Chapter Text
The first thing Mort tried to do when he returned home was catch a quick nap. Naturally, he couldn't keep his eyes shut. He squirmed with thoughts of Calvin, of his kisses and caresses, of his bigness, and his sonorous encouragement and compliments.
“Little ecstasies of the body must be nurtured.”
Mort slid a hand up to his chest, casually brushing his nipple. It did feel sensitive. It was like Calvin's fingers were still there, gently rubbing and tugging. Even alone, in the dark of his own bedroom, Mort could feel the red burning his cheeks. Particularly he remembered how he had stiffened, his member pressing against Calvin's big belly. And of course, Calvin's offer to tend to him.
He wondered how he would have done it. Mort didn't lack an imagination and he knew a thing or two, even if it were only a thing or two. Maybe he'd seen a handful of gay pornos, so what? That didn't prepare anyone for their own peculiarities and desires. It had hindered him more than anything. A lot of it looked painful, and he was no good at experimenting. Maybe if he'd ever had someone to guide him…
He had the notion that Calvin was willing to try.
But he wanted to do something, not just lie there like a dead fish. Although, that was probably what Calvin wanted, seeing as how he wouldn't be touched.
If he ever makes an exception, I have to be good. Better than good, I've gotta be the best he's ever had. Can I do that? I don't even know what I'm doing.
Mort made himself get out of bed, leaving all the odd and shameful thoughts under the covers. He didn't know what his problem was; the human body was one of the things in all the world that he understood best, why were the intimacies suddenly so difficult?
He made himself a pot of coffee and drank it steadily throughout the morning while he kept busy with calls and paperwork. After responding to Samantha's request for company, they settled on having lunch together, which he looked forward to. Then tonight he'd have a comfortable dinner with Calvin, and probably they'd get up to something.
Yeah, it was nice having stuff to look forward to.
Lunchtime rolled around and Mort hopped on over to Bob's Burgers. Not exactly romantic, but it wasn't meant to be.
Bob's mild surprise that Mort had taken a booth rather than a place at the bar amused him.
“Can I just get a cup of coffee for the time being?” Mort asked. “I'm waiting on my date.”
“Oh! Who's your date?”
“Remember Samantha? From our double date at Jimmy Pesto's.”
“Sorta, I was a little drunk toward the end of the night.”
“Anyway we've been seeing each other on and off since then, and I invited her to lunch today.”
“That's sweet,” Bob said, setting two menus on the table. “So you're… dating?”
“Not exactly. More like “friends with benefits”, you know.”
“I-I don't, but I'm sure you guys must have fun, you two really seemed to get along.”
“Yeah, ‘s too bad there's not many single morticians around here. Or maybe it's good for my business, anyway.”
Thankfully there's plenty of single landlords.
Samantha wasn't long in arriving. She smiled when she saw him and slipped into the booth across from him. “Hey, it's been a while!”
“Yeah, sorry about that, I've been pretty busy.”
“Oh, it's not your fault, I've been busy too. Tis the season, huh?”
“ That's for sure.”
Bob took their orders. Two burgers-of-the-day with fries and a soda for Samantha.
“You know, we've never had lunch before,” she said. “Only dinner and then… well…”
“Haha, yeah. Listen, I, uh, gotta… talk to you about that…”
He thought he saw something pass the window, big and white. But he blinked and convinced himself that he was just tired.
“Um…”
“Is something wrong?”
Samantha was really sweet, and they got along so well. He didn't think he'd be breaking her heart or anything, but it was still a tough conversation to have.
“It's kind of complicated, but I think I might've… found someone.”
She smiled slightly and leaned in, elbows on the table. “What's so complicated about that?”
“Well, he's- ahem, he's a-a client, and in mourning, and he's… also my landlord.”
There was a clatter in the kitchen like someone had just dropped some utensils and a softly muttered “dammit”.
“That's that guy who owns the wharf, right?” She asked. “Mr. Fischoeder? He's loaded. ”
“Sure, but he's also sad and kinda nice…” Mort anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.
It wasn't like he and Samantha hadn't been intimate. They'd talked often and knew plenty about one another. Maybe that was what made the conversation harder.
“I like you a lot,” Mort said. “But we've both agreed to be friends. And we still can be, I'd love to be! Just… without the sex. I don't know where it's going with him, but I wouldn't want him to feel like I'm two-timing over here, ya know?”
“No, no, I totally understand!” Samantha said. “I'm happy for you. If you really like him that much you should go for it. But, listen, my only advice - and you already know this but I'm gonna say it anyway - is that people are different while they're grieving. I'm not trying to convince you to stay away from him or anything like that, I just think you should be careful.”
“You're absolutely right.”
While they paused conversation to sip their drinks, Bob brought them their food.
“Here you go, two burgers-of-the-day with fries. Let me know if you need anything else!”
“Where's Linda and the kids?” Mort asked. “You're all by your lonesome.”
“She's picking the kids up from school. All three of them got detention. She should've been back by now, so that's…” he sighed. “Worrisome.”
“Ah, geez. Well, kids'll be kids, I guess.”
“That's for sure. You, uh, enjoy your food, Mort and… Samantha.”
He returned to the kitchen and the two of them ate in comfortable silence.
“The other thing,” Samantha began after swallowing a bite of burger. “Is that you gotta worry about what's gonna happen if something goes wrong. Like, he's your rich landlord, what'll he do?”
“Right, I've… been thinking about that.”
“Say you get into a big argument and he hikes up your rent,” she picked up a ketchup covered fry between her fingers. “ Or just kicks you out. That’s the kind of guy you don't even have to live with for that to happen.”
