When Morty woke on his floor, surrounded by images of his son, he felt an emptiness he hadn't known in a while. He didn't think he'd even known this ever. He was all alone right now. Everything was gone.

       His home was destroyed by a rampant man of little memory, his mind almost drowning in the flood of remembrance. He couldn't breathe properly, whining sharply every time he nearly cried as he stopped the salt tears from flowing. He was by himself now.

       But he didn't have to be.

       He had gotten to see a side of Rick he didn't think he'd ever see again. He got to see compassion and patience from a man that hadn't ever really gone that long without blowing a fuse. He had spent time getting to know Rick in a new light, remembering the man that treated Morty as a stranger, but with kindness; shoving away all he knew for the kid's benefit.

      But he could still revert back to that. He could still be that man that Morty both feared and loved. He could be the man that broke Morty down for what he could only assume was his own amusement.

       But he was what Morty needed right now. 

       The brunet didn't care as he threw his vomit-covered shirt to the ground, leaving his socks and shoes where they lay and remained grateful he was in his shorts, leaving his phone and every important belonging of his wherever it lay. He didn't care as he took off running down the streets, trying to stop the oncoming wave of tears he felt. He just needed to get to Rick. It was only Wednesday. He should be home.

       When Morty reached the bridge, his legs felt ready to give out, but he didn't care. He may not have run in the longest time, his body unconditioned as all hell, but that wouldn't stop him. He could stop when he was dead, if he ever reached that point. He didn't give a shit anymore.

       The early spring air, even in Miami, was colder than the brunet was prepared for. He probably looked like a dumbass, but he didn't care.

       Morty had felt like a caged bird for so long, and now he was free. He broke out, escaped, whatever you wanted to call it. He didn't care. He was free, and he knew where he was to soar to next.

       He could only pray to be welcomed.

       Rick sat in his living room, annoyed out of his mind. Al and Gary were over for important business, Gene in the kitchen getting a snack, and all they could do was talk about Morty's predicament. It wasn't new. They all knew he was really gone. They had for almost five months now.

       The man was mostly frustrated, though, because this was the second day the brunet wasn't answering his phone at all, which only served to frustrate him further. He had no idea if the kid was alright currently, wishing these idiots would just hurry up and go away so Rick could maybe go hunt him down.

       Honestly the man was more afraid of having chased the brunet off than anything, knowing he was funny when he was scared. He had passed right the fuck out on Rick two days ago, and the man knew his kisses weren't that breathtaking.       

       But, in all actuality, Rick was genuinely afraid. He knew the brunet could make drastic decisions when he was terrified. Sure he could be in the hospital right now, or he could be passed out on his floor. For days. Without help.

       Rick growled in frustration, ready to snap at the idiots in front of him. "Alright," he growled, "let's just get this over with. I have places to be."

       Morty could scarcely breathe when he made it to Rick's gate, fumbling with the key code. He punched the numbers in, shoving his way past the gate before it was open enough, and trudged his way up the driveway. It was cool enough for him not to be sweating too horribly, but he was still breathless, having to stop and kneel in the driveway for a moment to catch his breath.

       When it finally felt like air returned to the brunet, Morty stood, walking up the front steps of Rick's house. When he got to the door, he didn't know what to do. Knock? Wait?

       Morty took a deep breath, wiping away tears that slipped from his eyes before he raised his hand and knocked timidly. He was trembling as he waited, fidgeting with his hands. Would Rick be mad he hadn't called first? Would he be mad that Morty was back to being a little bitch? He knew he was, too. He realized that as he ran to the man he chased away.

       When Morty heard the knob turn and saw Rick, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Did he want him to be excited? Did he want him to invite him in for a cup of coffee? Did he want anything at all?

       But he knew the answer. He knew what he wanted. He just couldn't get the words out, already a crying mess again. Tears spilled over his cheeks as Morty looked up at Rick, seeing the man furrow his brow with confused concern, releasing his hold on the door handle.

       "Rick, I-- " Morty tried, unable to find the words. They all got stuck in his throat and he couldn't bring them out to the open air between them..

       Morty peered upwards at the man, pleading with the universe that he would understand, but he just wouldn't. This isn't something you just magically understand. The brunet tried to convey something, just by gazing up at the man, but even he was so lost he didn't fully know what he was trying to get across. But Morty didn't know what else to do, so he went with the most logical thing he could think of.

       The brunet practically jumped Rick, throwing his arms around his neck and pulling him downwards, pouring every heartfelt apology he couldn't vocalize behind this as their lips danced. He pushed himself as near to Rick as he could, feeling less desperate when the man's arms were around his waist, pulling Morty closer and more into the house. The brunet was very shocked, as anybody would be, when they wound up falling backwards. They broke apart for only a moment before Morty fixed their momentarily lost connection. 

       It was short lived, though, when Rick broke apart for a second to whisper 'company'. Morty looked in the direction he motioned, seeing Gary, Gene, and Al staring slack jawed, but he gave zero fucks, looking back down at Rick.

       "I don't give a shit," Morty whispered, watching Rick react to hearing the 'new' Morty curse, most likely. "I'm back, daddy," he whispered again, watching as recognition took over Rick's face. He gave a sound of elation, Morty seeing his own eyes watering before the man had them flipped, attacking the brunet with all the adoration he'd reserved for another time with the kid. 

       Rick looked over at the group momentarily, practically snarling at them. "Kitchen, now," he rumbled, feeling tears brimming at the surface and watching as they hurried towards the other room. He watched as Morty laughed, though he was somewhat embarrassed at them being 'found out' now. The brunet pulled him down and Rick simply gave no fucks, following whatever Morty wanted as he felt a wealth of emotion sprang forth in the form of salt tears. He was already working his way down the side of the brunet's neck, marking him so many times it wouldn't be easy to discern bruise from flesh, when Morty stuttered out the only thing he ever wanted to hear.

      "Rick," Morty panted, his fingers carded through Rick's hair as the man barely registered he was talking, to engrossed in Morty being here, being himself again, and not completely hating the man as he had been over half a year ago.

       "I l-love you."

       When the two had finally managed to separate and settle down, Rick closing the goddamned door finally, Morty didn't want to leave his side. Even though he was elated at being back with the man, knowing who he was and everything, he couldn't forget what he lost.

       "I miss AJ," Morty whimpered, curled up to Rick as the man held and rocked him slightly, rubbing his back and pressing endless kisses to the brunet's temple. 

       "I know, baby," he whispered into his hair. "I do, too. We all do."

       As though tired of being cooped up, Morty could see the other men cautiously leaving the kitchen, no doubt lost as they saw the duo curled up on the floor together in a manner that was strange. 

       "Hi," Morty muttered halfheartedly, his eyes trained to the carpet as the men seemed to inspect him. "Uh," Gary began, stammering before he decided what he wanted to ask, "you good, Morty?"

       "I'm better than good," Morty replied with a sad smile. 

       "I'm back."