A New Adventure (a Fiddauthor Fanfiction)

>> Seven <<

(Author's Note: Song choice for this chapter is the "Can't Help Falling in Love" cover by Haley Reinhart -- Enjoy!)

      Fiddleford and Stanford made Christmas Dinner together. Ford was in charge of the side dishes while Fidds took over the ham and the desserts. No one in Ford's family could cook; his father declared that it was, "A woman's job," and yet his mother could barely bake a cake without burning it or partially mixing in the flour. Ford took after his mother, only being able to make a box of mac 'n cheese on a good day. His father never cooked a meal in his life because he insisted cooking was a woman's job. Ford remembered the day that Stanley had tried to make a meal for his Home Economics class in middle school. He nearly wretched just thinking about the disastrous meal that was put before him. He sighed heavily.

     Fidds on the other hand had been cooking since he came out of the womb. He loved everything about cooking; there were opportunities to try new things, to experiment, and to please those around you with delicious goodies. On more than one occasion, Ford came home to freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies, large pots of homemade chicken noodle soup, and many different types of casseroles that Fidds insisted had "secret family recipes."

     "Is this right?" Ford asked for the tenth time that hour. Fidds only giggled.

     "You are boiling water, Ford. How can ya screw that up?"

     Ford shrugged, "I don't know how any of this culinary sorcery works."

     Fidds hooked a hand around Ford's waist, "You're doin' just fine, dear. Now relax."

     Ford's face went blood red. He threw his hands over his face to cover his dorky smile.

     Fidds well-being had improved tremendously after his little incident in the bathroom. His fever hadn't gone up again, and he actually felt like being active compared to lying in bed all day. Ford was grateful, not only for the fact that Fiddleford was no longer unconscious in his arms, but also for the fact that they were able to spend their first holiday together, despite Fidds' condition. He made frequent glances over at his roommate to ensure he wasn't over-doing it, which Fiddleford adored.

     "Everything should be ready shortly. Get them 'taters in the water, Ford!" Fiddleford chided.

     Ford, who had been staring longingly at Fidds, jumped to attention and threw the handful of pealed, sliced potatoes into the boiling water. "Sorry, I was l-lost in thought."

     Fidds smirked, "Sure, Stanferd. Whatever ya say." He winked, then turned to set a table. They were no longer in their dorm, but in the dormitory's kitchen and commons. Only one other student stayed in the dorms for Christmas, but he was very isolated and refused to join them.

     The commons were quite large. On one end of the room there was a wall of bookshelves, resulting in a miniature library in their own building. Around the shelves, there was a variety of mismatched chairs and couches, all of different shapes and materials and in the center of the far wall was a small, brick fireplace roaring heartily (Ford thought it would make their meal seem more romantic). Near the kitchen there were numerous dining tables, each made of a dark brown plastic painted to look like wood. The chairs were similar, but had a red cushion as an added accent. Overall, the whole room was very welcoming and cozy.

     Fidds had purchased a white, lace table cloth and had spread it over three tables that were lined up together to give the impression of one large table. In the center, a vase of poinsettias. Toxic...but beautiful! Ford had said when Fidds brought them home. Numerous glass bowls filled with various side dishes filled the table, and finally, the honey-glazed ham made a momentous appearance, causing their mouths to water lustfully.

     "This really is quite an impressive spread we've put together," Ford commented, admiring all of the food and all of the hard work the two had put into it.

     Fiddleford nodded, "It certainly is."

     They sat together at opposite ends of the long table and began filling their plates with food.

~

     Dinner was long, though the two didn't eat much. Fidds was still feeling a little iffy from being so sick, and he didn't want to overeat and cause himself to become sick again. Ford didn't want to seem like a pig and therefore barely ate anything. He was already self-conscious about every little thing he did, especially eating since he was a bit huskier than his counterpart. The food was divine, especially the things that Fidds had made. It made Ford question why he didn't want to go into the culinary arts, but with Fidds' grades Ford knew he would go further as the brilliant mechanic he would surely turn into.

     "Stanferd, can ya help me?"

     He was daydreaming again. He found himself doing that a lot lately with the appearance of his crazy hillbilly. While it barely affected his grades, it affected his motivation. Instead of wanting to study and read all day, he was thinking of ways to surprise his boyfriend, of gifts he could buy, of ways he could...please him.

     They had agreed that presents were not necessary since the dinner and tree took up most of their money. However, Ford desperately wanted to buy something, anything to show how much he cared for Fiddleford. He had thought of everything from a stuffed bear to a promise ring, yet nothing had felt right, nothing felt natural. As much as he desperately wanted to belong to Fidds forever, marriage between two men was a...touchy subject. There were other ways, sure, but nothing was quite as solidifying as a ring alongside a document confirming that the government will recognize them as a couple.

    Ford washed down the tables and put everything back in its natural state. He remembered that there was mistletoe in his desk. His eyes widened with the realization, and suddenly he was rushing to fold the table cloth and put still-warm food into glass Tupperware.

     "I'll take these back to our room. See you there!" Ford said as he stacked bowls into his arms and darted out of the room.

     Fiddleford raised his eyebrows suspiciously, but took his sweet old time nonetheless. Ford had shoved the bowls into their little fridge as quick as possible, then reached into his desk drawer to grab the mistletoe. He hung it in the center of their "living room (the space between the couch and TV)."

     After a few minutes, Fiddleford shuffled through the door holding numerous bowls. Stanford rushed to help him, stacking the remainder of the food in the fridge.

     "Why did ya rush up here so fast?" Fidds asked as he straightened himself out.

     Ford simply looked up at the ceiling. "I forgot something important."

     Fidds followed his gaze with a confused look. Then he saw it.

     "Stanferd, ya know I'm sick. I ain't gonna risk it."

      Ford wrapped a comforting hand around Fiddleford and pulled him closer. "I'll have you know, I am immune to the common cold and the flu," he smoothly lied. "You won't be risking anything."

      Fidds blushed, "Ford, I'm just not sure about th--"

      Finally, their lips met. Ford felt the world collapse around him; his knees went weak and he struggled to stay standing as Fidds hooked an arm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer still. Ford ran his hand up Fiddleford's back, tangling it in his messy, blond hair. Ford could feel him holding back a grin.

      Snow began to fall as the two fell onto Ford's bed, a mess of giggles and tangled limbs.