Let The Ricks Fall Where They May
Written by Kat_Aclysm
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick
Rated: - T for language
Disclaimers + Copyrights: I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.
NOTE: Tidied for grammar and repeats removed. 9000+ word chapter, enjoy!
Chapter 2 – Once Morty With Feeling
November 17th, 8:40 AM, 2001
Suburbia
Earth, Dimension Unknown
Rick knocked on the front door of the Smith's house but nobody answered this time. He knocked again after a moment of waiting and narrowed his eyes as he stepped back to peer through the vertical glass panels in the front door, not seeing anyone on the other side. He tried a hand on the doorknob, discovering that it was unlocked. With that observation noted, he simply took a quick chug of whiskey from his hip flask and let himself in; Beth would be expecting him by now anyway.
People yelling at each other seemed to be rather standard fare in the household and today was no different; this time he could hear the sounds of Beth and Jerry embroiled in yet another domestic dispute, their hollering so loud that it easily echoed through the rest of the house from their position in the kitchen.
"This seems to be part of the regular morning routine, huh? Well that's just fucking fantastic. What a grrrrrreee-UURRRRPat start to the morning." Rick folded his arms across his chest, completely unimpressed.
He felt a sudden bump at his lower left leg and turned his attention downwards, immediately noticing that his granddaughter was clutching at the fabric of his pants. "Oh hey there, Summer. Did you come over to say hello this time?"
Summer hugged Rick's leg tighter, looking upset. "Mommy and Daddy are mad..."
"Yeah kiddo, it's a tough break." He reached down to pick the girl up, discovering that she was a lot heavier than he remembered. "Geez, I'm not going to be able to do this for much longer. Your mom said you were going to be four soon. I bet you're looking forward to getting a huge hoard of presents, huh?"
Summer simply leaned into her grandfather's chest, not replying. She seemed to calm for a moment in his strong yet gentle grip, though her focus was still on the yelling in the next room.
"You know, kiddo," Rick used his free hand to lightly press his index finger on the end of her little nose. "If you don't want it, you don't have to take it from them. We are the masters of our own destiny. You don't have to put up with that shit, y-you can stop it any time you want to."
Summer blinked at him, wide-eyed. Some of what he said had gone completely over her head, but the last sentence had stuck and now she was curious. "How?"
"You're a kid, do what you do best... turn it up to eleven." Rick was smirking now. "Start up the waterworks. Pee in your pants. Throw your stuff around and have a tantrum. Hell, drop to the floor in front of them and start screaming. Y-you're the one with the power here, kiddo, not them. Make them pay attention to you."
Rick knew damn well that he shouldn't be encouraging the kind of behavior he was suggesting, lest she use the same tactic against himself in the future. But if he could arm the young girl with a useful strategy and cheer her up again, he was willing to do whatever it took.
Summer seemed to perk up a bit at his advice. She began wiggling out of Rick's arms, her attention on the kitchen. Rick took the cue and gently set her down on the floor, tilting his head as he observed his granddaughter run off; he was genuinely curious to see how this one would play out. A rather pleased grin came over his face the moment he heard her start up the tirade of screaming; she had taken to his advice right away.
"I SO pity the idiot that tries to double-cross her one day. Heh..." He took another swig from his hip flask before stashing it in his lab coat pocket and headed into the kitchen, his expression suddenly turning to his best impression of worry.
"Oh, so what's going on here?" Rick stood over Summer and motioned down at her with both hands as he glared at Jerry, then at Beth, finally fixing his attention back on Jerry. "Can you two just shut up for five minutes so this kid can have a moment of peace? Can't you see your arguing is making your kids miserable? Fix your damn marriage or get a divorce already. If you don't do something, you're going to be paying for a crap-ton of therapy for my grandkids before they even reach puberty."
"Oh god, Dad, I don't need your opinion too!" Beth made an exasperated sigh as she could smell fresh alcohol on her father's breath. She chose not to say anything about it as she stepped across the kitchen to pick up her screaming daughter, and began rocking her in her arms in an attempt to calm her down. "Look, I appreciate that you're back in our lives, but I'm not about to take parenting advice from you." She raised both eyebrows suddenly, immediately regretting her comment. "Wow, I'm sorry. That... that came out wrong. I take it back."
"You can't take it back, sweetie." Rick folded his arms, turning the edges his mouth down into a firm frown; that one was genuine. "You can't unpoop that turd."
"Yeah, Rick, what the hell?" Jerry suddenly piped up. "Like you know anything about parenti-"
"Can this wait?" Rick rolled his eyes as he cut him off. He began idly drumming an index finger on his elbow as he spoke again. "Preferably until after I'm dead."
"Why are you even here again?" Jerry leered at the other and stood tall on his heels, folding his arms, going on the defensive. "This is the second day in a row that I didn't want to see you!"
"Oh shut up, Jerry. Did you forget already?" Beth snapped at him. "He's babysitting Morty again today. I have work in an hour and I thought it would be nice for him to come over earlier than yesterday so I could keep him updated." She continued rocking Summer in her arms, seeming pleased when the young girl cuddled against her, becoming calm once more.
"Updated with what?" Jerry blinked, suddenly confused. "Is there something going on that I should know about? Is there something wrong with Morty?"
"No, it's just basic courtesy, Jerry!" Beth replied hotly. "Don't you think it would be nice to nice for my dad to be briefed about what's going on in our kids' lives, rather than having to work it out for himself while I'm running out the door?" She paused deliberately, her anger rising once again. "But of course you don't think about these things, Jerry. You just palm the kids off onto me whenever anything is wrong!"
