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"Let's go, Junebug." replayed over and over in Morty's head.
It was a moment when he was dealing with all of the Solar War I, and he had finally come to terms that he had to sacrifice his dignity for solar peace. The boy was getting interrogated by the sun barbarians, and as he took a look over to Rick, his grandfather gave a look back. Suddenly the older man walked up to Morty, stretching a hand behind his back.
"Alright, I think we've heard enough. C'mon, let's go, Junebug." Rick raised a hand to wave out to the Sun Knights. He shot a portal directly in front of them, ready to depart from this god awful society. The younger boy gave an awkward, sheepish smile to the knights.
It wasn't until later on in the day, once they had returned, did he realize the nickname that was given to him.
Lounging around on the living room couch, he sunk into the cheap fabric. Rick was right beside him, clicking the interdimensional remote mindlessly. Channels kept filtering through, random alien dialects only having seconds to speak to catch attention. Eventually, a channel was randomly decided and the remote was tossed onto the coffee table. Rick shuffled around on the couch, propping up his feet to rest on the table. The lanky arms reached above him and rested behind his head. Morty looked over to the TV, noticing the crude imagery on the monitor. The boy bit a lip, turning to the side instead to focus on the outside world.
Rick has been acting weird recently. Not, drunken stupor weird; but a weird mood. The elder had become more considerable and thoughtful. Sure, Morty hated the amount of times his grandfather teased him for the smallest details. Mispronouncing an alien word, embarrassingly trying to be brave to end up hurt, or even trying to care for Rick each time he got drunk-drunk. Now, Rick had been acting like he actually cared about Morty. He became a yes-man, just agreeing to anything Morty did. Not only that, but they didn't even have normal adventures anymore. Each time Smith gave even a hint of dislike, Rick apologized and brought him home.
It aggravates him. Each out-of-character action from Rick made him scream a profanity, attempting to make Rick act normal again.
Morty dug his hands into his face, palms pressing against his eyes to cause mismatched color blobs to obscure his vision. The boy let out a loud groan. He shuffled to bring his legs up to his chest. His hands released from his face, and instead hugged his knees close. Rick leaned over to meet the eyes of the younger,
"You okay, Junebug?"
That damned nickname, again.
"Y-y-you, you-you know what, Rick? F-Fuck you. That's that, I'm-I'm, I'm not okay. What's up with y-you? You're acting all f... all f-fuckin' nice, and-and for what?" The younger tripped over his own words in a panic, almost. Morty twisted over to Rick, throwing his arms out in a dramatic fashion. His eyes practically stabbed Rick in a raged look.
"Woah, kid. Calm down. I've said it before, haven't I? I'm-I'm being 22% more thoughtful," Rick responded, hands moving over to hold Morty on his shoulders. He met eyes directly with the younger, looking back and forth.
"G-g-g-get the hell off-off of me!" Morty screamed, gripping onto Rick's wrists and shoving them off of him, "N-No, you're being weird-weird as fu-fuck." He spat.
Rick had a hurt expression sprawled across his face as he watched Morty shoot himself up off of the couch. The younger boy practically darted off to the stairs, to which Rick flinched when he heard the door to Morty's room slam. He sighed, taking a look down to his cold, metallic hands.
Morty slumped over in the spinning chair, which let out a painful squeak at every small movement. The cushion felt like a few cheap pieces of fabric stapled onto each other. Morty spun around the chair, peering at each monitor. Rick Prime's grinning face was plastered on at least, 10 of the screens. The other showed generic galaxies with dots and crosses all over.
Meanwhile Rick was tossing papers off of the main console, gripping at his hair and mumbling many curses under his breath. Alcohol bottles were strewn about, all empty. Rick's lab coat was tossed to the side, leaving him in his blue undershirt. His eye bags were possibly the worse Morty has seen.
As much as the younger wanted to say something to Sanchez, it seemed every response he would get would only end in rage. Morty played with the hem of his oil-stained and ripped shirt. Every moment or so, he would look up to the older man or to the screens.
Rick's head snapped over to Morty, breathing in a deep sigh, "You-you, just, make y-yourself bu— buurrrrppaaugh —uuuusy and go-go get me some V-V-Vodka from... from another b-basement level," He rambled.
Morty's eyes darted up to meet his grandfathers. He bit his lip in thought before retorting, "Y-Y-You know, I-I think you-you've had enough, y'know?" He gave a sheepish smile with a shrug.
Rick turned over and raised his brow, "T-the hell do yo-oooooo-ou mean I've had enough," Sanchez stormed over to Morty, towering over him, "I said to-to go make yourself busy, and g-g-get me some damn Vodka!"
Morty flinched at the yelling, "I-I-I mean, l-like, you m-might be able to f-focus bet-better without be-being blackout drunk!"
Morty realized the mistake of screaming back at his grandfather when he saw the older man take a step back and rub in between his eyes. Morty gripped the sides of the chair awkwardly, swinging his legs back and forth. Cautiously, the younger boy watched as Sanchez paced around for a moment before returning to idly typing on the keyboard.
"What's Junebug?"
"What?" Rick turned around, a confused expression covered the rage behind his eyes. His slim hands gripped the front of the desk, digging it into his flesh.
"T-The nickname. You-you know, wh-when the robot Rick s-said everything he did, w-was something you'd do. I-Is that a part of it?" Morty tried to calm himself, despite his god of a grandfather was eyeing him down like prey.
"When did he say that?" Sanchez pressed. He didn't turn from his position over the desk, only looking at Morty with a glare.
"U-uhm, wh-when I h-had to deal with-with the Sun Knight s-shit," Morty stammered, scratching the back of his neck, "H-he said, 'Let's go, Junebug.'"
Rick stayed quiet, which seemed to urge Morty to continue,
"Y-you've never, call-called me th-that. Directly."
"Yeah, there's a fuckin' reason, Morty." Rick's eyes centered back to the keyboard, feeling his eyes droop closer and closer to slumber, "I-I..."
The younger pursed his lips, feeling the awkward tension in the air. Idle sounds of computer clunking and bubbles rose in the air. He took a deep breath, readying for any yelling or hits from Sanchez.
"I-I used to, visit you. As a baby. When I was still travelling after Diane...," A pained expression flashed by, "I never kept it up, because then your... Mom-Mom would get upset." Rick managed to push this information out of his system.
Morty's eyes were wide at the sudden information drop, even when Rick was angry-drunk, not vulnerable-drunk.
"n' I called... I called you Junebug. Just cause' it stuck, y'know?" The older turned to Morty, a more calm look. Morty nodded frantically.
"I... Go to sleep, kid." Sanchez sighed, pressing a button on the console to which popped open a side compartment on the wall to a cot. Morty spun over to the cot, seeing how it looked basically brand new. He slowly lifted himself out of the chair, pacing to the cot. The younger gave a glance back to Rick, who nodded as confirmation. Morty pressed a hand to the cot, pushing to see exactly how comfortable this could be.
"Get in the damn cot before I change my mind," Rick commanded from the other side of the room. Morty gave a soft smile before sitting down on the cot and lifting the blanket above him before resting his head down and turning to his side, facing away from Rick.
Sanchez felt around on the desk before pushing a few buttons, lowering the light to a dim level for Morty. Staring over at his grandson, he saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
"Love ya, Junebug."