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Another night, another portal. Why did he have to pick the worst times of the night to bug you? You had barely begun to fall asleep before he was tugging your leg. You knew from experience that if you tried to resist, he'd pull harder. At this point, you would rather not have your leg pop out of its socket, thank you very much. How could a seemingly old man have this much strength? The answer was obvious, high-tech implants. It wouldn't be long before you would be shoved into the back seat of his ship with a weary Morty in the passenger side. You could tell that the kid was more at ease when you were along for the ride. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you sometimes had more rational sense than the alcoholic scientist behind the wheel.
Days would turn to weeks and then turn to months. This cycle of adventuring late into the morning light was something that was becoming common enough in your life that you grew to expect it. But that did not mean you were completely ok with the state of things. You still had no idea why the surely old man took such a liking to you. Was it because you took an interest in the gadgets he made? Was it because you had an outlook on life similar to his own? You would never know. All you did know was that you lived only a block down the road from the Smiths and the first time you interacted with them it was over mail.
You had somehow gotten mail meant for the Smiths and decided to do the neighborly thing and give it to them. You figured they would have yours as well. Two knocks at the door revealed a sourpuss of a man. Bright blue hair spiked up in every direction while dressed in a stained lab coat and blue shirt. Upon further inspection, you found drool that pooled down his chin. Ew You thought. After exchanging a few short words with the man, he went back inside the house for your mail. Within a few minutes, the strange man was back with your mail in one hand and a bottle of booze in the other. You leaf through your mail, mostly junk and that was a more welcome surprise than the electric bill. All the while, the crude old man was complaining about someone named Jerry, and how insufferable he was.
At this point, You had turned to leave, only for a blond woman in her mid-30s to stop you. She introduced herself, as Beth Smith. Apparently, she had seen you around enough to remember your face and from there the plot only thickened. She offered to pay you to babysit and watch the house. This obviously offended the blue-haired man as he continued to make wild accusations at you. Something about you being an alien sent to kill him or working for the government. You ignored him, that would only prove to piss him off even further. You came to immensity understand two key things: One, The old man was Beth's father. Two said father was indeed an asshole.
Somehow, someway you got roped into babysitting. You wouldn't lie and say you didn't need the money, because, of course, you did. But that didn't make the cold and calculated stare you received from the old man any less intimidating. Though, it wasn't like he had anything to fear from you. All the same, the old man made repeated warnings about his garage and how you shouldn't go in there. All that came out of you was "Ok then, I'm busy with this anyway" You said while motioning to your Nintendo Switch. As long as you had that console in hand, you wouldn't dream of doing anything else.
It was odd though, it was almost like the old man wanted you to challenge him, to question him. But nope! You knew what was and what was not your business and whatever was in that garage was defiantly not your business. The man in question, whom you'd learn to be Rick Sanchez, appeared to be lost in thought as he stared at you. You could only tolerate it so much before asking if there was something on your face. This would be a long night for you, as Rick apparently never heard of sleep before. It would be 11:00 pm before Rick called you down there. At first, you just thought he meant to call for Morty, but the boy had long since retired for the night. So you got up, stretched, and headed down to the garage.
Rick was waiting it seemed. He wore an irritated expression but nevertheless motioned for you to sit in the chair next to him. Soon what followed was quite bizarre. Rick was heavily drunk and it seemed that you would have to take the place of Morty and listen to his ramblings. Old people sure do love to talk but with Rick, you were sure he just loved to hear himself talk. The conversation centered around science, the planets he visited, the aliens that existed, how he would trick those aliens, etc. You didn't believe it at first until you saw the gadgets he was fiddling with and the spaceship parked right outside the garage. It was strange for sure, but this was actually proving to pique your interest. You listened and would give the occasional feedback if the mad scientist asked for it. The guy even offered you booze. You drank a bit of it, but not much. Alcohol never quite tasted as good as dark roast coffee or sweet tea.
The tables started to turn when he was pushing you to start talking. First, it was the question of where you were from, then the question of where you worked. At this point, you were beginning to think the man wanted a whole autobiography of your life story. Perhaps he was getting too drunk, Rick never pegged you as a guy who cared much for other people or their earthly lives. Not when he had seen whole worlds and universes that would be leagues better than the fantastical fantasy of the modern film. But, he was pushing you now. trying to drag out a story or two out of you. You caved eventually, perhaps you drank enough of the alcohol to make you more agreeable than usual. You told the story of how you came to live in this area, the journey of a normal young woman living an average life. Though, Rick's eyes told you he was not satisfied with your answer. You were holding back, that was not a question on his part, it was a statement. One that just made Rick all the more curious.
By the time the sun rose up, you and Rick were passed out. Both of you are in your respective chairs. Beth and Jerry walked in on the most peculiar sight. Though for Beth, she was just glad that her father was finally getting along with other people. Jerry had to make a crude comment about just wanting inside a young 20-something's pants. For that, Beth slapped him. Though once they left the room, Rick opened one eye and glanced at you. You were sawing logs, your head was leaning to one side. Looked as though you were going to fall out of the chair. Rick took the time to appreciate your form. Your unruly H/L hair was sticking up everywhere. Much like his own. As for your attire, the fact that you wore a tee with prints of cat paws on it was endearing enough. The jean shorts only added to the cute factor. Your gray jacket was draped over the side of his workbench. Rick got up with a stretch and a groan. Today was a day for an adventure, Rick could smell it. He had a good idea of what the adventure would need. He looked at your sleeping form and made a mental note to recommend you to Beth.
A good deal of time had passed since that night. Rick became a new content in your life. You sigh. You've been seeing more and more of the old fart. It was strange. How he'd pop up from a green portal at any point in time. It could be night, it could be day. The old man in the lab coat didn't care what time it was, he'd still demand your full attention. You notice how, if he just came from a particular adventure that went bad, he's linger longer. He wouldn't say much unless it was an order for you to come set in his lap. That was another odd thing. The touching. Rick could say in 100 different ways that he didn't do sappy emotions, that he found love to be just a pesky chemical that hyjacks the brain. But then he'd do things like brush up on you or give you a pat on the head. On really bad days, he just wouldn't let you go, he'd take your hand hostage until the rest of you complied with his wish for you to set down.
You were starting to wonder what you were to him. A distration perhaps? A little pick me up? It would seem as though your presence calmed him because nine times out of ten, if you had him over it was practically a sleep over. The mad lad would take over your bed and you'd have to contend with sharing your bed with him. You swore, if it wasn't for the fact that you knew you had no say in it, you would have told him to sleep on the sofa.
That goddamn old man and his portal gun. You never knew what to expect from him, but the more he hung around, the more he'd cling to you. "Stop playing that stupid game Y/n!" He'd say. "Hey Y/n, this new space weed I found, it's tripping balls! Y-You should try it!" He'd exclaim. You'd liken it to someone who didn't like to be alone for very long. You figured something happened to the man to make him like this. But you still would indulge him, you still greeted him when he stopped by. You figured that maybe it was lonely in space, that perhaps he needed people around to make him feel sane. Whatever the reason, it never stopped you from accepting the few gestures of kindness he was willing to show. It also didn't stop you from accepting the drunken kisses he'd drown you in. In a weird way, you both kept each other sane.