
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8084638.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      rickmorty_-_Relationship
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez_(Rick_and_Morty), Morty_Smith, Beth_Smith_(Rick_and_Morty),
      Smith_Family_(Rick_and_Morty), Summer_Smith, Jerry_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Memory_Loss, Drinking, Mentions_of_Suicide, but_there_is_no_ACTUAL
      suicide, Smut, Fluff, Angst, hormonal_teenager, grumpy_old_man, Sexy
      Times, Love, lots_of_love, they_love_each_other_okay, Romance
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-27 Words: 7348
****** Rickless Behavior ******
by glointhedark23
Summary
     Somewhere between all the planets and stars, between every fight and
     temper tantrum, between every long flight through space and every
     sleazy intergalactic motel, a bond had formed.
     And Morty had to forget.
Notes
     I do not own Rick or Morty (damnit). Maybe in some alternate
     dimension....
See the end of the work for more notes
                                      Morty
 
   No one will know why but it's better that way, I thought to myself as I
exited my bedroom, footsteps as light as humanly possible. My heart slammed
forcefully in my chest, the fear outweighing the pain for the first time in
months.
   Maybe I had felt the last of my pain. If I managed to stay afraid all the
way up until the moment I did it, I wouldn't have to be sad again - at least
not about this. 
   My fragile hopes had been for naught, I realized, as Rick's bedroom door
became visible. I choked back a sob, covering my mouth with both hands as hot
tears streamed down my face. Rick's snoring could be heard through the door,
soft and light. Cute even, though he'd hate that. 
   Gently, I traced the wooden grain of his door with the tip of my pointer
finger, wishing beyond all wishes that I could go in, curl up beside him, smell
his smell, feel his warmth... without realizing it was happening, my hand had
found its way to the brass doorknob. As my fingers made contact with the cool
metal, I yanked my arm back to my body and ran away, quickly but silently. 
   Reaching the garage, I let out a shaky sigh. This was it. And I was afraid.
And wrong. And sick. And fucked up.Which was why I had to do this. 
   Digging through the drawers of Rick's desk, I began my search. It couldn't
be far - he had just been working on it a few hours ago. I fumbled a little as
a terrifying thought crossed my mind.
   What if he brought it up to his room with him?
    Of course that would just be my luck.
   Turning from his desk, I made my way over to his work table. My eyes had
just began scanning its surface when I found what I was looking for. It had
been strangely simple, anticlimactic in a way I'd not anticipated. 
   Relieved as I was, I felt my stomach drop. I didn't want to do this. It
wasn't fair. Why couldn't I just be a normal person - with normal thoughts and
feelings?
   If my time with Rick had taught me anything, though, it's that life was
never fair. And that normalcy was overrated - though, given my current
situation, it sounded pretty damn tempting. 
   My hands shook as I reached for the device and the tears began to fall
again, fat, hot and silent against my face. 
   Before I could change my mind, I looked down at the small machine before me.
It was about 8 inches in length and as big around as the handle of a
screwdriver. It's tip was small and rounded, and two large buttons lined one
side of the object, along with a small red switch at the bottom and a green
button on the other side.   
   Assuming the switch turned it on, I pushed it to the right and almost
dropped it as a shrill, electronic hum sounded, indicating that it was indeed
working. 
   I had just began fiddling with the buttons on the side when I head the
sounds of someone moving upstairs.
   shit.
  Finding the green button with my thumb, I lifted the small machine to my
right ear, unable to control my violent trembling. The sounds above me grew
louder, followed by the sound of someone coming down the stairs - I had to act
quickly. I held my breath.
   on the count of three...
    "One" I said
My heart pounded wildly.
   "Two"
   I released a quivery breath, opening my eyes to check the door to the garage
which was creaking open now, a slender hand on the doorknob.
   "Three!" I shouted, pushing the button. 
   "Morty!" I heard the sound of someone yelling my name before a flash of
green light erupted behind my eyes, followed by nothing...nothing at all.
   Darkness engulfed me. 
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
                                     Beth
                                        
   Sighing to myself, I pulled my earbuds out and closed my book. Without the
steady stream of my Film Noir playlist, Jerry's uneven snores cut through the
silent bedroom like a rusty saw. 
   I turned, looking down at his sleeping form. Guilt gnawed at me as I
remembered the argument we'd had before bed.
   Suddenly wishing he were awake, I scooted down the bed and snuggled my nose
into his warm neck, planing a feather-light kiss on his shoulder.
   "I'm sorry, honey" I whispered into his hair.
   He shifted, grunting in his sleep, and turned the other direction. Conscious
or not, the rejection stung. I wasn't wanted. 
   Somehow it always came back to that. I was only ever used as a means to an
end for the men in my life. Food on the table, money in the bank, bed to sleep
in. All these things I provided for them without strings attached - well,
perhaps there was one. All I'd ever wanted was to be loved unconditionally...by
Jerry, by Rick.
