Burn in Hell | C137cest AU

Obey - Chapter 01

       God, did it feel great to be back. At least for fifty percent of those that mattered in the equation. Rick absolutely loved it. Morty was back, he was trying his damnedest to be himself again. It was everything Rick had wanted.
       Not so much what Morty had wanted, however.
       Now he had a kid, an entire lifestyle he had grown used to, and a bigger sense of right from wrong, of insanity from sanity. With his son, he was afraid to go bat-shit again. Could he manage to balance it all? Being a daddy's boy, the man in charge of it all, letting loose, and being a father? He was very afraid of falling into the pit of insanity again, of losing himself and, possibly, losing his son. Rick was so lost in having Morty back he probably didn't even have the time, the desire, to think of Morty's want for at least a taste of normalcy. Morty had spent quite some time under the false pretense that Rick had changed completely. The man had only kicked his addiction for so long. He was still drinking almost every night to aid in calming down, and Morty only knew because he was constantly receiving drunk texts and FaceTime calls. He didn't want to move AJ and himself into that house. Not when they had something quaint, something that read more 'family' than 'vacation palace'. Morty didn't want to raise a spoiled son, even if he did have more than enough money and power to give the kid the world.
       Rick seemed to love, more than anything, that AJ was already calling him 'dada', and he always thanked the child when he thought Morty wasn't listening. The older brunet, however, didn't mind. If AJ hadn't thrown that tantrum, hadn't kicked Morty in the arm, they would have just gone home and Rick and Morty probably would still be stuck in the endless loop of fighting for the other's affection once more. The child was responsible for putting the two back together, though they both still had different views on how this was all supposed to work. 
       Rick wasn't treating it like anything special all over again. Morty was just a 'really good friend'. His dancer, friend, and fuck-buddy. It wasn't like Morty cared too much, but he was older now. He had a bigger idea on what he wanted, had a better view now of the life he pictured for himself. He had thought, once upon a time, that he'd be fired after turning 25. Nobody wants a near thirty year old dancer. They want somebody young. But Morty was forever cursed yet blessed with his insane baby face, forever looking younger than he was. His ID was always questioned simply because he looked insanely young. 
       Morty wanted something normal, and not just for himself. He had a child to think about, one that would start school in a year. A child that would tell stories about his two fathers. A child that would talk about daddy dancing for rich men and women, about a dada running a big play area for people with fat wallets, a daddy that worked for dada 24/7 anymore, even if dada made daddy cry a lot.
       And it was true. Every damn night, Morty would often find himself tucked into his bed, holding the pillow to his chest and trying to remember how to breathe. He was terrified. And, more often than not, a curious AJ would wander in, asking what was wrong. He had gotten so used to seeing his daddy crying that he often brought his favorite stuffed animal in, shut the door because Morty had become accustomed to it for so long, and clambered into bed, patting Morty's cheek with his tiny hands. He'd tuck his toy in beneath Morty's chin and curl up beside the man, though it only served to make Morty cry more. What was going to happen to AJ if something ever went wrong? What if something happened to Rick, what if Morty really did die? What would become of the child if he was left an orphan? Who would he go to next? What would happen if he was left with Rick? What if he had to suddenly grow used to the Rick's absence? It was too much for Morty, and he hadn't had any idea just how bad something like that could break somebody. 
       Sure, Rick might love having everything back, having Morty by his side, even when he went off to 'play poker' and returned to work the next day with burns on his flesh, cuts where Morty could see, marks that he knew were for the man's pleasure.
       But Morty hated it. He wasn't sure he could put up with it for long. He knew where Marc was coming from, when he quit his job years ago just for his daughter. Morty wished, now, that he had done the same, just for AJ. But the toddler was so used to his life, any change would be detrimental for him. 
       The toddler loved his dada, drew him pictures, wanted to play with him all the time. He loved his daddy, too, always begging for 'uppy'. It had taken a while, but Morty was still overcoming having a knife in his arm. He'd be dancing again within the week, and was acting as a bouncer of sorts. He milled around the club often, talking to Rick through the earpiece and talking to his friends, assuring patrons he would be back after a while and rolling up his sleeve to show off the exposed stitches to their horror. 
       But every night was the same. Daddy would pick AJ up with tears in his eyes, tuck the child in, and cry in his room until AJ wanted to try and make him happy again. But his daddy's heart hurt all the time. He wasn't capable of handling treatment like this, no matter what he told himself. But he was dead-set on fixing Rick, on giving his child the best life ever, even at his own expense. Even if he had to sacrifice sleep, exchange a few hours of shut-eye for hours of worry, hours of wondering at the horrible possibilities.