Work Text:
Rick shuffled into the kitchen, wearing a ratty looking bathrobe over his shirt and boxers. Dropping down at the table, he was disappointed to see that not only was breakfast not ready but Ford still hadn’t gotten into the coffee, which meant his tainted filters hadn’t been put to good use yet. The twin in question was standing by the door, watching as his brother paced in front of the sink. Occasionally he’d stop to stare out the window, looking into the woods, probably for any sign of his grand-nibblings and Morty, who were seemingly missing.
“So what’s cookin’ good lookin? I’m thinking pancakes,” Rick said, kicking himself back so that his chair was only resting on two legs and his feet were propped up on the table.
“Get your feet off the table,” Stan answered without even looking back at him. “If you want pancakes make ‘em yourself.”
Rick pouted.
“Awe now don’t be like that! Is this about Mabel running off? Because you know that she’ll probably be back before too long. She’s hung over and if I’m guessing right the boys went to look for her. She’s fine. Besides, none of this would’ve happened if Ford would just take a chill pill,” the man said, casting an annoyed glance at the other twin.
“Me,” Ford snapped, shoving away from the door and stomping further into the room, hovering over Rick. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t gotten her drunk in the first place there wouldn’t be a need for a ‘chill pill’. Really, Rick. What were you thinking? She’s sixteen! Right?”
“Yes, Sixer… The twins are turning Seventeen at the end of the Summer,” Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And it’s both your faults. Rick shouldn’t have let her drink. You shouldn’t have blown up the way you did,” the man said, turning back to the window.
“I wasn’t even yelling at her,” Ford protested as he jabbed an accusing finger at the lanky man stretched out at the table. “I was yelling at him! Not that I was pleased with her… But he’s the adult here!”
“God, Ford! It doesn’t matter! Y--you were losing your shit over something that sh--she had fun doing and enjoyed under the guise of it b--being ‘hazardous for her health’. LIke you, me, and Stan weren’t doing the same shit at her age. Yeaaah, Stan’s told me about the trouble you guys got into; and like she said, do any of you get pissed at Dipper when he does legit dangerous shit?” Silence reigned for a moment and then he threw his arms up, almost unbalancing himself. “See! Sh-she feels like you’re singling her out!”
Stan slumped a little, seeming to at least consider his words. Ford didn’t seem to hear a thing, or if he did hear him, he didn’t care. He squared his shoulders, looming over Rick. The blue-white haired man didn’t know if he was trying to be intimidating or what but it was annoying. One end of his brow started to climb up his forehead as he tilted his head up to look at him.
“Got something to say,” he snapped.
“What would you know about taking care of a child, Rick? If I recall you missed out on most of your own kid’s childhood. You take Morty out and nearly get him killed whenever it suits you. You can hardly take care of yourself. You’re a terrible person and I’m pretty sure the last person that any of us should take advice from on the human psyche,” Ford’s voice exploded in the quiet room.
Rick stared up at the man for a moment, then grinned meanly and swung his legs down from the top of the table. All four legs of his chair had barely touched the ground when he shot up from the seat, putting him nose to nose with Ford. The six-fingered twin took a step back, though his eyes still blazed challengingly. Neither really noticed as Stan hedged a little closer to them.
“W--what would you even know about being a person, Stanford, much less a good one? Because if you wanna start going off about people’s flaws. I--I can think of a few of yours,” Rick started, barely even registering it when he felt a hand on his shoulder, except to shake it off. “Y--y--you’re so wrapped up in your fucking work that it’s all you fucking have! And you can cry about being alone and how everyone labeled you a freak for having twelve digits but you know the real reason you’re alone? Because you’re a fucking prick who’ll abandon the only people who give a fuck about you because you built up some fucking fake ass story in your head about how even he was against you.”
The spindly scientist took a step forward, not caring his his chest bumped into the slightly shorter man’s.His eyes glittered meanly and his grin grew even sharper as he saw Ford shrink into himself, just a little. Lifting his hand, Rick jabbed roughly into the man’s chest, making him take a step backward. There was something like guilt lurking behind his glasses and Rick latched onto it with a vengeance.
