Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ford, I think this may be the ugliest ship I have ever seen.”

Arthur and Ford were standing in the Zaphod V , a personal transport ship belonging to Zaphod Beeblebrox, Ford’s semi-cousin, former President of the Galaxy and current cult leader. The cabin was decked out in patterns that, individually, would have been offensive to anyone with a modicum of taste. Together, they formed a  visual picture so offensive, it was criminal in many parts of the universe. Somehow, the most notable affront to the viewer’s sensibilities wasn’t the thick, high pile carpeting or the velvety couches that looked like they might hide all manner of dubious stains; instead it was that every available wall was plastered with pictures of Zaphod. Paintings, photographs, and notably two portraits of Zaphod’s dual heads, each made up entirely of smaller pictures of the other head. 

Ford grinned at Arthur. “Yes, well, the price was right. Zaphod is letting us use the Zaphod V for free, other than the cost of fuel”

“Sorry,” Arthur said, “did you say the Zaphod V ? There are five of these monstrosities?”

Ford laughed. “No. Just the one. Zaphod just thought the V gave the ship more gravitas.”

“Well, it certainly has something" Arthur said. "I suppose we had better see the rest of it. It can’t be much worse, can it?”

The Captain’s Quarters were, in fact, worse.

“I don’t think I have ever seen so many mirrors in my life” observed Arthur. 

Ford couldn’t even properly respond. He was laughing too hard at the mental image of trying to stay in this room. He finally caught his breath. “Can you imagine changing in here? You would see yourself from every angle.”

Arthur's brain short-circuited for a moment thinking about Ford from every angle. Shut up, brain. He told himself. You are just going to have to get through this trip without acting like a complete asshole. Ford is your friend. Your FRIEND. Nothing more. 

They continued down the hall. The remainder was of the Zaphod V was thankfully generic, if a bit cool. White and chrome and sleek. What marketing thought people wanted to see when they were in a spaceship. They chose quarters from a line of identical rooms and settled in.

“I guess Zaphod only designed the portions of the ship he would be using.” Ford observed. “Probably got distracted after that.”

"Well, there are only so many hours in the day. You have morning worship. Then brunch, followed by afternoon orgy . . . ."

"You seem to know an awful lot about my cousin's cult. Are you sure you're not a Beeblebro?"

"What? No! I know Zaphod a little too well to think he is holy." Arthur laughed. "That isn't far from the actual schedule, though. Trillian was telling me about it the other night. She is doing a story on the cult, you know."

Most Galactic Presidents end up dead or in jail, but Zaphod had, stunningly, avoided both. There isn't much that naturally flows on the resume after POTG. Zaphod, took the only promotion he could think of and started an actual cult. It was that or write another memoir, but his advisors strongly discouraged a book on the grounds of potential self-incrimination. The Order of Beeblebrox wasn't a bad cult, as far as those things go. Mostly copious amounts of sex and drinking, with the occasional speech by Zaphod. Still, Arthur was perfectly happy to avoid anything to do with it. 

Arthur curled up on a couch in the crew breakroom while Ford set the coordinates and got the ship underway. Ford returned, grinning, and began pouring them drinks. “Whatever Zaphod’s faults, he stocked the bar. Can’t complain about that.”

Arthur watched him. It was good to see Ford, Arthur thought. It had been too long. 

Ford walked over and handed Arthur a drink. Their hands touched and Arthur had to work to conceal an intake of breath. For a moment, he imagined he saw something in Ford’s eyes as well, but when he looked again, Ford was stretching out with his feet on a small table in front of them, looking cool and composed. Ford always looked cool, composed and way out of Arthur’s league.

"So, what have you been up to?" Arthur asked.

Ford shrugged. "You know. This and that. Went to a planet called Verita. The Veritis can't lie. It's a physiological impossibility for them."

"That sounds . . . interesting." Arthur said. 

"On the bright side, you can get away with almost anything because it doesn't occur to them you would lie. On the less bright side, the Veritis tell you precisely what they think of you. Apparently, I am not particularly attractive on that planet "

"What? Well, that's ridiculous. You are very attractive." Arthur replied before his brain caught up. 

Ford grinned. "I am, am I?"

"Um, yeah. I mean you are a reasonably attractive man. You do alright in bars, don't you? Anyway . . ." Arthur trailed off. Did Ford look disappointed?

"What have you been up to, Arthur?" Ford thankfully changed the subject. 

"Oh, nothing really. Pretty boring stuff. I got a cottage. I have been doing a lot of reading." The truth was that Arthur had been floundering a bit, trying to figure out what he was going to do next. He couldn’t really return to Earth, even if it had somehow shown up again (it was notoriously stubborn that way). He may blame Fenchurch for making him leave, but when he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he never really could get the hang of fitting back in on a planet where everyone had no clue what was happening in the rest of the universe. He wasn't sure he ever had fit on Earth, all things considered, but he really didn't fit now. He didn’t really fit in anywhere. Sure, he had made a home on Lamuella, but that was really out of necessity. When Ford showed up, he had been relieved. Yeah, they were almost always in mortal danger, but it wasn't boring. Now he could go anywhere and do anything, and all he really wanted to do was sit on this couch and enjoy time with Ford. 

They settled into a companionable silence. Arthur stared at Ford out of the corner of his eye. He was handsome and funny, with a grin that would have been too large on almost anyone else. It worked on Ford. They had been friends just short of forever. Arthur sometimes wondered what would have happened had he been just a little braver when they met. He imagined asking Ford out on a date, rather than just accepting Ford's offer to buy him a pint in thanks for saving him. Then again, Ford probably would have said no and he wouldn't even have this. There was no way that someone who had traveled half the galaxy was going to fall in love with an anxious mess of a person from some backwater planet. Ford had seen so much and met so many people. What would he want with Arthur? It was enough to be friends. It had to be. If he repeated it enough, maybe his heart would catch up.

I have not had enough to drink to be this maudlin, Arthur thought. 

Arthur broke the silence: “Tell me about this planet you are dragging me to.”

Ford looked at Arthur with a bit of surprise. “You haven’t researched it? I assumed you would have looked it up in the Guide to assure yourself I wasn’t dragging you somewhere too dangerous”

Arthur responded slowly: “you said it wasn’t dangerous.”

“IT ISN’T.” Ford assured him. “It isn’t. It’s a small resort planet. The entire planet is hotels, beaches, restaurants and clubs. It’s known for its unique geology, which caused striations in the sand. Rainbow beaches, as they are called. The Guide issued an assignment because none of the writers have been able to get there in awhile and it is reportedly a bit of a tourist trap now. Turns out vacationers don’t really pick up hitchhikers. Go figure. I just assumed you would have researched it because . . . well . . .” he trailed off waving his hand vaguely in Arthur’s direction.

“I trust you, Ford.” 

Something flickered across Ford’s face. It was gone before Arthur could interpret it. “After everything we have been through? It seems like trouble finds us.”

“Well,” Arthur laughed, “we survived didn’t we?” In truth, Arthur didn’t feel that cavalier towards some of the dodgier adventures they had faced but he did trust Ford, and that was what mattered. “Besides, I manage to find trouble with or without you. Better to have you watching my back. So, a beach town, eh?”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be pretty amazing. The system has binary stars, so there are multiple sunsets in any given universal standard day. Plus, the Guide is footing the bill.”

“That sounds . . .” romantic? No. Stop it. “fun.” 

Several drinks later, Arthur decided to turn in. It was getting harder and harder not to slip. In the past, something had always been exploding or crashing or throwing rocks or someone was inconveniently turning into a penguin or riding on a couch. “Ford, I know we are about to die, so let me make our friendship a bit more awkward” wasn’t really the way he envisioned confessing his feelings. Plus, it seemed like there was always someone around. He could hardly confess his feelings with Zaphod around calling him "monkey-man."

Now, alone in the quiet of a ship on the way to a leisurely vacation, Arthur found himself struggling not to lay it all out there. He sighed, pulled the covers up and waited for sleep to come. 

Chapter Text

Something is wrong with Arthur, Ford thought. Arthur had been walking around for two days in a bad mood. Every so often, he would start to say something but then he would just trail off.

Ford tried not to care. He had spent decades cultivating a healthy sense of indifference. Caring meant being hurt when the kids at school called you "Ix." Caring meant feeling the weight of a father's expectation that you would single handedly continue an entire culture. That you would stand for an entire planet of people who were gone before you met them. Caring meant worrying about whether your next adventure would kill you. Caring meant making connections and then hurting when one of you moved on. In short, caring was a load of Bugblatter Beast dung.

The problem was that Arthur very much cared. About everything and everyone. When he asked how you were doing, he meant it. When you asked for help, say understanding yet another ridiculous Earth custom, he patiently explained it and answered follow-up questions. And when he was around, Ford found his walls slipping. His cool veneer of disinterest was hard to maintain when Arthur was wandering around with his hair adorably sticking up in odd places constantly caring.

So Ford tried everything he could think of to bring Arthur out of his funk. He tried telling ridiculous stories about his travels to get a rise out of Arthur:

"Did I ever tell you about the time I traveled to a planet where there are pockets of air that cause amnesia? Wasted a week there turning in the same write-up for the Guide over and over again."

"That sounds terrible. Were there any lasting effects?" Arthur asked.

"To what?" Ford deadpanned.

"To the memory loss." Arthur prompted.

"What memory loss?" Ford replied.

"To the memory loss you were just . . ." Ford grinned. "Ford! That's not funny." Arthur admonished, but he was laughing. "You had me there for a minute."

Ford laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Is there even really a planet like that?"

"Like what?" Ford teased.

Arthur rolled his eyes and went to make a snack, but he was smiling while he did it. That lasted about ten minutes. When he sat back down, Arthur was back to being introspective.

Ford tried asking directly:

"Okay, Arthur. You may as well tell me."

"Tell you what?" Arthur asked nervously.

"Whatever it is that has you wandering around here like a Perfectly Normal Beast trampled your garden."

Arthur sputtered. "I am not. I'm fine. It's fine. Everything is . . . "

"Fine." Ford finished.

He even tried to cheer Arthur up with an old drinking game from Betelgeuse. The game involved asking the other person an open-ended question and then trying to use telepathy to guess what they would say. Since neither Ford nor Arthur was particularly good at this form of telepathy, it largely involved asking each other questions, proposing ridiculous answers and then drinking copiously when they were wrong. It was really fun. Sort of like old days.

