Ford does not feel like laughing. In fact, he feels as far removed from "amused" as he's ever been. He hasn't felt quite this low in a long, long while, and he doubts anything will be able to improve his mood in the short term, or his opinion of himself in the long-term.

And yet despite himself, he can't help but let out a weak chuckle at Stan's words. His brother has always had a talent for that, getting him to laugh when he was feeling down - even and especially when he didn't want to. Even now, Ford still has a crystal clear memory of being thirteen and laughing through tears while calling his brother an asshole for ruining his perfectly miserable mood.

Oddly enough, he can't remember for the life of him what he had been upset about in the first place, but he remembers his brother's words and his comforting tone, and the great lengths he went through to get him to smile again.

Ford supposes there are just some things you never forget. He counts himself lucky that for Stan, one of those things is knowing how to handle his mess of a brother.

"...You and me, teaming up to make dad even less impressed with us than he already is."

He shakes his head, a wobbly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wipes at his eyes. He still feels a touch miserable, but it's difficult for him to stay on the verge of tears when his brother's so damn good at giving pick-me-ups.

"Just to piss him off."

He huffs out a half-laugh, and finally risks lifting his head to look at his brother and meet his eyes. He knows he probably looks like a red-faced mess, but he thinks Stan has earned a smile for all his efforts. Even if it's just a small one, a weak little sapling of a smile.

"Think Mom would get a kick out of that?"