A Tale of Two Fords

Requests(1): Relax

{For @GoldenCake12 :
"For little one shot requests, if you're still doing them, maybe one about Ford staying up super late like he always does but finally Fidds convinces him to lie down and relax."}
Hope you enjoy!
~Fidds

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...and if this moves over this way... No no no, Ford, that's dumb... Oh... Maybe because of this... This goes like that.. And- And— shit!"
"Language, Stanford!"
The tall brunette looked up from his books to glance at his roommate, who sat to his left on (now) their shared bed.
It was a little past midnight on Friday night, and Stanford had come in right after his last class of the day (Psychology; who knew?) with an excited grin on his face. He had finally gotten wheels turning in his head for a big project that was due in a few months and wasn't about to let this lightbulb dim out and die. Fiddleford knew his partner better than anybody, and was, honestly, slightly appalled when he came into their dorm to find Ford's desk piled high with textbooks and crumpled papers. Yet, he didn't say anything to protest against it. After all, he figured, this was Stanford Pines.
Once he had an idea, there was no stopping him.
It wasn't until 10 PM passed and after Stanford's mumbling turned into frustrated murmurs, which turned into incisive pen clicking, that Fiddleford began to have a problem.
"Why don't ya just rest on it for tonight..?" the southern man had suggested, patting the empty space beside where he laid reading his book. His roommate just brushed him off with a distracted "in a little bit". Fiddleford sighed. "Fine well.. At least stop clickin' that pen of yours so much... It's getting irritatin'...."
    "Sorry..." The other mumbled and set his pen down before going back to drowning out the world in his work for another two hours.
     And so, Stanford Pines sat at that desk talking to himself with his lover in the corner trying to read silently, until midnight rolled around. 
    "Shit!"
    Then, Fiddleford McGucket had had it.
    "Language, Stanford!" The southerner had scolded, irritation clear in his voice.
    "Sorry," Ford mumbled again then tugged a bit at his hair in frustration. "Sorry... Sorry... It's just... Agh! This damn—"
    "—Language!—"
    "Darn supernatural being doesn't want to be physically correct!"
    An exasperated sigh.
    Fiddleford set his book down and got up, walking over to his roommate. "Let me see that thing."
    Ford looked hesitant for a moment before handing his work and a report to the shorter man in front of him. He looked it over then handed it back with another sigh.
    "Let me guess..." Fidds pinched the bridge of his nose as Ford straightened out the papers. "That report about the pterodactyl... That came from—"
    "—Oregon," his roommate finished his thought, looking down at the papers as he started working theories in his head. "Gravity Falls, to be exact..."
    "Of course..." Fidds rubbed his eyes. "Stanford, darlin', y'know that town's nothin' but a bunch of bull.."
    "That's what you think but-!"
    "But nothin'...! I know y've seen all these reports about sightin's and such, but, logically speaking, it's most likely some kinda tourist trap put together just so the town can get some publicity..."
    "But Fidds, it was a real sighting! Photographs and everything!" Stanford insisted. "If I could just... If I could just figure out... Well, I mean... It's body had to be encased somehow! I'd even dare to say in ice had this report not been given in summer... If I could just figure out what it was saved in... I could have all the information I need! I just-"
    "Have ta figure it out," Fiddleford cut off. "I get it, I get it. And it's important to ya, I know! But so is sleep. And rest of any kind- which you are in desperate need of! As your friend I can't let you-"
    "Fiddleford please! I'm not a child! I can handle myself without you having to worry over me like one! Please just... Just let me decide for once!"
    And at that moment..
   "...fine..."
    ...Stanford Pines knew he fucked up.
    Fiddleford said nothing else and walked back to the bed. He set his book to the side and laid down, his back facing the other. Ford bit his lip after a few minutes of tense silence. He sighed and stood, carefully making his way to stand over his roommate.
    "Fiddleford... I'm... I'm sorry..."
     The apology was met with silence, but he continued anyway.
    "I really am sorry... I didn't mean to snap like that... I know you just want me healthy and all..."
     "..."
    He frowned. "Fidds... Please... Please just... Just talk to me... What can I do to make you talk to me...?"
    A few moments passed before the smaller man rolled on to his back and pat the empty space beside him. Ford took the hint and laid beside his partner, immediately wrapping arms around Fiddleford's thin waist.
    "I'm sorry..." He whispered again and was surprised when the response he got was quiet laughing. Ford looked at the man in his arms.
     "I knew I'd get you in here one way or another."
     Realization struck.
    "Why you sly little-!"
    His retort was cut off by the feeling of soft, gentle lips against his own.
    "Goodnight, Ford..."
    "Goodnight, Fidds..."
     As his precious lover drifted off to sleep, head resting against his own chest, he let his eyes close.
    And for the first time that night, Stanford Pines allowed himself to relax.