Chapter Text
The rest of the world may as well have not existed on the nights that Beth and Jerry argued. Summer had tucked herself away on her cell phone, leaving Morty to blink blearily up at his parents as they squabbled back and forth. He knew both of them loved him dearly but when they fought, it was with blinders on, it was like they cared more about themselves and their misery than anyone else in the house. Considering his social life, his evening didn’t seem to contain too many options other than listen to his parents bicker over the sound of the television. It was nights like these that he felt trapped in his very own home.
A treacherous thought popped in his head and he looked down at his hands, as if they were painted red. ‘Rick,’a voice whispered. ‘What about Rick?’
Perhaps Rick wasn’t even the best person to turn to when it came to avoiding despair, but Morty felt himself pulled towards the garage. His hand wavered hesitantly in front of the door before he even realized his feet were moving.
Opting not to knock, Morty peeked inside, finding Rick alone apart from his usual gadgets and a bottle of whatever was his poison for the evening.
“U-u-uh,” Morty’s voice warbled, a common habit, but tonight it was supplemented by sweaty palms and shaky knees. “H-hey Rick!” He closed the door behind him, feeling all the more nervous, unable to find the words he wanted to say. “So, uh, what, whatcha up to tonight, huh? It’s, it’s been awhile since we've done something, I don’t know,” Morty paused. “Adventurous?” Once the damn broke, Morty couldn’t help but ramble. “You know, n-not that I’m, I’m looking to get eaten by any more of those weird, those Brrbrlpp things again—“
Rick didn’t bother to look over his shoulder when he spared him a response, one that started with an indignant grunt. “If you managed to keep up, Morty, a-and listened to me when I asked you to pick the dormant pedals, not the, the glowing ones, t-that wouldn’t have happened, now would it?”
“W-w-well, uh,” Morty bit his lower lip and looked at the tiles decorating the ceiling, the cracks in the cement—anywhere but at Rick, because perhaps that was true, and perhaps Rick was angry about… Well, what also happened that evening, and Morty immediately regretted even making his way into the garage—
Rick sighed and interrupted Morty’s self-induced panic, pulling away from his work-bench to swivel around in his chair. The way he looked Morty up and down, skeptical and inquisitive, made his spine tingle. “Well MoUghrhrty,” Rick let out a belch and brandished a screwdriver, twirling it across his fingers. “The ol’ Black Market is pretty, you know, quiet, at-at least the requests coming this way, in what, the last I-I don’t know, three days since we last ventured out?”
Morty could feel a flush creep up the back of his neck, simply wanting to melt under Rick’s scrutinizing stare. He felt stupid, which was common place when it came to his grandfather, but the events of their last trip through the galaxy made him feel absolutely abysmal and helpless. It was the first time he had the courage to speak more than a few syllables to Rick since they returned home, out of fear of torment or worse, further rejection. He could handle the nastiness and the name calling, but the neglect—the feeling of being unwanted or even disgusting to Rick—made him choke just thinking about it.
Yes, Morty could chalk up his “accident” from a few days ago to teenage hormones, the fear of death, or the realization he was still in one piece. Yet the hard fact still remained, he fucked up and he was suffering because of it.
He had kissed Rick--he just had to fucking kiss him, out of whatever desperation that was suffocating him--and he was afraid things would never be the same.
Morty had figured at the time that perhaps, with the thousands of miles through space that Rick had traveled--a man who had literally been to the end of the universe and back--Well, maybe he thought he wouldn’t be phased all that much. Maybe he’d even kiss back? After all, Rick had seen some shit--done some weird shit, that much even Morty could figure out. So when Rick pushed him away--firmly so--it was a cold reminder that no, even Rick Sanchez was above making out with his grandson.
He didn’t yell, he didn’t even tease him. After Morty’s desperation had stopped clouding his judgement, he was met with the blank face of his grandfather. Telling him to pick himself up so they could get the hell off that planet. That he had gotten all the leaves he needed, “No,” burp, “thanks to you.”
The drive home was quiet, uncomfortably so, apart from an occasional drunken murmur by Rick. Morty was beside himself, sinking into his seat and wishing it was a hole of despair willing to suck him in, feeling dirty and as per usual, foolish.
As the years slipped by and Morty grew, he discovered things about himself that both shocked and appalled him, particularly when it came to his grandfather. Festering still in his mind was a memory from a few months ago. It was a night that he happened to be alone with Rick, sitting in his make-shift workshop. There was no adventure so to speak of, and Morty was finished with his homework. Instead, he sat with Rick in relative silence, entranced by the way his deft fingers tinkered and toyed, wired and rewired, put together and pulled apart various machines and gadgets.
Morty knew what Rick’s hands felt like--calloused, rough, and hard with age. The idea of being touched by him, so intimately and precisely, with all the love and care that Rick put into his work, made his stomach lurch and his heart ache all at once. Since then, similar thoughts had crept up on him more than he cared to admit, but Morty figured he knew better than to act out on them.
There had to be a reason why he felt so pressed to kiss him their last adventure. After all, it wasn’t like it was the first time he found himself in a near death experience, not by a long shot. Morty had been chased by various interdimensional government officials, lived through an alien race war, even escaped a planet full of mutated praying-mantis-humans determined to fornicate and eat him. Yes, it was the first time some huge, carnivorous plant had swallowed him whole, but he figured Rick was in a good enough mood to help him out. Morty just wished he hadn’t tried to thank him by hopelessly smothering him with his mouth.
‘Maybe, maybe it was chemicals, you know, inside the plant o-or something?’ Morty reasoned with himself desperately as he stood there, trying to form words with his mouth as Rick waited for a response. Yes, it was the chemicals that made him act out--it was the chemicals that drove him to toss himself at his grandpa like a dog in heat. He had to stop--stop thinking about the stubble on Rick’s cheek or dryness of his lips--
‘Maybe watching my parents duke it out isn’t such a bad idea anymore.’
“Oh--w-well, okay, never mind, I’ll let you--”
“You broke my concentration already, Morty, it’s a little too late for that. You came in here for some reason that just couldn’t wait. Out with it.”
“Uh, well, I just--was bored. Y’know, n-no one else is doing anything,” It wasn’t like Morty had many friends, anyway. Rick had to have known even in the confines of the garage that his parents were bickering, as Morty could hear them now, albeit muffled. “And you know--only so many times, you can like, sit on the computer and r-read Wikipedia articles.”
