On Hold

Morty goes off to college and he is not as thrilled with the experience as he thought he'd be. RickMorty.

I don't own Rick and Morty.

Morty had a nightly ritual of waking up at three in the morning to have a drink of water. It used to mess him up as a child—sleeping on a full bladder didn't work well for anyone—and there was a time when he had to wash his sheets everyday (He still had to sometimes but for different reasons now). But yes, Morty had a nightly ritual that he carried on with throughout the entirety of his childhood and every night had been the same process.

Creep downstairs, shuffle over to the cabinets for a cup, and fill it with the tap.

Tonight should be the same process; would be the same process if not for unexpected presence downstairs.

"M-morty?"

"Jesus!" Morty dropped his cup and it fell with a loud clap against the floor. Water slid against the tile and pooled beneath his feet. He flicked the switch near him and light filled the kitchen.

Rick squinted from his slouched position at the dinner table and he raised a hand to shade his eyes from the sudden brightness.

"M-morty—wha—t-turn the lights off—" He placed his other palm flat and tried to push himself up but ended up knocking a bottle to the floor when his arm gave out.

"Fuck," He slurred. He swooped down to scoop up the fallen bottle but gravity proved to be too much as his body toppled off of the chair he sat on. He groaned against the floor and Morty cocked an eyebrow at his grandfather's inebriated state.

"Are you okay?" He asked. He took in the bottles of liquor and empty cans of beer littering the table and wondered if his grandfather seriously cleaned the house out of all the alcohol again.

He walked over to Rick and squatted at his side.

"C-can you move?" He asked him. Rick mumbled something under his breath and grunted as he rolled onto his stomach. His arms shook beneath him as he tried to get up and he would've face planted if not for Morty's intervention.

"I-I got you," Morty assured as he wrapped both arms around Rick's chest. He pulled him up until Rick was standing unsteadily and then carefully loped Rick's arm over his shoulders before wrapping his own around the taller man's waist.

"Let's get to bed, alright?" Morty soothes and together they wobble over to the stairs and up to the dark hallway. Rick is slumped heavily against Morty at this point and he practically drags Rick to his bedroom. They are just passing Morty's room when Rick speaks.

"You're a—y-you're a good kid, Morty," He mumbles out, body swaying until Morty steadies him into something more upright.

"Thanks Rick," Morty responds, and feels his chest expand like it normally does when Rick graces him with a rare compliment. Rick nods his head above him drunkenly.

"Y-yeah, my—my good boy, Morty," He murmurs, tone almost possessive, and Morty feels himself blush.

"Ah, gee, Rick…" He says, at a loss for words. He's about to say something about Rick not being so bad himself when suddenly Rick speaks again, his voice somber and heavy.

"Morty—I-I—I love you, you know."

Morty halts.

He processes the words slowly; turns it over in his mind, and struggles to find a reason why his surly, emotionally constipated grandfather just said that to him.

A look of worry settled over his face when he came up with the only possible explanation.

"A-are you dying or something, Rick?"

Rick huffed out a mirthless laugh and his body sagged further into Morty. The arm Morty held over his shoulders tightened until suddenly he found himself in some version of an embrace. He glanced up at Rick, confused, and was alarmed to see unshed tears in his grandfather's eyes.

"R-rick?" He stuttered out. "W-w-what—are you actually dying?"

"I feel like it." Rick said hollowly and he brought his other arm up to wrap Morty up in a crushing hug. "I feel like I'm fucking dying, Morty."

Morty opened his mouth to speak when suddenly Rick shifted his head and threw up against the floor.

"Aw, Rick!" Morty cried and scrambled them away from the vomit on the floor.

"S-sorry, Morty—shit—I—" Rick's voice hitched and something wet plopped against Morty's cheek and trailed lazily down his face. He flinches, thinking it's residual vomit, but then he looks up and sees that his grandfather is quietly weeping.

"H-hey," Morty says softly, heart plummeting at the sight. He brushes his hand against Rick's tear streaked face and Rick chokes on a sob as he leans into Morty's palm. Morty is stunned by the show of weakness, of the vulnerability Rick is showing, and something heavy settles in his gut at the sight.

"It's okay, Rick. I-I'll clean it up. Don't cry."

Rick doesn't answer; he just clings to Morty for dear life and quietly sobs against his palm.

"Don't leave," Rick begs and Morty nods his head rapidly, nervously.

"I-I won't," He assures the distraught older man, eager to comfort him and stop his tears. "You can sleep in my bed tonight."

