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“You know, Morty, I can still see you even if you curl yourself into a ball back there,” Rick Sanchez said from the driver’s seat of his spacecraft. When his grandson just groaned in response, he added, “I mean, this, this thing has a rearview mirror, you know. Uh, anyway, look, kid, this is far from your worst fuckup—“
Another groan.
“But that being said, you should still man up and be ready to deal with the consequences of your actions when I get you home. You shouldn’t be hid—hiding in the backseat from me.”
This time, Rick’s growing rant was met with silence.
“And look, I wasn’t saying man up in a sexist way, it’s just that you happen to be a boy, and, and, and, if it had been Summer or something—hey, why are you letting me get distracted here? We should be talking about you not listening to me about little things and that shit adding up over time. Hey, would you fucking look at me when I’m talking to you? I know you’re not looking at me. Rearview mirror, baby, remember?”
This time, the noise Morty made sounded more like a whimper than a groan. Rick growled, and then reached back and pinched the boy on the calf.
Morty yelped and got up into a seated position. “Jeez, Rick. What the hell?”
Rick decided not to grace that with a response, and was silent for the rest of the ride home. By then, Morty had gone back to his previous position, curled onto his side, facing the back of the spacecraft and probably pitying himself because his grandpa was just so mean. Yeah, right. The only difference was that this time he’d added quiet snoring.
When Rick landed in the garage, he squinted at Morty, thinking about launching into another tirade. The boy needed it, after all. Rick was right about those little disobediences building to something bad after awhile, and he knew it.
But instead he just sighed, got out of the vehicle, and went around to Morty’s side. When he gathered his grandson up into his arms—seriously, when was the kid going to have a growth spurt?—Morty’s eyes popped open and he made a surprised little noise in the back of his throat.
“Quiet,” Rick said. “You’re still getting in trouble, but it’s late. You can be in trouble tomorrow when you’re wide awake to experience it. And just as a bit of foreshadowing, you’re probably gonna be grounded from adventures for awhile, and you’re probably gonna spend that time doing something really boring, like reorganizing my lab. And if you find a way to mess that up, I’ll wring your little neck, got it?”
“I’m really sorry about today, Rick,” Morty muttered into Rick’s shoulder. “I—“
Then his breathing slowed down and he was snoring again by the time Rick had carried him inside the house. As he tucked his grandson into bed, Rick grumbled and hoped he wasn’t losing his edge.