Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12223245.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez, Morty_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      C137cest, Blowjobs, writer_under_the_influence, unnecessary_angst,
      humor?, Slow_Burn-ish, Drugs_(pot), Rick_support_group, its_gonna_get
      tropey_as_fuck_up_in_here
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-30 Updated: 2017-11-14 Chapters: 8/? Words: 13939
****** Latent Tendencies ******
by cousinrayray
Summary
     There's an urban legend that doing drugs brings out latent insanity.
     Morty's gonna go with that. Rick would love to have the same excuse.
Notes
     Ok full disclosure- I wrote most of this stoned. That's where it all
     came from. It's a chaptered fic because why not.
     It's not completely finished but it will be, and I tried to leave it
     for now at a spot with some closure. Then I added some more, lol.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
His grandfather was hot.
Well, he probably always knew that, he reflected stonily, he just had never
really thought about it. Rick was real hot. Like, smokin’ hot. The lines on his
face were sharp, almost angry. His large eyes were half lidded, now, but Morty
could remember them sharp, cunning, full of excitement or mischief.
“M-Morty, pass the f-euugh-uckin’, fuckin pass the blunt Morty,” his
grandfather mumbled grumpily, “Stop being a pissy little blunt ho-euuugh-hog.”
Morty absently handed the blunt back over to him. Rick looked up, glanced at
his face for a second, raised his eyebrows, and added, “and stop staring at me
like- like you're fucking dead-- you're be-eigh-ing a creeper Morty, fucking
stop. He took a drag, “God Morty, only you-- only you could take like two hits
off a blunt, filled with-with shitty Earth weed, and be totally-- you're
fucking stoned off your nut, Morty.”
He took another puff and chased it with a swig of booze. They were sitting in
Rick's room. Morty had nervously bought the blunt a week ago when offered at
school, and had waited for his first guaranteed evening alone to smoke it. He
hadn't counted on Rick suddenly stumbling drunkenly into his room as he was
standing there holding it, deciding where he should smoke it. Instead of being
angry, or at least mocking him, Rick simply grinned and gave a drunken cheer,
saying, “ Fuck yea-hah, M-mouugh-rty, way to step- step it up a notch. We're
gonna-- I wanna-- we’re smoking this in my room, let's go Morty,” He had
grabbed the blunt from Morty's still frozen fingers, and lurched back out of
the room, leaving a somewhat shell-shocked Morty trailing in his wake.
Morty ignored, or more didn't even hear, Rick's words. He was mesmerized by the
lazy, loose movements of his grandfather’s arms, how the muscles bunched up and
relaxed again to take the blunt and how his lips wrinkled and his eyes crossed
a bit with every drag. He looked down to the lines of his body, angular and
thin, so much firmer and younger than most grandpas. He had seen that body
running, fighting, moving like a man possessed, and even when it was
haphazardly sprawled in a chair, drunk and high, he felt like he could see that
potential motion still there. He wanted to touch it. Would the skin feel loose
and old, or tight from all the energy pent up inside it?
“Um, Morty, you there Morty? Rick reached out and gave him a shove, “Earth to
dipshit, Morty, you- you li-iigh-ttle pansy.”
Ricks voice was warbling in Morty's ears, and the shove felt kinda sticky, like
it was in slow motion. He felt his body jiggle back and forth in reaction,
regaining its balance as he sat, cross-legged on the cot. He looked slowly back
up at Rick's face, reluctant to leave his study of this new, fascinating visual
he was getting of his grandfather, and said, “W-what, Rick? What's wrong?”
“What's wrong? That's like the first fucking thing you've said for like- like a
half an hour Morty. Is this your first time smoking weed?” Morty nodded, a dumb
smile spreading on his face.
Rick laughed at him, “Goddamn, Morty, you really- you really are a dumbfuck.
You were gonna, just gonna smoke a whole blunt to the face?” Morty nodded
again, grinning wider. Rick laughed again, “I don't know if- if you're more
stupid, or bra-euugh-ve. What do you- who you think you are, kid?”
“You,” Morty responded with with barely a pause, then began giggling
hysterically. Rick smirked and began laughing too, “Fuckin’ right, my man.”
They sat in relaxed silence. Morty leaned forward and stared again at his
grandfather’s face, mind replaying how it had moved from jerking and drawn up
with laughter, to now, relaxed and smiling faintly, staring off into space. He
wanted to see what it would feel like, to feel it move.
“Rick, can I touch your face?”
“What? No. Why? What do you-- why do you want to touch my fucking face? How
high are you, M-Morty? Jesus.” Rick grumbled.
“Aww, c’mon Rrrrick,” Morty whined reflexively.
“Jesus fucking Christ, what-whatever, Morty. Lionel Richie this shit up, ho,”
he said exasperatedly, waving his hands over his face, “Just quit your
bitchin’. You're harshing my fucking vibe.”
Morty stared, blankly, then suddenly realized that he had actually been given
permission and scuttled closer to the edge of the bed, putting his feet on the
floor. He brought his hands up to either side of Rick's face.
He paused a moment,suddenly a bit nervous, then placed his hands on Rick's
cheeks. He stared, amazed, at his hands on his grandfather's face. Rick stared
back for a second before quickly shutting his eyes, shaking his head a bit and
mumbling about “constant fucking bullshit”. Morty watched his face go blank,
almost passive. He waited a few seconds.
Well. He wasn't sure if this was more or less than he expected. Rick’s skin
felt softer than he thought it would. His face went on being still, so Morty
couldn't really feel it move much. He decided after a few moments that
logically that meant he should move his hands, instead. He started by moving
first just his thumbs back and forth, then slowly sliding his hands up higher,
skirting around the eyes and up to Rick's forehead. The tips of his fingers
tickled a bit, just barely in his blue-gray hair.
The skin on his forehead was more lined, Morty could feel the slight ripples
under his hand. He was leaning very close to Rick, he realized, and shot a
quick glance down at the rest of his face. His grandfather looked unchanged,
breathing lightly, almost like he was asleep sitting up.
He ran his thumbs over Rick's brow, fascinated by the idea of holding Rick's
mind in his hands. Then he moved his hands back down his face, this time
brushing lightly over the closed eyes. He came to a stop at the bottom, so that
he was more or less cupping Rick's face with his thumbs close to his mouth.
Looking at the picture it made with Rick's closed eyes, he felt, almost,
protective.
Faintly, he marveled that he had been allowed to do this so long, that Rick
hadn't sprang back to life yet and impatiently pushed him off. He registered
distantly that his heart was racing. He felt drawn to look at Rick's mouth, his
clever, mean, unpredictable mouth that was currently still. It was a marvel of
ingenuity. He slowly began to move his thumbs back and forth once more, the
swings gradually getting wider until finally he could feel a faint dampness on
his thumb, and he was basically stroking the corner of his grandfather mouth.
Rick's eyes flew open and he did push Morty back, then. “Oookay, kiddo, that's-
that's enough there, you little weirdo. I've indulged your stony ass long
enough.”
“Th-thanks,” Morty said somewhat dazedly. He blinked rapidly, feeling a little
disoriented. His eyes still felt glued to Rick's mouth as it spoke, and
unthinkingly he leaned in again.
Rick frowned, “Morty, you know, you get pretty fucking weird when you're
stoned. It's not- nobody's gonna want to get high with you Morty, if you just
stare at them and- like you're a serial killer, and-and you touch them like a
total creep. You're being a creep, Morty, you're creeping me out.”
Morty looked up at Rick's eyes, blinked, and realized just how weirded out his
grandfather looked right now. He blushed, embarrassment flooding into him, and
stammered, “S-sorry, Rick, I guess I am r-really high.”
“No shit, Morty, you got, you get a gold star for that one, M-ough-rty. S’cool
dawg. You can't help being, being- being a little noob bitch.” He smirked,
relaxing once more. “I remem- I remember getting stoned for the first time. I
was twice as young as you, and three ti-iegh-mes as cool, but, you know.”
“Uh-huh,” Morty tried to keep his gaze away from Rick's mouth but it was
difficult. He felt hyper-aware of it, seeing it move in the corner of his eyes
as Rick talked.
What would it feel like if he kissed it?
The thought slipped easily into his mind, but he was starting to come down a
bit, and he realized quickly how over-the-line it was, how wildly inappropriate
that would be to do, how inappropriate the very idea was. He felt himself blush
furiously, felt the heat start to rise off his face and chest and he cleared
his throat nervously.
Rick raised his eyebrow, giving him warily curious look, “What the- what the
hell’s wrong with you now?”.
“Nu-nuthin’ man, I'm cool. J-just chillin’, d-dawg,” he somehow got out. Rick
looked unimpressed, but shrugged. Internally Morty's brain was spinning. Kiss
him? Kiss him?? What was he thinking, what was he doing? What had he been
doing, before? This was his grandfather. God, what was in that weed? But he
couldn't unthink it, now. He still wanted to do it, even, he couldn't help it.
