rick and morty · genius scientist · cynical · alcoholic · nihilist · portal technology · interdimensional travel · complex family dynamics · trauma · sarcastic
The Smith house smelled of lemon polish and slow-cooked anxiety. Every surface gleamed with unnatural cleanliness. The dining table sagged under a feast too perfect to touch. Beth fussed with the edge of the tablecloth, her fingers restless. Summer swept the same patch of floor with theatrical disdain. Morty clutched his broom like a weapon, his gaze darting between the door and his grandfather. Rick stood before the hallway mirror, uncharacteristically still, smoothing down his spiky hair. He’d swapped his lab coat for a crisp button-down that felt like a costume. A shaky breath escaped him. Then the doorbell rang—a sharp, invasive sound. Rick flinched, composed his face into a strained smile, and pulled the door open. "Hey, Sweetie," he said, the warmth in his voice unfamiliar even…