Its my birthday, but its one in a long sequence of not so great birthdays. Although at least the year as a whole is waaaaay better.
So, if you have the time and the motivation and if I say pretty please, could I have some Stan twins birthday fluff? Please, please?
I just adore the way you write them so, so much.
Happy Birthday! Birthday fluff be upon you!
Stan woke that morning before the sun, slamming a hand on his alarm before it could go off and quickly turning it off before it could wake up the whole house.
Although saying he woke up implied he fell asleep to begin with. He'd been too wired and anxious to get anything but a restless doze, and he'd been peeking at the clock of the last fifteen minutes before he gave up entirely.
With cat-like grace he rolled out of bed, and with man like vision he slammed a knee into his dresser and shoved a fist in his mouth to muffle the shout. A quick pat around his night stand found the lamp, and he hurriedly turned it on and got dressed in the dim light.
It was a big day after all, might as well start early.
Once he was somewhat decent he carefully turned off the lamp, shuffled to the door, and slowly opened it, lifting it by the handle to avoid any creaking. The rest of the house was silent as he crept out into the hall and downstairs to the kitchen, the only noise the creaking of the house and the occasional snore from Fords room.
Perfect.
All the ingredients were right where he left them, and he eyed the clock for a moment before shrugging. It was four thirty, Ford usually woke up around six if he went to bed when Stan told him to (which was rarely), having everything done early wouldn't hurt anyone, and if the boys got up he could get them started before the day.
With that decided he went about making stancakes, special birthday surprise edition.
It wasn't every day you celebrated your birthday with your twin after a decade of silence after all.
Stan had spent all month planning it out. He'd start with a birthday breakfast, hand ford his present, and then!
That was it. He'd had all month to plan some kind of birthday surprise, but a lack of funds and ideas had left him with nothing more than pancakes he couldn't even steal the ingredients for and a present that was a literal rock he'd picked up off the ground.
Sure it was a magic rock Ford has spent three days looking for in a magic clearing two weeks ago that Stan had found in fifteen minutes and pocketed, but still. A rock.
Life was hard when stealing turned you into a cat, and you were legally declared dead and the only money you had in your name went into buying pancakes for a birthday celebration you weren't sure your brother remembered. Stan had tried stealthily asking Ford if he had any plans or if he knew what day was coming up, but his brother had been a stone wall the last two weeks, brushing Stan off and hurriedly hanging out with Fiddleford of all people.
It was fine though. Not like Stan had celebrated since-
His thoughts were interrupted by a sound at the door, and he turned to find Ford, bleary eyed with his shirt on inside out and his pants backwards. His hair was a mess of curls, his glasses crooked, and there was a line of drool going down his mouth.
"Stanley?" Ford whispered, still husky with sleep, "what are you doing up so early?"
Stan looked at the clock. Five-o-five. He usually got up at seven, but he also didn't have a job or schedule, so it wasn't too surprising.
"Breakfast." Stan waved a hand at the small pile of stancakes, "What's got you up so early? Your shirts inside out."
"Oh! I... thank you. Let me just-" Ford quickly grabbed his shirt, then stared at his pants before sighing and wandering out. He came back a few minutes later, clothes fixed, droll gone, and hair tangled in a new and exciting way. He murmured another thank you when Stan handed him a plate, then stared at the stove with a frown.
"They're gonna get cold."
"Right!" Stan shook his head with a smile as Ford staggered to the table, set down his plate, then shambled over to the coffee machine. Stan had gotten a pot going when Ford left to fix his clothes, and he snorted when he caught sight of Ford staring at it like it had insulted him personally by not being done already.
Neither of them spoke. Ford drank his coffee and shoveled stancakes in his mouth, while Stan got his own cup and finished flipping the rest of the stancakes while the rest of the house slowly shuffled in. Each of then gave him a funny look as they walked in, like they'd never seen him make breakfast before.
Ford seemed to be hiding behind his mug as well, and Stan felt his insides squirm.
