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.

Chapter Text

Morty was boredly sitting on the couch when the doorbell rang. He deliberately sat there so he'd be the closest to the door. Rick Sanchez had to be moderated around Morty's family. He spat things out in the most blunt and inconsiderate words, like he sincerely enjoyed bringing out the worst in people. He did tend to gaze upon them in form of lab rats…

"Let's go." Morty blurted first thing after opening the door.

It made his best friend snicker. "Oh, Morty, Morty. I already had a friendly chat with Mr. Smith. Why are you in such a hurry?"

As Morty's father approached them from behind Sanchez's tall form, the boy's mouth dried up. But squinting closer, he noticed he wasn't wearing a scowl or anything similar… at all.

"Son, I heard excellent news from your uh," Jerry Smith chirped, wiping sweat from his forehead. He looked just done with the garden work. His enthusiasm faltered when he threw a smug Rick Sanchez an annoyed head-to-toe scan. "Degenerate friend." Morty prayed from the bottom of his heart for Sanchez not to snap. They had plenty of that just about everywhere else. Thankfully he settled on a scowl.

"I'm so proud of you!"

His blinking was sluggish and slow due to the piled up question marks in his head. "Um, th-thanks… dad?" He cringed, barely keeping his tone questioning in case this wasn't a prank.

"But I won't keep you waiting now!" Jerry firmly patted him on the back, stepping inside. "We'll talk when you get back. Have fun, Morty!"

Walking away, Morty was still processing it in his head. "Uh, w-we will!"

"Oh- and use protection! I'm talking from experience, believe me!"

"Jesus Christ." Every cell in Morty's body cringed and he refused to turn around at his father, who was probably expecting a reply. "I'm just hoping he wasn't talking about you."

"Who the fuck cares about him?" A distinct bitterness had crawled into Sanchez's sharp voice, which usually happened when he was talking about Morty's father. "I just wanted to prove how fucking wrong you were."

"Yeah, he loves me now." Morty noted with surprise. "I should get more A's, I guess?"

Rick threw back a patronizing look over his shoulder. "He always did, moron. He wouldn't judge your friends so hard if he didn't care. He wouldn't care about how you score on a stupid test. I mean I don't like Jerry- fuck Jerry. But that doesn't change that he loves you in his own pathetic way."

The sentiment of that sentence kept Morty quiet and thinking the entire way.

Despite Rick Sanchez's ambiguous remarks, the dance seemed to be going pretty normal and boring.

"I'll be honest Sanchez," Morty eyed the lights and all the dressed up students, who he supposed looked like were having fun. "I'm disappointed in you. Don't you have a single prank to pull on anyone?"

"Nope." Rick popped out, sipping from his glass. "Honestly? I'm disappointed in myself too."

Huffing, Morty turned his head to scan the other's attire. "Wow, are you dressed as a clown? You do know it's not Halloween." Snorting at his own joke.

"Then I guess it's a nice coincidence that we're matching." Rick raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge. "Doesn't make me stick out."

He split a smirk, raising the glass. "Cheers to ugly suits."

"Cheers." Morty never drank actual alcoholic beverages, unlike his closest friend, but liked the clank of glasses that went with the tradition.

"You know, you have to entertain me now somehow." Morty looked around the place for bait. Then he suggestively wigged his eyebrows, spotting a certain blonde. "Guess what? I guess Diane's here too. Isn't that nice."

"I know what you're thinking." Sanchez hummed musingly, eyeing her laughing form from afar. "And here's my proposal, don't, even."

"Why not?" Morty suppressed an evil chuckle. "I think it's time you shoot your shot, man. Though you usually come strong with the innuendos." He regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "She's an innocent little soul, so cut back on that-"

Rick cut his thoughtful advices off, confused. "How the fuck do you know all that?"

His response was a shrug. "She was my science partner for the other half of the year. I think we got along pretty well."

"You never told me that." He narrowed his eyes. "Damn, well, what else?" Starting to get absorbed in the tricks and info, he leaned in with interest.

