Chapter Summary: In which Rick and Phoebe throw a party, the guests start arriving, and they worked really hard on the food.

…

Three Weeks Later (After the Raider Incident)/A Month After the Citadel/Mid-June

Summer gave her farewell with barely concealed boredom. "Bye, mom! Bye, dad!"

"Drive carefully!" Morty called.

"Have fun, you two," Rick waved.

Phoebe rolled her eyes, knowing perfectly well that her friend didn't say it with sincerity and was as happy to see Jerry and Beth off as Summer. "Try not to fall off and drown," she joked.

Beth stopped to reply to them, her face letting them know she was as thrilled to go as she would be to pull out her own hair. "Yes, we will have as much fun as possible on our... Titanic -themed getaway."

Jerry, the only person genuinely excited about the trip itself, pleaded with Beth. "Let's lose the 'tude, please. It's supposed to be romantic." Phoebe forced herself not to facepalm. While Jerry loved everything about the Titanic, it was clear that Beth would rather be doing anything else. Shouldn't a romantic weekend be at least a little above tolerable for both parties rather than excruciatingly, painfully boring for one of them? Beth could at least try a little harder to pretend it wasn't killing her to go, especially if she wanted or expected Jerry to be patient, supportive, and validating with her own passions in the future. Then again, given Jerry's disregard for her passion for equine heart surgery, perhaps she was just returning what she already got. It worked both ways, after all.

Beth frowned, her eyebrows pinched as she pointed at Rick. "Speaking of disasters, Dad, we are leaving you and Phoebe in charge here. I'm hoping that she'll keep you from do39 anything too insane. Someone has to be the responsible adult here, after all." Did...did those two really expect Phoebe to be able to censure Rick? Most of the time they were of the same mind, though they had different reactions and methods of dealing with things. Phoebe had to admit she was the saner of the two, but she found it far more likely that she would help Rick and do damage control afterward than restrict him beforehand, unless she disagreed with his plans. His decision to shoot Morty Jr seconds after his birth was one of those times of disagreement, as was the entire anxiety-inducing journey on Gazorpazorp. "Well, that was a mistake," she muttered to herself in Mandarin.

Rick's hands flapped as he spoke, very obviously impatient now. "I know, c-can we wrap this up? Morty, Phoebe—" belch "—and I have some synthetic laser eels oxidizing in the garage." They had Edana tending to them, but Beth didn't need to know that.

Beth's frown deepened and she jabbed her pointer-finger at Rick, waving it around for emphasis. "Hey, don't blow me off. I am drawing a line, okay? Any damage to this house or these children when we get back, and... no more adventures with Morty."

"That's not really fair, Beth," Phoebe protested, unsure if Beth meant only Rick or both of them.

"Not fair? Are you kidding me?"

Morty clasped his hands anxiously, glancing at Rick. "Aw, geez, Rick. If my mom's the one who's saying it, then you know it's pretty serious this time."

Jerry and Beth spoke at the same time. "That's right."

A surprised, caught off-guard Jerry added, "Wait. What?" Beth rarely agreed with him so readily. Phoebe wondered if she only had this time because it was the only way the woman could think of to punish Rick.

Rick tried placating Beth, voice soft and hands outstretched, palms angled down but facing upward. "Listen, you have my word as a caregiver, everything's gonna be fine. And if not, like you say, no more adventures or whatever." One of his hands briefly alighted on Phoebe's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Phoebe's lips thinned into a tight smile, thinking of what they could do in a worse-case scenario in which Beth and Jerry tried separating them from Morty. Rick said he had some sort of memory-erasing device. Couldn't they just use it on Morty's parents? "It's like that old song 'blomp blomp-a noop noop a-noop noop noop'. You guys know that song?" Phoebe gave Rick an odd look. What the hell was he on about now? "From Tiny Rogerts? You never heard of it? You know, the black effeminate guy from the '50s?"

Phoebe's hand came up to cover her face, finger and thumb on either side of her eyes. Very patiently, she murmured, "Rick, do you mean Little Richard?"

