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The sink had been leaking for longer than memory allowed him.
It stained, rusted, chipped and screeched but it kept leaking.
He tried to block it with his hands, but the water gushed out the pipe, dripping was all he could hear.
Tape only yellowed and fell, it was nothing against the current.
At some point he had accepted it, the same way he accepted the early morning crows and the creak of his door.
Yet, it was solved so quickly and easily, by an intruder no less.
Maybe it was always easy to fix, maybe he didn't need to dirty his hands at all.
Morty looked up at the darkened figure, its shadow engulfing him too.
He kneeled by the sink, just beneath it. The mud on his shoes dirtying the floor his mom spent so long cleaning. His hand laid by his side.
“Hey grandson!” He spoke awfully loud and cheery, “What're you doing down there?”
He waved mechanically at Morty, the glint of his teeth blinding. Morty squinted, barely making out a face to attach the voice to.
He could never mistake those eyes for any other, only his hair and clothes differed.
“Pri-Prime…” Morty's voice hung at a murmur.
Prime kneeled down before gently cupping Morty's face, examining his face beyond the shadows. He let go as softly as he grabbed. Morty's bones rang too loud.
“What is it grandson?” Prime mimed his tone.
“Can… this wait until tomorrow?” Morty kept an even voice, pausing for each stutter. The question felt like a statement.
Prime pursed his lips and tapped on his chin with one hand. Questions popped into his head, but cruelty seemed second when he saw Morty.
“I'll be back tomorrow.” Prime couldn't help but let a laugh bubble up at his own words.
A green flash and was gone. As if he was never even there at all.
But Morty couldn't hear the drip anymore.
Prime came as he promised, he leaned on the door of Morty's room.
“I have a proposal.” Prime tried his best friendly tone, but he was never one for friends.
Morty clung to his sheets as he sat up and eyed Prime with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
“Wh-why would I e-ever listen to you?” Morty hunched his shoulders and looked away from Prime as he pushed out the words.
Prime did come prepared for that question, “I need your Rick to learn a lesson. Don't worry,” he chuckled at Morty's expression, “I won't hurt him! Not physically anyway… I just need an assist. I don't usually, so this is a once in a lifetime offer!”
Morty narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Prime, he fidgeted his hands in his lap, “You… w-w-won't kill me, right? If I said no?”
Prime grinned, “Nope!”
He awkwardly bent over to angle a fist at Morty which only earned a flinch.
“It's a fist bump." Prime pouted and his monobrow lowered.
Morty looked side to side before hesitantly reciprocating, “O-oh… okay… why…?”
Prime moved to sit next to Morty on his bed. Morty shuffled further away.
“To show I respect and care for you!” Prime followed up with a more concrete answer, “I won't kill you. Rick wouldn't believe you either way.” He smiled in what was meant to be a comforting way.
Morty looked at Prime, really looked at him. His skin was less wrinkly than Rick's but his eyebags were deeper. His hands and shoulders kept an uncanny stillness, his posture stuck to a straight orderly one not befitting him. Not his stained clothes nor his unkempt hair. Morty fixed his hair absentmindedly.
He didn't want to test with an unstable Prime Rick. This wasn't a direct threat, but it was coercion, Morty thought. Like when Rick – his Rick – gave him a gift, or let him decide on an adventure, a facade to hide behind. Morty was scared, but beyond that, he wanted to spite Rick, just a little.
He knew accepting Prime's invitation would do more than that, that it would likely hurt him too, but it wasn't really his choice, was it?
“Yeah.” Morty scratched the back of his neck, “L-like to your offer.”
Prime's eyes widened, “I didn't think it'd be that easy.”
Morty shrugged, “I didn't either. I don't trust you, b-but I guess it's better than you being left alone.”
Prime choked out a laugh, “You're hysterical, Morty!”
Morty licked his ice-cream reluctantly, then took a bite. Tasting it delicately, swishing it in his mouth every now and then, just to check for poison. He kept the cone at a distance from himself – just in case.
Prime paused in between distasteful chewing, “Don't worry grandson. I promise grandpa didn't poison you.”
Prime carried the weight of his head on one fist. His eyelids drooped down as he stared at his ice-cream.
Morty focused on Prime's ice-cream too, mint chocolate chip, then looked to his own, cookie dough flavored one.
“T-then… why here?” Morty then took another bite before slouching back in his side of the booth, “Wh-why now? Of all times?”
Prime pushed his ice-cream in Morty's direction.
Prime blew a few raspberries, he thought of a plethora of lies, a string of threats, or a silent glare.
“I wanna convince your Rick he has dementia.” Prime fell more into the vague ball park, he couldn't have Morty hate him.
Morty furrowed his brows and leaned in, “What? Why?”
Prime rolled his eyes and leaned back, spreading his arms on the booth.
He put up a playful smile, “He got pretty close this time, and I thought it'd be funny.” He owed Morty at least a little bit of truth.
Morty copied Prime only a little bit, pressing his back against the soft cushion of the booth, his arm languidly laying behind him as the other held his ice-cream to his face.
“I-I'm… I'd be betraying him.” Morty said in a hushed tone, yet a smile was threatening to creep onto his face.
He'd been wanting to – aching to – put Rick in his place. He knew it was wrong, what he was doing, how dangerous it was. It was nonsensical, illogical and down right counterintuitive of Prime to reach out to Morty for help, which meant it was perfectly calculated and curated to only be viewed that way. Not because it actually held any merit to Prime's true motives and plans.
