Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"A-And you know what I said?" Rick drawled with a drunken grin, pausing for more drama. "Mind your own b-bee-siness!"

Birdperson downed his next shot, though he wasn't as gone as his once-best friend. "The queen wasn't offended?" He furrowed his brows, struggling to comprehend the story he'd just been told. "You do realize they aren't normal bees on planet Earth."

"Yeah, yeah." Rick brushed off with an unnecessary slap on the wooden table. His- less inebriated- friend slightly winced at the glare from a few people around. "They-they're sentient and their stings are pure poison, w-whatever man. All I hear is fuckin' baby noises." He spat out, smirking still. "Whah!" He then continued with his best impression of an infant wailing.

"Are you calling me a coward?" The hybrid raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Rick, please keep your voice down. You will get us kicked out by the rate you are inhaling your shots." He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

The man huffed, but fortunately didn't seem to have the energy to argue about it. "Fine. Anyway, yeah. B-barely escaped death 'n all." Another shot. "Uh, another?" He called the Birdman behind the counter, who complied without a word.

"I'd imagined someone would be there to soften the rashness of your actions." Birdperson pursed his lips. "Now that we are not there to stop you."

"If you mean Morty, he's my p-partner in crime." Rick grinned, head unsteady even though he was sitting. "I do this dumb shit with him. Well, when he-he's not bein' a bitch." He loosely shrugged.

The other hummed almost absently. "Good for him."

His silence must've been odd, because Rick stopped in his tracks as well. "Y-you alright, B-Bird- BP?" Unfocused eyes concentrating on him. "I'm doin' almost all the talking."

"Oh, uh, yes." Blinked the bird-human hybrid. "Merely worried about my daughter. We left her alone at the nest if you remember." That wasn't quite what occupied his mind. But with their brittle relationship at the moment, perhaps it'd be best not to speak of it.

"Ugh, that Megabitch-spawn?" Every time he made a reference to his daughter and former wife, Birdperson was more encouraged to keep his thoughts to himself. The drunken one still cringed, aware of his mistake. "Shit, I-I mean sorry- I'm-"

"That is, alright I suppose." He cut him off, tone slightly sharp. "I have come to the conclusion that this is just the way you speak. It is still more polite than hiding the fact that I had a daughter to begin with before it suited what you wanted."

The hidden tension felt between them was leaking into view, and it was a frustrating type of relief to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

What he didn't expect was for the other to avert his eyes in shame. "Jeez, I- I guess I should be sober for this." Sheepishly rubbing the back of his flushed neck.

"For what?" Birdperson narrowed his eyes, resisting the unreasonable urge to stare at it, which he failed at. "Is there perhaps another surprise you have for me?"

"Fucking Christ- no!" Rick Sanchez harshly shook his head know, face twisting in a scowl. "I'm an asshole, but not that much. I-I've been meaning to apologize." He stressed.

The knots in his brows unravelled to some cautious degree. "Apologize?" He echoed, having a tone of disbelief to it.

When they were quiet, the rest of the bar sounded dead to one's ears.

Silence had never bothered the feathered one like this.

Birdperson listened more than he spoke. He needed to hear in order to decide what to say next.

But right now, it felt like any word would suffice.

Rick was the one to volunteer and take the weight off his shoulders with an uncertain gulp. "Well, yeah. And don't-don't make me say it- we both know exactly what for."

One shared glare and he did know. "I won't." Faintly reassured the hybrid. He knew how difficult it must've been for his former best friend to put together words in this order. It was the most he could get out of the most fucked up man in the galaxy who could get away with anything if he wanted to. A part he secretly admired.

Looking away from his stare, Rick pretended to be interested in some television programme on air, tip of his ears tinted red.

A ghost of an amused smile sat on the other's mouth, eyes lingering on the skin. Did Rick seriously think he was subtle? This type of behavior made him question his IQ sometimes. "You formed a bond with Tamantha Jr." He got the scientist's attention again.

"I told you, that's not how it works- ugh." Rick groaned out, cutting himself off midsentence. "I mean- I guess? I-I'm good with children- I-I had one, remember? Now, can you just let me go back to whatever the fuck's-"

"Rick." Birdperson calmly demanded.

"..."

"Why are you running away from me?" He pulled his lips into a straight line. "Can you not put the past behind? Years have passed, Rick. Everything, changes." He dared address the actual elephant in the room. "Can't you?"

Running a distracted tongue on his lower lip, Rick's gaze rose to meet his, eyes more scrutinizing, looking like he'd sobered up. "Yeah, BP. Everything does change. Which is why Imma have my way with you if you don't stop fucking ogling me."