"Uh, she likes smart guys." Morty hummed, trying to remember. "So that's your luck there. Again, do not use your dirtiest pickup lines, she's like a baby deer. Don't wanna-wanna spook her."

"Got it." Rick was already walking off.

"Wait- you don't know about-!" Trying to stop him, Rick only gave him finger guns in what he supposed was gratitude and left, leaving behind a glaring Morty. "Fucking finger guns? Seriously?"

He was going to get crushed. And definitely ignore the main rule about not making suggestive comments.

Morty hid his face in his palms, not wanting to see what he feared would happen.

A while passed, and his tense muscles started to relax. The crowd didn't gasp with horror and no sound of glass shattering rose. It took so long that Morty hesitantly raised his head, noticing with pleasant surprise that his hotheaded friend was actually communicating with his life-long crush in soft words, or so his expression told him.

The petite girl- Diane wore a timid smile, cheeks tinted pink. Though it was obvious she was flattered by his words- Morty didn't want to know what they were- she looked rather nervous, eyes darting around as if searching for something.

The music made it impossible to hear anything, and his eyesight was worse than necessary for lip-reading. But he saw Rick casually shrug and lean over her.

"Ask her to dance, jackass." Morty unconsciously muttered under his breath, foot tapping on the smooth floor.

The amount of nervousness and anticipation he felt was almost like he was the one trying to get a girl to dance. Eventually, Diane did another quick look around and took out a pen, hurriedly writing something on Rick's palm. And boy did the teen look lovesick. He was blinking with a blank expression, not expecting to succeed.

Morty's grin started to waver when Sanchez walked back to him empty handed, well, not entirely. "Idiot! Why didn't you-" He was cut off when the other threw a hold on his upper arm and began dragging him toward the crowd. "Where the hell are you going?"

Rick puffed out some air, shoulders relaxing. "I-I got her number, alright. She has a date though. Like, she was so sweet, she didn't wanna break that guy's heart." A soft smile was not a look Morty was used to seeing on Rick Sanchez. "You were right about the baby deer part, though."

"Uh, okay Romeo?" Morty teased, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously, where are we going? The punch is the other way?"

"Oh yeah, we're dancing." Rick brushed off like it was nothing, but Morty's blood ran cold in his veins.

"N-no, no." Shaking his head, the short one tried to free himself of the death grip, voice slightly wavering. "Sanchez- you know I fucking hate this! Let me go!"

"No way I'm letting you sit this one out." Sanchez chided, using more force on the struggling boy. "Jesus, it's just a dance! Literally, there are so many people here- anyone barely looks at you when you have a presentation and that one guy is me, so I can assure you no one will notice your presence here either." He tried reassuring him.

The last of his weak protests dying in his throat, Morty's limbs were as heavy as damp sand, and he felt unable to move them. The stupid slow dance music blasted unreasonably against his eardrums, sounds of careless laughter and guffaw making him tense in form of howling roars. The sharp odor of sweat hit him harder than he could smell from his safe corner, and Morty felt self-conscious about every inch of himself.

Taking a shaky breath, he copied the people around him and began moving with the dull song. He was admittedly used to being thrown into his worst phobias out of the blue. "What is wrong with you?" He still weakly complained. "This-this is gonna be the death of me." Gulping dryly, he absently put his hands on the other's shoulders, who appeared to be humming to the rhythm just fine. "B-but you don't like these dances either. W-why?" He hissed with as much heat as he could manage.

"Jeez, just go with the flow." Sanchez drawled, swaying to the sides. He was probably still drunk on endorphin and oxytocin. Teenagers. "Why do you hate crowds so much anyway?"

"Why do you hate me?" Morty's last words came out as a small sob before he could stifle it. It made the other freeze. "Just p-please let's get out. God, th-they are watching me! I-I need to-"

"Yeah, they asked me to dance and I said no." Rick explained in a small whisper. "Just a couple of nice chicks, nothing to worry about."

