Title: Home
Author: Daisy
Fandom: Rick And Morty
Setting: Morty's Bedroom
Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Characters: Rick Sanchez, Morty Smith, Mr. Needful (Mentioned)
Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Rating: T
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 418
Type of Work: Drabble
Status: Complete
Warnings: Slash, Gay, Yaoi, Incest, C137cest, Grandfather/Grandson Incest, Light Incest, Alcoholism, Trauma Mention, Fluff, Unbeta'd
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Nothing felt like home like being in his grandpa's arms. Rick was like home like nothing else would ever be.
AN: Came across a prompt that made me want to write some lovely Rorty. I mean, everything makes me want to write some Rorty, but here we are, I guess. xD This is my first fic in this fandom, woo! I hope you guys enjoy!
Note: Morty is 16 here.
Home ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Rick Sanchez was a lot of things. An estranged father, a manipulative drunk, a depressed man trying to cover up his insecurities with drugs and alcohol and sex. He was an abuser, a user, the kind of man who would sell your soul to Mr. Needful for free if he felt fickle enough, and wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it.
But, to Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez was a single thing. A confusing, mundane, wonderful, horrible, loving, hateful person. Most of all, though, he was home.
He felt the edge of his bed dip beneath his grandfather's weight, his lips tugging up into a smile. How many nights had Rick burst into his room and woke him up at all hours? He couldn't even count, if he thought about it for days straight. It wasn't like he slept much anymore, anyway. Most of the time, he laid awake and pretended to be asleep as soon as he heard drunken footsteps coming down the hall.
Tonight, though, Rick seemed to have a different idea. When he opened the door, he didn't turn on the light, and instead of tugging Morty out of bed, he was joining him. One thin, strong arm wrapped around Morty's waist, and the other pillowed the scientist's head as he settled in, nestled close. Morty could feel the elder's nose in his wild curls, and it had his whole head heating up, from his hairline down his neck. Some part of him was certain he felt the elder's lips move, but it was probably something stupid he said in his drunken stupor, or adjusting his lips so that he didn't drool too much.
"M-Mo-OURGHTY- Y-you're a good- A good ki- Urp -Kid, Morty." Rick was saying, drawing out his burps and soft, winded gasps. This went on for a solid five minutes before the boy shifted a bit, and he felt those lips pressing to the soft spot behind his ear. They stuck together sometimes as he spoke, praising the boy against him, leaving him both exhausted and uncharacteristically interested in the elder's hips pressed against his rump.
Morty was supposed to be asleep, anyways. Maybe he'd wake up and Rick would be kind of sober… The thought didn't even pause the sweet smile crawling onto his lips, and before he could sigh dreamily at the thought, he was asleep. Nothing felt like home like being in his grandpa's arms. Rick was like home like nothing else would ever be.
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