"Please?"

"No."

"Come on."

"Absolutely not!"

Mordecai pouts his lip out. Benson was being unreasonable. "Dude, it's Friday night. You're seriously going to spend the day in your office?"

"I have a job to do. I can't just leave like you, slacker," Benson doesn't even look up at him once. He's focused on all the paperwork in front of him. It needs to be done and faxed over Monday morning.

Mordecai frowns. This wasn't working. "It's only the biggest music festival of all time, dude. You have to go. You're the most musically inclined person I know!" He sees Benson's face light up a little when he says that, but that little bit of hope burns out when Benson locks eyes with him. He has tired eyes and looks defeated. "Come on, dude. It'll be fun."

"Why do you want me to go anyway?" Benson asks, a bit of curiosity bubbling up inside him. He's a bit flattered to be asked, but this was Mordecai. There was a catch. There was always a catch.

Mordecai rubs his arm up and down. "I…I don't have a lift there," Mordecai says. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't entirely truthful either. He really likes Benson, but he definitely wasn't going to tell him that. He was hoping this weekend festival would give him enough time to ask him out. Eventually. Maybe.

Benson sighs and leans back in his chair. He's examining his employee. "I give you points for being honest with me," he says and steps away from his desk. "We're both coming back Sunday night and finishing this together, understood?" He's reaching for his jacket and waits for Mordecai's answer.

Mordecai's face lights up, "Y-You got it!" He rushes to Benson's jacket and pulls it on his boss and rushes them both downstairs.

Rigby's already waiting by the door. They had this planned from the beginning. He opens the door to let them out and they all file into Benson's station wagon. "Dude, this is going to be the best!"

"Yea-uh, it is!" Mordecai woots and throws his fist in the air. He watches Benson grumbled, but elbows him, "Come on, dude. You gotta be excited!"

"Eileen and Margaret are gunna meet us there," Rigby explains.

Mordecai's face goes blank and the world kind of blacks out for a second. "Wh-what do you mean? Why?"

Benson raises an eyebrow at him. He doesn't say anything, but this is a first.

"Dude, lady-pecks. You said I should be more interested in lady-pecks. So, here, lady-pecks," Rigby explains.

Benson glares sideways at Mordecai and starts up the car, "Stop teaching him new words."

Mordecai groans, "Dude, I didn't want to go for the lady-pecks! I just… I really like music. Music is rad."

Benson turns on the radio and tries to tune them out. They hop on the expressway and prepares for a long drive with these two idiots. He isn't sure why he's doing this. He has a lot of stuff he needs to get done. He's sure he only did it because Mordecai asked, but that was their plan all along. To get him to drive them because neither one of them had a car, so they can meet their girlfriends and go to the festival while he stood there alone. He internally groans. What did he just get himself into.

-

When they get there, the place is packed and the music is loud. It isn't a bad thing though. There's a bunch to do and a lot to see. Benson isn't surprised that Rigby runs off, but he's skeptical when he sees Mordecai stay by him.

"Aren't you going with Rigby to hang out with your lady-pecks?" Benson snickers.

"I uh… No! Like I said, I came for the music. Maybe I can spend some time with you, ya know?" Mordecai says a bit strained. His eyes are darting about and he feels like his hands are all clammy.

Benson blinks. He's waiting for a catch, but there is none. He smiles and claps Mordecai on the back, "Alright. Let's have a good time then."

Mordecai feels his breath get trapped in his throat when he feels Benson's hand on his back. He can feel the warm imprint of where it once was as if it were branded on him. He looks over at Benson and examines his face. He's calm and there's a smile creeping across it. It's really freaking cute to watch. "Hey, uh… What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color, huh?" Benson says with a thoughtful tone. He's looking over Mordecai as if he has other intentions for that question. He doesn't look like it, so he answers. Honestly. "Pink."

Mordecai's eyebrows shoot up and he has a look of astonishment on his face, "You're lying!"

"No, my favorite color is pink," Benson confirms, "It has been ever since I was young."

"My favorite color is blue! That's why I got my hair dyed that color. Dude, Benson, you should totally get your hair dyed pink," Mordecai exclaims excitedly.

"What? No. I don't dye my hair and even if I did, it wouldn't be pink," Benson shakes his head.

