Chapter Text
The Night Before
Rick’s room was surprisingly boring for a kid as eccentric as he was. Stan slumped against the beige wall. It was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to sit next to Rick on his bed, and he honestly hadn’t noticed the desk chair before he’d slouched onto the floor so he was stuck there now.
Being with Rick had made absolutely nothing about his situation better. Why couldn’t he have friends that were normal? He’d been stuck with Ford from birth, but why did his only other friend also have to be a super genius? Weren’t there any people in the world that just wanted to box and go sailing? Why’d they all have to be super geniuses?
Rick burped. “So he called you stupid, huh?”
And why did Stan think coming to Rick would help with any of this? He’d done it mostly because he thought it would piss Ford off, but he also wasn’t exactly drowning in friend options. But he didn’t need the only two friends in his life to both tell him he was stupid within a two hour period.
Stan grunted. Rick’s room was distressingly bare. He had a bed and a desk with a single lamp on it. Honestly Stan had been expecting more robots and nerdy-gadgets littered all over the place. Instead there was a bookshelf with three books on it and an old brown blanket and that was it. Rick had the whole room to himself and yet there wasn’t an ounce of personality in the entire place.
“If you wanted me to pat you on the head and say you’re not stupid, you should have known better by now, Pines.” Rick pulled two beers out from behind his headboard, tossing one to Stan, who caught it on instinct. Ah. There’s that personality.
Rick popped the tab and started chugging, then threw the can into the wastebasket by the door and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “If you’re just gonna mope all night, I don’t wanna hear it. At least do something entertaining.”
Stan threw the beer can at Rick’s head, which even though Rick caught it was enough to knock him off balance and flop over onto the bed.
Seriously? Ford thought Stan was being “taken away” by this guy?
“Oi, either say something or get out of my room.” Rick scowled at him when Stan finally lifted his head.
“Are you actually my friend?” The words tasted bitter on Stan’s tongue.
“What?”
“I’ve had exactly one friend my entire life,” Stan said. “And now all the sudden I have two, and they hate each other. Are you just using me to piss Ford off?”
Rick stood up, his expression thunderous. Stan almost jumped to his feet, worried that Rick was going to come over and punch him or something (Rick was thin, Stan could break him in half, but he’d also seen Rick take down people who’d challenged him before and the man was deceptively strong), but he just plopped down on the floor, pressing his shoulder against Stan’s.
“Ford is a dick,” Rick said. “He’s a dick, and I don’t like that you just follow him around like a kicked puppy. You’re better than that nerd.”
Stan felt a rush of indignation on behalf of his brother. “Nobody is better than Ford.”
“See that.” Rick pointed at Stan’s nose. “That is exactly what I’m talking about. I met Ford six months ago at a convention and wanted to punch his lights out. I met you three days later and wanted to take you behind a dumpster and suck your brains out.”
Stan’s face turned so red that he thought it was going to melt off. He didn’t hear Rick just say that. Rick was crude, but he wouldn’t just say that.
The pressure of Rick’s shoulder leaning into Stan’s increased, until their sides were pressed together. Everywhere Rick touched felt like fire.
“I – uh, – um, what?” Stan stammered. Extremely smooth.
Rick laughed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re adorable when you blush, Pines?”
Great, now he was making fun of him. Stan turned his face away, heart pounding. Rick pushed his shoulder, nearly making him overbalance.
“Ford has had you his entire life, and he’s always taken you for granted. It’s infuriating. You think Ford is smart? Ford is nothing compared to what I can do.”
Stan’s brain wasn’t working. “I, uh, so, you are trying to take me from Ford?” The words sounded stupid spoken outloud.
“Since the day I met you.” Rick shrugged. “I can’t stand the way he treats you. Like an extra. Like another one of his freaking fingers, something to use but then feel embarrassed about later. Makes me sick.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Am I lying?” Rick stared into Stan’s eyes and Stan knew he was remembering the same day he was, when Rick had come across Stan working on the Stan’O’War by himself. He hadn’t been crying, because that would be ridiculous. Crying was for wussies and babes. He’d just been frustrated and the sun had been in his eyes.
Stan cleared his throat. “Ford’s my best friend.”
Rick was pressing in closer, his face inches from Stan’s. Stan could barely hear over the pounding of his heart. He looked down at Rick’s lips and then up again to his eyes. Rick was saying things about Ford that Stan would punch anyone else for. But he couldn’t manage to make himself move away.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Rick whispered.
And then he was kissing Stan.
