Reader Inserts (Requests Closed)

Ford x Reader (5)

BUSINESS TRIP

It was from the moment that you opened the door that you felt a pair of well-defined arms wrap around you in an earnest, affectionate embrace. He seemed nearly desperate in the hug, muttering about how he missed you dearly. 

"Ford, I've only been gone a couple days," you try to return his hug, but the span of your arms cannot cover that of his body.

"Too long," he mutters as he buries your face in the crook of your neck, planting light kisses as he does so. "Far too long."

He mumbles something or another, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. The stubble is rought against your skin, and the roughness has an air of familiarity that is comforting. He starts mumbling about how he was up late and not taking breaks from his research without you around. He explained why he didn't call. He mumbled, burying his face against your neck even more when he spoke, about the nightmares you hadn't been around to ward off. He had a tone in his voice that was almost begging for an apology. The man was desperate, pleading, a mess in your arms.

"F-Ford, it's okay."

"No it isn't," he releases you from his embrace, standing up and the authority in Ford's voice seems like a callback from the first time you met him.

You stare into Ford's eyes, seeing through the wall of determination that lie in his. You know the cause of this charade; he blames himself for neglect of contact with you in your absence. He would always find reasons to blame himself for some obscure thing. Ford was not quick to forgive most, especially not himself. It was a problem you both had to work through together.

Ford was still staring you down. If you had felt small in his gaze you didn't show it. You knew what Ford was trying to do, and it had nothing to do with you. He was trying to convince himself that he was legitimately angry. It was an unfortunate side effect of living with Stanford Pines. The man was always lying to himself.

He fell limp in your gaze, throwing himself upon you once again. You decided to abandon your luggage, leaving it in the middle of the hallway. You guided Ford to the couch you had missed, something you realized the moment you took your seat on it. He curled up against you, content with the way your bodies meshed together uncannily well. The broken man rested his head against your chest, smiling at the sound of your heartbeat. You wrap an arm around his figure, with a certain tightness that you hadn't expected of yourself. You held him close against you, deceiving yourself into a sense of duty for Ford. Perhaps you could protect him from all his demons. Perhaps you could somehow act as some sort of charm that would ward whatever baggage Ford carried away. These thoughts only prompted you to hold his figure tighter. He was enjoying it, as evidence by the contented sigh escaping him. You know he loves it.

With the newfound serenity masking the unwritten mannerisms you and Ford still had yet to discuss, you found yourself falling asleep. Ford drifted off not long after you.