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Stan's never really been much of a crying drunk. He's more of a stupid asshole when he drinks, hitting on woman, throwing glares back at men who watched him. Even started a surprisingly deadly bar fight.
Stan's never been an emotional drunk because when he drank, he was a bar. Tonight would be the first time he was drinking on his own. It was all fun and games until that damned photograph fell from the sun visor right stop of Stan's lap.
Of course it had to be that one. Of course it did.
It was the Stan O' War. His lifelong dream crushed by his smallest (biggest) mistake he's made in his life.
He still remembers the sheer rage on his brothers face when he came home that night. He was crestfallen, burning with rage. He'd never seen Ford like that before. And he's known him for 17 years. That’s saying something.
Stanley Pines had been nothing but a leeching, fool. It left him homeless, maybe a few side jobs while he was still in the city before he got ran out. But in the end he knew he wasn’t worth much. Pa made that pretty fucking clear when he was kicked to the curb, pleading for Ford’s input. It wasn’t till Ford drew the curtains that he realized that he was so selfish. He knew it was a mistake, but he had wished he just told ford, god damnit. Sure he would've been mad, but at least ford would be able to fix it and then go off to his dream school, leaving Stanley in the dust with promises of visits that would happen every few months. Stanley was scared then. He didn't mean.
Ford, i didn't mean it.
Ford, im' sorry.
Ford, please.
A droplet of water fell to the photograph, but it didn't stop there. He kept crying because he felt like his damn throat was trying to strangle him, forcing himself to breathe air he felt like he didn't deserve. Shuddering sobs racked his body as he slammed a fist on the dash of the Stanley Mobile. his head began to hurt but the waterworks kept coming, he couldn't… couldn't stop fucking crying. And it was the worst possible time to start this, being in a dimly lit alley way in a dangerous part of town, but a part of him parked there because he was hoping someone could simply stop the pain. Put him out of his absolute misery.
He wasn't good for shit.
Actually, shit could probably be less of a screw up than he was.
He had began to hiccup, his head pounding, his eyes burning with new tears engraving their trails down his face
“F-fuck. Get together fucker. You did t-this.” Stan growled to himself, He stared at the flask in his hand before he threw it into the passenger side ground. He tried to gain his composure, he really did but all he ended up doing was crying himself to sleep, the photo crumbling in his grip. Sober Stan would freak out about the creases, trying to smooth them out. But Stan didn't care right now. Stan was emotionally unstable, letting out quiet sobs as he felt his heart racing in his chest with memories of him and his brother. The good and the bad. Back when he used to be someone in his high school years. He was passed out by the time a silhouette made itself clear from the darkness.
---
Stan woke with a start, his head pounding, his face felt dry, his nose crusty.
“Ah you did it again Stanley. Drinking yourself to sleep to the point of pain.” Stan said aloud not really talking to anyone. “Shame no one put me out.” he muttered to himself quietly.
He heard a quiet intake of breath behind him and it wasn’t until then that he became fully aware of the presence in his car, the photo from his lap gone.
Stan swallowed, not moving a muscle. “Listen, buddy. I don't have much, but you can take whatever you like. I wouldn’t be mad if you decided to kill me and take my car.” He mumbled carelessly. If he was without a car here, he'd truly be homeless. He only ever felt like home in his car. He didn't have much but just that.
“ Stanley .”
Stan froze.
“How could you say that?” The voice asked again. He didn’t dare look back. He was so afraid that this wasn’t real.
He might prefer that it wasn’t, actually.
He took a deep breath. “Alright, Stan, you're still drunk or something. There’s no way Ford would be able to find you, virtually off the grid. This isn’t real.” he spoke to himself, closing his eyes, hearing another sigh coming from the backseat.
He felt a hand cup his shoulder, just barely shaking.
“It’s me, Stanley. I am here and in the flesh.”
“Why.” Stan deadpanned, feeling his heart drop into his stomach.
“Nevermind that.” Ford muttered. “Stanley please look at me.” Stanford pleaded.
“No.” Stan muttered, his voice falling quieter with every word.
“Stan-”
“No, Ford! I can’t. I just… i just can’t” Stan said, his head beginning to thunder again like it had last night.
The care fell silent, slight shifting as Stanford removed his hand from his brother’s shoulder.
“How’d you get in here anyways” Stan asked, not tearing his gaze away from his lap.
“I happened to be in the area when i heard you slam something in the car as I passed by. I thought it might’ve been someone who needed help or something, but I saw it was just you. Stuck Around until you passed out with the photo crumpled in your hand.” Stanford explained.
“Oh, so you didn’t come looking for me. I’m not surprised to hear that.” Stan scoffed.
“It’s not like that Stanley. I assumed you would’ve… would’ve-”
“Would’ve what, Stanford?” Stan snapped, finally whirled around to face his brother, anger piercing his face like a million daggers.
Stanley hadn’t shaved in what seems like weeks, he was wearing stained white t-shirt, eyes red and bloodshot.
“Lived in a big ol’ mansion? Managed to get a job at that dumb bike shop on the boardwalk? Or maybe you thought i managed to get Pa to take me back in?” Stan’s eyes flickered on that last line. Stanford just stared back at him, stuttering over his words as he tried to come up with something feasible.