“Read Wikipedia Articles?” Rick narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. “Yeah, ‘Wikipedia’ is how your computer got all those fucking viruses, good one Morty. Real,” belch. “good.”
Morty’s hands fidgeted behind his back as he shifted anxiously, watching as Rick began to gather up equipment. “Hey, s-sometimes you find some, you know, interesting stuff on there,” He hesitated, finally mustering enough courage to shoot Rick a timid smile. “What if, what if we w-went to Blips & Chitz, huh? Play some Roy 3: Live Roy or Die Roy? Get some, some c-chips, get whatever the hell Flobozs are, kinda looked weird--”
“For your information, Morty, Flobozs are amazing, don’t knock them till you try them,” Rick rolled his eyes, slipping his portal gun into his coat pocket. “But uh, I gotta stay away from there for a little while. Kinda--kinda owe some guys a few bucks, let’s just leave it at that.”
Knowing Rick’s track record, it was probably something to worry over but Morty kept his mouth shut. The sound of keys were a good enough distraction from the subject anyhow, and he stood dumbfounded as Rick began to load up the trunk of his spacecraft.
“G-get,” burp. “me my tool bag, Morty?”
Morty’s heart betrayed him as it fluttered in his chest. reminding himself to play it cool as he did as he was told. The bag was heavy but he lugged it off the counter and towards his grandfather, extending it in his direction with a bit more confidence in his step. “Where we gonna go, Rick? Where, where do you have in mind?”
He was relieved that everything seemed to have returned to normal. Rick was acting like his usual, callous self, and there wasn't the palpable awkwardness that had existed between them for the last few days. It was the first time that Morty, although apprehensively, felt excited and eager to spend some time with Rick.
“We’re going to get drunk, Morty,” Rick let out a particularly loud belch. “Aaaughnd high. And do nothing.”
Morty’s face did a free fall, his heart beat resonating in his ears. “W-w-we’re doing what? Why!?”
“P-probably get some tunes going, something to chill to, I-I’m thinking some Pink Floyd, maybe some Allman Brothers, the ‘Dead’--”
“B-But,” Morty tried, but Rick was quick to drown his grandson out.
“--And don’t, don’t you dare call it ‘Dadrock’ Morty, like it’s a fucking bad thing. Y-Your generation has no idea who real rock-stars are, you guys should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
“B-but Rick,” Morty tried a little firmer this time, sweat building up on his temples. “I-It’s just, I d-don’t know.” He cursed his nervous stutter, his words feeling like rocks in his mouth. “K-kinda not what I, I’m thinking t-that might not be a good idea.”
“Pretty sure I do the thinking in this relationship, Morty, last time I checked.” Rick’s face was neutral as he took his tool bag from Morty’s trembling hand, dropping it blindly inside the trunk. His eyes never left Morty’s. “Y-you really think it’s a bad idea, huh Morty? Getting--getting drunk with your granddad? Why is that?”
Morty could feel his knees shaking again. It just wasn’t fair; Morty wasn’t the best when it came to thinking on his feet, and Rick was exploiting it, fully aware. ‘Because I k-k-kissed you. I fucking kissed you, don’t you remember?’ Morty swallowed hard. 'D-don’t, don’t play into his games,’ Rick wanted to see him squirm, to admit to what he had done their last adventure. Morty lowered his brows in irritation, keeping his arms planted firmly at his sides in act of bravado.
“B-because, uh, i-it’s illegal?” This earned him a loud snort from the scientist. Rick finally turned around and made his way to the driver’s side of his ship. Morty finally remembered to breathe.
“Trust me, there are plenty of spots for you to legally drink, the universe is a big place.”
The garage door pulled upwards as the aircraft started, and Morty slipped inside to buckle himself in. “Um, Rick, at what bar do you expect me to drink? A lot of those place make me, I-I don’t know, they’re just, a-all weird and uncomfortable.” It wouldn’t be the first time Rick had forced Morty to tag along with him to some space-bar, with all the strange smells and even stranger patrons. Morty was always sober and forced to lug Rick’s dead weight back to the ship if he was sloshed enough.
“Not a bar, Morty,” Rick burped. “W-we’re gonna get a room.”
“A r-room!? Like at a hotel?” Unprepared, Morty was pushed back into his seat by the force of the rearing ship, eyes wide and frightened. “Where?!”
“Uh, yeah like at a hotel, where else? They have them in space too, Morty, don’t be so ignorant. Y-you really need to drop that 'life-only-on-earth' mentality you have there, Morty, it’s not a good look.”
“No--I--just, we’re gonna be getting drunk and high, in a hotel room--J-j-just seems like a bad idea--”
“Jesus Morty, you’ve, you’ve been across space, traveled through all these portals with weird looking aliens and everything else in between. You’ve, you’ve seen some serious shit--and you’re afraid to get a little high?” Rick scoffed and gave him a disappointed look. “You are such a square. Cut loose, learn to live a little.”
Morty felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. If Rick noticed his turmoil, he pretended otherwise, instead reaching for the flask in his pocket. Maybe if the events of a few days ago hadn’t occurred, this would have been a more appealing idea. He was in high school after all, but he would find it hard to believe that his fellow classmates were taking tokes with their grandfathers. Who they foolishly tried to kiss a few days ago. In outer space.
“It’s just--”
“Stop,” Rick placed a hand on his arm, effectively silencing him. Morty couldn’t deny how tightly his throat constricted at the touch. “Just, stop thinking, we know it’s not that hard for you, Morty. And drink.”
Rick pulled away and Morty would be lying if he said he didn’t break out into a few goosebumps. Only when he felt a weight in his lap did he snap out of his daze. Between his legs sat Rick’s coveted flask, thankfully screwed closed, feeling heavy atop his thigh. He picked it up and rolled it between both hands; Rick wasn’t one to share his booze.
“Less staring and more drinking.” Rick shrugged at him. “C’mon Morty--are you a man or a boy?”
Morty threw him a bewildered look, knowing what the true answer was; Morty was just a year shy of adulthood, so he sure as hell wasn’t a child.
‘Stop thinking and drink,’ He repeated to himself. Morty wondered how many times Rick had told himself that a day, only to wind up failing. Rick could never turn off, that was part of his long list of problems.