Blinking hard a few times, Birdperson tried to digest what he was accused of so unexpectedly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Whispered Rick with a warning tone to it, towering over him as he rose from his seat. "Believe me, I'm trying to put the past behind. You're the bastard who's not letting me. What's your deal, BP? Don't break me."

With the way his best friend's voice broke halfway, for the first time in a while, Birdperson was uncertain. Unsure of whether Rick was threatening him or begging him. He swallowed the dryness in his throat. "I couldn't if I tried, Rick."

His face was closer now, his trembling snort blowing warmly on his face. "Right. Cause that's what you think, you gorgeous asshole."

"Y-your voice is shaking." Birdperson tried to frown, squirming in his seat, ironically finding their places to be swapped. Unreasonably, even his breaths betrayed him by coming out as ragged.

"Yes, Birdperson. It is." The man hissed, grabbing his chin. "Now look at me, fucker! Who's running away now?!"

As if only to shut him up, the other turned his glaring back to the center, but that stubborn part vanished from his mind in a flash when a nose roughly collided with his.

The pain from the collision stopped him from feeling the set of demanding lips sliding pressing into his and the hand that snacked around his neck at some point for a few moments. And when he did, it was too late. He pressed back and angled his head for a deeper kiss for the flutters in his lungs, but wasn't met with equal resistance, making him open the eyes he didn't remember closing.

"You have got to be-"

No snarky answer came, only a light snore.

Sighing in exasperation, he almost threw the unconscious body back in his seat.

"Are you sure you wanna keep him?" Questioned the bartender, nose scrunched up in distaste. "Just saying."

Lips pursed with strain, Birdperson's eyes lingered on the steady rise and fall of the man's chest. "I need more alcohol to answer that question."

"Coming right up."

Chapter Text

"Wh-where?" Morty panickingly asked, clumsily fiddling with the portal gun. "He'll follow us into every dimension!"

Gritting his teeth, Rick urged his daughter to run faster by the wrist. "Not every dimension. Give me that."

"You can run, but you can't hide, C-137! Oh wait, I'm C-137! Are anything but a ghost of me at this point?" Mocked the echoing voice.

"Dad!" Voice breaking into a shriek, Beth ran to keep up with her father and son. "What is going on?! I thought we were going to Boobworld!"

"Me too, sweetie." Grunted the old man, entering coordinations he'd sworn not to revisit. "Where's Summer and Jerry? Did we lose 'em?"

"We're here, asshole." Out of breath, Summer announced their presence. Only a few steps behind.

"Hold on tight." With that warning, he shot a portal ahead where they were running into, basically jumping into the first scene of his life where he began to mentally degrade. He wouldn't be surprised if Prime knew of this already.

On the other side, Rick tripped on an uneven part on the sidewalk, leading to all five falling on each other like pieces of domino.

Crack.

Rick tensed under the pressure, more concerned about the noise of something getting crushed under their weights. "What, was, that?" He spelled out, fearing the worst.

His son in law cleared his throat nervously to his right. "Oh, uh, haha. That? That was... uh." Chuckles trailing off. "... H-how long will it take you to fix an um, a broken portal gun?"

"Fuck." Crying out his frustrations in one word, Rick let his forehead hit the cold stones of the ground. Not that repairing it took much effort, but it took time, and time was not something Rick wanted to spend a moment of here.

"Ugh, Dad, get off of me. Why are y'all just laying here like dead fish? Jesus Christ." Summer was the one that urged them to get up. The old man took another moment to grieve whatever patience he had and whatever lunch he was about to lose before reluctantly standing up and dusting off his clothes.

"There are corpses on the street, Rick." Awkwardly waving back to the old man in a kid's bicycle, Jerry pointed out. "Is this the dimension of old people?" Innocently, he asked.

Keen observation Jerry, he wanted to make a sarcastic comment, but something made his brows furrow. "I thought I switched it off." He muttered under his breath.

"Switch what off?" Beth pressed him, having been standing close. "Dad, where exactly did you take us?"

Inhaling the dead odor in the air, Rick's gaze travelled up to the building he once called home. "One place the son of a bitch can't follow us into. You're welcome." He dryly said before taking off toward the house. "All I know is that a Rick lived here once."

"Which was you." Walking close to him, Morty frowned. "Is this your house?" He asked, loudly enough that the rest of the family wouldn't hear him. "It actually screams sad on top of its lungs."

"Maybe stop talking." Rick offered, storming into the garage. "Keep your family busy, will you? I'll make it quick- and oh-" He paused in his tracks. "Don't let them into the basement."

Walking casually past an incredulous Morty, Rick put the broken portal gun on some blueprint he didn't remember drawing. "... Are there bodies there?"

Running a hand down his distraught expression, Rick sighed. "I-I dunno, maybe? J-just don't risk it." He could hear the boy rolling his eyes.

