Work Text:
Normally Morty was excited to tag along with Summer to parties - in fact, he had been excited for this one too - but now that he was here, he wanted nothing more than to go home. The music was loud, the drinks were warm, and Morty barely knew anyone here.
This was nothing like the chill atmosphere of the frolf party he'd gone to a few months ago. Everyone here was just looking to get wasted or to hookup and Morty wasn't really interested in either of those.
He had no idea where his sister had gone. It was a really big house and there were far too many people in it for Morty to feel comfortable wandering around in. He elbowed his way through groups of drunk party goers, towards the kitchen, hoping it would be a little less crowded there.
"Hey, Morty."
Jessica was here? He hadn't realized she was coming and now the party suddenly seemed a little more bearable.
"H-hey, Jessica." He looked around the kitchen as he entered. Jessica, Tricia, Brad, and a few other upperclassmen Morty didn't know the names of were gathered around the counter. They had a stack of small plastic shot glasses and two bottles of booze between them.
"Come do shots with us." Tricia was quick to grab Morty's arm and drag him between her and Jessica.
"Uhhh, I don't know...." Morty wasn't even supposed to be here. Once his mom heard there was going to be college students, she'd forbid Morty from going. Her excuse was "you're way too young to be exposed to that", as if she and Rick weren't regularly drunk around him.
"Come on, Morty. Cut loose." Brad slid one of the shots towards him, before sliding ones over to Jessica and Tricia. "Don't be a freshie."
Morty despised that nickname. It was an insult for freshman that had rapidly gained popularity at his high school and he constantly had to listen to Summer call him that. While he didn't want to go home drunk - his mother would kill him if she found out - he also didn't want to be remembered as the "buzzkill freshie".
Besides, wasn't this part of being a teenager? Sneaking out, breaking rules, getting drunk at parties? "I ain't no freshie. Gimme the shot."
The taste was sharp and it burned his throat as he threw it back, but it felt nice to actually fit in for once, especially as they cheered him on. "Yeaaaah, Morty!"
"That was hot, Morty! Do it again!"
He awkwardly laughed at Tricia's comment, not entirely sure how to respond. He knew Summer got mad anytime he showed even the slightest bit of interest in her friends and he wasn't trying to incur that wrath now. But he accepted a refill from her and downed the next shot.
Maybe it was terrible to give into peer pressure, but he let them talk him into a couple more and his head was buzzing by the time he finally left the kitchen. He'd switched from liquor to some fancy mixed drink that Tricia made - she was apparently an excellent wannabe bartender - and he sipped it as he wandered out of the kitchen.
Now that he wasn't with people he knew from school, the anxiety that'd been buzzing inside of him earlier slowly returned, now made worse by the alcohol. Morty temporarily fled the house, stepping out onto the porch and he set his cup down on one of the tables, so he could call Rick. If his grandpa was in a good mood, maybe he'd come pick Morty up early.
He slowly started pacing the length of the porch, watching people come and go through the front door as he waited for Rick to answer. He found it hard to believe that people were still showing up to a party that had began several hours earlier.
A truck pulled up to the curb and a bunch of guys in Letterman jackets jumped out. Morty watched them walk up to the house and didn't realize he was staring until one of the guys waved as he passed.
"Uh s-sorry. Didn't mean to stare." He gave an awkward smile before turning around, feeling his face flush in embarrassment. God, he really needed to learn some social grace from Summer if he didn't want to embarrass himself at future parties.
Just as Morty thought his call might go to voicemail, Rick finally answered and hearing his grandpa's voice instantly eased some of the anxiety he was feeling.
"The fuck you want?"
"Hey, R-R-Riiiick."
"So, Morty. Is that party everything you hoped it would be? You just having the time of your life over there?"
He didn't want to admit Rick was right, that he was just as miserable as his grandpa had predicted. "F-fuck you. May-maybe.... maybe I am. Did some shots with my friends."
"Oh really? If it's so great, then why are you calling me?"
Morty went silent, listening to the pounding music and chattering people partying in the house. He was surrounded by people, but he'd never felt more alone.
"Morty? Hey, you still there, buddy?"
"Y-y-you were right, Rick. This party is shit and I sh-sh-should have just stayed home."
"You do know I was just giving you shit, right?"
Rick actually sounded a little concerned and the thought made Morty smile a bit. He turned around, looking for his drink and found it had been moved to the porch railing. He took a sip and immediately noticed it tasted different than he remembered, saltier than it previously was. He pulled his cup back to examine it, thinking he'd mistakenly grabbed someone else's, but it was definitely his cup. The big 'M' he'd drawn in Sharpie was hard to miss and he took another drink, cringing at the soapy taste it left in his mouth. "Hey, Rick. Can you come get me?"