Then the question was posed to Ford: "A major catastrophe is imminent. You can only grab one thing before heading to the escape pod. What do you grab?"

Arthur sobered, looked Ford in the eye and said, "Me. You grabbed me."

Ford teased, "Well, yeah. You were a lot closer than David Bowie." Arthur looked crestfallen. "Hey, Arthur, it was a joke. You're my best friend. Of course I grabbed you."

Arthur made his way to bed soon after. Ford couldn't help but feel like he had mucked the entire thing up somehow, but he couldn't quite figure out how. He tried to apologize the next morning but Arthur wouldn't hear it. "It's fine," he said.

Finally, Ford decided to try the one thing that had always worked back on Earth. He decided to take Arthur down the road to the pub. Ford set a detour into the nav system for The Mediocre Pub.

The Mediocre Pub, formerly known as The Best Pub in the Galaxy, was the brainchild of three Zymurgists, coincidentally named Zed, Fred and Ted. Zymology, that is the study of fermentation, is the most popular major at the University of Maximegalon. 65% of first-year students declare it as their major. Typically, the vast majority of students change their major after a semester when they realize it is markedly more entertaining to drink beer than it is to study it.

Zed, Ted and Fred, on the other appendage, were not going to let a little fun get in the way of their studies. Even if they found themselves slightly less popular at parties than marketing majors. As it happens, partygoers were not particularly enthralled by their lectures on the hint of elderberry in their fermented beverage of choice. Not to be dissuaded, the "Eds", as they became known, decided the problem was the parties to which they were not being invited, and the attractive members of their preferred species who were decidedly ignoring them.

After a night of drinking a particular potent fermented beverage with hints of chocolate, oats and a small insect like creature that inhabits the fetid swamps of Sqornshellous Zeta, they came up with a plan. They decided to create the perfect pub. A pub so amazing that the partygoers, including attractive members of their preferred species, would flock to them.

They set to work studying every aspect of successful pubs. Every single item was based on their extensive studies, and every beer was individually cultivated to appeal to only the most sophisticated palate.

They humbly named their joint venture The Best Pub in the Galaxy.

Unfortunately for them, it was a resounding failure. The Guide described the interior as "a mish mash of random elements that entirely fail to come together." The menu had "all of the readability and excitement of an instruction manual for a midsized vehicle." Finally, the drink list was described as: "ranging from undrinkable to almost surely toxic to most species. The best option tastes a bit like water used to cook Zontarian sausages poured over the anus of a Turiquan Three-Headed Uberbeast."

The only positives cited were the location, situated along several major routes between large galactic hubs, and the bartender Tritus, who "will slip you a couple of generic brews for a fiver."

The Eds had a massive falling out, blaming one another for the pub's failure. They refused to be in the same room and would send messages through Tritus, who very quickly tired of being the go-between for all of their petty squabbles. Finally, he went to each Ed and told him: "Whew! Those other two sure do hate me. Can you imagine if I was an owner? That would sure piss them off." Zed, Ted and Fred immediately signed their shares over to Tritus.

He changed the name to The Mediocre Pub, disposed of the inventory, and redecorated. The result is a quiet, popular pub that always has just enough of a crowd to feel warm and inviting, but not so many patrons that you can't get a drink. Tritus still mans the bar.

As it happens, the Eds never spoke with one another again, and thus never discovered his subterfuge. Zed used all of his experience doing market research to get a job in the marketing division of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation. He liked it slightly less than zymology, but it got him more invitations to parties, so he considered it a win (at least until the revolution came). Ted became an apprentice at a zeptobrewery where they brew beer by the sip. You must have a masters or higher in zymology to enter. Sadly, he was diagnosed with a chronic case of Pretentiousness and forced into early retirement. Fred was killed by a Turquian Three-Headed Uberbeast.

Chapter Text

Ford strolled into the bar.

"FORD!" yelled Tritus. His deep booming voice carried across the room. 

"TRITUS! How have you been?" Ford said.

"Same old, same old. Just how I like it."

The bar was full. There was a group of ex-Pralite monks trying to make each other take shots on one end of the bar. On the other end of the bar a group of lizard-like beings were drinking Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters and watching some sort of bloodsport that involved ripping off your opponent's tail. 

"Why don't you grab a table, Arthur? First round's on me."

Ford situated himself in front of the bar, striking a particularly cool pose that he had honed through years of practice. He snuck a peek at Arthur to make sure he was getting the full benefit of his coolness.

Arthur had chosen a table far from the chaos of the bar, so it was a little hard to tell whether he was suitably impressed. Ford chose to think he was.

He looked around the bar and froze. Next to him was a Tirani drinking Andolian Balm. I am a complete and utter idiot.

Andolian Balm is a beverage made by brewing the dried leaves of the Andolian Orangeberry plant in hot spring water. It is typically served warm, though some in South Andolia serve it over ice, to the horror of the rest of the planet. The beverage has intoxicating effects similar to alcohol, and more critically, tastes almost, but not quite, entirely like tea. Ford had been struck by the similarity the first time he drank tea on Earth, but it had been years and he had forgotten about the drink entirely. 

He ordered an Old Janx Spirit for himself and a pot of Andolian Balm for Arthur. He sauntered over to the table 

"Arthur, I got you something new. I think you'll like it."

Arthur looked at him skeptically. "What is it?"

"I thought you trusted me." Ford said.

"I do." Arthur replied. "But you are looking particularly satisfied which probably means it is going to knock me on my ass."

Ford laughed. "It is fairly strong. It is not technically alcohol but your body reacts the same way, so just drink it slowly. Please, Arthur. Just try it."

Ford poured the hot liquid into an insulated cup and watched Arthur intently. 

Arthur sniffed the dubious beverage and took a small sip. His face went from suspicion to shock to complete and utter joy and contentment. Ford felt a small surge of pride at making Arthur happy. 

"This is tea! Well, not quite tea but as close as I have had in years." 

Ford grinned broadly. "Told you you would like it."

"What? How? Why haven't you told me about this before?" Arthur asked. Taking another sip and moaning in contentment. 

Ford's mouth went dry. He very much enjoyed being the cause of Arthur making that sound. He took a sip of his own drink. "Honestly, I had forgotten about it. Almost nobody drinks the stuff. I didn't even know they had it here."

They passed the time trading stories, talking about nothing, and generally having a great time.

"Do you remember that time you were in A Midsummer Night's Dream?" Arthur asked. He was well into the pot by now and his face was flushed. Whatever had been bugging him had floated away on steam of the Andolian Balm.

"Oh, yes. That was dreadful. Why the director thought making everyone animals was a good idea is beyond me. You know, I tried to tank that audition? I only went because John dragged me along. I don't know how I got the part, but I had to take it. For appearances."

"Oh I don't know," Arthur said, eyes a bit glazed, "I thought you were rather brilliant as ZebraPuck."

Ford felt a little thrill at the compliment. Arthur sat through that play multiple times somehow, watching poor Ford run around in zebra print pants, no shirt and a ridiculous zebra head. 

"Do you remember the cast party?" Arthur laughed. "Everyone got entirely too drunk and broke into that zoo." 

Ford began laughing too. "Yes, and then someone had the idea to get pictures with our animals, but the woman who played Titania was so drunk that she got upset when she couldn't find the unicorns."

"Yes. And then she became convinced that they had gone extinct and she started ranting about hunters and Oberon had to take her home." 

"That zoo employee was not amused when she found us passed out by the zebras." 

Ford didn't mention that it had been Arthur who had passed out on his shoulder. He hadn't wanted to move and wake him, so he had enjoyed the contact until he drifted off too. They had woken up, limbs entwined. It was one of Ford's favorite memories. 

Arthur finished off the pot and went to get himself a pint. Ford was amused to note he was a bit wobbly. Arthur struck up a conversation with a couple of Urdins at the bar. The bear-like creatures seemed to be getting a kick out of some story Arthur was telling. Ford loved watching drunk Arthur. He was always so aware of himself when he was sober. Like he couldn't quite get comfortable. There was something nice about seeing him relax and just be. 

Ford drained his glass and decided to join Arthur at the bar. Arthur was finishing up his story:

"So, anyway, you will never guess who we were talking to the entire time! Elvis! The King himself."

The Urdins stared at Arthur blankly. 

"You know, Elvis!" Arthur said. And then he began to shake his hips and belt out A Little Less Conversation. 

Ford patted Arthur on the shoulder. "Arthur, I don't think these folks are familiar with Elvis."

"Oh man," Arthur replied, "you are missing out." Then he launched into Jailhouse Rock.

Tritus gave Ford the universal bartender look for: Isn't it about time to bring your friend home?

Ford settled up. He convinced Arthur to head back to the ship, pleading exhaustion. He knew from experience that drunk Arthur wouldn't admit it was time to head home, but he would leave if Ford said he was tired. 

The air outside was cool. They walked to the ship. Well, Ford walked. Arthur stumbled about in the general direction. Arthur was happily belting out Love me Tender. What he lacked in pitch, he made up for in enthusiasm. 

They got to the ship. "Home, sweet home" Ford laughed.

Arthur leaned against Ford and put his arm around his shoulders. Ford's wrapped his arm around Arthur's waist. Ford kept his face blank. It felt good to touch him, to feel Arthur's body pressed up against him. He knew Arthur didn't feel the same way, and he felt a vague sense of guilt. But he knew this was it. All he could hope for. So he reveled in Arthur's affection. Even if it was extended in friendship only. 

"We have fun, don't we?" Arthur slurred. "You are the best. My best friend. The best friend."

"Ok, Arthur. Thank you. You are pretty great yourself." Ford assured him as he guided Arthur through the main cabin of the Zaphod V.

"This really is hideous, isn't it?" Arthur said leaning to the side and pointing to a small clay figurine that was almost certainly supposed to be Zaphod, nearly stumbling over in the process.

Ford caught him. "Yes, now come on. Let's get you to bed" 

"Mmmm. Bed. That sounds nice." Arthur said, stumbling along beside him. 

They reached Arthur's room and Ford sat him down on the bed. "Just gonna get your shoes." Ford said, leaning down to take off Arthur's shoes.

"LOVE ME TENDER, LOVE ME TRUUUUUUUE" Arthur sang loudly and very off-key. "I do, you know. I love you, Ford."