Rick paused, shooting a glance at her. "I dunno, maybe? Look, who cares?" He looked at Beth and Jerry once more. "Beth, Jerry, just go on your stupid trip."

Jerry scowled. "Not one thing out of place," he warned as he got into the car. When he pulled out of the driveway and into the street, he got out to add, "Not a single thing."

Then, mercifully, her brother and his wife were gone on their weird-ass 'romantic getaway' that was anything but that. She sighed. "So, what now?" Just then, a hiss like acid eating through metal reached her ears, and a moment later the garage door fell forward over them with a groan as it came away, then a loud thud as it smashed into the concrete. Luckily for them, the sound of acid eating through metal was the result of the eels eating a gaping hole through the garage door, so they found themselves standing in that void rather than all being hit over the head and ending up with skull fractures. Phoebe could just see the last of the eels fleeing if she turned her head.

"Well, we're past the point of no return," Summer declared brightly. "I'm going to have a party."

"Oh? What makes you think that?" Phoebe's eyebrows raised as she turned to look at her niece. "We can just have Edana fix it."

"Speaking of Edana." Rick's voice so close to her ear sent a prickle along her lower back. Like the twisting, flaming serpents that now constantly resided in the pit of her stomach, the new sensation did not go away over time. "Where the fuck did she go?"

The four of them whipped around to peer into the garage just in time to see Edana peek tentatively into the room from the kitchen. Seeing Rick, she told him, "Your food was burning," by way of explanation. "I only stepped away for a moment to get it out of the oven."

Rick glowered. "Next time, if you need help minding an experiment and a tray of baked spinach artichoke wonton cups at the same time, summon a Meese's."

"Why are you making those anyway?" Summer wondered, going inside with Morty not far behind.

Phoebe looked at Rick. "She doesn't know, does she?"

"Nope," he shrugged, "and neither does Morty."

Phoebe threw her hands in the air. "I refuse to be the one to tell them."

Rick shrugged, taking a sip from his flask as he made his way inside.

"Edana, could you deal with this?" Phoebe gestured at the fallen door as she stepped out of it and crossed the garage.

"I will do my best," Edana replied.

Phoebe entered the kitchen, carefully moving the tray of baked spinach artichoke wonton cups to a safer place as they cooled while Summer rummaged around in the cabinets talking to one of her friends on the phone. Rick entered the kitchen just then, having been doing who knows what. As he bent to grab something from the fridge, she checked on the Swiss meatballs, then turned to accept another tray of the wonton cups to slide into the oven.

Somewhere off to the side, Morty exclaimed, "Summer, you can't throw a party! Remember what mom said?"

"Yeah, if anything gets messed up, you and Grandpa Rick get punished. I'm only a human being, Morty."

"Rick, Phoebe, tell Summer she can't have a party!"

"Summer, it's not happening," Phoebe tossed over her shoulder as she accepted a covered dish of deviled eggs. She took it to the counter.

"Uh, Summer, you can't have a party," Rick doubled down as he passed the teen with a tray of canapés that he set beside the deviled eggs. He turned to her, belched, and explained, "Because I'm having a party, b-i-i-i-itch!"

Phoebe rolled her eyes at his dramatics. She was surprised her eyes didn't get dislodged and tumble away with how often she rolled them due to Rick's antics.

"Oh, what?! Rick, you can't!"

Phoebe eyed Summer. "He can and he is—we are, actually."

"What do you mean you're having a party?" Summer sounded disbelieving, injecting mocking sarcasm into her voice as she scoffed, "Are some glip-glops from the third dimension going to come over and play cards or something?" She switched to Phoebe. "And you're helping him?"

Phoebe shrugged. "After we almost got murdered by our evil twins I thought it'd be nice."

"Glip-glop?" Rick turned from adding a finishing touch to the canapés to reprimand her. "You're lucky a traflorkian doesn't hear you say that."

Summer crossed her arms, scowling at Rick. "Is that like their n-word?"

