#pretty sure that anyone without an asshole dimension to their personality gets intimidated off the site

[ghostie000]

you really do have to be some level of unnecessarily fucking rude to be an active poster on this site huh

[siodymph]

Stanchez Appreciation Day 1

Finally! Two Days late but here’s my first fic for Sanchez week, Heist! (I gotta be honest I’m not the happiest with this one, but hopefully things go better throughout the week!)

You can read the story under the cut or over on my AO3 Enjoy!

About a week ago the two had made a small pit-stop back on earth and knowing Stan’s luck they ran into one of his old “friends and flames”. At the time Stan had only known know the other as a fellow grifter but it seemed while apart the scum had clawed his way up the food chain and was now the ringleader of a gang. And because the universe seemed to hate him so much, Stan’s old flame was still holding an impressively large grudge against him. So after being held at gun point and humiliated Stan and Rick lost everything, money, over twenty fake ID’s, they even nabbed his bronze knuckles, and worst of all they’d taken the portal gun. They’re only way out of this shitty town and dimension.

Rick hadn’t wasted a second after that. He wasn’t afraid of the idiot would figure out his portal gun, but it didn’t make him less royally pissed his invention had been nabbed in the first place. No way in hell anybody messed with his boyfriend, and definitely nobody ever got away with stealing Rick Sanchez’s crap. They were goin’ on a heist.

They tracked down Stan’s former Flame’s base of operations to a few warehouses down by the bay. The decrepit seedy kind that reminded Stan of those old mystery movies. Those these ones were in really poor shape, like they could fall apart at any moment. One of them acted as the business area for meetings, deals and intimidations, another acted as a sort of resident’s hall for the Flame’s men and a prison for anyone who owed him a debt. And the third warehouse was being used as… an actual, normal, goddamn warehouse. Stan was shocked, no one ever seemed to use warehouses to actually store their stuff.

But once they knew where their stuff was they made their gear, some of which was made from literal garbage. Stan had no idea how but regardless he both admired and feared Rick’s mad skill. Then once it got dark, the two put on their blackest clothes and made their way down to the bay to get back what was rightfully theirs.

There was a lot of loud commotion coming from the business warehouse at the far-end of the pier. Looks like Stan’s flame was holding a party. This left the resident and warehouse warehouses with less people milling about which worked perfectly in their favor.

Finding a pocket of time in between patrolling guards, the two crept towards the third warehouse. Rick fired off a grappling hook made from a rusty old harpoon and some modified tin cans and after their pair scaled the warehouse building, scrambled into a window on the third story, and they were in.

Things had been going ok. They’d made it inside undetected, didn’t have any run-ins as they made their way through the warehouse. In fact it was pretty much empty inside the warehouse, warehouse. Really quiet.

Stan realized he and Rick should have noticed right then it had been too quiet, but he hadn’t. He’d just been so excited that the heist was going well and when Rick’s portal gun was finally in sight he could have cared less about the suspiciously empty hallways. They were so close to finally having their ticket back out of this dump. They were so close to finally being free.

They crept through the warehouse till they finally found the right storage room and there sitting on top of a stack of crates innocently sat Rick’s gun. Only a matter of feet away from them. And as Stan and Rick began to realize it had been placed a little too perfectly, like it had been put on display, all hell broke loose.

Men poured into the warehouse from every door firearms at hand. Several red lights started dotting their shirts and when Stan looked up he saw snipers. God damn, this guy really went all out.

A mocking slow clap came from the third story and Stan’s old flame finally appeared. Sounding like a complete asshole as he started monologuing. “Wow! I must say Stan, you never cease to amaze! First I thought you died in the desert, then years later here you are back from the dead. Very impressive.”

“God, how-how the hell did you date this guy?” Rick hissed in his ear as the old Flame kept going, probably saying something stupid about how they’d failed.

“He was a lot cuter when we were young ok? Less of a discount bond villain.” Stan whispered back.

Both of them had stopped paying attention to the guy but their attention quickly went back to the guy when he picked up their portal gun.

“And all of this trouble, all this fuss over this? What, what the heck am I even holding?”

He waved it around, struggling to pull the trigger and frowning when it did nothing. Rick had personally never been happier about forgetting to charge his gun ahead of time.

Stan stepped forwards, ignoring the eight guns cocking and aiming at his chest. “It’s none of your business! It ain’t worth shit so why don’t you just hand that back over before you hurt yourself… you.”

“If it’s not worth anything, why bother coming back to- wait,” The monologuing tone immediately fell from his face and he started at Stan, deadpan. “You don’t remember my name, do you?”

“I do! It’s uhhhhhhh…” Stan started snapping his fingers as he tried to get the name.

Stan’s old partner huffed indignantly. “I can’t believe you! I can’ believe you forgot my name! We were together for over a year you ass!”

“Nice.” Rick commented dryly.

“Shut up! No, I got it! It’s right on the tip of my tongue uh- Jim? No, no definitely not him, he had a mustache. Uhhhh-“

“I double-crossed you! I left you for dead out in the middle of the wilderness! I could of killed you!” The now furious old flame shouted.

