A/N: The final conclusion of this little fandom foray. Hopefully you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Again, this story is dedicated to LancesInMyHeart. It was her genius mind that gave me this pairing, and the muse to write this story out. Enjoy and let me know what you all think!

"Dude, you reek! How much beer did you drink today?" Mordicai waved one of his wings in front of his face, giving the gumball machine in front of him an incredulous look. He might , might, have been over reacting a little bit but there was no disguising the fact that Benson smelled like beer.

Said gumball machine scowled. "I still managed to drive here, so not enough. Cheap shit."

Mordicai kept staring at him. Had his boss, Benson the Stickler, really just said that? Benson, the guy that screamed if they drove one of the golfcarts after drinking a pop? That was...actually pretty cool.

"Are we going to stand out here all night, or do you plan on going inside for the concert?" Benson asked, crossing his arms over his chest. There was an almost burnt out cigarette dangling from between two of his fingers, a thin stream of smoke trailing up and around his globe.

"Oh, yeah. We got a pretty good spot up at the front." Mordicai started towards the door of the stadium before pausing and looking back over his shoulder. "I guess I should let you know that it can get pretty rough at these concerts."

The gumball machine rolled his eyes, dropping the smouldering cancer-stick onto the ground and snubbing it out with his heel. Benson had, actually, been a huge concert goer when he was younger. Not just to the shitty ones that came to their town, either. He could remember a time when he'd follow whatever band he was interested in for the entire tour. Then he'd gotten his job at the park and had to stop going to the concerts.

"I know what a concert's like, dipshit. Don't act like you're the only one who's ever been to them!" He snapped. Benson walked past the jay and into the building that housed the concert.

The change in atmosphere was immidiate.

Flying Fists hadn't started playing yet, but there was some small-town opening band on stage. What little bit of lights were turned on in the stadium had been put on low, several bulbs replaced with black lights and flourescent colors, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the change in lights.

Turning around so that he could face his companion, Benson made a small wave with his hand. "Where to?"

He could barely hear Mordicai's words over the bass and the other people that were crowded into the building; but when the jay started off towards the left of the stage, Benson squeezed through the crowds after him.

x-Later-x

Benson, Mordicai decided, had no problems dealing with the crowds that came with the Flying Fists concert.

When they pushed him, Benson pushed back.

When they belted out the lyrics, Benson belted out words close enough to the actual song to actually pass as lyrics.

When everyone started dancing, so did Benson. And, unlike Rigby, Benson was more then okay at it. Obviously, a packed concert wasn't the best place to grade someone on their dancing skills but there was no denying the fact that his boss was a better dancer then he was.

It really sucked.

x-Even Later-x

"Sooo..." Mordicai drawled. "That was pretty cool."

Benson grunted and shrugged but didn't look away from the road. It had been a long night, he was tired and maybe even a tad more drunk than he'd originally thought he was, and crashing was not on his list of things he wanted to do.

Surprisingly enough, the concert hadn't actually been bad. The main band was pretty lame but that was to be expected. Only bands that couldn't make it anywhere else ever came around to their town for a show. Mordicai hadn't been as annoying as Benson had thought he would be and the show, minus the Flying Fists' performance, had been pretty good too.

As if he'd been given an actual answer, Mordicai nodded. "Yeah, pretty cool."

Silence fell over the two again. Mordicai wasn't really sure where else to take the conversation. Or rather, how to start up a conversation. Since they'd gotten into the golf cart, Benson hadn't said much of anything. After a few more moments of thought, which ended up with him thinking back to the end of the concert when both he and the gumball machine beside him had dived into the mosh-pit instead of conversation, the jay decided that it just wasn't worth thinking about and if he thought of something intellegent to say later, he would.

With a yawn, Mordicai stretched out his wings. He let one of them rest on the top of the passenger side door, the other one spreading out on the top of the seats; just barely touching Benson's back and shoulders.

His boss' frown deepened. "Don't touch me."

"Sorry." Mordicai moved his wing just slightly further up the top of the seat. The jay turned away from the window, looking over at Benson instead. "You know, we should do something like that again sometime."

Benson didn't say anything right away, waiting until he'd swerved into the front yard of the boarding house. The thought of the two ever going out to anything together again seemed more than unlikely. Still, he gave a shrug. "Yeah, sure. Now why don't you get out of my car so I can go home?"

Unrealistic and not happening again but it had still been a nice change from his usual day off routine.