Ford's heart stuttered. Zark, he wished Arthur meant that romantically. "Yeah, yeah. I love you too, frood." He said. Taking off the other shoe. 

"No." Arthur said. Suddenly serious. Ford looked up, hearing the change in Arthur's voice. Arthur put his hands on Ford's face, tipping it up. "Ford, I love you. I love love you. I have for awhile." Arthur leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was tentative. Like maybe he was scared Ford would back away. 

Ford wrapped his arms around Arthur, deepening the kiss. Trying to show him exactly how much he loved him. It was happening. He was actually kissing Arthur. He heart was beating out of his chest. He pulled back, breathless. 

"That was nice." Arthur said. He smiled, flopped over, and promptly passed out. 

Ford stared at the strange little man that he loved. His hair was sticking up and Ford longed to run his fingers through it. Instead, he covered Arthur with the blanket,  laid out a cup of water and analgesics on the side table, and turned out the light. 

"Goodnight, Arthur" he whispered to the lightly snoring man as he closed the door. "I love you too."

Chapter Text

Arthur felt like he had been trampled by a herd of elephants. He cracked an eye open. There was a cup of water and some medicine on his bedside table.

Ford. Arthur thought and smiled to himself. A memory from last night threatened to bubble up. He pushed it down. That was later Arthur's problem. He downed the pills and the water, rolled over and went back to sleep. 

A few hours later, he couldn't fight consciousness anymore. He rolled over. How much did I drink last night? He thought. Oh God, was I . . . singing Elvis? 

The word "Ford" floated around in his brain. Suddenly it all rushed back. The drunken confession. The kiss. Oh, the kiss. Did Ford actually kiss me back? I think he actually kissed me back. Is that just wishful thinking? Maybe he was just being polite. Maybe it was just an automatic response. He groaned. I really mucked this up. 

Arthur rolled out of bed. He washed his face, brushed his teeth and changed out of last night's clothes. Having put himself reasonably together, Arthur supposed he had to face Ford. He couldn't exactly hide in his room for the remainder of the trip. Right? 

Arthur sighed. 

It will be fine . He told himself. 

Ford was at the food fabricator. "Arthur," he smiled "I was just making something to eat. Do you want pancakes?"

Arthur stared at Ford. How can he just stand there. Like everything is normal?

Not to be outdone, Arthur smiled tightly and said "pancakes would be wonderful." 

They ate mostly in silence. Arthur eyed Ford. He seemed so relaxed. How can he act like nothing has changed? Arthur wondered.

Arthur broke the silence. "Thank you for the water and the medicine. And for getting me home."

Ford smiled. "Of course, Arthur. I always have your back." 

What does that mean? Part of Arthur was tempted to just ignore what happened between them. It was just a kiss. It doesn't have to be more than that. A kiss between friends. That's a thing, right? 

But then he thought about the hours stretching out before them with this just hanging there unresolved. He thought about the years of hiding his feelings. He didn't want to go back to the way things were. He had spent so much time hiding. He couldn't do it anymore. 

Arthur stood up to clear the dishes. He turned around and put his hands on the cool counter. Arthur took a breath. He didn't know where to start. 

"Ford, I owe you an apology for last night." 

Ford's face fell and suddenly Arthur knew. Oh my God. He loves me too. I am such an idiot.

"No, Arthur. Don't you dare. Don't you dare apologize for that kiss. Please." The last word came out as a whisper. 

Arthur's heart lifted. He loves me too. He loves me too. Don't screw this up, Arthur. 

"Ford" Arthur said tentatively. "Ford, no, I am not sorry for that kiss. And I am not sorry for loving you. I can't and I won't be sorry for that. I just . . . I am sorry for how I told you. I was scared that you didn't feel the same way. I was scared of messing up what we had. And I understand if you don't feel the same way,  but I want you to know that I love you."

Ford walked over to Arthur. Put his arms around Arthur's neck and looked into his eyes. "Say it again?" He asked, eyes pleading.

"I love you, Ford."

Ford sighed. "I have waited so long to hear you say that." He whispered. 

Then he pulled Arthur closer and kissed him deeply. He kissed him with the desperation of a drowning man clutching a life jacket. Arthur moaned. He wrapped his arms around Ford's waist and pulled him closer. Ford nibbled on Arthur's bottom lip and began to kiss  up Arthur's jaw. He whispered in his ear, "I love you too, Arthur. I have loved you for a very long time."

Arthur pulled back and looked at Ford. "I think, perhaps, we have both been quite stupid. We have wasted so much time."

Ford grinned, desire burning in his eyes. "Well then, we had better make up for all that lost time," he said. Then he dragged Arthur to his room to do just that. 

*** 

Much later, Arthur lay with his head on Ford's chest. He felt boneless and happy. Happier than he ever remembered feeling. He nuzzled into Ford's chest.

"Ford, when you said you had loved me for a very long time, what did you mean? How long have you known you loved me?"

Ford sighed. "Oh, who can keep track, with all the time travel and alternate universes?"

Arthur raised his head. "Ford, come on."

Ford sighed again. "It's a bit embarrassing, really. I mean, I was always attracted to you, but I realized I loved you about a year after we met."

"But that's been . . ."

"I know. A really long time."

Arthur nuzzled into Ford's neck. "So, how did you know?"

Ford hummed. "Ok. Storytime." Arthur grinned up at him.

"It was about a year after we met. Kathy was celebrating her 25th birthday."

"Kathy! I had forgotten about her. She always brought the drama. Do you remember the time . . . "

"Arthur, do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Sorry, Ford." Arthur said. He propped himself up on one elbow. "Go on."

"Anyway, I was having a really bad day. I told everyone I hadn't gotten a part that I really wanted, but the truth was that the Sub-Etha Sens-O-Matic had started beeping earlier that day. I thought I was finally going to get a ride off of Earth. Turned out it just needed to be charged. I was starting to think I would never get off the planet. So, here I am, trying to pretend I care about Kathy's birthday when all I really want to do is scream. Or cry. Maybe both. I am staring out the window, looking at the stars and Craig says 'what are you looking at, Ford?' I joke that I am looking for spaceships. Preferably green ones. Everyone laughs and goes back to what they are doing. Except you."

"Wait, I remember that night."

"You realized that I was upset about something. So you claimed you didn't feel well and asked me to walk home with you. When we got outside, you said to me 'Ford, I don't know what's bothering you. I am here if you want to talk about it. Or not. Either way. But I figured that wasn't really your scene tonight. Do you want to come back to my place and have a beer?'"

"We stayed up all night. Sitting in the garden and staring at the stars. Talking about nothing." Arthur remembered.

"We did. At one point you went inside to grab me a beer. I was looking at the stars and I thought 'Am I ever going to get home?' That's when it hit me. Out there, in the stars? I didn't have a home. Really, I am not sure I ever had one. The house I grew up in was a shrine to a dead planet. My father was the sole survivor of a planetwide disaster, you know. He lost everything and everyone. He never really recovered from that. And I didn't really fit in at school. Everyone teased me. For being from a dead planet. For not being able to explain what had happened to it. For having a weird unpronounceable name"

"Oh, Ford. I am so sorry" Arthur leaned forward and kissed him. Ford smiled and ran his hand down Arthur's face. 

"Thank you. It was a long time ago. Anyway, he died when I was fairly young and I got bounced around among relatives. Left the planet just as soon as I reached the age of majority and never really stopped moving after that. That year on Earth was probably the longest I had been in one place since I was a kid."

"Sounds lonely, Ford."

"Yeah. It was. I told myself it was better than the alternative. Being stuck somewhere that I didn't belong. Anyway, I realized that the only place I had ever felt at home was with you. You felt like home."

Arthur felt his eyes start to water. "Ford, I don't even know what to say." He kissed Ford deeply and slowly. They didn't talk for awhile after that. 

...

Later still, Arthur asked, "If you have known that you have loved me for so long, why didn't you say anything?"

"Well," Ford responded, "I wasn't sure you would even consider a relationship with me. Humans are so weird about sex and gender. I mean, what we just did was literally illegal on parts of your planet."

Arthur sighed. "I know. But you knew I wasn't like that."

Ford nodded. "Yes, but I assumed you were only into women. I never saw you with any men."

"In fairness, you rarely saw me with anyone. I am not good at dating. There was a guy at university. But after that? Well, I have never been the type to make the first move. Being bisexual just meant awkward crushes on a wider variety of people." Arthur laughed. 

"Their loss" Ford said. Kissing him. They were laying face to face, legs entwined, hands held between them. Arthur didn't think he would ever get enough. Enough kisses. Enough contact. 

Ford continued, "It wasn't just that. I might have dropped a few hints. Tested the waters. But how could I do that knowing I was lying to you? Knowing I had to keep lying to you or turn your entire world upside down? Oh and by the way, some day I might get a ride off of Earth and just disappear. Or I might have to ask you to leave everything you had ever known so I could drag you around the known universe."

"You would have left? Without saying goodbye? That would have destroyed me." Arthur said.

"I don't know." Ford said. "All I knew was that there were no good options. I couldn't stay on Earth indefinitely. If someone found out I was alien . . . . Then it all became moot. I will never forget running to your house. I was terrified I might not find you. I don't know what I would have done if . . . " Ford trailed off. 

"Hey, it's okay. I am here." Arthur said. Arthur had never seen Ford so vulnerable. His heart was in his throat. How long had Ford been keeping this all in? "I had no idea. You seemed so cool. So unworried."

"Well, yeah. I didn't want you to panic. I mean, your entire understanding of the universe was being turned upside down. You didn't need me hovering."

Arthur kissed Ford again and put his forehead against Ford's. "Ford, I love you so much. You can always tell me what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours. Okay?"

Ford smiled. "Thank you, Arthur. For all of it." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Anyway, then your entire planet exploded and I couldn't exactly say 'Sorry about the planet. Wanna make out?'"

Arthur chuckled. 

"Then it had just gone on too long to say anything. And there was Trillian."

"What about Trillian?" Arthur asked, genuinely confused.

"I thought you fancied her." Ford said.

Arthur laughed. "No. I told you. We were just friends. Why didn't you tell me when we got stranded on ancient Earth?"

"Well," Ford said, "you seemed into that woman, Mella. I tried to date that Personnel Officer. Then she dropped dead."

