A/N:

Takes place after 3x1.

So I guess this is not technically an AU yet, but as soon as 3x2 is released (2000 years from now) this will be about as far from canon as you can get.
I mean, I'm sort of considering maybe making this... a Jerry x Rick type deal? (Jerck... Rerry... still haven't decided on a ship name)
I might change my mind should Rick's character make it impossible to jam some semblance of romance into this story.

In the meantime, this story is pretty much just slow-burn Rick/Jerry bonding. I have an outline written for the entire story so there's like a 5% chance I'll finish this! That's actually pretty good for me...

AS A LEGIT, IMPORTANT NOTE: this story is off to a bit of a slow start. There is no real adventure in the first chapter, just me setting up the situation.

Summary

Jerry, get a job!

-
AU in which after the events of 3x1, Jerry goes out trying to Not Be Unemployed. When his job search kind of crashes and burns, he asks Rick to help him. Rick takes the opportunity to stick Jerry on a middle-of-nowhere asteroid where he works as a delivery boy for a Flim Flam restaurant. The worst part, Jerry has decided, is that even being in the galaxy's backwoods—even being lightyears away from his family—he just can't get away from Rick...

.

CHAPTER 1: JERRY, GET A JOB!

.

He tried to fend for himself at first.

Jerry packed three cardboard boxes of belongings and a baggy of pills for his next couple meals and threw them in the hovercar before going off to search for a job in the city center. He figured there'd be a lot of positions opening up, what with the whole galactic government collapsing and everything. But this wasn't the case. Granted, it had only been hours since the mass exodus that was the dissolution of the galaxy's single, unifying government… But still.

Driving down main street, Jerry noticed that, for the first time in months, everyone out and about was human. In fact, he only saw a few aliens and they were spilling out of the alley way, tie-dyed with the blood of multiple species. One of them was still twitching, reaching out towards Jerry's car—but then a man appeared from behind the alien and raised something high above his head before smashing it down, down, down, over and over again.

"Jesus," he breathed. "Is that Morty's math teacher?"

He shook his head and continued crawling up the road, carefully avoiding potholes and patches of fire attached to scattered debris. There were still trails of white smoke in the sky from when the aliens started fleeing Earth. To Jerry, the streaks sort of looked like slashes in a teddy bear's tummy, all the stuffing bursting out.

Eventually, Jerry gave up on searching for a business that wasn't being looted, so he just parked himself in an empty lot near Wal-Mart and cranked his chair back as far as it would go. It's temporary, he told himself. I'll get a job tomorrow and I'll be off the streets just like that. After all, Jerry wasn't completely without skills. He spent quite a while working in the office doing… well, he wasn't sure what his job was, but he was pretty sure he was doing well if the regular raises were any indication. By now, though, he was kind of wishing he was paid in money in lieu of, y'know… pills.

Well, no matter. It was temporary.

...

… Except it actually wasn't. Jerry woke up day after day in his car, drove through the city, begged for money and sometimes for a job. But nothing was working. The city was still ransacked and most people were bartering for their needs, which is how Jerry found his few belongings slipping one-by-one into the hands of others. Awesome.

This is what led Jerry to, in an act of desperation, sneak into the Smith (—or was it Sanchez now? God, he hoped not—) household at midday, covered in dirt and stinking of body odor. By then, all of his other clothes had been bartered off for food or food equivalents, and for a portable charger so Jerry could use his iPad.. Jerry figured as long as he could keep himself clean, one change was enough. He could wash it in a gas station bathroom when needed. Except then he fell face-first into some mud. And, well. That gas station thing was just a suggestion—he didn't think he'd actually need to wash himself in the sink! That was just pathetic.

Soooooooo, he went home to use the laundry. In and out, he told himself. I can be in and out in two hours and no one'll know. Rick was usually gone all day and everyone else was at work or school—Jerry remembered this from his time between jobs.

Jerry shed his clothes pretty much as soon as he entered the garage, stuffing them into the wash at record speed before racing upstairs to use the shower.

While drying himself off, he looked around the bathroom because, well… He was in need! Meanwhile, the rest of his family was abounding with food and soap and water and beer… They wouldn't miss a few towels or a bottle of shampoo.

Jerry smiled and gathered what he could.

This was not looting, he told himself even as he rooted through the fridge, hunched and peeking fervently over his shoulder every few minutes. It's borrowing, not looting. Borrowing. He'll repay them as soon as he can.

"Yeth," Jerry groaned and leaned against the side of the washing machine, which was still rumbling. He was holding a plastic container of leftover lasagna, shoveling it into his mouth with his bare hand 'cause in his panic he'd sort of forgotten to grab a fork and, well, he was kind of scared to go back in the house… "Oh my god, so gooood."

He'd forgotten that real food was so… flavorful. The pills had some flavoring too, but they lacked texture and could never quite shake the medicinal aftertaste. This, though. This was some real, delicious—

There was an electronic sucking sound and Jerry felt his hairs stand on end.

Rick emerged from a green portal.

"Jerry? W-what the fuck are you doing here? And—ugh, why're you naked?"

