RICK SANCHEZ:

This writing sample is dated: 09/12/22.

Rick glances up from the device he’s hunched over, a screwdriver in one hand while the other holds it in place. “Y-yes?” he stutters impatiently, flicking his wrist at Morty as though telling him to get on with it. “Are ya just gonna stand there jacking off, or do you actually have something meaningful to say?” His eyes zip between Morty’s nervous expression, the strange posture he’s contorted his body into out of anxiety, and the device he’s working on. He methodically unscrews the screw, catches the faceplate as it falls open and sets it aside so he can fuck around inside of it. The circuit board gleams, reflecting light off its core as Rick’s eyes flicker over it.

There’s a long, strained moment of silence and Rick sighs, dropping the circuit board onto his workstation table. It’s been a long day, largely because he’d gone on a bender the day before and has been up all night reminiscing instead of sleeping. You’d think the booze would help — and it does — but it hinders as much as it distances him from the situation. “Just spit it out already, Morty. I don’t have all day to play the — URRP — therapist. What is it? Is it about Jessica again? C-Cause I’m not going to be your wingman this time. Every time I try to help, all breaks loose. Sometimes you just have to take the L.”

Rick drags a keen eye over Morty’s shuffling form, tries and fails to discern what might be going on in that head of his. At the beginning of their adventures, he’d been so easy to read that Morty had been downright predictable, but he’s begun to garner a little inscrutability. Half the time, Rick is able to correctly ascertain what Morty will do, but the rest he’s a blank wall. It’s a 50-50 guess and that’s no longer acceptable. Rick misses the days when Morty would hang off his every word when, now, he’s prone to ill-timed snarkiness and cleaning up his messes. It’s worrisome that Morty knows him well enough to expect him to make them and be on top of fixing them before Rick even knows he’s gone.

It hasn’t escaped Rick’s notice that Morty’s innocence has been corrupted (he’d enjoyed doing it), that he’s adapted to use some of Rick’s own personal traits. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, but it chafes in a way that makes him uncomfortable. It’s something that he endeavors not to notice, that he wraps in a box and compartmentalizes into the far corners of his mind lest he dwell on it for too long. The fact that it keeps jumping out at him when he spends time with Morty makes his stomach twist, has him acting out and calling names as if that would stifle such a development.

Please Note: I also have a few Rick and Morty fic on my A03 account (see below).

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