Archive of Our Own ^beta

Since Ford's time back from the portal, things had been frustrating, gotten worse, been horrifying, then miraculous, and then finally, freeing. 

It was only with the benefit of hindsight that he could truly grasp just where he'd gone wrong, both in his own life and his role in other's. His brother was the easiest example, followed by his old roommate and partner, but the kids hadn't escaped his influence, either- Dipper's admiration for him, Mabel's feeling of being left behind, Wendy's cold simmering dislike, and Soos' unsure but willing-to-try-to-help feelings towards him all blended together into one giant whirlwind of guilt that he couldn't take back. 

But, as Mabel said over and over, all he could do was try to make things right now. 

Everyone had forgiven him, in one way or another. He and Stanley had gone sailing for a good 9 months, for example, growing closer and closer and saving each other again and again. Dipper and Mabel held no hard feelings at all, somehow. Wendy's dislike of him was waning over time, especially now that he's made a point to try and connect with her, and Soos had welcomed him with open arms when he and Stanley had arrived back at the Shack for the summer. 

And now, he was sitting next to his old partner on his sofa, watching him tinker with some remote control. 

He had his new journal out- Journal 4, which was already almost completely packed. He and Stan had made this one together for the boat trip, electing to use a sea blue binding this time instead of red to separate the two 'series', as it were. Though his handprint remained the same on the front, embroidered with gold and a neat, painted "4" on the front. 

In this edition, he had a mix between new entries on anomalies and more adventurous tales he and his twin had embarked upon. Though, while they were back home, he'd decided to use the remaining 15 or so pages to simply sketch and admire the life he currently has. It seemed like a good way to end his "grand return to journaling," so to speak. 

His eyes flicked back up, watching Fiddleford tighten a bolt in the new remote. It was covered in all sorts of buttons, and Ford could only vaguely remember what each did, but that wasn't the point. The point was the fact his partner's tongue was sticking out as he worked, brows screwed up in concentration while his eyes were lit up with passion. His beard had been groomed and done up in a braid with a little green bow at the bottom, and the few hairs he had on the top of his head were all whisked to the side, as if he'd combed them before Ford's arrival. 

It was the little details Ford was drawn to, and he translated them as best as he could into the drawing he was making. In it, Fiddleford was posed similarly to how he was now- with one knee up and arms bent around the remote and the wrench he had in his hand- just with a few natural changes due to his shifting positions and tools as he worked. 

Fiddleford paused, glancing up from his work to meet Ford's eye. "What're you smilin' about over there?" he quipped, grinning at him with new dentures. 

"Me?" Ford blinked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Oh, nothing, just sketching." 

Fiddleford raised a brow at him, before shrugging joyously. "Welp! Good enough for me!" And he went back to his work, the scrtch scrtch scrtch of the wrench filling the space between them warmly.

As Fiddleford resumed his work, Ford took to his own as well. The sketch was pretty much done, so he set aside his pencil and grabbed a fountain pen. This one was blue and silver, a gift Stan had gotten for him while they were in the UK. Perfect for his cursive writing, though he did find himself wishing (not for the first time in his life) that he could convert it into a feather pen without messing up the ink flow. 

Maybe later. 

Next to the sketch he'd made of his friend, he began to write;

     While the day is not yet over, it has been most wonderous so far! My dear friend, F, has invited me into his home once again. Though last time, his home was little more than a pile of scrap, he now resides in a large mansion high above Gravity Falls! What once was a property of the Northwest family now belongs rightfully to the McGuckets instead (and has been renamed to the "Hootenanny Hut").

     He has shown me around, and while most rooms are still quite empty, the rest have been filled with more of my friend's marvelous inventions. It seems that, while his memories and sense of self had been taken from him whilst under the effects of the Memory Gun, his prowess with robotics had not. In fact, it had merely strengthened. He is better than he was in our youth, which is simultaneously thrilling and a relief to hear. Currently, he is tinkering with a remote control that is meant to activate and disable one of his larger inventions from a distance, though he has not shown me what yet.

     While on our seaward expedition, I had maintained as best communication with F as I could, and I am proud of how close we have become. I'd like to think we are as close as we were at the height of our friendship, back when we were working on X's project. Though I do not remember it being this sweet.

He finds himself smiling again as he finishes up that last paragraph. It truly is a testament to both how wonderful his friend is, as well as his patience that the two of them were able to make up. Their relationship has always been light-hearted and supportive, not counting X's influence. Everything before that point was just so natural. And while yes, they'd had their disputes, they'd ultimately overcome them quite easily. Distantly, he could recall feeling resentful towards his twin in college over the feeling, wondering when it had stopped feeling that fun and easy to be around Stanley. 

He sighed contentedly. That was all in the past. Now, he had both Fiddleford and Stanley back, and his past feelings towards them both had been disregarded by all parties. It was the best possible outcome. 