"Hold up, the garage doesn't have a door, the floor isn't fixed after a goddamn explosion and your basement is a torture room. You're telling me you lived here after... s-stuff happened?"

The man pursed his lips, merely staring at the gadget while suffering a blank mind. "Maybe."

Coming to stand next to him, Morty's eyes studied the place. "Definitely like I remember."

"You don't know jack shit." The scientist scrunched up his nose, going through a box.

"I know plenty." Morty glared at him. "I practically lived your life once, asshat. I'm just as angry."

Rick paused in his search, shoulders slumping. "Sorry about that."

"I just think you should tell them." Morty offered with a wince. "W-we're a family now, Rick. Whether you like it or not."

"Fuck off, Morty. Now's not the time for this."

Maybe he needed to search the kitchen?

Grunting under his breath, he opened the cabinets in search of a specific item. "Goddammit, I think I'm out."

"Dad?"

"Jesus!" Jumping out of his skin with a yelp, a pot nearly fell on his head. "Don't just scare me like that, sweetie."

The blonde was sheepishly scratching her arms, her daughter and husband also in the kitchen. Huh, he wasn't really paying much attention. "Sorry, I just... you sure you don't know who lived here or... what happened to them?"

That sentence shouldn't have frozen him the way it did. "What uh, makes you say that?" He couldn't help but drawl it in hesitance as he tried to casually lean against the counter.

The woman's eyes were furrowed in sympathy or worry. Her fingers grazed the horse doodles on the fridge door of his daughter- his daughter, Rick's actual daughter, her small hands held a crayon and drew them one warm evening long ago. It hurt something deep and suppressed in his chest to look at anything in the house at all. Part of why he wished to leave as soon as possible.

"This... a kid drew these, Dad. This is messed up- a-and we saw the garage, it can't be more obvious." Something sank in the depth of his stomach, but he held his indifferent facade. "The me here didn't get to grow up." When she finally tore her gaze apart from the drawings and faced him, they were glistening with tears. "A-and maybe even the whole family didn't survive, who knows?" Voice shaking.

Fidgeting with an empty bottle, Rick tried to play it cool. Sometimes he really wished Beth wasn't so smart. Smart people suffered. "I try not to think about it." He admitted.

"There's something wrong with this universe." Summer raised an eyebrow. "Seriously creepy. No wonder that Rick didn't follow us here."

"Yeah, no wonder." Muttered Rick in an echo, facing away when Morty joined them in the kitchen, probably wearing a scold on his face. Clearing his throat, he straightened his back and continued. "Nothing I can do here, fellas. I have to make something from scratch and I know the perfect lab-"

A familiar chirp cut him off, filling him with dread.

"Rick, baby! Did you come back again?"

The honeyed tone glued his shoes to the floor, turning the blood in his veins into liquid ice. His heart pounded painfully against his ribcage and his mouth dried up.

No, no, no, no.

Now was the worst possible fucking timing for this.

The rest of the family looked confused by the caller, eyes drawn to the other room. Morty's wide stare stayed on him, though. And Beth looked somehow relieved.

"Oh, I'm so glad you didn't kill yourself!" The voice sang with a pleasant sigh. "I told you flying off without coordinates was dangerous!"

Jerry eyed a frozen Rick with disbelief. "Rick, who is that in the house? I thought it was empty!"

"Tha... that's Mom." Beth whispered against her palm. "S-she's alive!" She cried with joy.

"Oh, Rick." It called in a singsong. "Did you finally kill our target?"

Whatever joy and relief was radiating off the family died at that, four set of eyes staring the poor man down.

Noticing the attention was on him, Rick shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "You're uh, the house AI, right? You got the wrong Rick." He lied, hoping it would take a hint.

"If the wrong Rick steps in this house, he'll be blown up to pieces! You thought I wouldn't recognize my own d-d-d-dirtybear?"

Pulling his lips into a strained line, Rick closed his eyes. He felt their eyes piercing holes through him. "Mute." He grumbled.

"You designed me so I can't be muted! Or did you forget that already?" The AI responded cheerfully.

Fuck.

"... No. I-I didn't... kill, the target." Gritting out, every word was forced out and clawed on his throat before forming sentences. "Can you stop- talking to me for a few minutes?" Pinching between his brows, Rick inhaled, trying not to look at anyone of his found family. He would lose all his nerve if he did.

"I wouldn't be a good haunter then, would I? And oh, you brought your new family here!"

The concept of denial forgotten completely, Rick glared at the ceiling and growled. "Don't you even dare, Diane!"

"I'm just doing what you told me to!"

"Well, now I'm telling you to fucking quit it!" He shouted. "I'm giving you new codes! I don't- I don't fucking want to be haunted!" Voice rising as he yelled.

For the first time since its creation, the AI paused. "You made my codes un-rewritable for a reason, Rick! Besides, I'll always be in your head! You said that last time!"

