A/N: Mmmhm. More Regular Show because this is good for my health. xD. I don't have a lot to add, other than this is Humanized!Morby, all based on Mookie000's design. Leave a review because it feeds this author's ambition - all feedback is appreciated. Flames are used to set toilets on fire and laugh at. Enjoy!
This isn't how he wanted it to go. When the phone rang, all of his hopes sort of dashed up through the roof, heart twitching eagerly as shaky digits press down on the green 'call' button.
Maybe things were going to be different, this time.
"Hello?"
"Mordecai…"
Bottle rests in his left hand, whisky half-drunken as his mind reels from the alcohol. Their words and the hissing lashes of pain that it inflicted to him are dulled by the sweet lullaby of the bitter tasting liquid that he brazenly took to the head.
Everything is so lovely, right now…
"You got my letter?"
"Yes…son, I'm very disappointed in you."
Hopes sort of drop from their initial high – Mordecai frowns into the phone a little, though he shouldn't be surprised. Why does he feel so hurt if he knew that this was going to be the end result?
"Figures."
"Don't snap at your mother like that. I don't care how old you are, you know she raised you better than to be a disrespectful little ass."
How dare he be a part of this conversation right now – Mordecai was sincerely hoping his father would go take a bottle of liquor and shut himself up. Having his piously devout mom be upset was easy enough to handle, but now him?
"Sorry. So, mother dearest, why are you disappointed?"
"Mordecai – "
"Shh. Let me explain." She pauses, clearing her throat. "We're disappointed that you haven't changed…"
He sets the alcohol down, disgusted by his own action. He was turning into his father already, picking up bottles and drinking them into oblivion so he is merrily blinded to his own pain. What a brilliant fucking idea, to pick up the substance he loathes the most.
Creaaak – the door opens, though it doesn't really register. Mordecai keeps his line of sight on the floor, blissfully ignorant of the person quietly sitting on the bed beside him.
"Oh? So, you're telling me I wrote all of that to try and explain how good I've been doing, and how far I've come, just for you to call me and tell me how fucking disappointed you are? Is that it?"
"Don't get angry, Mordecai…"
"Don't tell me what to do. I'm not sixteen anymore."
Silence – they're reeling from the threatening venom that drips into his tone. He almost thinks they finally understand, but she shoots back after deciding to argue against his whole point. "It's not that you haven't come far. We see your progress, but you're not going down the right path. What kind of money can you possibly make as an artist?"
"More than you fucking think thanks."
"Stop with that disgusting talk. Now." His father's voice hisses sternly, taking over the whole call. "Your mother and I raised you to be more. You're an intelligent man, there's a powerful potential in you to run a whole company! What are you doing, though? You're wasting all of those smarts on a stupid pursuit for some doodles, hoping that somebody will pay you minimum wage to make the world 'beautiful'. Please tell me – what sort of sense does that make?"
"Mordecai?"
The voice of his friend reaches him, though he doesn't acknowledge it. Right now, everything is just one big haze, one hasty blur that he can't make out. His hands rake through his straightened ebony tresses, shaking his head a little.
Why were they still not listening to him?
"You raised me? Don't feed me that bullshit. Mom told me to pray on everything, and you always pressed your thumb on me if I even failed once! What kind of parenting is that? You can't pressure me into perfection, I'm not fucking perfect!"
"We pushed you because we knew you could handle it! We wanted something better for you, and you're wasting it! Look at you, 23 and you don't even have your own place yet! 23, and you think it's cute to date a man, a high school dropout – "
"Don't. Don't you dare bring Rigby into this."
"Why? He's your damn boyfriend! He's pulling you down!"
"That's it!"
Mordecai leaps to his feet, thinking it'll do something, thinking he can reach through the phone and throttle some sense into them. He presses the phone closer to his mouth, grip vice-like.
"You can be disappointed about me all you want. You can hate that I'm an artist. You can hate that I'm bisexual, that I don't believe in God….but you will not, I mean will not tell me that he's dragging me down! Why? Because you asshole parents decided it'd be so fun to kick me out when you knew I didn't have anywhere to go! If Rigby didn't take me in until I could get out on my own, I'd be in some fucking shelter!"
"Mordecai – "
"Doesn't matter to you, does it? We almost went homeless twice because daddy can't put down his alcohol and mommy thinks everything can be solved by a God that doesn't exist! What difference would it make if your only son did go homeless because he can't live up to your standards?"
Rigby lets one hand snake up to the cerulean-haired man's shoulder, using his other to cusp his pale cheek and force Mordecai to turn his head.
"Mordecai…"
Those eyes are what hurt the most – the brunette may not be the brightest guy on the block but he's not a fool. He sees the way his lover breaks; sees how much pent-up hurt he tried to hide for the longest time. For once, Rigby knows that all of that strength Mordecai was known to possess - was just fear hidden behind a lifetime's worth of lies.
"We kicked you out to teach you a lesson, you ungrateful brat!" His father snorts, huffing hard into the phone. "You thought we could sit around and provide for you? Don't even get me started on your silly pursuit of art…but for God's sake, Mordecai, you were only eighteen when you decided that being 'bisexual' was good! Sex with men? That's disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself for even being attracted to them!"
Mordecai laughs. He laughs hard, bitter and angry that the reason he was kicked out was because of an uncontrollable reason, not for the stupid things he's actually done.
