his now free tail caught up fallen leaves as he walked around the car to Wesker's side.  He joined the white little rodent on the other side, leaned down, and pointed toward the hotdog vending cart.  "How about we go over there and get something to eat first, then we can go on to that bench way over there by the fountain.  That way we won't get pinged in the head by a frisbee-" or recognized by the multitudes of people that come here every day.

He led him over to the vendor again, once more putting an arm around his shoulders and patting his back.  He did seem a little nervous to be going out into the open, be in the company of a cop, AND be without his grainy foul-mouthed security blanket.  He removed it long enough to order them two hot dogs, get out his wallet, and pay for it, and take them from the warthog ironically peddling them to hand one down to the mouse.  His arm returned around the shoulders then, and half hiding him from the public with his much larger form, as he walked them toward the bench.

The bench, far from the little bicycle trail and open area of grass, was right next to the fountain.  In it, a group of ducks loudly quacked and flung water at one another with their wings.  A few dipped under.  Gordon cast a glance over to where a shooting had recently occurred, noting the chalk had mostly washed away.

Wesker:  The rat dummy tended to be a lot more then just Wesker's security blanket. It was his whole world after all. Kept him alive, kept him relatively safe, gave him protection in a world that was utterly out to eat his little mousy ass for dinner.

Yet, with Gordon's shadow watching over him as they headed for the hotdog cart, Wesker didn't feel so paranoid. The large feline might of been a cop, but he was his protector for the day. If something did go wrong, at least having a cop around would be a good thing in that matter.  He's big, he's strong. If someone tries to hurt you, he can arrest them. The mouse tilted his head up at Gordon as the feline bought the hot dogs and gave him the lightest of smiles. Yes, today will be okay. I hope.

Wesker settled about a foot and a half away from Gordon on the bench, little paws holding onto his hot dog. Tail was curled to the side toward the large feline. A little mustard was leaking onto one of his paws, but he was too busy watching the Ducks play and splash in the pond to notice.

He loved the ducks. He could watch them for hours. He knew he didn't have hours today, so he was just going to have to make the most of it. The fading chalk outline was something he entirely missed noticing. Without Scarface here to note the grim in the gleam, it was just a happy park.

A duck jumped on the rim of the fountain and Wesker ears snapped forward. He tilted his head at the bird and then slowly began pulling a small piece of bun off his hotdog. With a little toss, he landed it near the duck, who happily quaked and snatched it up.  Whoops. The other ducks noticed and came waddling around to that side of fountain.

Well! Wesker wasn't the type to let any duck not have a piece. So he began peeling off more bread. Unfortunately after about six ducks, the mouse was left with no bun and just a mustard covered hot dog in one paw.

But he didn't seem to mind.

Gordon:  The smile was returned with another bunch of bushy whiskers and a tail swish at the bench, watching him happily feeding the ducks around them.  He couldn't tell who was happier for a moment, the little inmate, or the quacking creatures pleading for food.  He almost forgot briefly that Wesker was a criminal.

His tail slipped through the back and bottom pieces of the bench to swish around, infuriating some butterflies that were trying to get a meal behind the bench as the flowers they were on ended up having some petals thrown into the air.

He looked upon the smiling face of the little mouse, his ears perked in more than discomfort.  He liked that look, it really did seem like taking the day out... of... his... hard working... schedule... um....

What's he doing with the hotdog?

He squirmed a little when Wesker held the food against his dainty maw.  It had been a while...since... well... anything really.  Even Barbara had given up hope on fixing him up with anyone.  He felt fabric tug at his thighs, glanced down, then quickly crossed his legs.

Wesker:  That swishing tail behind the beach was creating a little breeze. Wesker would have to remember if he got too hot, he'd just have to stand behind the big feline, that tail always seemed to be going a mile a minute. It made his own seem so lifeless and timid just laying there next to him on the bench.

The Ducks quacked at him for more bread and the mouse chuckled lightly at them. "I'm sorry, I don't have any more." He didn't think they'd like the hot dog meat, and he was a little hungry.

The small mouse looked over at the feline cop for a moment. Gordon looked a little uncomfortable. Probably hot in that oversized jacket? Wesker wrinkled his nose a bit at feline and gave him another thankful grin before turning his attention back to his hotdog.

Ack! You're getting mustard on your tuxedo! That stuff is going to stain. Eat. Eat! His tail flickered for a moment of panic at the yellow goo that had landed on one of his thighs, the pink thing snapped and brushed the other's leg as Wesker parted his mouth and shoved as much of the meat into his mouth he could in one bite. He chewed while looking back at the still quacking ducks with a swivel of ears. Swallow, another bite. Chew. Look. Swallow. The last of the hot dog disappeared into his mouth with a lick to his thumb pad.

Now honestly, that had looked a little promiscuous, but it had been completely innocent. Really. Even as he finished chewing and set about cleaning his paw of the mustard with little licks. It was just care to not smear mustard on his clothing.

Gordon:  He was indeed getting hot under that upturned collar.  Sweat dampened his fur slightly as he watched him carefully, down to that pink tongue darting out of his mouth to lap up the yellow bits of mustard.

The tail was not longer moving as quickly as before.  It was more like a pendulum.  Tap to one side.  Tap to the other.  Tap back.  Even steady beat to it.  He looked over the small muzzle and his whiskers twitched slightly.  His eyes wondered down.  Button, to button, to button.

When he reached his pants, though, that glaring bit of condiment on Wesker's thigh caught his attention.  Instinct almost took hold, then he caught himself.  No, not your tongue!  Napkins!  He reached into his pocket for a wad of napkins and unfolded one.  "Wait, you have some on you," he said, dropping his hand to his thigh to wipe it up.  You're feeling his thigh! 

He jerked his hand up from the warm leg.  "Oh, uh..." he hesitated between cleaning him off again and pulling his hand back altogether, before putting the napkin in Wesker's dainty mouse paws.  "Here."

You would have liked to have cleaned it up, wouldn't you.  His eyes widened at his own thoughts, cheeks blushing brightly under his fur.

Wesker:  Poor feline, Wesker honestly wasn't trying to make him tent right out in the opening! It was just mustard minus bun equaled a mess! He'd been so busy getting the last of the yellow off his paw that Gordon's leaning in to clean up the stain on his thigh startled him a bit.

He squeaked lightly when the big white paw landed on his leg. Wesker paused in mid lick and stared at that paw for a moment, pink little tongue sticking out of his mouth. What is he doing? Did he fall? Oh the strain!

"Y-yes.. sorry!" The mouse stammered with a final lick. The odd thing was, he actually spread those said thighs as if he was going to allow Gordon to just clean it up. Use to doctors and nurses swiping at him perhaps? But the feline just handed him the napkin instead.

"T-thank you. I uh guess I should have eaten the hot dog b-before I fed the bread to the ducks."  He dampened the napkin on his tongue before rubbing the yellow stain on his pants till it faded away.

When he finished he looked back up at Gordon, crumbling up the napkin in his paws. The feline looked even hotter now. Poor guy. All that thick white fur must have been a bitch in the summer. Yet, Wesker bet he was nice and warm on some of Gotham's chiller nights. Bet it's as soft as it looks too.

He blinked under his glasses and then looked past the fountain toward a couple of shade trees and then pointed with his other hand. "D-do you want to move over there? You look very hot right now.. I mean.. it's hot, the shade's p-probably better. "

Gordon:  "I look hot?"  You're sweating!  "O-Oh, I look hot!"  He glanced down at the slightly damp cloth under his tie, stretching out his paws as he did so.  He chuckled a little to himself, hiding his embarrassment.  "I think that might be a good idea."  

He started to pull off his coat, shoulders rolling out from under the fabric.  The give of thigh as he'd tried to clean it, the gentle parting of legs, flickered through his mind.  He decided to roll up his shirt sleeves too and drape the coat over them so he could uncross his legs and rise with something in front of him.  The last thing he wanted was the little mouse to scurry back to Arkham with horror stories about how the big bad commissioner was sporting a big stiffy in his trousers the entire outing.

He waited for Wesker to rise, but instead of holding his shoulders this time he chose simply to clutch at his coat in front of him.  

"It is a little bright out here, anyway," he commented offhandedly, fanning himself with his tail tip.

Wesker:  The thing was, would he run back to Arkham and flap his maw, or would he find himself staring at it? Honestly, it had been forever for the mouse as well. It was just a good thing he didn't usually think about those kinds of out of reach pleasures. After all, he spent half his time in an asylum, and the other half helping run a mob.

But now that he had a little free time. He is kinda hot. And not just sweaty-type. Mgh! Don't think like that.

He stood and nodded to Gordon as he started to walk toward the shade trees. Taking his time so it wouldn't appear that he was hurrying away from the feline. He slowly shrugged out of his own overcoat as they walked, exposing slim shoulders and white clad back to the world. His tail hooked up slightly as he walked, to keep the tip from dragging on the ground.

When the reached the trees, the mouse found a comfortable spot on the grass and settled himself down into nice seated position and waited for Gordon to join him.

The feline still looked pretty put out. The mouse nibbled his lip as he looked up at him. Maybe he's got more important things to do. You shouldn't keep him out here too long. Besides, the longer you’re out, the more Scarface will be angry with you.

But was it so bad he was enjoying the commissioners company? True the big feline was a bit unorthodox, and he was a little worried he was going to fall on him. Gordon was still the NICEST fur he'd gotten to spend time with that wasn't trying to prescribe him medication or to dig into his damaged psyche.

"Have you taking any of the other inmates out, or am I your first?" The small mouse puzzled the cat for some idle conversation.

Gordon:  The coat slid off the shirt slickly, drawing Gordon's eyes to the frail frame beneath.  I bet he was a real heartthrob when he was younger, from how nice he looks now.  The way that shoulders sloped up into neck, the slight curve of perking ears.  That fine fur would feel wonderful to run my grainy tongue across- oh he's talking to me.

"Hm?" Gordon asked, eyebrows raising as he stalled to reprocess the question in his mind.  "You're my first.  I've been so busy with my job, I think I wanted to try and prove to myself there's still a little good in all of us."  

He dropped to the grass, coat bunched up in his lap, and looked down at his feet in front of him.  "A little naive of me, maybe.  Never knew who it was I could have got."  An ear perked toward Wesker.  "So, what do you think some of the other people at the asylum would have wanted to do?"

Kidnap me and run off at first opportunity? Knock me in the head with a brick and make a break for it?  Certainly not go to the park and eat a hot dog....  It certainly made him appreciate that he'd gotten Wesker rather than some of the seedier Arkham residents.  It was such a nice day to enjoy, anyway.

Wesker:  First time, huh? Hah, Wesker to pop the Commissioner's Take-an-Inmate-on-a-day-date Cherry eh? It could have been so much worse. The mouse was probably the most less-likely to go running off. After all, the criminal element of his mind had been left at the nut house. 

"Oh." A light smile and wrinkle of that button pink nose. "Well I feel honored then. I'm.. really glad I got you, I heard horror stories from Mr. Tetch about that one cop.. the pig.. Jervis didn't have a good time at all." A light perk of brow. "He escaped last week. I wish he'd just stay and get better."

The mouse slowly shifted his position. Laying down on the soft grass, belly down. He rolled his shoulders lightly and kicked his legs up a bit. Head was snuggled into his own arms, nose pressed against them. His naked pink tail curved up and away from his backside and rested against one shoulder as he thought. "Hmmm Harley would have wanted you to take her to the mall."

An interesting topic. It made Wesker pull his mind from pondering over the Commissioner to thinking about his 'pals' at Arkham. "I think Professor Crane would have liked to go to the library. Mr. Two-face.. I'm not really sure, perhaps to visit Mr. Bruce Wayne." The jackal scared him a bit, so fierce looking.

A light sigh escaped the rodent. This is nice, I could lay here forever. "I think most anyone else.. " He added with a slight sad note. "Would try to escape.. I'm afraid."

Gordon:  Unfortunately, the pondering led the cat's thought's back to Arnold.  Not necessarily what he was saying, but rather what he was doing while he was saying it.  As his tail curled up, the commissioner went from watching his face to letting his eyes follow the tendril to it's source.  There, below it rounded buttcheeks stretched the fabric of his tuxedo pants, and slightly parted legs drew his eyes even lower, to the slightest hint of a protrusion, very faint, as the knit draped over where his testicles would be.

Oh yes, it had been far too long.  And for that matter, Arnold was still talking.

"-I think most anyone else would try to escape... I'm afraid..."  was what he heard as his brain decided to reenter the conversation.  He let his hands rest on his coat, finding himself aching a tad after that thorough examination.

"That's what I thought," Gordon said a little sadly, fluff on his upper lip bristling as he pursed his maw. 