"I-I need to sit down." The hysteric one struggled to breathe out. "Right, now."

Instead of leading him out into fresh air like a good friend- scratch that, a decent, non-sadistic human being, Rick Sanchez hugged him right in the middle of the crowded dance fucking floor, shushing his ragged breaths. "Need is a strong word, Smith. How about you just take a deep breath like you taught me yourself?" He calmly tried.

"E-e-everyone's watching me, Rick." Morty did try to take a deep inhale, but ended up feeling suffocated. "I wanna get out."

"Counter proposal," Rick slightly pulled away to grin at him after two seconds of silence. "Let's make out so they think we're gay. I bet they'd wash the whole school with holy water after sacrificing us in some fancy ritual."

Despite his condition, an incredulous snort escaped Morty's tightened throat. "Wh-what's wrong with your brain?" His anxiety faltered in the slightest degrees. "Didn't you just get Diane's number? You wanna blow that up too?" He tried doing a chuckle, though it came out sounding weird.

It didn't seem to bother Sanchez, who hummed deeply. "Ugh, you're right. It'd be awkward if she started fingering me out of nowhere, y'know?"

Past Morty would've said 'gross, Sanchez'. The new Morty instead said. "You never fail to gross me out, Sanchez."

"Glad to be of service." A shit-eating smirk was what greeted him when Morty finally looked up, feeling more in control of his trembles and thoughts. "Heads up, I'm gonna dip you."

Alarm spiked up Morty's poor relaxed spine. "Sanchez, no."

"Sanchez, yes!" Rick chirped.

"Don't you even- eep!" He involuntarily expressed the curses he had in mind with a sharp squeak, 'like a mouse' was how people usually described it. Which was probably why he saw some of the girls in his class giggling at the embarrassing noise when his head had fallen back and he saw the place upside down. "I fucking hate you." The growl sat low in the back of his throat.

He was pulled back up in a few moments. "And I'm totally okay with that." Rick let go of him before he could start spouting out insults, then whispered something hushed to him like it was some big secret. "I got a surprise for you, by the way." Excitement dripped from voice, like a maniac waiting for his plans to unfold. "In about ten, nine…"

"Oh, god." Morty stilled, horrified. "What did you do? Who is it this time? Is it that-"

He cut himself off when the dull song ended, a loud and cheery one replacing what Morty suspected was originally supposed to be the next track.

It was 'Shake That Ass'.

The duo stared at one another, letting the song play out through the speakers. Morty heard baffled mutters and questions rising at the sudden change of genre and well, level of verbal decency.

"… You hacked the system?" Morty blinked in disbelief.

Sanchez raised a side of his unibrow, arms crossing. "Didn't have to. I just slipped it in the playlist while no one was looking."

They exchanged a slowly growing grin.

"Wanna dance- for real this time?"

"Hell, yeah."

"None of those pussy-ass love songs!" Sanchez exclaimed, nodding to the rhythm.

Around the oblivious duo, some of the pickier ones' lips curled in distaste and they made the decision to sit down. Others started to slowly join them, shrugging off the odd change of style and singing along.

"M-M-M-M-M-Morty?!"

Morty almost tripped and fell, the world starting to glitch in the corners of his vision. Freaked out and confused, he reached out for his best friend. "Rick, did you hear that too?" He got his attention by tugging on his labcoat.

Wait, what labcoat? Eyes widening in suspicion, Morty remembered Sanchez had never worn a lab coat in his entire life, even in the labs. "Uh, s-something's- my head hurts." Wincing at the sudden pain, he barely knew who he was talking to.

Abruptly the party slowed down to his eyes and ears, playing out in slow motion.

"What the fuck?" Rick finally turned around, eyeing somewhere on the ceiling. "What the shit's going on?"

"I don't know." Morty exclaimed, dread creeping in his anxiousness. "Geez, a-are we going to die? I-is this what death looks like?!"

A moment of utter silence passed between them.

