Author's note: Oh my goodness, it's been so long since I've posted anything. Anyway, here's a little something for the Regular Show fans out there! I'd like to mention that I'm using mookie000's human designs for this fan fiction, and I'd especially like to thank her for creating such beautiful designs!
As far as warnings are concerned, there are explicit sexual situations, a bit of cursing, and this is unbeta'd, as per usual. As for pairings, there's a bit of Jeremy/Rigby but this fic focuses mostly on Mordecai/Rigby.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Regular Show, JG Quintel, mookie000, or her human designs. I am merely borrowing them for this fan fiction which, incidentally, is the only thing I own. Please enjoy!
Any Other Name
The colors of the almost-unfamiliar bedroom are bleeding together unpleasantly in Rigby's just-awakening vision, and for a moment he is frightened and not sure where he is. But after a minute or two, Rigby hears another person's breathing, feels the warmth and the steady rise and fall of Jeremy's sleeping body, and the memories from last night make their ways into the forefront of Rigby's mind. He blushes quietly, shifting under Jeremy's comforter, and when he turns to face the other man Rigby is surprised to find him awake.
"Hey," Jeremy murmurs in his sleep-raspy voice, an arm sliding under his head as a slow, placid smile stretches his lips.
"Hey," Rigby whispers back, fingers anxiously picking at the pillowcase underneath his head. Jeremy just watches him for a while, studious eyes scrutinizing Rigby's every action until he decides he's had enough and grasps Rigby's fidgeting hand with his own.
"It's a nice morning," Jeremy says, unnecessarily, as he pulls Rigby on top of his body. He doesn't say much else besides the occasional murmur of falsified affection, tugging Rigby down by the wrist to lather his already love-bitten skin in kisses and nips. Rigby responds as he should: his face heats up and his hands begin to tremble, Jeremy's name escaping his mouth ensconced in tiny sighs and shivers. The taller of the two flips their positions, his mouth working wetly at Rigby's neck while he hands squeeze his hips.
Rigby pushes out soft moans and slides a hand into Jeremy's hair, and it's then that he realizes he doesn't want to be here. Or, rather, he doesn't want to be here underneath Jeremy, with Jeremy's too-intimate mannerisms and his too-short hair. He wants someone a bit shorter than Jeremy is, someone that's a bit rougher.
Rigby is flashing back to a few nights previous, when Mordecai was over him, panting into his mouth and pressing into his body, Margaret's face in his mind and her name on his lips. It shoots through Rigby and ignites something a little different inside of him and suddenly he's pushing and pulling, wrapping his legs around Jeremy and begging him, worshipping his body with his lips and hands.
It's hot and fast, and by the time it's over, Rigby doesn't feel any better, but he certainly doesn't feel any worse. Jeremy is watching Rigby as he dresses with this strange, ambiguous smile, and Rigby very nearly feels unwelcome to leave. But he pulls on his sweatshirt and stands awkwardly for a moment, and then he's out the door with a minuscule wave and an unsure "thanks".
The walk back to the park is slow and tentative. Rigby has been certain for a while that Mordecai is completely unaware of his feelings for him, just as he's been certain for a while that Mordecai is completely aware of his own feelings for Margaret. It's painful and Rigby doesn't really like to think about it, though he knows it's there.
Sighing, Rigby pushes a hand through his hair and stops to think about what exactly he's going to do once he reaches the house. He isn't Margaret. He's shorter, harder, much less tempered than Margaret. He doesn't smell like a woman and he certainly doesn't act like one.
He needs to tell Mordecai how he feels. Their friendship is strong and it would be enough for Rigby, but shouldering the pain of unrequited affection is difficult. A nervous pit is condensing in Rigby's stomach, condensing and trembling so much that it's getting difficult to focus on much else. He continues walking and the house is inching into Rigby's view. His palms start sweating and his ears are already burning, and he has half a mind to just turn around and go back to Jeremy's place. But Rigby swallows thickly and keeps going forward and soon enough he's climbing the stairs, twisting the doorknob, and suddenly he's in the living room.
The knot in Rigby's stomach isn't easing a bit, but he won't let himself turn back now. He inhales deeply and makes his way to his and Mordecai's shared bedroom. His hand at first slips on the doorknob, but Rigby wipes the sweat onto his jeans and tries again, silently pushing himself into the room.