Morty unscrewed the flask with trembling fingers and instantly regretted it. The smell of paint thinner slipped inside his nostrils and he nearly gagged. “Jeez Rick, w-what the hell is this stuff?”
“Nothing that should be wasted, so swallow it down and keep it there.”
He had always been curious to know how it felt to be drunk. Morty thought of Rick and his mother, about how messy and foolish it made them look. Health Class told him that alcohol was a depressant and in large doses made people sad and crash their cars. Adults had always warned him against its dangers while shamelessly indulging in it themselves. All except Rick.
The instant alcohol met his tongue it burned and he couldn’t help but choke on it. It left a trail of fire all the way down to his stomach. Nausea hit him in the gut like a freight train, but he had just enough strength to swallow down a wave of bile. His suffering wasn’t enough to drown out Rick’s laughter.
“Haha, r-really Morty? Really? Give me that,” Rick swiped the flask from his hand before he could drop it. “Y-you really knocked that back like a true bitch, Morty, way to go.”
Morty clutched his throat and wheezed. “T-t-that-tastes-like-shit!”
“Yeah, genius, alcohol isn’t supposed to taste good,” Rick took a long swing, and Morty couldn’t help but be impressed. “It’s,” burp. “Souguhupposed to get you wasted.”
Dribble was already collecting on the side of Rick’s mouth, though Morty knew the signs enough to tell that his grandfather was not yet drunk. Granted, he probably was never really sober either. As he steered with his knee, Rick began to screw the top back on his flask, making the ship rock back and forth. Morty couldn’t help but wonder if there was some type of inter-galactic law against drinking and driving. Even after all the life changing, death-defying adventures, he worried one day his grandfather was going to have one too many pulls of his drink and send them straight into an asteroid belt.
As a planet came into view, Rick pressed a few buttons on his phone and raised it to his ear, balancing it on his shoulder. Morty licked his lips, which felt awfully dry; he didn’t feel drunk, though. He didn’t feel like making stupid decisions or losing his inhibitions. At least not yet, anyway.
“Yo bro.” At first tiny, roads, buildings and ships became life sized as they approached the planet’s surface. Rick hardly looked up at the windshield as he fished around for his wallet, pulling out a few crumpled bills. “Need some shit, where you at?” He burped and drowned out the other voice on the line. “No, not that shit, something a bit more--you know, PG-13? Yeah, with the little... Orange… Veins in it? Yep. That’s the good stuff. Yeah, I-I don’t know, an eighth? As long as it’s mellow--A’ight, good shit.”
The phone beeped off just as they landed in a desolate parking spot, taking up two spaces. The surrounding buildings looked run down if not abandoned, apart from what looked like a convenience store a few hundred feet away. The neighborhood resembled a slum back on earth, alleys filthy with litter and walls tarnished with graffiti. It sure seemed like public squalor was a universal issue.
“Hang here Morty, and don’t open the door for anyone. I’m serious, there are some real whacky, some real fucked up people on this planet.”
“W-well, can’t I come?” Morty, a mess of nerves already, didn’t want to be left alone.
“You’ll be fine, just lock the door.” His grandfather left before any further arguments, making his way towards the bright lights of the bodega. From inside the car, Morty watched as Rick casually leaned against a lamppost, arms crossed and looking impatient. A quick inspection the other direction, down the empty street, told Morty no one was approaching. When he looked back in Rick’s direction, he was gone.
Although frightened, Morty couldn’t deny he was a little excited to try drinking and smoking. His parents would absolutely lose it if they found out and certainly threaten to end their adventures again. Sure, he had pictured his first time getting wasted at a high school kegger, possibly with Jessica and hopefully naked with her. But maybe it would work out better, with Rick. With someone he was comfortable with. Sort of.
‘At least I used to be,’ He felt his face light up. He only had himself to blame for that, not Rick. What if he couldn’t control himself, like the last adventure? Morty’s ears burned as he heard Rick’s voice in his head. ‘J-jeez Morty, you’re like a t-teenage girl, what is your problem?’ Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, there was undeniable shame welling in his guts. It didn’t help that simmering underneath it all was a hint of arousal at the thought of draping himself across Rick.
The abrupt sound of the ship’s door opening made Morty jump. He pressed himself up against the opposite wall in fear until he recognized the intruder. Rick slipped inside, but no longer empty handed; a bag full of bottles clinked in his grasp until he rested it at Morty’s feet.
“Alright broOough, we’re all good to go!” Curious, Morty dug inside the grocery bag and fished out one of the bottles. The label was written in a language he couldn’t recognize, but he had a feeling he knew what it was.
“Is this beer?”
“Brilliant observation, Morty,” The ship revved up and they were off again. “I-I got us a whole butt-load of stuff to choose from; I got, got some beer--cans, 12 pack. Got some Malt Liquor, 40’s naturally. Oh, and of course,” Rick raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Wine coolers, since you know. Y-you’re lookin’ like a real lightweight, Morty.”
“W-well I’m sorry I never tried nail polish remover before!”
“Please, it’s not that bad, you’re over-exAaahggerating,” Rick burped and fished for his flask. “Trust me, you’d, you’d know if you drank nail polish remover, it has a very distinct taste.”
Before Morty could question how Rick would even possibly know such a thing, the ship landed for a final time. They must have not traveled all too far, since they were still in some sort of interplanetary ghetto.
In front of them stood quite possibly the most lit up, gaudy motel that Morty had ever seen. Fully functional sleaze, with flashing neon lights included. The first floor had an awning that was threatening to give way. A few feet from there was a group of very suggestively dressed women--at least what Morty assumed were women, considering he had no idea what race they were--and a pool that looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years.
“...Rick, where the hell are we?”
“Fuck where we are, look at this,” Morty peered over as Rick pulled out a plastic bag full of what was certainly weed, waving it excitedly before him. “We got us some trees, kid!” As soon as Rick cracked open the ziplock, Morty scrunched his nose in disdain.
“Ugh, it smells like cat pee.”
“Damn right it does, Morty,” Rick pressed his nose into the bag and took a deep inhale. “Mmmmm, smell it? Means it’s dank as all hell, Morty. This isn’t--this isn’t regs or a-any of that cheap shit your little classmates probably get. This is Grade-A Clorbrix Hydroponics. Pot may be from earth but those guys really perfected it. C’mon Morty, take it. Take a wiff.”