Wesker:  It was probably a good thing the little rodent had no idea he was being a peep-show for the large feline. He'd probably have beamed red all over his body. Tuxedo pants were tight, but not overly. The wrinkles in his shirt shifted as he breathed. Tail twitched, legs shifted in the air a bit. Just so casually swinging his lower legs back and forth.

Again so totally innocent, but it made his ass wiggle a little. Each pump of a leg muscle made the faintest perk. Wesker let out another little sigh as Gordon only meekly commented back on his little speech. The little rodent turned his head to look over his shoulder at the big cat.

What's he looking at? Wesker noticed the felines eyes certainly weren't on his face, or looking out at the crowd. He tried to make an imaginary bee-line from the lightly glass covered pupils to ..

Is he staring at my butt? The mouse felt his heart quicken and he swallowed a bit. But he didn't panic,  the notion, if it was ( though Wesker was pretty sure he was probably mistaken after all, who the hell would be interested in him? ) was actually a little flattering. A light dance of red beamed beneath those white cheeks and the small mouse finally gave a little cough and perked a brow up at the large feline.

"It's s-sad I know.. I really wish there was less crime, I keep trying to convince Mr. Scarface that there's other, better things he could be doing, but he doesn't listen to me.. I I .. know he's mad he didn't come along, but know I'm glad he didn't."

Wesker let his thin tail slid back down between his legs. Not completely innocent there, he was still watching the felines eyes.

Gordon:  Oh that slight moving, even just a little bit counted.  People underestimated subtlety anymore.  That, or they lacked imagination.  There were people out there who could only look at porn to find anything sexual attraction.  But Gordon?  He was mesmerized by the motion of the flesh underneath those pants.  He didn't need elastic tights or exotic clothing to ponder what was beneath there.

"I'm sure you can apologize when you get back."  Hey his tail's in the way.  He shifted his gaze to look at Wesker's face-.

Oh my god, he knows what I'm doing.  For a moment his eyes widened behind his glasses and his ears perked forward.  His fur bushed up slightly and a blush stretched across his cheeks.  Play it off, Gordon.  Just keep talkin'... what was he talking about again?  You really shouldn't check out criminals, you know.

It took him a couple of more moments to resume the conversation.  "Well...  why are you glad that he didn't come?"  Besides him scaring away the ducks.

Wesker:  Oh yes, the kitty had been staring right at his ass. The little mouse blinked a few times under his concealing frames and felt himself blushing even harder, and it didn't help that Gordon did a HORRIBLE job at trying to play himself off. Those perking ears, too cute for such a big feline. Yep, he was eyeballing you something fierce, Wesker-boy.

Wesker felt the attempt of his own groin trying to tighten, but the fact that he was laying on it just made him wince lightly and he finally rolled off his stomach and onto his back. Knees slightly bent. He looked up past the leaves of the tree toward the blue sky. Such a nice day. Yep. Without Mr. Scarface. He should be enjoying it with deep breaths and such, not having dirty thoughts about the cop who was watching over him.

"He.. he never lets me talk.. or do anything really." Wesker kept his eyes off the feline for now. Just staring staring up at the leaves. "If he came along.. I'm pretty sure he'd have said horrible things to you, or tried to get me to escape."  Yes because Scarface was like all the other inmates, he'd never stop being evil. Oh how Wesker hated him and needed him all in one big horrible slump.

But for this moment, He didn't feel like he needed or wanted the dummy. Was this was it would be like to be free of him? Wesker drew in a breath and scowled ever so lightly. His groin had stopped tightening. This emotion, this loathing. So rare to share.

"I .. hate him."

Gordon:  The sound of the utter hatred in the mouse’s voice, he didn't know whether it should make him nervous, or sad.  He was so desperate to take that part of him along, yet he hated it so once he was away from it.  It was depressing, really.

The lapse into self-depreciation was enough to make Gordon's own throbbing member relax in his trousers.  He let the coat slide to the side so he could crawl up and lay in the grass along side him, in the mouse's position previously with his belly to the grass.  His shoulder holsters pulled his shirt tight against the fur of his chest, and he rested his chin against the heel of his hand.  His tail swished over his back, undoubtedly teasing Wesker's peripheral vision as he stared upward.

"I hope I'm being better company."  He tilted his head and perked his ears forward again.  "You don't have to press buttons in my back or anything.

Here he was, in the middle of the park, lounging with a notorious villain.  He wondered faintly, what would happen if he just... leaned over.  If they'd have a nice, tender moment, with his muzzle pressing it's lips against the mouse's.  He seemed like he needed the kiss.  But at the same time, there could always be a camera man, or worse a cop to come along and break them up before they started making out on the grass...

He was really attractive with the sun shining off his glasses like that, though.

Wesker:  "Oh yes.. much better company, thank you." Like that, the anger was gone. Utterly gone. Just a brief glimpse into Arnold Wesker's questionable mind, and then he was back to the meek little thing that never even raised it's voice.

Swish. Swish. That tail swiped into his vision a few times before the mouse turned his head toward Gordon, finding the feline stretched out next to him, and he gave him a faint, sad smile.

"I shouldn't say things like that, I'm sorry. I just wish Mr. Scarface wasn't so horrible to everyone. He does such horrible things. But I'm glad to get a moment away from him, even if it's just a silly little day trip with a cop in tow. I thank you for it."

The mouse let his vision slip down between them, eyeing the length of the feline sprawled out. Gordon was impressive. Lean and tall. He could have curled up on his back and gone to sleep and have been utterly safe from the world.

Bet his chest is nicer then his back. Strong arms to cradle. Wesker swallowed a little. When was the last time he'd been held, by anyone?  Oh my god, I can't even remember. That's so sad.

His own tail curled up between his legs and wrapped around his own thigh as he brought his vision back to Gordon's face. Bushy whiskers, kind eyes. You could see the world of torment he'd been through, but still the hope he held for this deprived city in them. He's strong. Much stronger then you'll ever be.

A light chuckle finally left Arnold. "I'm afraid if I sat you on my lap I wouldn't be able to breath let alone make you talk properly. But you're still far better company then Mr. Scarface."

Gordon:  Smiles with sadness behind them were always more depressing to Gordon than all-out frowns.  All-out frowns told you exactly what this person was going through.  A sad smile was meant to put everyone outside at ease, to make them more comfortable than the person suffering.

The brave face that the mouse was putting forth was certainly one of an entertainer that was concerned with his audience.  It didn't matter how foul he felt, the comfort of those around him was coming first.

The cat scooted closer to his much smaller companion, just slightly, and lifted his paw up to cup the top of his soft white head between his ears.

"If you want, next time you get time off for good behavior, I'll take you out again."

He rubbed his forehead with his thumb, petting slightly as he looked down into that innocent looking face.

Wesker:  And that's all he'd ever wanted to be. An Entertainer. Making people laugh, and clap and smile. This city though, it was full of rotten creatures. There was no room in this burg for a little mouse like Wesker. No even he had to adopt something vicious and appealing just to fit in.

But here. Just laying right here in the soft grass with the Commissioner, everything seemed okay. The rodent didn't even flinch when that big paw curled up between his ears and tickled against the soft fur. Those big round ears flickered against the petting thumb and the mouse just gazed up at the feline.

"I-I'd really like that."

Furred Faces not too far apart. He's very very handsome. So nice too. Wesker felt his lips subconsciously perk just a tiny bit. The scent of the other washing over him, the warmth of his breath. It would of been nice to just arch his spine a little to press up against those whiskers.

In fact he found himself doing just that. Drawing in a sharper breath as his little face drew closer to the felines. Tongue darted out to wet his lips lightly. He wasn't even thinking anymore, just letting instinct guide his mouth. He felt the soft fur just barely bristling against his upper lip...

Clunk!

Wesker squeaked in surprise and pain. Small form rolled away as a crushed aluminum can bounced off his head, barely missing that petting thumb.

"Get a room, faggots!" A pack of street dogs, teens, all decked out in studded leather with pieced ears and clipped tails barred their teeth at the white furs on the grass.

Gordon:  He could feel the air tickle his whiskers as it oozed out of that tiny pink nose.  Just a little further.

KLINK

Well, that was something he hadn't expected.  Paparazzi, maybe.  Other policemen.  Probably.  But a kiss in the making summoning street punks?  Well, that was something that had completely eluded the big cat.  Perhaps it had been the mental daze he was in, staring at the mouse's suggestive movement.

It was enough to thoroughly snap him out of his reverie, and on his feet in heart-beat.  His tail bristled to almost twice it's size (it was wider than him with hair standing on end like that) and his back fussed up.  "Go home to your mother!" he shouted, pointing down the walking path.  "Get out of here!"  He hissed in between his teeth, finger stuck out straight.

"Oh yeah grandpa! Just waddya think you're gonna do to us, huh?" One with a tall bristling mohawk said, eyeing him and scratching under his chin.

"Uh.... Joe... he's packin' heat."

"Shut up, Franks," he piped back at a strange looking Dachshund fur.  "He's a cop, he can't shoot us."  Fortunately for Gordon, the dog hadn't pinpointed what cop he was exactly.

Wesker:  The Mohawked one was obviously the leader. He spat on the ground and crushed another tin can he'd fished out of a nearby trashcan in his fist and used a booted heel to kick it at the pair on the grass. "We're just having some fun, Gramps, walkin' along, and we have to see your disgusting display on the ground. You go the fuck home."

This particular tin can missed, but Wesker still squeaked as it hit the ground. He's scooted to a sitting position, rubbing at his offended head.

Why was this happening? Why couldn't he have a nice day out? He'd almost.. kiss.. my god.. almost kissed Gordon. He wasn't sure why he'd almost done that, but it had felt right at the moment. He'd felt safe and happy at the moment. Now he was scared. He inched till he was pressed against Gordon's leg, ducking under that puffed out tail.

"Mr. G-Gordon maybe we should g-go." Wesker didn't want a fight. He didn't want the feline to get hurt if all these mean looking canines attacked. This damn city and all it's rottenness.

Another can was crushed and kicked, this one at Gordon. The Dogs formed a line about six feet in front of the two on the grass.

"Nothin' pisses me off more then Queers, specially ones aloud to live as long as you have. Hey Grandpa, got any viagra? I know a street peddler that could get yah some. "  No respect for the law, and they KNEW he was a cop. It just showed, this city. If you didn't wear a cape and cowl or have something strange going on, no one was going to respect you.

Gordon:  "Just.... stay behind me."  He was still bristled, with even the hair on his arms standing a little on end.  

Sure they were dogs, and Gordon was a cat.  But he held little fear of them, and he was not about to back down from a bunch of hooligans in broad daylight.  

"I'm going to warn you one more time, kid.  Go home, or go home cryin'."

"AHAHA!  Listen to Grandpa!  Thinks he's tough shit!  Someone needs to put you in the retirement home."  The leader of the pack moved forward, fists bunched.

"...Hey wait," the Dachshund said to himself.  "Did that mouse call him-"

Before he could finish, his leader was already swinging a punch, and the cat caught his arm in clawed fingers.  With a ferocious face, he flipped him over onto his face, and jerked his arm behind his back and up.

The other dogs started to move forward, but Gordon was already pulling his gun with his free hand.  "Freeze!"  He swiped his tail toward Wesker, shooing him closer while he held the dog down.  "If you don't want to spend the night in jail, I recommend you listen to me.  I'll let you and this guy go if you just leave us the hell alone and get out of here!"

As an exclamation point, he jerked hard on the dogs arm again.  No, you didn't have to be in costume to be capable of defending yourself.

Wesker:  Oh no oh no they're attacking! Wesker squeaked as it happened. He panicked as Gordon yelled for him to stay behind. Another squeak and he just darted under the cat's tail. Paws hooked into belt loops he scampered up the felines back.

Oh how the dog yelped. And yelped again as his arm was viciously twisted.  Turned from snarling street punk to whimpering puppy.  All show after all? The rest of the pack looked at each other, then back at Gordon, then to their leader.

Joe yelped again. "Okay Okay.. I'll go We'll go let me go.."

The dogs turned tail and headed off down the path. They were not going to tangle with the commissioner of the police. Cat or not. As soon as Gordon would let the leader go, he'd also tuck his tail and take off running down the path after his buddies.

As for Wesker? Well it seemed Gordon had gained a rather impressive shivering lump on his lower back. Furs that had stopped what they were doing when the attack had begun were all still staring.

A rather portly hippo waddling around the bend, not seeing the dogs, dropped his ice cream on the sidewalk. Probably wondering what condition that poor old cat had going on.

Gordon:  With one last parting spat, Gordon wiped his maw and nodded affirmatively in their direction.  Yeah, take that you whimpering little jerks.  He flexed his claws and....  noticed the many people staring at him.  

And Wesker?  He turned in a circle, feeling the extra weight on his back, but wasn't able to feel him actually clinging.  Had the mouse been wondering how soft that fur was, he undoubtedly knew now.  