Mordecai is on his back with one arm tossed carelessly over his eyes, sleeping the morning away. Rigby lets out an unconscious, anxious sound and thinks that maybe it's not too late; he can get out of there and throw the entire idea of confessing out the window like it never even existed. But then Mordecai is shifting and he must have heard the sound Rigby made because he's blinking blearily up at his younger counterpart. They both are still for a moment and then Mordecai speaks.
"Where were you last night, dude?"
Rigby has forgotten that Mordecai doesn't know what Rigby does with Jeremy, but he certainly hasn't forgotten that Mordecai does not like Jeremy and suddenly Rigby is stuttering and grasping for a lie.
"I was. Um. Out," is all he manages before the suspicion settles in Mordecai's mind. Rigby never stutters, never has anything to hide, especially not where Mordecai is concerned.
"Out where?" Mordecai asks, sitting up and raising a pierced brow. Rigby becomes instinctively angry and indignant, hissing out a frustrated "nowhere!" Mordecai's own frustration is building and he shoves the blanket from his body, sitting up more properly.
"Don't lie to me, dude. You've been acting weird for the past, like, month."
"No I haven't!" Rigby says defensively, crossing his arms and turning his back to his best friend. He can hear his heart thumping loudly in his ears and he feels like he's going to throw up.
"Yes you have," Mordecai says almost desperately, now standing. "It started with that whole 'friends with benefits' crap and you've been hanging out with Chad and Jeremy more and now all of a sudden you've got a problem with me." Rigby can hear the strained sadness in Mordecai's voice overlaid with anger and something else, something a little more visceral. "You've never kept secrets from me before, man. What's going on?"
Rigby's face is on fire and his palms are sweating again. He hates lying to Mordecai; he's never had a reason to before. He swallows nervously, the pit in his stomach dropping and then rising again, tightening and shifting until it's in his throat and suddenly, Rigby really can't do this. It isn't worth telling Mordecai how much he cares for him, that he's sleeping with Jeremy and that he stopped sleeping with Mordecai because he just couldn't fucking bear knowing that Mordecai was picturing a woman – Margaret – in his place. In the past ten minutes, all of that has become worthless and asinine. Mordecai would only feel guilty, or worse; he wouldn't feel anything at all.
"I don't have a problem with you," Rigby answers despondently after what feels like an hour has passed. "Sorry for waking you up." He makes a move to leave but is stopped by Mordecai's hand wrapping firmly around his wrist. "Dude," Rigby whispers softly, sadly, "just leave it."
Mordecai is still angry, though. "No," he growls, spinning Rigby to face him. "I won't 'just leave it'. Something's happening between us and I'm pretty sure I'm not okay with whatever it is."
Rigby's brow creases as his lips purse and he looks Mordecai in the eyes, focusing on the intricate little patterns he finds in his irises and the way his pupils stretch and constrict again for the split moment after he blinks. His throat keeps tightening.
"I don't want to talk about it," Rigby whispers around the lump in his throat, his voice strained. He looks away from Mordecai, trying to pull away from him.
"Rigby, please," Mordecai pleads, tugging him back, and maybe it's the desperation in his voice or the tiredness in Rigby's heart, but suddenly the words are pouring out of Rigby's mouth and he knows they are going to push Mordecai away but once he's begun, he can't force himself to stop.
"I think I love you, okay? And not like a best friend or a brother or whatever else. I stopped the friends with benefits thing because I fucking hated having you inside of me and knowing that you couldn't ever feel the way I want you to feel and that all you want is Margaret. I'm hanging out with Chad and Jeremy because we go out and get drunk and I can just forget how you don't want me and I'm fucking Jeremy because why not? I want to feel wanted and he does that and I don't have to worry about feelings because it's fucking Jeremy and even if he did call me Margaret or some other name it wouldn't even matter because I don't love him and he doesn't love me." Rigby is actively crying, choking on his words. "Okay? Are you happy now?"
Mordecai's eyes have glazed over and his hand has gone slack around Rigby's wrist. Rigby can't take Mordecai's rejection, so he furiously wipes at his eyes and turns, rushing out the door like he always does. Like he probably always will.
