Chapter Text
It all happened before Morty really knew what was happening, first, he and Rick had a fight, like a fight-fight. Well... Okay, Rick and Morty fought all the time, and on the scale of fights, this was… a medium one. More than the typical fight they have every other day, but one loud enough to drive Summer up the wall with how loud they were being. They both knew, or, at least, Morty hoped it was both of them that knew they would inevitably make up and be Rick and Morty again, but for now, Morty wasn’t ready to go back to that, he was too angry to back down, even if he knew he eventually would, in fact, back down.
That's when Evil Morty just popped up, or more like Morty walked into the kitchen and Evil Morty was just there, but from Morty’s perspective, he essentially just popped up. Morty didn’t know why Evil Morty was in his house, or if this was even the first time, but he tried not to think about Evil Morty just strolling around his house when no one, not even Rick knew about it. The little bastard didn’t even try to hide it, he just turned and faced Morty when he caught him, asked him what Morty was so mad about, and then offered Morty to spend a night at his place until whenever. Morty supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised, the guy did technically invite Morty to join him right before he left all that time ago at the Citadel of Ricks, but this still felt odd. Despite that, Morty’s anger got the better of him and he agreed. Then boom, Morty was just at Evil Morty’s place.
Evil Morty had a nice place, at least, robot butlers, a beautiful garden full of both alien and familiar flowers, a safe yet perfect view of the cosmos, and the spacious and lavish manor that Evil Morty apparently called his home, the same manor Morty found himself inside at that very moment.
The clock in the manor made a loud ticking sound, and Evil Morty tinkered with one of the robot butlers that apparently had malfunctioned. Morty could only watch awkwardly, he didn’t know what to talk about with him, or if he even should. Evil Morty’s not the kind of guy to like small talk right? Then Morty remembered a question that had been on his mind “so should I just continue calling you Evil Morty or is there something specific I should call you? I guess we could both just call each other Morty but isn’t that gonna be kinda awkward?-”
However, before Morty could finish his spiel, Evil Morty interrupted him “why do I have to choose a nickname to go by? Also, Evil Morty is just the title you and your Rick gave me, you know. They called me Eyepatch Morty and then President Morty on the Citadel... You know, before I blew it up.” Evil Morty smirked for a moment and Morty rolled his eyes.
“That still doesn’t solve the issue. I want something short that I can call you, and neither of those nicknames help, and unlike you I never really interacted with other Morty’s as much so... I assumed you’d be more used to going by a nickname other than Morty, or- or would have something ready to go by.”
Evil Morty finished his work on the robot, then sighed and faced Morty, they both stared at each other eyes for a moment, enough for Morty to notice that despite all the similarities in appearance, Morty had golden brown eyes, and Evil Morty had dark blue. Morty wondered for a moment whether Morty or Evil Morty were the outlier among Mortys in eyecolor, but before he could think back on the few other Mortys he had seen, Evil Morty said “E.M, or Em, stands for Eyepatch Morty, but it also could stand for Evil Morty, like you tend to refer to me... It's how I was referred to by other Mortys on the citadel before it became Mr. President, or President Morty.” Em looked away after saying it, breaking his eye contact with Morty.
Morty nodded “alright, there we go that- that's progress!” Morty celebrated before the realization hit him that this meant he ran out of things to talk to Em about.
Luckily, Em had his own questions to ask “are we sleeping in the same room? I have enough rooms for you to have your own, I could have a butler prepare one right now, I just... am aware sleepover etiquette tends to involve sharing a room. I could have an extra bed moved to my sleeping quarters, if you desired. Though I can’t promise that I’ll be very engaged in whatever it is you nag at me about, or will stay awake for it.”
Morty stared in confusion for a moment, and muttered “...sleepover etiquette?” Morty supposed he didn’t have many sleepovers either, so of course a loner like Em would be even more out of his depth, but this was a little ridiculous. Was this a sleepover? Is that what Em thought it was? Odd circumstances aside, it was just a pair of teen boys spending the night together, so by definition, it would be, Morty presumed. Even with that question out of the way, would he share a room with Em? As much as Em seemed against it, Morty had been around enough people like Rick to know that Em wouldn’t bring it up if he was really that against it. Was Em just lonely? Was that what this was? Then on top of all that, did Morty want to share a room with Em? Would being in Em’s house alone overnight be more awkward than making the most of it and spending some time together? Would it be okay to spend time with someone like Em of his own volition?
Morty thought a while longer, then came to the conclusion that he’s been around Rick and enough alien drug lords to not draw the line at the morally questionable version of himself: When in Rome, they say. “Yeah,” Morty said “lets- lets do this. Share a room, not like either of us have sleepovers often, right? Might as well go all in.” At the decision, a glint of joy passed Em’s eye, but neither boy noticed.