Jerry scrambled for the towel he'd discarded, dragging it over his crotch with one hand—the other was still full of lasagna. "Um–I—"

"No, nevermind, I-I don't—uuRp—care," Rick walked towards his workbench, the green portal dissolving behind him. "Just leave."

"But-but my clothes!" cried Jerry.

Rick didn't even look over his shoulder. "So get your clothes and then leave, Jesus Christ, Jerry, d'you need–should I write out some directions for you?"

"Rick!" Jerry looked down at his lasagna filled hand, his bare torso and pudgy stomach. He grimaced and tried to scrape the food back into the plastic container. "My clothes are wet. I'll leave when they're dry."

"Fine, whatever, can you—will you… Fuck it, go to the living room, Jerry."

Jerry eyed the door to the kitchen. "What if someone comes home?"

For a moment, there is silence. Jerry watches Rick's shoulders slump. He looks up at the ceiling, muttering something Jerry can't hear. "Jerry, give me your clothes."

"Um," he put aside his food. "Excuse me?"

"Just–give me your clothes. I'll–I'm gonna clean 'em up real fast so you can go and, and stop being a pain in my ass."

"Wait, really?" Jerry's giddiness is pretty much immediately doused by suspicion. He narrows his eyes. "That's… really nice of you, Rick… Why?"

"So I can get you out of here, Jerry—" Rick waved his hand impatiently and then pulled out his flask, taking a long swig. "UUuurI-I-I-I-I don't have time for all your stupid little questions, just gimme the clothes."

Jerry somehow managed to get to his feet, awkwardly drawing his soaked towel around his body and shuffling to the washing machine. He chuckled nervously, glancing back at Rick as he drew his clothes from the wash and tossed them underhand to Rick.

Rick didn't bother catching them. He let them fall onto the garage floor with a wet splat and instead rifled through a nearby cabinet, shoving his arm and his head into it for a good minute before re-emerging with what looked like a spray bottle and a corked flask of something purple and viscous.

Rick slammed the flask onto his workbench, snapping off the cork with a thumb while simultaneously reaching for a beaker of water… well, it was clear at least. It had to be water, right?

Rick poured the water into the flask. It sizzled and popped, he burped, and then deposited the whole thing in a spray bottle.

"That," Jerry cleared his throat. "Um, that won't stain, right?"

Rick didn't answer. He just squeezed the spray bottle repeatedly and Jerry watched as a shimmering mist descended over his clothes.

"Don–uUuurp–done." With that, Rick heaved a sigh and chucked the spray bottle into the still-open cabinet.

Jerry swallowed and approached the clothes as soon as all the mist settled. He kind of expected something to go wrong, but the clothes were perfectly dry, except they were kind of wrinkled, which wasn't ideal, but… "Thanks, Rick."

Rick grunted, hunched over a notebook.

"Um, Rick?"

"JEsus chRIST, Jerry, w-w-whaddyou want now?"

Jerry cleared his throat, fists bunching into the wet towel as he looked down at his clothes. "Well, um. I was, um. Well, the job market's a little… stagnant since the collapse of the galactic government, y'know? So, uh. I was—"

Rick swiveled toward Jerry, eyes half-lidded with boredom. Some dribble leaked from his mouth.

"Can you–" Jerry winced at the sound of his own, whiny voice. He cleared his throat again and tried to channel his old man-of-the-house mentality. "Rick, I need a job! And-and you owe me! After all this time, y'know, taking my son on-on your crazy adventures, keeping unauthorized alien prisoners with space AIDs, destroying the house–" at this point, Jerry gestured to the patched up hole in the garage ceiling, "–taking down the goddamn government, and-and the whole time paying no rent…!" Jerry breathed heavily through his nose, bringing his eyes up to meet Rick's.

Rick took a long, slow sip from his flask.

And then he sighed. "Follow me." He stood up and walked to the kitchen door in three strides, flinging it open and disappearing into the house.

Jerry just blinked disbelievingly. "Wait, really?"

"Jerry," Rick called, "I said follow."

A shy grin crawled up Jerry's face. He knew he could get a job! Hurriedly, Jerry scooped up his clothes and lasagna, shuffling after Rick.

Rick was waiting by the front door, one hand in his pocket and the other on the knob. As Jerry approached, he opened the door and nodded his head towards the outside world. "Just through there."

Jerry complied, asking, "Where're we going?" as he went through the frame.

Rick just burped. "Out."

Jerry hummed at the base of the front steps, tensing at the chill of the air. He was about to inquire more about where exactly 'out' was and how they were going to get there, but before he could open his mouth, he heard a slam. Jerry whipped around to see Rick visible through the door's frosted glass. The lock clicked.

With that, Jerry's jaw dropped. He let his clothes fall and shuffled back up the steps to bang on the door. "Hey! Hey, what the hell!"

Rick didn't answer. His figure just turned and began walking down the hall, back towards the kitchen.

"Rick! What the–ah, god." Jerry let his fist fall back to his side. "What an asshole."

He gathered his clothes with a sigh, heading off in the direction of his car. At least he had the lasagna.

.

A/N:

What did you think? Next chapter will have an off-planet sort of adventure. After that, the chapters will mostly be Rick n' Jerry's craaaaazy hijinks! Oh my god I am ashamed of myself.