Fiddleford stepped out of the shower and into the steam-filled air of Stanley's bathroom, chilled by the now-absent feeling of warm water running down his back, and hurriedly reached for a towel. Once he had dried himself to an acceptable level of dampness, he wrapped the towel around his waist and ventured down the hallway towards his bedroom to get dressed.
He could smell something cooking coming from the kitchen. Stanley must've gotten started on dinner. The old cabin just seemed..warmer now. Not in a temperature sense, but like, in a sense of home-iness . Safer, he decided, pulling on his nightshirt and a thick sweater. A pair of plaid pajama paints and boxers followed suit. Fidds' wet hair left a damp streak in the back of his shirt when he pulled it over his head, but at this point he didn't care. He had things to do.
He padded back out into the hallway towards the living room area. The smell had grown stronger, and now Fidds could tell that Stan was either making beef stew or venison. Secretly Fiddleford was hoping for venison. He'd always preferred the taste of wild game to livestock. It was how he was raised. His mama was a hunter, and she kept her little boy fed with the creatures she shot. The first time he'd actually had a beef hamburger was when he and Ford were still in Backupsmore and they'd gone out to dinner to celebrate passing finals week.
He had not been fond of the taste.
Sluggishly, he trotted into the kitchen, drawn towards the warmth and palatable smells that seeped through the air in the room. Stanley stood at the stove stirring an enormous simmering pot on the front burner. He'd forgone finding a shirt after showering, at least for the time being, in favor of starting supper. He'd thrown the beef shank and some of the deer meat into his largest soup pot and begun making a hearty soup out of them. Carrots and potatoes were a common find throughout the stew, and Stan had used cream to thicken the stock.
Fiddleford coughed as he came up behind Stan, spooking the man on accident. Lee jerked, his wooden spoon flinging hot liquid across his torso and landing with a clatter on the floor, a mess following in its wake.
"HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES THAT'S HOT!"
Fiddleford chuckled at Lee's made up swearing, pulling the dish towel off of its rack and handing it to the soup-covered man.
"S-sorry there Stanley! I didn't mean to startle 'ya!"
"Gosh darn it Fiddleford! Rule one of cooking, don't spook a guy when he's stirring hot liquids without a shirt!" Stan grumbled, wiping the stock off of his chest.
Fiddleford was still giggling a little bit, even though it wasn't that funny in retrospect.
"Oddly specific rule, Lee. Why 'ya not wearing a shirt?
"That's 'cause I just made it up! And also, I was busy while you were showering. Speaking of shirts, you wanna go grab that flannel off the couch? I'm freezing my ass off in here."
"Sure thing Stan."
Fidds turned back towards the living room, walking out of the kitchen. He spotted Stanley's red and gold flannel button-up flung haphazardly across the back of the sofa, and was about to collect it when- a wet cough came from down the hall.
"Stanford!"
McGucket ran for the staircase to the attic, only to hear the coughing coming from behind him a moment later. From Stanley's room. Stan must've brought him downstairs while he'd been showering. He rushed back down the hall, swinging open the door, to find Ford cocooned in Lee's blankets and quilts, as well as his own, coughing and hacking wildly.
YOU ARE READING
Winter Hymnal
FanfictionThe Mystery Trio goes on a hunt to investigate sightings of a thought-to-be-extinct Giant Short-Faced Bear, and all does not go how they had planned it. Stanford is attacked by the creature in his attempt to flee and nearly killed. The ensuing chaos...
