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The room was completely dark, except for a narrow sliver of light spilling in from the hallway, illuminating the small figure on Rick’s bed. Rick took a deep pull from his flask as he watched his grandson twist and turn in his sleep. Morty’s face was contorted with fear, his small hands fisted in the bedsheets as his body trembled, visible even beneath such thick blankets.
Rick scowled. He had warned the boy. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to take Morty to a dimension ruled by dream demons but the idiot had persisted. He’d pestered Rick for weeks, whining and sucking up until Rick had eventually caved. It’s not like he had a soft spot or anything; it’s just that Morty could be a stubborn little shit when push came to shove. He was paying for it now, having attracted the attention of a squirrely little demon in the other dimension.
Unbeknownst to either of them at the time, it had clung to Morty’s energy and burrowed deep into the boy’s mindscape, getting bloated on Morty’s worst fears. After nearly a week of debilitating nightmares, Morty had taken to curling up in a pitiful ball on the floor outside of Rick’s room for Rick to trip over in the middle of the night. It wasn’t cute. Rick didn’t exactly have the greatest depth perception after the fourth drink. He could’ve broken a hip or something; and then he’d show the kid some real nightmarish shit. So, obviously, Rick’s bed was now forfeit until he figured out how to handle Morty’s mess. Because that’s what he did for his family, goddammit. He fixed their messes and made shit better, making him the man of the house. He’d like to see Jerry infiltrate someone’s mindscape and fight off a motherfuckin’ dream demon.
He fumbled around his lab coat and trouser pockets for the dream transmitters, hiccuping in victory when he finally located the set in his right shoe. Luckily, they weren’t too damaged. Maybe a little bent but he could work with that. Perhaps there was something to lightening up on the Snebulon liquor, though. At least this late at night. He took another swig from his flask and stumbled over to Morty, cursing as every object decided to put themselves between he and his destination. Gravity was just fucking with him at this point, as he nearly broke his neck on Morty’s boxers and jeans, discarded in a careless crumple next to the bed.
“Seriously, Mor-urrgh-ty? Seriously?” Rick felt a vein throbbing in his temple as he eyed his grandson incredulously. “What is this, Haulover Beach? I don’t want– I don’t want your gross ball skin chafing all over my clean sheets, Morty. A-a guy needs his sanctuary; you don’t get to just rub your scrotes all over my s-stuff, ya little shit. Basic decency, Morty. Buh-basic decency.”
Morty rolled over toward the sound of his voice with a soft moan, which soon dissolved into sad little whimpers. Rick flinched as Morty, still dreaming deeply, choked out his name.
“You’re looking real pathetic there, Morty,” Rick said with a frown. He reached out, and clumsily patted Morty’s hair in a weak approximation of comfort. It was damp with sweat. Morty leaned into his touch, nuzzling his face against Rick’s hand.
Rick swallowed, his tongue suddenly feeling to thick. “We’ll– urrgh– we’ll just table th-the ball thing for now.” He said, gently brushing Morty’s hair aside and placed the transmitter into his ear. “Grandpa’s g-gotta get you a demon.”
Then he crawled into bed next him, the room spinning a little as he positioned his body around Morty’s prone figure. He hesitated, as he watched Morty’s shoulders rise and fall in his sleep. For the first time, the idea that he could really mess things up hit him hard. What if he did fuck things up for Morty? What if he– what if he destroyed something inside the boy that was vital in making Morty his Morty? His stomach roiled and he automatically reached for his flask with a trembling hand before realizing he’d left it across the room. He looked down at Morty, his chest uncomfortably tight. He supposed it was simple really. He just wouldn’t fail.
He dragged a pillow under his head and fluffed it a little, getting comfortable. He propped himself up on one elbow, letting himself savor one last look at his grandson’s face. He memorized it, just in case, before falling back onto the bed with renewed determination.
“Here goes nothing,” he said, before putting the transmitter to his own ear and falling into darkness.
Rick hated mindscapes. They were a pointless throwback to a more primitive time, and could have easily been fixed with a basic software upgrade. But hey, it wasn’t his design so all he could do was bitch about it.
The thing about mindscapes was that they were too accessible for something so important. It was like a secret back door for every mal-entity that didn’t want to pay cover charge. Every human person had one; every bodiless organism wanted one. Even he had one, although that didn’t stop him from testing out various methods to destroy his.
