Chapter Text
A sudden wave of frustration crept over you as an incredibly alarmed Morty tried to fiercely jerk you back to consciousness, even after several lazy objections were murmured out.
You were wearing a thin, black hoodie with a pair of walnut coloured, rib knit shorts—so when Morty finally had enough of your idleness and yanked the duvet off of you, the freezing winter air circulating around the house was enough to stir you awake.
Morty’s sunken, glazed stare clearly lacked sympathy for your current drowsy state. You ineptly stumbled back home at the crack of dawn, unsurprisingly in a drunken haze, staring into the back of Summers head with a clumsy hand fisted into her strawberry blonde hair whilst vomit rapidly poured out of her mouth. So not only were you enveloped by a severely cold sensation, you were still recovering from the aftermath of an impulsive night out.
You hazily swung your legs over the edge of the bed, death staring Morty as he shook his head in disbelief.
“What?” You aggressively whispered out, shivering and impatiently waiting for Morty to spill whatever it was that he desperately needed to inform you of.
“Did you not hear that loud crashing noise from downstairs? I’m freaked the fuck out!” Morty shrieked, the tremble in his voice coherent enough for you to understand that he was dead serious.
“What noise?” You say whilst shrugging your shoulders, looking around the room frantically in an attempt to mock him.
Morty angrily scoffed at you.
“You ever heard of exploding head syndrome, Morty? It’s a bizarre phenomenon where you hear—“
“This is not the time for your bitter sarcasm! I’m-I’m really not pl-playing around.” Morty stressed, cutting you off sternly whilst crossing his arms together.
“Why don’t you go check it out then?” You suggested, urgently trying to dismiss him so that you could go back to sleep.
“Come with me.” He pleaded, which was nearly pathetic.
Out of pity for a very panic-stricken Morty and the desire to satisfy the tiniest bit of curiosity you had developed, you followed him out of your bedroom and discretely edged towards the hallway.
Morty was squirming and wriggling behind you, you have never seen him like this before so it sort of made the whole endeavour ominous and eerie and with that, goosebump’s instantaneously started to rise up and down your spine.
You extended an arm out, prompting Morty to go first but he wagged his head in lieu of a direct refusal.
“Morty.”
“Shhhhhhhh! Be quiet!” Morty mouthed, placing a finger at the base of his lips.
You sighed in defeat and slowly inched yourself towards the staircase, with every gentle step down you glanced back at Morty to ensure that he was still there—you were both rendered wholly unnerved, practically tip toeing and grimacing at any slight creek.
The kitchen was empty but the light was left on, casting an illumating shadow into the living room, making you and Morty feel even less at ease.
The sound of tinkering and muffled exchanges in the garage became louder and louder as you gradually got closer. You placed your ear by the door and was blanketed by a surge of relief.
“It’s Beth and Jerry, you moron.” You snarled at Morty with an exasperated expression whilst he let out a huge breath of solace.
You have been living in the Smith household ever since you were eight years old, for years now you have heard harrowing tales about a dubious man who had wronged them, the stories ranged from tragedy to pure depravity which were mainly told by an intoxicated Beth glaring into the depths of a vacant wine bottle—or an indignant Summer whenever the topic of science propped up in conversations.
Morty was extremely brief and indifferent when sharing his own experiences and Jerry—well, he was quite frankly unbothered.
Such a mystery used to fascinate you, but your efforts to identify the man in question became futile and you eventually reduced the enigma down to a myth. Even so, your logic and blatant impassivity towards the topic did not prevent the rest of your family from constantly dreading a reunion with the miscreant, so despite your irritation—you let it go and lessened it down to Morty just being anxious.
Before you and Morty were able to retrace your steps back upstairs, a strange and unfamiliar voice emerged from the garage. You peered at Morty and his mouth had blown open into a silent ‘o’ shape, indicating that he knew who the voice belonged to and nosiness was something you always struggled with.
You ran back and twisted the handle, pushing the door open moderately, careful not to make a sound—Morty soon followed and rested his head above yours so that he could also take a look too.
Beth and Jerry were bickering as usual but your attention was quickly removed from your foster parents when an old and lanky man with blue pointy hair hovered over them, interrupting their argument with a swig of a flask—leaving Jerry utterly dumbfounded and speechless.