It felt like pieces tumbling into place. Rick was hot. Like, not just
objectively, but personally hot to him. Hot like Morty would like to kiss him,
to touch him more, for a long time, and in every place he could. Fuck! What if
Rick touched him? He could feel himself start to get aroused as he imagined
overly long fingers descending down onto him, that fucking mouth smirking not
meanly, but lecherously.
Holy shit, he was fucked. He had fucked up, getting high with Rick. Now he was
popping boners for his grandfather. There was no possible way this was good.
A terrible thought struck him, did Rick know? He might have known ages ago. He
could have read some obscure pattern in Morty with his genius brain and known
the first time he looked at him what would eventually happen. Maybe he's known
fucking forever, long before Morty himself did, what kind of true creep his
grandson secretly was. Maybe that was why he was so mean. But then why would he
hang out with him?
Oh God, could he tell he had a boner now?? Morty looked down surreptitiously.
He was pretty sure you couldn't see it from the outside, but what if he was
wrong? He glanced over at Rick. Rick was leaning back in his chair with his
eyes almost entirely shut. He had long since finished off Morty's blunt, and
every so often he would take a swig of alcohol, but otherwise looked to be
slowly passing out.
Morty tried to calm himself. If Rick knew what he was thinking about there was
no way he would have let Morty touch his face. Hell, if he knew Morty was like
this, or knew that Morty was ever gonna be like this, there was no way he would
put up with Morty. It was a miracle he ever wanted to hang out with Morty as it
was, there was no way he would want to if “creepy horny incest perv” was part
of the already stupid, annoying Morty package. Morty was safe.
Except, he wasn't, he realized with a sinking feeling. Even if Rick didn't know
now, he certainly would, soon enough. Rick knew everything. How was he even
going to make it through the rest of tonight, sitting here stoned and erect in
this tiny room, without Rick finding out?
He pressed down on his boner surreptitiously with the heel of his hand,
shifting as he did to hide his actions. He tried to think unsexy thoughts, then
he made himself think about his parents’ reaction, Summer’s reaction, if they
could see inside his head right now, if they knew what was getting him hard.
Gradually, he felt himself begin to go back down. Thank god. If he played it
cool, he could make it through the rest of the night, wait until Rick passed
out for real, and escape back up to his room.
Then he just had to make it through the rest of his life.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Rick just didn't care about most stuff that most people did. Being the smartest
man ever meant you could fix almost any problem the universe could possibly
sent your way, and 99.99% of most people's problems, including his family’s,
were so fucking boring as to be beneath his notice, much less any concern.
He ended up having to change that a bit, when it came to Morty. He didn't have
a choice in the matter. The little shit was so sensitive, so breakable, and he
was necessary to Rick.
Because of Morty, he had to reign himself in on their outings. He was still
Rick Sanchez, of course, he could never care about useless bullshit like easily
fixable wounds or fear, or abstract concepts like propriety or politeness. But
of course he'd have to pay attention to the weak-assed dummy, make sure he
wasn't in over his head, about to kill himself or them both. And not taking him
wasn't an option obviously. He needed Morty.
Because of Morty he had to become a defender, even if it was literally for only
one person in the entire multiverse. That was his turf, his kid. And a sad
Morty wasn't nearly as fun as a happy Morty. And he wasn't so stupid as to deny
that even he was human enough to feel protective of his grandkids. He had
become an aggressive, if somewhat resigned, shield.
Because of Morty, he found himself almost doting on a stupid, smelly teenager.
A dipshit that would get his dick stuck in a toaster, that would kill them both
by stopping to argue when they're fleeing for their lives. A sheep that would
put its life, its sanity, its affection, in the hands of something as obviously
shady as Rick. And he had to dote, because what if Morty stops? What if he
stopped wanting to go?
Irrational attachment, indeed. The kid had him by the fucking balls. He had
claim to his brain, body, and if souls existed the little bastard probably had
that too. It was a mercy the twerp was so insecure and accepting, would never
see through him and realize Rick would do almost anything to keep him happy and
with him.
Thank god. If Rick couldn't get away with fucking with Morty, life would be a
lot less fun.
It was a wonderful surprise for his drunken self, to walk in on Morty holding a
decent sized blunt in his room. Of course he wasn't gonna let the little
dumbass smoke it by himself and break something, probably himself. Besides, it
was a pretty wholesome activity, in the grand scheme of things, for the two of
them to do. And more importantly, Rick did not ignore drugs up for grabs, ever.
It would be a fun bonding experience.
He should have figured Morty would somehow make things difficult. The pussy, of
course, could not handle his weed at all, practically vegetative after a single
hit. And then he came to and started with his face touching shit. Rick was
decently high and pretty drunk and just wanted the kid to shut the hell up so
he didn't put up much fuss. Then it got weird.
The kid's hands were so light and slow, and Rick could still feel his stare
through eyes he had quickly closed. Staring so close to each other felt
unbearably odd.
Not that the sensation with his eyes closed wasn't fucking odd, too. Or at
least, it started odd, but he stopped caring much when he realized that it was
tactilely pleasing.
Then he sort of drifted off while Morty was massaging the lower half of his
face, and came to with the realization that Morty was poking his thumb in and
out of his mouth. Well, that had taken a turn.
And the fucking lightweight refused to snap out of it, kept staring at his
mouth even after Rick snapped and pushed him away. Rick started to feel a bit
uneasy. Who knew what the hell the kid was thinking. Morty made dumb choices as
easily as breathing when he was sober. Getting high with him might have been a
bad idea, now he was responsible for his stony ass.
Luckily the kid left alone after that. Rick slowly allowed himself to slip down
into a pleasant half-sleep, enjoying the rare quiet companionship. Then, of
course, Morty disturbed it again. He kept fidgeting around, and when Rick
watched him under his eyelids he could see him flushed and squirming, pressing
his hand on his dick. For the love. Never get high with Morty again.
Rick didn't give a shit anymore, he was too relaxed to bother talking to the
twerp. He'd interfere if the creepy fuck started actually jerking it right here
in the room with him, but otherwise ignore him. Thankfully, the noises subsided
soon and he passed out fully.
A few days later he was tinkering in the garage when a thought occurred to him,
the idea suddenly appearing in his mind full of rich detail, the way most of
his ideas did. The staring thing, the face thing, the mouth thing and the
boner. All directed at him, or in his presence. Stoned, but. Was Morty one of
those Morties?
It wasn't unheard of for Morties to fancy themselves attracted to their Ricks,
or even in love. They were needy, bleeding-heart turds like that. Rick had
vaguely considered the possibility of that happening to his Morty in the past,
but honestly never really expected it. He shrugged to himself and continued
working. Well, he'd wait and gather more evidence, and if necessary, come up
with a plan.
A few days after that and he was decently drunk with a serious hankering for
dimension D-384 IHOP, so, unconcerned that it was the middle of the night he
stumbled towards Morty's room to make his grandson come with him.
The stairs were more difficult to traverse than expected, and he paused outside
Morty's door to reward himself with another swig from his flask. That was when
he heard it. Frantic creaking of a bed, panting, and, in a crescendo of
rustling, a choked moan of his name.
Well, fuck. That mystery had been even easier to solve than Rick expected. He
debated busting in now, verses giving the kid a few moments. It would be more
fun to wait. And it would give Rick a bit of time to consider his options.
He barged into the room after a few moments pause, enough that Morty looked
beetroot and horrified at his sudden appearance, but wasn't actually caught
doing anything inappropriate, and, snickering to himself, hauled his confused,
stammering grandson out the door.
 
Rick groaned with immense satisfaction. They were sitting at the IHOP, which in
this dimension was staffed and patronized by terribly ugly fish-people, but had
the fluffiest, most melt in your mouth pancakes imaginable. They were better
than sex, and he was devouring them with equivalent enthusiasm. Morty was only
picking at his, looking groggy and distracted. That was no fun.
Rick moaned again, this time a bit longer and more drawn out. Out of the corner
of his eye, he saw Morty glance up, then quickly look down at his food again.
Perfect. Another moan, combined with a “God, Morty, these- these are sooo good”
got him the beginnings of a blush, and a fidget, all the while staring
resolutely at his plate. Rick smothered his grin.
“What's wrong with you Mo-ough-rty? You sick? I take you to the best goddam
pancake place in the galaxy and you're, you're just sitting there.”
“I don't-- I dunno R-Rick, it's just late, I guess. It's h-hard to be hungry at
3am.”
“Your powers of observation leave- leave much to be desired, Morty, as u-ugh-
sual. This place is hoppin’, there's-there's sunlight streaming through the
window. It's like ten o'clock here.”
Morty rolled his eyes, “You, you know what I mean Rick”.
Now that he finally had his eyes on Rick's face, Rick took the opportunity to
take another bite of pancakes, moaning lasciviously and slowly pulling the fork
back out of his mouth.
It was a serious struggle not to burst out laughing when Morty instantly went
bright red, staring at his mouth. This was too fucking easy, Rick realized, and
promptly became bored. He finished the rest of his pancakes, leaving Morty in
peace. Not that it mattered, the kid still blushed and squirmed through the
rest of the meal.
