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In hindsight it probably wasn’t a particularly wise decision on his part to break into his Grandfather’s garage and dig through a box labelled ‘ Time Travel Stuff’ in a fit of petulant teenage rage just because Rick was being difficult on Thanksgiving, he was always especially grouchy on major holidays for some reason but this year toeing the line didn’t seem to be a phrase in his vocabulary, he snapped and jeered and griped, making it a point over his Dad’s slightly overcooked Turkey to deliver pointed little jabs about his appearance or his lack of romantic prospects or how little he mattered in the eyes of the universe until it had devolved into a screaming match resulting in thrown food, his Mom digging out the box wine (once upon a time he would have felt more guilty about that) and a impromptu fist fight in the back yard, he got his ass kicked, but it felt good at the time that he hadn’t backed down or cowered like he might have done six months prior when Rick first pushed him through the swirling green mass of a portal, it had felt good that he’d stood his ground but the angry bruises he was sporting courtesy of Rick’s sucker punch right hook made him so blindingly desperate to stick it to the bastard and mend his wounded pride that every rational thought of how utterly moronic it was to mess with tech that he didn’t understand had gone out his head.
He’s now bitterly regretting said idiocy pulling a trash bag over himself, leaning up against the filthy dumpster to preserve the last of his body heat in the sub zero temp, the buildings looked familiar at least, he’d be a little glad that it seemed like he was still in Washington if he wasn’t currently turning into a human ice cube, shifting used needles with his shoes to give him a place to lie down for the night he curled up and pondered his situation. He can’t sleep, he knows he’d freeze to death, but everything hurts and has simultaneously begun to go numb, the only sound he can pick out over the chattering of his teeth are the cars speeding past him as determined to get somewhere warm as he was. There’s people walking by the lip of the alley giggling, duck-shots of female laughter bursting through the air accompanied by the low grumbling of male chuckles, the ends of cringeworthy pick up lines fading into the distance, they must be drunk, oh yeah, that’s what people did on Thanksgiving, he wished he was drunk, he’d even take whatever catpiss booze Rick held in his silver flask if it would make him feel warmer, it was something Rick had said once about blood vessels relaxing when exposed to alcohol and running back to your appendages, he scrunches up his fists to keep the encroaching lack of feeling out of his hands, he couldn’t die like this, please please don’t let him die like this, he was fourteen, he was a kid, although he didn’t feel like it anymore, he’d just wanted to be treated with a little kindness, maybe respect from Rick for once for dealing with his bullshit and have a nice dinner with his family, he’d been in worst scrapes than this and made it out.
‘But that had been when Rick was around, you’re the dumb one’ He reflected dourly bringing his knees closer to his chest, flakes of snow soaking through his hair causing his curls to hang limp over his eyes.
‘Always look on the bright side of life’ his inner monologue mocked cheerily, he was deeply unamused that his mind had gone there, at least give him a more pleasant image to die to than someone being hung on a cross, this was not the time for ‘Life of Brian’ even if it had been the film that had finally made Rick genuinely laugh in his presence, he shook his head trying to stay alert dislodging droplets of frigid water from his hair to run down the back of his thin T-shirt, for fuck’s sake even his subconscious was rebelling against him. If he could muster up the strength to be be angry at his clouding mental state he would have slapped himself but he had no strength left to give, he really was very tired, maybe if he just closed his eyes, a power nap he told himself letting his consciousness slip away from him.
…
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but when gained awareness again, he could hear a voice, their footsteps crunching on the dirty snow beneath him.
“Kid? Eh! Chico?-“ his shoulders were shook lightly then there was a warm hand pressed against his forehead “-Mierda! You’re freezing, how long have you been out here?”
he couldn’t respond.
