Fry x reader thats an above knee amputee on one leg. Perhaps on a date in a wheelchair :)
Ooh that’s so cute 🥺 as always a bit of a disclaimer: I am not myself an amputee or wheelchair user. Portrayal will be to the best of my ability from wheelchair and mobility aid users I know personally, but this experience is not my own. Apologies if this affects accuracy! I love this idea though so I hope I can do it justice 🥰
Warnings: brief implied hospital memories, alcohol, language, suggestive comments
Meals on Wheels- Phillip J. Fry x Amputee!Wheelchair User!Reader
"Hey, I don't mean to be rude, but..."
There it went. Comments were an unfortunate familiarity, your years-old injury merely existing becoming a source of unsolicited advice and people feeling entitled to your entire medical history. Numbness crept along your skin as you sighed, hoping for once this person, whose voice sounded young, almost boyish, meant that 'I don't need to be rude' genuinely and not as a useless conversational shield.
Sighing, you turned your wheelchair around to face the speaker, who did indeed appear young and masculine with loose jeans, a red jacket, and a short spike of fiery hair. Eager hazel eyes glinted down at you and ginger brows rose in surprise when you appeared fully.
“Whoa, what happened to your leg?”
Yet again, there it was, the other one. A little pass on that one since it wasn’t visible before, but still your brow instinctively stiffened and you weren’t about to divulge your entire medical history. “I’m careless with my things,” you remarked, allowing a hint of sarcasm to peep through before smirking and shaking your head, “It was amputated years ago. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”
“That happened to my arms a few times,” the stranger agreed with a nod, seemingly over being fazed, “I’m Fry, by the way. I was just wondering if you knew your bag was hanging down like that.”
Oh. Swiveling at the waist, you peered over the back of your chair to find the strap of your satchel hitting the ground, one half having fallen from where it hung. Fingers reached and groped for a moment before they found purchase, closing around the rough material and tugging it back up over your chair. “I didn’t, thanks," you replied, telling him your name as you sat back upright.
“Nice to meet you! Say, do you have a cupholder on that thing?” Again, you could have been annoyed, but there was an earnest childlike wonder about this man as if he’d really never seen a wheelchair or else found a certain whimsy to it. The latter concept could have brought a roll to your eyes had it not been for the way he smiled. Looked at you like he was beholding a beauty he'd never seen.
The question got a chuckle out of you, one rarely asked but actually rather topical and amusing. When you finally cracked a smile, Fry lit up, positively beaming.
"It doesn't come with it, but you can buy one. I actually just got it like a week ago! Ta-da," waving a hand like Vanna White did a thousand years ago when she still had hands, you indicated the attachment you'd purchased for your chair, "The real trouble is when you're using crutches."
Another nod of understanding, or so you thought. "The crutch ones don't stay on too good, do they?"
Full-blown laugh that time. "You can't stick on a cupholder! They're moving up and down too much! But you need both hands to move them, and forget about going up stairs with stuff in your hands!"
"Wow, I never thought about how hard missing a leg would be!"
You snorted, but let him continue.
"You're really cool. Wanna go on a date?"
Forward. Very forward. But not nearly as weird as a lot of other people, especially men, had been. A certain warmth spread across your chest at the way this guy looked at you, the way he didn't beat around the bush even if he maybe should have. "Sure," you accepted, "Why not? Where would you like to go?"
At that, those hazel eyes grew wide as flying saucers, sparkling this time with pure shock. "Really?"
"What," you teased, "You didn't mean it?"
"No," Fry shook his head, "I definitely did, I just...didn't think you'd really say yes. How about The Hip Joint on Friday?"
"Oh," Fry's eyes left yours for a moment, a sudden pause overtaking him as he reached for his phone, "and can I ask you one more question?"
"How do you go to the bathroom? Since, you know..."
Smiling faintly, you inhaled and shook your head, exasperation and fondness intertwining like DNA. "Same way you do. Toilets are usually pretty accessible."
How was this guy working on you so well?
Since that afternoon you'd texted back and forth, learning that your date-to-be's real name was Phillip but no one ever called him that, that he worked as a delivery boy, and that he was apparently best friends with a robot. You were more than ready for all the inevitable stories that would bring. You had your fair share of experience with robots but that was mostly in a medical setting; most of them did their best to feign sympathy, but a select few robots had asked the most disrespectful questions thanks to their lack of human social conventions. The robot story you chose to share with Fry on your date was when in a hospital stay surrounding your amputation one asked you if you were “One of the ones born without bones”. Verbatim. His was the time his best friend Bender was on All My Circuits. And the one where he committed a robbery. And arson. And another robbery. You were really going to have to meet this character if this date kept going well.
“Wait, you can be born without bones?”
“Yeah, I knew a boy whose left leg was like that when he was born, so he had varying sizes of prosthesis all his life.”
“Wow.” Fry drained the rest of his cocktail. “Well, I like the wheelchair better. You’re like Professor X! And I bet you can go fast in that thing. Say, wanna hit the dance floor?”
“Why,” you teased, drink emboldening you (and that would have been your excuse whether you’d ordered apple juice or straight vodka, fuck it), “You wanna give me a lap dance?”