Mordecai sits on the edge of his bed after a few minutes, cradling his head in his hands and just thinking. Rigby's words are crashing into each other in his brain, echoing and repeating and somehow managing to make even less sense than when Rigby was actually saying them. Why? seems like the only coherent thing Mordecai can think. Why had Rigby waited until now to say something? Why had he even agreed to continue having sex with Mordecai after that first drunken night?
The last night they engaged in their nightly rituals skates through Mordecai's mind at the exact same time Rigby's mention of Jeremy calling him by another name does. Mordecai groans and pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes, flopping back onto the bed. He hadn't meant to—well, no, that wasn't completely true. He'd known who he was imagining in Rigby's place, and it hadn't been by accident, but he definitely hadn't meant to say her name. He feels like such an asshole.
Mordecai sits for a while longer before he finally gets up, moving to dress and begin the day's chores. Rigby is there, raking the leaves with a creased brow. The day is already warming up and as Mordecai watches a drop of sweat trickle down the line of Rigby's neck, he thinks that maybe he doesn't want to deny his best friend. He catches himself, though, in the middle of that thought, and the day pushes forward slowly and much more quietly than normal. Evening begins to settle and Rigby has disappeared before Mordecai can talk to him.
Amid the quiet sighs and whimpers, Rigby hears his phone vibrate on the nightstand with a new text message. He reaches for it, but Jeremy grabs his hand and pins it down, muttering to Rigby in between the kisses he is dropping on Rigby's abdomen.
"That can wait," is all he says before Rigby is engulfed in wet, blinding heat.
Jeremy's name pushes itself out of Rigby's mouth and Rigby feels Jeremy smirk around him. Rigby fists one hand against his lips as he slides his other into Jeremy's hair, pushing and pulling as he groans, his chest heaving. Rigby's legs tense and his phone vibrates again as he climaxes with a bitter cry. The older is determined to keep Rigby away from his phone, climbing back up the tan body to whisper in his ear.
"I'm going to make you scream my name," Jeremy says, his breath humid against Rigby's skin as he begins to press kisses into his neck. Rigby feels himself twitch at Jeremy's promise-laden words but pushes away nonetheless, grabbing for his cell phone. Jeremy frowns as he watches Rigby examine the messages.
Sat, June 11, 1:27 am
From: Mordecai
Dude, where are you? We need to talk.
Sat, June 11, 1:35 am
From: Mordecai
Rigby, text me back.
Rigby sits up for a moment, staring at that last message, when his phone starts buzzing unexpectedly in his hand with an incoming call from Mordecai. He's about to reject it when Jeremy whisks the phone from his palm and answers it with a snarl.
"Call back later," he hisses, "Rigby is in the middle of something." Jeremy hits the 'end' button and tosses the phone to the floor, agitated, then pushes Rigby down and roughly kisses him.
Perturbed, Rigby shoves Jeremy off of his person, wiping at his mouth. "What the hell, Jeremy?" he asks angrily, nearly shouting. "You can't do that!"
"You are busy," Jeremy replies simply, and Rigby tears from the bed, dressing furiously.
"Not anymore," he mutters before grabbing his phone from the floor and slamming out the door. Rigby thinks he hears Jeremy shout for him, but he ignores it and continues on his way.
On the walk back to the park, Rigby calls Mordecai several times, each with no answer. His stomach is churning, wondering what Mordecai could possibly want and why he isn't answering any of his phone calls.
Once Rigby reaches the house, he can't seem to get the spare key into the door fast enough, and once he does, he runs into the house, nearly knocking over a flower pot, and slams into his and Mordecai's bedroom.
Mordecai is sitting on his bed, staring dismally at his hands, but once he realizes Rigby is there as well, he perks up a bit.
"Where were you?" is the first question out of Mordecai's mouth, and before Rigby can stop his outburst, he's biting out a bitter "none of your business". Mordecai frowns, and then sighs exasperatedly.
"Sorry," Rigby murmurs almost immediately, a hint of regret in his tone. "I was with Jeremy." There is a pause, Mordecai's face twisting with disdain, and then Rigby continues. "And I'm sorry for earlier. I didn't want to tell you."
"No, dude," Mordecai half-interrupts, "I'm sorry. I just… I didn't know."
The silence that follows is awkward and both men fidget, refusing to meet one another's eyes. Finally, Mordecai speaks up.