“Dios mío kid, you should be dead” the voice said far too concerned for his taste, sharp blue eyes passing over his hazy vision and with them the scent of Rick’s brand of cigarettes, it was the one thing thing the man seemed sentimental about when it came to Earth, in the sea of strange and foreign that surrounded Rick on a day to day basis the fact he smoked Camels was a startling reminder that he was in fact human, however the sudden exposure to something so familiar came as an unpleasant surprise as it solidified that Rick hadn’t come looking for him, that he’d likely been slowly dying for hours and his Grampa was probably too hammered to even know he was gone. Shame, fear and bone deep resignation burned fiercely behind his eyes unknowingly tumbling down his cheeks in silent trails, the stranger had enough tact to make the connection stamping the cig out beneath his feet.
“Cigs not your thing Pequeño?”
He tried to laugh but it came out a painful wheeze.
“Don’t try to talk, my name’s Rick-“
Of course it was
“It was pretty smart to go for the dumpster, the fermentation from the rotting stuff is producing heat, it’s probably what kept you alive, I’m gonna put my jacket on you okay?”
The stranger’s hands were exceedingly gentle as they gathered him from under the trash bag shifting a fleece lined denim jacket onto his shoulders, it was still warm from the man’s body heat and he instinctively pulled it closer to his frame.
“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? A friend? Family member? A shelter?”
It takes a great amount effort to shake his head, the man bit his lip considering something, it didn’t take long for him to make a decision “You stay here, there’s a phone box just down the street, I’m gonna make a call, I’m coming back alright?”
The man jogged out the alley turning right presumably towards a phone box, he distantly wondered why he didn’t just use his cellphone but oh well, he’d left his jacket so he didn’t seem to be lying, he’d probably come back for it at least if not him. It’s helping though, he’s beginning to warm up a little and becoming more cognisant of his surroundings, his finger tips are looking slightly less blue getting back on their way to irritable (at least it isn’t frostbite) red, definitely an improvement, he’s got just enough coordination to clumsily shove his arms properly through the sleeves, the coat completely dwarfs him in the scent of Camels and motor oil, he’s loathed to admit that it reminds him of Rick and it’s actually very comforting.
“Okay Pequeño, I’ve called Màma and I’m taking you to my place until the worst of this cold is over” said a suddenly familiar voice, it was clearer to him now, lacking the rasp from the years of substance abuse that he was used to but with less fog in his head was definitely, undeniably Rick, oh God, Rick was Rick , granted, a much younger version but still, Rick was carrying him out of the alleyway and placing him carefully in the backseat of a very beat up retro looking car, if someone had told him that Rick would be doing this for him not four hours earlier in the evening he probably would have laughed himself into hysterics because Rick was as harsh as the winter and often just as unforgiving, kindness was not in his repertoire, he wouldn’t have looked twice at someone in his position in the filthy, trash laden snow, he would have just kept walking on by. The rumble of the engine started up underneath him and they pulled off going God knows where.
God knows where turned out to be a little house on the very edge of town, more into the countryside than he remembers he’s ever been, normally this would have filled him with dread as he watched phone wires become less and less common the further they drove, he reasoned from the context clues, namely that his Grandfather only appeared two or three years older than himself that he was in the past, and his only realistic way of outside contact now was probably a landline, if it was anyone but Rick he would be trying to fashion an improvised weapon out of the thermos flask rolling around the footwell behind the passenger seat, he dragged himself half upright on shaking arms “Why are you doing this?”
“Oh Joder!” Rick jumped slamming his foot on the break “Chico, Avisa a un chico la próxima vez, Jesús!” He whipped his head around to glare at him.
“What?”
“Warn a guy the next time you’re gonna do that kid, Christ, I could have killed us”
“Oh, right”
His face softened.
“So you’re finally responsive, how’d you feel?”
“Like I barely survived h-hypothermia”
“That’s because you barely survived hypothermia, I’m honestly surprised you’re talking to me”
“Is that your your house?” He pointed a shaky finger to a structure in the nearing distance.
“Yup”
“Why a-are you doing this?” He asked again.
“Consider it my good deed for the year”
“There’s not m-much I can g-give back”
“You don’t need to give anything back”
“Everything’s got a p-price Rick, what’s yours?”
