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The snow crunches under their boots as the five of them trudge into the forest, breath fogging in the icy air. The ground lies under a thick blanket of white, every branch sagging beneath heavy snow, and the air smells sharp and clean, like pine needles and frost. Their boots sink deeper into the powder as they continue forward.
Rick grumbles the whole way, his breath fogging in front of him as he speaks, “Summer, this is asinine. We could’ve just cloned a Douglas fir in the garage. Instant tree, none of this bullshit required.”
Summer rolls her eyes, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. “No shortcuts, Grandpa. We’re doing this the normal way. I told you. No Syfy bullcrap this year,” she says surprisingly sternly.
It’s their first Christmas all together... And maybe she’s being a bit mushy... But she wants it to be special.
Prime, walking a few paces ahead of them, hefts a plasma axe over his shoulder. Its blade hums with a faint blue glow, casting light across the snowy ground. “Normal way, huh? Nothing ‘normal’ about dragging a tree corpse back to your house. If you ask me, it’s kinda morbid,” he says with a shrug. “But whatevs.”
Em, trailing behind with Morty, scoffs. “Oh, wow, that’s rich coming from you.”
Prime glances over his shoulder, mouth opening to fire back, but his eyes narrow as he mulls it over. He sighs, turning away, conceding with a reluctant grunt. “Okay, fine. Point taken.”
Morty shuffles nervously, hands jammed into his pockets for warmth. “Uh, guys? Isn’t this, like, illegal? Cutting down trees in a public forest? What if we get arrested? Or—or fined?”
Em, a scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, gives a dry chuckle. “Stupider people than us have done this,” he says flatly, stepping past Morty to crunch through the snow. “Relax. It’s a tree, not a bank vault.”
Rick snorts. “Yeah, Morty, Eye‑patch is actually right for once. Nobody’s gonna cuff you for a pine. Worst case, we portal out before Smokey the Bear shows up.”
They wander deeper; the forest grows denser. Summer keeps scanning the trees, her eyes flickering back and forth on each one. But none of them stand out to her until. “There,” she says finally, pointing to a tall spruce standing proud among its neighbors, slightly crooked, and dusted with snow. “That’s the one.”
Prime strides forward, the axe humming louder. “Easy cut. Just needs one swing,” he says smugly.
Morty flails his arms. “Wait, wait! Shouldn’t we, like, pick a smaller one? That thing’s huge! How are we even gonna drag it back?”
Rick pouts. “Morty, it’s Christmas. Bigger tree, bigger ornaments, bigger mess. That’s the point. Do you really want to make your sister sad, Morty, especially when it’s almost Christmas?”
Summer crosses her arms. “Yeah, Morty, you want to make me sad?”
Morty shoots them all a dirty look, his cheeks burning hotter than the cold air around them. He hates it whenever Rick and Summer unite just for the sole reason of picking on him.
“Well, uh, I say we vote on it,” Morty continues stubbornly.
Four collective pairs of exasperated sighs fill the air.
Prime groans. “Oh my God, fine. We’ll vote. Everyone in favor of cutting down the tree says ‘aye.’” Prime stares Morty down when he pointedly continues, “those not in favor say ‘nay.’ Is that clear enough for everyone?”
Summer shoots her hand up instantly. “Aye.”
Rick raises his hand lazily. “Aye. Let’s hurry it up so we can go home before I freeze my nuts off.”
Prime hefts the axe up in a mockery of raising his hand, like it’s already been decided. “Aye.”
Morty’s eyes dart desperately to Em. “C’mon, man, you’re with me on this, right? Right?” he presses desperately.
Em adjusts his scarf, not looking Morty in the eyes, pauses dramatically, then deadpans, “Aye.”
Morty’s jaw drops. “WHAT?! You—you traitor!” he squeaks out, utterly betrayed.
Em doesn’t flinch. “I’m not dying on this hill, Morty. Siding with you means siding against Summer. And I enjoy being on her good side,” he says with a blush, sharing a tender look with a smugly smirking Summer.
“Seriously?! All because you’re goo-goo eyed for Summer?!” he asks resentfully as if he also hasn’t been goo-goo-eyed for Summer, either—he certainly has—but that isn’t the point right now. “You’re supposed to be the evil one, not the sellout one!”
Em just shrugs. “Being evil doesn’t mean being stupid.”
Morty throws his hands up, beyond frustrated. “Oh, sure, just ignore the one voice of reason in the group. Real mature, guys,” Morty cries childishly, bitterness lingering in his tone. He goes on to be ignored. Nobody even gives him an ounce of attention.
Rick claps his hands together, grinning. “Four to one. Looks like you’ve been outvoted. Democracy in action, Morty. Ain’t it beautiful?”
Morty kicks at the snow, sulking. “Yeah, well, democracy sucks.”
Prime hefts the axe to rest on his shoulder with a satisfied grunt. “Now that’s out of the way. Let’s cut this thing down.”
Morty glares at them all, shoulders hunched, trudging after the group as they move toward the chosen spruce.
Prime swings the plasma axe, slicing through the trunk with a hiss, steam rising as snow melts around the cut. The tree groans, then topples with a crash that sends snow flying into the air. Morty yelps, backing away, while Rick laughs.
“Timberrrr!” Rick shouts, his voice echoing through the forest.
Morty groans, staring at the massive tree sprawled across the snow. “We’re never gonna get this thing home.”
Prime shrugs. “We’ll drag it. You’ll finally build some muscle,” he jokes as he playfully elbows Morty’s side.
Dragging the tree turns into chaos, and soon they are all shouting over each other.
“Pull harder, Morty!” Rick barks.
