Regular Show © JG Quintel

Some very angsty angst about everyone's fav animals-turned-human. I changed a lot about the canon storyline haha so be warned.

Warnings: OOC, AU, infidelity

Mordecai's POV

January.

It's the start of yet another year. New Year's was a mess and everyone got a little too drunk. Benson was hung over for two days, no surprise.

The snow is beginning to melt, but slowly. I expect another snow storm before it melts away completely.

Rigby is moaning and groaning and stomping around as we shovel snow out of the way, making room for the carts and cars.

"Dude, let's just do the work," I say. "The sooner we finish, the sooner we can play video games and chill."

"Okay, but consider this –" he starts.

"No," I cut him off. "No, no, no. Listen, I'm not going to let you talk me into anything that's going to piss Benson off. I need this job and so do you."

Rigby gives me a bored look and says, "He wouldn't ever really fire us, man. He's all bark and no bite."

"I don't want to test that theory any more than we already have," I argue before getting back to work.

Rigby has always been like this. I haven't known him for long, but he hasn't changed at all since the day I met him –

The first time I saw Rigby was when he was digging in the trash. That happened just last year.

"Dude, what the hell?" was all I could muster up. I was on my way outside to drop another load of garbage in the trash can when I saw what I had assumed was a small kid sifting through yesterday's waste. It was the last thing I expected to see. Off the bat, I assumed he was either homeless or a runaway.

As soon as he heard my voice, he ran off like a scared animal. I didn't hesitate to follow after him. I ditched the trash bag and ran.

I don't know what possessed me to follow him. I guess I just felt bad for the kid. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help him out.

"Stop running!" I shouted.

Soon enough, however, I had him cornered. By then, I knew my way around the park like the back of my hand.

So, he finally stopped and turned around, looking me in the eye. I held up my hands, telling him I wouldn't hurt him or tell on him.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Rigby…" he said slowly, almost like he was suspicious of why I asked.

"I'm Mordecai," I said, pointing to myself. "Why were you rifling through the trash?"

He gave me a dull look, like the answer was obvious. And I guess it kind of was. He's hungry.

"Come on, I'll make you food," I offered. "I'll even wash your clothes for you and let you shower."

He mumbled some non-committal response, but followed me home nonetheless. He probably had no other option.

When we arrived inside, I flicked on the lights and finally got a better look at him. He was dirty and small. Plus, he smelled bad – kind of musty with a faint hint of B.O. It just made me feel worse for him. Messy brown hair, big brown eyes, light brown skin and a little mole below his left eye – he was a cute kid, but he was pretty filthy. His clothes were stained and I could only assume he hadn't bathed in a while.

I walked him to the bathroom and filled up the tub. He watched silently until it was full. "Okay, give me your clothes."

"Look away!" he demanded shrilly.

I rolled my eyes, holding up my hands and turning around.

"How old are you anyway?" I asked offhandedly.

"Twenty-three," he said.

"What?" I deadpanned.

I heard the water splash and he said, "Okay, you can look." When I turned back around, he was sitting in the tub. I eyed him critically. He looked more like a sixteen year old and I guess he knew what I was thinking because he said, "Yeah, I'm twenty-three."

"You're so damn small," I responded, wondering if his growth was somehow stunted.

He rolled his eyes at me before closing them, brushing me off. He cupped his palms, lowering them into the water and then splashing himself.

"Here," I murmured, approaching the bathtub and reaching towards one of the shelves. I grabbed my shampoo and poured an amount onto his head. "So, when is the last time you bathed?"

"Dunno," he admits as he moves his fingers through his shaggy hair. "Probably a week ago."

"Damn," I whisper. "Well, you should let my friend Margaret cut your hair."

"Just a trim," he said. "I look kind of stupid when my hair is too short."

"Just a trim," I agree.

So, I picked his clothes off the floor and put them in the washing machine as he sat in the bath. I lent him some of my clothes to wear until his were clean. He swam in them, but it was still a huge improvement. When that was taken care of, we went into the kitchen and I made him a sandwich. He's been crashing with me ever since. I guess I got attached. He never asked to stay, I was the one who invited him to do so.

I live in a share-house with some other guys I work with. There's Skips, groundskeeper at the park. He middle aged, but totally ripped. There are rumours floating around that say he hasn't aged in a hundred years. I don't put much stock into it, though. Next is Pops. He's totally old and kind of senile. His father, Mr. Maellard, owned the park and now it all belongs to him. There's also Muscle Man – AKA Mitch Sorenstein. He's fat and hairy and gross and he tells bad jokes, but he's all right to be around. He's kind of someone you just need to get used to. His roomie, Fives, also works at the park. He's pale as a ghost and he looks like one, too. Benson is the manager. He's a middle-aged alcoholic who always drinks too much on wing night and ends up doing things he'd never do on a normal day. Usually he is so angry that his face is as red as his hair. It took a lot of convincing for Benson to allow Rigby to stay with me.

Rigby pulls his weight… sometimes. He does this thing where he tries hard to find an easier way to do his work, but he just ends up ruining everything. Rigby doesn't take anything seriously. He's immature to a point where he basically acts like a child. Sometimes it's endearing. Other times, it's annoying.

After a shoddy shovelling job, me and Rigby head back inside. We kick off our boots and peel off our snow gear, making a bit of a mess of the foyer in the process.

When we're setting up the game console, Benson stomps through the door. He looks pissed, but he also looks like he's trying hard to stifle it.

"I could barely get my car into the driveway," he says tersely.

"The driveway is too long," Rigby moans. "Obviously we weren't going to do a perfect job. That would take forever. Get a snow-plow if you want it done better."

"You should be lucky to have this job!" Benson shrieks, his temper rising to new heights.

Rigby rolls his eyes, used to Benson's temper by now. "I could EASILY get another job."

"You didn't even graduate!"

"Yes, I did!" Rigby insists. "I have a degree!"

He's such a damn liar.

.

.

February.

