A Tale of Two Fords

Chapter 6

"Thanks again for pickin' me up, Stanford," Fiddleford smiled as he set his bag in the backseat and climbed into the car. Ford simply nodded as his roommate sat beside him.
"No problem, Fidds. After all, what're friends for," Ford returned the smile. It was halfway through the duo's winter break and Fiddleford had left the first day to visit family while his friend stayed behind. His ride had bailed on him last minute and in a desperate attempt, Fidds had called Ford, asking if he would be willing to drive to the airport and pick him up.
Of course, he said yes.
"Damn," Ford cursed as they drove on to the freeway. "Look at all that traffic... I suppose everyone in this town decided to come back today."
Fiddleford laughed softly. "I suppose so."
They moved slowly down the road. For one part, they had talked about what had happened in the week they were separated, but that ended up in the two sitting in slightly awkward silence.
"Ford?" the shorter of the two spoke up after a while.
"Fidds?" the twin glanced over at his friend as the cars inched forward slowly.
"You wouldn't mind none if I turned on the radio?"
"Oh...Of course not."
As part of his response, Ford had reached over and switched the staticky thing on. He fumbled with the knob for a few moments before finally finding a station that wasn't just white noise and played actual music. "Is that alright?"
"Yes," Fiddleford nodded, smiling. "That's fine."
A few minutes passed before 'When I'm Sixty-Four' played and Fidd's eyes seemed to light up a bit. He hummed along to the familiar tune, beginning to sing softly during the 'chorus' and Ford suppressed a smile. He wasn't all that into music, unlike his roommate, yet he also recognized the Beatles song and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time to Fiddleford's quiet singing.
"Send me a postcard, drop me a line— stating point of view~"
The southern man's accented singing filled the car.
"Indicate precisely what you mean to say.."
He seemed so happy, so passionate about the tune and Ford couldn't help but join in.
"Yours sincerely, wasting away!" Fiddleford glanced at his friend and smiled as he noticed he was singing along too. "Give me your answer, fill in a form."
     "Mine for evermore!" Ford blushed as Fiddleford stopped and he was left singing alone. A small laugh from the shorter man before the two of them resumed.
    "Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four?"
    "Ho!" Fiddleford covered his mouth as he snickered. The song faded out and Ford couldn't help the warm smile that spread across his face and seemed to stay there.
    Traffic, he figured, wasn't always a bad thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    They arrived at campus around sundown. Ford was thankful they arrived at all, to be honest, as he had heard that another snow storm was forecasted for that night. Luckily, they seemed to get back to their dorm just in time— the snow was beginning to fall as Fiddleford hauled his bag inside the building.
    "We sure we're lucky that things got'a movin' when they did," he commented. Ford nodded in agreement.
    "Had traffic been any slower and we would have been stuck out on the highway all night in that old car," he chuckled and opened their dorm door, stepping aside to let his roommate in them following inside and shutting the door behind him. He heard a low whistle.
    "You sure did fancy this place up while I was gone, didn't ya?" Fiddleford mused as he went over to his bed. There were boxes of empty tape rolls and bundles of ribbons and Ford suddenly remembered the things he did when he got bored and couldn't call the southern man. He smiled sheepishly.
    "Well... Yes... I assumed everyone else was doing it... And we'll I didn't have anything better to do while you were away..."
    Fidds chuckled and stacked all the boxes on top of each other, grabbing them and walking towards the bathroom to store them in there for the time being. He managed to make it to the threshold of the bathroom before stumbling and trying to keep his balance. Ford rushed over to help and took some boxes from his roommate's arms before they could topple down. He sighed.
    "Well that sure was a close ca-" the taller man froze when he noticed something dangling over the two of them.
    "A close call? It sure was," his friend agreed, oblivious to the wretched fate they had just stepped into. After a few moments of no response, he glanced cautiously up at Ford. "Stanford? Are you doin' okay?"
    Ford didn't reply. He slowly motioned upwards. The southern man looked up and for a second his eyes widened before he tried to not look as out-of-breath as he had suddenly become.
    Mistletoe.
    Why on earth did he hang up mistletoe...?
    Trying to act nonchalant, Fiddleford shrugged and leaned up (slightly having to stand on his tip-toes), carefully pressing his lips to Ford's cheek in a quick peck.
    He lit up like a Christmas tree.
    It was over almost as soon as it happened— despite how Fidd's heart practically beat out of his chest and how every part of him screamed to just stay like that— and the shorter man set the boxes in the bathroom then went back to unpacking, as if nothing had happened.
    Ford, on the other hand, was a little more hung up over it. He set the boxes down, afraid that his noodle-like arms would drop them any second, and touched the place where his friend had kissed him. He turned and shut the door then looked at his blushing reflection, smiling like an idiot and trying to contain himself.
    Meanwhile, outside, the southern man noticed the door close and immediately flopped face first down into his pillow, suppressing the urge to let out a high-pitched squeal.
    Oh my actual god.