Fic: So This Is It
Author: Gildedmuse/Stephanie
Title: So This Is It
Fandom: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Ford
Rating/Warning: PG-13
Word Count: 3,190
Summary: If you had Arthur, and about one hour to live, what else would you do with your time?
Author's Note: No, this isn't a new fic. I just realized I had a bunch of Hitchhiker's Guide fics that I haven't posted to this journal. So to keep everything organized, now I am posting them here. Be prepared for a bunch of really old fic. However, for the sake of some people's sanity, I did go back and correct some more obvious mistakes.
So This Is It
There are very few races in the known galaxies that have the same history of violence and pure madness as the Noglomians.
In ancient days the Noglomians lived in tribes, spending most of their free time maiming and killing the members of other tribes. This was going very well for them and the rest of the universe until at least, after centuries of bloody wars, the one remaining Nogolmian king decided to do something sensible when he realized there were barely enough woman left to give him the eight hundred and seventy three wives he‘d always wanted. They could no longer run around swearing to kill anything that moved and doing so in a rather brutal manner. They had to find another way of life. Some way of living that didn’t involving cutting off the head of your brother and giving it to your new wife as a gift, after you slaughtered your first born son. There simply had to be another way.
So they built a spaceship and decided to go around plunder and killing other people instead. But only after a couple more bloody wars reduced the population to a nice, portable number.
The problem with the Noglomians is that they are perfectly willing to pick up a hitchhiker whenever they find one. It doesn’t help that their ships look amazingly similar to most Betelgeuse commercial flight lines. Only instead of a friendly albeit somewhat strange flying crew, this ship is filled with oozing, puss filled creatures whose muscles are roughly the size of President Beeblebrox’s ego. If you happen to be one of the unlucky souls catching a ride on such a ship, it is suggested you put the guide down and began praying to whatever deity you may believe in, and a few you might have heard of in passing, just in case.
In other words: you are going to die.
-o-o-o-o-
“So this is it. We’re going to die.”
Ford sighed. It was a very human habit he’d picked up on Earth meant to convey that a person was quite annoyed with some other person for what they felt were very obvious reasons. He didn’t think annoyed was a strong enough word, however, so he sighed twice just to make sure Arthur Dent, a native of the before mentioned and now deceased planet, got the point.
He didn’t.
“I never thought I was going to die like this,” Arthur lamented. “This is simply too terrible for words.”
Ford figured that had to be a figure of speech, since obviously it wasn’t too terrible for words or else the bablefish would have never been able to translate what their captors had delightfully informed them they were planning on doing to their new prisoners. He thought they had managed to put it into words very nicely.
“We’re going to lock you in a room,” Explained one of the men in charge of caring Arthur and Ford to their cell. “And wait until you are crazy with fear and hunger and then put you in a pit with a monstrous, being-eating Kiluge and laugh as it tears you to tiny, bloody bits.”
“We are not going to die,” Ford promised, getting up from the dingy floor of the cell and walking over to the door to make it look like he had some sort of plan of how to get them out of their current, and extremely bleak, situation. The room had no windows and was painted a very cheerful, bright yellow color. Ford figured this meant either that the Noglomians considered yellow a very terrifying color or had a very odd sense of humor. “We simply have to stay clam.”
“Stay calm!” Arthur yelped, doing the exact opposite of what Ford had just told him to do and doing it in a very dramatic and irritating way. “Ford, we’re locked in a cell that looks like a very poorly done child’s room by a bunch of creatures we just saw eat a very large, very alive worm! And you say we’ll be okay! Are you mad?”
Arthur Dent was quite sure he knew the answer to that without hearing Ford answer and Ford was quite sure this was one of the questions earthlings asked but didn’t honestly expect an answer for which was very odd behavior in his opinion but utterly acceptable on Earth.
Ford considered telling Arthur that he’d gotten out of worse situations, like the time they’d been shot out into the vacuum of space, but didn’t think that would help. “It’s called a Vorln, Arthur,” He informed his friend, speaking about the large, slimy creature the captain of the ship had eaten while looking over Arthur and Ford and trying to think up the most entertaining death he could for them. “It’s really not much different than a cow, you see.”