“I am pulling!” Morty snaps, face red with effort.
“Not hard enough,” Prime mutters, yanking the rope with one hand like it weighs nothing.
Em sighs. “This is just... Sad.”
Summer, more than fed up with everyone here, finally throws a snowball at Rick’s head. “Stop yelling at him!”
Rick sputters, brushing snow off his hair as his eyes narrow. “Did you just—”
Another snowball hits him square in the chest. Summer grins. “Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?”
That’s the spark. Within seconds, the tension that had been building up completely disperses, and the forest echoes with laughter and shouts as snowballs fly in every direction.
Morty ducks behind the fallen tree, pelting Prime, who retaliates. Rick fires snowballs like missiles. And Summer darts between them, agile and quick, while Em packs perfect spheres and nails Rick in the face every time.
“Alright, teams!” Summer shouts, ducking behind a drift. “Me and Em versus you guys!”
Rick barks out a laugh. “If you want a war, then this is war.”
Morty peeks out from behind the tree, snow in his hair. “Wait, wait, why do I have to be on Rick’s team? He’s just gonna use me as a human shield!”
Rick comes up behind him, slapping him on the back, sending him stumbling into the open. “Exactly. And besides, you’re the only one I can trust not to screw it up.”
Prime freezes mid‑throw, narrowing his eyes. “Excuse me? Morty’s the only one you can trust?” He scoffs, tossing the snowball aside. “Fine. I’m switching sides. Summer, Em—you’ve got me now.”
Morty’s face falls. “Wait, what?! No, no, no! You can’t just—Rick, you offended him! Now we’re outnumbered!”
Rick shrugs, unbothered. “Eh, we’ll be fine without him.”
On the other side, Summer grins wickedly. “Welcome to the winning team, Prime.”
Em hands him a snowball. “Aim for Rick. He’s the easier target.”
Prime smirks. “Gladly.”
The battle escalates instantly. Morty shrieks as Summer tackles him into a snowbank, stuffing snow down his collar. Rick curses as Em nails him square in the forehead with sniper‑level accuracy. Prime, now fully committed, hurls snowballs wildly, forcing Rick to duck behind Morty, now actually using him like the human shield he said he would.
“Okay, okay!” Rick shouts, spitting out a mouthful of snow. “Truce! Truce!”
But Morty is laughing too hard to stop, flailing as Summer buries him deeper in the drift. Rick tries to make another snowball, only for Em to lob his own snowball at him, which ends up knocking the poorly formed one out of Rick’s hands.
Prime cracks a grin, his breath steaming in the cold as he watches the chaos unfold. “We’re all gonna freeze to death before we even get the tree home.”
Now thoroughly exhausted and covered in snow, they return to the task. Together, they manage to drag the lopsided spruce back toward their home, slipping and stumbling but never stopping. The tree leaves a trail in the snow, branches snagging on rocks and roots, but they keep going, laughter bubbling up every time someone falls.
By the time they reach home, the sun is already setting, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold. Back at the garage, the spruce leans awkwardly against the wall, too big, too heavy.
Rick mutters about resizing it with a shrink ray, only for Summer's restraint to snap and she slaps his hand away. “What’d I say, dammit? No Syfy. We decorate it as is.”
They string the lights, which immediately knot themselves into a hopeless tangle. Prime crouches by the outlet, muttering about ‘shoddy wiring’ as he tries to force the strands into compliance. A sharp spark snaps, and he jerks his hand back with a curse, glaring at the socket as though it has personally insulted him.
Morty, halfway up the ladder, freezes when the tinsel loops around his neck like a glittering noose. “Uh, little help here?” he squeaks, arms flailing as the ladder wobbles unbalanced underneath his feet.
Em sighs, stepping in with the calm presence of someone who had expected this from the start. He untangles the lights, frees Morty from the tinsel, and mutters under his breath about how hopeless they all are.
Rick busies himself with the ornaments, but not with any sense of order. He tosses them onto branches at random, laughing whenever one dangles precariously.
Summer keeps it simple, draping a few strands of lights across the branches and straightening whatever Rick messes up with a sigh. Morty, still red-faced from his ladder fiasco, climbs back up to place a star at the top.
Later, they’re sprawled together in the living room, cocoa steaming in large mugs. The tree glows in the corner, casting warm light across their faces while snow taps softly against the windows.
Summer leans against Rick, her head resting on his shoulder. Morty is curled up beside Em, who drapes an arm around him.
Prime sits at the end of the couch, but when Summer tugs at his sleeve, he eagerly shifts closer, letting himself be folded into the tangle of limbs. Rick grumbles lightly about ‘personal space’ but doesn’t move away, his arms eventually settling around Summer and Morty both.
Blankets piled over them, their bodies pressed together for warmth. The room smells of cocoa and pine, and the only sound is the occasional crackle of the lights on the tree.
Rick raises his mug in a toast. “To getting this fuck‑ass tree home in one piece.”
Morty groans. “To not getting arrested.”
Summer snorts into her drink, giggling. “To not getting arrested—seriously, Morty, you’re the only one who was worried about that.”
Prime smirks, lifting his mug. “Yeah, kid, if they haul anyone off, it’s gonna be you. We’ll portal out and leave you holding the evidence.”
Em’s visible eye glints with mirth as he adds. “To Morty, our designated fall guy.”
Morty scowls, cheeks puffed out, but the corner of his mouth betrays him with a reluctant grin. “You guys suck,” he mutters, raising his mug anyway.
They clink mugs, laughter bubbling up again. Then they sink deeper into the couch, tangled together in a heap of warmth—the kind only they could make.