   But I was never enough, would never be taken seriously. I'd gotten pregnant
too early in my search for that love - before I'd even known that was what I'd
been doing. It was an offence that my father still hadn't let go of, even after
meeting Summer and Morty. And then there was my job - an offence to Jerry that
I'd never quite understood - hell, it probably bothered Rick too, that his only
daughter used the family 'science genes' to operate on horses instead of
people. 
   It was the undercurrent of their disapproval, their unspoken (and
occasionally spoken) disdain for the choices I'd made in life, that fueled my
bitterness. I gave and gave. They took and took. And all I wanted was to be
loved, to be appreciated.  
   A broken sob echoed through my brain - I almost thought I'd heard it out
loud, but no. My lips were closed and my house was silent - my family slept on,
oblivious to the pains I faced.
   My watery eyes threatened to spill over, but I pushed the tears back along
with the blankets - I needed a drink, and quick.
   I wasted no time in pulling on my thin robe and padding down the stairs for
a glass of wine. I had just reached the last step and was turning towards the
kitchen when I heard that muffled sob once more - coming from the garage. 
   My initial thought was that Rick was awake and by the sound of it, facing
demons on his own. A guilty sense of hope filled me as I thought that perhaps
tonight could be our breakthrough...if he didn't make me go away - which he
would - or if he accepted what little comfort I could offer - which he
wouldn't. 
   The glee of an opportunity faded quickly though, replaced with the
compassion only a mother can match, as I inched closer to the door and realized
it was Morty crying and not Rick. 
   Morty, my sweet boy. The only person in the family who did need me, who did
appreciate me, who did love me. 
   As I opened the door to comfort my child, I stumbled back in horror as I
found him sobbing incoherently, a small metal devise plunged into his right
ear.
   NO!
   "Morty!" I cried, certain I was about to witness the death of my child.  
   I watched, terrified, as Morty crumpled to the ground lifelessly, the metal
contraption skidding across the concrete floor. 
   Panicked, I ran to where he lay and pulled his body up to mine.
   Oh God, oh God, check his pulse, check for wounds, oh my God...
   No blood or wounds were visible, and when my fingers found his neck, his
pulse was there and strong - as if he'd been afraid. 
   "Morty!" I shook him by the shoulders, his eyelashes fluttered lightly,
"Morty, wake up!"
   His eyes opened drowsily. Something was missing. His eyebrows knit together
as if he were confused.
   "Morty?" I asked, "What's wrong?"
   "Who are you?" he questioned, gazing up at me.
   I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, "What do you mean, Morty? It's me,
Morty, It's Mom."
   "Mom?" He asked, the word sounding foreign on his tongue,
"What....where...?"
   He lifted his hands up to his face, staring intently at them as if he'd
never seen them before, and broke into a loud cry. 
   "Who am I?" He sobbed, "Where am I?'
   "Morty, you're at home. This is your home. I'm your mother and you're Morty.
Don't you remember?" I tried to explain softly, slowly so he would understand -
but his wailing only grew louder. 
   "I don't remember anything!" He cried.
   At the very least, he must have sensed a comfort in me. He found the fabric
of my nightshirt and gripped it tightly, burying his face into my torso as he
cried. 
   "Shh...shh...honey, it's okay. I'm here, Mommy's here." I soothed him the
best I could, rubbing his back in slow circles.
   After several minutes of laying on the cold garage floor, I pulled us up. 
   "Come on, Morty. Let's go inside. Everything is going to be okay."
   Slowly, I led him into the living room and gestured for him to sit on the
sofa. I draped my robe over his shoulders and knelt in front of him, bringing
him face to face with me. 
   "Morty, I'm going to get your grandfather. He will know how to fix this.
Okay?"
   "Don't leave me!" He begged, gripping my arms tightly.
   "It's okay, baby, I'll be right back, don't worry"
   After a moment of indecision he nodded slowly, understanding. I offered him
a reassuring smile before running up the stairs.
   What the fuck?!
   "Dad!" I said loudly, opening my father's bedroom door, surprised to find it
unlocked, "Dad, wake up! Dad!"
   I shook Rick's sleeping form, trying to rouse him from an alcohol (and
probably also drug) induced slumber. 
   "Wha... What in the...eughrrp...what in the fuck? Beth? What's wrong?"
   "Dad, something happened to Morty! I-"
   Rick's eyes widened quickly, and I stopped, startled by his worried
expression. I'd never known my father to panic, but the expression on his face
now was one of pure terror.
   "What happened? Is he alright? Is he...is he...?"
   "Dad he's okay - I think. He just can't remember anything. He doesn't even
know who he is anymore." Seeing Rick look panicky had unnerved me and I was
feeling my already shot composure begin to unravel. 
