Chapter Summary: In which Morty kind of fucks up, Phoebe senses something in Tammy, and the other Ricks flirt with Phoebe (again), but aren't the only ones.

…

At some point during their rounds of socializing, they'd gotten separated. Phoebe only hoped that Rick could manage to avoid Gear Head, and if not, she would come to the rescue and snap him back up out of the other man's clutches. More aliens had apparently arrived, if the dinosaur-looking motherfucker, some Toucan Sam-looking bitch (Scary Terry would be so proud), and blob man—who may or may not have had a vibrator stuck inside of his grey-brown translucent body—were anything to go by. She ran into a few types she had seen before: a pink-skinned blonde one, a purple fish person, a green-skinned one with a bulbous head. She thought she even saw a cyclops-like one with one eye and purple hair. She smiled politely, exchanged small-talk, and tried to make everyone feel welcome.

At one point she spotted Bird Person sitting in a corner with Tammy of all people in his lap. As she started to turn away from them, Tammy looked up, though not directly at her, and, just for an infinitesimal moment, something shifted, like someone looking out from behind a curtain. If she hadn't been looking at her when it happened, she would have missed it, but as it was, she saw the moment when the girl's eyes changed, just for a half a second: they took on an almost predatory appearance, like a shark smelling fresh blood in the water. Phoebe blinked and it was gone, making her wonder if it was just her imagination or something more. She shook her head, resuming her meander through the press of bodies. She shivered. Who the fuck was Tammy, really? She filed the information away for later, determined to look into her when she could, but knowing that at the moment she couldn't do anything more than keep searching for Rick as she charmed, grinned, laughed, and generally acted like a good host—despite other Ricks trying to hit on her.

Two of the Ricks stumbled from between two fuzzy, bug-eyed aliens. Seeing Phoebe, they sidled up to her, one drunkenly placing a hand on her upper arm, the other laying his arm across her shoulders. "Aw, come on, Fifi. Why don't you—" belch "—why don't you stay around for a bit now that—" belch "—now that C-137 isn't around to spoil all the fun?"

"Yeah, Bee, why not see—" belch "—what it's like to get a double scoop of Rick?"

She ducked and sidestepped out of their reach. "I don't need either of you to 'give me a scoop', thank you very much."

"Oh?" The one on the right said. They looked at each other with a smirk. "He giving it to you that good?" The one on the left inquired with a lecherous gleam in his eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Phoebe drawled, slipping through a throng of Summer's guests and missing the reaction of the two Ricks.

As Phoebe circled back around, she saw her Rick trapped by Gear Head. When he caught sight of her, he sent a clear but subtle distress signal, so she wound her way through the partygoers to his side. She arrived just in time to hear a part of the rant Rick predicted earlier in the kitchen. "...The thing people don't realize about the Gear Wars is that it was never really about the gears at all." Gear Head sounded as if he had both been droning on for a long time and would be for an even longer time.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. No, no, to—totally," Rick responded dully, his lack of enthusiasm going unnoticed.

Phoebe broke into the mostly one-sided conversation brightly. "Hey, Rick, I've been looking for you!" She looped her arm through the crook of his. She turned to give Gear Head her most winning smile. "I'm so sorry about this, but I'm going to have to steal him from you. A friend of ours hasn't gotten a chance to see him yet and she wants to speak to him."

"Does she know about the Gear Wars yet?"

Phoebe's blinding smile didn't waver for an instant. "I'm sure she does! She's really into intergalactic histories. Come on Rick. It was nice speaking to you again, Gear Head."

They made to escape but were confronted with an even more irritated and neurotic looking Morty. "Rick, Phoebe, you gotta stop—"

A vicious smile came over Rick's face. "Morty! Have you met Gear Head?" Phoebe saw exactly where this was going, but she couldn't find it in her to care. He never would have walked right into this if he had just chilled the fuck out from the start.

Startled, Morty started to introduce himself. "Hey, how's—"

Rick shoved Morty forward toward Gear Head as if offering a virgin sacrifice to avoid the attention of some hungry god or monster. Morty was going to be sacrificed, in a sense. "Morty here, he—he would love to hear all about the Gear Wars. He's—he's not well-versed in intergalactic events."

Once his attention latched onto a new victim, Rick and Phoebe made themselves scarce. "God, I didn't think he'd ever shut up," Rick muttered to her.

