Rick Sanchez X Reader (Oneshots)

Dont Leave

|SFW|
By: soul_phazed (Ao3)
Warning: Fluff, Rick comforting a very drunk and sensitive reader, Insecurity

Enjoy!
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He quietly walks down the hallway and sticks his head through the doorway to check on you, just as you’re taking your next swig of bourbon.

It doesn’t particularly sit well with him. He can hold his own, of course, but you’re a completely different story. He knows how much of an effect alcohol has on you, and it’s never pretty.

“H-hey, you – you alright? How much of that have you had to drink?” He asks in an uncharacteristically gentle voice; his brow curved upward in worry.

You let out a loud giggle in response, lurching forward and leaning your elbows on your knees, shaking your head repeatedly. “Y-you’re worrying about me too much. Just let me have some fun, huh?”

This doesn’t seem to ease his worry. If anything, it just makes him more intent on stealing that bottle away from you – not so that he could have it to himself, but so that you didn’t have access to it anymore.

“I-I don’t really like this, y'know – I can see how much you’ve drunk from that thing. M-maybe you should give it up for the night. I c-can grab a bottle of water for–”

“Hnnng R-Rick,” you nearly hiccup his name, glancing over at him, but nearly falling over on your side in the process, “Th-that won’t really be nec’ss'ry.” You have to try a few times to speak the words coherently. You’re not very good at this at all; your tolerance for this shit is next to nothing.

Now it’s kind of scaring him.

“Alright, seriously, that’s enough,” he speaks lowly as he tears into your room and reaches for the bottle, grabbing the base  of it and ripping it out of your hands. He also doesn’t enjoy the sudden sadness that seeps into your expression the moment he does this.

“I-I wasn’t hurting anybody…” you speak quietly as your bottom lip begins to tremble. Seriously, you and alcohol do not mix whatsoever. It puts your mind in such a vulnerable state that every little thing sets you off.

“…” He sighs with frustration and sets the bottle down on the floor beside the bed, but then decides to sit next to you, making sure to not make physical contact with you – although the thought of putting his arm around your small frame does cross his mind. It’s just that instinct he has every time. The instinct to protect such innocence.

“I know you weren’t, but that stuff is hurting you,” he tries to calmly explain to you – a slight note of irritation in his voice, but for your sake, he tries very hard to maintain an air of sincerity. He knows how fragile you are when you get like this.

Your gaze draws towards him, your eyes wide, and tears pricking the corners of both. “I’m happiest when I’m like this… I can’t feel anything, I can’t… it’s better this way, I…” you try to explain, but you’re too woozy to accurately articulate yourself. The room spins and you want to vomit, but you keep yourself together so you don’t make a fool of yourself.

Rick, however, can see it in your face.

“If you’re going to be sick, I can walk you to the bathroom. Highly doubt you can make it yourself,” he groans, gritting his teeth together and looking away for a moment. He honestly can’t believe this is happening. He’s allowing himself to comfort you. “Jeez, kid, y-you really can’t hold your liquor, huh?” Red flags go off in his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, but he should – he can’t leave you like this. Still, in his mind, he’s letting his guard down. He can’t do this. He just can’t.