"Oh, come on! It would just be for fun and we wouldn't make it a permanent thing! Just temporary. For tonight. It'd make you hip and cool," Mordecai tries to think of any excuse he can to get Benson to do it. He wants to see it, and it would be awesome to be seen together like that. All of the most popular couples were pink and blue. The warmth in his chest made him feel like this was right somehow. Like, being with him and getting this job meant something. Maybe it was fate or written in the stars or something. Maybe they could be the next popular couple with color-coated towels or what-the-fuck-ever.

Benson thinks long and hard about it. He looks around at all the crazy stuff everyone else is wearing. His hair being a different color probably wouldn't look too weird in comparison. He shakes his head. No, what was he doing? He was getting wrapped up into Mordecai's words again. Why did the guy have the power to persuade him to do anything. "No, absolutely not," Benson finally says, "I'm not having some nut job touch my hair."

Mordecai smiles, "I'll just buy a spray can and spike it. That's it. Maybe I'll get you a band tee. You'll fit in. Look young, ya know?" He panics when Benson gives him a heated look at that statement, "W-what I meant, is… Like, there's nothing wrong with that! But… ya know, when you smile—You're smile makes you like ten years younger. You'd totally fit in."

"My smile…?" Benson questions, but he seems legitimately curious about what Mordecai said. It was kind of touching. He finds himself smiling without telling himself to.

"Yeah, that!" Mordecai points out and places a hand on Benson's cheek, "Dude, you look my age."

Benson's eyes meet Mordecai's when he feels the touch on his cheek. His face feels hot and he's so confused by how Mordecai is looking at him. His age? Benson's heart feels like it beating a mile a minute, but he kind of doesn't want to stop this. He wasn't even sure what this was.

Mordecai pulls his hand away after realizing what he was doing. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. Oh god, what a nerd. What a creeper. Benson is going to chew him out for sure.

"Alright," Benson finally says with his hands on his hips. "Let's do the hair spray thing or whatever. You convinced me. Just get me a Revolving Rocks tee and I'll be happy," Benson explains and smirks when he sees Mordecai's face brighten up.

"Sweet! I love Revolving Rocks! They're, like, a legend!" Mordecai exclaims excitedly and he guides Benson to one of the stands selling off the wall crap and glow sticks. He grabs the temporary pink spray and pays for it.

"Revolving Rocks are THE legend, Mordecai. And my band happened to open for them a few times. We went on tour together," Benson announces with a smug look on his face.

"Whoa, dude! No way!" Mordecai's eyes are big and glassy. He almost wants to ask for an autographic, but that would be weird. He shakes up the can of spray and moves in closer. For being older, Benson is a good head shorter than him. He's surprised he hasn't noticed before. Benson looks enormous when he's angry and red in the face, like a pouncing tiger.

Benson looks nervous. He doesn't like people touching his hair. It's kind of thin and he's self conscious, but when the spray hits his head and Mordecai's fingers comb through it and start to spike it, he relaxes a bit.

He looks at Mordecai's hair and admires it for a moment. The guy goes through some serious hair treatments for it. It's sky blue on top and underneath is jet black. The blue is spiked as the black strands are longer and flow passed his shoulders. There's a bit of black under his bangs as well. A small feature Benson hadn't noticed since he's never really been this close to him.

"You do your own hair?" Benson asks, thoughtfully.

"Oh, uh… Yeah," Mordecai swallows the lump in his throat. Benson's eyes are calculating and precise with just a hint of judgmental. Eyes he's cowered under, yet has gone head-to-head with. "About every 4 weeks, or when it kind of starts to fade. Took me awhile to figure out what I wanted to do with it. I experimented a lot when I got out of school."

"What color was it?" Benson asks. It could be the black, but he highly doubts it.

"Brown. About the same color as yours," Mordecai says absently as he applies the last bit onto Benson's hair. He looks it over and nods a few times as if he's inspecting a painting he's just painted.

"Same color as mine…" Benson mumbles to himself. His hair was brown, yeah, but he feels a little embarrassed. He's noticed small silver hairs popping up here and there. It's enough to make him rub is eyelids in irritation.

"You're done, dude! You look like a new man!" Mordecai jokes and pulls him over to a merch table. A small mirror is at the corner of the counter and he pushes Benson toward it, "So, what do you think?" He's both excited and nervous about Benson's reaction.

Benson looks it over. It doesn't really seem to fit his face, but then he thinks about what Mordecai said to him. He takes a step back and musters up a smile. It's weird. It's almost like Mordecai was right. He did look a bit younger. He didn't want to admit it, but he kind of liked his hair. "I wish you were my hair dresser when me and the guys did gigs. This color would have looked good with my long hair," Benson laughs, but thinks about what he had said.

