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It's easy to remember when one first realizes they've become a parent. When they first see their child and the definition of unconditional love is no longer in their control. Of course, it can be different for every new parent and with every new kid. For some it's a slow kind of love, but for others, it's instant. It was the same for Rick, F12-02205* and he remembers the day like it was yesterday, but it might also just be because it was almost exactly a year ago from today. How memorable it was, but this nearby date has been memorable for years past, before even he was born.
It was the day after Christmas, and he showered his kid in all the gifts he could ever want when those papers were officially signed and the judge announced them family for life. The boy laughed and claimed his cheeks hurt by the end of it, and Rick would be lying if he said his didn't hurt at all. It's Christmas Eve, today, and he wakes to the sight of white snow falling out the window, a new, thick blanket covers their lawn. Beside him, his bed is empty, and he's a little confused at the sight, he pulls himself from the covers to go looking for his kid.
He wraps a bathrobe around himself, as he makes his way downstairs, to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee, he wonders if his boy has already gone outside. It's also possible that he may have just returned to his own bed in the night while he slept, he's complained about the elder's snoring before, how it often disrupts the boy's sleep more than anything else. They don't typically share a bed, and Rick never pushes him about it, always letting the boy decide if he wants to cuddle. He finds they share a bed more during the winter than they do at any other season. It makes sense, their house is cold as shit, even with all three of their space heaters going.
While his pot of coffee is warming, he looks at the time on the stove, his eyes going a little wider, as he calls, "Morty! We're gonna be late to see Santa and movies at the mall, we gotta go soon!" He runs to go back upstairs, his tired shuffling from earlier is completely replaced as he quickly dresses himself in what passes as presentable.
While he's still upstairs, he peeks into the boy's bedroom, but he doesn't see anything amiss, still no kid. He calls the boy's name again, he's not in his room, so where is he? Back downstairs, he goes back to his coffee, waiting to hear from his kid, and when he has his cup of hot bean juice, he takes himself to the living room. The tree isn't decorated yet, and that's because, before Morty was adopted, Rick wanted to spend as much time with him as he could, going so far as to save every important event, ever, for when he was with the boy. They got to see each other, on Christmas Eve, only long enough to decorate the tree Rick got, just for him. Together, they spent the day decorating, Rick lifted him up onto a ladder so he could place the star himself, it was the first time Morty said he loved him. Rick replays that moment over and over in his head, and his heart melts more each time he remembers.
But now, as he walks to the couch, and still no child, he calls, his voice raises louder, "Morty!"
A groan sounds from the corner of the living room, it startles the old man, and he looks down, below the tree, there he is, curled around the base of the live tree.
"'M up," he grunts, half lifting his head.
Rick laughs, bending back, and sitting on the couch, bringing his coffee to his mouth, taking a drink before he says, "so this is where you've been all night."
Morty moans at the sound of his voice, curling in closer to the naked pine. "No-o," he draws it out, before finally sighing, heaving himself up to look at his guardian behind him, over his shoulder. "I got up when the sun started coming up, and I saw the snow falling," he starts explaining, "I was watching the snow," he turns to see out the wide window of their living room, and Rick's gaze softens, seeing those brown eyes widen in wonder at the fat crystals. "I just got sleepy again, while watching them."
Rick chuckles lightly, taking his mug in hand before reaching over to ruffle the boy's head of messy curls, "you've got some pine needles in your hair, probably some sap, too, go take a shower, and we'll go see Santa after breakfast, okay?"
Morty grumbles at his hand over his head, playfully pushing it away before standing. His green and red plaid pajamas are brushed off, and he says, "you know, we don't have, to go see Santa, Rick," he stands straighter, "I am almost 13, after all, I could skip this year!"
Rick rolls his eyes at the boy feigning maturity, "you won't be saying that when you're older," he states, something he's said before when the boy didn't want to go to one of the other events he had them attending a week prior.
Their town was big on the commercialization of Christmas holidays, and Rick was beyond sold, if only to give his boy a childhood to remember.
