It's quiet on the way back to the hotel, after a few days into the investigation with Marcel Guillaume.
William can't quite wrap his head around the fact that Roderick might not have played a part in Monique's disappearance and murder—especially with Monique figuring out Roderick's dirty little secret.
He taps his fingers on the wooden panel of the carriage window, trying to think of other alternatives as the carriage bumps along on the way back to the hotel.
"Are you wondering if zhis Roderick and 'is bellboy really do 'ave no involvement wiz Monique?" Marcel asks, breaking the concentrated silence between them.
"Yes," William answers, still drumming his fingers. "What happened to Monique had a personal motive—I just don't know what."
Marcel is quiet for a few moments, and William turns to him, waiting for his response.
The French inspector then smiles a bit weakly at him.
"Excusez-moi. It'z just zhat, I zhink, you are a bit too much into zhe investigation. Per'aps you should step back and take a look at it from anozher perspective," he says. "Zhat, and I am very tired. It'z 'ard to adjust to zhis time in Canada."
William chuckles a bit and nods. "Yes, of course. I am quite exhausted by today's events as well, what with the questioning and photo of Roderick and his affairs. Some sleep should do us both good, and tomorrow, we can have a fresh start."
Marcel leans back against his seat, yawning.
"Oh, bien. Tomorrow, we can question Roderick some more, zhen. Maybe a night in zhe cells will make 'im want to talk." He pauses, before adding, "Alzhough, from what I 'ave gazhered, you are still going to charge 'im for 'is acts wiz ozher men?"
"…I suppose so," William replies, "the government here doesn't look too fondly upon, well, homosexual men."
"Iz quite odd for me 'ere," Marcel says, playing with the handle of his suitcase. "'Ere, such preferences lead to zhe police."
William is amused by the fact that everything must be odd for Marcel here, especially seeing woman after woman parade happily out of Marcel's bedroom at the hotel.
"Well, sexual activity like that is out of the ordinary here. Offensive, people put it, to God. I once dealt with a group of homosexual men who slipped past the law by licensing as a tennis club," he says matter-of-factly.
"'Slipped past zhe law'? So you don't approve of zhem eizher?" Marcel asks, jumping on what he'd said.
"N… No, I don't have a problem with them," William answers defensively, looking a little startled. "I just… can't imagine what that must be like. What would drive men to do those sorts of things."
Marcel then laughs a light laugh, and leans forward. "Monsieur, you sound just like zhe men 'oo 'ave not tried it, but are curious about it. It'z a lot of fun." He sounds highly entertained.
William flushes immediately and looks away, being the conservative man he is. "Inspector…! Fun? I grew up not believing in sexual pastimes like tha—"
"Non, Detective, you just 'aven't tried it at all. You are missing out. It iz lots of fun. If you find zhat you like it, per'aps you maybe might not want to stop..." Marcel's voice trails off, with a slight purr to it, as the carriage started to slow. Lights can be seen from behind the carriage window curtain.
"Ah, we are 'ere. Will you continue on back to your 'ome or would you like to stay?" Marcel asks, and scoots a bit closer, laughter illuminating his eyes. He lowers his voice to a whisper. "You know … to try. Me."
William blanches, and opens his mouth to politely refuse, but instead fumbles over his words as Marcel's hand brushes his knee.
"See, you do want to 'ave some, ah, excitement, yes?"
"N-no! Inspector Guillaume, I must say n—"
Marcel interrupts him yet again and gestures at the hotel. "Come now, Monsieur, even if you do not try it, you still want zhe case file, correct? It iz still in my room, anyway."
William stops, as he does need the case file to study over the night. "Alright," he answers, a little too quickly, and follows Marcel out the carriage and into the hotel.
As they leave the elevator on the Frenchman's floor, Marcel winks at the elevator worker as the doors slide shut.
William pretends not to notice this as Marcel unlocks his room door and strides in.
"Ah, Angelina iz not 'ere for zhe night," he says in surprise, reading a note left on the desk. He turns to William, smiling. "Guess she 'as 'er own kind of fun wiz ozher ladies too, oui?"