Mindscapes were built into the nervous system for the brain to use while the human body slept. It was supposedly a safe haven for the mind to process its day. If dreams were created as an amalgamation of thoughts, fears, memories, and desires; mindscapes were built from personality, perception, and energy. They were like maps of the human spirit, with all routes leading to the central nervous system. For the most part, its aesthetic was up to the dreamer. The more willpower a person possessed, the more control they had over their mindscape. If he wanted to get rid of the demon, he needed to first find it and then exploit its weakness– whatever the fuck that was. Luckily, he had freedom in the mindscape. Whatever he could imagine, he could manipulate into being. Be it in body or item, if it needed to be handled, he'd handle it. It'd be another tool in his arsenal against the dream demon.
Rick had landed on something firm but springy. He rolled to his knees immediately, gun drawn. When nothing jumped out at him, he slowly knee-walked off the edge of what he realized was a couch until his shoes touched paneled wood. He straightened up, warily taking in his surroundings. He had landed in a familiar living room. Morty’s mindscape started in the Smith living room, only brighter and more homey than it was in the waking world. Each wall was painted a different color and they all displayed framed photographs of their family. He kept his gun trained in front of him as he wandered out of the living room and up the stairs toward the hallway, half-heartedly skimming the pictures on the walls as he went. Rick squinted at a photograph of his younger self with toddler Morty balanced on his shoulders. He still had his piercings then, despite pushing his mid-30’s. He couldn’t remember that moment–it was possible that Morty had seen a similar photo and recreated it. He paused at portrait of he and Morty in matching tuxedos underneath an arch of flowers. They both had their arms wrapped around each other’s waist in an intimate embrace. Morty’s face was flushed with happiness and Rick looked… proud? Content? They all seemed to have one common theme to them, he realized. Him.
“He fancies himself in love with you.”
Rick spun around, gun raised higher, only to face an empty hall. The disembodied voice chuckled. It echoed throughout the entire house and the walls started pulsing with dark energy. Rick slowly backed up so that his back was to one of the walls and he had a clear view of his surroundings.
“What can I say,” he drawled, eyes searching. “Kid’s got good taste.”
A door slammed shut at the end of the hall and Rick grimaced, skin crawling as the darkness congealed into a slick puddle of goop. He shot at it but the lazer didn’t seem to phase it. He mentally conjured up a grenade but it sucked it right into its dark energy. Everything he could think of to conjure was immediately devoured. It just kept building in mass. He inched down the hallway, still hugging the wall as he followed the puddle towards the door. It was the door to his room. Dark tendrils of energy creeped out from underneath the frame, joining the goop until it swelled into genderless, featureless human outline.
Slimy tendrils reached out from the figure and wrapped themselves around his ankles, slowly sliding up his pant legs. Rick shook one leg out, stomping his heel into the goop with a satisfying squish. “I guess you want a piece of these swangly old balls, too, huh.”
The figure immediately recoiled as if slapped, and it quickly removed its tentacles. “I’m scanning your body for weaknesses. I’m not a pervert like you and your dirty kin!” It seemed to retreat toward the door, pulling away from Rick as it did.
Rick smirked. He might’ve just found its weakness. Time to test his theory.
“Everything within this mind belongs to me!” It snarled from the safety of the doorway. Rick’s eyes narrowed and he holstered his gun, reaching for his pants zipper. “LEAVE N– WH-what are you doing?”
“Oh, y'know. Kinda forgot to piss before bed.” Rick said conversationally as he pulled out his dick. “It’s bad to hold it.” He groaned as he released a steady stream, aimed straight at the figure’s feet. “Yeaaaaaah, that’s it right there, baby.”
The demon shrieked and frantically shook off its feet. The air around it began to smoke and the floors vibrated. “HOW DARE YOU VIOLATE MY REALM WITH YOUR FILTH!” It was practically frothing at the mouth in its rage. “YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR INSOLENCE, HUMAN!”
And with that, the demon grabbed him by his collar and pulled him into the room, his dick still hanging out.
Morty stared up at the doctor hovering over him, shaking internally despite his inability to move. He was strapped to a gurney with his bare legs spread and locked into stirrups. The doctor wore a surgical mask but Morty could still see the mad glint in his brown eyes as he held up a giant metal spreader. And cranked it a few times for good measure. The clamp began to widen, opening up to an obscene gap.