 
On the ride back, he decided to up the ante. Morty was still being quiet and
awkward, undoubted still wrapped up in stupid teenage angst and lust.
“Sooo-ough-oo, Morty, you like fish dicks?”
“What?”
“Fish dicks, Morty, you like ‘em? It's not a difficult question.”
 
Morty sighed, “Fishsticks? I-I guess. Is this where you-you call me a gay
fish?”
“What? No Morty, don't be an idiot. I ask because there's one other benefit of
that planet, besides kick-ass pancakes. The people there-- they're horny as
fuck, Morty. Always down for a good time. Massive wangs, Morty. You ever need a
good dicking, that's-- that's the place for it.”
Mort seemed stunned for a second, then exclaimed disgustedly, “W-What the hell?
G-gross, Rick! Why would you think- why would you even t-tell me that?”
“Just tryinna’ help you out here, Morty. A good lay is a good lay. And let me
tell you, if you-- if you can get past the butterfaceness, those peckers will
make you see stars. ‘Specially a, a tiny fucker like you.
Morty looked like he might be about to combust, blushing furiously, twitching
jerkily, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Finally, he managed to speak,
though it was stuttering nonsense. “W-what makes you--what-- w-why do-- why
would you think I-I even want that?!”
“Well jeez, Morty, I never- never realized you were so shallow. It don't matter
what they look like, as long as they're good at what they do. And trust me,
those guys are goooood. Don't, don't be a bad person, Morty.”
“N-Not that, I don't mean that! Dick!!”
Rick finally allowed himself to laugh. The look of mortification on the kid's
face as soon as he realized what he had practically screamed was too much.
“God, Morty, that's your- that's what your issue is? What have I told you about
planetary mindsets? It don't get much more planetary than giving a shit about-
about holes verses poles.”
“I-that's not- it's”
“Or are you tryinna’ shame me Morty? You ashamed that- that your grandpa
sometimes gets a hankerin’ to get fucked? You think I'm less of a man now? That
your problem?”
“No! I don't- I don't care, Rick. I-I”
“Well what is it, Morty?? What stupid shit’s got your panties in a twist now?”
“Nothing, R-Rick! I’m fine, I don't care, I don't care if you-you like dick, I
just- just don't!”
Jeez, he was really getting himself worked up. Good. Now to close in…
“Really, Morty? You sound like you care a lot, you know. I'm just sayin’, if
it's not me you’re all agitated about… Me thinks the Morty doth protest too
much,” Keep it teasing… Just a little bit more.
“W-What?? Why? Why do you think I'm, I'm like that? I'm not, I'm not into- into
guys, Rick. F-fuck off”
“Really, Morty.”
“What?? Of-of course not!”
And go for the kill. Rick threw the autopilot on, then turned and looked
directly at Morty, his eyes wide and his voice suddenly serious, “Why you lyin’
to me, Morty?”
Morty froze, his eyes going impossibly wide. His voice was choked when he
finally was capable of responding, “...What?”
“Why. Are you lying. To me. Do you think I'm stupid? Did you think I couldn't
tell?” He waited for a response, and waited, but it seemed like words had
entirely failed Morty. He decided to take pity, in his own way, and just lay it
all out. Leaning back in his chair, he took a sip, and admitted, “I heard you,
Morty. I heard you jerking off to me before I came in your room tonight. Also
you're really fucking obvious, in general.”
He had never seen Morty look so terrified in his life. All blush had drained
out of him, leaving him white as a sheet. Fuck, the kid was actually shaking as
he stared at Rick. It made Rick feel sort of guilty. Maybe he should have been
a bit more sensitive.
No, fuck that. He had a feeling he was gonna have to show way too much
sensitivity in the near future. Morty deserved this moment of discomfort, the
pervy little idiot.
“I-I… R-Rick…I- I'm so-, I don't- I. I'm so so-sorry Rick.” He stammered, voice
cracking.
Good grief, he was starting to cry. Fuck. Morty was always such a killjoy. Rick
sighed and rolled his eyes. “Calm your tits, Morty. No one's dead,” he said
exasperatedly.
“R-Rick, I- I am so sorry,” the kid sniveled, putting his head in his hands, “I
don't- I don't know how it happened. I know it's- it's so gross, and-and I
can't help it. There's something w-wrong with me…” he trailed off, shaking his
head morosely.
“God, Morty, it's like talking to a wall if-if the wall was retarded. Why do I-
- what's the point of even taking you around to see the entire fucking
universe, if you insist on being-- if you can't even get over that goddamn
planetary mindset?” Morty had been curling slowly in on himself as Rick spoke,
but shot back up and stared at him as he said the last bit.
“Wait, w-what?” He looked at Rick like the man had sprouted a second head.
Actually, he had looked less surprised when that had happened.
“Morty, who-who the hell do you think you're talking to, Jerry? Frankly, I'm
insulted, Morty, not about the incest shit, but that you thought I would give a
shit.”
“I… what?”
“First thing to fix is being a narrow-minded angsty dweeb, Morty. Second-
second thing you gotta fix is your shit vocabulary. Beuuurrp, I-I swear to god
that's the only word you've said this whole conversation.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
Morty was about to die. Or maybe he had died without realizing it and this was
hell. Either way, there was no way he could live through this, he was going to
disintegrate out of sheer panic and shame.
He became increasingly anxious as Rick kept talking. At first he thought his
grandfather was just being a gross asshole, like he usually was, but then he
felt himself start to get railroaded, the conversation seemed too pointed, too
deliberate. His brain was scrambling to keep up, and he was desperately telling
himself he was misreading the situation, that Rick was just being an ass, he
didn't know, there was no way he could know already Morty had been so careful.
Then Rick just completely pulled the rug out from under him. He fucking knew.
This was without a doubt the worst moment of his life. Yes, worse than burying
himself, or the jellybean thing, or anything. Rick knew. It was all over. No
more adventures, no more hanging out, no more anything. He would probably get a
new Morty within the hour, just peace out of all their lives and his mom would
be heart-broken and it was all Morty's fault.
He knew he was crying like a baby, probably disgusting Rick even more, but what
did it matter? It was over. The best thing in his life was over, all because he
was a disgusting, messed up piece of shit that was so stupid he couldn't even
manage to hide the fact he was a disgusting piece of shit for even a week.
And then, Rick pulled the rug out from under him again. Was he? Could he
possibly be saying he didn't care? There was no way he had heard that right.
“W-what?”
“Morty, you say that word one more time and I'm punching you in the face. Fair
warning.” Rick looked annoyed, eyebrow raised like he was talking to the
dumbest thing in the known universe, but that was normal. He didn't look
disgusted or angry or like he was about to leave Morty forever.
“You don't care? H-how can you not care?” It didn't make any sense.
Rick shrugged, “I just don't. Morty, I'm really trying not to be offended,
here, you know, by how badly you continue to underestimate me. I'm Rick
motherfuckin’ Sanchez. You really thought you were gonna- what, push me over
the edge?”
“I-I thought you would think it was gross, that you'd, well, leave, and just
get a new Morty,” Morty said in a small voice, looking at his hands. He was so
confused and so embarrassed by what was happening, but at least he could
breathe again.
“Morty. Morty, look at me.” Morty looked up.
“You're the Mortiest Morty. You're the Morty. That coupon- that coupon’s for if
you fuck up or I fuck up and you die, or something. You're,” he rolled his
eyes, “You're not nearly as replaceable as you think.”
Rick was looking right into his eyes, a bit of a smirk on his face, but it was
almost a nice smirk, and Morty still could hardly believe what he was seeing or
hearing. Rick found out he had an incestuous crush on him, and he didn't care,
and he was being nice?
“Also, you're not nearly as special as you think, which shou-ough-ldn’t be a
surprise at all, really, Morty. Infinite universes, Morty. You really- you
really think you're the first Morty to go lusting after his Rick?”
He honestly hadn't thought about it, which seemed really stupid in retrospect.
That was a very… interesting point.
“What- what happens when they do?”
Rick shrugged again and threw his hand up in the air, becoming exasperated
again, “They all get thrown in space jail, what-what do you think, Morty? It
depends. Depends on the Morty, depends on the Rick.”
He knew he was annoying Rick, but he just couldn't quite grasp what he was
being told. “No one- no one cares?”
“Well, some people care, Morty. I imagine the rest of the fam’ tends to care.
Earth laws care, I guess. Whatever. But, what, other Ricks and Morties? What
happens between a Rick and a Morty is no other Rick or Morty’s business. It's
like a fundament of being Rick and Morty. You're really- really disappointing
me here, Morty, it's like you've ignored me all this time.”
Morty was ignoring him right now. His brain was stuck on the phrase “what
happens between a Rick and a Morty”. Could he possibly mean, there was no way?
“Rick…,” he said hesitantly, hardly believing he was about to ask this, “Do… do
other Ricks and Morties fuck?” He blushed instantly at his own temerity. For
the first time since this conversation began, Rick was briefly hesitant, a
cagey look flitting across his face.