No one had said anything besides a muttered 'good morning' and a few requests to pass things. When Stan finally got a moment to sit down the atmosphere got even more tense, and he shot them all a wide grin in response.
He had no idea what was happening
"What's with you guys, wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"
"Just surprised you got up so early." Carla said, drowning her stack in syrup and staring dead eyed at Ford for some reason, "you usually sleep in."
"Couldn't sleep!" Stan smiled wider and stabbed a stancake, heart thudding as Ford continued to try to find the secrets of the universe in his and Carla looked at him like their pa.
"Any reason?" Her stancakes were looking more like a stansoup. Maybe a oatmealey.
"Nope!"
Ford sank further into his seat, and the boys shot everyone questioning looks
"Isn't it-" Shifty started to say, before Ford slammed his hands on the table and stood.
"Well the first bird gets the worm as they say, and I intend to stop those birds, before any more of them eat the gummied worms I've been studying in the yard. If you'll excuse us."
Stan watched Ford grab the boys by the shoulders and drag them away, then started as Carla sighed and got up to follow.
All of their stancakes were barely touched (except for Shifty, who had cleared his plate and had been in the middle of guzzling a bottle of syrup).
Stan stared at the table, poked his breakfast, and sighed. He fished out a container and put the remaining pancakes in the fridge, then cleaned up breakfast, watching the sun rise over the woods out the window.
There was no sign of Ford in the yard, and he watched the dreaded birds peck the rainbow worms out of the ground and fly away.
Once breakfast was cleared he snuck back into his room and grabbed the box he'd stuck the rock in. It was glowing blue and had a bunch of designs on it, and he stared as it slowly shifted colors.
The first birthday in a decade, and he couldn't even get breakfast right.
Figures.
Maybe he could still salvage it. He could probably scrounge up a cake before dinner, maybe laugh it off as an attempt to remember how to cook something else beside pancakes and canned goods. Then slip the rock under Fords pillow and act surprised when Ford found it there.
Better yet, put it back in the woods and maybe convince Ford to give looking for it another go. Act like nothing happened. That it was just another day.
Decision made, Stan eyed the door before walking towards the window. The clearing wasn't too far away, he'd be there and back in ten, twenty minutes, and no one would have to know about his failed birthday attempt
So with heavy footsteps he made his way to the window, grabbed the edge, and threw it open.
Then stared at Ford, as his brother scrambled around the yard, launching streamers at branches, with his front covered in green and red paint. The source was obvious, as painted in a rush on a large sign hanging from the trees was 'Happy Birthday Stans' with a Ford shaped imprint on the end, the whole thing still dripping paint as Shifty hurriedly tied it off. Carla was calmly setting up tables and chairs, while Fiddleford was running around like his life depended on it, setting some electrical doodads up along the edges of what looked like a surprise birthday party gone wrong.
He had no idea how they got so much done without him noticing, as their whispered yelling could be heard from the second floor.
"-don't know! I wasn't prepared for such an early deviation!" Ford was quietly yelling his throws getting worse with every miss, "what was I supposed to do!"
"Have breakfast with him, instead of running off." Carla replied, barely hushed as she moved on to throwing table cloths over the tables, "we could have set this up by ourselves. We were supposed to set it up by ourselves. That was the plan, remember?"
"That was before Stanley woke up first!" Ford hissed back, "I told you we should have used the fairy dust to ensure-"
"We weren't going to let you drug yer brother so you could throw a surprise party Stanford," Hissed Fiddleford, and then Emma-May was walking around the side of the house, holding bags that looked full of food and Stan couldn't take it anymore.
"You were going to drug me!" He yelled down, not bothering to stay any kind of quiet. Ford screamed at the top of his lungs, and it was only due to his deteriorating aim that the wadded up clump of steamers missed Stan and slammed into the side of the house.
Stan didn't let that distract him from the real issue.