I stare at myself in the mirror when I'm finished showering. I'm pretty good looking, in all honesty. I have black hair and blue eyes. My skin is a little bit on the pale side, but that's all right. I'm tall and fairly slender with hidden muscle. I'm pretty lazy, but I try to stay in shape. It helps that I work in a park. Benson has us doing a lot of manual labour – shovelling snow, sweeping leaves, trimming hedges… The list goes on and, yeah, we mess a lot of it up… but we try not to. Plus, we always fix things and everything turns out all right in the end.

It's thanks to my looks that I ended up with a girlfriend as hot as CJ. She's fair-skinned with white-blond hair that curls. Sure, she has some anger issues, but everyone has faults. I've grown to accept hers.

We've been dating for some months now, so we've already had sex. When I tried to tell Rigby, he immediately recoiled. He had no interest in hearing it.

Sometimes me and CJ try to hook him up with Eileen, but he never seems into it. Every time I try to bring up the topic, he just changes the subject. I'm pretty sure he's a kissless virgin. I don't think he knows much about girls and he's kind of shy and awkward around them. Plus, he dropped out of high school so his sex education is probably pretty vague.

I wrap a towel around my waist and head back into my own room to get ready for the day. Rigby is still asleep in the bed we share. I used to make him sleep on the floor, but as time went on he eventually made his way onto my bed. Now we just share. I keep telling him we should get another bed because it's kind of weird for a guy who has a girlfriend to spend every night in bed with his best bro… but it never happens. It's probably because we're both lazy and cheap and would rather spend our money on video games and junk food.

He's claustrophobic. I learned that during our first month of living together. We were doing yard work on the opposite end of the park and he refused to use the portable toilet. At first I thought it was because he was grossed out by the idea of public toilets, but then I remembered he was homeless and digging through garbage just last month.

When I asked him about it he said his younger-but-taller brother used to lock him in the shoe closet when they were kids. That was the first time I heard Rigby talk about his family. It made me want to know more. So, I asked. Apparently Rigby's family situation was exceptionally ordinary apart from the fact that his parents picked favorites. While he was growing up, it was all about his brother, Don. I guess Rigby couldn't take the pressure, so he dropped out of high school and left home.

I stare at him and debate on waking him, but I decide against it. I know he doesn't get much sleep during the night. He usually stays up with his thoughts. He's a little hyper-vigilante, though I'm not sure why. He hates loud noises, he isn't a people person, he's anxious and fearful. He probably saw some shit while living on the streets, so he's constantly in defense mode trying to detect possible threats. Not that he's going to find any here. Things are pretty tame these days and the messes we get into are ones we make ourselves.

I head downstairs and make waffles. I take my time eating since we don't need to do much on the weekends. When I go upstairs, Rigby is sitting up. He gives me a weary-eyed stare as I tell him, "Good morning."

He grunts some non-committal response.

"You should shower and get dressed," I say.

Rigby hates showering. I don't really know why. I love it. I love being clean. I like washing my hair. I like everything about the process, but Rigby is the opposite. When we started sharing a bed, I made it a rule for him to shower at least once every two days. So, he does and we haven't had any problems.

He rubs his eyes. He's not a morning person and it usually takes him at least an hour to actually wake up. Until then, he's in this barely-conscious state.

"What do you want to do today?" I ask him.

He shrugs, stretching out his arms before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Um…" he muses. "Whatever. Let's go to Wing Kingdom."

"All right," I agree. "I'll tell the guys."

Wing Kingdom means drinking. Benson always overdoes it and so does Rigby. I don't think either of them learned to pace themselves.

When night comes, we all pile into Benson's car and head to Wing Kingdom. We get a booth in the corner and order wings and beer.

Rigby eats like a horse, but his metabolism is so fast none of it makes a difference. He's gained some weight back and is no longer malnourished, but he's still pretty slim and he's so small. He's done growing, so that can't really be fixed. I know he hates being short, though. He probably feels like people take advantage of the fact that he isn't as tall.

Right now, Rigby is telling a story. I feel myself zone out, getting lost in thought. I'm pretty sure the entire thing is a lie, but everyone is drunk and seems to believe him. I think he lives for this kind of attention. I think the only reason he acts like such a moron is because he wants people to notice him. He's probably starving for the affection he feels like he's been deprived of when he lived with his parents.

Like Benson, Rigby ends up overdoing it.

.

.

March.

It's late and Eileen and CJ are over for drinks. Right now, Rigby and Eileen are playing the new Street Fighter. She's kicking his ass hard, which is funny because she's never played the game before. It's making Rigby pretty sore.

"Eileen, you have to let me at least stand back up!" he shrieks, pounding the controller.

She laughs, showing no mercy.

They get along pretty well when video games are out of the picture and she is good at reasoning with him when he starts acting like an idiot. I think they should just date. They'd make a good couple. Eileen is mousy and meek, but in a cute way. She's grown a lot since we first met her. She has tanned skin – not quite as dark as Rigby's, but definitely darker than mine or CJ's. Her hair is a light brown, she wears wire-rimmed glasses and she works at the café me and Rigby frequent. Sometimes she sneaks us free cookies.

Back when my ex Margaret was still in the picture, we decided to go camping. Rigby ruined the entire trip by deciding it would be a good idea to eat some mushrooms he found in the woods. Eileen took care of him the entire time, making sure he didn't do anything too crazy. Thanks to her, he didn't.

I found it so hard to be sympathetic towards him because I just felt like he fucked everything up for me… but I can see now that things were already fucked up. Me and Margaret weren't a good match.

"Boom, in yo face!" Rigby shouts after landing a single hit to Eileen's fighter.

I snort back a laugh, glancing at CJ, who smiles.

Rigby is predictable as hell. You always know how he's going to react because he's truly like a child. He gets angry and scared and sad and he always lets it show. No emotion goes unnoticed, yet he's still the most skilled liar I know. He doesn't even hesitate, but I'll admit that his affinity for lies has gotten us out of many sticky situations. He's impulsive and chaotic with his decisions, yet somehow he tends to exhibit intense amounts of arrogance. Sometimes he speaks in unintelligible shrieks. All in all, he's totally immature and completely irresponsible. None of that stops him from being a good person, though.

