Work Text:
As Morty enters the garage he is accosted by Rick dressed up as a skinny, blue-haired Santa. “Morty! It’s time for a Christmas adventure! Christmas Adventure, Morty! I’ve been planning this ALL year. Just you and me, Morty! Christmas Adventure!”
Morty looks down, unconsciously gripping his left arm, “Ah jeeze, Rick. I’m actually going - Jessica invited me to her home for Christmas. And, you know, since we’re dating now it would be rude to-to cancel. Sorry, Rick.”
Morty doesn’t wait for a response, he leaves the garage and house in a rush. He feels bad leaving Rick, but not bad enough to wait and be verbally abused by the old drunk. Besides it’s not like he’s leaving him completely alone.
*****
Rick sits at his desk not even pretending to work on anything. There’s no point. The one person he can never fool is himself. At least not when he’s this sober. He takes long pulls on his flask, dribbling it over the stupid Santa suit he hasn’t bothered taking off. Pissed off at his daughter for not only, taking Jerry back, but agreeing to some cheesy, pathetic “romantic” getaway in the Poconos of all places. Pissed at Summer for not even being available to come! He could have used all hands on deck for this adventure. And that’s not even to mention how pissed he feels at Morty!
“Et tu Morty.” He mutters to the empty room. That damn kid. Pulling a fucking Brutus on him. All because finally, somehow, his pathetic fumbling around Jessica paid off.
Rick had known this would happen eventually, but the keyword here is the “eventually”. But of course, his Morty would be as precocious in love as he’s turned out to be in every other endeavor.
Suddenly a portal opens next to him, Doofus Rick steps out. He’s dressed as Santa too, except he also holds a bulging red bag.
Rick doesn’t bother trying to make eye contact before belching, “EURRRRRP-Well, if isn’t Doofus. Look your little pal, Jerry isn’t here. So just fuck-fuck right on off. Bah humbug or whatever.”
Instead of fucking right on off as commanded, Doofus just laughs merrily. “I’m not here for Jerry, Rick! I’m here to see you! Your Morty called mine and said that you-you could use some company, today!”
Rick stands slightly aslant and addresses the intruding Rick, “My Morty called your…… That motherfucker! Listen, Doofus. I don’t need a - need a pity fuck, okay? So my family ditches me on Christmas? I don’t give a f-fuck. So seriously fuck off! Don’t you have some shit you should be eating, anyway? Wouldn’t-wouldn’t want to keep you from something so important.”
Doofus still refuses to fuck off or even back down like normal. “Yeah, your Morty said you would react this way. But here’s the thing, one is I don’t eat poop, you-you know that and it’s offens-offensive you would say it. And two? I-I came prepared for a Christmas Adventure! You are planning to go to Santalandia, right? Planet of Santas?
Rick grunts in assent begrudgingly.
“You want to get one of their magic Santa sacks? The ones that can hold seemingly infinite amount of things. Like the-like the-“
“Like the TARDIS of bags! Okay, fine you know the mission. I guess Morty can read me better that I gave the little shit credit for.”
“No, Rick. You-your Morty didn’t need to tell mine that. I’m still a Rick, Rick. I know what you would do cause it’s what-what I would. Look! I dressed to come with you!” Doofus does a dainty twirl, smiling like a, well like a doofus.
Rick raises one side of his unibrow. “Huh, I suppose you won’t go away till we do this?”
Doofus’ smile widens showing all his crooked teeth. “Nope!”
“Fine! But I’m in charge.”
Rick opens a portal and the pair step through.
******
After waking a few minutes they come across what looks like a cliche Santa workshop except there are thousands of them. They can even see some Santas milling around outside.
Rick speaks,“Okay, ahead of us is the Santa Compound. Now, these fuckers aren’t gonna give up one of these bags without a fight. And they’re practically impossible to kill, but I found a way.” Rick pulls out a device from his suit. Showing it to Doofus who, he fails to notice, is inching towards the Santas.
Rick turns his attention to the square, pulsing device in his hand. “Now this won’t outright kill them, but it does take a lot of the fight out of them. And it also creates a shield exactly the size of one workshop. That way one no more of them can come in. Now, there are twenty Santas to a shop. I’ll take 15. Even you should be be able to take 5. Watch their teeth and beards. Those beards are like-like tentacles or something and will strangle you.” Rick continues on for some time not realizing that he isn’t taking to anyone anymore.
“So, you think you can-you got all that?” Rick looks around and sees Doofus running towards him away from one of the workshops.
“WHAT THE FUCK, DOOFUS!! You already got us spotted! Didn’t I tell you I was in charge?!?”
Doofus looks only slightly chagrin, before holding up his now mostly empty sack and and another empty one which is obviously one of the Santalandia Santa’s bags. Obviously, due to its plush velvet and exquisite craftsmanship.
Rick looks utterly befuddled. “How the-How the- what?!?”
“Well,” Doofus nervously scratches the back of his head, “I knew you would want to do something very violent. So I brought the one thing Santas can’t resist. The sack that I-I brought was full of cookies! Me and my Morty baked them ourselves! And made sure they were full of the best ingredient of all!”
“Weed?”
Doofus laughs. “No! Love! And then I asked them for one of their sacks.”
“Okay, I get the cookies. But still. They still just gave you one??”
“Of course! I mean I’ve been a good boy all year, so why wouldn’t they? Let’s head back I saved us some cookies!”
Doofus opens a portal and Rick numbly follows.
Back at Rick’s home, he ends up eating cookies and drinking spiked eggnog with Doofus.
“Thought you would be too ‘good’ to drink, Doo - uh - Zeta.”
Zeta shakes his head, “It’s a holiday, the mission was a success, and I-I made a new friend. All are good reasons to have a celebratory eggnog!”
Rick snorts, “so we’re friends now?”
Zeta nods and gives Rick a tight hug. Rick refuses to return it, but if he leans into it a little bit - well, he blames the eggnog.