A Friend (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons: Real Life Edition

You were warm. Not hot, but a pleasurable warm. That's the first thing your half-conscious mind detected. As you began to wake up completely, you naturally inched closer to the direction of the warmth. When the warmth enveloped you in return, you startled and jerked back. Turning your head, your eyes locked onto chestnut ones that were, at first, unfamiliar. But then everything clicked, and you sat up.

Sheepishly, Ford cleared his throat and curled his shoulders forward, placing the book he had been reading onto the nightstand beside him. "Sorry I scared you," he mumbled.

It wasn't a dream. You woke up, and there he was, right beside you, just as he promised he would be the night before. He was the warmth you felt when you first started waking up. Joy swirled deep in your chest. You had done it. After thirty years, he was finally with you. Ford didn't seem to be interpreting your speechlessness as joy, however, and slowly raised his hands and extended one forward, but didn't make complete contact. "Hey, hey, it's all right. I'm here, I promise. I'm real,"

"You're here," you whispered, more so to yourself than to Ford. "I'm... I'm so happy you're here!" You threw your arms around him. Your arms landed on familiar fabric, and before Ford could reciprocate the hug, you pulled back. "You slept in your turtleneck?"

Ford looked down at his clothes. "Well... yes."

You furrowed your brow. "How come?"

A flushed, red hue creeped across Ford's cheeks. Then he sighed. "I'm a little, well, er, insecure,"

Your expression softened as you wrapped him into a hug again. "Ford, we've both changed, both mentally and physically. I'm the very last person who would ever judge you." Ford hugged you back this time, burrowing his head in your shoulder before he responded. "No, no, it's not that. It's just, I don't know, it's embarrassing. Let's just say I've made some bad decisions."

"That makes two of us," you chuckled. Your expression shifted. "Try me," you challenged. Ford rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he developed that you didn't realize how badly you had missed throughout the years. "Promise you won't laugh?" he asked in a quiet tone.

"You have my word,"

Ford's shoulders sagged as he relented. Slowly, he reached his arm upward and tugged on his turtleneck. The skin beneath was littered with a few small scars, but what immediately caught your attention was the tattoo of a star with a goofy smile on its face, the words "Hey now, I'm an All Star!" written around it.

Despite your efforts, you snorted a little. Through your hand-covered mouth, you asked, "Does this give me permission to start calling you my precious all star?"

Ford's arm jerked back and tugged on his turtleneck, returning it to its original position and hiding the tattoo. "Absolutely not."

"But it would be cute," you whined. Ford rolled his eyes, then chuckled, turning back to face you again. "Maybe to you, but not for me."

Your gaze fell on the book he had been holding, which was actually his third journal, on the night stand. "How long have you been up?"

Ford shrugged. "You know I've never been good with sleeping,"

"But... why didn't you get out of bed? You could've gotten, I don't know, work done or something?" you asked doubtfully.

"No, I made you a promise that I would be here in the morning, and I wasn't about to break it." He trailed off for a moment, then his lips cracked into a small smile. "Not to mention you're absolutely adorable when you sleep."

Now it was your turn to blush. Ford's smile grew wider as he placed a hand on your lower back. "Come on," he prompts. "Let's get up. We've got some work to do."