Phoebe smirked at him, feeling entirely self-satisfied. "I told you I'd steal you away," she teased Rick. "My damsel in distress."

Rick scowled back at her. "Up yours, Pheebs."

Still smirking, she retorted with amusement, "You first."

Rick had quite a few acquaintances, it seemed. By the time they ended up chatting with a red-hued one named Scropon—who might or might not be a scorpion-like humanoid—Morty emerged from the crowd next to them.

"Hey, Morty," Phoebe acknowledged him.

Rick echoed the greeting, adding, "H-have you—have you met my buddy Scropon?"

Morty looked downright pissy, his hand flung out in agitation. "Not again, Rick! That last guy droned on for 45 minutes, you know? And meanwhile, the whole house is being destroyed!"

Phoebe had to admit that a few of the guests were a little wild, but it was nothing a Meeseeks cleaning crew couldn't take care of in an hour or two. Just then a beer bottle flew through the air and smashed high up against the wall. Okay, maybe three hours. Still, handy, that, to be able to have fifty extra sets of hands. With a few pushes of a button one could have an infinite crew at their disposal.

"Whoa, Morty, this guy's entire planet was destroyed. Have a little perspective." As he spoke, Scropon wandered off to speak to another alien present, a worm-like one that looked a bit like the letter 's'.

Just then the voice of one of their three mutual friends reached her ears. "Hey, Rick, hey Phoebe, squanchy party, cats!"

"Aw! Squanchy!" Rick cried, a genuine thread of enthusiasm and fondness in his voice. He did a little hop dance on and off the table.

"Glad you could make it," Phoebe greeted him, bending down and having to kneel to hug the small feline alien. Despite this, he still kissed her hand first.

"Oh course, Phoebe! I wouldn't miss your party for the world!"

Phoebe beamed warmly at him and she straightened back up to her full height. "I'm glad to hear it, Squanchy."

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, Phoebe. Now, is there a good place for me to squanch around here?" The question seemed to be directed at both Phoebe and Rick.

Rick threw his arms wide. "Squanchy, you can squanch wherever you want, man. Mi casa es su casa, dawg!"

"Make yourself at home," Phoebe added, aware of what he wanted to do. "Just por favor, no en nuestras camas."

"All right! I like your squanch! And don't worry, I don't need a bed for this."

He took off, no doubt to find the perfect spot, a bottle of spirits within a brown paper bag in hand.

Morty looked as if he didn't really want to know as he tentatively inquired, "Uh, Rick, Phoebe, what exactly is 'squanching'?"

Phoebe waved her hand. "Don't, ah, don't worry about it, Morty." No need to traumatize the boy further with that image. Summer had done enough damage with her orgy comment.

Rick made another attempt to soothe his at-the-moment erratic nephew. "Morty, Morty, listen—we've had a lot of really cool adventures over the last year, but it's time to relax."

Morty glowered at them both. "Yeah, if I relax now, there might not even be any more adventures!"

"Why?" Phoebe wanted to know. "Everything's under control."

"Under control?!" He exploded, tossing his arms up in exasperation. "There are aliens having sex and eating each other and throwing up acid and no one remembers how to use a trash can! Someone knocked out a window, and there's a hole in the wall!"

Phoebe set her hand on his shoulder. "Chill, Morty, just breathe, don't have a brain hemorrhage."

He shook her hand off with an unhappy look. "Chill? Breathe? How can you be so calm about this?"

"Because, Morty," she explained patiently, "it'll all be cleaned up and fixed by the Meeseeks before your parents can come home."

Rick sighed, frowning. "Don't try to reason with him, Phee." He drug a hand down his face. "Jesus, Morty, you're bumming me out. Can't we just pretend like everything's fine for a few hours, enjoy ourselves, and then worry about all this later?"

Phoebe took a sip out of her own cup. "Sounds like a plan."

"You know, maybe that's easy for you to say. You know, you like not caring about stuff, or acting like this isn't a big deal. Especially if you can just—if you can just hit a button a few times and cover up all the damage you've done. You know, wh-wh-what's in this for me? For me?"

Phoebe swished around the contents of her cup with lazy rotations of her wrist as she regarded Morty with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know, Morty, maybe having a blast? Letting loose? Celebrating the fact that we're together and we weren't almost murdered twice in the past month? Taking the opportunity to do shit with us your parents would never let you do?"