Jerry just stared back at her, dumbstruck, completely silent. He had no idea how to reply to that one.
"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Rick replied instead, "I'm not as clueless as 'Mister Career' over here." The older man raised his chin, a proud confident smirk of superiority coming over his face. "I'm a man of science. Kids are about as straightforward as things come. Put food and liquids in one end, clean up whatever comes out the other. Rinse, repeat, etcetera, etcetera." He made circular motions with his hands as he talked, indicating the constantly repeating cycle.
"Beth, we'll talk about this one later, OK?" Jerry turned his attention back towards Rick. "Don't think you've gotten away with anything, pal. You know, come to think of it... maybe we should just hire a babysitter. I think I'd rather be paying for it than having to put up wi-"
"I'm going to stop you there, Jerry. Just stop talking." Rick cut him off a second time and raised his right hand up, making a halting motion. He went silent and resumed folding his arms again.
Jerry just stood there, dumbly blinking back at him. When Rick didn't make a reply, he opened his mouth again to speak, quiet for another couple of moments. "Umm... well? What were you going to say?"
"Oh no, I didn't have anything to say." Rick replied, his tone cold. "I just wanted you to stop talking. Do you hear the sound of that?" He put a hand to his ear and paused. "It's called silence, Jerry. It's you, not talking. It's beautiful. I like it. I like it a lot." A smug grin came over his face once again; he just couldn't help himself. This was far too much fun.
"Oh screw you, Rick!" Jerry was yelling now. "There you go again, listen to him openly mocking me, Beth!" He turned to face her, still yelling. "Look at him! He's HAPPY about it! Your father picks on me all the time and you do nothing! Why don't you ever do anything about it?!"
"Jerry, I don't have time to do this anymore." Beth repositioned Summer in her arms as she was getting heavy and uncomfortable to hold. "And neither do you, look at the time. You're going to be late for work." She shook her head. "On your first day, too. How sad." It was sarcasm. Her expression was flat; she wasn't sad at all.
"What?!" Jerry suddenly looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Oh my god, why didn't you tell me!? I have to get going right away!" He dashed out of the room again, leaving the rest of his family behind in the kitchen.
"Wow, he seems organized." Rick's eyes tracked the other as he watched him go.
"Oh be quiet, Dad, just let him be. You have to admit that you pressed all the wrong buttons just now and wound him up for fun." Beth sighed in frustration. She set Summer down on the floor and crouched down onto her knees to kiss her forehead. "Go watch TV, sweetie. Play with your toys, I'll come get you when it's time to go to daycare."
Summer happily ran off down the hallway, returning to the living room.
"I'm sorry, sweetie," Rick began to explain, not even a hint of apology in his voice, "I try to be nice, but he dragged it out of me." That was a lie, too; both of them knew damn well that it had been fun, Beth had even said so herself. He knew not to push it anymore and took out his hip flask, taking another couple of small sips from it. Instead of pocketing it right away, he held it in his right hand this time, figuring he would probably need it again soon.
"Look Dad, I..." Beth trailed off as she rose up, correcting her posture to stand once again. She stared at the open flask and placed a hand on her forehead, releasing a heavy sigh of frustration; it made her extremely irritated that her father was drinking again and she held back the desire to launch into another tirade about his alcohol abuse.
Rick just stood there, idly drumming an index finger on the side of the flask as he patiently waited for her to continue.
"No, you know what?" Beth shook her head and waved her hands out in front of her, dismissing the whole thing. "I can't deal with this right now. I'm running out of time and you need to know what's going on."
"Oh... o-okay?" Rick raised an eyebrow. Now even he was curious; this was the second time she was mentioning it and he began wondering if something was legitimately wrong. He opened his mouth to say something else, but out came a loud rumbling burp instead. He used the back of his left hand to wipe the drool off his mouth.
"Just forget it." Beth said suddenly. "Follow me upstairs, there's a lot I have to get off my mind."
Rick nodded silently and pocketed the flask again, following. Beth made her way to the top of the staircase, headed down the hallway and turned right straight into Morty's room. The blonde haired woman wasted no time moving the distance across the room to the crib and peered down over the edge, sighing. Just looking down at the little boy made her feel so much better already.
Morty didn't acknowledge his mother's presence. He was still very much asleep and on his left side, curled up in a fetal position. He slept with his mouth open and was drooling. His breathing was slow, even and calm; he was a picture of peacefulness.
"They're always so cute when they're asleep." Beth smiled, suddenly filled with a sense of proud giddy happiness just looking down at her baby son. "Just look at him, Dad. Isn't he adorable?"
Rick stood beside her and peered down momentarily. "Yeah, I-I guess they're like that for a while." He stood up again and folded his arms across his chest. "Then they get bigger. Then they're a giant thorn in your ass, and then they start asking for money. One day you have the cutest kid in the entire universe. Next thing you know, your wife is cheating on you with some arrogant eff-tard of a doctor just because he has a fancy-ass car and a lot of money." His expression darkened as he scowled, his brows furrowing as deeply as they would go. "And a tiny dick." He added the last part with particular vitriol.
Beth sighed at him. "Dad..."
Rick glared down at the floor, ignoring her. "One day you're tricked into thinking you're happy, but it's a lie. The next thing you know, they have you by the balls and you realize that you were better off alone." He knew he was rambling now, but for some reason, he couldn't stop. "Then you're halfway across the fucking universe tied up in some stupid game of..." He caught himself finally, surprised at how quickly that had all slipped out. "Whatever. I don't care."
"Dad..."
