Rick and Morty: Smartest Morty in the multiverse

Beth sat at the far end of the dining table, shoulders tight, eyes on her wine glass more than her dinner. The soft hum of Jerry's sitcom drifted in from the living room, each canned laugh track a jab in the ribs she was too tired to flinch at. The kids Summer in her room, Jerry glued to the TV left the kitchen unnervingly quiet, the kind of quiet that settled deep in your bones when you weren't paying attention.

Morty pulled out the chair beside her, slow, measured. Not his usual spot. Not the seat across or down the table like most nights. No tonight, he slid right into that empty space next to her, where only Rick or Beth herself usually sat.

Beth didn't look up, didn't comment.

Morty waited a beat before reaching for the salad bowl, letting his fingers brush the rim of her plate just slightly as he set it down between them.

"Long day?" he asked voice low, conversational, almost casual.

Beth gave a faint, humorless breath of a laugh. "You have no idea."

"I might," Morty said, spearing a forkful of greens with a practiced hand. "Running this place looks exhausting."

Beth glanced at him then, the corners of her mouth flickering. "It's called being a mother, Morty. You'll get it when you're older."

Morty leaned back, fork twirling lazily between his fingers. "Maybe. But I'm not sure I'd pull it off half as well."

Beth snorted softly. "Flattery? That's new."

Morty met her eyes, calm and level. "Only when it's earned."

Beth shook her head, half a smile ghosting across her lips before it faded. She took a slow sip of wine, watching him over the rim of the glass.

"You're different lately."

Morty shrugged, unbothered. "People change."

She set the glass down, studying him in the low kitchen light. "You're growing up."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Maybe." His voice dropped just a fraction. "Or maybe I'm just seeing things clearer now."

Beth leaned her elbow on the table, chin resting against her hand. "Like what?"

Morty kept his expression even, just the barest edge of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Like how most people in this house don't see you for what you really are."

Beth raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. "Oh? And what's that?"

Morty set his fork down, turning slightly to face her more fully. "The one holding everything together. The one who's always there when everyone else bails. The one who never cracks… even when they deserve it."

The words weren't sugarcoated. They weren't sappy. They landed soft but firm, spoken with the quiet conviction of someone stating a fact, not playing a game.

Beth stared at him for a second too long before finally glancing away, shaking her head. "You're full of it."

Morty smirked, eyes still on her. "Maybe."

Beth's fingers traced the rim of her glass. "You know, you're a little scary when you talk like this."

"Good scary?" Morty asked, voice soft.

Beth gave a half-laugh. "I haven't decided yet."

Morty picked up his fork again, took a slow bite of his food, chewed thoughtfully. "I'll take that as a maybe."

Beth leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, watching him with a look that hovered between curiosity and something else something sharper, more calculating.

"You're pushing your luck."

Morty swallowed his bite, setting his fork down with deliberate care. "Or maybe I'm just done pretending we're not both smarter than everyone else in this house."

Beth blinked, caught off guard by the quiet audacity in his voice.

Morty gave a soft, almost lazy shrug. "Just saying."

Beth tilted her head slightly. "You're definitely not the same kid I raised."

"I'm not a kid," Morty replied smoothly. "Not anymore."

Beth opened her mouth like she was about to say something a snarky comeback, maybe, or a motherly jab.

But the words never came.

Instead, she reached for her wine again, lips pressing tight against the glass, hiding the flicker of something that crossed her expression.

Morty leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, voice low.

"Don't worry," he said, soft and even. "I'm not like Jerry."

Beth lowered the glass slowly, eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Morty smiled but not wide, not smug. Just a small, knowing curve of his lips.

"I know how to hold a conversation."

Beth snorted before she could stop herself.

For a moment… a brief, flickering heartbeat… the tension cracked.

Beth shook her head, setting her wineglass down firmly. "I should tell you to knock it off."

"Should," Morty agreed, voice smooth as glass. "But you won't."

Beth gave him a long, assessing look—the kind she usually saved for Rick's more questionable experiments or Summer's bad decisions.

And Morty held her gaze, unwavering.

Neither spoke for a few drawn seconds.

Then, finally, Beth exhaled, leaning back with a quiet laugh. "You're impossible."

Morty gave a soft, measured smile. "Only when I want to be."

Beth shook her head again, lips pressed together somewhere between a smirk and a sigh.

And Morty?

Morty leaned back in his chair, letting the moment settle exactly where he wanted it.

Comfortably close.

And just a little too interesting for either of them to walk away from.

_________

IMPORTANT NOTE

I hate to whine but this story is not getting the traction l wanted. you guys are not commenting not sending stones l don't even know how many are watching

In a few days l will see if this story is worth investing my time into if not then l apologize to whoever like this story