“Stanley, i-”
“Oh, can it, Ford. just admit it. You didn’t come looking for me after Pa kicked me out because you thought he was right to do it. You didn’t want me hanging off your coattails anymore. I get it. Door’s that way, feel free to leave right away.” Stan answered, even doing the duty to unlock the back doors.
Stanford was silent.
“Well?” Stan looked back at Stanford who just looked at him with sadness and pity. Of course that would piss Stan off more.
“Stanley do you really mean… that ?” Stanford asked, holding that damned photo in his hand, staring down at it.
“Of course I did. Stanford, I live out of my car. I've got people trying to kill me across the U.S. and Columbia.hell, probably the world. I don't get the luxury of getting a job, I don't have the luxury to have three meals a day. I don't have the luxury of… of having a family anymore either.” Stan retorted, sadly. Of course, that broke Stanford’s heart. Stan looked back up at Stanford. “So of course i want someone to knock my lights out. I got nothing to live for.” He ended on a shaky note.
“Stanley, i’m you’re family. I didn’t know where to look,where to find you the day after you were gone. I figured you’d be at the Stan O’ War, but you weren't.”
“Ford.”
“Yeah?”
“You fucking hate me. And that okay. Its been what? Nine? Ten years? You’ve made absolutely no moves to find me, to contact me. You just so happened to stumble upon me in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t hate you, Stanley. I… I don't. I can't bring myself to hate you. I was childish-”
“No, you weren't. You are rightfully to be hating me, I guess. I did ruin your chances to ever getting into your dream school. You have every right to hate your screw up brother.” Stan moaned almost, feeling lost and dread. He wanted to leave so badly. “Stop trying to pity me and just go.”
“Stanley come stay with me.”
“What? Are you crazy? And risk ruining your life again? There's no way i can do that to you again!” Stan looked up at Stanford bewildered. Stanford shook his head.
“You said it yourself, Stan. you live out of your ten year old car.” Stan looked like he was gonna protest, Stanford spoke before he could say anything. “Look, Stanley. You can stay at my place for a few months until you get back on your feet. I have a spare room in my attic in Oregon. Please just come with me. You can just stay in your room for all I care. I just want you off the streets.”
“You’re hilarious.” Stan let out a gut wrenching laugh, it sounded self deprecating. It hurt Stanford more than he expected.
“Stanley, i'm serious-”
“I don't need your fucking pity Ford. I'm doing damn fine on my own.” Stan’s voice leaked venom, his eyes nearly turning blood red from the stress.
“You just said you wanted to die. I don't know about you but I will not leave this vehicle until you agree to come with me.” Stanford growled from the back.
“You won't leave? Then fine. I’ll leave. Take my car and get outta here.” Stanley reached for the door handle, but Stanford was quick to pull door back closed.
“What the hell-?”
“You're coming with me Stanley, whether you like it or not.”
“Like hell i am- touch me again and see what fucking happens.” Stan growled at Stanford he threw his arm off of himself.
Stanford clenched his jaw, his eyebrows tight knit with anger. “Stanley, i'm warning you.”
“Or what, Poindexter? What are you going- fuck! ”
His right side exploded with pain, his jaw becoming loose, his nose reacting to the excruciating pain by numbing itself. He felt his nose spill over and looked down just as the first drop of blood settles into his tee. He held his nose and looked at Ford, who had his jaw clenched, his knuckles lightly bruising.
“What the fuck was that for?!” Stan cried (mildly impressed with the right hook he was able to pull off perfectly.)
“That was for you admitting you want to die. I don't think you’d want to find out all the other reasons why I should punch you right now?” Stanford threatened.
Stan just on looked his brother, taking his first good luck at his “older” twin. He was the complete opposite of Stan. He was clean, shaven, his hair was neat and his clothes were wrinkle free (as wrinkle free as they would get in the hands of Stanford Pines.) the photo was on the seat next to him.
Stanford looked rather ready to throw another in his way but Stan started to laugh.
Of course it threw off his brother. He looked at him, his head cocked to the side in confusion.
“You really wont budge, will ya?” Stan asked, his chest flooding with warmth he hasn't felt in years.
Stanford shook his head. “Stanley, I just want you to be in good health and care. We can talk about… the thing, later i guess. But i forgive you. Just… please come with me Stanley. I miss my brother and i don't want to wake up to a news report of your death.” Stanford looked at him with a small smile, eyes filled with doubt.
“I just want to make it clear, that if you give me another pity look, i’ll throw myself off the roof.” Stan said, turning away from Stanford.
“Does that mean you will come with me?” Stanford asked, it was really hard to pick up the relief in his voice.
“Only because you’re threatening me.” Stan joked, looking in the review mirror to see his brother smiling at him.
“Great. I uh. I don't have a car we could use.” Stanford said quickly.
“How the hell did you get all the way to New Mexico from fucking Oregon without a car?” Stan turned around to face his brother who was looked rather sheepish.
“Science thing gone wrong, i suppose,”
“How-?”
“I really don't want to talk about it right now.” Stanford declined. “Are you okay with driving up there? I can pay for expenses if needed.”
“Yeah. sure Ford. Sure.”
It wasn't until they got out of New Mexico that Stanford climbed into the front seat. It was quiet, other than the small ramblings of the radio softly in the car. It was comfortable.
“Thank you, Ford. and I really am sorry.”
“You don't need to thank me. I just missed my other half.”
Stan looked at Stanford with a smile entering into another state to lead to a place he could call home.