By the end of the night, Rigby is pretty drunk. Naturally. I don't know why he always does this. He doesn't know his limits and if anyone tries to cut him off, he gets angry and defensive. Then again, maybe he does know his limits, but he just doesn't care.

Eileen sits in the bathroom with him as he pukes. Me and CJ stay in the living room, but we can hear faint heaving sounds.

"Sorry about Rigby," I say to CJ.

She smiles good-naturedly and says, "That's all right. I'm pretty much used to him by now… but why do you think he does it?"

"For attention?" I wonder, shrugging. "I don't know for sure. He doesn't really tell me much."

"Well, you kind of rescued him from the streets," CJ reasons. "Maybe he doesn't want to burden you with any of his personal problems."

"It wouldn't be a burden," I murmur.

"Of course not," she agrees, "but have you told him that?"

And I guess the truth is that I haven't.

Note to self: Be nice to Rigby, 'cause he's trying, even if he doesn't seem like it. Half the time he doesn't realize he's being an idiot. I think he's hurting and he probably hates himself and that's why he screws around so much.

At the end of the month, I finally convince Rigby to ask Eileen out. He gets the words out awkwardly, but she still accepts his proposal and that weekend they make plans for dinner and a movie.

.

.

April.

Rigby is getting impatient with me. We're raking leaves and I'm trying to ask him how things are going with Eileen, but he doesn't seem to want to divulge anything.

"Why are you so damn secretive about it?" I ask him. "I mean, if you wanted to know about me and CJ I'd tell you."

"I don't want to know that stuff," he says.

"I know, but if you did…" I reiterate.

"Well, I don't," he says again, "and it's for the same reasons I don't want to talk about Eileen with you. It's personal stuff that should remain private."

I pause and stare at him. "Dude, we're best friends. You've been dating her for, like, a month. Can't you at least tell me that you and Eileen are doing good and you're happy?"

He stares at me and I see mixed emotions in his expression. "Damn it, Mordecai, I don't like girls!" he shouts suddenly.

"What?" I deadpan.

"I don't like GIRLS!" he shouts once more.

"But you and Eileen…?" I start, trailing off because I don't know what the fuck is going on.

He lets out an impatient sigh. "That was just a lie to get you to shut up and stop bugging me. We went on a few dates, but then I told her I didn't like girls and she agreed when I asked her if we could pretend to keep dating. I wanted to keep you off my back."

I let out a sigh, giving him a piteous look. "Dude, I don't want you to feel like you need to lie to me… if I'm being overbearing, just tell me."

"I've tried," he mutters.

"Sorry, man," I apologize. "So, does this mean you like boys?"

He flushes and I can tell he doesn't want to say it. I can't help but wonder if he's ever said it aloud.

"Do you?" I urge.

"STOP TALKING!" he shouts before running away.

I don't bother chasing after him when he ditches his rake. I continue doing yard work because I honestly don't know what the hell to say to him. Should I tell him it's okay? Probably. He needs to know that it's not going to change our friendship or make things weird.

How should I say it, though?

I don't have a lot of tact when it comes to serious stuff. I'm pretty blunt and I'm not very graceful or eloquent.

I spend the rest of the day outside doing work in an attempt to procrastinate. Funnily enough, this is probably the most productive I've been in my entire life. Benson will be proud come morning.

Around 6PM, I head inside. It's dark by now and I decide to make myself a quick sandwich before heading upstairs. I push our bedroom door open and then I see that it's dark in here as well. I step inside and pause.

"Rigby?"

Nothing.

When my eyes adjust to the light, I'm surprised to see that he's asleep. He's a bit of a night owl, basically nocturnal. He's a pretty light sleeper, so I have to try hard not to wake him up.

With a sigh, I undress. I kick off my jeans and remove my sweater so I'm left in shorts and a shirt. With that, I crawl over Rigby cautiously and lie down next to him.

We'll talk in the morning.

It'll all be fine.

When I wake up, Rigby is still dead to the world. He has his thumb in his mouth. It hasn't fucked up his teeth too much and the dentist says that there probably won't be much more damage. So, he doesn't seem keen on stopping.

I perch myself up on an elbow and say his name. He opens his eyes, staring up at me.

"Let's shower and eat and then we'll talk," I say.

Usually I like making him take night showers since he takes too long, but he hasn't showered in a while.

He rolls his eyes, sitting up. "I'm showering first," he murmurs, getting out of bed and leaving the room.

So, I decide to grab a bite to eat. When that's taken care of, I head to the bathroom and Rigby heads to the kitchen.

When all is said and done, we meet back in our bedroom. We're both dressed for the day and I really want to take care of this before we have to start work.

"About you not liking girls –" I start, but he cuts me off.

"I don't want to talk about this!" he pleads. He sounds panicked, like he regrets the confession.

"Why?" I ask impatiently. "You can't just drop a bomb like that and then refuse to talk about it, man! I don't even know what the hell you were trying to tell me. Do you like boys? Are you gay? Is that it?"

"STOP TALKING!" he shouts.

"No!" I shout back. "I want you to be honest with me!"

"Shit, shit, shit!" he hisses shakily, pacing back and forth. His breath grows heavy and he begins heaving, sounding like he can't get enough air in.

I raise an eyebrow, beginning to worry. "Dude…? Rigby?"

He slumps onto the floor, leaning against the kitchen cupboards. He doesn't acknowledge me. He just keeps choking on his own breath.

"Man, I think you're having a panic attack," I try to tell him, kneeling in front of him as he hyperventilates.

His eyes are wet and I don't know if he's even hearing a word I'm saying. I remember seeing something in a TV show that CJ likes a while back… So, I cut my losses and lean forward, planting my lips onto his. I feel him gasp into my mouth and then he stops. No more panicking. After what feels like 30 seconds, he pushes me away.

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "That was my fault. I didn't mean to make you freak out."

"You k-k-kissed me!" he shouts accusingly, pointing a finger at me.

"Sorry!" I shout back defensively. "I saw it in a TV show! I didn't know what else to do!"

"Why'd it work…?" he asks quietly.