Gordon smiled at the hippo and gave a half dizzy wave after his attempt to look at his own back.  He grabbed his coat and put it on over Wesker.  

"They're gone now," he said into his collar, and started walking back toward the car.

You almost kissed him, James.  If those dogs hadn't stopped you, you would have.  For the life of him, he couldn't decide whether that was a good or bad thing.

Wesker:  "T-thank you." The shivering lump under the coat said.

The fur WAS very soft, and warm and safe. For the moment, even as Gordon started toward his car, the rodent decided he'd rather just ride back here, clinging to the belt loops and sitting on the bone of the felines tail joint. He honest didn't weight much, he doubted his weight would bother the feline.

Honest if Gordon did complain, he'd get right down. So Wesker just clung there in the darkness under the coat. His own tail curled around the fluffy white perch he had. Naked pink thing squeezed lightly. Nose was pressed against a shoulder blade. The scent of feline fur and light sweat. It made his chest tightened in a good way. It had been so long since he'd been near anyone. He smells good, and he's soft. This is much better then the grass.

But all good things must come to an end, don't they? He heard Gordon's heels change from soft grass, to sidewalk then harder gravely pavement. He ducked out from under the shirt and slid between the fabric and the coat. Two paws, one with slightly rougher paw pads slid against the fabric of the felines shoulder and a little white head with sheening glasses poke out from Gordon's collar. Whiskers and a nose tickled a big fluffy ear.

"Are we g-going back to the Asylum now?"

A passing lioness with some cubs stopped to tilt her head and then let out an 'awww'. She smiled at Gordon and the kept shooing her cubs along.

Gordon:  Gordon checked his watch and sighed.  "You still have another twenty minutes before traffic sets in... Was there anything quick you wanted to do?  Or should we call it a day after those goons?"  His ear twitched at the feel of the whiskers.

His key paused in the door.  He didn't want to squish him when he got in the car, and he smiled a little to himself.

"Sorry for what happened over there."  His tail flicked up against the back of his coat, as he attempted to pat Wesker and make him feel better.  What was he sorry for, really?  That he'd openly eyed him, that he'd come so very near to kissing him, or that they'd gotten mauled by a pack of punks.  

He lifted his paw and patted the little mouse between the ears.

Wesker:  "It's okay we can go.. maybe we can just drive slow so we can talk.." Wesker felt sad there, even after his little scare making the padded walls of Arkham sound really good, the thought of his time ending with Gordon was a little depressing. He sighed so hard the hot breath hissed past those fluffy white ears.

And then the other was patting him. The mouse gave a small squeak of surprise and his mouth parted a bit. The surprised turned into a tiny murr as those big fingers stroked the soft short fur between his ears. Glasses clicked as his head tilted into it. That was really nice. Really nice. Ah wait! No no..

Heat from his cheeks radiated as he slide away, down Gordon's back and put his tiny feet on the ground. He ducked out from under the coat and then looked up at the big feline. A small smile graced his face, and this time, it was only sad because he knew he had to go.

"It's o-Okay. We can't control that kind of thing.." Ahah, now did he mean the eyeballin', almost kissin' or Punk Dogs too? Who knew.

The small mouse moved around to the passenger side of the car, waited for it to be unlocked and then slid inside. Lips were licked as he sat down and curled his tail into his own lap. "Thank you for taking me out, It was.. nice. You're very nice."

Gordon:  "Don't tell the other inmates.  I don't want to get a bad reputation."  His whiskers poofed up again in that smile.

He opened up his driver side door and got in, tail taking up it's usual driving position and being buckled in across his lap.  

If only they'd had a few more hours, he would have loved to spend all day with him.  But alas, all they had remaining was a short parting conversation as he drove him back to Arkham.

Maybe he was a little lonelier than he recalled.  He hadn't even thought about it, but it had been a while since he had a friend, a real regular friend.  Not one that climbed in windows at night, or one from the department.  

More than that, it had been so long since he kissed someone.

He paused again with his key in the ignition, ears twitching as he thought.  Well, there was no time like the present.  Who knew if he'd even get to see Wesker again on these terms, the way that the city tended to work was he'd bust out again and they'd be enemies again in no time.

So, with a quick turn, he shifted in his chair almost like he was going to pull out, stretching his arm against the back of the passenger seat.  His ears did that agitated to and fro twitch, fluffing up the hair in them, before he began to lean toward the mouse sitting in that seat.

Wesker:  Just a short while left. A short while to enjoy the felines company and car ride till he was back at Arkham with Scarface. No doubt the Rat Dummy was going to chew him a new asshole for daring to leave. Wesker wished they could stay in the park for a few more hours, even under the threat of dog punks. But he knew that all things had to come to an end. Good or bad.

I wish I'd met someone like him when I was younger, maybe I wouldn't be here now. We could still be in the park, eating hot dogs, holding hands.. kiss.. Under his glasses the mouse's eyes widened as he realized that Gordon was leaning in toward him. Those big soft ears twitched and he tilted his head up toward the whiskers that were closing in on him. What's he doing, it's almost like he's going to.. oh my..

Unless there was a big smear of mustard on the little rodent's face, the feline had to be moving in for a kiss. It was a smooth move, and the small rodent couldn't help but part his maw and lean up toward the other. His heart was beginning to beat faster, his body heat was rising. Tail twitched, lips were licked. His eyes closed under his glasses. He was seriously going to kiss him this time. This time, fur and whiskers had scarcely a millimeter between them...

"ATTENTION ALL UNITS! WE HAVE A 10-89 IN PROGRESS AT ARKHAM ASYLUM, ALL AVAILABLE UNITS RESPOND IMMEDIATELY!"

Wesker pulled back with a squeak and stared at the radio that had barked to life.

Gordon:  "DAMN!" Gordon pulled back and grabbed his steering wheel with both paws.  He just looked straight out the window for a moment, wringing it until his claws dug in, before he thunked his forehead hard against it, blowing the horn.

It was probably a little disturbing to mouse, but he quickly came up and readjusted his glasses, which nearly came off his face.  He took in a deep breath, relaxed, and gripped the wheel again in a much more calm manner. 

"Okay, it sounds like it's a little dangerous at the asylum.  Would you feel safer if I dropped you off at the station to stay with the guards in temp while I went with everyone to take care of this?"  He seemed to pretend that everything was back to normal, and he hadn't tried to do what he just tried to do.

Wesker:  The horn blow made ever piece of fur on that mouse's frame puff out. It was probably a good thing he wasn't long haired like the feline, or he would have been a white powder puff. Ears had flattened completely against his little head. The mouse stared for a moment at the feline and bit his lip. He was disappointed and a little scared at the same time. He'd really wanted that kiss, it seemed that cat had as well.

Then the situation began to slowly dawn on him. The Asylum. It was in trouble. 10-89? His brain strained to remember all the codes Rhino had taught him when they use to listen to the radio in the back of the Ventriloquist club late at night with Mr. Scarface. The little mouse's ears snapped forward. "T-That's a B-bomb threat, oh no.. Mr. Scarface.. he's in danger!"

Odd, how the mouse had hated the dummy ten minutes ago. It was a sure sign of his attachment. The rodent shook his head with a little whine and reached over with a tiny paw and placed in on the feline's still gripping the steering wheel.

"I want to go with you, please. I'm safer with you, and I need to get back to Mr. S-scarface. Please don't take me to the police station. I won't run away."

Gordon:  He looked at the little mouse's face.  Really, for something he did hate so much, he needed it badly.  He once again put his arm across the back of the seat, but this time to actually look over his shoulder and pull out of the parking lot.  

Once he was on the road, he reached into the glove compartment and put his siren atop the car.  A switch was flicked on the dashboard and his ears twitched back against his head as the deafening shrill cry entered the air and it lit up brightly.

He hit the gas and cars began to part before them, making their trip to Arkham much shorter than it would have been ordinarily.  And once they got there, they were getting a good collection of cop cars around the facility.  He patted Wesker's arm to get out.

"Okay, lets go."

A pheasant met him near his vehicle.  "Sir!  We're so glad you’re here!  We need your help in controlling the situation.  Jervis Tetch, he's... he's-"

"Gone mad?" the cat asked, quirking a brow as he got out of the vehicle.

"Well, obviously."  She motioned with a quilled tip toward the front doors.

Wesker/Hatter:  For once, Wesker would find discontent for one of his fellow inmates. Who ever was doing this had literally yanked little time the mouse had with the feline out from under him. The entire car ride back to the Asylum was taken in silence ( Save for the screaming of the siren, fuck was that thing loud ). Wesker sat back and crossed his arms over his lithe chest and stared at his feet till they arrived at the scene.

Once out of the car, the mouse scurried along side Gordon as Montoya greeted him and gave the situation to the large feline. Wesker was confused to learn it was Jervis. He'd escaped, what would bring him back to Arkham on his own accord? The small mouse turned his head toward the building in time to see a brown shoe kick out the screen to Arkham's office.

A mid sized fox with broad shoulders and an enormous top hat stuck his head out for just a brief moment before yanking it back it. Not wanting to take a bullet between the eyes. He waved a paw clutching a controller out and then pulled it back in. There was the swish of a tail and then a megaphone was heard being "ahemah-hem-ah-HEMMM'ed" into.

"There's plenty of room, but you're not invited, and it's rude to crash a party without being invited. Unless you're delivering the tea. You see, it's almost six and that's tea-time, but there isn't any tea! How can there NOT being any tea? Every day, six O'clock and THERE IS NO TEA! I ask the Hare EVERYDAY. 'Where is the tea, cur?' And the dotty creature always replies. 'There is no tea, Hatter, you're not allowed it!"

There was a brief moment of pause as the Hatter turned away from the Megaphone to growl back at someone in the room. His tail swished by the window again. Another clear of throat.

"You must be civil now, There must be Tea. Or I'll be sending every last one of you to the Jabberwocky's lair. Fire and Brimstone. Tea and Sugar, and bread and butter. Make Haste Make Haste. You're wasting time and he so very much hates to be done such."

Once more that heavy hatted face took a peek out. Hatter was Mad. Utterly Mad. He saw everything through his beloved book. Green eyes narrowed in on the figures before he darted from view once more.

"Send in the Cheshire Cat and the Dormouse while you are at it, they shouldn't be missing the party. Ten minutes, and everything I need or all this muchness won't be worth drawing out. "

Gordon:  "Okay, so someone needs to go to the store, get some tea and... wait a minute, was he just talking about-" the cat's head swung to look up at the asylum.

"I think... well....  you and him, sir."  Montoya looked down at the mouse.  "So you got Wesker for your person today?  Good for you, sir, you could have done worse."

Gordon shrugged and flapped his arms against his sides, billowing his coat slightly.  "Well, I guess it doesn't matter now, 'cause I have to do worse.  I'm not even smiling for god's sakes, where'd he get the Cheshire cat idea?"

The pheasant shrugged,  "I... I don't know sir, it is kind of odd.  You don't smile anymore hardly."

That caused the commissioner's twitching tail to freeze in place and a bit of a blank expression creep onto his face.  She's right, I don't smile anymore.  He lifted his paw to rub his forehead, more to hide his face that to actually curb any sort of pain.  "Just... go get me some tea.  Wesker and I will bring it in, and we can keep him busy while someone is slipped in to disarm the bomb."  Poor Wesker, he'd not been left with the option to not volunteer for this mission.

She nodded and ran off to give the orders, while Gordon took a megaphone from a nearby officer.  "Tetch!  This is the... Cheshire Cat-" he turned to glare as a certain swine snickered amongst the cops behind them, "-and we're getting everything we need for the party, and then we'll come up and join you!"

Wesker/Hatter:  The tiny mouse sighed a bit as he looked up toward the window where the Hatter was. His brows flurried as he realized he'd been swept into this plan without even knowing. At least.. he'd be able to go into the Asylum and maybe try to find Mr. Scarface. With a bomb in there, though? He swallowed and looked back to Gordon. At least he'll be in there with me."

Eyes drifted to the snickering Bullock and Wesker sighed again. This time in relied. You could have done worse too. He nodded back to the feline. "O-okay. I d-don't want anyone to get hurt."

The Hatter ahemed into the Megaphone again. "Hark O'Cat, How are you today, O'Cat? As long as you promise to stay in one piece this time and bring the tea with you, I'll have you for my party. And you DORMY, there will be no sleeping today. We haven't had tea in so long.. .... HARE! SIT BACK DOWN! DON'T MAKE ME TIE YOUR EARS TO THE CHAIR! *Ahem* This is HIS fault you know.. Dotty creature."

Wesker flickered his tail nervously as they waited. It wasn't that he dislike Tetch, he just usually had to deal with the book-brained fox with Jerry standing over them. Over a game of Checkers or watching TV. With pills and booties. And if they were on the outside, a couple times in a heist, on days when the book wasn't eating up his mind. The mouse sighed softly.

