Hey all! I decided to write an RS fanfic. I've been like extra mad and annoyed lately so I'm putting those feels into a fic. Also, if you didn't figure it out, the characters are all HUMANS in this fic! Imagine them how you want, haha, but they are human! I couldn't find a good chapter human fic of them o:
Benson put the cigarette between his lips, quickly lighting it as he let out a curse. He was so fed up with Mordecai and Rigby. It didn't matter how many times he'd yell at them to get back to work; it was like they didn't even care. He wondered what they would do if he really fired them, but sometimes he thought he couldn't go through with it. There were those very rare times where they did something to make him feel better, or for his sake. Albeit, he couldn't think of any off of the top of his head, but he was sure there were some.
He took a long drag of the cigarette and slowly exhaled, rubbing his temples. He was supposed to have quit, but he really didn't see how that was a current possibility. It took all he had not to blow up at everyone in the park just that day. He was sick of it, but it was just how he was. No amount of therapy was going to change that. That didn't mean he hadn't tried, of course. He'd spent money on three different therapists in the past year and his problem hadn't become any less of a problem.
He leaned against the fence that had recently been built around the house and stared up at the sky. It was bright out; a warm summer day, and even though the atmosphere was cheerful and everyone else was in good spirits, he couldn't be happy. He was far too depressed.
"I knew I'd find you here," a hoarse voice came from behind him.
"Shit," Benson whispered to himself. He didn't want to turn around and face the other man. He didn't want to get lectured; not again. "What are you doing out here?" he held the cigarette between his index and middle finger, not wanting to put it out. All he wanted was to take another drag, but he knew he would only get that disappointed sigh in response.
"Looking for you."
"Well, here I am," Benson replied awkwardly, sliding his hand down in front of the fence.
"Are you..." the taller man came closer to the fence, peering over and noticing the lit cigarette. He let out a sigh. "You are."
"So what?" Benson pushed himself away from the fence. "It's not like it affects you, Skips!"
"I thought you quit."
Benson took a long drag of the cigarette. He didn't want to get mad; didn't want to explode. Not at Skips. He hadn't done anything wrong. All these bottled feelings were toward everyone else. It was everyone else that wouldn't leave him alone; wouldn't listen to his orders.
"I'll take that as a no," his voice was quieter, almost as if he knew his boss was trying extra hard just to keep quiet. "Did you try the gum?"
"Of course I tried it," he mumbled. It wasn't the same, though. He turned to face his employee with a stern look, "Get back to work, Skips."
"I'm on my break."
If there was one thing that annoyed Benson about the light haired man, it was his responses. Sometimes they could be so short, so emotionless that he didn't know what to do with them. He wanted to yell or kick something, but when he thought about the look Skips would give him if he did... he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He thought it was because he respected Skips and in turn, he wanted to be respected by him, but when he was alone in his office, sipping from his coffee mug, sometimes he thought it was more than that.
When he was alone, he often had a lot of time to think about things he'd rather not think about.
"Benson, give me the pack," Skips held his hand out over the fence expectantly.
He wanted to scoff, but part of him also wanted to comply. He knew he was ruining his lungs, but he couldn't be bothered to care when people like Mordecai or Rigby were around. "I'm your boss. I give you orders. Not the other way around," he said. "I'm... tired, so jut go back to work."
Skips sighed, running a hand through his snow white hair. The sun felt hot on his light skin and he often wondered if it was okay for him to run around without a shirt on. Mordecai and Rigby often joked about how it brought a lot of females to the park, although that wasn't his intention. Summers were just too hot for him, coming from a place that was nearly always cold. He did was he could to cool down.
When his attention was brought back by a high pitched scream that could only belong to Rigby, he noticed Benson was nowhere in sight. He must have run off. Skips looked to the side where Mordecai and Rigby were driving the cart in squiggly lines, laughing and screaming like it was the most fun they'd ever had. He hopped over the fence and made his way over to them. "Guys," he said as they pulled the cart to a stop.
"Hey, Skips, what's up?" Mordecai said.
"Aren't you two supposed to be mowing the grass?"
"Aw, don't rag on us," Rigby complained. "We'll get to it. We're just taking a break."
"Yeah," Mordecai laughed.
Skips could understand why Benson constantly yelled at them. "Look, why don't you guys just go back to work and then we'll all go out for ice cream later. My treat."
"Whoa, you mean it?" Rigby's eyes were sparkling.
"Yeah," he answered. He knew the only way to get them to do their jobs was to give them incentives. It wasn't like it cost him much to buy a few ice cream cones, watermelon or other form of snack every now and then and if it was able to make Benson's work load lighter, he was glad to.
"To the fields!" Rigby shot his hand up.
"Yeah-yuh!" Mordecai yelled, swiftly turning the cart around and driving back toward the garage to fetch the lawnmower.
Skips turned around and walked up the stairs, pushing open the house door and glancing inside. It was clean, for once and he suspected Benson had gotten tired of asking Mordecai and Rigby and had just done it himself. He wished the redhead would rely on him a little more in times like those.
He planned to head upstairs and make sure the other rooms were in order when he heard Benson and Pops chatting in the kitchen. Curiosity peaked, he inched closer to listen. Eavesdropping usually wasn't his thing, but Benson had been acting somewhat strange lately and he wondered why.
"Are you quite sure about this, Benson?" Pops asked, seeming concerned.
"Pretty sure. I'm sorry to tell you this now and on good days, I do like this job, but I can't keep up with all the work anymore. I'm sure you've noticed it, right, Pops?"
"I didn't want to say anything, but yes," Pops said. "Mordecai and Rigby are around to help, though. Why don't you try to rely on them?"
"Or me," Skips muttered under his breath, still unsure of what was going on.
"That's the problem!" Benson let out a sigh. "Those slackers never do anything I tell them to! I know you hate it when I yell at them, so I try not to, but I can't do it!"
"I know, Benson. Last time I tried to get you to stay calm, you passed out and knocked your head on the sidewalk. You were in the hospital with a concussion," Pops took his top hat off solemnly. "I don't want such a thing to happen again."
"Sorry... Just give me a little while. A little while longer. I'll try to find one that works this time, okay?" Benson frowned. "I don't want to lose this job."
"Oh, of course. Take all the time that you need. I can run the park until you come back."
"Thanks, Pops," Benson leaned back in his chair, pulling his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. "I'll try not to let you down this time."
"Don't worry about that. One's health must always come before their job," Pops stood up and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Shall we take care of everything else now?"
"Yeah," Benson stood up as well and followed Pops out back.
Skips wondered what they were talking about, but when he heard the cart crash outside, he figured he'd better tend to that problem. So laying aside the Benson situation, he went back outside to check on Mordecai and Rigby, who had crashed the cart into a tree out front.
He sighed, rolling his eyes and pulling a few tools out of his belt. This was going to take his full attention after all.