It wasn’t anything like kissing Carla. Carla had been hesitant and new, the two of them learning together. Rick held Stan’s head with a steady hand, his fingers tracing down Stan’s cheeks and making goosebumps erupt along his entire body. He moved with control, taking every inch and Stan let him. Stan let him push in, nipping at Stan’s lips and flicking his teeth with the tip of his tongue.
Stan didn’t know what to do. If his brain had been on, he might have been terrified of what his dad would say if he saw them now, or wondered how Rick could taste and feel so good when he’d liked the shape of Carla’s hips and bust so much. Did kissing a boy make him a homo? But his brain wasn’t on, so instead he kissed back.
His hands came up of their own accord to cup the back of Rick’s head. He pushed in, holding the other boy to him as Rick’s arms wrapped around his back. Rick’s body against his was like a string bean, but every inch of him was lean and sharp. Stan pressed him against the wall.
“Just like that, big boy,” Rick slurred, licking up into the inside of Stan’s mouth. “You’re a natural.” Stan blushed even more furiously at the praise.
It felt like hours, minutes, seconds? Before the two of them broke apart. Stan was breathing heavily, his head spinning, and even Rick appeared a little more out of breath than usual.
Rick reached out, his intent to pull Stan back to his mouth utterly apparent, but Stan intercepted Rick’s hand with his own.
“Wait,” he said. “Have you been using some science mumbo jumbo to send Ford nightmares?”
Rick didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Wha–? No.” He moved forward and kissed Stan’s cheek, the top of his neck. Stan couldn’t breathe. He never wanted Rick to stop. He needed Rick to stop. Nothing in his entire life had ever felt as good as this.
“Ford – he – I –” Stan’s voice quivered as Rick’s hands started exploring across Stan’s chest.
“Dammit Stan, can you stop thinking about that idiot for five minutes?” Rick stopped Stan from answering by capturing Stan’s lips.
Turns out, Stan could stop thinking about Ford with the proper incentive.
***
Morning came a lot sooner than Stan would have liked, and with it, a whole bunch of questions that hadn’t seemed that important in the dark.
He was lying on Rick’s bed, the other boy curled up at his side, head resting against his chest. He still had pants on, so that was good. Bad? He was going to go with good. Rick had a stranglehold on him, like he was worried Stan would disappear.
Which reminded Stan of a whole different problem. Stan groaned and draped one arm across his eyes as Rick stirred. How was he going to explain this to Ford? In a way that wouldn’t make his twin absolutely lose his shit? Rick said that he wasn’t sending Ford the nightmares, and Stan believed him, but Ford wouldn’t.
Were Stan and Rick dating now? Was that what this was? Did Rick want to date him, or had he just been making out with him because he’d been there and available? It wasn’t like Rick’s reputation was unknown, but then again, so was Stan’s.
Ugh, he didn’t want to have to think about this. He wasn’t ready to face his twin yet, but he couldn’t stay here because no way was he going to be able to think with Rick draped all over him.
“Hmm,” Rick mumbled. “Stop moving.”
Stan huffed a little and kissed the top of Rick’s head, making the other boy stir more. He tried to gently extrapolate himself from Rick’s arms, but Rick tightened his hold.
“Noooo,” he whined.
“I gotta go,” Stan whispered. “School’s gonna start up in a few hours, I don’t want your mom to catch me.”
“Mom doesn’t care,” Rick grumbled, but his arms loosened all the same. One eye popped open and he looked Stan over carefully. “You’re not going to go freak out are you?”
“What? Why would I freak out?” Stan’s voice was perfectly level and anyone who claimed otherwise was a liar.
“Look, I get that finding out you’re attracted to dudes is a lot, but you were going to figure it out sooner or later. I saw you checking out –”
“I’ve gotta go!” Stan leapt to his feet, throwing the blankets off both him and Rick and causing the other boy to curse.
“Dammit Pines,” Rick grumbled.
Stan tried to fix his hair as much as possible and fumbled with his shoes. He was about to sneak out the window when Rick made him stop with a light touch to his shoulder.
Rick was looking at him with an expression Stan didn’t know how to interpret, his eyes hooded, face carefully blank. It made Stan’s heart speed up again.
“It’s your life, Stan,” Rick said. “Ford doesn’t get to tell you what you can and can’t do. You don’t need him.”
Stan wanted to believe the first part of that statement. He knew the last was 100% patently false, but he wasn’t going to waste his breath trying to explain that to Rick.
Stan nodded to his friend (boyfriend?) and jumped out the window. He’d head to the beach. He was always able to think better at the beach.
***
Now.