Deadpan, Rick replied, "It's like the n-word and the c-word had a baby and it was raised by all the bad words for Jews."

Morty broke in, all anxiety and placation and pleading, "Listen, I think the four of us could just, you know, have a nice time, like just hanging out, and, you know, doing a little bonding and—"

Summer cut off his babbling. "Screw that! This is my chance to gain some footing with the cool kids and it won't be ruined by the three of you!"

Rick scoffed. "That's why you party? Boy, you really are 17," he sneered.

"Well, why do you party, then?"

Rick thrust his hands out emphatically as he yelled, "To get—" belch "—r-riggedy-riggedy wrecked, son!"

Phoebe leaned against the counter and crossed one ankle in front of the other with an amused, indulgent look on her face. "I want to have a party to celebrate us being alive—plus, our nice family outing got cut off by Raiders gunning down the people five feet away from us. If anyone needs to let loose, we do."

Rick slid in next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. The prickling wound its way up her spine like an electrified vine climbing. "Yeah, Summer, take a—" belch "—take a lesson from Phoebe. Let your hair down, get shitfaced." Phoebe glared at him. She had no intention of getting so drunk that she lost herself. She liked being in control of her faculties, thank you very much.

Summer waggled a finger at them. "Just keep your sci-fi friends away from my awesome ones."

"Yeah, and you keep your awesome friends away from my canapés," Rick warned, dropping an olive as a finishing touch onto one of the canapés arranged on the pan.

"Away from all of our food," Phoebe added. "Which reminds me, the tea I made is finished."

"Tea?" Rick looked down at her. "You made tea for our party?"

Phoebe grinned mischievously. "It's very special tea, Rick, just for us and our three very special friends—not for this party, though, for after it. I'm sure you'll like it."

His face screwed up in distaste. "I'm not really a big tea drinker, Pheebs."

Phoebe smirked, looking more and more like a Cheshire Cat. "You'll drink this tea."

"God, are you flirting?" Summer sounded distraught. "Is this about some kind of orgy thing? I really didn't need that mental image."

Morty cringed, covering his eyes. "Eww, gross, Summer! Why not just keep that to yourself? I didn't want to picture Rick or Phoebe naked."

Phoebe felt herself flush. "No, Summer, I mean actual tea. If I meant—if I meant that I wouldn't say it in front of you two!"

She slid out from under Rick's arm, still blushing brightly, and went to the fridge. She pulled out a mason jar full to the top with dark brown liquid and held it out toward the other three to see. "This is for us and us only," she warned them. "And by 'us' I'm including our friends, although I'm not sure right now if I'll actually have any." She handed it over to Rick, who studied it intently, his lips and eyebrows drawn into a curious frown. "That is," Phoebe continued as he held the jar up to the light, "unless you want to brace yourselves to have some light vomiting, followed by life-altering hallucinations and a spiritual awakening."

Rick paused in his inspection to give her a questioning, interested look.

"What the hell is that?" Summer stepped closer for a look herself. Rick held the jar away from her.

"Oh, you know, just a friend from the desert," Phoebe replied casually, watching Rick's face for his reaction. "A plant known by the name of Lophophora williamsii, but more commonly as Peyote."

A slow smirk like the rising sun spread across Rick's face.

XXX

Summer's guests started arriving first, for the most part. Phoebe gave her mountains of cookies, potato chips, and tortilla chips, then shoved the cheese dip, salsa, and hummus at her to "go fucking hog wild with" before she moved on to display the platters of little cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches she and Rick made the night before. Phoebe sighed as she surveyed their work. "We don't have long before people start getting here. I'm going to go change. Will you stay here with the food?"

"Might as well," Rick shrugged. "I don't want Summer's friends putting their grubby, drunk, hormonal hands on our stuff."

