He woke up the next day feeling like death, stiff and hungover. He sighed and stretched he heard cracking, the house was surprisingly warm and it smelled like breakfast. Good breakfast, well nothing like a good breakfast for a hangover. He stretched and got up. Rick was in the kitchen, cooking up what appeared to be a skillet of brown meat hash, home fries and brewing coffee.

Rick glared at him. "Morning, where are your eggs?"

"Eggs are to expensive, these days. Gimme some coffee." Stan said.

"A please would be nice, Pines." Rick scowled

"I feel like shit, and it's your fault, gimme coffee, your lucky I don't sock you in the jaw." Stan grumbled

"Like the fuck you could beat me in a fight."

"I used too, I bet I still could." Stan smirked

"With the shape your in? Besides I let you win." Rick said rolling his eyes.

"If that's your excuse." Stan snorted

"What was that game we used to play? Who's the bitch? Winner fucked the loser." Rick smiled nostalgically.

"Oy, that game? We came up with it hopped up on speed. and last time I won, and I coughed up blood for three days afterward," Stan groused.

"Y-you only remember the bad shit, Pines." Rick said. "You fucking loved that game."

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, I did. Gimme some food."

"Sure," Rick said. He poured out coffee for both of them and dished out the hash and home fries.

They sat and ate talking about old times and bullshit.

"Last time I saw you, it was '81 Sanchez, you were settled down with the woman of your dreams and had a baby," Stan said. "What happened?"

Rick's expression changed to grim. " Things happened. She didn't get my work, she's not in the picture, neither is my daughter. Besides you came by to crash on our couch, and left in the dead of night no good-byes."

"Well, I could see I wasn't wanted, you were happy and she didn't like me," Stan said. "After Mexico, I pretty much knew what kinda friend you were."

"Oh that bullshit!" Rick crabbed. "You gonna bear that grudge forever! After all the other times I saved your ass."

Stan sighed. "You don't get it Rick, it isn't a score card, it's about being there when you need a friend."

Rick shook his head. "Alright fine, I was a shit friend then. What you want me to leave? I'll leave.'

"Naw," Stan said. "Right now you need a friend, and a place to stay."

"Why the fuck do you think that? There is planet of hot sexy aliens out there where I'm worshiped as a god! I could go there and get a blow job while I'm being fed peeled fucking grapes," Rick said.

"Why don't you?" Stan said.

"Because, space shit. " Rick mumbled. "You wouldn't get it."

"Ah, right. So where you before you came here? " Stan asked.

"I was staying at a branch of the Portland YMCA," Rick said. "They kicked me out cuz my asshole roommate complained about my lab. I just need the winter to sort things out."

Stan sighed. "And you aren't bouncing around the universe and shit because?"

"More space shit. "Rick sighed. "….. Right basically I'm considered a wanted c-c-criminal out there and the fuckers made it illegal and dangerous for me to get shit. Also my fucking saucer broke down, Stanley! I can't repair it with earth shit. I'm fucked Stanley."

"So you came here." Stan said.

"Yep." Rick said.

"You wanna not talk and eat now?" Stan said.

"Hmm-mmm" Rick sighed

In that moment, Stan decided that charging Rick any rent would be a bad idea. Also asking for that twenty dollars back. I mean why kick Sanchez, when he was down? He'd let him stay here until at least March, rent free. That was fair, right?