Work Text:
In the beginning... It was hard to accept.
It made him furious, terrified and sad. He may have even been a little bit jealous. In the moments whenever the traits shown, he never could help the liquid hatred that seeped from his tone as he degraded Morty for, basically, his personality.
Why would Rick do such a thing?
Simple.
Because this Morty wasn't 'his' real Morty. He was Rick Primes. And whenever Morty displayed vivid personality traits of his biological grandpa, it never failed to remind Rick of how lonely, unaccomplished, helpless and filled with hate he truly was.
It was a terrible way to react to something so subconsciously innocent. There are psychopaths out there who love cats, but that doesn't mean that every person who owns a cat is a psychopath too. Of course Rick could argue about the fact that there was a little bit of a 'blood related' issue going on here, you know, more genetic and personal.
It was like cancer passed down through the genes of older family members. And was cancer as cute as cats? Nope. And cats weren't genetically stemmed into people to naturally love. So when something genetic like this happens, it feels as if the person has no other choice.
Honestly, there was a lot of over-thinking going into this problem, and Rick needed to slow down and breathe a little. Morty was Morty, not Rick Prime.
Still... Every time Morty displayed Rick Prime's traits, it broke Rick's heart because he was reminded that Morty wasn't really his grandson. He already knew that he wasn't a cold blooded monster. He was just... not 'his' real grandson.
And that hurt.
And when Rick got hurt, he had an extremely bad habit of turning that pain into anger and directing it at unfortunate victims- especially ones like Morty.
Whenever he first saw Morty wearing a maroon sweatshirt, Rick had nearly launched himself backwards from the surprise alone- because 'why'? Why would he wear maroon? What was the point?
Underneath his annoyingly cool, purple sci-fi jacket, Rick Prime constantly wore a maroon sweater. It was different from most Ricks' who preferred blue and white over anything else, and made him stick out like a sore thumb- not that he didn't already do that in general.
And there Morty was, wearing maroon. It was like his go-to color whenever he didn't feel like wearing yellow or wanted a second addition to go with his outfit.
It was absurd. Most Mortys' Rick had ever seen sporting a color besides yellow wore white, blue or black; obviously taking after their Ricks'. Not once had he ever seen any Morty wear maroon. Well... Besides his Morty.
Come to find out, a sweatshirt wasn't the only maroon thing Morty owned. He also had a blanket, pillow cases, shoes, and a sweater- all in the color of dark maroon.
Used to, every time Morty wore and/or used something maroon, Rick would immediately set a goal to degrade him and make fun of his tastes in an attempt to discourage him from ever using the color again. He even purposely tore a large hole in Morty's sweatshirt on an adventure one time, but Morty was resilient and bought himself another one.
Now, Morty didn't wear maroon all the time, but when he did, Rick could never fail to see the outline of evil that was Rick Prime.
It was the same as when Morty ate poptarts.
It wasn't any shocker that most Ricks' loved wafer cookies- like, they really loved them. Duh. Wafers were obviously the tastiest treat in the entire galaxy.
But apparently Rick Prime didn't agree.
Rick had learned through his searches and experiences that Rick Prime loved poptarts. They were his favorite treat. An abandoned poptart wrapper was actually how he discovered his DNA and located the Prime dimension- shame on him for littering! The guy was just all sorts of evil...
But he loved poptarts, and so did Morty.
To add insult to injury, Morty had admitted to disliking wafer cookies; a literal mental stab to Rick's fragile heart.
And so, just like the maroon ordeal, Rick poured gallons of degradation onto Morty for his love of poptarts. He was always making fun of the flavors, how the poptarts were manufactured, the fact that they were loaded with calories, etc... He even went so far as to say that they were the reason behind why Morty was so stupid.
Morty never did understand why Rick hated poptarts but he did a darn good job at taking it in in his own way. Rick was naturally a bully and was persistent on discovering ways to hurt him. Considering the fact that eating poptarts was relatively harmless, Morty did what he knew to do best.
He ignored Rick and ate his poptarts, degradation or not.
Another mindless tally for the evil sci-fi monster known as Rick Prime. And yes.... Rick was keeping score. Hey, he knew that the likelihood of Morty leaving him for his biological grandpa was close to zero percent, but he worried, you know?