But Morty's attention was only half on her as he caught sight of something across the room. When he started saying 'Jessica' in slow motion, she knew why. She followed his line of sight to see a popular female teenager from his school entering the room. Beside her, Rick yelled, "Knock it off, Slow Mobius!"

His nearby time lord acquaintance apologized as Morty whispered in awe, "I can't believe she's here."

"You like her?" Phoebe guessed.

Rick was always one to seize on an opportunity when he got one. "Well, what are you doing standing here, Morty? Go. Talk to her. Tonight, the only adventure you're on is your cusping manhood. Totally gonna get laid tonight." He took Morty by the shoulder and shoved him toward the door.

Phoebe raised her voice just enough so it would carry to her nephew as he disappeared after Jessica. "Remember that talk we had about consent and safety!"

Rick raised his cup in Morty's direction. "Look at that, Pheebs. Our boy's becoming a man."

Phoebe took on a mock-serious tone. "How fortunate he is to have you assist him in ascension."

Rick smirked. "I know, right?" he drawled.

Phoebe heaved a long-suffering but affectionate sigh. "And, as always, you're the picture of modesty, Rick."

He only cocked his eyebrows at her as he drank from his cup.

"I guess it's just a Rick thing," she muttered, going for another drink. "I've had at least two other versions of you flirt with me tonight, unless the two I ran into earlier were different from the ones that spoke to us in the kitchen—F-210 and E-490. Then I suppose that would take the count to four."

She drank then, missing the immediate shift in expression to downturned lips and narrowed eyes that rippled over Rick's features like a disturbance on the face of previously still water. "Oh, yeah? Really now?" He pressed, voice tightly controlled. It smoothed out into something more neutral by the time the cup lowered.

Phoebe scoffed. "They asked me if I wanted a 'double scoop of Rick', then I told them I didn't need a 'scoop' from either one of them. Totally shameless."

"Hey." Rick reached out and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. "If—if they're—if they're—" belch "—bothering you, why don't you just stick with me for the rest of the night?"

"Even if you weren't my best friend, it would be better than being pounced on at every opportunity by a pack of horny Ricks with too much time on their hands."

"All right, let's hit up the kitchen for more food and booze."

When they re-emerged into the party a few minutes later, it was just in time to hear the tail-end of a cruel remark from Summer, her words filtering to them through the hum of conversations around them. She was standing facing a group of three other teens her age, her back to a nerdy-looking teen with high-waisted pants, a long sweater, and huge square glasses that covered a good portion of her face. "Are you kidding me? I don't even know what she's doing here."

Phoebe gasped. At her side, Rick seemed displeased as well. "Wow, Summer, that was way out of line," Phoebe reprimanded. At the same time, Rick offered some chastisement of his own. "Whoa. Not cool, summer. This is a party. Everybody should be welcome."

Just then the wall separating the kitchen and living room exploded outward as a figure all in black knocked his way through it.

"Oh, great," Rick groaned, "Who invited Abradolf Lincoler?"

Summer immediately jumped on that, apparently sharing a keen eye for opportunities just like her grandfather. "I thought everyone was welcome?"

Phoebe scoffed. "Oh, and you're one to talk? Now you're suddenly concerned about who feels welcome?"

Rick frowned at Summer. "It's not the same, Summer. Lincoler is a crazed maniac—just a misguided effort of mine to create a morally neutral super-leader by combining the DNA of Adolf Hitler and Abraham Lincoln. Turns out it just adds up to a lame, weird loser." Across the room, Lincler menaced a few people out of the room, casting his gaze about as if searching for someone in particular.

"You did what?" Phoebe yelped.

Rick held his hands up in the universal let me explain gesture. "Hey, don't get all judgy, Pheebs. I didn't say it was one of my best decisions," Rick defended.

"Ugh, why am I not surprised," Phoebe sighed. "I love you and all, but sometimes I really question your judgement, you know?"

Surprise flickered in Rick's eyes at her comment as Lincler locked onto their little group and stalked towards them, gaze only for Rick. "Rick," Lincler hissed, "you brought me into this world, a suffering abomination tortured by the duality of its being." Rick sipped from his cup casually, as if bored, which Phoebe found oddly reassuring. If Lincler were dangerous, surely Rick would be more worried. Still...her hand dropped to the slit in her dress as he kept talking, just in case. "But I shall finally know peace when I watch the life drain from your wretched body!"