"You can ask, but it's not going to happen," Rick grunted back at her. "C-can't do it. I just can't get sentimental about this kind of stuff anymore." He raised his head again reluctantly, half expecting Beth to be looking at him with that dumb expression of pity she often took on him. Instead, she was smiling at him and he raised both eyebrows suddenly, taken aback; he couldn't work out why.
"Oh, Dad," Beth sighed at him, "I asked you to come up here so I could talk to you and now you're the one doing the talking. It sounds like you need to let it out more than I do."
"Tch!" Rick suddenly turned his head away, glaring. "S-shut up..." He took his hip flask out again, unscrewing the cap. "You make it sound like it's a fart or something."
Beth ignored the remark and stared directly at the flask. "If there's ever anything you need help with," she deliberately paused, hoping he would get the clue, "I'm here for you, Dad."
Rick loudly snorted in response, positively disgusted. He knew exactly what she had meant and didn't want to get into it. He simply went silent again and averted his attention to the door, already having half a mind to just leave. Either way, he was absolutely fed up with the whole conversation. He had no skill in conveying 'please stop talking about this subject' whatsoever.
Beth decided to let him go; she knew she was pushing too far and could see that her father was just mentally blocking her out. She instead returned her attention back down to her sleeping son and decided to change the subject. "There are a couple of things I need to tell you, Dad. I took Morty to the pediatrician last week because he was due for his next round of vaccinations. Not only that, I took him because he's still not talking... at all. He still only makes basic communicative sounds and gestures. Everything else is fine, he's healthy and happy and I should be grateful about that, but..."
"I'm going to stop you right there. Why do we keep talking about this?" Rick grunted in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose, still very much riled up and angry from before. "I've told you time and time again, stop worrying about it, he'll be fine. Some kids take longer at this stuff than others. Be thankful for the fact he's not talking... once they start, they never frickin' shut up." He took another swig of his hip flask and finally put it away again. He wanted to down the whole thing after what had happened, but he knew that he had to be a responsible adult today.
"I know, I know, I shouldn't be worried, but..." Beth sighed, shaking her head. "The pediatrician wanted to do a blood test to make sure there's not something more serious going on, because-"
"Because there isn't." Rick cut her off, narrowing his eyes.
"Dad, shut the hell up and let me finish!" Beth snapped at him.
Rick raised his eyebrows at her, pulled an irritated face, then resumed glaring back at the doorway. He decided he would just be silent now, because it was easier that way. All he wanted now was to hurry it along and be done with it so Beth would just go away already and leave him be with the kid.
"Anyway, we got the results back from the blood test," Beth continued. "His Vitamin D is low. He needs to go out in the sunlight for at least 15 minutes every day. He could also do with gaining a bit more weight. As for the talking, the pediatrician asked us to just talk to him more often. She said that if he keeps hearing us talk, he'll pick it up and start talking back."
Rick looked back at her this time, one eyebrow raised; was she trying to imply something? "I talk to him." He replied simply after another moment of silence.
"Dad, don't bullshit me. I know you, why would you want to talk to a baby? You don't even like talking to Jerry."
"That's different, Beth."
"How so?" Beth was genuinely curious now.
"Kids are generally stupid because they haven't matured enough to know any better, but they're still making thousands of neural connections every day so they still have potential." Rick sounded vaguely irritated that he even needed to explain this. "Jerry is an adult, he's fully matured. If you can call it that... point is, there's no hope for him." He shook his head, frustrated. "If I had a whiteboard, I would draw up a diagram for you, i-it's a big bell curve that demonstrates intelligence. Most people fall in the middle of it. Jerry, though? He's sitting right at the bottom left. He's not just a regular idiot, nope, I've seen far too many of those in my time. Hell, Jerry makes some of those dumbasses look smart... he's the dumbest idiot in the entire universe."
"Wow, ooookaaay." Beth's reply was sharp; she was totally done talking to her father about this. She knew she probably deserved it though, and couldn't even berate him for turning the conversation back to Jerry again because she was the one who had brought it up in the first place.
Rick casually shrugged at her. "I'm only stating the facts here, Beth."
The blonde haired woman sighed in exasperation as she looked down at her watch, making note of the time. "I can't do this anymore, Dad. I have to go to work. Remember what I said... stuff Morty full of snacks if he has any desire to eat something. Make sure you take him out, he needs sunlight."
"Got it." Rick grunted; he was totally done with the conversation.
Beth's eyes widened as she suddenly remembered something. She reached under the changing table and pulled out a large baby-blue cloth bag with a singular strap on it. "Here," she held it out for him to take, "I packed this for you. It's stuffed full of diapers and pretty much everything else he'll need. There's a stroller in the garage if you want to use it."
Rick made a noise somewhere between irritation and disgust. "No." He grabbed the bag by the handle and immediately dumped it on the floor at his feet. "I don't want to touch that stupid torture device with wheels, i-it's embarrassing. It's also a huge waste of space. I'll just drive somewhere and walk around with him, he's easy enough to carry."
"You're going to walk it, Dad." Beth's voice suddenly became dangerous and authoritative. "You've already had too much to drink this morning and I don't want you getting done by the cops for driving under the influence."
"Watch it!" Rick sharply retorted, narrowing his eyes at her.
Beth ignored him. "I have a baby harness if you want that." She had to smile just a little at the mental image those words conjured up; the thought of her father carrying Morty on his back was kind of cute. "I got it from one of my old friends during Morty's baby shower, but it was too big when he was born. He's easily big enough for it now, but I've never used it. The only reason I didn't throw it away is because it was one of the good quality ones with the anti-puke guard on it."
