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Morty was feeling… unwell, to say the least.
15 years old was old enough to go to the crazy parties, that’s what his sister said when she invited him to huge party at some random upperclassman’s house not far from home. She talked him into it openly over dinner. One would think a teen’s parents would, I don’t know, discourage things like that, but apparently not the Smiths. No, Jerry said it would be “good for him to get out once in a while,” space-Beth said he “needs to learn to have some fun,” and house-Beth, the most apprehensive of the group, said “telling a teenager not to do something is the best way to ensure it happens.” Rick seemed excited about the idea, which Morty supposes makes sense— the two have fought gangs, wars, giant monsters, etc. Surely Morty could handle a party.
Well, he couldn’t. He wasn’t used to this kind of stuff, hardly knew anybody there, and nobody had warned him that the communal punch bowl would be so fascinatingly spiked. He was out of his fucking mind and barely standing and he decided to get out of there.
As he stumbled to the door, some kids he didn’t really recognize stopped him.
“Another one quitting already?” A buff, antagonistic jock rolled his eyes, “Ugh, freshmen are so boring.”
“I’m not a freshman!” It’s truly astonishingly easy to distract someone this intoxicated. “I’m a sophomore, okay? And you have no idea! I’m not boring!”
“Oh yea?” The stoned girl hanging from the jock’s shoulder smacked her gum, “Prove it, little man.”
“I’ve been to space! I’ve killed people! I was in a soul-orgy with a bunch of dragons, okay? You can ask my sister—“
“Wait,” she leaned forward, smacking her gum in an open mouth, “you’re that kid? Holy shit.”
“What? He’s what kid?” The jock tried to get the girl’s attention back but her eyes were trained on Morty. Then suddenly her hand was on his chest,
“What’s your name? Harry? Colby? Toby? I’m interested~”
Morty took a moment to shake off how nice the attention felt as the discomfort overwhelmed it. “Um, no thanks,” he gently grabbed her wrist to move it but she didn’t budge, in fact, she abandoned her perch to approach him further.
“C’mon, Dory, don’t you want to get to know me?”
Her other hand went to his crotch and he took a step back and a sharp breath. His mouth opened to tell her to back off, but the jock behind her spoke before he could,
“Hey, don’t touch her, bro! I don’t care who you are— she’s mine!”
“I, I wasn’t— listen, I don’t want— please let go of me.” He tried to pry away her hand which had now attached itself to his bicep. She made a little humming noise,
“You’re scrawny. Maybe I like that. It’s kinda cute.”
“Bro, get the fuck away from my girl!”
“Get ‘your girl’ away from me!” Morty shouted. He squealed when her other hand drifted low again, and he shoved her with just enough force to knock a drunk person over. She fell into her boyfriend, who Morty could now see looked pissed.
“Did you just push her?”
“She was groping me!”
“C’mere, punk!”
Morty whipped around and darted the other way, just barely avoiding the jock’s grasping reach.
“Nooo, come back, Orbeez!”
He made it out the back door and dove into the bushes just before the larger boy could catch sight of him. There was shouting and cursing, then the girl tripping and cursing, before both seemed to wander back inside. They didn’t close the door behind them, but the backyard was pretty sparsely populated and as Morty looked around, he was pretty sure none of the blurry, unstable faces were looking at him.
Morty stayed in the bushes for a while and just breathed, trying to fight off the flashbacks to jellybeans and stairs and being touched. He eventually shook it off enough to decide to try his escape again. He stood resolutely, aimed, took a step… and tripped face first into the bush again.
He hardly bothered with another thought before pulling out his phone— Summer was here, his mom would ask questions, his dad would end up worse off than him… well, it’s not hard to decide who to call, is it?
“What do you want, Morty, aren’t you supposed to be partying or something?”
“Riiiiiiiiick!!”
“Aaand you’re drunk. Good. How’s that going for you?”
“Grandpa Rick, I need you to, I need, can you come and get me, Rick?”
“Everything okay, kid?” Morty barely caught the shift in tone— his grandpa was worried. It warmed his heart, really.
“Yea, it’s fine. Well, no, some girl tried to grab me and some guy tried to beat me up and I only had like two drinks, but I don’t know what was in them, I just drank from the big punch bowl—“
“Oh, rookie mistake, Morty. Those things are, I mean, there could be anything in there, Morty, you probably got, probably actually drugged, Morty.” There’s a sigh and some shifting from the other end, clangs and thuds and the rolling chair, “Alright, where are you?”
“Really? Thanks, Rick! You’re, you, you’re the best, you’re my favorite, the best grandpa. Oh, shit, lemme see, where am I, uh… I’m in a backyard.”
“The address, Morty, what’s the address?!”
“Okay, geez! Uh… I, actually, I don’t know.”
“Great, Morty. That’s great.” More shuffling, something clinks and shatters, “Okay, kid, keep your eyes on the sky, I’ll just drive slow over the neighborhoods and you tell me when you see me. Any hints you can give me?”
“Oh, uh, uh… the house is greenish, or maybe yellow I, I can’t really tell. There’s a tree back here, and a ping pong table— hey, that’s, they’re playing some really weird ping pong.”
“It’s beer pong, Morty. Jesus fucking Christ.”
