Chapter Text
“Look Rick, I’m just as unhappy as you are about this. But Dr. Wong says that for the sake of my sanity - if there’s any of it left in the first place - I have to ‘set aside a day to relax and reflect on my life and consider my future hopes, dreams, and aspirations.’ It might as well be Tuesday.”
Morty clasps his hands as if he’s praying and in a way, he is.
“OK, fine. Whatever.” Rick belches and takes another sip from his flask.
It’s mid-morning, the first Tuesday of Christmas break, and Rick and Morty have the whole house to themselves.
Beth is out working, Jerry is out allegedly looking for work, and Summer is out at the mall or at the movies or whatever it is teenagers do for fun.
“Really?” Morty’s eyes widen, his pupils completely overtaking his irises. He sniffs and tugs nervously at his shirt collar. This might be a trick. Any second now Rick could grab him by said shirt collar, open up a portal, and drag Morty through it. He’s not supposed to do that anymore. He’s promised Beth he wouldn’t, but she’s not around to stop him.
“Really.” Rick yawns and rubs his sleeve across his eyes. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, which, given his general state of inebriation, is not abnormal.
What is a little alarming to Morty is the large, pulsating purple bruise that nearly covers all of his grandfather’s forehead.
When he looks a little closer, Morty can see little imprints that look suspiciously like teeth marks.
Rick clears his throat loudly.
“I know you’re quivering with anticipation. The long and short of it is that Grandpa Rick took a little trip to a bordello in Ursa Major. Let’s just say one of the girls there has her own version of ‘oral sex.’ Don’t worry, Morty, it looks a lot worse than it is.”
“I-I’m not worried.”
Morty’s face reddens. He quickly shifts his gaze to his phone and pretends to be absorbed in a nonexistent text message. He absently eats a spoonful of cereal and feels the heat of Rick’s stare. When he can’t bear it anymore, he looks up and straight into Rick’s eyes.
“Wh-what’s up, Rick? I said I’m n-n-not worried. Why would you think that?”
Morty bites his upper lip until he tastes blood. It seeps through his teeth and dribbles slowly down his chin.
“Here.” Rick scoffs in disgust as he hands Morty his mostly unused napkin.
“Um…” Morty titters nervously and hesitates. There is a dark wet smudge in the middle of it.
“Christ, Morty, that’s a grease stain from the bacon! You know I always put my bacon on a napkin. I don’t want it getting slathered in with the eggs and grits. Wipe your mouth before you bleed all over the table.”
“But -” Before he can object, Rick grabs the napkin from him. “But nothing, Morty! You’re 14 years old, so stop acting like a goddamn baby. Come here!” He grouses disapprovingly and wipes the blood off of Morty’s mouth with unnecessary force, but his eyes glint with a subtle sheen of amusement.