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***
Ford left Bill to sleep in. He proved quite difficult to rouse when Ford got up to go fetch the groceries. He was going to ask if Bill wanted to join him, but the muse was in one of his uncannily deep slumbers, so after a few seconds of determined prodding, Ford gave up, and pressed a kiss to Bill’s forehead, throwing some clothes on and heading out the door.
It was reasonably quiet on the roads, considering it was 8 am. There was hardly any traffic at all as Ford made his way to the convenience store, compiling a mental list of groceries as he went.
He liked the idea of recreating that first breakfast he made for the God, and considering they were on far better terms now it would be a nice bookend on their turbulent beginnings, ushering in a new era of cooperation and peace between them.
While he was in town, Ford figured he could also stroll down to the bank to arrange the final cheque for Fiddleford’s participation with constructing the portal.
Quitter or no, Fiddleford had done what he’d signed on to do, and the portal was functional and fully constructed thanks to his input.
Sending him the other half of his payment was only fair, and while they departed on poor terms, Stanford wouldn’t deprive Fiddleford of the means he’d rightly earned to support his family.
While Ford was bitter about his friend’s betrayal, and part of him still rankled at the thought of giving him anything considering it was highly likely F had been erasing his memories, until he received confirmation of that violation, he couldn’t in good conscience deprive F of the other half of the cheque.
He’d wanted to wake Bill to confer with him about this decision, wanting the muse’s input and validation about whether or not he should pony up with the rest of F’s payment, but as Bill proved a stubborn sleeper, Ford just had to infer what Bill would have said.
The selfish part of Ford would imagine that Bill would urge him to be selfish, to keep the money, and put it towards his future, looking for some loophole out of the payment, but the rational part of Stanford knew that despite his slyness, and his determined ability to find solutions that benefitted him first and foremost, the one key moral the muse tended to fall back on was that a deal was a deal.
He’d made a deal to compensate Fiddleford for his labour, and the deal was that once the portal was complete he’d follow through on his payment. That was the expectation set, and Ford’s ‘what would Bill do’ tangent led him to that conclusion, if he were to think logically on it.
So he tacked a trip to the bank onto his to-do list for the day, and parked the car in the parking lot outside of Dusk 2 Dawn.
Ford shrugged his trench coat on, and locked the car, before walking into the convenience store, looking down to count on his fingers the ingredients he’d need.
As he walked through the door, distracted, he bumped into someone exiting the store, Ford’s shoulder jarring against theirs, knocking the man’s belongings out of his arms and onto the floor.
Jolted from his mental planning, Ford blinked, and immediately bent to pick up the fallen items, his expression apologetic.
“I’m so sor-“
Ford looked up, and paused, taking in the person who he’d bumped into.
It was Greg Valentino, the friendly fellow who ran the mortuary with his wife.
What shocked Ford was the man’s demeanour.
Usually brimming with good natured enthusiasm and pep, Greg looked utterly ruined, heavy bags hanging under his red rimmed eyes, a day’s worth of untamed stubble growing on his chin.
He looked distressed, as though he hadn’t washed, or changed his clothes for a day. The fabric of his shirt was rumpled, rather than neatly pressed as was his custom.
His expression was one that could only be described as inordinately weary, verging on distraught, as if he were wavering on that fine line between numbness and bursting into helpless tears at any given second.
He met Ford’s gaze briefly, registering the concern there, and looked sharply away.
“Excuse me.” Greg cleared his throat, his voice coming out croaky, and scooped up the last of his belongings from the ground, boxes of cigarettes apparently (though Ford didn’t take Greg for much of a smoker) snatching the last box from Ford’s hand before hurrying out of the shop.
The bell above the door rang as he left.
Ford straightened up and watched him leave, concerned by his peculiar behaviour.
That didn’t seem right.
Wandering through the aisles, Ford absently collected the ingredients he’d need for breakfast this morning and brought them to the counter, where Mrs Duskerton waited, watching the front door with a deliberately concerned expression.
Noticing Stanford, standing waiting, Mrs Duskerton shook herself from her reverie and began scanning Stanford’s items, looking somewhat more morose than the morning warranted.
She kept casting troubled glances out into the parking lot where Greg’s car was.
Ford felt awkward saying nothing. Usually he could rely on the cheerful shop owner to keep the conversation flowing, superficial and light. Today she just seemed sad, emphatically so, she kept sighing, and it seemed to have something to do with Greg Valentino.
Clearing his throat, interrupting her scanning, Ford followed his cue and asked.