“Yeah…”
“In his world you're just a little fish. He could totally just-” she crushed the fry in her fist. “Well, that just… made a mess, I don't know why I did that…”
“Very graphic,” Mort chuckled and handed her a napkin. “But yeah, I know, it worries me. Still, we don't even know what we have yet. Everything's moving pretty slow.”
That was a lie; things could hardly be moving faster. But he needed to convince himself that this venture wasn't completely insane. Quite unfortunately he'd already fallen in love; all there was for it was to tread carefully.
Suddenly his phone began to ring. He looked down at the caller ID to see the word “landlord” across the screen. Oh, he should probably change that contact name.
He picked up. “Hello?”
“Little mortician?”
“Yeah, hi, C-Calvin, what's- uh, what's going on?”
“Where are you?”
“Having lunch.”
“Dammit. Okay, where?”
“Whyyyy are you asking?”
“Well I'm at your crematorium and you're not here.”
“O-outside?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
He glanced up at Samantha, then at the door.
“... Mort?”
“I'm… at Bob's.”
“Oh, I should've checked there.”
He hung up before Mort could say anything more. Then Calvin Fischoeder walked right in through the front door, smiled when he spotted him, and came to his booth.
“I guess I'm too late, but I brought you lunch-”
Just then he noticed Samantha. His singular blue eye searched the two of them. Beneath it Mort felt very small, and very, very guilty.
“Say, mortician, who's this?”
“S-Samantha.”
“Samantha,” he said, slowly, deliberately. “Mort's told me about you. A lady mortician, eh? What a time we live in! I thought all morticians were bleak little old men. How's the dead treating you?”
She smiled. “As good as they can! They were nice enough to give me a break so I could come have lunch with Mort.”
“How nice.”
“Calvin,” Mort said. “I, uh, I'm sorry about the… lunch. I had no idea you were coming.”
“Well, it was meant as a surprise,” he shrugged. “Hey, don't let me ruin your time. Mort the mortician keeps a tight schedule, I'll remember that for next time.” He nodded to Samantha, “Female mortician.”
With that, he was off.
“He's a big sexy boy,” Samantha said. “I can see the appeal.”
“Oh my God, he's gonna kill me,” Mort put his head in his hands. “You were right, and he's gonna kick me out and then kill me, ohhhh my God…”
“It'd be more convenient if he killed you first, I mean the morgue is right downstairs.” She laughed, “Really, Mort! You're fine, he seemed fine, he's not gonna kill you. I mean if he has a problem with us having lunch you can just tell him why.”
“Yeah, that's true…”
His panic subsided slightly, but he still wasn't sure how Calvin was going to take it. He tried to finish his lunch, but having lost his appetite he only got about halfway. Samantha was glad to finish his food, leaving only a couple fries in her wake. Mort sipped his coffee, thinking long and hard about Calvin, about Samantha, about all the romantic relationships in his life, if they could be called that.
Largely he'd been single. Fresh out of high school, while he was studying mortuary science, he got into a two year relationship with another student. Much like he and Samantha, they had thoroughly enjoyed one another's company. The relationship itself was the hard part. Lots of arbitrary arguments. And she wanted kids, one of those nuclear family type deals, and that repulsed him, frightened him. It always had. And he didn't really know why . Maybe because that's the kind of thing normal people want, and for whatever reason Mort couldn't find it in himself to settle for it. He was hardly in love, anyway. If he had been, maybe he'd have settled for that sort of set up. Maybe he'd be crammed into that mold of normalcy, never to be himself again.
Hm, yeah, that was what frightened him.
After that he was on and off with some people. One night stands were few and far between, but the typical kind of release Mort had come to expect. And sure, he was lonely, but it was better than deluding oneself.
“I gotta get going,” Samantha said, rummaging in her wallet and putting down her half of the bill and tip. “It was nice talking to you again, Mort, it always is. I'm really glad you didn't just ghost me.”
She got up, put on her coat, and came around to his side of the booth. There she gave his cheek a light peck.
“And if it doesn't work out, you've got my number.”
He caught her hand for just a second and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Samantha.”
“Hey, anytime. Good luck with your Fisch, and don't you dare let him bully you! You're better than that.”
Mort tugged out his wallet, and as soon as Samantha was out the door, Bob came around from the back.
“Mort, you're dating Mr. Fischoeder?”
“Well, not technically - hey, you weren't supposed to be listening!”
“You know I eavesdrop, that's like half the fun of having a restaurant. I mean, if you can call it fun, i-it's… mostly stressful. Anyway, is Mr. Fischoeder… okay? After what happened to Felix… he didn't come by for the rent.”
“Why don't you call him?”
“Well, we don't have the rent. It was just unusual and I feel bad for him.”
“It's not my place to say anything. Look, can you at least promise me you won't tell anyone about us? Not even Linda, and especially not the kids, and especially not Teddy.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Mort eyed him sternly. “Bob, I mean it.”
“Yeah, I-I promise, I won't tell anyone. So, uh, how did… that happen?”
“It's complicated. Maybe I'll tell you some other time, depending on how all this turns out. I gotta get back to work.”
“Okay. Have a good rest of your day, Mort.”
“I'll sure try.”
He paid for the meal and left the empty little restaurant. Outside, it had begun to snow, big fluffy flakes light as clouds.
The warm darkness of his crematorium was a welcome escape. His eyes adjusted to the dark, and a stark white figure sitting on the stairs came into view.
“There you are, Mortimer.”