Chapter Text
“Come on, Rick. I want to go home.” Morty grumbled from his place a few paces behind his Grandfather. Of course he knew they wouldn’t leave until Rick did whatever the hell he came here to do, but that didn’t stop him from complaining. It felt like all he did lately was complain. But Rick was dragging him out more and more in the past few weeks. Frankly, Morty was exhausted. Not that Rick cared.
“And I want something very small and very valuable from this shit hole planet.” Rick glanced over his shoulder at Morty, frowning at how far back he had fallen. “B-better keep up. I might not save you this time.”
Of course Rick would save him. He always did. Morty knew that. Morty also knew that he had been getting them into danger more and more lately and he wasn’t about to test his luck. Of course Rick would save him, but if he was pissed off enough, well he might let Morty get a little banged up first.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Morty grumbled again, keeping his head low. Rick was being extra insufferable lately and Morty wasn’t really sure why. Maybe it’s because they had been hanging out almost non stop since Morty graduated high school. Maybe it’s because he wanted to get in as many adventures as he could before Morty ‘ran off to college’. Not that Morty had applied anywhere or even gave it any thought at all. The farthest he got in the thinking process was ‘oh boy, I hate school.’ He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do with his life now. But he had time. He was only eighteen after all.
“W-what’s with the attitude? I take you out on a great adventure and you talk to me like I ruined your Friday night?” He could hear that tone in Rick’s voice. Morty couldn’t exactly describe it, but it was the tone that appeared directly before an argument. “Oh sorry you don’t get to stay home and jerk it all night, Sweetheart. This mission requires two, and you’re the only one around.”
Morty wanted to argue that he had plans, that he had something important to do on a Friday night. But Rick was right. The only things he did with his life was hang out with Rick, masturbate, and watch TV. So instead of rising to the bait, Morty just grumbled in reply. He knew Rick was trying to pick a fight, but he refused to play along.
That mind set lasted him almost the entire mission. Almost. It was only after they had gotten what Rick needed, which Morty still couldn’t remember the name of, that everything exploded. Rick had gotten just a little too mean and Morty was just a little too tired to hold in his equally snotty reply. And when all hell broke loose, Morty couldn’t help but let all the worst things on his mind come out of his mouth.
Hurtful things were said on both sides, and if Morty had watery eyes by the time it was over, well that was his business and no one else’s. Especially not Rick’s, because he wouldn’t be speaking to the older man for a few days.
It was a hard promise to keep, but Morty was determined. After the first day of ignoring Rick, he was pretty much over their entire argument. After the third day he was genuinely upset to find out that Rick was still ignoring him too. By the fifth day, Morty practically broke his way into the garage, angry and worked up once more, ready to tear Rick a new one.
“Rick, I can’t believe you’re so stuck up that-” Morty’s words were bubbling out of him faster than he could process the scene in front of him. Or more specifically, the Rick in front of him. It wasn’t his Rick. Sure, they shared the same features, most Rick’s did. But this one was a good thirty years younger than Morty’s Grandfather, if not more. “What Rick are you? Where’s C-137?”
“Wow, Morty. Is five days really enough time for you to forget me?” The Rick in front of him rolled his eyes before pulling out a flask and taking a swig. “Guess you are as dumb as you look.”
“Rick?” Morty ignored the insult, letting it roll right off him. Instead, he just stared, as if looking long enough would bring his grouchy old grandfather’s appearance back into reality.
“Y-yes, Morty. It’s me. Don’t get your panties in a twist or anything.” The younger version of Rick brushed his way past Morty into the house.
“What happened?” Morty asked, already knowing he wouldn’t get a straightforward answer. It had either been an accident, which Rick would never admit to in a million years, or on purpose, which Rick would never give Morty the real reason for. Still, it was worth a shot. “Why do you look like that?”
“What are you talking about?” Rick looked down at his body before shrugging nonchalantly. “Oh this? I mean, I’ve always looked this good, Morty. Can’t believe you’ve never noticed before.”
“Did you put yourself in another clone, Rick?” Morty ignored the jab, choosing to focus on more important things. “That didn’t work so great last time.”
“No shit it didn’t. W-which is why I wouldn’t do it again.” He took another swig from his flask before grabbing a box of cookies and heading back to the garage. Morty followed closely behind, not wanting to be locked out again. “This was more of a… a de-aging thing. You wouldn’t get the science behind it.”
That was almost enough to make Morty fight back. Sure, he wasn’t as smart as Rick. Nobody was. But he wasn’t an idiot either. And if Rick would just sit down and explain the process in detail then it was something that Morty could understand. But Rick didn’t call him stupid a lot unless he was trying to start a fight or prove a point. Morty would’ve bet on the first one. So once again, he kept his mouth shut.
“Alright. So-so why did you do it?”
“Why? Geez, Morty. Why did I make myself younger?” Rick shook his head, looking down on Morty as if he was an actual idiot. “Oh I don’t know. Maybe because I’m pushing eighty and so was my body? You think I’m going to let that ancient old bastard kill me before I’m ready?”
Morty almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Rick was still a few years away from being eighty at the very least. He wasn’t positive, because Rick would never tell him just how old he was, but Morty guessed he was in his mid seventies. Now, his Grandfather was sporting a body that was about… late thirties to early forties. He looked so different, yet so similar.
The same blue-gray hair from an experimental lab mishap lined his head, though thicker and just a little more tame. It was something he could pass off as old age more often than not, though now it looked as equally out of place as it was fitting. Rick wore the same clothes, though he seemed to fill them out just a tad bit more. Like there was more wiry muscle underneath, if only a little. But the thing that screamed Rick the most were those eyes. Sad, tired, and full of hate for the world. The eyes of a man who’s seen too much, yet just kept living.
“Ok, Rick.” Morty looked away, uncomfortable, though he wasn’t really sure why. “So what are we doing today?”
“We? Oh are you done being mad at me now? Well maybe I’m still mad, Morty. Y-you said some hurtful things to me.” Rick grabbed his portal gun off the bench. “Luckily for you I remember none of them and I need some help. Let’s go.”
The portal opened to Morty’s right, swirling and beckoning him in. Without hesitation, he walked inside, trusting Rick would follow. Morty always trusted Rick.