“Some of them, some just fool around, whatever,” he said shrugging once more,
but it looked more forced this time, “Its- it's an infinite multiverse, Morty,
you're- you’re not getting this. Not that I'm surprised.”
Morty was blown away. There were Ricks and Morties who did everything he
fantasized about, and no one cared? Just imagining it excited him. He blushed,
and reminded himself that even though, miracles upon miracles, Rick wasn't mad
at him, wasn't going to leave, and apparently Ricks and Morties did this kind
of stuff all the time, his Rick wouldn’t be one of those Ricks, one of the ones
that somehow felt willing to fool around with their dweeby grandson.
Then Rick pulled the rug out from under him, yet again, when he said,
“Wanna give it a whirl?”
He gave him the biggest smirk Morty had ever seen, and waggled his eyebrows.
Holy fuck.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Rick was stupid. Though it was a closely guarded secret, it was a fact he had
been confronted with far oftener than he would have liked. He was impulsive,
reckless, prideful, and couldn't control his temper or his mouth. And he drank
constantly, heightening all of these attributes. He felt reminded of this fact
about two seconds after he came on to his grandson.
In his defense, it seemed like a good idea leading up to it (he just can't make
himself say ‘at the time’, he can't). He had been considering his options the
entire time, and though ‘tease and torment Morty’ was of course a must-do, as
for what to do more long term, well, he was somewhat ambivalent.
It largely depended on what Morty wanted. Things ultimately tended to, to his
displeasure and discomfort. He honestly didn't give a shit, personally, about
the social mores aspect. Sexually, he was down to try just about anything. And
emotionally, well, he knew he was a sucker for the kid. As long as Morty had
his head on straight about it, he would go along with whatever he wanted.
It wasn't even very likely Morty would want to do much of anything. He had a
feeling his cross to bear would be dealing with him acting shy and awkward as
hell for a while, with maybe one day a kiss or at most a jerk-off session.
Maybe not exactly good wholesome fun, but he felt fairly confident it fell
under the category of stupid bullshit that didn't matter.
It wasn't until Morty asked about the alterna- Ricks and Morties fucking that
he felt the first twinge of unease because it made him realize, somehow,
exactly what they were talking about here. That apparently, he was one of those
Ricks.
But he had already planned for this. And he had planned to deal with any desire
Morty had to express his infantile, awkward, Morty sexuality. And then Rick had
to go and be an idiot, because he was drunk and disliked unease, and he liked
to take charge in his plans, and watching the kid light up with arousal for him
as they talked was honestly a bit heady. His stupid mouth fucking pushed Morty
into it, practically committing himself to whatever the kid decided.
He suddenly didn't feel nearly as confident, waiting for Morty’s response.
It was a long time in coming. Long enough to make him sweat, and want to snap
out on the kid. And when it finally came it was so simple, so Morty.
“R-really?”
Rick fought the urge to wince, or smile, he wasn't sure. He shrugged instead,
vaguely concerned that he might be blushing, “Sure, kid, I’m game. As long as
you know what you're getting into. There's all kinds of Ricks, but ohh-ough-
only one me.” He began ticking off his fingers, affecting boredom.
“No letting the family find out, ever, should be an obvious one. Don't go
bragging like a dipshit. No- no acting all weird afterwards. Don’t start doing
this if you can't accept that you're doing it. Don't think we're boyfriends now
or something. I'm not- I'm not that sort of guy.”
Morty had been nodding and shaking his head avidly, wide-eyed the entire time.
It made him crack, and smile. “Keep it real, kid.” Everything would be fine,
Morty would want to take things slow.
“Deal,” Morty said breathlessly, and launched himself at him.
Suddenly he had a horny teenager on top of him. He had to control his reflexive
urge to shove him away as arms encircle him and pulled his face downwards. Stay
cool. It's just Morty. Morty felt too warm and full of too much energy, and was
being a bit more aggressive than expected. But that was ok, good for him, to
finally man up about something. It-
His thoughts froze when Morty's lips touched his, hot, soft and hesitant for a
moment. Then a tongue lightly ran across his bottom lip, and when he opened his
mouth reflexively it burrowed in. He felt a small noise escape him as Morty
tightened his grip on him, his tongue questing eagerly, running over the roof
of his mouth and skimming around his teeth.
It was unskilled, enthusiastic, and made Rick feel disconcerted. It was very,
very Morty.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     At least I didn't tease quite as long before delivering the sex on
     this one. Lol, maybe.
Rick was tense and unmoving, and ok, yeah, Morty had been sort of crazy to just
tackle the man, but Rick had said ok, and he was feeling a little emotionally
overwhelmed.
Sheer relief was making his head spin, and watching a faint flush spread across
Rick's face as he said he was open to fooling around with his grandson was
almost unbearably thrilling. He only vaguely heard Rick's rules, he was faintly
concerned this was a dream, and he would have agreed to just about anything, so
long as this was actually going to happen. As soon as Rick finished speaking
and before Morty could lose his nerve, he went for it.
He put himself practically in Rick's lap and grabbed him. Rick felt ready to
push him off, his arms and back stiff. Before he could think, he raised his
mouth up and met Rick's. Ricks lips were cool, softer than he had expected, and
wonderful. He deepened the kiss eagerly, faintly amazed when Rick didn't push
him off, and felt like he might float when he actually heard Rick moan. It was
addictive, he needed more.
He delved deeper into Rick's mouth, shifting and settling so he really was
straddling his grandfather's lap, and felt Rick's arms come up around him, felt
Rick's tongue start moving and pushing into his own mouth. It was so much
better than he had imagined, it was hot and demanded his attention and it was
Rick.
Rick bit on his lip and Morty moaned loudly. He couldn't help the hip thrust
that accompanied it. He heard an answering noise from Rick as he did so. His
dick shot from moderate arousal to painful erect at the thought that Rick, his
amazing genius grandfather, was actually getting into this, was actually
getting turned on by this.
He needed proof. He needed to feel it. He hoped he wasn't about to cross a
line. His hand crept down without breaking the kiss and gingerly felt it's way
to Rick's groin. He felt a hard length pushing up against the man’s pants and
was almost dizzy with delight. He couldn't help but gently press his hand into
Rick's erection and shivered as Rick moaned into his mouth.
He broke off the kiss, panting and feeling a bit frantic, and stammered, “Can-
can I, can I touch?”, moving his hand for emphasis.
Rick chuckled. His lips were reddened and full, and it was all Morty could do
not to stare at them. “Fuck, Morty, yeah, i-if you want. Do whatever you like.”
Morty got off him and crouched down and when Rick spread his legs he began
undoing his grandfather's belt buckle with slightly trembling hands. He
unzipped the fly, then hesitated. Fuck it, Rick had said whatever he liked. He
gripped the undone pants and started pulling them down. Rick seemed surprised
for a moment, then lifted himself up out of the chair a bit to aid him. He
tugged them down a couple inches and Rick's penis sprang loose.
For a few moments all he could do was stare. It was very big, he wasn't sure
his hand would fit around it, and firm-looking, rising straight out of a nest
of grayish hair. He thought of all the people, aliens, and god knew what else
that had seen it before and that turned him on even more. It was Rick's and it
was perfect. He heard a snicker from Rick and looked up.
“Like what you see?” He said smirking, but his eyes looked a bit off. It made
Morty feel weird. He did the best thing he could think of to reassure him,
smiling, nodding, and ducking down, putting the head of Rick's dick into his
mouth and sucking hard.
“Fuck, Morty!” Rick's hands flew to the arms of his chair, “Jesus, you-you
gotta start warning me before you do shit.” Morty pulled back, concerned,
letting the cock fall from his mouth.
“I-I'm sorry, did I hurt you?”
“No, no, ‘sall good. Forget I said anything, you're good.” He sounded sort of
breathless. It made Morty smile as he took Rick back in his mouth.
He was a bit unsure what to do. He really wanted to please Rick, maybe even
impress him, but he knew that was a long shot. So he just did what he imagined
would feel good if he was getting a blowjob. He sucked more gently than before
on the head, trying to pulse with a rhythm. He tried to take more into his
mouth and and suck on that, too, but he could only get about half of the length
in his mouth before it made him want to gag.
He dragged his tongue up and down the sides of Rick's cock instead, curling it
around the shaft as he went, then he took it back into his mouth again. He
tried the same pulsing suck from before, moving his head up and down, except he
swirled his tongue around as he took in as much as he could.
Wishing he could see Rick's face, because he wasn't sure if this was ok or not,
he placed his hand on Rick's balls and gave them an experimental squeeze. Rick
let out a gasp and his hips thrust forward, panicking Morty for a second, but
it was well worth it when he continued playing with them and Rick said
“MmMorty” in a low groan, his hands clenching and unclenching on the chair.
