Observant

Chemistry

The night was long. All of the lights in the busted shack were still on, yet the two that occupied it were no where to be found. Atleast to the normal person. Fiddleford and Stanley sat in the basement of the place, working on the reconstruction of the portal. Stanley seemed more focused but also more confused. It was kind of obvious Stanley had no idea what the hell he was doing. He displayed the blueprints on the floor, putting together the pieces like a puzzle without connecting them yet. Fiddleford stared at the man, getting distracted by Stan's movements. This guy was definitely not Ford. He seemed to be intelligent, but in a completely different way. What would you call it? Something like emotional intelligence, he thought.

Stanley noticed Fiddleford's staring, giving a slight smile before gently hacking him on the back. Stanley grinned slightly, letting out a slight chuckle. "You doing okay over there, fiddlesticks?" Stan asked, watching Fiddleford catch his breath after being so shocked. It was cute. Wait- why is Stan even thinking that? That's another guy..

Fiddleford just nodded,  quickly snapping back into a more focused state as he began to help Stan connect the pieces together. The two men had the first of Ford's diary sprawled out on the floor as they figured out this intricate puzzle of mechanics.

Surprisingly, Fiddleford was the one who suggested they take a lunch break after hours upon hours of working on the portal. Stanley was as focused as ever though, wanting to have his brother back as soon as possible. Stanley looked exhausted but focused. He agreed tk the lunch break, standing up to stretch.

"Oh god- my back." Stanley muttered in his Jersey accent as he popped his back. Fiddleford stood up as well, stretching his legs. He looked at his watch.

"Well Darn. It's more like a dinner break. Er late lunch." He muttered before the two men wondered into the kitchen. Stanley grabbed some bread out of the cabinet, making sure it was still good. He then found some peanut butter, beginning to make a few sandwiches for them both.

"I really need to do a food run soon. But with what money?" Stanley pines muttered to himself, looking around. He saw the other man just staring at him. This had been common lately. Fiddeford was just giving him a blank stare, possibly a look of admiration. Stanley caught himself staring back before handing the man a plate with two sandwiches.

"You aren't like. Allergic are ya?" Stanley asks the male, watching as he shook his head. Stanley relaxed, handing him a bottle of water. It was room temperature. He also went back to the kitchen to grab himself a water as well.

The two eat and chat, deciding to call it a night, just watching some random channel on the television until they were both passed out on the couch. Stanley practically laid on Fiddleford, snoring quietly as the Tv played behind them. Fiddleford had an arm around Stanley, practically holding him. Outside of the house filled with quiet mumbling from three Tv, soft rain fell against the melting snow. This was not a usual occurrence here, cold and harsh weather  usually lasting deep into the first month of spring.

—

As beams of light shine through the messy blinds,  Fiddleford began to wake. He began to sat up, soon realizing he couldn't. Stanley was still laying on top of him. A confused but contented Fiddleford stared at the drooling male, giving a soft chuckle. He felt at his own face, feeling that his glasses were missing. He began to look around on the floor, seeing both of their glasses laying crossed together near the leg of the coffee table. He reached to pick them up, setting Stan's glasses on the table before putting his own onto his face so he could get a better look at Stanley. God, he was such a cutie pie. He moved a hand to brush Stan's messy hair out of his face, the stupidest smile on his face. He kept a hand on Stan's head, chattering nonsense to the sleeping guy.

"You know, Stan." He talked just to hear himself talk. "Such a gentle guy." He mumbled, getting a bit frightened once Stan began to stir. Thankfully, he didn't seem to hear what Fiddleford was saying. He shut up quickly as Stan's eyes began to flicker open, a tiny of pink flushing his face as he removed his hand from the man's hair. He stared at Stanley as the man wiped the drool from his lips. He just began to say to, blushing as he saw the cute scientist under him. Stan looked around, grumbling as he began to try to remember what went down last night. Fiddleford began to sit up as well, taking a deep breath of air.

Without saying anything, Stanley starts to get up and stretch out his back. Fiddleford watched as he walked to the bathroom, hearing the shower  turn on after the door closed. Fiddleford got up as well, stretching as he steps outside for a moment. It was still raining. He sat outside on the covered porch, lighting a cigarette. He let out a deep sigh before intaking the smoke. He exhaled again, the smoke escaping his lungs with this. So many things entered his mind. Why was he staring at his ex-lab partner's brother like that? Why did he have to be so caring and handsome? God. He was gay. He knew that for a while now, that's why he was in the middle of a divorce. But was he really falling for a guy he met exactly three days ago?

After a few more minutes of being consumed in his own thoughts, he put out the cigarette and discarded it, walking back inside and locking the front door. That's when he saw Stanley walk out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Fiddleford blinked before letting out a quiet, "well hot damn"  before forcing his gaze away, going to take a shower himself. Stanley was confused. There's no way that man had any sort of feelings for him.. they just met. He probably just really liked his brother! Yep, that had to be it.

Stanley stood there in confusion for a few minutes, snapping out of it as he heard the shower turn on. He went to his room to get dressed, wearing a pair of cuffed blue jeans and a sweatshirt. He felt his face. He needed to shave. He walked to the kitchen to begin cooking their breakfast, wondering the reason behind Fiddleford constantly staying over. He snapped out of his thoughts once again before he smelt the pancakes burn. He grunted, throwing it away before finishing the batch.

Fiddleford stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of bell bottoms and a blue button up shirt which was tucked in, walking sleepily to the kitchen as he scratched the back of his neck k. They had the same thing three mornings in a row. He didn't have much money, but he figured he should probably help out with new groceries just a bit if he was going to be staying g here. Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember asking if he could stay. He kind of just stayed in a guest bedroom by Stanley's request.

The two sat across from eachother at the dining table, staring at eachother as they drunk instant coffee and ate their dry pancakes together, both thinking about what the hell was going through their gay heads.