#i once saw him being into taxidermy after claw and it’s stuck with me I think he’d do that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bountybossier · 4 years

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Under the Moostletoe I Erin & Nic

You better buckin’ believe it.

With: @corpse--diem

Erin’s hands felt sweaty. Never in her life would she have imagined herself standing outside of a moose-themed restaurant, getting nervous as she waited for a guy who she had drank whiskey with over an open wolf carcass. The same man who she’d found out both ate water with cereal, and accidentally terrified a group of children in a putt putt course. What was she doing? She stuck her hands into her jacket pocket, questioning all of the choices she’d made in life that led her here. And she was early. When was the last time she’d had a date? A proper one, anyway. Like now--one where she put make-up on and actually dug out a dress from the back of her closet. Moose Caboose didn’t deserve the effort, but she wanted to try anyway. This was fine. They had alcohol. This was fine. When she spotted Nic’s familiar figure, she waved, internally screaming at herself to be cool. “I was gonna wait inside but everyone in the waiting area kept staring at me. Because, you know. They stare all the time. Always. At everything.”

Googling “how to deal with nausea” had brought fruitless results and Nicodemus wasn’t thrilled. He couldn’t just throw back TUMS like Tic-Tacs and hope it would go well. Fuck he hoped it went well. Sweat threatened to plaster his flannel shirt to his back and he considered bringing extras in case he drenched the first one. A drink would fix things. It always would. He held onto that thought like a lifeline as he pulled up to Moose Caboose and turned down his blaring radio. 7:10 wasn’t a bad time. It gave him at least ten minutes to scream internally before he combed back his hair and stepped out. Shit, she had put on a dress and he looked like Paul fucking Bunyan just returned from the county fair. All he needed was an elk over his shoulder and--He cleared his throat, cleared his thoughts, and walked up to meet her halfway. “Is it because you look nice? Because you do. Look nice, that is. Just a little different without all the blood is all.” He said the last part quieter than the first. A slim smile concealed the violent turn in his gut and he opened the door for her. “Now are we talkin’ about the taxidermy or the wait staff? There really a difference?”

The dress was too much, wasn’t it? Now Erin felt stupid, watching Nic roll up in his flannel shirt, her back to a moose-themed restaurant. And here she was in a stupid dress. Too late to go back now. Still, she couldn’t help the smile that came with his compliment, blood mention and all. “Smooth,” she raised a brow, following him in. “I can always find some, toss it around, if that’d make you more comfortable?” She cleared her throat, casting a glance his way. “You look nice too,” she added on quickly. “And you look like you definitely belong here.” Another nervous laugh. Antlers and fur and black, beady eyes welcomed them the second they entered the restaurant. She leaned in a little bit, trying to keep her voice low so the customers and staff didn’t hear her. “I told you. Everywhere,” she gestured with a nod. “I think there’s less heads in my basement than there are in this hallway.”

“That’s me, smooth as a fuckin’ baby,” Nicodemus muttered as he willed the red creeping up his neck to fuck off. It didn’t seem like it would so he would have to grin and bear it. Her mention of flinging blood about made him feel better and he wasn’t quite sure what that said about him or his state of being. “Might have some left over from the other night if we really need it, but by the looks of this place, they might already have it covered.” Was this a Chuck-E-Cheese for rednecks? Pictures didn’t do the place injustice. He didn’t want to question the compliment, but already he felt like his best hunting flannel didn’t cut it. Asking Nell hadn’t been on the table, as he feared the response like nothing else. “Yeah? Thanks, I wanted to limit my chances of being killed and stuffed. You on the other hand…” He left it at that and approached the hostess. He tried to hide his ugly snort at the basement heads. “Table for two.” The hostess beamed up at him, eyes just as dark as the goddamn bison overhead. “Oh is it a date? It’s your lucky night. The table right under the moose is available.” He immediately blanched and shot a look back at Erin. The center of the damn place sounded like hell. “Uh, we don’t need right under the moose. Is there a...beaver or somethin’ in the corner?” The hostess seemed upset by his rebuttal but gathered the menus anyway. “Oooo even better, we have two beavers. Holding hands.” Regret washed over as he watched the hostess start walking away. “Well...Fuck.”