   Rick seemed to calm at the knowledge that Morty was indeed alive. He threw
his blanket off and stood quickly - too quickly, the heavy booze from last
night catching up with him. 
   "Dad, did you have anything to do with this?" I asked, trying to remember if
they'd gone on one of their adventures the previous evening. 
   "No, Beth, I didn't de-eughhrrrp-stroy Morty's memory." Rick looked like he
was fighting heavy nausea. He pulled a shirt on over his bare chest and took
Beth's trembling hand. "Where is he?"
   "Living room." I answered quickly, comforted a little by the fatherly touch
of his hand. He would fix this, I knew he would.
   
   I followed him down the stairs, drying my eyes quickly so I wouldn't startle
Morty. My mind raced, wondering what on Earth had happened - and suddenly it
occurred to me that  
   "Dad, should we call an ambulance?" 
   "I don't know yet. Let me look at him first."
   Reaching the living room, Rick walked fluidly over to where Morty sat curled
into the corner of the sofa, and I trailed behind him timidly, feeling more
like a little girl than I had in a very long time. 
   Morty looked terrified, his arms were wrapped around his legs, and he rocked
back and forth with a horrible, confused look on his face.
   "Hey kid" Rick said, kneeling in front of him, just like I had done before.
He reached out and placed a hand on Morty's cheek.
   Morty jumped at the contact and for a moment, there was the briefest flash
of recognition on his face before his previous look took over once more.
  "Who are you?" Morty asked, looking miserable. 
  "I'm your Grandpa. Do you remember what happened?"
  Morty shook his head, his gaze falling onto me for a moment, then back to
Rick, "I just remember waking up. She - she told me that she was 'Mom' "
   "That's right, Morty, I'm your mom." I encouraged, nodding.
   "Yeah, okay." Rick scratched the back of his neck. "Where'd you find him?"
He asked, looking at me over his shoulder.
   "In the garage. He was - he had something in his ear. He was holding up to
himself before he collapsed. I thought it was a gun at first, but I don't think
it was."
   Rick nodded, a look of understanding - then annoyance - crossing his
features.
   "I know what happened." He said, standing and patting my shoulder softly. "I
can fix it sweetie, don't worry."
   "Well, w-what is it? What can I do to help?"
   "He used my memory eraser. I don't know why he would do something like
that." He shot Morty a scorching glance and Morty whimpered, burrowing further
into the sofa. "And no, I can fix it on my own. Why don't you - euughhrrp - go
get yourself something to drink. Frankly, you look like you need it, and I work
better when I'm left alone. I'll get this taken care of."
   Feeling a bit more at ease (and the slightest bit patronized), I wrapped my
arms around Rick's torso, "Thanks Dad."
   "You're welcome, Beth." he patted my back before turning his attention to
Morty.
   "Alright pal, let's get this taken care of." He said, offering his hand to
Morty.
   Morty eyed it skeptically before taking it, and followed Rick into the
garage, shooting me a glance before disappearing behind the door.
   Now that the initial panic had worn off, my nerves felt shot. Nibbling at my
lip, I decided I would have a discussion with Morty tomorrow morning. Why in
the hell would he do that to himself - to his family? Why would be want to
erase his memories? Had I really been that neglectful? 
   
   I walked to the kitchen for that drink. 
 
 
===============================================================================
                                        
                                        
                                     Rick
                                        
       "Something happened to Morty!"
   The sentenced bounced around in my head. I'd need way more booze to get rid
of that one, though my stomach disagreed, gurgling unpleasantly at the thought
of more alcohol. I'd really overdone it last night. 
   My feelings on the current situation lingered somewhere between relief and
major annoyance. What in the fuck would make Morty do something so stupid? Of
course, I was no shining example as far as reckless behavior was concerned -
but this was Morty we were talking about. He knew better. 
   I had noticed a change though, if I were being honest, and I kicked myself
mentally for not saying something about it. The past month or so, Morty had
been distant and quiet. He'd been avoiding me for certain, and I'd taken it
personally. Well, how else was I supposed to take it? I showed the little shit
some adventure every now and again, I spent time with him and put up with his
annoying little antics while everyone else ignored him, and he repaid me by
dodging me in the hallway, refusing to make eye contact and ignoring my texts. 
   Perhaps if I hadn't taken it so personally, if I'd considered the
possibility that something was bothering him instead of assuming I'd offended
him somehow, we wouldn't be in this mess. Somehow that's how it always happened
with people. I could offend even the most morally corrupt. It had happened
before and it would happen again, and it was easier to believe that I'd pissed
Morty off than to reach out and make sure the little dweeb was alright. 
   Something happened to Morty!
