Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eyes fixed drowsily on the clock, the boy struggled to keep his eyes wide open. The teacher was gone for now, but he doubted that asshole would appreciate him falling asleep while having absolutely nothing to do. He only had one single book with him- his physics textbook. He doubted its contents were going to help his case here.

Speaking of, Morty slightly perked up at the reminder that his best and only friend had promised to study with him that night. He loved their studying sessions. Morty was no smart student, but his genius friend always explained the crap to him better than any of his teachers ever could.

Sitting in the back near a window, he believed to have found his favorite spot in the detention room. He came here so often that no one sat behind that specific desk even when he wasn't there. His reasons for being sent here weren't too dramatic either. He'd either hit a rock bottom in a subject and its quizzes and exams, fallen asleep in said classes- or the teacher had caught two students snorting and snickering in the back row.

Though in that case both of them would be sitting in a classroom after school, wasting time talking shit about students, teachers or any other target of the day.

"Psst!"

Not hearing the hushed call, Morty exhaled in boredom, playing with a pen in his hands. It wasn't like he was excited to head home anyway. The moment he set foot in his house, the nagging and the yelling began. Honestly, he preferred to be out with R-

"Hey! You broody little shit!"

Snapping out of his trance, Morty zeroed in on the voice that came from outside the window he sat beside. Squinting to find the caller, a flash of sky blue triggered a grin to bloom on his face. "Jeez, you still had fourteen and a half minutes 'til I was out." He sarcastically whispered, attention half on the doorway on watch for the teacher. "There's like twenty people today. He wouldn't notice me gone."

"First of all, is that how you thank me?" The other continued, narrowed crystal blue eyes sticking out from the tree branches. "Everyday I can leave you to rot here. Yet everyday I come to your rescue." He dramatically drew his words, eyes rolling. Though he was hiding his own shit-eating grin behind the leaves.

Morty pursed his lips, double checking the class interior and the half asleep students. "O-okay, fine. T-thanks for coming, even though you missed by what- four hours?"

"Has anyone ever told you how ungrateful you are?" Despite the disapproving comment, he moved aside on his sci-fi hoverboard, making room for Morty to hop on.

Morty happily obliged with a smile. It didn't take them long to get away from school and into whatever awaited them today. "H-have any plans for us today?"

Sanchez flashed him a grin, holding him when they made a particularly sharp turn. "Nah, we'll see where the night takes us, and not in a weird way." They had to slightly raise their voices when they sped up and the wind took the words with itself.

"We can go to your place." Morty loudly offered. "Work on your portal project."

"Your house isn't an option, is it?" The blue haired teen asked cautiously. "I like your movies."

The brunet slowly shook his head, wind slapping his face, sobering him up from any signs of sleepiness. "N-no, that's why I-I-"

"Got into detention? God, you're an idiot." The taller one growled, slapping the back of his head. "You don't have to hear their fights, but you don't have to get bored to death either. Just spend the night over at my place, fucknut."

"Jeez, Sanchez. I-I don't wanna be a burden," Morty lightly shrugged. "Y-you have more important crap to do. I'd just distract you."

"To be a distraction, you need to hold some level of importance to me." He stared ahead, deadpanning, and then cracked up at the crestfallen expression his best friend wore. "I'm joking, Mort! Yeah, I admit we end up screwing around more often than actually studying or working." He confessed sheepishly. "But I don't mind having you over, man. Mi casa es su casa!"

"Shoney's?" He thoughtfully hummed.

"How do you expect me to say no to that?" The tall one teased, giving his shoulder a punch, not too light.

"Ouch!" Morty winced. "I told you man, stop hitting me so hard."

Sanchez imitated his whining tone, earning himself a frustrated growl. "Shoney's it is, then!"

"Yeah!" Annoyance forgotten, Morty threw a fist in the air.

"Young Rick and Morty going for breakfast at six p.m.!" Earning an enthusiastic whoop. "Friends for a hundred years!"

"You fucking said it Sanchez!"

As they skied on smooth air, they passed their neighborhood, leading to some of the residents looking up at the weird noises and yelling and groaning under their breaths.

"It's the crazy kids again." One grumbled. "They better not be plannin' to burn any of the houses today."

Mr. Goldmanbachmajorian frowned at that, attention half scattered across the topics on the newspaper. "Cut those young lads some slack. What did you do at their age?"

A quieter grumble was his response.

"That's what I thought."

"How's the arm, by the way?" Morty asked with a full mouth, pointing toward Sanchez with his chin. "Hoping you're not planning to get into more fights?"

