AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've tried my best to keep the characters in character but it's so goddamn hard when there's this much character development. Especially with Rick. I feel like neither of them are in character, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. The ending is a little rushed and I had no idea how to end it also, so sorry if it seems abrupt. Enjoy!

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-

Groaning, Morty slammed a hand down on his alarm to turn it off. His back ached from leaning over his desk and he felt groggy. Rick was still soundly asleep in his bed. "B-better not disturb him…" Morty mumbled as he put on a yellow shirt. He pulled on a pair of blue jeans and trudged into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stared at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed - his face looked unusually pale and he had huge bags under his eyes.

Morty paused mid-brush. Had Rick really said all that stuff last night, or was it just a dream? ...No, it couldn't have been a dream. Afterall, Rick was snoring away, dead to the world, in Morty's room at this very moment. He put the brush back into the cup and splashed his face with water.

His head hurt and his stomach ached. Maybe he should just take the day off. He was too tired to focus anyway. Rick would be fine with it, but his Dad would bring up the issue of his attendance again… Morty sighed and trudged down the stairs where his family was eating breakfast.

"Morty, you don't look so good," Beth said, scurrying over to him. She placed a hand on his forehead and frowned. "I think you should take the day off."

"B-but m-m-my attendence-" he stammered.

"You can't go in if you're sick," Beth said. Jerry glanced up from his game and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Go back to bed and rest," she continued, ruffling his hair. He nodded and trudged back up the stairs.

Morty gave a huge sigh of relief when he returned to his room. Glancing over at Rick, he shut the door and sat back down at his desk. He held his pounding head in his hands, groaning. He longed to be in the comfort of his own bed - why couldn't Rick just wake up and go back to his own room? Rubbing his temples, he stood up, striding over to the bed. He snapped his fingers in Rick's face. "W-wake up." He snapped his fingers again. "C-come on R-Rick, I wanna s-sleep."

Rick gradually opened his eyes and groaned. "M-Morty? Wha?" He winced and put a hand to his head. "Wh-woah, that's one n-n-nasty hangover… God, I n-need a drink." He sat up and dragged a hand through his hair and reached for the flask on the table. He took several long sips.

"D-do you remember l-last night?" Morty asked.

"H-huh?" Rick looked at him. "Wh-whoa, Mo-OURGH-ty, you dont… Y-you don't look so hot. C-come over h-here," he said. Morty complied, allowing his grandfather to hold a hand to his forehead. His touch was much gentler than Beth's, and Morty found himself leaning into the cool touch. "W-wow, y-you're pretty sick, huh... L-lie down Morty." Rick got out of bed and held the sheets up for Morty to crawl into.

"R-Rick-" Morty started, but he was interrupted.

"H-hang on, M-M-Morty. I'll get s-something for th-that fever," Rick said, walking out the room. He returned with a wet cloth, a glass of water, and some medicine. He sat down on the side of the bed and helped Morty sit up, and he gave him the tablets. Then he held the glass of water to Morty's lips. "D-drink it slow," he murmured, rubbing Morty's back soothingly as he took a sip of the cool liquid. Morty sighed.

"R-Rick. Do you remember l-last night?" he asked again. Rick was silent. He eased Morty back down and placed the cold cloth on his forehead.

"Vaguely," was all he said.

"A-about your dad? A-a-and your other Morty," Morty said. Rick stiffened. He took a long swig from his flask. "Y-you're not j-just gonna bottle this up, a-are you? Th-the drunk you mentioned it f-for a reason, you know, R-Rick."

"M-Mo-OURGH-ty. A l-lot of M-Mortys die on adventures. I-it's a pain in the ass to get a replacement f-from the citadel, b-but it's possible. Th-the fuckers wouldn't g-give me one, s-so I came to your reality wh-where your previous Rick had died 15 years ago," Rick explained.

"S-s-so what drunk you said was true?" Morty asked.

"Wh-what did I s-say wh-while-URRP-drunk, M-Morty?"

"Y-you said he got shot and d-died in your arms."

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Y-yeah," he said after a silence. "I-I messed up o-on an adventure wh-while stealing s-some parts. We… We got caught. C-Couldn't get h-him to hospital in time." Morty rubbed Rick's back.

"Wh-what a-about your dad? Y-you said he beat you?" he asked. He felt a pang of guilt for prying, but he couldn't contain his cuoriosity.

Rick remained silent. He downed the rest of the whiskey in his flask and pocketed it. "S-sorry…" Morty said.

"No, it's okay, M-Morty," Rick said, sighing. "Y-yeah, he did beat me. H-he had PTSD f-from the War, M-Morty. H-he was a-an alcoholic a-a-a-and it made him pretty-URRP-a-aggressive. H-he broke my a-arm pretty badly once a-and I ended up in h-hospital, M-Mo-OURGH-ty. I t-told myself I w-would n-never drink." Rick chuckled. "I-it's g-good stuff, M-Morty. I-I-I see why he drank so much, now."

"Why don't you quit?" Morty asked.

"I-it stops me… Fr-from killing myself, M-Morty. D-don't try and t-take this away from me." Rick stood up. "Y-you done prying into m-my life now, Morty?"

"Sorry, R-Rick, I-" Morty was interrupted by Rick ruffling his hair.

"D-Don't worry about it, M-Morty. Y-You mean a lot to me. You d-d-derserve to-URRP-know. J-just don't tell your mom," he said, and walked out of the room before Morty could reply. But Morty wasn't mad. He smiled, and snuggled down into the sheets, happy to finally receive some love from Rick. Maybe Rick would be less grouchy with him now he'd opened up. Well, he'd have to wait and see. For now, he should get some rest. He closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.