Burn in Hell | C137cest AU

Nightmare - Chapter 05

       Oh, God, what would happen if Morty ever decided he wanted to leave? Had Rick made the wrong choice, done something he shouldn't have when he began to father his adopted son alongside the brunet? 
       He had grown attached to the duo, but goddamn was he paranoid. God, was he supposed to distance himself just to ensure he wouldn't go insane a second time, should the brunet leave permanently? 
       And the kid... God, if Morty ever ran away and took AJ across the damned country everybody would hurt. AJ would cry for Rick like he did every time the man had to go home or he had to leave with Morty. Morty... God, he would settle into another lifestyle like he did before, forget the man. But there would be no accidental run in. 
       God, if anything was considered luck, it would be the day Rick didn't get married. Something told him, no matter how perfect it had seemed, that he had to get out of it. Something about seeing the damned pastor that day made it all click. The fact that an individual so holy, resembling Morty so closely, had stood tall and took three men out before rushing out screaming 'I'm so sorry' over and over again, watching that same man apologize straight to Gary, had seemed to unreal. It hadn't clicked until later, when he finally made it back to the church and found Gary, demanding his answer, until Morty himself showed up and affirmed everybody's assumptions. 
        But had he wanted to stay where he was then? Had he wanted to continue that life, away from all of the bullshit he was involved in again? Rick wasn't sure. On the one hand, Morty seemed happy to be back. He fell into the pattern quite nicely, reviving a boy at heart. On the other, everything he did, adopting the kid, keeping his own house, acting like an actual father, a striving member of society... God, did he want to go back to that? To forget Rick, the club, his own damn self?
       The real question, however, was much more difficult to answer. Would Rick be able to let him go? Would he be able to watch the fiery brunet walk out of his life and run back to whatever false pretenses he had lived under before? 

       Rick sat up in his room, Little Bastard lying somewhere on the floor purring somewhat contentedly. The somewhat dim room was only faintly illuminated by the small flatscreen across the room, Deadpool playing though going mostly un-watched as he was preoccupied with his reeling thoughts. It was nearly midnight, but his thoughts kept him awake more than the knowledge of Morty and AJ staying in a room just down the hall from his. 
       They had spent a simple day taking AJ swimming for the first time since Morty had adopted him. The toddler had been somewhat afraid of the water, being coaxed into the most shallow area by a determined Morty before he sat and played with a few Spongebob themed water toys as waves washed over his tiny feet. Rick had simply sat on the sand, watching the rare cloud or two float through the light blue above their heads, wondering if everything was going to fall apart all over again. It seemed to be all he thought about anymore. 
       The man gave a sigh, laying atop his blankets and adjusting the volume on the tv. All he did anymore was worry, though he wondered if he should just give up. Surely it would be near impossible to revive whatever they had before the brunet disappeared. Too much had changed. But there was still that small bit of hope. 
       A helluva drug, hope. The smallest dose and you're hooked, searching for more. Perhaps that was the man's fault. He had become addicted to hoping everything would return to the way it was. Sure, the odds of it happening were fairly slim, but there were odds. 

