Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mordecai wondered what Atlas wanted to discuss with him.

He had been called to his office. Apparently, an urgent matter. So, he waited, sitting—exactly in the middle of it, for symmetry’s sake—on the chair.

Mordecai, as usual, was the epitome of proper. He sat straight, with his signature stoic expression. He had perfectly brushed fur, paws folded on his lap, and was wearing a black suit, white undershirt and a red tie, the only pop of color in his attire. Piercing, calculated and intelligent green eyes stared at the empty chair before him, as he waited for Atlas’s arrival.

Suddenly, the door opened. Mordecai’s head turned sharply to look at the figure entering. Atlas had barged in.
The man, his boss, was always proper too. Less than Mordecai, but still. He was perfectly respectable. Very respectable. Composed. He was, in fact, one of the few people in his life that Mordecai felt respect for. In every sense of the word.

The one Mordecai respected the most.

That is why his overly distressed appearance worried the black cat.

Concern, for a smidge of a second, could be seen on his features. He swiftly covered it up again, though.

Mordecai Heller didn’t show weakness.

Atlas sat down, in front of his best triggerman to date, to explain.

===========

He hated this.

Abominated it.
Despised it.
Detested it.
Loathed it.
Mordecai disliked it to the highest degrees one could. He felt repulsed.

…Those were the most synonyms to “hate” Mordecai’s well versed mind could muster at the moment.

Atlas was in danger.

That was not a surprising thing…in principle.

Atlas was…well, a speakeasy owner. The business was risky in nature.

But this was different.

The danger was immediate.

And the man refrained from giving Mordecai all the details.

Wonderful.

And, of course, if Atlas was in danger, it meant that SHE was too.

She needed protection. Couldn’t live with Atlas now.

Always clinging to Atlas, trying to get his attention, MAKING MORDECAI DANCE. WITH THAT- WITH THAT- RANDOM WOMAN!

…Mordecai disliked her, to say the least.

And he disliked even more the fact that now he was supposed to give her a place to stay.

His own apartment.

The situation was horrible for a multitude of reasons.

He liked, no, Mordecai needed his privacy.
For his home to be clean, to have silence.

He never even had visits. (Thank the Lord.)

And now he had to deal with THIS.

Atlas was lucky Mordecai respected him to that high of a degree.
The assassin might have already put a bullet through his skull for putting him in this situation.

=============

“You sure have an…accommodating home, hun’.” Mitzi stated, in her very perceptible southern accent, a smidge of sarcasm in her tone, as she looked around the small, tidy apartment that was Mordecai’s living quarters, her tail swooshing behind her.

Mordecai responded with a curt nod, his expression looked anything but pleased.
“I have acquired a mattress for you to sleep in. A bed wouldn’t fit.” He paused. When Mitzi opened her mouth to speak, her brows furrowed slightly, Mordecai spoke again.
“Now that you are here, I will refrain from leaving my room and my office that much. You can spend most of the day in the kitchen or the living room. I require for us to interact as little as possible.”

Mitzi rolled her eyes at him, sighing.
Mordecai’s fur bristled. The nerve!

“Alright, honey, we won’t. I will concede to your…requirements.” She said the last word with what seemed to be disgust.
“Good.”
“And…where will my…mattress be placed?
Don’t see much space here.” She said, with an ironic smile.

“Naturally, in the living room, before you go into your slumber.” Mordecai stated in a condescending tone.
Mitzi’s brows furrowed again, and she rubbed her temples.

Annoyed.

He doubted she’d get used to such a drastic change from her prissy and prim sleeping quarters to the floor soon.

Mordecai allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

Chapter Text

Mordecai Heller.

How to describe this mystery of a man?

I have tried many, many times. In poems…Now, I now what your thinking, person who’s reading my thoughts in ways I cannot comprehend and am probably making up! ‘Why are you trying to make a poem about a man?’
I make poems for everyone, mind you. And I’m perfectly capable to! For everybody!
…Except for this one guy. That’s why it bugs me. Yes. That’s why.

He’s just…a walking shadow. A black and white one. I try to talk to him, to be friends. And he just brushes me off!

That’s how our first meeting went…

“Oh! Heya! I’m Rocky, Rocky Rickaby! Nice to meet’cha!” I extended my paw for him to shake.

“…hello. I’m Mordecai Heller.” He just nodded, and didn’t shake my paw.

Immediately, he tried to walk away.

“Wait! Where are ya goin’??”

