Inspired by this comic by @dorklyevil - Check out my masterpost for more Kindness and Wrath here!
850 words - SFW - Rickcest M/M - Emotional fluff!!!!!!!!
Link to story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205051/chapters/38702447#workskin
Eyes
Kindness’ heart was beating as he built up the courage to open his eyes. The fact that he was about to see the world as it truly was and not as how he had imagined it in his head was exciting but as much as it was truly exciting, it was beyond terrifying as well. The thought of getting disappointed was there but Kindness knew that he would more likely be overwhelmed, and that was why he was screwing his eyes shut even though he had agreed to do the opposite.
“Ness?” Wrath asked, hand placed on where Kindness’ neck met his shoulder. He sounded slightly concerned.
“What if it’s not how I imagined it to be?” Kindness’ mouth was a thin line, him swallowing thickly as the anxiety became a little too much. He needed to do it; he owed it to Wrath, who had done the biggest thing a person could do for a loved one; given him a piece of himself, literally, and whilst the thought of seeing for the first time was terrifying, the thought of how he could ever pay him back was even more so.
“I- Look, it will never be what you expect but I’m sure you know that,” Wrath tried his best at consoling him, making Kindness smile at the effort.
“Just give me a moment,” he replied, taking a long and deep breath like he had taught Wrath to do when he felt unable to control his anger and impulses. With another deep inhale, he slowly blinked a few times and took in the light that used to be darkness.
Everything was blurry at first and Kindness was confused, wondering if this was what it was like having sight but then it shifted and he could look up at an unknown but still familiar face. He knew what kind of features Wrath had due to his hands having explored him several times but the sight of the square jaw, the rough face and the spiky hair was nowhere near what his hands had made him picture in his mind.
“Wrath,” he simply said, unable to form a sentence that described the way his chest tightened at the very sight of his lover. Wrath was an image now, not just a voice as before, and the image was overwhelming, almost making him doubt if he was real, “You’re here. It’s really you.”
The feeling one got when one was about to cry formed as a lump in Kindness’ throat, and when he finally got used to the feeling that the person he loved so much was indeed standing in front of him, he reached up to touch him like he always did. He cupped Wrath’s face, thumb stroking his cheek and Wrath closed his eyes, “Of course, it is me. I’m here, Ness.”
“Kitten, it’s you, it-” he said quietly, feeling a tear run down his face and then another one, and then another one again until he was crying, releasing all the emotions that had built up inside of him due to both anxiety and excitement but now, most of all, happiness at seeing Wrath for the first time. Wrath was here, flesh and blood, and he was the most beautiful thing Kindness had ever seen, and on top of that, Kindness decided already now that he was the most beautiful thing that he was ever going to see.
“Shh, it’s me, Honeydew,” he said, placing a hand on Kindness’ arm to calm him and his rapid breathing. Touch, smell and sound was what Kindness had known until now and the second he felt Wrath’s familiar strong hand gently grab at his elbow, he took a deep breath and blinked tears away. He let himself look at Wrath again, explore his face and his broad shoulders with both his eyes and his hands. He leaned close, fingers travelling over his lips as he saw the sharp teeth that were nowhere near frightening when Wrath smiled.
Oh, his smile. Kindness thought he was going to melt into a puddle on the floor due to the way his heart fluttered and his head swam when he felt the flips his stomach did because of butterflies. He leaned in further to focus, not yet being completely used to different distances, studying the eye that was no longer there and pouting, “Oh, kitten. Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
Wrath shook his head, hand sliding up to entwine their fingers, “No, Ness, it doesn’t hurt. Close your eyes, have a break, yeah?”
Kindness did as he was told and immediately fell into his chest. The intensity was on hold and he could breathe in deeply without getting distracted by little things around him. Wrath wrapped his arms around him, nose in his hair, and Kindness knew that the touch had not changed in the slightest. He would have to study him further later, admire his tattooed body, count all of his eyelashes and study all the spots and wrinkles of his skin. His Wrath, in all his beauty.
Read a follow-up here: https://daddyzanchez.tumblr.com/post/180219024642/another-piece-for-my-two-favourite-idiots-in-love
Inspired by my own post (here) and @dorklyevil and her amazing characters Wrath and Kindness. - Check out my masterpost for more Kindness and Wrath here!
