Work Text:
The sun shone through the tree branches above as Stanford led the way through the woods. There was a cheerful spring in his step when he looked back and saw Fiddleford not far behind, with a picnic basket in hand. A whole day free to themselves, no anomalies to study or machines to work on. His mind ran wild with possabilities.
‘Perhaps we’ll find a new cryptid. Or Perhaps we’ll find a secret city of fairies and become crowned kings or maybe-’
Stanford was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle pull on his shoulder.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.” Fiddleford smirked.
“You don’t know that.” Stanford crossed his arms.
“You had that look on your face. The one you have when you’re thinking of finding a magical creature.” Fiddleford pointed at his own face, making a wide-eyed look of wonder with his jaw hanging open. “Kinda like this.”
“That’s an absurd and frankly poor imitation of-” Stanford’s statement was interrupted as a fairy flew past, leaving sparkling dust in her path; and he found himself making the exact expression.
“You’re adorable.” Fiddleford ruffled Stanford's hair. “Come along, times a wastin’ and our lunch ain’t gonna stay warm forever.”
“Are you saying that a brilliant inventor such as yourself hasn’t already designed a device that could not only keep meals warm for hours, but also feed the user?” Stanford asked, spreading his arms in the air.
“Sounds to me like someone is dropping not-so-subtle hints that he’s too lazy to eat at appropriate times.” Fiddleford lowered Stanford’s left arm out of his face. He slid his hand down the researcher’s arm so that they were holding hands.
Stanford paused, looking down to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding what his hands were feeling. His cheeks flushed red when he saw that they were indeed holding hands. He felt Fiddleford interlace their fingers; and his cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.
“You-uh-I-” Stanford rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.
“You’re like a little kitten.” Fiddleford cooed. His smile grew further as he watched his boyfriend squirm under his affection.
“How’s that? If it’s about my sneezing again-”
“I was going to say that you’re both adorable, and easily held. Just like a little kitten.” Fiddleford pulled Stanford closer to leave a soft kiss on his forehead.
“How could you take advantage of my distracted state in such a way, Fiddleford?” Stanford said in mock shock. “I trusted you in my vulnerability, and you treat me like this.”
“I just realised something else that makes ya just like a kitten,” Fiddleford rolled his eyes. “You’re overly dramatic when it comes to the tiniest things.”
“This talk of cute things reminded me of something,” Stanford said.
“Oh do tell,” said Fiddleford.
“I’ve been hearing rumors about creatures who are so cute that any who feast their eyes upon them are compelled to obey their every command.” Stanford spoke excitedly, there was a shine in his eye.
“Well we can rule you out from being one of them.” Fiddleford said smugly.
Stanford shook his head. “You were just singing my praises on my cuteness, what made you change your mind so suddenly?”
“Oh I didn’t say that.” Fiddleford corrected. “All I’m saying is that after this morning, I don’t think you have the power of manipulating people with your cuteness.”
“Listen, getting Stanley to leave his bed before noon is like trying to break down a wall using a sewing needle.” Stanford shrugged.
“Anyway, you were saying something about a creature that, despite all logic, is somehow cuter than you?” Fiddleford said.
“Hmm,” Stanford tapped his chin before snapping his fingers. “Yes! Now my informant was a gnome, so this information might not be too reliable. However I am planning a small expedition next week to find out more.”
The pair continued to walk through the woods. Stanford happily rattled off information about the many wondrous creatures he intended to study and the potential discoveries that were waiting for them in the coming months.
All the while Fiddleford listened intently. While he did not hold the same enthusiasm that Stanford had for the unknown, he did enjoy listening to the way Stanford’s voice sounded when he got excited,he way he’d talk faster as though all his thoughts wanted to get out at once.
Even now, watching Stanford go on about the feuds amongst the many fairy kingdoms and how he hoped to bridge peace to (or at least document the fall out). Fiddleford felt the sheer glee that dripped from Stanford’s voice as he spoke. It was infectious, and Fiddleford found himself matching the spring in his boyfriend’s step as they walked together.
“Oh! We’ve almost arrived.” Stanford pointed at a gap amongst the trees ahead of them.
“Thank the Lord.” Fiddleford sighed.
“You aren’t tired already are you?” Stanford teased.
“I’m sorry, were you the one carrying our picnic basket the entire trek?” Fiddleford shot back.
“I offered to carry it but you said you wanted to,” said Stanford . “You’ve no one to blame for your tiredness but yourself.”
Fiddleford huffed. “You’ll understand when we get there.”
The pair walked through a gap between two tall redwoods. Before them was a small clearing. A small pond sat near the centre, the rest of the ground was covered in short grass. With the sky above and the trees on the far side of the clearing provided a good amount of shade to hide away from the heat.
“Now this is very picturesque.“ Fiddleford rested his hand on his hip.
“All it needs is a hill and it’d look like every picnic in those old stories.” Stanford led the way to the shadow of the trees.
“Knowing this place I doubt we’d be able to climb up a hill without having to answer some arbitrary number of riddles.” Fiddleford said as he followed Stanford’s lead.
Stanford laughed. “With a mind as sharp as yours? I doubt you’d need to worry about riddles.”
“Speaking of my sharp mind.” Fiddleford pulled on Stanford's hand, bringing his boyfriend to a stop. “I might have built something to help us with setting up our picnic.”
“Oho?” Stanford raised his brow. “The floor is yours.”
“Just a moment.” Fiddleford stepped forward, letting go of Stanford’s hand. This made the researcher give a small whine. Fiddleford rolled his eyes as he placed the picnic basket down on the grassy floor. He picked up a long stick from the ground beside him and walked back to Stanford's side. “Now, prepare to be amazed.”