“To work. To get the illicit beverages this establishment needs to properly function.” He replied in the most emotionless and condescending tone I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

…And I let him go. Couldn’t let Miss M. without her whiskey bottles!…And whatever other many, many types of alcohol there are out there.
Other interactions ended up the same way.

Except the times he drank my space coffee and we argued about breakfast foods! Those were really good! I showed someone about the secrets of the universe!!! So thrilling! And, with the breakfast foods, he heard my rambles! Like, actually heard them. Didn’t ignore, or answer something completely unrelated, or ask me to shut my cake hole! He…blabbered along.

Not with as much enthusiasm—though I suppose that’s impossible—as me, BUT STILL. HE’S THE ONLY PERSON WHO ACTUALLY LISTENS AND-AND, WAIT FOR IT. ADDS ONTO IT!!!!!!! ADDS ONTO IT I SAID!!!

And, he…smiled. I think he smiled. I’m sure he did!! Did I make him SMILE?! He looked nice smiling. He looked…amazing.

Ah…That was nice. Very nice. It all ended up with him pointing a gun at me, disgusted at me eating with my mouth open, but…it was…nice. I lived.

Rocky sighed, smiling happily as he usually did, eyes on the air. Currently, he was tuning his violin. Soon the band would perform. As the tabby worked on it, he hummed a little tune. He was still planning on that poem. But he couldn’t get the lyrics right. He could always just spawn poems out of thin air—what was different this time?! He could just never grasp Mordecai’s essence. Perhaps he didn’t know him well enough…?

Ugh! What rhymed with Heller? Cellar? He doubted the tuxedo would ever put foot in one. Perhaps he could use the word green? For his eyes. Piercing. Calculating. Deep. Beautiful.

….Beautiful.
Rocky’s fur stood on end at the thought.

“Kid.”

The tabby’s body went rigid when the calm, sleazy voice got him out of his stupor.

“Oh. Heya Zib!” Rocky’s turned his head to the saxophone player’s direction, shooting him his signature grin.

“You finished? We’re on stage in a few minutes.”

Rocky looked down at the violin on his paws. It was almost tuned. Almost. He had…gotten lost in thought. Rocky almost giggled at that, for some odd reason.
“I’m close! One second!”

Zib shrugged, taking a huff out of his cigarette, and walking away.
The kid seemed…a bit out of it, lately. Hm. Well…the kid was usually out of it anyway, wasn’t he?

Chapter Text

Ah. Finally. A bit of privacy.

No silence though, the song that was being made by the band flooding his ears. His face was as sour and serious as it usually was. He had been there for some time now.

Mordecai was standing in a little dark corner of the speakeasy, that was now practically “”his”” corner. He’d very much like to sign a contract and claim it as his own, which was, sadly, impossible.

Mordecai sighed. The music wasn’t…bad…per se. Well, maybe he’d have more of an opinion if he could actually hear it. The noisy patrons made it harder for him.
He wished he was in the comfort and solace of his home, but the notion seemed nostalgic now. He wouldn’t find anything close to that in a good while.

When the music ended, and the band went on break, he was relieved.

As quickly as that happened, someone whom Mordecai was, unfortunately, seeing a lot of these days, made their way towards him. His relief went away in a heartbeat.

The big, happy grin.

The obnoxious, clumsy mannerisms.
…and great affinity to pancakes and syrup, Mordecai learned.

The band’s new violinist walked up to him, cheerful as always.

Rocky Rickaby.

“Heyyy Mr. Serious! I know you’re not one for talkin’, but I learned you’re one for chess! Ah..the strategy…the thrill! Who doesn’t love a good chess match! We could play one together! Whaddaya say?!?” Rocky exhaled, smiling. This felt much more important and hard to say than it should.

Mordecai’s ear twitched. Had he heard correctly? The…nitwit? Moron? The idiotic, pancake-loving, wreck of a poet…proposed a chess match?! The concept seemed unbelievable. Why would the man ask that of him? Surely not to “spend time together”. Nobody did that. No..he thought he could beat him. Ha! That almost, almost could make Mordecai laugh.

“You…want to play chess? With me? For goodness sake, do you know what you’re subjecting yourself to? Do you truly think you can…”

“…Win?” Rocky asked in a voice a touch higher than usual.
No, probably not. Maybe? Anything to play chess with that man.

“Precisely.”

“Hm…perhaps, yes.” Rocky answered. Maybe that’s what Mordecai wanted to hear? What it would take for him to accept?