Rick couldn't have given a damn about the story behind the thing, but shutting up was easier than getting into another argument. He folded his arms once more, making no secret of the fact that he was utterly, utterly bored.
"I think it's still in one of the boxes in the garage. Just look for the ones marked 'baby stuff'. It's black." Beth hurriedly stepped towards the door, stopping in the doorway to look back at him. "Oh, and make sure you change him when he wakes up. He's going to be soaking wet. Sorry I didn't have the time to do it first." She stepped out into the hallway and walked away.
"Bye." It didn't come out kindly; the conversation had gone on far too long for his liking and he was relieved to see his daughter leave him in the quiet with his sleeping grandson.
Rick kicked at the bag at his feet as a means to dissipate some of his anger. He also hated looking at it; it was far too big for his liking and he knew that he would look positively ridiculous hauling it around. He took a moment to inhale deeply, filling up his lungs with air. He held the breath in for a moment and sighed on the exhale; he needed to calm down.
As he leaned over the edge of the crib, he began to wonder if the anger was coming from all the events he had been through in life thus far, or because of how intelligent he was compared to everything else that existed. Perhaps it was because everything in the universe also happened to be incredibly stupid and pointless to begin with, or maybe the anger was just rooted in the fact that he was just turning into a crotchety old man.
"Probably all of those things." He thought to himself. Getting older wasn't something he wanted to think about, but he knew it was one of the inevitable truths of the universe; everything had a lifespan. Everything from bacteria to larger lifeforms, to suns, to entire galaxy systems. Even the universe itself had a lifespan. Nothing would last forever; everything was going to die eventually.
He pushed it out of his mind like so many other thoughts before it.
When Morty began stirring, his attention turned downwards. The baby had started moving as he began to wake up and made small pathetic noises in discomfort.
Rick knew what would come next if he left it too long so he picked the child up and cradled him in his arms. "Hey there, little buddy. Glad to see you're finally awake. Thank god you slept through most of that mess, it's been a really shitty morning for everyone."
Morty cracked his eyes open and looked up; this wasn't his mother. He wanted her company. Out of all the people he knew, he was attached to her the most. His pathetic sounds grew into louder grumpy noises and he twisted his mouth into a very unhappy expression.
"What are you whining about now?" Rick grumbled, his voice somehow still remaining quiet and gentle as he spoke. "A-are you in a bad mood because you just woke up? Yeah, I get that." He moved the youngster over his shoulder and began patting his back in an attempt to soothe him. Somewhere downstairs, he heard Summer screaming again; Beth was obviously trying to get her out of the house. He couldn't help but smirk a little; that girl was a quick learner.
Morty seemed to calm again with the change of height; he had a short attention span and soon forgot what had made him upset. He made a few more fussing noises as he quietened down and yawned, still in the process of waking up properly.
"Yeah, see. It wasn't a big deal, was it?" Rick just held him there for a couple of moments, waiting to see if his calming mood was only temporary or not. "Y-you actually know how to let shit go. I'm proud of you, little buddy." He heard the door shut downstairs, which meant that they had the house all to themselves. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to.
Perfect.
"So what do you want to do today, kiddo?" Although he knew he wasn't going to get a reply, he asked anyway.
Morty was too busy looking at the colorful decals on his walls to pay attention and respond. He tried to reach out towards them and made a soft noise, expressing his interest in the shapes.
Rick took the opportunity to carry his grandson over to the changing table while he was still quiet, getting done what he needed to with minimal fuss, thankful for the fact there wasn't a giant pile of shit waiting for him this time. After the little boy had been stripped of his clothes and cleaned up properly, he tossed the diaper into the trash and the onesie into the laundry basket.
He drew up both of the baby's legs in the fingers of one hand and dusted his butt off with a bottle of baby powder he held in the other. Rick closed the bottle and tossed it back into the drawers on the changing table. He wasted no time placing the new diaper on and took a moment to brush his fingers against Morty's bare stomach as he did up the tabs.
Morty made a loud sudden squeal of laughter in reaction to the tickling and squirmed around on the table.
Rick immediately thought better of it and stopped, planting a firm hand on the little boy's belly to hold him in place. "Yeaaaaah, it was a bad idea. Don't move around too much while you're up here, kiddo. Don't fall off, either... that's the last thing I want to happen today."
Morty looked back up at him and reached up, grabbing at the air. Rick guessed that he either wanted to be picked up, or he wanted another round at attacking his thick head of spiky hair. With one hand still planted firmly on the little boy, he reached across to the drawers full of clothing nearby. He grabbed up some warm clothes and began dressing him; if they were going out, he would need them on.
Morty actually sat patiently this time and let it happen. He was in a good mood, that was for sure.
Rick picked him up again once he was done, holding him over his head victoriously, almost like a trophy, ridiculously pleased with how easy it had been this time around. "Ohhhh yeaahh!" He loudly cheered, a wide grin on his face. "Not even an ounce of resistance that time. If only you could behave like that more often, huh?" He lowered the little boy once again, knowing full well that if he held him up in the air too long, he was leaving himself open to being puked on.
Morty was positively elated to be held up so high and squealed, joining in with his grandfather's cheering. He looked down at Rick while he was overhead, staring down at his grandfather's wild-eyed, crazy face, responding with a squeal of sheer joy to his happiness.
"Good work, little buddy. Keep it up." Rick placed him over his left shoulder once again, firmly holding him in place as he used his right hand to pick up the cloth bag. "Come with me, we gotta go through some useless shit in the garage if we wanna go out today." He walked out of the bedroom and briskly walked off down the hallway. In another moment, he was down the stairs and in the garage.