   And I couldn't shake that relief - though I tried, wanting nothing more than
to seethe in my anger. He deserved a violent outburst after this stupid trick
of his, but every inch of me ached to reach for him, to hold this boy I could
have lost a thousand times over. It was a feeling I'd shaken many times before.
But there was something different about not being there, about being woken from
a deep sleep to the possibility that the most important person in your life was
gone... Yes, the relief was there: discernible even through the haze of alcohol
and anger.  
   My mind fell to all of the Ricks I'd heard about who'd lost their Morties.
Some had continued an average life (as average a life as a Rick could have, at
least), others had fallen into a pit of pathetic despair, a few had even offed
themselves.
   I wondered which one I would be. I still had a coupon for a free Morty...but
something about that stupid slip of paper gripped at me with guilt, which was
something I had plenty of already. 
   Something happened to Morty!
   And I felt all of the air leave my chest, my stomach dropping instantly as
Beth threw the words at me. Because somewhere between all the planets and
stars, between every fight and temper tantrum, between every long flight
through space and every sleazy intergalactic motel, a bond had formed - much to
my chagrin. A bond, and then a friendship, and then something else. Something
I'd never admitted, even to myself. But tonight had been different. For a
moment, I'd thought he was gone. He was gone and I loved him. And I'd never see
him again. 
   But here he was, he was safe, everything was okay and I could fix this. Oh
yes, I could fix this. Because what kind of genius would I be if I created a
memory eraser and not a memory repair kit as well?
   "I think I know you" Morty said, interrupting my thoughts.
   "Yeah, I introduced myself two minutes ago."
   "No, I think I...I mean, I think I might remember you...maybe. I don't
know..."
   I swallowed thickly, throat feeling dry. I patted the side where my flask
usually resided, but found only the fabric of my lab coat. Damnit. 
   "Of course you do, Morty, I'm Rick fucking Sanchez - I'm hard to forget,
baby." I shot a wink his way and he giggled, seemingly more relaxed. 
   Something seemed to click then, and his eyebrows shot up, almost reaching
his hairline. 
   "Rick!" he said excitedly
   "What, Morty?"
   "No, I mean, I remembered something...kind of. Your name, it helped me
remember!"
   "Well what is it?"
   "Rick and Morty....Rick and Morty 100 years...100 years.. does that mean
anything? It's the only thing I can remember." He gazed up at me expectantly.
   I faltered, clearing my throat, "Uh, yeah Morty, it's a memory, just... Hey
why don't we get back to the task at hand? It's late and I'm hungover. I'd like
to go back to bed at some point." 
   He nodded, that overly trusting gaze never leaving his face, and I offered
him a weak smile before turning away to find what I needed.
   Going to my desk, I looked through the drawers, finding them in an even
bigger mess than they usually were. Morty had probably rummaged through them
earlier while looking for the memory eraser, the little fuck.
   After some digging, I found the memory repair kit. It was about the same
shape and size as your generic first aid box. Attached to it were two long
wires. I uncurled the wires from their spindles and attached one to each side
of Morty's head with little white stickers. 
   The process would be simple. One flip of a switch and a zap would yank free
all of Morty's locked away memories. The memory eraser itself could be more
accurately described as a memory 'hider' - as it really didn't destroy a
memory, but closed off the section of the brain containing it. 
   Memories weren't a tangible thing - too fluid to grasp completely. The only
other way to "destroy" a memory, would be to destroy that section of the brain
- a process both dangerous and difficult, even for me. 
   My finger hovered over the switch. I still wondered why Morty had used it in
the first place. What was he trying to forget? What was he trying to hide?
   Sensing my hesitation, Morty's eyebrows arched in that familiar, anxious way
of his, "Is everything okay?"
   "Yeah, Morty. Everything's fine" I assured him, "There's just something I
need to do first - for science, Morty."
   "Oh...okay." He said, looking a little frightened.
   Turning to my left, I grabbed a box on the wall shelf and dug through it
until I found a small vial.
   "Here Morty, tilt your head back."
   "What is that?!" He demanded, staring at the concoction.
   "Don't worry about it Morty, just help grandpa out and tilt your head back."
   He chewed his lip thoughtfully, then did as I said. Reaching up, I cupped
his jaw with one hand, using my fingers to hold him steady as I positioned the
vial above his mouth.  A single drop of this stuff could knock a grown man out
for 8-10 hours. 
   Carefully, I tipped the bottle and let one small drop land on Mory's
puckered lips.
   "Alright Morty, lick your lips." I said, cringing inwardly as I pushed the
sentence from my lungs. Something about standing this close and asking him to
lick his lips made my knees buckle, and more guilt coursed through me as I
realized how erotic this felt.
   Mesmerized, I watched as Morty's tongue darted out to lick the substance
from his moist, pink lips. 