"Ugh!" The man exclaimed with a mixture of rage, exasperation at the ugly truth and stares poking on his nerves.

"If you want to move on, I'm proud of you, baby! I forgive you for getting us killed!" Her voice was so joyous, so full of life, and yet she whispered bites of venom wrapped around a layer of honey. "But before you do, you can kill off the killer's genes!"

"Hold the fuck up- did you just tell him to kill me?" Morty glared at the same spot on the ceiling Rick had.

"No." Innocently replied the AI.

"Wait, the killer's your Rick, Morty?!" Summer suddenly yelled, pointing at him. "You never said anything!?" Jerry and Beth gasped and looked at the scowling brunet.

"I-i's complicated!" Morty shouted back with a streak of panic and defensiveness. "Rick! Help me out here!?"

Stopping for a moment to bite down a harsh retort and a tendency to murder, Rick smacked his hands on the table. "Everybody, shut up!" The yelling quieted down. "For fuck's sake, no one's killing Morty. And Diane, tell me, are we out of Isotope 322?" He demanded loudly. "There's no crack in the main tube that needs immediate fixing, but the fluid still spilled out."

The AI paused for a moment to scan the house. "Oh, there's actually some in the cupboard to your right, sweetheart!"

"Thanks." Mumbled halfheartedly Rick, opening said cupboard and snatching it and a beaker.

"Wow, grandpa. This is..." Summer trailed off after breaking the silence.

"Sad?" Rick snapped, beginning to make more portal juice. "Well, guess what? We know, Summer. We know."

Fucking splendid. Now there was going to be awkward silence and more pity than he could stomach.

He should've thought of another dimension, another solution or even avoided this house. He should've gone straight to the lab.

But how hard he scolded himself, he knew in the back of his mind that the black hole of this building would always draw him in and drown him.

His hold tightened on the beaker as he watched the liquid stir together into a homogenous substance. "Why are you fucks just standing there? Go out- be-be useful." He ordered with a growl.

But his rage didn't last when two arms wrapped around his chest, making him wince. "... For all the times I blamed you for leaving me and Mom." Beth's trembling voice came from where she rested her cheek against his shoulder. "And you let me because- I-I can't even..." She breathed out in utter disbelief.

"..."

"I yell and scream at you about how you don't care about family!" Her incredulous voice rose gradually. "Is that- is that supposed to be a joke?! How many years did you spend out there I- pursuing a vendetta? What was that- a torture robot with Mom's voice?!"

"Sweetie-" Rick started.

"Fo-for all the times I called you a-! Do we even know you?!" She cried.

"Don't take it personal, honey." Rick paused and freed his hands, reaching one to put on Beth's head crown. Then sighed. "Even I don't know myself." He muttered the second part, earning himself a tighter embrace.

A tear threatened to wound his pride by falling down, but he blinked it away. A tender affection for Beth burned in his chest, encouraging him to turn his head and plant a soft kiss on her hair.

This cut too deep.

"Is there like uh, a room for one more?"

Raising his head, he saw Summer awkwardly standing with her arms spread out and a truce-seeing smile on her face. Behind her, Jerry was watching with an open mouth, and Morty had a goodhearted smug look to him, arms crossed.

Eh, fuck it. "All of you fucknuts, bring it in!" He cried.

A moment later, he didn't know whose snort was in his ear and who was trying to tackle him,

But he felt like a part of this dumb group of people bonded together through their experiences.

For maybe six minutes and twenty one seconds, Rick forgot about his haunted mind.

Chapter Text

Morty's pants echoed in the unfurnished room, ragged, quick and unbelieving. "R-Ri..." Voice faltering, it failed to help him finish.

The lifeless body against the other wall didn't give away the smallest reaction. Its eyes, half-open, stared at Morty with an uncaring dullness that made him want to break out of his own chains and pick up the abandoned gun, then aim it at his own head.

It was easier to imagine Rick was just passed out drunk and would be up and bitching about in a few hours. If only his skin weren't a splash of a ghostly white and a bright irritating red. If only his previously hard grip on his left side, the fatal injury, hadn't loosened the way it had, showing that it didn't pain him anymore, simply because 'he' was no more. There sat a pool of darkening blood around the vessel to prove it.

"Rick- o-oh god-" Eyes wide in panic and terror, Morty mouthed and violently shook his head, then tried to lunge toward the body, but was met with the force of chains that kept him on the wall, his back meeting the coldness and sharp edges of the stones with the pull.

"Rick- RICK!" His screech finally escaped his feeble and tightened throat, uncontrollable sobs clawing their way out of his wheezing chest. "GET UP, YOU ASSHOLE!" Using all his force in a useless attempt to break free, he was certain his voice reached the guards by now. "DON'T EVEN JOKE LIKE THIS-!" Desperately, he pleaded.