850 words - SFW - M/M - kissing, suits, tying a tie, fluffy ending
Link to story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205051/chapters/37874402
Handsome
Wrath felt his blood boil as he stood in front of the full-body mirror, nose almost pressed into the glass as he fumbled with the silky piece of cloth around his neck. He had been at this forever, and if anyone had approached him, they would have walked away in horror and surprise. The surprise came from the fact that the mirror still did not have a scratch or crack despite Wrath feeling a vein almost pop out on his neck. The horror on the other hand was the colour of his face, it turning a deep shade of red as were he actually boiling. One more second of this and he would lose it, he promised himself that.
What was this sort of thing made of anyway? He tried to tie a knot, the tie slipping through his fingers with ease and not cooperating in any way, and it earned itself a loud swear. Whose idea was this anyway? Why, of all people, was it him who had to wear this stupid thing? It was Lust’s dumb idea!
Every person appreciates a suit, you know, grumpy, even the blind ones! Didn’t you want to get laid?
When he managed to make a proper knot, he saw that it looked horrible and started ripping at it. The knot, which he had finally made, only got tighter and his tantrum caused him to gasp for air as he felt the silk press down on his windpipe.
He felt his heartbeat speed up even more, if it was even possible, and frantically, he tried to untie whatever death trap, he had made for himself. It just would not work, and he stumbled backwards, still ripping and still making it worse.
“What’s this noise?” Kindness voice filled the room and immediately, Wrath felt slightly calmer, doing his best to make as much noise as possible for him to find him.
Kindness soon found him, and Wrath did his best to guide his hand to his throat, gurgling instead when he wanted to speak. The look on Kindness’ face turned worried, a thing Wrath hated causing, but compared to Wrath, he had thin and nimble fingers, a trait that made him able to work the knot open in a short time.
Wrath nearly doubled over, coughing and gasping for air, but Kindness caught him right before he fell, tutting at him, “Kitten, what on Earth are you doing with a tie?”
Wrath said nothing besides grumbling quietly and looking away in shame. This was not how this was supposed to go and now the surprise was over, “I don’t know how to tie a stupid fucking tie, there, are you happy?”
“Language, Kitten,” Kindness said and slid his hands up to reach his face, cupping his cheeks, “Deep breath, let me show you.”
Then he let go and held out his hand. Wrath took the tie and placed it in his palm, swallowing as he almost felt a little nervous. He did not want that thing around his neck again but Lust had said it was a safe bet, if he wanted to charm his boyfriend.
“Watch how I do it,” Kindness carefully draped the silky tie around Wrath’s neck, who breathed deeply through his nose, with precision, and then started moving it around, wrapping the blade of it around the tail, “You see, it’s quite simple if you just look: The rabbit hops over the log, crawls under the log and then runs around it. One more time because it wants to outsmart the fox, and then dives into its rabbit role. All safe and sound.”
When he was done, he got up on his toes to kiss him, accidentally kissing his nose instead of mouth. Wrath was a bit dumbfounded by it but Kindness just chuckled softly.
There was silence for a moment or two until Wrath looked down at the newly-tied tie. He had no idea how to follow those instructions, blinking a few times before reaching for the knot. It felt perfect and when he turned to look in the mirror, it even looked perfect. He felt annoyance wash over himself again, almost growling lowly, “What a stupid story!”
It wasn’t the brightest comeback but Wrath felt too defeated to care, snarling at him was just a way to get his frustration out; the fact that he couldn’t tie a fucking tie but his blind boyfriend could.
“I think it is quite cute,” Kindness simply answered, holding out his hands in front of him, “Come here, I wanna look at you.”
Reluctantly, he approached Kindness once more until his palms were on his chest. Kindness smiled, curling his fingers in his shirt but then furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar piece of clothing. He let his hands skim over Wrath’s chest and shoulders, feeling the fabric of the black suit jacket.
“Are you wearing a suit?” Kindness both asked and concluded, smile on his face turning even sweeter and even wider, “How handsome.”
Wrath felt his heartbeat go up again, though this time, not from anger.
Wrath accidentally, nearly, strangling himself when getting angry over trying to tie a tie, and Kindness tutting at him and tying it it no time, using the rabbit and the fox rhyme to do it before kissing Wrath’s nose.