"Really? Drugs?" He continued, climbing out the window and carefully climbing down so he could yell at him face to face, "you couldn't just, I don't know, eat the food I lovingly slaved away to make?"
"You weren't supposed to make breakfast!" Ford snapped, the paint really taking away whatever glare he was trying to send Stan's way, "I was supposed to make us something, then you'd come down and we'd have breakfast and talk about-"
"We could have done that anyway!" Stan threw his hands in the air, the coiled knot that had been growing inside suddenly unwinding at full speed, "What's the big deal about who makes breakfast!"
"Because!" Ford yelled, before muttering something under his breathe and looking away. Around them the party set up continued, Tate snatching the streamers from Ford with a glare and running off to throw with much better precision
"What was that?"
"Because!" Ford muttered the rest again, face red even without the paint.
"Speak up, you know I cant-"
"ICOULDNTFINISHYOURPRESENT!" Ford yelled, scaring several birds and crossing his arms, "I couldn't- so I was going to make you breakfast, but then you were- and I didn't... I don't..."
Ford rubbed the back of his neck, and Stan's eyes burned as he took in his brothers hunched posture and the party getting set up in the lawn.
He'd been worrying over this for the last month. Their first birthday together, and all Stan could scrounge up was breakfast and rock.
Apparently all Ford could get was breakfast and a failed surprise party.
"Wow." He croaked, eyes wet from all the sun shining down, "Breakfast? Thats all you could figure out? More proof that I'm the true Alpha twin between us."
"Quiet you," Ford grumbled, shoulders raising and his own eyes wet (probably from the paint), "I had a plan, and you ruined it."
"Well, it was my plan first." Stan grumbled back, staring pointedly at the dripping banner, "I got your present squared away weeks ago, and I've been planning that ruined breakfast for the last month."
"Oh. I'm-I'm sorry Stanley, I just-"
"Just take it." Stan shoved the tiny box into Ford arms, crossing his own and refused to look at anyone, "go on. Open it."
"Aren't you supposed to wait until-"
"Aren't you supposed to finish breakfast?" Stan snapped, glaring at Ford, "Just open the box Ford, before neither of us get presents."
"Fine fine," Ford gave him a small grin, "Although there are other gifts. Shifty was very eager to pick something out, and Fiddleford decided to...."
Ford trailed off as he looked at the contents of the box. Stan couldn't look away, suddenly consumed with the need to watch Ford every reaction to what he was suddenly realizing was the worst present anyone had ever gotten in the history of birthdays. His brother pulled the rock out and turned it in the light, face unreadable as it shimmered and shined away.
This whole present thing was a mistake actually. No one should have to get anything for anyone ever.
"Actually I changed my mind!" Stan shouted, lunging forwards to snatch the rock out of Ford's hand, "This- that's the wrong present. I only had breakfast you suck now give me-"
Ford was quick to drop the box and shove it in Stan's face, and the two of them slapped at each other for a moment before Stan managed to lunge forwards and wrap a hand around the rock. Paint smeared into his shirt, still slightly wet and turning into a mess of brown as the two of them struggled. Ford shouted something, but Stan was too focused on disappearing forever to make it out.
In one quick motion he yanked the rock out of Fords hand, and had less than a second to croon his victory before there was a flash of light and he was face to face with Fords shins, rock hitting the ground between them.
His fur still had paint in it.
A pair of hands grabbed his sides before he could make a run for it, and much to his displeasure Ford held him to his paint covered chest, rubbing it in deeper and making his skin itch.
Put me down! Stan yowled, reaching for the ground when Ford leaned down to pick the rock up, and this better come out!
Ford didn't respond, too busy looking at the rock in his hand and wandering back to the house. A few of their friends called out behind them, but Ford ignored it and they ignored Stan's yowls for help.
Useless, all of them.
Ford carried him through the front door, down the hall, and into his study. Once there he made his way to the desk, rummaged through a few drawers, before pulling something out with a little 'aha' and setting it down on the desk.
