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Smoking again, Rick sat at his desk, staring at whatever was on it. The blunt at hand, he fidgeted with it with an empty head, his looks far rougher than Morty was used to.
He sat under Rick's desk, on the floor, like a pet, the blunt wasn't on his line of sight, but the smoke that surrounded Rick sure was, his expression blank as he looked up at Rick, pawing his pants.
A sigh escaped him when Rick's hand came down to scratch his chin, like a dog. It didn't feel good, but Morty was starved. He leaned towards it like a dog.
Rick's hand went to Morty's cheek, cupping his face and looking down at him, whatever words of praise that escaped him were numb to Morty's ears, simply sighing once more when Rick started scratching behind his ears.
The smoke surrounded both of them. It infested the garage, it smelled awful, Morty resisted the urge to cough multiple times, choosing to focus on Rick again and again.
Second-hand smoke and the dog collar on his neck were two things Morty chose to ignore. He kept them at the back of his head, don't think about them.
“Good boy.” Rick's voice was rough, hoarse, it was fucked up, he sounded tired, more than ever, though he kept petting Morty, he threw his head back to stare at the ceiling.
Morty nodded along, whatever you say, Rick, whatever you want, Rick, whatever you need, Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick, he scooted closer, resting his head on Rick's thigh.
“I wish you were dead sometimes.” Rick exhaled some smoke onto the ceiling, the smoke sprinkled while Rick's hand cradled Morty, the blunt still pressed to his chapped lips.
“Geez, Rick.” Was all he could mutter out, scratching the back of his neck, the horrid smell of whatever Rick was smoking filled his lungs again, he shut his eyes close.
“Cause if you were dead.. I wouldn't have to blame myself for feeling like this.” Rick said coldly, taking another long and slow drag.
Morty rested his cheek on Rick's thigh, taking a deep breath, Rick's smell was comforting, don't think of the dog collar, don't think about the second-hand smoke, don't think about how much this arouses him.
“You feel guilty?, gee, didn't know you could.” He relaxed his face, letting Rick touch him and play around with his face or hair, whatever Rick wanted.
“Don't push it.” Rick looked at the garage gate in the corner of his eyes, his brows furrowed, as his hand stilled on Morty's hair suddenly, the action didn't surprise the boy.
“...I'm not forcing you to be like this.” Rick's tone was calm, blank laced with whatever drugs he had smoked prior to that sentence.
“I'm like this because I want to be, Rick.” Morty assured him, though he didn't really know what prompted Rick to say that or what was the appropriate answer.
“You just enjoy being a pet now?” he laughed, blunt pressed at his lips, Rick's fingers curled on Morty's hair rather roughly, pressing him further into himself.
Morty only bothered to open one of his eyes to stare at Rick, or at least tried to, his eyes landed on Rick's lap again, he stared before he forced himself to look down at the floor and close his eyes again.
Don't think about that, ignore it, be a good grandson, he muttered, his volume was just below a sigh, though he still felt Rick's hands on him.
“... I wish you were dead sometimes, too.” Morty answered, rubbing his cheek against Rick's thigh. His hands looked for something to hold onto.
“And why's that, Morty?” Rick didn't seem surprised by Morty's words, not all— Morty knew it wasn't weird for Rick's romantic partners to hate him. He was probably used to it, how sad.
“If you were dead, I'd be normal.” The longing could be heard in Morty's voice, as clear as a river, though his words sounded similar to Rick's.
“... yeah, I know.” Rick patted his thigh, asking Morty to climb into his lap, which he obediently did— Rick's eyes didn't meet Morty's for a while.
Rick pressed the blunt to Morty's lips, “Inhale.” It didn't sound like a question. It didn't sound like he had a choice, Morty stared at the blunt.
The feeling burnt his mouth as soon as he inhaled, pushing Rick away to cough, he expected to be met with laughs, with teasing, not silence, anything but silence, please.
Rick grabbed Morty's chin and pressed the blunt to his lips again, forcing him to take a drag, “I know you know how to do it correctly, I know Summer taught you.”
He tried to take another drag, this time being forced to inhale the smoke, Rick didn't let him pull away until he exhaled the leftover smoke in his mouth.
He coughed again, “...if you were dead, I wouldn't want this.” Morty held his face in his hands, his body resting against Rick's lightly.
He felt Rick's arousal under him, difficult to ignore, he knew Rick wouldn't do anything about it, if Morty was anyone else, Rick would've tried by now, Rick would've done it by now.
Morally correct bastard hadn't done anything because he knew Morty didn't want it, Morty's misplaced frustration confused him even more, what did he even want?, did he want Rick to try?
“if I was dead.”