I shrug. "I don't really know. I didn't even think it would, but it was worth a shot 'cause I don't really know anything about panic attacks… Maybe it just distracted you from what you were panicking over."

He stares at me critically before glancing off to the side.

I can tell this is going to make things even worse.

.

.

May.

I was right. Things have been kind of weird between me and Rigby, but I guess that's my own fault. I'm the one who decided to fucking kiss him.

We're trimming hedges and doing other yard work in complete silence. Usually he's blabbing about something stupid and I'm nodding along. He likes to talk, but he hasn't been talking much at all lately.

"So, uh, hey, where are you from?" I ask him in an attempt to make conversation. "I never thought to ask."

"I'm from here…" he responds, "but if you mean my ethnicity or whatever, I'm Puerto Rican."

"Oh!" I exclaim. "That's pretty cool. I didn't know that."

He shrugs and continues raking. He's doing a shoddy job and it seems like he cares even less than usual.

I decide to ask him more questions like that and another uncomfortable silence takes over when I can't think of any more.

"Okay," I say, letting out a sigh. "Look, Rigby, I'm sorry about what happened last month. Seriously."

He glances at me, pausing. "Did you think I wouldn't mind just because I said I didn't like girls?"

"No!" I promise. "Trust me, I wasn't even thinking about that when I decided to lean forward. Honest. I just kissed you because I thought it might work… and it did."

"I'm not mad at you for it," he says. "I'm… mostly just mad at myself."

"Why?" I pry as gently as I can.

"Because I liked it," he murmurs.

I feel my lips part in shock, but I force them close while I try to gather my thoughts. What do I say now?

"Oh," is all I muster for a moment. Then I ask, "What about it did you like?"

"I liked that it was you," he says, sounding like he hates himself.

I try not to frown or look upset at the confession, though it does make me feel kind of weird. I don't know if it's a good weird or a bad weird, but something is definitely twisting around in my gut. "Well, I have a girlfriend… but if I didn't then maybe I'd be willing to try. I'd do anything for you, y'know?"

He lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, sure."

"I would!" I insist, but I can tell he doesn't believe me.

I feel like we keep making this situation shittier. He was probably trying to keep everything a secret and I fucked it up because I wouldn't stop nagging him about Eileen. He felt pressured and then he caved and everything went to shit. Then I made the next wrong move.

"Straight guys don't just offer to date their best bros, Mordecai," Rigby informs me dully. "And you… You're the definition of straight."

"But I like to think I'm open minded," I defend myself.

"Still," he says. "I don't want you to piteously offer to date me just because I have feelings for you. That makes me feel like SHIT!"

Damn it. I just keep saying all the wrong things.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't know where to go from here."

"Let's just be normal again," he mutters, going back to doing yard work.

"Fine," I agree before doing the same.

Easier said than done.

Eileen and Rigby spend a lot of time together. Too bad Eileen wasn't a dude. Then maybe Rigby wouldn't care about me. Then again, maybe he would. I don't really know what he's thinking.

I know he's spending so much time with her in an attempt to get away from me.

What do you do when your best bro develops a crush on you? It's beginning to confuse me.

.

.

June.

Slowly, me and Rigby go back to normal. Since we're forced to spend a lot of time together, it was only time before it happened. It took a while, but still, I'm glad.

I learned the hard way that to make things to back to normal, I had to stop trying to talk to Rigby about what happened. So, in mutually silent consent we both decided to simply forget about it. Is it for the best? Who knows.

After a day of yard work, Rigby starts complaining about his sore limbs.

"Ugh," he moans. "I'm fucking tired. Carry me! Give me piggy back."

I let out a sigh and crouch, holding my arms out. He drapes himself over me and I lock my hands under his legs for support.

"You smell pretty bad, dude," I say out of the blue.

"I've been sweating all day," he reminds me as I walk us back to the house. "I'll just shower when we get inside."

"All right," I chortle.

I make nachos while Rigby is in the shower. When he's done, I hear him barrelling down the stairs. He meets me in the living room and I set the nachos on the coffee table while we watch Wet Hot American Summer.

"I can't believe you've never seen this movie," I tell him. "It's a cult classic."

Rigby tilts his head to the side as he stares at the screen. "It's weird. I don't really get it."

"Honestly, dude, you're not really supposed to get it," I say with a laugh.

When Ben and McKinley start fucking on screen, Rigby side-eyes me and I get uncomfortable. He's so secretive about his sexuality I can't help but wonder if he has some internalized homophobia or something. I hope he doesn't. I hope he's just trying to sort it all out because I don't want him to hate himself more than he already does.

"Why don't you talk to me?" I ask him suddenly.

"We talk all the time," he says, not bothering to look at me. "I'm a blabbermouth."

"You know what I mean," I murmur. "Why don't we talk about things that are important?"

"It's 'cause I'm a burden," he says simply and it makes me think about what CJ said to me those months ago. "I'm a burdensome person."

I sigh at that. "No, dude… You're not a burden… and I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you were one. Truth is, I like having you around. You're my best friend. I don't even mind sharing a bed with you and sometimes it's fun when we talk all night like a couple of teenagers."

If he's having a particularly hard time sleeping, I'll stay up with him and just listen to him talk about random things. I don't mind it. It makes me feel like a kid again – carefree.

Rigby finally turns his head away from the TV and glances at me. "Really?" he asks.

"Really, really," I say.

.

.

July.

Rigby agrees to try harder. I should probably do the same.

It's summer now. The sky is dark and clear. Me and Rigby are lying on a park bench watching the stars.

"Why do you act so stupid?" I ask tactlessly, turning my head to the side and glancing at him.

"Dunno," Rigby murmurs, staring up. "I guess people expect me to act like a clown, so I act like a clown."

I scoff at that. "So you prove them right? Why don't you want to prove them wrong instead?"

"Because it's easier to just give in," Rigby says, forcing a laugh. He sits up and stretches his arms and legs out in front of him. "Anyway, I don't really want to talk about this stuff anymore."