Morty forcefully sighs, groaning as he runs up the stairs to escape the same old lecture about growing up, Rick wouldn't be surprised if the boy could recite it himself by now. He laughs and makes his way to the kitchen, starting a quick round of pancakes and eggs to go with, to kickstart their morning. It's Christmas Eve, and there's so much they could do in their town, so many fun things to see, and Rick wants to take them to as many as he can afford.
*
"Grandpa, look, they've got cake pops!" The boy points enthusiastically in the direction his sights have pinned to, his eyes are bright, Rick thinks they outshine the very Christmas lights themselves.
"We already got cookies at home, kiddo," he laughs, "you're gonna get diabetes if I let you eat any more sweets," and he pairs it with a little poke to the boy's side who pulls away from him with a giggle.
"No I won't, I'm hungry," he watches the man's hands closer, making sure he won't try to poke him again.
Rick hums, his eyes scan the area, "it is lunchtime," he starts, then he sees it, "let's find something to eat first, then I'll get you that cake pop, how's that sound?"
Morty quietly cheers to himself, pumping his fist in the air as they make their way to the nearest fast food area in the mall. Already, they've seen the guy dressed up as Santa, and Rick holds his phone steadier as he looks at the picture of Morty smiling on his lap, he had to pull a pouty face to get this to happen. The boy was reluctant to go sit on the stranger's lap, but Rick managed to guilt-trip him with a broken-hearted look that coerced the boy's sympathy in his favor.
He goes through his images now, as they eat, he favorites each and every copy of the photo, noticing distantly that his storage isn't happy with the multiplying pictures of his grandson.
"Rick, you got a lot of photos," Morty points out, leaning over to see his phone as he himself doesn't have one despite constantly asking when all his classmates do, "they all look the same, why you got so many?"
Rick, gentle as ever with his boy, nudges his hand out of the way, "I'm saving them," is what he replies around a mouth full of fries.
"But they're all the same!"
Rick gives a decidedly very masculine sound of indignation, "no they're not!" If he were standing, he'd probably pair it with a stomp of his foot.
Morty laughs, "yes they are, you're gonna run out of room if you take anymore."
"No, I won't," huffs Rick.
"Where are you even gonna put those pictures, huh? When you run out of room?"
Rick grumbles, "I'll-I'll print them out! Put them in an album or something!"
Morty laughs a little harder, and the elder couldn't be more in love with the sound, "you still have photos from before you adopted me, and you said the same thing about them!"
Clearly, the elder doesn't understand their argument, and he retorts finally with, "quiet about my pictures," he holds the phone more protectively in his hand, "eat your food, or we're not getting that cake pop," he playfully glares at the boy.
Morty gasps and goes back to eating, shoveling his sandwich and fries so his future cake pop no longer hangs in the balance.
*
The cake pops are all festive in theme, and the boy picks the biggest one resembling that of a snowman, of course, Rick has long ago noted how the snowmen were his kid's favorite of the festive themes. They were the first cookies to go in their home, it's why he made a doubled batch just to be sure he had enough, this time. The shop smelled of sugary sweets even before they entered, and Rick's smile is glued to his face watching the younger one looking at every kind of candy there is to offer. But the cake pops had him at snowman, and he wasn't wanting anything else right now.
Rick slows in his steps to allow the boy room to keep up with him, the boy who he's the one trying to keep up with and his skipping steps. The theaters in the mall is their next destination, but they're not allowed to bring food from outside the area, so they sit at one of the benches in the big, wide hallways. Side by side, Morty's legs swing under him, then he reaches the cake pop up to the elder's mouth, and Rick takes a sizable bite that causes the boy to squeak. Rick stifles his laughter at the widening eyes, not wanting to choke on his bite. The old man moans in delight at the taste, muffling his happy sounds while he eats.
"Ri–ick," he drags his name out, a little pout as he realizes the old man took more than half his treat.