   Within seconds, his eyes began to droop and he slumped forward, head falling
against my chest as he fell into a deep sleep. 
   Carefully, I situated his lanky body so that he lay fully on my work table. 
   It took me a moment to find what I was looking for because of my rummaged-
through desk, but it was all still there. Finding the spool of copper wire, I
cut two strands off and pried the top of the kit off with my blunt fingernails.
I fiddled with a few of the kit's settings and attached the wires to the same
small device that Morty's wires were attached to, then taped the ends of the
wire to my own head. 
   Wishing now more than ever that I had my flask, I stilled myself - trying to
prepare my body to receive the memories and emotions of my hormonal, teenage
grandson. 
   Reaching around the side of the kit, my fingers found the switch and I held
my breath. 
   I flicked the switch quickly and emotion hit me like a tidal wave. I
struggled to keep my footing as every thought and emotion that Morty had ever
experienced was transferred to my brain with a sickening ZAP. The contents of
my stomach came up and I maneuvered my body to the side, still vaguely aware
that Morty was lying directly in front of me. 
   And suddenly I was no longer Rick, but a 17 year old boy named Morty. I
skimmed over the adolescent years with impatience, stopping as I reached his
14th birthday. 
   It began with sadness. My family tolerated my existence, but not much more.
Engulfed in school and friends, my older sister paid me little mind, and not
much more could be said for my bickering parents.
   Images flooded my mind of Summer slamming her bedroom door in my face, of
screaming matching between Beth and Jerry at the dinner table, of lying in my
bedroom all alone - trying desperately to feel the void in my soul with
pornography or movies or comics.
   And school was worse. I had no friends, only a number of acquaintances,
people I'd known forever but never spoke with. My feverish crush on Jessica
faded slowly as I realized she was just as ugly as she was beautiful. 
   Thousands of moments reinforced the sadness, making it grow stronger, and
just as I began to feel as if it would suffocate me, a relieving flood of joy
moved in, and the image of Rick Sanchez emerged as we became a part of one
another's lives, of getting to see galaxies, different planets and alien
species. My life had changed that day - so much for the better and so much for
the worse, because the joy was fleeing.
   Fear gripped at me next, making me gasp for air as it squeezed all of the
oxygen out of my lungs. Memories flooded in, of being lost on alien planets, of
burying my own torn up body, of shooting innocent people, and being chased by
monsters. 
   But somewhere in that fear, rose up an overwhelming sense of trust - because
even though I was afraid - afraid of dying, of destroying humanity, of losing
my privileges with Rick - despite all of that, I trusted Rick to take care of
things. Somehow, I knew that Rick would always protect me. 
   And then the day came when I realized I was wrong. I was nothing to Rick. As
we'd flown home that night, I knew that Rick had seen the betrayal in my eyes
as I noticed the golden pattern of a "Free Morty Coupon" sticking out of his
pocket. How could he understand how damaging it is to know you're replaceable?
   For a short while, Rick fell into the same terrible spectrum as every other
person in my life. He didn't care about me - no one did. 
   But it had only been a short while, indeed. Because even though I was
replaceable, even though Rick was an asshole and I was an idiot, he still spent
his time with me. He still chose to drag me along on his adventures instead of
Summer or Mom. And I couldn't help but go with him. I was drawn in, seduced by
the possibility of mattering to somebody, even when I knew it wasn't real. I
hung somewhere in the middle of a limbo, knowing I shouldn't matter, but still
did - at least a little. It was with that perspective that I began to notice
small things about Rick.
   When he'd go too long without alcohol he would sometimes get this look in
his eyes that tugged at my heart, and I knew he was sad. When we'd have a
particularly fun day, I would grin at him and every now and again I would catch
him smiling too, looking down at me with a far away expression that was soft
but otherwise unreadable. 
   He was in great pain - that was what Bird Person had told me. 
   And the sympathy came rolling in - no not sympathy, though it would be easy
to confuse it as such. Empathy, it was. because I knew  how it felt to be less
than dirt. I didn't know what made Rick sad, what made him want to drown his
loneliness in alcohol, but I knew that I felt it too. That shared depression,
that understanding of Rick's alcoholism and reckless behavior, deepened the
affection I had for him. 
   After considering the affection I held for him, I came to the conclusion
that I loved him, and surely it was normal to love your grandfather. But this
was...different.
   The love grew and grew. I looked forward to seeing Rick every day. I thought
about our adventures on a constant basis. I didn't do homework or go to movies.
My life revolved around our time spent together. The very thought of Rick made
my toes curl. His smell, his humor, his hair, the way he held himself and
interacted with people, never sugar coating anything, never lying.
   And one day I realized that I didn't love Rick - I was in love with Rick -
and that was most definitely not normal. 
   Even so, I made the smallest of hints - a lingering touch, holding eye
contact for a beat too long, offering smiles even when he looked at me with
cold disinterest. 