The man then tucked his flask away into the inside pocket of his tattered lab coat, his demeanour nonchalant and insincere.
You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling. “The fuck is he supposed to be? Bunsen Honeydew?” you whispered to Morty, earning a giggle in response.
However, your witticism came to a halt almost immediately when the unknown person caught you staring and pinned you in place with a menacing scowl blazed by the sun, almost as if he could hear you and was striving to subdue you with predatory eye contact alone.
You haphazardly threw yourself back causing Morty to tumble down with you, knocking over an antique lamp that Jerry had thrifted three years ago.
Beth and Jerry must have heard the commotion and within no time, were standing right in front of you and Morty with an unimpressed facial contortion.
After you and Morty were scolded by an outraged Beth for eavesdropping, you more than Morty for the stunt you pulled last night, you were instructed to take a shower and clean yourself up before having a “mature” discussion—partly because of the fact that your hair stunk of Summers foul puke.
You were still feeling worn out from your escapade with Summer and only dried your hair midway, leaving the rest to air-dry.
You tossed on a solid, black tank top which only revealed your lower abdomen and paired them with some mulberry pink hello-kitty sweatpants from when you bought matching pairs with Summer.
You unhurriedly headed down into the kitchen and what you saw made you physically recoil.
Both Beth and Jerry were sat in their regular spots, facing each other at the dining table. Morty and Summer were side by side—Summer normally chooses to sit next to you so that she can update you on some weird Reddit page dedicated to hating squirrels which makes her howl—but unfortunately, her seat was unprecedentedly occupied.
“Come sit down, honey.” The significantly older man sneeringly cooed, patting the chair down next to him—receiving a furious look from Jerry and Summer.
“Shut the fuck up, Rick.” Summer just about spat.
“Summer, calm down. Rick, be nice.” Beth interrupted, fanning her hands up and down as if she were commanding them to cease fire.
Summer was raging, Jerry was displeased and Morty was face down into his bowl of cereal—refusing to acknowledge the existence of the peculiar new guy. Beth seemed like a combination of reassured and worried but that uncanny person scanning you from head to toe was really starting to irk you.
You observed attentively as the old man lowered his washed-out dreary eyes to your sweatpants and how the corner of his lips twisted upwards, as though he were ridiculing you. Without saying a word, you went and sat down.
“Dad.” Beth began, her tone entwined with a hidden sense of resentment.
“Would you like to introduce yourself to Y/N?” Beth asked politely, which verified any confusion you had left. This was Beth’s father and potentially the man who had hurt them in the past.
To which the unspecified voice replied with an effortless “Rick Sanchez” whilst stuffing his face full of pancakes. One word to describe this guy was downright disrespectful.
Still, you were startled by the fact that a person who you had simplified down to mere folklore was sat right beside you.
“So, who are you? Summer’s friend?” To your surprise he spoke again, but too sardonic and uninformed for your liking.
You retaliated with a “And who are you? The new house cleaner?” Which earned a fleeting glimpse from Rick, eyebrows perking up in amusement.
“She is our daughter, Rick.” Jerry announced and with that—Rick’s jarring laughter bellowed out, causing you to flinch.
“Seriously? I didn’t think that I had left that much of a gaping wound behind. She looks nothing like you, Jerry.” Rick was testing his patience on purpose, the hostility in the air was starting to get worse.
“I’m adopted.” You confirm it for him, his eyes tracing your entire being as though he was searching for any sort of weakness within you.
“You would know that if you didn’t abandon us.” Morty quietly muttered.
Rick looked down with a hint of shame stretched across his face but he made sure that it didn’t last long enough for Morty to notice and swiftly replaced it with an emotionless visage, you saw it though.
Beth disrupted the awkward tension by clarifying the issue. “Jerry and I have agreed to let Rick stay with us, as along as he cooperates with the rules.”
Morty and Summer didn’t look surprised at all and Jerry was too busy reading his newspaper to react.
“Thank God I’m going back to college today.” Summer stated with a blank expression whilst utterly enraptured in whatever was on her phone.
“There is no God.” Rick replied in an extremely bored manner, poking his fork into his food.
The conversation died down and the unpleasantry of breakfast had finally ended. Rick languidly lounged on the couch, flicking through television channels without offering them a chance to enlighten him.