The guilty man doesn't look guilty at all, simply saying, "thank you for sharing, kiddo," a bright smile on his face, and Morty can't help but to crack a little smile of his own, "so, what's our plan after the movies, huh?" he asks as the boy takes a grandson-sized bite, the opposite of a grandpa-sized bite.
The boy hums, his brows furrow and gaze narrows in thought as he chews, then, "we should go caroling!"
They've gone caroling before, all throughout the month of December, they went caroling, Rick probably loves the Christmas holidays more than Morty, but the boy has him beat when it comes to the music.
The elder groans a little at the thought, "I don't know if I can," he starts, leaning back in the bench, his hands tuck themselves in his dark coat pockets as he explains further, "I dunno if I can sing Joy to the World 14 more times."
He looks at the pouting preteen sideways, the pout on his face spells it all, "but I really like caroling," he starts, and his next words make Rick's eyes widen, "and you're always saying I should enjoy my time with you, especially while I'm still young, so," and internally, he kicks himself. "You should enjoy you're time with me, too," he puts on his best puppy face, "I'm not gonna be young forever, you know."
Rick's expression twists in a cringe, and he groans again, thinking about how stupid he was because, "of course this came back to bite me."
He gives in to the boy's wishes, saying he'll contact their caroling group, because after so many times of going, they're an official regular of the club. Morty leans against him in thanks, and when he's done with his cake pop, it's just in time to find their seats in the theater, and they only had to sit through a few of the long drawn out advertisements, unlike every other loser in the place who don't plan 10 minutes later like they do.
While they sit in the theaters, Rick is texting their caroling group, Morty nudges him to turn off his phone, but the old man simply waves him off, turning the brightness down so he doesn't get them kicked out. Sharon is the blonde headed lady that often organizes their most frequent caroling nights, and he asks her about any happening today. She's quick to respond and he smiles at the screen, Morty loves caroling, and Rick loves Morty, he'd do just about anything for the boy. He wants to spend as much time with him as he can, even if it's to just sing Joy to the World 14 times in a row.
It's not a movie Rick finds entertaining, not at all, not in the least little bit, but he loves watching Morty react to it, loves hearing the kid laugh, seeing the emotions play on the screen and get reflected in that young face of his. He loves the kid more than life itself, and for the longest time, he hated admitting it, but here he is, not even trying to hide it as he reaches over to plant a little kiss to the boy's temple.
*
The ship slides in, just as the garage closes behind them, they climb out, Morty steps out and immediately begins shivering.
"So, c-c-cold," he mumbles, wrapping his scarf around him once more, his gloves already back on while he was still in the ship.
"I'll put one of the space heaters in here again," says Rick, "you wanna start getting decorations out for the tree or should I?"
The boy jumps to attention, his freezing state forgotten in favor of hopping in place, "I'll get the things!" Rick laughs after him as he runs into the house ahead of him.
Rick himself tugs his scarf off as he shoulders his way back into the moderately warmer home of theirs. He goes to the front door to hang up his winter gear, sliding his boots off. He smiles, at the sound of thudding steps smaller than his own that run around his house, their house, their home. Just a moment is all he needs to breathe in the thought, taking in the feel of home, and he doesn't think this old place felt like home until that kid was here.
He enters the living room to the chiming of bells and the scuttling of a wreath, the boy stands up, pulling the green circlet from one of the storage bins. His face brightens at the sight of Rick, "will you put this on the door?" The boy hands him the wreath, the bells decorating it tinkling in the transaction.
Rick nods, and goes back to the front door, his feet slide into his slippers and he steps outside, the chill of December air licks at his cheeks, and his face cringes at the feeling. The gentle snowing of the morning has been replaced by a cold wind. He ignores it in favor of setting the festive decoration on the entrance to their home, then retreating back inside with a shiver.
He glances at the thermometer, they have at the dresser, he chuckles, and when he makes it back to the living room, rubbing his hands together to warm up his old, wrinkled digits, he says, "you wouldn't believe what the temperature is outside, below 0, I'll tell ya that," but then he stops, the scene that catches his eye also catches his breath.