"COME ON! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS RICK-" He broke down, sliding against the wall. "Y-you can't-" An ugly sound escaped the back of his throat. Misery filled his devastated soul.

This couldn't be. Rick Sanchez couldn't die. He had backup plans for his backup plans. If anyone could cheat death, it'd be him.

Right?

"... Who chains up a corpse?" Trembling whisper lost and confused, a knot around Morty's throat threatened to choke him. "What kind of a sick bastard puts a CORPSE IN JAIL-"

"RICK!" Morty cried out as he shot up in bed, spikes of dread tearing holes into his chest.

He was in his room.

There was no alien jail.

He was dreaming, he faintly realized, but the uncomfortable beating of his heart didn't sound convinced.

Taking long shaky breaths to calm himself, his tight hold on his blanket refused to loosen. He brought it closer to himself protectively, half-panting, half-sobbing.

Why did this keep happening to him?

Morty didn't even remember when the nightmares started. Nightmare, singular. The same dreadful scenario happened to him every night and he felt more helpless every time. It was the reason Morty dreaded going to sleep, putting it off until early hours in the morning if he could, but it was no good. The moment he closed his eyes, his grandfather's non-breathing face was staring at him, jaw slack and eyeballs unfocused and red instead of a homogenous white. They were both chained in the same cell, but Morty couldn't reach out and touch him. Sometimes he even saw the moment the guards beat up the fugitive into a bruised mess and shot him in the same spot. Again, Morty would plead and beg and cry and scream, but no one ever heard him. Not even Rick.

His lower lip trembled as he feebly wiped off the sweat on his forehead. He should just try to go to sleep, but a voice in the back his head nagged that it wasn't just a nightmare. It made him nauseous to think about it, but also freeze in fear. Because...

What if it was real?

His heart slammed defiantly to his ribcage as he scrambled out of his bed, tripping and falling once in the process. He didn't notice how fast he ran out of his room as if he were possessed or was being chased by a wild animal, hysteric as he mumbled incoherently to himself.

The darkness of the hallway was not his friend, encouraging his previously thought to be unlikely thoughts in honeyed whispers. It all only added to his horror.

Stopping in front of the door, Morty gulped and raised his fists to 'knock'.

"Rick!" As he pounded his hands on the door, a sob spilled out and his hyperventilation intensified. "Rick- open up! Rick!" He was basically screaming now, banging loudly and continuously. "Oh god- a-are you there-" Every moment of receiving no response made him more lightheaded and dizzy. "Ri-!"

"WHAT?" The door abruptly swung open, revealing a very testy and irritable-looking Rick Sanchez, who looked like had just woken up, judging by his dishevelled hair.

"What the fuck is wrong with your crazy ass- you know what time it is?!" Hissed the old man, flailing his arms around for emphasis. "Whatever bullshit you had couldn't wait 'til morning? Huh?! And you're yelling like you're about to die, what the shit-" He was forced to cut himself off when Morty leaped to catch him in a hug, pushing him away by the forehead. "Woah, woah, hold the fuck up-"

Struggling to swallow down the knot in his throat, Morty hugged his own arms instead when he was rejected, eyes darting around on the ground. "I-I-I..."

Huffing out his frustration, Rick ran a hand down his face. "Alright, explain to me you little-" Trailing off, his eyes slightly widened upon seeing his tears. "... uh, let me rephrase that. What the fuck happened to you?" Eyebrows furrowing, he shot him a strange look.

Morty's instincts urged him to walk up to the man, wrap his arms around him and never let him go, should anything bad happen to Rick, Morty wouldn't survive either. He wouldn't be able to handle such loss, especially if he were to be a witness.

But instead he licked his lips nervously, trying to be as subtle with wiping away his tears as he could. "Do you p-promise not to laugh?" He finally croaked, voice cracking on 'laugh'. He was hyperaware of them both awkwardly standing in the middle of Rick's messy room.

Rick merely blinked at his odd request, slowly opening his mouth. His determined eyes never left the other's while Morty seemed to avoid eye contact. "I don't think I'm capable of laughing at anything right now, thanks to you." He rolled his eyes.

"Promise." Morty persisted shakily, taking a step forward.

Showing him his palms in surrender, Rick hesitantly nodded. "Fine, Morty. Just spill." He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer.

"A-are you really here?" Morty's lip quivered, shoulders hunched and every cell in his body on full alarm. "Y-you're not gonna- this isn't another- I-I mean are you real?" Breath hitching, his legs began to carry him over to the man, moving involuntarily.

His words- while making sense to him- appeared to baffle Rick further. "What do you mean? Of course I'm here, Morty. Where else would I be right now? It's the middle of the night, I was asleep!"