"You had long hair!?" Mordecai practically shouts with excitement.

Benson shrivels and feels like hiding under a rock. "I just… Everyone did…back…then…" Benson hides his face with his hands and wants to die. He wants the nearest low flying plane to hit him and kill him instantly.

"That's so rad, dude! I know you were in a legit band if you had the hair!" Mordecai helps Benson stand up straight again. He's all red in the face and all smiles when he places a hand on Benson's back. "So, how long?" Mordecai places his hand shoulder blade length, "About here, maybe?"

Benson frowns. He looks away and shakes his head.

Mordecai gives him a half-lidded look. His hand slides lower toward the middle. He takes a step closer and Benson doesn't back away. "Here?"

Benson shakes his head again, shamefully.

Mordecai's hand slides to Benson's lower back, "It has to be here."

"Lower," Benson murmurs.

Mordecai's face turns red. He doesn't know if he should. If he goes any lower, he'd be cupping Benson's ass. Suddenly, everything is incredibly hot. He can't really focus. He slowly slides his hand down, but Benson grabs it before he can go any lower.

"Yeah, it was down to my ass, okay? Enough. This joke has gone far enough. Now, just buy me my Revolving Rocks shirt," Benson shoves Mordecai's hand into his chest and marches off.

Mordecai sighs and smacks himself in the forehead. The hell was he doing? He hasn't even initiated a date or held hands with Benson. Why would he think the next step was to touch his butt? He walks over to the counter and points out a black Revolving Rocks shirt and pays for the overpriced piece of fabric.

He embarks on his next mission: find Benson. He's sure to find him at the car. He weaves through the crowd of people and he swears the stars are in line with one another because he smacks right into Margaret. The one person she was trying to avoid tonight.

"Heh heh-ey, how's it going," Mordecai greets her with a nervous tone. He really needs to get to Benson so it doesn't seem like he totally dissed him and bailed. That, and he needed to complete his part of the deal.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. Rigby told me you guys were coming. I was hoping to…" The look on her face says it all. She wants to give this another go. It's hard to remember all the guys she's gone off with instead of Mordecai through those red eye-shadowed lids.

"I uh… Now isn't a good time," Mordecai explains, moving around her.

She stops him and gives him a confused look, "What do you mean? Now is the perfect time. Rigby said you came to see me. Isn't that why you conned your boss into driving you out here?"

"I…" Mordecai looks at her and blinks. Rigby needed to shut his mouth, that's what needed to happen. He looks up and over the girl's shoulder and spots a familiar pink. His lungs give in on themselves as Benson is standing there with a broken look on his face. Oh no… Why couldn't he just wait by the car. "I need to…" He moves around her once more and she blocks him in again, "I need to go, Margaret." Before he can get to him, Benson is gone. He groans. He doesn't know why he feels bad. That wasn't the reason. He didn't want to come here because of Margaret. He didn't even know she was coming until after he got Benson to agree to take them. "Listen, Margaret. It's, ya know, kind of too late. If you would have wanted to get with me before, I probably would have said yes, but do you really expect me to wait on you forever until you make up your mind whether you want to date me or not? And now, when I no longer want this, you all of a sudden want it. This all sounds a little too convenient. I get the feeling you always want what you can't have. I'll make one thing certain right now. You will never have me. Never again," Mordecai says and he can't believe these words are pouring out his mouth, but by the time he's done talking, he's reduced poor Margaret to tears.

"Y-you're right…" She sniffs and takes a step back, "You deserve better, Mordecai."

"Margaret…" Mordecai lifts his arms to hug her and tell her it'll be alright, but he isn't sure if it will be. She's not looking for a hug from him either. He puts his hands back to his sides and looks away, "I'm sorry."

Margaret nods and walks away, "So am I."

-

Mordecai returns to the car with two beers under his armpit and the tee in his hand. He sees Benson inside, looking pissed as ever. When Mordecai goes to open the door, it's locked. "Augh! Come on, Benson! Let me in!" He places the shirt against the window so he can see it and the locks click. "Thank you…" he breathes out. He pulls himself into the car and places the cans into the cup holders.

He looks over at Benson and he's smoking something that definitely doesn't look like a cigarette. He'd laugh and question him about it, if the situation were different. "Got your shirt," he places the article of clothing in Benson's lap.