Morty took the offered bag and did just that, his eyes nearly watering. It was incredibly pungent, but not a smell he was all too unfamiliar with; certains students would walk about the hallway reeking of it.
“Aw, jeez Rick, I don’t know,” Morty took another sniff before lowering it to his lap. “M-maybe this isn’t--Maybe this isn’t too good of an idea, don’t people f-freak out on this stuff?”
“Yeah, pussies,” Rick took a swig from his flask.
“What if I--” Rick leaned across his seat and cut him off before he could start. Morty was instantly aware of their close proximity. Rick’s arm brushed against his stomach as he planted his hand firmly against the door handle, as if to block any escape attempts.
“Morty,” Rick’s eyes looked straight through him. “If you’re gonna be weird and angsty about that whole kiss thing forever, you’re gonna make science and adventures together a total, living hell.”
Morty was frozen in his spot, mouth agape. Rick plucked the bag of drugs out of his hands and leaned back into his seat, pulling the keys from their ignition. “We’re going to hang out, chill, get stoned and listen to some tunes. Leave your hang ups at the door and remember Morty,” Rick nodded towards the bag of bottles as he slipped out the ship. “Shut up, stop thinking, and drink.”
Rick was already out and pulling his tool bag from the trunk when Morty was finally coordinated enough to move. He found it weird that the discussion was a lot less terrifying than it should have been; Rick was nonchalant, as if it didn’t bother him. Like he didn’t care his grandson had nearly jumped his bones. Although it didn’t dismiss any of his confusion, it did make him feel oddly better that Rick didn’t seem to be judging him--at least outwardly.
Morty gathered up their merchandise and followed Rick to the entrance, trying his best to keep all the bottles from making too much of a racket. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Morty was hit by the stench of mothballs and stale carpet. He decided to hang back as Rick approached the inn keep.
“Hey, I need a room for two?” Rick barely managed to burp into his fist. “P-preferably with a working sink this time?” Rick slapped down a couple bills on the counter to get the clerk’s attention. The alien, which had a whole mess of boils on his head, looked up from his magazine and eyed the both of them warily.
“...So, what,” He had a heavy accent that sounded strangely European. “You need it for two, three hours or what?”
Morty felt himself blush from head to toe.
“No, we need it for the full night…” Rick’s eyes squinted as he read his name tag. “Bradley, so if you be so kind as not to interrogate your clients and give us the keys, we’ll be on our way.”
Bradley offered Rick a set of keys, throwing Morty one more sideways glance. “Upstairs to the left, second door in.” If he caught the quiet ‘dipshit’ that Rick muttered under his breath on the way out, he didn’t comment.
Morty trailed behind his grandfather, gaze traveling between rick's shoes and the back of his head apprehensively, listening to him grumble out loud about the crappy service offered by the motel all the way upstairs.
"'Th-that guy is a serious dickhead, he's always," Rick stuttered, a deep scowl overwhelming his features as spoke to Morty over his shoulder, "grilling me, who the hell does he even think he is?"
“Not your first time here, Rick?” There was a little amusement in his voice, paired with a small smile. Rick grunted as he approached their room, number 22, and unlocked the door.
“Not as much as you think, Morty, head in the gutter much?”
The door swung open and Rick sauntered right in, placing his tool bag on the desk. There were two beds and a television, complete with with tacky, floral bedsheets and lampshades covered in plastic.There was a rather large looking stain on the rug that suspiciously looked like blood. For certain, the room had seen better days.
“Close the door Morty, you’re letting all the cold air out,” Rick sat himself at the desk and immediately cracked open his flask. “I sure hope you weren’t expecting the Ritz Carlton. If you’re disappointed, well, y-you only got yourself to blame.”
“Nah. T-too be honest, I didn’t know what to expect.” It looked like your average, everyday, albeit grungy, hotel.
“Yeah, it’s like a typical Motel 8; I wouldn't advise taking a black light to it. Anyway, c’mere, and bring the bag of shit with you.”
Morty took a seat on the bed across from the other, watching as Rick unloaded every last bottle. It looked like their was entirely too much alcohol for two people. Then again, his grandfather did have a rather insatiable thirst for booze.
“Oh, I forgot to mention what else I got,” Morty blinked as Rick pulled bags of chips from his stash. “Drunchies! But first things first! We gotta start this right. Morty, we’re, we’re gonna shot-gun a beer.”
“O-o-okay, you gonna show me how?” Morty couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
“Yeah, get up.” Rick stood up and fished his keys from his coat, snapping a beer off its plastic ring. “Hope you got a full stomach, Morty.”
The room was filled with the sound of compressed air being freed from the can as Rick punctured it in the side with the ship’s key. He passed it in Morty’s direction, dribbling a little beer on the floor, who looked at it with wide eyes.
“I-it’s easy, Morty,” Rick burped and cut open a can for himself. “Just put, put the hole to your lips, push the can upwards, flick open the tab and let it rip.”
Rick did it first, guzzling down the contents of the beer in a few moments flat. He crushed the empty can in his hands and let it fall to the floor, belching loudly after. “C-c’mon Morty--or, or do you need those wine coolers?”
“Okay, Rick, sheesh. I-I’m not drinking the wine coolers.”
Determined, Morty put it to his lips, worried it would spill on him, and cracked open the seal. The thick, foamy liquid was like a wave down his throat, nearly choking him, but Morty swallowed it down with a few long gulps. This time, he didn’t sputter and Rick looked approving.
“Not bad Morty, m-maybe there is hope for you.”
“Thauugks,” although the burp helped, Morty still felt incredibly full. “That,” He blinked. “T-that wasn’t that bad.”
“J-just because it comes in a can doesn’t mean it’s shit, Morty. We’re, we’re not drinking Natie Ices up in here.” Rick sat himself at the desk and tossed Morty another beer, who nearly fumbled it. “Now we need some tunes. Good tunes.”
As Rick rummaged through his tool bag, Morty sat himself on the bed, his head swimming. He wouldn’t admit it to Rick, but he already felt sort of funny. His skin felt warm and his arms were a little heavy, but not unpleasantly so.
The second beer, he could savor. He wasn’t sure if he could compare the taste of it, at least this one, to anything else. Apart from the metal tang from the can, beer just tasted like very bubbly, filling water. With an aftertaste of whatever was in Rick’s flask.
“I-I told you that Dr. Dre, you know, stole his Beats idea from me, right?”
