Stan got used to the insane amounts of noise coming from Rick's room and managed to sleep through them. Most of the time he'd sleep through them because he'd spent the night getting drunk or stoned with Rick. They'd fuck around, which meant everything but the act of actual sex. Just a bunch of grab ass and so forth. The saddest thing was the hustling was making him more money then the treasure hunting, which Stan kept at with the determination of a tick on flesh. He didn't think about the home he left, because it hurt too much, besides Rick was here and took up so much of his time. One clear night when they had enough money, Stan drove the car out to the beach, and they laid in the sand sharing a bottle of rum, looking up at the sky and just talking.

"Some day, Pines, Some day I'll visit all those fucking stars." Rick said.

"I don't see any stars," Stan said squinting.

"Fucking light pollution, doesn't lend itself to anything romantic," Rick said.

"Romantic? What do ya mean… this isn't a date?" Stan asked unsure. "Because I ain't queer."

"I wouldn't date you anyways, you're too easy," Rick said with a chuckle.

"Yeah?" Stan said taking a slug from the bottle and feeling the sweet rough liquor burn its way down his throat. "So are you, ya big slut."

Stan playfully gave Rick a punch on the arm. Rick punched Stan on the shoulder with a laugh. Stan punched Rick a little harder, Rick retaliated by socking him in chest. Stan lunged and tackled Rick, they wrestled in the sand, drunk and laughing. Stan had Rick pinned, or so he thought, but Rick rolled over and Stan was underneath, Rick grinned triumphantly, Stan pulled him down by the shoulders and to his own surprise, kissed the bastard, tasting the rum and cigarettes on Rick's breath, enjoying it. They made out a bit, grinding into each other, hard and desperate. Rick pulled back.

"So you wanna…" Stan began.

"Not here," Rick said. "Too much sand."

"Yeah it's getting in my butt-crack," Stan mentioned.

They drove back with the radio on. Stan couldn't find anything that wasn't static other than an oldies station playing Frank Sinatra singing Moon River. Stan moved his hand change it.

"Naw, I like it," Rick said and moved his hand over to Stan's thigh.

"Okay," Stan said, he actually liked Ol' Blue eyes.

He felt Rick's hand on his zipper, soon Rick's hand was rubbing his cock as Stan tried to concentrate on the road. The hand job was making it difficult, but they made it back to the motel in one piece. Rick lept out of the car and ran back to his motel room. Stan followed. They shouted mock threats and in-jokes through the orange streetlights. Rick opened the door, Stan got to the room and Rick was naked already grinning: "Whatcha waitin' for Stan?"

Stan shut the door as the feeling of lust and need rose inside of him.

"Nothin', Sanchez," Stan replied. He stripped off his t-shirt, jeans and boxers, then made a dash across the room to Rick, encircled him his arms, and tackled him onto the bed. Rick kissed him violently, Stan returned the kisses with equal fervor.

"Come on, we gonna fuck around or f-f-fuck?" Rick asked.

Stan chuckled and pulled back. "Eager aren't we?"

Rick rolled his eyes and pulled away from Stan, taking the other man but the shoulders, he pushed Stan down onto the bed and moved lower to Stan's cock. Stan gasped when he felt Rick's tongue licking and tapping on the head of his cock. He was trying not cry out but it felt amazing, as Rick worked at Stan's cock. Hot and wet Rick's tongue, lips, and mouth felt like bliss, a pleasure so sharp and pure Stan was reduced to swearing and gibbering. Then Rick pulled his mouth away.

"Hey why'd you stop?" Stan asked, plaintively.

"I'm horny too ya know," Rick said. He gave Stan's ass a pinch. "Roll on your back."

Stan looked confused but did as Rick wanted. Rick straddled him and slid down onto Stan's erection. This was ten times better than that skilled mouth, Rick rode him hard and impatiently. Stan thrust into the tight, hot, pucker, feeling like a god charged with sweet electricity. This feeling was like soaring, it was sharp as a knife but so delicious. Rick had his hands wrapped around his own cock jerking it as he rode Stan's dick, eyes screwed shut. Then for a moment Rick looked into Stan's own eyes. Stan felt thrill, beyond what was going on below his waist, he was so turned on, but he wasn't ready to come yet, the pleasure was building up and he was hovering close to the edge, each thrust taking him closer and closer. Rick slowed down and ground sweetly into him, it was like a syrupy sloppy pleasure, drawing it out and out. Stan could hardly stand it, then Rick sped up the pace suddenly and with a cry Stan cursed and almost came. It was almost unavoidable now. Rick's tight hole and rocking hips brought him over the edge once again and he came, his brain dissolving and muttering out nonsense words as he spurted. Rick came a moment later furiously jerking at own dick, spraying his load onto his and Stan's belly and yelling in Spanish. Rick collapsed on top of him while Stan was still inside.

After a few moments Rick said: "We need to take a shower."

"Yeah," Stan said. "Together?"

"Why not?" Rick replied and got off of Stan.

"Just so you know, I'm not gay or anything," Stan said as he followed Rick into the bathroom.

"Neither am I," Rick replied. "This is just the two of us having some fun. And I mean nobody's getting hurt, right?"

"Yeah," Stan said. "Just so you know, You might like taking it up the butt, I don't."

Rick turned on the faucet. "Hey don't knock it until you try it, Pines."

Under the hot water of the shower they goofed around, playing grab ass. After both toweled off, and they went back to bedroom. Rick rolled up a joint, lit and they smoked on the bed. Passing it back and forth, laughing and feeling floaty, blissful and…hungry. Well Stan had gotten used to the dull ache of hunger most days, and he wasn't exactly rolling in it, but he was starving and really, really needed…

"I gotta get some oreos." He muttered

"I need fritos." Rick added.