Rick let out a long suffering sigh “Honest to God kid I’m just being nice, you were clearly in a bad spot so I’m giving you a roof over your head”
He almost scoffs that it isn’t much of a promise because Rick doesn’t believe in God, or anything outside of his own genius.
“I’m not a kid, you’re like two years older than me”
“How old are you?”
“I’m not telling you my personal i-information Rick”
“You’re about to meet my Mother, it doesn’t get much more personal than that, I’ve dated people who haven’t met my Mother”
He had a point.
“Fourteen”
“Shit” Rick’s shoulders tensed “Did they kick you out?”
More like you knocked me out .
“Something like that”
“Did they do that to your eye?”
“Maybe”
“Did they let you get anything before you left?”
“Do the c-clothes on my b-back count?”
“Bastardos” Rick mutters under his breath, it makes his skin crawl, sympathy was another thing the Rick of the future lacked in his wheelhouse, especially not the quiet, affronted sympathy he was getting here, regardless of its actual legitimacy it felt phoney coming from Rick’s mouth.
“You don’t have to d-do that”
“Do what?”
“Fake feeling s-sorry for me, or pity me”
“Oh Jesus kid!-he starts aggravated before taking a breath to steady himself “-it’s not fake, that was screwed up of them Pequeño”
“Not the f-first time I’ve been made to sleep o-outside”
It wasn’t, Rick sometimes locked him out accidentally on some of his worst weekend benders and wouldn’t realise until the morning, he’d learned to keep a blanket and pillow in Snowball’s abandoned doghouse just in case.
“Where do you stay then?”
“Usually the dog house”
Rick’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel as he pulled into a gravel drive shifting the gear into neutral and turning off the engine.
“Think you can walk?”
“I’m not sure”
Then his door was opening and he was once again being lifted from the car, Rick’s heart beating steadily against his chest as he rapped his knuckles on the glass panel door in front of them.
“Màma! I’m home!”
“Just a minute Mijo!” Keys jangled at the lock and a woman who couldn’t have been much older than thirty opened the door, he did the math and a pang gripped his chest, she had his eyes, bottle green, he’d always wondered where those had come from, Rick never talked about his parents, although he certainly inherited his yearling thoroughbred frame from his Mother who was as tall if not more so than her son, dark hair hanging about her shoulders in ringlets similar to his own, her face was calm but her eyes fought with concern when she saw Rick carry him over the threshold, he set his eyes to their floor, he was mortified, this was the first, probably only time he’d get to meet his Great Grandmother and he looked like a drowned sewer rat, he tried desperately to push his wet curls out of his face and behind his ears to make him seem more presentable, feverishly attempting to recall when he was little and his own Mother had bothered to try to teach him some manners for when someone invites you to theirs for the evening, it had always felt half hearted, like she was doing it just because it was expected of her, not because she actually cared how he acted.
“Thank y-you for opening your h-home to me Mrs?”
“Valentina” She chirped brightly “-and it’s no trouble, the more the merrier, right Mijo?” Her kindly eyes flicking across him huddled in her son’s jacket “Cuánto puede pesar?” She muttered lowly at Rick over his head.
“Demasiado poco” Rick whispered back.
“Think you can stand now?” Rick asked him, he barely remembered he was being held.
“Oh! Yeah! Sorry, let me just-“
“Relax kiddo, I’ve got you” Rick lowered his feet to the floor gently keeping a hand underneath his shoulder to support him if he went down, he didn’t thankfully, he stumbled like a new born foal, legs quaking beneath him yet to his internal gratitude managed to keep himself upright.
Valentina turned her lively gaze back onto him from Rick “I don’t know about you Mijo but I’m starving and the Tamales just finished steaming”
“Sounds great…Mom” There was a sticky pause where Rick was definitely going to say Màma but jerkily stopped himself, he looked in between them in bewilderment, then the penny dropped, if the ground came alive and swallowed him up where he stood it wouldn’t be too soon, it probably just occurred to them that he was whiter than Frosty the Snowman’s balls and if he guesstimated accurately that Rick was about sixteen or seventeen here that made it Thanksgiving 1972/3 and if his history class was anything to go by people who looked like him weren’t exactly kind to minorities, especially ones straight out suburbia.
