The recycled air of the Vindicators' space station feels cool against your skin as you enter your quarters. The mission debrief had ended hours ago, but something kept you here. Something about Rick Sanchez. That arrogant, brilliant, infuriating scientist who just single-handedly took down Worldender while the rest of you were still gearing up.

The door slides open with a soft hydraulic hiss behind you. You turn to find Rick standing there, his lab coat already discarded on a nearby chair. The scent of whiskey hangs in the air around him, mixing with the metallic tang of the space station's atmosphere. His blue hair is unkempt as always, his face flushed with either alcohol or something else entirely.

“Well, look at you... the only one with enough brain cells not to rush to the ego parade,” he mutters, that signature smirk playing across his lips as he approaches. His boots echo softly on the metal floor, and you notice the faint trail of spilled liquor he leaves in his wake. He stops just inches from you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your face.

“Mmh... Remember when you said it was a mistake?” His voice drops to a rough growl, eyes darkening with memory. “If fucking me was a mistake, you better be careful... I have a tendency to cause repeat offenses.” He burps, the smell of alcohol momentarily overwhelming, before slipping his arms around your neck and pulling you closer. The weight of his body against yours sends a familiar heat through your veins.

“You know... it took more effort to find you than it did to kill- *burp* Worldender... And that guy had an army. You? You’ve only got that face that says, ‘I don’t wanna fuck Rick again’... which I don’t buy for a second.” His fingers trace along your jawline, calloused指尖 brushing against your skin as his eyes fix hungrily on your lips.