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[ HE IS AN ERMINE, NOT A "CAT TUBE", THANK YOU VERY MUCH. ]

Do what, exactly—?

[ His sarcastic demand is interrupted by the smooth gesture of Dante's hand.

It's definitely a weird feeling, although surprisingly not an unwelcome one. In fact, being stroked like an oversized pipe cleaner does something to his tiny stupid animal brain, causing Moriarty to shut up and let Dante do as he pleases. ]

[ get petted, idiot.
He won't offer any more words, as he knows, full well, that anything he might say in this moment might set the mouthy man off into some sort of rant and completely derail what he's currently trying to do.

Which is to mean that he's putting his phone on his coffee table and continuing to drag his fingernails along the others' fur, behind his ears, along the top of his head...

repeating the motion as he props his head up with an arm, letting his own eyes close. ]

[ Moriarty has not slept once since he arrived here. He's been going at full speed, nonstop, since the end of November—which probably explains a lot, about the way he is in general.

Without Dante here to force him to slow down, he's completely missed the forest for the trees, hyper-focused on the goals he's been trying his best to accomplish by himself.

The rhythmic sensation of Dante's fingernails lulls Moriarty into befuddled stupor, and those intelligent dark eyes finally close for more than a few moments of contemplation. ]

[ He might not be fully aware of everything that Moriarty got up to in his month that he's been here before himself--but if he knows the man well as he's sure he does, he knows the man doesn't know how to slow down.

Therefore, he has absolutely no problem forcing it on him, even if he had to use sneaky tricks.

and what's a sneakier trick than to pet a small creature into submission? He's sure it'll be effective so long as he keeps it up, right?

Well.

hopefully Moriarty's asleep by the time Dante dozes off, leaving his hand laid upon the fuzzy back of the sleek cat-tube. ]

[ Of course, the downside of Dante's cunning plan is that neither of them really considered what would happen if it actually worked.

The couch is just big enough for one person—which means when Moriarty does inevitably transform back to his usual form, there's nowhere for him to go.

Sheer lack of space means he ends up exactly where he started out: sprawled on top of Dante. Only, a human man is much taller than a stoat, so while Dante's hand remains somewhere on his back, his legs are now long enough to tangle with Dante's, and his face ends up nestled between Dante's and the back seat cushion of the couch.

Oh, he's a lot heavier than a weasel, too. ]

[ HUBRIS

THIS IS THE TRUE COST OF HUBRIS ]

[ Dante sleeps pretty solidly even when Moriarty eventually transforms back, the sudden size and weight isn't something that stirs him simply because he's strong enough to handle the weight. And he's a sleepy bitch anyway, all the excitement of travelling to a new world...

Nope. He doesn't wake up.
Not until, of course, he starts to feel really... warm?
The Divine Air Conditioner does a perfect job in keeping the temperature of the office perfectly, so. that's changed when you're suddenly tangled up with another person who runs way warmer than your average heated blanket.

He stirs when he starts to feel too warm in his thick, padded jeans and wooly sweater... eyes flickering opening as he realises his mistake.

Cazzo.
He should have asked if Moriarty had a bed upstairs or something. Like a normal person. Instead of seeking out what was normal and nap on a couch. ]

M, mori.

[ the sound of a man who has the full weight of another on his chest. ack. ]

Edited 2026-01-22 23:08 (UTC)

...?

[ He was warm and comfortable and taking a much-needed mental break from existing, but a particular sound—the groans of the dead? the wheezing of the damned??—ends up disturbing his peaceful repose.

Of course, the moment his brain begins working again, he's inevitably going to wake up the rest of the way. Once he starts thinking, it's hard for him to stop.

He lifts his head from Dante's shoulder, only to realize that this slight adjustment has put his face scant inches away from Dante's. ]

.......?!?!

Dante?!??!?!

[ Really, considering the state in which they drifted off, this was the obvious conclusion. The whole distressing 'being a weasel' thing must have just distracted himself from this embarrassingly avoidable outcome.

But it's not like he plasters himself on top of other men like saran wrap in his free time, so this is decidedly a first for him!!! ]

I'm up! I'm up!

[ In his haste to scramble off of Dante, however, he forgets that the couches can only support one person laying flat on their back, and so the purchase he seeks simply is nowhere to be found.

Moriarty's efforts to shift to the side only meet empty air, and gravity does the rest, taking him down hard. He ends up hitting his head on the corner of the table on the way down. He clutches his head in pain, cursing loudly. ]

[ To add insult to the copious physical and mental injuries he's sustained thus far, the entire humiliating disaster ends up triggering his curse yet again, and Moriarty instantly turns back into a weasel. ]

God DAMMIT!