A couple low ranked officers came puffing up with the Hatters demand. Tea bags, Sugar, Bread and Butter. Lots of it. They needed to stall for quite a bit. The bags were dropped at the commissioners feet.

Gordon:  "Um....  I'm all right I guess," he answered into the megaphone, then nodded to the officers who'd brought up the supplies.  "Hey!  Hatter!  Looks like we've got all our stuff!"  From the sound of the deranged fox, the worker in there with him wasn't fairing well at all.

He handed the megaphone toward Wesker.  "See the little red button there?  Just press it and talk into it, okay?  Just give him a little friendly hello, and I'll pick up the bags and we can start up there."

Police skittered around in the background, rushing to plan alternative measures, while Gordon placed the horn in the mouse’s tiny paws.  He bent down to pick up the bags, grunting as he lifted the masses of plastic.  He grunted a little from the sheer amount of supplies that had been provided. 

"Think we have enough?" the cat lifted a large bag to look at it, and commented more to himself than to the mouse.   At that rate, they could have had Tetch distracted for a week (though at the end of it neither would have wanted to see tea, bread, or butter again).  

Well, at least you get to spend more time with him.  He glanced down at the ventriloquist, then reddened again.  That's twice today you tried to kiss a known criminal, commissioner.  That's a little more than going soft, don't you think?

Wesker/Hatter:  The weight of the horn into his paws made the mouse shift forward a little. He looked down at the item, the over toward the feline, then back up to the window where the tip of the Hatter's tail could be seen. A long sigh left Wesker.

He licked his lips and lifted the Megaphone. "H-hello Hatter, It's... D-dormy. We're coming in with the tea now."

"Wondrous! Oh Galu-Gally! Just you and the Smiling beast now! Any other party crashers will be severalty dealt with. Why to the Queen to have their heads remove I solemnly swear! Now back off the lot of curs you are.. Back off I say. " And with that, the Hatter reached up and slammed the window shut.

The doors to the Asylum were busted open, and two Arkham orderlies. The Gecko Secretary and a Chicken, both with mind chips sticking out from behind their ears shifted to hold the doors open for the Commissioner and the Ventriloquist.

"I g-guess we'd better go in." Wesker shifted the megaphone over toward the Pheasant and then stepped behind the cop to follow him into the nut house. He would keep close to Gordon's back as they walked. Almost pressed right up into his hip. He resisted the urge to curl his paws into the oversized coats belt loops. He peered past the flapping edges into Arkham's doorways.

Gordon:  The cat swallowed as they ascended toward the doors, turning to motion for the other officers to stay back, then his gaze shifted between the two that came out.  Mind chips, where did he manage to get those?  He certainly couldn't have made them in the asylum... could he?

He briefly pondered whether or not the lunatic would equip them with similar devices.  But, perhaps, he would want some element of unpredictability, so that would be pointless.  

"Well... at least we get something to wash down the hotdogs, eh?" He reached beside him to put a paw on Wesker's head.  "Don't worry, we'll have you safe and Mr. Tetch satisfied in no time, okay?"

He didn't know whether that was true or not, but he wanted to comfort the little mouse.  He gave their greeters curt nods as he passed them (though they fell on thoughtless eyes) and passed through the doors.

"Um....  Hatter?  Hello?"  He forced a grin on his face to rival the hyena's, baring shiny fangs.  Though his eyes read an entirely different expression.

Wesker/Hatter:  Now here was a rodent that was use to peering into Scarface's lifeless glass eyes, but the peepers of those two door critters made him nervous and gave him the creeps. He shifted even closer to Gordon as the feline landed that hand on his head.

Their footsteps echoed in the seemingly empty hallways. Where was everyone? Did Hatter lock up the rest of the inmates in their cells? Where was doctor Arkham? Wesker peered up at the smile on Gordon's face and his nose twitched. It wasn't very fitting. It made the tall cat look crazy. It's fitting I guess, for what we're going to have to do. Of course it never dawned on Wesker that he too, was crazy. Talking through a wooden dummy. But his sanity was quite different then Tetch's.

Speaking of which. On the top of the stairs leading up to the office, the fox appeared. A big grin on his orange and white maw. He peered out from under his huge top hat and spread his arms wide as he stepped down the stairs. One gloved paw still clutching the detonator.

"O'Cat, O'Mouse you're late, you're late, for a very important date, it's ten past six and we've hadn't had any tea, that's such a crime! I don't know how I'll forgive you." The fox snapped his fingers a few times and a couple more mind controlled orderlies came down the stairs. They took the bags from Gordon and headed off toward the kitchen.

Wesker pressed even harder into the felines side as Tetch made his way to them. The fox took a moment to tap dance his way into a circle before he weaseled his way right between the two. Throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. His nose poked right into Gordon's smiling whiskers and he grinned at the old cat. "What are your secrets today, Cheshire? Come to tell me news of the Queen?"

He was ushering them up the stairs now, toward Arkham's office. Nose shifted to Wesker's, down this time and pushed right into his glasses. "Dormy, my tired friend, any good naps?"

Gordon:  Though one arm rested considerably higher than the other, for sure.  It made Gordon a little nervous to have him come between him and the mouse, especially after his promise to watch out for him.  He'd just have to watch out for him from this side.

"He was delayed because of me, Hatter.  Blame it on that rabbit's watch."  Oh, he knew his face was going to hurt for days after this, even a bit of gum was visible.  He turned his head to let his mouth get a moment of rest, facing away from Tech, before looking back toward him with the grin.

What had the fox done with Dr. Arkham?  Surely he wasn't equipped with one of those chips as well.  

He glanced at the paw around the mouse's shoulder.  The detonator.  If only it had been on my side, then I could have made quick work of this incident.  

"Yes, Dormy, any good naps?" he gave him a nod, encouraging him to play along.

Wesker/Hatter:  Wesker was staring at the detonator. It was draped over his shoulder in the foxes paw and he was trying to not even breath hard on it. He didn't want to accidentally set it off and kill everyone. Oh god, no. His attention was stolen back to Gordon and he shook a little. "Oh.. OH.. oh yes.." He tried his best to get into character, forcing a big yawn and saying in a tiny cute little sleepy voice. "I'd like one now, actually."

"NO TIME for a NAP!" Tetch bit with a grin as they reached the top of the stairs and he swiped them both into Dr. Arkham's office. "That silly creature, that rabbit, I told him crumb butter wasn't for the works of that watch!"

Dr. Arkham's office had been turned into a party room. The desk had been turned on it's side and into a table. The curtain ripped off and spread down like a tablecloth. Dr. Arkham and Jerry, the 'hare', sat at the far end, both tied down in plastic chairs lifted from the wreak room. Jerry looked about as happy as a nun in hell.

There were three more chairs, one at the very head of the desk and two across from the other party goers. The Hatter pushed the Cat and the Mouse toward the vacant chairs and then stepped away from them. He climbed up on the desk and stood with his arms spread wide.

"Tea will be here shortly, my friends. O' Cat, O' mouse, please join Hare and The Dodo and the party shall begin." The fox swiped off his hat in a bow, but before he put it back on, he popped the detonator inside it.

Wesker licked his lips nervously and peered up at Gordon as he climbed into his plastic chair. I hope this goes well. Oh god... hey, where's Mr. Scarface? A few quick looks around and he finally spotted a wooden tail sticking out from one of the half open drawers on the side-cocked desk. Barely visible under the curtain.

Gordon:  Oh my god, the detonator’s in his hat.  I just hope this works, please let it work.  With that frightening grin still plastered to his face he pulled out his seat and rested his butt in it, leaning back against his irately twitching tail and stilling it.

He looked toward Jerry and Dr. Arkham, letting his face relax as he faced away from Jervis Tech.  They seem all right... pissed, but all right.  Not that I blame them.  He grinned again and looked toward Tech.

"So, Hatter!  What's today again, I seem to have forgotten!"  His eyes shifted to the head of the desk, eyeing the hat only briefly as he pondered a thought of getting it away from him.  

His eyes shifted to the tail visible under the curtain.  Oh god, I know where this is going.  He remembered Arnold's performance earlier at throwing his voice.  This situation was definitely not improving.

Wesker/Hatter:  The Stork and the Hare looked at each other for a moment before looking back at Gordon. One of Jerry's long ears flopped and he sighed hard before glaring at Tetch. Dr. Arkham was a bit more pressed to play along. Even if he looked nothing like a Dodo. The tall thin bird shifted in his seat and tried to look as stupid as possible.

The fox himself had stomped his way across the desk and now plopped himself into his 'throne' chair. "That's not a very interesting question, Cat. You should know as well as anyone that my watch is two days slow. It's more of a bother then anything else. Hare's fault again. Always hare's fault. I told him butter wouldn't suit it's works."

("I'll shove that buttered watch up your ass when I get loose." Jerry remarked under his breath, only to have Dr, Arkham peck him lightly. ) Mr. Scarface is right there, I wonder if he knows what kind of danger we're all in. Maybe if Jervis is distracted enough I can get to him. The mouse nibbled his lip and finally pulled his gaze from the Dummy. Mr. Scarface wasn't talking yet. Perhaps because Wesker had yet to say a word. To keep In Character, the mouse pretended to nod off, letting his chin go to his chest and gave a few little snores.

His tail was very much alive though, and in his nervousness, Wesker slide the item around the feline's leg in close proximity. Something to hold onto when his 'safety blanket' was beyond reach.

Tetch clicked his tongue against his teeth. "The Dormouse is asleep again!" The fox started to lean over, those gloved digits threatening a pinch as the story always would.

But Wesker wasn't asleep and he certainly didn't want to be pinched. He squeaked and jerked away from those fingers. "No! I'm awake!"

"What the fuck Dummy, gout time you got 'ere. Tetch's geing queer again. Fucking tea party. "

Ah yes, this was going to get so much more odd.

Gordon/Scarface:  Overhearing Jerry, Gordon cringed into his grin and buried his face into his paws briefly to hide the expression.  He pulled back up, moving to clean his face with the back of his paw as if that had been his intent all along.

"You tell him and you tell him, don't you-" ah god.  It's the puppet.  C'mon Scarface, don't put him in a foul mood.  

He lowered his fingers to the wood and started to scratch claw marks into the surface of the desk in his nervousness.  Fortunately, though, the kitchen staff, carrying trays of laid out bread and butter, a steaming pot of tea, and those chips behind their ears came up with their meal and laid it out along the "table" before Gordon could make too much of mess of the edge of it.

He moved his leg closer to the mouse's until his toe of his shoe was nudging the other's.  If anything, he'd remind him he was still there.

"Dummy!  I can't see nothin' over ‘ere!  Get gack ‘ere 'n' pick me up!"

Wesker/Hatter:  The arrival of the tea and butter kept Hatter from being too interested in the sudden extra voice in the room, at least the first time it spoke. He grinned veraciously  and issued for the cups on the spot. While they had no tea-cups, coffee mugs from the break room where brought forth and soon everyone had a steaming cup of hot piping tea before them.

Wesker swallowed a little, staring at it. He could feel the hotdog he'd eaten earlier just sitting in his stomach and in his nervousness it was threatening to make an appearance. His nose twitched when he felt the nudge of the foot and he looked up at Gordon from behind those thick sheening frames. He's here, and Scarface's is here, you'll be okay.

"Eat up! Drink Up! For it's a party, my Unbirthday, and we've much to celebrate about." Hatter's ears snapped forward under the brim of his hat as Scarface's voice shot around the room again. "Cry of the Mock turtle? Who is hiding amidst us? Is that you Time? Or perhaps wise old Gyphon?"

"I don't like TEA." Jerry scoffed and nudged his cup away.

Wesker took this moment while Hatter snapped back to the Hare and glared at him. "I'm Sorry Mr. Scarface." He whispered in a slight panic. "You d-don't want to come out right now. Please."

"Drink the tea!" "I don't want any tea!" "It's RUDE to not have the tea!" "Tetch I swear, you're going in the jacket for a straight month!" "Drink the tea!" " No!"

"DRINK THE FUCKING TEA!" A gloved palm slammed down on the table before Jerry and Tetch scowled most viciously at the head orderly. "DRINK the tea, hare, or I'll cut your head from your neck myself you cur!"

Gordon/Scarface:  Oh god oh god!  He's going to kill him.  And if I jump up and do something he'll grab that detonator from his hat and blow all of us up in smithereens.  Who knows how many explosives he used.  He could possibly even take out the cops outside!  What are you gonna do, James?

"HATTER!" Gordon snapped.  Think James think.  "What would the queen think of this behavior?!  Wouldn't there be other ways you'd rather celebrate your unbirthday?"  Woops, forgot to grin, keep grinning.  The smile slapped back on his face and the tip of his tail draped over his head, easily hiding his eyes.  It wasn't like he had any other way to disappear.

