#i know fidds is in his post college outfit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

I've been meaning to write Ford reuniting with Fiddleford in my Foster Ford AU (aka my AU where Ford gets turned into a smol child, picked up by CPS, then taken in by Stan who thinks that this kid is his twin's son) for a little while. And what better time to do that than the national holiday known as Fiddleford Friday? Happy Fiddleford Friday everyone! Enjoy some smol Ford meeting Fiddleford.

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Ford sat up, stretched, and threw his legs over the side of the bed. One of the unexpected benefits of being a child was that he tended to sleep better. When he didn’t have nightmares, at least. And on the weekend, he could sleep in. Angie would wake him by ten, but he was usually up by then anyways. It was a Saturday morning, the clock on his wall informed him it was nine, and he could already smell whatever Angie was making for breakfast.

Yum. Ford slid off the bed and exited his room, making a beeline for the kitchen. Stan was a surprisingly good cook, but Angie was definitely the better of the two. Ford had yet to dislike anything she’d made. As he approached the kitchen, he could hear voices conversing. Three of them. Shit. Is someone visiting?

“Go get Ford up,” Angie’s voice said.

“What? C’mon, Ang,” Stan’s voice said. “You make him get up at ten. It’s only nine!”

“We also have a visitor. Someone who is very excited to meet him. Brought a gift and everythin’!”

“Ugh. Fine.” There was a scraping sound from a chair being pushed back. After a few seconds, Stan exited the kitchen. He grinned at Ford, who had paused upon hearing that they had a guest. “Hey there, sport!” Stan said jovially.

“Good morning,” Ford said politely.

“Angie’s brother is here today and he’s really excited to see you. Why don’t you say hi before you get ready?” Stan suggested.

I really don’t want to… Nevertheless, Ford walked into the kitchen with Stan. When he saw the man sitting at the kitchen table, his heart leapt into his throat. No. It can’t be. His hair was shorter, his shirt lacked any sort of fringe on it, and his characteristic bellbottoms had been replaced with a slightly more subtle bootcut. But Ford would know him anywhere. F?

“I’m right pleased to fin’ly meet ya,” chirped Ford’s college roommate, Fiddleford McGucket. “And I’m awful honored to be the first one in the fam’ly.”

“Other than me,” Angie corrected from her post by the stove.

“That goes without sayin’,” Fiddleford said. Stan, who was now behind Ford, nudged him forward. Fiddleford got off his chair and crouched down to Ford’s eye-height. “Yer a ding-darn cutie, Ford.”

“Uh, thanks,” Ford mumbled. He could feel his cheeks starting to heat up. It was always embarrassing to come face-to-face with someone who had known him before, even though they weren’t aware of who he truly was. Something about Fiddleford’s smiling face turned the humiliation up to eleven.

Though that could be the pajamas. If I’d known I was going to reunite with F, I would have changed! Normally, Ford’s current outfit, a footie pajama set patterned with cartoonish dinosaurs, was one of his favorites. But right now, he’d give anything to be wearing something else.

“Give him some space,” Stan instructed Fiddleford, misinterpreting Ford’s red face. “He gets a bit nervous around new people.”

“Don’t you worry, puddin’,” Fiddleford said. He sat down on his chair again. “The robots I make wouldn’t harm a hair on yer lil head. They only get after grownups.”

“Fidds…” Angie sighed.

“What?”

“We haven’t exactly had a chance to mention yer fondness fer buildin’ robots. Now ya went and said somethin’ what might scare him!” Angie scolded. She pointed the spatula she was using to flip pancakes at Fiddleford. “Shut yer yap and let us lead the conversation.” Stan chuckled. He walked over to his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

“I taught you that phrase,” he said. “I like hearing you say it.” Angie smiled at him. Ford grimaced.

I’m happy Stan wound up in such a loving relationship. But they can be so…gross! Fiddleford snickered softly.

“Oh, I agree wholeheartedly with that sour look, Ford. I don’t like seein’ ‘em bein’ all lovey-dovey, neither.”