"Oh right. You seemed pretty broken up about her."

"I mean, it was sad and all, but it wasn't really about her. We had just met. It was that even when I tried to move on, I couldn't get it right. I tried going crazy, but it only helped a little bit."

"Ah yes, I remember that. You were a lime in a giant gin and tonic?"

Ford laughed. "A lemon, if I recall. Then you were with Fenchurch, and then you were mourning her. I am sorry about that, by the way."

Arthur smiled wryly. "Thank you. She didn't deserve to pop out of existence. It's funny, you two were a lot alike."

"Oh, practically twins." Ford said. "Did I do that right? I have been practicing my sarcasm." 

Arthur laughed. "Perfect. But, seriously, as soon as she heard about my adventures off planet, she wanted to jump in. Just like you. You both pulled me out of my shell. Made me take risks. I guess I have a type."

"I guess you do." said Ford. "I couldn't even be jealous. I liked her."

Suddenly Arthur remembered their first meeting. Ford showing up dramatically out of nowhere. Severely space-lagged telling some ridiculous story to impress Arthur. His realization that Arthur seemed in love. His flip response when Fenchurch walked in: "Where's the gin?" He was coming to find me. To tell me how he felt. He thought that Trillian going off with Zaphod meant I was available. 

He remembered finding Ford a couple of nights later sulking in the dark watching a movie, sound turned all the way up. Oh Ford.

"Not even a little bit jealous?" He raised his eyebrows at Ford. 

"Fine. I was a little jealous. Still, I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy."

Arthur grinned. "I am currently very happy.  I thought there was no way you would ever be interested in me. When I was stuck on Lamuella, I had a lot of time to think. About what I wanted. And I realized the worst thing about being trapped on that planet was that I might never see you again. That terrified me. I had already lost one person I loved. I couldn't lose you, too." 

"Well, I am here now. I always came back, and I am not going anywhere." Ford assured Arthur. "Except maybe the kitchen. Hungry?"

"Starving." Arthur smiled. "You know, I make a pretty mean sandwich."

The rest of the trip passed in a blur. They enjoyed each other's company and ignored pretty much everything else. Arthur was almost sad to get to their destination. Ah well, this Salmonia is just a little beach planet. A tourist trap. We will have some drinks, dip our toes in the ocean and relax. Arthur thought. What could possibly go wrong? 

Chapter Text

Ford slid around the corner and ran down the alley. He leapt over a deserted beach ball, ducked under a clothesline full of towels and rolled behind a pile of deserted beach umbrellas. He peeked out from behind them to check Arthur's progress. 

Arthur stumbled around the corner, trying and failing to take the turn. His flip flop broke under his foot and he hobbled forward, half shod towards Ford while trying to kick the other one off with each step. He finally managed to get it off, but was so distracted that he stepped on the beach ball, pulled down two of the towels, and would have landed face first had Ford not caught him.

"I got you" Ford whispered. "Over here."

They ducked behind the umbrellas, listening for their pursuers.

Arthur looked at Ford pointedly. "You said it would be safe!" He hissed.

"Well how was I supposed to know Salmonians were prone to forming angry mobs?" Ford countered. 

"They have pitchforks. Actual pitchforks. Wait, why DO they have pitchforks at a beach resort planet?" Arthur asked distractedly. 

Suddenly, Arthur was stifling giggles. Whether he was laughing at the absurdity of the entire thing or he was getting a bit hysterical was unclear.

Ford smiled and put his hands on Arthur's shoulders, steadying him. "Well, it may not be safe around me, but at least I won't bore you."

Arthur calmed. "No, you will never be boring, Ford." 

Down the alley the disgruntled mob passed by. Ford gave Arthur a quick kiss and took his hand. 

"Come on." he whispered. "This way."

He led him out the other end of the alley and towards the spaceport, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

***

Twenty-four hours earlier, Arthur and Ford had arrived at Salmonia to find it almost entirely deserted. They walked down the eerily quiet boardwalk, which was full of shuttered kiosks and stores. 

It has been decades since Ford had been on the planet, but his recollection was of a typical beach resort town. The boardwalk had been full of vendors selling frozen seaberry treats, postcards of the famed rainbow beaches, jewelry made from the shells of local wildlife, and other such wares. It was barely recognizable now.

They made their way to the hotel. The Salmonian who checked them in looked bored and slightly contemptuous. Ford tried to turn on the charm, but the clerk was unimpressed. He simply verified that Ford had prepaid, and offered him the key. 

Ford took the key and he and Arthur headed to their room. The room was well-appointed and proportioned for humanoids. Arthur headed straight for the balcony. Ford followed. 

"Wow, look at those sunsets." Arthur exclaimed. The beach was striking in the light of two setting suns, but Ford couldn't help from noticing that the rainbow striations had been muddled up. The sand was just a grayish brown now. He frowned, wondering what had happened to the strict laws requiring preservation of the beaches that were present the last time he had been on planet. 

Ford had a sinking feeling, but he smiled at Arthur. "Beautiful." He said.

They ordered room service. It took three hours for their order to come, but they hit up the complimentary minibar and found other ways to entertain themselves. Despite the warmth of a few drinks, Ford couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

***

The next morning, they grabbed complimentary breakfast and headed out to the beach. It was a beautiful day. The suns were hot and the violet sky was clear. Ford and Arthur relaxed on towels spread across the sand. Ford did his best to ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing critical information. 

The sun and sand did their job and Ford found himself relaxing. Whatever had happened to Salmonia, it wasn't his problem. 

It became his problem a few hours later. Arthur and Ford were having lunch outside at a small cafe just off the boardwalk. The service was abysmal. It had taken a full hour to get their food and what came in no way resembled what had been ordered. But it had been delicious, nonetheless, and it wasn't like the men were in a hurry. So they sipped on a local beverage with a slightly fruity flavor and enjoyed the day.

The problem came when Ford went to pay the bill. The server, previously just inattentive, went still when ran Ford's corporate Dine-O-Charge

"Is this Dine-O-Charge associated with the Guide?" She asked tightly.

Ford grinned. In his experience, people were usually pretty thrilled when they found out he could give them a good write-up. "It is. I happen to work for the Guide." 

Rather than looking suitably impressed, she looked a bit sick and slightly angry.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Ford asked.

"Get out." She said through her teeth.

"What about the bill?" He asked. 

"Just get out." She said. Ford looked at Arthur. Arthur shrugged. Ford grabbed his satchel and they strolled back to the hotel, taking their time and enjoying the day. 

They were met by a crowd of disgruntled looking Salmonians wielding pitchforks.

"They don't look happy." Arthur stated the obvious. 

"No. They don't." Ford agreed.

"What do you think they want?" Arthur asked. 

The crowd saw them and began running their way. "I don't think I want to wait around to find out. RUN!" Ford yelled.

***

Ford and a barefoot Arthur made their way towards the spaceport and the Zaphod V. The spaceport was deserted. It had been built and rebuilt, added onto, renovated and expanded until it was such a convoluted mess that even employees utilized the navbots available at the entrance and each docking location (failure to do so was actually a fireable offense since Varebelo had gotten lost for 5 years on his way to unload cargo from a ship).

The spaceport had been awarded third place in the category of Worst Ship, Air or Space Port in the Galaxy 15 years in a row. Second during that period was the Port of Sliroonda, which has recurring failures in its artificial atmosphere the result of which is the occasional passenger or worker being instantaneously killed by immolation or radiation. The winner was always Washington Dulles International Airport, Dulles, Virginia, United States, Earth, for obvious reasons.

Ford pulled Arthur past the navbots, running towards the general area he recalled leaving the ship. 

They came to an intersection. Left or right? Left or right?

"HEY, THERE THEY ARE!" yelled a voice behind them. Ford didn't turn around.

He chose right. 

"Ford, are you sure this is the right way?" Arthur gasped out.

"Of course." Ford lied. 

Ford risked a glance back. The mob was coming fast. They rounded the corner and ran into a dead end. Ford looked around desperately. They were in some sort of large cargo area. The far wall was covered in tools. At the bottom was a ladder.

"There!" He yelled. 

Arthur just stared at him. "What?"

Ford didn't have time to explain. He ran over, grabbed the ladder and propped it up on the nearest container. "Come on, Arthur" he shouted. They scrambled up the ladder on top of the container and pulled the ladder up. They were either safe, or they had nicely trapped themselves. Ford affected a nonchalant pose. "See? All good now." Ford lied.

Arthur raised his eyebrows but didn't say a word. 

The mob ran in with decidedly less enthusiasm than they had shown at the hotel. A few people were looking around as if they were confused. 

"We can work this out." Ford declared with confidence he didn't have.

The mob stopped and just stared at them. Finally a woman stepped forward. "What are you doing on top of that container?" She asked.

"Well, um, you were chasing us." Ford replied with a bit less confidence. 

"Yeah," she replied, "but people usually just run towards their ship and leave." She said.

Ford didn't really have a good response to that. "Listen," he offered, "um . . . ." He noticed the server from earlier. "Listen," he repeated, "I can't help but notice that things are pretty slow around here. You! I was at your restaurant earlier. I can write a great review if you let us go."

The mob began grumbling. Some began waving their pitchforks. "They don't seem to like that, Ford." Arthur said out of the side of his mouth, once again showing his talent for stating the obvious.

"OR" Ford yelled over the crowd, "or . . . " please let this work "I could write a bad review." 

Everyone looked at the server. "Go on." She said.

"Um, I could say the food was cold, and bland and the service was terrible . . . no offense . . . And a rodent ran across the floor!" He finished with a flourish. 

"That'll do" she declared. She handed the pitchfork to the woman in the front, turned around, said something to a navbot hovering next to her, and strolled off.

The rest of the crowd had gone quiet. They stared at Arthur and Ford. Ford stared at them.

"Suppose," Ford ventured, "I wrote bad reviews for everyone. Would that be something that . . . was of interest?"

Several members of the crowd began conferring. 

Ford looked at Arthur. He shrugged. "Not the weirdest thing we have encountered." Arthur noted quietly. 

Ford snorted. "Can't argue there."

The hotel desk clerk stepped forward. "How bad?" He asked.

"Well," Ford nodded, confidence catching up to a comparable level to that he was faking, "I could say the furnishings were old" the clerk looked unimpressed, "and, um, the staff was rude . . ."