"G-g-g-randpa Rick! Wake up you assh-h-hole! H-how to turn this th-thi- OFF-"

The female voice urged, glitching along with the rest of their surroundings, which flipped into a clear smooth floor, no color but white seen for infinity. The students and everything else faded away into nothingness. They were the only objects left standing.

Rick pursed his lips, pulled into a thin line as his eyes followed the shining ground to the horizon line. "Of course. I'm not real."

"What?!"

"We're not real, Morty." Rick shook his head with disappointment. "Our entire existence was a lie. Welp, still glad I got to spend it with you pal." Giving him one last smirk, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his labcoat. He definitely wore a labcoat now. "I'll miss you in the void."

"Uh, me too?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Morty awkwardly reciprocated. "So now we… die?" The last word echoing in the clear space.

"Eh, I guess something like that."

"That's… I…."

"Don't try to use that brain. You have a few seconds to give it time to actually relax."

"… Okay, Sanchez."

"For some reason, that feels weird now."

"Yeah…yeah, you're right, Rick. It does feel weird."

Eyes shooting open in panic, Morty automatically tried for a gulp of air. The problem was, all he saw was red and a sour, slash bitter taste flooded into his mouth and nostrils in that attempt.

He was too frantic to think twice before trying to scream for help, flailing his arms around. A constant loud beep did nothing to soothe his sharp awareness either, and in that moment he was sure he was going to die.

At the last moment though, a muffled noise cut through his hazed mind and his feeble body fell forwards, meeting solid ground.

And finally, finally he could cough and gasp for air, spitting all the nasty liquid out of his throat and blinking it out of his eyes. "F-fuck."

"Wake Rick up!" The same female voice said and looking up, Morty saw a familiar face.

"Summer?" Why did she have a gun? And why was she hiding behind that table? "Where am I?"

"Grandpa Rick can hopefully explain that to the both of us when he wakes up!" She yelled with a glare before going back to shooting at some creatures. "Hurry the fuck up!"

Turning his head to the side, he noticed Sanchez… no, Rick coughing on the ground, body as weak as his. "The paradise simulator…" The brunet whispered to himself, memories finally coming back to him like a ton of bricks.

He was Morty Smith, the grandson of some asshole version of Rick Sanchez, intergalactic terrorist and Most Wanted criminal in the universe, probably more than others. He left his family to rot in a decaying earth. Not to mention he was a psychopath and a murderer with less ethic codes than Krombopulos Michael.

Wow.

Rick raised his irritated eyes and they froze, catching the other's confused gaze. Though age had added the wrinkles that tugged around his eyes, the gleam in them was still in there, even more deeply rooted than before. They stared at each other wide eyed for a few minutes, panting out their puzzlement while Summer fought off whatever she was fighting.

Morty didn't have to be telepathic to figure this one out.

They both grew up alone in their younger years, alone in facing their own issues. A burden which could've been split with someone else, with a close friend who got them.

… But neither ever found that special friend.

Rick and Morty would've made a chaotic duo as children, Morty tried to stomach the idea. Or teenagers.

"Jesus, what are you assholes doing?! I'm dying over here and you're over there having a staring contest?!"

Rick was the first to break the contact, violently shaking his head as his eyes narrowed. "Uh, coming, Sum-Sum!"

They didn't need his help, Morty rationalized, laying back down in a mix of that liquid, which had both his and Rick's spit, sweat, probably piss, since they were thrown into one pod. Rick was definitely going to be more of an ass for a while.

He stared at the ceiling, wondering why he had to be alone. When he had that potential friend right next to him, but it could never be like what he just dreamt or lived. Both of them were just too withdrawn. Morty was healthy enough to admit that.

A few days passed since the incident of being held captive within a mini-universe. If Morty wanted to admit it aloud, it felt more than just a simulation.

It wasn't just about whatever it was that he wanted, which was a normal life, a normal friend and a normal future. It wasn't just a simulation at all, since Rick's inner desires disoriented the simple formula the special chemical created for him. The one in the red liquid that sustained him. Globaflyn, Rick had called it when explaining the process.

