Work Text:
Stanford was so close, so fucking close. So close to finishing that damn equation that had been bothering him for the last 3 days. He'd hardly slept or ate in the last week. Thank God he has Fiddleford or else he'd probably be dead by now. It's right there and he knows it he fucking knows it. It's dangling right in front of his goddamed face and he just barely can't reach it. He's so in his head that his ears begin to ring. He can hear something in the background but he doesn't care what the fuck it is. All he cares about is finishing this portal for his beloved Muse. Oh, he's gonna be so proud and pleased of him when this is all finished. Just more encouragement for him to get this done even faster. Just staring at this godforsaken equation is making him inexplicably angry. Out of unbridled frustration at himself, at the fucking math, at everything right now, he just begins to hit his head with the heels of his palms.
"Stanford!" A familiar drawl brings him back. He looks up at Fiddleford, who has grabbed both his wrists with an iron grip to stop Ford from hurting himself. Although Fidds is lean, his farm boy strength will tell you a different story. "Stanford, I have been calling you fer the last 5 minutes! What are you doin to yerself?" Ford was now being hit with the realization of what he was actually just doing. Jesus fucking christ he was just throwing a tantrum like a fucking toddler. He looked away from Fiddleford, embarrassed of his recent actions. Until Fiddleford grabbed Fords chin to face him. "Hey, look at me. Stanford, I have been trying to get you to rest fer the last two weeks and you never listen to me, and now look at what just happened! Yer so blinded by this portal that you are not thinking about yer well being. Can you even remember the last time you took a shower Ford?"
"Um... it was-"
"Don't answer that." Fidds sighed, exhausted with worry. He let go of Fords face, but only softened his grip on his hands.
"Look, Stanford, I know that yer work is very important to you, and I care about you so very much Stanford. I don't want to see you become an Icarus. Now please, come upstairs, take a bath, and I will fix us somthin' to eat. That sound good?" Ford looked up at him and nodded. Fidds smiled softly and let go of his hand. They both made their way out of that damn basement.
Ford had finally listened to Fidds. He had gone upstairs, taken a long hot shower (per Fidds request), and sat down and ate a real meal with Fidds. They sat and ate and talked. They just talked, not about the portal, not about science, but about life. Their experiences, things that excite them and things they'd like to stay far away from. It was domestic and healing. Ford actually enjoyed this whole experience. There was a small nagging in the back of his mind that his Muse will not be happy with him but he shoved the notion far away, not wanting to spoil the moment.
They had long since finished eating and Ford began to wash the dishes as Fiddleford had left to clean up himself. Ford was afraid to be alone with his thoughts. There were precisely 2 things he could be thinking about right now. First, it was kinda hot when Fidds grabbed his face with that iron grip. His mind began to wander a bit then, oops it has wandered too far. SHUT IT DOWN! Then there was... Bill. His Muse was going to be so displeased with him for taking a break. It frightened him to think of what his Muse will say. Before he could continue, he was startled by hands snaking around his torso, hugging him from behind.
"Sorry sugar, didn't mean to make you jump" Fidds muttered into Fords shoulder.
"No you're fine" Ford replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the plate he had been washing. They both just stood there for a minute. Neither spoke nor moved, just enjoyed eachothers breath and company.
"I'm gonna turn in fer the night, I'm hoping you'll join me." Ford remained silent. Fidds sighed as his smile fell. "Hey, don't forget what happened to Icarus." Fiddleford gave him a small peck on the cheek. "Goodnight Ford." Ford watched as Fiddleford left the room and made his way upstairs. Ford turned off the faucet, guilt burning deep in his gut as he walked towards the basement door.
"He didn't flap hard enough."