Twelve Days of X-Mas

Ford x Fiddleford

On the second day of X-mas, the author let me read
Just FiddleAuthor
And some Mabifica just for me.

"How about this one?"

"No, the one side is missing branches, Stanford."

Ford sighed, tugging his hood up against the cold. They had been out here for hours, and Fiddleford had yet to pick out a tree.

"It doesn't matter," Ford grumbled, "Just pick one and let's go! I can hardly feel my fingers."

Fiddleford frowned, glancing over at his boyfriend. The man was rubbing his hands together, trying to warm them up. He didn't have gloves, since it was impossible to find six-fingered gloves.

"...Alright, alright," Fiddleford sighed, looking around. He spotted a good-sized tree nearby, "How's that one?"

"Good, great, now let's go," Ford rushed. They cut down the tree, carrying it back to Fiddleford's truck. The ride home was quiet, with Ford holding his hands in front of the heater the entire time.

At least Fiddleford knew what he was getting his boyfriend for Christmas.

-----

"Ms. Pines?" Fiddleford approached the woman, who was sitting in the living room, knitting a sweater.

"Oh, hey Fiddleford," Mabel smiled up at him, not ceasing in her work, "You need something?"

"I was wondering if you could make a little somethin' fer me to give te Ford for Christmas," Fiddleford said, fiddling with his fingers.

"Of course," Mabel nodded, "What do you need me to make?"

"A pair of gloves, just for Stanford," Fiddleford explained, "It's impossible to find fitting ones in stores, so I'd like them to be made 'specially fer him."

"Six-fingered gloves, huh?" Mabel said thoughtfully, "I can do that."

"Thank yeh, Ms. Pines," Fiddleford smiled, "It means a lot."

-----

Soon enough, Christmas day was here. Fiddleford woke Ford up a little earlier than usual, but he didn't mind much. Ford got up to make coffee, while Fiddleford snuck into the living room to search for Ford's present. He quickly located it, rushing back into the kitchen where Ford was making coffee.

"What's that?" Ford asked, eying the gift in Fiddleford's hands.

"Merry Christmas," Fiddleford replied, handing Ford the present and kissing his cheek. Ford smiled, tearing open the wrapping paper.

"Gloves?" Ford frowned slightly.

"Not just any gloves," Fiddleford smiled. Ford unfolded the gloves, looking at them.

"...six-fingered gloves..." Ford murmured. He set the wrapping paper on the counter, pulling the special gloves onto his hands, "They... wow. Fidds, thank you. They're perfect."

"I had yer aunt make 'em just for you," Fiddleford grinned. Ford smiled back, giving his boyfriend a kiss.