Morty was somewhat aware, upon waking up, of the second individual's already being awake. When he finally blinked himself awake, he focused on the fact that he had fallen asleep on Rick. His right leg was thrown over the man's own, his right arm diagonal on his chest while his hand rested on the man's shoulder. His head was tucked just beneath his chin. He, himself, was fine, but he never knew what Rick was fine with.
       Carefully, trying not to slip and fall in his fatigued state, Morty sat up, rubbing his eyes with his right hand while he leaned back on his left. When he'd finished stretching and yawning, he peered down curiously, as though on instinct, and found Rick still holding his phone up, though he watched the brunet curiously. 
        When Morty finally managed to get his phone from the nightstand, he found it to be only ten in the morning. His messages, he decided, could wait until later on to be tended to. He left the notifications up so as to remind himself to take care of them the next time he was on his phone, setting the device back on the nightstand.
       "Je-sus," Morty sighed, scared when Little Bastard had jumped up onto the bed with all the grace the fat ass could muster. Rick laughed at the display, tossing his phone towards the middle of the bed while the cat meandered up towards him, headbutting the man's face and purring loudly. 
       "Alright," he huffed, lightly pushing the cat off of his chest. "You're gonna kill me, lard-o." The cat mewed in protest, continuing to headbutt the man until he paused to look at Morty upon hearing the brunet's laugh. "Oh now you did it," Rick commented as both watched the animal wobble over to Morty, pining for attention from somebody else. 
       "Death by furry mass," Morty commented, trying to breathe through the fur shoved in his face every time Little Bastard pined for more attention. The cat abruptly stopped allowing Morty to pet him, pausing to nip at his hand before hopping to the floor. "Really?" Morty complained, tacking a laugh on to the end of his statement before he grabbed his phone again. The device had been quietly playing California Girls and the brunet grabbed it with a smile, knowing that was Sam's ringtone solely because he hated the song. The brunet thought back to a Tumblr post he'd found a screenshot of on FaceBook, pressing the device to his ear.
        "Nashville sperm bank, you squeeze it we freeze it. How may I direct your call?" Morty heard Sam pause whatever he was saying before he heard the familiar snort his friend gave when he laughed too hard too fast, turning back when he heard a laugh from Rick, as well. He grinned at the man before he turned back to a comfortable sitting position, tapping his fingers in a pattern on his knee while his friend calmed down. "I was not prepared!" Sam protested, his words interrupted with small burbles of laughter.
       "Yea, well," Morty trailed off with a laugh. "What's up?" 
       "Just got home. Where you at?" Morty could hear the microwave going off in the background, praying Sam wasn't making something weird like his bacon spaghetti right in the microwave. It was a gross concoction of solely bacon and tomato paste, one the ginger claimed to enjoy, but it had been a helluva mess to clean out of the microwave. 
       "I stayed over with a friend," Morty commented, twisting his mouth to the side while he toyed with the hem of the pajama bottoms. "Which friend?"
       Morty heard the inflection in Sam's voice clear as day, knowing the ginger was most likely dancing his eyebrows around like an idiot. "Uh... y-y'know," Morty mumbled. If too many people figured out how often he stayed at Rick's, they might get suspicious, which would most likely lead to more issues outside of Gary trying to give Morty something normal and keep him safe. It could become a liability, it could become an issue. Rick could be accused of using the brunet for power by the other higher-ups in the underground, which would lead to a huge controversy. It would forever lead to issues that the brunet didn't think either of them wanted. "So what'd you need?"
       "Oooh, that was a subject change. Secretive, are ya?" Sam laughed and Morty feared for his cooking appliances as he heard the microwave slam shut in the background. "I'm not 'secretive'," Morty grumbled. "I just don't think it's that important, y-y'know?"
       "Careful, or your flavor of the night might be offended."
       "He's not my-! You know what, nevermind." Morty huffed, running a hand through his curls. It was too early to get worked up over something so dumb. "What did you need again?"
       Sam laughed on the other end. "Just wondering where you were and when you were coming back."
       "Well I don't know when I'll get back," Morty mumbled, peering over to find Rick on his phone looking bored. "But.. yea, AJ's with me too. I'll let you know when we're on our way home."
       "Cool! I'll see you when you get back, kiddo," came Sam's reply through a mouthful of whatever he was eating. "Alright, see you later Sam." Morty hung the call up after affirming Sam had nothing to add, huffing as he turned to find Rick still distracted with his phone. The brunet gave a light sigh, adjusting the comforter around his middle so he could rotate while he moved closer. The brunet had finally captured the man's attention after promptly straddling his hips, setting his phone to the side and watching Rick lower his to peer curiously at Morty. The brunet gave a small smile, getting the man to put his phone down before he tugged him into a short kiss. 
       "Unexpected," Rick commented when Morty finally pulled away, though he wore a smile of his own while Morty sat back on his haunches, still perched prettily on the man's hips. The brunet gave a soft laugh, tracing patterns on the man's stomach. He found Rick watching him for a minute before his expression turned more worrisome and thoughtful. "What's wrong?" Morty questioned quietly, furrowing his brow in a worried expression as he regarded the light blue flicking up to meet his gaze now. Rick seemed to weigh something, chewing his lower lip for a moment before he huffed.
       "I got a question, and I don't want you to take it the wrong way or anything."
       Now, that could mean any number of things. But the brunet could only imagine the worst. Before he could overthink and throw himself into a panic attack, however, he stilled his hands, furrowing his brow lightly. "Wh-What is it?" he questioned, his nerves slightly acting up as he waited for whatever Rick had deemed so important it came with such an introduction. 
       "Why--" Rick's voice seemed to cut out for a second before he continued again, clearing his throat. "Why are you here? With me?"
       Morty turned his head slightly, unsure of what to say in response as he was unsure of the meaning behind the question. "What, uh-- Heh.. what do you mean?" Morty's confusion, and possibly his worry, ebbed severely in his voice. 
       "I... am practically fifty fuckin' years old," Rick stated exasperatedly. "You're just shy of thirty, and you still look like you're fresh outta high school. I'm a sorry excuse of a man, and you still have a shot at life. Why do you stay around me, at the very least, knowing all of this? What is it that keeps you here, because I can't honestly tell you I'm not wondering when you're gonna up and leave again." Rick seemed as though he'd been mulling this question over for quite a while, from what Morty could tell. The man's eyes practically plead for an answer as he pushed himself up on his arms and Morty wasn't sure how one went about answering a question like that. It was a loaded question, one which could be answered incorrectly and lead to issues.