“And when and where would this chess match take place?”
Was he really considering this? Well, it’d be nice to see that smile be wiped out of that idiot of a man, wouldn’t it? Perhaps a loss at chess would do it.

“…I s’pose it could be…afta’ the speakeasy closes? At the Little Daisy?”

“Hm…I suppose…it could, yes.”
Rocky’s grin somehow grew wider.

“It’s a date!” Those words felt strange, yet right.

“Yes. A chess match…date, I suppose.”

“Allllllllright! Guess I’ll just…stay close to the band…soon we’ll have another number…and it closes! Then we’ll play!”

“Correct.” Mordecai said, in an almost curious tone. The other seemed quite…excited. Even more so then usual. To be honest, he himself felt a bit too. Perhaps his “a bit” was Rocky’s “a lot”. Hm. It made sense.

“Uhm…bye, then!!” Rocky exclaimed.
“Yes, good…“ But Rocky had already quickly gone to the stage, to stand close to the rest of the band.

Heh.
He was strange, that one.

Chapter Text

Mordecai seemed to have found himself in a quite new circumstance. Well, it had been a while he had played chess with anybody other than Viktor, that was for sure. Of course, he figured he might indulge another person in a chess match during his lifetime, of course...He had just never fathomed that person would be…Rocky Rickaby. And that they would be…walking up the stairs together. To Little Daisy. To play a match. Right at this very moment.

He was walking close behind the violinist. Rocky did try to strike a conversation once or twice while they went up the steps, but Mordecai answered him dryly both times, preventing them from going anywhere.

When the two did get to the café and sat down on a vacant table though, Rocky made a face, his smile turning anxious.
“Oh shoot. Uhm..Mord…” Mordecai’s eyes almost comically pierced through Rocky’s very soul. “It’s Mr. Heller.” “Ehem, Mr. Heller…I might have not thought ahead…erm…about how we’d play…with no board.”

Mordecai blinked slowly, deadpanning. “The café…has one. A form of entertainment for clients who want it, I suppose. I assumed you knew that.” Rocky let out a nervous chuckle. “…Eh, I didn’t. Guess I never saw anybody playing…besides you and Viktor. Thought the board was yours or his.”

The hatchet man crossed his arms. “Indeed that is true. The people who come here are not interested in indulging in the strategically challenging game that is chess.”

…Well, at least Mordecai’s annoyance wasn’t directed at Rocky in particular anymore. The violinist immediately felt more relaxed.

“I guess so. If I knew of it, I’d have played already! I do really like chess. I used to play it sometimes when I was younger.” Rocky commented, smiling to himself. He absolutely destroyed his cousin at the game when they were kids and happened to play it. Mostly because Freckle would become a nervous wreck after losing a few pieces and make mistake after mistake.

Mordecai’s ear flicked. So Rocky had some experience, at least. Hm. “…You did? Me as well. I’ve…always enjoyed it.”

A beat of silence passed. Mordecai cleared his throat. “I shall get it, then. The board. One moment.” “Okay!” Rocky responded cheerfully while the other cat rose from his chair.

When Mordecai left the table, Rocky let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Well…things were going…alright? He couldn’t grasp why in the world he felt so…timorous. He knew he wasn’t scared of Mordecai. No, this feeling of…trepidation he was experiencing was surely not caused by that…

Mordecai came back in just a few moments, board in hand. After hearing the soft thud the chess board made upon coming into contact with the table, Rocky shot Mordecai a smile.
“So, you played chess when you were a kid too, hm…? Who did ya play it against?”

Mordecai’s brows raised slightly in reaction to the question. He was remarkably hesitant to answer. He even stood for a few unnecessary seconds before sitting down once again.

Hm…he didn’t enjoy sharing his private life with anyone…but Mordecai reasoned this little piece of information would be rather unimportant.

“…With my sisters. Against the oldest, usually.” He wordlessly got the black chess pieces out for himself, and so did Rocky, he grabbed the whites.

“Golly…you’ve got sisters? Haha, must’ve been nice. I wish I had siblings!”
Mordecai sighed. “Oh, things were chaotic. I didn’t have peace for even a single second, believe me.” The black cat forced his lips not to turn upwards at the reminder of those memories. Rocky laughed quietly.