   I told myself that I was okay with this. He would never love me - not
really. But I could always admire him from afar. 
   My resolve began to crack, though, as Rick took notice of my changed
behavior. He loathed affection, or so it seemed. He called me gross, demanded
that I get a friend my own age and stop acting so obsessive. And it broke
something inside of me. I was disgusted with myself, embarrassed that I'd even
considered the possibility. 
   I tried to distance myself. I would rather feel sad and alone than feel
this, whatever this was. But I was too far gone, there was no going back and no
matter how hard I tried, I could not forget.
   Rick had mentioned his memory eraser one day to me as we ate breakfast. The
memory surfaced and I tried no to smile as him as he spoke to me directly - the
rest of the family either hadn't been listening or didn't care.
   It was during school the next day, as I doodled a sketch of the spaceship in
my algebra book, that what he'd been talking about clicked for me. Had he said
a 'Memory Eraser'?
   I devised a plan.
   I wouldn't forget everything - only the past 3 years or so. I would remember
Rick enough to call him by name, but nothing more.
   It was risky, of course. I would look crazy to my family, but they'd get
over it. This family had seen some rough shit, a little memory loss didn't even
come close to some of the crazy things we'd dealt with. Still, it would be
noticeable. But it was worth it.  
   No one will know why, but it's better that way...
 
   I yanked the wires from my head, becoming Rick once more, my surroundings
slowly becoming clear. 
   Finding my chair, I sunk down gracelessly, rubbing my eyes. The memories -
the emotions, were still there, lingering beneath the surface and mine to keep
forever. It was overwhelming and I began to regret my decision. 
   After catching my breath, I stood and walked over to Morty's sleeping form.
Impulsively, I ran a hand through his soft hair. He had no idea, no idea at all
how deeply my affections ran. If only he had known that this unrequited love of
his hadn't been quite so unrequited, this wouldn't have happened. 
   But could I tell him? Could I risk this? Could I avoid it?
   I had no moral code to speak of, but this was.... this was something else.
If Beth and Jerry found out, that would be it - sayonara. Beth wouldn't be able
to get me out of that one, nor would she want to. And if I left, Morty would
still be sad and miserable - hell, I'd be miserable. 
   But I was Rick Sanchez. Rick Sanchez. No one set standards for me. I didn't
follow any laws - moral or legal - that got in the way of what I wanted. And so
what if I wanted it? 
   "How's it going in here?" Beth sounded from the doorway, nearly making me
jump. 
   "He's fine, Beth, he'll be asleep for a while."
   "Is he alright now?" she asked, gripping her large glass of wine tightly.
   No.
   "Yes, sweetie. Go to bed, okay? I'll stay with him. I have stuff I need to
work on anyways."
   "Okay, Dad. Thanks"
   I spend the next minute or so returning the repair kit to its normal
setting.
   "Sorry Morty" I whispered, flicking the switch. His body twitched once, then
relaxed. He'd remember everything tomorrow when he woke up. All I had to do was
wait. 
   And drink.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
                                     Morty
                                        
                                        
   I woke up slowly and groggily in my bed, my eyes feeling puffy and sore.
Sometime as I slipped between sleep and wakefulness, I realized my attempt at
destroying my memories of the past three years had failed.
   Instead of the overwhelming sadness that normally took over, I felt numb -
my conflicting feelings canceling one another out. 
   The room was cold, and wintery light filtered in through my window, telling
me I'd slept through the morning and into the late afternoon. I'd missed
school, of course. The house was silent, save for the muffled sound of the
television running downstairs, but that meant probably nothing - Jerry had a
habit of leaving it on. 
   After some time, I drug myself from bed and undressed, noticing that I'd
been put in bed with all of my clothes on. In fact, it had probably been Rick
to put me in bed. Best not to think about it. 
   I sat in a steaming, hot shower for the better part of an hour, then went
back to my room, still feeling tired. Without bothering to dress, I wrapped
myself in my soft, green comforter and collapsed onto the bed. 
   Minutes passed and I had just began to doze off when I heard a soft tapping
on my door. It was probably Mom, I knew, wanting to know what in the hell was
wrong with me. 
   I didn't reply, opting to fake sleep, but the door opened anyways. I
seriously needed to get a lock.
   "I heard you get up." Rick's voice said. I heard the door click shut. 
   The sound of Rick's voice startled me and after my heart began slowing back
to its normal pace, I began to feel my emotions creeping back to me. 
   No... I would have rather kept the numbness. 
   I sat up, blanket still wrapped around me like a cocoon.
   "I'm not in the mood for an adventure today, Rick. I'm sorry." I tried to
sound exasperated, thinking that I could take a page from Rick's book and just
pretend not to care.