Once again, @dorklyevil’s Kindness and Wrath crept into my head. This is a bit more of a character study, and somewhere along the line Erick, Zeta, and Evil Morty showed up too.
SFW but mature due to language, violence and some blood
Kindness was kind, to be redundant and banal. It was the quality that captivated Wrath, but it was a blessing and a curse. He was sweet. He was understanding. He gave everyone the benefit of the doubt.
Mercy could have been his middle name. Which was why people took advantage of him. Which was why he was easy to lie to, to deceive, and they could take money, attention, what have you, when they wanted it, when they needed it, with little regard to him.
His pure, blind trust was even the reason he’d suffered physical injuries, before.
There had been less of that recently, of course. Not many stood up against Wrath, and Wrath had taken to staying close to Kindness’s side. But Wrath couldn’t be with him every hour of the day, every day of the week. So when he’d told Kindness he’d meet him in the park on their bench that afternoon and Kindness wasn’t there, the simmering rage always just below the surface boiled up for a moment.
Wrath stood on the bench and scanned the area. No Kindness by the fountain. He wasn’t by the flower beds, although he did spy Doofus, the scarred faced Rick and the eyepatched Morty who hung by them there. Wrath stepped down from the stone seat and hurried over to the three, clenching and releasing his fists as he walked.
“Hey!” he shouted as he made his way to their sides.
Doofus, bent over with his hands in the dirt, jumped. The flower he’d been planting trembled in his hands. Their Morty looked up coolly and locked his good eye on Wrath, while Scarred Lip stood to his full height and stepped slightly in between the other two and the Sin Rick who towered over them.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
At any other time, Wrath would be impressed with a Rick who wasn’t intimidated by him. As it were, he’d consider going at this Rick another time, after this minor crisis was resolved.
He worked to temper his voice. “I’m looking for Kindness. You see him?”
“The only person I see is a feral, tattooed Rick who’s going to need to back the fuck off.”
Wrath stepped forward, up into Scarred Lip’s personal space and snarled down at him. “Don’t push me, Rick. Did you see Kindness Rick anywhere?!”
For a second, there was a pregnant pause as Scarred Lip glared upward, and Wrath glared down at him. The sinking feeling of an impending explosion crept into the immediate area. Wrath’s knuckles cracked as he habitually tightened his fists. Scarred Lip took a breath in through his mouth and looked mildly amused, like he was looking forward to what may happen next.
“Stop it, Erick,” the Morty counseled calmly. “Don’t escalate this.”
To Wrath’s surprise, the Rick in front of him listened to the kid. Scarred Lip didn’t drop his gaze from Wrath’s, but his stance did relax an iota.
With that, Wrath dismissed him as no longer a threat and turned his blazing eyes to the Morty. He hated having to talk to one of them, especially one that seemed composed and observant as this one did. There was something odd about this one, and that made him uneasy in his core. Again it was something to puzzle about some other time so he shook his head to refocus. He still had to find Kindness.
“Well? Have you seen him?” he growled at the Morty.
Eyepatch Morty didn’t flinch. Tic another box on the “this one is weird” column.
He replied, “Don’t speak to me in that tone.”
Then, as easily as Wrath had disregarded Scarred Lip, Morty did the same to him as he turned to Doofus.
“Zeta, did you happen to see Kindness here today?”
The Rick with the bowl cut, who hadn’t moved from his crouched position in the dirt during any of these exchanges, licked his lips and gave the tiniest nod possible.
“You did?”
“Y-y-yes. Yes, I saw him when we, when we first got here. He was on the bench, under that t-tree--”
He gestured with a soil-encrusted hand behind Wrath. Wrath looked; it was their bench. The one where Kindness was supposed to be--
The Rick called Zeta saw the anger building in Wrath’s face, and faltered through the rest.
“--b-but then he-he-he went off with some Mortys. To the hedge maze? In that direction?” His voice was barely audible at the end, as if he wanted to disappear.
Morty, still unnervingly unruffled, gave a curt nod. “Thank you Zeta.” He looked up at Wrath and continued. “There. Now you know. Your . . .” Here he threw a deliberate calculating look up and down the Sin Rick as he considered his next word. “ . . . friend may be in the maze. Good day.”