Benson just shakes his head and laughs, "I'm an idiot." He unbuttons his white collared shirt and shrugs it off. "You really had me convinced that you came to this thing with me. You're one heck of a salesman, Mordecai. I'd really consider going into business," Benson explains, but it isn't a compliment. It's like some sort of bitter and spiteful insult. He takes in a deep breath and lets out the smoke in an angry huff, "You could probably take over the park with that skill. Give Maellard a run for his money. Put him out of business? Maybe dump him and all of the former employees on the street, living off limited unemployment until we have nothing left."

"I think you should let me have that," Mordecai takes the blunt from Benson and sucks down one hit to take the edge off. He's going to need it to talk to him right now. Benson's being unreasonable. "I really didn't come here to see Margaret," he starts.

"Why bother explaining yourself again? You're here, right? You conned me into taking you," Benson pulls on the shirt and smoothes it down.

Mordecai can see the tone muscles through the thin fabric. He's sure Benson hasn't spent a day not playing his set. His body is still as fit as ever. The formal, business clothes hide him and don't do his body any justice. He almost loses focus on what they're talking about.

"It's true: I didn't have a car, but I didn't know Margaret was going to be here. I don't even like her like that. She's played with me and used me so many times that I…" Mordecai swallows and shakes his head. No, this wasn't about her or whatever happened between them. This was about him and Benson right now. "I wanted to come with you. I specifically wanted to come with you. If I didn't want you here, I would have asked for the keys to the car or the truck, or, Hell, the cart. I didn't though. I didn't because I wanted you here with me." Mordecai runs his fingers through his bangs and takes another hit, letting it linger in his lungs for a good moment. He knows he has to come out and say it now. Even if it makes working at the park weird or his relationship with Benson off or if he's the fucking laughing stock of his co-workers. He lets it all out with a agitated groan and musters up enough strength to look Benson in the eyes. They're glassy, but he knows it's from threatening tears. "Benson," Mordecai whispers his name like the fragility of this situation. He wants to run and avoid it, but there's no really going back, "I love you."

Benson blinks a few times, but doesn't look impressed. "Yeah? So? I love all my employees. We're like a family. I love you too, but I can't stand the stupid crap you put me through."

"I don't love you in that way, dude," Mordecai says softly.

Benson snorts, "..and in what way do you love me, Mordecai? Humor me." He seems cool and calm until the tears fall onto his cheeks. That's when his eyes ignite and his face is bright red with rage, "because you have one hell of a way of showing it!"

Mordecai leans in, stumbles a bit. He takes a breath and places the blunt on the cigarette tray and tries again. He leans into Benson and the world kind of blurs away in colors. He's got Benson by the shoulders and is pressing his lips against his. "I love you, Benson," he murmurs between kisses, "In probably the way I should like Margaret…" He dives back into Benson's lips, exploring his mouth with his tongue, "but I really don't care. You're so fucking hot, dude." He pecks his lips, "and talented." And his neck, "and smart." And his collar, "and sensitive." And his chest, "and nice. You're the nicest guy I know. You have rage issues, but you're always looking out for everyone. I love and admire that most about you."

When he pulls away to look at his face, Benson looks broken and his eyes are spilling tears down his face. He's a weird mix of relaxed and panicked. Benson feels like he needs to make this inexcusable. Anything to say that this can't be right. Benson can't trust Mordecai. Benson can't trust anyone. He hasn't let anyone close enough to trust in years. And maybe he'd be okay with this if it were anyone other than Mordecai. Mordecai the most untrustworthy person at the park, just above Rigby.

He starts to list things off:

"I'm your boss."

"Okay."

"We work at the same job."

"I know."

"This could get us fired!"

"I don't think so, but I'll take my chances."

"I'm a guy, Mordecai!"

"A really hot guy."

"I'm old! I am so much older than you!"

"Not by much. My parents are ten years apart."

Benson looks defeated. No matter what he says, Mordecai will shrug it off like it's no big deal. This was a big deal for him. This was huge for him. It was huge because there was always a small part of him he's been trying to ignore that also kind of liked Mordecai.

"For a guy who just smoked weed, you're really tense," Mordecai says with a laugh. Benson isn't laughing and that makes him frown. "Do you not like me?"

"I hate the things you do."

"That wasn't my question," Mordecai says in a stern voice. He's a bit more confident because he can read Benson now. He's let his guard down the same way he always does when he panics. When Benson doesn't answer, he climbs onto the other side of the car resting in his lap. He looks him straight in the eyes before licking the pale skin of his neck and sucking.

Benson grabs Mordecai's shoulders, but doesn't push him away. He squirms and groans, but never pushes him away. "Why are you doing this?" He asks, pitifully.

