She awoke alone in his bed. The window was closed. The stale scent of sex lingered in the air. Another scent was creeping into his bedroom. It smelled like food. She got herself out of her bed and made her way to his little kitchen. His apartment was similar to hers: bare, small and messy. She sat down and watched him cook. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight fitting black undies. He looked back at her and smiled. He had a minor cut on his forehead from the night before when she had tried to kiss him. He was making a breakfast of eggs and cheddar cheese. It smelled wonderful.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 5th

Mordecai winced as the nurse pulled the huge staples out of his back. Rigby could only see the silhouette of his friend's operation through the thin veil that separated their cots. One by one, she yanked out the many metal brackets that had held his wound shut. She had injected him the appropriate painkillers, but it still hurt. She replaced the staples with a fine stitching which was also painful.

Rigby watched through the curtain with a sick curiosity. His eye twitched with every pained noise that pierced the silence. He was concerned. "Are you doing alright over there?" he asked aloud.

"Just… mmf… fine," Mordecai spouted between struggled gasps.

"Just checking," Rigby said, dipping his paw into the stash of candy that Margaret had provided him with. He unhappily munched a handful of jellybeans and gummy bears, eying his friend's pained shadow. The woman's hand came down, pierced his friend's back and came back up again. He likened the image to a horror film that he had seen once. Though Rigby claimed to enjoy watching scary movies, they had always easily disturbed him. Oddly, the horrors that he encountered in real life never seemed to affect him as much.

The doctor rushed in to supervise the alterations to Mordecai's wound. Rigby quickly hid the candy that he had been gorging himself on that morning. The entire situation was a bit uncomfortable. At the hospital it was even more difficult to get away with sleeping in, and the lack of privacy was getting on his nerves. He missed his old bedroom back at the park, and having Mordecai to himself.

It was an especially hot day, even for August. Back at the park, Muscle Man pushed a motorized lawn mower while his phantom friend watered the short grass that it left in its wake. Work had been exhausting that week. Muscle Man was a glutton for punishment, but this was borderline slave labor. He wiped the thick sweat off of his forehead and peered through his other hand at the rising sun. "This blows! Those two chumps better get back here soon."

Not far away, Pops was unlocking and opening the metal shutter that covered the window of the park's snack bar. The older gent sat at the register and twirled his thumbs. He looked around outside and was almost overwhelmed with how beautiful everything looked. He felt the familiar feeling of his face curling into a warm grin. He bounced a bit in his seat and waited impatiently as a few butterflies passed by. He laughed at them. It was odd. He didn't feel this way all of the time, but every day he would get flashes of euphoria. He couldn't control them, and he didn't particularly dislike them, but they were debilitating when he was on duty.

He watched a man wearing a green hooded sweatshirt approach the register and folded his hands together in anticipation. At the sight of Pops' bizarre expression, the hooded man turned around and walked the other way. Pops sank into his seat and his lip curled into a frown. He felt disappointed until he saw a friendly white blur in the distance.

Skips was dashing around the park making use of his heightened physical abilities. He had already repainted several benches, picked up countless pieces of litter and cleaned out the gutters. Even he had his limits. The sight of the snack bar brought relief to the overworked yeti, and he skipped his way over to the register to get himself a cold drink. Pops was giddy at idea and decided to make it a game. When Skips arrived in front of him, Pops decided that he was going to pretend that they were strangers.

"Greetings patron! What can I get you on this fine day?" he said in his best sales pitch voice. Skips was amused, though his permanent deadpan hid his feelings as always.

"Just a soda. It's a hot one today," Skips replied.

"Right-o! One 'soda' coming up!" Pops recited, winking on the word "soda." Skips watched intently as the old gent took out a bottle of seltzer water and poured it into a glass that had obviously come from the kitchen. He opened the freezer and took out a bag of ice. After dropping a few frozen cubes into the cup, he added a spoonful of sugar and a few splashes of mixed fruit juice. He placed one of the plastic soft drink lids on the glass like a loose fitting hat and stabbed it with a straw. Its paper wrapper was removed save for a bit on the end to prevent germs from getting on the mouthpiece.

Skips received the sparkling beverage and stared at it for a very long time. Pops said, "It's my own recipe," quietly into the yeti's ear. Skips watched the ice dance around the glass for two rotations. Then, he took seventy-five cents out of his front pocket and dropped it in the tip jar. Pops cackled as the three coins rattled at the bottom of the plastic jar.