“Wh-wh-what are y-y-y-you going to do with that!” Morty stuttered, trying fruitlessly to wiggle his hips away from the doctor. The doctor smacked his thigh and Morty whimpered, but obediently stilled his movements. Satisfied, the man moved out of eye-line, and began rummaging through some cabinets by the sounds of it. Morty’s head was strapped down so all he could do was side-eye him helplessly. He heard clanking noises and the soft crinkle of tissue paper. His nose was running and his cheek itched desperately. He was miserable.
The doctor was loomed over him again, holding a tiny scalpel now along with the intimidating spreader. “It’s time for your pap smear.” He said, just as the door slammed open. Morty saw his eyes widen as the room filled with sounds of two men arguing. One of them was definitely Rick, and Morty started struggling in his bindings.
“Oooooh look, a –urrrph–plastic replica of a vagina.” Rick was saying, his voice taunting and hostile. “D'you own that, too?”
Morty’s body froze as the dream demon’s voice rumbled throughout the room. “Everything within this realm belongs to me."
“Whoops,” Rick said, his voice the picture of innocence. There was the sound of violent rustling followed by a wet slapping noise, and Rick sighed lustily. “Now, how'd that get on my dick?”
“YOU ARE SULLYING THIS REALM, HUMAN!” The demon squealed, it sounding more and more like a petulant child. Morty struggled a little in his chair, fearing for his grandfather.
“Shiiiit. Y-you think that’s sullying?" Rick scoffed. "Y-you ever hear of food play? No? Well, how about I show you then.” Magic fizzed in the air and something clattered onto the ground. There was that sound again: moist sucking sound, and Rick moaned, his voice cracking.
The demon snarled, and the air began to vibrate threateningly. "What are you doing? STOP CONJURING THINGS TO FUCK!" It screamed.
"Wh-what, and have you miss out on some creamed spinach —" Rick choked out. The air vibrated once, twice, and then all the darkness exploded outward; screeching away from the room.
The demon's voice sounded far away as it said, “You’ve managed to desecrate almost every surface of this mind with your… bodily fluids. I don’t need this kind of negativity.”
There was the feeling of a vaccuum being split deep within Morty’s body and suddenly, he could breathe for the first time in a week. It was gone. He was free.
“Y-yeah that’s right, bitch,” Rick said, his voice thick with arrogance. “I’m the only one allowed to m-mark my grandson. You ever come back and Imma eat that booty like groceries!”
Morty finally cried out for his grandfather.
The room went quiet for a second and the doctor, who’d been watching the exchange with a growing look of horror on his face, was disintegrated in a burst of sparks. Rick’s face came into focus, and Morty’s vision swam.
“H-holy shiiiit, Morty.” Rick said, his eyes moving restlessly up and down Morty’s body. “Y-you’re either into some really kinky shit or you r-really need a lesson on the female anatomy.”
“Now’s not the g-g-g-greatest time to make fun of me, Rick.” Morty mumbled, his cheeks heated. Rick almost reluctantly began untying him, fumbling for what felt like forever with the shackles when they wouldn’t budge. He finally managed to free him, though, and carefully helped Morty step down from the gurney. Morty noticed he didn’t avert his eyes as he lowered the hospital gown to a more modest level, and it filed it away for later consideration. As soon as Morty steadied himself, he turned and flung himself Rick, needing to bury his face into Rick’s familiar warmth.
“E-ease up there, kiddo.” Rick said, quickly side-stepping him and turning around. It was then that Morty noticed a flash of bare skin before it disappeared under tan fabric. Rick zipped the front of his pants and turned back around. “Alright, have at it.” He said and spread his arms wide.
Morty just stared at him. “Why were y-y-your pants down, Rick?”
“A man’s got needs, M-morty,” Rick drawled, throwing an arm loosely over Morty’s shoulder and dragging him closer. “You ready to blow this pussy-ass Popsicle stand? I’d m-murder my whole family for a drink right about now.”
Morty sighed, realizing that was probably all he was getting out of the man. It still niggled, though so he tried his luck by pressing the matter. “Y-yeah okay, Rick. But you– I-I’m not letting you off the hook tomorrow. I wanna know everything– I wanna know what that whole exchange was with the—with the demon a-and wh-wh-why he just took off like that. I wanna know–”
“Yeah, hey. Y'know what I wanna know, Mo-urrrph-ty?” Rick cut him off, tightening his arm around him. “Why you went commando in my bed. You wanna tell me that, huh Morty? You wanna tell grandpa why he’s got nut dust all over his 500 count linen sheets?”
Morty stared at his feet. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me.”
Rick smirked. “Good boy. Let’s bounce.”