The Canadian detective's cheeks turn red at the thought of it, and Marcel laughs delightfully at his embarrassment.
"Oh, Detective. You are so 'umble and innozent," he comments, and then leads the way to the drawers in the corner of the room. "'Ere…"
He pulls out the file, stored neatly in a paper envelope, and looks at William pointedly for a few moments.
"Are you sure you don't want to 'ave some fun tonight?" Marcel asks again, and leans against the dresser, his voice turning lower and huskier. "I assure you, I am a fantastique 'ost. You will 'ave a nice time."
William's cheeks cannot possibly turn any redder as he shakes his head vigorously. "Inspector Guillaume, it would be scandalous if I even thought of doing such a thing!" he says, taking the case file.
"Ah, so you 'ave conzidered trying it," Marcel answers, on the verge of laughter. He casually slips off his scarf. "Don't worry, I would never tell ozhers of our, uh, what'z zhe word… tryst. You just want to see what it'z like, oui?"
William blinks uncomfortably, eyes suddenly drawn to Marcel's exposed neck. He's not sure what to do because he can't look away; it's as if his gaze is fixed there.
"Just a leetle bit, yes, Monsieur Murdoch? You just want to see…" Marcel steps forward, in closer proximity to the detective, "…what men can do too…"
Swallowing, William's brown eyes dart away from Marcel's neck, to the Frenchman's eyes, to his lips, and then back to his neck—as fast as the thoughts in his head are dashing back and forth. Marcel's voice is sultry and seducing.
He's starting to say, "Inspector Guillaume, I really must go" when Marcel moves ahead and plants his lips on his.
William thinks Inspector Guillaume must be a genius, because the Frenchman has definitely snagged him on this count.
Again, for the second time this night, William doesn't know what to do. He feels as if he's in a daze, as if he's been drugged, as Marcel's hands skilfully slide the tie out from under his collar, and the first few buttons are undone. Oh well, William's feeling a little hot anyway. His jacket slides to the floor.
It still doesn't reduce the heat as Marcel's mouth finds William's jawline, down his neck, and then to his collarbone.
Marcel breaks away from him for a few moments.
"'Ow are you liking it so far, Detective?" he asks conspiratorially, a playful smile on his lips as his hands wander down William's torso and rest on his hips.
William is still standing there, stiff and shocked, speechless. His skin is burning where the inspector has kissed them. The hands on his sides, rough and warm through the fabric of his pants, are much different than a girl's soft and slender ones, yet he likes it.
Getting no response, Marcel leans forward and continues kissing him. It's a few minutes before William finally responds, and he opens his mouth, and tentatively presses a light kiss back.
Oh, God, please forgive me, he thinks mutely, as his mouth dries. All his warmth and blood seems to have travelled to the rather southern regions of his body, excitement making his heart beat fast.
Faster than when he had kissed Julia Ogden for the first time so many months ago.
Marcel seems to be spurred on by William's wordless agreement to their "affair".
His able hands, which have probably unbuttoned so many men's pants before, begin to undo the buttons on William's, and William nearly faints.
"It was good, oui, Detective? Zhe most fun you've 'ad in some time?"
"No. This was just a mistake, Inspector, and it won't happen again."
"Au contraire, monsieur. I zhink you will keep coming back."
"Inspector...!"
"Not wiz ozher men, Detective. You will keep coming back for moi."
"Go to sleep, please, Inspector Guillaume."
"Marcel, Detective William Murdoch. Je m'appelle Marcel Guillaume."
That was actually a lot of fun. Murdoch's so innocent and composed it's adorable, while Marcel is one hell of a smooth talking romantic. After watching this episode ("Monsieur Murdoch", season 4 episode 5) last night, they just click, or at least Marcel does. Well, to be honest, Marcel clicks with everyone. oh, French men.
btw, this fic is more of a fun piece, not an actual shipping. although, I feel like I should ship them after writing this. hahahahaha!
orangish