Raising an eyebrow, the blue-haired one's eyes were drawn to the cast on his left arm. "Ah, same shit, different day. Though I'm glad I still have my right arm to work with, I don't feel any less productive. As for the fights, not interested." He dryly said.

"G-good, cause negative productivity is somethin' to worry about." Shrugging nonchalantly, Morty raised another slice of syrup covered pancake to his mouth.

"Asshole." It appeared to amuse him. "The doctor said I can remove it in a few days, though I think you really shouldn't have drawn a dick on my cast." He raised the arm for Morty to squint. "That'll be awkward on my next visit, don't you think?"

"Actually, that was you." He pointed out with his fork, elbows leaning on the table. "The-the cuss words and the insults are mine-"

"Oh, yeah, yeah." The lanky one nodded, scanning what used to be a white surface, now filled with scribbles and doodles. "The corny BFF line and- mother fu- Diane?!" Looking up with a glare, he threatened to hurl the syrup in Morty's laughing face. "You little shit- I was talking to her today!"

"Then you should probably hope she didn't see that one." Morty taunted, protecting himself with hands in case something were thrown at him.

"Wait 'til I see Jessica." He mused, Morty's giggles coming to a sudden halt. "Okay, I know just the story for this one- Ass Stick."

"Below the belt." Morty grumbled, scrunching up his nose.

"Though jokes aside-" The genius took a moment to swallow before he could talk again. "I know you're head over heels for that bitch-"

"Don't call her that." Morty growled, tensing up.

Sanchez glared back. "How about you hear out what I have to say and then we judge whether I can call her a bitch or not?"

Fury faltering at the meaningful look, Morty slumped into himself with a sigh. "No, it's-it's fine, I guess. I don't think I'll come to the stupid prom anyway."

That seemed to catch the pale one's attention. "Why the hell not?"

"You were the one saying they were dumb." Tilting his neck, he pointed out. "So you change your mind now? Is it because this Diane asked you out?"

"Nah, she's out of my league." Morty's eyebrows shot up high. Sanchez never considered anyone above himself. "Before you call me out on jack shit, she's also surrounded by dumbasses way worse than you-"

"I'm blushing." The brunet deadpanned, resting his chin on his palm.

"-And to get to her, I need to butter up her friends." He winced. "Not, worth it."

Morty shrugged, questioning. "So, we're both not going?"

"Perhaps not."

Suppressing a smile at the possibilities lying behind those meaningful words, Morty looked to his left and through the glass.

It was a particularly cloudy day coming to its end. Dumb people like him who didn't have friends as smart as Rick Sanchez were transporting by bicycles, each looking more bored than the last. They were probably on their way to pay their taxes or do homework, all by themselves. Morty didn't understand people who chose not to have close friends. How could you keep everyone at arm's length at all times? You had to get lonely at some point.

"You're broodier than the Dark Knight himself, goddamn." Sanchez whispered from across the table.

Face coloring, Morty's head fell down, staring at the remains of his pancakes. "W-whatever." He mumbled.

"Hey, Ass-Stick." Lazily he called.

"Will you ever let me live that down?" Morty let his had fall back on the old and stained cushions.

"I will wait until I can tell the story to your kids and grandkids." Sanchez helpfully nodded. "I hear there's a rainstorm tonight." Leaning over the table to raise enthusiasm, he knew Morty never disappointed.

"If we were boring old schoolkids, I think we'd cancel our study session." Morty hummed, mockingly thoughtful.

The other raised his unibrow, sitting back down. "Seriously though, we really should. The top of the mountains isn't the best place during a storm."

A few moments passed, the distant clinking of dishes and air conditioner the only constant in the restaurant.

Then Sanchez broke out of character with a snicker. "Like hell we'd miss the storm!"

Relieved, Morty gave him a high five. "That's what I like to hear."

Rick Sanchez is bad influence, was what his parents always scolded him for. They blamed his low grades and slack in attendance on him. Bad attendance? Maybe. But grades? Sanchez was helping him through it, or he'd have quit school by now.

Okay, maybe they underestimated the weather.

Swearing under his breath, Morty tried to glue himself further into the small cave-like spot. "Uh, all the pages are stuck together."

"I guess we should've saw that coming?" Sanchez craned his neck, scratching the back of it. "Fuck it. Leave the books here. We'll check out the view."

"Yeah, it's some-some heavy rain." Securing the textbooks in a layer of plastic, he skipped out of the only dry place into the heart of the rainstorm, where gallons of water poured on them and around them. Copying Rick's embracing pose, he tilted his head back and childishly stuck out his tongue to taste the water falling from the sky.

