He…wasn't sure what to do with the five year old playing with the guts of a neutrino bomb on his bed.
They were currently in his apartment in the Citadel of Ricks. It was shitty, like all spaces for Mortyless Ricks were, and his was even shittier because he was a "young" Rick and wasn't expected to stay in the space for much longer than it took to sleep off a bender or get healed from a nasty wound. So it wasn't much more than a small kitchen, a living room/bedroom, an even tinier bathroom, and, of course, a lab that was as big as all the other rooms combined.
It wasn't like it bothered him; he used the space for exactly those reasons up until a week ago, and it wasn't like anyone but him or AA-018 or AJ-064, that medic pussy, ever came around anyway. No one was looking for him or wanted anything particular to him; he was a free man. Except now, Beth was…Beth was…she was dea -
Well, he has Summer to look after now.
The day after he got Summer, he portaled the two of them to the Citadel with the intention of dropping her off with Storage Rick and maybe dropping back in in a few years when she was older and easier to handle. It made sense to him: the guy was pretty good with the Mortys after all, and the few older Summers he'd occasionally seen in the Daycare always looked relatively content. What was a smaller Summer when it came down to it, really?
Except the asshole had taken one look at the kid dangling off his hip (as if he hadn't gotten enough dumbfounded stares and hysterical laughs on his way over) and stopped him in his tracks with a resounding, "Fuck no, pal. I-I've got enough shit to deal with without - without a literal child hanging around. Raise her yourself, d-bag." The surrounding Ricks started laughing obnoxiously and pointing crudely at him, nudging each other in the ribs, burping and gasping for breath as they laughed at his misfortune, the old fucks.
He'd scowled, flipped Storage Rick off, and slunk back to his apartment, tattered pride and granddaughter in tow.
So now he sat, anxiously rolling the blunt he normally kept tucked behind his ear between his fingers, itching to light it up but held back by the niggling thought that he probably shouldn't smoke weed in the same room as a five year old. Knowing his luck, she'd get some kinda disease because of it, and wouldn't that just be a kick in his already sore balls?
"Papa?" Summer's tiny, sweet voice reached him and he grimaced. He wasn't even forty for chrissakes! He wasn't old enough to be somebody's grandpa.
"Yes, sweetie?" He answered, forcefully pushing any irritation from his voice as he spoke to the child. She fixed him with a serious stare.
"I'm hungry."
"So go - go find some food, kiddo."
He was vaguely amazed at how fearsome a glare the kid was able to work up. He groaned and got up, walking into the kitchen to see what he had.
"Y-Y-You really fucked me over, Beth. Really inconsiderate of you to leave like this," he muttered as he rifled through his fridge, his scowl growing fiercer and fiercer as he realized everything in it was moldy or expired.
Fuck.
He was going to have to get a job.