There was much Morty didn't understand about the changes made to his so called 'perfect heaven'. First of all, that world was far from perfect. Morty experienced pain there, physically and emotionally. Maybe it couldn't compete with the agonizing trauma dumped on him on a daily basis, but it was still something he would've liked to remove from his experiences. All the times he got bullied, rejected, insulted for his intelligence, forgotten, chewed up and spit out while life snorted at his tears.

Maybe he was so used to the feeling of pain that getting away from it hurt him. Maybe deep down he was addicted to it in some fucked up way. Typical Morty Smith. No one knew for sure.

But also maybe the chemical didn't work normally when it had to create one algorithm for two sentient minds. Because Morty doubted some of the events in that small cozy universe was something either of them wished to bear.

Third option, Rick was the masochist, not him. A likely scenario, but it still nagged at him as the week progressed, days going without Morty exchanging a single word with the unusually silent scientist. The boy couldn't even be mad at him since he was doing the same.

Rick's silence was often dangerous sign. Especially when the noises in the garage tended to continue until up to four in the morning. It was something for Morty to worry about when his older companion began to chug on the heavier drinks like it was the end of the world tomorrow. When he barely showed up at the table for meals. And when he did, just quietly and almost automatically dined, head hanging low and avoiding eye contact.

And what did he want most? Because Sanchez lost everything in the mini-universe. He suffered through years of physical abuse with his father. He lost his beloved mother to a car crash. The only thing that kept the teen going was working out the kinks to his portal gun and getting away from Earth.

How did their stories get mixed up?

So many questions swam around his mind, casually bothering him during the day.

As Morty reluctantly descended the stairs, a thought struck him, his next step freezing midair.

What if… What if Rick had given up on the idea of having a pleasant and guilt-free day in his life? What if his expectations and dreams were limited to and confined in a small bubble of one constant in his mind?

Maybe he just wanted to finally reunite with his wife. Rick didn't allow himself to dream from what he gave away. He'd buried the existent ones so deep no one or thing could have access to it. Maybe being with Diane was all the chemical could suck out of his most far-fetched fantasies-

"Fuck." Shaking off the thought, Morty began to walk faster to reach his destination. His own dilemmas were enough to occupy his mind. He didn't have to worry about his grandfather's too.

The moment he set foot in the living room, a sweet and rotten smell hit his nose, making his expression scrunch up in disgust.

"You're just in time, Morty. We're about to start movie night." Beth's expression lightened seeing her son. She was looking through DVD's.

"W-what's that shitty smell?" The teen slightly gagged, walking his way from the front of the couch to find an empty spot next to Rick.

He hesitated in sitting down, the smell hitting him harder when neared the blue-haired man. Rick gave him a red eyed glare, nonverbally threatening him to move away from the TV.

Methylamine.

Morty's mouth snapped open to bite something out, to shame or scold Sanchez but something made him pause.

This was not 'Sanchez' he was face to face with. He didn't get to yell at him whenever he wanted to. Morty didn't have a right to tell Rick, the dour old man what to do or not to smoke or snort up drugs.

But it was a difficult and paining attempt to try and collect himself and calm down. Remembering his imaginary best friend's history with drug abuse, both his and Morty's darkest times right after Charlotte died, his fist clenched at the echoing frustrated growls, wailings, wreckage and the wild rage. It haunted him and Sanchez for a long time before he was finally convinced to go to rehab, having reached the nadir. Waiting for the other to hit the rock bottom left him with more guilt than he anticipated, but Morty was always just glad they had put it past them.

"What?" Rick grumpily raised an eyebrow, trying to see the movie over Morty's standing form.

Morty's feet stayed glued to the floor and he absently swallowed.

No single detail about his week was ever self generated based on nothing. Morty's social anxiety was highlighted because he indeed struggled with it in the back of his mind. A part of him still yearned to please and satisfy his parents with excellent grades. All of those had transformed into a part of his story and plot.