“Yes, Rick,” Morty tried not to roll his eyes.
“Such an asshole. S-sure, he made, he made The Chronic but that doesn’t give him the right, the right to take another man’s idea, fuck.” The aforementioned object was now sitting on the desk, a small speaker with a mess of wires and buttons. It looked much more complicated and less sleek than anything Dr. Dre had ever made. Rick fiddled around on his phone till sound filled the room. Morty was impressed.
“W-wow Rick, that sounds pretty clear!” He was half tempted to ask him to make him one.
“Yeah, Apple can blow me. Mine’s got waaaaaay better sound with half the drivers,” He fiddled around on his phone. “A-and on that topic, vinyl-losers, who do they think they are? Shit doesn’t sound any different from an mp3, s-someone has to give them the message that it’s 20-fucking-15.”
Morty took another sip of his drink and a laugh slipped out of him, watching as Rick pulled out the bag of weed from earlier and mumbled whatever song that was playing. He didn’t have a particularly great voice, but there was something soothing and familiar with his gruff tone, if he realized it or not.
“Strange brew, kill what’s inside of you.” The glint of glass caught Morty’s eye after Rick pulled what looked like a pipe from out of his jacket, one that Morty had seen lying around the garage once or twice. Rick started to break one of the nuggets up, and Morty’s eyes were instantly drawn to his fingers. “She’s a witch of trouble in electric blue…”
“We’re going to smoke from that? W-wouldn’t like, a blunt or something be easier?” It didn’t look too complicated, but Morty was nervous he would fuck it up somehow.
“First rule of smoking, Morty: You don’t smoke good weed in a joint or blunt, it’s, it’s a total waste of good pot, Morty. You use glass, like a bowl, or a bong preferably.” Rick cracked himself open another beer before he continued packing his piece. “V-vapes are great, but there is just,” Rick sighed almost longingly. “Something about filling your lungs up with smoke, the burn...”
Rick looked at his bowl with appreciation before he dug a lighter out of his pocket and lit up. He took a long toke, eyes closed and his eyebrow furrowing in the middle. Smoke trickled out of his nose as he offered it in his grandson’s direction, letting the rest sit in his lungs before exhaling a massive cloud.
“Good shit, Morty. Good shit.”
The bowl was still embering from Rick’s hit as Morty inspected it. Again, he thought back to Health Class and the dangers of marijuana; how it was a gateway drug and it made you sterile. “R-Rick, can weed really, like,” Morty tried not to flounder. “M-Make your dick fall off?”
With his beer resting between his legs, Rick leaned back in his chair and shook his head, looking a combination of confused and amused. “Is--wait, what? Is that really what they’re teaching in gym class these days? Just, shut up and take the hit, Morty.
Morty blinked back down at the pipe as Rick continued on, hands shaking as he put it to his mouth.
“And, and being ‘sterile’ doesn’t mean your dick falls off, Morty, Jesus Christ. Has the pot-propaganda train h-hit that much of a wall these days?” Rick stopped speaking and puckered his lips for a moment, looking mid thought. “Here.”
Rick’s fingers brushed against his and sent little sparks of electricity down his arm. Morty tried not to blush as the other man carefully arranged his fingers, leaning forward so their faces were close. Rick had dragged his chair up against the bed, leaving little to no space in between. “Thumb on the carb, numb-nuts. J-just start sucking, flick the lighter, a-and then let go a second or so before you’ve had too much.”
After Rick pulled away, Morty actually contemplated fucking up his first hit on purpose, if only so Rick came near again. He was so close to the point Morty could smell him--mostly alcohol and barrage of other scents, like cheap cologne and musk--but it made him think of the kiss and his mouth watered.
“U-uh,” He intentionally avoided eye contact as these thoughts ran across his brain, unable to believe where his mind was going already. “So, here, here it goes. Um, g-gonna, you know, hit it--”
“You’re breaking the cipher, Morty? It’s puff-puff-pass.”
Although it took a few tries, finally the lighter clicked and Morty did exactly what Rick said: he sucked, put the flame to the greens, and sucked some more. Up until the part he coughed. Violently.
“W-watch it Morty! You’re gonna blow all the weed out!” Rick took the bowl from him before he could drop it, but he was laughing too hard to sound angry. “Pfft, haha! That wasn’t even 5 seconds, pink lungs.”
With every cough, thick smoke came out in short puffs from Morty’s mouth, which he covered in a weak attempt to quell them. By instinct, he raised his beer and took another sip, thankful it was decently cold. Rick took another hit before offering him the bowl again.
“Nowwwww, do it right this time.”
“N-no!” Morty clutched his throat and shook his head. “N-no way!”
“Awww, c’mon Morty! Y-y-you just pulled in some ash, that’s all! Don’t be a little biznitch and spoil the fun. Look,” Rick turned back to the desk and used his pinky to clean the bowl out. “I’ll pack you a fresh one and even light it for you, okay Morty? Since you’re such a little--a little baby. Can’t even smoke right.”
When the pipe was pushed in his direction, Morty flinched away, frowning. “I-I’m not a biznitch and I don’t want another hit, alright!? Jeez!”
“Alright, fine Morty. I’ll just chalk it up to you having a little sand in your vagina. It’s oOoufkay Morty, it’s just part of y-your womanhood is all--”
“Give me that!” Morty swiped the bowl from Rick’s grasp, pouting angrily in his direction. “Y-you’re a real asshole, Rick,” mumbling with defeat, he put it to his lips and glared at him, displeasure clearly written on his face.
“You’ll be thanking me later, Morty, maybe you’ll even, you’ll chill out for once,” Rick murmured as he hovered the lighter over the weed. “It’s about sucking slow, not hard, and holding it in. Heh. That’s what she--”
“I-I get it, Rick,” Rick’s hand sat on his shoulder, as if to anchor him down to the bed; once lit, Morty’s chest burned with smoke and his heart raced from the contact.
“Hold it--hold it!” Morty’s lungs were begging him to exhale by the time Rick relented. “Alright, let it out. Now, was that so hard?,” Rick took a hit of his own after him, followed by another. Morty stared up at the light, noticing the room was looking cloudier by the second. He recognized the singer of this song, knowing his dad owned his discography and defending ‘it wasn’t gay’ to his father in-law. The chimes of electric piano from Honkey Cat filled his ears and he looked back at the light again.
