Chapter Text
Approaching roughly 16 hours post-kiss incident, Rick wondered, realistically, how long he could sequester himself in the garage. It wasn't that he was avoiding Morty per se; he was just… busy. Very busy. Lots of work to get done. Work that required exactly zero Mortys.
The fact that he'd made very little progress on said work all day was neither here nor there.
A sudden knock on the garage door made the scientist jolt from thought, knocking several empty bottles off his workbench with a swear. The sound of glass clanking onto concrete grated on his nerves.
"Motherfucker—" he glared at the offending bottles before narrowing his eyes at the opening door. What's the point in knocking if you're going to open the door anyways? "This better be— What- What do you want? I swear to God if it's Jer—"
Normally, Rick would have been relieved to see Morty at the door. The 14-year-old's stiff, awkward posture and restless fidgeting with his hands at his sides were anything but reassuring. The older man briefly considered it strange that Morty had knocked. He didn't usually. But then again, he didn't usually kiss Rick on the lips, either. Rick suddenly felt a little queasy, but that was probably just the alcohol sloshing around inside him.
"Oh. You." He regarded his grandson with a carefully flat, almost bored expression before turning back to his workbench and busying himself. Rick knew he'd had to face the little creep eventually, but he was sort of pushing that off right now. "D'you need something or—URP—or just here to permeate my workshop with your anxious BO?"
There was a pause, and Rick didn't have to look to know that Morty was giving himself a quick sniff. "I-I don't smell—" the intruder started defensively before huffing, unfairly indignant. "Can we just, um, talk? Y'know, about, uh… You know."
Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Slowly, he swiveled his seat to face Morty fully, his brow furrowed. "Talk? Wow, MoOooOUrty, real- real specific. Giving me a lot to work with here. But no, yeah, allow me toURP— to, to put a hold on my actually important work so we can um, talk." he formed exaggerated air quotations with his fingers. "Go on then, spit it out. I don't have all day."
The bead of sweat that trickled down the back of Rick's neck when the door clicked shut behind Morty was unexpected and unwelcome. The kid didn't, in fact, spit it out, shifting awkwardly in place and not meeting Rick's eye. He honestly looked like he was about to jump out of his own skin, which made the furrow in the older man's brow deepen. Morty had a lot of nerve coming in here, into Rick's workshop, acting like his grandpa was going to bite off his head or something. Rick wasn't the one who decided surprise incest was the best way to cap off yesterday's adventure.
"Right, uh, okay…" Morty was stalling. Rick rolled his eyes. "Look, I-I-I—"
That was enough of that. "You what, Morty? Feeling embarrassed 'cause you tried to make out with your grandpa?" The older man couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction when Morty flinched at that. "Well, you should. What do you take me for, huh? Some sort of- Some kinda child fondler? You think I'm a grandson kisser, Morty? Thought- Thought that was gonna fly? Old Rick and his fickle morals, always playing fast and loose with the rules, he must– bet, bet he's fine with a little pedoURPphilia here and there."
"Wait- Wh-what? I—"
"Doesn't matter. Mistakes made, lessons learned. Just- just cut that gross junk out, alright, dawg? Now scram, I have shit to do."
Morty frowned, opened his mouth, then closed it. His expression was hard to read. It took him a moment to formulate a meek response, "So… You're just gonna avoid me forever now or…?"
"Holy fucking— No, Morty. You know, there's no winning with you. I-I take you out of school a few times here and there, and all you do is complain. Now I let you have a nice, normal day, a-and you're still complaining."
Morty looked like he wanted to argue, but seemed to realize he wasn't in a position to defend himself this time. Instead, he deflated and turned back towards the door. He hadn't strayed far anyway.
"Alright, alright." He mumbled, turning the handle, "Well, Mom wanted me to ask if you're skipping dinner or… Nevermind. I'll just tell her you're busy."
The little shit really did have a lot of nerve. Rick had every right to avoid him, even though he wasn't. But if he were, he would have every right. If Rick were a responsible adult nark, he'd have told Beth about last night's little incident, then Morty would really be fucked. And not in the way he probably wanted.
This whole situation really wasn't ideal. The weight of the memory gun grew heavy in Rick's lab coat. He had the perfect opportunity, it was right there, Morty was right there, but—
The device skidded across the garage floor, coming to a stop at Morty's feet. He stared down at it, hand still on the doorknob.
"Uh… Wh-What's that?" Morty's hand dropped away from the door, but he didn't move to pick up the gun at his feet. Morty occasionally had more sense than Rick gave him credit for. Very occasionally.
It made sense that Morty wouldn't recognize the device, despite his intimate familiarity with it. Rick sometimes forgot exactly how much Morty did or didn't know. It was advantageous to keep him clueless about certain things, even if occasionally annoying. Rick hated repeating himself.
"That, Morty," the older man had taken on a relaxed, nonchalant posture, sitting with his head tilted slightly up and his arms loosely crossed, a picture of underspoken control, "is a little thing I call my memory gun. Or mind wiper, eraser, whatever you wanna say, it's- it's pretty self-explanatory. Point and shoot, and poof, gone."
Morty picked it up and turned it over a few times, uncertain. He looked at Rick with creased brows and a small frown.
"Already calibrated. It also- you can also use it on yourself." Rick answered the unasked question with a casual shrug, like he didn't care one way or the other. This was all beneath him, really. "Up to you, little buddy."
The younger of the two had turned his attention back to the gun in his slightly trembling hands, turning it pointlessly over a few more times. Rick watched with bated breath as the cogs turned behind those deep brown eyes. Eyes that were darkening with a scowl.
"You can't be serious."
"Look, Morty, you- you can drag your feet and mope about this or, you know, do something about it, so—"
"No. No, I mean you can't be serious." The handle creaked in Morty's deceptively mighty grip as he fixed the scientist with a glare that could melt the ice caps. It was undercut by the unshed tears stinging the corner of his eyes. "You- You- You're not gonna high road me on this, Rick. Acting like- like I'm crazy, that you're not you. I may not be the smartest person in the universe or whatever, but I'm not an idiot either, Rick." he slammed the memory gun onto the nearest counter, rejecting the responsibility his grandfather had cast onto him. "Want to erase everything you don't feel like dealing with? Do it yourself."
The garage door swung open and shut with a shuddering bang, and Rick found himself in a familiar state— alone and not nearly as drunk as he'd like to be. He was dumbfounded. Of all the things for Morty to get a stick up his ass about. Of allllll the hills to die on. So maybe Rick had confused the kid a little after all. It was hardly his fault if he accidentally conveyed the wrong idea to his wide-eyed, impressionable grandson here and there. Morty just had a more… planetary mindset still. Maybe by Earth standards, Rick wasn't exactly an upstanding grandfatherly figure, but he wasn't— he never touched the kid. Not like that, at least.
Regardless, he needed to come up with a proper plan of action before things could spiral any further out of control. The last thing he needed was Morty straying too far from his grasp. But seriously, not like that. It wasn't like Rick was the one caught up on this whole kiss debacle.
He really was better than that.
Right?