The force of rain drops felt like bullets to the palm of his hands, cheeks, the back of his throat even. Squeezing his eyes shut, he enjoyed the dampness seeping through his clothes, taking away the last dry spots felt around his body. And he felt- as corny as Sanchez always called it- like he'd returned to his origin, to the embrace of mother nature. "I love this." When he opened his eyes he was smiling grin so wide, he felt like it went from one ear to the other.

The noise of each drop hitting the uneven stones he stood up wiped just about anything from his mind. "Hey, Sanchez! What song am I thinking of? Hint, it has nothing to do with rainy days!"

Shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, Rick's usually spiky hair was stuck to his forehead and temples, creating an odd look. He'd do a lot just to not give Morty the satisfaction. "Hey, great idea. Sing with me!"

Before Morty knew it his arm was locked in with the other, and they were spinning and skipping in circles. "Row, row, row your boat-!"

"What are you, five?" Sanchez scoffed, slightly out of breath.

It brought a pout to Morty's face. "Fine, but that was our song, asshole. Even if we were five, like you say it."

"Hey, I know something else that's our song!" Rick brightened with the idea, still having their arms locked. Then he loudly started. "Shake that ass-!"

Morty cut him off by bursting into an ear-splitting guffaw, almost tripping on an uneven part of the rocky ground and falling on his face, but recovered quickly, only to sing along. "Bitch and let me see what you got!"

Feeling himself become dizzy, Morty let go of his best friend and began screaming on top of his lungs. "Sh-shake that ass, bitch and-!" He kicked a small puddle of water and it reacted with a splash.

"-Let me see what you got!" Rick copied his roar, and soon enough they were in stitches, knees weakening from the laughter and setting them on the ground.

A few minutes and many thunders passed, and Morty groaned in pain, one hand holding his sides and one holding his aching cheeks. "Ho-holy shit."

"We are so not funny." Rick deadpanned, voice wavering to hold back another set of giggles. "Jesus, we don't study at all."

"We usually do." Morty argued, pulling in his knees to warm himself. "Don't tell me all those rants about 'getting away from humanity and synthetic shit' was a big lie." He dramatically gasped, earning a firm punch to the shoulder. "Ow." He grumbled.

Settling near the edge of the cliff, they sank into a comfortable silence.

That was something he liked about Rick Sanchez. He always accepted when Morty just didn't feel like talking. He too liked just sitting in heights, gazing down at the small town they grew up in. Of course the heavy downpour made it impossible to make out anything from the buildings or the lights.

"Remember the first time we heard 'Shake That Ass' on the radio?" The other softly broke the silence, words nostalgic and amused.

"We were rolling on the floor." Morty winced at his attempt to smile, a splitting ache reminding him that he'd had his healthy share of the hour. "I can't believe how popular it got. I-I mean look at the lyrics. I-it doesn't make sense?" A small snort escaped him.

Once again silence took over the space between them. Morty absently eyed the drops of water that travelled down his bare arms.

Sanchez spoke again in a sigh. "One day I'll finish my portal tech, build a spaceship and get the fuck off this dirt land."

Morty pursed his lips, eyes blinking out excessive water that fell into his eyes, so he wouldn't know if he was tearing up. "S-sounds amazing, Rick."

The musing one turned around to look at him, pausing before speaking. "Okay, what the fuck's with you. You never call me Rick unless you either want something from me or got smad at me."

"S…mad?" Morty couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

Sanchez brushed it off with a flick of his wrist. "Mad or sad, I'm saving us like two seconds. Help me out here."

"I'm not, smad." Morty tasted the word around his mouth, voice suddenly robbed of energy. "I-I'm happy you'll finally get to-"

"Excuse me?" Rick raised a side of his unibrow and Morty blinked, bemused. "We'll finally get to, yadda yadda. Unless I was wrong to assume you were coming with me. Was I?" A scowl started to form on his features. "Cause I would've appreciated if you said it sooner, so I'd-"

"No, no!" Morty blurted out, startled. "I-I just didn't think you'd actually…" Trailing off, the constant hum of the rain almost made him drift away, but with Rick Sanchez's piercing and disturbing stare, it was impossible. "Just… thanks. I-I wanna come with if I'm no extra trouble." Eyes darting elsewhere, he rubbed his arms.

"Ass-Stick, there's no way I'm leaving you with these animals for students and demons for teachers." Casually the other clarified, leaning back on his elbows. "Not to mention that fucked up family of yours. None of them deserve you." Morty's wide eyes snapped back at him about the moment Rick processed his own words, staring to the sky slightly widening. The tip of his ears reddened like the times Morty'd seen him get insulted or bested. "Uh, I just meant-"

"Wow." Morty repetitively blinked after a few moments of the bitterness of those words sinking in.