"Because I want to know how much you'll let me get away with," Mordecai murmurs, his lips pressed against Benson's moist skin.

Benson grits his teeth and digs his fingernails in Mordecai's shoulders. It's enough to make him back off and he glares up at him through his eyebrows, "Isn't obvious to you, yet?" His eyes soften and his pupils blow until their dark and needy, "You're the only one who can get away with this crap. You're my fucking weakness, Mordecai. Take what you want, I always go along with it. I'll go kicking and screaming, but I can never bring myself to say no to you and I don't know why!"

"I know why," Mordecai says with a smirk.

"You don't know why."

"I know why."

"No, you don't."

"What makes you think that," Mordecai laughs.

"Because I don't even know why."

Mordecai shifts himself on top of Benson and his knee makes its way in between muscular legs. He presses forward and groans in unison with Benson as it collides. "We both know why," Mordecai teases.

Benson looks breathless and defeated. He doesn't want to admit it. He's stubborn. He's a fighter. He's logical. He's everything Mordecai isn't, yet Mordecai is the one in control and he can't figure out why. "How are we going to explain this?" Benson asks, desperately.

"Who needs to know?" Mordecai gives his best concluding statement and it's the best one of the night. It must be because Benson pulls Mordecai down against him and he's thrusting himself firmly against Mordecai's knee. Mordecai gives him a pleased noise and lowers the seat down, pinning Benson against it. "Your clothes are always so pressed and perfect, I want you to cum in them. All over them. So much so that you need to have that weird conversation with the dry cleaners about it," he laughs at the thought.

"I'll make you clean them!" Benson snarls and takes a big chunk of Mordecai's hair in his grip. He pushes Mordecai down lower, "In fact, do me a favor and take care of this before there's a mess."

"You want me to blow you?" Mordecai licks his lips and chuckles.

"No," Benson states, pulling his belt undone and popping open his fly, "I'll be fucking your mouth."

"Sounds exciting."

"Yeah? Well, I know you. You couldn't do the simplest job, let alone a blow job. Just sit there like the slacker you are and let me do all the work for you," Benson angles his hips and pulls himself out of his pants. He looks around and locks the car doors. No one seems to be out here this early in the night. He looks down at Mordecai and he's helping him pull his pants down.

"Fuck, dude. You're hung," Mordecai snickers.

Benson rolls his eyes, "I have no idea what that means, but I'm guessing it's a good thing. Now, sit still." Benson has one hand on the dashboard and the other on the car door. He slips himself into Mordecai's mouth and it's warm and hot. He growls and calms the volcanic burn in his chest, rumbling out into a deep moan. "Fuck… You mouth was made for this…" It doesn't make sense, but he figures it doesn't matter.

Mordecai stretches his lips over Benson's member and welcomes it. His arms wrap around Benson's waist and his hands follow the dip of his back and the curve of his ass. The guy has an ass and it's freaking cute. He gags as one thrust that gets a bit too aggressive. Tears prick at his eyes, but when he looks up every muscle relaxes. Benson looks like a fucking angel. The street lamps make him look like he's glowing and radiating life. His face is soft and content. For once, he looks relaxed. More-so than that. Blissful. Mordecai's never seen this side of him and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He takes each blow and even squeezes his lips together on the upstrokes.

"Mordecai…"

Mordecai sees Benson's muscles flex for a moment and they make eye contact. He wants to say Benson is looking at him for the first time with respect, but he's really looking at him like Mordecai is the most amazing person in the world. He places a hand on Mordecai's head and pulls himself out of Mordecai's mouth, "I'm gunna… No, I'm too close…"

"Cum in my mouth, dude," Mordecai says with determination and focus.

Benson's eyebrows shoot up. He's surprised. He shakes his head. "No, I don't think…"

"Please," Mordecai says with pleading eyes, "Cum for me. I want to see it. I want to taste it."

Benson doesn't move. He doesn't look sure.

Mordecai flips Benson back and goes down on him. He hollows his mouth and takes him in as far as he can. That action alone shoots pre-cum down his throat and he takes it in with a hungry moan. He wants more. He wants to finish this job.

Benson holds on for dear life, but he knows he can't keep it back forever. It doesn't help that all he can think about are those lips around himself and that hot mouth. He bites his lip and arches forward. His mouth doesn't move fast enough for a warning and he's cumming hard into Mordecai's mouth.

Mordecai opens his mouth, swallows down, but chokes. He pulls away and it shoots across the car and into the side of his face. He grits his teeth and shakes his head, "Damnit… I had one job…" He has a look of shame on his face.

