Prompts: 10 Ford, Fidds
Requested by Ravenclaw-at-Heart on Wattpad.
“Teach me how to play?”
So she specifically requested for this prompt to be in context of Fidds teaching Ford to play the banjo. Which I am glad to do! Relativity Falls, so they’re... let’s say 14. Second summer.
Keep in mind, I have never and likely never will play any instrument, and that includes the banjo. Most of the lesson I got from WikiHow.
Ford’s eyes kept glancing back and forth between his book and his boyfriend, who was leaning back at the counter, plucking at the strings of his banjo. The music filled the gift shop, which was currently empty, other than the two boys. Ford finally lost the ability to concentrate on his reading, and instead watched Fiddleford play.
“Why do you love that thing so much?” Ford asked suddenly, and the music stopped. Fiddleford eyed him questioningly. “I mean, the banjo of all instruments? It’s awful.”
“Well Ah enjoy it,” Fiddleford argued calmly. “It’s fun. An’ the banjo sounds great.”
“Well I mean, I suppose if you’re into country music,” Ford shrugged.
“Ah was born in Tennessee,” Fiddleford reminded him. “Ah grew up on country music.”
“Hm,” Ford responded. He became silent and Fiddleford continued to play. “...Teach me how to play?”
The music stopped again.
“Pardon?” Fiddleford looked at Ford in confusion. “Did Ah hear right? You wanna learn how ta play the banjo?”
“Well... maybe if I learn to play, I could see why you enjoy it so much,” Ford shrugged, hiding the blush growing on his cheeks. Truthfully, he thought it would be fun to spend time with Fiddleford like that. Teaching someone to play an instrument involved being in close proximity with them.
“Hm! Well, Ah’d loved ta teach ya,” Fiddleford grinned. And there was that, too. Fiddleford’s smile. Ford loved seeing it more than anything. “Later tonight? After the shack closes?”
“Sounds perfect,” Ford smiled back.
Fiddleford really couldn’t believe that Stanford Pines, well-known banjo hater, wanted to learn how to play the instrument. It was almost like a dream come true. What had changed his boyfriend’s mind like that?
He didn’t know, but he sure wasn’t going to think about it too much.
“Alright, ya ready ta start?” He asked Ford, sitting beside him with his banjo in his lap.
“Mm-hm,” Ford nodded. “Let’s do this.”
“Alrighty!” Fiddleford smiled. “Firs’ thing’s firs’. Gotta make sure ya have the right posture.”
“Posture?” Ford repeated. “You never have a posture when you play.”
“Ah’m an expert,” Fiddleford said. “Sit up straight.” Ford did so and Fiddleford handed his banjo over. “Now be careful with her.”
“’Her’?” Ford questioned and snickered. “Wow, did you name it, too?”
“Ah did, actually,” Fiddleford answered. Ford became silent and looked at his feet before clearing his throat.
“Let’s, er, continue with the lesson,” Ford said. Fiddleford chuckled.
“Now ya wanna hold it at a 45° angle or higher,” he continued, adjusting the banjo accordingly. “Like that.” Ford nodded. “An’ then- hm.”
“What?” Ford asked, looking up at Fiddleford.
“It’s just, um,” the older boy looked thoughtful, “it involves placin’ certain fingers in certain spots, but I ain’t sure how ya’d do it with six fingers. Ah’m trying ta think.”
Ford turned red and began to hand the banjo back over to Fiddleford.
“T-that’s fine,” he mumbled. “I should have thought of that...”
“No no no,” Fiddleford didn’t take the banjo. “I ain’t givin’ up on ya just ‘cause ya’ve got six fingers, Stanferd. We’ll figure this out, alright?”
Ford blushed slightly and smiled shyly.
“Heh... ok.”
