FIDDLEFORD APPRECIATION MONTH. Week one- parallel Fiddleford

Day 3

Ok, so this one is based off a few head canons by @/danvssomethingorother on tumblr. In the parallel universe Stan and Ford have solved their differences. Also the dog is of a hell hound decent. Also Fidd is trans and it has some implied trans male pregnancy.

  
The night was calm and peaceful, moonlight was streaming in through the blinds of their bedroom. Stanford and Fiddleford were sleeping side by side but not as serenely as one would think. Fiddleford's face had contorted into a frown and he began to jostle in his sleep. He made small whimpers of distress as his eyes began to water. Ford awoke to the strange sounds and sat over Fidd's body.
"Fiddleford..." he whispered quietly and gently shook his shoulder.

Fiddleford burst to life, sitting bolt upright. Flinging the covers off of him and making ford jump back in surprise.
"TATE!" He screamed and clawed out in front of him before noticing were he was.
"Fidd.." Ford's quiet whisper came from behind him, making him turn to see Stanford's face. Tears still rolling down his face, his breathing started to speed up once again. His hiccuped breaths warned Stanford he was about to have panic attack. Ford instantly pulled him in for a hug. The frail man latched onto him and tried hard to control his breathing. Ford stroked his head and quietly held him, wearily glancing up at the toddlers cot across the room. Luckily Tate was still alseep. Stanford cradled him in his arms as he regained his breathing and his shaking ceased. Fiddleford gripped onto Ford's shoulder, letting the tears flow freely down his cheeks. He hiccuped and snivelled as he calmed down. Stanford sat beside him and held him closely to his chest.

After a while of just calming down Ford loosened his hold on Fiddleford and let him sit up by himself. Fidd wiped his tear stained cheeks and smiled at Ford.
"What was it about this time, dear?" Stanford asked, patting him on the shoulder. Fidd shivered as his mind remembered his awful nightmare.
"Bill, he-he he had Tate. An-and I tried to-to stop it b-but...I...I-I"
"Okay, I understand, it's all fine. I'm here, Tate is in his cot. You are safe, he's safe, were all safe, okay?" Stanford informed before pecking him on the cheek. Fidd smiled weakly, peering over to Tate's cot. He saw his little chest rise and fall in his slumber. It's amazing how he didn't wake up after Fidd's panic attack. He felt Ford's large six-fingered hand stroke his back for reassurance. The southerner let out a small sigh of content before relaxing and laying back onto the mattress.
"Feel better?" Stanford asked and brushed some hair out of Fidd's face.
"Yes, thank ya honey" he smiled and kissed Ford on the lips.
"Goodnight"
"Goodnight"

Stanford watched silently as his partner settled back into a peaceful slumber. He watched his chest rise and fall, listened to his content breathing and smiled at how happy he looked but something nagged at Stanford. Fidd was getting much better at remembering and dealing with his anxiety, especially during the pregnancy but maybe their was some other way to help Fidd feel more at ease. The thought swirled in his mind for a while before he came up with an idea. Apparently dogs were great at helping deal with mental disorders. Would Fidd want a dog? Maybe a small one so it wouldn't be too much of a hassle. Where would he get a dog from? Stanley would probably know someone, yeah. Happy with his plan he settled down and slept next to his husband.

----

The morning appeared almost to quickly and before he knew it Stanford was cooking breakfast for his partner and Fidd was bottle feeding their small child at the dinning table. Stanford went over the plans he made last night in his mind before realising he was burning the eggs. The oil sizzled and popped until some splashed on his fingers. He jumped back in surprise, making Fidd look up at him.
"Son of a -"
"Stanford!"

Ford glanced over at his husband who was giving him a look that could kill. Fidd glared at him before flicking his eyes down at the child in his arms and back up to Stanford. Ford gave a small, apologetic look toward his husband before caring for the still burning eggs. Fidd rolled his eyes and focused on the small bundle in his arms.