Work Text:
Fiddleford twisted the pen between his fingers in frustration towards his journal, a few remnants of paper scattered across his desk that seemed to be scribbled with characters of similar writing. It was as if he was busy being stuck solving a puzzle with an answer that was impossible to achieve. A puff of air in the form of an irritated sigh left between his lips, but before he was able to wrap his mind around the text that seems to be already haunting him, he suddenly felt a warm grip on his shoulder. Fiddleford sucked in a breath as he turned his neck to see who had grabbed him, although he already knew there was one person who was around him working on the same thing he was.
“Stanford?” The man that seemed to be brewing with nervousness cut the growing silence with his voice that seemed to be slightly hoarse from not using it for hours. His gaze averted from Stanford’s fingertips and onto the other man’s face, his own eyebrows raising from the sight. Stanford’s eyebrows were tightly knitted together, whether it was in agony or some sort of pain Fiddleford was not able to figure out. His eyes were tightly shut and his chest seemed sort of raised as if he was sucking in a deep breath. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He dropped his pen down on the desk and turned his body towards the older man, placing his full attention on him.
Stanford exhaled the harsh intake of air he was holding onto for some time, letting his lips fall into a thin line before they were stretched out into a wide grin, his eyes popping right open with his pupils as thin as a cat’s eye landing right on the man sitting in front of him. The back of his eyes were bright yellow, an absolute eerie sight that Fiddleford hoped he were to be dreaming, if it was not for the man’s tight grip on his shoulder giving him a reminder he was not. “Sorry, four-eyes,” Stanford, no, the creature taking over Stanford’s body spoke out to him, his voice some sort of mixture of Stanford’s and his own. “Sixer is out of commission right now. Hope I didn’t get ‘ya too excited.”
Fiddleford’s jaw dropped open slowly from the sight, leaning back further in his chair although it was futile as he was already as far back as he could go without falling down on the ground. He’s seen Stanford in this state before, where he lets what he calls the demon who happens to be named Bill take over his mind and body, but this is the first time the creature had even spoken to Fiddleford while controlling Stanford. He was barely unable to mutter a single word, his gaze mixing back and forth between the man’s bright eyes that were nearly burning into him.
“I—“ Fiddleford began to speak but cut himself off with a swallow of his throat, his adams apple bobbing as he did so. Bill’s gaze dropped down to Fiddleford’s neck from the action, letting his grip slowly release off the man’s shoulder, his fingertips drifting on the edge of Fiddleford’s forearm before he brought them back down to his side. Electricity shot through the human’s arm where Bill had grazed him. It didn’t take long for Bill to immediately start moving again, connecting his fingers together in Stanford’s body and cracking them dramatically. “What?” Fiddleford had to force himself to speak slowly so he wouldn’t stutter in absolute surprise.
Stanford, still under possession by Bill, leaned his body down on the desk propping himself up by his elbows with a hand on his chin to fully support his weight. It was an extremely odd sight to even see Stanford act like this, even if he is unfortunately under control by Bill. Fiddleford’s mind felt as if it was spinning attempting to find an answer on why the demon seems to be talking to him in Stanford’s body. The man felt a soft flush of heat grow on his cheeks from Stanford– no, Bill being closer than usual to him. Sure, they have shared a bed before when they were both too sleep deprived to even care, but this was absolutely different. Totally different. The possessed body was so close to Fiddleford that he could easily count the soft freckles that danced across his face, if it wasn’t for the piercing yellow unblinking stare keeping his attention bolted on those eyes.
“ What?” Bill snickered as he mocked Fiddleford, finally taking his pupils off him when he rolled his eyes. “I’m finally giving you a hint of attention, and this is what you give me? A what? ” The creature shook his head with a dramatic sigh with his hand slipping off his chin and onto the desk, making sure to leave his fingertips on the edge of Fiddleford’s journal. “You should be absolutely honored at this, honestly, I’m a bit offended, four-eyes.”
Fiddleford’s pupils dropped down from Bill’s antics and onto the hand that was resting on his paper, and then right back to Bill. He blinked only a mere few times to make sure this was not a sick nightmare he was stuck in, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. “I, well,” The author was at a complete loss for words, deciding to run his hand through his bangs that were messily laid out across his forehead before he spoke again. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I uh, I just don’t know how to process this.”
Bill made a noise that was similar to sucking in air through his teeth, moving his position around as he jumped up and sat down on the desk, moving Fiddleford’s journal to the side so he wouldn’t sit on it. “I was hoping you would be more surprised, it’s more fun when you, y’know, fall out of your chair, or scream and threaten that you would call the police, whatever you guys call them.”
