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Okay, Rick knew that Morty was probably being bullied, but seriously??
For the nth time, Rick shows up at school to drag Morty away for an adventure. Somehow, he’s managed to show up right during the passing period— he sighs and looks around, peering over the heads of the youths to find the boy he’s looking for. It doesn’t take too long, but the sight he finds makes him pause.
“The fuck did you say to me, kid?”
A scared but bored looking Morty is slammed backwards into the lockers hard enough that sporadic heads turn from far down the hall.
“Nothing! Literally nothing! I didn’t even look at you!”
“Yea, well maybe that’s the fucking problem, twerp!”
“What?? That— that doesn’t even— okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
A boy, who looks so henchman-y that Rick has to roll his eyes, opens a nearby locker— Rick is just too far to tell which one precisely— and Morty is unceremoniously shoved inside. Rick clocks the look on his face as panic with a hint of exasperation. This isn’t the first time this has happened.
“There, we don’t have to look at you anymore! Dumbass freak.”
The idiot and his idiot turn away and this becomes Rick’s moment to intervene. He weaves through the crowd of teenagers.
“Hey, you! Walking stereotype!”
Many heads turn—some unintelligible exclamation from Morty is audible from the wall— and the idiot swallows hard when he realizes Rick is gunning directly for him.
“Who the fuck— I don’t even know what that means—“
“That’s, honestly that’s really pathetic— I need the kid in the locker.” He turns to the quivering henchman, making piercing eye contact before shoving his head towards the lockers, “Which one is he in?”
Idiot, apparently deciding to keep up his brave appearance now that a bit of a crowd has stirred, stands up straight. He grabs his henchman by the shirt collar to still him, takes a step forward, and jabs a pointing finger towards Rick,
“You want him, you find him.”
“That’s real cute, kid. You’re really, you’re really peaking here.”
Another step, braver and braver.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here, but—“
“Pretty much just told you I’m here for the kid.”
“Well, that’s stupid, because, he’s stupid,”
“The real stupid thing here is how you keep getting closer to me. Seriously, probably shouldn’t do that.”
“Oh yea?! Well—“
Right before the idiot’s pointing-jabbing finger can actually reach his chest, Rick snatches the offending wrist and clutches it tightly. The idiot genuinely whimpers.
There’s a moment of silence where neither the idiot nor the hall-crowd can bear to speak and Rick just holds his withering glare on the form before him. Eventually, it’s broken by an absolutely miserable voice from the wall of lockers,
“Um, Rick? What’s, uh, what’s happening out there?”
“Just figuring out where, which locker you’re in, Morty, just getting, dealing with some idiots, don’t even, don’t even worry about it.”
The shaking and restrained form in front of Rick opens his pathetic mouth to speak and before he can, Rick twists the arm hard in a single jerk, then throws the boy off to the side as he screeches. With that taken care of, he looks back at the secondary idiot, who is positively wilting. Rick barely opens his mouth to ask before the boy is pointing at a locker,
“This one, it’s this, he’s in this one—“
“Great. Now fuck off.”
The crowd parts for the henchman’s dead sprint down the hall. A bit of a bustle returns in the form of laughter. Geez, these kids are brutal.
Rick knocks on the locker as he whips out, essentially, a sonic screwdriver, and points it at the lock.
“You, Morty, you doing, you, are you in there, ‘lil buddy?”
“Yea, Rick, I’m here— eek!”
Morty squeals as the lock bursts and the door swings open. His hand goes up over his eyes, readjusting to the light, and he hardly gets a chance to do anything before Rick’s pulling him forward by the bicep,
“C’mon, Morty, we need, we’ve got places to go, let’s go,”
And through a portal they go.
The ordeal is forgotten until that night, sitting in the garage, after some awkward fidgeting from both and that heavy kind of silence that happens when someone is trying to figure out how to bring something up. Rick keeps opening his mouth and closing it again. Morty finally takes a breath in to ask what the hell he wants to talk about when Rick takes it first,
“You always getting bullied like that?”
Oh. Morty sits up a bit, puzzled. Is that all this is about?
“Well, yea, Rick, kinda.”
“I just, I didn’t think kids still got actually shoved into lockers anymore, Morty, that’s. That’s pretty impressive.”