Not to mention Rick was still grieving his…

God, I miss her. I don't even know why! I should be fucking moving on!

Holy, shit.

"Morty, you're standing right in-fucking front of me." Snapping with more urgency, Rick's call brought his dumbstruck face to shake itself clear. "Move, dipshit!"

Mumbling out a distracted apology, Morty sat down, gaze falling to the floor. He didn't spare the moving screen a glance, trying to get his thoughts together. He took a long moment to gather info, put in a backpack, ready to hit the shit store. He reminded himself again, Rick was capable of handling his own problems.

… But was he?

"Uh, you want some?" Morty's father awkwardly said, offering him his popcorn. He must've been staring.

Morty let his head fall back on the back of the couch and lids slip closed, letting the distant hum of rain outside guide his train of thought.

"Damn, grandpa Rick." He faintly heard his sister whisper, surprised. "I thought you only had that tattoo on your ass!"

The response to her gushing was a predictable monotone. "Uh-huh." A processing pause. "What."

"Uh, what the fuck's a 'smad'?"

Morty's eyes fluttered open, being re-greeted with the ceiling.

"I.… fuck." He knew a heartfelt groan when he heard one.

Wide eyes meeting his sister's, Morty licked his dry lips. "It-it means to be sad and mad at the same time… 'Smadder than a lightning bolt's some-some stupid metaphor that doesn't make any sense." He huffed, frowning upon his own stupid brain.

"I have gotta quit drinking like that." Meanwhile Rick grumbled to himself, ignoring the siblings overall.

Summer squinted further on his left arm. "Rick, is that a dick on your wrist? Jeez, you were really shit-faced with the designs." She mused.

"Yep, no idea what I was thinking with this shit." Shoulders going rigid, Rick tried to pull the sleeve of his labcoat down to cover the ink up. "Let's watch the fucking movie now."

Morty couldn't help the snicker that escaped him, earning himself a smack behind the head.

Morty should've predicted he wouldn't be the only one who loved the rain, he mused with pleasant surprise as he watched his grandfather stand in the overgrown grass, completely soaked.

Snapping out of his trance, he realized he'd been standing there for a while now. It would be awkward if Rick decided to turn back and accidently see him.

When he stopped his small steps to stand beside him, Rick didn't acknowledge his arrival. He kept facing the sky, bagged eyes closed and breathing steady.

Copying him, a smile tugged on Morty's mouth as he stuck his tongue out.

A wave of familiarity and warmth took over him as he listened to the sound of each water drop crash onto different surfaces. It was stifled when it landed the grass. Some fell in the already filled up puddles of dirty water, and some of the main louder noise came from atop their roof. That one was his favorite. He could get lost listening to that drum. The lack of rhythm itself created a unique pattern he could follow within his mind, free as the wind.

Hesitantly opening his eyes, the young one noticed they were still awkwardly standing side to side in the heavy rain. It made him self conscious to remember he wasn't alone in the human silence.

Gulping the few water drops he successfully caught, he decided to bite the bullet. "… It's okay to miss her y'know. The-them both." His wife and his dear child, Morty corrected himself as he counted.

Nothing came for a few heartbeats. Then Rick Sanchez sighed and moved his head forward and in place. "… You weren't supposed to be smart." He didn't sound angry with him, but more irritated with something else.

"Smart, as in noticing how my insecurities, fears and shit projected themselves in form of trauma?" Morty voiced his most recent conclusions, keeping his eyes ahead. "And that the same could kinda be happening to you?"

Another strained sigh confirmed that.

Biting his lower lip, the young one made a decision to push his luck. He lightly cleared his throat with a cough. "Can I uh, see the tattoos?"

Sharp and annoyed eyes made him slightly shrink. "… You know what they fucking look like."

"Yeah, I drew them." Morty allowed himself a hesitant smirk, wiping the excessive water on his face.