   "I just came to - eeeuughrp - check on you, Morty. Sheesh." He raked a hand
through his hair, "Well, do you feel okay?"
   "Oh... yeah, I feel fine - just tired. Are you okay, Rick?" He looked
terrible, and he was acting strangely. I dropped the act, knowing I'd be no
good at it anyways. Somebody in this family had to care, it might as well be
me.
   Rick shifted from one foot to the other, looking a little on edge. Maybe
he'd had too much to drink. Either way, he looked like a hot mess, standing
here in my bedroom with a worried look on his face, his hair even more messy
than it normally was. 
   "I'm fine Morty." he said, walking over to my bed and sitting down. He
pulled out his flask and stared down at it.
   "You don't look fine, Rick. What's wrong?" I placed a timid hand on his
shoulder, expecting him to brush it off immediately, but unable to stop myself.
If only I could be a comfort to him...
   "Morty listen, I - euurp - I don't want you to be ashamed of yourself
anymore."
   My stomach dropped. Did he know? How could he know?
   "What do you mean, Rick? Ashamed about what?"
   He looked down at me with knowing eyes, his lips curling up into a grin that
said, "you're not fooling anyone."
   "Oh jeez" I groaned, putting my face in my hands.
   "You know, Morty," Rick began, kicking off his shoes and leaning further
back into the bed, "There are several dimensions with Ricks and Morties that
fuck - some even have honest relationships."
   I looked up at him in shock, what was happening here? Was I still asleep?
   "W-w-what?"
   "I read your mind, Morty."
   "Youwhat?!"
   "I wanted to know why you used the me-eurrp-memory eraser." He pulled his
arms out of his lab coat, tossing the stained, white garment unceremoniously to
the ground. 
   "Rick, what in the fuck are you doing?"
   "You, Morty."
   His hands were too quick for me to even think of a reply. He captured my
face, bringing it close to his own.
   His lips were surprisingly soft, but his breath was foul with whiskey.
Still, he tasted like Rick, exactly as I'd imagined he would, and I gave in
with a soft moan, opening up for him. Releasing my grip on the blanket, I moved
closer to him, one hand cupping his scruffy jaw, the other buried in his blue-
gray hair.
   His tongue danced around my mouth expertly, and when I pulled away for air,
his teeth made contact with the skin of my neck. I squeaked in surprise.
   He chuckled a little at the sound, an action I felt rather than heard, his
chest bobbing slightly. His hands pushed away the blanket, leaving me bare, and
pulled me up to straddle his lap.
   "Sleeping naked, Morty?" he whispered gruffly against my ear, "So
naughty...almost like you knew I'd come for you. And I will, Baby." His wet
tongue found my shoulder, and he licked a wet trail across my chest. 
   "Nnnnn...." I moaned, throwing my head back in ecstasy. 
   Finding the edge of his shit, I pulled it up and over his head. The
sensation of our bare chests pressed together was maddening, and my hips ground
against him urgently, my groin aching for contact. 
   He shoved me then, and I fell back down against the bed, watching as Rick
moved swiftly, placing a knee on either side of me. His fly was half undone and
a large bulge showed through the fabric of his pants. Above the zipper, a thick
tuft of hair trailed all the way up to his naval. The hair on his chest was
thin, but present - and still that wonderful blue-gray color. His bare arms
were small but sinewy, and by the time I looked into his eyes - which were
ablaze with lust - I was panting heavily, hungry for this man above me. 
   Reaching down, Rick took hold of my erection and passed a tantalizing thumb
over the tip. Pre-cum leaked from me and he scooped it up, swirling between his
two fingers, and grinned devilishly. 
   "So eager...all for me." 
   "Y-yes, Rick...."
   "Yes, Morty, say my name."
   "R-Rick." I choked out, my face hot and without a doubt, covered with a
blush. 
   I tossed my head to the side, the initial shock of the situation had slowed
to a simmer, allowing the small, cold finger of embarrassment to wiggle its way
in. 
   "Look at me, Morty." he said, releasing me. A whimper escaped from the back
of my throat. 
   "Look. At. Me." He repeated.
   I disobeyed, my eyes remaining closed. I threw my arm over my eyes in
shame. 
   "I'm sorry Rick, so sorry..."
   Ricks hands brushed away my arm and found my face, bringing my head close to
his once more. 
   "Sheesh, Morty, calm down. It's alright." My eyes shot open. "This isn't a
big deal unless you make it one. You don't need to feel guilty. I mean look at
me, Morty. Shamelessly riding a 17 year old - if either of us should - euurghp
- feel ashamed, it's me. Yet here I am."
   My eyes bore into his. I licked my lips, ready to speak, but unsure of what
to say.
   "That's better." he said, moving down the bed, his teeth scraping across my
chest and down my stomach.
   "Oh..." I breathed, as his mouth made contact with my cock.