"That's funny that art and me liking men is your issue. I'm glad you're okay with the fact that I've had sex with plenty of women, too. I'm glad you're also okay about the fact that I've smoked weed at sixteen, about how many times I've snuck out at night to go to a party. Last time I checked, I'm sure most of these things are 'sins', as you call them."
On the other line, he hears his father wretch slightly and his mom let out an audible gasp of horror. Surprise, surprise…
"Well. I can see kicking you out at eighteen was a reasonable decision, then. We can't have such horrible decisions being made in our household. We're glad that you've decided to straighten up a little, but we're still disappointed in you. Please call us or write us a letter when you actually decide to do something a little more productive with your life other than date another man and doodle all the live long day, okay?"
"I – "
"Good-bye, son." His mother whispers with sadness. "We love you."
Click.
"Are you okay?"
It was a stupid question, but Rigby is prodding around to see if his lover is even 'inside' his mind right now.
'Yes' is the answer that wants to leave Mordecai's lips, but 'no' is the only thing he can whisper.
"What's wrong?"
His eyes move over to the phone that lays on the carpet next to the wall, cracked and broken after the impact it suffered from hitting the wall.
"What? What about it?..."
"They called me…Rigby, they called me."
Oh God. His eyes widen in surprise, lips parting slightly. "…what did they say?"
Though he could guess what the result was before Mordecai even spoke.
That's it? That's it?
What a fucking waste! In blind fury, he hangs up on them and throws his phone at the wall opposite the bed, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him before taking a cart and hurrying down to the nearest liquor store. He didn't care how disgusting he thought alcohol was, whisky sounded so sweet right now…
To forget…what a dream…
"…they…they're disappointed in me."
"! Are they stupid? Dude, you've been doing wayyy better! You got a degree and a job and you're getting started with your shit! What's there not to be proud of?"
He shakes his head, shrugging blankly. "I'm not the son they wanted. They didn't want a 'man-loving artist' under their roof. They wanted a 'straight businessman' who could do no wrong."
A volatile energy seizes the taller man as his eyes narrow and his grip on the sheets tighten up. "Know what? I don't…I don't fucking need them. They weren't there for me, they haven't been since I was eleven. Why do I need them now? I don't!"
A lengthy pause ensues – Rigby stares quietly at him before tears quietly form in the corner of Mordecai's eyes and his frame starts to shake.
"…I don't…"
The brunette says nothing – he pulls the drunken and despaired man in for a soft kiss, hands roaming along his neck and down his back before parting.
"Maybe I'm not your parents but…but I'll always love you…and, if it counts for anything…I'm proud of you, Mordecai."
Rigby laughs awkwardly, feeling stupid. This is probably not what his lover wants to hear right now, though he goes on. "I mean, look at me! I dropped out half-way into Senior year like a baby! I don't even have my Diploma, yet! You…you graduated, went to college, got a degree…I don't know what kind of parents aren't proud of a man who can do all of that, even though he grew up in a poor home. You should win a medal…or something, you know…well, the point is, you've always got me, okay?"
Maybe it's the alcohol but Mordecai feels his cheeks heat up a little, eyes widening a touch in shock of that confession. Once everything registers, he chuckles a little and steals another kiss.
'Help me forget all about it...I want you to be the only thing I remember, tonight…'
One starts turning into many – after several moments, they know where everything's headed. Clothes start shedding quickly, hands are quick to explore, and there is no place off limits for their lips to kiss on.
It's maddeningly beautiful how easily Rigby fills his whole line of vision, body laying prone on the mattress as a thin layer of sweat coats his body, hair laying flat against his flushed features and tanned body taut against the moon's caressing light.
"You torture me, you know that?"
Stupid thing to say, but the heat compressing their lungs and the whisky spurring in his system makes Mordecai dumbed down to proper logic.
"W-what?"
"You torture me." He repeats in a sultry murmur, kissing along his flesh while his hips [after sloppily lubricating and aligning his cock] choppily push forward. "Laying there, looking so innocent…"
Thrust.
"Beautiful…"
Again.
"Aah…"
"Do you have any fucking idea what you do to me, Rigby?"
Another, with more force.
"M-Mordecai…"
Repeats, several more times in quick succession before tanned legs lift up to rest on pale shoulders, nails digging deep into the taller man's back. He hisses with delight, making sure his bottom moans out in delight with every thrust he delivers.
"Ahh…unh…r-right there…"
"Mnh…nh…"
Pleasure attacks at their bodies like an army on the front-line – it comes fast, comes hard, sweeps over them with each rock of those angled hips until the smaller man becomes rigid and comes first, dragging his lover along with one last thrust and a hushed moan of ecstasy.
"Hm…M-Mordecai…"
"Ah…Rigby…I love you…"
"I…hm…love you too…"
He pulls out, rolling over to the side and pulling the brunette into his lithe arms while forcing their perspiring skin to cling in a sticky sort of tango.
Everything after that passes by in idle whispers until they succumb to the rocking cradle of Slumber.
"Feel better?"
"Yeah…"
"Y-you know…you deserve parents better than that."
A light smile. "I'm not worried about it anymore."
"You're not?"
"No. I…it hurts that they aren't proud of me, but I'm not going to live my life off of them. Sound good?"
He grins, hearing the voice of his lover return even though he faces the wall in their bare embrace.
"You know it does!"