       "U-Uh.." Morty stammered, trying to piece an answer together in his mind. But what did the age have to do with anything? It seemed almost pointless. "Why did you bring up, um, ou-our ages?" he questioned softly, regarding the man with innocent eyes. 
       "Twenty years apart, kid. That doesn't put you off? Doesn't make you wonder what the hell people must think? Granted, nobody fuckin' knows, but it doesn't make you stop and wonder? I am a sorry excuse of a bastard if ever there was one, and you already know this. I mean, come on. The only reason I'm still living is because you came over on my fortieth birthday, you pulled me off a fucking bridge, and you keep saving my ass. You look like you're still in high school, for Christ's sake. As far as people know, I could be your grandfather. Why are you here? Don't you want something you don't gotta hide away? Somebody that makes you happy?" Rick remained propped up on his elbows, his brows tilted upwards in a look of expectancy. Morty hadn't ever really thought about anything along those lines before. Did Rick mind the gap, the secret? Did he mind the obvious appearance issues? Sure, it looked like a pimp walking around with his top boy on occasion, but it wasn't like the brunet ever paid much mind to it. But that wasn't the strangest thing Rick had said. Sure, it was all strange, but there was one statement that stood out among the rest.
       "What do you mean by... you're alive because I came by on-on your fortieth birthday? What do you mean by that?" Morty was worried now. The man wouldn't have actually meant that in the way he thought he did. Did he? 
       Rick sighed heavily, laying back now and covering his face with his hands. "It ain't no secret," he mumbled into his palms. Morty stared with utmost expectancy now, though he knew Rick wouldn't see. "Wha-What are you saying?" His voice was barely above that of a whisper as he regarded the man carefully. Rick huffed almost like a child and laid his arms haphazardly outwards, away from his body, as he held a staring match with the ceiling. 
       "I hate who I've become. I did this to myself, therefore I'm the only person that can actually accept the blame. I didn't realize just how attached I was until you offered the day before to come over. And.. and I-- I felt so stupid. That was the best day of my- of-" Morty grew increasingly worried, watching the man almost break right in front, or perhaps beneath, him. Rick's eyes remained trained on the ceiling, his nose flaring as though he fought an urge. 
       "It was the best day of my life," he finally continued as Morty began to trace light shapes along the man's stomach. "And I sat there, thinking I was such a fucking idiot. That was real. Not.. not forced, not gross or-- or anything like that. But you were beautiful and just outright perfect, and I probably wasn't the best person for you to share that with. But I had always told myself-- I never thought I'd see forty. I didn't think I deserved it, and there was nothing for me. But you had perfect fucking timing. You walked in, beautiful and perfect and fucking-- God, you were pure an-- I ruined it all. I made you change and.. how do you not-- not hate m-?" 
       At that point, for the second time in his life, Morty was witnessing the most powerful being he'd ever met break under his own pressure.  Rick began to furiously wipe at his eyes in the hopes of stopping himself from allowing anybody to see him cry, but it was fruitless at this point. The most he managed to do was once again bury his face in his hands, laying the palms flat against his features as he wept almost bitterly. Morty felt a tightness in his chest as he witnessed the display, reaching out quickly and making some sort of an attempt to remove the man's hands. It was a winning battle of the brunet's part as he found Rick gave in fairly easily. 
        Morty loosely held the man's wrists before he adjusted, linking their fingers on either side and marveling at what he'd never witnessed before. The subtle intimacy of it all, the way his somewhat smaller sized hands fit neatly with the opposite, the fingers linked together to create a loving display of affection and protection. He'd never held the man's hand before, never having thought of it, really. It was almost odd how monumental it had seemed to him as he let their hands lay loosely to the sides, still linked together. The man had yet to calm down, staring directly up at the ceiling. 
      "There's nothing you don't 'deserve'," Morty spoke after a moment, his voice quiet and careful. "You haven't done nearly as badly as you think. Yes, your line of work is questionable, your actions are often unnecessary, but you're still a good person simply because you somewhat atone for what you do. Sure, you don't openly apologize or fully regret the things, but you hate it all as a whole. And you make me happy. I'm just not open about anything we have because it-- it's a complicated thing, really. I never really figured it would go over well with Gary, and you-- there are other people, I suppose, from what I-I see." To say it out loud had almost taken everything Morty had. The brunet almost felt his own composure slip, letting go of Rick's hands and toying with the hem of the pajama bottoms as it was his only option. Swallowing thickly, he found the man had yet to settle down, though he looked further pained at Morty's final statement.
       "Giving myself to you was my decision. I was the one that instigated it. When I walked into the k-kitchen and literally asked for it, that was my decision. You didn't do anything wrong, and I promise you that." The brunet was uncertain currently, bantering against the man though he felt horrid for doing so as he watched him in his current state. "Everything had been permitted by me. All of it. I don't want to ever know what you were going to do if I didn't come over, because it didn't happen. Call it fate or whatever the hell you want, it didn't happen. I wanted that. Hell, I wanted you. Why would I hate you f-- Why would I hate you at all? Hell, without you, I could be a thirty year old who still doesn't know what a goddamn boner is." Morty gave a small smile when he heard the older laugh quietly beneath him, watching as Rick worked at wiping the drops from his face as though he were ashamed of crying at all. Morty waited patiently, grabbing his hands when the man was done. He pressed his fingers into the open spaces, dancing their hands around in the air, just in front of them. 
       "Yes, you've done... a lot. There have been a lot of times where I look back on what happened and wonder if I'm insane for being here, but I know I am. I'm insane, but it's because I don't-- I can't see myself without any of this anymore. It's who I am." As Morty spoke, he found himself releasing Rick's left hand as he moved his right across, keeping his left around the opposite hand before he adjusted. He maneuvered Rick's hand to remain open and flat, laying his own palm up against it, like a child curious about hand size. Rick's was somewhat broader than his own, but that was to be expected. Morty had always been smaller in stature. 
        "Everything you've done, all the times where even I knew you messed up, none of it really matters. It's... a moment, part of our story. It's just something that we can say happened, because it's over, and we've gotten over it. It's a bit of our history, like our introductory chapter, or one of our own adventures. You know? Som-"

