Chapter Text
There was never a time in Morty’s life that he wasn’t the epitome of unremarkable.
He thought maybe things would change when Rick came into his life, encapsulating him in the wonders of the multiverse. He genuinely couldn’t have been more wrong.
Between constantly being overshadowed, put down, berated, and the incessant nagging from his family for him to do better, he felt stunted; in a way, ashamed for who he was, no matter what he tried. Whatever the facts, Morty knew he would never get away from Rick, but he knew he didn’t really want to.
Recently, he’s felt a pull toward the man he’d never felt before and tried his best to understand it. He tried his best to just push it down and not let it affect him, but the more his longing became an everyday occurrence, the more he feared the inevitable meaning at the back of his mind. He knew it made no sense, and how disgusting it truly was. There’s no coming back from something like that
With a new adventure approaching, the knots in Morty’s stomach wrung tighter and tighter. Every plan made brought him closer to Rick and further from sanity. He dreaded every moment alone with him, playing mental gymnastics with himself and digging his own grave with every lingering glance.
“Would you hand me the fu-fucking screwdriver Morty? If I don’t finish t-this before we gUH-go, we’re fucked. Fucked Morty!”
Rick yelled from his usual spot at the workbench while Morty stood back quietly memorizing the back of his head. Rick was drunk and angry, but what else is new? Morty had started assuming he can read his thoughts because what else could have him even more riled up than normal? Staring and teary eyed, scared to walk even an inch closer in case he loses his composure completely.
It’s been a little over a week since the feelings grew strong enough to cause the headaches and sleepless nights, and the time spent alone in the garage hit an all time peak. Constant planning and being useless but still having to help.
He could feel the room spin a bit debating his next move.
Looking at his feet he tried to take a step-
“Morty!”
He snapped his eyes up to meet an angry gaze.
Rick stood inches from him glaring down with labored breaths and his dirty hands in fists at his side. Leaning down closer and never breaking eye contact, Rick barely made a noise as he reached into the shelves beside Morty and retrieved the screwdriver for himself.
“Useless.”
He muttered, turning back to his work.
And Morty knew he was right. The simplest of tasks and he still couldn't concentrate enough to achieve it. He stood there watching and silently sobbing, hoping for the slightest bit of acknowledgement that he was good, but it was futile. Morty slid down the wall slowly to sit and awaited his next small command, but it never came.
An hour later, the machine had nearly doubled in size, new dials and gizmos jutting out, and Rick walked right past him into the house without a goodnight. He lay on the cold floor for an eternity before finally retreating to his room.
-
The clock read 4:45am and Morty had watched it tick with burning eyes for longer than he cared to admit. He didn't even have it in him to try and masturbate or jump around to tire himself out. Not that it would work anyway; Morty was exhausted from more than lack of sleep. His brain hasn't stopped racing and since the incident in the garage earlier that day, he felt cold and ill. He felt ill in the way people do when they've been sick forever and don't have a diagnosis. He felt like he was falling apart at the seams and no one could help him anywhere in the world- anywhere in the galaxy.
Except for one person, and that was always going to be Rick. He accepted that.
Over the days, he'd lay for hours envisioning the rigid lines and wrinkles along Rick's face and hands, the small bald spot on the back of his head he could barely see due to the height difference. He'd think of the heat of Rick's body when they sat slightly too close, or the smell of his breath when he yelled, drunk in anger, or wild with excitement. It was all Rick, and it was all wonderful.
Morty knew that no one could ever give him what Rick could, or be to him what Rick was. He felt sick all over again when the relationship crossed his mind. That familial title flicking through his brain like an intrusive thought making him queasy. He shoved it down, and finally closed his eyes.
-
Maybe now Rick will tell him where they're going. Morty knew he could always be finicky and secretive, but surely on the night before they leave, he'd be more willing to give out information.
Making his way from his room to the garage, Morty thinks through the possibilities and is filled with the same fear and anticipation he always was. Knocking just to be polite, he twists the knob and lets himself into the work space, fingers crossed that the events of the day before hadn't soured anything other than Morty’s own mouth.
“Uh, h-hey Rick? I wanted to-”
Before him was quite the sight. A contraption nearly the size of his own body stood proud on the work table. Dawning a satellite esc top and a multitude of screens and dials.
Morty of course could only tell so much based on appearance, but it seemed to be a sort of tracking device, and he wondered who might be on the receiving end of the transmission and what that meant for the adventure.
Rick was snoring lightly, hunched over the side table with a beer still in his hand. It was a rare moment Morty could see Rick seemingly vulnerable. He walked over to tap his shoulder, making sure to step away after he did.
“R-Rick? You o-okay? This thing looks really cool, real-yeah real neat. What's it uh- for?”
Morty stutters out. Rick jostles and glances over, yawning wide and sighing before bothering to answer.
“We need it for the trip.” He states matter of fact.
“Right, I was uhm, gonna ask you about-about that. Where are we, like, going? What's this all for and stuff?”
Rick could basically smell the nerves emanating from the boy but didn't read it as important enough to justify a detailed response.
He was simple with his words.
“Gotta find somebody. We'll be gone awhile. Pack up.” Rick rose to his feet and placed his hands on his hips in a power stance, shining off a knowing smirk that hit Morty in the heart.
Morty's breath hitched in his throat. Pack up? So we'll be gone. Together.
Probably some alien hotel?
Alone. For how long? Could he handle this?
Too many questions ran through his head at once as Rick simply looked at him, brows raised. He expected excitement from the kid when he revealed a span of time, but right now all he's seeing is anxiety.
“Buck up, kid. What? You- you're not exUGh-excited? You get a fuckin’ excuse to skip- to to play hooky for awhile, huh? Thanks grandpa!”
Rick slapped him on the shoulder, not waiting for a response and taking his beer inside, shutting the door behind him.
Thanks grandpa..
He could pretend all he wanted, but Morty was gravely and utterly fucked.