"…This wasn't a confession, Smith. I don't have the hots for you."

"Whatever you say." Morty hummed, then burst into laughter when Sanchez loudly groaned. "I know that, dumbass. It's just nice to know you thought of me too while planning for your future. Makes my job easier." He tried joking. "Does your spaceship have two seats?"

"Four," Rick grinned, then they faced each other and exclaimed in unison. "Two for the bitches!" Morty had started to cough at this point, laughter interrupted. "Seriously, imagine the girls we can get you. I'm sure we'll find a planet where ugly shit is considered attractive." He nodded to himself.

"Not all of us need 'external validation' Sanchez." Morty shot, using his own words against him. "Maybe I'm happy without all that trouble."

"It's called basic needs, Ass-Stick." Rick Sanchez deadpanned.

"You are stooping way low today." Morty pointed out in a complaint.

"As low as it gets the job done." He shrugged. "Anyway, we'll get back to the fancy words whenever you're ready. Math and then meth, maybe?" He attempted humor.

It didn't get the desired reaction. But instead a scowl and the boy who sat up in alarm. "Rick, you promised me." His tone was stern, though wavering with old emotions.

"I'm joking!" Rick sat up straight, raising his palms in surrender. "I told you, I'm done with that shit and I meant it, okay?" His light tone was tinted with solemnity and defensiveness. "Ju-just a harmless joke, there."

Morty physically relaxed. "O-okay. It's just- don't joke about- I-I mean last time you almost-" Familiar anxiety flashed in his last words and Rick felt the necessity to cut him off.

"Yeah, I know." He lowly grumbled. "So, math and no meth?"

Gulping heavily, Morty nodded. "Math and no meth."

"Uh-huh." Rick Sanchez absent-mindedly agreed, trying to remember what book to pick out of his locker for the next period. "Very-very interesting story, Scarlet."

The blonde flashed him a white smile, teeth reflecting light in a way he considered odd. They were aligned in a neat row. She knew she had perfect teeth, and spared no chance to show them off. "Didn't see you at school the other day."

"Yeah, I broke my arm." He casually muttered, remembering he finally had a class with Morty. His mood brightened a little with that.

"Ooh, let me write something on it." Grin widening further if that was even possible, she leaned toward him.

"No fucking way." He found himself growling. "What are you, in kindergarten?"

She frowned at the cast. "Okay, have you seen what people have done to that thing? That is way beyond descent, Rick."

Rick's eyes fell on Morty's doodles and handwriting. And a particularly new one that said: Smadder than a lightning bolt. "I did those. I don't trust anyone else not to try and humiliate me- especially you." He accused.

Scarlet hummed her famous a-very-likely-story hum, closely studying him. "You joining us for lunch?"

"Eh, I don't think so." He lifted a side of his eyebrow. Everyone knew where he sat almost every day. "How come?"

"We could use a teacher today." She leaned just a little closer, her tone regressing into a husky tone. "You know, two exams that could kill you in a day? A lot of questions there, let me tell you."

Rick allowed himself a smirk, eyeing her with amusement. "Really, Scar? That kink gets old pretty quick for me. Don't know about you."

"I'm bored, okay?" She finally gave up the cool and smooth façade, groaning in exasperation. "John hasn't texted me in a week- he thinks he's such a special little shit!" She hissed, kicking the smooth tiles on the floor.

"If he wasn't, you wouldn't be here everyday to get me to fuck you, would you now?" He bluntly told her, patronizing. Scarlet reddened at that, crossing her arms. "You don't even like me." Annoyance dripped from his words. "Go fucking talk to him- break it up o-or get it over with, I dunno. Stop being a baby, both of you." He shook his head in disappointment. "I don't like this John, unlike what you really think, and I'm not getting involved if you fucking paid me."

"Jeez, what crawled up your ass?" She huffed, starting to walk with him when he made his way to the class.

"This math exam you were so worried about a minute ago." He sarcastically shot. "Or did your bitch-ass already forget about it?"

"No need to be a dick." Scarlet raised her thin eyebrow. "It was a simple business transaction. And since when the hell are you having trouble in school?" Disbelief crawled into her voice.

"I don't." He rolled his eyes, speeding up his steps.

"Oh, right." Her face lightened up with recognition. "That scrawny little kid you fuck around with." Lips pursing, Rick reminded himself the tips Smith always told him to keep his temper under control. "So what, you tutored him, but won't tutor me?" She taunted, nudging him in the side.

"You have a different definition of the word 'tutoring', Scarlet." Rick loudly huffed. "As sure as I am that you're good company- they sing your praises everywhere- I think it'd be better if you left me alone and went to call your bitch of a boyfriend." Though he was pretty sure he spat out all the words like venom, Rick mentally patted himself on the back for technically not lashing out.

