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What he does not do is send a letter in advance, he's never done this which many people may find rude to enter someone's home without being told in advance (Even his brother). Barnabas couldn't care less, if he shows up and they don't like it, it's not like they can turn him away, that wouldn't be polite.
He enters the large gloomy house, whenever he comes here the fog seems to change, it leans into him like a cat, purring at its owner coming home. He ignores this and steps past the servant whose face he won't recall by the time he leaves. Step by step he walks past the decorated wallpaper, the covered windows, and the bookshelves that look to be collecting dust but if he were to run a finger across them he'd find them to be completely clean.
Barnabas enters the lounge, closing the heavy door behind him. Pale blue walls, a heavily carpeted floor, there's one large window, but at the moment the expensive curtains cover the view. He thinks he knows how this ritual goes, he draped his coat across the plush chair sitting down with a soft familiar smile on his face. He leans back relaxed and waits.
He does not open his eyes when he hears footsteps, hears the sound of a tray hitting the table in front of him, cups being placed on the surface full to the brim with scalding hot tea, the tray is removed and then the door shuts behind him.
The man enjoys moments like this, in his solitude, he knows it won't last long that before he knows it he'll be heading back to his job with his beloved, Jonah and cherish that beautiful man until the next time he comes here. But right now, he is completely by himself, he wonders if Mordechai won't even appear, if he'll leave him here, leave him disappointed and lonely, With the way Jonah talks about him he's certainly begun a record of it.
He continues in the soft silence, brought back to reality every now and then by the sound of footsteps outside of the large decorated wooden door.
"Bennett" A deep voice that doesn't always sound like a human, more like a wolf. Many would bend over instantly at the mere sound of him, but not Barnabas.
"Hello, Mordechai" He does not open his eyes, he waits for the man to sit down, and once he hears the creak of the old seat. He flutters a tired eye open, his tired smile beginning to reveal a smirk. He takes in the sight of the man, tall, large, black hair in such an organised mess it looks like he just woke up. Wearing his signature saturated blue and white hues, he does think Mordechai would look good in darker colours such as black and silver(or even brighter colours) yet no matter how much Barnabas tries with his winnings and whatnot. Even with his threatening figure and status, Barnabas can't help but think he's beautiful.
Mordechai lets out a hum in acknowledgement, taking a sip of the now perfectly warm tea and Barnabas' does the same, It's only during this time Mordechai studies his companion's eyes, Barnabas notices this, along with the stares at his hands, his face, his hair and the look in Mordechai's eyes. He does not wish to deter the poor man, so he does not say anything.
Once they both had put down their cups, Mordechai, not wishing to sit in awkward silence, digs a pack of cards out of his coat compartment and tosses them over to Barnabas. "Shuffle" he demands, standing up and proceeding to take off his coat, slinging it up on the coat hanger in the corner.
"What are we playing?" Barnabas says, unpacking the cards and begins to shuffle the deck "snap?" He says with a half-hearted giggle.
They decide on poker (Barnabas decides and Mordechai nods) and much later, after many games and many losses (more on Barnabas' side than Mordechai's) they fall into a sort of silence, Barnabas ranting on about something that Mordechai can treat as background noise.
"Did you see what she was wearing at Mr Mundock's gathering?"
That's what gets him listening, Mordechai looks up from the cards in front of him, most would say that he had no expression on his face, that his eyes looked as if they had nothing other than cold mist behind them. But Barnabas had learnt and spent enough time with the man to recognise the confusion. "Who?"
Barnabas sighed, his wrists were beginning to tire so he lowered the cards to sit face down on the table "your wife, Marie"
"I think it's Mary"
"Whatever her name is! She looked atrocious! Did you not see her?" The shorter man exclaims, always over dramatic.
"No," Mordechai says bluntly, stating the obvious. Why would he spend time with someone he clearly doesn't remember the name of?
"Not even in the carriage? You must've caught at least a glimpse of the horrors on your way" The shorter and most likely losing man insists, leaning forward, his ribs pressed against the table.
Mordechai brought his tea to his lips "Separate carriages" he mumbled, sipping the drink.
Barnabas leaned back in fake surprise "of course because sitting next to your wife is such a challenging task" The sarcasm dragged on as he crossed his arms, a smile beginning to form on his face. "Though to be honest if that's her wardrobe I wouldn't want to see her either"
They both sit in silence after a moment, the only noise is Mordechai putting his cup down. He watches Barnabas smile at him like the smug twat he is, waiting for him to talk first, to ask. Which with anyone else, he wouldn't. But this isn't just anyone, this is Barnabas Bennett, the man who plagues his mind like a parasite. And Barnabas knows that as a fact.
"Tell me then."
Barnabas jumps to action, explaining the night and his wife's apparent 'crime of an outfit and how he'd managed to write a list of the ways he could fix such a mess on a table cloth with Magnus' pen.
This continues until their tea is cold to the touch, and they are both tired. Barnabas seems to have fallen half asleep in his seat, barely able to keep his eyes open as his story comes to an end, the cards long forgotten.
"Tired?" Mordechai mutters, Barnabas runs a hand across his face, groaning "It was a long trip" the man mumbles.
"Well then, I suppose you'll be staying here tonight" He gets up, walking the short distance to stand in front of the drooped man. Barnabas declines this, muttering about his shop and him 'oh so dear Jonah' expecting him back, but that all stops when Mordechai picks him up like he weighs nothing.
"Mordechai!" Barnabas gasps in surprise(despite the fact this isn't the first time Mordechai has picked him up) but he doesn't try to wriggle his way out of the large man's grasp he leans closer, his body falling slack and his eyes close once he feels the furnace of his companion's body as he's carried through the halls, leaving their unfinished tea and cards for the servants to clean.
Barnabas faintly hears a door open, and before he recognises what's going on he's being laid down on the softest bed he'd ever felt, he notices it smells familiar and snuggles into the duvet below him. He faintly feels his boots and waistcoat slowly be removed, the duvet being dragged from under him and then draped over him, Barnabas has no reason not to clutch the blankets and snuggle into the plush pillows.
Fabrics shuffles and is dropped, then he feels someone else join him under the comfortable sheets, that warmth is back and wraps around Barnabas.
Mordechai feels his sleeping friend wrap his arms around him, pulling him close. Mordechai lets a small smile slip as he breathes in the scent of strawberries.
They both rest, Tomorrow things will reset, and they will both act like this never happened. At Least while within the company of others.