They walked into the living room, rick was still hauling the sack around.

"It's cold as fuck in here, have you ever considered turning up the heat, Pines?" Rick said with a shiver.

"You want it warm? You pay the bills, Sanchez." Stan grumbled.

"Asshole," Rick said with a roll of his eyes.

"You got any science crap in that sack, to keep us warm?" Stan asked.

"Sorta," Rick said and rummaged in the sack pulling out a bottle.

"Whiskey?" Stan said. "I got that already, it doesn't do jack."

"Distilling is a science…. after a few shots we'll be warm enough." Rick said. "Where's the kitchen? I'm getting some glasses for this."

Rick said as he wandered out into the hallway.

"To the right," Stan shouted after him.

Stan decided to have a rummage in Rick's sack too, Rick usually had some good stuff, that outweighed the booby traps, Rick would put in.. Stan didn't need all his fingers anyhow… He found bottles of liquor in various states of fullness, records, drugs & pills in plastic baggies…. weird inventions and alien shit… also lots of clothes, a sleeping bag, a tooth brush, and other toiletries…. no cash what so ever not even the weird alien kind… an idea dawned on him. 'Rick doesn't have a place to stay. That's why he's here. If he thinks he can crash here without paying or nothin'… but where would he go? Did Rick have a family? Rick once said something about that right?

Stan couldn't be sure, he hadn't found any photos that showed Rick did…

"HEY DO YOU HAVE SHOT GLASSES, STAN?!" Rick yelled from the kitchen.

Stan closed the red sack and shoved it aside. "

"TOP SHELF NEAR THE FRIDGE!"

Rick walked back from the kitchen with the two shot glasses. "Are these the same tacky pieces of shit from Vegas you picked up on our trip?"

"Hey! They aren't tacky!" Stan protested.

"All you're taste is your mouth, Stan." Rick said as he walked back in.

"I spent all my winnings on them!"

"All four dollars of it," Rick sighed. "I was there remember."

" I'm surpassed you can, you were high as fuck." Stan said.

"Ether," Rick said with a nostalgic smile. "Hey we gonna sit around gabbing or get shit faced."

Stan shrugged. "You're call, Sanchez."

Rick poured them a round in the shot glasses and handed one to Stan. They raised the glasses.

"Don't pussy out," Rick warned.

"Heh, you wish." Stan said.

Then both of them downed the shot first shot. It wasn't as smooth or easy as Stan remembered. He sputtered coughed and grimaced as it the whiskey burned its way down his throat.

"Old man Pines can't handle his liquor anymore!" Rick jeered

"It's been a while," Stan said. "Gimme another."

"You man enough for it?" Rick teased.

Stan felt warmth and pleasantly buzzed.

"Yeah, it's not my fault you buy cheap booze." Stan replied

Rick poured another shot. "Drink up, Grandma."

"Gimme the booze, Asshole." Stan rolled his eyes.

They swallowed down three more. At some point Rick put on a David Bowie album. Sitting in a drunken stupor with Rick curled by his knees, he felt marvelous, this was what friendship was all about… I mean there was no way they'd ever be lovers again not after last time.

"Can you still get it up?" Rick asked looking up.

"Whadda ya mean?" Stan began. "I'm not that old…!"

"N-n-no moron, I meant are you to drunk to fuck or what?" Rick asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Stan asked.

"You were one the best humans I ever— ever did it with…" Rick said.

"HAHAHAHAHA…. really?" Stan said. "Well, then you want… you can get it.."

He looked at Rick, but Rick had passed out. Stan sighed and then closed his eyes and fell asleep.