Chapter Text
Ford’s up late, as is usually the case for him. He’s mulling over blueprints, continuously erasing and redrawing in an endless dance that’s driving him nuts. Fiddford’s gone off to see his wife and kid, leaving his counterpart to run himself ragged. There is the downside that without Fiddleford, Ford will work himself down to nothing. Especially when his muse does that multi-week disappearing act he seems so fond of. The guy really does need constant supervision so he doesn’t destroy himself.
Speaking of, he stands and cracks his back with a pained groan. The noise it makes is hideous. How long had he been sitting in this terrible metal chair? He walks over to the half full coffee pot, pouring himself another cup. He’d have to make more, he wasn’t making progress so far and didn’t really have an idea of when a breakthrough would hit. Alas, the things we do for global recognition.
It’s in this moment when his back is turned that his treasured muse decides it is time for a reappearance.
“Well, well, well! If it isn’t just the guy I wanted to see. Aren’t you a sight for sore eye, IQ!” Bill’s voice echoes in Ford’s mind. The young man’s eyes brighten as he smiles wide, he looks up as if he could actually see the apparition in this world floating above him. Of course, he can’t. Not yet. “Awww, miss me?”
“Bill! God, am I glad to hear from you.” He speaks the words aloud, though he is alone. He can’t really help it. He hasn’t adjusted to having entire conversations with a separate entity in his head yet, but he’ll get there in time.
“Don’t I know it. Had a feeling you were struggling a bit, where’s that little assistant of yours? Feeding the hogs out back?” The demon laughs at his own joke. Ford sighs deeply.
“McGucket’s gone off to see his family.” He finds himself looking off to the side and his face falling, like this is in fact an actual conversation with a person who is actually in front of him which is equal parts comical and vaguely sad. “He’ll be back soon enough. Seems that wife of his is never happy with him.”
“Oh, you humans and your ‘families’.” Bill speaks after laughing for even longer. “Seriously, the idea is comical to me! All your guys' blood relatives ever do is leech off you and make you feel bad about yourself. Who needs that? Anyway, it’s been nice catching up, how’s the portal coming?”
“I’ve been at it for days but I just can’t seem to move past this one blasted equation! It’s infuriating.” Ford’s brows scrunch, pinching in the middle. He’s going to get a worry line if he keeps doing that. He actually already has one, vaguely. The thought causes him to furrow his brow more, deepening the aforementioned line. What a terrible cycle.
“Believe me I can tell. Your cup overflowed nearly a minute ago!” The scientist jumps, causing the cup to fall from his hand which is now a pinkish shade of red. It shatters on the floor. He does manage to keep his hold on the actual pot, thankfully. He swears under his breath as he shakes it out, much to the ongoing amusement of the being in his brain. “You make it too easy, Sixer you really do! Listen, smart guy, I give you about one more of those before you keel over so let's take it slow, alright? Can’t have my favorite fleshbag keeling over, now can I.”
“I…suppose.” Ford falters for a moment. Is he really his favorite person? He flushes as he hears that laugh again.
“Sure you are! Here’s a deal, Fordsy.” Ford, very suddenly, finds his psyche split from his physical body. He’s looking down at himself looking back at him with long familiar yellow, thin pupiled eyes. Bill’s voice is back, more tethered to this plane now that he’s the physical one between the two of them. “You go do whatever it is you feel like doing in the mindscape, I’ll drive while you’re gone. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”
He draws out the last letter, smiling almost maliciously. Why not just send him to bed, Ford wonders. This wasn’t really necessary, he would rest for a time if Bill simply told him to do so.
“Please. I can’t trust you not to just sit down and get right back to work and you know it!” He also really needed to get used to hearing that voice come out of his mouth, it’s still off putting. It keeps going. “Besides, I haven’t been tangible in a while.”
“That’s true.” Ford sighs. “Alright, but not terribly long. I’ll be back soon.”
With that the man fades out, going wherever it is he trudges off to when Bill dismisses him. Finally, that idiot didn’t realize how much more valuable he was alive than dead.
He cracks the body’s joints, fun popping noises sound off as he does. Wow. Ford really has been hunched over that desk for days, at least that’s what the pins in needles in his foot are saying. He drags a six-fingered hand down his face, groaning slightly.
This body was tired, its eyes are struggling to keep focus and everything in its primitive mind is begging for some kind of sleep in these full bodied aches. For someone who’d been a human all their life, this guy is nearly comically terrible at it. Whatever happened to survival instinct? It really is lucky Bill’d found him, who knows what other thing he’d be working himself half to death for. It’s also lucky that the hideous pangs of jealousy that thought causes in Bill’s mind are willfully ignored.
