Chapter Text
Stanford Pines did not want to be in Backupsmore University.
He did not want to be in this idiotic ‘school enrollment presentation’ if it could even be called that but here he was, sitting amongst college students that were only here to party for 4 years, listening to the dean talk about ‘mostly bug-free dorms’. A black sheep amongst white. A genius amongst fools.
I’m sure your parents are proud.
Yeah, right.
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The rusty door handle opened the door to reveal his new dorm. That he'd be living in. For 4 years. And it wasn't impressive, to say the least. Various molds grew on the ceiling, overtaking the white. The floors were creaky and stained with god knows what. One bunk bed lay in the corner of the room. (He made a mental note to wash any sheets and bedding that were on it.) There were two dingy desks sitting next to each other, presumably for his roommate and himself. At least he had a workspace, he sighed, plopping his bags onto the top bunk. This is what second options get you he thought to himself. The door creaked loudly. A bespeckled man stood in the doorway, with long hair and cowboy boots.
"Hiya there," The man greeted. He reached out his hand. Ford hesitated before shaking it. The hippie glanced down for a moment before continuing to smile at him like a doofus. "I'm Stanford Pines. Or Ford, if you prefer." He said awkwardly. His hands fell behind his back. "Well I reckon I'm Ford too! Well, Fiddleford McGucket, but it's okay." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You can have our nickname." Ford smiled at that slightly. "Why thank you, Fiddleford." Ford's hands moved to the front, gripping each other nervously. "You're a polydactyl'?" He questioned. Ford's face fell. "Yes," He sighed. "If you're going to mock me, get it over with." Ford crossed his arms and muttered under his breath. "I can find a new roommate."
Fiddleford's eyes saddened. "Not at all, Stanford." The way he said Ford's name was amusing. With his redneck accent it sounded more like 'Stanfeerd'. "In fact, I quite like those six-fingers of yours." He smiled. Ford grinned. Maybe he could put up with this place. "Now, let's get gettin', Stanford," He sighed. "We got a lotta' unpacking to do."
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Later that evening, after all their unpacking had been finished, the two men sat at their separate desks and talking the night away. Ford should really be looking at syllabus that were offered at the school enrollment presentation, but for now he'd let it slide. The prospect of finally having a friend after 19 lonely years besides Stan made him giddy. "So where are you from, Stanford?" He asked, strumming on his banjo lightly. (Another one of Fiddleford's country quirks he'd made note of) "Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey." He responded bitterly. A stupid town filled with small-minded people. Fiddleford hummed in response. He was playing some random notes, not quite a song, but it was beautiful to Ford. "Myself, I'm from Tennessee. Bible belt." He drawled. Ford nodded absentmindedly. "Fiddleford," He said suddenly. "Do you know any songs on your banjo?" Ford asked. Fiddleford smirked. "Why, you have a request?" He teased. Ford rolled his eyes. Much to his surprise, Fiddleford actually began playing a song. Starman, to be exact. Ford let out an astonished gasp. "You know David Bowie?"
Fiddleford smiled. "I reckon I do." Ford smiled back. Fiddleford was now humming along to it, and mumbling a couple words. Ford watched in child-like wonder. Fiddleford stopped. "With the way you're lookin' at my playin' I might have to call you 'Starman' too." He laughed. Ford rolled his eyes in response. This made Fiddleford giggle even more. "Whatever, Fidds." He smirked. Fiddleford stopped laughing. "Whadya' just call me?" He whispered. Ford's face paled. "I'm sorry! I just figured, since I'm Ford, you needed a nickname too- and it just slipped out-" He rambled. Ford was not about to lose his first real friend. Do I not count, Sixer? Fiddleford put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "No, Nothin' like that, just surprised me, is all." He chuckled. Ford sighed in relief.
"Well I reckon we should hit the hay." Fidds stated, setting his banjo down. Ford nodded solemnly. He was really enjoying his time with his new (friend?) roommate. Fiddleford hummed a couple notes of 'Starman' as he walked to his bed and plopped down. Ford followed suit, crawling up the tiny ladder to the top bunk. "G'night , Ford." The man below him muttered. Something inside him fluttered at that. He ignored it.
"Goodnight, Fidds."