Wrath didn’t like that little shit, or the Rick with the scarred face who was staring him down, or the one in the dirt who looked like he wanted to curl up in a defensive position. A small tickle of rage wound through his brain; it was always there, egging him on, but he held tight to its reins for once, because he had gotten a little information about Kindness’s possible whereabouts. He didn’t smile his gratitude--from experience he knew exposing his teeth was more scarily threatening than anything else--but he did nod and moved away from the trio.
He could feel the hot eyes of one Rick and the coldness from the Morty’s good eye burn into his back as he went. He swept a taloned hand behind him, as if shooing them away, dismissing them completely as he hurried to the hedge maze.
By the time he’d made it there, he was in a full out run. The maze itself was comprised of sizable, tightly grown hedges, specifically designed to tower over even the tallest Rick, so there was no simple looking over the top to see who may be in it. Although solid enough not to be able to see through, the branches that comprised the walls were spindly and unable to hold any weight, a fact that Wrath was soon learned when he tried to climb one to get a view over the entire thing.
He discovered a long strand of blue hair that had caught in one of the leaves and branches at the entrance. He untangled it and kept it, even bringing it to his nose, but it was too fine to hold any scent. Still, it had to be from Kindness.
With a snarl that he had to admit was flavored with worry, Wrath plunged into the maze.
There were dead ends and loops. At first Wrath tried to be reasonable, picking only the left turns, but that got him nowhere. He retraced his steps and found the entrance again, and started over, with just right turns. No luck.
Periodically he yelled Kindness’s name, but the tall hedges seemed to dampen any sound. As the minutes passed while he raced through the pathways and he still couldn’t find any trace of him or the Mortys or anyone else in this hellish maze, he stopped calling out. His breath was ragged panting. Drool, like a common Rick, collected on his chin. Panic kept pace with his rage, and it made his chest ache.
The hedges seemed to close in on him; the pathways narrowed; there was no end to this place. Wrath wanted to tear each hedge from the ground, strip the branches from each of them and level it, wanted to run berserk through it all, straight through, to find what had been stolen from him, what he was driven to keep safe.
Growls, deep like a Minotaur’s, erupted from his throat. It was the only sound that filled his ears.
Until--
A sharp cry, so close it seemed like it was around the next corner, cut into him like a knife.
Wrath pulled up short. He willed himself to shut his mouth, to breathe only through his flaring nostrils, and when that was too loud, held air in his lungs. Everything was still for a moment.
Then came another cry, still sharp but quickly muffled or cut off, filtering through the leaves and branches. It was accompanied by something that sounded like soft laughter,
He knew one of those voices.
Kindness.
Wrath roared.
The sound that erupted from him was primal, guttural, unadulterated rage. Every other noise in the vicinity shut down in its wake.
Wrath didn’t wait for any other indication of where his quarry may be. He rampaged through the pathways, cutting corners too quickly, getting scraped and bruised on his exposed arms from the branches he ran through instead of around. In only two more turns, he burst into the cleared center of the maze and took in the scene before him with the acute vision of a predatory animal.
--Kindness, on the ground, sitting, his back to one hedge
--Kindness, looking disheveled
--Kindness, his sleeve torn enough to expose the brand of his dimension on his bicep
--Kindness, his nose bleeding
--blood on his face
--blood matting some of his hair
--blood on his front
--blood
--blood
--Mortys, at least three of them, scrambling away, scattering like quail down other pathways, one light enough and terrified enough to make it over a hedge.
Wrath roared again as he came into the clearing. He was torn: chase down and destroy those Mortys, or help Kindness? His base instinct was to hunt the kids, make them sorry they ever thought of taking advantage of the Rick they’d led here. He actually darted passed Kindness, to the nearest path a Morty had taken, when his name was called.
“Wrath?”
Immediately he spun back to Kindness. He rushed to his side, dropping to his knees beside him, suddenly, painfully aware that he had no idea what to do with the injured man.
“Wrath?” Kindness repeated, his voice slightly dazed. As if he could have mistaken his rescuer for anyone else.
He reached upward, and Wrath caught his hand.
“It’s me, ‘Ness. It’s me.”
Kindness squeezed his fingers and Wrath pressed a kiss to his wrist.
