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"You know," Stan says quietly, cutting into the peaceful silence of breakfast. "If ya think about it, me and McGucket are your sugar daddies, Ford."

McGucket snorts loudly and slaps his hand over his eyes, shaking quietly with laughter.

Ford chokes on his drink, a little bit of coffee running down his lip as he convulses with coughs. He spits back into the mug and sets it down, then coughs harshly into the crook of his elbow.

"Christ, don't die on me now!" Stan exclaims.

Fiddleford lets out a hiccup of a giggle. "Stanley Pines," he says.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

Before Fiddleford can respond, Ford recovers and lowers his arm, inhaling shakily. His face has gone rosy-pink.

(Six-fingered hands come up for just a moment to fidget with the ring on his necklace; the one that matches Fiddleford's.)

"Excuse me?" Ford demands.

"You're excused," Stan replies easily, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back into his chair. The grin on his face could win in a shit-eating contest.

McGucket can't help but burst into quiet giggles as Ford splutters.

"Wh- no, you can't just- that's not even true! I mean- I- it..." he trails off, becoming lost in thought -- but not for long. A look of flustered horror rains down on his face.

"Oh, my god," Ford squeaks. "Why would you make me aware of this..."

Fiddleford wheezes and leans over to Stan, resting the side of his head against his shoulder. His hands rest lightly on Stan's chest, gripping loosely onto the fabric of his shirt.

"To see the look on yer face," Stan chuckles. He tilts his head down for a moment to press a chaste kiss to the top of Fiddleford's head. "And hey, I thought it was pretty obvious. Ain't I the shinin' image of a sugar daddy?"

He spreads his hands as he says it, displaying himself. Though he's careful to not smack McGucket -- instead, that arm just wraps around the giggling man's frail shoulders.

Indeed, the gesture makes Stan's attire and accessories all the more obvious. Golden chain, a ring on each ring finger, a golden watch... hell, even the buttons on his hawaiian shirt seems a little shiny.

"Y-you gotta admit, he's not too- too wrong 'bout that," McGucket manages, wiping a stray tear from his eye with a little sigh. "Ooh, boy, that got me good..."

"Both of you, shut up," Ford protests, covering his hot face with both hands.

(Stan takes a moment to look at the ring on his brother's hand, unable to keep his smile from softening as he stares at the one matching his right-handed ring.)

"Or what?" Stan teases, gradually lowering his voice to a purr. "You know you like it. Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll take care of you. Can get'cha anything ya need..."

Ford squirms, uncovering his pouting face. "W-well, I would like a coffee after you make me spit mine back out, thank you."

McGucket cackles and has to take another moment to catch his breath. "Y'all are killin' me over here. How'm I supposed to treat my precious darling Ford over here right if I kick the bucket too early?"