Chapter Text
Considering everything, it started as a pretty normal Saturday. Morty woke up at about ten thirty of his own accord, which surprised him, because typically Rick pulled him out of bed as soon as possible. Rubbing his eyes and trudging down stairs sleepily, he stumbled into the kitchen, sighing as he opened the cabinet, remembering that the bowls were still too high for him to reach. Lifting his knee onto the counter, the boy pulled himself onto the counter, careful not to hit his head on the open cabinet door.
Feeling a hand at his back, he nearly toppled over, the other hand reaching around him and grabbing a bowl. "Get down, kid. You'll crack your head open."
Sliding off of the counter, Morty blinked as a bowl was placed in his hands.
"S-sorry, Rick. I-I didn't know if you were awake."
"Just put the bowl on the counter." Rick commanded solemnly. "Which cereal do you want?"
"U-uh. The one with-with marshmallows?"
"Hm," Rick grunted, taking down two boxes of cereal from another cabinet. "You're getting half marshmallows, half of that shitty flake stuff that your mom likes."
His eyebrows scrunching together, Morty tilted his head, watching his grandpa with confused eyes.
"But-"
Rick's tired eyes glanced at Morty. With a sigh, he poured both boxes of cereal into the bowl. "If you want to get ice cream later, you can't eat a whole bowl of sugar."
Morty, squinting up at his grandpa, ignored that comment in favor of grabbing some milk from the fridge and pouring it into his bowl. As his grandpa took the jug from him, the older man ruffled his hair, another sigh escaping his lips. Taking his bowl and grabbing a spoon from a drawer, Morty made his way to the couch, where he sat down in front of the blaring television.
Rick sat down next to him a few moments later, his eyelids drooping and lips forming a frown.
It was quite for a few moments, save for the screaming on the television, until Rick patted his grandson's head slowly, his fingers lingering for a few moments. "You're growing up so fast-t, kid. Seems like you were just-just a l-little boy yesterday."
Morty, his spoon dangling from his mouth, jerked back in surprise. There were tears in Rick's eyes! "Rick!" He clamored to put the bowl and the spoon on the table. "A-are you ok?" Morty had never seen him cry before.
Avoiding Morty's grabbing hands, Rick stood up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, forcing the tears away as he made his way toward the garage, leaving his grandson alone on the couch. Kneeling so that he could watch Rick leave his line of sight over the back of the couch, Morty bit his lip, wanting to follow his grandpa in the garage, but thinking better of it. If Rick had left without him, he probably wanted to be alone for a while.
Pushing away his anxiousness, Morty plopped onto his bottom and changed the channel on the television, switching it to show from his own dimension.
Maybe he should work on his homework in a little bit, just to keep his mind off of Rick’s weird mood, but then again Rick was always in a weird mood no matter what. Maybe it was normal Rick stuff? If he didn’t drag him off to another adventure in a few hours, then Morty would know something was seriously wrong.
It was only a few minutes before he heard quick footsteps trampling down the stairs, making him sit up to glance at the noise. His grandpa, grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating, greeted him as he threw himself onto the couch, making the boy bounce slightly with the sudden weight shift. “Hey, kiddo, whatcha’ -ugh- watching?” The older man asked, rather loudly, his hand ruffling Morty’s hair quickly, unlike how he had before. Now, he seemed more alert, more present, more...himself, Morty supposed.
“U-uh, I don’t k-know. I just kind of - kind of just turned it on.” Side eyeing his grandpa, Morty’s lips rolled together into a thin line. “H-hey, R-Rick, didn’t you just go to the garage? How did you get upstairs without me seeing?”
Rick sniffed, enraptured by the television, his legs twitching in front of him. “I-I dunno, Morty. M-maybe you just missed me.” Rick’s hands curled in his lap before the older man stood up, fidgety and unable to sit still. “I’ll be in the garage if you need me, ok, kiddo?”
“Uh, s-sure, Rick.”