Phoebe smiled as she portaled into her room. All of the doors were locked tight, but Phoebe felt they couldn't be too careful. The top floor was mercifully empty of partygoers thanks to her quick thinking. She had summoned a small group of Meeseeks who had strict instructions to guard the upstairs until all of their guests left and not to let anyone pass by who didn't live there. She'd shown them a picture of everyone so they had something to go off of, then left them to their task, trusting them to do it faithfully because they couldn't die unless and until they completed their task. The last thing Phoebe or any of the other inhabitants wanted was for someone to puke all over their shared bathroom or to fuck around on their beds. If anyone was going to fuck around on her bed, it would be her, not some rando.

Once inside her room she changed in a flash, donning a blood-red cheongsam with winding embroidered dragons, gold outlining and illuminating every detail—the open maws, the outstretched claws, the waving whiskers. A split ran up each side to mid-thigh, and a gauzy golden cover encased her arms and tumbled over her shoulders. With practiced ease she smoothed mango butter and sweet almond oil into her hair, quickly but carefully combing it free of tangles before weaving it into a loose crown braid that left a few stray curls framing her face. She pinned the end in with a set of matching gold-petaled flower clips, then studied herself in the mirror with a critical eye. Just because it would be a wild party thrown by Rick fucking Sanchez of all people didn't mean she didn't want to look her best.

Not one to ever be left unarmed, however, (not that she would be anyway, what with the ever-present dagger in each boot) she strapped a small dagger to her left thigh and slipped a few senbon, three throwing knives, and a compact electrocution pistol into a small black purse. It was relatively small, small enough to go unnoticed by most, but still large enough that it afforded her more room than a clutch.

Satisfied, she portaled back into the kitchen, tucking the portal gun into her bag and hanging it off of one shoulder. Rick, his back to her and his head bent, was setting up the fountain for the chocolate, an enormous bowl of strawberries at its side. "Ah, Phoebe, good, can you bring over the tongs?"

She moved toward the drawer to get them, fishing out both of the ones they had just in case. She stepped to Rick's side. "I've got them here when you're ready. Have our guests arrived yet?"

"No, just Summer's stupid friends so far except for the traflorkians."

Phoebe shrugged. "Well, they'll get here when they get here. We know they're coming and that's all that matters."

Rick grunted in agreement, uncanny eyes and nimble fingers intent upon finishing the setup. When he did, he straightened up, hand extending for the tongs. Phoebe passed them to him and he placed them in a convenient spot. "That should about do it." He turned to her fully, seeing her for the first time since she'd returned. "What do you thi…" Rick trailed off as he finally caught sight of her. His silvery eyes glinted, his gaze sharpening as he took in her appearance. He didn't say anything for a long moment, his eyes traveling top to bottom several times.

Phoebe licked her lips, then glanced down at herself. "What's wrong, Rick? It's too much, isn't it? I was worried it would be but I wanted to look nice—"

"There's nothing wrong with how you look," Rick cut her off, voice almost imperceptibly off from its usual tone. "It's fine." He flapped his right hand for emphasis, then tore his gaze away from her. "Just—just help me make sure we have everything."

They were just rechecking everything for the second time when the doorbell rang again. A minute passed as Summer answered the door, the low murmur of her voice following. Thirty seconds later, the sound of her footsteps lost in the buzz of conversation, Oona appeared in the doorway, glancing about her with interest. "Rick, Phoebe! Zis is your house?"

Phoebe went forward to hug her. "It's so nice to see you again. It's been a few weeks."

Oona reciprocated the gesture. "Yes, it has been too long."

The doorbell rang again and again as more people arrived, and suddenly the house was inundated by four other Ricks. "You invited yourself?" Phoebe muttered in disbelief as they trooped by the door.

Her voice seemed to have an interesting affect, as the Ricks all doubled back to the kitchen. A chorus of four exclaimed her name in delight. The closest Rick wolf-whistled. "We heard you had a Phoebe in your timeline, C-137. We wondered for a while, since you never bothered to check, if she would come around," a Rick toward the right side said. He smirked at Phoebe, extending his hand. "Rick E-490."

Her Rick intercepted the handshake with a scowl. "Don't bother her with your weird shit, E-490. Take your Phoebe-less asses out to the rest of the party."