Morty sits, legs criss crossed, and in his lap, a tangle of lights he's got plugged into the wall, he glances briefly to smile and acknowledge Rick, but his focus is on detangling the lights. They checked the bulbs a few days prior, last year, because Rick was so desperate to share every possible festive moment with his kid, he didn't even test the bulbs, so there were some dead ones around their tree, that first day.
Rick sees the shine of the bright, soft, yellow glow of the lights in his eyes, and he loves the boy all over again, that childish wonderment, and he can understand it. Those lights, the soft glow they emit, something in them has his boy enthralled, and it's got Rick ensnared too. He smiles softly, and goes to sit with the boy, pulling out another set of lights from a half empty bin, he plugs it in, and starts unrolling it, making sure it's not tangled. Morty glances over to his set of lights with those bright, beautiful brown eyes, and Rick's learned from so much time watching his boy, he loves Christmas lights. Maybe next year they won't wait this long to set them up, so he can see the kid's eyes light up like that more often.
They sit around in the living room, unrolling lights and organizing their chosen ornaments, only their favorites, because Rick bought a lot, and they can't fit all of them on their tree. "Hey, uh," Rick catches the boy's attention, "I asked Sharon about caroling tonight."
His kid's gaze sparks in hope, "what'd she say?"
"She said they've planned to go out at around 6," the boy all but buzzes with the excitement, and he points to him, cooling his jets, "but if it snows, tonight, we can't go, okay?"
Morty grumbles a little, but ultimately accepts, there's still a chance, and that was all he needed. The hours pass by, Rick makes them sandwiches in between lining the tree with lights and Morty arranging the ornaments, in the specific order he wants them to be set. The elder can't help the little huff of laughter that escapes him, watching the boy line the ornaments in neat little rows, the adorable little flapping of his hands. It takes some convincing, to have the boy pull away from his activity, but then Rick opens his phone to a music app, and turns on a speaker.
"Here," and he slides the phone to the boy across the counter, where he's got his sandwich in both hands, but the boy's eye's widen, "after you eat, kiddo," when he sees him about to forget what he was doing.
Rick takes up his own sandwich, and when they finish, the boy is still chewing his last bite while he reopens his grandfather's phone, Mariah Carey is, of course, the first to kickstart their decorating. They clean the house, most of which was already done the day prior, but because they got their Christmas boxes out, there's some things that need picked up. Mostly, they just need to shove the packaging that protected some of the more fragile ornaments back into their respective boxes. It's easy enough, and Rick grabs a stool for his boy just as the younger one starts belting out the lyrics to I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.
The decorating of the tree is their ultimate favorite tradition, and Rick wouldn't have it any other way, they circle around the tree, adding ornament after ornament with no real theme in mind. There doesn't need to be, it's their home after all, and they make up their own rules. Morty sets on a little gingerbread he made when he was younger, before he met his grandpa, and Rick sets up a framed picture of the boy. A candy cane here, a crystal spiral there, an angel and manger resting over a few of the pines, just so, and Morty smiles proudly at his work, and Rick smiles proudly at him.
It's only a matter of time, and when Rick and Morty start singing about grandma's bad egg nog drinking habits, they've finished their decorating, the house is lined floor to ceiling in tinsel and other shiny things. The banister leading upstairs is snaked by another greenery decoration with more lights, the whole house will be a nightlight when they go to bed. They stand back, admiring their work, both sporting proud smiles as they walk around their own home, adoring every bit of what they see.
"Alright, that's enough of you, Elvis," says Rick, reaching over to his phone, and pauses the music. Morty pouts a little, looks up at him past his furrowed brows, and he says, "c'mon, you wanna watch a christmas movie with me, instead?"
The boy's expression shifts then, and he hops a little in place, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas?"
Rick playfully rolls his eyes, "duh! A classic!"
"Can I have a cookie, too!" Of course, Rick agrees, and they sit in their living room, wrapped in many blankets, the tree to the side of them, the coffee table with their respective plates of cookies and glasses of milk in front.