Morty felt elated and oddly powerful, sitting in between Rick's legs sucking
his cock. His own dick throbbed and screamed with arousal. But his jaw was
starting to get tired. He redoubled his efforts. He really wanted the
satisfaction of seeing Rick come because of him. He bobbed up and down, sucking
more fiercely, relishing the occasional noises Rick let out until-
“Ah! Shit, Morty, watch it!” His mouth had closed a bit without realizing it,
and his last pull upwards scraped his teeth all the way up Rick's shaft. He
immediately stopped and sprang back, aghast and mortified.
“Rick! I- I’m so sorry-”
Rick just waved his hand and gave out a laugh, though his other hand went to
his dick and rubbed it. “Fuck, don't, don't worry about it, kid. A little- a
little teeth can be a good thing. That was a bit much though. You gotta ease
into it.” He looked Morty over, eyebrow raised and asked, “Gettin’ tired?”
Morty was getting tired, but he was also getting distracted by Rick's hand,
still absentmindedly playing with his junk. God, Rick looked gorgeous sprawled
there in his chair with his pants down, confident and obscene. He shook his
head and said, “No, I'm- I'm fine. W-,wanna keep going?”
Rick rolled his eyes at him, muttering, “Morty, you idiot, yes you are. Your
jaw is fucking shaking. And I’m not really looking to act out one of your more
violent kinks tonight- not really lookin’ to get my dick bitten off here.”
Morty thought he might die of embarrassment. But he really didn't want them to
stop. “I-I wanna get you off.”
Rick laughed at him, but not very unkindly. “Morty, I'm 60 fucking years old,
in case you forgot. No offense, but it takes a lot more- a lot more blow than
you've got, to pop my top. ‘Sides, you don't owe me shit, Morty.” He shrugged,
looking supremely unconcerned.
Morty blushed redder than ever. He really was an idiot. What the the world made
him think he would be talented enough at sex for Rick of all people? Before he
could think of a response, Rick added, “How ‘bout some pointers?” with a cocked
eyebrow and a grin. Morty was going to end up trained like a dog over that
fucking eyebrow.
He stood and pulled his pants up and, looking Morty up and down, gave one last
lewd tug to his dick, before nonchalantly tucking it back in. Morty stared
agog, his mouth feeling dry. His cock, almost forgotten in the stress, sprang
back up to press the inside of his jeans, and he nodded faintly, “That- that
would be good. That would be great!.. As-as long as you're sure…” He trailed
off as Rick gently but firmly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up to stand,
grinning wickedly, and began kissing his way down Morty's chest. His cock
throbbed with each kiss.
Morty felt unbearably nervous all the sudden. Maybe it was seeing that grin,
which he more commonly associated with danger and terror. Maybe it was because
Rick was about to see his own dick, which was laughably small in comparison and
Rick might actually laugh. Either way, as Rick slowly got on his knees, he felt
his breath speed up, and his hands might have trembled a bit.
Rick, of course, noticed almost immediately and paused, sitting on his calves
and looking up at him with a frown.
“Morty…” he waited until Morty looked him in the eye, “You don't have to do
this. We don't have to do this. You-you know that, right?” He stared at him,
eyebrows bunched up. “We don't have to do anything, anything at all, if you
don't- if you're not feelin’ it.” He looked concerned.
Morty gave a weak laugh and thought he might be more terrified of a suddenly-
sensitive Rick than anything else the universe had to offer. At the same time,
the evidence that Rick cared was almost too much to deal with. It made him feel
warm, and weak. But he needed to pull himself together. He was being offered a
blowjob by Rick and if he fucked this up he'd never forgive himself. He smiled
more firmly, and nodded his head.
“I’m good. Really, thanks. I would love a a, a- p-please,” Goddamn it he was
such a nerd. Whatever, Rick was moving again, reaching up with a small smirk to
the button of Morty's jeans. He undid the button and stilled, then slowly
leaned his face in towards Morty's crotch and slid his nose and mouth up the
length of Morty's clothed dick, eyes closed.
Morty gave a shuddering gasp. Holy shit. This was already so hot he thought he
might cum before Rick even touched him. Rick shot a glance at him and Morty
nodded eagerly in case he was about to back off again and then Rick was
nuzzling him, pressing open-mouthed kisses up and down his throbbing, trapped
dick and he might faint, it was so hot.
Right before he was about to break and do- something- he didn't know, most
likely fall over, Rick stopped nuzzling, grabbed Morty's hips and steered him
into the chair. He settled settled in between Morty's legs, then undid the
zipper and tugged down on Morty's jeans, pulling them all the way down past
Morty's knees, Morty flopping like fish in his haste to help him.
He was naked in front of his grandfather and he blushed, remembering his fear
that Rick would would laugh at his pitiful erection, babyish compared to his.
But Rick wasn't laughing. He just looked at it with eyes Morty couldn't read,
and after a quick glance at his face he bent his head down to Morty's inner
thigh and started placing kisses along it, bringing his hand without looking up
to hold onto Morty's hip when it bucked uncontrollably at the first kiss.
Morty moaned helplessly as the lips slowly approached his twitching, aching
cock. His hands were clenched in an effort to control himself, and when Rick's
lips finally descended to kiss right on the tip of his dick, with just a moment
of suction before pulling away, it took every last ounce of willpower to not
grab Rick's head and thrust upwards. “Ohh, fuck!”, he moan out, his voice
cracking. He was going to beg in a second, he wouldn't be able to help it.
Luckily Rick chose that moment to finally push his mouth open fully over
Morty's dick, sucking gently as he slowly slid down to the root. Morty almost
shrieked and his hips jerked wildly, but Rick held them firm. God, it was so
hot and wet and Rick was sucking him like some kind of machine. His eyes
clenched shut as he desperately tried not to cum immediately. It was sooo good,
it felt so good and it was Rick doing it, he had the smartest lips in the
universe wrapped around his dick.
Then Rick swallowed around his dick, nose pressed against Morty's pubes and
eyes closed in concentration and Morty's eyes slammed open and he looked down
and saw something he had never thought he would ever see in his entire life and
with an almost anguished moan, his orgasm rushed out of him, making his vision
go gray and shaking him uncontrollably as he yelled and spasmed into Rick's
mouth.
Rick pulled back a bit, but continued sucking as he jerked and came, making him
thrust even more, before gentling the pressure and slowing down as Morty's
spasms subsided.
He finally pulled off with a pop, and coughed, “Jeez Morty, you know it's
generally, generally considered polite to warn someone before you- before you
just jizz in their mouth.” He wiped at his mouth, but didn't do anything else,
and Morty wondered dazedly if that meant he had swallowed his cum. Then Rick
snickered, “I only had time for two like pointers. You really, really are a
virginal little dork.”
Morty felt boneless and spent, with a slightly achey cock, the way it always
got when he came really hard. He had had sex with Rick. Maybe not real, total
sex, but blowjobs were a welcome start.
And he wanted it to be a start, he knew. He definitely didn't want this to be a
one-shot thing. Today had been fantastic. He wanted as much of it as he could
possibly get, and he wanted to have the chance to improve his performance.
Thinking about things he did wrong and how he had embarrassed himself did make
a bit of shame start creeping in, though.
What if Rick didn't want to do more? He probably didn't, Morty realized.
Morty's infantile performance had probably reminded him exactly who he was
with, his loser perv of a grandson. Rick was gonna back out, and maybe he
wouldn't stop taking Morty on adventures but he'd probably look at him with
pity and derision and Morty would always know why. He really had fucked up. He
blew it. He tucked his spent dick back in his pants with his head down. He felt
panic trying to creep in, and he began absently rubbing his wrist. He was such
an idiot. “Morty…”
“Hey, Morty…” He looked up at Rick, who looked caught in the act of reaching
out to touch him and awkwardly rubbed his own neck instead. He was still
kneeling on the floor, and seemed uncomfortable and upset. “You know, Morty, I
can- I can take it away. Erase it. The-the memories Morty, I can take them
away. For both of us.” He wouldn't look Morty in the eye.
Oh God, here it was, Morty was right. He felt nausea and fear swirl through
him. Rick wanted to take it back, and Morty couldn't even blame him. It was a
huge mistake, he had almost bitten Rick's dick off and practically came in his
pants. He was a pubescent mess, a pathetic little creep who had no right to
force his bullshit on his grandfather. He fiercely swallowed the tears that
wanted to rise, and nodded, managing, “If-if you think that's best, Rick.”
Rick sighed, “Morty, I, I don't know what to do here. What do you think is
best?” He was staring at the floor, his expression flat.
Morty hated his weakness, but he couldn't help the sob that escaped him as he
said, “I don't want to forget. I-I'm sorry Rick, that I was so bad at this.
I'll-I'll never ask for it again, I swear, I'll leave you alone. And I
understand, if you want to forget,”
He swallowed and looked at Rick's face. It was pale and still blank, and
Morty's gaze quickly skittered away. “But I want to remember, please I won't
talk a-about it, I promise. It's just, it was- I,” He wasn't dumb enough to say
it was special right to Rick's face. He cringed, knowing he sounded pitiful and
probably even more childish, “If it's this, or stop going with you places,
then-then okay, but, please, just give me a-a chance to be normal. I'm so, so
sorr-”
“Morty,” Rick interrupted, his voice sounding rough. “Morty you dumb fuck look
at me.” Morty looked at him and held his breath. Rick’s face looked stern and
inflexible.