He turned around and headed back to his duties. Before resuming he took a sip of the very pink beverage. He smacked his lips to get a better understanding of the flavor and the smirked a bit. He muttered "not bad" to himself and continued on his way.

Back at the house, Benson tapped a clipboard nervously with his pen. The absence of his two worst workers had proved much more detrimental than he could have imagined. The workload was simply too much. He generally needed two people to run the snack bar, but he had assigned the job to Pops. Friday was generally busy and he knew that the job was too much for the large headed gent, but he had no other choice. He had given Muscle Man and HFG the task of mowing the enormous lawn, which was drying out because of the heat wave, and he assigned just about everything else to Skips. He was fed up. The morale was deplorable, he was paying his workers overtime for sub par work and to top it all off, he was handing out workers compensation to two injured slackers.

Pops somehow managed to keep the snack bar under control that day. It was a slow Friday, but for him it was still impressive. He felt like a maestro when he delivered people's packaged food orders. He was making an art of it, and his delivery was just as whimsical as his showmanship. The man confused half of the patrons; the other half thought his performance was charming. By the end of the day his tip jar was brimming with spare change.

Benson stomped his way into the kitchen and snagged the phone off of the wall. Why they had an old fashioned rotary phone was beyond him. Nevertheless, he angrily twisted the rotor to match the number of the hospital that hung on the fridge by a small red magnet.

Rigby looked out the window at the various people moving about outside. He hadn't moved all week and was wondering if he was allowed to. He had assumed that he couldn't, so he hadn't. "Hey doc, can I get up and go to the bathroom?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure, if you feel comfortable moving," replied the doctor.

"Wow, really? I can just, like, move around and junk?" he continued.

"Listen, kid, you can do whatever you want," the doctor replied, preoccupied with Mordecai's operation. He had almost no patience for the presumptuous raccoon. He found the little guy to be intolerable and rude. Rigby hopped out of his cot and ran out the door, stopping for a moment to observe the horrors of surgery. He winced as the nurse brought the needle through his friend's back once more and continued to the public restroom.

The smooth porcelain seat felt cold, but it contrasted the stale warmth of the bed that he had spent so many days in. The thrush of the water escaping through the drain echoed in the tiled room. Rigby hadn't seen such a generic bathroom in his entire life. He hopped up on high sink and washed his hands. The electric hand dryer proved to be a greater challenge. He leapt and straddled the machine with his legs, hitting the large metal button that brought hot air into his hands. The world wasn't designed for smaller individuals like himself. Rigby had learned this at an early age.

When he returned to his hospital room, Mordecai's surgery had been completed and the doctor was on the phone. Rigby could hear the crackled growl of his boss through the phone's earpiece. The doctor pleaded with the gumball machine. "I don't care if you need them, they aren't ready to go back to work… I know… Yes, we took the staples out… Look, I just don't think it's wise… There are still tests to be done and… yes… of course… well no, neither of them bleeding right now…"

Rigby felt ready to leave the hospital. He missed his home and he missed his roommate. His real roommate. He missed his uninjured, energetic and spontaneous friend. Rigby looked at Mordecai who was still lying on his stomach. He didn't look ready to leave. The doctor winced at Benson's final threats, which were followed immediately by a dial tone. He put the phone down slowly and sighed. "Mordecai? That was your boss. He thinks that you two are ready to go home and resume your duties, but I think its hogwash. You've both been through a very traumatic ordeal, you especially. Alas, that decision is not mine. It's yours. I do not condone you two leaving, but if you feel ready…"

"We're ready," the two said in unison.

They watched the city pass by from the back seat of the cart. Mordecai's body ached from the short walk to the vehicle, and Rigby felt great. Riding in carts was different from riding in cars. There was no enclosure. It was sort of like riding a very fast bicycle (or a very slow rollercoaster.) Benson rode passenger. He seemed cold and unsympathetic. Skips' face held a permanent smirk from the novelty of his new ride. Mordecai cringed with each imperfection in the road that they drove over.

"I hope Pops was okay running the snack bar today," Benson said as the cart slammed into another bump. The suspension needed some work.

"Okay? He did okay alright," replied Skips.

"What do you mean?" asked Benson.