“Did you use the bathroom yet?” Stan asked Ford. Ford scowled.

“I’m not that young,” he snapped. Fiddleford chortled.

“Uh-huh. Then how come you forget to go before we head out somewhere?” Stan asked. Ford’s cheeks reddened again.

“That was one time!” he managed. He would never forget how degrading it felt to ask Stan to pull over at a gas station less than five minutes after they left the house.

“Three times,” Angie corrected. She flipped a pancake over. “But it’s dif’rent than just usin’ the bathroom in the mornin’.” She looked at Ford. “You ain’t answered the question, though.”

“I got a bit distracted by…” Ford gestured vaguely. “Everything.”

“Fair.” Angie smiled at Ford. “Go get dressed ‘n whatnot. Call if ya need some help.”

“I don’t need help,” Ford muttered. He turned around and walked out of the kitchen. As he got ready for the day, his mind was reeling.

How did I not realize Stan’s wife was my college roommate’s sister? He’d noticed many times that Angie seemed to have many similarities with Fiddleford, but dismissed it because of her name. I thought a McGucket would never have a name as mundane as “Angie”. Clearly, I was wrong. Ford paused in the middle of putting on his T-shirt. Unless “Angie” is short for something as ridiculous as “Fiddleford”. He racked his brains, trying to remember Fiddleford mentioning a sister who was a biologist. This would be easier if I were able to keep his many siblings straight. I swear, every time he mentioned a brother or sister, it was a new one. He shook his head and finished getting ready.

When Ford approached the kitchen this time, he paused purposefully, just far enough away that he could hear the conversation going on between the adults.

“Have ya discussed adoptin’ him?” Fiddleford asked. Stan let out a heavy, weary sigh.

“It’s definitely on the table. But I’m gonna hold out hope that they’ll track my twin down in Siberia or something, and Ford can go back to his dad.”

“If they can’t?” Fiddleford prompted.

“Then we adopt him,” Angie said softly. “It’d be better fer him to stay with close fam’ly. Can’t get much closer ‘n yer dad’s twin brother. And he’s happy here.” A strange emotion was beginning to ripple through Ford’s chest. Guilt? Comfort? Some sort of mix of the two? Something else entirely? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t know if he liked how it felt. Ford finished walking into the kitchen. The adults all promptly plastered smiles on their faces. Ford hid a scowl.

I wish they wouldn’t put on a show like that. Then again, I’m putting on a show, too. As Shakespeare said, all the world’s a stage. He walked up to Fiddleford and cocked his head.

“Why is your name so different from Aunt Angie’s?” he asked. Stan roared with laughter. Angie chuckled softly. Fiddleford merely blinked at him for a moment before smiling. He ruffled Ford’s hair.

One of the other benefits of being this young is that people find my bluntness endearing, rather than off-putting. Thank Moses for that.

“Our names are only dif’rent when ya compare my full name to her nickname. Angie’s proper name is Banjolina McGucket.”

There we go. That’s the kind of name I was looking for.

“Banjolina McGucket-Pines,” Stan corrected. While Ford was getting ready, Stan had taken a seat at the kitchen table and poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip from his mug, which Ford had made in art class. “Or did you forget she married me?”

“Kind of hard to forget somethin’ like that,” Fiddleford said, rolling his eyes. Ford climbed onto his chair, complete with booster seat. He wasn’t quite sure, but he felt like he was shorter than he had been when he was five the first time. Fiddleford’s warm smile at Ford was wiped away when he saw Ford’s twelve fingers. “…Yer a polydactyl.”

“You know the word?” Stan asked

“Learned it ‘cause my roommate was one,” Fiddleford said softly. He frowned. “The same way this here kidlet is, no less. And- honey, what’s yer name short fer?”

“Stanford,” Ford supplied. Fiddleford shook his head.

“My roommate was named Stanford, too.”

“Was his last name Pines?” Stan asked.

“Why, yes, it-” Fiddleford went pale. “Wait.” Stan leaned in, frowning.