“Gee, thanks, Rick. Is that all?”
“No, Morty, that’s not ‘all,’” Rick swivels his chair around to fully face Morty, who’s sitting on the edge of the desk. “You should, you can’t just let them do that to you, Morty. You gotta do something about it.”
Morty furrows his brow. He’s heard this talk too many times before— tell a trusted adult, ignore them, just say no— and frankly, he hadn’t expected to hear it from Rick. The frustration seeps into his voice,
“Like what, Rick? Ignore them? Tell someone? I’ve pretty much tried it all, Rick, except for fighting back, and those guys are all way bigger than me, so, y’know, can’t really punch him in the face if I can’t even reach his face.”
“Then punch him in the dick, Morty!”
“It doesn’t work, Rick, I can’t do it!”
Not quite a shout, not quite an inside-voice— Morty curls back in on himself immediately after, gazing at Rick tentatively. Rick’s mouth becomes a thin line. A dense silence.
“How, how long has this been going on, Morty?”
“As long as, well, uh, since forever, Rick. I mean, since elementary school, but uh, it got way worse in middle school, and it just never really stopped, I guess. I dunno.”
“Do your parents know?”
“Not really. I mean, I’ve told them, but, I don’t think they really heard me, y’know? I don’t think they listened, they uh, they don’t get it, maybe.”
“Alright, well, maybe I can talk to B—“
“Noooo, Riiiiick! They’ll just tell me to ignore it and eventually it’ll stop. That’s what everyone always says.”
Rick, finally far enough into the discussion that the tension’s begun to alleviate, leans back in his chair and crosses his arms with a flourish,
“Well that, that’s the dumbest advice I’ve ever heard.”
Surprised but not surprised, Morty looks up, the beginning of a smile on his lips,
“Really?”
“Yea, that shit never works. I mean, what do you mean ‘really,’ has it ever worked for you?”
“No! And how am I supposed to ignore someone picking me up by my backpack and throwing me in a trash can?!”
“Okay, A: I’d pay good money to see a video of that, and B: we gotta, we’re gonna put a stop to that Morty, we’re gonna cut that shit out right now.”
With an inviting gesture, Rick turns and rolls his chair back to the desk and pulls some sort of half-broken ray gun out of a drawer. Morty’s face lights up like Christmas and he scoots over on the desk until he can see the contraption. Rick’s already sticking parts and pieces onto it like it’s Lego.
“Really, Rick?! That’s, that’s great!”
“Yea, Morty— nobody’s allowed to bully my grandson, not— nobody but me, Morty. And, and maybe Summer, when you’re being annoying. But that’s it, Morty! Nobody else.”
Morty chuckles. The sentiment is clear enough. In fact, the sentiment is so sweet that Morty temporarily forgets to pay attention to the process, doesn’t see what’s going on until Rick snatches his hand by the wrist and something stabs his finger.
“Ow! Rick, what the hell?”
“I’m hooking it up to your DNA signal, you little wimp. If I wanted something that could be used against you, I’d just give you a regular gun! I have, I’ve got plenty of those lying around Morty, just lying there, sitting around doing nothing, why would I be making you a, building you a whole new one?”
“Oh, I, uh, I guess that makes sense, I just—“
“Here.” Rick twists a screw, the thing lights up, and he thrusts it into Morty’s hands. “It’s basically a souped-up taser, Morty. Go ahead, shoot something, shoot— shoot that bucket over there or something.”
Morty twists, spots the target, takes aim, and fires. He hits it— barely— and it sparks loudly and angrily, jolting enough that it leaps and falls over. The bucket is thoroughly defeated. Morty turns back to Rick, delighted.
“Thanks, Rick! You’re, you’re the best grandpa ever!”
“I know, I’m pretty— pretty amazing, huh?”
With not enough warning, Morty slides from the desk and stumbles into throwing his arms around Rick, practically in his lap to accomplish it.
“I love you, Rick.”
Despite himself, truly practically involuntarily, Rick chuckles and throws one arm around the boy.
“Yea, yea. Love you too, little buddy.” His heart twitches and he rolls his eyes to an audience of zero, “Now get off me, ya little twerp. C’mon, let’s talk through how you’re gonna do this.”