"S-so you're not gonna... die?" His fearful breath bounced off the walls of the room, more sobs waiting to bubble out of his lungs. Giving up on chasing for a warmth of reassurance, he rubbed his upper arms nervously to keep his anxiety from spilling out. Meanwhile Rick frowned at his words, eye following his movements. "D-do dreams mean-mean anything?" He blurted out more shakily.

The bemused look in Rick's gaze dissolved into clarity and realization dawned on him. "Oh, you had a-" Pointing at him, he paused for a moment before his eyebrows shot up and he sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space next to him. "Alright, sit down." He sighed patronizingly.

Too emotional to be annoyed with it, Morty complied, look falling down on the ground. "I-I'm sorry I woke you up, b-but there was a- I-I had to- you wouldn't understand- there was blood everywhere a-and I just-" The gripping hold on his gut was becoming more suffocating, making him nauseous. But a featherlike weight on his shoulder cut him off, making his head take a sharp turn upwards.

"It was just a fucking dream, Morty." Rick stressed word by word as he squeezed his shoulder, trying to make him understand. "You woke up now, congrats. Everything's fine-"

"What if it isn't?!" Morty abruptly turned his body on the mattress, panic spiking through him. "I-I can't handle one more death, Rick-! You can't keep dying!" He cried, trembling fingers gripping Rick's forearms, only hoping nothing would separate them. "Something always takes you away from me- you always die- I always just watch like the useless piece of shit I am-! Please don't leave me again-!"

"I'm not going anywhere-" Growled the older man in frustration.

Another sob broke out of his throat. "Promise." Hysterically he pleaded, tugging on the other's labcoat. "Please..."

He saw a flash of Rick's unreadable face and his intense eyes before the man snaked his arms around his shoulders and the next thing he knew, his faced crashed into Rick's chest, a wave of alcohol and blood hitting his nostrils. "... I promise, Junebug." He quietly muttered. "I'm here."

The unexpected softness in his voice and the bone-crushing hug Morty received triggered his tears as well as pleasantly suffocated him. Wrapping his arms around Rick's waist to reciprocate, he silently cried into his shirt, barely noticing the soothing circles on his back.

But the warmth of Rick's embrace was more than welcome, that along with the steady heartbeat against his ear, created the perfect lullaby, catering to his wildly beating heart and calming it. "... I-I was so s-scared-"

"I know, buddy." Rick soothed, exhaling. "I know."

"It all felt so real to me..." Morty's throat tightened.

Rick hugged him tighter, which while denying him oxygen, was all he needed. "It's not, you idiot. I'm still here and I'm offended if your subconsciousness thinks I just let some random son of abitch kill me. Pshh." He snorted and his body vibrated with that. "You don't get rid of me that easily."

Mouth twitching into a half smile, Morty moved closer if that was even possible. In the back of his mind, embarrassment scolded him to pull away, but he felt barely in control of his own muscles and body. "I don't wanna go back there, Rick." He gulped. "I-I can't..."

"You can stay here... just for tonight." Morty had to double check his hearing on that grumble. "I will kick you out if you snore."

"...Got it." The boy sniffed. "Sorry again, f-for waking you up. Kinda stupid now that I think about it." He added in a mumble.

"Oh yeah? Well, you can make it up now by ending my misery and just- for fuck's sake- going to sleep." Rick deadpanned, leaning back against his pillow.

Morty readjusted himself in his arms and let out a shaky exhale. "You're right. I-I'll be quiet."

On the verge of losing consciousness, a light pressure of a kiss sat on the crown of his head, making the knot in between his forehead unravel.

When he sank into darkness, a light approached him.

And he dreamt of going on an adventure...

Chapter Text

A disoriented Morty stumbled his way home.

If someone tried to mug him right there on the dark and empty street, he wouldn't be able to do much. His focus was wholly on walking on a straight line on the color pattern on the sidewalk. He reluctantly dragged his wobbly legs across them, knowing in the back of his mind that he couldn't fall asleep right there. He had to get home first.

His entire world spun, and he was just the right amount of tipsy to have a pleasant feeling about it. His friends had shot him dirty looks when he'd said that, replying that Morty had it worse than the rest of them. They offered him a ride home too, but Morty'd scoffed it off, saying he lived nearby.

But then why had he been walking for more than thirty minutes?

The drunken boy grinned at the memories of the party. He didn't know why he'd been so hesitant about these things before. Parties were awesome! He'd never felt so alive in this way, so hyperaware and numb at the same time, feeling like he swam in the clouds.

The music still drummed in his ears, although he knew the party'd ended a while ago. His head pounded, but feelings of giddiness and joy washed over it. He wanted to sing and dance without a care in the world. Hearing that Marc's parents suspected something and were headed home upset him greatly, because that meant he couldn't dance or sing anymore. He still made a note to thank Marc when he was more coherent.

