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Rick and Morty are fighting in the middle of the living room: Morty thinks that they’re in love and should do something about it, and Rick vehemently disagrees.
”Jesus, Morty, we- we gotta go get your dick sucked by someone your own age or something, if you think that you and me-”
“Yeah, well, that’s not happening for me, Rick, because I can’t even want that anymore! You ruined that! Ruined me! A-And you wouldn’t even let me get my dick sucked by someone my own age if I tried!” Morty has tears flowing down his face, and his voice is climbing to a hysterical treble. “Y-Y-Y-You make it so I can’t love anyone except for you, and th-then you- you won’t love me back, even though you, you need me a-and care about me.” Rick rolls his eyes. “And you won’t even try because you’re a mean, fucked up, old monster who thinks love only matters to idiots like me. A-And yeah, that probably makes me an idiot, but it does! Matter to me, Rick! No matter how hard you try to take it away, and make me not care anymore, it still matters to me, and I’m still the only one left giving a shit! I hate you!” Morty falls into sobbing. Rick is unmoved.
“Ooh, so, you love me and you hate me? Y’know, Morty, I can appreciate you trying to keep things spicy between us, but at this point, it’s like ‘Pick a lane.’ This isn’t a telenovela, Morty. This isn’t A Walk to Remember. This is you being a sad, lonely teenager with his wires crossed. Your whole monologue was basically just video evidence that you are too much of a stupid, sentimental, hormonal child for you to have any idea what the fuck you want, Morty, so save it for your blog.”
Rick snatches the TV remote and mashes a few buttons. The screen flickers on to display Morty from Rick’s perspective, yelling “I’m still the only one left giving a shit! I hate you!” on a loop. Rick watches Morty watch the clip three times before the spell breaks.
“Screw you, Rick!” He twists away from him.
“Yeah, baby, you wish!” Morty runs out of the living room towards the garage and Rick stalks after him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Morty? Gonna go jerk off over that mental image?”
When Rick reaches the door, Morty has the mouth of a laser pistol shoved up against his own temple. Rick’s blood goes from boiling to freezing cold.
“Holy shit, Morty, don’t, I won’t cockblock you anymore, just d-!“
Morty rounds on him with a look almost close to real hatred. He flips Rick off, and then Rick watches his grandson’s brains explode all over the garage wall.
Rick pukes. A lot. He may be a god, but he’s still just a fucking human being.
Once he’s down to intermittent dry-heaving, Rick turns his back on Morty’s remains and pulls out his half-empty flask. He guzzles the rest of it to wash the puke taste out of his mouth, hands shaking like a junkie in withdrawal.
His grandson is dead. His Morty. He shot himself with the pistol Rick put in his hands when he was teaching Morty how to fire a gun. Rick pinches his brow, tries to think through the overwhelming panic and instinctive grief. He needs to be logical right now. He can get plastered and cry about this later.
He needs to get his cloning shit figured out. He needs to collect a tissue sample. He needs to get the image of Morty’s gray matter sliding down the wall out of his head.
Because Jesus fucking Christ. The kid just fucking killed himself over Rick refusing to let him hump his leg. Like not fucking Morty was this selfish thing Rick was doing just to hurt him, and not a miserable Gordian knot of self-denial he’d tied to keep Morty safe. After everything they’ve done and seen, this is what breaks him? Rick’s lack of romantic gestures is the thing that makes Morty call it quits on being alive?
Rick turns back to look at the body. It crumpled in place when he died, legs bending the wrong way under him. The corpse is so, so still. His eyes are open and empty, and the left side of his head is burst. Morty’s limp hand is still curled into a loose “Fuck you.”
Realization dawns.
The defiant look on his face. Flipping Rick off while killing himself. Morty knew Rick wasn’t going to let him stop existing. He was counting on Rick bringing him back. This wasn’t a suicide, this was a goddamn trust fall exercise. This was Morty proving his point.
Rick’s shock and horror finally round the corner into rage.
“Fuck you, Morty! You stupid piece of shit! You want love, you little homunculus?”
Rick kneels and seizes the corpse by its stupid blood-soaked shirt. Rick can see all the way through the clean headshot, could peep through Morty’s head like a keyhole if he wanted to.
He sticks his middle finger into the wound, tracing the circumference from within. It’s still hot, still bleeding. Rick twirls his finger, gauging the size. This is what Morty’s love for Rick looks like: This bleeding, fatal, fucking head wound.
Morty’s blood on Rick’s hands transfers to his pants as he unzips them, leaving a red audit trail of this decision. He’s been hard since they started arguing: His normal response to their fights, now reinforced by something new. He takes his cock out and twists Morty’s head into position by the hair.
“I ruined you? I gave you the fucking universe, Morty!”
He lines his cock up, presses the head into the hole in Morty’s skull. It’s too tight and blood makes for a shitty lube: it’s too sticky and coagulatory. The hole in Morty’s head is squishy and weird, and there’s not enough of it to fully engulf him: The tip of his huge cock pokes through to the other side like a Jack-in-the-Box from Hell. None of it really matters. It’s such a fucked up violation and Morty is so far under his power that it’s going to be enough to get him off no matter how it feels.
“I gave you everything, fucking everything, and you didn’t give a shit about it until I made you! You wanted school, you wanted Jessica, you wanted all- all that mundane bullshit!” Rick cups the intact part of Morty’s forehead for leverage as he fucks the head in earnest. Morty’s limbs flop with his thrusts, and his brains make a squelching sound. Rick doesn’t expect the tears that come with the pleasure.
This little shit wants Rick’s love? He’s already got it. If Morty’s love is a gaping hole in the head, then Rick’s love is the cock that warms itself within it. Rick’s love sees taints of evil in good things, and wants to fuck them up even more. Rick doesn’t love anything in the universe like he loves Morty.
“You self-pitying little bastard! I manipulated you into loving me? Boo-fucking-hoo! Look at what you’ve fucking done to me, Morty! Look at what you’ve turned me into!”
Rick screams when he comes. It feels more like an exorcism than an orgasm. He watches his come spurt from the exit wound with a numb sort of satisfaction.
He reviews their mess: Their most fundamental elements, brains and blood and come, mixed in a grisly puddle of gore and ultra-violence. Classic Rick & Morty style.
He’s going to have to come up with a really good Morty’s Mindblowers joke about this whole thing while the clone is growing. Rick literally fucked Morty’s brains out: That’s comedy gold if he can wordsmith it right.
Rick wipes the tears away with the heel of his palm, which smears Morty’s blood all over his face. The front of his pants and the bottom of his shirt are all soaked in head wound gore, so he’ll be adding this outfit to the burnable trash. There’s a little chunk of brain caught in Rick’s foreskin now that his dick is finally softening. He flicks it away and zips up his pants.
He sighs, retrieves the cloning sample gun and cores the tissue out of Morty’s cheek.
“Should do myself a fucking favor and leave you fucking dead…” he grumbles. Then he gets to work bringing his Morty back to him.