#I'd adopt him and he'd be my cool helpful roommate and I'd make him really long basketball pyjamas

[angiestown]

I'm rewatching foster's home right now and the most unrealistic part of this show is that Wilt has been there the longest out of the four main friends and he still hasn't been adopted yet

[krsive-writes]

Speedrun

Title: Speedrun

Author: krsive

Rating: T

Tags: Empty Calories, Fluff

They called him Super Rick Fan, which Morty had to admit was a fair assessment. He just couldn’t help it. Ricks were just so cool. They were tall and handsome, with those sapphire eyes and cocky grins. And Ricks could do anything, anything in the world. They made portal guns and drove space ships and captured teams of Mortys to grace them with their godly presence. Super Rick Fan would have been the best Morty a Rick could ever have if only he got the chance, but for some reason they always fled him. Even his own grandpa had pronounced him crazy and dumped him on the Citadel one day, never to return.

On a normal Sunday afternoon, Morty sat in his claustrophobic living room working on his new hat. He had designed it himself, and now he was lovingly rendering the peaks of a classic Rick hairdo in blue felt. In wandered his roommate, Mixologist Morty, late rising after a closing shift at the bar. Morty barely looked up until Mixy came to hover over him, casually holding a bowl and spoon.

"Ok, d-don't start," Morty said, watching Mixy chew on a bite of his cereal.

"This is so cringe," Mixy replied, his mouth full.

"M-Maybe I'm cringe but at least I know what I want."

"There's no 'maybe' about it.” Mixy sat on the other end of the couch.

"I can't help it. Every time I think about a big strong Rick h-holding me close, I just..." He sighed, feeling sappy.

"You're a h-hopeless case," Mixy agreed.

"I want my own Rick so bad. Is that too much to ask? I-I'd be a good Morty. No, the best Morty if a Rick would just give me a chance."

The corner of Mixy's mouth twitched upwards. "Bet you'd do anything to get a date with a Rick."

"To have a Rick pay attention to me a-a-and kiss me and..." He trailed off into private, erotic thoughts, face warming.

"So, say I had a Rick's number right here," said Mixy, holding up a folded piece of paper between his fingers.

"Gimme!" said Morty, making a lunge.

Mixy snatched the paper away. "Ah, ah, ah! What's it worth to you?"

"Anything."

"Like cleaning the food trap in the dishwasher?"

Morty's stomach soured just thinking about it. "The one we haven't cleaned in two years?"

"The one and only."

"Is it a real Rick's real number? And d-don't lie."

"It really is. Last night this guy came to the bar, and..."

The previous night...

"He was such a cute li’l shit, look," Rick slurred, waving the wallet-sized photo in the bartender's face. In it, a 6 year old Morty smiled expansively at the camera, his face smeared with blue from his melting popsicle.

"Uh huh." The bartender spared the picture a glance, which Rick appreciated. He was already planning to tip big because the 'tender was a Morty—probably exploited, poor thing—but he mentally added to the total for the kind gesture. "Tell him I said cute pic."

"He's dead." Rick's melancholy was mellowed by the haze of alcohol.

"Geez. I'm sorry. Another?" The bartender held up the bottle of run he'd been serving Rick from.

Rick nodded and nudged his empty glass towards the boy, who mixed him a new rum and coke. "I never got to meet him in person. He was 8. Car accident."

"That sucks."

"I just want my very own Morty to love." Rick gazed despondently at the photo before putting it away.

"Aren't there tons of Mortys up for adoption?"

"The agencies, uh..." Embarrassed, Rick bought himself a moment by taking a drink. "They all rejected me. Too ‘enthusiastic.’"

"How about catching one?"

"I couldn't do that to a sweet little Morty! Those manipulator chips are barbaric.” He sighed. "I would never hurt a Morty. I just want to hold one close and count his tiny fingers and smell his hair..."

"You're a real Super Fan, aren't you?"

"I'm the number one Morty fan of all time," Rick agreed

"So, actually, I kind of know a guy you m-might like."

"A Morty?" Rick couldn't hide his excitement.

"Yeah. He's really into Ricks. I can give him your number if—“

Rick was already scribbling it down on his receipt.

And now back to the present...

