#poor fidds

Thank you so much for you request, I loved writing it! I do need to write more little! fidds, he's such an adorable little guy :) I hope I did your request justice here! And I hope it wasn't too heavy at times-I'm always worried about that. Merry Christmas and please enjoy reading!

As always, I am welcome to helpful advice and critiques! Happy Holidays to everyone!

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Fiddleford sobbed, clutching Missy, his stuffed Racoon, tightly to his chest. Stan said he was just going to the store to pick up juice and snacks, and that was over an hour ago! He must've gotten tired of Fiddleford and his anxiety and his crying and now he's gone and he's never coming back! Fiddleford is going to be all alone again, just like before. He feels like he's standing on a precipice, teetering near the edge in pure despair. He should've known, Emma May left him and took Tater Tot, who doesn't even want to see him, his Bookworm left him and may be gone forever , and now his Bubba left him! He's going to be alone forever and ever and ever! Fiddleford tries to take deep breaths, his chest aching and hurting making it almost impossible-he's starting to feel lightheaded.

     "Fidds! I'm home!" It's Bubba! He came back, he didn't leave Fidds! "Apparently this place has a "Pioneer Day" and they wouldn't let me drive through town, so it took longer than-OOF!" Fidds doesn't comprehend Stan's words, clumsily getting up and barreling into Stan, he would've knocked him over if Stan hadn't widened his stance to counterbalance. "Whoa, Sweetums! Where's the fire-are you crying? Fiddleford-what happened? Was it a bad memory or-or are you hurt? I-" Stan pauses, his brow furrowing in concern when he sees the stuffed Racoon clutched tightly in Fidds' hands, his blubbering combined with that is what puts it together for Stan. He's not talking to Dr. Fiddleford H McGucket, he's talking to his Little Fella, to Fidds. "Hey," Stan softens his voice, "what's the matter, hmm? Come on, tell your Bubba." Stan's softer voice coupled with reassuring talk is usually enough to get through to him, but it seems as if the usual reassurances are slipping away into the distance, Fiddleford too overwhelmed to comprehend. Stan tries to move Fidds back so he can get a look at him-making sure he didn't actually get hurt while he was gone. What he didn't expect was to be met with such a violent and out-of-character reaction from his Sweetie.

     "No! No! No!" Fidds clings tighter as Stan goes to move him back. The yelling in his ear causes him to instinctively flinch and move back even more to escape the loud noise. This only causes Fidds' yelling and crying to get worse. He collapses on the floor and clings to Stan's legs, hugging him tight with a piercing, "NOOOOO!" followed by hysterical sobbing. At this point, Stan's panicking, too, his chest tight and throat constricting. He doesn't know what he did wrong, he doesn't even know what happened when he was gone, what made Fidds drop and get him in such a state.

     "Hey, Fella! Come on now, let's try to calm down, yeah?" Stan bends down, trying to get level with Fidds and get him to calm his crying and breathe. When soft cooing doesn't work, Stan doesn't know what else to do aside from grasp his shoulders and pull the taller man into him, gathering him in his arms-Fiddleford may be taller than Stan, but he's all gangly limbs-standing up and hobbling-he's still a full grown man-to the living room, collapsing on the armchair with Fidds, still sobbing, in his lap. Stan is torn up inside, listening to the other one cry feels like a rusted blade is tearing its way through his insides, he clings to Fiddleford just as hard as he's being clung to, almost hoping his presence and suffocating hug is enough to calm his Little Guy down, just enough so he can tell him what's eating at him, maybe then Stan can punch away anything that's hurt or scared Fidds.

     “Bubba…” Fidds whispered, his voice trembling. He clung to Stan’s shirt, his fingers gripping the fabric for dear life. The world around him faded, everything sharpening into a singular focus—Stan. Bubba. “You’re not-not gonna-not gonna leave me, right?” Panic seeped into his words, heavy and suffocating. "Please! Please don't leave me! Don' wanna be- a-alone anymore!" He begged, words jumped by his hiccups, clutching and burying himself in Stan's chest again-too scared to look into his eyes and see disgust or annoyance. He doesn't want his Bubba to be mad or annoyed at him, it's just-he chokes back a sob into a moan-panic stifling his breathing. He loves Stan so much, so much so that it hurts sometimes. And he knows rationally that Stan would say something if he wasn't happy, but he isn't rational, his thoughts just eat away and eat away at him sometimes. And this thought won't go away, and he wants it to go away! He doesn't want to think about not having Bubba no more, not being tucked in or-or read to anymore. The thought causes him to burst into another round of sobs.

     Stan's heart ached even more, his chest even tighter, at the sight before him. Was this what got Fidds in such a tizzy? The thought that he might abandon him? Stan would never do that, hell, he's lucky Fiddleford wants to stick around with him. He couldn't even bring himself to think of any situation that would make him turn away his Lil' Guy, the thought of that scenario is enough to make Stan's eyes sting and his breath hitch. He reached out, bringing his arms around the scrawny man on his lap and absolutely crushing him against him, nuzzling his head against the top of Fidds' head and pressing deep kisses on his hair. "Never." Stan's voice is rough with an emotion neither of them can name at that moment. "I'm not goin' anywhere, not without my Little Man, alright?" Fidds unburied his head from his Bubba's chest, laying it on his shoulder so he could nuzzle it in return-and so he can feel the breathing against his ear and match it. His chest hurts and his head feels dizzy from how hard he was crying and from how hard it was to breathe. "You can trust me when I say this," Stan clutches Fidds tighter, "unless there comes a day when you want to stop, I will never let you go. I promise you this, nothin' crossed, Fiddleford." Stan manages to get Fidds to lean back enough to look him in the eyes. To make his point.

     Fidds looks at Bubba, he's got his serious-serious face on. The face reserved for when something in his lab gets blown up when he's there. Fidds knows this means business, that he's serious, no fingers, toes, tongues, or eyes crossed. And that tickles Fidds more than anything, knowing his Bubba isn't crossing anything while making a promise to him, this means he has to keep the promise-those were the rules and his Bubba has never broken a promise rule. This is what calms his breathing down enough for him to get in those deep breaths his brain and body need, enough to collapse against Stan's warm chest while comforting and grounding hands stroke his hair. The grip of panic loosened ever so slightly, though he still clings to Stan's so tightly-scared of letting go.

I think,,, I got somewhere,,, in the end