didn't like much of the mordecai/rigby ff on here, so i wrote my own. you can write these guys without losing their 'personalities', the show gives you enough to work with. and, believe it or not, no one even has to hate or kill margaret. crazy, i know. enjoy.
It was strange to see Skips in the house but neither Mordecai nor Rigby asked him about it, eyes glued to the screen. Skips pranced into the room and stood by the couch a few moments, head moving slowly between Mordecai, Rigby, and Dig Champs.
"Hey Mordecai," he said finally, "Rigby."
"Why is your name always first?" Rigby whined, grinding an elbow into Mordecai's ribs without taking his eyes off the screen. It was his turn.
"People see me first, dude. You're all the way down there," he said, mashing his palm into his head, smushing him into the couch.
"You're gonna mess me up!"
Mordecai let up, bored, and looked over at Skips. "What's up, Skips? You wanna play?"
Skips looked at the two of them for a long time, opened his mouth, and closed it. Rigby's brow was drawn down so far he could hardly see his eyes. "No." He skipped out of the room. Mordecai looked at Rigby, his skinny legs stretched out on the coffee table he'd had to pull closer, and shrugged. They kept playing; it was still Rigby's turn, as player one, and he hopped over snail after snail, too excited over his tiny triumphs and showing those snails who was boss. The TV bleeped and blooped and Rigby eventually swung his shovel too late and got snailed, no thanks to Mordecai's incessant heckling.
"That was your fault! Do over!" Rigby leapt up on the couch and threw his controller at Mordecai, who swatted it away.
"It's not my fault you're so jumpy, dude! You're louder than me when I'm playing, and I got to like level ten!"
"Stop talking!" Rigby punched him and leapt off the couch, scampering across the living room. "I'm going to the bathroom. I hate you."
"So you're going to the bathroom?" Mordecai called up after him and he ran up the stairs, receiving a string of unintelligible curses in return. Mordecai settled back into the couch, stretching his feet, wiggling in his butt imprint. His dig champ leapt over snails and busted rocks.
A couple seconds after Rigby left, Skips appeared once more from the kitchen. Mordecai looked up at him briefly, a little puzzled but nonetheless pleased; he liked Skips well enough. "Hey, Skips."
"Hi, Mordecai." His gravel-pit voice scraped across the room, friendly despite everything but with a tone in it Mordecai wasn't used too. He didn't know what it was. Skips skipped nonchalantly closer and rubbed his head with a huge, furry hand.
When he said nothing else, Mordecai figured he needed a favour. Skips was private, and Mordecai didn't know what he could possibly have done for him, but if Skips needed a favour it must have been a big deal – Skips could do, from what Mordecai had seen, anything. "Something I can do for you, dude?"
Mordecai didn't pause the game, eyes on the screen, but still he spoke. "Then what's up? You're weirding me out, dude."
"Sorry." He skipped up to the couch, a few feet from where Mordecai sat slumped in his slacker's splendour. "I wanted to talk to you – well, Benson asked, but mostly I wanted -" He shook his head, losing the tangent. "- About you and Rigby."
"Pfft," Mordecai sputtered, laughing. "Is this a slacking intervention? We'll get that pond cleaned right after this game, I swear, we're just on a break! I didn't think we were so bad Benson needed to ask you to make us work – and we aren't slackers," he added for good measure. Bleep, bloop, his pick-axe cleared a mountain, a snail hot on his heels. Level six!
"No, I mean – I mean, about you and Rigby." The emphasis was, this time, unmistakable.
"Oh." Tension in the room rose like a flood, thicker than anything, cut by neither knife nor plus four broadsword. "What about us?"
Skips rubbed his eyes and muttered, "He doesn't pay me enough for this." He took a breath, relieved that Mordecai was still staring at the TV. "Listen, I'm not your mom here, we aren't looking out or anything, but I mean – we're confused."
Skips wished he would say something else, hell if he was going to lead this conversation. This conversation he'd been told to have, but probably would have (eventually) had if left to his own accord. Whether anyone wanted it to be or not, this was the biggest event to happen at the park since Pops brought a girl home, by accident.
"Well," Mordecai said, slowly. "Sorry about yesterday, dude. If that's what this is about."
"Oh, God, no," Skips quickly said. "I should have knocked." He looked at his feet and muttered, "God, I should have knocked."
"Okay. What, then?" Mordecai was surprised he was still playing, still with two lives – and he begged Rigby not to come downstairs again. He would not like this conversation, if that's what it even was. Skips must have known that. "Dude, you are making this so uncomfortable."
"It's an uncomfortable situation!"
"Everyone!" Skips paused, and tipped his head. "... Not for you?"
Mordecai shrugged. Bleep bloop. "Not really. Why would it be?"
Skips wrinkled his nose. Part of him wished Benson had been willing to do this, since he thought it was so important (he said it technically counted as an interoffice relationship, though that was obviously something he had never had to deal with before) but most of him was glad – Benson would have gone about it all wrong. Not that Skips was sure he was going about it right. "It's ... a surprising situation, isn't it?"
Another shrug and an easy, vague answer. "Not to us." For the first time, his eyes flicked to Skips'. "Wait," he laughed, "Benson cares about this? Dude, that is ridiculous! It's no big deal."
"Yeah, Mordecai, it kind of is. He calls it an ... interoffice relationship, but I think he's just trying to ... We just -" He ground his teeth. He stopped. "- were wondering ... why, I guess."