Ford didn’t think anything could possibly make him feel worse after seeing his brother get kidnapped, but somehow the sight of Rick Sanchez’s house made everything exponentially more awful. It felt like his lungs had been ripped out, and he had to stop and force his eyes to stop watering. He couldn’t go in there bawling his eyes out, he had to be calculating, collected.
Rick would help him. He had to. Rick cared about Stan and if he cared about Stan then he would help Ford get Stan back.
But what if he didn’t? Ford could never understand what Rick saw in his brother. The boy was a genius that rivaled Ford’s own intellect, yet he seemed more interested in pulling petty pranks and fart jokes than actually helping better humanity. What if he told Ford no just to piss him off? Did Rick care about Stan at all, or had he just been trying to make Ford miserable?
The thought had Ford turned around and heading down the porch steps before he forced himself to stop. He had to at least try. It killed him to admit it, but he wasn’t smart enough to figure out the device he needed to follow after Stan. He needed Rick. He needed Rick and he hated himself for it.
If he was a better brother, a better scientist, then Ford wouldn’t need anyone. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, so with trembling hands, Ford rapped five knuckles against the wooden door.
An unimpressed Rick Sanchez peered out.
The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Rick’s bedhead was a frightening disaster. His eyes had bags under them, though Ford couldn’t imagine what might have kept him up. Was life so perfect for him that he couldn’t stand the idea of closing his eyes for one minute? For the first time since Stan disappeared, Ford felt something that wasn’t numb, horrifying grief.
He felt irritated that Rick could still stand there and look at Ford like he was something gross Rick had stepped in.
“What do you want?” Rick said by way of greeting. “Where’s Stan?”
“I – he –” How was it even possible to explain this? Rick’s face didn’t give any hint of patience though, so Ford just blurted it out. “I need your help.” The words tasted horrible coming out.
“Well there’s a surprise.” Rick slumped against the doorway, crossing his arms as he leered down at Ford. “What on earth could the mighty Mr. Perfect Stanford need my help for?”
Ford swallowed. “Stan’s –” he broke off as Rick’s eyes sharpened with interest at Stan’s name. Oh he hated Rick so much. How was he going to do this? “Gone.” He wanted to say ‘missing’ but Stan wasn’t missing. Ford knew where he was. Sorta.
Rick raised half of his unibrow and stood up slightly. “What do you mean, ‘gone?’”
Ford swallowed. He didn’t want to have this discussion standing on Rick’s porch. “Can I come in?”
Rick glared, it was obvious he wanted to say no. Ford could only hope he cared enough about Stan to get over his own ego.
Finally, the other boy stepped to the side, and Ford entered.
Rick’s house was . . . simple. There weren’t a lot of decorations. The entryway was just a hallway that led to what looked like the kitchen with a staircase branching off to the right. Rick motioned for Ford to follow.
The wooden stairs creaked under his feet on the way up. When they reached the second floor, Ford thought he heard a television coming from one of the bedrooms, but Rick didn’t lead him toward it, instead they stepped into what must have been Rick’s bedroom, which was as unassuming as the rest of the house. Ford was surprised, he’d have thought that Rick would try to make a mark on his own space.
Ford had never not shared a room, so the idea of just doing nothing with all the extra space was flabbergasting to him.
Rick shut the door with a snap, then glanced over toward the wall across from his bed with an expression Ford couldn’t interpret.
“Tell me what happened.” Rick demanded.
Ford unconsciously clasped his hands behind him. “He, he was –” It was only now that Ford realized the impossible task he had in explaining any of this mess to Sanchez.
“Did he run away?” Rick’s eyes were bright as they stared directly into Ford’s, which made Ford extremely uncomfortable, so he looked down at his shoes.
“What? No. He – ”
“Is he hurt?”
“No! Or at least, I don’t think so – “
“What the hell, Stanford, spit it out!”
“He was taken.”
“Taken.” Rick said flatly. “By who?”
Right. Right, how was Ford supposed to explain that his twin had been kidnapped by an older, more deranged version of Ford himself?
“Just tell me what happened, Stanford.”
So Ford did. He explained that he’d gone to the boat. He explained that he’d met a deranged old man. He . . . admitted that the deranged old man was himself from another dimension.
Rick didn’t bat an eye at the revelation, taking in everything Stanford said with a neutral expression on his face. Getting no visual cue from him, Ford was forced to continue.
To his horror, a lump started to swell in his throat when he got to the part about the older him taking Stan. He tried to cough to cover it up, but his stupid eyes started leaking again and he had to dash the tears away before Rick could mock him.
The situation was overwhelming. Someone from another dimension had taken his twin away. What was he supposed to do? He’d taken Stan and Ford might never get him back.