Questions tumbled out of him. “Can you stand? What did they do to you? Where are you hurt?”
“I need help getting up,” Kindness replied.
Wrath complied, assisting him to his feet. His rent clothing fell downward, and Wrath re-draped it as best he could over his shoulder. It didn’t stay. Kindness kept tight hold of his hand.
“Are you okay to walk? You need to see a doctor--what did they do to you?!”
Kindness leaned against him. “I’m fine, kitten. The Mortys knocked me around a little bit, but I’m fine.”
Just hearing the name Morty flared Wrath’s anger again. He tried to steady himself, for Kindness’s sake, but physically shook with impotent, unreleased rage. He couldn’t seem to breathe normally; he felt shaky and hot and like he need to scream again.
To prove he was okay, Kindness touched his bruising nose. However, the brave show loosened a clot and bright fresh blood cascaded down his face.
Wrath snarled and pulled off his own shirt to shove against Kindness’s face in an effort to help staunch the flow. Kindness accepted it meekly, with a murmured thanks. Wrath licked his teeth, tried to count to ten, looked away for a moment, anything he could do disperse the anger boiling inside him, anything he could do to not explode.
He managed for a few seconds before he couldn’t contain it any longer.
“Why did you leave the bench? Why did you go off with random fucking Mortys?! What the fuck were you actually thinking?!” he bellowed. “What part of any of that seemed like a good idea?! You could have been seriously hurt, being so stupid--what the fuck were you thinking?!”
With each furious question, Kindness flinched. He ducked his head against the berating thunder of Wrath’s words. He did his best to answer,
“I thought they needed help. They said--”
“They fucking lied to you, ‘Ness!” Wrath interrupted rabidly.
Kindness seemed to fold in a little on himself, and Wrath grabbed his shoulders. He barely resisted the urge to shake him, hard, but his sharp fingernails dug into his skin.
“Wrath, you’re hurting me,” Kindness said, his voice cracking as he tried to pull out of his partner’s grip.
Wrath shook his head and continued to berate, “They took advantage of you--you know that-that some Mortys, they don’t respect anyone, they are so angry they’re willing to take it out on a Rick--”
“Like you’re doing now?” a soft voice--a Morty’s voice--cut in.
Wrath dropped his chin and glanced around, readying himself for an attack. He released Kindness’s shoulder like he’d been burned.
“You’re taking your anger and fear out on him,” the Morty continued.
“SHOW YOURSELF YOU FUCKING SHIT,” Wrath screamed.
“No,” Morty answered with a faint scoffing in his voice, like that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “You’re not rational right now. Zeta will come help, and Erick will be with him. Do not attempt to hurt them.”
There was a scuffling noise and Wrath twisted. The Rick with the bowl cut was there, wringing his hands but stepping out of one of the maze’s pathways towards them. The other Rick with the scar followed at his heels but didn’t come as close.
Timidly the Rick with the bowl cut asked, “C-c-can I see? Can I help?”
Wrath protectively placed himself between Kindness and the others.
“JZ knows some basic first aid,” Scarred Lip announced drily. “I don’t think that’s your forte. But if you don’t want help, we’re happy to leave.”
“I’m still bleeding,” Kindness said, his voice deadened by the shirt he was still holding to his face.
“Fine,” Wrath grudgingly agreed, and let Zeta come near.
He watched with hard eyes as the other Rick carefully peeled away the fabric and assessed the damage. He nodded, more to himself than anything.
“It’s broken,” he said quietly. “The bruising is already starting to give you black eyes. The cartilage may be able to be-be-be reset, if you get to a doctor. Is your mouth-are your teeth okay? Anything feel loose?”
As Kindness dutifully checked his teeth with his tongue and a finger, Wrath stood a step away, awkwardly. He knew about broken noses and fractured teeth, but he didn’t think Kindness had the fortitude to snap his own nose into a more natural position, or to spit fragments of enamel out of his mouth and keep on fighting.
It seemed like a lot of blood, but Wrath’s knew that all bleeding eventually stopped. He didn’t think anyone else here would find that as funny as he did. Well, maybe that odd Morty . . . Wrath kept his mouth shut, now, and let the Rick called Zeta continue to make his assessments.