"Fine," I relent. "Do you know anything about, like, constellations and shit?" I ask him, changing the subject to something less serious.

"Sure," he says, lying back down before inching closer to me and pointing up. "Look, there's Ursa Minor. There's Ursa Major."

"Really?" I ask, somewhat surprised at his knowledge.

"I don't know," he admits with a laugh. "I just made that up."

I roll my eyes at him. "All right. Tell me something else."

"Like a secret?"

"Sure."

"Um…" he muses. "Sometimes I take Pops' stuff and hide it because I think it's funny when he runs around looking for it."

I laugh in disbelief. "That's awful, dude."

"Well, I'm an awful person," he says with a little snicker.

"I don't think you are," I argue, but I know that the comment is lost to the wind. You can't really change what people think about themselves.

.

.

August.

Rigby is in the shower. It's late and dark outside. Our room is dim, with only the lamp on the nightstand lighting it up.

When Rigby walks into the room he's towel drying his hair and when he notices me, he says, "Hey."

He's wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a loose t-shirt that I recognize as one of mine. He wears a lot of my shirts. He'd probably wear my pants, too, if they'd stay on. He doesn't have many clothes.

"Hey," I echo.

He tosses the towel onto the floor carelessly once he's finished. I debate on telling him to pick it up and put it in the basket, but I decide against it. It doesn't really matter.

"It's only nine," I say. "Want to do something?"

"Like…?" he trails off.

I shrug. "Whatever you want… We can talk if you want."

"That's the last thing I want," he says, "but if that's what you want, then we can do it."

"Really?" I ask, somewhat surprised.

He nods his head. "Yeah, I guess. I did say I'd try harder… and I haven't really been keeping that promise. So, you can ask me questions. I'll answer whatever you want to know."

I feel like he's giving me free reign. So, I sit and muse for a minute.

Rigby sits on the bottom of the bed so we're facing one another. He doesn't say anything. He lets me think.

"Okay," I start. "Tell me about your family."

"Not really a question, but 'kay," he says. "My parents are exceptionally ordinary. So is my brother, Don. He's a bit of a keener, though. He's an accountant. They didn't abuse me. I guess I just felt underappreciated. I was always the problem child. As you probably assumed, I have some behavioural problems. At some point, I got bitter at feeling like I was always second. I dropped out of school and then I ran off with a few older friends."

I frown at that. "How'd you keep yourself alive? How'd you eat and make money? Where did you sleep?"

"I spent most of my time at flop houses with other kids like me," he says. "I didn't really make money. I just bummed off of people and begged."

I nod my head. "So, no one ever tried to, like, proposition you or anything?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Sure, some old farts tried, but there's no way in hell I was going to do that. The worst thing that's happened to me was getting beat up a few times and felt up in my sleep."

I wince. "Sorry… That's still really shitty, dude."

"I chose it," he says with a shrug. "I could have went home, but my pride wouldn't let me. I didn't want to admit I was wrong and that I needed my parents. So, I stayed and took what kept coming at me. I wanted them to think I could make it on my own."

"You have," I say. "Look at you now – you have a job and a roof and you eat and you bathe."

"I guess so," he murmurs.

"You should go home and tell your parents you're okay," I suggest.

He shrugs. "Someday, maybe. They tried sending the cops to bring me home, but I just kept running off. So, they eventually stopped trying to bring me home. Soon enough, I was an adult and they couldn't force me back home."

"Yeah," I mutter.

I can't really fathom it, personally. I'd never be able to leave home and run away like that.

"So, are you a virgin?" I ask in a deadpan, snickering when his expression turns sour

"W-what?" he sputters. "Why would you ask me that?!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm curious," I say simply. "I want to know everything about you and your experiences."

He flushes furiously. "Yes, I'm a virgin. I've never met anyone I wanted to do it with."

"What about me?" I ask before I can help myself.

"I thought we weren't going to have this conversation anymore?"

I offer him a small smile. "Sorry. I dunno it's just weird. I've never had a guy confess to me before, so I'm curious. It isn't something that's even crossed my mind, in all honesty."

He stares down at his hands, fidgeting with them on his lap. "Well, yeah… that makes sense… and I guess I'd want to do it with you…"

For some reason, I want to do it with him, too. I don't know if it's just because I'm curious or if it actually means something more than that. But I don't say any of that. Instead, I just say, "Oh."

It's quiet. Naturally, I've made things uncomfortable again.

"Uh, how's CJ?" Rigby asks, swerving the conversation drastically.

"She's good," I say. "Haven't seen her this week."

"You're neglecting her," Rigby accuses.

"We're busy..." I justify myself.

Rigby scoffs at that. "You haven't been thinking about her at all. It's like you forget she exists half the time."

And I guess he's right. She hasn't been on my mind much lately. It's like what happened when Margaret came back. I fucked it all up. Only, this time it's Rigby. That just makes things all the more confusing. I'm at somewhat of a loss.

"I wonder why…" I murmur to myself.

Rigby inches closer to the side of the bed I'm sitting on. "It's because I'm keeping all your attention… and I'm doing it knowingly."

I frown at that. "Are you?"

He laughs and then says, "No, I'm only kidding. I don't have enough smarts for that kind of manipulation."

"Well, I am thinking about you a lot lately," I admit to him.

"Probably because I freaked you out by the way I feel for you," Rigby says, trying to fill in the blanks.

"That's not it," I confess.

He stares at me. "Then what?"

"I don't know," I mumble. "I don't know how I feel… I'm just… I don't know. I'm confused."

"Because of me?"

"I guess."

"What are you going to do about it?" he pries.

"I'm not sure what I can do," I say.

If I wasn't dating CJ, I'd want to kiss Rigby again. Then I'd want to see how far we'd take it. I'd want to know what it felt like and if I would enjoy it.

I hate feeling this way. I have no idea what to do about it. If I spoke to CJ, she'd probably get angry. Her temper is pretty volatile. I guess I could talk to Eileen, but she'd probably just tell Rigby about it and the entire thing would be pointless anyway. I doubt Skips would be able to ease my distress. Neither would Pops or Benson or Fives and Muscle Man definitely wouldn't do any good.