Morty made soft curious noises the whole way; he was used to exploring and getting into whatever he could already, but the new height made the whole house look different and offered a new interesting perspective to him.
Once in the garage, Rick set Morty down in the middle of the floor. "Stay there." He instructed with sudden sharpness, pointing at him. He moved over to the laundry sink and began to wash his hands off; he had been meaning to do that as soon as possible. "I-I mean it this time. This isn't like yesterday with the toy box in your room, kid. Stuff can hurt you out here. There are also chemicals stored out here that will kill you if you ingest them."
Morty stayed put initially, sitting squarely on his butt. Though, as he looked around the room, he already saw so many interesting things he could get into. He peered back at Rick as if to check to see what he was doing, then put his hands on the ground, clumsily pushing himself onto his feet.
Rick narrowed his eyes, watching his grandson in his peripheral vision the entire time. He could already see that the youngster's mind was processing what to do with the new environment and when he saw him stand up, he felt his anger rising. He promptly shut off the water tap and strode across the room in three rushed steps, snatching the little boy up off his feet. "What did I just say to you?!" It came out much louder and more harsh than he had intended.
Morty visibly flinched at Rick's outburst; it frightened the hell out of him. His bottom lip quivered and he scrunched up his brow, loudly whimpering. His eyes were brimming with tears and in another instant, he was loudly crying, afraid.
It felt like a kick straight to the gut. "Holy shit..." Rick was a sudden mixture of guilt and regret, his anger dissipating instantly. He hadn't been prepared for that kind of reaction at all; his baby grandson was now crying solely because of him. "Hey buddy, I-I didn't mean it like that. I'm really sorry." He drew the youngster into his chest with a hug, patting his back.
Morty continued his miserable wailing despite the fact that Rick was holding onto him. He flailed his arms in protest and began trying to hit him; all he wanted right now was his mother.
Rick simply held onto the youngster and let him cry it out. The flailing limbs and strikes to his chest didn't hurt at all, but he felt utterly shitty with himself for it anyway. He continued to pat the kid's back, trying to reassure him with words. "Calm down, Morty. Come on." He lowered his head, lightly bumping his chin on the little boy's shoulder. "I really am sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just... I-I didn't want to see you get hurt."
As Morty calmed down again, he continued with soft fussing noises, still very clearly upset. Rick stood upright once more and returned the baby to where he had been over his shoulder, conceding to the fact that it was his fault. As he heard his grandson's complaints, his mind began processing what had just happened; he knew that it certainly wasn't going to be the last time this would occur because he was an angry, bitter man by nature and prone to exploding into wild fits of rage at the drop of a pin. That was just the kind of person he was and who he had always been. People either accepted it or avoided him entirely, which he was perfectly fine with. Morty, however, was far too young to have any kind of buffer to deal with it. Rick made a mental note to keep his anger in check in the presence of his grandson while he was still this small; he did not want it happening again.
Rick firmly held onto the youngster in one hand as he resumed going through the boxes in the garage with the other, wanting to get his mind off it entirely. Now that he thought about it, it annoyed him that none of these boxes had labels on them. He pulled one down from the highest level of shelving, disappointed to discover that it was just full of trinkets from Jerry's boy scouting days.
"Dumb." Rick let the box crash onto the floor. When he heard several items break, he was sure to kick it for good measure, making sure to break whatever was left intact inside. It made him feel a little better.
Morty was finally quiet again. He turned his head towards the floor after hearing the smashing noises, wanting to observe what the strange person was doing with it all.
Rick was glad to see Morty's calm state of mind return. He pulled out another unmarked box, letting that one crash to the floor as well. He had to laugh to himself as he heard more things break inside; he had always gained a strange sense of satisfaction in destroying things.
"Serves you right for not labeling your shit." He muttered aloud to nobody in particular. He stepped back, his eyes scanning the shelves once again. Then his gaze locked onto the only box on the lowest shelf that had a label written on it - 'baby stuff.' He felt a little bit silly with how obvious it was.
"At least I found it. Fuck yeah!" Rick called out happily as he dragged the box out across the floor. He crouched down beside it and set Morty down next to him, immediately using both hands to tear off the lid. "Hey, check this out with me, little buddy. What do you think is in here?"
Morty didn't answer. He was already turning away and looking at the lawnmower in the corner of the garage; it was huge and he wanted to play with it. He took a step towards it, wide-eyed and curious.
"I said no." Rick grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him back. "We're not doing that again so soon. Seriously, kiddo, Grandpa says no. And that's a bigger 'no' than when your mom says it, because I outrank her. Why don't you look at this stuff instead?" He tipped the box onto its side, spilling out half the contents, disappointed to discover that it was mostly old baby clothes and that nearly all of them were pink; they had obviously belonged to Summer.
"Well, fuck that." He stepped over the pile and moved away to pull more boxes out from the lowest shelf. Now that he was standing upright, he took the opportunity to take another swig from his hip flask; it was nearly empty. He would have to buy more when they were out.
Morty took the opportunity to get stuck into the box right away. He clumsily fell onto the pile of clothes and began distributing the remaining contents across the floor; doing this was entirely familiar to him because he did it all the time with his toys. At the very bottom of the box was the baby harness that Rick had been looking for the whole time. He was ignorant to this, however; it was just something to pull on and throw.
