Chapter Text
Of all the questionable habits Rigby had picked up – staying up late, dodging work, making a disaster area of their room, playing with dangerous powers beyond his control, and smoking that green stuff – waking up in his best friend’s arms was his favorite. Anyone who knew Rigby knew how chaotic and high energy the raccoon could be, but when he was with Mordecai, he felt calm.
When his eyes cracked open, he glanced at the alarm clock. It was graciously silent this Sunday morning; it was about half past ten and neither of them had to work. But that didn’t mean the world or the park stood still. In fact, Rigby could hear voices from down the hall already. Benson, he surmised, as well as someone else he couldn’t quite place. But with Mordecai’s arms tightening around him, soft breaths and quiet snores tickling Rigby’s ears, he wasn’t about to worry about it right now. He probably wasn’t going back to sleep, but he could space out and enjoy this bliss a little longer.
The trouble with spacing out is that eventually your thoughts catch up to you, especially when you have a brain wired like Rigby’s. It had been a few weeks this had been going on. They hadn’t spoken about it beyond what little they had said that first night – Mordecai had acknowledged Rigby’s crush on him, and then made him his de facto teddy bear. Not talking about it had suited Rigby just fine at first. It was enough.
It wasn’t enough anymore.
It was becoming a pervasive itch somewhere deep in his brain, and every time he tried to satisfy it – just get some sort of confirmation, not necessarily a commitment or profession of love – Mordecai brushed him off.
“Mordecai,” Rigby had said one night, focused on the cheesy movie playing but still hyper-aware of the bird’s arm draped across his small frame. “Do you like me?”
“Yeah, of course dude,” Mordecai had said nonchalantly, munching popcorn. “You’re my best friend.”
Best friends that shared a bed and cuddled. No big deal, Rigby continuously tried to convince himself. Most of the time he could live with it, but there were times, like now, that his brain just wouldn’t let it go. That was about as much time with his thoughts as Rigby could stand right now. Time to wake up Mordo and bother him.
“Mordecai,” Rigby whispered loudly.
“Nnhh...”
Rigby squirmed out of the little spoon position and gently pushed Mordecai so that the blue jay would roll over onto his back.
“Rigbyyy...” Mordecai groaned in protest, still half asleep.
Rigby crawled on top of him, acting as a living weighted blanket at first as he ran his fingers over the soft blue feathers of his friend’s clavicle. “Mordecaaaii, wake uuup.”
“Ughh, nooo.”
Rigby grunted in frustration and sat up, straddling Mordecai’s hips. “Get up and make me pancakes,” he demanded. “Come oooonn, you know you wanna.”
“Oh I’ll make you a pancake alright, bossy little fucker,” Mordecai mumbled.
Rigby didn’t have time to question what the hell that was supposed to mean, because then Mordecai pulled him down by the fur to kiss him. Long and languid, it felt as though Mordecai was drinking him in. Rigby melted into it like butter after the initial shock, looking down at Mordecai wide-eyed in bewilderment and wonder after they parted. That had never happened before. A lazy grin stretched across Mordecai’s beak... then he bodily picked up his friend and tossed him, off of him, off of the bed, onto the nearest pile of clothes.
“GYAH! WHAT THE FUCK!”
Mordecai chuckled as he sat up, yawned, stretched, and pushed himself up out of bed.
“MORDECAI! WHAT THE FUCK!”
“Simmer down, dude,” said Mordecai. “Do you want Benson to hear you? C’mon, let’s go get those pancakes.”
“NO! Not until you tell me–!”
“Hey, do you hear that?”
Mordecai poked his head out of their bedroom door. Rigby grumbled, but did the same. Those voices he had been hearing earlier – that was Benson. And there was someone with him out in the hall. Mordecai let the door open about halfway, he and Rigby stepping out just as Benson and the stranger got closer.
“...And this is where some of our full-time employees sleep,” Benson was saying as he noticed them. “Oh, good timing. Guys, this is Thomas.”
“Sup,” said the stranger, a caramel-colored goat about Mordecai’s height.
“Hey,” said Mordecai.
“Yeah, hi,” said Rigby, who was too flustered, preoccupied, and in a hurry to care.
“Thomas will be interning here for college credit,” explained Benson. “Thomas, this is Mordecai and Rigby. I’d appreciate if you kept an eye on them for me.”
“Aww, what? We don’t need a babysitter!” Rigby protested, throwing his arms up.
“Your track record says otherwise,” said Benson, gritting his teeth.
“Yeeeah, anyway, we gotta go,” said Mordecai, practically dragging Rigby off. “Nice meeting you, Thomas!”
“Yeah, seeya guys,” replied Thomas with a smile.
Mordecai wasn’t much of a cook unless you counted microwave dinners, but there were a couple things he was good at making. Pancakes were one of them. Somehow, Mordecai’s pancakes always tasted so much better than when Rigby tried to make them himself. Rigby didn’t know how he did it or what he did to them – he had never paid much attention before. It didn’t really matter before, but lately, Rigby found himself watching more closely and over-analyzing everything Mordecai did.
“Ugh, who put the batter mix on top of the cabinet?” Mordecai grunted, straining on the tips of his toes. He was tall enough to reach most things, but the box was still just out of his reach. Rigby definitely wasn't checking out his cute feathered butt while his back was turned, either.
Rigby shook his head slightly to clear out the gutter muck. He then jumped onto Mordecai's back, easily grabbing the box and handing it to him.
“Thanks,” said Mordecai. After a moment’s pause he spoke again. “...Uh, you gonna get down?”
“Sorry,” Rigby mumbled, jumping down.
He didn’t go far. He was right at Mordecai’s side, watching the white poof of the mix being dumped into a mixing bowl. When Mordecai went to the fridge, Rigby was there too.
“Eughh, buttermilk?”
“Trust the process, dude,” said Mordecai. “...And, uh, can you give me a lil space? You’re awfully clingy today.”
“I’m not clingy!” protested Rigby, suddenly defensive as he retreated to his chair at the kitchen table. “Your face is clingy!”
Mordecai rolled his eyes. Whatever that was supposed to mean, he was just going to let him have it for now… but Rigby wasn’t done.
“And if I am clingy it’s because you–!”
“RIGBY!”
Mordecai almost never raised his voice like that. It was a little shocking, both to Rigby and to Mordecai himself. Mordecai took a deep breath through his nostrils and ran his hands over his face as he took a second to regain his composure.
“Not... not now,” he said weakly. “Please. We’ll... talk about it later, okay?”
Rigby glowered at the steaming stack of pancakes the blue jay carefully set in front of him, complete with a pat of butter. It was hard to give such a dirty look to such delicious looking food, so Rigby turned his glare up to Mordecai. Mordecai gave him an apologetic smile.
“Promise?”
“Pro–”
“Hey guys, hope I’m not interrupting anything but–”
Rigby groaned and let his head hit the table.
“Oh, hey again Thomas,” said Mordecai, elbowing Rigby. “We were just having breakfast. You want some? Not to brag, but I make some gooood pancakes.”
“Thanks! Don’t mind if I do,” said Thomas, helping himself to a couple pancakes.
Rigby minded. Rigby minded a lot. But at least for now, he would play nice.