He shuffles them over to his door and he struggles to hold up Rick and turn the knob. When the door finally pushes open he walks Rick in, shuts his door closed, and leads him to his bed.

They fall against it clumsily; bed springs protesting against the sudden weight and Rick groaning in drunken misery. Morty drags him forward so they are chest-to-chest; a precaution so that if Rick vomits in his sleep he won't choke on it and Rick huffs, tears abated.

Morty throws his arm over Rick and he rubs a hand against his back, soothingly.

"Do you feel better?"

"No," Rick replies, grouchy, and Morty is somewhat relieved because this is more like his grandfather.

He continues to rub circles against Rick's back until he thinks he is finally asleep.

He is just pulling away when Rick's gruff voice pierces through the silence and startles him.

"Don't go," He mumbles.

"I-I'm not," Morty replies. "I'm right here."

You're in my bed, he wants to say in exasperation.

"Don't go to college," Rick elucidates. Morty's hand stills from where it still rests against Rick's back and he suddenly pulls away, vexed.

"We talked about this, Rick. I want to go to college." He tells the older man, his shoulders beginning to hunch with his ire.

"I can teach you anything you need to know," Rick retorts hotly. "Florida is—that's far away, Morty. That place—d-d-do you know how many murders happen there, Morty? I can turn on Dateline and watch five consecutive episodes of murder in that state."

"C'mon, Rick," Morty begins, annoyed. "You just want me to stay to be your human cloaking device."

Rick grows silent at his words and Morty thinks for a brief moment that the argument has ended.

"Wh-wh-who's going to—who's going to save you?" Rick asks, voice soft, forlorn.

Morty rolls his eyes.

"I'm going to, to college, Rick—n-not war. I-I-I should be okay."

Another beat of silence.

"Who's going to save me?"

Morty's brows furrowed and he looked down at his grandfather's shaded face. He couldn't discern his features but he had sounded almost fragile as he asked that question.

"…You're thinking on scenarios that will never happen, Rick." He finally says.

"Y-yeah, of course—I—" Rick's breath hitched and his next words warbled. "Fuck—d-d-don't look, Morty." He said and he turned away to scrub a vicious palm against his face.

Morty doesn't say anything even as Rick finally turns back to him and presses his face against his hair. He doesn't comment on the arm Rick throws over his body or the tears that settle wetly against his scalp.

Morty doesn't say anything at all and he wonders if maybe he probably should have as he packs up the next day.

.

.

.

"Ah, my little baby is finally heading to college!" Beth yells with pride. She pinches Morty's cheeks and he blushes bashfully beneath her attention.

"Aw, mom," He murmurs. "I'm going to miss you."

"You can't miss her if you're still here, dweeb," Comments Summer with a smirk. Morty rolls his eyes but smiles good-naturedly at his sister.

"I'll miss you too, Summer," He says and Summer presses a palm against her chest in faux astonishment. She and Morty share a short laugh before the joking atmosphere sobers.

"Be safe, Morty," She says, tone serious, and Morty nods his head. He loads all his bags in the old Toyota Corolla he bought as a senior in high school. He is just settling in the driver seat when Rick decides to stroll out the front door and head to his car.

Morty takes in the puffiness of Rick's lids and the red that marbles his eyes as he approaches. There's a slouch in his shoulder's and a subdued pace to his gait that makes Morty's mouth curl down into a sad frown.

"Are you okay?" Morty asked when Rick stopped next to his window and he feels like he'd asked Rick that question a thousands times now.

Rick ran a hand through his tousled hair before meeting Morty's face solemnly.

"Yeah. Just—j-j-just thinking on scenarios that'll never happen." Morty's mouth slides further down and Rick notices and shakes his head with a quiet huff.

"Y-you—you're going to do great, Morty."

The same elation that came with Rick's praise filled his chest but it was stifled at Rick's somber tone.

"Thanks, Rick," He intoned softly when he realized that was all Rick was going to say. He started the car, put it into drive, and was just about to push down on the gas pedal when Rick leant in through the window and pressed his lips against his temple.

Morty's breath hitched and he pressed briefly on the gas, lurching the car forward.

He swings his startled gaze to Rick.

"I love you, Morty," Rick said and Morty's mouth moved without sound. Rick turned away and walked back to the house before he could find his voice again.

.

.

.

"Hey, what's up! I'm your new roommate! You can call me Tommy!"

Tommy is a pasty, pimple-faced boy with a slowly forming beer belly and an apparent appreciation for porn as Morty can already spy the large box of porno's he leaves next to the door.

"Hey," Morty replies in greeting and drops his duffel bag and backpack atop his new bed. "My name's Morty."