Are people allowed to ask that? What if this was her brother? This teeny bopper would’ve felt like an idiot then. But for now, that emotion was reserved for them. Nic especially, judging by the way the color immediately drained from his face. Erin tried to hide her snickering to very little avail, eventually having to cover her mouth with her hand so it wasn’t so obvious. “That’s way better. Thank you,” she nodded earnestly. “What are you waiting for? Follow the lady,” she pressed a hand to his back, urging him to follow the hostess as they led them to their seats. There was no way she was going to let him challenge her further and have them sitting anywhere else. The younger girl seemed to have an endless supply of enthusiasm tucked away, her smile relentless as she pointed up to the beavers. “Adorable, right?” She held a menu close to her face, like she was trying to share a secret. “The moose spot is great, but I should’ve known you two lovebirds would appreciate this one more. Enjoy!” She plopped then menus down with a pep Erin rarely saw in any one person. Her eyes were stuck on the beavers though. “This is way too good to be true,” she bit her lip, laughing harder than before. “Thank you so much for picking this spot.”

It was too late. The hostess was too far gone to have them sit anywhere else than in the Beaver Damboree. Nicodemus bit his bottom lip as he looked at Erin and shook his head in disbelief. At least someone was enjoying this. At least it wasn’t too good to be true. He didn’t need to be pinched. He was sure one of the taxidermied crabs with their shiny claws would do that for him. He had made his moose-covered bed and he was going to have to lie in it. His feet felt heavier as he walked behind the bubbly young hostess, but Erin’s hand against his back brought him to life once more. Both of the beavers looked him directly in the eye and it felt like God was laughing at him. And sweet Jesus, they were actually holding hands. “Yup. It’s perfect. Hey, just in case, you actually got any lovebirds here that we can just put nearby or something? Really, uh...” He brought his fingertips to almost touching. “Really bring it together? That’d be great, uh, Josie.” The girl beamed at him and he gave her a tight smile back. Might as well sink in all the way. Nicodemus’s customer service smile slipped away as she sat down and almost instantly, his fingers went to his temples. “Oh, it’s all part of the plan, y’know. Josie and I are familiar,” he said with a dry laugh as he picked his head up again. She had a nice laugh, he thought. He picked up the drink menu immediately. “What are you thinkin’? Looks like there’s a...Beaver Damned Good Margarita or a, uh, Moscow Moose-le.”

This felt more foreign to Erin than almost anything she’d done in her life. Sitting here, watching as Josie, the all too keen to please hostess, redecorated their general surroundings to be as disgustingly love-y as possible. “I should’ve known you had this planned all along,” she felt her cheeks burning and she took a long sip of water. He seemed to be gradually getting into it though, even if it looked like it pained him every step of the way. If she didn’t laugh, she’d be hurting right there with him. “Since you two seemed to love Mr. and Mrs. Chuck…” Erin perked up, slightly startled at the sudden reappearance of Josie beside her. The love birds, as promised, were set in the center of the table. Beaks facing each other, only just touching, as if they were kissing. Erin’s stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. “Wow, Josie, thank you,” her words came out curtly and without thought. She looked at Nic, amused and slightly terrified all at once. “Can we get some drinks. The, uh, Moscow Moose—Moosels—you know what I’m trying to say. Like, as soon as possible. Please.” She smiled curtly up at the young girl, who promised to let their server know, before skipping off to help the customers that just walked through the door. Erin picked up a menu, but her eyes kept staring at the forcibly posed birds in the middle of the table. “I hope you know both of those drinks are for me,” she smirked, shaking her head, letting out a long sigh. This was going to be an interesting night.

