Burn in Hell | C137cest AU

Upset - Chapter 35

       The holidays had been exceptionally fun, especially since this was the first Christmas Rick had actually spent with Morty. They were usually apart around the holidays.

        The only thing that really upset the man was that this wasn't the same Morty he had grown to dote on. Sure, he got what he wanted; the innocent little boy in all his childish wonder back. But that wasn't who Morty had been anymore. He had been a completely different person. He had been . . . Morty. The Mortyest person Rick knew. He had been wild, zany, unpredictable, everything Rick had wanted. But it just wasn't the same anymore. 

       The time he had wanted the brunet this way was long gone. He wanted Morty back, even if it meant the kid was gonna be 'off again on again' with him all the time. Sure, he couldn't fix what he did, but Rick could live with the fact that Morty was himself again, at the very least. It was so weird, pretending they had never been intimate in any way. Pretending he didn't know a few of the 'big things' about Morty. It just didn't seem right. 

       It didn't seem right, lying like this to the kid, but Rick had to. It was all he could do. He had to fight every day not to tell Morty everything he didn't remember about himself, about what an asshole Rick was, about how he loved his job at the club.

       Instead, Rick felt like he had walked into 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' or something. He was watching Morty almost as though he was on auto pilot, and it was the most gut wrenching experience Rick could ever experience.

      A month had passed since Christmas, Morty having decided to just spend New Year's alone to Rick's obvious disappointment. He hadn't wanted to leave his house, really, having been recently prone to random fainting spells. His manager had been so worried he told Morty he could take any days he needed, just calling and explaining at any point in time. Morty was extremely thankful, having expressed that more times than he could count, though he tried his best to make it in. Some days, he would faint in his own driveway, and he would still head to work, though a little late. His manager would be suspicious forever, but he didn't voice his concerns to the brunet.

       Truth be told, Morty was afraid to return to the club. He'd never felt so scared yet so welcomed, especially after that terrifying shock. His hand had literally felt like it was on fire when he touched that pole, his entire brain feeling like it was melting or imploding. Something had happened, and now Morty avoided the club entirely. 

       But the brunet hated to do that. He hated how he put extra effort into avoiding Rick anymore. The man was a part of almost every one of his 'spells', and Morty could only wonder if the man was hiding something from him. Either that or Morty was crushing so hard Rick just randomly invaded his mind and took over for a bit, scaring Morty with daydreams and night terrors.

       It was especially difficult telling Rick he couldn't visit every time he practically begged, because Morty hated lying to people. But he genuinely just wanted time to himself. He wanted to sort this all out. He wanted to do it on his own, and come out of the fire unscorched, like a super hero. 

       He wanted to be his own hero.

       "Come on, baby, not even a little?"
       Morty looked around, confused. He was in a room he didn't recognize, decorated similarly to what Morty had seen at Rick's house. But this was a bedroom. This was a really nice bedroom.

       This was Rick's bedroom.

       Everything about the room screamed 'Rick' to Morty, the brunet looking around hurriedly. There was a tv in the corner, what looked like a horror film starring Rick on the screen. This had to be a nightmare.

       Morty jumped, feeling a strange warmth on his arm. He looked over, seeing a hand laying on his elbow, a plush black blanket thrown over Morty's lower half. Somebody was behind him, curled up against him. The brunet was wearing a garment that would have made him faint just from seeing himself in it. He was too innocent to ever wear a . . . thong? Maybe? 

       "Please?" Now that voice, Morty recognized. He felt chills course through his ethereal being, shuddering lightly. "Please." That was Rick, and Morty was with him. Directly in front of him. Indecently dressed, curled up with him, alone. The man was nudging his neck with his nose, his mouth trailing along the brunet's neck like a man with a map.

       The brunet could feel the heat coming from Rick, wanting to both curl into the comfort and run away from the situation. How was he here? Why was he here? Why with Rick?

       Morty found his inability to speak very unnerving, his being gently pulled back and laid facing up at Rick setting him off slightly. The man was already hovering over the brunet, and Morty wasn't sure what to do.

        He had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening.

       "Daddy," Morty heard whined. It sounded like him, but Morty hadn't said anything. Nothing at all. "I don't wanna." Morty heard a strange tone to the voice that was his, but wasn't. He saw a playful frown tug at Rick's features before the man was ducking into the brunet, layering kisses along his clavicle. "Pleeeease?" he whined in a whisper, lips never fully leaving the brunet's pink skin. 

       Morty heard a giggle, "No. You gotta sleep. We have Meanie Deanie coming over." The brunet sounded too childish for his own liking and he almost gagged. "He can go eat a dick. I don't even care about him. He's as good as dead, anyway. And I can't sleep. And you sure as hell can't either. So stop bein' such a stinge and share that sugar." Morty heard another laugh, cut short when Rick bent over and stole a near lavish kiss. 

       "There," Morty heard his own breathless voice give. "You had a little. That's what you wanted, right?" The taunting in his voice had Morty wondering how somebody like him could ever be like that.

       "Take a little out, gotta put a little in," Morty heard Rick say, feeling something odd. The man was half on him, legs slotted with Morty's own. There was a strange sensation, both from his own surreal self and from Rick. It was almost hard, whatever was jabbing at Morty. He wanted to pull away, but his dream-body had other plans, wrapping his legs around the man and pulling him flush against his form. 

       "Well, when you put it like that," he heard, turning away from the vision when he saw Rick trailing his hand too far South. He would prefer them going North; going so far North they were tickling a polar bear's testicles. That far North.

       "I think I won," Morty heard, but whatever else was said had been garbled. 

       The brunet sat up with a start, finding himself in his living room on the couch. The tv had long since shut itself off, being set to automatically shut off at midnight every evening. When Morty went to stand, he was very perturbed by a strange, tummy tingling sensation.

       "What the hell is that?!" he screamed, looking towards his lower half.