"Ah, come on Gordon!  You shoulda let him!  Woulda made this fuckin' fagfest interestin’."

The cat's head turned sharply to look at the mouse, then at the portion of the rat under the curtains.  "Arnold," he whispered through his fangs, "try really hard to keep him quiet until we can get him back to you, all right?  We don't wanna upset him."  He leaned in close to the mouse's ear to whisper this, breath bouncing off the tiny little hairs in the adorably round things and pink nose grazing the tender cartilage coolly from that short of a distance.

He pulled his tail from over his eyes and picked up his tea to sip.  Sure, it wasn't coffee, but it was caffeine and good enough to keep Jervis's patience from snapping.

Wesker/Hatter:  Jerry winced.

Apparently the 'dodo' wasn't a stupid as he looked. A sharp kick had set the orderly in his place. They were bound to their chairs by their waists and elbows, but hands were still free. The hare grumbled and finally picked up his tea and sipped it with a face.

Wesker caught his breath as Gordon's nose tickled in his ears and those soft words whispered into those large round things. He tugged his lip between his teeth and let out a small nervous squeak. " I -I can't .. I'll try.. I don't know.. h-ho.."

He's just trying to keep me safe. And keep the whole building from being blow up. The mouse’s tail tightened on the felines thigh again. He was nervous and this game was becoming hard to control. He didn't know how they could possible keep Tetch busy long enough for someone to disarm the bomb.

At least if you blew up, with him nuzzling your ear, it wouldn't be so bad an ending.

Hot breath was suddenly washing over both their faces. When Gordon pulled his tail down away from his whispering mouth. They'd find the fox squatted down on the table before them. His big bushy fox tail tick-tocking behind him as he stared at them both. "I say O'cat, you might be right about the Queen, she wouldn't take kindly to me taking her job. Anyhow I do wish to celebrate this occasion with just!"  His ear flickered to Scarface's voice and he kept on grinning, green eyes taking on a slightly devious light.

Tetch was insane, but sharp eyes like the Hatter's did not miss the closeness of the white furs before him. "I Say, Dormy. Has this what has kept you from Tea-time? That's utter rude of you."

Wesker swallowed as his gaze focused fully on the fox. Jervis grin just kept getting bigger and bigger. He then suddenly snag a pointing finger into Gordon's nose and declared. "For MY UnBirthday, O'cat, you shall EAT the mouse for my entertainment. And make it a good show worthy of the tea I've served you! "

Gordon/Scarface:  With his maw just a millimeter from taking a sip, his lips falter and he poured tea on his shirt and lap, barely missing Wesker's poor innocent tail.

"...Eat him, what's he mean, eat him?"

The cat had to fumble the cup onto the table, getting some on his paws that he had to wipe on his coat.  He has a point. "Um, I certainly hope you don't mean with the bread and butter, Mr. T- Hatter.  I unfortunately came with my stomach filled."

"...Oh he does not mean what I think he means.  I ain't sittin' through this."

Another wary eye was glanced at the rat's tail, then another down at Wesker's pink clutching one.  No, he surely doesn't mean really eat, but could he....  I mean... really...  He couldn't possibly want us to do THAT for him, could he?

While every feline hair had been aching to pounce the mouse earlier, the thought of it now turned him a deep shade of crimson.  He'd never anticipated being put on public display with him.  Though... if it were for the safety of the citizens of Arkham...  Oh yeah, you need to smile.

The smile returned, with furrowed eyebrows with a quizzical look as he turned his face toward Dr. Arkham and Jerry, looking for affirmation that's what Tech really wanted.

Wesker/Hatter:  The looks from both Asylum employees would mirror the felines own confusion. Honestly they had nothing to add. The Stork rather flurried his brows and gave the commissioner his best apologetic shrug. Jerry just rolled his head away from the scene and kept trying to work at his elbow bonds.

Eat me? Wesker's mouth had parted as he stared up at Tetch crouching on the table. Eat me? For a good half minute the bread and butter was the biggest fear on the mouse's mind. Seriously, Tetch WAS crazy enough to consider a Dormouse sandwich. It wasn't until he looked back up at Gordon with a panic and caught the crimson blush on the big feline's face that he realized that it wasn't food Hatter was talking about. Oh god, he wants us too.. in front of him.. " J-Jervis!"

Wesker broke character as he stared at the fox. Tetch slowly pulled a couple of mind-control cards from his suit and flickered them into place behind the ears of the two adjacent from them, before turning back to the beaming white pair and settled back down on his hutches, his smile much more lecherous. "We could sing, we could dance, we could tra-la-la around the tea table to a quarter past seven, but I think perhaps seeing that great big grinning maw of yours tuned to much finer things then smiling would make my day. Cheshire. I bet he's tasty, you can put butter on him if you like. It's the best butter."

He was still not making himself quite clear, the horrid cur he was. Tail swish-swashed and he leaned in closer, orange and white maw poking between the two. "If you're too full, O'cat, then perhaps I will eat him, and you can be entertained. Either way we're sure to have a lot of fun."

Hatter snapped his teeth once. Wesker squeaked and pressed as hard as he could into the back of his chair. His tail was squeezing the feline's leg. "Make haste, Make haste. You're wasting time, and he doesn't like that."

Gordon/Scarface:  His grin had slowly faded again.  Slowly he plucked Wesker's tail loose from around his leg, closing his eyes behind his glasses.  He took in a deep breath, puffing up his puffy white chest beneath his shirt, then releasing it.  "I'll eat him."  At least I know what I'm capable of in my state, I don't know what he is in that one.  I won't hurt him.

He lifted himself from his seat, tail swishing free again, and reached down to pick up Wesker by the waist.  He lifted the small mouse easily to the table, padded palms sinking against the tad of tubbiness he felt under his clothes.  

His fingers shook a little bit as he reached to touch the buttons of his shirt.  "...I'm sorry," he mumbled, leaning into Wesker's other ear.  "I'll be slow."  He didn't expand on that, he just hoped the smaller creature would realize he was stalling for time. 

His claw caught the knot of the small bow tie, then tugged it loose.  The fingers fell then to undo the small buttons, though they undid woefully simply, revealing bit by bit more of the little mouse's chest to the no longer smiling Cheshire cat.  But whatever he was lacking in teeth, he was now making up for in blush oozing through his soft fur.

"....Dummy?  ....  Dummy? ...  What going on out there?  It's too quiet."

Wesker/Hatter:  You're going to have to remember to give Tetch a good long glare on one of his more saner days for this, this is utterly humiliating. Wesker couldn't believe Hatter was fishing for this kind of entertainment. He'd always pinpointed the Fox to at least be some sort of Gentleman, but then again That book was always full of questionable material. But this...

He squeaked lightly as Gordon lifted him off his seat and sat him on the table. Tail curled behind him and flickered nervously on the desk. Lip was pulled in between his teeth as the feline leaned in and whispered too him. The hot breath that washed over his ear caused it to twitch against that nose and whiskers. "O-okay." The mouse stammered as he felt that claw undoing his bow tie and then working on his buttons. Slow? Will Tetch allow that? He might start insisting for a show on the desk. God, I can't do this. Or can I?  He'd been pretty attracted to the feline before hand.

And it wasn't like he'd never been on display before. Hah. Prison. But this was different. They were suppose to be just playing along till the bombs.. oh he's stalling! Agh, Mr. Scarface isn't going to make this easy. "You.. d-don't want to know, Sir!"

As the cooler air washed over his chest and tummy fur the white fluff stood up a bit. It was utterly soft and he had the cutest little pooch to his stomach. Chest was rising a bit faster as he witnessed the growing flush on the felines face.

"I see what I eat, I eat what I see." Hatter remarked as he sat now with, sipping a cup of tea, wide green eyes watching the pair from under the brim of his oversized hat. His tail tocking from side to side in a hypnotic manner. "Not the same thing, but here I'll let the matter rest. Eat up O'cat."

Gordon:  Damn buttons, they came undone too easily.  He'll expect me to get started on the pants now...  uuuuunleeess.  His white paw moved to grab a stick of the butter, and held it in his hand.  He pressed it against the mouse's timidly heaving chest, smearing it up and down to stomach, where his fingers pressed against the cushy flesh.

He used that hand to press the mouse into laying back on the table.  The cat lowered his cold pink nose to sniff the frail collarbone.  At least Jervis was right about that, it was good smelling butter.  

His rough tongue darted out against the fur.  As it combed through the short fluff, grazing the skin beneath, it gathered up yellow all along it's length.  He lapped it up and swallowed, leaving his lips shiny beneath his bushy whiskers.

He lowered his face again, this time focusing on his chest.  Lick Lick Lick.  In time with his maw his tail went.  Flick Flick Flick.

It did taste good, and the flavor of the mouse beneath, slightly salty, worked it's way into his mouth as well.  His nose twitched and he moaned as he took a long lick up from his navel to his collar.  Sure he wasn't grinning now, but what he was doing was obviously worth it.

Wesker/Hatter:  There was only a momentary resistance against being pushed down on the table. Only because Gordon did it so gently, coaxing. The desk was initially smooth, but the curtain table cloth made it bumpy under the little mouse's back.

And then came the butter. Honestly, Wesker hadn't really expected Gordon to butter him up. What's he doing with that? Oh my god, he's not going to smear that... Squeak! The mouse jerked a bit when that thick yellow stuff was smeared all over his chest and tummy. He rather looked appalled for a moment at his white fur getting messed up like that, head tilted down at Gordon, mouth open. Those glasses hid the wide eyed horror look he was giving the feline at the moment.  But then oh.

That tongue flickered out and the feline was licking him. I can't believe he's doing this! But that tongue. He could feel it warm and scratchy dragging across his collar bone and chest. It felt so different then other tongues. It had him letting out a little squeak each time it slowly lapped across the exposure of his fur. It was interesting, unique.. it tickled!

So Wesker squirmed, and squeaked, a few that transformed themselves into a bit of a moan. Because the more the feline licked, the more he got use to it, and even though it was a horribly humiliating thing, it did feel nice.

Gordon wasn't the only one using his tongue. Jervis licked .. his chops, and took another sip. "The BEST butter." He grinned and leaned in a little. "Don't waste it, get it all!"

Gordon:  A rumbly purr began deep in the cops throat.  He'd almost thought he'd forgotten how to do that, but the squirms of the little mouse, the sounds he was making, the taste of him.  It was all rather nice.

Too bad it's in this situation, you could do a lot more than lick butter off of him.

His purring stopped so he could blush a little.  Though, his tongue was finding more fur than butter now as it worked it's way down below his belly button.  He even lapped into to get the last little dabs, hands resting on his hips.

Eyes flicked back to the Hatter, checking to see what he was doing.  At least the fox was thoroughly absorbed in what they were doing.  He might forget himself, but he wasn't close enough yet.

His fingers found their way to the top button of Wesker's tux pants, then his claw hooked the zipper and slid it down.  He tugged the underwear lower, flicking his tongue under the elastic to get some melted butter that had dribbled down.

Come on, Tetch, just a little closer.

Wesker/Hatter:  By the time that tongue made it to his navel, the mouse himself was having trouble remembering he was on a table with a fox leering at the two of them. The licking was doing more then getting his fur cleaned of the sticky yellow goo.. it was making the small mouse arch his back a bit, his pants were getting a bit tight in the groin. Oh god, you're getting an erection, that's not suppose to be part of the act.

He couldn't help it. That tongue felt really nice. He hadn't been touched in such a nice way in so long it was almost an overload. Wesker himself was starting to wish this was someone quiet, with no one else around. It could be beautiful. An especially high squeak left him when the tongue dipped into his belly button. That made him shiver a bit. Paws gripped into the curtains below him, trying to keep them from instinctively trying to push on the cat's head, to make him go lower.

And then he WAS going lower.

Tetch's ears snapped forward to the sound of the mouse's zipper being pulled down. The mouse wasn't the only one doing a little tenting in the room. The fox sat his tea cup down to reach down and adjust himself before he slid onto his knees. Hatter wanted a closer peek at the eating going on, specially now that it had move on from butter to the main course. He leaned in with a grinning maw and twinkling perverse green eyes.

Wesker's hips jerked a little as he felt that tongue lapping against the elastic of his underwear. Arousal was starting to leak from his every pore now. It was starting to cloud his mind. He actually WANTED the feline to eat him. The purr wasn't helping. It vibrated to the bottom of his spine and made his tail tremble.

Gordon:  Little tiny laps of tongue, dainty and small there, teasing the area just where he'd budged down the underwear and making quite a show of it.  Soft breath tickled inside the shorts as he did and the harder whiskers of his maw poked inside, making contact with his head.

