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After taking a deep breath, Rick stepped out of the portal into the living room of the Smith’s home as quietly as he could. He knew that getting caught would ruin everything because if Beth knew her ‘father’ came back, well—leaving Beth was something he wasn’t able to do.
He just hoped that no one would get up for a glass of water or to take a piss.
Rick’s attention was immediately caught by the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, and he couldn’t help but stare at it. It was decorated with fairy lights and illuminated the space around it with a golden light, bathing the gifts under it in a warm glow. Upon feeling a ghost of a smile twitching at his lip, Rick tore his eyes away from the tree, his mind drifting to the cost of the energy bill.
Jerry probably forced Beth into this dumbass tradition, Rick thought, frowning slightly at the thought of his son-in-law seeping into his mind like an infectious disease.
As Rick wondered if he should start with the garage to see if there was an abandoned hidden laboratory under, which would be full of clues, he looked at the scene before the glass double doors leading into the garden. It was dark outside, and Rick noticed how white the snow was, contrasting sharply with the inky sky. It blanketed the ground, as well as the shed roof. He felt his shoulders relax at the sight, and he turned away, ready to sneak into the garage.
However, something he spotted on the table made him stop. It was a small piece of paper, and Rick picked it up, wondering if it was a letter. He was right, narrowing his eyes at the writing to make out the barely discernible writing. It started with the words ‘Dear Santa,’ only to trail off into an amalgamation of poorly drawn letters, something Rick couldn’t understand.
However, there was a drawing at the bottom of the paper. Rick’s eyes scrutinised the small stick person with a large smiley face, holding the hand of another larger person, wearing red clothes and a red hat coloured in crayon. The taller stickman also had a long white beard.
Rick raised his brow at the drawing, concluding that it was a very poorly drawn Santa Claus standing next to a child. However, something he didn’t understand yet was how the fuck Summer made this. Jerry, sure, he could see it—Rick knew that the man was lacking in terms of brain cells, but Summer was the most likely person, being a child and all. How old was she, now—seven, eight? And she couldn’t string together a coherent sentence? Rick didn’t know that the education system was that shitty.
He put the paper back down, and just as he was about to leave, he heard the faint sound of small footsteps padding against the floor.
Getting closer with each step.
Rick froze, his mind racing, wondering if it was his granddaughter or even a pet he wasn’t aware of. His hand instinctively went to his inner lab coat pocket, fingers lingering on his memory-erasing device, or as he liked to call it, ‘The Men in Black thing’.
As he debated with himself, thinking if he should hide instead of using the memory-erasing device, something snapped him out of his thoughts.
A small boy peered at Rick from the doorway, looking up at him in sheer curiosity.
They stayed like that for a moment, and he stared at the boy in shock.
Beth has a son? Rick thought, removing his hand from his lab coat. He thought Beth only had Summer.
“A-Are you Santa?” The boy finally said, in a voice as small as him. He rubbed his eyes before coming into the living room, and Rick noticed the starry-patterned onesie he was wearing.
“Uh, yeah, I am.” Rick nodded as he spoke, earning a smile from the boy. He tried to not cringe at himself when the words left his mouth. He could only be thankful that no one else was around, especially Squanchy, who he knew would tease him for the rest of his existence about this.
Rick believed it was better to lie because he knew that Beth and Jerry wouldn’t believe their son when he told them he met Santa Claus. The kid also seemed pretty excited. Besides, what would he tell him? ‘No, I’m your grandpa from Dimension C-137, and I’m here to murder your biological grandfather because I’m on my revenge arc.’
Of course not.
“Oh,” the boy came closer to Rick, scrutinising him, “why do you have no beard?”
Rick fumbled for an answer, his inhibition growing. He wondered why he was struggling so much—he wasn’t being interrogated by some alien mafia like usual for the whereabouts of some contraband that he stole, but by a child.
Rick knew that he wasn’t good with kids.
“I don’t have a beard, I guess—I-I don’t know, alright?” Rick shrugged. “I didn’t get to ask you a question. What’s your name?”
“Morty.”
Rick noted the name and gave a small hum before absent-mindedly taking out his flask to take a swig. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and Morty twiddled his fingers, stealing a few glances at Rick every now and then.
“How old are you, kid?”
“Um, I’m four.”
