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Rick’s partner answered a call for police assistance needed at the Creepy Morty. His partner grinned at Rick with a cheerful sneer. Rick pinched his nose and tried to hold back the frustrated growl.
He had no desire to go back there, but complaining about it would only get him mocked even more by his new Rick partner. No one at the force gave a shit that he still felt bad about all the Morty death he had been involved in before.
The Morty Town Locos. Big Morty. His Partner.
Rick bit his thumb and kept his mouth shut while his partner smirked; that asshole knew.
He fucking knew how much it bothered him to go back to that place where he shot his partner and he answered the call anyway.
Asshole.
The cruiser came to a stop outside the familiar nightclub and Rick followed his partner inside. Tables had been upturned and a fight had clearly gotten out of control with Mortys ripping into each other and screaming.
The Morty owner hid behind the bar, waving at them in terror. He signaled at the chaos around them with aggressive pointing and shouted, “Stop them!”
“Well this is pointless,” Rick’s partner muttered. “What should we care if a bunch of Mortys are in a fight?”
“Disturbance of the peace, for starters,” Rick said. At least the disturbance made the place unrecognizable to what it had been before. Made it easier to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach where he'd shot his partner. Rick exhaled and strode into the room. He shouted in his best disciplinary voice, “All right, let’s break it up!”
He grabbed the coat of the nearest Morty to him, who was straddling the boy he was punching, and yanked him back. The leopard skin fake fur was thick and fluffy in his hands and he raised his brow at the bleached blond hair. The kid kicked his legs revealing the bikini bottom he wore and flip flops.
Lord he hated the Creepy Morty.
“Let me go! When my Rick gets here he’ll show you!” the boy yelled. “Put me down!”
“Not until you’re calm.” Rick sighed and kept holding the kid out at arm’s length. His partner cackled in the background as he separated Mortys and yelled at them with glee. The kids scrambled and one by one behind him the fights stopped. The kid sensed the change in atmosphere and stilled. Rick put him down. “There you go.”
The boy pulled a sucker out of his pocket and ripped off the wrapper. “I’m not thanking you.”
“Didn’t think you would.” Rick ran their brief conversation over once again and paused. “Wait, did you say you had a Rick?”
The Morty flipped his blond hair and shoved the sucker in his mouth. He spoke around it. “Yeah, and what of it?”
“Why are you here then?” Rick waved his hand. “Morty Town is for the Rickless.”
“I don’t play by anyone’s rules.” Morty crossed his arms. “And this is the only place a Morty can dance on stage.”
Well, that wasn’t true at all, but there wasn’t a chance in the multiverse he was going to point the Morty to the seediest of seediest places of the Citadel.
“Call him to pick you up.” Rick crossed his arms. “Now.”
“Fine,” the Morty snapped. “Stop looking at me like my mom.”
Rick’s partner smacked him on the back. “Let’s go. Fight’s done.”
“I’m going to wait for his Rick to come get him.” Rick pointed at the blond Morty. “He shouldn’t be here alone if he has one.”
“That ain't our b-buisness.”
“I’d still feel better if I made sure he got home.”
“Come on, Rookie. We-we-we both know he’s in more danger around you,” his partner hooked an arm around his shoulder. “What’s your Morty kill count again?”
“Would you stop it?” Rick shoved his partner off and snarled. His eyes darted to the Morty who was now staring up at him with his fingers mid-text on his phone. Rick lowered his voice and hissed, “Why would you say that in front of him?”
“Because you need to get over yourself.” His partner took a drink from his flask and walked out the front door. He flipped Rick off and shouted, “I’m out! Get your own ride back to the station.”
Rick covered his eyes and counted to ten.
When he’d calmed enough, he said, “Don’t let that guy scare you, kid. He’s just an asshole Rick.”
The Morty shoved his phone in his pocket. Around them, the employees had started to clean, putting up the tales and wiping up spilled drinks. Rick kept his gaze on the ground, happy to stew in self loathing—until the Morty stepped into his line of sight and looked up at him.
The kid popped his sucker out of his mouth. “Was it true though? You got a Morty kill count?”
“Two,” Rick admitted as his chest ached. He would not hold himself guilty over what his partner did. He wouldn't. “Both technically in self defense. I’m not going to attack you for shits and-and-and giggles.”
“What kind of Mortys were you around that you had to defend yourself with deadly force?” Morty laughed popping his sucker back in his mouth. “Sounds fake, unless you’re just that awful of a Rick.”
He might be.
Twenty minutes later, the door to the Creepy Morty opened and a man strode in wearing flashy shades and a bright pink blazer instead of a lab coat. Rick didn’t know him, but it was pretty easy to guess which flashy Morty he was paired with.
“W-w-what’d you do to get in trouble with the law?” the Rick asked, strolling straight up to the Morty next to Rick. “I taught you better than to get caught.”
“Didn't get caught,” the Morty lied without a care and a light shrug. “I’m not in trouble. The nice officer here is just making sure I get home to my Rick.”
“That so?” The other Rick shoved his shades up on his head and held out his hand. “Miami Rick. Thanks for watching my little hedonist.”
“Part of the job,” Rick shook his hand back. The other Mortys in the building had their eyes locked on the two Ricks invading their space. “Keep him out of fights.”
“No chance of that.” Miami Rick slung his shoulder over what Rick now knew to be Miami Morty and tugged him toward the doorway. “This is why I told you to stick to dancing in the clubs at home.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Morty looked over his shoulder at Rick and called out, “It’s okay, you know.”
Rick tilted his head in confusion.
“That you iced those Mortys.” Miami Morty put the sucker back in his mouth. “Some of us have that shit coming and Ricks do whatever they want. We get it.”
A wave of numbness fell over Rick as the kid grinned and grabbed his Rick’s hand.
“I like him.” Miami Morty yanked his Rick out of the Creepy Morty and said loud enough that Rick could hear: “You should call him sometime.”
“You’re a menace…” Miami Rick replied, his voice trailing off as they got further away.
“It’s okay,” Rick repeated under his breath.
It wasn’t.
It really wasn’t.
He’d have nightmares for the rest of his life of that Morty he’d shot in that room with the crib or the face of hatred on his partner when he shot him.
But.
But maybe he needed to hear it was okay anyway.