"And the room had bedbugs." Arthur finished triumphantly. 

The clerk stared at him blankly.

"Had invasive local insect life that leave red welts on your skin and that can travel on your clothes and luggage." Ford clarified helpfully. 

The clerk smiled. "Yeah. I like that." He said, nodding enthusiastically. "I'll upgrade you to a suite for that one." He said and headed away himself.

The woman who had stepped forward originally looked around, then back at Ford and Arthur. "You can stay," she declared, "on the condition that you write bad reviews for all of us."

"Deal!" Ford exclaimed.

The crowd began to disperse. Ford and Arthur climbed down from the container. One man remained. He was large and hairy, and his eye gleamed with amusement. "Come on then. I'll buy you a drink." He said jovially. 

They followed the man and his navbot out of the spaceport and down the road to a bar. The bar was boarded up and looked like it had been abandoned for quite some time. 

"Here?" Arthur asked uncertainly. Ford could tell he was calculating the chances that the large man was going to murder them.

The man laughed, "The entrance for the locals is in the back. Keeps out the tourists."

They followed him through an unmarked metal door in the back and into a well lit, well-appointed bar. Several Salmonians stopped and stared at them.

"S'ok." The man said. "They're with me. They agreed to write truly terrible things about us in the Guide." 

Everyone nodded and went back to their conversations. The man went around to the back of the bar and poured Arthur and Ford a local liquor. It was sweet and spicy. 

"Name's Bolapiranto, but everyone just calls me Bo" He said. 

He turned and stashed the pitchfork behind the bar. 

"About that." Arthur spoke up. "Where did you get the pitchfork?"

Bo laughed a deep roaring laugh that made both men jump. "This? It's not even a real pitchfork. It's a prop from when the local theatre did Oklahoma!"

"Sorry, did you say Oklahoma!?" Arthur sputtered.

Ford looked at Arthur. "Oklahoma!, Arthur. You know Oklahoma! You saw me in it twice." 

Arthur, started to ask how the musical would have made it all the way to this planet, but knowing he wouldn't like the answer anyway, he dropped it. 

Ford turned to Bo, "so, wanna tell me what happened here?"

Bo shrugged. "Got sick of all the tourists. They would descend on the planet,  take up all the reservations at restaurants, fill up the bars, excrete body fluids on the streets. It got so bad that you would go entire weeks without running into another local. So businesses started pretending to be closed and catering only to locals. Others started treating tourists so poorly, that they would tell people not to come. Word spread and we got our planet back."

"Guess that makes sense." Ford agreed.

"I suspect you will find yourself very popular now that you agreed to help us." Bo said.

As it turned out, he was right. They ate like kings and didn't have to pay a cent so long as Ford showed the business owner his negative review at the end of the meal. People were genuinely happy to see them and they became minor local celebrities for the duration of their trip. They even got to see the rainbow beaches (a local showed them how to access the private, locals-only beach). 

Too soon, it was time to head back to the Zaphod V , navbot leading the way. Bo came to see them off and to give them a bottle of liquor as a going away gift.

"Come back anytime, he said, "just don't bring your friends." He clapped Ford on the back hard enough to make him miss a step. They walked back through the truly hideous cabin of the Zaphod V and set their course back to Zaphod's cult on Pneumonticum 7.

Chapter Text

They fell into a rhythm on the trip home. 

Arthur did a lot of cooking. The stuff from the food fabricator never tasted quite right. While Ford was willing to eat pretty much anything after years of traveling on a shoestring budget, he appreciated Arthur’s culinary talents (honed from years as the Sandwich Maker on Lamuella). They spent a lot of time in the kitchenette area, with Arthur honing recipes while Ford sat on a stool at the counter and entertained him with ridiculous stories. 

Ford was in charge of the drinks. One of the most critical talents a hitchhiker can develop is the ability to step in at any time to bartend. On more than one occasion, Ford had been discovered and sure he was headed out the airlock, only to make himself useful by mixing the perfect Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

Arthur found himself happier than he had been in a very long time. Maybe ever. One of the benefits of falling in love with your best friend, and particularly one with whom you have shared living spaces in the past, is that there is no adjustment period. No need to learn each other’s habits. No pressure to impress one another. It was nice.

Arthur soaked up every touch. Every kiss. Every bit of contact that he had longed for over the years. He didn't have to pretend. He could just reach out and take Ford's hand. It was amazing. It was glorious. He caught himself getting actually giddy. He knew he was ridiculous and he loved every moment of it.

Some part of Arthur couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Whenever it felt like nothing could go wrong, Arthur found that something almost always did. But he tried not to think about it. He reveled in these quiet moments between crises and tried to memorize every bit of them. The way Ford felt laying on his chest. The way his strong, callused fingers felt laced in Arthur's. The warmth of Ford's hand on his shoulder. On his face. The sound of whispered "I love yous" and loud laughter and everything in between.

***

A few days before they reached Pneumonticum 7, Arthur and Ford were spread out on the couch watching some movie Zaphod had lying around. Arthur had started the evening leaning against Ford’s shoulder, but he had ended up laying across the couch, head in Ford’s lap while Ford ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair. Neither of them were paying much attention to the movie. 

As the credits finally rolled, Arthur looked up at Ford and smiled. “What’s next?”

Ford sucked in a breath. “Arthur,” he said, suddenly serious, “Now that you mention it, I have been thinking. I think we need to talk”

No. How did I screw this up already? Arthur thought. This is how it always begins. Ok, Arthur. Don’t panic. Isn’t that what the Guide says. Deep breaths, come on.

“About what?” Arthur asked. He held his breath.

“About us.” Ford said simply. Arthur sat up in a rush. His stomach clenched. This is it. How is this it? Can we still be friends? I don’t know if I can handle that. 

 The sudden movement made Ford look at Arthur and notice that he had taken on a decidedly green tinge. “Are you okay?” Ford asked.

“Depends” Arthur said, trying to fight back the nausea, “are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” Ford asked. “No! Not at all!”

“Then I think,” Arthur said, heart starting to return to something resembling his normal pulse, “that you had better just say what’s on your mind before I begin to panic.”

Ford looked sheepish. He put a steadying hand on Arthur’s arm. “Sorry, I am not good at this relationship stuff. I haven’t really ever done this. I am not breaking up with you. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I am just trying to ask what happens next. When we get to Pneumonticum 7.” Arthur visibly relaxed.

“It’s just that  you have this cottage and this life on Pneumonticum 7, and I have this job that requires me to travel around the universe. How do we make that work? I mean, I suppose I could settle down. I have been doing this a long time . . .”

“Ford.” Arthur interrupted. Ford looked at him. He seemed unsure. Arthur’s heart squeezed. Ford was always so confident. So sure of himself. Or at least he pretended to be. Arthur smiled in a manner he hoped was encouraging. “The cottage is a rental. I have no desire to stay on Pneumonticum 7. Before you called, I was trying to figure out what to do next with my life.”

“Really?” Ford asked. 

“Really.” Arthur assured him. “Actually, I was considering buying a ship.”

Ford laughed. 

“I'm serious.” Arthur said. 

Ford stared at him. “Arthur, do you know how much it would cost to buy a ship?”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to look a bit sheepish. “As a matter of fact, yes. I was negotiating with the shipyard. I guess I should mention . . . It turns out I am sort of accidentally rich?”

Ford stared at Arthur. "Sorry, what? How? Accidentally?"

"Well," Arthur explained, "after everything with the Earth, that is the first time it exploded, I found myself floating around with some hard credits and I thought to myself Arthur, you had better open a bank account. You know? Can't exactly be flitting around the universe with no way to pay for anything."

Ford nodded slowly. "That may be the most Arthur Dent thing you have ever said."

Arthur frowned slightly in thought. "Thank you, I think? Anyway, when I sat down with the being at the bank, they recommended setting up an operating account, basically a checking account, for half the credits and investing the other half. Being risk averse, I asked for some conservative investments. Something low risk, low yield. Obviously."

Ford seemed to be enjoying the story now. "Sure. Obviously." He said, smiling at Arthur with affection. 

"So I invested in a small Hingefreel Company, Arkintoofle Enterprises."

Ford raised his eyebrows. "THE Arkintoofle Enterprises?"

"Well, yes." Arthur confirmed. "But it was a fairly small company at the time. Not expected to do much."

Arkintoofle Enterprises is a company based on Arkintoofle Minor, home to the Hingefreel race. The company was originally formed to build ships powered by bad news. The ships provided almost instantaneous travel between vast distances, due to the unique ability of bad news to travel quickly under its own unique laws of physics. The ships enjoyed only moderate success because, despite their speed, they were highly unwelcome at their destination. 

Nevertheless, there were enough corporations that didn't give a flying ferboofle's kidney whether residents of any particular planet liked them, and there were enough people requiring emergency transport at the cost of their popularity to make the ships somewhat marketable. 

At the time of Arthur's investment, the company had been predicted to fail, particularly in the face of the competing Improbability Drive and the then-rumored Bistromathics Drive. What Arthur didn't know at the time, was that the investment advisor at the bank was actually pawning off their own bad investment in Arkintoofle Enterprises on Arthur. The being, recognizing that Arthur was not particularly experienced in the galaxy, took advantage of the opportunity to offload certain shares they had acquired several years previously.

It is very possible that the Company would have, in fact, failed but for a few unanticipated developments. 

The first was that the Heart of Gold, the prototype featuring the Improbability Drive, was stolen by Arthur's sometimes traveling companion, Zaphod Beeblebrox. As a result, production was halted and the initial launch of the Improbability Drive ships was delayed substantially.  Still, the market for the drive might have recovered had early reviews not panned the experience of traveling on the Improbability Drive ships. Sure, you were more welcome than the Bad News ships, but passengers and crew quickly tired of discovering their colleague (who they kissed that one time) was actually their long lost twin sister at an improbability of 395210 to 1 against. 

The second major development was the utter and complete failure of the Bistromathics Drive. The Bistromathics Drive initially showed great promise by incorporating nonabsolute numbers as demonstrated within restaurants. The drive depended on variables such as the number of people showing up for a reservation (assuredly not the number for which the table was reserved), the time of arrival and most critically, the bill and the amount that people at the table believed they owed and were willing to pay. Early models employing this drive boasted speed, maneuverability and efficiency at a level not previously observed in the known universe. 