There's always Margaret…

So, I give her a call.

"Hello?" comes her familiar voice.

"Hey, Margaret," I greet. "It's me."

"Mordecai, hi! It's been a while. How are you?"

"Not great, actually… Want to meet up?"

"Sure! Are you free now? I have some time."

"Yeah, now is good. Coffee Shop?"

"Perfect, see you in a few!"

So, I grab my wallet and I head out to meet her. Eileen isn't working today, so that's good. I'm pretty sure she's out with Rigby.

When I enter the café, I spot Margaret sitting in the corner of the room. She immediately waves me over. I sit across from her and she slides a cup towards me.

"Got you a latte," she says.

I smile and thank her, taking a sip. "Mm. It's good."

She smiles back and then asks, "So, what's on your mind? Is everything okay?"

I let out a sigh. "Okay, this might sound really fucked up… but do you think it's possible to have feelings for two people at the same time?"

"Sure," Margaret says. "Lots of people in committed relationships end up getting little harmless crushes on other people."

"Okay, 'cause I'm with CJ… and it's going fine… but I think I also might have feelings for someone else."

She nods her head. "Who is she?"

"This is where things take a turn," I tell her, feeling myself flush. "It's, uh… not a girl. It's a guy."

Her lips part on shock. "Ooh… Well, maybe you're bi?"

I frown. "How do I figure out who I want to be with? I don't even know how this happened. It's so out of the blue and I'm at a complete loss. I don't want to throw away my relationship with CJ for something that might be nothing… but if I don't try things out with this guy, then I'll probably regret it."

"Do you mind if I ask who it is?" she pries gently.

I let out a bitter laugh and say, "It's Rigby."

She nods her head. "I'm not entirely surprised. He would've been my first guess. You guys just… click. Sometimes you even finish each other's sentences. Plus, you squabble like an old married couple."

"I guess."

She chuckles and then confesses, "When you first called me here I thought you might've wanted to get back together."

"I'm sorry, Margaret," I say sincerely. "Things didn't end great... and I'm sorry for that, too."

She simply shrugs. "It's okay, Mordecai. I'm just happy being your friend."

"If you were in my position, what would you do?" I ask her.

Her smile turns sheepish. "I'd probably cheat, so don't take my advice."

"Damn," I mutter.

I thought talking to someone about all of this shit would make me feel better, but it hasn't done anything but the opposite.

When I get back home, I have one drink. One drink turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into four. Soon enough, I'm pretty damn drunk.

When Rigby gets home from hanging out with Eileen, he joins me. To catch up, he downs six shots in the blink of an eye.

"Yea-yuh!" we say in unison, even though it was probably the worst idea ever. We're both pretty stupid when we drink. We continue to prove it every time we get near alcohol.

Instead of hanging out in the living room, we move into our bedroom. We stumble up the stairs, hanging off of one another and laughing at nothing in particular.

When we get inside, we fall into bed side-by-side with our legs dangling off the side of the bed. I turn my head and see Rigby with his eyes closed. I perch myself up on an elbow and stare down at him before asking, "Hey, can I kiss you?"

Maybe this is why I decided to drink tonight... 'cause I knew it'd give me the courage to do something really fucking stupid.

His eyes open and he looks surprised. Nonetheless, he says, "Okay."

And I do. I can tell he's never really kissed before, but that's okay. He tastes like rum and it's strong. I'm sure I taste the same.

Suddenly, he pushes me off. "What are we doing?" he asks weakly, sitting up.

"I wanna fuck you," I say bluntly, sitting up with him. Part of me knows I'd never have the guts to say it sober – especially not like that. It should be enough for me to try and shut my mouth, but I don't.

"You want to do that?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "Don't you?"

"Yeah…" he admits.

"Then go shower," I tell him. "Thoroughly. I'll wait."

He punches me lightly in the shoulder, but he leaves the room anyway. A moment later, I hear the shower taps turn on.

I lie down with my hands folded on my stomach. I stare up and I keep trying to contemplate if this is a good idea or if I'll regret it in the morning. Maybe, maybe not. I really don't know. Anything could happen. All I know at this point is that I want to fuck him. I guess that makes me attracted to him at least a little bit. Another major part of it is probably the curiosity.

I keep thinking about all these little things and soon enough, Rigby returns. He's naked apart from the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Can we turn the lights off?" he asks me quietly. He looks shy. I know that he's uncomfortable with his body, though I'm not sure why. From what I've seen of it, it looks good. He's slim, but not scrawny. His hair, eyes and skin are all a nice color. He looks smooth and soft. Plus, he has a cute face.

"No," I say. "I want to be able to see you."

"Fine," he whispers, uncrossing his arms and undoing the towel, letting it fall to his feet.

I feel like I'm being reminded of how small he really is. He talks a big game, but it doesn't match up. He's not particularly strong and maybe his attitude is a defense mechanism.

I could break him so easily… not that I'd ever want to.

"Stop staring," he murmurs and I can tell he's growing shy and uncomfortable. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that Rigby hates feeling vulnerable – no matter the circumstances.

"Why are you getting all shy?" I ask.

He is starting to get defensive. "Because I don't know anything about this stuff and your staring is making me self-conscious! Take off your clothes. I don't want to be the only naked one."

I do as he asks, shrugging out of my clothes. When we're both standing bare, I move forward and lean down, pecking him on the lips.

When I draw away, he stares. "You have a tattoo," he states, ghosting his fingers across the inked part of my chest. "A bird?"

"A blue jay," I explain.

"Why?" he asks.

"I just like them," I say simply. "They symbolize things I'd like to strive for – like energy, vibrancy, intellect... Plus, they look fucking cool. If I was an animal, I'd want to be a bird. Then I could fly."

Rigby smiles slightly.

"What about you?" I ask. "If you were an animal, what would you be?"

"A raccoon," he says without a hint of hesitance or thought.

"Why?" I ask, unable to hold back a chuckle.

"Well… I lived on the streets for a while and I lived off garbage," he admits. "A lot of people probably saw me as vermin."