"We'll - we'll go on an ad-adventure later, Morty. Maybe we can go to blitz and chips or- or get more mega seeds or-" Rick spoke so quickly that Morty almost couldn't understand him, his voice fading and stopping suddenly as he slammed the door to the garage behind him.
Taking his dishes to the sink, Morty shuffled his feet absentmindedly, puzzling over his grandpa's mood. Shaking his head clear, he glanced at the garage door before dashing up the stairs to change.
As he brushed his teeth, he heard the front door open. Rinsing out his mouth, Morty pulled on his yellow shirt as he stepped into the hallway, bumping into a large body, who grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him pull his shirt down, which had gotten stuck around his head. Popping his head through the hole, Morty found his grandpa staring down at him with a soft gaze, a small smile on his face. "Hey, M-Morty, Jerry and me are-are going to go to the h-hardware store. You -you need anything while I'm o-ugh-ut?"
Blinking owlishly, Morty sputtered, pointing his finger shakily.
Something was wrong.
"You-you-you're going to hang out with my dad? Willingly?"
"D-did I stutter, kid?" The older man asked playfully, quirking an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"He said he needed help."
Ok, something was very wrong if Rick wanted to help his dad.
"Oh-oh, um. Is-is mom home?" Morty grimaced, shuffling his feet, edging his way around the older man who seemed to be just as confused as he was, if a bit more relaxed.
"Yeah. She was downstairs."
Unable to think of a better exit strategy, Morty shouted an abrupt bye over his shoulder before running down the stairs.
"Mom, Mom!" He shouted, tripping over his feet as he let go of banister, narrowly missing falling face first onto the floor as a pair of strong hands grabbed him around the waist and pulled him away from the floor and back onto his feet.
His mom blinked at him worriedly, letting out a sigh as she placed her purse on the dining room table. Wait, if she was there, then who was...Morty almost screamed, stifling it by putting a hand over his mouth.
Staring back up toward the top of the stairs, Morty bit his tongue.
Oh, geez, this is not good at all.
Rick, eyes searching his grandson's face for any sign of injury, held him tightly. "Did you h-hurt yourself, Morty? Show Grandpa where it hurts." Kneeling down, Rick patted his grandson's sides, arms, and legs, feeling for any kind of injury.
Prying himself out of his grandpa's grip, Morty skidded over to his mother. "Mom," He glanced at Rick, who was still staring at him with a clinical eye.
"Can we t-talk in private please?"
"Of course." She began as she placed her hand on his back, guiding him to her bedroom. "Oh, honey," She spoke as if remembering something. "Your grandfather and I had a lovely time at lunch today." Morty had never seen her smile so wide. Once they made it to her bedroom, she continued. "He was so open and honest, even a bit vulnerable. I can see why you like spending so much time with him. Once you have him one on one, he's very sweet, almost like a completely different person." She giggled as she sat down on her bed, taking off her shoes. "Now, what did you want to talk about, sweetie?"
Feeling a bit sweaty, reluctant to ruin his mom's good mood, Morty dashed out of the room.
"It's nothing. Nevermind!"
With only one shoe on, she called after him. "Morty, if it's about your internet search history, I know-"
"La la la!"
Slapping his hands over his ears, the teenager barreled past his grandpa, who was sitting on the couch and attempting to get his attention, and charged back upstairs, ignoring his reddening face.
Bursting into his room, he grabbed his cellphone and scanned through his contacts until he found his sister's name. Anxiously tapping his foot, he waited as the phone rang, crossing his arms.
"Hello?"
"Summer! Um," Morty rolled onto his bed, picking at his wall with his fingernail. This was a long shot, if he was honest. Maybe Rick was just teleporting everywhere. Maybe he was just being moody. He took a breath."Is Rick there with you by any chance?"
Morty remembered her saying something about going shopping at the mall the night before.
His sister huffed and shifted the phone. "Yeah, but he's being a dick. I don't know if you want to talk to him right now. He's cursing out some guy for buying a hot dog without any condiments."
Twisting his free hand in his shirt, Morty could hear his grandpa shouting through the phone. "C-could you put him on p-please?"