Rick had been watching the youngster from the side. When he saw the harness hit the ground, he turned back towards his grandson, seeming pleased. "You little turd." He wasted no time reaching over to pick it up, wanting to check it over and make sure that it was still safe for use. Once satisfied with his inspection, he took off his lab coat and dumped it at his feet so he could put his arms in the straps, clicking the buckles securely around his waist. "Well, it's functional..." He had to admit. Though, he quickly decided that he thought it looked stupid.
Meanwhile, Morty's attention had turned to the crumpled lab coat and he clumsily walked over, having decided he wanted to play with that, too. He grabbed up a huge chunk of the cloth in his little hands and all kinds of things began to scatter out of the inner pockets in the sudden movement; first a screwdriver, then Rick's hip flask, then some loose change. His cellphone hit the floor shortly afterwards. Several small electrical components bounced across the floor and one of his crystallized electrodes made a loud smashing noise when it hit the ground.
Rick sighed at the sound, torn between stopping him right away and letting him do his thing. While he didn't want to stop the youngster's fun, he didn't want more of his stuff getting broken either. "Does my coat really entertain you that much, little buddy?" He idly scratched the side of his head. "Phh... you're too easy to impress, even if you are a baby."
Morty made nonsensical happy sounds as he continued to shake the coat fabric, enjoying the fact that what he was doing was making all sorts of interesting noises. He shook the coat again and giggled when Rick's portal gun fell out of the top pocket and clattered across the floor.
When the scientist saw the device hit the floor, his ability to tolerate the situation had deteriorated entirely. "OK, that's enough." Rick stepped in to stand over Morty, his arms folded across his chest as he gave him a stern look of disapproval. Of all the things he owned, that was the one thing he wouldn't be able to forgive if it got broken. "Stop."
Morty looked up at him, blinking. He recognized the word and did as he was told. He whimpered a little, not liking the fact that this strange man was getting angry with him again.
As much as the older man didn't want to escalate the situation further, he had to let his grandson know that it wasn't cool with him. "A-are you done?" He reached down to pick Morty up, promptly placing him into the harness so that he was facing outwards. He secured him in with the straps and pulled on them to make sure they were secure. "Look, I know it was fun and that you're learning about cause and effect, but..." He motioned to the mess on the ground near his coat. "Don't do it at the expense of my science stuff, i-it's important to my work. You gotta know when to stop." His attention was back on the floor again, and although he was annoyed about the fact that his electrode was now nothing more than little pink shards, he was thankful that nothing more had been broken.
Morty wiggled in the harness, a little upset that he couldn't go anywhere. He made a soft grunting noise in protest as he flailed his limbs, whacking his grandfather in the chest in the process. No aggression was meant in the gesture at all; he just wanted to move.
Rick retrieved his lab coat and put it back on, ignoring the fact that he was being beaten up by a baby. He crouched down on the floor and began picking up the loose items to place back in their respective pockets. Once he had the portal gun in his hands, he stood up again and checked it over to make sure it hadn't been damaged. When he realized it was perfectly fine, he was calm again.
"Look, buddy, I know this is hard for you to understand because your mom probably hasn't set any boundaries or limitations with you yet, but," Rick held the portal gun out in front of him so his grandson could get a better look at it. "This is my quantum multidimensional portal device, or 'portal gun' to you. I do a lot of great stuff with this thing and I need you to remember not to touch it. In fact, l-let's just make that rule number three right now – don't touch the portal gun. If we were listing these rules in order of importance, this one would be at the top. Got it?"
Morty stared at the strange gadget but made no attempt to grab it. He began wiggling, frustrated; he was getting bored.
"Remember, kiddo," Rick spoke again, wanting to make sure it was going to stick. "No touchy Grandpa's portal gun. Ever." He slipped the device into the back pocket of his pants, not wanting to make it accessible to the kid in any way.
Morty's reply was louder frustrated noises this time; he was becoming angry. He was bored, he couldn't move, and he was getting sick of standing there. To make matters worse, he was starting to get hungry.
"OK, OK, I get it," Rick shook his head. "Let's go out already, sheesh."
It was cold outside because winter was due next month, but the sun was out, the sky was clear, and the air temperature was warm enough for a nice walk. As he strolled along the sidewalk at a brisk pace, Rick had his hands stuffed in his pockets, a baby strapped into a harness at his chest, and an oversized bag hauled over his back. He was positively certain that he looked utterly ridiculous, but Morty was content so he really didn't care what other people might think.
Talking to him was another thing entirely, however; he simply wouldn't tolerate that. People were already looking at him as he passed by and he hated it. Some of them had sappy looks on their dumb faces, and even Rick couldn't deny that the sight of an attractive looking guy like himself carrying around a young child was probably appealing to somebody. He still didn't want to talk, though; strangers often had some kind of compulsion to start conversations with people whenever they saw them with a baby.
His pace quickened as he saw a woman with two children of her own stop to open her mouth, looking at him. He didn't even regard her and he kept going. "Nope."
He shot death glares at more people as they passed by and it was an effective strategy, because nobody else talked him as he made his way to the liquor store.
"Quick detour, buddy, I'm running low and need to stock up." Rick told the little kid as he pushed the door open, stepping inside. He wasted no time disappearing down the aisle he needed to go, quickly grabbing up two bottles of the good, expensive stuff. He paid for them at the front counter and once he was outside again, he hastily crouched down in the gutter to cram his new purchases into the cloth bag. He was genuinely surprised at the fact that there was still somehow room in there amongst all the other clutter.
Morty was slipping into a bad mood. He was frustrated that he wasn't getting the older man's attention and he hadn't liked the smell of the liquor store. He made loud grumpy noises and waved his arms up, trying to hit Rick in the face.