Fiddleford could not stop the way his eyebrows furrowed from Bill’s answer, although his emotions were a direct contrast from how his face started to feel even more hot from the way he could smell Stanford’s cologne from here. It was light, very soft as it was applied maybe a few hours prior, but the scent lingered around Fiddleford’s brain and tightened it enough for it to almost explode. He swallowed once more in an attempt to gather his thoughts, opening his lips when he figured the right words. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you before, or as if I haven’t seen you in… Stanford’s body. But…” He was prepared to continue his sentence, but decided to end it right there and pressed his lips into a thin line.
Oh, how desperate he was just to get back to work, to get back to solving the stupid portal that had put them both in this situation. To get back to where he was not so focused on the way Stanford smelled so wonderful , or the way his half lidded yet yellow eyes and that dumb lift of his lips in the form of a smirk did not make his knees and stomach weak. But, alas, Bill gave him no way out at all.
“But?” It was a mistake to utter that last word, as Bill’s grin on Stanford’s face grew wide and uncanny. “You know you can’t leave little ol’ me hanging like that, Fiddles. C’mon, spit it out.” Bill began to tap his fingers on the desk.
Fiddleford let out a breath he was holding in the form of a sigh, choosing to avert his eyes down on the pen that was left astray in the middle of his journal, resting right in between the pages. Between the words that he felt chained to complete, metal crafted from ores longer than the galaxy itself has been alive. “But, I don’t get why you’re talking to me. You barely gave me any attention over the past six months, if any, and now, well, you’re talking to me in Stanford’s body nonetheless, it’s just odd. I don’t know what you want from me.”
The creature had blinked his bright golden gaze at Fiddleford with surprise landing on his face for almost a second, as it disappeared before the human was able to grasp onto it. His lips lowered themselves from the wide grin they were in before, resting back to that half lifted filthy smirk with his head tilting to the side. “You don’t know what I want from you?” Bill’s words rolled off Stanford’s tongue easily, and his hand lifted up from the desk and onto Fiddleford’s chin, his thumb sitting peacefully under the man’s plump bottom lip. Bill’s smirk rolled into one of a winning smile when he saw how hot and red Fiddleford’s face grew from the action, the human’s eyebrows faltering upwards in shock. “Maybe it’s better that we keep it that way, yeah?”
“Uh,” Fiddleford was in too much surprise to even mutter anymore words, the emotion filling up his veins pumping into his bloodstream. Stanford’s warm touch brought heat to his cheeks and neck, flooding his skin. A part of him felt guilty for feeling so flushed and embarrassed when it was not even Stanford in control. But if this was the way he could get Stanford to touch him in any sort of way, he’ll take it
“Hm,” The creature beamed with pride with hints of his teeth sticking out from his lips, dropping his hand back to the desk in Fiddleford’s dismay. Bill then tapped his index finger on the page that the other was working on previously, making sure to keep his attentive gaze on Fiddleford. “So, tell me about what you’re working on.”
Fiddleford felt as if his brain was splitting from side to side which was only caused by Bill toying with his emotions. Confusion seeped through him and he was not able to stop the way his words pooled right out of his mouth. “Aren’t you the one that made Stanford and I work on this portal?”
“Well, yeah,” Bill sucked in air through his teeth with a tsk noise, sarcasm surrounding his tone like a moth to a light. It was odd to hear Stanford’s voice sound so out of character, even though it was being drowned out from Bill’s own. “But I want to hear what it is coming from you . You know that Fordsy talks about you quite a bit, right?”
“Wait, what? Really?” Fiddleford blinked harshly as he adjusted his glasses to fit more snug on the bridge of his nose with a knuckle on his pointer finger. In a nervous tic he ran his fingers through his brunette locks once more, pushing the longer strands back behind his shoulder. “I’m sure he doesn’t say much about me.”
“Oh, you would be surprised.” Bill let out a sharp yet small laugh, choosing to instead grab Fiddleford’s journal which caused him to let out another noise of shock. “He goes on and on about you, from how you two met in college, how he thinks you’re so respectful for helping him build the portal, blah blah blah, so much more that I could care about, but I really don’t.” The creature turned silent as he attempted to read the text in the man’s journal but quickly got bored of it and chose to shut the book closed, sliding it back in front of Fiddleford. “Personally, it’s nonsense to me, but I figured I'd come and see what all the attention is about.”
Fiddleford toyed with his bottom lip as he brought it between his teeth, nearly stepping between broken glass trying to figure a way how he could respond without the galactic demon getting upset. He doesn’t know how Stanford does it, hell, he doesn’t know how Stanford is even alive . “Well, why don’t you, uh, talk to me face to face? Instead of in his body?” The human grabbed his journal with both of his hands and clutched the pages in his lap, averting his gaze between Bill’s eyes and to his eyebrows to avoid direct eye contact.