"The guy must have brought in fifty dollars worth of tips," the yeti said.

"Holy crap really? Wow! How'd he manage that?" Benson asked in disbelief.

"Got a soda from him today and it was great. He's quite the host."

"Well that's great, I'm glad he's found something he's good at. What's he gonna do with the money?" Benson asked.

"He drew a face on the jar. He's keeping it in his bookcase."

"… ah."

When they arrived at the house, they were surprised to see that Pops had put together a delightful little party in honor of their return. There was a small table covered in a colorful plastic cloth. It held a small bowl of chips and some canned sodas. Pops was the only attendee, but his sentiment felt welcoming. Mordecai and Rigby stood at the little table and snacked on the small edibles. Muscle Man appeared in the door way with a THC fueled grin on his face. In his heart of hearts he was happy to see the two, even if he had some trouble presenting those feelings with compassion. Behind him, his cohort watched a loose floorboard with a look of delight. Muscle Man got between Mordecai and Rigby and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. It was uncomfortable and a bit stinky. The spirit watching the floorboard giggled a little.

"You know, if it wasn't for me and fives you two would be dead," the green guy said. He explained how High Five Ghost had sensed that the two were in trouble. Mordecai and Rigby watched each other's expressions of discomfort and waited for their insufferable friend to stop touching them. "… And then we ran to the house and told Benson. You should thank Fives. He's like a Jedi master or something. Isn't that right bro?"

High Five Ghost seemed complacent and inattentive. He was still fixated on the loose board. He giggled as Skips walked over it and stubbed his toe. His expression turned to disconnect and sorrow, and then suddenly to attentiveness and lucidity. He hovered to Muscle Man's side and asked, "Did you say something?"

"I was just telling these losers about how you and I saved their lives and junk," he said letting them go. Mordecai and Rigby moved closer together to avoid allowing Muscle Man the opportunity to get between them again. Muscle Man and High Five distracted each other with jokes while Mordecai and Rigby inched farther and farther away from them.

Skips grimaced at his stubbed toe while Pops put a record on his old fashioned player. He did a gentleman's dance alone in front of it. Benson stood against a wall drinking a soda alone, and Muscle Man and Fives continued their rude banter. The whole party felt awkward, but still, it was good to see the group all in the same room together. They were very much like a family. They were weird and sometimes annoying, yet they were probably some of the most important people in their lives. While it was nice to see their friends, they wanted to see their room even more.

Mordecai and Rigby snuck up the stairs to their barren room. They cracked the door and its familiar odor greeted them. It hadn't been entered in almost a week. Its musty smells beckoned them. Some weren't all too pleasant but their familiarity made them welcome and even comforting. Mordecai reached for the light switch but Rigby stopped him. The darkness was much too welcoming to pass up. It was just how they liked it. The moon illuminated the room just enough to broadcast its few features and make their beds known.

Mordecai flopped on his bed and gave an exaggerated sigh. He opened his eyes and saw the vague shape of his friend sitting on his own bed. His inky outline seemed too far away. Rigby's trampoline had always rested on its corner of the room, but to Mordecai it just felt more distant than usual. They had both decided to go to sleep then and there, but something about seeing Rigby so far away made it hard for him to rest. He peered through the darkness, trying to make out his friend's shape, but he couldn't.

Downstairs the tiny party was dispersing. It wasn't particularly late, but the event had been more of a formality than an actual celebration. Skips folded the small tablecloth that Pops had set the drinks and snacks on and Pops dissembled his record player.

As Skips made his way back to his house, he watched the moon. Its light guided his short walk. The moon was comforting to him. Rarely did Skips find something as old as he, and yet every night the moon was a reminder that there was a time before him.

Inside his apartment he had set up a terrarium where he had planted the strange egg that had come from Rigby. It was no longer just a simple marble. It had split open and rooted itself in the bed of ground donuts and grasshoppers that Skips had created for it. It was a strange creature. It was plant like in the sense that it had roots. Its roots were not vegetative, however. They were fleshy and green, and they wriggled like worms. Before climbing into bed, the yeti placed the terrarium on the windowsill. He figured that if normal plants needed sunlight, maybe this one needed moonlight.

Back in his room Rigby was shaking. His eyes shot open. The ceiling was moving. He looked around and saw Mordecai. He was dragging the trampoline closer to his own bed. Mordecai noticed that Rigby was lucid and stopped. He was a bit embarrassed. Rigby cocked his head to the side and eyed Mordecai suspiciously.