I frown at that. "Dude, you're worth so much more than that."

He shakes it off and then he asks, "Can I look at you?"

"Yeah," I say.

I looked at him, so it's only fair. Besides, I think this is a lot harder for him than it is for me. I'm confident. He isn't.

We move onto the bed and I lie down, letting him look with eyes and fingers. I get hard just by having him look at me and touch me innocently. When he notices, he says, "What should I do?"

"Whatever you want to do," I respond, not wanting to force him into anything.

He looks contemplative before hesitantly shifting his position and bending down. He curls his fingers around my erection and then parts his lips. I feel his mouth a split second later and, though I know he's completely clueless, he's not doing a bad job. It's far from the worst blowjob I've received.

I stifle a moan and then say, "Okay, wait."

He lifts his head. "Did I do it wrong?"

"No, the opposite," I promise. "If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum and I wanna fuck you."

"Is it going to hurt?" he asks naively.

"First times often do when you're the receptive partner," I admit to him, "but I'll try to make it as easy as I can. We'll take our time and if you change your mind, let me know."

He nods his head and I sit up, instructing him to get on his hands and knees while I get the lube. He makes a face, but he does so. With his ass in the air, he says, "This is a gross position."

"I like it," I say, kneeling behind him. "I can see everything." I put my hand on his left butt-cheek before sticking a finger in. It slides in easily and Rigby makes a surprised sound.

"Actually, that didn't hurt," he says.

So, I add a second. He feels incredibly tight and I want to take my time so it causes him as little pain as possible. When I insert a third finger, he goes rigid. I give him a moment to relax and I ask, "Still okay?"

"Yeah…"

I take my time and he seems pretty relaxed. When I eventually remove my fingers, I wipe them on my thigh and tell him to roll over as I slap on a condom. This is where things might start to hurt for him.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," I say.

"Mhm," he mumbles, staring up at me as he lies on his back.

I position myself as he holds his legs against his chest. He closes his eyes and his brows draw together.

"Ow…" he whispers when I'm halfway in.

"Want me to stop?"

"No, keep going…" he insists, voice strained.

So, I do. When I'm balls deep, I give him another moment to get used to the sensation.

"Okay, you can move now," he says after a minute.

If I was sober, it'd probably take me two seconds to jizz. He feels really good – different than any girl I've had sex with. Probably because of how we're having sex. I've never dreamt of doing it like this with a girl.

Rigby is loud in bed. He puts his hands over his mouth in an attempt to stifle himself, but he doesn't do a very good job. It's okay, though. I don't think anyone is even home right now.

It takes both of us forever since we're both pretty drunk. I come first and then I decide to try sucking his dick. Key word, try. Now I get why they call it a blow-JOB. I'm kind of proud when I feel him cum in my mouth. It doesn't taste as bad as I thought it would, either. I swallow and then raise my head, wiping the corners of my mouth with my thumb.

"I can't believe we did that," he murmurs, breathing heavily.

I lie down next to him and agree with, "Yeah… I don't think I'm going to regret it in the morning."

"I hope not," Rigby says, "because I won't." A pause. "Was I okay?"

"Yeah," I say surely. "You have a cute ass. I liked watching you, hearing you…"

He snorts at that. "Thanks."

"So, how was it for you?"

"It kind of felt like I needed to take a crap, but in a good way?"

I laugh at that and wonder if there will be a repeat in the future. Part of me hopes so, but the other part of me is beginning to worry about CJ.

.

.

September.

So, I guess I ended up taking Margaret's advice even though she told me not to. Does this make me a bad person? Probably. I have absolutely no idea where to go from here.

"Who was researching how to have anal on the computer?" Benson asks dully during our next employee meeting. He looks tired and stubbly and I can't help but wonder if he has even registered what he just said.

Muscle man and Fives start snickering while Pops and Skips share a confused glance. I pale and Rigby side-eyes me. Neither of us speaks since I definitely don't want to fess up to it.

"All right, whoever it was… just remember to erase your history or go on incognito mode so no one has to feel uncomfortable," Benson finishes before moving onto more important business.

"So, you Googled how to have butt-sex?" Rigby asks me later.

"Obviously!" I say somewhat defensively, not wanting to be made fun of for it. "I've never done it like that before. With the girls I've been with, I never considered it. Neither did they."

He smiles faintly. "I'm not making fun of you, dude, so chill. I think it's kind of cute that you cared enough to research."

"Of course I did," I say, softening. "I care about you, so I didn't want it to suck. I mean… it was your first time."

I was right when I said I didn't think I'd regret it come morning. I still don't. I don't regret having sex with my best bro. The only thing I do regret is that it means I cheated on CJ.

Fuck. CJ.

I still see her once a week, sometimes more. We usually go on dates, but we haven't been physical. I think she's beginning to notice a growing distance. Honestly, she's probably going to dump me soon enough… but maybe she won't. Maybe she'll just ride it out.

Rigby probably senses my internal distress, because he reaches for my hand. I stare at our intertwined fingers and at our contrasting skin tones.

"Do you like me?" Rigby asks.

"I think so," I say.

"Why are you still dating CJ, then? Why can't you just pick me?"

"I don't know," I mumble truthfully.

Is it fear?

Is it guilt?

Maybe I'm just in denial.

.

.

October.

Me and CJ continue to date and then me and Rigby continue to fool around. I always feel so damn guilty, it's becoming unbearable.

Right now, we're in bed with the door locked. "What now?" he asks me. His lips are swollen from yet another heated make-out session.

"I'm gonna fuck you," I say.

"Okay," he responds.

"You don't have to be so permissive," I tell him.

He shrugs and frowns, looking defeated.

"If you don't want to keep doing this, then we don't have to," I add. "I don't want to hurt you, dude. I care about you. So, if you changed your mind that's cool with me."

He lets out a scoff, glancing to the side. He's quiet, refusing to speak. A moment later, his eyes slip shut.

I frown at that. "Dude? Rigby?" I inch closer and put my hands on his shoulders. He immediately leans into me, putting his face against my chest. Then I hear it. Crying. He's crying and it's probably all my fault. "Fuck," I whisper to myself, feeling guilty.