He could hear the shrug in her voice. "Ok, but it's your funeral. Grandpa Rick! " She shouted, making Morty pull the phone away from his ear.
"Hey, kiddo, Grandpa's kinda busy right now. I'll see you when I get home."
"B-But-"
Rick's tone grew colder. " I said I'll talk to you when I get home."
The call disconnected.
Staring at his phone, Morty's sense of despair grew. It skyrocketed when he saw Rick, frowning, hands in his pockets and hunched over, standing in his doorway, studying him with a curious gaze and a hand in his pocket. This time, he did scream, juggling the phone to keep from dropping it.
"M-Morty, why did you scream?"
Shifting in his bed, the boy's mind went blank, unable to process how Rick got there so fast. Even with portal technology, he couldn't have appeared that fast.
Jumping out of bed, Morty pushed on his grandpa's chest, shoving him out of the room, so he could close the door. "N-No reason! I'll see you for dinner!" He answered, continuously trying to push Rick out of the doorway to no avail.
"You haven't eaten lunch yet."
"I'm not hungry." He grunted, finally getting his grandpa to give a little.
"L-Let's go get something to eat, y-yeah?"
Morty paused his efforts, looking up at his grandpa. "You...but you just ate with Mom."
Rick sighed, shrugging. "Well, I'm hungry again." Morty stared in horror as tears welled in the older man's eyes. "Don't you want to eat with me?" He asked softly, looking miserable.
"Wha-I mean, sure!" Morty grimaced, trying to remedy the situation. "Where do you want to go?"
Rick, a small smile painting his face, took the boy's hand, and, taking out his portal gun, shot a green portal at the floor. Without warning, he jumped into the portal, pulling Morty with him.
Morty told himself to wait until everyone went to bed. Thinking over everything, the day honestly hadn't been as bad as he initially thought. It seemed to have only been difficult for himself.
Dad had a good day with Rick at the hardware store, Mom and Rick had a meaningful conversation at lunch, and Summer didn't see any difference in Rick's mood.
So really, it was just Morty who was freaking out.
Despite being in his PJs, Morty crept into the hallway, hearing the rest of his family downstairs. Luckily, Rick had helped him with a cover story, unknowingly. During dinner, Rick had been throwing side glances at him, his eyes holding flashes of worry and concern.
Because of this, it was pretty easy to fake being sick. His family knew that if Rick was worried, then Morty had to be sick.
Avoiding the creaky floorboard, slipping into his grandpa's room, Morty bit his lip, unsure of himself. Quickly, glancing around the room, kneeling down, he found a box under his grandpa's bed. Dragging it out, he rummaged through it, carefully pushing things aside until he found a small black gun-shaped object. Taking it and putting the box back in its place, Morty jumped to his feet and trotted over to the shelf by the door.
Squinting up at the higher shelves, he groaned, seeing a green cylinder with a light bulb's connector on the end. Of course, it was where he couldn't reach it. Dragging Rick's work chair over to the chair, Morty climbed onto it and snatched up the cylinder. Screwinf it into the hole on the top part of the gun, Morty aimed at the floor and pulled the trigger.
A green portal, though a bit smaller and more wobbly than Rick's official portals, widened. Taking a breath and pocketing the gun, Morty jumped into the green ring.
With the portal closing, Morty ran toward the large house on the horizon. Panting, he banged on the door, huffing with each movement.
The door swung open. "Morty," Came the monotone voice of Birdperson. "What a pleasant surprise." The older man's eyes darted around above Morty's head, searching in the dimming light. "Are you alone?"
The boy nodded, his heartbeat still pounding in his ears.
"Come in, youngling."
Once having herded Morty to Birdperson's dining table, he poured a small glass of purple juice for the boy, placing the cold cup in front of him.
"Does your grandpa know you are here?"
"No."
Birdperson stared at him with those unwavering eyes.
"I see. What is wrong, Morty?"