"Classic faggot Rick Sanchez." Scarlet whispered, loud enough or him to hear and Rick thought he was going to strangle her when someone else called him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, thanks for lending me this, Sanchez." Alex wasn't a particularly likeable character. But anyone who him the slightest bit knew that hanging out with him was considered a fun activity, as long as he didn't have anything on you.

Then, he would make your life hell.

Taking the offered object, Rick remembered why he couldn't find his math textbook. "Oh yeah. Sure thing, pal." He smoothed it off. "Just- stay away from Jessica Rabbit. Bad news." It wasn't the most creative code, but it got the message across. Alex and the two guys who came with the package nodded in understanding.

"Fill us in on the details later."

Nodding him off, Rick was about to walk away when a hand on the shoulder stopped him. "Uh, Sanchez, would your parents mind if we borrowed you a few hours after school?"

Resisting the urge to swallow, Rick hummed in thought. "Never have before. Why?" He had to turn around to see his closest 'popular friends' exchanging mischievous grins. He found it rather contagious. "Alright, who's the fucking target?" Dry voice filled up with anticipation.

Rick loved trouble and trouble loved him.

Alex looked like he would explode if he kept in the news for another minute, dark brown eyes twinkling dangerously. "Morty Smith."

Rick's smirk slowly died on his face. "What?" Voice dropping in octave.

One of Alex's guys- Jared, he vaguely remembered, took a step forward, interrupting. "We noticed you've been working on that guy for a long while now-" A smirk Rick wanted to punch off his face. "And wanted to know if you're gonna let us in on the fun."

Shaking his head violently, a deep scowl disturbed Rick's features. "Hold the fuck up, you thought I was gonna beat him up?!" Incredulity dripping from every syllable.

"Talk a little louder, won't you?" Alex deadpanned, either not noticing Rick's trembling fists and set jaw, or just not caring. "Jesus Christ, relax. We're not telling you to do jack shit. If you're not after him- fine! We call dibs then."

"Oh, no you don't." Eyes narrowing dangerously, Rick held Alex in place with a firm grip on the biceps. "You won't lay a single finger on Smith. Not on my watch."

The brunet didn't back down, upper lip curling in disgust. "Jesus fuck- chill, dude. You can't tell me what to fucking do or who to-"

"Like fuck I can't." The tall one's tone was calm, but unvoiced threats lay behind every word.

Jared regarded him with caution and a twinge of disappointment, switching between the two in a glaring contest. "Why do you even care about that twerp, Rick?"

Rick took a deep breath, and counted backwards from ten to one. Nothing.

Oh, well.

Nothing worked better than a teacher's monotone to put you to sleep. No lullaby, song or spell was stronger than the voice of the witch teaching algebra at eight in the morning.

Morty'd learned that the hard way.

Not only he'd fallen asleep countless times in that class, but the effects followed him afterwards like death angels, exactly what Morty didn't need on his big test.

He briefly shot the empty seat next to him, biting his lip. He saw Rick in school today. Where the actual hell was that irresponsible asshole? He'd promised to take the exam with him.

Quietly huffing to himself, he went back to the quiz. For what felt like only the third or fourth time, Morty didn't feel like every question and formula on the paper were new to him, which he assumed was good.

Humming with satisfaction, he moved on to the third question. The utter silence was a huge trigger for his drowsiness and lack of focus to kick in, frustrating him. He tried to blink his sleep away, lids almost closing…

A loud crash jerked out of his trance, almost giving him a stroke. His eyes immediately darted towards the hallway like his every other classmate and teacher, being greeted with cries, cuss words, and all that wonderful stuff. "I can't even-" Morty muttered under his breath, hoping his glare would reach Rick Sanchez through the wall between them. He was always a hothead, but now, it was just stupid. "That little-" He gritted out, then let his head fall into his hands.

Hearing the teacher explode on them, Morty groaned into his palms, knowing that he wasn't going to be seeing Sanchez for another few hours after school.

Then a louder- more pained cry reached his ears, making his eyes shoot open.

Or maybe not.

Staring at the ceiling wondering why he had to be alone.

Rick didn't know what they gave him at the hospital. He'd insisted he was fine, but they told him getting into a fight before his arm healed had been a stupid mistake on his part.

Staring at the ceiling wondering why he had to be alone.

They took him to his house, gave him instructions they probably knew he couldn't remember from all the sedatives and drugs in his blood. Honestly, it would've been less offensive if they just rolled him in the front yard and drove away.

Staring at the ceiling wondering why he had to be alone.