       "I love you."

       Morty stopped. Completely. His hand stilled against Ricks, his words came to an end, his breath hitched in his throat. He remained still for a moment, turning slowly to glance down at the man. He looked almost apologetically up at Morty, like a child scorned, trying to hide away now. "What?" he nearly whispered. 
       "Nothing," Rick answered quickly, pulling his hand away from the brunet. "You should go get AJ up. You, uh... Sam's waiting for you, probably, right?" Rick moved around, sitting up on his forearms and essentially trying to remove Morty. The brunet wasn't having it, capturing the man's wrists and forcing him to remain still. "What'd you s-s-say?" he questioned, huffing when Rick refused to meet his gaze. "Rick," he growled, releasing one of the man's hands and forcing him to look forward and meet the brunet's eyes. 
       There were stars in the man's eyes. No, he wasn't awestruck by the brunet. There were literal stars, small flecks of baby blue swimming in the dark sea. His iris was surrounded by a ring of gold, small blue flecks nearly dappling the brunet as he regarded the warm color, framed by longer lashes than most had. His resolve completely faded when he met the man's gaze, dropping both hands from Rick's own before he placed them on either side of the man's face. There were entire galaxies in his eyes, hypnotizing the brunet in the most electrifying manner. His eyes could hold the entire universe, and Morty could find it if he searched long enough. 
       Odd as it was, the man's nose was perfect, pointed only slightly, just the right size for his face, enough to give him an air of higher stature without making him seem pompous. His cupid's bow led to pink lips that could spit fire just as quickly as they could dance with precision, slightly parted in significant fear of the moment to reveal straight pearly teeth that left vicious marks wherever they may roam on anybody's body. 
        His adam's apple was very prominent, jutting out below his chin with the structure of a dominant man unwilling to back down from anything. His neck was surprisingly bare, unmarked in the slightest, and Morty was very surprised at having noticed this. The man wasn't complete without signs of pained pleasure. He seemed very incomplete, missing parts of himself that were necessary. 
       Morty looked back to his hands, finding them still lightly pressed to either side of the man's head, bringing his fingers through the man's hair and loving how soft every strand was, how it carded so easily through his small fingers. He had never questioned the reasoning behind it seeming so natural, behind his never having seen Rick dye his hair at all. Every hair on his body was blue, which made it seem stranger. His eyebrows could be easily explained if he were the type to dye them, but his eyelashes were not so easily explained. 
        The man was full of so many quirks the brunet had failed to notice simply because he guarded himself too heavily. He guarded himself, and not just for the safety of his life. It was for the safety of his heart. He hated to appear weak, because he had started life out that way. He had kept his promise to himself, growing in power, growing in stature. He locked everybody away, used them as they used him. He was as cruel as they had been. It was never about keeping his name. It was about keeping his heart hidden away, stopping the little bastard from ruining everything he had built. If he made himself into an island, isolated himself from everybody, then they wouldn't drag him through the mud and leave him there. 
       But the brunet had found a fault in his defenses, had slipped through the cracks and slowly took over. He was the small bit of color in a pallid world, twisting and writhing about until everything was revitalized, full of his color. 
       He had never meant to, but he had broken the man, left him in the state he hated most. He left him confused, terrified, and vulnerable. He held the man in a precarious position. If he had spent his entire life purposefully destroying the man, then this would be his moment. Now, as his chest rose and fell quickly, as his eyes pooled over with disdain, with grief and regret. 