And then one of last and most personally disturbing traits Morty took after Rick Prime... Was the way he smirked.
Yes, the way he smirked.
Morty normally always had a rather adorably anxious smile that was kind of cute and funny. There was nothing malicious about it, and the happiness behind his expressions were always genuine. But whenever he smirked...
Geez... Rick couldn't help it. He 'hated' it whenever Morty smirked. It was just- there was just so much resemblance there. The way his face went slack, the malicious curve of his lips, and the slanting of his brows. Put together it was all challenging, smug and victorious, like a narcissistic god who knew that they would always win no matter the cause.
That's exactly how Rick Prime smirked. Every time Rick had managed to see him on a screen, in his memories or in pictures, his smirk always looked so evil, so satisfied and cruel- like he obviously knew he was the best winner out there.
Morty didn't smirk often but when he did, Rick was fast to turn it around by spouting out the meanest, cruelest things he could think of. He never told Morty directly that he hated his smile, but he did try to hurt him as long as there was a chance of wiping off those annoying smirks.
It wasn't fair either. Morty only ever smirked during extremely rare moments of triumph or victory like when he outsmarted Rick, got the highest score on a game, saved a life, or won an argument. He would always smirk during those moments, feeling proud and certain of his own self-worth- that was... Until Rick shot him down.
Rick didn't mean to do it, he swore. He was just afraid. Afraid because he worried that these traits meant that Morty would choose Rick Prime over him or, worse yet, grow up to be just like him. And he couldn't handle that fear; it was destructive and ate him up inside. He knew it wasn't fair, but he didn't know what else to do!
What are you supposed to do when the person you treasure most displays very vivid traits of the exact person who traumatized you the most?
'I don't know him. 'You're' my grandpa, Rick. Rick and Morty a hundred years. Remember?'
That...
That right there is what had set him free. Hearing Morty confirm with confidence that Rick C-137 was his only and dearest grandpa helped Rick to escape his cage of mental torment. All of the anxiety, fear, self-hatred and doubt that he had always been haunted by melted away.
Because he finally knew that he was Morty's true grandpa. Nothing about Rick Prime mattered.
'You're my grandpa, Rick.' It was only after hearing those exact words that Rick decided to do better for Morty. No more looking at him like a two-dimensional mirror. He was going to start respecting his traits and personality and he wasn't going to let anything bring them down any longer.
It started when he got his spaceship rebuilt. With the portal gun still broken, he and Morty were forced to fly through space to reach their destinations, and some times the journeys lasted a long, long time.
"Aw geez," Morty stretched out in the passanger seat, his hands massaging his rumbling belly as he stared at the ceiling in misery, "I sure am hungry."
Rick glanced at him from the corner of his eye and inhaled a bit, his fingers gently tapping against the steering wheel. "Hey," He said casually, "O-open up the glove compartment."
"Why?" Morty looked at him skeptically, "I-is there something in there? A-a tiny monster, or-or an alien dildo? Because that would be really low, Rick. I-I mean, in the 'glove compartment'? Seriously?"
"Oh- would you just shu-shut up and-urrp open it already? Geez, talk about trust issues..." Rick grumbled, glaring at the empty space ahead.
Morty, still pointing at him a suspicious stare, hesitantly bent forward and hit a button. With a rattle the glove compartment fell open, startling him. Morty winced a little, but as soon as he saw what was inside, he felt his eyes widen in shock.
"Are those... Poptarts?" He asked breathlessly, leaning forward and picking up one of the many boxes.
"Yeah," Rick replied in the same grumpy tone, "I-I brought em to keep your mouth shut whenever you decided to get hungry."
"But... You hate poptarts," Morty exclaimed, looking to his grandpa with uneasiness, "So-so what's the catch? Ar-are they poisoned? I-I'm gonna eat one and it-it's gonna make me really fat or something- is that it?"
"Jesus Christ, Morty, oh my gosh," Rick went to rub the bridge of his nose with rough fingers. Had he seriously caused Morty to be this untrusting of him? "Wh-why would I go out of my way to invent poptarts that make you fat? Kind of senseless, don't you think? Regular poptarts are already gonna take you there without any help from me so... Eat em, don't eat em, I really don't give a shit."