"Your parents are still up, so now might not be the best time to try and sneak back in."
Shit.
Morty forgot about that. He'd snuck out with Summer before his parents got home from work. If he went home now, he would most definitely get grounded. With the way this party was going, though, that didn't seem like such a bad idea. He was tired and his head was starting to pound. He wanted nothing more than to go home. He threw back the rest of his drink, before wandering back into the house for some water. "Can't you just portal me home?"
"No, because I'm going to be picking you and your sister up, dummy. And I don't want to make more than one trip. Listen, Morty. Stop being a wallflower. Go have fun with people your age. If the party still blows, call back in an hour or two and then I'll pick you up."
"An hour or two?!" Morty screwed his eyes shut as his anxiety steadily grew worse. He was going to be stuck here for two more hours? The house suddenly felt a lot smaller and Morty took in a sharp breath of air he filled a glass with water. Drinking it did nothing to help him and he braced himself against the counter as he pulled the phone away from his ear.
Everything was suddenly too loud and Morty was getting lightheaded. He reaaaally needed to sit down. He leaned back against the closest wall and closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the world spinning around him. If this was what being drunk was like, then Morty wanted no part of it. He couldn't understand why his mom and grandpa enjoyed this. Everything was spinning and Morty's legs felt weak.
He could hear Rick saying something through the phone but he was done talking by the time Morty raised the phone back up to his ear. "Wh-wh-what did you say, R-Rick?"
"A lightweight, aren't you? You're a cute little freshie." Two hands suddenly gripped his shoulders and he cracked open his eyes to find the same blond haired guy who'd waved at him earlier, standing in front of him. College football player, if the Letterman jacket was anything to go off of. "If you need a place to crash, I can show you to a bed."
Rick was saying something again. But Morty's was more focused on the college guy standing in front of him. He wasn't the best at reading social cues, but something didn't seem right here.
The guy took Morty's wrist and started pulling him towards the stairs. His grip was unrelenting, even as Morty tried to pull his arm away. The hand around his wrist was too strong and Morty's shaking legs were too uncoordinated for him to break free. "Le'go of me."
"Relax, freshie. I'll take care of you."
Morty raised the phone to ask Rick to pick him up right now, but the call had ended and he cursed as he realized he must have hung up the phone. He didn't want to go upstairs with this stranger and he didn't want to pass out in some frat house bed.
He wanted to go home and pass out in his own bed.
Morty wasn't sure why, but he couldn't think straight right now and he didn't like the way this night was spiralling out of his control. He quickly texted something to Rick, his fingers flying over the keyboard faster than his mind could process.
~
Rick had been annoyed, but mildly amused when Morty called him. He didn't lie to his daughter and cover for his grandson, just so the little shit could bother him instead of partying. Based on the stutter and slurred words, it was immediately obvious his grandson was drunk and, while Rick was still a little pissed that Morty would choose some lame party over doing literally anything else with him, he was little glad Morty was actually being a normal rebellious teenager for once.
However, the texts he received after Morty unexpectedly hung up on him were an entirely different story. While his grandson was no literary genius, Morty rarely spelled words wrong, except for moments where he was a shithead - sometimes he'd call his sister 'Bummer' or 'Slummer', or call Rick 'Grandpa Dick' - but now he was typing like he couldn't even see his fucking keyboard.
Rick newd help
Sommrthibg wrong witg mee
HURRY
Rick knew it could just be a ploy to get him to come pick Morty up sooner, but something about those texts didn't seem right. It almost seemed like he was-
Rick snatched his keys off the garage counter and hurried out to his ship.
Stupid paternal instincts making him leave early just like Morty wanted.
The party was in a fancy neighborhood, clearly part of a college town if the surrounding frat houses were anything to go off of, and Rick parked his ship in front of a bougie house with a well kept lawn.
He didn't waste any time, rushing inside and going from room to room to look for Morty. There were high schoolers and college students everywhere - making out in corners, dancing in the middle of rooms, passed out on couches - but there was no sign of Morty.
Rick headed upstairs next to check what he assumed would be bedrooms. He didn't bother checking the first room. Neither of the people who were moaning inside sounded like his grandson. He moved onto the next bedroom, which had quite a few people in it. He shut the door as soon as someone asked if he wanted to join in.
Rick was starting to wonder if he was at the wrong house. Maybe he'd put in the address wrong. He headed towards the last door, at the end of the hall, but it was locked.
He didn't bother knocking and kicked the door in, forcing it open. Light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating a familiar figure. Wearing only his briefs, Morty was passed out on the bed and there was an older guy - most likely a college student - on top of him, their hands sliding just under the waistband of his briefs.