“Is he alright?”
“You haven’t heard?” Dawn tutted, and shook her head, continuing to ring up his purchases. “Poor thing. The day before yesterday, right out of the blue, him and Janice.”
Ford watched Mrs Duskerton sigh again, pausing to put a hand over her chest. She said nothing for a moment, expecting Ford to know what she was implying.
When the scientist continued to stare blankly at her, waiting for her to fill him in, she leaned forward, cupping the side of her mouth, stage whispering the scandalous news.
“They lost the baby.”
“Oh.” Ford felt a wash of sympathy for the man, looking back over his shoulder at the door. He had no point of reference for how to react to a loss like that, but he could only assume, looking at Greg, that it was devastating. “Oh no. That’s –“
“Awful, is what it is.” Dawn Duskerton shook her head, and slowly rung up the rest of Ford’s purchases. “My friend Maude works as a midwife in the clinic downtown. There ain’t no hospital that’s not a three hour drive from here, and out of the blue, around about eight o clock, Janice gets these pains, poor dear. No one knew what to do. Pains out of nowhere for about half an hour, then they stopped. Perfectly healthy baby, gone in a blink.”
Ford frowned, pausing to take that in, before he rummaged through his coat pockets, looking for his wallet. “That’s very unfortunate.”
“I was the first to know.” Mrs Duskerton boasted, in the way that small town women often did, elated to be in on the town’s gossip, despite how distasteful it was. “Well, after Maude, and poor Janice of course. Poor dear. Must be devastated.”
Ford found his wallet at last and pulled it out, looking up at Mrs Duskerton expectantly, waiting for the total.
The older woman sighed theatrically, still holding her hand over her chest.
“How cruel a thing to happen. I ain’t never met two people keener to be parents. They say the Lord moves in mysterious ways, that he has a plan for everything, but on days like this, it really makes you think.”
Ford cleared his throat again, not keen to bandy religious rhetoric with the woman in the name of gossip. He inclined his head at the register.
Mrs Duskerton tutted, and pressed the cash register totals button.
“That’ll be fifty-nine ninety-five. With tax.”
Ford passed her a fifty and a twenty, and she returned his ten dollars and five cents in change. Ford crumpled the bill into his pocket, and deposited the five cents in the take-a-penny jar, the coins tinkling as they hit the glass.
Dawn Duskerton passed Stanford his bags, and gave him a brief farewell, dismissing him succinctly.
“Have a nice day now.”
The next customer approached the register.
As he carried his bags,he could distinctly hear as he left the shop, over the ringing of the bell, Mrs Duskerton latching onto a new listening ear.
“Oh, did you hear the news? It’s just terrible!”
Ford rolled his eyes and let the door close shut behind him.
It was about what he expected from some people, honestly, taking pleasure in the misfortune of others. This town was full of small minded, gossip mongering idiots.
While Ford couldn’t begin to comprehend how the Valentino’s were feeling, he couldn’t help but find the whole situation incredibly distasteful, how it had been only two days since this horrid thing had happened to the lovely couple, (if Stanford paused to think about it, the incident coincided with Fiddleford’s sudden departure, though he didn’t question further than that. It must have just been a bad day for everyone) and already the town was talking about it for their entertainment.
Gossips and chinwaggers, all of them.
It was times like this he could relate to Bill’s dislike of other humans.
They were, unequivocally, inevitably disappointing.
Even Fiddleford had disappointed him, and Ford had thought they were of similar mind. In the end, Fiddleford’s small-mindedness was his undoing, his inability to accept change the sour note at the end of their friendship. Marching out on the portal’s initial test run. Halting Ford’s progression, the universe’s progression.
It felt much like finding a packet of toffee peanuts beside his high school invention. Progression halted for the sake of small mindedness.
But still, Stanford had to mail out his final cheque.
A deal’s a deal.
He could walk through town, just to stretch his legs a little.
Crossing the car park to the pavement, Stanford strolled along the boulevard, watching the shops open for business, early morning trade rolling along.
Something seemed different about the town this morning. Something odd.
Stanford couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was just something amiss. About the way people were acting.
They didn’t seem to be acting particularly bizarre, just somewhat more subdued than normal.
There was something physically different about the town too, but Ford couldn’t put his finger on it until it was right in front of him, standing at the crossing.
There was a dent in the stop sign at the side of the road. A dent in the pole, like someone had punched it in a fit of rage.