Humming a tune under his breath, he gasped pleasantly upon recognizing his own house. The garage door was open, letting out light that indicated Rick was working late again. "Ooh." He wetted his lips, almost tripping over his feet and collapsing. Giggling at the near accident, he staggered toward the light, planning to scare the old man. "M-maybe he'll take me to another party t'night. Rick knows fun." He nodded to himself, whispering excitedly.

"Boo!" Morty shouted and jumped out from the shadows, delighted when Rick startled from his workbench, if only for a short moment. "Ha! I got you!" He loudly mocked. "You got scared, I got you, haha!"

"Morty?" The man's voice was filled with incredulity as he blinked.

Smiling at his name, Morty slammed his palms on the table, much to Rick's annoyance. "Heya, ya rotten old man!"

"Where the fuck have you been gone for so long?" Rick huffed demandingly, gathering the things he'd apparently dropped to the ground when Morty appeared. "Beth was ready to murder me. She thought it was my fault somehow that you were gone without even taking your damn phone. How the hell would I know?" He flailed his arms around for emphasis while Morty watched with lazy amusement.

"Oh, Ricky, Ricky, R-eUP-cky." Tutted Morty as he ruffled the baffled man's spiky hair. "T-take a guess. You'll- you'll figure it out, you're smart." He sweetly reassured.

"You took out my tracking chip, you fucknut." Rick quickly swatted off the hand, still eyeing the grinning boy weirdly. "What if you were kidnapped or some shit?"

"'M not your dog or somethin', sheesh." Morty crossed his arms sassily and gave an unimpressed eye roll. "I don't need a t-tracking chip."

"The hell you don't." Rick glared. "You get kidnapped for breakfast, Morty."

Morty dropped down next to him with a giggle and leaned his head on Rick's shoulder, who tensed upon contact. "Wow, y-you need to chill out, dawg."

"What..." Rick eyed him strangely, like he couldn't figure something out. There was an invisible loading sign above his head, which Morty found unreasonably funny. "...?"

"Oh, by the way," Oblivious to the other's obvious discomfort and confusion, Morty turned his body toward him and basically threw his grin in his face. "You know how to party, right?"

"I guess?" An uncertain Rick answered, pushing him away with a cautious hand to the shoulder. "Why do you say that?"

"You know any parties we could go to- like, right now?" Morty's eyes sparkled uncharacteristically at the mere mention of it.

"Morty, what the hell?" Rick snapped, holding the boy's both shoulders to sit him down. "What the fuck's wrong with you? Do you have blood loss?" He sounded genuinely bemused.

Morty snorted at his serious demeanor, unable to help his dizzy head as he fell forward, being caught by the back of his yellow collar. "Do I l-look like I'm bleeding, R- Brick- Rick?"

"You're half conscious." Rick tugged him back into a sitting position, studying him more carefully. "Why? Where were you?"

"What are you, my mom?" Morty drawled annoyedly, puffing out an exhale into Rick's face, leading to him scrunching up his features in unbelieving distaste.

"... Hold up, are you fucking drunk?" Rick's tone raised in pitch in incredulity and accusation.

"Astute observation, Sherlock Holmes." Morty mocked, grinning lopsidedly at his unimpressed grandfather. "Honestly, I'm surprised it took you so long. You're s'pposed to be smart."

"Why- wha- I thought you were just being your usual dumbass self." Rick shook his head, standing up to fully take him in, pursing his lips.

"... Are we gonna party or not?" Morty let his head fall backwards in boredom, forgetting that he sat on a bench, not a chair.

"No." Rick caught him again, sounding pissed. "What were you thinking? Were you out fucking partying while your family worried their asses off to sleep?" He shook him by the shoulders.

Morty's drunken smile hadn't wavered. "Were you worried, Rick?"

"I'm not exactly your family, am I?" Rick coldly reminded him.

"..." His face fell, unfocused gaze falling down. "Well, if-if you put it like that, neither are they. You've stuck with me longer than them, ac-actually." He shrugged, some of the warmth returning to his face.

For some reason, Rick winced at his friendly stare. "You didn't answer me, where were you?"

"If I tell you, w-will you kill Marc?" Morty hummed in deep concentration, the gasped and covered his mouth. "Shit, I just told you, didn't I?"

"No, I'm not gonna- ugh, I guess why you were there's in order?" He rolled his eyes.

But Morty was already gone, attention averted on the ceiling as he fell on his back. "Hmm, everythin's so pretty." He muttered under his breath, words slurring together. "Ah wanna stick to the ceilin'."

"No sticking to the ceiling, dipshit." Rick sighed, reaching over to throw the body over his shoulder.

