Rick and Morty: Smartest Morty in the multiverse

So, appreciate the support the book not doing as good l wanted

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The garage door swung open with a sharp creak, the sound slicing clean through the low hum of static and dying circuits.

Rick barely had time to look up before Morty stepped in silent, smooth, walking with a purpose too precise for a teenage boy still half full of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

"Let's not waste time," Morty said.

His voice came flat stripped of the nervous pitch, the bumbling stammer, the fake cheer that used to stick to every word like gum on a shoe.

He said it like a man clocking into work.

Rick blinked, shoulders tightening before he let a lazy grin crawl across his face.

"Jeez, Morty… door's open policy now? You forget how to knock?"

Morty shut the door behind him soft, slow, controlled the click of the latch loud in the quiet garage.

He turned back, dark eyes pinning Rick with a gaze that felt too calm, too focused.

"Hurry up and do it."

Rick blinked again, forcing a laugh sharp enough to sting.

"Uh… do what? Because if you're talking about building a new portal gun, you're about seven bad memories and three bad breakups too early to qualify—"

"I don't have all day."

Morty's voice sliced through Rick's sarcasm like a scalpel through soft flesh.

"My study time's approaching."

Rick opened his mouth half a joke, half a deflection but the words snagged in his throat.

Study time.

What the hell—

Rick leaned back on his stool, arms folding across his chest, head tilting in that casual slouch that always bought him a second longer to think.

"Morty… you study now?"

Morty nodded once sharp, deliberate.

"Your books are a treasure trove. I can't keep my hands off them."

Rick stared.

His mind flipped through the mental Rolodex every book, every notebook, every black leather-bound tome crammed with universe-spanning equations and eldritch scripts he'd buried under junk in the garage.

"I didn't know you were the reading type, Morty."

Morty stepped forward slow, measured steps, like a man walking down a checklist.

"You gave them to me."

Rick's brows lifted.

"Gave?"

Morty stopped two feet from the workbench hands loose at his sides, shoulders squared in a stance Rick knew too well from seeing it in the mirror.

"You hoped I'd inherit your legacy."

Rick forced out a dry chuckle the kind that felt hollow the second it left his mouth.

"Morty… I've given you a lot of things. Bad advice, reckless trauma, alcohol poisoning but legacy? That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

Morty's head tilted just slightly.

"What books did you think I meant?"

Rick's lips parted and nothing came out.

Morty moved closer, slipped down onto the stool beside him in one smooth motion.

Rick felt the air tighten.

Morty leaned forward, hands folded between his knees, voice dropping just a shade quieter but still razor clear.

"Where?"

Rick blinked, throat tight.

"Where… what?"

Morty turned his head, looking him dead in the eye.

"You want to put the chip in my spine… or in my brain?"

The words hit like a gut punch wrapped in silk.

Rick froze.

The garage the tools, the gadgets, the chip sitting half-forgotten on the workbench all shrank into a narrow tunnel around the two of them.

Rick let out a sharp, humorless breath.

"Well, that's a hell of an accusation. Kid's gotta ask his grandpa before medical procedures now? What is this, family game night?"

Morty didn't blink.

"I'm serious, Rick."

Rick swallowed, slow.

"I'm not… putting anything in you."(Liar)

Morty stared at him, eyes dark and patient.

"You want to dissect me. Study me. Crack me open like one of your projects."

Rick let his jaw clench hard before he forced another laugh.

"That's crazy. You sound like a conspiracy theorist on Ricks.Net.

You wearing a tinfoil hat under that mop, kid?"

Morty leaned in closer.

"You're scared of me."

Rick felt the words slam into his gut with a sickening finality.

Morty's voice stayed calm soft, almost curious.

"You're afraid I've changed."

Rick forced a smirk, shaking his head.

"Changed? Morty… you're a teenager. You're supposed to be weird, rebellious, full of hormones and bad ideas. Hell, I was building interdimensional bombs at your age."

Morty's eyes didn't move.

Rick's grin slipped.

"You're reading my books now. That's… that's good. I mean, yeah, sure I always hoped you'd stop being a wet tissue and actually use your brain."

Morty leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I am."

Rick bit the inside of his cheek.

Morty stared. Hard.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

Rick shook his head, slow, forcing a low chuckle.

"Kid… I wanted you to stop being dead weight on missions. Maybe grow a pair. Not walk in here like a goddamn serial killer asking where do I want to put a chip inside your body."

Morty lifted his hand slow, steady and tapped two fingers against his temple.

"Here?"

Rick swallowed.

Morty dropped his hand, letting it hang loose by his neck again.

"Or…" He patted the back of his neck. "…here?"

Rick stared.... hard.

The garage felt colder.

Morty gave a soft shrug.

"Either way. Just hurry up."

Rick's voice rasped low.

"Morty…"

"I don't have time to play games."

Rick pressed his lips together.

Morty leaned back, letting his hands drop to his thighs palms open, face unreadable.

"You're not going to stop, are you?"

Rick forced a grin.

"Stop what?"

Morty's lips curved small, humorless.

"Looking over your shoulder every time I speak."

Rick didn't answer.

Morty stood slow, smooth pushing his stool back with a faint scrape on the floor.

He looked down at Rick, head tilted slightly.

"I'm not your enemy, Rick."

Rick met his eyes the faintest flicker of something sharp slicing through his chest.

Morty gave a small nod.

"But I'm not your lap dog or project either."

He turned, stepping toward the door moving with that same slow, deliberate ease that made Rick's skin crawl.

At the door, Morty paused hand on the frame and glanced back.

"When you decide…" His eyes flicked to the chip still lying on the bench. "…let me know."

He walked out.

The door clicked softly shut behind him.

Rick sat frozen, breath tight in his chest.

The chip sat silent on the bench.

The room felt smaller.

Rick closed his eyes.

And for the first time in a long time… he wasn't sure if he'd already lost.

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How you like it...

Probably won't get to Enjoy this again if the book don't do well