Silent tears rolled down his temples, eyes hurt from looking so intensely at the stain on the wooden ceiling. He never liked staying at the house. What was in it for him anyway? The best room was the garage, and it was even better when someone kept him company while he worked.

And Rick Sanchez didn't let just anyone in his personal life.

When he was alone, all he did was go through the drawers, smell the scent on the abandoned clothes, and ask himself why they were still there.

Staring at the ceiling wondering why he had to be alone.

None of his so called friends really knew where he lived. His teachers or even principle- only his closest friend during the years, Morty Smith. And maybe the Smith family if they cared enough to ever remember. Rick would prefer it if it were just Morty, though.

He took in a shaky inhale, more tears soundlessly streaming down the sides of his face.

When they took him to his house, they thought his parents were at work. What reason would they have to bother and even check? As far as anyone knew, Charlotte was still shopping for groceries for two goddamn years.

Well, almost anyone.

Admitting it to even himself was hard, but he really needed his best friend. He was the one who came to check up on him when he could, keeping Rick's head from sinking into his ass. Or if he was physically bound, call him and start with 'hi, what's up?', and end hours later in stitches with a topic so dumb Rick sometimes was embarrassed to rehatch. That he sometimes forgot what he was even so melancholic about before.

Sometimes, Smith reminded him of Charlotte Sanchez. He was so needlessly considerate and kind in some ways, he wasn't sure if he was yet ready to deserv e it.

He cracked a small smile through his tears. "I miss you mom." He breathed out so quietly, voice trembling with emotions, as if he were afraid the walls would hear him. "I miss your voice, y-y-your smile, s-so, f-fucking much." He wheezed tightly, blinking more moisture out of his eyes.

Forgetting about the walls, he broke down, mind in a haze of chemicals.

Why did he have to be alone?

Morty shuddered from the cold and dry wind, clumsily searching his pockets. Disappointed once more, he rang the doorbell twice, cursing under his breath once no one came to answer. Then dug into the pockets of his jacket further, sighing with relief when the tip of his fingers touched something cold and smooth.

The tremble swimming through his nerves made it harder to fumble with the keys and open the door, and once he finally made it he slammed the door shut, not to let any warm air exit the house.

Taking in the deafening silence, he breathed into his palms, warming them.

"'S that you?" The weak lazy drawl came from somewhere upstairs.

"I'm here to take your soul, Rick Sanchez." Morty called loudly, making for the stairs.

A groan of pure misery reached his ears. "Just do it quick."

"You're such a baby." The brunet huffed, pushing open the door to his room.

"The sedatives are getting out of my system." Sanchez looked better than was expected. His re-broken hand was stuffed and wrapped in place, making it impossible for him to try and break it again.

Rick visited the ER so often, no wonder the nurses were so annoyed when they called Morty.

And his eyes were a faint red, which didn't escape Morty's notice. He frowned, but let the question hang unvoiced when the injured one averted his eyes. "Did you get the stuff?"

Morty hummed, setting his shopping on the nightstand. "You might wanna double check though. A-and I brought you some soup." He awkwardly pointed out. "Mom let me take some." Helping his classmate sit upwards in the bed, he stepped back and patiently waited.

"Thanks, pal." Rick started looking through the pills, voice cracking slightly which he covered with a cough. Morty inwardly sighed. It was going to be a bitch and a half to get the constipated ass to talk. "Th-that's the right pain medicine." He approved with a distracted hum. "A-and I uh, already got the ice pack but thanks anyway."

"Of course you do." Morty snorted. "You get a broken arm for breakfast." He paused a moment before asking. "Alright, what the fuck's wrong with you?" A growl replaced his cautious and friendly tone. "Were you out of your fucking mind-? Of course you were gonna get fucked! You had a weak spot in plain sight- you didn't change the cast?" He questioned in disbelief once recognizing his handwriting and the dick on the white surface.

"They said they didn't have to." Trying for a shrug, the blue-haired one winced in pain. "I have no excuse for my behavior, ma'am. You can end my short pathetic life right here." He smirked, as if wanting to irritate him further.

"It's not just short- it's sad and depressing."

Sanchez stared at somewhere behind him, lips pursed. "… That's what she said."

"I hate you."

"Say what you want, but I know you adore me." He batted his eyelashes, head tilting to the side.

Morty tried and failed to keep up his glare. "You're so fucking weird, I don't even know if this is the painkillers on just you." He shook his head with a smile. "Call me whenever you ran out." run out. It'll take me a day at most to get you more."

"Owe you one, Smith." Rick thanked him mid-yawn. "You're leaving?"

"And going where?" Morty shrugged, readjusting his bed covers. "Eat your food, how are you not starving? And why's the room so dark? Turn on the goddamn lights for fuck's sake-!"