With the writing done, he started to line the sketch; one hand held the journal steady, the other began thinly lining along the drawing. He could go back and add thickness later, or once he started to get into the flow of lining. 

To his side, he heard Fiddleford let out a giggle. His laugh had changed over the years, but the joy remained perfectly the same. "Ya sure are swoonin' over that there drawing of yours. Ya mind showin' me who's gotcha smilin' like a contented married man?"

"What?" Ford looked up at Fidds with bafflement. "I'm not swooning, I'm just reflecting." 

Fiddleford set his wrench down, angling his body more towards Stanford. "Oh? 'Bout what?"

"Us, actually." He turned the journal around for Fiddleford to see, lighting up proudly. "I'm… I'm very happy we're friends again, is all." 

He watched as Fidds' eyes darted across the page, widening. He reached out to gently take the book from Ford, bringing it closer. Ford could tell from the way his eyes lightly ticked back and forth that he was taking in every detail, lovingly rendered as best as Ford could (barring the fact he'd only just begun the lineart stage).

Despite himself, Ford felt his feet begin to fidget in anticipation, lightly brushing against the floor as he swung them back and forth. It was barely noticeable, really, but he found that he didn't feel as self-conscious as he normally would be about it. Mabel told him it was just his mind seeking stimulation to channel excess emotion, or "stimming" as she'd referred to it, and he'd caught himself fidgeting more and more since she explained the concept. And, he'd noticed Stanley and even Fiddleford doing it as well. It felt strangely comforting. 

Fiddleford looked at it for a long moment, drinking in every detail, before looking back up at Ford with wide, blue eyes. "Wow," he murmured. "Peak of our friendship, huh?"

"Is… is that alright?" His fingers began to fold over themselves nervously. 

Fiddleford nodded, mouth splitting into a toothy grin. "I'd say so! I reckon I feel the same way!"

Stanford let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Ah, excellent then." His smile returned, gently taking the journal back from Fidds so he could continue lining the drawing.

Fiddleford folded his fingers together, running his thumbs overtop each other in small circles. "Ah, actually, I wanted ta ask you somethin' about that, if you don't mind." He looked away awkwardly, bringing up his boney shoulders into something resembling a shrug. 

Ford blinked in surprise before shutting the journal, setting it aside in favor of giving Fiddleford his full attention. "Of course. What's on your mind, friend?"

Fidds seemed to wince at that, before continuing on anxiously. "Well, you an' I have known each other for 40 ought years now, and while most of that time was spent apart, it's made me realize that I was always happiest when you were there with me." He reached forward, tentatively at first, then bolder as he got his confidence back, taking Ford's hands in his own. "I don't wanna lose you again, Stanferd. I'd much rather we stick together, thick 'n thin. You work on your projects, I work on mine, but we always come together again in the end." He looked up at Ford, making difficult eye contact that seemed to come naturally to him this time, gaze full of fondness. "Would that be nice?"

Ford nodded back without thought, returning the adoring expression. "That would be wonderful, Fiddleford." He ran his thumbs over Fiddleford's hands, feeling the softness of the skin atop his knuckles. "No matter where Stanley or I go, I wouldn't want to lose touch with you. And your inventions are incredible! I wouldn't want to take you away from them again." 

Fiddleford's mouth fell open, seemingly shocked, before he huffed and shook his head. "Of course ya didn't get the subtext," he grumbled, though not irritably.

Ford tilted his head to the side, confused. "What? What don't I get?" 

Fiddleford took one of his hands back, gesturing for Ford to lean closer. He complied, expression not changing from fond befuddlement. Fiddleford leaned closer in kind, lifting his now free hand to share secrets in his ear like a high schooler.

"I'm askin' ya out, Stanferd," he stage whispered.

"Oh," Ford blinked, before stiffening back up again. "Oh! My apologies, I didn't, ah…" 

Fiddleford just giggled again, a gleeful "Weh heh heh!" as he let himself grin. "No harm done! I shoulda expected it, honestly, you never were very good at this stuff." 

Ford gave an exasperated huff of his own, lifting his free hand to run through his hair and down to the base of his neck. "No, I suppose I never was," he agreed awkwardly. 

Fiddleford stared at him for a moment, blinked, then leaned closer. "Well…?" 

Ford frowned, bringing his free hand to his mouth in thought. "I'm… not sure," he replied. "It's not that I don't enjoy your company, but I'm not sure what a relationship would entail. Besides the… you know," he waved his hand in small circles in front of him, hoping Fiddleford would get the subtext (as he was better at that then Ford). 

Fiddleford nodded, and though he wasn't smiling anymore, he was still attentive and listening. He shifted so that his legs had folded, free hand resting on his knee. 

"I'm… not sure I'm fond of the activity, myself," Ford continued, shifting self-consciously so he was tilted away from Fiddleford. "And even then, what else changes?"

"Don't gotta be nothin," Fiddleford shrugged. "An' I'm not really active in that department so much anymore, anyway." 