His tongue came close to his cock, as well.  Mere millimeters from it, close enough for the slight current of air and heat it gave off to be felt.  Close enough so that he could almost taste it.

Close enough for Tech to be within grabbing distance.

"AHA!" Gordon cried out, snatching the hat from the Hatter's head and snagging him into a chokehold.  He dropped it lightly to the floor so that he could get his cuffs and attach him to a desk handle.

Wesker/Hatter:  Oh god. Oh god. Wesker was actually hissing air out his nose in anticipation when he felt that heat from the felines breath and his tongue so dangerously close to that throbbing length he had in his pants. He could almost feel the dampness, what would that scratchy tongue feel like there? Oh god-

and then it was gone.

"CUR! CUR! CUR!" Hatter bellowed as he was grabbed up. The fox fought puffed and growled as he was yanked off the table into the choke hold. "I won't have THIS! Unhand me at once you smiling jackernape! This is nonsense! Utter nonsense!" And he'd keep up like this till Gordon would have him handcuff to the table. The choke hold kept the fox from biting the feline, but his tail and legs would do a number, kicking and slamming back against the feline.

Wesker slowly sat up in a daze on the table, panting lightly. For a moment he stared down at his own damp exposed chest and his nearly exposed tenting crotch. What just happened? What? Why did.. oh the plan.. that was part of the plan. That's why. Ngh! He flushed rather brightly and scooted up so he could stand on the table. He took a moment to zip up his trousers, pressing at his cock to try to get it not so noticeable. He then clambered for his buttons, missing two of them as he closed his shirt.

He stepped over the mess on the table, glancing back to the fighting pair. It seemed like Gordon had that under control. Little paws reached out and snag the two devices behind Jerry and Dr. Arkham's ears and let them drop to the table.

"Uhh, what just happened?" The stork shook his head.

Jerry busted out laughing almost immediately and grinned. "Ahahaha, Tetch! Why to go Gordon! Show em who's boss. You're so going into Solitary after this, Fox!"

Gordon:  Gordon stepped back from Tech once he was restrained, licking the last bits of salt and butter from his lips as he picked up the hat and walked to the window.  He opened the doors and flagged the other officers with the detonator in waving hands.

"GOT IT!" he yelled, swishing his tail victoriously.

He turned back to Tech as officers flooded the room, handing off the detonator and watching as they freed the stork and the hare...

Oddly enough, though, they seemed to forget completely the small mouse as they dealt with the other situation.

"Hey Dummy, let's make a greak for it!"

Gordon, not hearing the voice, smiled the Cheshire grin down at the fox.  "And you, good sir, enjoy your unbirthday.  May it be eventful and rewarding.  I bid you good evening and now take my leave!"  He said, getting an odd look from the other policemen, and with a swishing tail exited Arkham's office.

Wesker:  It was going to be a very UNmerry Unbirthday for Tetch. The foxes screaming of "Cur! Cur! Cur!" Could be heard all the way through the asylum as they orderlies came in behind the cops with jacket and sedative in tow.

The small mouse had slipped from the top of the desk to the side, out of the way of the buzzing of authority. He took deep breaths and wiped at his face and neck. Slowly the throb in his pants settled and he looked up in time to see Gordon's struttin' form head out the door.

But he also heard Mr. Scarface suggestion from the desk door. The small mouse turned and stared at the tail that was sticking out and nibbled on his lip. It would probably be the perfect time. He could easily escape in this mess Tetch had made. But.. if he behaved for a few more months... he could see Gordon again.

"No Sir." Wesker shook his head. "I want to get b-better." He turned tail and scampered out after the feline. Ducking between two cops that were laughing over Tetch's screaming about the Queen.

It took a second, but those little feet of his caught up with the proudly walking feline. His tiny paws caught the ends of Gordon's trench coat and tugged lightly.

"Mr. G-gordon are you leaving?" He could feel the flesh under his fur beaming red even before he got the felines attention. After what had just happened? What am I doing? Do I even want to look at him now? It was for the good of everyone, but..

Gordon:  The big cat stopped in his tracks and flushed.  Arnold... oh yeah...

He turned toward the tug.  Before he could turn much more red, though, he saw the state of Arnold's face.  He must have felt the same way you did.

The truth was, he had noticed that erection in Wesker's pants, and he had been tempted to continue down, to not veer away and stop Tech.  Sure, he wouldn't regret it and what he did was his job, but it would have been nice to put that butter to more uses.

"Well, I should go and file a report...  Come to think of it you probably should to!" Well, that came out far too eagerly, lets try that again.  "-Unless you feel like you've had enough arousement for one day." ....Wrong word. "Er- Excitement... for one day.... Lots of stuff happened, you know." ...Yeah, he knows, he was there! Face it, there's no backtracking.

"Station?  I'll drive."  He grinned sheepishly and motioned down the hall.  He was smiling more than he had in months, for one reason or a completely different other.  His face would be SO sore in the morning.

Wesker:  You're still clinging to his trench coat.. let it go. Wesker swallowed and let the brown item fall from his  mismatched paw pads as Gordon turned and faced him. Glasses sheened as he looked up at him. The feline was flushing as much as he was. The grin, the stumbling misplaced words...

Now because he feels the same way? Or because he's embarrassed he had to do that? But what about the park. He's leaving again. Why does that make you sad.. What? He wants you to come with him. Statement.

"Y-yes!" Wesker squeaked out, and then coughed. He reached up and fumbling tied his own bow tie, which came out utterly crocked in his nervous hands. Usually those fingers were so flawless. "I mean, it's a g-good idea. It will keep Tetch in here for the right amount of time, so he can get better." Not because I want to spend more time with you. Not because your tongue felt incredible. Those aren't the reasons.

A bit more flushing and the small mouse nodded and slowly moved past the feline toward the hallway he was motioning toward. Wesker was a little confused with himself. He hated the police station. He'd directly defied Mr. Scarface. He wasn't even buttoned up properly, and yet he was ready to hop into the Commissioners car and take a trip downtown. Willing this time, you've never done it willingly.

Most of the time, nothing you ever do, is ever willingly.

"Will there b-be a lot of paperwork to fill out?" Tail swished nervously against his backside as he walked.

Gordon: He's coming!  I get to spend more time with him...  Even if it's in a dull, drab interrogation room.  The commissioner's smile wasn't beaming, but it was there, more of a contented look.  

His eyes wondered down from the rounded ears before him.  He's seems anxious to, too.  He must have felt the same way.  Movement caught his attention.

The tail.  It swung to and fro.  On either side of it, those rounded buttcheeks.  They moved slightly up and down with each step, the fabric bending and creasing underneath each one in turns.  His keen eyes could almost pick up a bit of a jiggle, barely there-

KONK!

He stumbled back and grabbed his head.  Short mice could walk under hanging racks that tall cats couldn't.  He winced, pursed up his lips, and followed him out toward the car, his happy expression gone with the throb in his skull.

Wesker:  Doing it again was he? At least this time, the mouse wasn't going to catch him in the act. He'd just perked his ears right up at the sound of the felines forehead making such a noise.

He looked over his shoulder as they exited the Asylum, glasses reflecting the setting sun, and cocked a brow at the feline. "Are..you alright?" He asked with a little lick to his lips. Usually cats were so very graceful. Gordon had proved rather cumbersome the whole day.

Ah but that made him endearing didn't it? Poor feline. Wesker wanted to have him bend down so he could check his head for him. Best not to be too overly friendly though. Getting too close to the cat could spell trouble. He just wanted to spend a little more time with him. That was all.

Yah. He smiled lightly at Gordon as they got to the car. He moved around to the passenger side and once more climbed into the seat. Wesker settled comfortable.

It was only then he noticed the disheveled state his shirt and bow-tie was in. Ugh. What a mess. He didn't want to show up at the station looking like he'd been a snack after all. Even though you rather had been, hadn't you? Wesker flushed again as he used his mismatched paws to untie his mussed up bow tie and then his buttons as he waited for Gordon to get in the car.

~ * ~

Gordon:  The department was still abuzz from the bomb scare, so it was no wonder that the press was already swarming the steps of city hall as Gordon came to a stop.  Microphones were promptly shoved at the big white cat as he emerged from his vehicle, then meeting slight gasps as they saw who was accompanying him.

The questions came so hard, so fast, that there was barely time to register what many of the reporters were asking.  Though a few, with hard microphone jabs and loud voices, rang above the others.

"Sir!  Was the Ventriloquist in on the bombing!?"

"No, Wesker is actually one of the heroes of the day!" Gordon said, darting around to the timid Mouse's side once he'd gotten out to shield him from the flashing lights with his coat.

"You mean he helped you?  Don't tell us we've got another crime-fighting vigilante!" a female fox said in an amused tone.

"No!  Just another citizen doing their duty," Gordon replied, shifting nervously.

"But sir!  How exactly did he help and how did you recover the bomb!"

That brought a blush to the cat's cheeks.  "We're not at liberty to discuss that.  We've got to get in there and file a report!"

Wesker:  Wesker had never been too fond of reporters. Not that he hated them, it was just they were like ants. They came from all sides and attacked. The swarmed and stung with their questions and flashing camera's. Oh, he was in no state to have his picture taken, either! Shirt had butter stains, he was missing his coat.

The small mouse pressed hard into the coat that was used to shield him from the flash photography. Small squeaks left him each time a microphone was attempted to prod at him. It kind of made him wish Mr. Scarface was here, Mr. Scarface always screamed back out for them to get 'out of his fuckin' face' Wesker wasn't so bold. But Mr. Gordon's here, he's keeping you safe just a bit more to go and you'll be in the building.

Wesker flushed deeply when he heard the felines words. Hero? I'm not a hero. He wasn't even really a civilian. He was a criminal. Yet, he had done his part to help keep Arkham from becoming rubble.

A small smile twitched the mouse's maw as they made it to the doors of the station. Cops moved around them to shoo at the reporters trying to keep the story-hungry creatures at bay long enough for the Commissioner and the Ventriloquist to get inside.

This was an unusual spot light for him. Being the good guy. But it's been a day of usually circumstances hasn't it? First the park, then that..scene in the office with Tetch. The press is a mild thing compared to that. His glasses sheened as he looked up at Gordon's blushing face. All to spend a little more time with him. You'd fill out paperwork just to talk with him a little longer.

Unusual, but it was bound to be mundane from this point. They were just trying to stretch the visit out.. just a little more. Just .. a little more.

Gordon:  With a rush up the steps, trying not to trip over the mouse and making full use of his tail, Gordon sped Wesker into the department.  The secretary even buzzed him through just in time to hit the door.  He was panting a little bit as they got inside.  

"Well, this has been an eventful day," he observed, more to himself than anyone else, though it echoed the mouse’s' thoughts.

He picked up a tape recorder, turning to come face to face with a large crocodile in rookie uniform.

"I'll take that sir so you can get back to your office!" he said helpfully, beaming a crocodile smile.

"No!"  He cringed at his own tone.  "I mean, I want to oversee this being that I was so involved in it, you have to understand."  He smiled under his own cringe, making it not the most genuine looking thing in the world.  "Er... tell him, Wesker.  How about we ask Wesker who he'd rather talk to." 

He looked down at the mouse.  Say me, please say me, I want you so bad- ...I... want to spend more time with you so bad... "Would you prefer to talk to me or him, Arnold?"

Wesker:  To the mouse's relief, the inside of the building was free of press. He'd never been so happy to be INSIDE a fucking police station in his life. A few long breaths were let out, making his still slightly sticky chest heave under his shirt. Yah, a nice long shower was what he was going to need when he got back to the asylum.

Or another tongue bath. But that's wishful thinking isn't it? It was a good thing the crocodile decided to show up right then, Wesker felt a little twinge in his groin just remember the way that scratchy tongue lapped across his chest.

Head cocked upward toward the reptile and Wesker's mouth fell open a little bit. He found himself staring at all those sharp, pointy teeth. Had he not been white in the first place, there would have been considerable paling under that fur right now. He backed up till he hit Gordon's leg and let out a small squeak.

"Y-You!" Wesker stammered and then did his best to compose himself. And not just because the Mr. I-ate-captain-hook scared the living piss out of him. He did want to spend more time with Gordon. Hell, he was going to stay firmly pressed to the felines leg till the jaws backed off. "I mean.. Mr. G-gordon can help me recall things.. and I'll give a good statement, please, thank you."

He hoped the croc would take that and go on his way. You didn't come all the way down here to have this turn into an interrogation, it's only worth it if you talk to Gordon.

Gordon/Bullock:  The crocodile scratched his head.  "Oh, well, uh... number three's still open."  He pointed toward the interrogation rooms.

Gordon nodded, and then looked down at the mouse.  "Come on, it's safe with me, I won't let anything happen to you."  His tail twitched under the mouse's chin, puffing up around his muzzle.