"I'm Spiderman." He gushed, hiccupping, head upside down on the other's back as they moved.

"No, you're not."

"I'll crush my enemies with ma- my laser fits- fists."

"..."

"You're so quiet." Rick couldn't see his face, but he sounded greatly upset. "Why don't ya talk to me?"

"What do you want me to say?" Rick grumbled, carrying him across the corridors. "I'll invent something that allows you to be Spiderman?"

"That'd be great." Morty helpfully nodded. "But no."

"What, then?"

"I wish you were nice." Morty whispered, almost low enough for him not to catch. But he did and halted in his steps for a moment.

"Nice?" He echoed awkwardly, walking again.

"Y-yeah!" Morty whined. "S-sometimes y-you do stuff so you could ask me to do somethin' dangerous for you later, li-like treat me to ice cream o-or make me somethin' or just kinda watch TV together, but there's always the ulterior motive- fuckin' bummer." He ranted hotly. "It just means Imma be covered in spiders and gasoline s-soon."

"I-"

"I wish you were nice to me for once." Morty repeated with deep melancholy, rendering him speechless for an unknown reason. "N-no one's ever nice to me. Everyone picks on me! At school, w-with my friends or at home. I- I guess I make a good punching bag. I just wish..." He trailed off, whispers turning into complete silence.

"You wish what?" A soft voice asked. It took Rick a moment to figure out it was himself, cursing himself.

"... I wish for a bedtime story sometimes, to be tucked in like I'm a kid." The inebriated boy continued in mumbles. "I- I wish I didn't have to be the one to heal my own wounds, o-or comfort myself outta crying. I wanna have a best friend I can laugh with, a-and I could talk to. I- I wish someone pats me on the back when I get an A in math."

"When did that happen?" Rick asked in a mutter, despite himself. He should just take Morty to his room and leave, but he couldn't help but ask.

"Last week, actually." Morty was back to his energetic mode. "Can you believe it?"

"You skipped an adventure to study for that." Recognition dawned on him.

"Yeaah, I did." Morty muttered sheepishly, deflating. It was probably something about Rick's tone.

Rick pressed his lips into a straight line, glaring ahead while contemplating a thought. "... Good job, kiddo." It came out bearing more emotion that he'd intended, but Morty's overjoyed laughter wiped that thought from his brain.

"Aw, you care after all!" Morty clapped enthusiastically.

"Don't oversell yourself." Rick huffed halfheartedly. "Anyway, you were saying?" Why did he say that? He didn't want to know, he repeated to himself.

Morty swung from side to side where he was hanging down. "You do catch that I mean that someone's you? That I wish cared about me 'n stuff? I want'chu to be like that, Rick."

Rick took a deep inhale. Drunk Morty was apparently very open and blunt in conversation. He stored that useless information in his mind for later. "I- I caught that Morty, yes." He cleared his throat, glad that they arrived at the brunet's room.

"See?" Morty sounded smug as he stumbled his way to his bed. "I told you, you're smart."

"Tomorrow, you'll thank me for ignoring all this sentimental bullshit, trust me." Rick sounded unconvinced, but he wasn't the one who had to be convinced.

"A-and while I'm at it..." Morty sighed as Rick expressionlessly tucked him in- even though he'd never had before, Rick told himself it had nothing to do with Morty's rambling. "I wanna try 'n hug you without getting my nose broken."

Rick felt his face heat up at the memory. "Morty, that was one fucking time, you caught me off guard. Let it go, will you?"

"But you're not saying I could hug you without you breaking my nose." Morty didn't bother rephrasing, hurt cracking his voice. His puppy eyes tore into his soul.

Under Rick's stiff posture, he was conflicted. He didn't like the wave of affection that look made him feel. Eventually, he gave in with a long sigh. "... Yes, Morty. I'm saying exactly that you could do that without suffering physical damage."

Morty's dazed hurt expression lit up with delight, grin radiant. While his eyes were unfocused, they carried a warmth Morty'd grown to show less and less of over the time, like he considered it his weakness.

Resisting the urge to swallow his dry mouth, Rick began stand. It felt wrong to see this. It felt like nowadays, Morty would rather die than trust him with such vulnerability sober. "A-alright, time for- whoa!" He was cut off when Morty wrapped his middle in a tight hug, squealing in delight.

Tensed shoulders relaxing, Rick shook his head as he squeezed back, leaning into the hug. "Geez, talk about touchy feely." He muttered, closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of shampoo in the curly hazelnut hair.

"I hold back usually 'cuz I don’t wanna bother you with this stuff..."

"I seem pretty bothered to me right now." Rick rolled his eyes.

"Oh, now I don’t care if you are." Morty slurred contently.

Unbeknownst to Rick, his expression softened into an absent fond smile.