Arthur stayed silent for a few seconds, which alarmed Ford a little since he figured Arthur was going to continue with stating the most obvious of their problems at the moment. He did so every time they were in such life and death situations, which seemed to be quite more frequently now then Ford remembered them being when he traveled the universe with just his towel and the occasional drunk friend to keep him company. He was, indeed, almost getting use to the sound of Arthur’s panic grating down his last nerve. It was a bit of a comfort.
Ford went over and plopped down onto the floor next to his friend, who was seated against the back wall and looking properly horrified at the idea of starving to death in such a creepy yellow room. Ford has always been rather confused about the whole comforting thing as far as Earth customs were considered. The only time he saw people doing anything to comforter someone was in the movies, and then it usually involved the two main characters of opposite genders holding each other close or having sex, neither of which he thought Arthur would be very interested in at the moment.
He awkwardly patted Arthur on the shoulder. “It will be okay, Arthur,” He repeated in a much softer tone. Arthur looked up from the spot he had been staring at on the floor and up at Ford, which Ford took to mean that he was doing something right. “I’ll think of a way to get us out of here.”
Ford stood back up and went over to the door to look busy, while he prayed Zaphod figured out where the hell they were before they became Kiluge food.
Arthur stayed where he was. “There is so much I didn’t get to do,” He whined. Ford didn’t have very much trouble believing this. After all, for nearly half of the earthman’s life he’d been stuck on a very estranged little planet with nothing more to do than drink tea and watch rather boring soaps. All in all not a very exciting lifestyle and one Ford thought he had greatly improved upon by getting Arthur not only out of his house but off his planet entirely (and right before both were demolished). At the very least there were definitely more things happening in Arthur’s life now than ever before, even if they weren’t necessarily all good things.
“Well, we might as well make the best of it,” Ford said, after inspecting the door to his satisfaction. He was quite aware of the fact that there was no chance that the door was going to be of any use to them when it came to escaping. In fact, it would take more than a mere miracle to get them out of the cell alive.
“The best of it?” Asked Arthur. “How do you suggest we make the best of waiting to die?”
Ford shrugged. He leaned against the wall, watching the door as if any minute now it would swing open. Of course, then they would have to face a bunch of crazed, murdering Noglomians which most would consider a step worse than their current arrangement.
He thought back to the movies and the way that earthlings acted in these situations, trying to come up with something that would settle Aruthur down. “We could have sex,” Ford suggested.
Arthur looked at him like he had just suggested they gnaw each other leg’s off and beat the other to death with the severed limbs. Of course, he had no way of knowing that the last two beings to be in the cell had done exactly that, seeing as it was in their planets tradition to do so when faces with a torture. Other species don’t understand how getting your leg chewed off and then hit on the top of the head with it is any better than being tortured, but so are the strange and often completely nonsensical ways of the Narkhosses.
“I was just saying,” Ford added after he felt Arthur had had enough of a shock to make him forget about being ripped apart in front of an audience. “It would be something to do.”
“Well, yes,” Arthur agreed, withdrawing himself a little further from Ford. “But I really don’t think-“
“Oh, come on Arthur. I mean, we’re going to be dead rather soon anyway. Besides, it’s not like I bite.” Ford ended it with one of his very large smiles, which gave Arthur the impression that Ford was lying through his teeth about the last part.
“I don’t want to sleep with you, Ford!” Arthur declared, quite scandalized by the idea.
“Oh, I get it.”
“Good.”
“You want to cuddle first.”
“WHAT!”
Ford shrugged. “On Earth,” He pointed out. “Everyone seemed to have this thing about holding hands and kissing and dating. You know, the cuddling stuff.” He, for one, had always thought this whole ordeal was rather drawn out and not something worth his time to bother with when all he really wanted was to get into someone’s pants.
“Well…” Arthur stumbled sort of, trying to get his tongue to work even while his mind was in an advanced state of shock. Of course, since earthlings spend over half of their time talking without thinking anyway, this was not nearly as difficult as Arthur Dent made it out to be. “I… I don’t want to cuddle either Ford.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I don’t think this is the best time to…” Arthur cut off and bit his lower lip, which Ford took to mean that his mouth had started off without his brain again, which was now making an attempt to reclaim the power of speech as it’s own. “Never mind! I just don’t want to! I don’t have to have a reason!”
“Okay then,” Said Ford with the feeling that that was the end of the conversation.
