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It’s the Fourth of July. Most people like this day, as it is an excuse to get out of school and work, but Morty hates it. Mainly because the Fourth of July comes with parties and fireworks, both of which are too loud and he hates it.
When he was a little kid, he would beg his parents to let him stay home and not go to the barbeques in various places in the neighbourhood, having been badly scared at one when he was three (he doesn’t want to talk about it; suffice it to say, Morty was so overwhelmed by the smell of barbeque smoke that he screamed until he went nonverbal and embarrassed himself in front of everyone). His mom and dad weren’t impressed, but they clearly didn’t want a repeat of that day. So every year, one of his parents would go to the parties with Summer, whilst the other stayed at home and looked after Morty. And whilst Mom or Dad sat on the couch and grumbled about missing the fun, Morty curled up under his bed with his hands over his ears, trying not to cry.
It got better the year he turned ten, as he received an autism diagnosis (he was also diagnosed with dyslexia and dyscalculia, which meant his teachers could finally stop calling him stupid and actually give him accommodations). And part of the diagnosis meant his family having to learn about autism, including the sensory issues that come with it. So as the Fourth of July drew closer that year, Dad came into his bedroom and handed him a pair of ear defenders, the sort construction works wear. And Morty smiled gratefully. That year, he watched fireworks from the back yard, and didn’t go into sensory overload for the first time ever. And it was nice.
Morty may be older now, but he still has sensory issues. And if those sensory issues aren’t handled well, he still has meltdowns, which basically involve screaming and crying and punching himself in the head hard enough to leave bruises, before going nonverbal for the next few hours. They’re unpleasant and humiliating and Morty always dreads it when he feels one coming.
But this Fourth of July, he knows he has nothing to worry about. Because things changed when his strange grandpa Rick moved in. Rick likes to drag Morty along on dangerous and exciting adventures, but they can get overwhelming. In fact, during their first adventure together, he went into sensory overload:
The building was collapsing all around them. All Morty could hear was explosions and crashing and screaming and the sound travelled down his ear canals and hit his eardrums so hard he felt like they were about to rupture. He groaned and clamped his hands to the sides of his head, covering his ears, and Morty wished he brought his ear defenders with him. His head hurt so badly, so much it was hard to concentrate on his surroundings. Rick was pissed off, and resorted to grabbing Morty by the wrist and forcing him to run along behind him as he went through his plans without Morty’s help.
It took much longer than it should have to take down the computer system and steal an important piece of tech, but then Rick was dragging Morty away whilst Morty cried and whimpered and longed for the pain in his head to stop. And soon they were back on Rick’s ship and flying away, and Morty rocked back and forth in his seat and pummelled his fists against his forehead.
“Morty, s-stop that shit,” Rick said, burping.
Morty would’ve told him to show some fucking compassion, but he couldn’t talk. He just whimpered. He punched his head again.
“Morty, quit it!” Rick said, and he took his hands from the controls, reached under his seat and shoved a cushion into Morty’s hands. “H-Hit that instead. You don’t want a brain injury. T-Trust me.”
Confused, Morty pressed the cushion against his forehead before resuming his punches. It muffled the pain significantly, and he knew he couldn’t bruise as badly now.
It seemed to last forever, but the meltdown eventually subsided, leaving Morty sobbing into the cushion still pressed to his face.
He removed the cushion, his forehead and his knuckles aching and already starting to bruise. Morty glanced at Rick, but Rick was paying attention to the view out of the windshield. He sighed shakily and hugged the cushion to his chest.
When they got home, Morty cleaned himself up, Rick gave him something for the bruises, and handed him a device that could speak for him until he went verbal again. Morty told the machine to thank Rick and went to his room, curling up under the blankets and wishing he would feel better.
To be honest, the last thing he needed was for Rick to come crashing into his room, drunk and talking too loud.
Morty sighed and typed a message on the device. Did I ruin the mission?
“You didn’t make it easy by any f-fucking means, but you didn’t fuck it up for me,” Rick said in what he clearly considered a comforting tone. It wasn’t very comforting. “I got what I needed.”
As Morty deliberated, wondering what to say next, Rick cried, “Oh, shit, I nearly forgot!”
He jumped, watching Rick take something out of his pocket. It was a tiny box, and opened to reveal two even tinier things. He grinned at Morty, and he wondered just how drunk his grandfather was.
“They’re earplugs, Morty,” Rick said. “But not the shit ones you get from a chemist, n-no. They’re my own invention.” He burped again and put the box on Morty’s leg. “Block out all background noise, all the f-fucking annoying noises that distract you and h-hurt your ears. They work a fucking miracle for me, s-so I thought you could have a pair. Then maybe you won’t n-nearly fuck up our next adventure”
At Rick’s words, Morty widened his eyes. Next adventure?
“Yeah, ob-obviously, dipshit.”
His eyes filled with tears. He knew it was pathetic, but Morty genuinely thought that Rick would never take him on an adventure again. Rick stared at him.
“Look, Morty, I k-know what things are like for you,” Rick said, looking away and staring at the floor. “You’re not the only autistic person in this h-house.”
Morty wiped his eyes, looking up. He smiled, but Rick wouldn’t look at him. Rick shoved the box of earplugs into his hand.
“So take the f-fucking earplugs and stop crying,” Rick said.
Morty grinned. Thanks Rick.
And ever since that day, Morty has kept his earplugs with him at all times, tucked into his pocket. And whenever he goes to the movies or a fireworks display or goes on an adventure with Rick, he puts them in his ears and switches them on, and they cancel the excess noise and Morty isn’t overwhelmed anymore. Which means today’s fireworks display won’t be a problem.
And he knows Rick is always wearing his pair too, and it cheers Morty up a lot on days when he’s feeling low to know that the most intelligent person in the universe is autistic, that he needs accommodations too, and that Morty isn’t alone.