"Yeah yeah, I know. D-don't rush me, kid, I'm going as fast as I can." Rick kept his head out of the way as he hauled the bag back onto his back, standing up once again. "We're going already. Quit the tough guy act, you're really trying my patience right now..." He muttered under his breath. "Freakin' lunatic piece of shit." He knew he was grumpy and needed another drink.
As Rick headed down the road and into the park, Morty's mood picked up considerably. He could hear and see other children screaming and running around the playground equipment and he wanted to be over with them. He also saw a sandpit, but the play equipment was far more interesting at the moment. He made a loud defiant noise up at his grandfather and gestured towards the playground, pointing at it.
"Yeah, I know," Rick grunted at him. "That's why we're here, kiddo." He took out his hip flask and took a swig, keeping it in his right hand. "Th-that, and... Vitamin D. Sunlight and all that nature bullshi-UURRRPt."
Morty giggled at the loud burping noise; he had definitely forgotten what he had been complaining about before.
Rick sat down after finding a pleasant shady spot under a tree. "OK buddy, here's rule number four - stay where I can see you." He set the bag down beside him and began to undo the baby harness straps with his left hand. "You gotta listen to me on this one, kiddo, i-it's important. It might not seem like it, but it is. If you get too far away, I can't guarantee your safety if something goes wrong."
Morty wasn't listening. He pointed to the playground equipment again.
Rick set him down in the grass and leaned back against the tree, taking another swig from the flask. "Fine, kiddo, off you go. Ju-URRRRRPPst remember that you should listen when Grandpa says something, because it's r-really good advice. Don't come back crying if you hurt yourself, you'll get no sympathy from me." The last part was a lie, but at least it sounded authoritative.
Morty immediately took five quick clumsy steps towards the playground, tripping over on the sixth, falling flat on his face in the grass. It didn't seem to faze him at all and he pushed himself onto his feet and ran again, falling over a second time.
As Rick observed the young boy, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow; it was painfully apparent that Morty was terrible at running. He was still trying to get it down properly, but at least he kept trying. When he saw the youngster fall over the third time, he rose to his feet and moved over to scoop him up, holding him under his left arm like a beer keg.
"Yeah, OK. You proved your point, I know you wanna go over there. G-good job, buddy." He carried him the rest of the way as a means of making amends for how sour he'd been earlier. Once he had placed the kid back down on the ground again, he stepped back to observe what would happen.
Morty looked at the playground equipment first, then at the sandpit. He pushed himself onto his feet and headed for the sandpit. It was something new that he'd never seen before and he wanted to find out more about it.
"Make up your damn mind..." Rick muttered aloud. "Just don't throw any of that stuff around because it hurts when it gets in your eyes." He paused, quickly adding, "and if you see any other kids throwing it around, kick their ass. Again, this is coming from Grandpa," he motioned to himself, "so it's really good advice."
Morty sat down on his butt, wasting no time to mash his fingers into the sand. It felt nice in his hands and he began making it into little piles.
Rick figured he would probably be occupied for a while, so he sat down on the edge of the sandpit to supervise. However, his mind began wandering as it always did and he began wondering why kids would find sand so interesting; it was just a byproduct of erosion. Even diatomaceous earth would be more interesting, if he cared about mineralogy. But he didn't. At all.
"Remember, little buddy, the playground is for everyone." Rick said suddenly. "So don't let any of the other kids push you around. Just because you're little, it doesn't mean you should put up with it. Kick the other kids' asses if you have to."
A nearby parent was glaring hard at him now, having overheard the conversation. However, Rick couldn't have cared less. He took another swig from his open hip flask and shrugged back at her. "Don't judge me, I'm a single parent and struggling with a mortgage." It was a bold-faced lie, but she didn't need to know that. If it would make her back off, he was willing to say anything.
The lady didn't seem to care about his story as she angrily talked down to him. "You are the rudest person I have ever met. Your child is going to grow up to be horrible with that kind of parenting!"
"Oh screw you, don't be a judgmental bitch." Rick stayed down, though he made the effort to glare back at her. "What the hell do you know about parenting? I bet your kid walks into walls on purpose. You're probably a moron, too, everyone on this damn planet is. You wanna know something? Your life is a lie, and everything's going to die eventually. Hopefully you do sooner, rather than later." He took another sip from the flask. "If you died right now, I wouldn't have to listen to your bullshit anymore. T-that would be grea-UURRPPt."
"Oh my god, get out of here before I call the cops!"
"Try it, bitch." Rick snapped back at her, then downed the remaining contents of his hip flask. "S-see how well that goes for yo-UURRRPPu. Unless I get violent, which I'm not going to do, they usually take hours to come. We'll be gone long before then." He was surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.
Morty was digging his hands through the sand, not seeming to care that his grandfather was arguing with somebody. He was used to people doing that in his household and unless somebody was directly yelling at him, he was relatively immune to the sound. After spending another moment sifting through the sand, he found something squishy and picked it up, discovering that it was a piece of candy; some other kid must have dropped it earlier. He popped it straight into his mouth.
"Wow, great father you are," the lady was suddenly condescending. "Your kid just ate something."
"Huh?" Rick turned around, his eyes widening as he saw Morty chewing on something. "You little piece of shit! What is that? Spit it out!" By the time he grabbed Morty and tried prying his mouth open, the youngster had already swallowed it.
"Damn it!" Rick stashed his empty hip flask back in his coat pocket and picked Morty up, carrying him all the way back to the tree they had been sitting under earlier. "Goddamn it, kiddo, why did you have to do that?" He sat on the grass and dropped the little boy down next to the bag he had left there.