A few seconds Ford noticed Arthur squirming out of the corner of his eye. He tried to ignore it, but the longer he did the more Arthur seemed to squirm. It was distracting from Ford’s staring at the door in what was suppose to be a meaningful and thoughtful way.
Ford turned to look at Arthur, who instantly became very still and refuse to meet Ford’s eyes. He was quite nervous enough without having a staring contest he was bound to lose.
“We’re going to die.”
Ford nodded. “Most likely,” He admitted.
With rough, slow movements Arthur scooted across the floor until his and Ford’s arms were touching. More exactly their clothes were touching, but Arthur felt nervous enough about that small matter that he probably didn’t need to be thinking about what would happen if they were both naked at the moment. This worked out well, since Ford was doing enough thinking about that particular subject for both of them.
A few seconds later Arthur lowered his head to rest against Ford. Ford, being slight ignorant still on the difference human contact for comforter and human contact for sex and not entirely sure there was even a difference at all, wasn’t quite sure what to make of this but figured it meant it was okay for him to touch back. So, very carefully like one trying not to disturb the sleeping planet of Krikkit and therefore unleash upon the universe a very dangerous and deadly force of killer robots, he placed his arm around Arthur’s shoulders and a gave a very gentle squeeze.
This was apparently the exactly right thing to do, because Arthur leaned into him even more and sighed.
Despite Ford’s opinions on Earth cuddling and what a waste of time it all was this, he had to admit, was quite nice. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that both parties involved where very aware that they were about to die horrible, painful deaths. In comparison nearly anything would be enjoyable. It might also have to do, however, with the fact that he could feel Arthur’s breathing start to relax as the other man got more comfortable with their position and let Ford draw him a little closer.
Of course, there were still things they could be doing that were more pleasurable. They might as well, Ford reasoned, enjoy however long they had left. Beside, he was guide researcher. Stupid, unpredictable, fun things are what guide researchers did. That’s what the company was paying them for.
Well, actually the company was paying them for research but Ford always saw that as more of an after thought than his actual job.
“Arthur,” Ford said, not looking away from the door.
“Hmm?”
“I have decided that I am going to kiss you.”
Ford managed, rather quickly in Arthur’s opinion, to unfurl his arm from around the other man and take a nice, firm grip on Arthur’s dress robe, nearly yanking the other man into his lap and he pressed their lips together a little more forcefully than entirely necessary.
To his great surprise, Arthur didn’t punch or fight or do any of the things Ford quite expected him to do. He assumed this was because the other man had gone into shock either because Ford was kissing him or because Ford said he was going to kiss him and actually followed through with one of his promises.
Arthur was indeed, more than a little shocked. But then, Ford seemed to be actually trying to kiss him and also seemed to be doing a rather good job at it. So, Arthur decided, there really was very little harm in kissing him back. He might even enjoy it.
This, Ford though, as he teased Arthur’s now compliant lips open, is much better than either cuddling or watching the door.
At that exact moment the door swung open.
For what felt like the hundredth or so time that night Ford was quite surprised. Unfortunately, this time failed to be in a this-close-to-getting-Arthur’s-pants-off way. He was so surprised, in fact that he didn’t even realize he was now basically holding empty space. It took him a few seconds to realize that was due to the fact that Arthur seemed to have thrown himself back against the wall faster than he’s sure any human has managed before.
Ford turned to glare at whoever had just interrupted and shouldn’t have been at all surprised, what with everything else that had happened to him that day, that he was surprised.
“Zaphod!” Ford jumped to his feet and walked across the sickeningly yellow floor to greet his two-headed semi-cousin. Standing in the doorway holding a Kill-O-Matic in two of his three arms was in fact Zaphod Beeblebrox, ex president of the galaxy with the two off the most annoying yet handsome grins in the galaxy, as voted in EssentialBeing 4002 people you would kill to meet, and kill after meeting. In fact his second head, seemed to be making an extra effort to look particularly daring and narcissistic.
“Of course, man!” Zaphod said, dropping the weapons so he could punch Ford in the shoulder with one arm while hugging him. “You didn’t think we’d just leave you and your pet monkey for dead, did you?”
Before Arthur had time to point out it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Zaphod failed to think of any one other than himself, Trillain interrupted by walking in the room. “Trillian!” Arthur jumped to his feet, his cheeks a brighter red than normal. “How did you two get in here?”
“It was the ship,” She explained. “It’s kind of appeared in this one.”
