Work Text:
"Alright, Morty, here's the meaningless, waste-of-time kiln you asked for," Rick flipped on the light switch to one of his many underground labs.
Dr. Wong had given Morty some tips on how he could neutralize his anxieties and pass time when he claimed to be bored and had nothing to think about other than his own insecurities. She said that engaging in activities in which one is passionate about and enjoys doing can often help one find peace and serenity- a sense of meaning and accomplishment.
Rick wasn't going to admit it out loud, but the advice was pretty decent. Morty did need to find healthier hobbies besides constantly worrying about their next mission. He wasn't even all that interested in their video games and TV anymore; merely sitting there staring at the screen, lost in thought.
Deep down Rick believed that the primary reason for Morty's intense anxieties of late were because of Rick Prime. Galaxy knew how deep he was taking it, and while Rick didn't know his grandson's thoughts right down to the spinal cord, he had been around long enough to develop ideas.
And since the vast majority of these negative thoughts and emotions were caused by Rick, it was only fair that he indulge his grandson and build him something healthy that could help.
Rick tapped on the kiln before gesturing to the other side of the bright room where a set of tubs lay side by side. "That right there's your earthenware, stoneware, and porcelain clay," Then he pointed to a very occupied shelf, "And those are your tools and utensils. Paints' underneath the cabinet- which, fair warning, if you get any of it on anything other than pottery, I will sale your ass for fifty-million on the dark web and then use that money to build a bomb to destroy this entire, useless lab. You're welcome."
"Wow," Morty walked around the room with wide eyes. Rick had many underground labs that were used for a multitude of crazy, unpredictable things, but this room was his. "This is awesome."
Immediately Morty was entranced, checking out the kiln, his utensils and the paint. He felt each type of wet clay before deeming the earthenware his top choice and scooping some into his hands.
Rick watched him for a few minutes, a pleasant buzz of content settling inside him. At first his instinct had been to say something sarcastic, witty or mocking, but the words died on his tongue when he noticed how happy his grandson looked to have his own pottery lab. Well, Rick may think certain types of arts were meaningless, but if it made Morty happy, then he could at least let him be.
"I'm gonna get a snack," Rick said without the sarcastic remarks, turning on his heels and heading towards the exit, "Don't forget about my threat to sale your ass."
"Right, geez," Morty smiled, saying happily, "Thanks Rick."
For the next two weeks, Morty spent a good portion of his time locked away in his pottery lab while Rick fought his absolute hardest against consuming alcohol and snorting drugs- and it was difficult. Extremely difficult. He was on the verge of lassoing the entire earth and rocketing it into the sun, the alcohol withdrawal was so bad.
Whenever they weren't on an adventure, Rick was trying to do 'healthier' activities with the family. A few examples; helping Jerry with his bee-keeping, taking Summer to the mall to buy stuff, helping House Beth with chores, or fighting aliens with Space Beth. All of that back breaking work. And. No. 'Alcohol'.
Rick was worn out. Without alcohol or drugs to help blissfully blind his world, he was forced to be painfully aware of reality; his wrongdoings, his failures, his grief, his guilt and his anger. Sure, spending time with the family helped, but even then he had unconscious, negative thoughts like... how this wasn't his real family.
Ugh. He needed to find something to do to distract himself.
One morning while walking into his garage, Rick spotted something unusual sitting on his work bench. Something small, colorful and shiny. He gazed around a bit, cautious as usual, and walked up to the work bench.
Peering downwards, Rick realized that the shiny object was indeed a ceramic mug. Hmm. Why would this be here? Was it for him? Carefully using both hands, Rick scooped the mug up and brought it closer for better examination.
The mug itself was fairly standard, painted purple, green and black. There were added decorations that stood out like a science beaker, a couple stars, and a tiny spaceship. On the black strip of paint was writing that said in all green letters "R & M a Hundred Years".
Rick lowered the mug and stared up at the wall, his eyes puffy and his chest throbbing with pressure. This... This gift- it was so precious. He had never received any kind of homemade gift like this before- at least not since his original Beth and Diane died. It was like holding a warm, comforting light. A light that encompassed his entire broken world and told Rick that he was worthy of something true.
Gah! Why the fudge was he getting so mushy anyway? It was just a stupid mug, big deal. Rick shook his head, set the mug down and went to resume his previous task. He sat in his chair and brought some equipment out to meddle with, his attention revolving to the mug behind him time and time again. Seriously, why did he keep thinking about it?