On Rick's usually stoic or blank features sat a tight and strained mask, lips pursing. "… You still weren't clever enough for the dick. It uses the veins as a part of the design."

He blinked in pleasant surprise at the small inviting gesture. "See? We make a great team when we try to." He lightly giggled to his own words. Then turned his gaze back to the sky, assuming the conversation was done by the newly forming silence.

"Maybe we do." Rick eyed him with a smirk, humming.

It filled him with a warm giddiness. "You're stalling, Rick- show me!"

"Fine!" Rick drawled, relenting as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He began rolling up his left sleeve, revealing doodles and quotes inked into his skin, from his elbow to the wrist, which represented the lines of the cast that surrounded that arm long ago.

Eyes widening, Morty took the forearm and brought it closer, letting his amazed stare roam over the smiley faces, the 'Get better soon, Sanchez', 'Smadder than a lighting bolt!', 'Your hooligan ass will never get rid of me' and Rick's reply under it, which was 'I can say the same'. The colorful vocabulary and…

'I'll have to warn the poor girl Diane about you:)'

"Y-you got all of them." Morty noted with surprise, smile momentarily wavering upon reading the last one.

The other abruptly drew his limb back, rolling the fabric down almost immediately. "If you haven't realized that already, I got them while so drunk my memory draws a blank on everything related to the next twenty four hours." He scrunched up his nose, crossing his arms. "What the fuck are you doing here, by the way?"

"Couldn't sleep." The boy awkwardly shrugged. "M-my mind still glitches every night a-and it's really painful, but tonight…" He trailed off, gears turning in search of words that complete his sentiment.

"How can we sleep when it's raining?" Casually suggested the tall man, hands in his pockets. "Don't wanna miss out on any of this bad bitch." He half-heartedly kicked a puddle, eyes half-lidded in boredom.

"So true." Morty warmly smiled, even though he was shivering. "H-hey, Rick?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Rick slowly turned to face him after a pause, crystal blues sharply narrowed. "… Why? And don't tell me you learned a fucking lesson here. We both got emotionally screwed over."

"Screwed over?" Morty echoed incredulously. "No! Thank you for being there for me. Every choice we made there- w-we did it out of free will. You could've just left me to rot or get eventually beaten-up to death, but you stayed by me as my best friend. Tha-that was a conscious choice, San- Rick." He chided.

"I needed you too!" Blurted out the old man, composing himself by looking away. Morty's eyes widened as saucers. "W-what I meant to say was-" Stammering, the man averted his glare, starting to get frustrated. "I-it wasn't an experience I wanted to bear, alright? Like-like-I'm fucking confused right now." His eyes, now sharper as ever, twitched around for a way out.

"It was something I never got to h-have." Morty reasoned, stubbornly taking a step toward him. "Y-you were my closest friend and a-and I have like a thousand nice memories of your fake ass- I miss that! Even though it technically never happened!" He cried out, desperate to make him understand.

"That's, the fucking, problem." Rick spelled out through gritted teeth.

Swallowing, Morty frowned, not understanding the intensity in that stress. "What, tha-that you won't allow yourself to have a close friend?"

"It never happened!" Rick echoed his previous statement. "It wasn't real. Just a simulation, which shouldn't even matter. Just fucking let it go!"

"Wait, so you're still paranoid about that time with the 'simulations inside simulations'." Raising an eyebrow, he received an incredulous huff. "Tha-that time you held a knife to my throat? Right. Actually, news flash Rick, the simulation revolved around us, right?" The gears in his head turned as he gave the explanation.

"Uh-huh." The man grumbled, arms crossed.

"The world was fake, but we were real. H-how can you say it never happened when we were just taking the simulation for a ride? The whole thing was just an adventure, in a-a twisted way." He concluded as he though about it, flailing his arms around. "You were still Rick, and I was still Morty. Wrap your head around that!"

Mouth hanging open for a retort, Rick closed it after a pause. Then opened it once more.

