Work Text:
Stretching, Summer sits up slowly, eyes itchy and uncomfortable. She rubs at them, feeling like her eyelids open in layers.
Slightly cracked, she's in a dark room where neon lights come from under the furniture.
Open a little more, and she sees everything change a few times in the split second, landing on everything being black with metal accents.
More and more, she opens her eyes, screaming when the shock snaps.
Her door slams open, and Rick rushes in, yelling, “What?”
She stares, mouth open in shock, as opening her eyes makes every detail of Rick seem to change and shift, one fly headed one particularly jarring. She sees one, a younger version of her grandpa. “Rick?”
He stares at her, confusion etched into his face, and pulls out a device, tapping a few times before yelling into it. “Who made a fucking Quantum Summer?”
Her eyes go wide in shock, a Rick with two heads holding a similar communication device staring at her. “Rick?” She asks again, hoping for an explanation.
Instead, she feels her eyes close, almost involuntarily, relieved to see her own Rick, frustrated as he looks her over.
"F-Fucking Q152 and his e-experiments. A Quantum Summer?"