He bumped into one of Morty's school acquaintances, Bran or Brent or Brad or something ...yes, Brad, that was it! Brad turned to confront Lincler, miscommunication soon turning into an argument and then an outright brawl before their eyes. During the whole debacle, Rick and Phoebe had somehow ended up only a few steps away from Lincler. As her hand gradually relaxed off of the hidden dagger, Rick yelled from beside her, "Kick his ass, Brad!" That started the whole room chanting 'kick his ass', the crowd mentality that often showed up in schoolyard fights taking over.

As Lincler went down under a volley of punches and kicks, Jessica bolted from the room with Morty hot on her heels. Phoebe glanced at Rick then took off after Morty. Rick followed them at a slower pace. Morty had paused in the doorway. He gestured angrily. Hmm, maybe the waving, flapping, and wild gesturing was a family thing, or maybe it was a product of spending so much time around a Rick. "Rick!" Morty glowered.

Rick rolled his eyes. "I just did you a favor, Morty." Once more he pushed him in the direction Jessica had taken, doing his version of being encouraging.

Phoebe took a few steps towards him. "Remember to stay safe and use protection, and wait for clear and enthusiastic consent!"

Morty blushed, fiddling with his shirt hem. "Oh come on, Phoebe, you're embarrassing me."

She shrugged. "Hey, if you're gonna start exploring no matter how anyone else feels about it, especially your father, I'd rather you be safe than sorry." She grinned, about to tease him unrepentantly. "Besides, you've already had one accident, best not have another if you can avoid it."

Morty blushed cherry red. "Hey, don't—don't mention that stuff! It was one time, okay?"

Phoebe waved her hand. "I'm not trying to shame you, I'm just saying, if you're going to anyway, be careful. Oh, and also there are condoms stashed in both bathrooms, the lab, and my room, but since you might not have time to get to those…" She handed Rick her drink and then opened her purse. "I think I still have one or two here in the inner pocket, just let me check the expiration date." She fished a Trojan condom out, her back to Rick and therefore unable to see his expression, though she could see the slightly mortified look on Morty's face. She flipped the condom over, then passed it to Morty. "Not expired. You know how to use it, right?"

Morty looked like he was torn between being grateful and wanting to be swallowed up by the floor. "Um, yeah, I do, thanks. No need for—for a demonstration or anything like that." He didn't linger after that, hurrying toward the front door after Jessica.

"You were keeping a condom in your purse?" How someone could sound both interested and ultra-casual/neutral she had no idea.

Phoebe turned to face Rick, shrugging and not seeing anything odd about it. "It's from the last time I carried it. You know, just in case. You can never be too careful, you know?"

"I guess so, yeah. It's what I would do if I planned on picking up someone I didn't plan on seeing out in the morning." What emotion was that in his voice? It wasn't judgement, that much was clear. She'd heard him being judgmental and that most definitely was not the case here.

"Right, well." She could feel her stomach twisting itself into a pretzel as her brain connected Rick and condoms, so tried subtly calming herself down. She pulled her dignity around her like a cloak. "Why don't we go back to the party?"

"Yeah, we might catch Brad still laying a few hits on Lincler's pathetic ass."

XXX

Only a little while later, after Phoebe and Rick once more rejoined the party, the whole house shook, the lights in the house flickered, and a light flashed in the sky. Then a small fall, as if the house dropped down. Steadying herself, Phoebe glanced out of the sliding-glass doors and, instead of getting a view of the backyard and garden, saw that the entire house had been transported either to another dimension or another planet. "Um, Rick…"

Standing next to her as he had been for much of the night, Rick studied the world visible through the glass and slid the door open. "Huh. Big star in the sky," he took a deep breath, "oxygen-rich atmosphere, giant testicle monsters." He considered only a moment. "We'll be fine! Let's party!" One of Summer's guests ripped off his shirt, whooped, ran outside, and was promptly snatched up by a testicle monster and shoved into one of its orifices, presumably eaten. Rather than say anything, he flicked on the stereo then started dancing to the music that issued out of it, which happened to be Shake That Ass Bitch by Splack Pack. '~Just shake that ass, bitch, and let me see whatcha got. ~'

"Ugh, really?" Phoebe groaned, facepalming.

"Yes, really! Don't sweat it, we'll be fine!" He tugged on her hand, encouraging her to dance.