"Dude, what?" Rigby asked, totally befuddled. Mordecai could not explain himself without sounding strange, so after a few moments he decided that sounding strange was his only option.

"I… listen man, you just look so far away over there. I got so used to the way things were at the hospital." Mordecai scratched the back of his neck as he spoke. His free hand mimicked the honest inflections of his words. "Would you mind sleeping a little bit closer to my bed?"

Rigby saw nothing particularly trifling about the request, and yet it intimidated him. He and his friends had always played up the idea that they hated direct contact with each other, but they had always managed to end up tangled in some kind of brawl. Any sort of closeness other than that made him feel weird. He agreed to the odd request despite his reservations and Mordecai seemed grateful for it.

He grabbed the trampoline by its metal ridge once more and dragged it across the room. He brought it much closer to his own bed than Rigby thought he would. He seemed excited about it in a way that confused Rigby. The truth was, Mordecai wanted to be closer to Rigby because he felt safer that way. The attack had imprinted two things in his head; monsters are horrifying and dangerous, and Rigby is a beacon of safety. He wouldn't admit this, of course, but he implied it very heavily.

Rigby rolled himself into a comfortable position and attempted to sleep once again. He could see the space directly under Mordecai's bed from his low position. The space seemed cavernous and a bit spooky. From this angle the darkness was more oppressive than welcoming. He decided to turn in the other direction. He saw how large their room really was, and how much of it was totally unused. He pictured what his bed would look like the next morning, so far from its original spot, throwing off the balance that the room had before. It was a queer image.

He could hear the rhythmic breath of Mordecai sleeping. As he began nodding off himself he felt something bump into his back. He turned and looked at it. Mordecai had dozed off so close to the edge of his bed that his limp arm had slid out from under the sheets. Rigby felt a familiar but all too dreadful feeling in his gut. He didn't want to move the arm. It felt big and heavy and soft. He hadn't felt its presence like this in a very long time. Its warmth was welcoming but it brought with it an unfair pain. His chest burned and he felt as though there was a lump of something prickly in his throat. He wanted to know what it felt like, so he reached out and held his own paw against it. The hair on the back of his neck shot out and his toes curled into themselves at the sound of Mordecai's voice.

"Does it ever feel weird being so low to the ground?" the bird asked with a yawn.

"What," Rigby asked hesitantly. His heart was still pounding. Had he not noticed that they were touching? Was he doing it on purpose? He was supposed to be asleep.

"Your bed. It's so small," Mordecai replied, still half yawning.

"Oh, yeah… Well I'm used to it dude." The arm was still there but Rigby suppressed his odd feelings about it while he spoke to his friend.

"Remember when we first got here, and neither of us even had beds?" Mordecai chuckled at the memory. He continued: "We saved up for weeks and weeks, and when we went out to buy ourselves beds you got that game station and used the change to buy that little trampoline."

Rigby laughed too. "I guess I did, didn't I? I don't really mind sleeping on this baby. I've broken it in since then."

"Yeah…" Mordecai trailed off, lost in the memory. There was silence once again, and Mordecai lay there happily with his arm against his little friend. Rigby's feelings of unworthiness crept back into the core of his body when he started feeling too comfortable. When he could barely handle it any longer Mordecai broke the silence. "Welp, g'night dude. "

Mordecai brought his arm back up to his bed and rolled onto his other side, but not before giving his friend a little scratch on his head. Rigby's eyes shot open at the affectionate gesture. Normally he would have told the bird off for such acts of obvious kindness, but something in him told him not to. He couldn't understand why Mordecai was crossing so many of their established boundaries, but what bothered him more was the fact that he didn't want Mordecai to stop. He looked up at the tall bed and wished that he could climb in it. He punished himself for having such thoughts.

The infant creature bathed in the light of the moon as the clock struck midnight. From its window perch it could almost smell Rigby.

Woo! sorry about the delay. I've been in a bit of a funk for the last couple weeks. Anyways, i forgot to write an author's comments last week. I'm sorry. Anyways, thanks to Demihuman for helping me edit, and thanks to all my readers for... well, reading!

In these next few weeks you're going to find out why this story is in the "M" section of ;)

so

stay tuned!