Scarred Lip sighed and shifted from one foot to the other. It was obvious he was only standing there under duress, but he said quietly to Wrath,
“There are a few gangs of Mortys that hang around this area. If you had identifying characteristics, then you could report them to the authorities--”
“That’ll be a little difficult, seeing as how he can’t see--”
While he was fixed with the disinterested gaze of the other Rick, and Kindness weaved his thin fingers into Wrath’s bigger hand.
“Stop, kitten,” Kindness said quietly, using the pet name deliberately to draw Wrath’s attention back to him. “He’s only trying to help.”
Apparently it was clear he still wanted to verbally spar with the other Rick, but Kindness bumped into him, shoulder to shoulder, and automatically Wrath slipped a hand around his waist to support him. He tugged at the torn sleeve again to cover his partner, with the same unsuccessful results.
“So there is a kitten inside that raging beast,” the disembodied voice of Morty said, full of amusement.
Kindness caught his jaw and pressed his free hand over Wrath’s mouth before he could spit a reply.
“You n-n-need to pinch your nose to help make it stop bleeding. Lean forward and pinch your nose,” Zeta instructed. “It’ll hurt.”
Kindness released Wrath’s lips and did as bid. As warned, he winced and gasped a little, in pain.
Under Zeta’s watchful eye, Kindness pinched his nose until the blood flow halted. Kindness wiped his face once more with Wrath’s shirt. No new blood appeared.
“You should still get it looked at,” Zeta recommended.
Wrath made a non-committal noise as a response.
“You’re done? Let’s go, JZ.”
The Rick with the bowl cut nodded, smiled tentatively up at Wrath, and hurried after the other one, who’d turned on his heel to leave, disappearing quickly into the maze.
Kindness called after them. “Thank you . . .”
When they’d finally gone, Kindness sagged against Wrath again.
“You can see what they did to me. You interrupted them, so . . .” He let the implication hang in the air for a moment, not willing to give voice to anything that would set Wrath off again. He finished instead with, “I just want to get cleaned up.”
His old companion rage flared again, still wanting to hunt those kids and make them pay, make them bleed and hurt for that they’d done, but with Kindness leaning heavily against him, Wrath tamped it down.
"Come on,” he managed to say quietly, and helped escort him back through the maze.
As they made their way slowly to the exit, Wrath cleared his throat. It would be easier to say this here, isolated and in the quiet then out in the open. Hesitantly he said, “I . . . I’m sorry. That Morty with the eyepatch was right . . . I was . . . scared and took it out on you. I don’t think you’re stupid and I’m sorry I . . . hurt you.”
And Kindness, with his cursed blessing or his blessed curse--Wrath didn’t have the energy to work out which it may be--smiled up at him slightly, and told him he was forgiven.
He’d forgive those Mortys too, if given the chance, Wrath thought blackly. That made him angry too, and sad, and he wondered if it was at all possible for them to change their innate natures. He was trying, only semi-successfully, to rein in his explosive anger, to be a little more like Kindness. But in the same vein, he wished Kindness would take a page from his book and not be so easily manipulated or such an easy target.
With a heavy sigh caused by such metaphysical thoughts, Wrath continued to lead his partner back out of the maze so he could get him home.
The last little Kindness/Wrath story I did (Softer . . . ) finished on an ambiguous note. This one is set slightly after that and takes it a bit further.
As always, @dorklyevil gets mounds of credit for being so inspiring, generous, and beyond talented.
SFW. Slight Rick x Rick
He’d gotten more used to touching. His calloused and sharped-tipped fingers needed lessons on how to caress gently; he was getting better. He also allowed and grew more comfortable with Kindness placing a hand on him; on his elbow for guidance while they were walking, or the occasional soft weave of fingers between fingers, or a hand high on his chest when they were standing face to face.
His heart tended to beat a little faster when Kindness’s palm was pressed over it. It would be easy to attribute it to a general quick heart rate, but having a naturally fast pulse didn’t explain what felt like skipped beats.
Wrath had kissed Kindness’s eyelids, true, but when the Virtue Rick had surprised him with a peck on the cheek later, he didn’t know what to do. He’d left the vicinity immediately with a growl, not understanding why he was suddenly flushed.
Then, days later, when he’d sought out his friend again, Kindness hadn’t tried to kiss him at all, and that was even more confusing.
