A Friend (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Dread

"Ford, come on. You've been at it for hours. You need sleep!"  You tried to make your tone as stern yet caring as you could. It was midnight, and Ford had been sitting in the same spot for hours, his intelligent mind going a mile a minute while sorting through papers. Fiddleford had already succumbed to fatigue. He never needed much of a reminder. Ford, on the other hand, would do anything in his power to fight off his need for sleep. 

"Sleep is a waste of time, Y/N." Ford countered. "There's still at least three hours of work left to be done," Ford pushed at one of the several coffee mugs cluttering the table disdainfully. He had dark circles beneath his eyes. At this rate, you knew he would most likely end up crashing, and you'd find him face first in the papers scattered below him. You weren't about to have that. "Ford, please," You implored. "You're scaring me." 

The man before you paused, lowering his pencil slightly as he turned to meet your eyes. He blinked a few times, as though he was seeing just a little more clearly than before. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that... I don't know, Ford, but one of these days, you're going to get sick. You don't have to drown yourself in work like this. You have needs, too. What's the point in making a ground-breaking discovery if you're too sick and fatigued to enjoy it once you've finished?" You made your way behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders, giving them a small squeeze. "Come to bed," You begged.

A low, long sigh escaped from his lips. "Maybe," 

Though disappointed, you knew that was probably the best answer you were going to get from him. You sighed in return. "Well, I'm going to get ready for bed. I'll come back down in a few minutes. Have an answer by then." You lifted your hands, dropping them back down to your sides as you turned and made your way to the stairs. As the wood creaked beneath you with each step, you cast one look over your shoulder. Watching you go, Ford gave you a small, apologetic expression. 

Closing the door behind you with care, you made your way to the bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. You tightened your grip on the porcelain bowl, glaring down at the drain. You weren't angry with Ford, though he probably suspected that you were. Rather than angry, you were just concerned. How could you not be? Ford had a tendency to push his body to the limit, testing just how much it could withstand, and one of these days, it was going to catch up to him. 

Looking up at your reflection, you couldn't deny that you too were worse for wear. Several long nights had been spent working tirelessly on that portal. So much frustration, excitement, blood, sweat and tears went into it. You too were guilty of neglecting some of your body's needs, prioritizing the portal over them, but even you knew your limit. Ford, however, didn't seem to know his.

You stepped out of your clothing and into your pajamas, using the bathroom and brushing your teeth as you needed to. When you finished, you crept down the hall and to the basement stares again. You paused hesitantly when you heard what seemed to be murmuring coming from down below. Either you were more sleep deprived than you speculated, or Ford was. You opened the door and climbed down the stairs. When you got to the bottom level, you met Ford staring at his hand with a perplexed expression on his face. 

"Your answer?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning on the wall. Ford looked up at you and grinned through his exhaustion. "I'll come to bed with you," He said. Relief flooded over you. So much so, you barely stopped to question how much perkier he seemed now than when he had when you initially departed. You extended your hand to him, which he accepted, rising out of his chair and gingerly pushing it in behind him. "I like the way your hand feels in mine," He said, smirking when he noticed the heat rushing to your cheeks. 

You made your way to your bedroom. Collapsing into the bed, the sheets moved to conform with your body shape, enveloping you in a welcome sense of comfort and ease. Ford quickly changed, then came down beside you. He pulled you close. Ford didn't have a lot of muscle--in fact, he was rather thin, for a thirty-year-old man--but you didn't mind. He held you the way no one else ever had, conveying love through the contact.