I've seen people do AUs where Ford goes with Stan after he gets thrown out, and resolution is achieved that way, or something similar, and I just asked myself, what if we tried resolving things a little further back than that? This fic was born from that.

The machine had to be okay now, right?

Of course it was. Ford was a genius. He wouldn't build something that could break just because some idiot hit the table right next to it.

Somehow, this train of thought wasn't making Stan feel any better.

He left school as quickly as he could and headed for home, hands jammed in his pockets.

And so what if it's not fine? a tiny rebellious voice in the back of his head demanded as the pawn shop came into view. Then he won't go away to that college and you can travel around the world like you always wanted-

The thought screeched to a halt.

He'd seen how excited and happy Ford was at the possibility of going. He couldn't risk taking that from him. No way.

"So," Stan said casually as he sat on his bed with a comic book clenched just a hair too tightly in his hands, "you sure that doohickey of yours is working okay?"

Ford cracked his knuckles and smiled proudly from where he sat at their desk (though by now it was more Ford's desk than Stan's). "It should be perfect for tomorrow."

Stan nodded and made his expression as casual as possible. "Of course, what am I saying, you made it. It's gonna be great. Those dumb college people are gonna have their socks knocked off. No way they wouldn't."

His twin laughed a little, and then betrayed his underlying nervousness by running his hands through his hair until it was sticking up in fluffy clumps on either side of his head. "You have way too much confidence in me sometimes."

Good, he was already opening up a window of doubt. "Nah, I've seen how it works. Besides, you checked it like a million times before setting it up, right?"

His brother froze for a few seconds, biting his lip uncertainly, before grabbing his jacket and pulling his shoes back on, then sticking his tool kit in his pocket. "Maybe I'll do one more check just in case. The school's still open, right?"

"Do you want me to come so I can help you break in if it's locked up?"

Ford laughed, still with the nervous undertone. "Maybe I'm just being silly."

No no NO

"It's no problem, bro." Stan put aside the comic and pulled on his own shoes. "Gives me a chance to practice for being a criminal mastermind one day."

Ford snorted. "You just want to raid the teacher's lounge snack cupboard again, don't you?" But he had finished standing up, and was heading for the door.

"Hey, the stuff in there is tons better than what the cafeteria gives out." He didn't show his relief as they sneaked out of the shop and headed for the car.

A window right by the part of the cafeteria where the science fair projects were set up was easy enough to jimmy open, and Stan gave Ford a boost up before climbing in after him.

"I'll see if they have any jelly beans," he whispered as he snuck down the hall towards the teacher's lounge.

Ford snorted. "I wouldn't count on it," he called back, making his way to his booth and pulling aside the tarp.

The laughter died in his throat when he saw that the machine was frozen in place.

Holy Moses, Stanley was right!

Quickly Ford turned it on its side and opened it up; to his relief it was just a problem with the fuses, easily fixed with the materials in his kit.

Soon enough the perpetual motion machine was peacefully turning again, and Ford could feel the terror that had risen in his chest dying away.

It was okay, everything was fine, he could do this, nothing to get worked up about.

But what on earth had happened to mess it up like that? It had been just fine when he left it earlier in the day, and there didn't seem to be anything nearby that could have disturbed it. Maybe it was the level of the table?

Ford stepped back, sweeping his gaze around for some kind of clue, and his shoe crunched on something.

He looked down at his foot.

His eyes, after widening in disbelief for a second, narrowed, and then glared.

Stan was carefully relocking the teacher's lounge after him, arms filled with snacks, when Ford came storming towards him, the empty toffee peanut bag clenched in one trembling, six-fingered hand.

"Would you care to explain what this was doing on the floor next to my science project?!" he seethed, thrusting it into Stan's face.

Just for a second, he could see the guilt in his twin's eyes before he said casually, "It's an empty bag, Sixer, I imagine it was just lying there-"

"Don't lie to me! You broke my project, you-you-" He was having trouble thinking of a word that could adequately express his current wrath.

"Not on purpose! Besides, you got it fixed, right?" Stan took a small step back.

"That's not the point!" Ford exploded, not paying any attention to the first sentence. "How could you do that?! Don't you care about what this means to me at all?!"

Even in the shadowy lighting, he saw Stan's pale face darken. "Do I care about you?!" he snarled back. "I'm not sure you care at all about me! Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life just scraping barnacles off the taffy shop?! Just because I'm not a super genius doesn't mean I don't want to get out of this stupid town just as much as you do, and I wanna do it with you!"

It was the biggest wake-up call Ford had ever experienced to that point. And before he could give any kind of answer, the bags of snacks were being thrown into his face, and Stanley was running away down the hall, eyes brimming with the beginnings of angry tears.

Ford only froze for a second before chasing after his twin, nearly turning his ankle on a bag of jelly beans.

"Stanley, wait!"

Stan could hear his brother calling him, but he didn't even slow down. He just burst out the first exit he could find, and thundered down the steps, racing across the street towards the Stanley-Mobile.

He was just fumbling the keys out of his pocket, ready to drive away somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here, when a wiry body crashed into him from behind, grabbing his arms and nearly making both of them eat asphalt.

Stan managed to regain his balance quickly enough, his bulk proving an advantage somewhere besides the boxing ring. He tried to pull away, but Ford spun him around and caught his shoulders in a strong, six-fingered grip.

"Let go!" he demanded, thrashing backwards without success.

"No! Stanley, calm down and listen to me."

"I don't wanna hear it!" Stan yelled. "I get it, this is your dream school and I nearly ruined your chance of getting into it! I-"

"Stanley."

Something about Ford's voice managed to cut him off. He just stared at his twin's shirt collar, sniffing a few times as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

For a few seconds Ford didn't say anything. Then he said, softly, "Look. Yes, this is a big opportunity for me, getting into this school."

Stan clenched his fists so tightly he could feel the edges of his nails, short though they were, biting into his palms.

"But that doesn't mean I-" Ford faltered. "What I mean is-oh, shoot, Stanley, the idea of being separated is scary for me too, okay?"

Hesitantly Stan raised his head and looked at his face. He could see no lie in Ford's eyes, even with the nearby street light reflecting off his glasses.

Ford gave him a small smile and squeezed his shoulders. "Just because I'm excited about the idea of going to West Coast Tech doesn't mean I'm not nervous about everything that goes with it."

Stan's eyes just dropped again. "I don't wanna lose you, Ford," he muttered. "And nobody thinks I have any kind of future outside Glass Shard."

Ford swallowed. "Let's sit down, okay?" He steered his twin, who walked with him numbly, to the car, where they ended up perching on the hood side by side.

"You could prove them wrong," Ford said. "You're pretty smart, no matter what everyone else says, you can graduate on time if you make the effort. And maybe after high school, you could-get a job somewhere nearby me, and we can go sailing during weekends or something."

Stan didn't answer, staring glumly at his pant legs.

"...We can figure this out, okay?" Ford put a hand on his back. "Just because I want to do something else with my life right now doesn't mean you're not still my favorite twin."

That finally earned him a small huff of laughter. "Now you can never point out how 'incorrect' that phrase is when I use it again," Stan said.

Ford just wrapped both arms around his twin, and held him for a few minutes.

Until the sound of nearby sirens reminded them that maybe they ought to be somewhere else before someone realized that the school had been broken into.

There. Those idiots said what they should have said all along. I feel better now.