"I—shouldn't we be more worried about this whole situation?" She waved her hand around vaguely.

"We can fix it later," Rick waved away the concern.

Phoebe sighed. "Fine, but I'm going to text Morty and Summer about this."

"Ugh, whatever." As he kept dancing, she sent an identical message to her niece and nephew.

Phoebe to Cinnamon Roll and Red Queen: Need you to come here. By the stereo with Rick.

"There, it's done. Now I'll dance with you."

That was all Rick needed. He took her hand and pulled her in closer, then danced with abandon. "I'm not shaking my ass," she warned as she started moving.

Rick shrugged. "Don't then—unless you want to."

Phoebe snorted. "Oh, fuck you."

He smirked. "What, without taking me out to dinner first? Classy, Pheebs."

"I didn't peg you for the dinner-first type," Phoebe joked.

"Never said I was," Rick returned.

Shake That Ass Bitch started winding down. At the end of the song, the music transitioned onto Wobble by V.I.C. As the partygoers started drunkenly moving through the steps, Morty and Summer came up to them from their respective directions. The four went outside to stand on the back porch together, Rick pulling out his flask.

Summer immediately started in on Morty. "I swear to God, Morty, if it weren't for the fact that everyone's still having a blast in there, I would be so furious with you right now." She crossed her arms and turned away from him.

Rick extricated a device from his lab coat as she spoke. "Oh, man. Y-you hear that, Morty? You really lucked out with Summer o-on that one."

Phoebe crossed her arms as well. "Summer, I doubt he tried to do it."

"How are you guys not freaking out right now?! T-the whole house is sitting in another dimension! I-I mean, w-what the hell are we supposed to do?! M-m-mom and dad are gonna kill us! I'm losing it here, Rick, Phoebe!"

"I'm sure Rick can get everyone back. We both still have our portal guns, so we could do it pretty quickly."

"But what about the house, Phoebe? What about that?"

"We...alter your mom and dad's memory of where we live and move the whole family to a different house. We can keep them knocked out until we're done with everything. Meanwhile we use Meeseeks to move our furniture."

Morty wailed, "Is your answer to everything huge and overwhelming to summon a hundred Meeseeks?"

Phoebe scowled. "No, but they're damn useful and it would work as a good backup plan."

"And messing with my parents' minds, Phoebe? That sounds like something Rick would suggest!"

"He wouldn't be wrong if he did," she retorted.

Rick interrupted her attempts to counter Morty's mounting panic. He knelt down and put an arm around him. "Relax, Morty, relax! It's gonna be fine. We shouldn't have to fuck around with their memories or move into a new place. All we have to do is go out and find us some kalaxian crystals." The device went off with a bright pink flash and series of beeps. "Oh, shit, motherfucker! Kalaxian crystals, Morty, just a few miles South of here."

Morty grabbed both their wrists, apparently ready to set off then and there. "Okay. Let's go, then. W-w-we got to go get those crystals right now."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Morty, Morty, I-I can't go with you," Rick protested. "I got to hang back with Phoebe and make sure everything stays cool here, you know? I mean, who knows what—what if somebody breaks something?" Wait, why did she need to stay? She gave him an odd look.

"More importantly, we need to make sure no one else gets eaten by giant testicle monsters—or worse," Phoebe added.

"That too," Rick nodded in quick agreement. "Definitely need you here more than you're needed to get the crystals, just in case someone or something needs to be stabbed." Part of her protested against the idea that she needed to stay behind, and part of her found it reasonable given what Rick could get up to on his own (sometimes he really did need a voice of reason), reasoning that Morty was more capable than ever. Not to mention that Rick didn't seem overly bothered about the world, and it couldn't be all that dangerous if he trusted Morty to be all right on his own. She wavered. It would be just as good to send him along with someone who would protect them as fiercely as she would. Or some-ones.

Summer was quick to cast her vote. "Yeah. Me too. I should stay."

Lincler slid open the door and joined them, asking for aspirin. Phoebe saw that opportunistic look on Rick's face and just knew what was coming even before he spoke. Totally lacking surprise, she watched as Rick suggested Morty go with Lincler. "Oh, hey, Morty, this is perfect! You can take Lincoler with you."

Lincler, who was covered in bruises and had a beer can pressed to his head, protested weakly, "Hey, man, I'm not going anywhere. I'm injured."

"Shut up, Lincoler. It's the least you can do for wrecking the living room."