“Yeah, let me tell you, it’s been real fuckin’ hard keepin’ up the mystery,” Nicodemus said with a snort. To cool himself off, he chugged his entire glass of water as Josie reappeared, her spirit called upon by the act of decorating. He hadn’t even heard her approach. The thought that she might not be human occurred to him. Was anyone here human? Short, violent coughs caught him off guard as she set the birds on the table. Of course the beavers were married and the lovebirds existed. They really did have everything stuffed and on display here. If, over the course of the night, he died, would they stuff him and pose him in a corner? At the rate the night was going, it wouldn’t be long until he found out. “Holy shit,” he said, unable to help himself as he stared at the birds. “That’s just, uh, perfect.” Josie was gone after Erin ordered her Moscow Moose-les and Nic tilted his head to the side at the woman’s comment, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “I had a feelin’, which is why I’m going to go with…” His eyes scanned the menu again until he landed on it. The one drink on the menu that lauded only two would be allowed due to its alcohol content. “Moose Cannon. Sure, sounds like me.” Their server, a dry-eyed young man named Martin wearing costume moose antlers, appeared. “Welcome to Moose Caboose, where the fun is loose and you’re guaranteed to leave the place stuffed!” The man’s voice cracked somewhere in there and Nicodemus gave Erin a funny look. “Uh, she ordered two of the--I’m not gonna say it. The Moscows. Gonna do me a Moose Cannon. There anything you recommend off the menu, boss?” Martin laughed startlingly loud and Nic’s sensitive ears caused him to flinch. “I’m not the boss. Not here, not ever! And everything is delicious here at Moose Caboose! I’ll go get those drinks.” He damn-near hovered away and left them alone. Nicodemus scanned Erin’s face. “I think we’re gonna die here.”

Erin found Moose Cannon on the menu, nodding in her appreciation in his choice. A normal person would’ve gotten tipsy from that one alone, but she had a feeling Nic could handle it. “Excellent choice. It’s starting to look like you and I have the same idea, here,” she smirked over the menu. Martin the server was startling in his own right, but not in the same way that Josie had been. His enthusiasm was almost robotic, and his eyes were dark--yet somehow, unmistakably cheery. A chill crept up her spine as he slithered away, finding Nic’s eyes as her’s widened in a sort of amused terror. “I think you’re right. I think he already did,” she held back another laugh, trying to take all this in. So far, she had to say--better than most of the awkward, stuffy dates she’d ever had in her lifetime. Her eyes moved to above Nic’s head to the wall littered with more taxidermied animals. “Dibs on those antlers if we need to fight our way out of here.” Erin hardly had a chance to look over the menu before the drinks arrived in record time. This place was, if anything, efficient. “So!” His voice rang out loudly again, causing her to flinch and nearly drop her menu. “Jesus--” she mumbled, reaching for one of her Moscow Moose-le. “Have we decided yet?” He chirped, glancing between the two. She hadn’t even looked properly, and simply pointed at whatever her eyes locked onto first. “I’ll have the, uh, Steak and Moose-d Potatoes,” she said slowly, raising a brow. They liked their puns here. Erin lifted her drink to her lips, tilting her head as she smirked at Nic. “What’ll you have, deer?”

“Hope those beavers are as sturdy as they look in that case...” It didn’t feel forced when he grinned that time. “Y’know, I thought the whole lizard people thing was bullshit and then we got here. Startin’ to buy into it.” When Martin reappeared with a sudden squawk, he lamented not bringing his gun inside. Then again, it might have been better that he didn’t. As soon as the Moose Cannon hit the table, Nicodemus had his hands on it. Straw an afterthought. Martin watched him with beady lizard eyes that didn’t seem to ever blink as the hunter took a hefty drink. It was sweet, way too sweet, but most booze-loaded drinks were. The food menu was as much of a moose-laden mess as the drink menu was and he felt hopelessly lost. Was any of this fucking food? Were they about to get display food on plates, surrounded by Martin and Josie as they were forced to eat it? What’ll you have, deer? His eyes narrowed at Erin as he took another long, dragged out drink of the Moose Cannon. At some point, Martin’s eyes drifted to stare a hole into the center of the table. Looked like someone had turned his settings to standby. Nicodemus thankfully didn’t choke, but he could feel the blush running up his neck like wildfire. “Fuck it, I’ll do the Bisontennial Burger with fries.” Thank fuck the fries had a normal name or he was going to lose it. He all but shoved the menus into Martin’s waiting hands. Before the server left, he got his attention. “Martin, you good?” Martin flashed all his teeth with a wide smile and Nic immediately tried to find anything uncomfortably pointy. “Never buckin’ better, mister. Besides, this is Moose Caboose where the fun is fast and loose! I’ll put that right in or so help me. So help us!” No point in asking him to blink twice as he slid away, walking the exact same path he had before. Nic glanced back to Erin and perched his chin on the back of his propped-up hand. “So, deer,” he started, voice as dry as Martin’s eyes. “Odds on us being gooble-gobbled and made one of ‘em?”