After putting all of their pieces in place, the two sat slightly straighter, eyes on one another.
“Whites go first, as usual…” Mordecai said, then nodded curtly.
Rocky’s grin grew a tiny bit wider. “Why, certainly!“ He paused, however, still smiling. “Uhm, before I begin, why did you choose black over white so quickly? Just curious.”

When asked, the black cat answered in an even fone. “Ah. Well. I simply prefer to observe my opponent before taking action.”

Rocky chuckled. “I s’pose…I myself quite enjoy moving first.”

=============

Playing against Rocky was surely being…not as horrible as Mordecai envisioned. He hadn’t anticipated it, but he had actually had some…nice interaction with the violinist. Mordecai wasn’t used to speaking much during a chess match (Neither he nor Viktor were much inclined to), but it wasn’t horrid. He supposed playing games with another made conversation flow easier.

Rocky had been holding his own okay against him. Mordecai still hadn’t figured out which strategy the other was using. Maybe he had no strategy at all. All Mordecai really knew was that Rocky was absolutely unpredictable, on and off a chessboard.

“…Mr. Heller, you said you enjoyed reading books, right?” Rocky asked, while thinking about his next move.
“Yes I do.” The black and white cat answered, almost too quickly.

Rocky grinned. Seemed he had found a nice subject. “Marvelous! What genre of books are ya keen on readin’?”

“Oh, many. Books on history, science, philosophy, biographies…fiction, on occasion, but nothing too fantastical.”
Rocky moved his knight, Mordecai quickly looked down to see the board.

“Ooh, I see! I usually read poetry, lots of fiction and some philosophy, too! I even write my own.”
Mordecai raised a brow. “Do you like…philosophy? Surprising.”

Rocky huffed playfully, deciding to answer the first inquiry. “O’ course! Remember our discussion on breakfast foods? Your philosophical conclusion on the matter was very enlightening, I told ya that.”

Mordecai blinked, hesitating before moving his piece. “Ha. I suppose that…could have been a hint.”

Mordecai’s brain rapidly reminded him of that conversation. It was absolutely nonsensical, but he couldn’t deny that he saw…intellect behind the things Rocky blabbered about. And that…he hadn’t disliked the back and forth.

He…hadn’t.

…

Had he…no.

He had not…’enjoyed’ that…that…whirlwind of tomfoolery!

Rocky snorted. “Are you alright…Serious Face?” Mordecai might have let his thoughts feelings bleed out and appear in his features a tad. He quickly became stoic again. “…Yes yes, I’m fine. It’s your turn.”

“Okay, okay...” Rocky’s eyes analyzed the board for a minute or two before he moved another piece. Mordecai quickly moved too, taking a pawn from Rocky. Rocky did the same to Mordecai. An eye for an eye.

The black and white cat was feeling…odd. He wanted to ask Rocky a question. An unimportant one, just to…talk. He wasn’t used to having that sort of inclination.

Mordecai let out a heavy sigh.
They were already interacting a lot anyway, what was it to him at this point. “…You…mentioned you read and write…poems.”
Rocky nodded. It was his turn to answer quickly. “Well, yes I do!”
“Do you…have any favorite poets or poems you yourself have written?”

The violinist grinned, his canines appearing for all to see. “Why I do, yes! For both. Authors…well, there’s the all famous Shakespeare we know and love, and I also have a liking to the works of Chaucer and Dante!”

“And you’ve…read their poetry books, I presume?” Mordecai inquired.

“Oh yes! I acquired them from the local library, if you’re interested, ha!” Rocky brought his paws together under the table. They felt sweaty. He swiftly cleaned them on his pants. The idea of potentially interesting Mordecai in poetry was very exciting to him.

“Hm. I’ve never been one for poetry, but…I suppose I’ll keep that in mind.” Mordecai responded. Poems were something for intellectuals. Artistic intellectuals, sure, but still intellectuals. He couldn’t deny his casual interest.

“Splendid!” Rocky felt as if he would spontaneously combust. “Oh, and as far as my own go, ones I’m quite fond of are the ones I’ve made about some of the people in my life and one on the Mississippi river! I could even recite that one to ya one day…if you’re interested.”

Mordecai blinked very slowly, measured surprise gracing his features. “I…suppose I would not mind it.”
Rocky’s ears perked, his smile turning coy. “…Heh. I’d be glad to.”

A beat of awkward silence passed. Mordecai cleared his throat, quickly tearing his eyes away from Rocky’s face and making them scan the board.

It was his turn.

He had forgotten to play.