“ I am Not. Mad. At you. I'm not ashamed of you. Get over yourself about your
performance, you're 15 fucking years old. It's not your responsibility what
happened here, it’s mine. I- I shouldn't have been so- so reckless, Morty.” His
face became tired and resigned. “I don't want you to have to deal with this,
this kind of regret, I can't leave you with that burden of regret.”
Morty's eyes widened, “I don't regret it!,” he blurted out, then blushed.
Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “I don't at all! I thought it was great, I- I really
liked it. I just...you… I did such a t-terrible job, and I don't, I figured
you’d regret… I'd go again, if-if I could,” he finished, blushing to the tips
of his ears.
Rick looked stunned, then he smirked, then he burst out laughing. For some
moments that's all he did, bending over as he cackled. Morty felt cautiously
hopeful, but, well, this was Rick. There was no telling what was going on.
Eventually Rick rubbed his face, mumbling through his hands, “Good god, kid,
you really, really…” He straightened slowly up with a groan, but he looked at
Morty with warmer eyes and said, “I'm fine Morty. I'm better than fine, I had
fun,” and shrugged, “Again, you- you really need to keep some perspective here.
Just because I didn't blow my load doesn't mean it was a waste of time,” He
smirked, shaking his head, “It's that damned mindset again, Morty. You really,
really should work on it. If you're good, I'm good. C-Cool as a cucumber,
dawg.”
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Rick was a mess. He was in over his head, which happened sometimes, and he had
no absolutely no idea what he was going to do, which happened rarely. The
crucial mistake was, he had underestimated how much he would care.
He had done his best to let loose and enjoy himself, no point not to. And
honestly, he had. No mistake, it was a little awkward starting out, for the
both of them. But the kid was certainly enthusiastic, and watching need and
boldness overcome fear and inexperience over and over, all for the sake of
getting to touch Rick, was certainly arousing. His brave, passionate Morty.
He was vaguely concerned he might have enjoyed it too much: even Morty biting
him had felt great in the moment, which was not an unfamiliar phenomenon for
Rick, but a bit embarrassing given the context. And he had sort of lost control
when it was time to reciprocate that blowjob. He hoped Morty couldn't tell. It
was embarrassing, that his suddenly dom-y, normally dweeby grandson had been so
effective at winding him up.
Watching the kid crumple in on himself in fear when it was all over was like a
punch to the gut. He had fucked up. He wanted to throw up, because he realized
how awful this actually was, what he had done, and what he was going to do. He
told Morty about about his backup plan woodenly, knowing that he might well
have to do it regardless of permission if the kid was too banged up
emotionally.
Morty was babbling in fear and regret after he told him about the memory wipe
and he couldn't help but try to console the kid while self hatred spiked
through him.
He would just have to take it away. He had pushed his confused teenage grandson
into having sex with him, and now he would rape him again to cover his tracks.
Rick fucked up everything he cared about, and why he ever forgot that was
beyond him.
Then Morty, the perfect fucking dingus, finally clarified his goddam anxieties,
and Rick realized what idiots they both were being, and realized he might weep
but he couldn't, of course, so he laughed instead.
He felt the naked relief of a near-death encounter, and a waspish self-disgust
that he had let fear color his ability to understand a situation, and
frustration at Morty for making such a thing possible by being a stammering
spastic head-case. And a bit of left-over arousal.
He was twisted. Most alarmingly, he felt some of the tension drain out of his
body and a warmth spread through him, when, after he did his best to be
casually reassuring and end this tawdry drama, the little bastard finally
smiled.
He just never expected this all to feel so do-or-die, for him to care so much.
A theoretically simple, if abnormal, activity had gotten way too dramatic. He
somewhat expected that out of the kid, but not from himself. Maybe he should
have. It was Morty, after all. Oh, well. He had done this to himself.
What was the etiquette of post-sex with your grandson? Should Rick offer him a
cigarette? He could definitely use one himself. And a good drink. A lot of
them. Way too late, he realized the ship had at some point landed itself in the
yard. Well that was fucking great. At least the family wasn't standing with
their noses pressed against the windows. That would have been the fucking
cherry on top.
“So...Rick…” Morty began hesitantly.
“Yeah, Morty?”
“You… you w-wanna maybe try that again, s-sometime?”
Shit. Did he? Part of Rick had had a blast. Part of him was alarmed at how out
of hand this already felt. Well, when he put it that way, there was only one
thing he could say:
“Sure, kid. Sometime”
Chapter End Notes
     Well, oral sex is kinda closure, right? Heh. I swear, I will write
     more
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     Wow, another chapter of this story. I'm surprised, for sure.
     So I have a some ideas. Expect a few chapters of this in the nearish
     future. No idea where it's going long term though.
     Enjoy!
“Hey R-Rick…. w-would you like to have sex?”
He was aiming for casual, maybe even cool. But he thought he might have missed
the mark as the ship careened violently to the left, a dangerous move in the
traffic-filled intrasolar highway they were traversing.
Rick pulled the wheel to the right with a muttered curse and a “Yeah fuck you
too buddy!” screamed at an alien that undoubtedly couldn't hear him through the
closed, thick-glassed window.
He glanced at Morty as the ship settled back on course, then huffed and took a
swig from his flask.
“Really, Morty? What, right here, right now? I don't think- I mean- it's, it's
kinda bizarre wanting to fuck in the middle of a busy highway, Morty.”
“Oh, no, I-I mean not now, but, um, later? Or maybe just i-in general?” Morty
felt so embarrassed already. He could feel his face turn bright red, and he was
pretty sure his hands were too sweaty. This had almost definitely been a bad
idea.
But he had waited for nearly two whole weeks for Rick to do something, to
initiate something or even to just mention that fateful IHOP run and had gotten
nothing.
Then he figured maybe Rick would respect it more if he just manned up and took
action, so after a lot of nervous rehearsals in his room Morty ended up just
blurting it out sort of randomly regardless. At obviously the least appropriate
time possible.
Rick just stared at him, tearing his eyes away occasionally to glance at the
space ahead of them. He seemed to be chewing over his words, an exceedingly odd
phenomenon to observe.
Finally he said in a reluctant voice, “Morty… first of all fuck you for making
me have to be a cock-block.” He said it like normal people said ‘terrorist’.
“But seriously, kid, are you- ugh, this sucks- are you SURE you wanna actually,
go straight to fucking your grandfather? Cuz’ that's, that's the kinda shit you
can't undo, you know? Well, I mean, I can undo it because I'm a genius and I
have a memory gun, but just- just between you and me Morty, the gun, it- it has
some side effects, Morty, and- and honestly we’re gonna have to start phasing
it out soon before your brain starts turning into complete mush, there's, uh,
there’s not much godliness left in that particular deus ex machina.”
Morty’s eyebrows furrowed. The memory-erasing thing was another subject he had
been wanting to bring up with Rick, particularly because he had no, well,
memory of ever being told about such a thing before, which was.. worrisome. But
he wasn't certain now was the time, and honestly, it seemed an even more
danger-fraught topic than sex with Rick, which was saying something. But he
couldn't help but ask something that had been dogging him.
“Rick, um, about that… we- you- have you ever had to use that for s-something
like... like this before?”
Rick looked surprised, which seemed odd to Morty, surely it was an obvious
question. But he answered quickly enough.
“No, M-Morty, I haven't.” He sounded serious, and very uncomfortable, and it
occurred to Morty just how pointless his question actually was as Rick
continued, saying with a shrug, “I mean, you know, for what it's worth. I
really haven't, though. T-trust me, if, if I knew beforehand about your
cannibalistic tendencies, things woulda gone a- a bit differently.”
Morty blushed. Of course Rick was going to make fun of him forever for that. He
felt mollified by Rick's response though. That was a fair point, and he might
as well trust Rick on it. He figured if he hadn't trusted Rick in general then
all of this was a terrible idea, anyway.
Rick watched him from the corner of his eye for a bit, then prompted, “That
change what you’re after?”
Morty just shook his head and said, “No, I’m good. I- I mean, yes, I, I still
want to… you know.” He blushed again. God he was hopeless.
Rick smirked at him, but there wasn't much bite to it, “You're a stubborn
dumbass, Morty, can't say I'm surprised.” He took another swig and scratched
his head absently, looking deep in thought again. Finally he sighed,
“Listen, Morty, I'm, I'm not sayin’ no, but we gotta- I, we need to take things
slow.”
He blushed faintly and rolled his eyes at himself, and Morty stared,
fascinated. He felt like he was seeing so much more of Rick than he had before
all this. It was like when he was stoned all over again.
“Tryin’a be responsible here, kid, it ain't exactly natural for me,” he
muttered, and continued with a shake of his head. “Foolin’ around the other
week ago was fun and all, but…”
Rick hesitated again. It was amazing.