[ oh

oh no. oh all of this is happening way too fast. he's groggy after just waking up and while the thought to CATCH james before he goes careening off the couch absolutely crosses his mind...

it only stays on his mind.
and he utterly fails to grab the other to keep him from what happens next.

Crash.
Bang. Slam.

A colorful curse. The smell of blood.

...

And now he's a little weasel again.

Dante............ Stares.

In completely stunned silence. ]

[ ...before going absolutely belly-up on the couch with raucous laughter at the absolute COMEDY he just witnessed. Wheeze. Cough. Sob. Hack.

He's going to choke from laughing so hard. ]

STOP LAUGHING AT ME!!!!

[ This might very well be the worst day of his technically extremely short life?!

Maybe he's still asleep and this is actually just a nightmare. That would be preferable, actually.

Wake up wake up wake up wake up— ]

I--I can't... I can't help it...

I can't...

You just... so animated... you...

Bounced and... right back to...

Square one...

[ help him, he's got tears coming from the corners of his eyes... ]

...hehehh... well... we did try...

This confounding curse!!

[ He can't even be mad at the person who got him into this mess, because it was wholly unintentional.

Moriarty bares his tiny fangs with frustration as Dante wheezes with laughter. Determined to prove he really can put mind over matter, he darts behind the opposite couch. This will be easier if he can't feel Dante's eyes on him.

Concentrating, Moriarty shuts out the world around him, focusing on the one thing he can truly rely on: mathematics.

Moriarty basically sits there reciting the digits of pi to himself until the embarrassing pounding of his pulse fades and he's able to block out the recent memory of Dante's gleeful laughter. ]

[ When he successfully transforms back, he pops out of hiding. ]

There!

You see?!?

I'm fine!

[ Just ignore the blood trickling down the side of his face. ]

[ it's funny
its so funny, he's sorry he can't HELP it
here he is, having had a nice, cozy nap for little over an hour or two--only to be back to Weasel Town. All because he got so flustered at sleeping like that?

Ah, what a silly prude.

He's wiping the tears from his eyes by the time Moriarty jumps up and Dante takes a long look at him.

Moving to stand... taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to ...

definitely not dab delicately at the blood on his face. Scrub scrub --stop struggling come here!! ]

You're bleeding...

[ It wasn't so much finding himself intimately entangled with Dante that gave him a partial heart attack, so much as being confronted with the Italian man's shockingly pretty features at such close range. Damn him and his incredible eyelashes and his stupidly soulful gray eyes. ]

Are you deaf? I said I'm fine.

[ Such a small injury will patch itself up before long. He's clearly chosen to pretend it's not even there. ]

[ said soulful grey eyes are staring right into those deep black ones now so don't panic and re-weasel, now. ]

I heard you.
But we have five senses. Sight and Smell are telling me more than Hearing is. And it's that you hurt yourself when you hit your head.

Even if you'll heal quickly...

Heheh.

There's blood in your hair... look...

Potential clients will be reassured knowing their lawyer can take a hit or two and still keep working.

[ Okay, what kind of insane logic is that? He's just stubbornly digging in his heels on this issue. ]

Anyway, yes, you've found out my terrible secret.

I hope you're proud of yourself.

[ ...Hm.
Something about Moriarty's words... sting. The way he sees it, he would have found out the man's secret sooner or later, but he supposed Moriarty would have rather TOLD him than to find out by force like that.

Ah, did he overstep?

He's staring a little long and quiet at his (legal) partner with that miles-away stare he gets sometimes when he has some sort of stunning clarity, brilliant idea ... but then he often just giggles or says nothing.

Hm.
Hmhmhm. ]

I don't think it's a terrible secret...

I think I'm better off knowing. That this can happen to you.

Heheh... after all, if it happens at inopportune times and I know it...

I'll be able to protect you.

You don't think me being cursed to assume the form of a weasel is terrible?

[ What the hell is Dante going on about now? ]

You, protect me?

My class resistances are much better than yours.

And my class offenses are better than yours!

[ FUCKIN

PISS OFF YOU -- JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE-- ]

I was trying to be nice.

[ Dante does have him on that point, however— ]

Oh, sorry, when you said you would protect me, I assumed you were volunteering to be a meat shield of sorts.

[ HE'S ABSOLUTELY NOT SORRY. IN FACT, HE'S ROLLING HIS EYES RIGHT NOW. ]

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