Beth and Jerry were in the front yard, assisting Summer with packing the car full of her travel bags.
“We will be gone for a while so I expect the house to be in the same condition we left it in.” Jerry ordered, eyes fixating on Rick.
“If you need anything, you know our numbers.” Beth insisted and then added “We won’t be too long.”
You gave Summer a tight and very long hug before she hopped into the car, you and Morty waving fondly at them as they left.
As you and Morty went back inside, the sight of Rick casually sprawled across the sofa without a single care in the world caused you to tut in disapproval at him.
“There’s no point.” Morty said, unbothered as he made his way upstairs and into his bedroom. You were about to follow him until Rick spoke.
“You ever heard of inter-dimensional cable?” He asked, eyes glued to the screen—you couldn’t tell if he was deliberately avoiding eye contact with you or just did not care enough to acknowledge your presence.
“What’s that?”
“Sit down and I’ll show you.”
Rick stood up and began fiddling around with the television box, you just sat and watched awkwardly.
Once he was done he strolled back over with his hands buried into the depths of his pockets and slumped down next to you, spreading his legs wide enough so that the tip of his right knee was resting on yours. Rick didn’t seem to notice the physical contact you were making but a feeling of nervousness started to knot and swirl around in your stomach.
“You like hello-kitty, huh?” He queried in a rather derisive yet somewhat intrigued tone, tilting his head so that he was in eye-sight of your sweatpants.
“Mostly when I was younger, Summer has a red pair of these.” You placed your hands on your knees, relatively embarrassed and ignoring the fact that you could see Rick observing you through your peripheral vision.
“Well, what I’m about to show you is far better than some idiotic cat.”
Rick went back to flying through channels and stopped at one, placing the remote back down.
“What the hell is this?” You snickered, astonished by the bizarreness of what Rick was making you watch.
“Don’t disrespect ball fondlers like that, this is prime shit and you should be thanking me for even showing you.” Rick jeered.
“Right. But what’s wrong with that guys face?” You questioned with a puzzled look.
“Nothing. That’s the way he was born, dipshit.”
“And why should I believe what you say?”
“Because I am the smartest man in the universe.”
You weren’t able to overlook the seriousness in his voice and miss how his body leaned forward towards you. Rick gave off an acrid stench of booze mingled with musky salt which more or less made you feel intoxicated yourself.
“A smart man would never leave his family.” You barely managed to get out, “Especially when they care about you.”
“That’s why they added you to the mix, a mere place holder.” Rick whispered into your ear, triggering an electric current to form beneath your skin and then slanted back down, eyes locked on yours like he was taking your emotional intelligence on a trial run.
“Does my position in this family threaten you?” You retorted, refusing to allow him to challenge you.
Rick’s eyes darkened and his blinking became slower. “What makes you believe that?”
“Because of how difficult you are being. I am just as much apart of this family as you are, blood relation or not.” You stood up, flashing him an untamed and vicious expression before leaving to do what you should have done earlier, follow Morty.
As you were walking up the stairs, you overheard a quiet but loud enough remark from Rick.
“Funny, you’re just like her.”
Two hours had passed and you were in the kitchen playing monopoly with Morty, Rick was back in the garage frolicking around making as much noise as he possibly could.
“Can you go tell-tell him to s-shut the fuck up?” Morty demanded in annoyance.
“I’m not talking to that pompous prick.” You established.
“Please? I’m-I’m the one who has history with him!” Morty was aggravated and deeply frustrated with Rick’s ability to make a racket.
You huffed in irritation but as you were about to get up Rick charged through the garage door, heaving and panting as if he had just ran a marathon.
Rick pointed at you. “You, come with me.”
“What? No. I’m playing a game with Morty.” You argued.
“It won’t take long. Y/N, come the fuck on.” Rick ordered, striding towards you and tugging on your shoulder intensely—dragging you into the garage.
Morty stalked after you both, standing in the middle of the doorway.
“What are you doing, Rick?” Morty looked troubled and the foreboding sense of impending doom you were starting to feel flourished.
“You can tag a long too if you want but I need her to distract someone for me whilst I grab something.” Rick was scavenging around the garage like a ravenous fanatic, rummaging through a box full of gadgets.
“There it is.” Rick announced whilst pulling out a mystifying gun with a tube full of an odd green substance.