Rick groaned as a sharp ray of light hit his eyes, irritating them. "Jesus, is this an interrogation?"

"Y'know what? Yeah, it is, Rick."

The usage of his first name rang an alarm in his head. "Uh-oh"

"I thought you were friends with Alex!" Morty objected, flailing his arms around. "What the hell happened back there? We were gonna take the test- we had a bet Sanchez, okay?!"

The injured on looked away in shame. "Look, he was asking for it, okay?!"

"What did he say?" Exasperated, Morty arched an eyebrow. "Just tell me why you got like that- it- did you see yourself?! That shit was wild- I-I got scared they had to inject you with something!"

"He offended me." Rick lamely growled in defense. "I-I just lost control there- I'm sorry."

"You should be!" Morty bore the last of the argument's heat before they stopped to recover, both panting out their frustrations. "…. Did you take deep breaths?"

"Yeah." Rick mumbled back at him, slumping.

"Count backwards from-"

"Yes! I-I tried it, okay? It didn't work." Rick said with more heat. "I was still fucking angry!"

"Fine!" Morty tensed at the shout. "Jeez, you don't have to yell it, I get it. I-I get you." Exhaling, he got off the edge of the bed. "Look, maybe I'll check on you in a while…" He was slightly hurt, but this was all the usual bite and venom. Maybe he overreacted-

"No, no." Sanchez blurted out instead, stopping him in his tracks. Then lowered his voice after a moment of contemplation. "I-I'm sorry. I-I just- I'm still angry at that dickhead." He muttered, eyes on his cast. "Can you… give me that bottle over there?" He pointedly looked at the nightstand.

Morty blinked. He wanted to take his medicine. "Sure thing, buddy."

"First thing when I heal," Rick muttered under his breath, looking through the medicine. "I'm inventing a healing cream."

"I know you will."

"I will." He defended, glaring.

Morty raised an eyebrow, raising his hands in defense. "I wasn't being sarcastic, Sanchez. You'll eventually do everything you say you will. You proved that to me with the hoverboard."

Rick scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "That-that one took me eight years, Smi- Morty." He corrected himself halfway through the name. "But uh, thanks I guess? For not doubting me?" He cringed at his own phrasing.

Morty broke into a grin. "I can't believe it, you were actually being sweet. You're welcome."

"Fuck you, don't get used to it." Rick quickly recovered with narrowed eyes. "You left your pajamas here, by the way."

"I'll take them when I leave." Morty brushed him off.

"You literally say that every time."

"I basically live here now." He pointed around the house. "I might as well move in at this point."

Sanchez answered him with a brief snort. His expression drained in less than five seconds. "Anyway, if you wanna leave, you're free to-"

"What's wrong, Rick?"

The deep melancholy and compassion must've caught him off guard, as he got to see the other dumbstruck for a full minute. His crystal blues were unreadable to a stranger, mouth only slightly agape. He didn't question him or snap this time, breaths coming out as slightly ragged.

Morty licked his lips, preparing himself for the heavy emotional baggage, then started a low and cautious whisper. "You're my best friend and I notice this shit, okay? You were done crying when I came in. What's bothe-"

Eyes widening in shape of saucers, Morty didn't expect the arm that curled around his waist and the face that crashed into his chest. But he hugged Sanchez back as tightly as he was sure it wouldn't hurt his injured arm. "Shh." He calmly managed, drawing circles on his back. "Y-you can tell me anything, Rick. You know that."

"God, I miss her." Rick's muffled confession cracked halfway in voice, tugging on the lump that was forming in Morty's throat. "I don't even know why! I should be fucking moving on!"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Morty pulled him even closer. "Shut your fucking mouth. Did you learn nothing about anything I've been telling you?"

Sanchez quietly sniffed into his shoulder. "… It's okay to miss her sometimes." Barely above a mumble, but Morty caught it, breathing to calm his nerves.

"That's fucking right. I miss her too. You wanna know why? She was an amazing mom and an amazing fucking person. You have the right to be a whiny fucking bitch about it. Come on! Cry your eyes out!" He comforted, sounding more like he was awkwardly giving orders and harshly scolding Rick.

But Sanchez got his nonsense rants just as much as Morty did, and that's what he loved about them.

Honestly, Morty now considered himself a master on clicking his tongue in sync with the clock's maddening tick-tock.

It required an empty classroom, an annoying clock that didn't shut up, and a shitload of deep concentration.

"Smith."

Successfully ignoring the annoyed call, Morty's sharp attention never wavered from the tick that echoed in the room, empty of students except for two.