"Then what would be the point?" It was an honest question. It's not that he was against the idea so much as he was just unsure about it. Ma always said that being with someone came with new responsibilities, but he wasn't sure what those were aside from making his significant other happy and providing. But he'd be on the Stan 'O War II with Stanley again by the end of the season, and he wasn't sure if Stan would be okay with a 3rd member of the crew, nor was he sure if Fiddleford would even want to come, and even then-

"I guess the point would just be to say that we love each other," Fiddleford replied, saying it as easily as breathing. He ran a thumb over Ford's knuckles. "To say that we're better together than we are apart." 

Ford had never… thought of it like that before. 

He brought his spare hand up to Fiddleford's, still clasped around his own, to hold. "Just that? That's it?"

Fiddleford brought his own free hand to rest on top of their little hand pile, smiling patiently and loving up at Ford. "That's it." 

"Oh." He looked down at their interlocked hands, finding himself enjoying the sensation quite a bit. This was stereotypically a romantic gesture, wasn't it? And he'd been doing it with Fiddleford since their last year of college and never realized it. In fact, he rather enjoyed the feeling of touch and the warmth it provided. He'd never been an especially tactile person before, but that just made it all the sweeter when it did happen, especially after his time in the multiverse. "I… I think I would like that, then." 

Fiddleford brightened. He moved to sit up on his knees, then walked forward on them across the sofa, closing the distance between the two of them. Then he turned, neatly slotting himself between the cushions and Ford's side, still keeping hold of their hands together. 

Fiddleford's pressure against his side made Ford want to melt, even if he was unsure how to proceed from here. A distant part of him ached to feel that pressure on his chest instead, so he slowly, awkwardly, pulled an arm free to wrap it around his friend's shoulders and bring him closer. Fiddleford seemed to take initiative, turning more towards Ford in a type of side hug as he snuggled closer. 

"This is nice," he sighed contentedly. 

Ford couldn't help but agree, though he still felt awkward about the whole thing. That sense of "now what?" hung over him, invisible pressure rising to get this right and not mess it up. But what was he supposed to get right? How? How much work was this going to be? Was there any at all? Surely there must be. But how was he supposed to know? And, moses, he still needed to tell Stanley and make plans for when the two of them left again-

And then he heard a faint sound, rough and rumbly. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from himself, even if Fiddleford seemed to get it immediately. He pressed closer, holding an ear to his chest.

"Whah- Stanferd, are you purrin'?"

"No," he replied automatically, before feeling bad about it. "Yes? It's… a feature I acquired while I was gone." He felt his cheeks burn. "My apologies, I'm not too sure how to control it yet." 

"Eh, don't bother," Fiddleford replied, pressing closer. "It feels nice. I don't mind none." 

"Oh." Once again, Ford found himself blindsided by casual acceptance. Had the world always been this way, or did it change while he was gone? Either way, he found himself both grateful for it now and filled with a longing for this type of kindness while he was still young.

The rumbling started up again, and then a lighter, more artificial trilling responded in kind. It was breathy and sounded like Fiddleford was just rolling his Rs repeatedly, but it made Ford's heart swell all the same. 

If this is what his friend meant by entering a romantic relationship, then maybe he could get behind that, so long as moments like this became more common. 

He still had questions, of course, and he wasn't sure he was feeling the way he was supposed to, but he also felt warm and appreciated, so he wasn't too worried about it. They could discuss it later. For now, he just held his partner close until the two of them fell asleep like that, safe and secure, with Ford's head resting atop Fiddleford's and their arms holding each other closer.

     It's now the next day, and I'm happy to say that F and I talked more after I wrote that entry. I showed him my drawing and what I'd written, and he appreciated it greatly, though more than I expected. Apparently, I'd given him an in to ask me out!  

     While I'm still not completely sure what this means or what it will entail, I must admit the idea is appealing. After he asked me, we spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling, and it felt wonderful. If being partners means more opportunities to slow down like that, then I'm all for it, although F assured me we could just do that as friends as well, if I still wasn't certain.

     And I am not certain, I will say. Romance has never been anything I've understood, and frankly, sometimes even found the idea repulsive. In my youth I tried to blame it on being busy, but now I see that it's just not an emotion I really feel. But F tells me that's okay. We'll be discussing it further, but I think I'm excited about this. While I will always dedicate my life first and foremost to science, knowing I'll always have F in my life has made my heart swell. 

     If nothing else, I can't wait to see the look on my niece's face. In fact, I'm thinking about perhaps consulting her about the whole idea. I've seen her work magic before, so perhaps she would know more than me about this topic. 

     Regardless, I find that while I do struggle with saying "I love you" aloud (and even writing it gave me pause), it is true for F. Even if I don't fully understand it. I hope we can continue just like we were yesterday. If that's a possibility, then I see no reason not to make it official. 

     I wonder if Stanley would be okay with bringing Fiddleford along when we next set out to sea…