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“I still can’t believe it even though it’s right in front of my eyes!” Ford startles and nearly skids his pen across his journal page as an excited squeal pierces the air from his side. He looks up from writing to see a chubby man in a green tee and hat squishing his own cheeks with a big smile and starry eyes.
“Two Mr Pineses!”
Right. The gopher man from last night. What was his name? ‘Sus’? ‘Zeus’?
“Calm your flaps, Soos,” Stan grumbles as he walks past carrying a box of whatever merchandise he’s made for day. “No need to gush over Ford THAT much.”
Right. Soos. Ford flips the page and notes it in his journal.
“But you don’t understand! I have written so many fanfictions on the mystery of Mr Mystery’s past but THIS is way better! Two twin brothers, a close bond fractured, and yet loyalty still persists!” Ford clears his throat, feeling awkward, while Stan purses his lips and turns back to rummaging through the box.
“If you two don’t mind too much, could you both do something nice together? Just one? I know we got a fight in the basement and a nice episode of backstory but none of it was ‘nice’ nice. You know?”
“Why would I EVER do anything with Stanley right now, let alone something nice?” Ford finally speaks, hissing with bittersweet venom. Anything nice between him and his twin has soured, leaving behind only grudges and hurt and heartache. Ford hears Stan still his hands in the box and and his form goes still.
Soos looks a little awkward yet he pushes just a little the way he always does (not that Ford knows that). “Aww, c’mon dood. I just think it’d be nice to just be nice, you know? It doesn’t have to mean anything…” Soos gasps, “unless you WANT it too?”
“Let me make this clear, Soos,” Ford says, closing his journal and puffing out his chest. “Never, in all of the multiverse and even in another 30 years, will I ever, even slightly, not even as a last resort, want to do anything, either good or even bad, with Stan-!”
There is a tap of heels as Stan suddenly twirls around. Ford yelps as a large strong hand fists the lapel of his jacket and firmly pushes him against the wall and pins him there, shocking the air of out his lungs and dropping his journal to the ground. Ford feels a warm solid body press against his side as Stan is just suddenly there, leaning in close and the other arm resting on the wall above his head.
Ford feels his heart fluster as he looks up at Stan’s handsome face because goddammit, he still has a handsome face. No amount of years past nor anger could change that fact apparently, not helped by the fine silhouette the Mr Mystery suit helped cut. Stan stares at him, intense and laser focused, lips slightly parted and their noses almost touching. Ford, in a panic, grips at the hand holding onto his jacket.
“S-Stanley!” Ford hates that he can feel, not just a flush working its way up his turtle neck and across his cheeks, but nostalgic memories of being in a situation very similar to this one surfacing.
Of punch-sticky kisses and matching suits and the sound of music playing inside the school gym as they make out in secret outside at the back. Ford’s fingers tremble on Stan’s wrist, conflicted on whether to pull him off or hold him there.
A loud gasp breaks Ford’s nostalgic reverie.
“Oh my GOOOOSH!” Soos bounces with glee much like a kid in a candy store. “All my fanfictions are coming TRUE!”
“You just said you never wrote any like this, Soos.” Stan gets off Ford casually like nothing happened and hands the handyman the box he was rummaging in. “Now if that’s enough fanservice for you, get these out and displayed!”
“Yes sir!” Soos is out like lightning, crashing into things in his excitement. Stan grumbles in a half-fond way.
“If he breaks anything bad, I’m docking his pay.” He looks back to Ford so is still against the wall, one hand holding himself up for support while the other grips at his chest. He’s flushed a pretty pink now, eyes dazed and angry and yet… confused. He’s opening and closing his mouth in the way he always does when he’s searching for words to say in the moment and Stan is still mad… but he still feels the old love twinge in a small pocket in his chest.
Ford is still cute to him. Will probably always will be for better or worse.
With a smirk, Stan leans over and pats Ford on the cheek. “Just payback for THAT. I say we’re a little more even now.” Picking up his 8-ball cane, Stan saunters off whistling victoriously while Ford pushes himself off the wall.
A few seconds later, Ford recovers his composure and grumpily wipes at his cheek even though there’s nothing there but the phantom of Stan’s touch.
Stupid… STUPID Stanley…
If the thought sounds just a little fonder than he wanted, he wasn’t going to admit it to anybody.