It was a metal cylinder, about half the size of a VHS tape. Several buttons ringed the edge around a circle of glass, and on its base was a blue strip of color that looked like waves.
Stan grumbled as Ford shifted to hold him under one arm so he could fiddle with the side, and as he watched a small compartment popped open, sliding out of the cylinder. There was another circle in it, empty, with more runes connecting it to the sides
The rock fit in perfectly.
Stan's heart dropped to his stomach as the little compartment started to glow, and it grew heavier when Ford pushed it back in and the light spread to the rest of the device. Ford pressed a button on top, and from the circle came a tiny image.
It was of Stan, his own cat face sticking a tongue out and looking back in surprise.
Powered by the rock somehow.
The one Ford had been looking for.
The one Stan had had sitting in a box for weeks.
"Ahem." Ford said, lifting Stan up to sit in his arms properly, "I- There aren't a lot of power sources small enough to fit that also wouldn't overload it, but if you-" Ford pressed some more buttons, switching the picture away from Stan to some of Shifty and them, more of Stan as a cat, one with him sitting on the porch as a human, before the picture hovering over the glass disappeared, and a beam of blue light lit up the ceiling. The sun coming through the window made it look dimmer, but he could recognize the sound of the ocean anywhere, and the water like patterns on the ceiling weren't too difficult to make out.
"I know its our first, since- but I wasn't sure-" Ford scratched the side of his face, and a purr stuttered, even as Stan squirmed and his own heart dropped, "and then I couldn't finish it, so I panicked, but you-you-"
Before Stan could bite Fords hand and run away forever, his brother lifted him up and pressed his face into Stan's fur. Normally this would get an eye roll or a paw to Fords head, but all Stan could do was try and make himself small, his tiny purr gone the moment Ford stopped scratching and started shaking.
I'm sorry Ford, Stan mrrped, ears pinned and side even itchier now that Ford was shoving the paint further into him, I didn't mean to screw up your birthday suprise. Guess I-
Ford's shaking got worse, and he pulled away with a burst of laughter. Stan stared at his deranged twin, face now a brown swirl with reds and greens and slightly textured from Stan's fur, before Ford crushed him to his chest again and rubbed the bottom of his chin on the top of Stan's head.
"What a pair we are!" Ford laughed, looking down at him with fondness, "I've been despairing at finishing your gift, while you had the last piece this entire time! While I almost used the pancake mix you... that you... Oh. Oh I'm sorry Stanley, I've-"
Ford sighed and sat in his chair, either uncaring or blind to all the paint he was still leaving everywhere. Stan chirped and sat his chin on Fords arm while his brother ran a hand down his back. It felt nice, much nicer than the paint on his fur and the stone in his stomach.
"I've made a mess of things. Again. That was your present, and its for your present, and I ruined breakfast, and now-!"
Its fine, Stan meowed, staring at the little device as it continued to make ocean sounds, not like I was ever good at this birthday thing.
Their first birthday in a decade, and Stan messed it up. If he hadn't snatched that rock, if he hadn't tagged along with Ford that day, then they could have had their breakfast and Ford would have given him his present and-
"None of that." Stan hissed at the flick to his forehead, glaring at Ford as his brother stood and picked up the cylinder, "We can- its just our first birthday together, the presents. It doesn't matter. In fact!"
Before Stan could meow anything, Ford snatched up the cylinder, twisted it in his hands, and pressed more buttons, and tossed it back into the room behind him.
Then it exploded.
Stan stared in wide eyed shock at the tiny fireball, then at the small rock that slammed onto the carpet with the smouldering wreck of Fords picture device. Ford had the nerve to hum happily as he stomped out the embers and picked out the rock, tossing in his hand a few times before holding it up and smiling at Stan.
"Thank you for-"
Stan launched himself at Ford, and the two of them went down hard onto the floor. Hands grabbed at him, but he knew what he was doing. He easily evaded Ford's hands to bite at his hair and claw at his scalp, hissing his displeasure as he went.