“An improbability of, well, something really large,” Zaphod assured him, picked up one of the guns again and trying to do a cool move where he spun the gun around before catching it in the other hand while both heads were trying hard to look like they were concentrating on Ford instead of the gun, which he ended up not catching.
Ford and Arthur had the good sense to duck while he tried this as Trillian rolled her eyes, glad she had turned the safety on before handing the weapons to Zaphod.
“How did you get past the… The things?”
“The Noglomians,” Ford filled in.
Trillian shrugged. “The ship again. It turned them all into these.” She held up a pair of slightly stained gym socks, which flopped half-heartedly between her fingers. “We better get back to the ship before normality returns. You two are okay, right?”
Ford nodded, quite displeased with how Trillian seemed to be looking at Arthur when she asked the question. Didn’t his health and safety matter at all? Didn’t Trillian have something better to do than stare at Arthur?
“Yes, I think,” Arthur said, his body relaxing for the first time since they first got lost down on Entra Nine. “I guess we’re quite alright.”
Ford could have sworn he heard Zaphod’s closer head mutter, “Looked better than alright to me.”
Ford smiled, tossing an arm around Arthur, who instantly tensed up again. Possibly more than when a cruel, bloody death had been the only thing he had to be scared of. “See, I told you there was nothing to worry about!” He said as the four of them started to make it back to the ship. “All that nonsense about us going to die.”
“Excuse me? You weren’t exactly planning on Trillan-“
“-and Zaphod.”
“Flying in and saving us,” Arthur pointed out.
“But I knew something would come through,” Ford insisted, nudging himself slightly closer to Arthur who gave a long sigh but, Ford noted with more than what he felt was his fair share of happiness, he didn’t exactly pull out from under Ford‘s arm.
“We should do this more often,” Ford added, as they stopped onto the Heart of Gold which had in fact materialized right in the middle of the battle arena Arthur and Ford had come very close to being thrown in. “These adventures-”
“Near death experiences,” Arthur corrected.
“They’re not half bad.” Ford flashed a grin that managed to show all his teeth at once and tended to make people shrink away from him while images of very large fangs sinking into their necks filled their heads.
Despite his better judgment, Arthur smiled back.
Title: So This Is It
Fandom: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Ford
Rating/Warning: PG-13
Word Count: 3,190
Summary: If you had Arthur, and about one hour to live, what else would you do with your time?
Author's Note: No, this isn't a new fic. I just realized I had a bunch of Hitchhiker's Guide fics that I haven't posted to this journal. So to keep everything organized, now I am posting them here. Be prepared for a bunch of really old fic. However, for the sake of some people's sanity, I did go back and correct some more obvious mistakes.
So This Is It
There are very few races in the known galaxies that have the same history of violence and pure madness as the Noglomians.
In ancient days the Noglomians lived in tribes, spending most of their free time maiming and killing the members of other tribes. This was going very well for them and the rest of the universe until at least, after centuries of bloody wars, the one remaining Nogolmian king decided to do something sensible when he realized there were barely enough woman left to give him the eight hundred and seventy three wives he‘d always wanted. They could no longer run around swearing to kill anything that moved and doing so in a rather brutal manner. They had to find another way of life. Some way of living that didn’t involving cutting off the head of your brother and giving it to your new wife as a gift, after you slaughtered your first born son. There simply had to be another way.
So they built a spaceship and decided to go around plunder and killing other people instead. But only after a couple more bloody wars reduced the population to a nice, portable number.
The problem with the Noglomians is that they are perfectly willing to pick up a hitchhiker whenever they find one. It doesn’t help that their ships look amazingly similar to most Betelgeuse commercial flight lines. Only instead of a friendly albeit somewhat strange flying crew, this ship is filled with oozing, puss filled creatures whose muscles are roughly the size of President Beeblebrox’s ego. If you happen to be one of the unlucky souls catching a ride on such a ship, it is suggested you put the guide down and began praying to whatever deity you may believe in, and a few you might have heard of in passing, just in case.
In other words: you are going to die.
-o-o-o-o-
“So this is it. We’re going to die.”
Ford sighed. It was a very human habit he’d picked up on Earth meant to convey that a person was quite annoyed with some other person for what they felt were very obvious reasons. He didn’t think annoyed was a strong enough word, however, so he sighed twice just to make sure Arthur Dent, a native of the before mentioned and now deceased planet, got the point.
