A/N: I legit wrote this high! Praise God for autocorrect! So what's the only couple I can think of right now? Fiddauthor! Come on, Ford! Let the hip billy get you high. Why the fuck not?!
Stanford Pines walked into his dorm room one night and his roommate jumped like a cat. Jumping into the air and dropping what ever was in his hands.
"Fiddleford, what the fuck is the matter with you?" To be fair, Ford had had a pretty shitty hand delt to him that day. Failed his chemistry exam and had gotten into an angry verbal confrontation with his economics professor. Socialism was obviously the best form of stable government there was. Fucking capitalist piece of shit.
"Whoa, Fordsy! Didn't see ya there. Thank Christ it's you. I thought I's 'bout to get kicked outta the university."
"..." Ford really didn't want to pick at the topic, but then again, why the fuck not? "What do you mean you would get kicked out?"
Fiddleford picked up what he'd dropped on the ground and threw the plastic bag at him.
"Is this what I believe it to be?"
"Prob'ly. What'da y'all think it is?" After that statement, Fiddleford began to laugh wildly.
"This is marijuana, isn't it?"
"Yup."
"...Can I have some?"
Fidds stopped chuckling and looked up at Ford.
"Are ya serious, man?!"
Ford asserted himself by nodding firmly.
"Okay, do ya know how to...you know...?"
"I am aware of how, I have simply not indulged in a very long time."
"Ya've done this before?"
"Mm-hm. I used to do it all the time with my brother and many other rebellious adolescents."
Fidds stared into Ford's eyes and sighed. It would be easier to get loose when he was high.
Ford and Fidds had a very intimate relationship. And Fidds knew that Ford loved him. Ford was just very insecure. He didn't want to embarrass the engineer by admitting that they were intimate. He refused.
Fidds looked up and down Ford several times and smirked. How he wanted to Ford's hands grip his shoulders as a desperate anchor. The open moans and shouts of love. He nodded.
"Sure, why not. Let's do it."
When Ford awoke the next morning with the slight man in his arms, he smiled and nuzzled back into the thin covers and held Fidds closer, drifting back to sleep.
Fuck economics, anyway.
Why not?
A/N: What else would I write about right now?! Fiddauthor plus pot equals the time of my life!