“Well you weren’t the last.” Rick said shrugging. Honestly crap like this seemed to only happen to him and Stan. “Cute stuff like betrayal and near-death exp-experiences kinda loose that spark after the millionth time, ya’know?”

Stan was still wracking his brain for a name as the tension in the room passed the point between deathly to awkward. “Uhhh I’m pretty sure it started with a “T” right? T- Tre- Trevor? No uhhh Tray? Yeah! You’re Tray!”

“Finally!” Tray said glaring daggers at the duo. “Took you long enough!”

Remembering his name, Stan began layering on what he passed as charm, slicked back his mullet and sauntered his way over to Tray. “I’d get there eventually. So Tray how about you be a pal and give us back our stuff? Just us old flames, old buddies, Huh?”

“No way! You two wouldn’t of wasted your time coming back here if this was just junk so this is obviously worth something to somebody!” Tray yelled smacking away his hand.

“No it’s just a little memento, it has emotional value!” Stan tried fibbing but Tray was having none of it.

“One way or another I’ll figure out what this hunk of junk can do, with or without your help. So if I were you I’d really think about trying to be more useful to me. Now get these sack of human garbage out of my face! Throw’em in the pound!”

Tray’s men went to work cuffing Stan and Rick from behind and dragging them out of the warehouse. And they watched helplessly as the portal gun they had been so close to taking back was stuffed away into Tray’s inner coat pocket.

Just as they were taken out of the warehouse Tray signaled his men to stop one last time. “And Stan, one last thing to think about? No matter what I’ll be making sure you remember my name for a long, long time…”

“Oh come on, we haven’t talked in years! How was I supposed to know we’d ever meet again?” Stan shouted as they were pushed out of the warehouse and into the cold night air, towards whatever “the pound” was.

~~~

All in all, “the pound” wasn’t the worst prison Rick and Stan had ever landed themselves in. They were given room to move, walk around, one of the guard gave them water bottles. Still, it was defiantly a pace Stan could do without ever seeing again for the rest of his life. “The Pound” was a fitting name, instead of prison bars every cell was caged off with wire fencing. Their hands were still cuffed but while now they were in front of them, they were also attached to a chain that went out of the cell past Stan’s line of vision. And at the end of the hall there were several cages filled with dogs just to let the whole “pound” gimmick sink in.

It kinda reminded Stan of the time they had both pissed of a wack-job and they’d been locked together in a tiny dog cage. Or the time he’d messed with a mob and they’d left him in a room with a whole back of greyhounds.

Stan paced about the small cell, lost in thought if not for the constant jingling of the chains on his cuffs. And Rick sat crisscrossed on the one bench silently observing their surroundings. Both of them brewing up a plan of escape.

“Door’s flimsy enough. Could bend it in half with one hand.” Stan mumbled under his breath quiet enough so the passing guards wouldn’t hear.

“Still have to deal with the chains Lee, they’re the durable stuff. And we gotta somehow get them off us or the ground and fish them through the door.” Rick mumbled back. He looked down the hall, careful not to make eye-contact with the guards though he was analyzing every other part of them from their clothes to size of their steps. And he scanned the back of the hall frowning. “You think they’d use the dogs?”

“Eh, I dunno. Most of them look really young, like puppy young.” The more passing glances he snuck at the caged dogs, the more he noticed they were either adorably young or really old and arthritic. All the real guard dogs must be on their patrols around this time and these guy were for show. “Yeah I don’t think these guys are trained yet. We could take’em.”

“Ok, ok we can work with that.” Rick said. Stan could practically see the gears churning in Ricks head, watching as he looked down at his handcuffs and focused. Then like a lightbulb flashing on, he looked up at Stan smirking.

“Ok… I think I got it Lee, just give me a couple seconds, distract the guards, get them over here and Il-I’ll do my thing.”

“You got it babe!” Stan said nodding before dramatically flagging down the guards. Hopefully this worked…

~~~

Long story short: it did.

While Stan kept the guard’s attention faking a stomach problem Rick had pounced and used the chains outside of the cage to his advantage. And after a bit of scuffling, chains pulled tight enough to cut, further scuffling, thrown punches and finally fishing the stupid cuffs through the cage door they found themselves free. And when the doors at the end of the hall were opened and the dogs charged at them, Stan and Rick easily out ran the old farts and the puppies just followed them around because well they were just little puppies and thought this was all just a game.

By the time they made it back outside the two had four dogs still happily trailing behind them.

“Sooooo,” Stan started, still scratching behind one of the dog’s ears. “What now?”

“Now we get our shit and get out of here!” Rick said.

“But Tray has the portal gun and we’re still by the actual warehouse.”

“Yeah but all our other shit is still in the warehouse.”

Stan paused a moment. “Oh, yeah almost forgot about all that! You don’t think they took the bee gun too?”