"To be honest, I really liked. Er. Having sex with you." Mordecai nods to himself as if in reassurance. "And I guess if you want, we could, uh. Try… again? And I won't be such an ass this time."
Rigby knows he shouldn't, that he really should say no, but Mordecai is already stepping closer to him and all Rigby can smell is Mordecai and he can't deny himself this.
Mordecai slants their mouths together, his hands sliding under Rigby's shirt to rest on his waist as he presses him into the wall. Rigby hums against Mordecai's lips, slipping his hands into his hair as he bites down on Mordecai's lower lip. Mordecai lets out a quiet, animalistic sound, moving to unzip Rigby's jeans and sliding one hand down the front of them once they're open. He grips Rigby's hardening cock, pumping it as Rigby pants into Mordecai's mouth. Rigby pulls away long enough to breathe out the word "bed", gasping when Mordecai nods and drags him over, nearly throwing him into the mattress.
Mordecai shucks his shirt before leaning down and biting Rigby's neck, marking over the places Jeremy had already claimed. Rigby shudders and runs his hands down Mordecai's back reverently, arching and baring more skin to Mordecai's ministrations. Mordecai's hand finds its way back to Rigby's erection, kneading and grasping. Rigby arches and clutches at Mordecai's shoulders.
"Mordecai, please," he groans, pleading. Mordecai licks a line up Rigby's neck and then pulls away, removing his hand from the younger's boxers to instead pull at his jeans. Rigby lifts his hips and Mordecai slides the material down a pair of tanned legs.
Once his jeans and underwear have been removed, Rigby sits up and removes his shirt as well, leaving himself bare for Mordecai. Mordecai parts Rigby's legs, smiling a small, appreciative half-smile, and presses his fingers to Rigby's lips.
"I'm out of lube," Mordecai says breathlessly and Rigby knows how terrible saliva is for lube, but he's almost painfully hard so he takes the digits and sucks on them. Mordecai bites his lips, withholding a moan as Rigby's tongue slides between his fingers, his smaller counterpart making whorish noises and spreading his legs obscenely as if he was putting on a show.
Rigby's mind is swimming, and he's still telling himself that this is a terrible idea. There is no way one day was enough for Mordecai to think everything through, but the way Mordecai's fingers taste and feel in his mouth is making his logic crumble, and Rigby reaches down to touch himself, wanting, needing more.
"That's enough," Mordecai says finally, slipping his fingers from Rigby's lips to place his index against his best friend's entrance. He presses it in, watching as Rigby's eyelashes flutter and using his other hand to squeeze Rigby's hip as he slides his finger in and out. Another finger is added and Mordecai scissors them, Rigby's face twitching with discomfort as Mordecai pushes and pulls, relaxing and stretching the ring of muscle.
Rigby breathes out, his thighs twitching, and he focuses on the way Mordecai feels and smells, the pattern of his breathing. As he adds a third finger, Rigby whispers a strained "oh" and cards his fingers through Mordecai's hair. He makes quiet, pleasured noises, sighing as Mordecai's fingers stretch him.
Mordecai bites his lip, and for the first time ever, he thinks Rigby is strikingly handsome with his body slicked in sweat, his mouth open around half-moans. He withdraws his hand and instead uses it to push his pajama pants down, quickly lubricate himself with his spit, and guide himself to Rigby's heat. Rigby's chest swells and his stomach tenses, just as it always does, but this time it's because this is the first time Mordecai has been willing to do this unprotected.
As Mordecai begins to press forward, Rigby stops him. He opens his mouth to ask Rigby what the hell he's doing, but before he can Rigby is already on his knees with his ass in the air. It's too emotional for Rigby and he knows that Mordecai will probably laugh at him or punch him or something if he sees Rigby start to cry in the middle of this. It doesn't matter that much to Mordecai. There's no way it possibly can.
Mordecai's mouth forms a quiet 'o' at this new position and he bites his lip. Though he's throbbing and ready to just be inside of his best friend already, he gently parts Rigby's cheeks and leans down to run his tongue over Rigby's balls, over his entrance, and up the line of his spine until he's mouthing the back of Rigby's neck. Rigby shivers and clutches the sheets, and Mordecai grabs his hips and starts pushing in again.
