Rainy days aboard the Stan O' War II most often meant spending the day inside the ship's cabin. Neither Stan nor Ford would complain (though they loved adventure, they'd had enough excitement to last both their lifetimes); restful days were welcome.

But they could also be boring.

Like this one.

They'd been at sea for awhile, and were currently traveling to their next destination, which meant that Ford didn't have much to write about at the moment. Stan couldn't ask his brother about his research if he wasn't doing any research (usually Ford was all too happy to explain his studies to Stanley), and the bad weather prevented him from getting into trouble on the deck of the ship. And while neither of the twins was in a bad mood, neither of them felt much like talking, either.

This was why, to occupy his mind, Ford found himself scribbling and solving equations on one of the pages of his journal. Stan sat across from him, with an expression reminiscent of someone watching paint dry.

"That's wrong."

Ford blinked, and Stan couldn't tell if he seemed more surprised or insulted.

"What?" He asked. He rechecked his work, and Stan couldn't help the snort that escaped him. Now Ford definitely looked more surprised.

"How did you know that?"

Stan frowned, crossing his arms.

"Why wouldn't I know that?"

"Because you hate math?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Stan glared into the middle distance. "But unfortunately I've had to get pretty good at it over the past thirty years. Between running a business and trying to restart that stupid portal..." At Ford's frown he gave one of his showman smiles, puffing up as he pressed a hand to his chest. "You should be impressed! I even file my own taxes!"

Ford looked horrified.

"You committed tax fraud in my name?"

"Who said anything about tax fraud?!" Stan snapped. "You think I wanted the Feds poking around the mystery shack with your armageddon machine in the basement? I just wasn't gonna pay someone to tell me how much I had to pay someone else."

"I suppose that makes sense…" Ford said (still hoping he didn't now have a criminal record in this dimension, too). "So you've spent the past thirty years doing math?"

"And reading. So. Much. Reading."

"At least you liked reading," Ford offered weakly. (Or he had when they were children.)

"I like reading comic books, Sixer. Not textbooks." He gave his twin a teasing smile as he pointed to his eyes. "See these glasses? Your fault!"

"Really?" Ford bit back a smirk as he crossed his arms. "You're sure that's not just because you're an old man?"

"Hey, my vision was 20/20 before I started spending every night in that basement, trying to learn about science and nerd equations." Stan said. "You should've installed some better lighting down there."

Ford tried not to snort (that had been the least of his priorities), and instead gave his brother a smile as he laid a hand on his arm.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you never have to go back down in that basement again."

"You know what?" Stan grinned, "It does."

"So, you wanna help me solve some more math problems?"

"Absolutely not."