"Take your fucking hands off my grandson!" Rick saw red as he burst into the room and, before he even realized what he was doing, he was throwing the guy to the ground and aiming a laser gun down at him. "Get. The fuck. OUT!"
The guy didn't even bother getting dressed, scrambling out of the room in his boxers, and Rick quickly turned to check on Morty. He was out cold and when Rick checked under one of his eyelids, Morty's pupils were mere pinpricks, a sure sign of drug usage.
"Can you hear me, Junebug?" There was no response. Not that Rick was really expecting one. It's likely Morty would be out for quite a few hours, depending on what he was drugged with and how much was used.
Rick spared a glance around the room, looking for Morty's clothes, but the bedroom they were in was an absolute mess. Dirty clothes covered practically every inch of the floor and he had no idea where to even start looking for his grandson's clothes.
So Rick did the next best thing.
He shrugged off his lab coat and slipped Morty's arms through the sleeves, wrapping his grandson up in it. He lifted Morty off the bed, balancing his grandson on his hip, and hurried back downstairs. As he reached the ground floor, the sound of a familiar laugh caught his attention.
Summer.
Rick's anger returned tenfold. Summer was down here having a grand old time, while her brother had been two seconds away from being assaulted.
He stormed into the living room, grabbed Summer by her bicep and started pulling her away before she even had a chance to turn around. Her friends all looked shocked at his unexpected appearance and he knew Summer's expression probably mirrored theirs.
"Hey, get the fuck off-....." She turned around, ready to fuck someone up, until she realized who it was that grabbed her. "Grandpa Rick? What the hell are you doing here?"
"We're leaving."
"Like hell I am." She tried to tug her arm out of his grip and, when that didn't work, dug her heels into the carpet. However, there was no way she was getting out of the grip of his cybernetic arm. "Let go, you old prick!"
He shoved her towards the ship when they were close enough, but she stood her ground and glared up at him. Her gaze had yet to leave his own furious stare and it was clear she hadn't even realized Rick was no longer wearing his labcoat or that Morty was the one wearing it. In fact, it seemed she hadn't even realized he was holding Morty.
"Oh my God. How the fuck could you do that to me? Everyone at school is going to think I'm a loser because my Grandpa showed up and made me leave a frat party early."
"Well, guess what. Grandpa thinks you're a loser, too. Because you weren't keeping an eye on Morty, someone roofied your fucking brother, Summer!" Her eyes finally shifted to the bundle in his arms and it was a little satisfying to see a look of horror replace the irritated scowl she'd been wearing. "You are so lucky he managed to text me before he passed out. If I hadn't shown up when I did....."
He didn't need to finish that sentence. The color seemed to drain from her face as she connected the dots and the plastic cup of booze she'd been holding fell from her grip. "Now get in the fucking car."
She didn't argue after that, climbing into the back when Rick buckled Morty into the passenger seat. The ride home was silent and Rick could see Summer in the rearview mirror, constantly glancing at the back of the passenger seat. "Not one word of this to your parents."
"Duh, I'm not stupid."
"Could have fooled me." She glared at his reflection in the rearview and he scowled back at her. She had no right to be mad when the only job she'd had tonight was to keep an eye on Morty. "By the way, you're grounded, Summer. One month. No parties, no friends over, no leaving the house for anything except school."
"That's not fair. You aren't my dad, Rick. You can't ground me."
"Not fair? Not fair?! Take a good look at your brother, Summer, and say that shit again." That shut her up real quick. He'd have to make up some lie to tell Beth and Jerry that would justify being grounded, because he wasn't going to rat Morty out. Rick snuck out to his fair share of parties when he was a teenager, he knows damn well that Beth did too, and he couldn't even count the number of times he'd caught Summer sneaking out to a party.
Obviously, this could have all been avoided if Morty had just stayed home like his mom told him to, but he shouldn't have to worry about being drugged and molested by creeps when he did go to parties.
They both sat in silence when the ship landed in the driveway, before Rick finally turned around to look at her. "Look, Sum-Sum. There was a reason I asked you to keep an eye on Morty. He's still young and naive and there are sick fucks who will take advantage of that. But from now on, if it's a frat party, he isn't allowed to go."
"I'm sorry." She glanced at Morty, only just now realizing why he was wrapped up in Rick's lab coat, and the thought of someone molesting her unconscious brother made her sick to her stomach. She'd just assumed Morty would be alright on his own and abandoned him to go hang out and drink with the cool kids. "I didn't think this would be that different from any of the other parties we've gone to. I thought he'd be fine."
"He will be fine. Might have a killer headache tomorrow depending on what he was drugged with."