His mind was racing; his first concern was that Morty had swallowed something toxic. He leaned over the little boy and forced his mouth open with two fingers. He vaguely considered sticking them further back to make Morty throw up, but figured that would be too rash of an action in the immediate; he wanted to make it as quick and hassle-free as possible.
Despite Morty's sudden loud protests, Rick persisted. He made sure his fingers were nice and slobbery before withdrawing them again. "You fucking little turd! D-don't ever do this to me again, OK?" He rubbed the saliva between his index finger and thumb and raised his hand to his nose so he could sniff, trying to discern what it was. When he discovered that the saliva was tacking and sticky as it dried and that the lingering scent was unmistakably sweet in nature, he calmed down a little. He reasoned that it was probably just sugar, which would have made sense; children didn't normally eat something if it tasted bad. He wiped the slobber off onto the lapels of his lab coat and exhaled sharply, releasing some of his frustration.
Morty backed away from his grandfather and made loud grumbling noises in protest of the invasion. To his credit, he didn't cry about it - yet. He just really didn't like what had happened.
Rick buried his head in his hands for a moment; he needed to calm himself down properly. "Don't ever do that to me again." He raised his head again, giving the young kid an intense glare of disapproval. "You have food already, why do you have to put everything in your mouth? Don't eat stuff you find lying around! Thank god it wasn't a poisonous bug or a cat turd. Do you want toxoplasmosis, Morty? Do you?!"
Morty's reply was a loud whining noise and knew he was in trouble.
Rick knew what was coming next; he rolled his eyes and picked the youngster up, setting him in his lap so he could pat his back in an attempt to soothe him. "Look, it's not that bad, you're not going to die. Sorry to violate you like that, buddy. Just... s-stop scaring the shit out of me, OK?"
The two sat there, quiet. Rick needed time to calm down again and Morty did, too. They sat in the silence of each other for a while and Rick turned his attention to the kids playing nearby, just idly patting his grandson's back. Soon enough, Morty began to fall asleep on him. Rick allowed him that, figuring having some downtime to rest after everything that had happened would do him some good. The scientist put his head back and closed his eyes, figuring that now would be a good time to take a nap himself.
He didn't know whether it was the screaming children playing nearby or the low humming noise that caused his mind to stir again.
He would have sat bolt upright if not for the sleeping child in his lap. As Rick raised an eyebrow and listened attentively, he was able to discern that the faint humming noise was coming from somewhere very high overhead. As it got louder and lower, his eyes narrowed; was he going crazy? Was that really what he thought it was?
"No... it can't be..." He picked Morty up, almost holding onto him too roughly in his worry. He stepped out from under the tree, his attention glued to the sky. He hoped to see a plane, a helicopter, anything that he could confirm was just normal air traffic noise.
When he saw nothing, it didn't reassure him. He simply couldn't put it out of his mind again; he had heard that same sound many years ago when he had lived another life entirely, and bad memories always came with it. It was a completely unmistakable sound, and one that he would never forget in a million years.
When it got louder, his heart began to pound in his ears. It was most definitely the sound of plasma fuel engines; something from another part of the galaxy had entered the atmosphere. Even worse, he couldn't do anything about it in the immediate because his ship was back at the house.
In the next couple of moments, Rick's worst fears were confirmed; the shapes of five Galactic Federation transportation ships were very clearly visible in the sky, most recognizable by their bug-green color and the two elongated, toothy prongs which pointed to the front of each vehicle; they couldn't have been mistaken for anything else. They descended sharply, now only a few hundred feet overhead. He saw four more rocket past, their engines humming at a high pitch as they flew off elsewhere.
"Fuck..." Now he had already seen nine of them, and he still didn't have his ship.
Rick wasn't going to stand there any longer. His heart was still hammering as he placed Morty into the baby harness at his chest, pulling the straps closed and secure around the little boy. To his credit, Morty still wasn't awake. Rick hauled the cloth bag over his back and broke into a sprint, running back towards the house as fast as he could.
"What the fuck are they doing here? How did they find Earth?! HOW?!" He had a million questions and his mind was racing now, but he didn't have time to stop and think about it. He fumbled through his lab coat pockets, quickly finding his cell phone. His hands were shaking as he dialed Beth's number, but somehow he still managed the feat. As he could hear the phone ringing, it felt like it was taking forever. There was a click sound, and then Beth picked up.
"Hey Dad, what's up?" She was too happy, which meant that the woman literally had no idea what was going on.
"Beth, sweetie," Rick said hurriedly, trying to sound as calm as possible, though he knew he was utterly failing at it, especially as his voice began to break in panic. "Where are you right now?"
"Dad, I'm still at work." Her reply was still far too happy initially, but then there was a suspicious pause. "What's going on?" She had picked up on his tone and it immediately reflected in her response.
"Where's Summer, Beth? Where's Summer?!" Rick tried to keep himself calm, but his voice had already betrayed him. He panted and kept running.
"Dad, what's going on...?"
"Get out of there, Beth! Get Summer, and get back to the hou-" Rick replied quickly, having to cut himself off as he began to cough.
"Dad, are you OK? What's going on?!"
"Just... j-just fucking get out of there as quickly as you can! Drop your shit and run. Do you hear me?! Dr-drop your shit and run, Beth! There's no time to explain, just get back to the fucking house!"
He hung up on her and kept running. He needed to get back to his ship as quickly as possible, or else everything would be utterly, royally screwed.