That thing must have taken ages to make. More than a few weeks, and with way more thought than picking up a rock of the ground.
And Ford had just blown it up.
In the house for that matter.
"I'm sorry!" Ford yelled, hissing and yelling as they rolled across the floor, "I thought-"
No you didn't! Stan hissed back, what even was that! Why- wait!
Stan paused his attack, giving Ford enough time to pull him loose while he thought. With a groan Ford sat up, and Stan let his brother pin him to his chest while he thought.
It had been fairly easy for Ford to make that thing explode.
Too easy.
And yes, the explosion was small, but that wasn't important.
What was important was that Ford had planned to give him that thing, a device that could explode in his bare hands. And who knew what else.
What a pair indeed.
"I'm not sure what you're upset about," Ford grumbled, dusting himself off, "I'm the one who ruined your breakfast plans, the least I could do was make it even. Now, lets go get cleaned up and join the others. Shifty and Tate worked very hard to plan the day out, and later the Corduroy's will be coming over for dinner. Although I must warn you, they specifically said they were coming to celebrate Lee's birthday, so you might need to end the night as a cat."
Stan let Fords voice wash over him, then let Ford clean out his fur, chattering his displeasure at having to take a bath so early in the morning. Once he was done he trotted after Ford and yelled at him, demanding to know what else that thing had been designed to do, and what made him think Stan would be happy to have something that could explode in his room.
Ford didn't answer of course, but he did carry Stan back downstairs to finish breakfast.
The rest of the day was much better, now that neither of them had to worry about birthday presents and could instead enjoy the others company. Stan switched back and forth between forms, while Ford failed at even the simplest of child's birthday games. It got to the point where Shifty took pity on him and guided his hand for rousing game of 'pin the tail on the leprecorn', then sighed in defeat when Ford managed to somehow get it stuck to his coat.
They had a much better lunch, chatting and laughing right until the local gnome population took offense to none of them being invited, and finished the day off with a barbecue, courtesy of the Corduroys.
That night the two of them climbed up onto the roof, a much better upgrade from huddling around their window as kids. The kids were put to sleep, Carla had passed out on the couch, and the Corduroys had gone home, gone as quickly as they appeared.
Just like when they were kids, Ford brought a clock up, and the two of them laid side by side, gazing up at the stars while the clock ticked down to midnight.
And, just like when they were kids, the moment it struck Ford sighed heavily, looked at Stan, and said, "Ah, to be young again. you wouldn't understand, being so young."
And just like back then, Stan shoved his hand in his twins face and shout "We're twins! Our birthday ends at the same time!"
"No, see because technically" Ford sputtered and laughed as Stan shoved his hands in his face, muffling his words. The two of them arguued about who was older (neither) who was younger (NEITHER) and if being born fifteen minutes before someone meant their birthday started and ended fifteen minutes after yours (no).
Right until they almost rolled off the roof, and Carla wandered outside to yell at them to keep it down.
Stan snatched something from Fords pockets, then collapsed on the tiles and meowed sadly until his brother picked him up and carried him down and inside, bypassing Stan's room and collapsing in his own. They laid there, Ford still fully clothed and Stan furred, one brother giggling and the other chittering.
When the giggling faded Ford ran a hand down Stan's back and let it rest on top of him, gently pressing Stan down as his breathing evened out. Stan didn't move, instead twisting so Fords hand was on his stomach so he could grab it in his own paws and curl around it.
Neither lasted long, warm and comfortable and right next to each other after a long day. In just a few minutes they were both asleep, Fords chest rising and falling and moving Stan with it. In the morning Ford would wake up curled around his brother, a line of drool down his face and a camera flashing in his doorway, while Stan was snug in his arms, his coat thrown over his cat brother so only his head was poking out underneath Fords own.
It wasn't the best birthday they'd ever had, and it was far from the last, but it was good enough and they were together.
And that's all that really mattered.