"Oh, cool! Your name ends in y just like mine!"

Morty hums and gives an awkward nod.

"Y-yeah…what a coincidence."

He settles all of his belongings into its new place; folding clothes and hanging things up. He stacks his books on his desk and digs through his bag for anything else he has left to put away. His fingers brush against something thin and flat and he frowns and pulls it out.

It's an old polaroid; one of him and Rick when he was just fourteen. There's a beer bottle in Morty's hand and Rick's arm is slung around his shoulders as his other holds up the camera.

It's the first night Rick had gotten him shit faced drunk and Morty remembers downing a whole beer in an effort to impress his grandfather.

"Y-yeah, Morty—Tear it the fuck uuuupppp!"

Rick had yelled and slapped him roughly on the back. Morty had thrown up twice that night but it was one of the best nights of his life because Rick had been there and he had been happy.

Morty flips the picture and reads the back.

Morty parties like a champ with grandpa! -6/25/17

He turns it over, looks at it one more time, and then quietly slides it into his wallet.

.

.

.

There's a freshman party being held by one of the fraternities a few days later and of course Morty and Tommy go. Tommy loads up on a crap load of cologne and talks Morty's ear off the entire walk to the fraternity.

Morty feigns interest but he doesn't know how much longer he can handle Tommy's excessive bragging of all the girls he'd apparently slept with.

"…yeah, man, and I'm looking to score tonight, too! You gonna go on the hunt tonight?"

"Yeah, sure," Morty replies absent mindedly as they finally find the fraternity. Cars are parked along both sides of the street and a couple are even parked on the lawn. People loiter outside with red solo cups and Morty can already hear the music from the distance he is at.

"C'mon, bro!" Yells Tommy with excitement. He begins a laborious jog to the house with Morty strolling at a more leisure pace behind him. The bass is loud; rocking the house and blaring against his eardrums, and people are yelling and cheering all around him.

Someone presses a solo cup into his hand as he passes and he salutes them with it before taking a sip. It burns down his throat and he blinks as he's suddenly reminded of Rick. He finishes the cup, places it atop a table that is filled with more solo cups and a variety of liquors and beer and goes to look for his roommate.

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he searches and he pulls it out thinking it is Tommy calling him.

His heart skips a beat when he sees the caller ID and he slides to accept the call before hastily pressing it against his ear.

"Rick?" He says and he briefly hears Rick's gritty voice before it is drowned out by the noise surrounding him.

"H-hold on for a sec," He says and presses a palm against his opposite ear. It's still too loud; voices and laughter seeping past his fingers.

"Rick can I—i-is this important?" He asks and strains his ear for a response. It is silent on the other end.

"…No," Rick finally says, tone flat. "Call me when you're ready, alright?"

"Ready for what?" He asks, confused, and hurries to a corner to better hear him on the phone. Somebody screams with laughter and he feels annoyance creep up his spine and he must squash the desire to whip around and yell at everyone to shut up.

"Ready for what?" Morty asks again, waiting for an answer.

"You'll know when you're ready." Rick says and the annoyance Morty feels grows because why does Rick always have to be so fucking vague and mysterious and would it fucking kill him to be honest with him just once—

"I love you, Morty."

Morty's ire seeps out of him in one fell swoop and he leans against the wall, suddenly exhausted.

"Rick," He begins softly but the dial tone rings back at him. He looks down at his cell; the call has ended. He stares at it and feels an insane desire to throw it against the wall. He pockets it instead and resumes the search for his roommate.

He finds him leaning against the wall, next to the tub of iced beers, and drinking with a fake casualness that Morty can instantly see through.

"Hey, man!" Tommy yells when he finally spies Morty. Morty settles at his side and they both lean against the wall and watch as the party pulses around them.

"This party is fucking dope, right?" Tommy says with vibrancy in his gaze. Morty shrugs and continues to stare at the writhing bodies and the scattered alcohol and he thinks Rick would've probably made it a thousand times funner.

But he can't say that because Tommy didn't know Rick and probably wouldn't understand Morty's desire to party with his grandfather.

The party is boring to him and he doesn't know how to tell Tommy that.

How do you tell someone you're not having fun at a party?

He would've told Rick if he were there and Rick would've told him he was being a moody little bitch and to lighten the fuck up.

But Rick would've also taken him out to get ice cream and watch Ball Fondlers if he knew.

He feels melancholy settle in his chest and he kinda misses Rick and he also kinda hates Rick because he's over a thousand miles away and somehow he's still consuming his thoughts.

