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The rhythmic click of the pen was a part of his routine by this point. At first it used to bother him but at some point it became a sound he began to tolerate, even anticipate to hear during lectures from his neighbour. One was- a curious fella to say the least.
He was a genius, though sometimes behaved like a gamma ray times 10. Often stalling on a simple question before answering quickly and switching the topic before it could get any more embarrassing for himself though- When you have to keep so much your head.. you forget even the simplest stuff, writing over it with something else like logs or the whole greek alphabet.
Fiddleford as usual sat behind their shared desk chipping away at some exams from past years as practice. While an untouched folder of homework laid somewhere by his bag.
Stanford himself has finished all of it the second it was given now busying himself with whatever course he was on currently. It was- bit interesting to see how often baffled it made Fiddleford that one could do so much stuff at once and not get lost or at least not as much. Stanford's brain was still bit of a mess in some places if he'd admit to it.
_
Tapping the pen once more agianst the table Fiddleford finally clicked it shut. Running hands through his hair as he leaned back and unfolded his legs from a butterfly position, finally feeling blood pool down into them.
This one was exhausting. Not like he couldn't do it. Simply tired which is normal for a human being- not Stanford though. One was still sitting on his bed hidden away from all the prying eyes behind stacks of books and papers. He might just have half the library in here alone.
Looking at the clock on the wall he only sighed, too early to get up. He can still mule over this.
Not like he couldn't do it.
Taking a sip of a disgustingly cold coffee the pen was back into action, going over all previous notes before continuing crossing out some and calculating once more. Something told him the number was... far too weird. Well, so many numbers after a comma wasn't a really good sigh in this case.
Just a hint of his gut and back in he goes counting it all again with usual scribble and click mid pauses as if reminders for his brain to keep working.
"You missed the minus." - Stanford's voice rang out after- god knows how long. Far too close and being too loud in silence of the night, earning a quiet curse from the other.
"Sorry- There, it says (-2,37) you pulled down the brackets,,, weirdly. Should have done it later on, then you wouldn't get such a weird number." - He carried on after a second of a pause between them, carefully guiding Fidds eyes with his finger to what he was referring to.
Fiddleford only grumbled at that as the puzzle pieces finally clicked together. The negative numbers and* letters will be the death of him someday. Along with numbers after a comma but thats another topic he will never admit to. No matter how much he work with he WILL despise their entire existence.
"Makes no sense how you notice it so easily when we've both been up for the same 'mount of time." - Fiddleford complained as he fixed the equation finishing the exercise after mulling it for the last.. hour? No, less. Definitely less.
"Uhum- fresh pair of eyes?" - Ford suggested with an attempt of a joke that fell kind of flat at this hour but still evoked a small smile from him. His hand already writing another equation down to really hammer it all in. Training his brain... all of that.
Yet, having another person but specifically Stanford right behind him wasn't making thinking an easy task. The other was definitely thinking about the problem too. Folding his six ol' fingers after each step he completed.
This problem definitely required a delta. Not the worst, all these years ago it was annoying but now it was just another formula you use like Pythagoras or similar. Writing it on whim before his pen abruptly stopped coming to the table. He cradled his face dramatically exhaling all the pent up nerves.
This is bullshit.
"You alright?" - Ford asked a second later, letting the other calm down at least a bit. Fiddleford only mumbled something as an anwser receiving a confused "What?" That didn't make him feel any better about a stupidly easy division that had been put on pause by his brain as if it has forgotten how to function.
"No" - It was a debate between cursing and just staying silent while glaring at the division, his left hand moving to sloppily write the answer.
Mcgucket could feel Ford's questionable gaze at the back of his head. Tilting it he looked up, image being bit blurred beyond the frames of his glasses, which unfortunately didn't extend to the sides, up or down.
"You should rest-
"Oh who's talking." - Fiddleford immediately interrupted him, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout on his face. Pronouncing each ending with a taunting tone, albeit not really intended. Ford nearly returned the attitude, mouth opening and closing immediately when no objection came to mind.
"I need to practice! Without it all the information just- withers away like,, ashes on a hot Saturday evenin'." - Struggling to find any funny comparison he picked back up the pen turning to the problem, slowly chewing on the piece of plastic before a small shaving got into his mouth. Only making the pathetic rage bubble within him.
"That doesn't make any sense.." - Ford gently hushed with a tiny smile being heard. Leaning a bit more comfortably on the chair, propping his chin on his hands.
"No, it's doesn't." - Leaning back the other agreed quietly compared to his previous outburst. Rage slowly growing into tiredness and shame to fail such easy- not even easy this was bare minimum! Bellow bare minimum if there was such a thing.
Clicking the pen by pushing against his forehead he sighed.
"This is- as if my brain's playin against me.. I'm lucky the professor isn't seein this." - The light joke made Ford giggle wholeheartedly, which wasn't often especially not at this time of the day.