The silence grew again, making Rick even more unsure as to what to say. Morty seemed to be pretty shy, and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
“Soo, uh,” Rick rocked back and forth on his heels, putting his flask back in his pocket,
“good talk.” He shot a quick glance at the Christmas tree.
“Well, your presents are under the tree, so I guess I’ll get going now.”
With a speed Rick was not expecting, Morty ran over to him and clutched his lab coat.
“Please stay!”
“Alright, alright—just keep your voice down. I only meant leaving to go to the garage.”
Rick remembered the letter he found and went over to the table to pick it up. He showed it to Morty.
“Did you make this?”
Morty nodded, giving a complacent smile as he looked at the paper. Rick scanned over the words again, unable to read them just like earlier.
“What does it say?”
“It says I love Santa.”
Rick found himself cracking a smile at that.
“I’m sorry.” Morty suddenly said, and Rick looked at him, an expression of concern crossing his features.
“Sorry? For what?”
Morty pointed at the table, empty save for the paper Rick put back. “There’s no milk and cookies,” he looked to the floor, “Mommy forgot.”
“Hey, it’s alright if Bet—your mom forgot to buy them,” Rick said, feeling that his voice was uncharacteristically soft. He knew that work was taxing for Beth, being a horse surgeon and all. Why didn’t Jerry do it instead, then?
However, Rick was relieved there was no food on the table. Then he’d probably have to eat it, leaving evidence that he was here. Beth wasn’t stupid, she’d know that Morty didn’t eat it, and he didn’t want her to fret about an intruder being in the home.
Rick noticed that Morty’s gaze still lingered on the floor, so he patted his belly and pretended to burp, making Morty look up and laugh at Rick’s comical actions.
“Besides, I’m already full.”
“O-Okay.”
Rick took out his phone, and upon noticing the time, his eyes widened.
Shit, everyone might wake up soon—I’ll have to come back another day. Preferably earlier than this, Rick thought, a frown on his face.
“Are you okay, Santa?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gotta go soon, though—sorry.” Rick said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. He didn’t know if he was going to return for sure.
Morty’s smile faded a little as he nodded, and Rick felt a little pang.
“Tell you what,” Rick chuckled, “let’s take a picture, since, uh, you’re my favourite kid.”
“Favourite?” Morty repeated, eyes wide. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
Rick knelt next to Morty, taking out his phone and holding it in front of them. He put his arm around Morty, bringing him close and pulling a funny face. Morty’s awkward little smile grew at this, and Rick smiled before snapping a picture.
Rick couldn’t help but smile even wider as he looked at it while standing up. He couldn’t wait to show it to Birdperson and Squanchy.
Earlier, he considered using the memory-erasing device on Morty, but the sheer glee in Morty’s eyes told Rick otherwise.
“Well,” Rick pulled his portal gun out as he ruffled Morty’s hair, “you should go back to bed.”
Morty’s bottom lip trembled a little, and his voice was small again, like how it sounded when he first spoke to Rick.
“Bye, Santa.”
Rick gave a little wink to Morty as he aimed the portal gun at the wall. “I’m here every Christmas Eve, Morty. Someone needs to deliver all of these presents.”
Morty nodded.
“Oh, and you should close your eyes, this is a little bright,” Rick said, referring to the glow of the portal. He took one last look at the starry-freckled sky before the glass double doors, taking in the view, and Morty squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them Rick was gone, just as quickly as he had appeared.
//
It was Christmas.
Rick was sitting in the garage, scrolling through the photo gallery on his phone. He should have been at the dinner table enjoying the festive season with his family, but the alcohol bottle in his hand gave him the company he needed, he believed.
Suddenly, Rick’s eyes widened. He came across a photo buried deep in his gallery. It showed him with his arm around Morty. Morty looked very young—what, he must’ve been around four? Rick remembered.
The garage door opened, and Rick put his phone in his pocket, making Morty raise a brow as he entered the room.
“What are you doing? You should join us, y-you know. Being Christmas, and all—”
“I know what day it is, Morty,” Rick interrupted, “and I don’t ask you what you do on your laptop, do I?”
“Fair enough…”
Nevertheless, Rick got up, leaving the alcohol bottle on his workbench.
“Christmas dinner sounds nice, though. I am pretty hungry,” he trailed off as he followed Morty out of the garage, closing the door behind them.
Rick wondered if Morty remembered that Christmas Eve.