=============

“Boop!” Rocky tipped over his own king. He had lost. Not having a strategy was an advantage and disadvantage against someone as tactical and precise as Mordecai, he supposed. Was he upset he had lost? No, not at all. The experience was the important part, he didn’t quite care about the result.

“Guess I lost. Eh, it happens. You played really well!” Rocky complimented.

“…Thank you. I will admit…you didn’t play too bad, either.”

The black and white cat paused. Should he…?. “…It…was challenging to pinpoint what you were going to do, due to your unpredictability while playing, and you got yourself out of some very tight spots. So for that…well played, Mr. Rickaby.”

Mordecai finished speaking. He had said all that very reluctantly. Even after spending a good few seconds debating in his head whether he would or not…it still felt like the words had been blurted out.

Rocky was quickly overwhelmed by a feeling of simultaneous joy, shock and fluster. Mordecai had just…complimented him! His expression just seemed quite shocked. “T…thanks! Means a lot, haha! I knew I wasn’t too bad at it, so needed a worthy competitor!” He winked.

Mordecai let out a huff of air that, perhaps, could have been a chuckle. “…I suppose you had one.” He got up from his seat, glancing at his watch. “It’s getting late. I suppose I’ll take my leave.”

“Oh yes!” Rocky quickly got up from his chair as well, extending a paw. “It was a great match!”

The world seemed to almost stop for a few moments.

To shake or not to shake, that is the question. Rocky’s brain comically provided.

Mordecai sighed, stood straighter and…decided to shake the other’s paw. “Indeed it was.”
…The hitman was wearing gloves anyway.

Rocky felt his cheeks grow a bit warm at the hand to hand contact.

Mordecai quickly detracted his hand, tipping his hat as a goodbye. Rocky did so as well.

After the almost monochrome man took his leave, Rocky grinned to himself like a crazy person, staring intensely at the hand that had made contact with Mordecai’s own. He was overjoyed. Things had gone so well! He glanced at the board, uncertainty undoubtedly appearing on his face. Eh…where should he put that again?

The door closed behind him. Mordecai sighed in relief, stopping in his tracks. The relief was practically gone after he remembered he wouldn’t have his precious alone time at home.

If he was being honest, playing chess with Rocky was much better than…spending any of his time with her. He…might even take up another chess match offer, if it was indeed suggested, just to…kill time before going home.

With that last reflection, he started the walk back to his, sadly, not empty living quarters.

=============

The doorknob slowly turned from the outside. Mitzi’s head slightly turned to the left to see the newcomer. “Hi, Mordecai. Welcome to home, sweet home.” She greeted, in a slightly taunting way.

The woman was currently sitting on Mordecai’s living room’s couch, one of his book in hand.

A word to describe Mordecai’s expression would certainly be ‘displeased’.
“…Hello. May I ask why you are still awake at this hour? I assumed you’d be asleep.”

Mitzi let out a small hum. “Sleep’s not scheduled for everybody, hun’. And well, I surely didn’t assume you’d arrive later than usual. Any…happenings I should know about?”

“No.” The man frowned at her. “I just decided to play a match of chess, nothing special.”

Mitzi raised a cheeky brow. “Really? I always thought you and Viktor only played chess in the morning.”

“…And you are not wrong.” Mordecai started after some hesitance. Saying she was right about anything, even if it was fact…he was averse to it. “I played…against someone else.”

“Who, if I may ask?”

“…Nobody important.” Mordecai answered, his words more quiet than the others spoken before, putting his coat on the coat rack.

Mitzi snorted. “Honey, if it’s a gal, there’s no shame in it.”

Mordecai frowned, letting out a heavy sigh. “No, it was no dame…It was a man.”

“Oh…” She chuckled to herself. “Didn’t know you were keen on that. Good for you, I s’pose.”

He sharply turned his head towards her. Mordecai felt his cheeks grow warm, very warm. “I’m not…keen on anything! I…” Mitzi just blinked at him, not knowing how to react to the sudden outburst from the all too proper man. “…Goodnight!” With that, Mordecai stormed out of the living room, fleeing to his bedroom.

After the door slammed, Mitzi tiredly mumbled to herself. “…Yeesh. Can he not take a jab?” Her eyes fell on the mattress Mordecai had left her to sleep on, her brows furrowing.

It had not been even a week of this and it was already insufferable for both parties. What was having a roommate with no camaraderie involved? Mordecai was the definition no fun. Mitzi sighed. She ought to grab that mattress and set things up for the night.