Chest still rising and falling from his rant, Morty stared at the man sideways, expectant for the usual bite. "Y-you have issues, man." He panted out, realizing the man was just arguing for the sake of fucking arguing.

Jaw set, Rick kept his glare this time and didn't look away. "I was doing just fine before you came down here to pester me like this." Stubbornly he scoffed. "Asshole."

Throat suddenly closing up, Morty ran a firm hand down his face, realizing how hard he was fighting for a drop of the comfort he used to receive in gallons. "O-okay, I'll shut up." He bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering.

The tightness and waver of his words didn't go unnoticed, when Rick regarded him with caution. "Huh. Well, that was easy. " He tried for a joke.

Eyes on somewhere to his right, Morty half-heartedly hugged his arms, sitting down on the muddy ground.

"Don't just fucking sit in that shit! So what, next thing you're gonna-gonna roll around in it like -like a pig-" The man's voice rose in octave, a pause following after it. "Oh, I walked right into that. I don't get to tell you what to do and that bullshit- I get it."

Letting his forehead rest on his knees, the younger one suppressed a sigh. He wasn't even trying to fish for pity at that point. Rick was just embarrassing himself.

"… I fell into that one too, didn't I?" At his lack of answer, Morty heard a long sigh before the scientist took his own seat next to him, despite his own words.

"I uh, it's funny cause I never thought of them as 'projections'." Morty heard him mutter, eyes squeezed shut. "But I just thought of something else... Smith supporting all my ideas and projects…" His eyes fluttered open and stared at close fabric of his wet jeans. "That was a way to make up for my real parents, they barely spared my inventions and ideas a thought. They-they wanted me to be normal… you wanted me to be me."

Morty slowly raised his head, almost afraid to make eye contact and spook Rick's openness away. "The-then what about your mom?" He timidly asked.

"She loved me. All mothers do." He shrugged, palms planted behind him as he leaned back. "But she didn't really get me. And spoiler alert, I never really got rid of my dad."

"O-oh." That froze Morty's blood more than the physical cold did.

"Yep." Rick pursed his lips. "But he's dead now, I mean no shit. I'm the godfather now." He briefly snorted now. "The point being Sanchez had the potential of being so much better than me, cause he had someone that didn't doubt him."

Speechlessness rendered Morty silent, mouth agape.

"Don't let it get to your head, though." He teased half-heartedly, bumping his shoulder to his.

"And Rick doesn't?" Morty blurted, making the other frown in confusion. "Sanchez had someone who-who didn't doubt him. And Rick doesn't?"

Uncomfortably shifting his weight from hand to hand, Rick hummed in slight disapproval. "Kid, I appreciate that, but I think it's a little late for 'Rick'."

"What if I believed it's not?" Morty stubbornly persisted. "What if I used a corny line that feels true, like how your past doesn't define and restrain you?"

"Uh, then… I guess it's worth a shot?" Wincing, Rick narrowed his eyes. "Ugh, cringe, Morty." He pretended to gag, brushing off the vulnerable aura.

"Check your arm if you wanna see cringe." The teen joked. "Who said cringe was a bad thing in the first place?"

"Some asshole with no friends, probably." He mused quietly, streaked with amusement.

Morty snorted at that, leaning his head on the other's shoulder, hoping for it to remain intact. "Damn right."

And so it did. An arm wrapped around Morty's tense shoulders, making them relax. "H-hey S- Rick?"

"Yeah, Ass-Stick?"

It made him smile. "Wanna sing?" His eyes gestured at the dark clouds above them.

Turning to look at him, a smirk and a twinkle sat on Rick's usually indifferent expression. "Great idea, Morty."

Minutes later, Summer had only come downstairs for a glass of water.

She did not sign up for whatever her brother and grandpa were going through, she thought as she stared through the glass at the duo under the downpour. They were skipping in a small circle, arms locked, laughing and singing some nonsense so loud it would've woken the entire neighborhood if it weren't for the noise of the rain.

A smirk formed on her face and she pulled out her phone, tapping on record.