Phoebe objected instantly. "Whoa, whoa, whoa,didn't you say he's insane? Qué piensas?"

"It's fine, Lincler's pathetic and a coward. He could get his ass kicked by a ten-year-old."

"Then how is it helpful to send him?"

Rick paused, frowning. "Because it's better than no one, and because he's at least tougher than Morty."

"Hey!" Morty yelped indignantly.

"Oh please, save it," Rick drawled.

Phoebe sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Well that settled it. "Don't move." She glanced around. "Any of you. This will only take a second."

She withdrew her portal gun from her bag and activated a portal on the wall next to the door. She stuck her head through into the garage to find Edana pacing worriedly. When the android saw her, she immediately went over to her.

"Phoebe! Oh I'm so sorry, I'm the worst guardian. Morty came in earlier and I didn't stop him because he's one of the people allowed in here, but he brought that girl, Jessica, and when they found Squanchy in the closet they freaked out and knocked over some device and—"

Phoebe laid a reassuring hand on Edana's shoulder. "It's not your fault, but I need you to do something for me. Pass the Meeseeks box will you?"

Edana brought the box to her without question or complaint. Phoebe pulled her head and hands from the portal, her prize held close to her.

"Oh, I should have figured," Morty remarked when he saw the box in her hands.

"Yeah, fuck me for being predictable," Phoebe grumbled, hitting the button four times then passing the box back through the portal and allowing it to close. Four blue figures appeared with their usual greeting. "I need you to go with my nephew, Morty, to fetch some kalaxian crystals. Protect him, all right? Walk with him, keep him from getting lost, and don't let him die or get hurt or maimed. After he's back here safe and sound with the crystals, you can fade into nonexistence again."

"Lincler's still going," Rick spoke up.

"Why?"

"I don't know, safety in numbers? Someone for Morty to trip if they're being chased by a man-eating monster? Because he owes us?"

"Ugh, fine, let the lab experiment with daddy issues go with him, then. Morty's still taking his protection detail."

"I resent the first part of that statement," Lincler sulked.

"No one cares about your feelings," Rick sneered.

It was then that Phoebe noticed the nerdy teen Summer tried excluding earlier, and Summer's absence. She must have come out onto the porch while Phoebe had her head in the portal. It apparently took less than a minute for the teen to get roped into going with Morty, Lincler, and the Meeseeks as Summer's replacement, and Summer was unsurprisingly nowhere to be seen.

"Just go. And here—" Phoebe withdrew the pistol in her bag and handed it to Morty. "The safety's on. I know you know how to use this." She eyed Lincler darkly. "Let that fucker walk in front of you and keep a Meeseeks between you. If he tries anything, shoot off a testicle or something."

Lincler glowered at her wordlessly.

"Oh, um, all right," Morty mumbled as he tucked the pistol into his waistband. "Let's—let's go then, everyone."

Morty prodded Lincler forward in front of him, then set off after him with the other teen behind him. The Meeseeks moved around Morty in a diamond, one on each side and one before and behind. Phoebe leaned into Rick and whispered, "Who's she and why is she going?"

"Oh, her?" He gestured at the red-sweater-clad figure in glasses as she disappeared over a rise. "Don't know her name, but it's kind of pathetic. Apparently Summer promised her they'd reconnect or something if she went with Morty. Sad, right? That girl must be desperate for companionship."

"Yeah, sad," Phoebe muttered, staring at the place they disappeared to. She looked at Rick. "Do you think I sent enough Meeseeks?"

Rick nodded, sipping from his cup, his flask tucked back into his coat already. "They'll be fine."

"We should have gone," she fretted, "Why didn't we go again?"

"Because Morty has his own protection detail and a gun, and because we had to hold down the fort."

Phoebe bit her lip. "Maybe I should go after them. I don't know what I was thinking."

Rick gripped her shoulders in his hands, the red solo cup in one touching her upper arm. He peered straight into her eyes. "Look, I know you're worried about him and regretting not going, but he's already shown us he can take care of himself, and you gave him everything he needed to do that, so don't sweat it."

"Yeah, I know I just…" she trailed off, staring into his eyes. "What if I was wrong?"

Rick's right hand left her shoulder to cup the left side of her face. "You're not, Pheebs."