Rick, now double fisting both a beer and his flask, crossed his legs at the ankle, thinking out loud as he got comfortable. “C-can you believe this shit is illegal in like, 754 million galaxies? Think about it, enough annoying wives and mothers in 754 million galaxies w-were on the rag and said, ‘okay, we’re gonna make this illegal ‘cause minorities or ‘cause we don’t wanna lose the newspaper business to, to hemp,” Rick burped, “What a shit cause. W-who the fuck reads newspapers anymore anyway, they’re no longer even lucrative.”
Morty was struggling to pay attention, finding his mouth to be impossibly dry; not only that, but his teeth felt weird and he kept moving his tongue around like it couldn’t get comfortable. He took a sip from his beer and felt like an automaton, drinking normally but feeling off about it the whole time. ‘I’m cool,’ he thought as he rubbed his hand against his thigh, his jeans feeling strange to the touch.
He concentrated on the light in the ceiling and couldn’t look away, even when it sort of hurt his eyes. Morty noticed the rings around it and wondered if they had always been there. He felt unusually slow when Rick shook his shoulder to get his attention, his reactions delayed.
“Want, want another?” Morty stared at the bowl offered to him as if he had never seen it before, gazing blankly at Rick’s face as he blew smoke in his direction.
“N-no. R-Rick, are the walls breathing?”
Rick laughed--not even condescendingly, but full heartedly, and Morty noticed his eyes were a little pink at the edges. “Oh shit, Morty. You’re, you’re high as fuck. Y-you should see your eyes, Morty, it looks like you haven’t slept in days or something. If you, if you went outside, everyone would know.”
“O-oh, j-jeez, really?” A wave of paranoia washed over him and he stood abruptly, nearly dropping his drink. “W-we have to get out of here! I--oh God. I t-think my skins crawling off and I think I hear cops--!” His heart felt like it was suddenly going a hundred miles a minute.
Rick looked as if he was trying not to laugh, taking one last hit before placing the bowl back in his pocket. “You are so easy to fuck with, Morty.”
“N-no, Rick, I think, think I’m having a heart-attack--”
Rick stood up with a huff and pushed him down to the bed by his shoulders, taking a seat beside him. “Morty, you’re in the prime of your Goddamn life, y-you’re not having a heart attack, you’re just scared.” Taking a sip of his flask, Rick laid back on the bed beside him, careful to keep his distance. It took everything within Morty not to inch closer and curl up against him, to feel safe. “O-only you would get scared off of pot, Morty.”
“Y-you’re not m-making me feel better, R-Rick,”
“Look,” Rick sat up and pulled up Morty with him by the arm. Even as he let go, Morty could still feel his touch, and it made his chest tight. “Trust me Morty, in like, ten minutes you’re gonna feel fine and carefree. Sip this,”
“N-no, it’s too strong--”
“Exactly. Quicker than beer. Sip it, Morty, trust me.”
Morty did what he was told, not knowing what much else to do, and found that the liquid didn’t nearly burn as badly as the first time. He was even able to swallow one long swig, enough for Rick to pull it away from his mouth.
“I didn’t say hog it, Morty, jeez,” Rick sighed and took a long sip as well. “I remember, I remember when I got that high. Pfft, enjoy it while itAGHuurp lasts.” Rick again collapsed back against the bed to stare at the ceiling, resting his booze against his leg. “Seems scary now. B-but just listen, Morty, You--You hear that?”
Morty hiccuped and looked around the room nervously. “H-hear what? Rick, hear what?”
“It’s, it’s Sultans of Swing, Morty, and it’s fucking aweeeeesome.”
There was a tug on the back of his shirt and soon enough he was laying on his side, next to his grandfather. Rick looked over at him, dribble on his mouth, eyes narrowed, a little pinker and hazier. “P-people always try to say that Money for Nothing is better--which trust me, that song is tight, real tight, but, just listen to that guitar, Morty. Listen.”
“I-i-it is p-pretty cool.”
“Real cool, Morty. Real cool. Do, do you even know who these guys are?”
Morty hesitated. “N-no.”
“Are you telling me, Morty,” Rick almost looked offended. “They, they teach in school how weed makes your ‘dick fall off’ but not about Dire Straits?”
“W-well, the whole--the whole dick falling off might have been an, an exaggeration--”
“T-they were one of the most successful bands at their peak! What is wrong the education system!?” Rick shook his head and took a long swell of booze, burping and sputtering a bit of spittle on himself. “I get the, the whole disconnect between science and math and shit, but really, music is accessible to people with even half a brain. A-alright, we’re not chilling anymore, you, you got some serious fucking learning to do.”
“Aww, Rick, I-I don’t think I can even concentrate--”
“Just listen, then Morty, listen. That’s all you gotta do, that’s the best part about music,” Rick murmured and let his eyelids fall closed. “J-just turn off. Think about it. I-it doesn’t, it doesn’t matter where you’re from or what you speak o-or whatever fucking else that separates races but if it’s got a good beat, you’re gonna like it. A-at the risk of sounding gay, that’s pretty awesome, huh?”
“I-I-I guess,” Morty gripped the blankets under them, his head spinning. He could hardly keep his eyes focused, but he was thankful for Rick’s stammering as a distraction. “W-what about alien music, Rick? What’s--what’s that like?”
“Woah, woah, woah. You gotta walk before you run, Morty. In due time, I’ll show you. G-gotta know your Beatles before you know your Grrnarnars and the Gloopies, you dig? So just, sit back,” Rick leaned his neck up a little to sip his flask before he continued. “And get schouuarpoled.”
As the songs changed, Rick continued; perhaps Lilly, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts was a little too complicated for their next choice, but soon after the less overwhelming (Don’t Fear) The Reaper creeped in and mellowed out the mood. Morty finally felt comfortable by the time Layla filled his ears, listening intently to Rick as he stammered on, sounding more drunk with every passing song. When the flask was offered in his direction, Morty drank, nearly dropping it a few times, but Rick was strangely deft enough in managing to catch it. By the time Show Me the Way rolled around, Morty’s face was flushed and his head felt full of air, unable to stop himself from smiling over at his grandfather.
“T-think about it, Morty. He made his guitar talk,” Rick sat up a little as he took another hit off the bowl. “Fucking talk, Morty. D-Do you know how many people’s minds were blown?”