He didn’t.
“I never thought I was going to die like this,” Arthur lamented. “This is simply too terrible for words.”
Ford figured that had to be a figure of speech, since obviously it wasn’t too terrible for words or else the bablefish would have never been able to translate what their captors had delightfully informed them they were planning on doing to their new prisoners. He thought they had managed to put it into words very nicely.
“We’re going to lock you in a room,” Explained one of the men in charge of caring Arthur and Ford to their cell. “And wait until you are crazy with fear and hunger and then put you in a pit with a monstrous, being-eating Kiluge and laugh as it tears you to tiny, bloody bits.”
“We are not going to die,” Ford promised, getting up from the dingy floor of the cell and walking over to the door to make it look like he had some sort of plan of how to get them out of their current, and extremely bleak, situation. The room had no windows and was painted a very cheerful, bright yellow color. Ford figured this meant either that the Noglomians considered yellow a very terrifying color or had a very odd sense of humor. “We simply have to stay clam.”
“Stay calm!” Arthur yelped, doing the exact opposite of what Ford had just told him to do and doing it in a very dramatic and irritating way. “Ford, we’re locked in a cell that looks like a very poorly done child’s room by a bunch of creatures we just saw eat a very large, very alive worm! And you say we’ll be okay! Are you mad?”
Arthur Dent was quite sure he knew the answer to that without hearing Ford answer and Ford was quite sure this was one of the questions earthlings asked but didn’t honestly expect an answer for which was very odd behavior in his opinion but utterly acceptable on Earth.
Ford considered telling Arthur that he’d gotten out of worse situations, like the time they’d been shot out into the vacuum of space, but didn’t think that would help. “It’s called a Vorln, Arthur,” He informed his friend, speaking about the large, slimy creature the captain of the ship had eaten while looking over Arthur and Ford and trying to think up the most entertaining death he could for them. “It’s really not much different than a cow, you see.”
Arthur stayed silent for a few seconds, which alarmed Ford a little since he figured Arthur was going to continue with stating the most obvious of their problems at the moment. He did so every time they were in such life and death situations, which seemed to be quite more frequently now then Ford remembered them being when he traveled the universe with just his towel and the occasional drunk friend to keep him company. He was, indeed, almost getting use to the sound of Arthur’s panic grating down his last nerve. It was a bit of a comfort.
Ford went over and plopped down onto the floor next to his friend, who was seated against the back wall and looking properly horrified at the idea of starving to death in such a creepy yellow room. Ford has always been rather confused about the whole comforting thing as far as Earth customs were considered. The only time he saw people doing anything to comforter someone was in the movies, and then it usually involved the two main characters of opposite genders holding each other close or having sex, neither of which he thought Arthur would be very interested in at the moment.
He awkwardly patted Arthur on the shoulder. “It will be okay, Arthur,” He repeated in a much softer tone. Arthur looked up from the spot he had been staring at on the floor and up at Ford, which Ford took to mean that he was doing something right. “I’ll think of a way to get us out of here.”
Ford stood back up and went over to the door to look busy, while he prayed Zaphod figured out where the hell they were before they became Kiluge food.
Arthur stayed where he was. “There is so much I didn’t get to do,” He whined. Ford didn’t have very much trouble believing this. After all, for nearly half of the earthman’s life he’d been stuck on a very estranged little planet with nothing more to do than drink tea and watch rather boring soaps. All in all not a very exciting lifestyle and one Ford thought he had greatly improved upon by getting Arthur not only out of his house but off his planet entirely (and right before both were demolished). At the very least there were definitely more things happening in Arthur’s life now than ever before, even if they weren’t necessarily all good things.
“Well, we might as well make the best of it,” Ford said, after inspecting the door to his satisfaction. He was quite aware of the fact that there was no chance that the door was going to be of any use to them when it came to escaping. In fact, it would take more than a mere miracle to get them out of the cell alive.
“The best of it?” Asked Arthur. “How do you suggest we make the best of waiting to die?”
Ford shrugged. He leaned against the wall, watching the door as if any minute now it would swing open. Of course, then they would have to face a bunch of crazed, murdering Noglomians which most would consider a step worse than their current arrangement.
He thought back to the movies and the way that earthlings acted in these situations, trying to come up with something that would settle Aruthur down. “We could have sex,” Ford suggested.