       Worrisome thoughts were near instantly replaced with those of curiosity when a soft series of knocks carried through the room. 
       "Yea?" Rick questioned somewhat quietly, finding he was unprepared to speak and his voice had nearly failed him. The door pushed inwards slightly and Rick was met with the somewhat-awake face of Morty peering around curiously.
       "AJ kicked me in the face," he grumbled, stepping further into the room while his hand remained on the knob as though he didn't know what else to do with his limbs. 
       Rick gave a very quiet laugh, setting the remote to his tv to his left side. "Well, as far as I know, I'm a pretty still sleeper," he somewhat offered. The brunet went to give a reply, though he was interrupted as Little Bastard gave a mew of protest from the floor near the foot of the bed. Morty gave a light laugh, shutting the door and crouching down towards the animal. 
       "That may be the reason I've come for a visit," Morty finally responded, lifting the animal from the ground with only slight difficulty. Though the animal was heavy, and even Rick didn't know why he was so damn fat, the brunet still wore a small smile. "Though it may be the reason you're here, I do believe you stopped by to steal my cat." Rick smiled at the display, watching the brunet talk to the cat like it were a child in a borrowed pair of pajama bottoms. Them staying over had been a last minute decision when they realized it was nearly eleven and AJ had passed out on the floor in the living room. 
        The man was once more drawn from his thoughts as the white mass leapt indignantly from Morty's grasp and plodded across the floor, batting a pen around while Morty tried his best to get out of the way of his rampage, laughing as he hopped up onto the edge of the bed. 
       "You watch Deadpool?" he questioned, arching a brow as he looked between the tv and the distracted man. "Hey," he defended. "I'm allowed to watch funny shit if I wanna." 
       Morty gave a dramatic sigh, moving back and up towards the pillows. "I suppose that statement is correct," he affirmed, removing his phone from the pocket in Rick's pajama bottoms and setting it on the nightstand towards his side. "God, I would go insane alone in a house like this," he muttered, looking around the room. "I will never understand that little bit of you."
       "I forgot why I ever wanted this place," Rick mentioned, looking as though trying to remember the reason himself. "I think it was because of how far away it is from everybody else. Wanted to hide away like Count Olaf, I suppose."
       "You do not seem like the kind of man to know what Series of Unfortunate Events is," Morty quipped, laughing as Deadpool made his 'it's gonna feel so big in this hand' joke. "Pero siempro estaban llenos de sorpresas," Morty muttered. "I'm pretty sure that's you, bebé," came the quick response, though the man began second guessing himself and grabbed his phone to use as a distraction from the pet-name he'd just used unintentionally. Though he feared he would, the brunet either didn't notice or didn't care either way. God, why did he have to feel so stupid about the smallest things? They never mattered before. Did he simply want to do better, do right by him this time? Maybe he was changing. He was definitely aging, so maybe he was subconsciously changing himself so late in life. Though that thought prompted a question, the man found he'd have to ask another time when he found the brunet laid out on his back, one arm over his stomach while the other laid over his eyes, shielding the vibrant green away as he slept. Why did he have to worry so much?

*~*~*

       Oh, God, the kid was going to leave soon. Every time Rick fucked up was going to weigh down until Morty realized he didn't want to put up with it anymore and skipped town. Would he say goodbye, or would he just up and leave, never telling anybody what state he lived in?
       God, he'd change his name, change AJ's last name, make sure nobody ever found them again. Maybe John Schelan would arrive in Minnesota and take over with his son as altar boy, apologizing for being late. He'd leave without saying goodbye, just pack his things away, send them off in a moving truck, and follow after.
       Maybe Sam wouldn't even know, coming home to a half empty house one day with no note or explanation. God, Morty would leave his phone, send his cash to a new account requesting that it not be revealed to anybody, that his change of address not be told. He'd leave and never come back, not even to visit. The club would eventually get shut down and Rick would spend his days wondering why he even tried, maybe eventually managing to jump the bridge without his guardian angel pulling him back.
       He'd go insane and Morty would live his happy little life, away from guns and villains, away from dancers and heavy alcoholism. He'd be normal and Rick would shatter.

       But no he wouldn't.

       Rick sat up with a start, pulled from a nightmare. He rarely suffered from them. Any he could remember, anyway. They only occurred when he was heavily stressed. When he'd first began to run his business, they were constant. Now, he seldom experienced them. Especially any bad enough to have his mind reeling, his gut churning with worry as he sat up, breathing harshly and trying to discern reality from fantasy.
       "God," he whispered, rubbing at his face before settling back down onto the bed. When he checked his phone, it was only five in the morning. Much too early for anybody. Though Morty was missing from the bed.
        Before he could ponder the missing person, he heard water running from the adjoined bathroom, settling back down on the bed and trying to go back to sleep while he heard Morty pad back across the room after a moment. While Rick focused on returning to sleep, the weight of the bed shifted as the brunet crawled back up, slipping beneath the blankets beside the man as the morning had always been a bit colder.
       Rick turned his head to peer downwards as Morty drew nearer, clinging now to the man himself beneath the black comforter. He threw one leg over the other's, laying his head on the right side of Rick's chest while his hand laid closer to his left shoulder. From where he lay, Rick could easily pick up on the vanilla and lavender scents that always trailed near the brunet, finding solace in the fact that the comforting aroma had never changed about him. Maybe things weren't as bad as the man thought.