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"I want cookies," Rick said, not for the first time.
"Yeah, well, we can't get everything we want in life, can we?" Jerry said. Having perused the free magazines, he was playing a game on his phone when he felt a tug on his sleeve.
"Gimme," said Rick. "Wanna call Morty."
"I'm busy now. Maybe later."
"But--"
"No buts," said Jerry, not hiding his smile. "Wait your turn."
Rick crossed his arms, slouching, and looked out the window. "Meanie."
"Did I hear a controversial thought?"
"No," Rick said. "It's not con - con - it's true."
Jerry sighed and exited the game. It was more fun on his tablet, anyway. The balloons were too small on this screen.
Besides, he was curious to know what Rick wanted to say to his son.
"Fine," he said, offering the phone to Rick. "Will it even work in space?"
"Yeah. They have a, a big machine that catches all the signals from everywhere," Rick explained. He clumsily pulled up Morty's contact.
Jerry wondered what kind of chemicals they'd injected him with to slow his brain down this much, and if they were commercially available. Rick hit the call button and waited, worrying the hem of his sweater between his fingers.
Morty picked up on the second ring.
"Dad?" He sounded frazzled. "It's, um, it's really not a good time. Are you okay?"
"Morty," Rick said. "N-need your help, baby."
"R-Rick?" He sounded shy, but worry kicked back in. "Where's Dad?"
"Right here." Rick glanced over at Jerry, making sure he was still there. "But he won't buy me the good snacks. Send me snack money, Morty."
"Rick, are you high?"
"Not 'cause I wanna be," Rick said sulkily. "Miss you."
"Do you?" It was windy wherever Morty was, or maybe he was in a car. Rick didn't care too much.
"Yeah," he said, "miss - miss looking at you, Morty. Wish you were here."
"Jeez, Rick..." He knew Morty had to be blushing. Wanted to see the progression, watch the skin redden from the tips of Morty's ears down to his face and his delicate collarbones. But fate was not smiling on Rick Sanchez today. At least, not in the ways he wanted it to.
"Gonna kiss you when I get home, Morty. All - aaaall over."
"Rick, you're saying all of this in front of my dad," Morty said.
"Don't care." Rick hunched over toward the window again. "I saved him from a worm, and he won't even buy me cookies. He's an-- ow!"
Pain spiked in his temple, preventing him from insulting Jerry the way he'd wanted to.
"Rick?"
"I-I'm okay, baby," Rick reassured him. "Just thinking about - about how sweet you are."
"Wow, Rick," Morty said, voice soft. "I didn't know you felt that way."
Rick's brow furrowed in confusion. How could Morty not know? Wasn't it obvious?
"Think about you all the time," he said. "I--"
He heard Morty's little "whoa!" as he was cut off by the sound of squealing tires. "There's this thing with Summer, Rick, I have to go."
"Okay," Rick said. "See you later, sweetheart."
"Love you, Rick," Morty whispered, and ended the call. Rick handed the phone back to Jerry, who was staring at him with a peculiar expression on his face.
"What the fuck was that?" Jerry cried. "Are you having sex with my son?!"
Rick was silent while he debated whether it was controversial to lie or not.
"... No?"
"You said you were gonna kiss him all over!"
"All over his face," Rick said. "Duh."
"Still weird," said Jerry. "And don't act like you saved me when you LET me get eaten by that worm!"
"Whatever. Anyway, Morty is mine. You can't have him."
"Not really convincing me about the sex thing," Jerry muttered.
"Sorry," said Rick. "This serum makes it really hard to lie." His wallet pinged, and he extracted it from his back pocket with some difficulty.
Getting the right card out was even worse, but it was worth it when he saw that Morty had transferred him twenty-five flurbos from one of his several off-planet bank accounts. It was like bringing a Bitcoin to a bodega-- more than enough to buy the entire stock of cookies, with how well the currency was doing compared to the newly resurrected (but still struggling) blemflark.
Rick waved down the snack vendor with extreme fervor. Jerry watched, thoroughly vexed, as cart after cart of cookies was brought in, until Rick sat half buried under them, grinning widely.
"Problem, Jerry?" he asked.
"Let's see," said Jerry. "I'm on a spaceship with my drunk of a father-in-law--"
"Oh yeah, I forgot," Rick said, flagging down another attendant and handing them his card.
"Champagne?"
"--who's also in a sexual relationship with my son," Jerry finished. "Yeah, this is just great."
"Sure is," agreed a third voice. "You made it even easier for me to kill Rick than it would've been on the resort. I owe you one, Jerry," said Risotto Groupon, gun in hand.
"Nooo," Rick cried, "The booze isn't here yet!"
As he was led out of the cabin, Jerry reflected on the cosmic joke that was his life. Even after Rick had settled the matter with a bullet between Risotto's eyes, Jerry still couldn't figure out why this had to be happening to him.
"Get in the escape pod, Jerry," he sneered. "I'll be right back."
"You're not going to leave me here, are you?"
"No," Rick said, "but I'm not leaving those cookies behind, either."
Jerry stared after him as Rick crossed the hallway and disappeared in search of his sugary quarry.
"Typical," he grumbled, leaning back in his seat. "Fucking typical."