Rigby whimpers, closing his eyes to the feeling as his body floods with a new heat, and he presses his face into the pillows. Mordecai slides in with relative ease, still running his tongue over Rigby's neck. One of his hands finds Rigby's and he laces their fingers as he begins to rock into his best friend, leaning back enough to place his free hand appreciatively against Rigby's ass.
"Please," Rigby begs, his voice choking on the word. It is muffled by the bedding but Mordecai hears him and obliges without remark, quickening his pace.
Rigby tightens his fingers around Mordecai's, his stomach flipping. Jeremy has never made him feel like this. Sure, the sex is great, but he never made Rigby twitch and tense like Mordecai does, didn't draw quite the same noises from him. Rigby feels Mordecai's hand leave his ass and hears him brace against the headboard, thrusting a little more vigorously into Rigby as he becomes a little less reserved with his noises. Rigby tightens around Mordecai's cock inside of him, and Mordecai's breath hitches. He stops bracing himself against the headboard, using his hand instead to reach around and begin jerking Rigby in time with his thrusts, and Rigby can tell that Mordecai is already close.
Rigby arches and wraps a hand around the one Mordecai is using to pump his cock, moaning loudly, perhaps a bit showily, as he snaps his hips back to meet Mordecai's. Images are flashing through Rigby's mind quickly: Mordecai holding his hand as a child, Mordecai flirting with Margaret, Mordecai trying to convince Rigby to talk to Eileen. A sob wrenches itself from Rigby's throat and tears streak his face, warm and unwelcome.
With a final twist of Mordecai's hand, Rigby comes with a shout. Mordecai thrusts harder and bites into Rigby's shoulder to muffle his own cry as his climax crashes over him, shuddering as he releases into his best friend, white dots pricking his vision.
Mordecai takes a moment to collect himself and when he does, he removes his mouth from Rigby's shoulder, licking the teeth marks he has left there gently. He pulls out and it's only when he rolls over next to Rigby that he notices his best friend is crying. His shoulders are trembling and Mordecai can hear the strained, broken sobs.
"Rigby," Mordecai whispers, unsure of himself. He puts a hand on the small of Rigby's back and Rigby immediately rolls over, his hands on his face as he sobs into them.
"Sorry," Rigby coughs, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his wrist. He can feel Mordecai's come seeping out of him and that just makes him cry a bit harder and he rakes his hands angrily through his hair, mad at himself for crying, for letting Mordecai see this part of him.
"Hey, no, shh," Mordecai hushes him, sitting up and leaning down to press a kiss to the center of Rigby's forehead. Rigby holds onto Mordecai's arms as the taller man presses kisses down the bridge of his nose, over his cheekbones, across his chin, anywhere he can reach.
After a long, long while, Rigby's sobs quiet down to little more than soft hiccups, and he can finally speak.
"Sorry," he says again, his voice still thick with emotion. "I just… dude. I can't do this. You don't—"
Mordecai cuts him off with a press of lips. He holds Rigby's neck, releasing his mouth only once he feels Rigby relax into the embrace.
"Rigby, listen. Maybe I don't want you like I want Margaret, not right now, but there has to be something more here than just friendship or else I wouldn't want to have sex with you." Rigby's heart lurches at the first part, but he keeps listening as Mordecai keeps talking.
"I like touching you. A lot," Mordecai says, deadly honest. "And I don't like—fuck, no, I hate the idea of Jeremy putting his hands on you like you're some kind of whore."
"I'm not!" Rigby cries indignantly, but Mordecai hushes him again.
"I'm sorry for hurting you, dude. I really didn't mean to call you by Margaret's name and doing that makes me a pretty huge dick." Rigby nods, rolling his eyes. "But," Mordecai continues, undeterred, "I think I want to try a relationship with you. Maybe. If that's okay."
Rigby can't really understand what Mordecai is asking for a couple of moments, but once his heart catches up to his brain, a huge, cocky smile overtakes his face.
"It's because I'm just so sexy, huh?" he asks, playful arrogance coloring his voice. Mordecai laughs, punching him in the shoulder. He supposes that counts as a yes.
Rigby is still tentative regarding a relationship with Mordecai, but their friendship is great, and the sex is great. He's pushing Mordecai in the direction he wants him to go.
And Mordecai is pulling Rigby right along behind him.