       "I'm sorry," he finally whispered. Morty could see it in his eyes, the fading of everything the man believed in. He saw it all disappearing. He was being washed out, replaced. Rick was withdrawing from a losing battle, left thinking he won before he realized he had been wrong the entire time. He was beginning to distance himself again, right in front of the brunet. Rebuilding his walls, sweeping away all that had crumbled before his very eyes and hiding it away to pretend it didn't exist. You can't rid yourself of torment as grave as that. You can only hide it away, pretend it didn't exist, until one day you completely forget and can start anew. 
       Morty... God, he didn't even know what to do. He didn't know how he felt, watching the color fade from the vibrant blue before him. "I'm sorry," rang out again, but it came from the boy at heart, perched atop the broken, holding the pieces out to him as Rick tried to hide it all away. And the man paused, stopping to look at who was offering his own pieces in replacement. He wasn't simply helping Rick put his own pieces together, he was offering parts of himself to replace what the man had lost. He was sacrificing his own pieces to put him back together, even if they didn't fit completely.
        Suddenly, Morty was on the beach again.  Rick was caught again, trapped. Morty was frantic, Rick was hurt. One wanted to run away, because running away meant safety; the other wanted to put effort into it, because he'd never had somebody care so much.
       And there it was. Everything came together in one big wave, shoving the answers to shore. Crystal blue waves pulled the green sea foam back out, keeping it there forever, heavy waves dancing violently with lighthearted bubbles that couldn't keep up, that couldn't handle the dangerous tempo, popping every once in a while under the pressure.