Stanford watched with bated breath as Fiddleford took the stick and tapped the side of the picnic basket three times. Four thin metallic arms emerged from beneath the blanket covering the basket and began to unfold it. With the blanket out of the way, Stanford could see a small robot, rectangular in shape with the aforementioned limbs connected to it. It dusted the blanket before gently laying it on the grass beside the basket. Pressing its hands against the ground, the robot lifted itself out of the basket. It rested its metallic body on the blanket and reached for the food hidden in the basket. In no time at all the robot had placed the impressive spread of food across the blanket.
A roast chicken was placed in the centre of the blanket, surrounded by many sandwiches. They had a variety of fillings, ranging from the simple ham and cheese to more strange, like pickles and mayonnaise. An assortment of fruit, that had been freshly bought from the market the previous day, was placed in a small bowl in the centre of the blanket. Next to that bowl was a bag of jelly beans, as well as a pair of fizzy drinks that Fiddleford knew Stanley wouldn’t miss.
“Pretty impressive eh?” said Fiddleford.
Stanford was unable to answer as he stared in awe at the robot that, having finished its job, neatly folded itself back into the picnic basket.
“Hello? Stanford? You in there?” Fiddleford waved his hand in front of the researcher’s face.
“Fiddleford, that was amazing!” Stanford jumped up and hugged his boyfriend tightly.
“Stanford- you’re- crushin’ me-” Fiddleford coughed.
“Oh, my apologies.” Stanford let him down with an embarrassed smile on his face. “But yes, you did an impressive job with that machine.”
Fiddleford took a deep breath. “I’d have said you were only saying that because I was your boyfriend, if it weren’t for you almost breaking me in two.”
“I was caught up in the moment,” Stanford said. “I was handed the opportunity to watch one of your machines in person. What was I meant to do? Give one of those painfully boring claps like they do at those golf games that Stanley skips past on TV?”
“You might have a point. That did feel a lot more personal than just a clap.” Fiddleford tapped his chin in thought. “But a warnin’ beforehand would be preferred.”
“That can be arranged.” Stanford grinned. “But, before we continue that discussion, how about we enjoy this spread before the ants get to them?”
“Not magical ants I hope.” Fiddleford shuddered.
“You’ve heard of fire ants? Well these are ice ants!” Stanford wriggled his fingers sinisterly. A cheeky smile spread across his face as he continued. “It’s said that their bite can result in frostbite and perhaps even soggy sandwiches if left out in the sun for too long.”
“Then we better get to eating.” Fiddleford rolled his eyes, taking a seat on the blanket.
Stanford stayed standing for a moment. Choosing to savour the sight of Fidddleford sitting in the shade of the trees with a small smile on his face. His golden brown hair shone in the flakes of sun that made it through the branches of the trees that towered above. The engineer was reaching for a sandwich before he realised that he was alone on the blanket. He looked up at Stanford and sighed.
“You shoulda brought your camera.” Fiddleford said. “A picture would last much longer.”
“Now where would the fun be in that?” Stanford sat opposite his boyfriend.
“The fun would be in eatin’ before those ‘ice ants’ get to your food.” Fiddleford threw a sandwich at Stanford.
“Fine fine.” Stanford chuckled. He unwrapped the sandwich before checking the filling. “Ugh, did you grab any random combination of ingredients from the kitchen and put them together?”
“Only for a couple of them.” Fiddleford smiled. Leaning forward, Stanford caught a peak at FIddleford’s sandwich and recognised pickle slices and mayonnaise poking out of the bread. “Makes this into a fun little game of sandwich roulette.”
“Either that, or I have to seriously consider buying you a cookbook.” Stanford sighed. He took another bite of his sandwich. It had a thick slice of cheese between two different flavoured spreads of jam. It was a curious mix of sweet and savoury, but not as bad as he was expecting.
The pair sat together, enjoying the warm afternoon, chatting idly as they ate. They tossed the sandwiches back and forth, daring one another to try out the strange combinations that Fiddleford had concocted. The pair laughed at the way their faces twisted with disgust after a biting into the sandwiches. From sardines and jelly to cucumbers and cheese, the pair passed around the strange flavours before moving on to the main course of their picnic.
While Fiddleford had been proud of the terrible sandwich flavours had concocted, he also knew the value of providing a real meal. He handed Stanford a knife to cut up the chicken, while he prepared the proper sandwiches for them. A quick spread of mayonnaise on a clean slice of bread along with a generous cut of chicken made a simple but tasty chicken sandwich. With Stanford’s nod of approval, Fiddleford made a couple more before digging in himself.
Having finished their lunch, the pair lied back on the now empty blanket and enjoyed the stiff breeze that was blowing through the clearing. They watched the clouds, or Stanford did at least; he had one hand in the bag of jelly brands and the other gently holding Fiddleford’s hand. The engineer rested his head on his free arm and listened to Stanford talk about the different clouds types, and how the many different anomalies viewed them. How some clan of trolls saw storm clouds as warning from ancient giants and would hide themselves underground. Despite his best efforts to stay attentive, the comfort that came from Stanford's voice, the warm sun and his full belly, made him succumb to his drowsiness. Fiddleford gave a small yawn before falling to sleep.
Stanford's eyelids felt heavy. He rolled over to find Fiddleford snoring softly. With a small smile, Stanford wriggled closer to his boyfriend so that their foreheads were resting against one another. Feeling a little bit cheeky, he gave a small peck on Fiddleford’s nose.
‘A short nap won’t hurt,’ he thought, before letting himself fall asleep.