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"Drat..." Stan looks up from his magazine at Ford's hiss. At his desk, Ford turns slightly in his seat to frown at his fountain pen, a beloved instrument that has unfortunately begun reaching the end of its years.
"Out of ink?" Stan asks with sympathy.
"Not just that. It's been blotting lately. Something wrong with the nib...?" Ford unscrews the point to click his tongue as he peers inside. "It has been a while since I've tended to this. I liked this pen."
"If it's just the nib, we can either fix it or get one just like it," Stan tosses his magazine aside and stands, holding out his hand. "Give it here." Ford holds his fountain pen protectively to his chest. Stan affectionately rolls his eyes. "Ford."
"It's... It's just that I've had this pen since my days as a researcher. It's almost like it's grown up with me."
"Yes, yes. it is your baby. I get it. Relax, I am not gonna replace all of it. I'll find someone or some way to fix it up."
"Would you be able to find a place that even does that?"
"It's an old pen, Ford. I've fixed an interdimensional portal through sheer fucking will. I can fix a pen nib." Stan scoffs and leans down, resting his hand on the desk and the back of Ford's chair as he kisses his brother's lips.
Ford squeaks in surprise but nonetheless melts, tilting his head up as he kisses back and flutters his eyes shut. He hums softly as Stan leans in further and a hand cradles his neck, warm and grounding. He purrs and shivers as Stan nibbles at his lower lip while that hand trails down his shoulder, his arm, grasping his hand...
... and the pen is yanked from his grasp.
Ford squawks.
"Hey!"
"I'll take good care of your baby as co-parent," Stan jokes as he pats Ford's cheek and saunters out. "You can stay here and put up with biro pens until I get back. I know you gotta finish your thought in your journal." Stan blows a kiss over his shoulder. "Love you!"
Ford makes a show of pouting in his chair before caving and grinning lovingly.
"Love you too. Come back soon."
--
It took some hunting at the town they ported at, but Stan did find a stationary shop that could replace the pen nib exactly... at an exhorbitant price.
"Are you serious?!" Stan almost screeches. The shop clerk merely shrugs, almost smug.
"It's an antique. Don't be so surprised. Feel lucky we even stocked it."
"Feel lucky, my hairy asshole," Stan grumbles as he takes the pen back and stares at it. He could go out and find another shop that doesn't have a nib priced stupidly high. But like the clerk said, Ford's pen is old and he doesn't have all day to trek. Stan looks at the price again and grumbles to himself.
How much do I love Ford to pay for a stupid nib?
He thinks of the way Ford writes in his journals almost exclusively with this very pen. The way his eyes light up with curiosity and passion.
...I love him very much.
"Fucking fine," Stan hisses, slamming down the money. "Screw the stupid thing in fast."
"Thank you for your business!" Stan gives the clerk a withering look behind his back as they go to the back to search for the nib. He idly browses around, shop lifting some ink that he remembered Ford said they ran out of when he catches sight of something.
This... would Ford like this?
The clerk comes back out, pen cleaned out inside and nib replaced, when he notices Stan's interest.
"Those! Beautiful, aren't they? Are you interested? Those are also a pretty penny. But I can assure you, the feeling is worth it."
Stan is silent and thoughtful. It's not the most efficient gift. But... it's sort of Ford's style as well. I think it'd be nice in his hand.
"Are you getting one?" the clerk probes in an almost sing-song voice, trying to pressure him into making a choice. Stan made one.
"I'll take it."
--
"You really found one!" Ford happily took his fountain pen back. "It looks exactly the same! Stan, thank you!" He leaps up from his chair and gives Stan a kiss that has the other flushing.
"All that over a pen. Should I be jealous you like it that much?" As Stan shuffles around him, he tries to hide the long box hidden in his coat. He's beginning to second guess his choice.
I should've just gotten the nib. Why did I think this was a good idea?
"I nabbed some ink too," he says as he leans over to plop the ink bottle on the desk. "Not sure if it's good. But ink is ink so-"
"What's that?" Ford's keen eyes were not to be underestimated as he spies the shape in Stan's coat. "You buy something else?"
"What's what? There is no what. I dunno what 'what' you're talking about." Ford narrows his eyes and playfully circles his twin.
"Not showing off a purchase? Not like you."
"It's nothing, Ford!" Stan holds his jacket closed with both hands like a scandalised woman, which only has Ford grinning more. A set of 12 fingers start to tickle his sides.
"Come on. What is it? Is it for me? What would you get at a store for pens."
"I-It's noth- pft- haha! Ford! Do- heh! Haha!" Stan twists away and backs up but Ford chases after him, journal forgotten.
"Tell meee!"
"Ford! Careful! It's fragile!"
"Fragile, you say? Then I better look at it!"
"Sixer!"
Ford's hand finally dips into Stan's jacket and extracts a long black box.
"If it's for me, why wouldn't you give it to me, Stanley?" Stan tries to bashfully yoink the gift back, but Ford easily sidesteps him and pops the lid open.
And his mouth falls open.
"Oh Stan..." Ford delicately pulls out a gorgeous long glass pen, the glass as clear as crystal with a swirl of blue and red through it. The handle was elegantly twisted, flaring at the base and becoming frosted the further down it went, separating the nib with a ring of gold. He glides his fingers feather light over the twisted grooved point.
"Stanley, this is beautiful. I love it. Why were you so shy to give it to me?"
"... I wasn't sure if you would like it." Stan is looking anywhere but Ford. "It's one of those dip pens and you can't really use it on the go. It's glass so it can break. Really, it's mostly just for looks. But I thought... I dunno. You might like fancy stuff like that. But it's not practical. So-"
Ford gently puts the pen back into its foam case and strides over to kiss Stan firmly on the mouth, cutting off his words.
"I adore it," Ford says firmly when he parts away. "I adore it because you thought of me. Even if I can't use it often, I still love that you thought it'd make it happy. I'm happy, Stanley. It's a gift from you."
Stan purses his lips as his eyes start to shine and he gives Ford a tight hug. "So you like it. Good... good." He clears his throat to get rid of the lump of emotion blocking it. "Good! Because it was stupidly expensive. Why does a piece of glass cost this much?"
Ford chuckles and stores the glass pen box on his desk, right at the forefront, ready to be used. It doesn't escape Stan's notice and he is tickled by the appreciation Ford's showing him.
"I love it. I love you, Stan. Thank you for the pen."
"Anytime." Stan takes one of Ford's hands and kisses at the knuckles. "Anytime, Ford."