New beginnings

Chapter 17

WARNING: sexy times ahead, don't worry It's does go any further than a heated make out session.

It had been exactly a week after the letters arrival. Fiddleford and Stanford had been busy preparing for the social workers visit. They child locked every cupboard, hid any dangerous weapons or tools and Fiddleford made Ford get rid of any ridiculous experiments like that god awful toaster. It looked as if the house was a completely normal home, that had was inhabited by two completely straight men in a completely plutonic friendship that were working on a non-universe destroying machine.

It was the day of the social workers visit, the deciding day. If it didn't go to plan Fiddleford may loose Tate forever. He was so excited yet incredibly anxious. The added stress certainly didn't help with his hair pulling tendencies and ford had to pry his lover's hands from his hair more than once

Ford and Fiddleford where peacefully snuggled up against one another. It was nearly nine in the morning when Stanford began to stir from his sleep. They usually don't sleep in that late but they may have had a few celebratory drinks for the future the night before.

Stanford smiled and twirled a six fingered hand in Fiddleford's hair, causing the other man to give a slight giggle as he woke.
"Good morning, sunshine" said Ford in a slightly chipper tone as he nuzzled his face into the back of Fiddleford's head.
"What's got you in such a affectionate mood?" Said Fidd as he turned to face his counterpart.
"Can't a guy be happy for having such an amazing partner?" Ford had gave a cheeky smile as he planted his hands firmly on Fidd's hips and drew him closer.
"You keep talkin' like that and you're gunna get what'cher lookin' fer" Fidd whispered but making sure his accent was clear for Ford to hear because Fidd knew how much Ford loved his accent.
"Oh yeah? and what is it that I'm supposedly looking for?" Ford asked in a playful tone as his hands roamed over Fidd's sides.
"Well, I think you're wantin' some of my lovin' but that's just a guess" Fidd bit his lip and moved slightly closer to Stanford, eyes locked and Fidd began to trace his fingers over Ford's chest. Drawing little shapes into his chest hair and reveling in the small whimpers he was getting out of Ford from these little actions.
"You like that, sugar?...honey bun...darlin'.." Fidd teased in his southern drawl, he knew exactly how to get ford all hot under the collar. A slight shiver ran down his spine as Fiddleford continued to sweet talk him with his accent clear as day. Ford knew he had to try and gain control over this situation before Fiddleford melted him into putty with that silver tongue of his. So Ford ,in one swift move, had placed himself on top of the taller man. Stanford looked down upon his boyfriend, Fiddleford's eyes were half lidded as he looked seductively up at his lover. Without a moments hesitation they both leaned in closer and captured each other's lips in a long and passionate kiss. Fiddleford's hand reached up and cupped Stanford's cheek to try and make the moment last longer. Soon they had to break apart for air, gasping for breath by not looking away.
"I love you" they said in unison before once again locking lips in a second kiss. This one was a little more heated than the first. Small moans escaped their throats and they began to deepen the kiss. Stanford began to slowly rock his hips against Fiddleford's and tried his best to remove Fidd's nightshirt.

With a little help Fiddleford's shirt was now thrown carelessly to the floor of the shared bedroom as the men began to pick up the pace. Stanford's hands were firmly planted on Fiddleford's waist as he began to buck his hips faster into Fiddleford's pelvis. Fidd couldn't  help the moans that escaped his throat as he felt the growing bulge in Stanford's boxers brush up against his own. Fiddleford rifled his slender hands through Ford's thick brown hair.
"Oh god!" Ford moaned as the other man began to suck on his neck, surely hard enough to leave a bruise. Fiddleford was about to move onto the second side of his lovers neck when he heard the faintest sound. He stopped and tried to hear it again but it was near impossible with his partner still rutting up against him. A couple seconds past and Ford realised that Fidd had completely frozen underneath him. Stanford looked up to see the puzzled expression on his partners face.
"What's wrong?" He asked in a hushed whisper. Fidd didn't reply until he heard the faint sound of someone knocking on the front door again.
"Quickly! What time is it?" He asked in a panicked tone. Ford looked up at the clock.
"Uhhh...half nine"
"Shit, the social workers here! Get dressed!" He panicked and wiggled his way free from under Stanford.

Ford helped him find his clothes that were scattered around the room.
"You remember what to say?" Asked Fidd as he tidied up Ford's hair.
"Hello, I'm Stanford Pines. Fiddleford's boss" he said in a slightly animated voice with a deadpan expression.
"And if they ask you what we're working on?"
"I assigned Fiddlefords help to assist me with cataloging the weather, for I am a meteorologist.....ugh, why do I have to be a meteorologist? Why can't I just say I'm a scientist?" Ford asked as he helped adjust Fidd's tie.
"Because that may lead to follow up questions like...'can we see what your working on?' And plus we have a weather vain outside the house we are going to say I created. Plus this is for my kid so I script what you say" Fidd said with a final nod before leaving the room to go answer the door. Ford didn't argue and followed behind him, mentally noting to tell Fidd how much he loved it when he took charge.

Fidd took in a deep breath before reaching out for the door handle. Ford was sitting in the kitchen making coffee like Fiddleford told him to. His knee slightly begging to bounce as turned the knob and open the door wide.

A short, fat woman with a mean expression stood on the porch. She was in a dark puce coloured suit, with a clip board in one hand and a pen in the other. She scowled at Mcgucket for a while before noting something down on her board.
"H-howdy, I'm Fiddleford Mcgucket" he extended out his hand to greet her but she just looked down at him.
"Salutations, Mr Mcgucket. I'm miss Hildegard, Hildred Hildegard. I'm here to inspect the living standards of your home to ensure it is suitable for a child" she droned with a nasally rasp in her voice.
"May I please come in?" she asked, at first Fiddleford was hestitant to let such a person into his house but then moved aside and gestured for her to come in.

Stanford was in the kitchen, siting at the table pretending to be logging the weather but he was really trying to follow the conversation going on in the hallway. Counting the slight taps of Fiddleford's heel against the floor, making sure he wasn't getting too anxious.

"So what is your occupation, Mr Mcgucket?" She asked him in her slow patronising voice. Fidd didn't know if she was insulting him by speaking to him this way or if she genuinely spoke that way to everyone.
"I'm an assistant, a meteorologist's assistant" Fidd choked out with a smile trying not to let his knee bounce any faster or let his hand reach up to his hair.
"And where is your boss?" She asked as she scribbled more notes down on her clip board.
"He's in the kitchen, would you like to meet him?" Fidd gave a sheepish smile and turned his head in the direction of the kitchen.
"Yes i need to interview any one that the child will be living with"
"Well, I-if you will follow me" Mcgucket stuttered before leading Miss Hildegard to the kitchen.

Stanford looked up to see Fiddleford, with a slightly strained smile, and a woman with a permanent scowl plastered on her face walk into the kitchen.
"This is Stanford Pines, my boss" Fiddleford announced as they walked into the room. Miss Hildegard just squinted at the young man standing up hesitantly extending his hand. Fidd looked nervously at the event unfolding before him.
"Hello, I'm Stanford Pines, Fiddleford's boss" he smiled, hoping she wouldn't notice the extra finger. She just turned her nose from Stanford to inspect the kitchen.

Stanford and Fiddleford exchanged weary glances toward each other as Ford sat back down at the table and pretended to work. Fiddleford followed the woman around the kitchen. This was going to be a long, stressful day.