Nausea curled in his chest.
“Please don’t do that, please speak f-freely in your h-home, I’m sorry if I gave you the i-impression that you couldn’t” His hands were shaking again, damnit, why did he have to fuck everything up, this was his family one way or another and they felt threatened by his presence. He couldn’t get anything right, no wonder Rick treated him like dirt, anxiety swirled violently around his mind clumping his thoughts together like glue on paint bristles, he wasn’t aware that from the outside what had started as nervous trembling had increased to full on panic stricken vibration.
“Cariño no-“ Valentina enveloped him in a hug, hands careful on his frail bones, her orange gingham dress swaying about the floor “It’s not you hon, you haven’t done anything wrong” He couldn’t remember the last time his Mom had had hugged him, in fact he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged him at all, a terribly pathetic sound crawled out of his throat, Valentina only squeezed him tighter “I’m sorry Sweetheart, I’m sorry for whatever’s been done to you” he clutched at her lapels like a infant hiccuping through sobs, he suddenly felt the weight of his youth, and exceptionally stupid but Valentina just stayed there rubbing his back shushing him until he was finished, when he finally pulled back there was a massive tear stain on her shoulder and his soaking hair had made a puddle on her floor.
“Oh my God, your dress. Oh my god your floor! I’ll dry it up I promise, I just need a t-towel or a cloth or something, stay there Mrs Valentina, I fix this, I’ll-“
This time it’s Rick who catches his flailing hands “What’s your name?”
“You never asked?” Valentina gasped from her position above them affronted.
“Màma, not the time”
“Morty, it’s Morty”
“Okay Morty, don’t look at her, look at me” Rick cooed soothingly turning his chin making him face softened cornflower blue eyes running his thumbs in little circles on his hands, he’d never seen them this gentle, normally they reminded him of stalactites that formed in ice caves, hardened and solid.
“You’re cold, you’re tired and you’re hungry, I’m going to handle the wet patch, I want you to go through to the kitchen with Màma and eat, then I’m going to run you a bath and we’ll get you a change of clothes, I’ll come through soon, alright?”
He found himself nodding without really meaning to, Rick’s surety had a way of subconsciously getting him to obey the man, he didn’t really know why, he followed Valentina through to their tiled kitchen his shoes squelching beneath him, he was internally dialoguing about how uncomfortable the sensation was when the smell of something mouthwatering delicious wafted through the air, his stomach giving an involuntary grumble, he attempted help Valentina set the table but no cigar.
“Sit” She said in that tone that all Mothers magically possess once they have children that suggests no room for argument, she moved over to an absurdly large pot sat on the ancient looking wood burner stove picking out things wrapped in corn husks placing the plate piled high with the corn husk wraps in front of him “Eat up Cariño”
“Thank you” He went to take a bite.
“You’ve got to unfold it first”
“Ah” He pulled apart the husk to reveal a package of…something, he wasn’t sure exactly what, initially it seemed a little like a dumpling but on a bigger scale but the texture wasn’t right, he’d never had the chance to have a tamale before, Rick avoided the Latin food stands like they’d give him the plague.
“It’s got shit on the r-real stuff M-m-morty”
Then he’d look to the distance as if remembering something, he realised now it was his Mother’s cooking, nostalgic old bastard.
He was right though, he doubted any food stand could have compared to the zingy chilli, garlic, black pepper and cinnamon all hitting his tongue in fireworks of flavour.
“You’ve got to keep these a-away from me otherwise I w-won’t stop”
Valentina chuckled “I’m glad you like them, and I’ve made enough to get us into the new year, take as many as you want”
He grabbed three more barely avoiding choking himself as he scarfed them down, he hadn’t eaten much at his actual family dinner, this was so much better than that.