Rick grabbed Morty out of the passenger seat and headed towards the sub-basement hatch. It'd probably be best if he kept Morty down there until he regained consciousness. He didn't need Beth up his ass about this. "Summer, can you bring a change of clothes for him?"
"Sure, Grandpa Rick."
~
Morty cracked his eyes open and immediately closed them against the florescent lights shining down on him. Florescent lights and musty smell meant he was in the sub-basement, but he had absolutely no memory of how he got there.
Hell, he couldn't even remember what he'd been doing last night. The last thing he remembers is going to the party with Summer and then.....
The world spinning as he was tugged upstairs.
Rough hands shoving him onto a bed and yanking at his clothes.
The cool air and warm fingers brushing against his bare skin as he lost consciousness.
Morty jolted into a sitting position, his breath coming in shallow gasps, and he nearly passed out as the room spun around him. He tried to grab the edge of whatever he was sitting on, but missed and let out a cry as he started to fall.
Something caught him before he could hit the ground and he squinted up to find Rick watching him, barely concealed panic in his eyes. "Hey, Junebug. You good?"
Morty immediately noticed he was wearing different clothes, but he could still feel the phantom touches on his skin. "Holy shit, holy shit! L-Last night, I was-"
"Nothing happened." He could see Morty relax, ever so slightly, but the look of panic remained on his face. "You texted me that you needed help, so I came and got you."
"I....I texted you?" Morty tried to think back. He faintly remembered calling Rick, but had no idea what they'd even talked about. He had absolutely no memory of texting his grandpa though. "What happened?"
"How are you feeling?" Rick handed him a glass of water before sitting down on the counter beside him.
Morty drank nearly the entire glass of water before asking answering. He hadn't missed the way Rick dodged the question and made a mental note to ask again. "Like I'm dying. My head is killing me and I feel like I'm going to throw up. Is this what it's like being hungover?"
"Mmn, not quite. It's highly unlikely you're hungover."
"What do you mean? What happened?" Morty could tell based on his expression that Rick was debating whether or not to even tell him, which meant whatever did happen wasn't good.
"You aren't hungover. Whatever you were drugged with is fucking you up."
Drugged.
That word made Morty's blood run cold and his head snapped up as he locked eyes with Rick. "Drugged?! I was-"
The lightheadedness.
The exhaustion.
The uncoordinated stumbling.
It all made a lot more sense now.
"Yeah, you were roofied last night. Someone probably slipped something in your drink when you weren't looking."
Morty tried to think back to everything he'd had to drink the previous night. It couldn't have been the shots. He saw every single one of them get poured. It had to be the mixed drink Tricia gave him, but she also didn't seem like the kind of person to drug him. "Fuck, I can't remember."
"That's kinda the point of date rape drugs, Morty."
Hearing it called by what it truly was made Morty shudder. Rick said nothing actually happened to him, but how close had he come to being....? He could vaguely remember the guy - blond hair, tall, muscles from football. "Some college guy showed up to the party when I stepped outside to call you. He must have done it when my back was turned. My drink tasted different after, but my dumbass kept drinking it."
"Rule number one for future keggers, Morty. Never leave your drink unattended."
It was unlikely that Morty would ever go back to a party with booze. He never wanted to experience that again. "Fuck that. I'm never going back to one of those."
Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Rick laughed a little. "Never say never, buddy. Once you're Summer's age, you'll definitely be sneaking out to parties like that."
Oh shit.
Summer.
He'd completely forgotten about her, but he knew there was no way Rick let her stay at that party when he'd come to get Morty.
"Fuck, she had to leave when you came and got me, huh? I bet she's pissed."
Irritation flashed through Rick as he recalled Summer's brief attitude the previous night. Obviously she'd been drinking so she wasn't as aware as she'd normally be, but she should have noticed Morty was missing. "She was for like two seconds. Until she realized what almost happened to you."
"I'm sorry." He should have been more careful. He'd not only inconvenienced Rick last night, but his fuck up also cost Summer a party.
"Morty, shut the fuck up. It's not like asked to be drugged." The nerve of this kid. To think he felt the need to apologize, despite being the victim in this situation. He looked down when Morty yawned and gently forced his grandson to lay back down. "Get some rest, Junebug. I gave you something that'll counteract the drugs in your system, so you should feel fine in a few hours."
Rick turned to walk away, but stopped when he felt a tug on his labcoat. He turned back to find Morty watching him through drooping eyelids.
"Stay please?"
He let out a fake sigh of irritation that was entirely just for show and then pulled a chair over to the counter, shaking his head at the small smile his tired grandson flashed at him. "Clingy little gremlin."