Stan took another hit and began to laugh. Rick took the joint from him and took a hit and giggled. "We can't afford any of this shit."

"Yeah but who said we're gonna pay for it?" Stan replied.

"Oh…yeah…" Rick laughed.

They drove to the local supermarket, going fast, swerving but not caring, it wasn't like there were cops and they didn't hit anyone. They found a cart in the parking lot.

Rick hopped in the basket and Stan gleefully sped into the store.

"Hold on," Rick said at the entrance. "Lemme do something." He pushed back the sleeve of his leather jacket and pressed a button on a strange wrist watch he had. Stan felt something a wave pass over them, a ripple in the air, but there was nothing there. Maybe this was just real good weed.

The cashier at the front looked bored and didn't see to care, as she read her Confessions Magazine.

They hurtled through the aisles, Rick shouting orders and grabbing things off the shelves. Time seemed to slow down a bit as they rocketed around grabbing things, Stan stuffed a lot of it into his jeans pockets. it was magical. Then they hit a display, knocking boxes of cornflakes everywhere.

"Fuck, we're in trouble now Sanchez," Stan said, in the tones of the very stoned and terrified, anxiety and fear pulsing through him.

"No, no… just hold onto to cart," Rick said. "Don't let go, trust me."

The cashier and a stock boy came and looked at the ruined display.

"Huh," Said the cashier. "Musta fell over."

"Yeah," Said the Stockboy. "I told Tom his stacking skills were shit."

When they left, Stan looked at Rick wide eyed. Rick grinned like a maniac. "Personal cloaking device, I tested it yesterday and it wo-orks!"

"Wha? Like in Star Trek?!" Stan was alarmed.

"Exactly like in Star Trek," Rick said. "And it's harmless…. mostly."

"Mostly, whadda mean Sanchez?!" Stan said as he wheeled the basket outside.

"It won't effect us for about 20 years, then I dunno we'll be old." Rick said.

"Oh," Stan said. "That's alright."

"Yeah," Rick said he pulled out another joint from his jacket pocket. He lit it, took a hit and handed it to Stan."Reeelax, Pines."

"Heh." Stan said. Stan took a hit and handed it back. He felt slightly calmer.

In the parking lot, Rick touched another button on his watch, and the cloaking field went away with a small audible pop. "It's not like we could rob banks with this… I gotta work on it some more for that, heat signatures are still visible through infrared, and it's a small cloaking field."

Stan loaded up the car. "So…. what are those effects?"

Rick hopped out of the shopping cart and looked at Stan. "I think uhhh, excessive drooling or tooth loss, cataracts and hearing loss. And I dunno that was just on a rhesus monkey I tested it on and a squirrel."

"We're not squirrels or monkeys, so… that won't happen right?"

"…Yeah, don't worry."

They got in the car Stan started it up. Rick grabbed a bag of fritos from the back and began to munch as Stan drove along. "Hey could ya grab the oreos?" asked Stan.

Rick crawled over the seat and grabbed the box, he lobbed it at Stan. Stan threw the cookies aside and swerved around a cat crossing the street, then he hit someone. There was sickening thump and crunch. "OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT! I DIDN'T SEE HIM!"

Rick was yelling something, Stan didn't catch because he slammed on the breaks. His heart was racing time was going weird, it felt like a tunnel he was traveling through, but that was just the pot talking. He grabbed the cookies, tore open the package and began munching.

Rick looked at Stan, "Why did you stop?"

"I just killed someone!" Stan said. "I didn't mean it, but the jury won't know that! I'm gonna get the chair!"

"Not if you keep going, no one saw right?" Rick said calmly, almost soothingly.

"Uh, yeah," Stan gave a chuckle of relief. He started up the engine. "Nothing happened okay?"

But he saw some movement from rearview mirror, a figure silhouetted in the street light, it had risen from the road and was staggering towards the car.

"…Wait…" Rick said. "I wanna check this out."

"What if they wanna press charges?" Stan asked.

"I doubt it," Rick said. "Come on, I'll show you?"

So Stan got out of the car and cautiously followed Rick. The figure turned and Stan found himself staring into dull eyes, a slack jaw and lolling tongue. It was a man, and clothed. It lumbered towards him, wordlessly. Rick got in between and gently pushed on the man's chest, he moaned and fell onto his back, lay there in the road twitching. Rick scuttled around and grabbed a flailing wrist.

"What are you doing?" Stan asked.

"Taking a pulse, this guy has none, also his skin is green," Rick said. "Looking at the marks on the throat, I'm saying he was dead before you ran him over."

"Me? You're the one you threw those— " Stan began "..wait he's dead?"

"Yep," Rick said.

"Is that a zombie?" Stan asked.

"Naw," Rick said. "Zombies are more aggressive… someone… was playing with Dr. West's old formula… it's just a reanimated corpse."

"Whew," Stan said. "Then we're out of here."

"Nope," Rick took the hand of the reanimated corpse. "We're taking him with us."

"WHAT? Are you fucking nuts!" Stan asked. "IT could eat our brains or or…"

"Relax, the worst this guy—" Rick reached to corpse's back pocket and pulled out a wallet."—Mark Scarpi…is gonna do is stink up the trunk. Besides I wanna dissect this motherfucker."

Rick pulled a few dollars from the wallet and handed them to Stan.

"Fine," Stan said. "But only this once, next dead thing you find, you haul it back to your room."

On the way back they listened to Warren Zevon, it was quiet, except for Mark's soft thumps from the trunk.