Chapter 1

A quiet, peaceful night is what you were expecting, or rather what you had hoped for, but as you stared at the carnage that lied just a few steps ahead; a garden, your garden, in absolute disarray, almost everything that you had spent months growing, ruined, squashed beneath a totaled spaceship —- with this sight, that hope disappeared with a blink.

You walked closer, side stepping over the rubble, scraps of metal, all the debris the crash left in its wake —- with squinted eyes you peered into the slightly cracked glass that surrounded the ship, now getting a clearer view of the person inside.

A familiar face is what greets you, well, a bruised and bloodied version of it anyway.

You stared, almost unblinking, trying to focus one what to do; at first glance the answer would be obvious; call an ambulance - let them deal with this, yet that would require too much energy, way too much socializing for your taste.

It's night and you're too tired to contemplate any longer, so you settled on what seemed like the easier option. You take a step to the side, and reach for the car door, and pull - it quickly opens with more ease than you expected, and as soon as it does, cans and bottles of beer spill out to your feet, some left over liquid dripping to ground.

Your nose scrunched up, the smell that wafted into your nostrils, too powerful to ignore. Your hand instinctively lets go of the car door shooting up to cover your mouth and nose - the metal squeaks, moving back and forth its hinges before ultimately falling to the ground with a loud clang.

Geez. You thought. This thing is falling apart. You turned back towards the man inside, still unconscious, his face pressed against the headboard, the cut across his forehead still bleeding. 

"Hopefully this thing doesn't explode." You muttered, as you leaned inside and carefully wrapped your arms around him, quickly craning your head away from him. It was safe to say, the smell wasn't just in the car.

"Gods." You groaned, successfully managing to drag him outside of the car. "--you stink." You glared down at him, before continuing to drag him across the dirt. Thankfully you lived alone, way into the outskirts of town, or else you wouldn't know how to explain whatever it is you were doing to a neighbor.

Another reminder that you would, for some reason, rather help out a well known intergalactic criminal, than socialize. You blinked. Good choice, good choices all around.

It takes a few minutes until you finish lugging his body into the house, and onto your couch —- he might have hit a few doors here and there, but he was in a car crash, so he won't notice a few surprise bumps, probably.

You take a step back, looking down at him, before checking his pulse. His skin is a bit damp and colder than most humans, but who knows really, you weren't an expert on human biology. He has a pulse, he's alive - that's the important part.

You gripped his slightly torn lab coat, and pulled it off him, setting it aside before taking off his teal shirt. Your fingers gently skimmed across his skin, examining his now exposed stomach and chest for any more bruises or cuts, there's one close to his neck, but otherwise there doesn't seem to be anymore.

You hoped he didn't have any sort of internal injuries, if he didn't then he's mostly fine, better than most would be coming out of a ship plummeting to the ground.  For now, you would focus on cleaning and disinfecting his cuts, the large one on his forehead definitely needs to be stitched.

You can do this. You tried to reassure yourself before taking a deep breath, preparing yourself for a long night ahead.

"You're gonna owe me big time."

___

You peaked through the window, catching a glimpse of the rising sun. You sighed, eyes drifting back down towards the table, as you went back to fiddling with the many -probably dangerous, maybe radioactive- devices you had found in the seemingly never ending pockets of his lab coat, now all piled up in your table.  

You take the one resembling a strange gun in your hands, as the green liquid inside of it  swirled around.  A portal gun. You're almost tempted to use it, if it weren't for the fact that you had absolutely no clue how.

You carefully set it back down, and as if on cue - you hear something a loud thumb, making you  jump to your feet and run into the living room – the previously very unconscious man now sprawled across the floor, there's a string of curses and words that flew from his mouth, nothing coherent.

"Fuck." The man groaned out, hand flying towards his face, then finally, he seemed to notice your presence. His eyes narrowed, face tightening. "I- do-don't remember you." He pushed himself off the floor, or at least tried to.

You clicked your tongue, and bent down to help him, carefully hoisting him up and placing down on the couch, much to his reluctance. He coughed, leaning back, staring at you, before his eyes scanned the room. "Yo-you, one of the girls from the party?" He asked, then hissed, hand flying towards his head, fingers lightly pressed against his cut. "The fuck kinda wild sex shit did we do?"

You looked at him, unimpressed. "Nothing." You said, rolling your eyes. "You got those when you crashed your ship into my backyard – you ruined my garden, asshole!"

He covered his ears. "Fucking shit!" He screamed, eyes forming into a glare. "Ya mind lowering your fucking voice?" The man hissed. "-- got a real shitty headache here."

You wanted to punch him, neutralize his pain with another, but to be a decent-ish host you reluctantly decided against it.

"Who, who the hell are you anyway?" He asked. "Are you sure we didn't do anything freaky – I'm missing most of my clothes here." He said, gesturing to his upper body, with a lopsided smile, a bit of drool dripping down his lips. He had a very punchable face is the first thing that comes to your mind.

You sighed, and dismissively told him your name. "Your clothes are outside, they should be dry by now, I put them in the wash last night – couldn't stand the smell."