Ford paused, blinking, and stopped to place his groceries on the pavement and examine the dent, touching the bent metal. Running his fingers over it, the grooves in the metal seemed to resemble the indent of knuckles - definitely a punch. Ford brought his hand away from the pole and rubbed his fingers together, examining the residue that came from the pole.
It wasn’t dirt, it was a more rusted colour.
Ford brought his fingers closer to his nose and sniffed.
Dried blood.
***
Definitely what you would expect as a result of punching a stop sign,maybe the person in question should have considered what the sign was telling them to do. Having a thought process to weigh the pros and cons before ultimately finalizing the final decision was crucial to avoid unnecessary outcomes.
But as Ford crossed the road, he saw yet another indent in a fire hydrant, like it had been kicked.
He wasn't wholeheartedly committed to this search,knowing he was simply seeking distraction from his end goal, mailing out Fiddleford’s cheque. Sending the cheque had an element of finality about it, severing the last ties and obligations between himself and his old college friend, cutting the cord so to speak.
His thoughts were cut off abruptly when he heard the sounds of tins clacking with each other and the bags rustling behind him.
" Hey! "
The moment when the dried blood took his attention away was the perfect opportunity for a stray dog to rummage through the groceries,the canine barked at Ford as it ran away when he got too close.
" Damn it. "
Ford frowned as he saw that that some of the things he bought were either drenched with dog saliva or had ripped packaging by sharp teeth.
Saving what was salvageable,Ford grabbed what was still fine to use and took a short cut to where he left his car. Opening the trunk,he put them inside and locked it. Ford sighed and leaned against the car,his mind in a different place as his thoughts drifted back to his long time college friend.
Looking back at the days where he wouldn't be at the house,the suspicious phonecall he had received one morning,and his abrupt leave at Greasy's,Ford realized these were all the red flags he should've seen but chose to ignore it.
Perhaps it was the trust Ford had in him,giving him the benefit of doubt that Fiddleford could never disappoint him. The friendship he had with him gave Ford the assurance that a long time friend like Fiddleford could have never betrayed him.
If only he saw this sooner.
Ford lifted his head to look out at the morning horizon,his gaze drifting over the road as he looked at the road signs. The triangular road sign that stood out from the circular ones inflicted an amused smile,his thoughts now more towards the muse he had left in bed this morning to recreate the breakfast he had promised last night.
Ford's thoughts of both Bill and Fiddleford had him recollect the instances where he could look back at Fiddleford's actions. Every time, Bill would point something out about his college friend - something he should've taken into consideration.
The longer Ford thought about the moments where Bill had tried to warn him,the more frustrated Ford became as he berated himself for not listening to him. Oh,how blind he was,to dismiss Bill's suspicion as nothing more than paranoia
Like he dismissed Bill's feelings at the bunker.
Ford felt something twist in his stomach,looking back at it now he realizes just how dismissive he was of the little god he had roped down to Earth with him - how hard Bill had squeezed his arm that day,how anxious Bill looked when he kept demanding - begging to leave.
It's just now that Ford realizes how he should've trusted Bill.
" Trust no one,no one but me that is. "
Ford sighed as he ran his hand down his face,the more he thought about it the more he wanted to make it right.
Looking at the store,Ford made his way back inside to purchase the ingredients he needed to remake the first breakfast they had together.
He thought briefly to what Bill had said to him last night in bed as he re-entered the store.
“This is enough.”
He wants to be more than enough.
—————————
It was past 8 o'clock,the sun's rays were peaking out between the curtains of Sixer's room,Bill was sprawled out ,having taken his human's side of the bed as he nuzzled his face into Sixer's pillow.
The chirping of a bird,greeting Bill with an annoying wake up call had Bill throwing a pillow to the window,the ' thump! ' sound the pillow had made scared the bird away.
For a few seconds,it was back to quiet morning serenity and Bill began to drift back to sleep.
' chirp. '
The chirping doubled this time, meaning that two birds were giving Bill a lovely time with their serenade of an alarm clock. An annoying alarm clock. Bill should ban birds from touching the house.
Grumbling with his eyes closed,refusing to wake up properly to shoo away the birds,Bill grabbed another pillow and threw it at the window.
Smiling triumphantly with his eyes closed still,he nestled back to sleep in the bed.
' chirp chirp! '
Lo and behold, it was like mother nature had sent a boy band of birds to that specific window. Did she order them to serenade Bill so early in the morning?
Bill groaned and sat up,his morning hair a mess with some of the strands sticking in his mouth,smacking his lips,he hopped off the bed and was about to walk towards the window when he has remembered a fun memory.