“Uh-huh,” Morty barely paid attention to the words that came out of Rick’s mouth, just more or less the sound of his voice. It was deep and gruff, completely different from the awkwardness of his own. Sure, puberty had treated him a little better, but there was something incredibly sexy to the gravelly, grating nature of Rick’s voice. It had been a good few songs since Morty had actually paid attention to Rick’s musings, finding how expressive he looked when he was passionate to be much more fascinating. Yes, Rick was older, and most certainly not conventionally attractive, with laugh lines and crow's feet--but that didn’t make him any less appealing to look at.
He leaned up on his hand as he watched Rick smoke, nibbling on his lip and catching his attention. Rick did a double take, if he realized it or not, but quickly composed himself.
“You, uh--you want another hit?”
Morty nodded and reached for the bowl without asking, but clumsily dropped it on the bed. “O-oh, fuck me,” Morty couldn’t help but laugh at his own words, not caring if Rick got the double entendre or not.
Rick snatched up the pipe before he could reach for it again, obviously not getting the joke. “Hold the hell on you lush, you’ll get ash on the bed.”
“‘M reaaaaal drunk, Rick,”
“Yeah, clearly.”
“L-like, gonna do, stupid stuff, Rick,”
Rick was clearly wary as he mulled over a response. “D-don’t make me regret doing this, Morty,”
“I-I warned you,” Morty scooted himself closer, using the sheets for leverage as he reached for Rick’s bowl, touching his hand at first, before making a grab at his face. “H-how could you expect me not, not to be weird?”
Rick carefully pried Morty’s off his cheek, sighing as he attempted to sit up. “A-alright, time for bed Morty--”
Morty acted on instinct and mashed their mouths together. Teeth rubbed on teeth, but Morty made a grab for the nape of Rick’s neck to pull them closer, letting out this noise that sounded a lot less pathetic in his head. When his grandfather’s hesitated, Morty prayed that the other was entertaining him--only to find himself pushed away for a second time.
Even with bloodshot eyes, Rick looked noticeably troubled. “H-holy shit Morty. Don’t take this the wrong way, b-but--what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Morty grabbed at his hair this time, pressing his body against Rick’s before the other flinched away. “I-I dunno but-it-feels-good,” And it did; the initial confusion from the past few days seemed to have dissipated with a few good pulls of Rick’s flask.
“E-exactly, you don’t know. You’re--You’re a Goddamn teenager Morty, you don’t know what you want.”
“F-fuck you, Rick,” Morty leaned up to kiss the side of his mouth and pulled him down by his coat, seeing a nervous Rick Sanchez up-close and personal. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a strange sight. “You’re--You’re an adult and you have no clue what you want.”
Rick seemed to consider this for a moment, the hand keeping Morty at bay going slack. It gave Morty plenty of leeway to lean up and kiss him again. This time, he met his aim just right, lips against lips, feeling Rick’s light stubble and smelling the alcohol on his breath. He even managed a little tongue this time, before another push sent him back onto the bed.
Both of Rick’s hands caught his with a firmness that commanded attention, even that of a lustful, drunken Morty’s.
“Morty,” Rick was as calm as the boy’s first attempt those few days ago. “You don’t do this shit with me. You, you do this shit with girls--guys too, your age, you fuck them and form relationships--” Rick’s ranting struck a cord in Morty, who yanked his hands away.
“R-relationships?” Morty scoffed, letting his hands fall to Rick’s shoulders to toy with the collar of his coat. “R-rick, what--what relationships? Mom, dad, Summer a-and you are all I have,” Morty hiccuped, his words slurring. “And even them, they, they don’t share a bond that spans like, hundreds and thousands of different Rick and Mortys--”
“Oh, God, Morty, don’t--”
“L-listen!” Morty shook Rick by his lapels, roughly pulling the older man on top of him. “Think about it, Rick. Y-you ruined any, any chance o-of a ‘normal’ relationship for me the moment you took me on my first adventure.” Morty tried his best to form cohesive thoughts. “Took me to that planet with, with all those you’s and all those me’s. The meaning of my life is literally to protect you. To cloak you, from whatever shady shit you, you manage to create, you need me, if you l-like it or not. A-and, and I need you, ‘cause my life used to be super boring and lonely and now it’s not. Y-you’re an asshole Rick, but, an asshole who I have a bond with that surpasses dimensional barriers and--and who else could I have that with? Huh?”
Morty let go of his jacket only to run a hand through his hair again. “A-at first it freaked me out but that was before I knew you w-wouldn’t freak out about it. Uh--it doesn’t freak you out, d-does it?”
This time, Rick didn’t pull away--he stayed right between Morty’s legs, but his expression remained unreadable. “Well, yeah Morty, of, of course it freaks me out. You’re, you’re my grandson, it’s wrong--”
“Rick, w-when the hell have you ever cared about, y-you know--about right and wrong?” Rick’s weight on him alone gave Morty a familiar tug between his legs, and he pressed a kiss against the hollow of his throat. He wasn’t really experienced, let alone with a guy, but he had done enough kissing to know that the spot was tender.
It only took one brush of Morty’s hips against Rick for him to react quickly, and Morty felt a tug to the back of his hair that bordered painful. Rick was staring down at him, but not with his usual cool arrogance--he looked perturbed.
“You, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Morty. W-what, what the fuck are you trying to do to me? You think this is fair? Are--are you hard already?” Before he could nod his head it was tilted back by Rick, exposing his throat to his gaze, making Morty buck up again. He barely got out a moan before Rick’s mouth was on him, scraping his teeth against his pulse till he gasped for air.
“J-jeez--!”
“You’re needy for me, huh Morty?” Rick pressed his mouth against his ear, and his voice seemed to reverberate all through out him. “You’re like a fucking, s-some horny chick for me, aren’t you?”
It was degrading but Morty couldn’t deny it turned him on just a bit. “F-fuck you,” It didn’t help that Rick was pulling down the zipper of his jeans, which were feeling way too tight to begin with.
“So you keep saying, Morty,” Rick grinned as nipped at his earlobe. “You want me to fuck you?” Morty twitched when a hand splayed itself across his ass and squeezed. “Y-you want me to fuck you like a girl, Morty?”
“I,” Morty’s cock was feeling on the verge of painful, desperate for attention. With his jeans undone, Rick palmed him through his boxers, making Morty whimper in frustration. “D-don’t, D-d-don’t tease me, Rick, please!”