Meanwhile, a large swine wondered his way into the observation room of three, carrying a bag of doughnuts and coffee, and un-ceremoniously shutting the door to hide from work.  "Fuckin' lunatics everywhere.  The bastards belong in the slammer, not that cushy vacation home, that's all that shit is really."

He shook his head and gave a snort.  "Bastards, if they took care of 'em, they wouldn't come back and bust up that way-."

He blinked and looked toward the two-way mirror as a mouse and cat entered the main room, pastry millimeters from being shoved into his voracious maw.

"...What the fuck?"

Wesker:  That tail under his chin tickled briefly and Wesker relaxed. He took another deep breath to calm and then nodded as the Croc moved off. He honestly didn't mean to be so offended by the creature, there was just something prey animals fear about rows and rows of carnivorous teeth grinning down at them.

It's not like predators really eat prey anymore. Oh yah, not in the bad way. Ngh! Wesker felt his eyes roll up into the back of his head as Gordon ushered him into the interrogation room. You've got to stop thinking about it. The last think you need is to be trying to relate the account with a hard on. If this kept up he'd have to sit with his legs crossed the entire time. Dainty as he was, that was still not very comfortable.

He moved from Gordon once they got into the room. A quick look around was taking. Usually this place gave him the creeps and he was pretty sure he'd been IN this one before. Table, chairs, mirror. He knew that usually there would be other creatures behind that glass.

But not tonight.

He had to remember, this wasn't an interrogation. It was just a statement. He was not here for criminal activity. He was here because he had been good. He stared at his reflection in the glass for a moment.  You're a mess. Your fur is ruffled, there's butter on your shirt, it's amazing he wanted to still be seen with you. Wesker leaned in a moment and licked his paw pads on his right had. He groomed the fur on the top of his head, having no idea there was a pig staring at the both of them, and then took a seat in the closest plastic chair. "O-okay. "

Gordon/Bullock:  He settled in a chair, this time making a very pointed effort to watch the mouse's face rather than lose track of everything by watching his ass.  He sat the tape recorder on the table and hit record.

This was followed by the feline clearing his throat.

"This is a statement by Arnold Wesker about the incidents of today concerning the bomb threat issued at Arkham Asylum.  So Mr. Wesker, please tell me everything that happened from the point you went into the asylum with myself."

The cat crossed his legs, once again letting discretion get the better of him.  He needed no statement himself.  He very well knew what happened.  And despite himself, it was still very fresh in his mind.

On the other side of the glass, the doughnut was shoved into that toothy snout and the pig swiveled his chair, tilting his head at what was going on inside.  Lunch with a show?  Might be nice to know what went on in there.

Wesker:  Ears swiveled to the click of the recorder. Okay so he was to recount what had happened. That was easy enough. A small nod to the feline and he shuffled in his seat for a moment. Little paws folding together on the table before him. He cleared his throat.

"We.. entered the Asylum and walked toward the stairs that's when Mr. Tetch came down the stairs. He kept confusing use for c-characters in the book. He had the detonator in one hand. He um.. came down the stairs and threw his arms around our shoulders and showed us up to Dr. Arkham's office. "

It was easy to recount. It had just happened. And the small mouse went on without falter. Continued without missing a detail all the way till he got to the point where Tetch had been screaming at Jerry before turning back to them.

"And then he said you had to ea-" Wesker paused and suddenly flushed. He realized. How the hell was he supposed to state the next part? Pink tongue dragged out nervously against his own maw. He knew only Gordon was in the room, and Gordon had know what had happen. Fuck, he'd been the one doing it. With his tongue. "e-eat m-me."

A hard drag of breath was taking in and Wesker shifted his own legs to cross. His tail flickered nervously. His gaze left the tape recorder and he looked at Gordon, mouth slightly parted. What now?

Gordon:  Gordon leaned forward, uncrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees.  Fixed, feline gaze settled firmly on the mouse's face.  Remembering, he began to purr again and the faintest idea of Wesker's flavor returned to his tongue.

"Yeah, and then what?"  His tail was being as naughty as the fox's had, ticking back and forth, swiping against the wall behind the chair.

He made a loud grating noise against the floor as he scooted his chair forward, drawing closer to the mouse.  His pink nose could catch the smell of that butter, and his ears perked forward.

Wesker:  The small mouse swallowed a little bit, watching the feline scoot closer. He wanted him to continue to recount the deed ( as heroically naughty as it had to be ). He let out a breath and straightened his back a bit.

"And then you picked me up and put me on the table and undid my b-bow tie and shirt. "

Gordon:  As far as Gordon's mind had went, the tape recorder was gone.  His breath was quickening and his paws kneaded his own knees.  That purr echoed around the room.

"And then I did what?"  He scooted himself forward a little bit again, chair dragging the ground.

Wesker:  The purr was sharp to the rodent's ears. He could almost hear it bouncing off the walls and coming right back around to snag into his spine. What a sound. He shivered slightly as he felt his groin tightening again.

He leaned a bit forward himself, nibbling his lip. "T-then you grabbed the butter stick and smeared it.. all over my chest and belly.. " Oh god, I can still feel it. It was.. He reached up and lightly touched a paw to his collar bone. "you started licking h-here.."

Gordon:  He watched the paw move up to the collarbone.  I'd like to lick there again.  Oh, how I'd love to lick there again.  He was close enough now so that their knees were nearly touching, so with the last scoot they were, and he leaned forward to place his hands on either side of the base of the chair.

"And then where did I lick Arnold?"  There wasn't so much of an interrogating tone, anymore.  It was practically oozing lust.

Wesker:  His chest was heaving again, taking in such deep breaths between words. But it wasn't because the little rodent was scared, oh no. As Gordon leaned forward and their knees touched, Wesker uncrossed his own legs. The obvious tenting sprong up to that tone. He squeaked lightly.

"Here." He didn't even describe it anymore. Paw just moved down his chest. "And t-then here." Trickling down to his lower buttons, fingertips circled the navel." Then here and almost too.."

That paw stopped when it reached the button of his fly. Almost there, I wish he hadn't stopped. I wish he'd lick me right now.  Wesker forgot he was in a police station. He forgot this was a cop. Maw was open, ears were forward, Tail was lifted against the back of the chair. All signs pointed to a hard attraction.

Gordon:  "You mean... right... here?"  His paw reached out and snagged the button of the pants loose with a claw.  He moved his own face forward abruptly and closed their muzzles in a kiss, lifting his paws up under the ears of the mouse and tilting his head.  His rough tongue lapped into the other mouth against the smoother, wetter one, traces of butter still on it.

He lifted his rear end out of his chair to tilt more toward Wesker, purring and moaning into the frantic kiss.  He let go of the sides of the mouse’s face to pull at the sleeves of his coat and try to pull it off from his arms, rushing and anxious as his tail flapped uncontrollably against the ground behind him.

Wesker:  "Y-Yes!" Squeaked out before that mouth found his. Finally they kissed, they'd been trying to shyly all damn day it seemed, and now they did it here, in the middle of the police station. But it wasn't a soft press of maw to maw, no this was rushed, frantic and delicious.

Butter. Salt and Butter. That rough tongue swiped into the mouse's mouth and he pressed back harder into the kiss. Legs spread in the plastic chair and hips were giving a jerk upward, head of his cock pressing the rougher fabric of those tuxedo pants. When Gordon pulled his hand back to shrug out of his coat, the rodent reached up and curled his smaller paws into the felines shirt. Gnawing teeth scrapped against that scratchy tongue. It was so strange to have it inside his mouth. Almost alien when he was so use to his smooth one. It was different, alluring.

He pulled out of the kiss to gasp a bit. His glasses were slightly crooked on his face. "And.. then you stopped.. and I .. wondered why. " He licked his lips, still tasting the butter.

Gordon/Bullock:  The cat was reluctant to give up the other’s lips as he ripped them away to catch his breath, going after the other’s muzzle in quick, spaced kisses.  He lowered his paws to grab Wesker’s hips and pulled him into his lap, flinching as through double layers of cloth arousal rubbed against protruding arousal.  

The issues of size difference had yet to enter the commissioners mind.  All he could think of at the moment was the feel of them so close together, after spending the whole damned day pining.  The kiss reverberated in the pit of his stomach all the way down to his groin, and the purring in his chest could be felt against Arnolds as he clutched him to him.

Once again, his paws began to work at the buttons of the dress shirt, however he enjoyed the ease that they popped free this time, even more so with the vague slickness of butter still lingering there.

It was sad they couldn’t see the snout print forming in the glass of the other room, as a tusked jaw hung open.  Bullock was right up against the glass at this point, food forgotten and shock all over his face.

Wesker:  Short quick gasps for air were taking between the quick chaste kisses. Panting against whiskered lips as he was tugged into the feline's lap. Thighs slid against the commissioners upper hips and the mouse groan as he felt their clothed erections rubbing against each other.

As his still slick chest was slowly exposed once again, having no idea that they were still a peeping tom's wet dream at the moment. Well, maybe not Bullock's fancy, but he hadn't run snorting screaming from the viewing room, had he?

Paws began sliding up the length of the felines tie getting to the knot and began to un loop it. He didn't pull it free from the feline's neck, just let it dangle loose on either side of his buttons as finger pads slid against the hot slightly damp fur under his collar.

He wanted him bad. Tail was curled upwards against his upper back, occasional the pink tip would flip into view over his shoulder. Honestly, the mouse should have been more concerned with the location, Or that someone could knock on the door and interrupt them. But he couldn't think about those things. All he could think? It's been so long. Mgh, I want him really bad.

A paw said fuck it to all the buttons and headed right for the belt and button fly on the felines pants. His little mouse nails scratched against the metal as he fought with the out of sight item and popped them both open before tugging at the fly.

The sound of the metal gritting against the metal made his ears twitch and his heart beat even faster. He could smell the musk of utter lust and arousal actual wafting from the feline as he undid the pants and it was making his little mouth water.

Much too long. But he couldn't really blame time on how hard he was attracted to the feline. There was just too much there. The looks, the attitude, the fact that he was nice to him. All added up together and urged furry fingers to shove at the front of those pants to help relieve the feline's strain.

Gordon/Bullock: He moaned pitifully into the surge of the paws downward into his pants.  His jagged tongue lapped at the mouse’s throat, fighting with the button of the pants with slightly slick pads, before loosing it and snagging the zipper with his claw and tugging it down.

His own pink cock throbbed in the mouse’s nimble grip as he tugged the other free, finally relieving all that terrible pressure that had been building up on him.

”I -lick- want -lick- you!” he pleaded in a desperate tone, before moving the rodent’s paws from his cock so he could pick him up, once again by his hips, and put him on the table.  Once again he pushed him onto his back, this time with more force than the gentle urging that happened before the fox, more like the cat claiming it’s prey.

His paws caught the hem of the nice pants and started tugging them down off over his hips and that nice ass the commissioner had been hungrily eyeing all day (and somewhat painfully, come to think of it).  Yes, this was definitely worth it, he thought, as his retracted fingertips pressed against the soft bottom as the waistband traveled down over it.

This is wrong.  This is amoral, illegal, and somewhat hot god-dammit.  Swine eyes couldn’t break from the scene in the other room, and a thick nailed hand fell toward his own zipper, evading it’s own owner’s attention, and started rubbing his own ridged pants along the zipper where he was swollen beneath.  He continued to watch, still unaware of his own actions even as his nails ground loudly for a moment against closed zipper teeth.

Wesker:  Dainty paw pads tested the weeping tip of the other's cock for the brief moments it could. It felt scolding hot and pulsing for attention. Oh Wesker would have giving it all the attention in the world had they the time and perhaps not so urge. His neck was craned for the scratching tongue that licked against it's delicate curve.

And then he was being picked up again, with much more fever this time. A squeak left him when his back hit the table, for a moment hips arched up and his tail swiped with a tremble. But it wasn't out of fear. No, the mouse was just anxious to the point of anxiety. He gasped loudly to those pants coming down off his hips, freeing his own throbbing erection. He couldn't remember being this hard before.

Spine arched harder to help get those pants down off his ass and hips, exposing the soft slightly plump curves of his buttcheeks and the damp white fur of his testicles and inner thighs.

"Y-YES!" It seemed all the little mouse could muster to say at this state. Paws found the cat's ears and curled thumbs into the soft puffy fur at the base of them. "yes.. yes please. " Always polite, even in the frenzy of lust.

Glasses were fogged up from hot breath, chest was slickened with sweat and butter, clothes half off, and he was on an interrogation table. This was certainly not a situation he'd ever had pictured himself in. But now that he was in it?

"T-take me please.. please please! " Wesker actually murred out a beg. Size difference having obviously not registered in his little head either. Oh dear.