The silent tension that filled their surrounding areas as Martin waited for Nic’s order was as suffocating as it was awkward. Erin could only lift her drink to her lips too, impressed at the way he was chugging that drink. She nearly choked on hers when he asked if he was ‘good’. She swore that he said that same catchphrase with the exact same inflections he had just a few minutes ago. Something was not right about this place but the mixture of nerves and general absurdity was making it hard for her to truly focus on whether or not these people were animatronics or not. Finally, after a flurry of customer service, they found themselves alone. Well, lovebirds and beavers excluded. “I’m hoping they just kill us and not set us up to spend an eternity slinging moose-puns, honestly,” she smirked, glancing up from the table. Josie’s eyes were focused hard on them with a smile that took up her entire face. Erin turned her chair slightly, trying to keep her back to those beady, dead eyes. “At this rate, we might as well just invite them all to eat with us.” They were alone now, and that fact seemed to resonate hard now that they didn’t have wait staff moving adjacent to them at every turn. Erin cleared her throat, almost halfway through her first mule already. “So, uh. How’s that Moose Cannon?” she smirked, resting her elbow on the table, watching him with a knowing smirk. “Lot of alcohol in that one. Think your colon can handle it?”

“Well now that the thought is out there, I’m callin’ Country Roads as my song,” Nicodemus said with a quirk of his brow and a dip of his head, his large glass raised in mock cheers. He elected to ignore the fact that it felt like a dozen flies worth of eyes were on them. They already have the beavers and the lovebirds, how much worse could it really get? “It ain’t bad,” he said as he eyed the fact that he had less than a quarter of it left. Wouldn’t do to let it get watered down by the...moose-shaped ice cubes in it. For fucks sake. He both did and didn’t like how she was smirking at him. “Pretty solid amount of alcohol in it, I’d say.” He squinted and finished the rest of it, just as it did get worse. There it was. The cursed colon. “Damn it, you saw that?” The instinctual need to make a fist in frustration started to backfire and he glanced down in time to see the thick drink class start to crack. It was one of the thicker glasses, the kind that could damn near weather a bomb, but there it was, cracking and then, suddenly, shattering. It was too thick to shatter into a million pieces, a fact he was thankful for. Little to no response was given when red blood started to dye the spilled moose cubes. “Jesus, got a grip like a bull rider...” He said quickly as he stood up and damn near concussed himself on Mr. and Mrs. Chuck as he did so. It really wasn’t that bad, just a surface nick or two. All of the pieces stayed on his side and he looked apologetically at Erin. In record time, Martin was back. “Oh wow, you’re bleeding like a stuffed pig,” he said, a bit more enthusiastically than Nicodemus was comfortable with. “Please don’t sue us or this--” Martin gestured at himself. “--little piggy might not make it home from the market, mister.” Nicodemus stared down at him and made sure to note the quick, lizard-like movement of his tongue. He didn’t say anything to him and glanced back at Erin. “Just gonna go to the restroom real quick to, uh, deal with this. Martin, get me two more of those, will you?” He looked for the sign with the moose ass on it and stalked toward it.

Erin didn’t expect Nic to take the colon comment in grace, and she’d hoped that all of the alcohol he’d just shoved down his gullet would brace some of the impact. But then the glass shattered in his hands with a pop that rang through the restaurant. Not shattered--popped. The thing was damn near indestructible, but he’d done it, and he was bleeding all over the moose print patterned tablecloth. “Jesus, are you okay?” She asked, standing when he did. Martin’s shrill voice startled her, again, and this time it was incredibly less amusing. There wasn’t a thing that he said that made any kind of sense to her, and her eyes glazed over as he started to clean up the broken glass. “Your dinners should be out shortly, and by moose, do they smell delicious already!” Was all he said as he swept up the pieces from the table and carried on. Too much prolonged eye contact forced her to glance down at her drink again, finishing off the first. When she eventually saw Nic start towards their table, the first empty glass had already slipped into her purse. “You alright?” she asked, glancing down at his hand. Lowered her voice, tugging him a little closer before he could sit back down. “Also… do you want to get out of here? Because I really, really do.”