E-490 pulled his hand back and waved them both in the air in front of him. "Ooh, guys, looks like C-137 is a little touchy about his Phoebe, better do as he says. You know how Ricks with a Phoebe get."

"Uh, yeah, sheesh, tell me about it," the Rick to the far left, the third one to speak, chimed in.

"Yeah, F- 210, we better leave these two be. Wouldn't want to ruin their alone time."

The other Ricks laughed, took their portions of the spread laid out before them across the counter and table, then herded themselves out with plates in hand and another muttered joke passing amongst themselves. Phoebe forced herself to breathe calmly and ignore what the other Ricks had just insinuated.

"Zey vill be obnoxious tonight," Oona remarked calmly as she delicately plucked up one of the deviled eggs and bit into it. Her neutral response eased some of the tension that had come over Phoebe, who snuck a glance at Rick out of the corner of her eye. The man had a slight sneer in place as he gazed after his alternate selves, his silver eyes flashing. As if Phoebe didn't already know that some Phoebes and Ricks were apparently involved with each other, the group of Ricks had spelled it out even more clearly. She didn't know how to feel about it. She resisted the notion that she and Rick were inevitable, that they were a foregone conclusion, just because some of their other selves had apparently seen fit to get together. On the other hand, she knew very well that if she were honest, she had had feelings for her Rick for some time, before they met any other Ricks or Phoebes, before the Citadel, before Council Phoebe with her marriage to her dead Rick or the pointed remarks of the Ricks attending the party.

"You can say that again," her Rick all but growled.

Something occurred to her suddenly. She went to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the glow-in-the-dark purple gel bracelet decorated with white peace symbols. "Hey, Rick, come here for a moment."

Rick turned to her with one eye to the door. "Yeah, Phoebe?"

She took his left hand into her own and slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. At her touch, all of Rick's attention was immediately drawn to her. He glanced down at the bracelet, comprehension dawning. "If I actually speak to them, I can tell them apart from you, but this way I can avoid them from afar." She tried to make her tone light and joking. Rick said nothing.

Thankfully, Bird Person and a few other of their guests arrived not long after that, which diffused some of the tension in the air. The doorbell range, accompanied by the faint sounds of Summer answering the door again. Summer's voice rose in volume as she called, "Ugh! Grandpa! Aunt Phoebe!"

Phoebe first went to stick her head into the garage to holler for Edana, noting that the android had repaired the garage door. Edana, who sat at the worktable cleaning and reloading weapons, looked up at the sound of her name. "Yes, Phoebe?"

"Can you bring me the Meeseeks box?"

"I can." Edana picked it up from where it had been left out and brought it to her before going back to her work.

Phoebe paused by the door. "You know, I can just summon some Meeseeks to watch the garage if you want to relax."

Edana made a pleased humming sound but shook her head no. "I would be more at peace in here than out there anyway, Phoebe, but thank you."

Phoebe shrugged. "Suite yourself." She closed the door, summoned two Meeseeks, and directed them on who to let into the room to take food and who to turn away. It all took less than two minutes, then she and Rick left Oona in the kitchen with the Meeseeks as they went to Summer. Rick threw his arms into the air as if to embrace the avian humanoid standing at the threshold. "Bird Person!" When he noticed Bird Person holding his hand out for a fist bump instead, he switched his motions without comment.

"Oh, Byrd Pursun, you're finally here!" Phoebe offered him a fist bump from her and he accepted it, his peaceful eyes holding a sadness they hadn't the last time she and Rick met up with him.

He blinked at them, speaking in his usual peculiar fashion of a totally neutral voice. "I am pleased to see you all unharmed and that there is no emergency."

"Oh, there's an emergency, all right." Rick slung his arm around their friend's shoulders. "A pussy emergency! When's the last time you got laid, 'Purs?"

"Rick!" Phoebe gasped, scandalized. "That's personal! He might not want you to discuss that in front of everyone!"

