Work Text:
Love is a losing game
It's a moment, the change of an old figure of speech that's not so significant, the calm after the storm, acid waters that seem to corrode the furrows in which they flow, looking at the ferocity and speed with which their creator wants to drive them all back inside.
That series of insults and that "I hate you, bastard!" still echo in the air without atmosphere of that small planet, now decimated by the two of them.
Did it take so little to bring him down?
Rick is the master of Rick (and no one else can afford this luxury, not even the one who seems to give a little beat to his dusty heart), the universe, every law of science that ever existed and yet he was there, in tears. Too many drugs? Too much alcohol? Was it really stung?
But Rick remains Rick: chaotic, unpredictable, and if he wanted to increase his reputation as an agent of caos without any schemes, he would have also cried.
Selfish, rough, manipulative.
There isn't the word that always crawls into Morty's throat and whose sound hurts him too much: abusive.
What is he planning?
Does it matter?
What's the game?
Morty doesn't really care, he never liked psychological games and in fact he does not actively participate in them, even if he is so fucking into it.
Like a sinner to his god, he turns the other cheek, gives everything; who cares about the blood that dirties his hands and still dense, fresh, so damned alive that made him feel guilty, pissed off and screaming at the man who made him feel all this pain. But now Morty has spotted a worse crime, which if it is not remedied as soon as possible will cause him serious damage.
Morty looks at Rick and hugs him tightly: he will never let him go away from him. The opposite has always happened, if Rick’s could be considered hugs - pats on the back and ready to plunder an alien village again!
Rick does all this for drugs, alcohol, importance. Ignores any moral precepts of the young boy, testing it, ready to destroy it.
Rick does all this for Rick.
Morty runs a hand under Rick's cheekbone, so tall, angular, that makes the scientist's face so handsome and that he has always been attracted to. With his thumb he then tries to wipe away a tear, but ends up only by dirtying the old man's cheek with red. Morty's face becomes the same shade from embarrassment, he feels his ears and cheeks like being on fire.
"I-I didn't want to, I'm-I'm sorry," he says, his voice seems broken as he feels his lip tremble and the vision becomes a little blurry.
He says it and he means it.
He didn't want to dirty his cheek, he didn't really want to hurt him, reduce him to tears.
Seeing him so torn, weak and vulnerable destroys Morty, makes his heart rise in his throat, ready to take his breath away. It's as if he had punched a mirror: yes, he would have reduced it to a thousand pieces (so small but so sharp, be careful!), but he would also have found himself with a bleeding hand.
Rick should be mad at Morty, and he is, he may even hate him, but that's another one of the things he's never been so good at. Whenever he turns his back on him, he knows very well how difficult it is not to look back to try to mirror himself in those green eyes.
Rick reciprocates Morty's gesture, slowly. He has never been able to console people, but he knows how to drive away a tear. He puts pressure on the skin, like he wants to say "I own it", to let people know who is in charge here again.
It is always a game of roles, of possession and control. Even in tears, Rick remains the one to command.
"I-I know it, dipshit."
Breathe the old man, the boy in front of him slightly opens his lips as if he were breathing only the same air as the man.
Their faces are too close, Morty sees a new energy spreading in Rick’s eyes, so he is not surprised when he decides to tighten his lips with his own. The teeth flutter together, nibbling the young man’s lip until a bit of blood comes out of it; they kiss as if they haven’t done it for centuries, as if that was their last time.
When they stop kissing, Morty squeaks as he is secretly pleading for more, but Rick must have already figured it out from his not so restrained groan.
"Let’s go home, Morty. The adventure is over."
The cyborg’s tone is neutral, but his face is wrinkled with a grin that Morty finds adorable in a very sick way.
The boy knows that whatever psychological game they were playing, his grandfather must have won - his sudden mood swing would not be explained otherwise - but if Rick is happy, Morty is fine with everything and he also smiles.