"You want to dance?" Someone asks, jarring his brooding. He looks up and is greeted by a girl who bears an uncanny resemblance to Jessica. Tommy elbows him excitedly and unnecessarily and Morty shoots a frown at the other boy before regarding the girl.

He thinks about saying yes but he's honestly not in the mood to fake it. Fourteen year old Morty would be yelling profanities at him is he were there but Morty finds it hard to care as he looks the girl up and down and feels next to nothing as he gazes at her.

And isn't life funny like that? The things you used to hate you suddenly love and the things you thought you desired end up meaning nothing.

"Dude, are you fucking gay?" His roommate asked when he turned down the girl.

Morty turned to regard him cooly.

"So what if I am?" He asked, expression flat. His roommate jerked back, clearly not expecting that response. He raised his hands in a pacifying manner.

"H-hey, it's all cool with me, man." He passed him a beer and Morty chugged it down in one go. He wished Rick were here to slap him on the back proudly.

"Y-yeah, Morty—Tear it the fuck uuuupppp!"

He rubbed his fist against his eye and wondered why the hell he was crying.

.

.

.

Rick doesn't contact him again and Morty struggles to sleep as he waits for a call that never comes. He checks his phone every five minutes and it gets to the point where it begins to interfere with his studies.

He leaves it in his dorm during class hours and feels anxiety through out the entirety of the day until he finally gets back and checks to see that he still has no missed calls.

He thinks about calling Rick sometimes but then he freezes because Rick told him to call him when he was ready and he doesn't fucking understand what that means still.

"Call me when you're ready, alright?"

Ready for what!? He wants to yell, frustration mounting until all he really wants to do is call Rick up and cuss him out.

The question lingers in his mind even as work piles on and on and soon Morty doesn't sleep at all, too anxious and too busy to find the peace of mind for it.

One day he falls asleep during class and he only awakens when the girl he'd turned down at the frat party, Emma, shakes him awake.

"Hm?" He mumbles and blinks foggily up at the redhead. The class is empty at this point, everyone having left to their next class.

Emma gives him a concerned look.

"You okay, Morty?" She asks gently and he nods his head.

"Yeah, just tired," He says.

"No, I mean you were crying in your sleep." She says and gestures to his face.

Morty's hands fly up to touch his cheeks and they are wet with tears. He pulls them back, confused. Why had he been crying? He ponders on the mystery when Emma speaks again.

"Whose Rick?"

His breath stutters; heart constricting at the name, and he gazes up at Emma, startled.

"Wha—"

"You called his name while you were crying. Were you dreaming about him?" Morty feels heat flood his cheeks and he suddenly wants to sink into the floor and cry at the same time. Emma must've caught his mortification because she places a comforting hand against his shoulder.

"It's okay, I understand," She says and Morty doesn't, he doesn't understand at all. He thinks about asking what exactly she understands but then a sob gets caught in his throat and all of the stress and exhaustion catches up with him and suddenly he's crying into his palms and he wants Rick, where the fuck is Rick?

"I want to go home," He says brokenly. "I want Rick."

He feels as Emma draws him into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his shaking shoulders.

He cries against her blouse and he wishes it were Rick comforting him.

.

.

.

It isn't until two weeks into school and Morty is half-way through a class that he is jolted with a sudden realization.

Rick hadn't been—every time he's told Morty he'd loved him he had been professing his love for him romantically!

"Call me when you're ready, alright?"

His sentence suddenly makes sense and he is so startled by the epiphany that he abruptly stood up during the lecture and garnered everyone's attention while doing so.

"I-I have to go the bathroom!" He yelled out and didn't wait for a response before making a mad dash for the exit.

He ran all the way to his dorm room, huffing at the sprint he maintained. His roommate was out and he made a beeline for the cellphone he kept charging during class hours.

His breath was heavy as he dialed Rick's number and it hitched when he heard his voice.

"What—"

"Rick!" Morty yelled, cutting him off. "I-I-I—I didn't know, I—"

He gave a long inhale, eyes falling closed.

"I love you, too."

There was a long pause and then a click; the dial tone rang through. Morty felt his heart plummet and he pulled the phone back to stare at it brokenly. The screen registered the call ended and he felt his eyes begin to sting with unshed tears.

Was he wrong? Did he misunderstand Rick's words and just—

"About fucking time."

Morty whirled around. There was the familiar green portal and in front of it stood Rick.

His cellphone fell from his hand and he sprinted to him.

"Rick!"

END.

Meh, thought I'd try out a RickMorty. This is for you Wincii. You're the only reason I'd write out a RickMorty lol.