Unlike when Evil Rick touched her, she didn't feel revolted, didn't feel as if her skin were crawling and needed to be scrubbed until it turned red. Instead she felt safe, comforted. She closed her eyes and turned her face into his hand. Instead of biting into the flesh of it as she had bitten the other Rick, she pressed her cheek into the skin there and sighed. "I hope you're right," she murmured, relaxing into his touch. It felt natural to do it, even as her stomach came alive with the coiling flames.

Unseen, Rick's eyes lowered to her lips. "I know I am," he said softly. "Because I know you, Pheebs, and I believe in you."

Her eyes opened just a fraction and she looked up at him through her lashes. "Yeah?"

Rick's thumb caressed a slow, small circle on her cheek. "Yeah."

They both held perfectly still, silently looking at each other. Phoebe felt something shifting in the air, even though neither of them had spoken or moved. Energy rising, perhaps, or a feeble breeze stirring.

"Rick?" Her voice sounded quiet to her own ears, somehow both closer and further away.

He hummed quietly. "Mm?"

She licked her lips. "What—what are we doing?"

She knew what they were literally doing at the moment: they were standing on the back porch in an alien world, and Rick was comforting her, but something told her it was more than that this time. Usually he refrained from touching her at all, and the times they touched before had been accidental brushes of fingertips, necessary in moments of danger, or just after an averted tragedy. He'd never held her face, ever, and their only real hug was after Morty saved their lives.

Rick startled her with a shaking thumb deliberately brushing the edge of her mouth. "Whatever you want."

She wasn't quite sure which way he meant that. Did he mean this moment, the party, or something else?

"I want…" Her breath caught in her throat. She knew exactly what she wanted…didn't she?

Rick grew even more still if at all possible, an intent expression on his face and eyes more intense than ever. His hold on her face didn't tighten, though it didn't slacken, either. Phoebe reached down for his other hand, taking it in both of hers. She used one to draw back his sleeve. She trusted herself but she needed to be sure anyway.

Glancing down, she could see the bracelet she'd slipped on Rick earlier, a swarm of thoughts racing by a mile a minute. Should she? Was she ready to confront her feelings? Did she want to drag them out in the open with Rick, see how he'd react? What if he rejected her? What if he felt the same way? She looked back into Rick's eyes, into their now burning intensity. What would Rick want if he did feel the same way? Would they...date? Would he just be after sex? Would he ignore both of their feelings and go on like normal? Would he love her?

"Phoebe." His voice brought her out of her head. He'd leaned much closer to her, cutting the distance—and height difference—between them. "What do you want?"

Her hand slowly rose to cup his face in turn, her fingers splaying across his cheek. She swallowed. "Oh, Rick," she whispered, "Knowing what I want isn't the problem. I don't know what you want." She steeled herself, then, before she could change her mind, she pushed up on her toes, crossing the remaining space between them to gently pressed her lips to his for a few moments, though it was enough to set off the hot-snakes feeling all the way up to her chest, and the prickling feeling up the entirety of her spine. She rocked back on her heels to gauge his reaction, not prepared for what she saw.

Rick was someone who was ordinarily so composed, so entrenched behind layer after layer of carefully constructed neutrality and nonchalance. Now it was as if someone had jackhammered straight through those layers, and he stood before her smoldering. Rick looked like a man burning, his uncanny silvery eyes so hungry, so rapt, so wild, dancing with dark delight. His fingers flexed against her face. He drew even closer to her, tossing his cup off somewhere to the side. He met her eyes, studying her face. "You really want this?" What was this? A one-time thing or a regular thing? Love, sex, or just a stolen experimental kiss? A moment or a lifetime? Rick himself? What was 'this'?

"Yes," she replied without qualifying. Maybe it was yes to all of those things, now and the future, here and there.

Rick dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers with more tenderness than she'd ever witnessed him use before—well, perhaps with the exception of his gentle first-aid when they got back from the Citadel. He'd helped her dab on the bruise paste to speed up her recovery from her injuries, and he'd been easy with her then, too, trying to cause her as little pain as possible.

Unlike someone she'd kissed in the past, he didn't use the kiss as an excuse to try and cop a feel. Instead he focused all of his attention into the kiss, into gently cradling her neck with his hand as it prolonged, into his light hold in case she wanted to break away, into the delicate dance of his lips over hers, tender, patient, not rushed or rough, not what she expected when she saw the ragged, fiery look in his eyes. He looked as if he could devour her, just swallow her whole. The hot twisting sensation in her stomach surged outward from its point of origin, flowed up to her chest, and sunk down low; the prickling along her spine turned into electricity. She exhaled harshly, making him pause.