The boy toyed with the glass in his hands, tracing patterns on it. "Rick's been a-acting weird. Has he said anything to you or - or Squanchy?"
Birdperson blinked slowly, thinking back on their recent conversations. "No, I don't believe he has, but we only spoke in passing." They were both silent. Thinking about what to say next. Softly but nonetheless firm, Birdperson continued. "Perhaps you should ask him what is wrong. He is a very private person, but I believe that if you asked him he would tell you. I have never seen him deny you anything unless he had a valid reason."
Pondering this, Morty nodded, a yawn breezing passed his lips. "You're right." His eyelids suddenly heavy, Morty rested his chin on his folded arms. "H-Hey, Birdperson, do you think you could shoot the portal for me? I'm...kinda tired." The boy yawned again, his head falling to the side.
"I think it would be better if you were to stay here for the night. I will tell Rick."
"Oh...ok." Morty was asleep before he even knew it. Birdperson embraced a rare grin as he picked up the boy, cradling him in his arms and wrapping his wings around him as he carried him to a spare nest room. That purple juice Rick made always worked like a charm on Morty. The scientist always made sure that Birdperson had some on hand in case he and his grandson happened to drop by, knowing that the boy frequently had a difficult time sleeping. Rick had, in some form or fashion, created a drink that would allow the consumer to fall into a deep, restful sleep, even if the subject was experiencing high levels of panic, anxiety, or excitement. Birdperson, at first, had been a bit weary of the product, but soon changed his tune when the Rick showed up at his door for a visit with Morty, who had consumed about three boxes of Strawberry Smiggles while Rick wasn't looking. The boy had zoomed around the house and inspected things as if he had never seen inside anyone's home before.
"I have my own supply at home. Just keep some on hand. Just in case." Rick had told him, a grimace etched into his face as he carried a snoring Morty on his hip. Birdperson was glad he listened.
Typing, he sent a message to Rick, telling him Morty was with him and that he was fine, tucked safely away in a nest. The answering message let the bird man know that Rick would pick up his grandson as soon as he could, in a few hours at most. Either way, Birdperson didn't mind. He liked having a youngling in the nest.
It wasn't until the sun was well in the sky that Rick came by, happier than Birdperson had ever seen him. Grabbing Morty, who still had been dozing, by the arm and dragging him out of bed, Rick and his grandson disappeared through the green portal on the floor with a cheerful thanks! Thrown over his shoulder at Birdperson, leaving the other man to ponder the enigma that was Rick Sanchez.
Once they were home, teleported into Morty's room, without warning, Rick laughed, actually laughed , not because someone failed, not because Morty did something embarrassing. No, he laughed because...because, well, Morty didn't quite know yet but it was weird.
A large hand threaded through his hair, messing it up it was satisfied. "You little troublemaker. You take after me, don't you? Probably not the best thing, but we can work on that." Rick's genuine smile and praise warmed Morty's heart. Despite that, his hands curled around each other.
"Uh -uh, Rick, are - are you-"
Rick cut him off, walking out of the room. "I'm fine, kiddo." His smile was offset and tight. "Get changed. I - I want to do a load of laundry."
... What…?
"But you hate - can't you just invent -" Morty stopped himself. Rick had already left the room.
Alright, that was the last straw. Rick hated doing menial chores. That man had to be an imposter, and Morty would protect his family no matter what. He just had to bide his time.
But first, he'd change. If that was still Rick, he didn't want to upset him too much.
It took half of the day, but Morty was finally ready. A few stray alien weapons, which he had taken from a few adventures, just in case, were in his pockets and the small, black portal gun was tucked into the back waistband of his pants.
The sun had long set over the horizon. Stomping down the stairs, looking much like a cowboy heading toward a quick draw, Morty didn't even spare a glance at his family who was watching television without him . It didn't matter right now. He had more important things to do.
Stopping in front of the garage door, he took a breath. Flinging it open, he stepped insight but stopped at the sight that met him.
"...oh."
Before him, working on various projects, was Rick.
But instead of just one, there were five.
Well, that explained a lot.