Eventually, however, through trial and error and some difficult discussions—difficult in both subject matter and the way Wrath tended to handle everything, which was loudly—they came to the tentative conclusion that they liked spending time with each other, that Wrath had come to enjoy Kindness’s feather-light caresses, and maybe, just maybe, a little more physical contact would be okay too.
But kissing! Kissing was his downfall, his bane, his shame. He’d never thought about it before! Wrath had never considered using his mouth for anything that wasn’t actively biting someone in the heat of a fight. He never once thought that it was something he should have daydreamed about, or practiced.
It was only when, after another inept showing—Kindness actually pulled back with a small cry, holding a hand to his lip—he knew he was hopeless. Wrath saw the bright red smear of blood on Kindness’s fingers and ducked his head, immediately stumbling over an apology and wracking his brain to come up with a way to escape because he was horrible, Kindness didn’t need to put up with someone like him, he never meant to hurt him but that was all he did—
Kindness must have sensed he was ready to cut and run, because he grabbed his shoulders. The move startled him and automatically he snarled a warning before catching himself. Kindness loosened his grip by sliding his hands to his. He held onto him more gently.
“Wrath,” the Virtue Rick began, and he knew this was the end of his stupid idea of a budding relationship.
He tensed for the next words, preparing to steel himself for whatever was next. It wouldn’t be mean, of course; Kindness was never that. It would be courteous and benevolent. The words of rejection would still sting, however. To comfort himself, Wrath vowed silently to never to try and get close to someone again.
“Wrath,” Kindness repeated, and that hurt. It hurt because he liked to hear his name formed by his mouth. It hurt because it wouldn’t be much longer that he would have that chance. “You haven’t done much kissing, have you?”
The words would have been harsh. Cruel, even, from someone else. But the tone was light and—dare he guess?—teasing. Confused, Wrath looked up at the man sitting beside him.
Kindness was smiling at him. Not maliciously, not sarcastically; just a small lifting of the corners of his mouth.
With a dry throat, he whispered, “No.”
Kindness released one of his hands and lifted his to reach forward, estimating where Wrath’s head would be. Wrath held very still and Kindness’s fingers pushed through his hair. “No experience at all?”
What was he supposed to say to that? Of course he’d never had experience with intimate contact! He was fucking Wrath! The epitome of anger and physical violence! His experience with touching other people ended with someone being bruised, bloody, and broken. Usually it was the other person. Sometimes it was him. Up until recently, he’d never even known he could lay hands on another being without causing bodily harm.
So now that he had the opportunity to actually kiss, he’d discovered he was incompetent. He’d gone with what he thought was normal, with what he thought someone would expect. What he managed to do, however, was aggressive and demanding. His tongue was too hard, his lips too insistent, his teeth too sharp. The blood on Kindness’s lip was proof he was unable to be gentle and sweet, even if he wanted to. It was just another example of how worthless he was—
“Wrath, let’s try this,” Kindness said.
It dawned on him that he hadn’t answered the question. He still felt like he should apologize again and leave, but one hand was still in Kindness’s grip and he didn’t think wrenching himself violently away from him was the best choice of action—
Kindness scooted closer on the bench and leaned forward to brush his lips on Wrath’s mouth.
Gently.
Wrath was conflicted; from what he’d seen others do he should press into it, push his tongue between his lips, but Kindness hadn’t done more than keep his mouth soft against his.
Even though there was varying pressure as he moved ever-so-slightly against him, the kiss didn’t change into something demanding or heavy. When Kindness pulled back a moment later, however, Wrath was out of breath.
Before he could comment on it, Kindness kissed him again.
Same as before. Gentle. Smooth. Wrath wanted to watch, wanted to keep his eyes open, but his lids seemed heavy and slid shut of their own accord, as if to protect him from too many senses overwhelming him at one time. When he felt a moderate, wet pressure against his lips, his jaw automatically loosened. Kindness’s tongue was velvet and his responded with tender touches as well. A faint metallic copper taste that accompanied it reminded him of what he’d done, but Kindness didn’t act like he was in pain.
They continued for a serene bit more, then Wrath needed more air and ended the kiss.