“Morty?” Young Rick entered through the door “I’ve run you a bath, there’s a change of clothes sitting on the toilet seat, they’re mine so they might be a little big, just roll the sleeves up, and deodorant’s in the medicine cabinet”
“Okay”
“Bathroom’s upstairs, second door on the left, and give me your shoes, I’ll put them on the radiator”
He toed off his converse.
“I’ll help clean up”
“No, you will bathe and warm up, go” Rick pointed to the stairs, tone scarily like his Mother’s also leaving no room for him to object, he didn’t really feel like objecting anyway.
The bathroom smelled of orange oil, the tub steaming, invitingly full of hot, clean water. He stripped slowly, folding his clothes neatly on as he could before sliding himself in right under the brim and washing off the remnants of the night’s events, patting himself dry and spraying himself down with deodorant he grabbed the pyjamas set on the toilet seat, they were garish paisley patterned things although he was sure they were very fashionable for the time, Rick was also correct in that they were far, far too long on him, he couldn’t even get the pants on, it wasn’t worth trying, he wasn’t big, or tall, for his age to start with but the pyjamas being Rick’s made it abundantly clear just how much of a difference there was, he felt like a toddler wrapped in their Father’s clothes, he ended up in just the shirt, rolling up most of the arms into cuffs, towelling off his hair as he padded back out into the hallway with his old clothes, he met Rick on his way back down.
“I’ll take them, we’ll wash them in the sink, they’ll probably be dry by morning, and I assume my pants were too big for you”
He nodded.
“Oh well, I kind of suspected that would be the case, you pull it off though, I hope you don’t mind that we’ve set you up in my room for the night”
“No, that’s fine”
Rick was wearing another set of garish pyjamas himself this time in neon construction warning orange, how cotton could be near neon he didn’t know.
“Follow me” Rick beckoned him through to his room, it looked…normal. Uncomfortably normal, spine shudderingly normal, ordinary and plain and rather unremarkable, hilariously dated but he was in the past, everything was hilariously dated, clean too, nothing like the obscenely cluttered garage he spent most of his days in, it seems that once upon a time, organised chaos had actually meant organised chaos to the man, the only evidence of Rick’s inventing at all was a stray screw driver abandoned on the floor and half sketched out ideas in spiral notebooks left open at random points around the room, for the most part it looked like any other teenaged boys’. It was like stepping into an episode of the Twilight Zone, he was sure that if he shifted his eyes to his right to see out of Rick’s bedroom window there’d be a drove of Pigs flying past.
“Thank you”
“Don’t mention it Pequeño”
“What’s that mean by the way?”
“It means Little one”
“I’m not that small”
Rick eyed him with that oddly Maternal expression again “Come off it Cariño, I was scared you’d snap like a twig when I picked you up in that alley, did your family also not feed you?”
“Its complicated”
“Oh kiddo” Rick murmured softly.
It’s too nice, too considerate, too compassionate, too unlike Rick, he runs a hand through his hair awkwardly fingers getting painfully stuck on half dried curls “Ow, ouch, damnit!” Frustration climbed through his veins getting the better of him “These s-stupid goddamn curls, Christ! They already look b-bad enough!” He wanted to kick himself, this little temper tantrum made him look like such an idiot and total whining bitch in front of Rick again , he pulled harder.
“Hey, hey, Morty” Rick soothed unnaturally “I’ll help okay, can you stop pulling for me?” Rick’s standing above him, long guitarist’s (He’d spotted several Picks used as bookmarks) fingers in his hair carefully untangling the mess he’d made, leading him to sit in between his spindly legs leaning against his chest, his eyes searched the room “The Nivea stuff will have to do” he grabbed a glass bottle of yellow liquid pouring a little onto his palm then tenderly working it through his strands smoothing out the fuzz, when’s he’s done he just lets him lie there enjoying the warmth of a hand carding through his hair.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” He fidgets with his fingers.