The problem was one of engineering. In order to take advantage of the complex theories of bistromathics, the ships required an AI or equivalent at least advanced enough to employ the conceptual framework of restaurant physics. However, any such AI or equivalent eventually got tired of trying to divide up the check according to order and instead began dividing it up evenly among people at the table, even if everyone quietly seethed and judged Peggy for getting an appetizer and dessert and two beverages when they only got water. This would slow down the drive, but other uncertainties including trying to split hard credits among the people at the table still allowed for a fairly efficient drive.

The biggest problem became known as The Brunch Problem. No matter how meticulously programmed, the AI would eventually happen upon the idea of brunch. This would start as a minor delay in ship functions for a few hours on Sundays, but then brunch would spread to Saturdays too and once the concept of bottomless mimosas and bloody marys was introduced, brunch would never end, starting one Saturday or Sunday and continuing indefinitely. The ship would grind to a halt and become almost entirely useless, except as a new brunch spot for any locals that happened to be nearby.

This led to the third and final development. Seeing the failure of its two greatest competitors, the head of Arkintoofle Enterprises, a Hingefeel woman named Solandari, offered a major bonus to any employee who was able to improve on the Bad News Drive in a meaningful way. As it happened, her niece, who was working as an unpaid intern at the time, asked the cute girl in engineering during a particularly heated makeout session (after moving a magazine that had gotten stuck to her thigh), "wouldn't it be funny if the ship ran on celebrity gossip instead?" The engineer ended the makeout session,  much to the intern's dismay, and ran the numbers. 

The Celebrity Gossip Drive became the fastest selling starship drive on the market. As it turns out, celebrity gossip travels approximately as fast as bad news, but people are infinitely more excited to see ships featuring the drive. A good salacious piece of gossip about a major vid star's affair with a Bartledannian, or a politician's addiction to Durdulian Dust, or Hotblack Desiato's third demise, this time for marriage dissolution purposes, can power a ship for months.

It is a highly improbable but notable coincidence that Zaphod Beeblebrox was the cause of the first development, and that he is a major driving factor for the third (it is estimated that Zaphod Beeblebrox's antics alone have powered the Celebrity Gossip Drives currently in use for an average of 4 years). Less certain is whether he influenced the second, though he is known to have popularized the practice of brunch in many locations throughout the galaxy. 

Ford shook his head. "I can't believe you got in on the ground floor of Arkintoofle Enterprises. Or, honestly, that you remained invested in the starship market. It's fairly volatile, isn't it."

Arthur laughed. "Well, I didn't actually mean to. See, I forgot about the accounts. I didn't exactly need funds when we were attending flying house parties or traveling on Eddy's couch." Arthur rubbed his back absentmindedly.

Ford started to clarify that they were riding a couch that was itself riding eddies in the space-time continuum but thought better of it and just nodded. 

"Certainly couldn't use the funds on Earth." Arthur noted. "I probably could have used the funds after Fenchurch disappeared, but at that point I had forgotten the whole thing. I didn't remember it until I was cleaning out my wallet on Lamuella, at which point I once again couldn't access the accounts anyway. I finally went to check the balance after we survived Stavro Mueller Beta, at which point I nearly had a heart attack." 

"I bet you did." Ford said. "So, if you have all this money, why not settle down somewhere. Get a nice house?" 

Arthur smiled wryly. "I haven't really found a place I want to stay." He stopped and corrected himself: "I haven't found a place I belong. A place I want to be. Except with you. So, I guess the operative question here is: Do you want to hitch a ride?" 

Ford grinned his too-wide grin and Arthur's heart leapt. "I can't think of anything I want more."

Chapter Text

Arthur was hovering. He rearranged the plates on the coffee table (laden with meats, cheeses and dips) three times. He checked the place settings at least four. Now he was ostensibly rinsing off some glasses at the sink, but he was really just staring out the window with the water running. Ford wrapped his arms around Arthur and laid his head on Arthur’s back. 

“It will be fine, Arthur. I promise.” Ford reassured him.

Arthur turned around, wrapped his arms around Ford and held him tight. “Of course it will,” he said, “I have you and that’s what matters.” 

Ford opened his mouth to say something else, but the doorbell rang. It was time.

The night before, Arthur had been restless. He tossed and turned and couldn’t seem to get comfortable. 

“What's wrong, Arthur?” Ford had asked, pulling him close. The last few weeks had been just about perfect. They had settled into Arthur’s cottage. Neither of them had pressing business anywhere. Arthur had a few meetings with the shipbuilders, but otherwise they enjoyed the downtime, tucked away from the world. Seeing Arthur’s anxiety bubble up again hurt Ford’s heart. 

“I am nervous about tomorrow.” Arthur said, looking miserable. He buried his face in Ford’s neck. Ford ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair. 

Ford could hear the tension in his voice. He worked to catch up and then it hit him. He felt like an idiot. He should have known tomorrow’s dinner would be stressful for Arthur. Somehow, even after spending 15 years on Earth, it hadn’t registered to him that Arthur would be nervous about revealing their relationship to their friends.

Sympathy and not a small amount of rage flooded him. Arthur had grown up on a backwater planet where many people believed strongly that gender was concrete and binary and that relationships among people of the same gender was wrong. It had started to improve, there at the end, but not rapidly enough for Ford’s liking. Internally he seethed at the pieces of Bugblatter Beast excrement who had made Arthur feel this way. 

“Oh, Arthur.” Ford started, trying to find the words that would make this easier. “Nobody coming tomorrow will even think that way. Zaphod is from a planet where polyamory is the norm. We both had multiple mothers and his father’s lineage is reversed due to a failed contraceptive and a time machine. The Earth concept of the nuclear family headed by one man and one woman wouldn’t even make sense on his home planet. Trillian is from Earth, but she has travelled the galaxy long enough to shake off all that hatred and bigotry. I mean, she dated a Barulian last year. They don’t even have the concept of gender. And Random? Her dating history has been all over the place. Didn’t she marry a gerbil?” He took a breath. “All I am saying is it’s a big, wide universe. The attitudes on Earth? The belief that something was wrong with you? It was all bullshit.”

Arthur sighed. “I guess I am just scared they will see me differently. On Earth, I didn’t want anyone to see me at all. I remember trying to convince myself that the feelings I felt for guys was just admiration. Friendship. Something. If I liked women, it was all okay. I could just pretend the rest of it didn’t exist. It wasn’t just the people loudly proclaiming that I was going to hell. Even the people who would have supported me . . . . I didn’t want them to look at me differently. I’m the same person.”

Ford’s heart squeezed. He knew what it was to want to be invisible. He remembered being the weird, one-headed kid with the unpronounceable name and the dead planet. His classmates had not been kind. He remembered hardening his heart. Working hard to seem cool and above it all. 

He pressed his forehead against Arthur’s and looked him in the eye. "Arthur, we don't have to do this. If you aren't ready . . . . You don't owe anyone a piece of yourself that you aren't ready to share."

Arthur was quiet for a moment. Then his face hardened with resolve. "No." He said, shaking his head. "No. I said I won't apologize for loving you and I meant it."

Ford’s chest got tight. He kissed him slowly and deeply. He was so proud of this sweet, brave man. He didn't think for a second that their friends would be anything but supportive tomorrow, but so help him, if they were he was ready to burn it all down. He looked Arthur in the eyes. "I love you, too. More than I even knew was possible." 

****

Arthur opened the door. "Trillian, you look well." He said, kissing her cheek. 

Trillian grinned broadly. "Thanks, Arthur. You as well. How have you been? Enjoy the trip?" She was staring at him intently, as if waiting for something. 

Arthur stepped aside to let her in and closed the door. "Erm. The planet was terrible. A complete tourist trap." He lied. Trillian looked disappointed for some reason. 

"Hello, Trillian." Ford said, popping his head around out of the kitchen. "Drink?"

"Altairian Fizz?" she asked hopefully.

"You got it." he said and disappeared back into the kitchen. She stared after him speculatively.

"Help yourself." Arthur said, gesturing towards the food. "Where's Random?" 

Arthur’s daughter, Random, was visiting the planet. She and her mother had, historically, a bit of a strained relationship. Trillian had missed most of Random's childhood due to time travel issues. Due to recent events, both women had decided to make more of an effort to repair their relationship. Random was staying with her mother during this relatively safe assignment so that they could try and work on it.

"Oh, she will be here soon. She was arguing with one of Zaphod's followers. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance."

Arthur laughed. "She is a force, isn’t she?"

The bell rang. Arthur let Zaphod in. "Don't worry, everyone, the party can start now. I am here." He preened. 

Trillian rolled her eyes. 

"Hey Zaphod!" Ford yelled from the kitchen. "Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster?"

"You know it." He yelled. Zaphod had invented the drink and rarely passed one up. He walked over to the couch and flopped stylishly on it. "How ya been, Monkey-Man?"

Arthur barely suppressed the urge to roll his own eyes. "Good to be back. Salmonia is a bit of a dump." Arthur lied again. 

Ford walked in with the drinks. He also placed a gin and tonic next to Arthur. "Thanks." Arthur said, smiling up at him. Trillian looked back and forth between them, eyes narrowing. 

Random walked in. She had been to her father's cottage enough to make herself at home. "Hello, all." She called over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen to grab herself a beer. She sat next to her mom.

"Straighten that kid out?" Trillian asked, fondness showing on her face. And perhaps some relief to see Random's ire directed elsewhere.

Random laughed. "Oh yeah, he didn't stand a chance."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Listen," he started shakily, "there's something I want to tell you." Random looked mildly interested, Zaphod looked bored. Trillian looked . . . triumphant?

"You see, um," he looked at Ford who nodded helpfully. Out with it. He thought. 

"Ford and I are together. Romantically." He said, laying it out there.

"YES!" screamed Trillian. Whatever Ford had expected her reaction to be, this was definitely not it. "HA! PAY UP, ZAPHOD."

"Oh come on." Zaphod said, throwing his hands in the air. "You two dance around it for years, making moon eyes at each other  while we all have to pretend not to notice and you can't wait two more weeks to finally do the deed?" 

It clicks into place. "So that's why you suggested I bring Arthur on the trip." Ford said. "You had a bet?"

Zaphod turned on her. "HEY!" he said. "We said no interference."