Kindness stayed close for a moment, eyes still closed, and a smile ghosting over his face. Wrath tried to wrap his head around how it could be, versus how it had always been.
“That was . . .” He wanted to convey the feeling, but no word he knew even came close.
Kindness laughed, softly. “You don’t need to try and describe it. I was there too.”
Wrath chuckled too, not taking offense to the tease. He would ask, sometime, about demanding kisses, about the ones that left them gasping deeply for breath, about the ones that were desperate and needy and couldn’t come quick enough. About if Kindness ever liked them, or if they were just something he had thought was typical, but weren’t normal.
He’d ask him sometime. Later. Right now he wanted to kiss Kindness again, and again, and learn more ways to please him.
Lordy lou, @dorklyevil is incredible. Not only is she a talented artist and writer, she is generous with her creations and time. This little comic between Kindness Rick and Wrath Rick is just so awesome, I was compelled to write this.
SFW. A little hc background of Wrath. One of my only stories written from the POV of a Rick.
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Sometimes the Mortys dare.
They dare to touch him. Something a bit like counting coup, I suppose. It’s a dangerous activity and it wouldn’t surprise me if it was one of their gang initiations. I wish they wouldn’t. Some Mortys don’t fare well while they’re trying to earn the respect of the other Mortys. Some of them end up dead.
There are lots of things I wish. I wish there weren’t the Morty gangs; that someRick would treat them well and take them out of the ghetto. I wish that he had the ability to be calm, to be gentle.
But that’s like asking the winds to stop blowing, or gravity to stop, or me to go against my innate nature.
He is who he is, and all I can do is accept it.
I will admit once I laid a hand on him, in curiosity.
Before he spun, swinging a hard punch that I stepped backwards to avoid, I learned he wasn’t tattooed.
He was branded.
That was fascinating to me. I, like the Mortys, risked doing it again. My fingers were able to trace the large ess scarred into his left shoulder blade before he roared and swung at me again.
I stood my ground, this time.
I caught his fist, and negated the strike.
I wasn’t strong enough to push him backwards. He wasn’t strong enough to overpower me either.
People seem to forget that Rick Sanchez’s kindness was equal to his wrath. I wasn’t as obvious as Wrath, tending to be held deeper in his psyche. But I was just as strong, and just as determined.
When he was unable to physically complete the act of punching me, Wrath roared his frustration wordlessly. It was a sound that would have cowed a lesser Rick.
“Sit with me,” I suggested.
He spit, literally, spit at me. I didn’t let that affect me. I released his fist and produced the hairbrush tucked into my belt, asking if he would brush my hair. It was a ritual between us, now.
Wrath grumbled and tried to find a reason to decline, but I pushed the hairbrush into his hand, and sat on a bench near him. He followed, sat down, and began running the boar’s bristled brush through the ends of my hair.
It pulled at first; it always took some time for him to calm. But between angrily recounting the last time a Morty tried to touch him, or a Rick crossed him, or any of the other annoyances in life that set his blood boiling, he gradually began brushing smoother and smoother strokes. It was pleasant.
My hair was long enough that I was able, after he’d relaxed as much as Wrath could relax, to twist in my seat and politely ask to touch the brands on his bicep. He wanted to protest, I could tell, but allowed it.
My fingers slipped from unblemished skin over the raised, thickened scar. They followed it, like a trail on a map.
Wrath watched my hand. Although his nostrils flared, he breathed through his mouth. I knew it was from the adrenaline that never truly left his system. He was always ready to react violently.
But my fingers on him seemed to calm him a little more.
I brushed the mark on his shoulder, and discovered it was a tattoo. He was a mix of ink and the granulated tissue from old wounds. I wondered if they were self-inflicted, but didn’t get the chance to ask.
“You’re too nice,” he growled at me.
I shrugged. “I am what I am.”
Wrath lifted his upper lip like he was going to snap something back. To my surprise--and his too, I believe--he didn’t.
“Everyone can use a little kindness,” I told him.
He grunted and I took that as a positive response. He continued brushing my hair. I continued my feather-light touches to his chest and arm. He seemed to like it; maybe it was something novel, a touch that wasn’t painful or fueled by a dare? I didn’t know.
If anyone was surprised that Kindness and Wrath were sharing a bench peacefully, no one had the nerve to make a remark about it.
