What If I Had

twenty two - something blue

Right as I reach them both, Morty's already seemingly had enough of Rick and storms off after Rick turned away from him to attend to his vodka. Morty doesn't even really take notice of me at first, he was that mad.

My eyes darted from Morty to Rick, melting away from a look of concern to a look of sour confusion. "Richard, what the hell's going on?"

"Don't call me that." Rick mumbled before taking another shot. "You know I'm not into formalities."

I smirked at him playfully. I stared deeply into his bald spot before hopping up on the barstool sitting next to him, my long black train trailing down the back behind me. "Well, technically I didn't know that. You never really corrected me the first time I called you that." I giggled, smirking toothily and cocking my shoulders up as I played with a glass coaster on the tabletop.

"My Gwen would've known that."

My smirk dropped, "Yeah..." I drooped on the bar stool as his words soaked in with me. My elbows propped up on the bar.

"Is that what's bothering you?" I reached out to touch the tip of his free grey hand, cold and kinda clammy.

Rick paused for a bit, his nose in his drink, before saying something again.

"After you left the garage, it just really sort of sank in, you know? Of course I knew way back when that you were you, I just..."

I felt my eyebrow raise quizzically. "You just...?"

His shoulders shrugged. "I pushed back the thought of what might happen. Now that you know, I mean."

Is... Is he talking about the changes?

"You know," my mood turned sour again. "You haven't looked at me once since we got here. If it's--"

"Yeah, why do you think?" Rick cut me off, turning his whole body around to face me. He abandoned his drink, wiping at his lip before speaking. "I can assure you it's not for the reason you think. You look so fucking gorgeous. Just knowing you look this beautiful in that slip is pissing me off. Just imagine if I let myself look at you. I'd shoot the head off the next guy who'd look back just to get another glance at you."

I scoffed sheepishly, "Yeah? I mean, yo-you-- I-I..." I sigh, cheeks flushed pink. "Thanks Rick."

He smirked faintly, turning back around to gulp the rest of his vodka. Rick sighs with his glass still in hand, staring up at all the foreign bottles of liquor behind the bartender, "I'm glad you came with us."

My wandering eyes cocked his way again, "Eh?"

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. "I said what I said."

I chortled. "W-wait, so it doesn't surprise me that the Mr Sanchez is hesitant to show emotion but shit on my shoe if that's not what's bothering you."

Rick furrowed his eyebrow at me, "Shit on your shoe...?"

"Do you hate going to weddings because it reminds you of your marriage?"

With a deadpan look in his eye, his eyebrow stiff and his body turned halfway facing the bar, he just looks at me before folding over the countertop and directing his attention on something far off.

I sighed, folding my arms over my chest after running a hand down the side of my hair, smoothing down any wispies that got loose. I watched as the alien bartender took a glass from under the counter and raise a hose up to it, filling it up with what I hoped was just water. He slid the glass over to me before walking away to shine the far end of the counter.