#well kinda...

He couldn’t stop replaying that morning's events in his mind, even though they were nothing special or remarkable in any way, shape, or form. In fact that morning had been like every other morning he had gone to work, but he still had it fresh in his mind, on repeat. See, every time Storage actually decided to drag himself to the Morty Daycare, Doof would stop him before opening the portal.

“W-w-wait! Don’t-don’t forget this,” and he would clip Storage’s name badge onto his shirt for him with an extra little pat for security sake. 

Rick Sanchez is not a man who just forgets things. He knew he needed the badge. He knew that every night he slapped the down on the dining room table and every night Cop clipped it on the key rack so he would be able to see it when he walked down the stairs past the front door. He knew he could just leave it in his locker at the daycare after his shift instead of doing any of that. It was all so pointless. Yet he found himself falling into the routine time and time again. Willingly. Almost with anticipation. 

Storage waited for the sensation of light tugging on his shirt as put the clamp on the fabric, the pat on his chest, that big goofy smile with and stupid buck teeth sending a burst of oxytocin through his synapses, all the while he had to make sure he was rolling his eyes with a sour expression so his… aquintance? Wouldn’t notice. Then he’d play it up with a rude remark in a rushed tone. 

“I’m capable of r-remembering something as simple as my badge.” There, that meant that as far as Doof knew, he was annoyed and bothered that he would even suggest that he could possibly be that forgetful, therefore discouraging him from performing the action again. Thank goodness he never listened. 

“Oh! I-I packed you lunch as well.” Another non surprise, he made lunch for everyone that lived in that house everyday. He broke into another idoitic smile as he proudly presented a paper bag. “And I put some extra brownies in there, so don’t be afraid to-to share some with the M-mortys, okay?” Using his portal gun, he opened the portal to the Citadel of Ricks.

“Pssh,” he scoffed as he snatched the bag out of Doofus Rick’s hands. “As if I’d s-share with those little m-monsters.” Although he had just insulted Morty, that dingbat still managed to look so damn happy, which made Storage acutely aware of his rising heart rate. Doof even stifled a laugh before telling him, “Have a good day!” 

He leaped through that portal just as he felt his cheeks beginning to flush. Yikes. 

So in short, absolutely nothing special happened. Nothing remarkable, incredible, or amazing. But there he was anyway, stuck in that moment, thinking about his brown eyes, his overly chipper demeanor, his ridiculous bowl cut, his kindness, his moronic smile that was too-

“Rick?” 

Storage glanced to his right to see a Morty, a rather well dressed Morty sitting criss cross applesauce on the counter staring at him, looking all smug. 

“W-w-what? What the Hell do you want?” Ugh, in just a moment he was fully brought back to the reality of his day job, the smell of unwashed teenage boys and the uncomfortable closeness of the tightly packed building that was somehow supposed to hold over 300 brats. 

“Just-just wondering what you’re thinking about,” he said in a mocking, cocky tone.

“Pushing you off my counter.”

“No you’re not,”

“Like you would- as though you could ever understand the things I think about Morty.” 

“You have that look on your face Rick. That-that look that I get on my face when I think about Jessica.”

Of course at the sound of that name was met an astounding sigh of, “Ahh, Jessica” that spread across the room. 

“I do not.” he snapped, turning so he was still looking out, away from the Daycare, but so Morty couldn’t look at him anymore.

“Y-you can deny it but I’ve seen my own face enough times to know!” 

“At least you can read your own facial expressions Morty. Good to know you can read something.” 

There. That ought to shut him up. 

“So,” Damnit. Maybe not. “What’s her name?”

Storage grit his teeth. He noticed Morty scoot closer out of the corner of his eye. He tried to think about literally anything else, but when he sensed Morty’s hand moving toward him, he firmly grabbed his wrist before he got a chance to touch him. He made sure to give him the harshest stare down he could. But that Morty was either brave or stupid, Storage was betting on the latter, because he did not take the hint.

“I’ll just keep bothering you until you talk.” 

Oh. So that’s what he wanted huh? Wanted Rick to open that big mouth of his and start talking? Well. If that was what he wanted. 

“T-t-tell me M-Morty, what-what is it about Jessica you like so much?” 

“W-w-well,” He wasn’t expecting that. “Uh, gee, I don’t know, w-what’s not to like? She’s really hot, and has red hair, and-and she has boobs.” Morty paused, clearly uncomfortable with the undivided attention he was receiving from Storage Rick, and began to sweat as he peeled his eyes away from his steely stare, looking behind him for any kind of support from, well, himself. 

One Morty shrugged. “Aw geez, I-I don’t know! D-don’t look at me! You already mentioned her boobs.”

“They- they really are great boobs Rick, trust me,” another spoke. 

“A hot redhead with nice tits, a good pair of jugs, some real bazongas, a piece of eye candy to jerk off to huh Morty?”

Ew, it was gross to hear a version of his grandpa put it that way. But he nodded, because as nasty as it was, he was right.