He's not the awful person. I am.

Yet we still ended up sleeping together. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what's wrong with him, either. But I guess it's my fault. I feel like I'm taking advantage of him.

We're lying side by side. It's late. We haven't said much, but I can tell he's thoughtful.

"If this is all I can have of you, I still want it," he murmurs out of the blue.

It makes me feel like shit.

.

.

November.

Things need to change. I just need to get it over with. I can't keep sleeping with Rigby and then sleeping with CJ. It's not fair to either of them. They didn't sign up for this.

I ask her to come to the park and we grab a bench. I sit across from her, feeling like I might hurl.

"Mordecai…?" she asks cautiously. "Are you okay? You're freaking me out."

I let out a deep breath, feeling myself starting to get emotional. "I need to tell you something and you might hate me for it."

She frowns at this and I can barely hold eye contact with her. "What?" she demands.

I put my elbows on the table and hold my head in my hands, trying to come up with some way to confess it to her.

"Mordecai!" she shouts my name, getting impatient.

"I cheated on you!" I shout back, unable to keep it in for much longer.

"Again?" she asks gravely. "Was it Margaret again?"

"No…" I murmur shamefully. This part is gonna fucking suck.

"Then who?" she demands.

"It was with… Rigby."

Her eyes widen and I can tell this is probably the last thing in the world she expected to happen. Honestly, it's the last thing I expected to happen, too.

"Did you fuck him?" she asks bitterly.

"Yes," I choke out.

She shoots me a look of anger and disgust and humiliation all wrapped up into one and it makes me feel so, so immensely guilty.

"Sorry," I murmur. "I fucked up…"

"No, you didn't fuck up," she responds angrily, starting to explode. "You fucked around. You fucked Rigby when you should have been fucking me! RIGBY, for fuck's sake! He's a BOY!"

"I hadn't noticed," I say sarcastically.

She tries visibly to calm her temper. She takes a series of deep, slow breaths and then asks, "Okay, so… you're gay?"

"No," I say. "I did like you. I wasn't lying when I said that."

"So… Bi?"

"I guess," I murmur. Part of me doesn't want to put a label on it, but if it helps her then it's fine.

She lets out a sigh. "All right… We dated for nearly a year and I guess we can part civilly. It's not like you can control the way you feel."

"Thanks," I say weakly.

"Maybe someday we can be friends," she adds before standing up. "Bye, Mordecai."

With that, she leaves.

When I tell Rigby me and CJ broke up, he pries for the details and he's not as happy about it as I thought he would be.

"Why aren't you happy?" I ask him.

"It just sucks," he murmurs, "that you couldn't break up with her for me. You had to wait for her to do it. It makes me feel like I'm second best and… it's a bad feeling. I wish you could have broken up with her for me."

"You're not second," I try to reason with him. "You're always first. You always have been, even when me and CJ were together. I told her I cheated on you knowing what the outcome would be… I don't know why I couldn't just get the words out myself. I'm always fucking scared."

"But why?" Rigby asks.

"Because this is new to me," I admit. "I grew up thinking one thing about myself, then in the blink of an eye, I'm suddenly something else."

"This doesn't have to change who you are as a person," Rigby reasons in an uncharacteristic way. "You act like it's some sort of horrible thing that has forced on you, but it's not. It's just the way you feel." A pause. "How do you think this is going to go? 'Cause I'm not going to keep it a secret. I'm going to want to hold your hand in public."

"I know!" I insist. "I'm not going to make you keep it a secret anymore. There's no reason for it to be a secret. I'm not embarrassed. Maybe I was, but… I'm working on it. So, come on, be my boyfriend or whatever."

Rigby stares at me critically. "Okay," he finally says, "but you need to take me out on a date."

I smile at that. "Deal."

.

.

December.

Christmas is coming. We decorated the tree last night. We also put up a huge tree in the center of the park and it took us hours to put the lights on. Rigby broke a few bulbs, but we didn't tell Benson about it. He's a perfectionist and he'd probably make us run out to get new ones. Neither of us wanted to do that.

There is a lot less to do in the winter time. We don't have to mow the lawn or trim the hedges or weed the garden or water the plants. We don't have to clean the fountain or set up for weekly events. We need to shovel the snow, but that's about it.

At the end of the month, another year will have gone by. This year was particularly eventful and enlightening. I learned a lot about Rigby and, in turn, I learned a lot about myself. Things finally seem to be working out for me. I feel like I definitely had to learn the hard way, though.

Things have been going well with Rigby. Really well, actually. Sometimes it feels too good to be true, but I'm trying not to psyche myself out about it. I just want to enjoy it for however long it lasts – whether it's months, years or forever. I won't think too far into the future. Not yet.

Rigby makes plans to go see his parents on Christmas, which is mere weeks away.

"I'll patch things up," he says.

"They'll welcome you," I respond knowingly.

He smiles faintly. "Yeah, I hope so… I'm pretty tired of running away from everything."

No one was shocked when me and Rigby announced our relationship status. Muscle man said, "Yeah, most straight bros won't willingly sleep in the same bed as another bro." I guess he had a point. I never minded sharing my bed with Rigby.

"Yeah, I feel you," I say.

"Do yah?"

"Yeah," I say again. "I feel like I tried running away from a lot of things this year – my feelings being one of the many things on that list."

Rigby snickers to himself and then says, "Yeah, you were being such an indecisive baby. Usually I'm the one who acts like the baby."

"Well, I'm trying to be better," I defend myself.

"You are," Rigby promises. "I've noticed. You try harder. Plus, you're way nicer to me."

"I know there were times I acted poorly and I'm sorry," I apologize.

Rigby shrugs his shoulders. "S'fine. It's over now and we're dealing. We can't keep dwelling on that stuff forever."

"You're right," I agree.

If we did, we'd still be at square one. We'd never move forward. In fact, we'd probably just be moving backwards. So, I guess the fragments are finally coming together.

I smile at Rigby and he smiles back. What a Day. What a year. What a life.

Fin.