He stared, your name slipping from his mouth. "Y-you gonna tell me what you want from me?" He tilted his head, glancing up at the ceiling with disinterest, seemingly having no qualms with parading himself shirtless. "Pretty clear you don't want to kill me, kinda counterproductive on your part if you did – after fixing me up and shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "That's a bummer. I wanted to keep that air of mystery. Thanks for ruining the excitement of me possibly being some sort of serial killer."

His lips curled up into a smile. "Wouldn't mind if you were one." His eyes give you a once over. "But, you  know, better give a man a really good time before you kill him - that's just common courtesy."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, Rick."

You watched as he tensed ever so slightly, eyes a bit more cautious than before. "-- We met before?" He asked.

"I've seen you in the news, online forums – a human, wrecking havoc planet after planet." You explained. "An intergalactic terrorist."

Rick whistled, grin stretching. "Didn't know I had a fan."

"Not a fan." You were quick to say. "Just a casual watcher of the destruction and chaos you seem to cause everywhere you go." You glanced out of the window, everything still a mess. Well, on the brightside you now have something to share on ricksanchezistheworst.com.

"Sureeee." He dragged on, watching you with a shit eating grin. "Whatever you say, babe."

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance. He should be grateful that you're not calling the galactic federation, or the countless other people that want his head, at least you could get a decent amount of money.

"Look, Rick. I don't want any trouble, okay?" You said. "Just you being here has probably put me in someone's radar, but, unfortunately for me I can't find it in myself to just throw you out – so, just sober up here for a bit, and fix that stupid ship of yours and fly out of here."

He stared, before unceremoniously burping loudly as he waved it off, flopping onto the couch. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

You nervously rubbed at your arm. It's been a while since you talked to anyone that wasn't yourself. "I'll bring you a glass of water in a bit, then I'm gonna go ahead  and make breakfast. Do you want anything?"

"Pancakes." He said with no hesitation. "-- with maple syrup and blueberries, or whatevers the equivalent of that on your planet."

"Fine." You sighed. "Try to get some rest – you look like shit."

___

As soon as you enter the living room, Rick groggily pushes himself to sit on the couch, another slew of incoherent sentences slipping from his mouth. You hand him the plate of pancakes he requested. He quickly takes it, leaning back against the couch.

"Took you long enough." He grumbled, before digging in.

You sat in on a chair, just adjacent to his, gingerly eating your own breakfast. You swallowed, looking over at him. "Driving black out drunk – there's easier ways to kill yourself, you know?"

Rick looked over at you, cheeks stuffed, muttering something that came out as a garbled mess. He gulped, flashing you a smile. "Where the hell is the fun in that?" He laughed.

You shake your head, placing your attention back to the plate of food in your hand." Is, uh, your head still hurting?"

He gave you a look, clearly confused by the sudden question. "Hah?" He said, then shook his head. "Nah." He waved it off, popping a berry into his mouth, eyes avoiding yours.

You stared at him for a moment,before standing up, and walking towards the door.

"Where–" A burp. "Where you going?"

Your feet came to a halt, looking over your shoulder, you gave him a small smile. "I'm gonna get you something."

"Well that's totally not ominous." Rick grumbled. "Remember what I said about giving a guy a good time before you kill him?" He asked. "--i haven't had a good time yet!"

You manage a small laugh, walking out of the room.

Five or so minutes later you walk back in , a mug in each hand. You stop just in front of him,  holding out one of the drinks, he eyed it, almost gingerly reaching out and taking it from you, long and slender fingers curling around the ceramic mug.

He looked down at the drink in his hand, sloshing the liquid inside, then glanced back at you, bringing the mug to his lips, and gulping the drink down.

As soon as he did, he sputtered, face twisting into disgust. He gave you a look, one between anger and annoyance.

"The – the fuck is this shit? Ta-Taste like ass."

"Hangover cure." You said with a smile, then gently yanked the mug out of his hand, and replaced it with another. "Try that one."

Rick glared. "Be–" Another burp. "Better not be as shitty as the last one." He muttered, before taking a sip–

"Swirl it in your mouth." You said.

He curled a brow at this, but did it anyway, then slowly he swallowed. A small smile making its way to his lips. "N-not that bad, what was that?"

"Mouthwash." You couldn't help but grin, watching the smile get wiped from his face. "You needed it – your breath stinks, can smell it from here."

"Fuck you." He said, eyes narrowed tightly.

"With how you smell – no thanks." You laughed. "Hey, come on, don't look at me like that, I never said you should drink it." The look plastered across his face was priceless. "Well, I guess that's what you get for just accepting drinks from strangers."

You were half expecting him to throw the mug in your direction for what you just did, but surprisingly, he just rolled his eyes, setting the mug down on the table as it now joined with the emptied plate from earlier, before lying back down on the couch.

You stared at him, having expected more of a retort, an outburst, but maybe he's more mature than – andddd he's flipping you off – fantastic.

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Hii!

I'm sorry if Rick is a bit out
      of character here, it's my first time    
writing for him, and he's a tough cookie for me hahah -- but anyways tysm for reading! Hope y'all liked it!

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