They sit close together, Morty under his arm, right beside him, right where Rick needs him, where he can keep him safe and warm, cause God knows the space heaters aren't working hard enough.
Morty shakes in laughter next to him, and Rick can only thank Jim Carrey for his performance, because that costume* does not look comfortable in the slightest. After the movie, they don their winter gear and go outside to build a new snowman and rebuild their older 4, yes, 4 snowmen have been made since the winter officially started. After today, they'll have added another two.
"*His name is Francis," says Morty, seriously, when he looks up to his old man, "he's 43, divorced, with two kids, and he's homeless."
"Huh," Rick looks to Francis, the newest member to the family of snowmen that live in their backyard, "is he gonna start paying rent?" He asks, and when he looks down to the boy, his expression is grave.
Slowly, he shakes his head, "no, he got laid off after his wife left him and took the kids, he's been taking it really rough."
Rick's eyes widen in immediate sympathy, and he sets his hand on the snowman's shoulder, looking deeply into his rocky stare, because they ran out of snowman decorations 3 snowmen ago. "That is rough pal, you take all the time you need here, no pressure," and when Morty stifles a giggle at him playing along, he's fueld on to continue, "and listen, hey, I know you loved her, but you just gotta move on at some point, I mean." He blinks, and he leans in closer to the snowman, his eyes briefly glance to the boy in his whisper, "think of your kids, they need you to be strong, man-of-snow!"
Morty laughs more and Rick smiles in pride, standing back to give the snowman some space, they move on to Rick's snowman, it's shorter, and Morty circles the sculpture, analyzing it. The elder feels as if his is getting judged and when Morty makes his way back to his side, he hums.
"You like him?" Asks Rick.
Morty looks at the snowman with a critical eye, then turns to his grandfather, "yes, grandpa, he is nice, what is his name?"
"Gene."
Morty's eyes widen, and he looks back to the snowman, looking it up and down, then back to his grandpa, "I don't see it."
Rick smiles, and pulls out a hat from his pocket, setting it on the snowman's head, "how about now?"
Morty laughs, the hat looks exactly like their neighbor's, "okay, now I see it."
They go inside, Rick fixes them a small pan of hot cocoa, and he gives in to the boy who begs for just one more cookie. The old man is helpless against that puppy gaze, his defenses are down, he just, can't deny him.
*
The hour is 5:30, and they wait in the parking lot of a nearby park, Rick and Morty sit in the ship, both covered head to toe in warm layers of clothes. When Sharon and the others arrive, they hop out, leaning on the outside hull of the ship, just a couple other vans arrive, Rick never liked car-pooling with anyone, ever, so they always drove themselves.
"Hey guys!" Sharon greets them, her atire is all glittery and she's got Rick and Morty beat when it comes to dressing festively. Her green and red ugly sweater with a glowing santa sipping "spiked egg nog," reindeer headband, even her pants are festive in a print of bells and snowflakes. Yup, she's got them beat, Rick feigns civility, greeting her with a strained smile and a wave while Morty is more genuine.
"Are we going now?" The boy hops in place, hands shaking to stay in place.
"Yes, we just need a couple," she reaches into her bag, red and lined with bells, of course, "aha! A list of the lyrics we'll be singing," her blonde hair flops over her shoulder as she moves her head, "I made these ones especially for you two, since you've gone caroling with us the most." Her words are mixed with a laugh, "you two must have all the songs memorized by heart at this point."
Sharon is too cheery for Rick's liking, but she can make Morty smile, her bright nature inspires the boy, and his guardian can't be mad about that. He'd never do anything to jeopardize the boy's happiness, not in a million years.
They set off with their group, everyone is given a battery-powered candle to take with them as they go door to door, singing a couple carols, finishing with them all shouting in unison, "Merry Christmas!" before moving onto the next house.