"I didn’t!" Trillian argued. "I simply suggested that Arthur might like to come along. That doesn't count." 

Arthur looked at Random, who was staring at them with a confused expression on her face. "Random, you are pretty quiet." He noted.

"I thought you two were already together." She shrugged. Then turned to watch Trillian and Zaphod argue about whether Trillian had cheated.

Arthur stood. "Excuse me." He said quietly and went into the kitchen. 

Ford followed. He didn't bother to excuse himself. Nobody was paying attention to him anyway. Damn. Ford thought. This didn’t go as Arthur hoped. Personally, he thought it had gone just fine, but it didn’t really matter. This was about Arthur. 

He walked into the kitchen and found Arthur staring out the window, shoulders shaking. Damn damn damn. He touched Arthur who turned around. He was . . . laughing.

"I didn’t know what I expected," he said stifling giggles, "but it wasn't that."

Relief flooded in and Ford began laughing as well. "No, but I suppose perhaps it should have been." He pulled Arthur close and kissed him.

They could hear Zaphod and Trillian still going back and forth in the other room. Ford smiled at Arthur. "Come on, we had better get back in there before they kill each other."

Eventually some sort of double or nothing bet was settled upon and the rest of the evening was pleasant, if uneventful. After everyone left, they settled outside to have a nightcap and look at the stars. Ford held Arthur’s hand, enjoying the quiet contact. 

"I was really proud of you tonight, Arthur. I know it wasn't easy."

Arthur smiled at him. "No, but it wasn't awful either. And it turned out to be fairly entertaining."

They laughed. Ford laid his head on Arthur’s shoulder and thought about traveling the stars with him. There was nowhere else he'd rather be. 

Chapter Text

Ford stared at his computer. He was pretending to work on his novel, but after reading the same sentence four times, maybe it was time to give up. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate. Not today.

Today was the day. Arthur had been working diligently on the ship. Initially, Ford had encouraged Arthur to keep the design a secret. He wanted Arthur to design the ship on his own. It was his ship, after all. Ford was just hitching a ride. Besides, he had slept in cargo bins, in trash compactors, under bunks, on floors, and in one particularly horrible trip, inside the pouch of a giant marsupial named Vrogelbram. Whatever Arthur designed for their home would be great. As long as Arthur was there.

But as the day approached, he couldn't shake his nerves. Maybe it wasn't about the design of the ship. Maybe it was about the permanence of having a home. Of building a life with Arthur.

He shut the laptop. He wasn't getting anything done. He stood and looked out the window. He was actually going to miss the cottage, but he was antsy too. He wasn't built for planetside life. He smiled thinking of all the things he was going to show Arthur. He had never had someone to share it all with. At least not on a long-term basis. 

Ford heard Arthur come through the front door. He counted to five, then strolled out into the living room.

"Hello, Arthur." He said casually. "Is it time then?"

Arthur smiled and took his hand. "Don't worry so much, Ford. You will love it." Ford hated when he did that. It really interfered with his practiced nonchalance. It had taken years to perfect that. Well, he hated it and he loved it. He felt a little thrill at being seen, even as he feigned indignation. "I'm not worried." He said. 

Arthur smiled but didn't say anything. He led Ford out the door and to a transport. They drove to the shipyard and got on a shuttle. Ford's stomach was full of butterflies. He would have been pacing if he didn't have to remain seated.

"There it is!" Arthur said.

Ford looked at the viewing panel. It looked like . . . a spaceship. It was big and somewhat blocky. A standard midsized ship built for cargo and a modest crew or a large amount of passengers, depending upon your preference. The exterior was a beigeish color. Ford searched for something to say. 

Arthur put his arms on Ford's shoulders. "I know the exterior isn't much to look at. I figured: No use drawing attention. But look, we are coming up on the bow of the ship."

Ford took in a breath. On the side in large black letters was the name MARVIN.

"Oh." Ford said. "Oh, I . . . love it."

Arthur smiled ruefully. "Thought it would be a nice tribute for the robot." 

Ford thought for a moment. He felt a tug of grief. "He probably would have hated it, you know." 

Arthur laughed loudly. "Here, I am" Arthur said in a facsimile of Marvin's voice, "a brain the size of a planet and you want me to take you from Point A to Point B and back again."

Ford joined in with his best impression: "And I have this terrible pain all along my port side." Arthur snorted.

"Poor Marvin. I miss that morose robot." Arthur said.

"Me too." Ford agreed fondly. 

****

They entered a generic shuttle bay. Arthur was practically vibrating with excitement.

"OK," he said before a nondescript door, "close your eyes."

Ford closed his eyes and let himself be led through the door. Arthur stood behind Ford and wrapped his arms around Ford's waist. Ford leaned into the contact.  He felt his nerves settle. Arthur put his chin on Ford's shoulder and said, "You ready?"

Ford smiled. "Always."

"Open your eyes." Arthur said.

Ford opened his eyes and his mouth dropped open in astonishment. Before him was a grassy hill. On the hill sat a house. It wasn't a particularly extravagant house. It had four windows placed in a way that entirely failed to please the eye. But it was a house that Ford knew very well. A house in which he had crashed on many occasions. A house in which he had shared meals and watched movies and savored small moments with the earthman he thought would never love him back.

"Arthur, it's your house." Ford said. Zarks! I sound like a human. He thought. Arthur let go of his waist and walked alongside him. He was positively beaming. "Do you like it?"

"It's brilliant." Ford said. He smiled broadly at Arthur. "Home and travel all at once."

"There's even a small village with guesthouses and a copy of our pub." Arthur said. 

"How? How did you keep this secret?" Ford said.

"I have been dying to tell you." Arthur said. "I even asked you some questions about the pub while I was trying to reproduce it. I was very sneaky." He was grinning. "You really had no idea?"

"None at all." Ford said.

"You haven't seen the best part." Arthur said. "Come on." 

They walked towards the house. The artificial sky was clear and the weather was slightly brisk without being cold. "The weather setting is perfect." Ford said.

Arthur was grinning madly. "Wait till you see the stars. I had them set as close as possible to early summer on Earth."

Ford started to ask why, but then it hit him. "So they would be like they were the night I realized I love you." He said. Then he pulled Arthur close and kissed him. He loved this man. Always thinking. Always worrying about getting it right. 

"Come on. Stop distracting me." Arthur teased. They walked around the garden path and Ford stopped in his tracks. "Is that Verulia's Courage?"

Verulia's Courage is a small flowering bush native to Betelgeuse Seven. The plant is fairly hardy but not particularly useful. The leaves cannot be brewed. The delicate flowers die almost immediately if cut. It produces no edible fruit or vegetable. In short, it is not a plant that really revs the engine of your local horticulturist.

Nonetheless, it was central to an old Betelgeusian legend. As the story went, there was a young engineer called Verulia who volunteered for a major interstellar space expedition. The expedition was expected to exceed 100 years and there was a decent chance that, with the side effects of space travel, the crew was looking at a one-way ticket. The primitive spaceship they intended to use was packed with supplies, experiments and necessities. Each crew member was only allowed one personal item. Even the clothes on their backs were ship-issued.

On a whim, while at a local store, Verulia chose a small plant to bring with her. She selected it because she thought its golden flowers were pretty. 

She was too embarrassed to admit she had chosen her item so arbitrarily. Everyone else had legacy jewelry or a picture from home. Something with deep sentimental value. So she lied to her crewmates and said: "I'll probably never set foot on the Betelgeusian soil again, so I brought it with me. Plus, one of my mothers used to have these in her garden. She claimed they brought luck to those who tended them." This was entirely Borchutilianshit and a lot of pressure for an impulse buy, but it sounded rather good in her head and everyone nodded as if she had said something wise, so she went with it.

A month into the journey, she moved it to her work space in engineering. She claimed she wanted to make sure she brought good luck to her work, but the truth was that she kept forgetting to water the damn thing next to her bed. 

Just short of six months into the journey, Verulia's dark prediction came true. She had been hiding in one of the engine rooms, nursing a rather severe hangover, when the lights switched from a blank broad-spectrum yellow to a flashing red. A loud clanging alarm did nothing to improve Verulia's headache.

The engine she had been hiding next to was in the middle of a catastrophic collapse. Same. She thought wryly. 

Verulia called her supervisor on the comm as she shut down the main power supply to the engine. The collapse was dangerous but repairable. It appeared to be related to the incorrect installation of a particular part. Verulia had no doubt that the installation had been botched by said supervisor. 

She began repairing the part while her supervisor rattled off directions, many of which were incomplete or entirely incorrect. She had learned approximately two weeks into the journey that correcting him would just make him talk more, so she drowned out his instructions and did her job. 

Finally she stepped back and inspected the repair. All was in order. She restored the power and told her supervisor to hit the manual reset button. 

The supervisor pressed the button with gusto. Well, he pressed A BUTTON with gusto. Tragically for Verulia, it was the emergency vent button. Verulia was sucked out of an emergency vent into space. 

The supervisor immediately pressed the correct button, then altered the logs to reflect a substantially more serious issue. His report was pure fiction.

Word spread through the crew that Verulia had perished while repairing the ship. On each retelling, the peril to the ship got graver and Verulia's bravery more inspirational. Her plant became a symbol of her bravery. The crew claimed that the bush had bestowed upon her the luck needed to complete the critical repair and save the ship.

Verulia herself would have pointed out that it wasn't particularly lucky if the end result was sucking vacuum, but she wasn't there to protest.

And so the legend grew and her impulse buy became a good luck charm on the remainder of the journey. The plant was eventually replanted on Betelgeuse 7 at a memorial honoring fallen crew. The story was told and retold and eventually made into a very successful movie starring a particularly comely Betelgeusian who bore almost zero resemblance to Verulia.

Over the years, the small flowering bush, which became known as Verulia's Courage, became a symbol of luck. Crews of Betelgeuse 7 ships were a superstitious lot, not an uncommon trait throughout the galaxy, really. Something about staring at that vast expanse of nothing makes you want something to hold on to. Betelgeusian 7 natives refused to crew a ship without Verulia's Courage onboard. It was a fairly innocuous superstition, as far as those things go, and space wasn't at the premium it had been in Verulia's day, so most captains allowed it. Rumor has it that the Starship Titanic's captain was a notable exception, but others argue that this is clearly poppycock as the ship was automated.

