A Friend (Stanford Pines x Reader)

The Calm Before The Storm

"Greetings, Y/N," Ford greeted warmly as he stepped into the kitchen. 

You smiled. "Good morning, Ford." You watched through your peripheral vision as Ford rummaged through the cabinets that lined the cabin's walls. He pulled out some coffee and stepped over to the pot, then paused. He hummed, a small noise in the back of his throat, then experimentally began to make the coffee. 

"Need any help there?" You offered. 

"Ah, no, but thank you though, love," Ford peered over his shoulder with a small smile. "I haven't used this dimension's technology in a very long time, and things have changed."  You nodded understandingly. As the coffee began to brew, Ford turned back to face you, a cheeky smile on his face. "Hey, Y/N, I've been meaning to ask you. Are you on the periodic table? Because you're sodium fine!"

Your train of thought came to an abrupt halt, your cheeks burning. You opened and closed your mouth for a few seconds, then began to laugh. "Wow," you said as you wiped a tear from your eye. "Have the kids been showing you how to work the electronics again?"

"Just a little. I still prefer books, as I've heard that sometimes these new electronics can cause some issues, but I've consulted them when I'm in a pinch. Once I figure out how to turn it on and find... Google, they call it?"

For such an abrupt transition, he seemed to be handling it well. While he expressed some concerns about the new technology, he quickly realized that it was like having an entire library at your fingertips. And slowly but surely, he attempted to familiarize himself with technology (not without assistance from the children, of course.) Mabel in particular had been very eager to show him the ropes. It was nice to see them both bonding. 

The happiness you felt was fleeting as a new concern made its way to the forefront of your mind. "Is the rift still stable?" you asked quietly.

Ford's face darkened as he poured the hot liquid into his mug. "It's growing stronger. I fear we will have to find a stronger containment unit soon."

Before you could formulate a response, Stan stepped into the room. He mumbled a tired, "'Mornin'," to you, but when his eyes landed on Ford, he glared. Ford returned the resentful gaze. You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Stan made his way across the kitchen and to the fridge. He pulled out a carton of milk and the eggs. He kicked it shut and approached the counter, roughly pushing Ford to the side with his shoulder as he did so. 

"What are you doing?" Ford asked coldly. 

"What's it look like, genius? I'm making breakfast. The kids gotta eat," Stan snapped. 

Ford exhaled heavily. "Of course." He took his mug and left the room without another word. You waited, and when you felt like you could finally breathe a little easier, you looked back at Stan. He poured the ingredients into a mixing bowl, his movements quick and tense. "Still on bad terms?" you asked. 

Stan groaned and slammed the pan on the stove. "What's his deal, Y/N? He gets all pissy when I do anythin'."

"I wish I knew," you muttered. And it was the truth. For whatever reason, Stan and Ford couldn't seem to look past their differences and reconcile. Their sibling rivalry ran deep, and it made everyone in the shack stand on edge. It was difficult to watch. You knew Stan better than anyone else in the shack did, and while he would never admit to it, you could tell that it hurt him. And perhaps it hurt Ford as well, but Stan wasn't even angry anymore. He just seemed resigned, accepting the fact that things and his brother would never be the same again. 

Stan's voice tore you from your depressing thoughts. "I'll get outta his hair here soon. I'm takin' the kids on a roadtrip."

"Really? To where?"