Gordon/Bullock:  Well, now that he was this point, he didn’t quite know where to go.  As far as he knew, there wasn’t any lube in this room, and from the size difference a 69 would be a little -awkward.-

Oh yeah, there was that size difference to consider.  Lube would most definitely be needed.  Luckily, though, it seems he was right in assuming that Wesker smelled a little TOO much like butter.  There was more of that sent wafting up from behind him.

He slid the mouse’s pants from his ankles and followed the scent to his coat.  Back in Arkham’s office, he had lost track of where that stick of butter went after he’d smeared it all over the poor now oily mouse (not that either of them complained in the end).  As it turned out, he’d casually dropped the rest of the stick in his coat pocket.  It was a wonder it hadn’t melted through or was sat in.

He dropped the pants and leaned down for his coat, pressed his hand into the pocket, and brought out the last of the stick.

”Waste not, want not?” he offered another sheepish smile at yet another bad joke, shaking the stick in the air to show Wesker what he found.  He then leaned back over him on the table, and began to lick his collarbone.  

”How -lick- Do you want me?”  He asked needfully as his paw smeared the rest of the stick all over his pink, pulsating length.  

The food was a little too much.  Drool pooled in the maw of the swine watching them.  Butter?  His eyes shifted slightly, as he was surprised by the sound of his own zipper falling.  He glanced down, watching as he pushed his digited hoof into the hole in his boxers and pulled himself out.

Wesker:  Butter. Oh my god, the butter. Perhaps Wesker was going to have to THANK Tetch the next time he saw him instead of scorning the fox. After all, if he hadn't tried to blow up Arkham, you'd never be here right now. With Gordon, buttering himself up for you.

Wesker couldn't help but grin a bit to the bad joke and the butter all at the same time. It was just so ironic, but it was perfect at the same time. The little mouse murred as he felt that tongue lap against his collar bone. How did he want him?

Eyes rolled up into his skull behind those fogged up glasses for a moment. Those words made the little mouse's arousal throb even harder, all the way down deep. Oh god it had been so long. And there was nothing he wanted more then to feel the feline deep inside him. But on his back on the table?

Wesker suddenly wiggled away. Kicking right out of his underwear and climbing fully onto the table. Tail nearly slapped the feline in the face as he turned around and slid down on his hands and knees on the smooth surface.

This table had been littered with paperwork, coffee, confession, guilt, innocence, nails and maybe even blood, but one could bet it had never had a buttery psychopathic mouse lowering it's nose and lifting it's tail in the utter shameless act of lust on top of it. "Like T-this."

He even gave a cute little butt wiggle for the feline. Honestly, Wesker didn't just get like this for anyone. But here, there were no bars to push his face into, this wasn't a sweaty bulldog in Black Gate. This was a frisky old feline that made him feel ten years younger at the moment. Gordon would probably have to climb on the goddamn table with him to make this work.

But oh, it would work, even if it would take some addition problem solving.

Gordon: Indeed, the feline did without hesitation (though with a bit of a grunt, because even though he felt ten years younger, he well wasn’t.)  Finally, aside from the distraction of the wildly moving tail, he could get a very good look at that butt he’d been admiring all day.

He took the knuckle of his paw and touched the back of the sac dangling below those rounded cheeks, leaving a creamy shiny smear behind.  It dangled slightly under his slight pressure, and watching it made him lick his lips.  His hands rested on the rounded cheeks, talons in, and he bent over the mouse and began to press-

Himself- *grunt*

-IN!

It was a damned tight squeeze, the size difference very evident now.  For a moment, the tightness around his butter slathered cock nearly even hurt, like a cushioned vice had him in it’s grasp and he doubted he could have even come in such a state.  His breath held and his claws almost broke skin as his grip tightened in surprise.

Finally, with a forced gasp and exhale, he unclenched his fingers and breathed against the back of the mouse’s head.  He slid his paw around and clasped the other’s throbbing cock, and began to stroke it calmly and easily.  It was his first moment of relaxation since the previous surge of energy at kissing him.

Montoya strolled through the station, just back from Arkham, holding the reports from Dr. Arkham and Jerry on the incident.  She sighed heavily and walked to the Crocodile.  Today had been just too busy of a day.

”Hey Mick, where’s Gordon?”

”Oh, he’s in Interrogation room three talking to the mouse,” the croc nodded in that direction.

Wesker:  The table creaked and moved a bit as Gordon slid onto it. Wesker kept still as the other skid up behind him, dragging out fast anxious breaths. His tail automatically curled upward against his own shoulder and out of the way as he felt those buttery fingers brushing against the back of his ball.

Thighs parted a bit more, shoulders lowered, ready to accept the feline. But yah, it was only when he felt the Cat move over him and start to press in did Wesker realize the size difference here.

Gordon was big, he was small.

Mouth parted with a high squeak as the feline began to shove himself inside. For a moment every short white piece of fur on that mouse's entire body stood on end. Ow. ow. With every inch there was another squeak and Wesker clenched his teeth, and his muscles. He didn't mean to tighten so viciously around the feline's cock, but he couldn't help it. Those claws precariously pricking at his skin made his body shiver.

It was probably a good thing the feline wasn't overly huge. He finally hilted and Wesker let out a breath. It take a moment for him to get use to the size of the feline, but like hell did he want him to stop just because it took a little extra work to get inside. Once he was inside and those furry buttery fingers started stroking the mouse's own cock, Wesker relaxed a bit. He quit squeezing so viciously and shifted lower to make the position more comfortable for the both of them.

The pain of being stretched dulled down and starting transforming into a needy throb. He'd never felt so filled in his life.

".. mh." He shook his little head to get a line of sweat that was sliding down his maw at the moment, and then pressed lightly back against the cat with a murr.

Gordon/Montoya/Bullock: Gordon almost sighed with relief when the mouse relaxed, though the pleasure induced by pulling out a little soon outweighed that urge.  He stopped just before the tip of his aching cock could emerge, before pushing right back into that tight hole, hilting deep within him and dragging that sweet spot for all it was worth.

It didn’t take him long to work up a rhythm, not with how tight that mouse was and how slick the butter made him.  He was almost tempted to send the fox a thank you card after this, indeed he had let them have their moment in this interrogation room.

His swishing tail knocked over the still running recorder, which was now catching sounds as varied as grunts to soft cries of exclamation as the huge feline drew closer, claws extended with fingers outspread against the round buttocks he was pumping into.

Montoya pressed her ear up to the door, then her bird head tilted questioningly.  One way, then the other.  Do I hear sex noises?  But the commissioner with the mouse?  That was a completely preposterous idea, why would they be fornicating in the interrogation room.  It had to be a couple of rookie cops in there.

Though as good a cop as she was curiosity was prone to getting the best of her.  She walked to the next door and opened it.

”AH!  CLOSE THE GODDAMNED DOOR!”

She flinched and blinked.  Face covered in crumbs, Bullock was-

”What are you doing with that doughnut!?”

"Get the fuck out or come in and eat it, your choice!”  Bullock, despite his bold talk, was turning a deep crimson.  

The pheasant, now embarrassed beyond comprehension, closed that door.  She didn’t want to think about what she just saw.  But fortunately for the pair in the interrogation room, it had held her attention long enough for her to ignore them.

Gordon’s ears flipped slightly when he thought he might have heard a sound, but he didn’t slow from Wesker.  Whatever it was, it could wait.  He had more pressing matters he was attending to.

Wesker:  Wesker was beyond noticing anything beyond the pull and thrust of the felines cock right now. Once Gordon had started to moving he'd been thrown into a world of nothing but pleasure mixed with a little pain. Not even enough to make him whimper, he was too heightened for that.

Each time that buttered length hilted inside him a squeaked slipped past his lips. It was honestly too bad they knew nothing of the event that had just happened behind the glass. What a story that would have been to take back to Arkham.

So while Gordon and I were in the middle of frenzy mating, The pig cop got caught bonking a donut.

And it just too bad he could never tell anyone about this. Not even Mr. Scarface. It would have to be their little secret, about how they had one damn good romp on the table, in the middle of the police station.

Wesker could feel himself climbing to orgasm quickly. Knees pressed against the table, rear lifted to accept each thrust as it was delivered deep, arms slide down in front of him till he felt his damp cheek touch the smoothness of the table, feeling it shake and shift under their moving bodies. Glasses had slid down to the brim of his muzzle, but eyes were screwed shut.

Another squeak, another pressed backwards and Wesker lost it. He felt the onslaught of one wicked orgasm as it started in the base of his spine and rocketed right up to the tip of his cock. He let out a loud cry as he jerked and tightened.

He couldn't help the tightening. It just happened when his body responded to the treatment the felines cock had given him. A flicker of white lightening across his closed eyes, tail twitched hard and he messed the tabletop with hot sticky fluid.

Gordon:  The tightening was enough to do it.  Though before he doubted that he could even release with that pressure on him.  But indeed, he could.  As soon as the mouse had lost his last drops in the feline’s stroking paw, a similar white hot surge jolted beneath that whipping tail and Gordon sat up straight on his haunches.

He shuddered as he expended the last drops emptied out of him into the other, tilting his head back and flattening his ears, teeth bared at the ceiling.  A moment later he slid out and rested his palms on either side of Wesker on the table, panting against his neck and rubbing his back with his cheek.

A purr rumbled in his chest, before his eyes snapped open.  He glanced over at the tape recorder, and grabbed it up.  He hit the stop button, plucked the tape from the recorder, and shoved it into his back pocket.

His fur was half sweaty, half wild, and his loose tie was still dangling.  He backed from Wesker to tuck himself back in and let his legs dangle from the table, tail swishing again.  "Wow,” he muttered to himself, a simple statement of amazement at what just happened, how he felt, and just the day in general.

Wesker:  Wow indeed.

The small mouse tensed when he felt the other's release. It was hot and soothed his insides. It was positive he'd be really feeling this later, but it was worth it, oh it was so worth it. Everything that had happened today, from nearly kissing in the part to Tetch leering over them made this so worth it.

The mouse panted against the table as the feline pulled out and sat back. Wesker let his rear relax and legs gave out lay fully on the table. He let out a few more groans before he slowly pushed himself to face the feline. He could just put himself away because his pants were on the floor. The small mouse rested his head on one of the feline's knees and smiled up tiredly at him, letting out a little murr.

"You'll still take me out again on my next g-good day, Right?"

Gordon:  “Of course,” Gordon said down at the rodent, cat teeth grinning in a mock Cheshire grin just for him.

~*~*~

The USS Oldsmobile made it’s final docking maneuver into the Arkham parking lot.  Five months, it seemed so very far away when he thought about it.  

He got out and opened Wesker’s door for him, tail swishing the ground morosely as he moved, eyes cast toward his shoe encased toes.

Wesker:  Ohh man, kinda sore.

Wesker kept a brave face though. As the small mouse slipped from the car he walked without wincing like he wanted too. He looked up at the feline and an ear twitched to Gordon's feet staring.

The mouse felt a little embarrassed himself, a slight flushing, but all in all, he was in a good mood, a little sad the day was over, a little sad he wouldn't see this feline for a good long while.

But over all. A good mood. "T-hank you. I had a wonderful time." The small mouse said softly as made their way to the doors of Arkham. They would be greeted by the door opening by the stork himself.

Dr. Arkham fluffed his feathers. "Goodness I was starting to wonder.. Did the statement go alright, I hope Mr. Wesker wasn't too much trouble."

Gordon:  "...Oh yeah, he was great,"  the cat gave the stork a smooth nod, patting the mouse's shoulder, then grinned down at him.  "Take good care of yourself, okay, and in five months I'll do whatever I can to take you out again, all right?"

Wesker:  I was great.

Wesker's ears perked a bit to that and he smiled up at the feline and flushed. "O-okay, I'll b-be on my best behavior, Sir." And next time, we won't waste the whole day fumbling, because the second we're alone, I'll kiss you.

A harder flush and it was Wesker's turn to look at his feet.

"Look who missed you!" Jerry's voice cut in and the hare leaned out he door, dangling the rat dummy upside down by one of it's feet.

"Mr. Scarface!"

"Dere you are Dummy! Have a fuckin' good time Out wit littergox dere? GET over 'ere and get me away from ears 'ere gefore go grain dead. "

The mouse moved away from the feline and took the dummy from Jerry. The wood started clanking as soon as his tiny paw slipped into the back of the puppet. "Sorry I was gone so long, Mr. Scarface."

"What dah fuck ever, so whad yah do all day asides from the tea party? Come on I was in ah fuckin' DRAWER all day, spill the geans!"

"Oh.." Wesker canted a look over his shoulder at Gordon and gave a little smile before he disappeared into Arkham. "Nothin' you'd be interested in Sir."

"Lemme guess, real faggot stuffs, eh?"

Wesker only chuckled and continued down the hall thinking how nice a hot shower would make this day.. complete.

The End

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