Regardless of the veracity of the legend or the superstition, Verulia’s Courage became a symbol of Ford’s home planet. The plant was available at every major spaceport up until Betelgeuse 7s destruction. After the Great Collapsing Hrung Disaster, the demand dropped to almost zero, but there were still a few specialty shops that sold them for memorials and the like. 

The garden was lined with the plants. The delicate gold flowers shone in the sunshine. "Do you like them? Zaphod explained their significance, culturally. I mean. I know you don’t even remember Betelgeuse 7, but I thought you might like something from your home planet. And they are supposed to be good luck. Not that I think a plant can necessarily provide any protection. Heh. But I thought something on the ship should be yours. Reflect your culture and history. Anyway . . . .” Arthur trailed off looking hopefully at Ford.

Ford felt his eyes fill with tears. “Arthur," he said, "I love them. Thank you.”

Arthur beamed. “Oh! And I have something for you.” He handed Ford a small package. “A little housewarming present.”

“I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t know we were exchanging presents.” Ford said in a bewildered tone.

“It’s not like that.” Arthur said. “It’s . . . just open it.”

Ford opened the package. Inside was a towel with the word “Ford” embroidered on the front.

“I figured, if we were going to be traveling, you should have something from me to take with you when you leave the ship. You know, just in case you need it. Do you like it? Everything, I mean.”

Ford smiled. He was speechless. He wrapped his arms around Arthur and laid his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “This is all amazing, but I am afraid I need to see more before I can say whether I like it. We haven’t completed the tour yet.”

Arthur frowned slightly. “Um, sure. What would you like to see next.”

Ford looked at Arthur and raised an eyebrow. “The bedroom.” 

Chapter Text

There are those who have said that, in life, there's no such thing as a beginning or an end, just a bunch of middle. And that is somewhat true, depending on where you stand in space and time. But it might be more accurate to say that life, like the universe, is a chaotic mish mash of beginning, middle and end all smushed together, sometimes in a way that is palatable, like a parfait, and sometimes in a way that is less so, like potato salad with raisins. 

Ford and Arthur were at the beginning of a journey that would be full of beginnings and endings and quite a lot of really enjoyable middle, because the middle is often where the best stuff happens.

****

"THIS WAY!" Ford yelled, sprinting through some trees.

"What . . ." gasped Arthur, "is a Ravenous . . . Bugblatter Beast . . . even doing here?"

"I suppose that guy really takes his 'No Trespassing' signs seriously."

They ran through the trees and skidded to a stop at the edge of a cliff. Well, this is it then. This is how I die. Arthur thought. He didn't bother to voice the thought. Mortal peril was old news at this point. He heard the beast crashing through the underbrush.

"Jump!" yelled Ford.

Arthur looked at the ground far below. "What?"

"Trust me!" Ford yelled. Ford took his hand. "One. Two. Three."

Arthur jumped. Ford pulled Arthur against him and kissed him as they fell. The kiss was heated and full of passion. Arthur groaned. I suppose, if I have to go, this isn't the worst way. He thought. Suddenly it occurred to him that they had been kissing an awfully long time. He would have expected the ground to meet them by now. He looked around and realized that they were flying. Of course. He thought. I forgot to fall. Arthur again appreciated all of the work he put into learning to fly. It's come in quite handy, hasn't it.

They floated towards the ground. "That was your big plan, was it? Distract me into flying."

Ford grinned sheepishly. Actually, there are always beds of wild mattresses at the base of cliffs here. I figured they would break our fall. I just wanted a kiss."

Arthur stared at Ford for a moment, then he threw his head back and laughed. He kissed Ford again for good measure. 

****

The shuttle landed in the water on the large, dark blue planet. The back door opened and a small deck extended into the water. Two men stepped out on the deck.

The pink sky was clear, without a cloud to be seen. "Hello," a high, melodious voice called. "You're human, aren't you?"

Arthur smiled at the small, slick gray creature. "I am. I came to find you. I just wanted to, um, check in I guess. Nice planet you've got here. Are you happy here?" 

"Oh yes." the being grinned widely. "It's a lovely planet. Clean oceans, lots of room to swim."

Arthur smiled. "Good. That's good. "Oh! I brought you some fish." The creature bobbed excitedly. Arthur reached for a cooler behind him and tossed a fish at the creature. It gobbled the fish down excitedly. Arthur tossed the creature another. 

"Yum! Thanks for that. I'd better go."

"Okay." Arthur agreed. "It was good to see you."

"So long" the creature trilled. It did a complex jump and backwards summersault, then swam away. Arthur waved. 

"Oh, and thank . . . whoever . . . for the fishbowl." he called. The creature waved a fin in acknowledgement.

"Was it what you expected?" Ford asked Arthur.

Arthur frowned slightly "Not exactly, but I suppose I got what I wanted. It's good to know the dolphins landed on their feet . . . er . . . fins?" 

"C'mon." Ford said putting an arm around Arthur and leading him back into the shuttle. "Let's grab brunch. I hear there is a killer bistromathics ship nearby."

****

Arthur sat at a table and watched while Ford braved the crowded bar. Ford was in his element. He did an elaborate series of hand gestures to greet the bartender, an alien with metallic blue skin that looked like a pile of rocks. While waiting for their drinks, he leaned cooly against the bar and made conversation with a translucent alien to his right. The alien began glowing with some sort of bioluminescence. He grabbed the drinks, deftly stepped over the tentacles of another patron and walked towards  Arthur with his signature grin. 

Arthur's heart leapt. Ford pretended to be so cool and collected, but he cared. About the people he met. About their cultures and beliefs. For a moment Arthur was overwhelmed thinking about how many places Ford had been. How much he knew. 

Ford sat. "Drinks!" He said happily. He looked at Arthur "What?"

Arthur smiled. "Just thinking about how much I love you."

****

The weather was perfect. It should be, since Arthur set it that way. There was just enough of a chill in the air to justify snuggling up. He had his arm around Ford and they were looking at the stars.

"Ford," Arthur said, "Can I ask you something?"

Ford sat up. "Anything."

"I was wondering . . .um . . . sorry, what I mean to say is, Ford, will you marry me? I mean it's probably silly and I know the concept of marriage you grew up with is really different and we are already all-in here but . . ."

"Arthur!" Ford said forcefully. Arthur looked at Ford. "Yes. Yes, I will marry you." Then he leaned forward and kissed Arthur under the stars.

****

They were married in a glass dome set in the plains of Kyluria, overlooking the view of the purple plains meeting the starry sky. 

In the Earth tradition, Arthur wore a tuxedo. Also in the Earth tradition, Arthur pretended to be 007 when he put it on.

Ford wore a classic Betelgeusian tunic. The elaborate embroidery featured stars on one shoulder along with his chosen name and his birth name. Arthur had chosen the symbol because Ford "brought me the stars." The other shoulder featured Verulia's Courage and Arthur's name. Ford, in turn, said Arthur "gave me solid ground in which to thrive."

Trillian officiated. She had become ordained in 25 different religions as part of a story and she was thrilled to make use of her ordination.  Zyphod was angry about not being asked, given his status as a prophet and holy man (in his own cult) until Ford asked him to stand for him.

Betelgeusian culture dictated that each intended spouse have someone of the family stand for them. Traditionally, if it was a second spouse or later, it would be someone from the marital family, while first spouses designated someone from their birth family. The designee was a symbol that the family welcomed the new spouse. Arthur designated Random. She had rolled her eyes when asked, but as the day approached, it was clear that she was actually thrilled to be included. They had missed out on so much of each other's lives. 

Ford had teased Random at the rehearsal dinner, "Now that I will be your stepfather, you'll have to listen to me."

Random had snorted, "I don't listen to Arthur, why would I listen to you?"

"Because I am more charming." Ford joked. 

"Fair point." Random laughed.

The ceremony blended Earth traditions and Betelgeusian ones. They exchanged plain rings made of Zorulian Tungsten and did a traditional Betelgeusian hand binding whereby an intricate pattern was tied on their hands with a dyed string that left a permanent marking, a pattern only completed when they held hands.

 The ceremony was solemn and quiet. In contrast, the reception was raucous and chaotic. Two of Zaphod's  dates got into a fistfight over which of his heads was more attractive. Trillian disappeared for an hour with an attractive woman with large blonde curls and ruby red lipstick (Arthur swore he saw a flash of blue when she snuck away). They danced and drank far too much. It was perfect.

****

And so it went that Arthur and Ford had a lot of middle. Mostly happy middle and more than Arthur could have guessed when he lived on Earth.

And when it ended, and it did end because everything ends, whether person or galaxy or universe itself, it was an ending without regret, which is possibly the best anyone can hope for. After all, there is no joy in perpetuity. Just ask Bowerick Wowbagger.

And even so, from another perspective in space and time, even that was not the end. Arthur and Ford left behind a legacy of love. They were remembered by their children and grandchildren and their friends. And even when they faded from memories, Ford's words lived on in the Guide, describing the places they had visited and the people they had met. 

Arthur summed it up nicely one day while he and Ford sat in the garden, contemplating their next move. 

“You know, Ford.” he said thoughtfully. “The universe is a big place.”

“Mmmm” said Ford, cracking an eye. He was sprawled out with his feet in Arthur’s lap, enjoying the warmth of the artificial sun. He smiled slightly in affection. Arthur never did shake that habit of stating the obvious.

“I mean,” Arthur continued, “we have seen so much, but we haven’t even scratched the surface. It’s sort of amazing to think about the likelihood that we would even have met. I mean, if you hadn’t half assed your research . . . “ he teased playfully.

“Hey,” Ford said sitting up, “I will have you know that my entire ass was involved in that research.”

“And a nice one at that.” Arthur flirted. “Anyway, I am glad we did. I can’t imagine facing the vast expanse of space without you. It’s been fun.”

Ford grinned. “Yeah, it has.”

“Maybe that’s what it’s all about. Life, the universe and everything. Finding someone who makes it all a bit smaller.”

Ford frowned. “42. Nah, that doesn’t work.” They both laughed.

“So, where to next?” Arthur asked.

“Well, I read about a planet of robots where everyone is cloned from the same original organic lifeform. Could be interesting.”

“I’ll set the coordinates.” Arthur said, standing up and brushing himself off. “Wanna hitch a ride?”

Ford smiled. “Always.”