AN: I'm not sure if this is already considered Rick/Morty or still passes off as platonic, but I guess I'll leave that up to you readers. At any rate, this feels very canon for me.
Warnings: angst-y, insults, could be read as Rick/Morty, also some fluff
Summary: Toxic Rick may act like an ass towards his grandson, but he actually cares about him. He just has his very own way of showing it.
Finally Ricktober, Bitches! – Chapter 29: Toxic Rick – Toxic Thoughts, Rickish Heart
The toxic wasteland was dirty and stinking, but so were he and his Morty. With the determination of a madman, Toxic Rick worked on getting them out of this dirt hole as soon as possible.
He really didn't want to spend any more time in here than necessary, regardless of whether he rightfully belonged in this place in accordance to some higher order. He never gave any fucks about guidelines anyways and if a balance was needed and someone had to be stuck in this tank, then his goody-two-shoes version could do it. Let's see how he would like that.
As he was busy standing over the self-made cauldron and discovering new chemical elements each passing hour, writing down his very own version of a periodic table, he took a short break to glance over to his grandson.
The boy had gotten incredibly quiet since Rick had started his feverish research and right now, he sat pathetically in the corner and formed vases out of the toxic mud, just as Rick had ordered him to do a while ago, so that he would have containers to use for his experimenting.
By now it were far more than Rick really needed, but he was probably continuing to do it in the need to stay useful to his grandfather. Maybe the little turd thought that Rick would throw him back out there where the toxic monsters were if he stopped being useful.
The thought made the scientist mentally scoff. As annoying as the little shit was, he knew that he would never let him leave his side. Which didn't mean that he would let Morty know that.
"Hey, you little shit! W-what the fuck are you doing over there?" he broke the silence.
Morty looked up, but avoided looking him straight in the eyes, probably afraid that he would anger his grandfather with that action.
"I-I-I'm making a vase. You-you've told me to make some more for you…"
"That doesn't look like a vase. It's shit!"
Honestly, it wasn't. It looked like a very decent vase, – Morty had some surprising skills when it came to crafting actually – but he needed to unleash his self-hatred somewhere and what better way to do it by projecting it on his insecure sidekick.
"Oh, y-yeah. I guess you're right, Rick. It is shit." The slimy boy agreed too easily.
Rick didn't feel any better. The urge to throw more insults at the kid grew because he looked so goddamn pathetic and didn't even bother to fight back. This angered him because he didn't want Morty to be such a shy little weakling.
Why did he always bother taking him on all these adventures and showing him all those things if he didn't learn something and grew up from these experiences?
…well, there was the thing that he needed the boy's brainwaves to stay undetected from his many enemies. Then again, he didn't really need a shield. Honestly, he had been doing fine for the past 50 years on his own even if he grew old and tired of the constant conflicts.
And since he was on being truthful, he had also started to become lonely, which was the actual reason why he was refusing to let Morty leave his side. The boy was his inspiration, but also his motivation to keep going no matter what.
Whenever he was around Morty, he felt a certain calm that prevented him from going into a panic or blind rage and always enabled him to stay rational. If he couldn't really bring it up anymore to survive for his own sake, he could at least fight to keep Morty safe and alive and in order to do that, he needed to stay alive as well to get them both out of any mess that they stumbled into.
Of course, if anyone asked why he always hung out with Morty, he could always say that he'd chosen to pass his legacy onto his grandson. That sounded believable and no one would question it…
Inside the tank, it was hard to tell the time since there was no such thing as day and night with the lack of a sun. It was only when Rick felt immense tiredness and exhaustion pushing down on his aching body that he decided that it was time for him to take a rest.
As he glanced over to see how Morty was faring, he saw that the boy was already curled up on the ground in the little corner of their hideout that he had started to inhabit and was fast asleep.
"Hey, Morty! Get up!" He roughly woke the sleeping brunet and jabbed none too gently with his shoe in the boy's side.
Morty groaned weakly and opened his bleary eyes.
"What is it, Rick?" His voice was heavy with drowsiness.
"Get over here!" Rick only ordered as seated himself on the ground in a place that he deemed slightly more comfortable and acceptable for sleeping.
The boy obeyed without asking questions and came to stand in front of his grandfather. Rather roughly, Rick grabbed his wrist and pulled him down so Morty landed on the ground next to him.
"Ow! That hurt, Rick! Not that I have any right to complain…" He whined after the unexpected impact with the not really that hard surface. "Wha-what are you doing?"
Instead of gracing the confused boy with an answer, he wrapped his arms around him as if he was a big pillow and pulled him close, slightly nuzzling against him.
"Don't get the wrong idea here, Morty! We-we-we're not cuddling and I don't give a fuck about you! I'm just cold and uncomfortable and I wanna sleep!" he finally justified his actions.
"Okay, Rick." Morty answered, sounding every bit convinced that what Rick said was true and accepted this new sleeping arrangement.
"Shut up, Morty!" the scientist shouted before he snuggled closer to his grandson and closed his eyes.
Having his most precious person so close to himself, calmed him and helped him fall asleep quickly. However, he would never let Morty know that.