“The fence is, like, dark? Uh, it’s a two story house. I think the street name was like… autumn-something?”
“Ohoho, autumn grove? Alright, I know where that is.”
Another two or three minutes pass with Morty offering rather unhelpful information and Rick pretending to listen before
“Oh, Rick, I see the ship!” Morty stands in the bush to be able to see it, then promptly loses his balance and falls over again.
“Oh shit, yep, here it is. Wow. Low quality party. Not a good scene, Morty. Unhinged, but not in a fun way, just, probably just a bunch of angry people.”
The phone hangs up and Morty hears the ship land in the yard beyond as he tries to swivel around and right himself. He doesn’t manage it. A grip on his ankle startles him into a yelp as he squirms onto his back. The face staring down at him takes him on a journey from relieved to sheepish to purely grateful
“H-hey Grandpa Rick.”
Rick just sighs, the edges of his lips twitching into what Morty knows is a cover for fondness.
“How’s it going, Morty?”
“Oh, you know, just, just having a party, here, in the bushes, just, trying not to throw up over here. How’s, uh, how’s it going with you?”
“It was going great until my idiot grandson needed me to come pick him up.” They share a quick laugh. “Now come on, let’s get out of here already, this place sucks.” Rick releases his grip on Morty’s ankle and turns around to shout something, presumably at some teenagers. Morty is too focused on standing to hear.
One foot, second foot, and— nope. Geez, is he more top heavy than he remembers?
“For fuck’s sake, Morty.”
With no chance to respond or defend himself, Morty feels the grip return to his ankle, and this time, it pulls. He finds himself sliding across the grass of the backyard, his shirt riding up and the dirt tickling his back. It’s not the most pleasant sensation, sure— Morty doubts he would ever choose to be dragged across a yard when he had the option to walk— but especially in his intoxicated state, it’s a bit funny.
So, Morty giggles the full distance to the ship. By the time they make it, Rick’s entertained as well, chuckling as he pops open the passenger door and reaches down at Morty again.
“You really— really enjoyed that, huh? You like getting dragged around, that was fun? Boy, you’re out of it, aren’t you?”
Morty just nods and giggles some more as he’s hoisted up by a bicep and shoved into the seat. He draws his legs up into the vehicle behind him and Rick takes a moment to flick his ear.
“Owwwww, Riiiick!”
“You— you deserve that, buddy.”
“Ugh, Rick?!” Morty jolts in surprise when Summer’s voice appears from the direction of the house, “What are you doing here?”
Rick rolls his eyes. “I’m taking Morty home, idiot, because apparently nobody thought to tell him to stay out of the jungle juice, and now he’s wasted.”
“Oh, come on, he’s fine— Morty, tell him you’re fine!”
“A-actually, Summer, I’m pretty much not fine. I kind of, I, I want to go home.”
Summer makes a loud, annoyed sound. Morty shrinks into his seat. He flinches when the passenger door slams shut. It’s slightly hard to hear the conversation on the other side and Morty doesn’t really think he can focus on anything right now, so he doesn’t bother to try, just lets it flow in one ear and out the other like background noise.
”Tell him to stay and stop being such a buzzkill!”
“Absolutely not! I’m taking him home, Summer, he’s out of his mind and needs to sleep it off.”
“No, he needs to learn how to deal with it! He’ll be fine, he just—“
“I found him hiding in the bushes, Summer! He said somebody attacked him or something! I’m not leaving him here with that.”
“He’s probably exaggerating… he’s not hurt, is he?”
“Doesn’t look like it. Still, I’m getting him out of this shit-ass lame excuse of a party.”
“Whatever. I’ll yell at him about it tomorrow.”
“Like hell you will! Hey, you hear me?! I said—”
“Yea, I heard you, and you know what? Fuck you, old man!”
“Oh, fuck you too!”
A few moments after the arguing ceases, the driver’s side door opens and Rick slides in.
“Your sister can be a real p— real piece of work sometimes.”
“Aw, she’s not so bad, Rick. She’s just trying to have fun.”
“No, Morty, she’s trying to look like she’s having fun so people like her. An-anyways, how are you feeling?”
“Uh, well, my head feels fuzzy and I don’t think there’s supposed to be three of you. Not right now, at least. Not all driving at the same time. That seems irresponsible.”
“You’re right, Morty, you’re so right. If there were three of me here right now, two of them would be in the backseat.”
“I don’t feel good, Rick. It’s kind of making me anxious.”
“That’s the jungle juice, Morty. This is one of those lessons eeeeverybody’s gotta learn at some point. Except maybe your dad. He’s a loser, Morty, a real loser, it’s possible he never went to any parties. But eeeeverybody else, you gotta learn it.” Rick, who’s temporarily reformed in Morty’s eyes as just the one person, turns his gaze from the windshield to Morty with an amused expression, which seems appropriate. “Never drink the jungle juice, Morty. Not unless you really wanna get fucked up. You got that?”
“Yea, Rick, geez, I guess so... sorry you had to come and get me.”
“Don’t be sorry, Morty. That party was for losers, I’m, honestly, I’m glad I got you out of there before they infected you with loserness.”
Though his brain is being a bit slow and the glance he receives is subtle, Morty knows what Rick means.
“Thanks, Rick.”
“Whatever, Morty… Anytime.”