“Why, is there an issue? I don’t believe that me simply taking over Fordsy’s body is such a problem.” Bill rolled his catlike pupils while he jumped off the desk, planting his feet as he decided to lean against it on his hip. His arms were crossed against his chest as his head cocked to the side, staring Fiddleford down once again. Although, with the added height the human feels more like a speck on the floor than anything.
“Yes!” Fiddleford replied with a little bit more harshness than he would have liked, resulting in a one lifted eyebrow raise from the creature. He huffed a puff of air into a sigh with a hand coming to rub the side of his temples. “It’s his body, Bill. Why don’t you just talk to me without bringing Stanford into this?”
Bill didn’t say a word in response and instead straightened his posture so he was standing up straight, and the growing tension filled silence did nothing to help Fiddleford’s strayed nerves. Fiddleford’s fingers tapped on the thick paper in his lap in nervousness, dropping his attention towards the desk in hopes he did not frustrate Bill.
“Alright, as you wish, Fiddleford.” Bill furrowed his eyebrows down at the human with his top lip forming into a mixture of some sort of sneer and smirk. The way his name rolls off the creature’s tongue sends a guilty shiver down Fiddleford’s spine, his pupils snapping right back up to Bill in surprise. That was the first time that the interdimensional demon had called him by his own name.
Before Fiddleford was even able to ponder more on the thought, the possessed body seemed to suddenly relax with his eyes shutting closed, falling down with his entire weight right on the sitting man. With a broken gasp of air forcing out through his lungs from the sudden pressure on him, Fiddleford wrapped his arms as fast as he could around Stanford’s body to help hold him up. “Stan?” He silently whispered in the other’s ear with a shake, immediately becoming aware of the way he was tightly clutching onto Stanford’s shoulders and his cheeks began to grow with heat.
The other man let out a wounded grunt between his teeth, raising both of his hands up to his forehead with his fingers running through his messy hair. “...Fiddleford?” Stanford muttered shakily, and once Fiddleford knew Stanford was growing conscious he quickly loosened up his grip and held him by his arms instead. “God, I’m so sorry, I have no idea what Bill was doing, he just…” Stanford paused his words as the dots were fast to connect in his head, and with a slow blink he raised his head up towards Fiddleford. The simple sight of the Stanford on his lap staring up at him sought warmth into Fiddleford’s abdomen, but he pushed the thought down into the racks of his brain. “Was Bill talking to you? Oh my god, Fiddleford, I’m so sorry. If he said anything weird or stupid, just ignore him, please.”
“Ah…” Fiddleford inhaled a puff of air between his teeth, dropping his hands back to his side when Stanford was able to pull himself off him and stand up properly, still holding the side of his temples with one hand. He could imagine it wouldn’t feel good to have control taken over your body. “He didn’t say much, just a hello, or two.” Fiddleford swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth, averting his gaze back down to the wooden desk marked with scratches due to being unable to look at Stanford in his makeshift lie. Stanford seems to have caught on, as he let out an unbelieving hum.
“Well,” Stanford broke the tension filled thick silence with his knife of a voice, causing Fiddleford to raise his head back up at him. “I really have to head off to bed, I was already exhausted before Bill went and ran a number like that.” His fingers that were rubbing the side of his head inched over to the bridge of his noses with a squint. “And I hate it when that bastard removes my glasses, complaining he can’t see with them on. How rude.” It seemed more like Stanford was discussing about a distant bestfriend than he was talking about a demon who took control of his body.
“That’s okay, I’ll join you real soon. Just got this to keep working on.” Fiddleford forced a smile on the corners of his lips, a hint of his teeth peeking out as he raised the workbook in his lap with his hands for more emphasis. Stanford didn’t respond with much more than a nod and a grin, heading towards the direction of their shared bedroom. If he felt Fiddleford’s burning gaze on his back as he left, he did not show it one bit.
With a sigh being ripped from his throat and leaving between his lips, Fiddleford placed his journal back on his desk and opened to the page where he left off. Once he did so, he suddenly felt another touch on his shoulders that felt like two hands smoothing down his shoulder and up his neck. The man snapped his head behind him with a surprised gasp, not expecting Bill to show up immediately after Stanford had left. But instead of expecting the triangular and bright demon behind him, he was left with nothing but thin air. He slanted his eyebrows in confusion but was still unable to rub off the feeling of being caressed, the ghost-like touch fleeing across his neck, to his shoulders and down his forearm.
Fiddleford forced himself to attempt to ignore the feeling, scooting his chair closer to the desk as he planted his elbows on the wood to support himself. But once he finally looked down at the same page he was working on, he noticed black ink fresher than the breath he just let out right on the bottom right corner of the page. The ink displayed a smiley face with a wide grin, two sharp teeth poking out right under.
The man let out a sigh of defeat from the sight, and the everso growing feeling of contact started to flutter down his forearms and towards his waist.