“Y--yeah. Chew on that for a second. You were so d--delusional, building yourself up into some suffering martyr, too brilliant for th--the masses. The great Stanford Pines, shunned by all, even his own brother. And then, after ignoring him for how many years was it before you called him up to get him to do favors for you?” Spittle flew from his mouth as it rose in volume. “I--I might have missed out on my kid’s childhood, not been the best father, but I at least fucking tried! I came to see her! I told her how much I loved her every time I saw her, even if it di-didn’t stick! But you didn’t even bother to check in on your brother before deciding that he owed you a favor! He was willing to risk destroying the fucking world to pull your ass from between dimensions and all you did was give him fucking shit for it!! Th--the only real difference between you and me is that I’m trying to drown my guilt in liquor and I--I don’t even think you’re capable of feeling it.”
“RICK THAT’S ENOUGH,” Stan finally brought the whole thing to a halt, fists clenched at his sides as he glared at the man. When neither genius moved he shoved himself between them and pressed a meaty hand against Rick’s chest. “Think you need to take a walk.”
Rick worked his jaw for a moment before jerking his chin in an angry nod and turning around. He jammed his hand into the pocket of the blue robe and whipped out his portal gun. Of course, he wasn’t able to just leave without taking one more hit at Ford.
“Hey, you wanna see what happens when you figure out how to build a transdimensional traveling device on your own instead of getting the directions from a one-eyed triangle from hell,” he asked before pointing his portal gun at the wall and grinning as a lime-green portal appeared. “See you nerds later,” he said before jumping through the glowing circle and disappearing from sight.
Stan sighed as Rick disappeared from sight. Ever since he’d showed up with Morty the man had been almost everything that Stan had remembered. Which mostly meant that he’d been belligerent, drunk, and condescending to everyone. As always he acted as though he was the smartest person in the room (and he might have been) while treating everyone else like they were morons. Ford, in particular, had been singled out for abuse. The ill treatment quickly fostered a mutual hatred between them.
While Stan wasn’t a genius like his brother or Rick, he was pretty good at reading other people. Still, it took him longer than he would have liked to realize exactly why it was that his old friend wouldn’t cut his twin any slack. At first he’d thought that Rick was being Rick and having a little pissing contest with someone else that most would consider a genius. It wasn’t until he noticed the sour expression that would flash over the other man’s face every time his and Ford’s adventures came up or his twin entered the room. Stanford just really pissed Rick off.. Not that that made any sense. They had never even met until Rick showed up on their doorstep. All he knew about Ford was what Stan had told him when they’d been.. whatever they were… way back when.
The implications of Rick’s dislike for Ford because of how he’d treated Stan in the past wasn’t something he thought on. That was a can of worms he didn’t quite have the desire to open.
“Stan… Is that how you thought of me when we were, erm, estranged,” Ford asked, part offended, but mostly hurt. Rick, as usual, managed to strike a nerve.
“Nah, Ford,” Stan started, brow furrowed. “Not entirely anyway. I met Rick at a crappy time in my life. I was living rough and I was angry at you a lot of the time for thinking I’d purposely ruin your chances to get in your dream school.” Ford averted his eyes, looking a small bit ashamed. “Rick was more upset than I was, though.”
“I’m so sorry, Lee. I should’ve known better back then. You… You aren’t still mad at me, right,” Ford asked, stilted and uncomfortable in his moment of insecurity. He had been trying to rebuild his relationship with his brother over the past few years. To him, at least, it seemed to be working.
“Of course not, Sixer. Don’t worry about the past or Rick. For a while we were really close and this his misguided way of saying he still cares. I’ll set him straight whenever he shows back up,” Stan assured, giving his brother a friendly slap on the back.
“Stan, just what were you two back when you knew each other,” Ford asked suspiciously, assuming they’d done some sort of shady business together at the least. Apparently they’d become friends as well.
The question just made Stan sigh and rub the back of his neck.
“We were complicated,” he admitted before shrugging his shoulders and glancing away. Through the kitchen window he could see the kids shuffling toward the house. “So what do you want for breakfast?”
Just like that the subject was closed.