“Because you need some kindness and I don’t think you often get much of it”
He joins their hands together comparing their features, his look childish and dainty, Rick’s on the other hand, even in his youth they held quiet power, a musician’s hand, an inventor’s hand, the hands that will reshape the multiverse, even now he was so accomplished, so smart, he’d never live up to it, he couldn’t.
“You’re Mom’s nice” He says instead.
“Yeah, Màma’s great”
“My Mom drinks, and my Grandfather, he l-left when she was a little girl then came back, I don’t know if the d-drinking is because of him or for him” He pauses “I don’t she ever really wanted me. My older sister was a t-teenage pregnancy, my Dad’s kind of a pathetic leech, not intentionally, he just is, convinced Mom to marry him to avoid scandal, me e-existing after Summer is kinda a m-miracle when I think about it”
“Hmm” Rick hummed.
“Mom gets r-real mean when she’s drunk, she doesn’t hit much, that’s more Grampa but drunk words are sober thoughts and all that, you know ‘ I wish you hadn’t been born’ stuff ‘ I didn’t want a boy, too much hassle’ I know it’s not s-screaming or swearing but it still…I don’t know”
“Makes your heart hurt, like a physical pain in your chest?”
“Yeah”
“I just w-want someone to give enough of a s-shit to love me ya know? Like really love me, Because I don’t think she does” He was beginning to choke up again “She should, shouldn’t she? Love me?”
“Oh Amorcito”
“I’m not a fuck up on purpose”
“Of course you’re not”
“I try really f-fucking hard”
“You’re making yourself upset”
He pulls his knees up to his chest picking at the carpet, it was so hard to believe that this boy would become Rick, he was so gentle, he shifted himself around so he was looking up to Rick, cornflower blue met his own gaze “Can you sing me something, to help me s-sleep, I saw the guitar Picks everywhere-“ there’s complete silence “-actually, I’m sorry, that was a s-stupid thing to ask”
“What? No, no that wasn’t stupid, it just isn’t something I expected”
“I shouldn’t have s-said anything, forget it, really, I-“
“Does it matter if I sing in English or Spanish?”
“No, but you don’t have to, I’ll find someway to sleep”
“Kid, I don’t mind, I’m just thinking”
“Okay”
The time he spent thinking was torture, he was terrified that any minute now Rick would realise the absurdity of what he was doing and push him off, he went very still, Rick’s thinking came to an end.
“I think I’ve got one, I had a baby sitter who used to sing this, it’s Scottish apparently” Rick resettled him more comfortably in his lap.
‘ Ally bally, ally bally bee,
Sittin' on yer mammy's knee,
Greetin' for a wee bawbee,
Tae buy some Coulter's cand y’
‘Ally bally, ally bally bee,
When you grow up you'll go to the sea,
Makin' pennies for your daddy and me,
Tae buy mair Coulter's Candy’
If he was being honest he had absolutely no idea what half of the song meant and it certainly wasn’t Spanish but the slightly chesty voice of Rick yet untouched by time and self loathing was soothing in his ear, creating a hum underneath the older teen’s ribs that made his eyes begin to droop from the steady repetitive motion of the verses.
‘ Little Annie's greetin tae
Sae whit can puir wee Mammy dae
But gie them a penny atween them twae
Tae buy mair Coulter's Candy ’
‘ Poor wee Jeanie's lookin' awfy thin,
A rickle o' banes covered o’er wi' skin,
Now she's gettin' a wee double chin,
Fae sookin' Coulter's Candy ’
‘ Ally bally, ally bally bee,
Sittin' on yer mammy's knee,
Greetin' for a wee bawbee,
Tae buy some Coulter's cand y’
“Time for bed I think”
For the third time that night Rick carried him like a porcelain doll tucking him into the sleeping bag laid out on his floor.
“We’ll figure it all out tomorrow, I promise”
He switched the light off climbing into his own bed.
Babies don’t sleep this well.