Eventually the mug did end up in plain sight where Rick could always see it. Still though.... He didn't care about it.... Not at all....
The next morning at breakfast, Rick sat at the table and lazily drank coffee from his ceramic space mug, and as he did, he pretended not to notice all the goofy stares he was getting from his family. Jerry muttered questions that were painfully obvious, Beth was grumpy, and Summer giggled while trying to sneak pictures of him and his artsy mug.
Half ways through breakfast, Morty finally joined in, taking his signature spot by his grandpa and casually greeting, "Hey guys. Whoa, Rick, i-is that the mug I-"
"Thssssssssss," Rick hissed at him like a snake, obnoxiously cutting him off.
Morty glared at this and tried speaking again, "Y-you-you know you don't have to-"
"Thssssssssss," Rick hissed again.
Could he be anymore of a man child? Morty frowned at him, frustrated. Knowing Rick, of course he would never admit to liking anything about... well... 'anything', and that certainly included pottery art. "Can I at least tell you about my-"
"Thssssssssss."
"Will you stop that!" Morty yelled at him.
And on that morning, Rick managed to move on without receiving one comment about his mug. Mission accomplished. Thsss!
It was official since the day he received it; wherever Rick went, his mug went with him. Breakfast, dinner, on adventures, on rides in the ship, in the living room or in his laboratories, the mug was always with him. Like his favorite grandson, he never let it out of his sight.
By now the mug had carried and served all kinds of delicious beverages such as soda, orange juice, kool-aid, coffee, tea, milk, and 'pizza sauce'- which we're not gonna talk about, by the way. Every time after use, Rick would rinse and clean the mug before propping it somewhere nearby where he could always look at it.
It was around the third week after Rick built Morty's pottery lab that another ceramic gift was dropped off on his work bench, and this time it was a bowl.
Having repressed his delight, Rick was quick to examine the bowl, studying the unique designs and tracing his fingers along the writing. "Go Ball Fondlers!!!" The words said in a row all around the bowl. There was even a set of replicated testicles sticking out on the side. Oh Morty...
Rick brought the bowl close to his chest and chuckled to himself, one hand holding his forehead as he thought about how much he adored his grandson. Sure he degraded pottery and ceramics because he thought they were meaningless and stupid, but he couldn't deny how much he enjoyed using the ones his grandson made for him.
But Rick wasn't the only person to receive Morty's homemade gifts.
Come to find out, Morty had made everyone something special. Jerry got an apple-themed cup. For Beth there was a square lamp that would make patterns on the walls when a candle was inserted. And for Summer, Morty had designed a pretty slab-relief for her to hang on her wall.
At first Rick had been a tad bit jealous, grumpier in the mornings and hesitant to use his bowl and mug... That was until he saw how carelessly everyone else treated Morty's gifts.
It didn't take but a couple days for Jerry to break his cup. In his panic, Beth and Summer ushered him to throw it away in their neighbor's trash and either just pretend that he lost it or had it propped somewhere special.
Beth had ended up calling her gift 'ugly' and an 'embarrassment' a few times, and admitted to hiding her ceramic lamp in the back of her closet.
Summer was among the nicest for she thought her gift was pretty and didn't mind keeping it on her wall, but that didn't stop her from making fun of other creations whenever Morty wasn't around.
All of this behavior frustrated Rick and nearly had him snapping at his family in defense for his grandson, but he resisted. Why did he resist? Because Rick realized that Morty knew exactly how his family felt about his art.
It shown on his face during a family session with Dr. Wong. When he was asked how his pottery was going, he barely responded while everyone else pretended to love the gifts he had made for them. But Rick knew better.
Whenever they got home, Rick meddled around in his garage for a bit before going down to Morty's pottery lab. He hadn't been in it since the first time. Morty considered it a private place and refused to let anyone inside. Rick really shouldn't invade his privacy, but hey, he had made it this long, hadn't he?
Without knocking, Rick shoved his way into the pottery lab and said firmly, "I need to show you something."
"Rick," Morty snapped at him in a mixture of surprise and frustration, "Wh-what are you doing down here? I-I told you no one's allowed to-"
"Oh, quit your whining. It's not like this is a satanic cult or anything; sorry broh, but pottery is not 'that' impressive," Rick gazed around at all of the finished and unfinished art-works lying around and- wow- Morty really went all out.
There were pots, vases, cups, bowls, lamps, plates, boxes, slabs, and sculptures. Some art-works were broken, others were in progress, and some were just sitting there collecting dust. Rick eyeballed the rather large trash bin at the end of the room that was filled with work that seemed mostly broken, but he could still see a few items that were painted. Were those things he had given up on?