Nicodemus felt like a fucking idiot. Why was bleeding in the bathroom the most comforting experience he’d had all night? Away from everyone’s eyes on him, he was free to scowl and swear as he ran his hand under ice-cold water. He didn’t have anything to bandage himself with and if Martin so much as put a hand on him, he’d snap his neck in the Moose Caboose parking lot. Instead, he shrugged off his flannel shirt and cut a strip of the green material to loop around his thumb to cover his cut palm. Back in just a plain black shirt, he returned to Erin with a sheepish frown and nodded. She pulled him close and sadly, instinctively, he almost reared back. But he didn’t and instead looked at her. Whatever perfume she was wearing, it mixed with the blood. “Huh? Yeah, yeah, guess my hand just slipped or some shit.” Not that he had shattered a tank of a glass into oblivion with just a flex of his hand. His stomach dropped. And it felt like his chest hurt? What did that mean? He didn’t know. Fuck, he’d shit the bed. He’d shit the entire bed and then another one. “That bad, huh?” He laughed to keep his throat from closing, his smile tight but shaking in a way that he hated. What the hell was happening to his body? When had he become an anxious wreck? Suck it up, Buttercup. “Yeah, I get it. I figured. Uh--Martin.” The server stopped, two Moose Cannon’s in hand, before the hunter pulled him away, behind the bar and into the back of the restaurant. When they returned, Nic held a small bucket with a saran wrap top and two straws taped together sticking out of it. Barely out of sight in the pocket of Martin’s plaid shirt was four twenties. Nicodemus was surprised to see Erin still there. He thought she wanted to go, forget the whole thing. “I’ll walk you out. We’re goin’ the same way.” Of course they were. There was only one way to leave Moose Caboose. Or two, really.

Erin’s eyes narrowed briefly at his response and the way that his voice seemed to completely lose all of the energy it had before. Was he okay? Did he not agree that this was the most horrifying place they’d ever been to in this town? “Unless you want to--” she started to say, but he was already disappearing with Martin. Part of her wondered if he was actually going to come back. More eyes than she could count were staring at her as she sat in silence, finishing up her other drink. Her cheeks grew warmer the longer she waited, like they all knew she was about to be stood up. Bolted up once she finally saw him come back with a fun new cup in his hands. “Two straws? That’s very, uh, Lady and the Tramp of you.” She smirked, watching Martin glide to another table nearby, giving the exact same spiel he’d given them. She swore he was still managing to watch them out of the corner of his eye. Nic, though, the poor guy looked like someone had broken his--oh. Oh, no. “Let’s go to my place,” she chirped out quickly, realizing the unintentional damage she’d done. “For drinks,” she added on. “I want to drink with you. If that’s okay?” She bit her lip, glanced around them, trying to think of how to add the gusto back in, and quick. Grabbing her drink, she finished off the second one, then let it clank into her purse with the other. “Only if you bring the lovebirds,” she glanced back at the table, grinned at him, then made a dash for the exit.

“Compromise I made with ol’ Martin,” Nicodemus grunted as he looked over at the man, who looked about ready to shed his top layer of skin and become a higher being. Under the hunter’s gaze, Martin flinched and went back to his current table of targets. He blinked at Erin, his face morphing through what felt like five emotions. It was a bizarre occurrence if he even went through one. And then an honest to God, broad as the horizon smile appeared. One that his whole body went into. He took a long sip of the quadrupled Moose Cannon. “Yeah, sure. Yeah, we can do that.” He nodded slowly. A conspiratorial look slid onto his face at the sound of two glasses clinking in her purse. A look not unlike the stuffed fox just three tables down. She was gone before he could say anything. Booming laughter threatened to erupt and at the mention of the lovebirds, he immediately snatched one and put it under his shirt. The second one followed after, a lump under his tight shirt that didn’t look at all suspicious forming. He raised his bucket glass to Josie and Martin as he followed quickly behind.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #c: erin #chatzy: under the moostletoe #// what A RIDE

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