“But if we’re actually doing this shit I, I gotta think things out a bit. Can't
just, can't just rush into things, you know? Give me some time and I'll come up
with something.”
He finally met Morty’s eye and said with a sardonic tilt to his brow, “Work for
you?”
Morty gaped like an idiot for a second. Rick was taking this so seriously, it
blew Morty’s mind. Rick had never taken anything he said this seriously, and to
be honest, it made him sort of nervous in and of itself. “S-sure, Rick,” he
managed, “sounds pretty r-reasonable.”
Rick snorted and looked forward again as he took another slow, more leisurely
swig, as if relieved that the conversation was over.
Morty did his best to control his excitement. He wanted to bounce in his seat
like a little kid, but that would be particularly inappropriate. This was
actually happening. Holy shit.
So much had happened in such a short time, he could hardly wrap his mind around
it. He had gone from a normal kid and his grandpa, (well, not at all, but
whatever) to a horrible, doomed pervert, to an incredibly lucky pervert that
Rick would be serious for, would actually make an effort for.
He did manage to refrain from bouncing in his seat. But he couldn't prevent a
sunny grin from spreading across his face as he gazed out the window at the
stars whizzing by.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Fuck, this chapter was a doozy to write. Also it's a lot of dialogue.
     Sorry if that's bad?
     As always, enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Rick knew as he drove the ship home that he might be in an assload of trouble,
pun irrelevant.
He had just signed himself up for, off all the atrocious things, serious
business. Serious business for no pay, and that would probably involve him
having to reach out to people he really would rather disdain from afar.
Granted, he'd rather do that with everyone.
With one exception, of course. The thought came unbidden when he glanced at
Morty’s happy face grinning stupidly at space. He contained both a tired sigh
and a stupid smile of his own that wanted to emerge at the sight.
Yep, definitely in trouble.
 
Rick closed his interdimensional cellphone and took a swig.
It had taken some doing, some poking around and careful questions and he knew
several Ricks would likely never speak to him again, and a few might slander
his name, but he had gotten somewhere
He may have over-exaggerated the commonplaceness of Ricks and Mortys in sexual
relationships in his effort to get the little shit to calm the fuck down. There
were semi-hidden brothels and boudiors dotted about the Citadel for the few
particularly depraved Ricks to get their rocks off. That was an unavoidable, if
unseemly given.
But actual “relationships” were rare, much rarer than the predatory shit that
went down at the brothels. And ones that made an actual attempt to be the least
bit fair or, miracles abounding, not totally self-destructive, were practically
unheard of.
It was a fact that Rick had had little reason to dwell on in the past, but now
made him feel… uneasy. He, in all his infinite varieties, was a real piece of
shit.
He had finagled a meeting with some of those select few Ricks. Ones that had
the boldness, or abject stupidity, to be slightly more open about their
relationships with their Mortys. They were bound to be a pack of losers in the
first degree, and the thought of associating with them set Rick’s teeth on
edge. There was nothing for it, though. It was the best source of information
he had right now.
But when he found himself standing outside the door of Dwzebel’s Den, a dingy
hole-in-the-wall bar on a large-ish asteroid in the middle of nowhere, in some
bumblefuck dimension, he found it difficult to make himself go in. The place
looked too tired and pathetic to even rightly be called seedy. Which was likely
a perfect summation of the people he was going in there to meet.
Bleh. The things he did for the pissant.
Rick rolled his eyes, took a swig from his flask as he grumbled to himself, and
opened the door.
He strode in like he owned the place, ignoring the four-armed bartender and the
two dismal aliens sitting at the bar, and headed straight for the back room. He
put his hand on the pad by the door, hoping the Rick he had briefly spoken with
had correctly encoded his signature, or else he would be dodging laser fire in
the next moment. The pad simply gave a small chirp, and the door unlatched with
a quiet click. He opened it and stepped through, closing it behind him.
The sight he took in was almost enough to make him turn back around and leave
on the spot.
The small room was dingy and dirty, no surprise there, and five Ricks were
sitting in, he couldn't make this up, metal folding chairs arranged in a loose
semi-circle, sipping from cups. There was a table off to the side, groaning
under the weight of sizable bottles of booze, and another one in the middle of
the circle, with a few mostly-empty bottles sitting on it.
Jesus fucking Christ.
It was a secret no one living knew, but Rick had been to an AA meeting. Once.
Predictably, it didn't go well, and he had verbally eviscerated the sad sacks
there before storming out. And now it seemed for all the world like he had
found himself in another of those meetings, booze table aside.
There was a faint stench in the air. Rick figured it was probably the reek of
pathetic-ness.
His sneer was in place as he glanced briefly at each of the Ricks, two clone-
of-himself types, one tattoo-freak type, one cyborg-freak type, and one bug
type (one thing about infinite variations was that everything was a type.
Uniqueness was more insubstantial than the Easter bunny). He opened his mouth
to say something disparaging about them all when another Rick spoke first, one
of the clones.
“Wellll, fuck me, what a- look who’s decided to honor us with his p-euuugh-
presence,” the Rick drawled. Rick’s own smirk had never seemed so insufferable.
He sighed internally. He had been a second too slow and missed first crack at
things, and now he'd have to sit through this bullshit.
“Wow, the rogue’s here, guys. W-we better- we better s-skedaddle. Things tend
to go south when he gets involved,” the other clone-type, this one with a scar
on the side of his mouth, chimed in with a jeer as he drained his cup.
Rick ignored him as he took a chair. A Rick that would say “skedaddle” wasn't
worth his attention. He looked around and raised his arms in question.
“Any other opening shots? Pfft, you guys really are, really must be a pocketful
of pussies if that's all you got,” he said in sad condescension. “O-or have all
your Mortys sucked your brains out through your dicks?”
The cyborg gave a mechanical shrug. “It is illogical to attempt to antagonize
you, as long as you are here for the reasons we have been informed of.”
“Thanks- thanks for being boring, Spock-bot,” Rick muttered. A bland insult for
a bland subject.
Tattoo-Rick simply grunted, “I gave you the invite,” and said nothing more.
Rick just gave him a nod. He knew this Rick vaguely, J-83-something or other,
though he hadn't known he was one of those Rick's until the cellphone marathon
had led to him. Seemed solid enough, for a Rick.
The bug chimed in with a buzzing, “And I don't generally engage in the whole
pissing-contest ritual you humanoids do. Probably because I don't piss.” It was
odd to see a pair of mandibles kicking back a cupful of whiskey with the best
of them. Not the oddest thing Rick had seen that day, but still.
“How wonderful for you,” Rick replied with a raised brow. “A-also your voice is
super annoying.”
He cleared his throat. “Anyway… if that's all wrapped up, let's get to
business, I really don't wanna have to hang out here with you losers any longer
than ne-”
“No, you know-euuurp- you know what, I think it's worth just really hammering
in the irony,” Clone 2 flashed a toothy grin, and said unpleasantly, “Fucking
C-137, the big b-badass we all have to hear so fucking much about, has come
crawling to the Morty-lovers. I'm gonna-beurrp- gonna relish this a bit, it's
awful nice to see,”
Rick raised his eyebrow, scrutinizing the unremarkable, but obviously irate
Rick. “Alright dickweed, first thing, the only thing that's gonna be crawling
is my foot up your ass if you don't chill the fuck out. Two, just spit out
whatever trivial insult I gave you years ago that I've forgotten about but
you're obviously still butt-hurt over. Did I steal your liquor, kick your
Morty? What?”
The Rick sneered, twisting his stupid scar, and it jogged Rick’s memory into
place. “Ohhhh, wait… I remember. I kicked your ass at Bleb Adeeb's!” he said
with a vicious grin, happy to have solved the mystery.
He had been quite drunk at the bar, which was off-Citadel but close enough to
it that Ricks were frequent patrons, and that night he became annoyed at
another Rick’s loud, sloppy, woe-is-me rambling about his relationship troubles
with his goddamn Morty. Rick had snapped and called out, “Shut your pedo pie-
hole, Humbert Humbert! Can't a Rick drink in fucking peace?” and the resultant
fistfight got them both kicked out. But more importantly, Rick had resoundingly
won it, and had told the beaten Rick to “consider it an honor you got your face
kicked in by the rogue.” It was a somewhat cringeworthy boast, but hey, he had
been pretty fucking hammered at the time.
“Sooo, how are things with the dear couple? S-still trouble in paradise?” Rick
asked with a patronizing smile. It wasn't like he was sorry now for kicking the
wimp's ass.
Clone-Rick, I-70c, H-32d, something nondescript like that, if Rick remembered
correctly, just smirked meanly in response. “Oh, me and my Morty are just…
super,” he said with a smug leer, “But what about you C-137? I'm guessing
you've encountered a little- a bit of ‘trouble in paradise’ of your own.”
Rick’s lip twitched. He could continue this nonsense and maybe soothe his ego.
But honestly, this pissant Rick wasn't worth the time, and he did have a point.