With vaguely sore legs he climbs the stairs to the main living space. It’s warmer up here which is already a million times better. He sheds that stupid dingy lab coat and throws it off to the side somewhere as he walks through the cabin. All those science doohickeys are wildly entertaining to look at, though it’s not like he really cares to know what any of them do.
Bill’s game plan is to just go to sleep. Sure, Ford’s resting his mind right now but his body also needs some shut eye. It’s really a wonder how this species was the ‘top’ of the food chain here, with everything so interconnected. But, a little snooping wouldn’t hurt. Just a look around, it’s not like anyone is here to stop or see him. And he is a curious little scamp by nature along with basically being a god among these cockroaches, so really who’s gonna fault him? Besides, looking around the brainiac's room was a great way to better understand his latest pet. Other than to basically live in the guy’s head. Oh. Wait.
Ford’s room is rather bland. There’s a couch with books stacked in various places, leaving room for sleeping sporadically. A single night stand, one super tacky carpet, and a calendar. Maybe one of these days Bill would get around to throwing some enrichment in this enclosure. At least a fake plant or something. Looking at the limited storage options, he turns to the night stand to pull open the drawers.
The first drawer is just miscellaneous junk. Screwdrivers of varying sizes, papers ranging from mail to scrapped journal pages, gloves for cold weather, nothing of interest. The second drawer, however, is far more interesting.
Lubricant, an unopened box of condoms, and tissues. For someone who’d thought out the fact that the very top or very bottom drawer would be far too conspicuous, Ford didn’t think to put anything ELSE in there? Feels like a huge oversight, but that doesn’t matter much because the lack of material means he probably uses his imagination. Bill, as the current occupier of Ford’s head, could probably carefully extract some of those thoughts without disturbing the rightful owner. However this information alone is enough to cause him to start getting a little warmer, the heat growing as he dwells on the thought until it’s burning.
“It doesn’t take much when you live alone in a cabin, does it?” Bill chuckles a bit. He’s been around long enough he was familiar with some of people’s more base urges. Of course, Ford was no exception, he is but a man despite his best efforts. But that is always what the demon counted on, isn’t it? Judging the state of that condom box versus the amount of lube used, the hermit does it nearly all himself. That thought brings an odd feeling of relief to his mind. He laughs. “Man! Really that dedicated.”
He grabs the bottle and shuts the drawer, walking to take a seat on the couch. Something’s stirring deep within his gut, a broiling heat deep within that’s eating its way outward. It’s different, from that burning in his head. That was limited to the brain and face, this was far more bodily in nature. He sets the lube aside and palms his hardening cock through khaki pants, rolling his hips into his own hand. He laughs, it’s a little breathless at the feeling. It’s enough to make his head spin.
He’s done things like this a handful of times. Before Ford. It wasn’t often and it was never like this. Maybe they’d gotten around more, or maybe it’s just in the way the dude just blindly believes him. He worships him relentlessly and restlessly and unlike anyone else ever really had. It’s really hard not to feel different about that. He groans. It sounds…unlike him. More like…
He laughs, almost hysterically, and quickly removes his hands. It takes a beat to really understand what just happened, but when it passes the realization is like lamb to slaughter.
“Now that’s rich.” He looks down, undoing his belt to shimmy his pants down to just above the knee. He chuckles again, this time it’s low in his chest, slightly sinister. He uses one hand to lazily palm at himself and the other to rest his head on. His eyes slip shut. He could do a passable impression of his current vessel at any time, but having the same vocal chords makes it a hell of a lot easier. He rolls his hips up again. “Oh God.”
It comes out as a somewhat shaken thing, partially mumbled like there was a fear of someone hearing, but it is Ford’s voice. It’s as if someone cattle prodded his brain, shooting electricity down every nerve in every limb. He laughs giddily in his own way. This was just delicious. It’d be a lie to say they hadn’t gotten to this point with one another before. What can he say, the man was just his type. Vulnerable, isolated, and obsessed with him. Though it had been kept to the mindscape, or with him as a viewer looking in. He isn’t sure why he hadn’t done this sooner. It’s not like his toy would object, he can see what that freak thinks about at night.
He pops the button and zipper on his pants so he can somewhat awkwardly lift his hips to pull them down to around the mid thigh. It’s enough for the time. Of course the underwear is an unbelievably boring gray color. He squeezes lube into his left hand and uses the right to push down the elastic band of those underwhelming boxer briefs to free his dick. He doesn’t know why he’s so impatient suddenly, something about recounting what Ford dreamt about was really doing it for him.