“But it’s too easy, Morty,” Rick traced the tip with his thumb and spoke against his mouth. “Why shouldn’t I tease you, when y-you’re trying to tease me? I told you, Morty--you have no idea what you’re getting into, this isn’t some, some stupid romcom.”
Morty saw his point and took it, letting out a whine when Rick squeezed his dick pleasantly. “Yes! Y-yes, okay, I want to be fucked.”
“Fucked, you say?” Rick’s smile was downright conniving. “Well, fuck yoOoughu, fuck you how, Morty? Gotta--you gotta be a little more detailed than that.”
“W-what, whatever way you want, Rick.” Morty took a deep shaky breath, pushing their mouths tightly together.
Even with his stuttering, his choice of words seemed to have worked. Rick’s tongue was in his mouth like he wanted to devour him. The kiss was all consuming, selfish and frantic, nearly jaw aching. The sound of a belt being undone made him grab at Rick’s coat in desperation. He needed to be naked, but his attempts were in vain when his wrists were pinned above his head. Through the frenzy of it all, they never once broke their kiss, even when Morty cried out in his mouth.
One grind of their groins together made every inch of Morty quiver; it was contact he was unfamiliar with, and even though their underwear was still on, the friction was overpowering. Rick wasn’t relenting either. His gyrating spelled out experience, making the boy’s whole body seize against him. He was giddy by their kiss as it was and when Rick pulled away, he leaned back up for more.
“So eager, Morty,” Rick grinded into him harder, pulling their mouths apart before they could even start. “Looks, looks pretty good on you, actually.”
He knew he wasn't going to last long with the way Rick was moving against him. His hands weren’t even touching him and Morty was unraveling at the seams. It wasn’t even technical sex and he was going to come like the virgin he was.
“I’m gonna, fuck, Rick, I’m gonna--”
Rick maneuvered his hips and pressed his hard-on right into the cleft of Morty’s ass, turning the teenager’s high-pitched stammering into a mess of garbled moans. Even through the back of his jeans he could feel Rick burrow up against him.
“Do it, Morty,” Rick bit into his lower lip and tugged, grinding his palm against the boy’s overly sensitive cock. “L-let me see you do it, baby.”
It took only a few more pumps to coax it out of Morty; shaking and gasping, he tugged at the bed sheets till cum stuck the inside of his underwear to his dick.
“J-jeez! Oh my God, Rick,” he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his endorphins making him dizzy. “That was--”
Rick pulled away and let Morty fall to the bed, leaving him confused. Only when he reached inside his pants and pulled out his cock did Morty understand, and he was absolutely speechless. For being an older man, Rick’s cock didn’t look all too bad. There was a trail of silver hair from his navel to his groin--and yes, his balls sagged a bit more than what Morty had seen on the internet--but it was undeniably exciting. It was pink at the tip, hard, and thick, and he leaned forward in an attempt to touch it.
“C-can I--”
“Lay back and lift yoUghpur shirt.” Rick’s grasped himself and moved quickly, eyes closing at the first few strokes. Morty wanted to help, but the sight of Rick touching himself made him obey the other’s wishes.
Rick ducked down to kiss him and Morty obliged, able to keep up with Rick’s greedy mouth despite his post-orgasm laziness. He touched Rick’s neck and shoulders, felt his chest through his shirt and even skimmed his fingers over his bald spot. He didn’t care where, he just needed to touch him, and he was happy to find Rick shudder when he gave a squeeze to his ass.
Wanting to hear him pant, Morty pulled away and kissed at Rick’s neck, dragging down the collar of the older man’s shirt till it exposed his collarbone.
“G-God damn it, Morty. Damn you to hell, you little,” Morty looked up to see Rick licking his lips in concentration, eyes narrowed and his brow sweating. It was enough to get him a little hard again.
“W-won’t you fuck me, Rick?” Morty palmed at Rick’s stomach, making it twitch. “Can, can I at least suck you--”
Rick jerked him forward and crashed their mouths together, letting out a muffled growl as he released his load across him. Morty could feel some of it cling to the edge of his shirt, but the majority made it on his stomach, feeling warm as it spread across his flesh. It didn’t stay for long, though--Rick leaned down to lap it up with a few long licks, kissing Morty right after.
He willingly tasted semen and didn’t recoil as hard as he thought he would--it tasted strange, but the fact it was Rick’s made it irresistible, and he pulled away to press the other man against him again.
“R-Rick, we, w-we gotta fuck,” His persistent erection pressed hotly against his leg, and he wriggled, desperate for more friction. “C’mon, I want to--”
“I’m, I’m not some fucking teenager Morty, it doesn’t work like that,” Morty didn’t believe him--he knew Rick was more than eager when it came to sex. “I-I’m not fucking you tonight.”
Morty let out a disappointed sound as Rick rolled off him, feeling impatient all over again.
“B-but,”
“Look, Morty,” Rick dug around within the inside of his coat pocket. “You wake up tomorrow and you don’t--don’t hate me? I’ll fuck you whatever way you want,” Rick pulled out a cigarette, but before he lit it, he placed a kiss on the side of Morty’s mouth. “Just lay back and enjoy the afterglow, kid.”
Cigarette smoke wafted into Morty’s nose and although the smell usually disgusted him, he reached for it with a sleepy mumble.
“Lemme try.” Rick stopped him before he burned himself, sighing but placing it to his lips. Morty inhaled and coughed only a little this time, feeling all the more woozy once he exhaled. Music filled his ears and he turned to curl into Rick, who surprisingly enough didn’t protest.
“Cat,” he murmured into his shirt.
“Hm?” Rick sounded tired himself, winding a hand through Morty’s hair.
“Yeah,” Morty smiled, exhausted. “Year of the Cat. I, I know this song.” The soothing mid-instrumental was the only sound in the room till Rick snorted.
“You--you don’t know Dire Straits but you know this?” Rick burped and shook his head. “Always making me wonder, Morty. A-always keeping me on my toes.”
Morty winded up dozing off before he could explain himself, pressing his cheek into Rick’s shirt. There was no use fighting it; his eyes were too heavy at the feel of the other’s idle petting and the sultry sound of Al Stewart’s voice. Although he half expected to be pushed off at some point in the night, Morty slept unperturbed, with Rick’s promise still fresh on his mind.