Chapter Text
The crickets sang their song, mixing with the soft howl of the wind through the forest. For once the Mystery Shack felt serene. An astonishing fact, considering how many adventures had taken place here. It was nice.
Nearly 4 in the morning and everyone had taken to going to bed. Well, almost everyone. As you laid tucked into the comforter you could feel the vacancy beside you. Stanford Pines, certified genius, had broken your promise to go to bed early. You’d scold him if you weren’t up yourself.
As you contemplated fetching him, the door creaked open. There was a deep yawn behind you as the owner moved about the room. The shifting of fabric and a coat was all you needed to know it was Stanford. Though your back was turned you could tell he was exhausted. His usual excited manner was instead turned into a slow process. No doubt, he had a hard day of research.
The bed dipped beneath his weight, mumbling to himself as he took off his boots. You sat up,
“Look who decided to pop in. Decide your girlfriend was alone for long enough, uncuddled?”
Stanford jumped at your voice. He turned, looking startled for a moment until he chuckled, “Shouldn’t you be sick of cuddling after last week?”
Choosing not to answer right away you got on your knees and crawled towards him. Already shirtless, you came up behind Ford and wrapped your arms over his bare shoulders. “That doesn’t count. You were paralyzed after you were stung by that Super Bee.” With his gaze turned towards you, you pressed a kiss against his stubbled cheek, “Besides, you loved it. Cheered you up, didn’t it?”
The peck made Stanford gasp softly under his breath. Cheeks a light pink that he would deny if point out. Again, you made him laugh, “Fair point, my dear. Now scoot over.”
Both of you began to move. Stanford took off his glasses and you impatiently waited for him to lie down. His back barely touched the sheets before you pounced, curled at his side with your head tucked beneath his arm. He had grown used to how much you loved to be by his side. It always gave him a reason to head to bed when his mind would wander towards the idea of working all night. You knew when to back off, however.
When the two of you had started dating, you weren’t nearly as this close. Ford was reclusive. Wary of anyone who wasn’t family, Stanford had taken his time for you to even hold his hand. This, you never faulted him for. You were enticed by his quirks and passion for knowledge. Just by being allowed in his space, Stanford made you feel special. You felt needed.
You had friends who doubted the authenticity of your relationship. Telling you he might not be attracted to you, or perhaps didn’t take you seriously. They meant well, but you told them to shove it. He had only needed time.
Now, your voices were hushed. Stanford’s breathing was steady, his heart the same with your ear to his chest. While tired, the two of you were acutely aware of the other’s presence. How you’d sigh or yawn. Taking notice of your scents intermingling. He always smelled of smoke and pine from the forest.
Stanford’s eyes had kept closed for the most part. After so many hours of dedicated work, he felt they earned the break. It was only when he felt your finger begin to touch his chest that he peeked open an eye. With fascination, you traced the scars scattered across Stanford’s body. Your touch was light, almost fearful of hurting him as you brushed against each bump on his skin.
“Should I have kept on my shirt?” He asked, nearly drowsy at this point. As you turned your head, Stanford’s eyes slowly blinked.
“No, that’s okay,” You paused your hand, “I like them. Really.” In an attempt to ease any worry he may have, you pressed your lips lovingly against his collarbone. Pressing the flat of your palm against his chest you started to run it up and down the fine contours of his body. The edge of your hand tickled Stanford’s chest hair as your hand caressed his pecs with adoration, “I just can’t stop thinking I’m lucky, having such a gorgeous boyfriend~” You confessed dreamily.
Stanford’s face had begun to heat up as your hand moved. Butterflies even started to tickle his stomach and he laughed with a soft rumble, “I see…But are many times are you going to tell me that?” You had always been affectionate. It felt like everyday Ford was showered with compliments.
“When I drop dead,” You proudly answered, taking your arms around your boyfriend and snuggling into his side. He felt so toasty, you thought you’d never let him go. Another chuckle from Stanford and he pressed a kiss against your forehead before laying back,
“I love you, my dear. Good night.”
“I love you too, Stanford.”