“Yes.” Zero hesitation— it was like you’d given Fry the words he was searching for, answering a question he hadn’t yet asked himself. A smile crossed your face as he took your hands, gently helping you slide around the circular booth and back into your chair. Those hazel eyes softened alongside his own smile as he watched you lift yourself, glancing between your arms and your face as if marveling at your strength.
You found heat creeping beneath your cheeks as he took one of your hands, allowing you to keep yourself steady with the other. Once you reached the dance floor, he let you go for a second, putting both hands on your armrests and vaulting up onto your lap. A part of you had almost hoped he’d straddle you but instead, he draped his legs over your lap and held around your neck. “Since you didn’t sound like you minded leading.”
“Not at all,” you chuckled, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly swiveled back and forth, uncaring if any of the other couples on the dance floor looked over.
Another minute or two passed like that before the song wound down and transitioned surprisingly easily to an upbeat, funkier electronic tune. Fry broke the spell, though his eyes remained on you; glancing up and down, he waited for your nod. When you gave it, he lowered his grip, letting his hands trail down you a bit as he took hold of your waist.
“Whee!” Youthful joy overtook your date even as he’d just nearly felt you up, emerging as both an exclamation and a grin.
It was contagious, really. Despite the way you should have been concentrating more on your harder turns and quicker twirls not running over the high-heeled feet of any fellow Hip Joint-goers, you found yourself thinking less, the music and lights and two warm points of Fry’s hold on you filling all the space of thoughts with sensation.
Fry must have felt the same, because he leaned in closer, his breath fanning your cheeks and tip of his nose almost touching yours. You didn’t make any move save for those of your chair, your first time regretting it that day being when you couldn’t put a hand or two on him, too. Two songs later, though, he made up for it, nose brushing yours. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back up; when he saw your eyes alight, he allowed himself to find purchase against your smile. His lips were eager, moving quickly but sweetly against yours as you again said fuck it, this time dropping your wheels to run your hands up his chest opposite the way he’d done to you. Kissing him eagerly back, you found yourself wrapping your legs around him, trapping him against you. Fry gave you plenty of indications he didn’t mind, though.
“I’m telling you, this pizza is the best drunk food you’ve ever had!”
“Speak for yourself, I’m fine and I think you’ll remember tonight,” you teased.
You were about to add a ‘what about Taco Bell’ joke when Fry’s response had your breath hitching.
“I’ll never forget it,” he replied, leaning on the table and resting his chin on his hand. “Hey, you wanna get out of here? They gave us the pizza in the box.”
Choking on your soda, you looked up at him for clarification only to see that same childlike joy lighting his amber-toned eyes. “Meals on wheels, eh?” You joked to diffuse the sound of your pounding heart.
“That’s a great idea! Let’s go!”
Backing up from the booth, you offered him your lap again. He kept the pizza cradled in his hands like the precious cargo it was, but accepted the ride once more.
“Are you going to show me the way, then?”
Taking a bite of the slice of pizza he’d taken with him, Fry nodded and pointed across the street, then to the right.
Apprehension still fluttered your heart at the prospect of going to his place, decisions and possibilities dancing through your head, but this was the most fun you’d had in a long time and Fry embraced you for you. He was a simple guy and you liked that— that and that wonder-filled lens he had trained on the world. You liked him. Just to make him laugh, you wheeled yourself down the street as fast as you possibly could, eliciting a ‘whoa’ followed by peals of mirth that kept you going even when your arms started to burn with the effort of turning down the street.
“Two more blocks and we’ll be there,” Fry told you, holding up a slice of pizza to your mouth so you could enjoy the meal on wheels, too.
Your smile faded and brow furrowed as you took in the new horizon; no homes or apartment buildings sat along the street Fry took you to. Swallowing your latest bite of pizza, you said his name to get his attention, feeling the shuffling and brief dig of jeans rivets as he sat up against you, humming in response.
He either didn’t pick up on your apprehension or more definitely didn’t share it. “The old park! I used to hang out there all the time as a kid.”
That was surprisingly sweet. Sweet and it took some pressure off you. Even beneath Fry’s weight you found yourself breathing more easily. As you drew closer, trees and tanbark filled your vision. Fry stood again, leaving warmth all down the front of your outfit and eagerly running at your side to guide you to the playground ramp. “Come on, we can see who swings higher! Oh, after we’re done with the pizza.”
Rounding the concrete that encircled the rough tanbark, you gave up your independence for an excuse to let Fry hold you on the way down to the swing. This time, your conversation was a lot less goofy icebreakers and a lot more childhood memories: stories of your hometown, tales of Fry and his older brother Yancy’s misadventures on the very same playground over a millennium ago.
“I didn’t even know you could get kicked out of a park as a kid, even temporarily! Do you ever miss it?” You asked. Probably a stupid question, but it felt right to ask. “The way things used to be?”
“Of course I do,” Fry replied with a faint shrug and glance up to the stars, “But my life here is the adventure I always dreamed of. And besides, if I was still hanging around with Yancy I’d never have met you.”
“Corny,” you teased him, shaking your head, which you then allowed to drop onto his shoulder between your adjacent swings, which had barely seen much motion.
“Does that mean no second date?”
You weren’t sure if he was kidding, but you still answered him with a kiss. Just in case.
“Oh, good! I can’t wait for you to meet everyone! They didn’t believe I met sexy Professor X!”
What could you say? This guy worked on you.
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