“Rick. No!” Morty freakishly yelped. “Y/N, don’t go!”
Rick pressed the button on the pistol looking object and an enormous, swirling, viridescent spiral came shooting out and formed into some type of gateway.
“What’s this?” You cracked up, “The entrance to hell?”
“It will be if you don’t do as I’ve asked.” Rick glared at you and motioned for you to step through the verdant threshold.
“Why can’t Morty do it?”
“Because they-they know who he is.”
You hesitated for a second—Rick wouldn’t hurt you, right? He must possess some sort of affection towards Beth since she is his daughter, and Beth cares about you. Thoughts were racing through your mind and you remembered a story that Morty had told you, when Rick had forgotten all about him in some alien dungeon and all of the God-forbidden things Rick has done to them as a whole.
You thought it was just Morty’s wild imagination that had created some other-worldly fantasy, but now your reserved quality was beginning to fall away.
“You coming?” Rick asked Morty.
“I’ll pass.”
Rick became impatient and forcefully shoved you through the passageway, shortly following after you moments later.
“Rick, where the actual fuck am I?” You cried out, eyes darting from configuration to configuration.
“Silence.” Rick pressed his finger to your lips to shush you. You knocked it away—instantly with the sway of your hand.
“Listen, you need-need to calm down.” Rick growled.
“How am I supposed to fucking calm down when I am in some foreign land surrounded by extraterrestrial beings!” You scream whispered.
“What is this, time travel or some shit?” You continued whilst kneeling down, stressed and absolutely baffled.
“Watch your mouth and don’t ever trivialise my phenomenal work down to that fucking monstrosity again.” Rick crossly asserted. “We are in The Galactic Federation and you need to c-chill the fuck out.”
“What are those?” You intercepted.
“Gromflomites. I-I need you to tell them that you are lost or s-something and keep their attention on you whilst I get back what they took-took from me.”
Rick was slurring his words and liquid was dripping down his mouth.
“Rick, are you drunk? You look and sound like a babbling maniac!”
“Just do it for fuck sakes.”
“Why can’t you do it?” You proposed, earning a sigh of agitation.
“I-I’m their w-worst, most wanted-wanted criminal, alright? You want my re-respect, show-show me what you’re made of.”
“I don’t need your respect.” You claimed but complied to get it over and done with—flipping Rick off on your way there.
The place was swarmed by Gromflomites and alien entities but you tried your best not to stare too much and focused on getting to the Gromflomite guard who was controlling who went in and out through customs.
“H-hey.” You stumbled over your words but quickly recovered your composure. The colour of the Gromflomites was a dull shade of green and varied across their conical shape. You quickly glanced behind you and saw that Rick was already gone.
“I don’t know where—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Rick came rushing from the other side of customs.
“Run, Y/N. Run!” Rick screeched, cradling a range of outlandish looking crystals in his arms.
Without thinking twice you obeyed and began to sprint, the Gromflomites were chasing both of you and you were absolutely horrified.
You were running off of pure adrenaline alone since you were still being tormented by the effects of a hangover, you weren’t thinking straight and barged into a passerby—crashing down face first into the floor.
Rick saw you plummet and pulled out a laser gun, unleashing rapid gunfire on them. He knocked down like twenty in a haste whilst one of the Gromflomites had gotten hold of you, twisting your arms back and slamming you into a wall.
Rick shot the Gromflomite that had you hauled up against the harshest surface you have ever felt and pressed the button on his gun—wrenching you through the portal swiftly and with zero effort.
Both you and Rick came lunging straight back into the garage. You were laid on the floor completely breathless, panting and shaking.
“Y/N, your head is bleeding.” Rick said absentmindedly.
“The fuck do you care?” You answered in vexation, you were outright steaming with animosity towards Rick.
Words couldn’t describe how much you hated Rick right now. Rick placed the unusual crystals onto the table and made his way over to you, reaching out a hand.
You smacked his hand out of the way militantly and stood up on your own.
“What even are those?” You asked, still heaving from the insane adventure you had just experienced.
“Oh these? Kalaxian cry-crystals. The incredible high they give you is-is out of this world.” Rick’s words made you lose your mind with fury.