Arthur looked at him like he had just suggested they gnaw each other leg’s off and beat the other to death with the severed limbs. Of course, he had no way of knowing that the last two beings to be in the cell had done exactly that, seeing as it was in their planets tradition to do so when faces with a torture. Other species don’t understand how getting your leg chewed off and then hit on the top of the head with it is any better than being tortured, but so are the strange and often completely nonsensical ways of the Narkhosses.
“I was just saying,” Ford added after he felt Arthur had had enough of a shock to make him forget about being ripped apart in front of an audience. “It would be something to do.”
“Well, yes,” Arthur agreed, withdrawing himself a little further from Ford. “But I really don’t think-“
“Oh, come on Arthur. I mean, we’re going to be dead rather soon anyway. Besides, it’s not like I bite.” Ford ended it with one of his very large smiles, which gave Arthur the impression that Ford was lying through his teeth about the last part.
“I don’t want to sleep with you, Ford!” Arthur declared, quite scandalized by the idea.
“Oh, I get it.”
“Good.”
“You want to cuddle first.”
“WHAT!”
Ford shrugged. “On Earth,” He pointed out. “Everyone seemed to have this thing about holding hands and kissing and dating. You know, the cuddling stuff.” He, for one, had always thought this whole ordeal was rather drawn out and not something worth his time to bother with when all he really wanted was to get into someone’s pants.
“Well…” Arthur stumbled sort of, trying to get his tongue to work even while his mind was in an advanced state of shock. Of course, since earthlings spend over half of their time talking without thinking anyway, this was not nearly as difficult as Arthur Dent made it out to be. “I… I don’t want to cuddle either Ford.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I don’t think this is the best time to…” Arthur cut off and bit his lower lip, which Ford took to mean that his mouth had started off without his brain again, which was now making an attempt to reclaim the power of speech as it’s own. “Never mind! I just don’t want to! I don’t have to have a reason!”
“Okay then,” Said Ford with the feeling that that was the end of the conversation.
A few seconds Ford noticed Arthur squirming out of the corner of his eye. He tried to ignore it, but the longer he did the more Arthur seemed to squirm. It was distracting from Ford’s staring at the door in what was suppose to be a meaningful and thoughtful way.
Ford turned to look at Arthur, who instantly became very still and refuse to meet Ford’s eyes. He was quite nervous enough without having a staring contest he was bound to lose.
“We’re going to die.”
Ford nodded. “Most likely,” He admitted.
With rough, slow movements Arthur scooted across the floor until his and Ford’s arms were touching. More exactly their clothes were touching, but Arthur felt nervous enough about that small matter that he probably didn’t need to be thinking about what would happen if they were both naked at the moment. This worked out well, since Ford was doing enough thinking about that particular subject for both of them.
A few seconds later Arthur lowered his head to rest against Ford. Ford, being slight ignorant still on the difference human contact for comforter and human contact for sex and not entirely sure there was even a difference at all, wasn’t quite sure what to make of this but figured it meant it was okay for him to touch back. So, very carefully like one trying not to disturb the sleeping planet of Krikkit and therefore unleash upon the universe a very dangerous and deadly force of killer robots, he placed his arm around Arthur’s shoulders and a gave a very gentle squeeze.
This was apparently the exactly right thing to do, because Arthur leaned into him even more and sighed.
Despite Ford’s opinions on Earth cuddling and what a waste of time it all was this, he had to admit, was quite nice. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that both parties involved where very aware that they were about to die horrible, painful deaths. In comparison nearly anything would be enjoyable. It might also have to do, however, with the fact that he could feel Arthur’s breathing start to relax as the other man got more comfortable with their position and let Ford draw him a little closer.
Of course, there were still things they could be doing that were more pleasurable. They might as well, Ford reasoned, enjoy however long they had left. Beside, he was guide researcher. Stupid, unpredictable, fun things are what guide researchers did. That’s what the company was paying them for.
Well, actually the company was paying them for research but Ford always saw that as more of an after thought than his actual job.
“Arthur,” Ford said, not looking away from the door.
“Hmm?”
“I have decided that I am going to kiss you.”
Ford managed, rather quickly in Arthur’s opinion, to unfurl his arm from around the other man and take a nice, firm grip on Arthur’s dress robe, nearly yanking the other man into his lap and he pressed their lips together a little more forcefully than entirely necessary.