When his grandpa went silent, Morty stared at him for a few seconds longer before curiously going to open a box and take out one of the silver wrappers. His stomach was rumbling and, although still skeptical about his grandpa's weird consideration, he really wanted something to eat, and poptarts were definitely one of his favorite treats.
Morty opened up a silver wrapper and took a bite out of the poptart, his body beaming with delight when he realized that they weren't poisoned or poo-flavored. "Wow," He smiled in appreciation while chowing down on the delicious treats, "Thanks Rick."
"Yeah, whatever..." Rick mumbled, glancing over at his grandson who was happily munching on his provided sweet delicacies. For the first time... He didn't mind the poptarts.
He was just happy that his grandson was filling his empty tummy with something he loved.
It was a few hours before the spring dance at school began. Morty had spent the majority of his morning playing video games and simply hanging around the house until it was time to get ready. After he took a shower, he walked to his room and found a wrapped box sitting on his bed.
What the?
Curious, Morty wandered over to his bed and gazed down at the small package, wondering who it could be from. Was it from one of his family members? There wasn't any writing on it anywhere. And it didn't feel like there was anything alive inside of it like spiders or a snake, so...
Morty ripped open the dark purple wrapping paper and opened the thin cardboard box to reveal a maroon piece of clothing. "Oh," Morty gasped and pulled the clothing out, shaking it a bit to reveal it's true form.
It was a short-sleeved, polo collar shirt with buttons going half ways down the front. "Wow," Morty smiled lightly, holding the shirt close as he went to go shut his bedroom door.
Putting on some underwear, blue jeans, his new shirt and a pair of shoes, Morty looked at himself in the mirror and smiled in approval. He really liked the new shirt. Not only did it match his maroon shoes, but it was a great fit and he loved the boost of confidence it gave him.
After he was finished in his room, Morty went downstairs where Summer and House Beth both complimented his attire and brought out a timid blush in his cheeks. He tried asking everyone if they knew who gifted it to him, but they were all just as clueless as he was. Rick wasn't around to ask but Morty already knew that it couldn't have been him since he hated maroon more than the government itself.
As soon as Summer was ready, they went to the garage where Rick was waiting in the spaceship ready to drive them to the school. He didn't say a word about the shirt as Morty and Summer chatted and talked about what they planned on doing once they got there.
When they landed, Jessica walked up to the ship and waved bashfully. Rick flipped her a less than hearty middle finger and unlocked the doors. "You kids' have fun getting wasted. Grandpas gonna go get a drink," He said.
"Alright, but promise you won't get too drunk," Morty barked at him and jumped out of the ship. "Hey Jessica."
"Hi Morty. Wow, is that a new shirt? I love it," Jessica greeted back with an enlightened smile.
Morty stammered bashfully and rubbed the back of his head, "O-oh this? Haha, yeah, it's new. I-I'm glad you like it. You-you're lookin' really good tonight too, ha."
Rick lingered in the parking space for a few seconds, reveling in the sense of accomplishment he felt for the success of his secret gift. Jessica wasn't lying. The shirt really did look good on his grandson and, most importantly, it made him happy.
And happiness was all he wanted his grandson to feel.
It was the weekend, and Rick and Morty had been spending the whole day playing video games on their new console, enraptured in the fun and craziness of it all. They played solo games, games that were downright confusing, rated R games, and games that required two players.
When it came to a particular 'space racing' game, Rick grinned evilly and said, "Wanna race? I-I know you can't beat me."
"Oh, wanna bet?" Morty looked at him, tapped a button and gestured to the screen, "Look who's got the top score?"
"Aww, that's cute. Wanna watch me eliminate that score in ten seconds, broh? 'Cause I guarantee you, that's all it'll take; ten seconds," Rick challenged.
Morty smirked, chuckling, "You're on, pal."
Rick grinned and prepared the game to load so that they could race, his body bracing as he shuffled forward. Beside him Morty still smirked, proud of his high-score and confident that he could keep it.
Rick looked at him and felt himself relax on the inside, his heart beating with content for he had just realized that, whenever Morty smirked, he no longer saw the man who hurt him. No. Instead of Rick Prime, Rick saw love. He saw 'Morty'.
He saw 'his' grandson. That's all there ever was, and that's all there ever would be. 'His' grandson.
And Rick loved his grandson no matter what kind of traits he had.