Bird Person calmly waved away her concern, not looking the least bit abashed by Rick's blunt inquiry into his sex life. "It is all right, Phoebe. It has been a... challenging mating season for Byrd Pursun."

Phoebe tried to look reassuring. "I'm, ah...sorry to hear that. Everyone hits a dry spell every once in a while. I'm sure it'll pass."

He blinked his large, owlish eyes at her again. "Yes, not everyone can have their spirit mate all but fall into their lap." What the fuck was up with all his talk of soul bonds and spirit mates?

Phoebe shifted uncomfortably under his tranquil gaze. "Err…"

Rick broke in before things could get too awkward for her. "Then it's time to get your beak wet tonight, playah. Go have some fun out there Bird P—Bir—Bird Person." He lightly pushed his friend forward until he started moving of his own accord. Phoebe followed his progress and called out to his retreating figure, "Last we saw, Oona's in the kitchen with the food, Byrd!"

Behind her, she heard Morty mutter anxiously to Rick, "Oh, man, how many people did you two invite, Rick?"

"I invited three people," Phoebe replied as she turned to her nephew. "But those are guests I share with Rick since they're mutual friends. I don't know who else Rick invited, though."

A large ship parked in the street and short, gummy aliens tumbled out and toward the door.

"Uh... people?" Rick considered for a moment, sharing a glance with Phoebe.

"Mm, six."

"Is that without counting yourself four other times?"

"You invited other Ricks?" Morty shrieked, hands going to tug at his hair. "Oh man, Rick, oh man, didn't you think you could do enough damage on your own?"

The gummy aliens reached the door, flooding in under Rick's arm. "Yo! What up, my glip-glops?!"

"Hit up the kitchen on your way by," Phoebe added cheerfully with a wave.

Morty stared after the gummy creatures with a worried expression. "Rick, I thought you said that was a slur?"

Rick waved away his concern. "Not between friends, Morty. Now go, I don't know, pathetically pine after one of your classmates. You're killing the vibe here."

"Well I'm not—I'm not the one throwing a party that's going to blow up in our faces."

"You worry too much, Morty."

Morty opened his mouth to continue arguing, but Phoebe easily slid into the conversation. "We'll make sure everything is cleaned up and back to normal before your parents get home, Morty. Everything will be fine. Now stop worrying and mingle."

He frowned. "Weren't you supposed to be the responsible one? You're supposed to reign him in, not enable him, Phoebe!"

Phoebe draped her arm over Rick's shoulders, ignoring how it made every nerve come alive and gave her goosebumps. "Yeah, well, clearly your mother misjudged me if she thinks Rick and I aren't as thick as thieves, Morty. That means we have each other's backs, and we keep each other's secrets, and when we want to throw a party, we conspire with each other, not against."

Rick's arm came up around her shoulders to mirror her gesture, his long fingers settling on the top of her arm. A wave of heat flared from within, forcing her to stomp it out before she could blush. "Y-y-you're up against the dream team, Morty. Now go—go somewhere and try not to embarrass yourself."

Morty glared at them. "You two are just—you're just a real treat, you know that?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "What, and you're not? Morty, you can't really be—you don't mean to tell me you're honestly surprised?"

"Well, what about Team C-137, huh, Rick, Phoebe? What about us? What about all your teamwork crap from like a month ago?" He gestured between the three of them.

"We're still a team, Morty," Phoebe replied patiently, "but this," she waved her hand between herself and Rick, "this is a team, too." She tilted her head so she could see Rick, then grinned. "You gotta remember that this asshole is my best friend."

Rick smirked. "The best, Morty." Phoebe thought she felt his fingers flutter against her arm where they lay and his arm tighten around her momentarily. But the touches were so fleeting and so faint that she felt she could have imagined them.

Morty threw his arms up in defeat and stormed off just as a humanoid alien that Rick greeted by the name of Gear Head walked through the still open front door. He was one of the more odd-looking humanoids, some sort of cyborg species with gears where his mouth would be, and a translucent pink torso. "And who is this lovely woman?" Gear Head gave Rick an expectant look, nodding at Phoebe.