With a smirk,he floated off the floor and made his way towards the window,having his favourite power unbound was such a delight as he shot blue fire at the opera of birds that were disturbing him.
" Bring your concert to a different place next time. " Bill said as he waved off his hand to get rid of the remains of his fire.
He floated back to the bed,his eyes drifting to the other side of the bed. His mind wandered as he placed his hand on Sixer's side of the bed,his lips pursed in a thin line as he debated on what to say to Sixer.
Today was the day he tells Sixer the truth.
It's either going to break or make him.
Bill was clutching at the sheets as he thought hard on where to start when he does tell Sixer - ' do I tell you everything ? ' or ' should I tell you I need a new home? '
Sighing,Bill laid his back down on the bed with his arm over his eyes. The brightness of the sun mingled with the frustration of what he should say to Sixer had verily gave Bill a terrible start with the morning.
He needed this portal to open,he needed a new place before the nightmare realm collapsed in and on itself,but he needed to convince Sixer first with the idea of what's to come when they open that portal.
He wanted the party to happen badly,but oh,he wanted Sixer so badly too.
Bill almost missed the smell of breakfast wafting through the air and from the kitchen. Having been distracted from his thoughts,Bill shaked off those thoughts - putting them aside to deal with later,a problem for future Bill to deal with.
Bill left Sixer's bedroom and made his way down the stairs,the smell becoming stronger as he recognized some of the aromas. Bacon,fried tomato,mushrooms,and pancakes.
With an elated grin and more bounce to his steps,Bill leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen as he was greeted by two of his favourite sights.
The first thing he saw was an array of his favourite dishes that he had come to realize that were on the menu of the very first breakfast Ford had made for him when he first inhabited this human vessel. The pancakes were stacked high,the maple syrup that Ford had made sure was the brand kind had been placed next to it,there were other dishes he enjoyed like the fried tomatoes,he noted that there was already a lot of pepper on top of it.
The second thing he saw was his favourite,the sight of Ford's sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the apron he wore with a corny math joke sown onto it. Ford was moving along to a song on the radio that was set next to him as he was washing his hands,having finished cooking.
"I would take the stars out of the sky for you"
"Stop the rain from falling if you asked me to"
"I'd do anything for you, your wish is my command" Ford was singing along to the radio at a considerably quiet volume, his mind replaying the memory of Bill accidentally outing his feelings with this particular song during their temporary goodbye.
"I could move a mountain when your hand is in my hand"
Bill was admiring Sixer as he moved about the kitchen,the serenity of today's morning something he's cherishing until the inevitable comes. To savor this domesticity and peace before it's taken away,Bill steps forward and encaged Sixer's waist from behind with his arms,his cheek pressed against his shoulder.
Ford jumps at the sudden contact and stops moving but quickly relaxes as he felt Bill squeezing his waist in a sweet way,his face softening as he placed one hand on Bill's.
"words cannot express how much you mean to me" Bill had continued the lyrics as he looked up at Sixer through his lashes, watching carefully for Sixer's reaction.
Ford's cheeks reddened,having been caught off guard with Bill's sudden appearance. This gave Bill a boost to his ego,having flustered Sixer so easily.
Ford squinted his eyes at Bill and smiled amusingly,if Bill wanted to play that game,then game on.
Ford spun around and one of Bill's hand into his own,his thumb brushes over his pulse as he pressed his own forehead to Bill's,his voice ever so gentle as he looked straight into his eyes to maintain eye contact while he swayed their bodies to the song.
"There must be some other way to make you see. If it takes my heart and soul, you know I'd pay the price" Bill visibly sputtered at that,the worshipful act Ford had given so suddenly had Bill summoning the cuffs quickly as to not overheat him.
"Someone's romantic today." Bill lifted his arms from Sixer's waist and instead looped them around his neck,his smile soft as he followed Sixer's movement,swaying side by side as he felt the worship flow through his body like a warm hug.
The worship was oh so much sweeter as Ford's other arm tightened its hold on Bill's waist,his voice humming the song now as Ford presses a sweet and brief kiss to Bill's lips,smiling as he replied, " It's a special day for us. I did promise you a big breakfast,didn't I?" Ford added with a cheeky smile as Bill giggled and nuzzled his face into Ford's neck,the domesticity of this morning erasing Bill's worries temporarily.
"Everything that I possess I'd gladly sacrifice"
He can tell Sixer the truth later,for now, he'd enjoy this peace.
Just for now.
This is enough.