"I'll—I can stop any time." She examined his eyes, his now-serious face, his tense body. He was almost shaking, but he could, he would, no matter what else he wanted, she could see that. It felt like the snakes of liquid flame that had shown up so recently every time they touched constricted her heart.

She laid one finger across his lips. "Not yet." She raised her hand to his head. "Can I touch your hair?"

A fiery spark appeared in his eyes as if saying yes, he'd set himself ablaze if it meant she would touch him, but all he did was bow his head. Phoebe softly brushed her fingers over his forehead, stroking upward until her fingers caressed his hairline, then slipping her fingers into his hair with care. Rick smirked, his eyes closing as he tentatively slid his hand down her neck to rest between her shoulders, then lowered his head further. Just as his lips made contact with hers again, the screen door opened.

"Hey, anyone out here know if there's more booze and food somewhere else in the house? We're running low."

Rick's head whipped up as he glared at the intruder, unintentionally breaking contact with Phoebe's hand in the process. "Piss off," he snarled, but their quiet bubble had already burst, the moment interrupted. Phoebe felt its loss keenly.

The teen, a tall boy with wild curly hair, glasses, and a smattering of freckles, scowled petulantly. "Geez, just asking. Whatever man."

He slammed the door, leaving the two of them in a tense silence. Phoebe decided to break the quiet as Rick glared at the door as if it had personally offended him. "Should we help them? I think there's some room temperature beer in the pantry, and I know where Beth keeps her wine."

Rick looked down at her, tracing her ear lightly with one finger. "Is that what you want?"

Phoebe searched his silver eyes, his expression unreadable. "Of course not, but if we don't do something, he won't be the only one looking for us, and we can't get rid of them until we're back in our own world."

Rick sighed, resigned, a scowl already forming. "Fuck, I hate that you're right." His hands reluctantly drew away from her back and face. "Come on then," he grumbled, "let's go take care of the whiny drunk idiots."

Phoebe touched the back of his hand with her fingers before he could pull too far away from her. "What did...that mean?"

Rick's shoulders slumped as he withdrew his flask and took a long, hard pull from it. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he put it away. "What do you want it to mean?"

Phoebe bit the inside of her cheek. It seemed as if Rick didn't want to be the one to put himself out there first. Was it the vulnerability, the fact that he would have to open himself to her in certain ways, the fact that she could hurt him in a new, different way now? The man was obviously deeply wounded by something, and had trust issues galore. Maybe he didn't want to be the one to define them, because he couldn't be sure what direction she wanted to take. Maybe he wanted to avoid rejection.

Phoebe tentatively took his hand in her own. "I don't want us to walk back in and forget about this. I don't want us to pretend it never happened. I don't want you to avoid me, or get weird about it." She hesitantly reached for his face, turning his head toward herself without applying much pressure. "It means that when we have some time to ourselves, I want to see where this goes, not because some other version of us has already done it or will do it, but because this version of me is in this moment with this version of you, and I don't see you as interchangeable." His eyes gleamed darkly as he studied her, though he said nothing. "You're my Rick, and they're not," she finished.

"This is why," he drawled thoughtfully after a moment of staring into her face, something gruff and utterly raw about his voice. "This is why. Phoebes really don't know what effect they have on Ricks, do they?"

Phoebe blinked, at a loss. "I don't know what you mean, Rick." Rick's lips drew upward, though she wasn't sure if she would call it a smile. "I don't quite follow."

His hand came to rest on the side of her neck as gently as he had touched her face minutes earlier. "No, as brilliant as you are, you really can't see it, can you? None of you can. You're blind to it."

Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, but Rick dropped a slow kiss there, silencing her. "No, it's all right, don't—don't say anything," he murmured against her lips. "We don't hold it against you, none of us do. You just—you're just…" Rick trailed off with a sigh that got lost in another kiss, this one the shortest of all. He pulled away from her, opening the sliding-glass door with a long-suffering sigh. "Come on, then."

Phoebe followed Rick into the party with one last glance out over the strange world Morty had accidentally sent them to.

…

por favor, no en nuestras camas = 'please, not in our beds.' You can imagine why she might beg Squanchy not to do it there. XD

Qué piensas? = "what are you thinking?"