"I came here to give you this," Rick set the box down on an empty space on one of the tables. Reaching inside, he pulled out one of the small, white containers and grabbed a nearby paintbrush, "See this?"
Morty, albeit irritated with his grandpa for disrespecting his privacy, crossed his arms and replied in a low, unhappy mumble, "Yeah. What is it, Rick?"
"A-after you-uurrp finish painting something, I-I want you to use this stuff on it," Rick explained and pulled out his space mug for reference, tossing it on the ground.
"Rick!" Morty cried out in horror, betrayal a high pitched whistle in his vocals, "H-h-how-how could you?"
But, as the mug landed with several, loud clatters and clanks against the concrete floor, it did not break.
"Huh?" Morty blinked, the sudden heart ache that had overwhelmed him mere seconds ago vanishing as he kneeled down and picked up his grandpa's spotless space mug, "It didn't break?"
"Ahem..." Rick loudly cleared his throat and rolled his eyes, snatching his mug out of his grandson's hands, "As I was saying. This substance is purely indestructible, applying it to anything creates a protective coat that could save even your balls from being hit by an angry woman who takes a polite gesture the wrong way."
"Is that why you didn't scream when that woman kicked you that one day?" Morty had to ask.
"N-not important, Morty," Rick's eye twitched at him as he snarled threateningly. "What's important is that you understand that, from here on out, I want you to start coating all your artsy shit with this stuff. Capeesh?"
"Umm, ok," Morty walked up to the box and curiously peered inside. There were dozens of the small containers in the box, each with the same 'indestructible' label on the front.
Despite the fact that having indestructible stuff was cool, Morty still couldn't help but wonder aloud, "W-why?"
"Because, Morty," Rick turned around and began heading for the exit, "I want you to make me more shit."
"What?" Morty stammered, genuinely confused, "Wh-what do you mean?"
"You-urrp-your shit, Morty, your 'pottery' shit," Rick flew around and aggressively explained, "I want you to make me more. Geez, wh-what's so hard to understand about that?"
"You want me to make you more stuff? Y-you mean like that mug?" Morty took a few steps closer to his grandpa, hope glowing dimly within his eyes, "B-but I thought you hated ceramics? E-everyone here hates ceramics, they think it's stupid, th-that's why they thro-throw it away an-and make fun of it all the time!"
"You're right, Morty, ceramics 'are' stupid. Th-they give angsty teenagers the chance to therapeutically vent, an-and they help the smartest man in the universe drink his morning coffee and eat cereal, so-so yeah. Totally stupid," Rick dramatically agreed, crossing his arms with a rightful huff.
Morty could only blink, staring at his grandpa with shocked, dumbfounded eyes. Had he just defended him while still acting like a complete ass? Did that mean... Rick actually liked his work?
As the realization settled in, Morty relaxed, a small smile tugging at his face as he nodded, "Alright. I'll make you more, Rick. Geez, all you had to do was ask."
"Pfft, I don't need to ask shit, homie," Rick turned back around and took his leave, and, of course, saved his dignity as he went, "Remember, I can buy this exact same crap online, o-or hire a famous guru with infinite craftsmanship. I-I'm only using your stuff because it's free. There's literally no other reason. Now... Don't forget the indestructible stuff. Bye."
Morty, at first, glared in hurt at his grandpa as he disappeared up the elevator, but then he felt his expression soften because... Because Rick was Rick, and when you understand the language of the Ricks', you understand and hear the hidden secrets that lie beneath their harsh words. And Morty knew his Rick. He didn't put any effort or time into anything he considered worthless or stupid.
And that was all Morty needed to understand to put a warm smile on his face and a beam in his chest.
By the end of the month, Rick had almost over a dozen ceramic art-works gifted to him by his favorite grandson, and he was always putting them to good use. Everyday he used his homemade plates, bowls and mugs for whatever food was being served. In his laboratories, garage and spaceship lay small storage boxes that came in use for minor items. He even wore and/or carried around mini pendants that were shaped or carved like science tools- definitely a stunning lab coat accessory.
No one else in the family received as much as Rick did, and he took pride in that. If no one else could see the value in these beautiful, creative, Morty-made works of art, then that was on them. Rick loved his grandson's pottery, and he showed it every single day.
And his first mug had and always would stay right by his side, just like his grandson. "R & M a Hundred Years".