Rick isn't really trying to sing in key, or even at all, he's watching Morty who shines as bright as the colored lights that line the houses and other festive decorations in neighboring lawns. They sing about the star that shined brighter than any other in the night sky, the one that led the wise men to sweet baby Jesus' manger. But to Rick, Morty is his brightest star, and the boy looks up to him with a smile in between each song, not to the people in the homes who give them praise, but to him. He's honored, that the boy wants to see his smile, to receive his praise over anyone else's, he'll reach down to ruffle the boy's brown locks more than once tonight. The boy sings with more enthusiasm than any other caroler, with a passion that rivals fire itself, and Rick thinks he embodies the holiday spirit, if ever there was one.
*
When they've made it back home, Rick gently wakes the sleepy kid, he groans and curls in on himself in the passenger seat.
Rick laughs lightly at the sight but then he says the magic words that will make the boy's eyes fly wide open, "c'mon, you gotta make a plate for Santa, or he won't know you believe in him."
Morty gives a flat look to Rick, "I know it's just you eating them!"
Rick shrugs, another age-old saying leaving his mouth, "you don't believe, you don't receive!"
Morty grumbles, but climbs out of the ship, they both kick off their winter gear for the final time, and Rick thinks it's past time he give them an area to drop their stuff at near the garage rather than just at the front door.
Morty makes a plate for "Santa," and he successfully squeezes out just one last cookie, from the old man before bed, he follows the boy upstairs, they both find themselves in the bathroom. Festive pajamas, Rick's are green, with a winter pattern of Santa hats, snowflakes, and striped lines, while Morty's are red, patterned with reindeer, snowflakes, and snowmen.
"Rick?"
"Hm?"
"Can I sleep in your room, tonight?" The question is timid, and when Rick glances down at the boy, toothbrush in his mouth, he doesn't like the look of anxiety that plagues him.
His eyes widen at the look, and he turns to spit and clean his mouth before he answers, "you've never had to ask before, baby," and when he still sees a look of nervousness, he continues, "of course you can, but what's up, hm?" Morty shakes his head, standing closer to wrap his arms around Rick's waist.
"Nothing, grandpa, just wanted to check in, this time."
He rubs the arms that circle around him, "okay," and he turns a little in the boy's hold so he can return the affection, holding him close as he adds, "y'know your official Gotcha Day* is basically tomorrow, right?"
Morty laughs, his head hiding in the man's torso, "my adoption anniversary?"
Rick smiles down at the head of curls that lift to reveal brown eyes, "yeah, your anniversary," and they're still hugging, they sway a little in place, "can't believe it's already been a year," he mutters.
Morty smiles up at him, "don't get sappy on me now, old man," and Rick gives him a challenging look, when he continues, "we've known each other for longer than that."
Rick reaches down, tickling the boy where he knows he's weakest, it causes the younger to have to drop, falling away from his hug, "you know what I meant, little brat," the name is said playfully, and he basks in the giggling that ensues.
They walk together to Rick's room, their room, and the old man insists the boy climb in first, tucking him in and saying he's not quite ready to go to bed yet, an excuse Morty catches on to immediately.
"I know you're up to something," the boy narrows his gaze at him, "I know it!"
Rick chuckles, leaning up to kiss him on the forehead, his gaze falls to his young face, the faint glow of the lamp still shines in his eyes, and he says goodnight in the way he's said every night since he adopted the kid, "I love you, Morty," and the boy's face is serious, watching the earnesty of the elder's features, "I love you more than anything in the whole universe, you saved me from myself."
He means it, before he adopted Morty, he was in a dark place, but the kid brought a light to him he hadn't experienced in a while. The seriousness of the moment is broken by the little smile that lights up the place.
"If I didn't know any better," he points up to his old man, "I'd say there were hearts in your eyes, grandpa Rick," the boy laughs a little, and Rick takes his hand, returning the smile.
He brings the hand to his cheek, then turns to kiss it, as he says, "oh, really? You've lived with me for a year, and you're just now noticing my heart eyes for you?"
Again, Morty giggles, then finally replies, "I love you, too, grandpa," he reaches up to take the man's face, pulling him downward, he goes easily, and the boy gives him a kiss on his cheek, "more than anything in the whole universe," and Rick already knows he'll never get tired of hearing that.
