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The living room was dark and quiet, the only sound and source of light present being the TV. Morty was laid on the couch with his head lying on the armrest, it was late, he couldn’t sleep so he decided to watch some interdimensional cable to distract himself.
Rick walks out of the garage, stretching his arms and stops once he notices the light of the TV coming from the living room. He walks in to see his grandson on the couch.
“M-Morty? The hell are you doing up? Don’t you have school or something tomorrow?” He says, taking a glance to see what he’s watching.
“Can’t sleep.” He mumbles, pretending to pay attention to the screen.
Rick stares for a moment, “Scooch over.” Morty moves aside while Rick grabs the remote and sits beside him.
After a little while of watching interdimensional cable, Rick flipping through the channels, looks over as he feels Morty fall against his arm.
Huh. He’s asleep.
He looks back at the TV to flip through some more channels, letting him stay there for however long he decides, the kid looked like he needed it anyway.
He makes it through an episode or two of some random show he landed on when he feels Morty start to stir in his sleep whilst mumbling to himself. Rick shifts his gaze to him, trying to decide whether to wake him from whatever he’s experiencing right now.
Morty continues to shift in his sleep, shrinking against Rick. “Morty!” He whispers to him, nudging his head that’s resting against his arm. Rick grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him, he then finally wakes up.
“The fuck, Morty!?” His grip on Morty’s shoulders loosen when he realizes he’s still mumbling and panicking, seemingly not aware he’s not dreaming anymore. “..Morty?” Rick calls out to him in an attempt to get him to snap out of it. Morty grips at this shirt, his breath quickening by the minute.
“I-I thought I got out…I’m s-still in the hole. I’m still there. I’m still there.” Morty repeats to himself, he can feel his vision blurring—his chest hurts—he can’t breathe. He’s still in the hole.
Shit.
He’s having a panic attack.
“H-Hey, hey….it was a nightmare. It wasn’t real Morty, I-I’m here.” Rick reassures, trying to soothe him in hopes he can get his breathing under control. “It’s a-alright Morty, I-I-I’m right here, breathe.” Rick takes his hands off of his shoulders, giving him some space to breathe. He grabs the remote and turns down the volume of the TV.
“R-Rick?” Morty says as he finally regulates his breathing, becoming aware of his surroundings. Rick stares at him for a second to confirm he’s okay.
“H-Hold on, stay here M-Morty.” Rick gets up and walks to the kitchen, leaving Morty on the couch. He walks back in with a glass of water and hands it to Morty. They sit in silence, avoiding eye contact as Morty gulps down the water in small sips.
“T-Thanks..” Morty spoke quietly, setting the glass down and moving to hold his legs to his chest. He wipes his eyes silently before Rick breaks the silence.
Rick drags a hand over his face and looks at Morty before he speaks, “The hell was that, Morty?” Rick asks as calmly as he can, but the concern in his tone is obvious.
“I-It was just a nightmare, it’s n-nothing, Rick.” Morty mutters, still refusing to make eye contact with the man.
“Bullshit! Y-You just had a fucking panic attack, Morty!” Rick snaps at him, he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Does that happen often?” He asks, trying to keep his composure.
Morty silently stares at him. “…I-“ he tries to come up with something to say—something to cover this up so he doesn’t have to talk about it.
“J-Jesus Christ, Morty! Why the h-hell didn’t you tell anybody—tell me!” Rick asks, taking Morty’s silence as enough of an answer.
“..I-I didn’t think it w-was important!” Morty answers defensively, hugging his legs tighter.
Rick stares at him, still baffled that he’d keep something like this from him. How often does this happen? Why didn’t he tell him? What the fuck kind of nightmares is he having? Is he down here this late because of them?
He gets up off of the couch, “Wait here.” He walks out into the garage. Morty watches him as he walks away, he then watches him return with a bottle of pills in his hand.
Looking confused, he tries to ask, “W-What are-“
“Catch.” Rick says as he throws the bottle to Morty, who scrambles to catch it, eventually landing it in his hands. He looks down at it and looks back up at Rick, ready to ask what it is. Rick beats him to it.
“It’s for panic attacks and insomnia.” Rick answers his thoughts before he can ask, crossing his arms. “C-Come to me the next time you have another one, or a-another nightmare, or some shit.” He walks to the doorway to leave and stops for a moment.
“Goodnight, M-Morty.” He then walks out back to the garage. Morty watches him as he leaves, hearing the garage door close, he looks down at the bottle. He smiles faintly and gets up off the couch, ready to go back up to his room.
He cares. He knows it.