“Was your college roommate my twin brother?” he asked. Fiddleford leaned back.

“Did yer twin go to Backupsmore?”

“I’ll have to check with Shermie, but that sounds right.” Stan looked over at Angie. “Ang, you hearing this?”

“Mm-hmm,” Angie hummed. She slid a fresh chocolate chip pancake onto a plate, then carried the plate over to the table and set it in front of Ford. “What do ya want to drink, sweetie?”

“Milk, please,” Ford said. Angie kissed him on the top of his head, then went to get his drink.

“Banjey, ya don’t seem as astounded as I’d expect from this revelation,” Fiddleford said. Angie placed a cup of milk in front of Ford. She turned to face her brother, propping her hand on her hip.

“‘Cause I figured it out ages ago,” she said, sounding bored. Fiddleford and Stan’s jaws dropped. “First time I saw lil Ford here. I mean, I did meet yer roommate.”

Oh. Right. I did meet her. Ford remembered Banjolina McGucket as a hyperactive teenager with a ponytail and obsession with horses. A far cry from “Aunt” Angie, who wore her caramel-colored hair in a bob and was working at a zoo while pursuing her doctorate degree. Ford took a sip from his glass of milk. She’s far sharper than she first appears, that’s for certain. Angie placed a plate of pancakes in front of her brother.

“Honestly, Fidds, ya need to spend less time with robots and more time with people. You’ll forget how to tell us apart!” she teased, poking his long, narrow nose.

“Why didn’t ya say anything?” Fiddleford asked. Angie grinned cheekily.

“I wanted to see how long it would take ya to catch on.” She looked over at Stan. “How many pancakes do ya want?”

“As many as you’ll give me,” Stan replied. He smirked at Fiddleford, who still seemed shocked that Angie had connected the dots long ago. “Don’t worry, Fiddlesticks, you get used to Angie outsmarting you eventually.”

“Ugh, how many times do I have to tell ya, don’t call me-”

“No fightin’,” Angie said firmly as she returned with Stan’s plate, setting it in front of her husband. She rested her hand on Ford’s head. “Or did ya forget the cute lil kidlet with T-R-A-U-M-A sittin’ right here?”

“I can spell,” Ford said grumpily. He looked down at his pancake. The chocolate chips had been arranged in a smiley face. He felt a sudden surge of happiness at the simple, but still sweet gesture. “But, um, yes, no fighting. Please.”

“You heard him,” Angie said. She ran her fingers through Ford’s hair. Or tried to. Her fingers quickly got snarled in Ford’s thick curls. “After breakfast, I’ll comb yer hair, honey.”

Fantastic.

“It’s pointless,” Stan said. “I had hair like that and Mom could never get rid of all the knots.”

“Don’t mean I won’t try,” Angie replied. She smiled at Ford. “How ‘bout ya tell Fidds ‘bout where ya got that shirt yer wearin’?” she prompted.

“It’s the coolest shirt I ever seen,” Fiddleford said to Ford. Ford pulled his shirt in front of him to show off the design. It truly was something he enjoyed. Angie had taken him to the San Diego Zoo, where she worked in the Reptile House, and at the end of the trip, bought him the T-shirt he was wearing. It had a picture of a crocodile and the name of the zoo on it, stylized to look like the crocodile was eating the zoo’s logo.

“Aunt Angie got it for me.”

“Do you like alligators?” Fiddleford asked.

“It’s a crocodile.”

“Crocodile. Sorry.” Fiddleford shook his head, hiding a smile. “Yer pedantic just like yer father, ain’t ya?” Ford shrugged. “I was goin’ to suggest ya call me Uncle Fidds, but if yer tied up with semantics like yer dad, ya might not be willin’ to call me that.”

“Aunt Angie is one of my legal guardians,” Ford said. “As her brother, it makes sense for me to refer to you as an uncle.”

Even if it feels incredibly weird. Fiddleford chuckled softly.

“Ya talk like yer father, too. I ain’t ever met a kid like you ‘fore, Ford.” He grinned. “But I reckon that’s a good thing.”