“I risked my life so you could get fucking high?” You were fuming, you strode over to Rick in a frenzy and started shoving him backwards, causing Rick to grab your wrist firmly.
“Let-let me look at your injury.” Rick said agitatedly with a cold and calculated stare which burnt straight through you.
“Stop acting like you give a fuck.” You just about spat.
“You’re right. I don’t give a fuck. But do I want to inconvenience myself with a pesky little Beth giving me grief because of one infernal dumbass who couldn’t just do their one fucking job?”
“Fuck you. The rest of my family might put up with your degeneracy but that doesn’t mean that I will!”
“Oh boo fucking hoo, go write me a goddamn song about it—oh!—and whilst you’re at it, why don’t you enrol yourself into a class that touches upon the concept of common sense you mindless half-wit!”
“Why don’t you do us all a favour and take your bygone, decomposing ass to a nursing home you decrepit fuck.”
You were basically steaming from your ears. Rick had lit an uncontrollable fire within you and if you didn’t before, you one hundred percent loathed him now.
You strode towards the garage door in a foggy, wrathful outburst, pulling the door open vigorously. Rick must have chased after you as he strenuously slammed the door back shut with a single violent push of his hand.
Rick was stood behind you, angrily huffing and puffing whilst both of his arms were stretched out so that they were at either side of you—trapping you in place with the colossal seeming height of his body towering over you.
“Sit down and let me look at you.” Rick growled.
“No.”
“Learn to shut up and put up.”
“No.”
Rick must be borderline insane as he tossed you over his shoulder without a struggle.
“You need to fix that attitude of yours because if you think that I will tolerate that behaviour then you must not know who the fuck I am.”
Rick pulled out a chair that was tucked into his work desk and threw you onto it whilst he began digging through a draw full of his supplies.
“Yeah, he got-got you good.” Rick verbalised faintly whilst gently patting the mild graze on your head with a cloth wet with antiseptic. You hissed at the pain and jerked your head away from his touch.
Rick caught your face with his hand and held you in place—shooting you a sinister looking expression, almost as if he were sending you a cautionary warning about the dangers of defying him.
The storm that had been thundering between the two of you had finally alleviated.
The action of Rick attending to your wound stung to some degree but when Rick comforted you by saying it would be fine within a day or so—the gruff sound of his mellow, husky voice which was layered by a certain level of deepness and the sensation of his cosy breath trailing down your neck soothed your rising temper.
You closed your eyes and allowed Rick to take care of what he had caused.
Rick’s slender hands were rough by the touch and large by the size, he had one hand submerged into your messy hair in order to keep you still—sometimes using it to tilt your chin upwards so that he could get a better view of your head injury whilst the other hand was busy cleaning it.
“So,” Rick began, “Was that so hard?” You scoffed at his comment. Of course he had to ruin it you thought, sabotage must be engraved into his veins.
“Would’ve been easier if you weren’t such a-“
“Shhhhhh, easy now. Don’t get yourself all worked up again.” Rick was speaking to you in a rather appeasing yet sardonic manner, his ineptitude to be earnest was a characteristic that extremely rattled you.
“Is this how you treated Morty? How you treated Summer and Beth?” You asked, voice entangled with a hidden fascination.
You couldn’t understand why you felt so compelled to unravel the mystique of Rick Sanchez, but you did. The magnetism you had towards him was powerful and confusing, a mixture between sympathy and distaste.
“Exposing your canines again, huh? Little wolf.”
You scoffed again, “No, seriously. Is this how you treat the people who love you?”
Your emotional frame was becoming out of sync with the passage of time whilst Rick’s remained stagnant and suppressed.
“Love is purely a treason of the blood.” Rick flatly revealed.
“So you don’t love anyone, right? Not even your own family?”
“Love is transient, pointless and overrated.“
“I don’t understand how Beth can keep forgiving you when you’re such a bad person.”
“I don’t mind being the bad guy,” Rick began, tone remorseless and utterly unashamed. “Here’s a tip, little wolf. Be bad with purpose, otherwise you are not worth forgiving.”
Before you could reply, Rick swiftly changed the subject. “All done.” He says whilst plastering a dressing over your sore and thoroughly cleansed wound.
“I want compensation for that brutal mission you offloaded onto me.”
“Soon.” He replied, and with that you left Rick alone with himself in the garage.