   His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue dancing over me skillfully, and I
risked a glance down.
   A tingly feeling of disbelief and awe moved from my toes to my stomach as I
watched him sloppily give me head. He wrapped a hand around the base of my
cock, dragging it up to meet the place where his mouth stopped. Saliva dripped
over his knuckles, creating glistening puddles in my pubic hair which he raked
his graceful fingers through. 
   I could feel my orgasm building, coming quickly with force, but I wanted
this to last.
   In an attempt to pull myself away, Rick's grip tightened. 
   "Rick! Rick, please!"
   His mouth released me with a loud pop.
   "What do you want, Morty?"
   "I - I don't know exactly Rick but I - I'm gonna cum too soon if you don't
stop." I managed trough heavy breaths. 
   Rick grinned, obviously pleased with my torment.
   "Okay, Morty" he said, "turn around."
   I needed no further prompting, and turned quickly onto my stomach.
   "Mmm.. such a good boy" He praised, cupping my ass gingerly. 
   "Are we alone in the house, Rick?"
   "Don't worry about it, Morty, I've got it taken care of."
   "Oh...okay." 
   "You keep lube in here?"
   "In the nightstand..."
   Rick found it quickly, popping the cap and squirting its content into his
palm.
   "Good boy..." He repeated, and my worries melted away as he reached around
to pull my ass up in the air, his fingers grazing my cock teasingly. 
   He rubbed my ass in slow circles, then without warning, gave me a sharp
smack across the left cheek. 
   I yelped in surprise, then groaned into my pillow as his slick finger found
my anus.
   Rick hummed as his finger slid into me, one hand still gripping my cheek. I
pushed back into his slightly, urging him onward. In a smooth moment, he pushed
the rest of his finger in and curled it just so.
   "Oh...Rick!" I groaned, pushing harder against him, reaching for my
throbbing cock with my own hand.
   "Hands off, Morty." Rick said, slapping my hand away.
   Whimpering, I did as I was told and Rick pushed a second finger in, urging
me to relax through it. 
   After a moment of preparation, I began to hear the ruffling of fabric, and
knew that Rick was readying himself for me. 
   The mere thought sent a delightful shiver down my spine and I bit my lip
with a shaky moan as he positioned his cock, slick with lube, at my entrance. 
   "You ready, Morty?" he asked, this tip of his member prodding at my puckered
opening. 
   "Yes, pleeeease, Rick!" 
   His tip pushed in, stretching me with it's hard and slick persistence. I
groaned uncontrollably. 
   He moved slowly, withdrawing slightly then pushing back in, a little further
each time.
   "Relax" He grunted, "Relax, Morty, let me in. Oh....Morty, so tight,
so...Mmm, I've waited a long time for this, Morty."
   Slowly, he found a rhythm, frequently pouring lube over the place where we
met, keeping my opening slick for him. 
   After several moments of pushing in and out of me, he leaned down, his body
curving with mine, and wrapped his long arm underneath me, grabbing my swollen
and leaking cock with his slender fingers.
   He pumped me with his hand, matching the rhythm with his own.
   "M-Morty..." He panted gruffly into my hair.
   "Rick...I'm gonna..."
   "Yes, baby, come for me. Come with me, Morty."
   His thrusts became hard and frantic and he quickened the pace of his hand. I
came with a shout, my hips bucking sporadically and he followed suit, biting
into my shoulder with a growl. I pushed into him as he finished, basking in the
afterglow of my orgasm. 
   After finding his breath again, Rick pulled himself from me carefully and
collapsed on the bed beside me. I smiled in relief as he held out an arm for
me, inviting me to lay beside him. 
   I tucked myself into the nook of his arm and ran my fingers through the
hairs on his chest, fascinated. 
   We lay in comfortable silence for a while, and I became dimly aware that my
family would be home soon. 
   "Hey Rick, what time is it?"
   "It's been a quarter past two for an hour and a half." He said with a
chuckle.
   Smiling, I pulled myself from the bed, dragging my fingers down the length
of his arm. I laced my fingers through his and my heart did a flip as he
squeezed my hand. 
   "Wanna go watch Gazorpazorpfield?"
   "Eeeghhurp - sounds good, Morty."
   
   As he unfroze time and settled on the sofa beside me, I remembered the last
time we'd frozen time and suddenly became a little nervous. It had been less
than two hours, though - hardly anything compared to the months from before,
and as I looked at Rick, I realized I had nothing to worry about.
   Right now I felt the furthest thing from indecisive. I scooted closer. 
  
End Notes
     So sorry if this had a sort of awkward or rushed ending.... I may
     work on fixing that later, but I wasn't really sure how to wrap it up
     and was really excited about finally posting. Anyways, I hope you
     enjoyed. Comments are welcome and appreciated!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