A sob Ford desperately tried to keep inside managed to wrest its way out, and Ford nearly choked on it. He managed to get himself under control, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his arms and biting his tongue until the overwhelming grief and despair started to fade.
Rick still hadn’t said anything.
“I - I need your help,” Ford finally managed despite the words burn. “I know you’ve been working on portal tech. If we work on it together, we can get it working. We’ll be able to go after Stan. We can save him.”
Silence.
Rick was not known for being silent. Ford forced himself to look up into the other boy’s eyes.
And immediately wished he hadn’t.
Fury had twisted Rick’s features until he was almost unrecognizable. Fire might as well have been shooting from his eyes. His fists were clenched so hard the skin was completely white and when Ford finally lifted his gaze he had about a millisecond to take all of this in before Rick punched him so hard his vision turned white.
Ford fell back, pain exploding along his cheek.
“You lost him?!” Rick screamed. “Twenty minutes after I make a move, you [censored] lost him? No, not lost, another [censored] version of you [censored] stole him right out from under your [censored] nose! You absolute [censored] moron! How could you let this happen? I can’t believe this happened. No, of course I believe it. If anyone can get him into that amount of trouble in the five minutes I let him out of my sight it would be Stanford [censored] Pines!”
Ford blinked.
“I – I couldn’t stop it.”
“Of course you couldn’t stop it. You’re a waste of human intellect. Stanley would have been better off if you’d never been born.”
That was too far.
Ford swung, catching Rick off guard and sending him to the floor. Stan had taken to boxing like a fish to water, but Ford was no lightweight.
“Stan and I are a set,” he hissed. “Wherever we go, we go together. That’s the rules. That’s what you signed up for when you decided to be Stan’s friend.”
“I don’t need –”
“And ‘make a move’? Did you [censored] assault my brother?” Ford itched to punch Rick again.
Rick stood back up and shoved Ford. “You’re damn right I ‘assaulted’ him. I assaulted him while he begged me for it. I [censored] assaulted him until he –” Rick was ready this time when Ford took a swing. He was able to dodge, but nearly overbalanced in the process.
This asshole had put his hands on Ford’s brother. Ford was going to kill him.
All of Ford’s insecurities, all the horrible thoughts he’d been thinking came to the surface. Sure, Rick wasn’t the one sending Ford the nightmares, but Ford hadn’t been wrong about Rick’s motives. He was trying to take Ford’s place. Ford was the one Stan turned to when he had a question, when he wanted to go on an adventure, when he wanted to pull a prank. Rick wanted to take all of that. Wanted to take away Ford’s brother and keep him for himself.
Forget his help. Ford was going to rip him apart.
The two grappled, Rick slamming Ford against the wall before Ford managed to shove him back. They made a racket, but no one came to stop them. Rick’s head slammed against the ground, but Ford took a shot to the face that left his head spinning.
“You don’t deserve him,” Rick spat. “He deserves better.”
Ford’s entire body trembled. His whole life, everyone had always told him he was the good twin. The smart twin. The twin with a future. Stan had always followed him around like a puppy, and there were times that Ford had resented him for it. But now he would have given anything to make sure that Stan stayed by his side for the rest of his life. He’d never let someone take his brother away from him again. He was going to get him back and then he was going to take him on the Stan’O’War and disappear for the rest of their lives. Go somewhere Rick would never be able to find him.
But if he wanted to do that, he needed the skinny bastard’s help.
“You’re not better,” Ford growled. “You’re a piece of shit hanging around in the mud and trying to drag my brother down with him. But neither of us are ever going to see him again if we don’t find him!” Ford took a deep breath. “Will you help me or not? I don’t have time to keep pounding your face in.”
“I’ve been trying to save Stan from you for months,” Rick snarled.
“Well then a few more hours won’t hurt you!” Ford wanted to wrap his hands around Rick’s neck and throttle him, but he held back. Stan was more important. Once Ford had him back, then they could figure the rest of this out, but he needed Rick to make that happen.
Rick better be damn glad that he was useful, because Ford was seriously considering how easy it would be to cover up a murder.
Rick was panting, his hands clenched. He glanced over at the wall again, then back to Ford. Ford wasn’t usually very good at reading other people’s expressions or body posture, but he had a feeling that Rick was thinking along the same lines as he was. First: bring back Stan. Then they could beat the shit out of each other.
Stan wouldn’t like that, but Ford was 90% sure that his brother would back him up if it really came down to it.
“Fine,” Rick said.
“Fine,” said Stanford.