Chapter Text
The day had started out perfectly. Fiddleford had woken up in her roommates (and new best friends) arms, laying there whilst they held each other gently, reveling in each others warmth and budding friendship. It felt as if the two of them had been laying there for hours, but when she inevitably had to pull away to get ready for the day, she felt as though she hadn’t been there long enough.
By the time she was out of the shower, Stanford was already up and moving, doing some light stretching before classes in a blue button up with a brown vest overtop it, and wearing a pair of darker blue dress pants to pull the look together.
“What’s with the get-up?” Fiddleford joked, giggling at the way her roommate seemed raring to go.
“It’s the first day of classes! I have to look the part if I want to prove that I am a true scientist, and no one will take me seriously in sweat pants and a tshirt. I won’t get the grades required for all 12 of my planned PHDs if I look like I just crawled out of bed!” Ford stated, continuing her overly complicated morning routine to ensure that she was wide awake and ready for class. A pleasant smile crawled up Fiddleford's face, and she couldn’t help but nod and agree. She thought that she had dreamed up that last bit, but apparently she really was living with someone that determined. She admired her companions dedication, letting out a small chuckle, “I guess yer right!”
Fiddleford ventured over to her closet and pulled out a pair of old work jeans, along with one of the free BMU sweaters she got as thanks for enrolling. It wasn’t half as fancy as Stanford's attire, but she felt it represented her and her goals the best. Without turning around, she asked her friend what her first class of the day was.
“Quantum Mechanics IV, I tested out of the first three courses, so I get to skip ahead and hopefully learn something new for once, though honestly I doubt it. What about you?”
“Relativity of the Future, it's a level 200 that I gotta take for my major, but I’m hoping to refine my skills a bit. I used to always love comin’ up with new methods for inventions to use around the farm.” Fiddleford let out a pleased sigh at the memories, before quickly adding, “Do you wanna get breakfast with me first? We still got time before classes start and I’d like to get some tea to calm my nerves.”
“Of course. I’m in desperate need of some coffee myself, and I would love to hear more about your inventions. If you don’t mind, that is.”
Fiddleford's smile grew into a full blown grin, and she eagerly nodded her head before grabbing her stuff and following her friend out the door.
Her day took a turn for the worse once she said goodbye to Stanford and headed off to class. The tea had done nothing to quell her nervous hiccups, only seeming to make them worse somehow. Standing in the hallway, waiting for the proffessor to arrive to open the door and let her in, the BMU B- passed by. She gave them a polite wave before she was unceremoniously shoved into a (thankfully full sized) locker. Five embarrasingly long minutes later, her professor heard her cries for help and let her out, before giving her a warning to steer clear of the mascot. He stated that they are the only student who fit in the old costume, so they had free reign to do what they want without consequence. Fiddleford couldn’t understand why they would use their powers for evil, but thanked him nonetheless.
She follows him inside to drop off her bag before leaving to fluff herself up a bit before class. Her hair had been messed up in the process of being shoved around, and she didn’t want to look unkempt on the first day of class. She did her hair into a singular, long braid, hoping to keep it out of her way but keeping the bangs she loved so much on full display. Her mother had finally allowed her to cut them when she went off to college, and she loved the way they framed her face. She exits the bathroom satisfied, barely avoiding any more untimely interactions, before finally making it back to class. With five minutes to spare, she decided to sharpen up a few of her pencils before class started but the end of her new braid somehow got caught in the machine. She curses under her breath, grateful that the only other student in the room is too busy mindlessly flipping through some fancy magazine to notice.
All seems to go well after that, with class continuing on like normal, until she is called up to the front to solve a theorem on the board. Everything is falling perfectly into place, until she realizes that the answer shes come up with somehow proves that the entire universe is, in fact, a hologram. A ridiculous notion that her classmates pick up on, and she can’t stop the tears from falling as she grabs her things and leaves class early.
Sobs fill the tiny dorm room (that now has the appropriate amount of beds) as she begins to pack all of her belongings up. She can’t stop the storm inside of her and she knows it's useless to try. She doesn’t want to leave Backupsmore, since she had worked so, so hard to get there. She had spent so long saving up just enough to move out here in the first place.
She had decided a long time ago that she didn’t want to live on a farm her whole life. She didn’t want to settle down and marry a man, have 8 children and be miserable her whole life like her parents. She wanted to be an engineer, someone who makes enough money to provide for herself and have enough saved up so she can have an early retirement. She doesn’t want to work until she drops, doesn’t want to live paycheck to paycheck like everyone else in her family. She was supposed to be the first McGucket– hell, the first woman– in her family to go to college. But she failed, and she did so quite miserably. She made a mistake that has cost her her future, and now she must head back home with her tail between her legs.
She goes to strip her bedding before stopping abruptly, remembering the wonderful time she had had the night before. Her conversation with Stanford, in all of her odd tendencies and strange mannerisms, and she can’t help but cry even more. She wants to stay here with her, to wake up every morning next to her every day and listen to her ramblings and feel her warmth on her chest. But she knows it’s not in the cards for her. They are just silly fantasies, and nothing more. She should stop while she has any sliver of pride left, and search for some loose change in order to call home.