"This is Phoebe." Rick looked down at her as he said her name, genuine fondness in his eyes mixed with something else. "We're—we're pretty tight."

Phoebe grinned mischievously, very suddenly booping his nose and earning an insincere scowl. "Claro, como uña y mugre. You won't get rid of me easily."

As was so common in their banter, Rick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, wouldn't dream of it." He returned his attention to Gear Head, who had watched them with interest. "Look, I'm sure you could chat here all day, but there are more people coming and we can't just block the door like this."

"Too true, but I'm interested in your friend here. Not many people catch the attention of Rick Sanchez, and even then, you don't bond with most of them."

Something about his scrutiny made her uncomfortable. "Perhaps some other time. We wouldn't want to neglect the rest of our guests," Phoebe supplied quickly despite knowing that Rick likely cared very little for either fully observing the rules of hospitality or the rules themselves.

It seemed as if Gear Head might linger anyway despite her polite rebuff when another of Rick's guests appeared in the doorway. He was round, with sickly pale green skin the color of snot. His clothes were lurid shades of yellow and green, and he wore clocks on his belt and on the headband circling his bald head. He carried two long staffs, each topped by another clock. Rick greeted him with more warmth than he showed Gear Head.

"Slow Mobius, my man, my favorite time lord! Why don't you go try some of the canapés?" Rick caught Phoebe's eye and gave her a meaningful look. "In fact, why don't Phoebe and I come with you? We have some catching up to do." He sent an, what Phoebe saw through as an insincere, apologetic glance at Gear Head. "Catch you later, Gear Head. Why don't you go mingle?" Without waiting for an actual response, he started walking, forcing Phoebe to walk with him, as they still had their arms about each other's shoulders. He steered them quickly into the kitchen with Slow Mobius in tow.

"What a lovely home you have," the time lord remarked as they entered the kitchen, where they found the Meeseeks carefully guarding the food as instructed.

"Eh," Rick shrugged, pulling away from her. He walked over and grabbed a canapé, popping the whole thing into his mouth.

Phoebe smiled graciously at Slow Mobius. His clothes might be hideous, but he hadn't latched onto her creepily or tried flirting with her yet. "Why don't you have something, Slow Mobius?"

"Don't mind if I do," he murmured, passing one staff to his other hand to free it up.

Phoebe decided to make up a plate for herself. "Rick, you should have a plate, too," she commented, handing him an empty plate that he accepted with a fond half-smile and a weak grumble of protest. They served themselves, Rick surprisingly making an actual effort to catch up with Slow Mobius as they all leaned against the counter to eat. Without being explicit about it, he made an effort to keep Phoebe included in the conversation. Phoebe, of course, noticed it anyway and appreciated the gesture.

"We should make some rounds, make our guests feel welcome," Phoebe murmured as she tossed her plate.

Rick frowned down at the last bit of deviled egg he had. "Then we'll just run into Gear Head."

Phoebe's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why did you invite him if you can't stand him?"

Rick sighed. "It's not that I can't stand him as a person, it's that he's got that look on his face that means tonight he's gonna rant about the goddamn Gear Wars again—he doesn't even have to be drunk to make a whole thing out of it—and I can only take so much, Phoebe."

"I can see how that might be annoying," Phoebe sympathized. "But I'm sure that we can avoid him, and if not…" She placed a gentle hand on his lower arm, smirking. "I'll just have to steal you away."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really, now come on, Rick." She slid her hand down his wrist to his hand, gripping his fingers lightly between hers. Internally, she held her breath, unsure how much touch she could get away with since Rick seemed to shy away from too much close physical contact with her, though he had seemed to be allowing more and more of it lately. Maybe being held prisoner by Evil Rick and Evil Morty had given him some perspective? Who knew how his mind really worked.

Half-expecting him to shake off her hand and stalk past her, she was pleasantly surprised when he set the plate onto the counter, shoved the remaining food into his mouth with his free hand, and allowed her to lead him out of the kitchen, his hand in hers.