So Morty had to be worried, but he was failing to search for a reason to really care. He did care, just not enough to not play into a prank that would humiliate Rick. Besides, Morty hadn't been poisoned so Prime was speaking some truth.
“Nah, it's a harmless prank.” Prime looked out the window with a serene look.
“Wha-what about your ulterior motives?” Morty rushed out before Prime could change the topic.
“All of them focus on your little Rick, not you!” Prime tacked it on with a grin and the reassuring swagger of a gun.
“I mean… w-what do you need me t-to even do?” Morty fiddled with his cone, before quickly snatching Prime's.
“This,” Prime jumped over the table and pulled Morty by his head closer to Prime, careening his head to fit over Morty's. Prime turned his free hand into a camera, “Smile!” Prime smiled as Morty timidly copied it.
Prime took the picture and turned his hand back to catch the photo before it fell. He shook the picture before showing it to Morty, “Looks nostalgic! Right?” Prime excitedly pointed out to Morty.
Morty nodded his head slowly, “Y-yeah.”
Prime handed Morty the picture, “We're gonna take a few more!”
Morty sighed, “… Okay.”
Morty shot at zombies. They stalked forward slowly, easily taken down. Their blood pixilated as it hit the screen.
“Woah! That's higher than my old score.” Prime seemed pleasantly surprised, hands hovering just above Morty's shoulders.
Prime rarely ever sincerely enjoyed things, but as the corners of his mouth pulled up he felt a glimmer of something more in his chest. A feeling he stored away a long while ago. Only a glimmer. Not enough to spark any new attachments.
“I'm—! I'm doing it!” Morty laughed as the score rose higher, “I-I think I can hit over a hundred thousand!”
Prime switched his hands to a clapping motion, clapping each time he killed a horde. A few people came to crowd around. Steadily increasing as Morty killed even more zombies.
Prime couldn't help but gloat a little bit, he pointed to Morty, “That's my grandson!” He mentioned it to every new audience member.
It wasn't that his chest was brimming with pride, moreso, his camera was brimming with photos.
Morty cackled as he finished with the highest score, he turned around expectantly. In most situations, Rick wouldn't be looking, in most scenarios when Morty talked about his achievements Rick didn't care all too much, he didn't even look back at Morty.
Prime watched Morty intently, before awkwardly enclosing him in a hug.
“I'm… proud of you.” The words came out clunky and too large for Prime's mouth to really be saying, but he did.
Morty had never been more ecstatic, even if the circumstances and truth of the words were debatable, he hugged back anyway.
“Thank you, Rick.” He mumbled into Prime's chest.
Prime's hands floundered in the air for a moment before they settled on Morty's hair.
He ruffled it with a scoff, “Just call me grandpa.” He kept his words below a whisper, Morty heard anyway.
Prime could feel his smile.
He clung onto Prime's back as the revving of an engine spewed into the night sky. Two moons hung low, their light spraying across the ocean as a million stars reflected along. The wind blew their hair as the motorcycle drove faster.
Morty didn't let go of Prime as he attempted a wheelie into the air, he clamped his eyes shut. He opened them for just a second and the city lights nearly blinded him, they danced and sparkled against the harsh spiky landscape.
The motorcycle howled into the night sky as police cars sang behind them. A choir just behind them. A license plate unfamiliar to them flitted into the scenery below.
The motorcycle slammed down into an alley, beyond the dancing and music of city life.
“Picture?” Prime turned to Morty, knowing the answer but asking anyway.
Morty smiled genuinely as the camera clicked down, Prime's eyes crinkled as his smile grew with Morty's, shooting a second picture.
Morty paused, staring at the two pictures before turning to Prime, “Why two?”
Prime had been attempting to foster trust and happiness with Morty through being the opposite of Rick. He decided some honesty was required in that.
“One for me.” Prime stashed one into his pocket and held the other out for Morty.
He grabbed it silently.
Morty sulked as he walked back to his front door. Prime even came off solemn as he stopped behind Morty.
“Destination: Rick!” Prime attempted a more hopeful tone.
Morty followed suit, “Y-yeah. Yeah! I'll just… uh, show him the pictures?”
Prime nodded eagerly, “Tell him… that I became your grandpa because he gave you over to me while drunk.”
Morty pouted and examined the photos in his hands, “I t-thought it was… it was supposed to be dementia.”
Prime frowned, “Whatever.”
Morty snapped his head up and looked shocked as he tracked Prime's facial movements, searching for something beyond boredom, “W-what?”
Prime shrugged, “My heart's not really in it anymore.”
The photos shook in Morty's hands, “S-so that was all for nothing…?”
Prime laughed heartily, “Yeah! I suppose it was.”
They lapsed into silence.
“Can this wait until tomorrow?” Prime managed a friendly tone, smile truer than he'd admit.
Morty grinned back, eyes almost closed, “Yeah!”
Morty slammed into Prime's chest, hugging him, Prime copied the motion.
Morty wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel morally, he was hugging a mass murderer who killed Diane, the same guy who was willing to kill his wife. But, in that moment, he was happy and if nothing mattered then, nothing mattered.
“Grandpa…” Morty spoke into Prime's chest, “Thank you.”
Prime's face was blank as he patted Morty's head. He didn't typically like showing actual affection – mostly because he lacked it.
“You're welcome.” Prime said softly.
Maybe aging was making him get softer.