Morty was shaking in his shoes, pacing while the phone rang. What if Rick didn't answer? What if he didn't want to go out? So many things could go wrong. Maybe he should just hang—

''Hello?" a Rickish voice said, flattened a bit by the phone line.

"Rick?"

"Morty?"

"Is this the Rick who wants to go on a date with Mixy's—th-th-the bartender's roommate?''

"You’re the bartender's roommate?"

"Yeah. I'm..." Morty's mouth felt so dry. "I’m F-68—“

"Can I just call you Morty?"

Morty's smile was so big it made his cheeks hurt. "Yeah! I mean y-yeah. I'd like that. What's your—“

"I'd like it if you just call me Rick, too."

"I'd really like that."

"I know it's super fast, but..." Rick took a shaky breath. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

"Nope! I-I'm all free," said Morty, now planning to tell his manager he was sick. This was far more important.

''The Gaflorpian cherry trees are blooming. We could have a picnic.”

"I'll pack it! I-I'm a good cook," said Morty, though he had never really tried before. How hard could it be?

"We could meet at the 12th Residential District City Park at noon.”

"Sounds great, Rick."

"Yeah. Sounds great." Morty could hear the sappy smile in Rick's voice.

Cooking went very, very poorly, so Morty waited the next day at the park gate with a backpack stuffed with cheese, fruit, and crackers instead. He was wearing his new Rick-hair hat despite Mixy's efforts to make him leave it behind. It was only ll:41, but he was already crying from the stress, fearing that he would be stood up.

Then a special Rick rounded the corner, headed for the park. He was wearing a homemade felt hat shaped like a Morty's hair, As soon as they saw each other, something sparked between them. The air was electric, fizzing like champagne with barely contained energy as they made introductions. But they were both shy and relatively quiet on their way to a private spot beneath the trees.

Petals fell like rosy snow every time the wind shifted. They made bashful small talk and nibbled the charcuterie (it turned out that Morty wasn't a fan of most of the fancy cheeses, but he pretended anyway), both blushing and giggly. Soon their shoulders began to relax and their words flowed more smoothly.

"Ok, ok. Me next. favorite." color. One, two, three—“

Both answered at the same time.

"Blue!" shouted Morty.

"Yellow!" shouted Rick.

Morty fell into a fit of giggles. "We should both start liking green, then." His eyes flicked up to Rick's. The warmth he saw there gave him palpitations.

"We could live in a little green house," said Rick, though then he seemed to catch himself. "I mean if we—“

"We should!" Morty put his fingers to his lips. "I-I mean..."

Rick reached out, silent, taking Morty's hand tenderly. Morty's eyes welled with tears. This felt like a dream come true. He gazed longingly at Rick, hoping against hope.

"If you let me love you, I'll love you forever," said Rick. Morty could hear a tremble in his voice.

''Oh, Rick..."

"I feel like I've waited for you for so long. I..."

"Me, too. I love you already." Morty moved forward on his knees, and Rick held him close. "Will you be m-my Rick?"

"Of course I will, Morty. And I’ll protect you, I’ll make you smile. I'll be so good to you, Morty. And we'll run around all over the place doing Rick and Morty things, just every day, Rick and Morty stuff. Forever and ever, Rick and Morty, in the green house Rick and—“

Morty couldn't wait any longer. He threw his arms around Rick and crashed their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. Rick pushed his hat off to tangle his fingers in Morty's curls, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Rick's tongue was so nice against his own, warm and strong and assertive. Morty let himself be kissed, let himself be lowered to the grass on his back. Rick's strong body held him down. Morty's nerves stood on end, and when Rick asked his permission to touch him all he had to say was yes, yes, yes!

Two months later, after the honeymoon, Rick and Morty sat together in a slowly cooling bath in their little green house. Rick's magical fingers were kneading the ache out of Morty's back. They had never been so happy before, neither of them.

"My Morty," Rick sighed, as he sometimes did. It was like he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

"You make me feel s-so special."

"You are special." Rick kissed the tip of his ear. "You're my Morty. The best Morty."

"My Rick. The best Rick." Morty craned around to catch Rick’s lips. They kissed, lingering, heat beginning to build.

"'You’re all..." Rick whispered.

"…I've ever wanted," Morty finished.