Before she can leave the room however, Ford barges in enraged. She’s panting like she just ran a marathon, cheeks hot and temper even hotter. This is it, Fiddleford thinks, she must have heard about her blunder and is here to shun her for coming to such a ridiculous conclusion. She stands there like a defenseless puppy, waiting for her scolding.
…
…
…?
But it never comes. Instead, after a few moments of catching her breath, Ford lets out a breathy “You’re right”.
Fiddleford stands there, confusion spread across her face, and she can’t help but stare at her roommate. Did she somehow not hear? That's impossible, all of campus must be talking about it by now. Then maybe her friend – acquaintance – is a mind reader, knowing exactly what she’s thinking and giving her the chance to run before–
“Your theory is correct, and I– we can prove it. I know we can.”
The tears that had stopped in her panic suddenly come flooding back in, and she can’t help but crumple to the floor, mirroring the position her roommate found her in hours earlier.
She helps her up, and they begin working tirelessly for the next thirteen hours of their lives. Together.
“That’s it!” Ford exclaims, suddenly filled with excitement after hours of work. “We’ve done it! We have finally proved your theory to be correct!”
The shorter woman almost knocks her partner over and ceremoniously holds on to her tight, arms around her waist and laughing in utter delight. She has sticky notes plastered all over her, and has changed out of her dress pants into her favorite pair of shorts. Her glasses are slightly askew, and her heart is going a mile a minute, but she squeezes her friend with all her might.
Fiddleford, after standing in shock at not only the discovery but the force of her roommates grasp, eventually rests her arms under the others, letting herself go slightly limp, overcome with relief. She had lost hope countless times over their adventure, but at 3:00am on their third day together, they had solved the greatest equation of their lives.
After what feels like an eternity of just standing there holding each other, Stanford pulls her head out from her spot at Fiddleford's neck, and mutters a half conscious but sincere,
“I love you, F. You are truly brilliant.”
The nickname is not what causes her to pause, during their brief dinner break (that Fiddleford insisted they needed, much to Ford’s chagrin) they had talked about other things they could call each other. ‘F’ had felt like something only her wonderful friend could have come up with, claiming that ‘efficiency was the key to success’. She was more than happy to let it stick.
No, what threw her off guard was the blatant admission of feelings. She couldn’t say she didn't feel the same, she knew that there was something more to their relationship than mere roommates, but she never would have thought to put such a strong descriptor onto it. At least not this soon into meeting one another. But before she can ponder it further, her friend's brain seems to finally catch up with her words, and she realizes the implications of her statement.
“I– I– I mean, I love how truly brilliant you are, F. Your brilliance is lovely to come across in such a lackluster establishment." She stumbles over her words in her desperate attempt to get them out, to cover her tracks. The blonde can’t ignore the other’s overwhelming blush, the tips of her ears and the whole of her face turning a bright shade of pink. She also can’t ignore impact it has had on herself, with a sizable blush on her own face and an increased heart rate. She pulls her friend closer and whispers a gentle but sincere thank you, and she can feel the other woman begin to heat up even more at the words and heightened proximity.
They stand there once more, unsure who should move first, and whether this is a matter that should be discussed further. Ford takes the initiative, slowly detaching herself before clearing her throat and looking sheepishly down at the ground.
“I believe we should retire for the night. It would be best to get some modicum of shut eye before class tomorrow. Shall we…” She cuts herself off, looking at the new bed that is supposed to be hers, seeing that she never actually made it up for her to sleep on that night. She had been so swept up in the rush of it all, that she had completely neglected to think of her sleeping arrangements. Thankfully, Fiddleford swoops in with a friendly, “You can sleep with me. If you’d like. I mean it wouldn’t be that big a deal to spend one more night together, we know each other now and all, but only if you want to of course, I would never–”
And she is cut off by a hand on her shoulder and her friend looking up at her with big, brown, tired eyes, and a reassuring nod. Before they can head to bed however, Fiddleford asks if she can take a photo with her.
“Fer the memories, y’know? It would be nice to commemorate our first big achievement together.” Another nod and she hurries off to her desk, grabbing the camera she bought for moments just like this and setting it up.
Running back with just enough time to spare, she leans against her bed and throws up a peace sign, slinging an arm around her friend's shoulder and tilting her head into the others chest. Her actions are reciprocated, and Ford wraps an arm around her as well and pumps her fist in the air, with a giant smile and sticky notes slowly falling to the floor. Two clicks, and Fiddleford reluctantly leaves the tender moment to go grab both photos, shaking them to look at the results. She can’t help but smile, bringing them over to Ford, and they sit there in silence once again.
Finally, she yawns, and quickly goes to change into her night clothes. Her friend has decided to skip her shower tonight, not wanting to waste ‘precious sleep’ and gets into bed waiting for the other woman, who joins her not long after.
After they huddle together, Fiddleford plants a kiss on her partner's forehead, soft yet full of meaning. They are as close as they have been to each other before physically, but emotionally they feel as if they are one.