A Friend (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Anxiety

You didn't like it when Ford was away. The home was just too big for one person, and you weren't used to the quiet, either. While Ford wasn't noisy or talkative, knowing there was someone else in the home was you was comforting. 

Ford and Fiddleford had set out on expedition to the Crash Site Omega just a few days earlier. Fiddleford had approached you both in the lab in a panic, claiming how powering the portal would take technology humanity hadn't yet invented, and most likely wouldn't invent for another ten-thousand years. You had to admit, the expression of shock he had once Ford told him about the crash site was amusing. After some hair-ripping, pacing and muttering, Fiddleford grew excited. He and Ford had decided to go out to gather some much needed materials.

When you asked if you could go, Ford frowned. "I don't know, Y/N..." He said. You must have seemed disappointed, because he quickly took your hands in his and pulled you close. "Y/N, I would love to have you with us. Truly, I do. You know that, don't you? I'm just anxious, that's all. Until I grow more familiar with the Site, I don't want to bring you because I don't want you to get hurt." He dipped his head down. "I love you too much to lose you,"

His words were soft. As you clung to him, you pulled your arm around him and nodded. You couldn't deny his innocent plea. Not when he looked so vulnerable. "Okay, Ford." You agreed. "I'll stay here,"

Now, you were alone in the shack, doing anything you could to fill the silence: Having music playing in the background, keeping the window open so that you could hear the birds, even whistling. You had worked as much as you could on the portal, but without Ford and Fiddleford, it was difficult to even make a dent in the work that remained. You couldn't do it alone. The house was spotless, and you didn't feel compelled to read the books that lined the shelves. Normally, when you read, Ford was beside you, lost in another world inside his own book. You hated to admit it, but you were lonely.

That's why you were initially relieved when you heard the sound of familiar voices outside. However, as soon as you opened the door to greet them, your excitement shriveled up and died. 

Fiddleford leaned heavily on Ford, awkwardly limping alongside him. Small winces of pain escaped him. Even from a distance, they both looked considerably roughed up. Their clothing was torn, their hair in disarray, and while Ford didn't seem to be too hurt, you could see several injuries on Fiddleford. "Oh my God!" You shouted, running up to them. "What happened?"

"Gremoblin attack," Ford grunted. Quickly, you stood beside Fiddleford, taking some of his weight from Ford's shoulder. Much to your surprise, Fiddleford wasn't too heavy. He was scrawny, sure, but lighter than you expected. You led the men inside. Ford sat Fiddleford down on the couch as you raced off to get bandages and the first aid kit. 

When you returned, Fiddleford was slowly rocking himself back and forth, muttering things under his breath you couldn't understand with his thick accent. You opened the kit and pulled out some disinfectant. "This might sting, Fiddleford, but I need to clean your wounds," You explained as you pulled a quill from his arm. He gritted his teeth and nodded, giving you permission. 

As you tended his wounds, you looked at Ford. "Since when were gremoblins so vicious? Was this a hybrid of some sort?"

"I tried to pour water on him to distract him! The gremoblin mutated right in front of me! I could have never suspected that water had that effect on them! I wonder how they drink..."

You cut off his rambling with a slight glare. He smiled apologetically and turned to assist you with tending to Fiddleford's injuries. Once you finished dressing the wounds, it took even longer to soothe his nerves. The poor man continued to rock, his knee bouncing furiously. "You're okay, Fiddleford, I promise. You're back at the cabin." You told him, handing him the photo of his wife and son, hoping he would find solace in the familiar faces. Fiddleford took it and clutched it to his chest. "It's eyes! Oh, golly, it's eyes, Y/N! The thing's got devils in it's eyes!" Fiddleford cried out. 

Ford intervened. "Fiddleford, maybe we could try looking into some meditation practices for you to try," He suggested, placing his hand on his friend's knee to steady him. "It might help you clear your head."

Fiddleford perked up at the last words. He looked at Ford with wide eyes, then jumped off the couch. "You're a genius, Stanford, a genius!" He cried as he rushed down the stairs. You and Ford exchanged surprised glances. "Should we be worried?" You asked. 

Ford shrugged. "He's a peculiar one. I think he'll tinker with some gadgets downstairs. Those seem to help him."

Time Skip

When Fiddleford approached you and Ford with a huge grin on his face, you were relieved. It seemed that he had recovered from last night's panic. However, when he held out a memory gun, you stiffened and inched backward. 

"Pick any memory ya want!" Fiddleford said, oblivious to your discomfort. He pointed it at you. "It'll take any bad memory away. Boom! Gone, just like that!"

Protectively, Ford stepped in front of you. "Fiddleford, you didn't have to take my words so literal," He said, shaking his head. "This... this seems dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Fiddleford asked, lowering the gun. "How?"

"Think of all the chaos that could ensue if this thing fell into the wrong hands." Ford said, staring down at the gun warily. Fiddleford drew it back, looking down at his creation. "Alright," He said. "I'll put her away,"

Ford clapped Fiddleford on the back. "It'll be okay, friend. It'll become less painful with time." 

"Heh, yeah, thanks, old friend." Fiddleford nodded. He opened the basement door and stepped inside, swiftly closing it behind him. You got a sinking feeling of dread when you picked up on the bright blue light that illuminated from beneath the crack in the door.