       There was not even a second of thought before Morty was very quickly leaned over the man. Rick was pushed back down to lay on his back, unable to process much of what was going on outside of the very sudden 'attack', as it were. 

       "Say it again," Morty whispered. He wasn't sure that what he felt was positive, having mixed feelings towards the phrase. His parents had never used it around him, never said they loved him, never really used the word 'love'. He'd never really had family members, friends, or acquaintances use any such phrase around him and had been led to firmly believe it was something only said when somebody wanted something.
       Rick furrowed his brow slightly, staring upwards at the brunet. "D-.. Do you want me to apologize again, or..?" He trailed off, dragging out the 'or' before he waited patiently. Morty smiled, fumbling with the thin white sheet before he pulled it from beneath the comforter. He drew the material up from beneath the heavy comforter, throwing it over the pair and leaning over Rick. He held the sheet out like a parachute over the two of them, hovering over the man who seemed lost again.
       Morty shook his head, smiling warmly down at the man. "Don't apologize," he requested. Rick seemed to struggle, staring longer at the brunet before he fidgeted slightly. 

       "I'm tired of pretending," he finally muttered. "This stupid game, everything we do, all the fights. I'm tired of it. An' I know you hate it. I know because I remember all the times you cringed hearin' it from Julia or whatever."
       "Jessica," Morty corrected softly with a quiet laugh.
       "Whatever," Rick grumbled. "My point is... is, uh.. y-you don't like those kinds of things, and it would be worthless. You got time for somebody your age that'll make you wanna scream it right back."
        "People my age are boring, insane, or gross. They don't have their lives together, they can't have fun, can't fuck for shit," to that statement, Rick gave an incredible bout of laughter as Morty grinned. "They don't know how to live. All they do is putt-putt around in minivans and worry about their college education not being enough. Say it again."
       Rick appeared ready to protest, but Morty stopped him yet again. "I don't want to hear it from anybody else," he spoke quietly. 

       When Rick still had yet to respond with anything other than a look of fear and disdain, Morty took it as a call to action. "Fine," he barely whispered to himself. The brunet left the sheet where it lay, allowing it to remain parachuted around the duo as he moved somewhat downward. "What are you doing, M- MORTY!"
       The brunet had to stop himself from spluttering out a laugh as the man arched himself upwards. The small daredevil had bit roughly down upon the warm flesh surrounding the older's nipple, casting his eyes upwards and watching Rick throw his head back as he had been greatly unprepared. His guard had remained down, his senses unprepared. Morty's tongue shot out once, twice, and a third time, coursing over the pink bud before he pulled up, the hand so stealthily placed over the older's crotch relentlessly squeezing a moment longer. He saw the indentations from his teeth, practically witnessing them darken over. 
       "Say it," he requested again, his voice still soft though tone amused as he regarded the dark color that had surprisingly blossomed over the older's features. He seemed so breathless, so uncharacteristically out of it, as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

       Rick couldn't bring himself to repeat it. All the words carried was regretful baggage, memories of his lost ex-wife that would never say it again. God, if he had the courage he'd sing it for the kid, but he couldn't. The words died in his throat, burning fiercely, no matter how badly he wanted them to ring out for the brunet to hear. 

       "Please," Morty whispered softly, essentially caging the man in as his legs were to either side of his thighs while his hands were placed firmly to the mattress on either side of Rick's bed. With that sheet around him, the pristine white as the sunlight was damply shining through and creating a warm glow, Morty looked just like an angel. So beautiful and sweet. 

       "I. . . I'm sorry, Morty," Rick finally muttered. The brunet looked so crestfallen, his eyes slowly losing a hint of that demanding, playful spark they had moments ago. 

       "I don't understand you," Morty muttered downheartedly as he moved from the man, no longer willing to be playful anymore. He had tried, really tried, as far as he thought. Clearly Rick just didn't want to say it because he didn't mean it, or he just wasn't able to drop everything that had happened with his wife to just open up with Morty. He'd tried to hold a steady relationship once, and, when it hadn't gone well, must have sworn to never try again. Any way you look at it, Morty was just tired of it all. What was the point?

       Feeling stupid and emotionally worn out, Morty stepped from the bed, grabbing his phone and offering a halfhearted smile to Rick, though the man had his hands over his face as he laid on his back as though trying to discover that 42 was the answer to life, the universe, and everything through a mathematical equation. 

        "See you at work," Morty mumbled as he went to gather his son and left the house.