Mordecai snorted, laughing out loud. "Man! I can't believe this is what Benson worries about. I -" He wagged his controller at the screen. "- I'm in here playing video games at two in the afternoon and he's asking about, like, this." He laughed again, and exhaled audibly, sinking back. "You mean, why are we ..." He stopped, and made a face. "Why me and Rigby?" he rephrased. Bloop bleep. Level eight, and the snails moved quicker. Where was Rigby, anyways? He was tired of planning his words, and Dig Champs was no fun without Rigby getting mad over it.
"Yeah, yeah. Why ... you guys."
Mordecai shrugged as he heard the kitchen door slam back behind Skips. "I dunno," he admitted. "It's fun and it feels good."
Skips squinted hard at him as Muscle Man and High Five Ghost appeared behind him. He said, "I don't know why, but coming from you, that is the filthiest thing I've ever heard. And I went to college."
"Oh man," Muscle Man hooted, his caustic voice making Mordecai wince, shattering the previously calm (albeit tense) environment. "Are we talkin' about string bean and the one-cheeked wonder bumpin' uglies?"
"Fuck you, Muscle Man!" Mordecai snapped, fuming quietly, for once, refusing to stop playing Dig Champs more to make a point than because he was still enjoying it.
"That's disgusting," Skips groaned, "don't bug him." This was much worse than Benson being there. Benson might have said 'coitus'.
"Hey Mordecai," Muscle Man sneered. "You know who else likes to fuck weird little losers?" It had gotten to a point over the years where the pause he continued to leave here was entirely unecessary. "My mom!"
Skips massaged his temples. Muscle Man got a high five. Mordecai glared hard at the TV, thumbs pressing the buttons so hard they crunched. Before anything else could be thrown his way, however, he said, "At least I'm not still a virgin, Muscle Man," accentuating each word like a little pointed dagger. Both High Five and Skips sniggered in mirth despite themselves.
"You!" Muscle Man went a funny colour of red that, with his skin tone, looked more brown than anything. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone, you loser!"
"You pissed me off," Mordecai muttered, busting three snails in a row before hopping over a fourth.
Muscle man stormed out of the room, High Five Ghost quickly following suit with a high and shivery, "You're still a what?" laughing.
Skips smiled at Mordecai, who still wasn't looking. He wiped the smile away before it was noticed. "Well played."
Mordecai shrugged, but held his own little smirk. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."
Skips made a grunt of agreement, but said nothing. What was there to say? Did the two actually feel anything for each other, and was that his place to ask? Or was it just -
"Wait a minute," Skips said suddenly, lost in thought.
"What is it, dude?"
"It's ... you're slacking. To the extreme. You guys are so lazy you aren't bothered to find girlfriends, so you're with the only other person that already tolerates either of you."
His tone made Mordecai laugh out loud; it was slow and calculating, picking each word as if it had to be appraised beforehand to ensure they would make a complete thought when they were put together. Mordecai finally paused the game and looked up at Skips with shining eyes, not entirely void of that spark of childish mischief he and Rigby seemed not to have lost when everyone else their age did. "Sure, dude," he laughed, "that must be it."
"I'd be much more comfortable if it was - so will Benson, probably."
"Then I'm sure that's what it is." Mordecai's tone was unmistakably placating, but Skips, for once, didn't mind. He could stand to be soothed, and whatever he told Benson, the look on Mordecai's face told him it would be a lie. He was surprisingly okay with that.
"Okay. Uh, thanks. Won't bring it up again."
"Hm, hm." Mordecai waved a wing at him, un-pausing Dig Champs and smiling. "Don't worry about it, dude. Lemme know if you've got any questions or something – but I dare you to bring it up in front of Rigby."
"What would he ..." Skips trailed off because Mordecai started laughing.
"Dude, he'd have no idea what you were even talking about." He raised his voice to a falsetto and raised his eyebrows, then said, "'Stop talking'!"
Skips chuckled and waved a hairy paw. "Get back to that pond as soon as you're done."
"No problem, dude."
Skips pranced from the room, shaking his head, and Mordecai's 8-bit pick-axe smashed a mountain's worth of rocks scrolling by. Moments later he heard little clawed feet click down the stairs. Rigby leapt up on the arm of the couch and sprung across Mordecai to where his quickly fading butt cheek imprints still lay.
When he didn't immediately say anything, Mordecai said, "You were listening." It wasn't a question.
"Top of the stairs." Rigby paused and thunked his heels on the coffee table. "'Bumpin' uglies'? I like that. Is he really a virgin?"
"That's hi-larious." He leaned forward on the couch, craning his neck towards the kitchen, pricking his ears. He leaned back when he heard nothing and bumped his face into Mordecai's shoulder in some clumsy semblance of a kiss. "Slacking to the extreme," he mumbled, face still buried lightly in feathers, glaring into them. "I could get chicks. I could get all the chicks. At least I can talk to them."
"Sure." Mordecai, on level twelve, intentionally hit a snail and reached his arm behind Rigby, who'd started to pull away. "Go get 'em then, bro. You'll get every chick."
Rigby snorted, fingers bouncing nervously and gently on his knees. Mordecai felt him inhale.
When he said nothing, and Mordecai was sure he noticed the Player 1 Ready screen flashing in wait, he said, "It's your turn, dude."
"Duh," Rigby scoffed, leaning back into his divot, picking up his controller and beginning to play. Mordecai scratched feathery fingers behind Rigby's ear and watched him play, and didn't miss the accidental and resent-filled coo of appreciation that was quieter than anything. He laughed, "You're a fucking joke, dude."