*
Now, with Morty in bed, he goes downstairs to the study room they rarely use, the door stays closed most of the time, so he really shouldn't be surprised by the cold wall that greets him when he enters. He flips the switch of the light, going to the closet. What's inside is a stack of already wrapped presents, the pile is big and tall, almost as tall as him, he's quiet in his work, going back and forth between the study room and their Christmas tree. Every present is arranged just so, each to his own liking, and all but 2 of them have the name Morty written on it. Of course, Rick couldn't forget about himself, he needed to get something from Santa as well, after all! He's proud of his two presents, a clear sign of how good he's been this year.
When the presents are all sitting under the tree, he stands back, taking in the sight, his chest swells in the pride, and he can't wait to see the look of surprise and joy spread across his boy's features. Already, he can picture it, him creeping downstairs before Rick is even awake, kneeling at the base of the tree and shaking each wrapped gift that catches his eye. He can't wait, but he's still exhausted from today's fun, and he eats "Santa's" cookies, only kicking himself internally when he realizes he has to brush his teeth a second time after this. It's worth it, though, and he drains the glass of milk, taking a napkin from the kitchen, wiping his face clean as he goes throughout the house, checking locks and making sure the lights are off.
Back upstairs, he briefly peeks into his room, seeing Morty with his hands on either side of his head, fast asleep, in Rick's bed, the elder ponders why it was he felt the need to ask this time around, but he's getting distracted by this sight. He looks peaceful, he looks adorable, he looks like the emobodiment of his unconditional love, like everything good in Rick's life. The boy found a comfort, in Rick's bed, more than his own, and the elder wonders if maybe it's just cause his was bigger, or he wanted to be close to his old man. It could just be from some old trauma he hasn't fully figured out, but Rick isn't about to deny him his stay, if he wants to sleep in his bed, he'll let him.
He brushes his teeth a second time, quieter, and then crawls into bed, not stopping himself when he wants to pull the boy in close, holding him close, and giving him just one more kiss to his temple. Outside is cold, but Rick's heart is melting like wax to a flame when he gets to hold his boy close.
He whispers to him, soft and gentle so as not to wake his most precious treasure, "I love you, Morty, more than anything."
*
The next morning, Rick has a distinct feeling of deja vu when he doesn't see Morty beside him, again. But he's up earlier this time, it's still dark outside, so he pads his way downstairs. This time, the first place he checks is under the tree, and just as expected, there his boy is, twice over, the feeling that he's already seen this before makes him smile.
Almost a year ago exactly, Morty slept on the tree skirt, under the tree in their home, and when Rick asked him about it, the boy said he found the lights of the tree to be very soothing. It didn't matter how many or what kinds of nightlights Rick bought for the boy, the Christmas tree lights were his favorite, and he fell asleep faster looking at them than any other. Rick doesn't wake the boy, but he does take the blanket from the couch, draping it over his grandkid, wanting him to stay warm more than anything else. Surrounded by presents, he takes in the sight. His kid is curled under the dressed pine, surrounded by presents, and instead of simply jumping in excitement at the sight, his boy chose to curl himself at the skirt of the tree, making himself room and turning it into his own personal prime napping spot.
Above him, the tree's limbs gently hover over the kid with a protective collection of limbs that Rick is jealous his kid chose over him. It's cloudy outside, the whole house is dark, save for the faint glow coming from the Christmas lights. On the window, the lights of the tree reflect off of the glass, and the entire scene is soft.
Rick has but one thing to say to this, before he will wait patiently for his little family to wake up so they can open some presents and celebrate this extra special day, together. It's short, it's sweet, and it's whispered with a love only a parent could give, and Rick means it with every word as he leans over the back of the couch. The position is a little awkward, but he's still tired, and he rests his chin over folded arms, looking fondly at the boy sleeping under the tree, with hearts in his eyes as he speaks his mind.
"I love you, my Christmas child."
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