"Ass-Stick, it's getting annoying." He paused for a moment for any kind of reaction, but none other than clicks and saliva being spit into his face greeted him. "… Let's talk about your recent grades." He smugly suggested, regarding the way Morty stopped in his tracks, a grin overtaking his face. "More specifically the last test you took on- oh, I dunno, last Friday maybe?" Rick pointedly drawled, rolling his eyes in their sockets. "I think it was some complex math…"

"Is that so?" Morty tilted his face, eyes gleaming. "It sounds about right, but I need you to remind me- how did I score?" His hum dragged on for what sounded like a full minute, features contracted.

"Let, me, think-"

"Fuck that shit- I got my A+!" Morty enthusiastically threw a fist in the air, cutting him off with impatience. "Whoo! I can't believe he kicked us out for celebrating." He annoyedly added on a side note, spinning around in his spot until the world darkened in his eyes.

Sanchez leaned back behind the teacher's desk, shrugging out a response. "I know, right? Last time we started running in the hallways- this wasn't even half the yelling I planned to do."

"Aw, you knew I was gonna nail this." Morty cooed, half taunting.

He heart a snort from somewhere around the room. "I don't bet on something I know I'd lose. There's a difference."

"Nope, sounds the same to me." He was starting to get dizzy.

"Jesus, stop fucking spinning. You're giving me a headache, fucknut."

Though Morty was always down for stubbornness, a sudden wave of nausea threatened him to stop in his movements. He stumbled around a few times before finding a chair to steady himself with. "Who-oa."

"You're not appreciated in your time." Shaking his head with the muse, Rick kicked up his feet on the desk. "And just wait until Jerry sees this paper." A wicked glint flashed in his light-toned eyes. "Who's the 'retarded kid' now, fucker? Not this guy!" He pointed at Morty, barking out a cackle.

Morty's shoulders slightly tensed. "Um, I-I'm not sure I'll even tell him, honestly." He sheepishly scratched him covered arm. "Maybe it'll be better not to bring that up."

"Why not?" Sanchez narrowed his eyes, sitting a bit straighter. "Your dad's a dumb asshole- no offense- who underestimated you, Morty. And you just proved him wrong-" He vigorously pointed toward the quiz results that wordlessly sat on the wooden surface, waiting to be judged, for better or worse. The former on this case. "You solved every equation and question. You fucking did it. Can't you see?" He raised both palms, upwardly faced, facial expression incredulous, like I-know-you're-not-dumb-but-just-playing-dumb.

"All of it was you." The brunet shrugged, making his way to the paper and studying the green marker, the smiley face and all the exclamation marks. "All I did was write down some of the crap you explained to me."

"Uh, excuse me?" Now Sanchez really regarded him as if he were stupid. "That's how it fucking works! What else do you think people do to get a good grade?!"

Morty pursed his lips for a long moment, trying to zap a hole into the green messily drawn smile. "… I'm not doing it."

"I'll do it, then." Rick casually shrugged.

The boy looked up from the paper, eyes narrowed. "Are you actually looking for trouble?"

"If you're not confronting Jerry, I'm doing it for you." The seated one raised a challenging eyebrow. "Also, that's kinda my signature move. You know, trouble."

"Believe me, I know." He gave up with a sigh.

Sensing his troubled thought, Rick Sanchez cleared his throat. "So, anyway. The stupid prom is today."

"Yeah." Morty's 'yes' was the driest on he'd ever heard, coming out of his own vocal cords.

"You have a suit?"

Looking up in interest, he saw Rick humming to himself, a bad sign. "Uh, I guess? Are we really going? Why?" Neither of them had a date- one wasn't interested and one didn't manage to.

"There's shit to eat." The longtime classmate offered. "And drink. I think the music wouldn't be half-bad either."

Blinking, the gears in Morty's brain turned to figure out what could be wrong with Sanchez's offer. "They always have the shittiest playlist. What are you really up to?" He asked uncertainly, almost too afraid to know the answer.

His answer was a disturbing smirk. "Nah, I think it'll be fun."

"I give up." Exhaled Morty, crossing his arms. "Fuck it, let's go."

"Pick you up at seven." Rick nodded and something about his dismissive attitude made Morty pause.

"Hold on- is this about throwing a shitshow with my dad?!" The shorter one glare accusingly. "You better not piss him off, Sanchez. I'm the one who's gonna be grounded the next week."

"For getting a good score?!" Rick craned his neck, feigning innocence. "And I'll come get you either way- it's not like they check on you."

"Don't." He growled loudly, a warning.

"Fine." Whined the other, shoulders slouched.

Morty let his lids fall closed in a microsecond of peace. This wasn't going to go well. It never did.