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You and the boys are eating breakfast. Well, while Stanley and Fiddleford were eating breakfast, what you and Ford were eating could be considered dinner at this point. The two of you had stayed up past dawn talking about the creatures you had seen during your latest adventure into the woods.
Last night his shoulder had been pressed against yours as his hands gestured wildly. He would lean into you and rest his head in the crook of your neck as you both laughed. His six fingers curled around yours while you two tried to figure out how to best study the creatures of the forest.
Now, in the morning, he was sat to your left alternating between spoons of cereal and sleepy but excited chatter. Part of you wanted to reach out and adjust his glasses, fluff his hair, kiss his crooked smile. But with Stanley and Fiddleford there, you knew how he would react.
It’s not that he wanted to keep your relationship a secret, he was just a private man. Other people poking their noses into his business, making comments on his personal matters? It makes him uneasy. Affection just doesn’t come naturally to him when there’s others around.
No, it wouldn’t be a great idea to start putting your hands all over him. Instead you give him a tired smile and he smiles softly back. Stanley looks between you two and frowns when he sees you hiding a yawn.
“Geez Ford, you kept ‘em up all night again?” He waves his hand in your direction as if to point out how exhausted you are, “You’ve gotta start treating your assistants better or they’re gonna drop dead.”
Fiddleford mumbles something like agreement into his mug of coffee. You roll your eyes. “I’m not gonna Stan, just tired.”
“What were you two even doing up all night, anyway?”
“Cataloguing our findings from yesterday’s excursion and trying to decide on a method of studying Steve. It would be useful to know if he’s eating the cars or taking them back to where he lives. There’s a chance he might take one of our cars again” You can hear the frustration in Ford’s voice as he remembers his own car getting snatched. He complained for a solid week about how he left his Tesla poster in the trunk.
“Wait.” You say, drawing the attention back to you, “He’s interested in the cars right? Couldn’t we get a scrap car from the junkyard? Lure him out and see where he takes it?”
“That’s it!” Ford’s chair squealed as he jumped to his feet. “Using scrap as bait, you’re a genius!”
Before you could respond, his hands were cupping your cheeks as he drew you in for a kiss. Your noses smushed together and his lips were dry against yours. You didn’t have time to really process what was happening before he drew back and rushed out the room, chatting excitedly to himself about how to get a car back to the house.
You just stayed in your seat, a little disorientated and a little breathless. All you can really do is sit there and try to figure out what happened to make your chronically reserved boyfriend kiss you like that.
And apparently you’re not the only one who was shocked. Above the sound of your own erratic heartbeat you can hear Fiddleford choking on his coffee. Stan is faring a bit better, and he leans back in his chair with all the nonchalance he can muster.
“So, you and my brother eh? How long’s that been going on?” Stan waggled his eyebrows, a smug grin on his face.
“Uhhh” you mumble sheepishly, quickly doing the math in your head, “About 6 months? 7 months maybe?”
Now that gets Stan. He wobbles comically in his chair as he rocks forward and slams his hands on the table.
“7 months? You’ve been dating my brother for over half a year and you guys didn’t tell me?”
“I introduced myself to you as his partner!”
“I thought you meant like, research partner.”
“I mean technically I’m that too.”
“Does that mean Sixer’s dating Fiddlesticks here too?”
Fiddleford, having recovers from choking, makes an exasperated noise. “Now don’t start with that nonsense Stanley, I’m happily married.”
Stan lets out a fake sob and clutches his chest. “You married Ford? And you didn’t even invite me to the wedding.”
You let the sounds of their bickering fade into the background. All the adrenaline the kiss had given you was gone and you were so tired. You dump your bowl in the sink and mumbled about going to sleep for a week. Stan warned you that he still wanted answers, but you’re genuinely too sleepy to care about anything except your pillow.
Walking past the living room, you see Ford hasn’t fared much better. He’s mumbling into the phone book, scanning the same lines of numbers over and over again. You call his name and gently wrap you hand around his wrist. He doesn’t even protest when you pull him up to his feet. A nap with your boyfriend sounds perfect right about now. And if the way he’s smiling at you as you lead him to your bedroom is any indication, you know Ford feels the same way.