Work Text:
A cold breeze ruffles Fiddleford’s hair and he shivers, pulling his jacket closer around him. He grips the groceries in his hands tighter, wishing he had just took the car instead.
Seriously, what was he thinking?
The town is much creepier at night.
He sighs, passing by an alleyway. There’s a small movement from inside and he whips around just in time to feel a numbing sensation jolt through his neck.
Everything fades to dark and when he wakes up he’s alone in the alleyway and freezing his ass off.
He walks home right after, unaware why he seemingly passed out for a few minutes and quite confused on why he’s so lightheaded.
*****
Truth be told Fiddleford doesn’t notice anything strange the first few days after the incident. He writes off any lingering hunger as his quick metabolism and isn’t too worried about the marks on his neck either, unable to see them fully.
He assumes the irritation is due to mosquitoes. There’s way too many in the woods after all.
It isn’t until the fourth day that he starts to notice that the hunger never really went away. If anything it’s only getting worse.
His insides feel like they’re being tore to shreds and no amount of food seems to satisfy the pain in his stomach.
He decides to take his concerns to Ford, but can’t find him anywhere.
In panic he searches for Stanley instead, hoping he can at least give a little insight.
Unfortunately neither of the twins are in the cabin much to his dismay.
“Okay- this is fine, totally fine. They’ll probably be back any minute and have a perfectly reasonable explanation.” Fiddleford mutters to himself, arms wrapped around his sides. He paces for a good while, but ultimately sits down when he realizes that the motions are just making him feel weaker.
Seconds tick by followed by minutes and he starts to feel like he’s going insane.
His head is pounding and he just curls up on the couch, trying to will the awful sensations away.
*****
Fiddleford wakes up to a shuffling in the other room and he sits straight up, eyeing the doorway. He can hear someone moving around and he rises to his feet almost as if on autopilot. His limbs shake and his brain tingles in a numb way, unable to fully access his thoughts or sanity.
All he can register is how hungry he is.
The next few moments are even blurrier. He moves forward swiftly, there’s a startled shriek, a fight, someone pressing him to the floor and finally a hand moving through his hair. The last action is the only one that feels within reach.
He blinks a few times, a shaky breath rattling his chest.
He’s not sure what just happened or how long it’s been, but at least the gnawing hunger in his stomach has subsided.
“Fidds?”
Fiddleford startles, vision focusing on Stanley who’s kneeling over him.
“Stan-“ Fiddleford croaks out then coughs. His mouth tastes disgusting and he makes a face, glancing around sluggishly. “Why…why on earth am I on the floor?”
“Uh-“ Stan makes a face of his own before carefully propping his friend up against the wall. There’s an uncertain look in his eyes, watching him warily. “How much exactly do ya’ remember from the past hour?”
“Hour?!” Fiddleford yelps, lurching forward with wide eyes. “I- It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes. I was lookin’ fer’ Ford to ask him about somethin’ and I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t find either of ya. Where in tarnation did ya’ two go?”
“I was getting firewood. As for Pointdexter, I’m pretty sure he’s off chasing another gremlin or something.” Stanley huffs, crossing his arms. His eyes never leave the scientist, still watching him like he’s about to attack him. “What were you gonna ask him about? Does it happen to involve something supernatural?”
“I-I don’t think so. It doesn’t matter. The feelin’ is gone now.” Fiddleford murmurs, thankful he doesn’t feel like he’s starving to death anymore. He sighs and looks down, noticing a flash of something red. His vision flicks over to Stan, noticing that his forearm is bandaged by a random piece of fabric, red leaking through it.
“Goodness, Stan! What happened?”
To his shock Stanley laughs.
“What’s so funny-“
“Ya’ bit me, Fidds.” Stanley deadpans, his humor in his tone completely fading. “More accurately you drank my blood. Which I’m guessin’ has to do with the big ass bite on your neck.”
Fiddleford blanches, his body going rigid. He glances down at Stanley’s arm again then rolls his tongue over his teeth, realizing they’re noticeably sharper. There’s a beat of silence before his breathing picks up and the panic sets in.
“Oh lord- Stan I—how did-“ his head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and he grips at his shirt tightly, fingers touching some specks of blood on it and he yelps.
The whole house seems to be closing in on him and he fights the urge to vomit.
He was bit-
Oh god- he got bit by a vampire!
“I’m sorry- I- this can’t be-“
“Hey, calm down, okay? I’m not dyin’ or anythin. It was just a love bite-“
Fiddleford lets out an hopeless sob at that and two strong arms wrap around him.
He blinks several times, fingers digging into the back of Stanley’s shirt.
From what he’s gathered Stan’s not much of a hugger.
He’s had the other man throw an arm around him or seen him jab his brother in the side, but this- this is open affection.
“Just breathe. I’m sure Ford has somethin’ in his nerd books about this. He’ll make you an elixir or something.”
Fiddleford laughs at that, his tears soaking into the bigger man’s shirt.
“I’m so sorry I hurt ya, Stan. I had n-no idea what was happenin. It’s like I blanked everythin’ out. I felt like I was starvin.”
“Have you drank any blood since you got bitten?”
“God no! I-“
“Then, ya’ probably were starvin’ and had no clue. Just don’t try to snack on me again, okay? I’ll help ya’ find an alternative.” Stanley sighs, patting his back.
“No- I can’t drink it again!” Fiddleford shakes his head vehemently, shoulders shaking. “I won’t. I-I refuse.”
Stanley whispers something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘drama queen’ and pulls away, but stays within arms length. “We’ll talk about it later. Now, think ya’ can bandage up my arm properly? I don’t want Ford to feel the need to study me.” he winks and Fiddleford feels his chest get lighter.
“Right- thank you, Stan. Yer’ bein’ really calm about this.”
“We can’t both be freaking out, brainiac.” Stanley shrugs and gets to his feet, helping the skinnier man up. “C’mon, let’s go find the first aid kit.”
Fiddleford nods, following close behind. His fingers run across his chin, shuddering when he feels crusted blood.
He really, really hopes Ford has a cure.
He’s not so sure he’s ready to be an actual monster.