Letting the silence linger one reached for the pen, stealing it out of Fidds grasp before he cound protest any further.
"True.. Mr. "Bowling head" has been onto you lately." - Ford mimicked Fiddleford's incredibly creative insult for their professor earning a wheeze. Hearing the straightest A student to ever exist who was praised for everything say such thing was beyond funny. His respect being one of the first qualities to be praised.. so much so for it behind closed doors.
"So bizarre hearin you insult them like that." - He scratched his chin glancing up once more.
"Can I have my pen back?" - Fidds extended a hand expecting his treasured pen to be back any second now. -Only to be dumbfounded when instead of slick plastic - a warm heavy hand lead it back down to rest on the wood. Action on its own made his brain shortcircut.
"You will fry your brain." - Stanford mumbled as a response. Letting his hands rest on his dear friend's shoulders as he tapped a nonsensical rhythm with his right.
Fiddleford only hummed a mocking agreement to that- Pines was not the one to point out his bad habits. Honestly neither was he but that's another story.
"Uhum and that applies to you*. How long have u been behind that fortress?" - Silence spread thin between them and Mcgucket could see that thin line his mouth just turned into as he turned away taking light bounce off the glasses. Gotcha.
"You are getting too smart." - That was the only reply he offered before the world went blurry before Fidds. His eyes were fighting to adjust as he scrambled for the stolen treasure that was held just outside his reach.
"Well thats not even remotely faire is it!" - It was interesting how increasingly more obvious his accent became as the time went on. Sure it wasn't invisible, never was, but so much stronger at such late hours.
Ford reluctantly gave them back, setting them on the bridge of his roommate's nose looking at the frown one was making.
The way Fidds head was thrown back couldn't be comfortable but they stayed like that for a moment longer.
"On second thought- I'm going to sleep. To hell with it." - Mcgucket suddenly exclaimed, proving his words by immediately standing up, stumbling and then flopping onto the bed with a thump which made Stanford laugh more than it should have despite the initial confusion.
"Ow." - their mattresses weren't as soft as clouds, right but honestly, he could fall asleep like that. Slept in far weirder positions, like that one time in a big hall where he propped his feet on the empty chair infront of him, his elbows on the back of it and hid his face in them. Honestly impressive how the chair didn't slip under the angle.
And listening to his roommate just laugh softly after a long day of pure work was something that put him to ease. Lucky him for getting praised with such an amazing company on a random Tuesday and spending the next few hours proving a theory right after.
"That includes you, Ford." - Fiddleford's voice was bit hushed but just enough to hear as he turned his head to the side so one could hear him better.
Barely seeing Stanford glacing at his own bed with scepticism.
"Yes go to bed. I'm not listenin to you blaber about equations all night." - Mcgucket finally said sitting up reluctantly, like usual in a butterfly position, and despite his tone sounding bit rude(he was just tired cut him some slack) stern expression quickly grew into softer one.
Ford glanced at the fortresses with scepticism or maybe more of a hesitance. That would take a while to dismantle and God knows neither of them wanted to do that and definitely not Ford who- isn't a fan of rearranging his stuff.
"Welp thats a fortress." - Both mumbled at the same time cracking into another episode of giggles.
"No really! You have like half the library there!" - Fiddleford gesture with his hands drawing a big house or a room..
"Yes yes- Khm* I should move them." - Stanford attempted to laugh off the tiny bits of embarrassment, yet making no move to do so. Truth be told- he MAY have taken most books. Thats not proven though you'd have to check with the lady librarian.
Sighning Mcgucket patted a place next to him, leaning back into the pillow he propped up previously. Ford only playfully rolled his eyes at that, not that he minded sharing a bed once in a while though- sometimes.... he might just want to strangle the other for snoring.
"You know that's not how you roll your eyes?" - Fiddleford randomly spoke up breaking the silence as the other laid down by his hip.
"What do you mean? It's in the name, rolling* your eyes." - He scoffed frowning at the comment made, saying so as if he was a hundred procent sure he was right.
"No really! Apparently you jus' look to a side not actually roll em."
"Thats stupid." - Ignoring the grammar mumbling angrily he took off his glasses. Extending his hand in an expecting motion for Fiddleford to set them on the nightstand along with one's own.
Scooting down, fixing the pillow in the proces, he as usual offered the other to snuggle up closer in an already established formation. His arm acting as a pillow albeit a boney one.
"You need to wash this sweater." - Stanford poked him, no matter the comment cuddling up closer which was always a bit of a surprise considering how he avoided touch nearly 24/7. Truly like a mean cat that randomly decides to do biscuits on your lap when its 3 am and you want to sleep.
"In 5 hundred years" - Fidds pointed his finger mimicking "Mr Bowling head" which only made the other giggle.
"Night."
"You need to dismantle your fortress..."
"Oh shut up."