The family's noise began to thin. Jerry slouched back into silence, nursing his wounded pride behind a coffee mug that smelled more like cream than caffeine. Summer scrolled idly, one leg bouncing. Beth grabbed her bag and moved toward the door, tossing back the usual, "Be good, don't set anything on fire," without expecting any reply.
The front door shut.
Only Rick, Summer, and Morty remained in the kitchen now. And Summer, true to form, was already halfway back inside her screen.
Rick swirled his mug slowly. Not drinking. Just stirring the bitter darkness like it was a thought he hadn't finished forming.
Then, without turning his head, he said, "So... Morty."
Morty looked up with mild interest.
Rick's eyes didn't move.
"You start taking nootropic stacks while I wasn't looking? Or did you just finally pop that weird puberty pill I left on your nightstand two years ago?"
Morty blinked. "You left a pill on my nightstand?"
Rick finally turned, squinting.
"Okay, so that's a no. Huh." He paused, tapping the side of his mug. "Just asking 'cause you usually sit at this table like a human question mark. This morning you're sitting like a guy who already knows all the answers."
Morty met Rick's gaze. Held it.
"I just slept well," he said.
Rick tilted his head, skeptical. "Uh-huh. Right. That's usually the opposite of your entire brand."
Morty shrugged lightly. "Maybe I'm tired of the brand."
Rick's eyes narrowed not in anger. Just... attention. That deeper layer of Rick that only emerged when something didn't add up.
He leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and took a loud sip of coffee.
"You know, I've seen shapeshifters fake better Morty impressions than the real deal. And right now, I'm thinking either you got replaced by a more competent clone, or you got hit by some kind of confidence lightning bolt overnight. So what is it?"
Morty smiled, just barely. "Maybe you're just seeing me for the first time."
Rick's face didn't move.
Not a twitch. Not a grunt. Just a moment of absolute stillness. A flicker of something behind his eyes—something sharp and mechanical spinning faster than it should've.
Then, just like that, it was gone.
Rick stood with a grunt, drained the last of his coffee, and walked toward the sink. No rush. No tension. He rinsed the mug with the back of his hand, water splashing lazily.
"That's cute," he said, finally. "You're all... self-actualized or whatever now."
Morty didn't respond.
Rick glanced over his shoulder. Not suspicious. Just... measuring.
"You ever wake up and feel like you're still dreaming?" he asked, almost offhand.
Morty's reply came a half-second too fast. "All the time."
Rick's brow lifted just slightly.
"Right," he muttered. "Figures."
He turned and started walking toward the hallway. Not a word about the garage. Not a word about anything.
But just before he vanished around the corner, he spoke again. Barely above a mumble.
"I'll be… around."
The way he said it flat, unfinished wasn't a goodbye.
It was a warning.
And then he was gone.
No door slam. No music cue.
Just quiet.
And Morty—Viktor—left alone at the table, fork resting against an empty plate, knowing damn well he'd just been seen.
Not exposed.
But seen
And that was exactly what he wanted
__________________
Yo guys what's y'all doing drop a stone on the homeless man on your way out
Regardless Love ya ❤️