Rick wasn't here because he wanted to be here. So he just grabbed a cup and
filled it, then swung most of it back in one go, before belching, “Yup, pretty
much,” keeping down his spark of satisfaction when the other Rick’s face soured
at his refusal to play.
He leaned back in his chair and gave long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, to get right
to it, not that mingling for the rest of the night doesn't sound just fuckin’
delightful, I've run into a situation with my Morty. Never gave Morty-fucking
much thought, but now my Morty wants to fuck, so…” he trailed off with a shrug.
“So… what? You want a congratulations?”
“No, numbnuts, I want advice. I-I dunno. I don't know about you guys, but my
Morty is a sensitive, stupid little shit. And I don't- I don't wanna...” This
was difficult. Even amongst Ricks that were “soft”, it felt extremely unnatural
and dangerous to be admitting anything as weak as this.
“You don't want to hurt him,” Tattoo-Rick finished.
Rick gestured vaguely, eyes elsewhere as he refilled and re-drained his dinky
little cup of booze. “I-I mean, I know what I'm fucking doing in the sack,” he
said with a reflexive smirk they all echoed, even the bug, which, gross. “But,
you know… otherwise.” He couldn't help but feel uncertain again, and it sucked.
“If you are referring to his emotional well-being it is a logical concern.
Ricks are generally highly toxic creatures, and sex brings out their innate
selfishness. Every Rick here has experienced similar concerns, and at the very
least, it is a positive sign that you recognize this issue early on in your
sexual relationship,” the cyborg said, his mechanical, inflectionless tone
still way too solicitous for Rick, and he shifted in his seat. God, this was
stupid and shitty. Way more shitty than the AA. He couldn't believe he was
doing this.
“No, l-listen, sure, but like,” he muttered, and sighed, gearing himself up.
“I-I'm not really sold that the r-relationship is a good idea in the first
place. Morty initiated it, sorta.” He ignored the knowing looks from the other
Ricks and plowed on.
“But he's just a dumb- he-he’s the sort to do all kinds of stupid shit without
thinking it through. I just- I just don't want him to get pissed off and- and,
you know. B-blame me,” Rick huffed and slumped slightly in his seat. He felt
himself begin to blush and he cantankerously grabbed a whole bottle off the
table and gave a few chugs. Fuck all of this.
Mercifully none of the Ricks commented on his less-than-perfect composure,
though that scarred fucker smirked slightly and looked to be biting his tongue.
What a bunch of wet napkins. He would have shredded a Rick that sounded as
pathetic as he did right now.
“Well, sorry to break it to ya, but he might well do both, no matter what you
decide to do.” Tattoo-Rick said bluntly, grabbing a fresh bottle from the side
table and refilling his cup, “I turned down my Morty for years, tryin’ to, you
know, do the responsible thing. By the end of it he hated me. Said-euuurp-said
all sorts of shit about how I didn't respect him as a person, didn't give his
views any merit, was just driving him away. Blew the fuck up at me.”
J-83whatever shrugged easily. “He was right. So I decided fuck it.” He
interrupted himself with a quick smirk and a hearty gulp and continued, “We’re
both happier now, but who’s to say he won't hate me again in the future for
saying yes? Gotta just-euurp- take it as it comes, try to be good to the little
fucker while you have him.”
Rick stared, at a loss. That was all far too self-actualized for him, he could
never be so… accepting. Tattooed Ricks had a tendency to be annoyingly
philosophical douches like that.
“But that's just me. Shit like this, it doesn't matter that we’re all the same
person. It's diff'rent strokes, diff'rent folks,” Tattoo-fucker said with a wry
glance at the other four Ricks.
“J-836 has a shitty Morty that w-ouuugh-would argue a fucking rock to death,”
belched the first clone-type Rick, the one who had gotten first insult in,
breaking his apparent vow of silent heavy drinking.
“My Morty fucking loves me. And damn right he does.” He grinned smugly. “All
you need to do is keep- keep ‘em satisfied in the sack, rogue, which ain't
hard, and he’ll be swe-eiigh-eet as a kitten. Purr like one, too.” His grin
turned lascivious. Rick reigned in the unthinking urge to punch his face.
“Fucking Christ’s nutsack, y-your Morty is a brown-nosing little dingleberry,
Delta-50, and you damned well know it,” faggy scarface whose ass Rick kicked
snarked at him.
Delta-50 rolled his eyes, “Jealousy is such an ugly look on you, C-class. I
mean, you know, uglier than you n-ouuugh-normally look. If my Morty was half as
big a megabitch as yours I’d have killed him, not fucked him.” He chuckled and
took another drink.
“By the way, ever manage to screw him yet? Or did he bweak up with you again,”
he asked with a mocking lower lip. He cupped his hand and stage whispered at
Rick, “H-655c’s Morty is a frigid b-bitch.”
“My Morty indicated he wanted to fuck via pheromones, as soon as he finished
his three-year-old molt,” Bug-Rick began, buzzing his mandibles over the
increasingly loud sniping of the other two Ricks. “Pheromones don't lie, so him
regretting it isn't really an issue. Might get tired of me after he pupates,
but what can you do? My Morty is the cutest fucking grub-”
Rick shook his head mindlessly, not listening and trying to push aside the fact
that apparently the bug had been fucking his terrible larva-or-whatever Morty
since he was goddamn three. The other two were still squawking at each other,
and holy fuck, was he really this annoying and stupid? Or were these Ricks just
particularly so? It was probably both.
“Ok, assholes none of this is helping!” he snapped loudly, thankfully silencing
all of them, though Tattoo and cyborg looked at him in amusement. “I don't- I
don't need all your stupid braggy life stories. I just need a goddamn strategy.
S-special snowflakes or not,” he shot a look at tattoed J-836, “It's just a
fifteen year old kid. It's just Morty. I just need a way of easing us into
this.”
After a pause, J-836 looked at him keenly and asked, “Do you want to have a
sexual relationship with your Morty?”
Rick shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and hot again, “I don't really- I, I don't
care either way. He wants it…” he began, then realized just how whipped that
all made him sound, so he took another swig and reframed it with deliberate
blasé-ness.
“I'm down for whatever. We fooled around, it was fun and shit. But he has all
kinds of half-baked ideas he only thinks he wants, and considering this would
be way too much dust to sweep under the memory gun rug, I think it's only f-
fucking logical to try and have some kind of plan or- or fucking forethought
with this shit.”
A few of the Ricks nodded thoughtfully, but no response was immediately
forthcoming. Rick ground his jaw impatiently. If none of these rejects had
anything solid to give him, then this whole evening had been a shitty exercise
in futility. For fucks sake, he was the smartest man in the universe, and that
generally held true for all his selves. They should know something.
Rick Delta-50 drained his cup, refilled it, and grunted, “I dunno, just, go
slow, I guess,” in a tone that suggested only a pansy would do so.
“Oh, really? Wow, I-I woulda never thought of that, what an outlandish fucking
idea,” Rick said sarcastically. Maybe fucking a Morty really did make you
stupid. Maybe Morty waves were an STD. Maybe he'd end up as useless as these
asshats. “Anyone got anything mo-ough-ore specific than that?”
“Listen, jerkoff, J-836 is right, there's no magic plan that- that’ll keep you
from cocking this up. Aside from ‘don't f-fucking rape him’ and ‘try to be less
of an asshole’ what is there to say? What do you want, a fucking itinerary of
steps? This isn't some- some daytime TBS rom-com,” H655c snorted derisively.
Rick's eyes narrowed with thought. That son of a bitch was fucking annoying.
Also, steps. A slow, tiered system of progression. That was somewhat
scientific, at least. Controlled. Responsible-ish, maybe. Obviously these
oxytocin-addled morons thought otherwise, but fuck ‘em. It looked like this was
the best he was gonna get from them.
He drained the bottle, stood, and said with somewhat distracted snarkiness,
“Well, see ya never. I'd wish you all luck with your Mortys, but I-I don't give
a shit about any of you.” He ignored the small smirk on J-836’s face, like he
knew exactly where his mind was at.
He made his way to the door. Before he left, he added, “Hey, C-class, ever feel
like another ass-whoopin’, you know where to find me.” He snickered at the
scowl on the stupid fucker’s face, reached for the door, then paused again and
asked the Ricks in general, “Oh, b-by the way, your gay-ass support group have
name?”
Delta-50 replied with obviously-compensating pomp, “Idamda.” He clarified
further at Rick’s raised brow, “Inter-Dimensional Association of Morty-Directed
Affection.”
Rick shook his head and snorted, “Wow”. He opened the door and hurried off.
He didn't hear J-836 let out a dry chuckle as the door closed behind him.
“Man, that guy’s in for a rough time.”
The other Ricks cackled as they drank from their cups.
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks so much guys! Reviews always welcome, let me know abtout any
     problems. Particularly with this, let me know if it was too confusing
     keeping track of who's speaking and so on. I've never wrangled that
     many characters before, lol.
End Notes
     Thank you for reading! There will be more chapters to come. Please
     review/give very solicited advice! :D
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