Benson pulls Mordecai up and presses him close to his chest. He wipes the mess up from Mordecai's face and lays there. He's never felt this calm in his life. He feels like he's floating on pockets of air. It's weird.

"So, where'd you get the weed?" Mordecai chuckles.

"Why can't you just enjoy this?" Benson grumbles.

Mordecai sighs and rests his ear against Benson's chest. He can hear the quick heart beats that are slowing down bit by bit. He enjoys the silence for awhile.

"Rigby left it in my car like an idiot," Benson finally answers and they're both laughing like it's an inside joke.

"You look good in that shirt," Mordecai says, fingers tracing the outlines of his body through it.

"Thanks. I had to dye my hair for it," Benson explains as if Mordecai wasn't said person.

"Keep your hair that color."

"I'm a boss, Mordecai. No one would take a boss with pink hair seriously," Benson says with a laugh, "It's for one night."

Mordecai's head shoots up, "How much of this is for one night!?"

Benson raises in eyebrow. He sighs and looks out the window, up at the stars. He thinks and rethinks about it, but comes back with a smile on his face. "Is there any use fighting it? You get whatever you want. You tell me: How much of this is for one night?"

Mordecai's face brightens and he pulls Benson into a tight hug, "Just the hair. I'll help you wash it off when he get back." He smirks a bit when he adds, "and maybe we can both get a little wet."

"Depends," Benson says thoughtfully. He leaves the sentence hanging, loving how panicked Mordecai gets when he does it. "Only if we're at my place. No sex at work. That's where I draw the line."

Mordecai pouts, but nods. He'll agree to those terms.

"So, why pink?" Mordecai asks, "Pink Roy?"

"No," Benson shakes his head. His eyes are distant as if going back in time and reliving it, "My parents were alright, but I didn't have the best relationship with them when I was younger. I was weak and too sensitive. My grandmother took care of me a lot and she had this huge rose garden in her backyard. Every single flower was pink. I remember spending a lot of time in the backyard, playing with her cat, Bowman. One day, I got pricked by a torn and come running inside. I didn't understand why things so beautiful could hurt so badly. She told me that the most beautiful things need a means of protecting themselves or they'll get hurt. So, after that I decided to stick up for myself to my parents and I guess I earned their respect because of it. All because of a little pink rose."

Mordecai leans up and kisses Benson on the lips. "You know, all of that says a lot about you," Mordecai whispers in the space between them, "but I think you should learn to trust people. Not everyone is out to hurt you, Benson. You need to learn when its necessary to bare those thorns, dude."

Benson lays there as if he's never thought of it that way before. He sits up and starts adjusting himself, pulling his pants back up. He never thought he'd be getting blow jobs and smoking weed and hooking up with co-workers, but at the same time he never thought he'd be getting life lessons from Mordecai. The paperwork on this desk surely wouldn't have taught him that.

"You're right," Benson nods his head, approvingly at Mordecai, "Maybe I'm unable to trust you because I'm afraid I might actually learn something from you. You bring the life back in me. Life isn't about working ahead and keeping up, it's about living in the moment. You really brought me back and showed me the good in living that kind of lifestyle."

Mordecai looks confused, "The good in it?"

"Fame isn't as fun as they make it seem. You get a lot of friends and you watch a lot of friends die. You watch people tear each other apart for money and fame. It's rough. You're always on tour, so if you do try to make some kind of life or family, you're always away missing it. Then, there's the fans. You want to satisfy all of them, but they'll never be satisfied. You try to make enough time for each one, but you can never offer enough minutes of your life to make them happy," Benson says shakily, his eyes glossed over as if reliving a war flashback, "There are thousands upon thousands of people around you, but you're alone. So very much alone."

Mordecai places a hand on Benson's back and tries to gently shake him back, "Hey… It's okay. You're here with me. You have the park. You have a normal life. You have a small family back home."

There's a glimmer in Benson's eyes and he nods, "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Sorry about that…"

"Nah, it's cool. I understand," Mordecai smiles, but somehow, he feels like he really doesn't truly understand the full extent of things. He looks out toward the festival and picks up the beer that's in the cup holder, "Wanna go back to the festival and have some fun."

Benson looks up and takes the can with a smile, "Yeah, that sounds great."

"Cool because I heard the Revolving Rocks are playing at midnight," Mordecai announces with an eager smile.

Benson is out of the car before he can say 'midnight.'

-

The end