To his great surprise, Arthur didn’t punch or fight or do any of the things Ford quite expected him to do. He assumed this was because the other man had gone into shock either because Ford was kissing him or because Ford said he was going to kiss him and actually followed through with one of his promises.
Arthur was indeed, more than a little shocked. But then, Ford seemed to be actually trying to kiss him and also seemed to be doing a rather good job at it. So, Arthur decided, there really was very little harm in kissing him back. He might even enjoy it.
This, Ford though, as he teased Arthur’s now compliant lips open, is much better than either cuddling or watching the door.
At that exact moment the door swung open.
For what felt like the hundredth or so time that night Ford was quite surprised. Unfortunately, this time failed to be in a this-close-to-getting-Arthur’s-pants-off way. He was so surprised, in fact that he didn’t even realize he was now basically holding empty space. It took him a few seconds to realize that was due to the fact that Arthur seemed to have thrown himself back against the wall faster than he’s sure any human has managed before.
Ford turned to glare at whoever had just interrupted and shouldn’t have been at all surprised, what with everything else that had happened to him that day, that he was surprised.
“Zaphod!” Ford jumped to his feet and walked across the sickeningly yellow floor to greet his two-headed semi-cousin. Standing in the doorway holding a Kill-O-Matic in two of his three arms was in fact Zaphod Beeblebrox, ex president of the galaxy with the two off the most annoying yet handsome grins in the galaxy, as voted in EssentialBeing 4002 people you would kill to meet, and kill after meeting. In fact his second head, seemed to be making an extra effort to look particularly daring and narcissistic.
“Of course, man!” Zaphod said, dropping the weapons so he could punch Ford in the shoulder with one arm while hugging him. “You didn’t think we’d just leave you and your pet monkey for dead, did you?”
Before Arthur had time to point out it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Zaphod failed to think of any one other than himself, Trillain interrupted by walking in the room. “Trillian!” Arthur jumped to his feet, his cheeks a brighter red than normal. “How did you two get in here?”
“It was the ship,” She explained. “It’s kind of appeared in this one.”
“An improbability of, well, something really large,” Zaphod assured him, picked up one of the guns again and trying to do a cool move where he spun the gun around before catching it in the other hand while both heads were trying hard to look like they were concentrating on Ford instead of the gun, which he ended up not catching.
Ford and Arthur had the good sense to duck while he tried this as Trillian rolled her eyes, glad she had turned the safety on before handing the weapons to Zaphod.
“How did you get past the… The things?”
“The Noglomians,” Ford filled in.
Trillian shrugged. “The ship again. It turned them all into these.” She held up a pair of slightly stained gym socks, which flopped half-heartedly between her fingers. “We better get back to the ship before normality returns. You two are okay, right?”
Ford nodded, quite displeased with how Trillian seemed to be looking at Arthur when she asked the question. Didn’t his health and safety matter at all? Didn’t Trillian have something better to do than stare at Arthur?
“Yes, I think,” Arthur said, his body relaxing for the first time since they first got lost down on Entra Nine. “I guess we’re quite alright.”
Ford could have sworn he heard Zaphod’s closer head mutter, “Looked better than alright to me.”
Ford smiled, tossing an arm around Arthur, who instantly tensed up again. Possibly more than when a cruel, bloody death had been the only thing he had to be scared of. “See, I told you there was nothing to worry about!” He said as the four of them started to make it back to the ship. “All that nonsense about us going to die.”
“Excuse me? You weren’t exactly planning on Trillan-“
“-and Zaphod.”
“Flying in and saving us,” Arthur pointed out.
“But I knew something would come through,” Ford insisted, nudging himself slightly closer to Arthur who gave a long sigh but, Ford noted with more than what he felt was his fair share of happiness, he didn’t exactly pull out from under Ford‘s arm.
“We should do this more often,” Ford added, as they stopped onto the Heart of Gold which had in fact materialized right in the middle of the battle arena Arthur and Ford had come very close to being thrown in. “These adventures-”
“Near death experiences,” Arthur corrected.
“They’re not half bad.” Ford flashed a grin that managed to show all his teeth at once and tended to make people shrink away from him while images of very large fangs sinking into their necks filled their heads.
Despite his better judgment, Arthur smiled back.