Chapter Text
Ford had crash-landed into various dimensions after the Nightmare Realm, coming to the unfortunate conclusion that nearly every single one was either dangerous, mildly threatening, or just incredibly annoying.
He’d narrowly escaped one built around the letter ‘M’ when he woke up in the wet grass amidst a thunderstorm, lifting his head to identify anything alive in sight. A raven flew past him, bringing his attention to a giant manor towering above him.
Standing up to brush the mud from his pants, Ford approached the gate, recognizing the initials. The Northwest Manor, and he would've felt relieved if the figure in the doorway wasn't staring down at him behind a pair of bright green goggles.
Ford waved anyway, ignoring the sensible, nagging feeling that taking refuge in a haunted mansion wouldn't end well for him. The figure moved closer, lifting a lamp to his face.
“Fiddleford?”
The man behind the gate pushed his goggles up his forehead, grinning. “That's me!”
“What dimension is this?” Ford glanced around, slightly worried he’d see himself. “Why are you here?”
Fiddleford clicked the padlock, sweeping it open to take in a better view of him. He wore a long white labcoat with black buttons lining the side, black rubber gloves reaching his elbows, and he lifted the lantern up directly next to Ford’s eye.
He still looked more sane than Ford remembered.
“Why don'tcha come inside?” Fiddleford asked. “Ya look like you could use a bath. No offense.”
“None taken,” Ford stepped beside him as Fiddleford locked the gate again. “Do you… do you know me?”
Fiddleford was quiet for a second, peering at him from side to side. “Can't say we’ve met before,” he hummed, trotting back to the front steps. “But there's a first time for everythin’!”
Ford followed him inside, leaving puddles at the door as Fiddleford moved behind him to yank his coat off his shoulders. He probably meant it to be a welcoming gesture, but Ford could tell he probably never had guests over.
“I live alone.” Fiddleford said, answering his unasked question. “Moved in here only a few months ago, but yer welcome to stay as long as ya like!”
Ford hesitantly stepped through the hallway, the paintings decorating the walls following his eyes. As enthusiastic as its host was, the building was one hundred percent haunted. He couldn't tell if the cold air curling on his shoulder was a hand, or just the anxiety Fiddleford continued to brush off during the tour.
Ford suddenly realized he never saw where his coat went, and barely caught the bathrobe thrown his way. Soft as a cloud, dyed midnight blue, with the initial F embroidered on the lapel. He looked up to see a matching bathrobe in maroon, still hanging on its hook.
“Why do you trust me?” Ford finally asked, the question weighing on him since he entered.
Fiddleford stopped at a fancy bathroom, moving a lever down from the wall to turn the lights on. He definitely installed that.
“To be completely honest,” Fiddleford started, moving to run the bath of hot water, “you’re the first visitor I’ve had in a long, long time.”
“... I see.” Ford didn't know what to do with his hands, so he folded the bathrobe. “Well, thank you. This is certainly the most hospitable place I've found in years.”
Fiddleford snapped his fingers in the air, which was a mannerism Ford rarely saw in his own timeline. “Ya want some wine?”
Ford felt an alarm rattle his skull. “Wine?”
“We haven't had that spirit here since 1969,” Fiddleford sang, leaving the room. “Meet me in the hallway when you towel off!”
“I don't… drink…” Ford turned back to the bath, the hot water looking about as alluring as a spa you never intended on going to. He’d never been the type of person to use a bathtub before, and he hadn't had a dramatic shower sequence in a depressing amount of time.
He sat in the tub and almost immediately passed out from exhaustion, before waking up to notice just how perfect the water temperature was. For someone who claimed to not know him, Fiddleford got the calculations spot on.
He left the bathroom wrapped in his new robe, holding his folded wet clothes, alone for only two seconds before Fiddleford frantically ran up to him.
“Was the bath alright?”
Ford nodded, letting his arm be pulled to another room. It reminded him of the way Fiddleford used to pull him around his own shack, often to show him his finished projects or the beginnings of new ones.
“Any requests on where you’d like to sleep?” Fiddleford asked as they passed the kitchen.
“A bed would be nice,”
Fiddleford took him to what Ford guessed was the master bedroom, a giant room with a giant bed and- a banjo leaning against the left nightstand.
“I call left!” Fiddleford said, already taking his gloves and labcoat off to hang on the wall. He’d worn pajamas underneath it, kicking off his boots as he climbed onto the bed.
Ford didn't move from his spot. “Um. Fiddleford?”
“Eh?”
“Do you have any spare clothes?”
Fiddleford stared at him for an uncomfortable three seconds, before laughing and opening his closet. “I know just what you like!”
He tossed Ford a pair of flannel pajamas, coincidentally his perfect size.
Ford squinted down at the clothes in his hands, trying to piece together why he owned a replica of what he used to own. It occurred to him that Fiddleford never even asked for his name and had already invited him to sleep in his bed.
“I won’t look,” Fiddleford chuckled, turning his head as he lay down. “The only other bedroom in this mansion was used for storage. There is nothing important in there whatsoever!”
“You never asked for my name,” Ford pulled the pajamas on, relieved to wear something fresh for once. “I’m Stanford, but you can just call me Ford.”
Fiddleford didn't react, unmoving as Ford lifted the blanket to lie down next to him. He folded his glasses to leave on the nightstand.
“Fiddleford, you know who I am, don't you?”
When Fiddleford rolled over on his back, his eyes were wide open. “You're dead, Stanford.”
“What?”
“I didn't wanna say anything in case you’d run away,” Fiddleford continued, sniffling like he didn't want to talk about it. “Just- just go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”