Unibrow raised, Rick prompted, “What else?”

“Um,” he wasn’t sure what to say. And apparently no other Morty did either. 

“I thought you were in love with her Morty.”

“W-well I-I am, and-and one day we’ll get married and have kids-”

“Have you even had a conversation with this girl? With this Jessica?” He smiled, but not the dreamy peaceful one he had earlier, more of a vengeful smirk. 

Morty squirmed. “W-well, n-no, not-not exactly-” 

Rick laughed. “Y-you want to waste the rest of your life with her but all you know is she’s a banging chick with the name Jessica?” He continued laughing, and let go of Morty. “That’s nothing more than pinning, lust, and raging teenage hormones Morty. D-don’t waste my time with it.” 

He expected that to be the end of the conversation, so he was a little perturbed when Morty, in his little blue suit, didn't move. 

“B-but I do love her Rick.” 

“No, you don’t.”

“Rick.”

“I’m tired of talking to you. Go play. Or masturbate. Whatever teenagers do. I don’t really give a shit.” 

Not only did he not get down from the counter but he stood up to make himself tall and started yelling. “Y-y-you don’t- you can’t tell me how I feel! I know I love Jessica! Y-y-you don’t get to decide that for me just b-because you’re old and bitter and-and have never cared about anyone but yourself!” 

Honestly, it was impressive, seeing Morty, literally stand up for himself, but that didn’t change Storage’s mind. He was right. Morty was wrong. 

“Oh yeah! What a monster I am! Suggesting that you actually know something about the person you claim you want to be chained to forever. What are her hobbies? Her interests? Do you share similar tastes in movies? In books? W-w-what if she’s a bitch? As mean as they come, a real pain in the ass?”

“She’s not!”

“And you know that how? From easy dropping on her and her friends at school like some kind of creep? Like-like a stalker? She could be horrible! I-in fact everyone has horrible traits they try to hide all the time. W-w-what if she doesn’t recycle? Or-or is an  anti-vaxxer? She could be a homophobic, racist, sexist ass Morty! What? Y-y-you think only men can be sexist? Have you ever been forced to talk to a conservative white woman before? That-that could be her Morty!”

His fists were balled up so tight his nails burrowed into his palms. “W-w-why do you have to think about it that way Rick? Always so-so negative, she could be perfect! I like to think that she’s sweet and kind with a big heart to match her breasts, and-and that she's smart and fun! She could be all of those things too Rick, did-did your big brain ever think of that? You-you factor that in genius?” 

Storage grumbled. “Yes, of course I thought of that.” It was something he thought about a lot. How Doofus Rick wasn’t a doofus at all. He was just as smart and capable as any Rick but he found a way to stay kind and care for others in a way that most Ricks couldn’t or wouldn’t. Which brought him to his response, “What if she’s amazing and she doesn’t like you back?” Because why would he? Storage Rick was a mean, cantankerous, foul mouthed, grimy old timer who had started a screaming match with his almost grandson so he could avoid talking about his feelings. “W-w-why drag you around if she's out of your league?” 

Well, that accomplished two things, Morty was no longer on the counter and he had stopped talking, but only because he was crying. He really hadn’t considered anything Rick was talking about, he thought , adults did it all romance was so easy, adults did it all the time. He was supposed to marry his high school crush and live happily ever after, wasn’t he? So simple, cut, and dry. 

Instead of feeling victorious, Rick just felt like an ass. He didn’t want to make Morty upset, he just wanted to make him drop the topic. And get his ass off the counter. It was as though he could hear Doof’s nagging already. Oh please be nice to Morty! H-he’s just a kid Storage, be gentle with him. With a groan he used one foot to pivot so he was facing the inside of the daycare building. “Wait, Morty,”

“Which one?”

“Me?” 

“No! Clearly not you, the one all dressed up with nowhere to go. The hopeless romantic.” He waited a second, but Morty didn’t turn around. “There is another possibility,” he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “It’s possible that you both end up really liking each other and end up getting married and junk.” 

Using the sleeve of his jacket, Morty wiped his eyes and glanced back toward Storage Rick. “R-really?”

“Yeah. Anything is possible, Morty.” Then he wasn’t expecting to be rushed into with a hug, he let it linger for a moment before voicing his disdain. “D-don’t fucking touch me, get-get off.”  And he got an idea. “Say, I’ll give you a few flurbos and let you run over to Salesman Rick’s.”

His little face lit up as Rick handed him the money.

“Now I’ve heard that he has ice cream.” He stated as he lifted Morty up and over the counter and out of the daycare. “Why not try and get some? Make sure and tell him Storage Rick sent you.”

“Wow, t-thanks Rick!” As he watched him run off, he heard the gaggle of Mortys behind him discussing whether or not he would be triumphant. Spoiler? He wouldn’t be. And Salesman Rick was going to be rather testy. 

One particularly scruffy Morty whined. “Rick, he never has ice cream. When will you stop sending us on this wild goose chase?”