“Hope not, for-fUUUUUUghhhhh-orty percent of this plan’s riding on the fact they didn’t.”

“Alright. So clue me in, what exactly is the plan here Rick?” Stan asked, they were getting closer to the warehouse and it looked like this time around they’d have to get in from the first story since their garbage grappling hook was now inside.

“Get our shit back, make our way over to the last warehouse, use the puppies as a distraction, bee gun the shit out of Tray’s goons then bee gun the shit out of Tray, get our portal gun and finally get out of this dump!”

It sounded so easy when you said it like that, just a simple seven step plan. A lot could go wrong which made Stan worried. But then on the other hand Tray didn’t feel like much of a threat, just an annoyance so the stakes didn’t feel all that high to start out.

“Ok, but how exactly do we use puppies as a distraction? These aren’t third-graders we’re dealing with here.”

“Like this.”

They grabbed the dogs and hid behind a dumpster as one of the guards passed by. And when the guard sounded like he was right on the other side of their hiding spot Rick released one of the puppies. It happily trotted out to greet the guard. And they heard his surprise.

“Buttons? How on earth did you get out again?”

Not wasting a second longer Rick leapt out from behind the dumpster and tackled the man. Stan could only watch, it was like one of them nature documentaries where the snake just pounces on something. Silent and surprisingly calculated. He forgot sometimes just how much experience Rick had fighting, and while his skinny frame didn’t show it the guy really knew how to knock the air out of someone.

Stan came out of hiding with the rest of the dogs to see Rick triumphantly grinning and the guard unconscious at his feet. Buttons was still biting at the man’s shoes.

Rick picked back up the puppy, scratching its head. “Good work Buttons!” And he turned to Stan when he saw him nudging the knocked-out guard with his foot. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Probably. Let’s get a move on before the next one get here!”

One broken window later the two were back in the warehouse, though the whole time Stan feared a whole mob of angry men would burst out from nowhere again like before. But this time nobody was hiding up in the rafters or behind doors. For now at least nobody suspected they escaped. But it was only a matter of time now before the wreck they’d caused in the “Pound” was discovered. And the guards locked this place down. They had to act fast, but not stupid.

They found their gear in a crate near the center of the warehouse, where the portal gun had been put actually. And along with their stuff they made from garbage they also now had their much more prized possessions and weapons back. Stan kissed each bronze knuckle as he put them back on his fingers. Though he had to sadly put the dogs down so he could sling a backpack full of their clothes and ID’s over his shoulder. Rick beamed as he pulled out his bee gun.

He didn’t get much time to marvel tough before he heard several guards shout outside. Looks like their window in had been discovered.

Poor bastards. He cocked his gun and started for the nearest door. Stan followed suit with the puppies right behind him. This was going to be interesting…

~~~

Two hours later the pair were relaxing in a rundown motel. Stan was out cold, snoring lightly while Rick relaxed next to his side. The puppies were cuddled up all around them. And over on the dresser he could hear the white noise of the portal gun charging up. In a few hours they’d finally be able to leave this dump again.

Rick always wished it could be forever but if he were honest they’d probably come back to earth again in a few months. He had no idea why, neither of them liked it here, they both had their fair share of shitty memories, ruined dreams and messed-up pasts thanks to this ball of dirt. And there were hundreds of other place Rick knew were more fun, and they were both actually welcomed. So why the hell did they always come back? There was nothing for them here. It was like they had this connection to Earth that made them always come back to check in on things. Rick blamed it on dumb human instincts evolved to ensure species stayed genetically diverse. Yeah, that sounded about right. It wasn’t like either of them ever missed this dump.

As Rick thought this over Stan’s snores teetered off until he was mumbling half-awake. Rolling over he faced Rick and tried touch his face but his aim was off and he ended up putting his hand on his shoulder instead.

“Mornin’ babe.” He murmured, sleep heavy in his voice. “How’s the gun charging, we ready to go?”

Rick couldn’t help but laugh a little. Between his barely awake state, and all the puppies still sleeping on him Rick doubted anything short of a forklift could get Stan out of bed now.

“Nah, we still got a couple hours.” Rick said softly. Just a few more hours, then they could finally put Earth behind them again.

As much as he hated it, he had to admit, of all their trips back to their home dimension, this one had to be the most interesting so far. It’d been a while since he and Stan got back to their roots with a good old-fashioned heist. A heist, and imprisonment, a prison escape. They even got free dogs out of it! Yeah this trip to earth hadn’t been that bad, it’d actually been fun. Even that asshole Tray hadn’t been that bad. Thinking about the guy though suddenly reminded Rick of something he’d wanted to ask Stan earlier.

“Hey, hey Lee!” He nudged at Stan until he woke back up and looked at him through squinted eyes. “So, you’ll remember my name right? Ya’know, if we ever split?”

“Course I would, how could I forget a guy like you, Robby?” Stan grunted before rolling over and going back to sleep.

Rick laughed and hit his side as Stan got comfortable and slipped back to sleep. “Ha! Good one Lee… You were joking right?”