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Arthur Dent drank in moderation.
He tried to, at least- but sometimes his body would work faster than his brain, and by the time it had caught up he had already downed five beers and a round of shots. This happened more often than he wished.
Ford Prefect did not drink in moderation.
At any given moment, he tried to have enough alcohol in his system to kill a Ravenous Bugblatter Beast, or at least a large dog. This happened just as often as he wished, as he was quite good at charming money and/or favors out of people, and if that didn’t work then waving his Guide employee card all too freely.
When two people with opposing personalities clashed, the stronger one tended to come out on top- which was very rarely Arthur Dent, especially when pitted against Ford.
Which is how he ended up with the Betelgeusian latched onto him like a particularly large limpet, hot breath stinking of jinnan tonyx fanning across the side of his neck. Arthur couldn’t believe he’d gone along with the plan, and further couldn't believe it had worked. It had been insane, though Ford’s plans typically were.
This one had started with a question.
“They have Valentine’s Day in space?”
“It started here, Arthur! Earth’s ’Valentine’s Day’ is just a watered-down knockoff of the real thing. Rather than a shitty, commercialized holiday with tasteless chocolate, it’s a shitty, commercialized holiday with tasteless chocolate and free alcohol!” Ford smiled his unsettling grin, causing Arthur to unconsciously adjust his collar. “That’s where you come in.”
Ford pointed at a nearby bar window, which said in massive sparkly letters ‘Couples drink free!’
“Couples dr… that’s nice and all, but what does that have to do with me? Are you going to magic a date out of your satchel?” Arthur peered at the bag with a faint look of worry, as if he suspected exactly that would happen.
Ford rolled his eyes, hooking his arm around Arthur’s. “You’re my date. Zark, you’re stupid sometimes, Arthur,” he said, and tugged the bewildered human towards the door.
“What? Ford, we’re both men! And we aren’t a couple!”
“I’m not the type of man to mind that first bit. What, would you rather I wear a dress? I’m told I look quite flattering in one.”
Arthur flushed at the thought, shaking his head.
“No, um- no dress. Please.”
Ford filed that reaction away for later exploration.
“What’s the problem then? You and I both know you’re not straight, and-“
“What? Yes I am! Ford, I’ve no idea where you got that notion from.”
The pair stopped just outside of the bar doors. “You tried to kiss me two years ago. But either way, you can pretend for a night. It’s not like they’re going to make us snog in public to prove we’re a couple. A small peck at most.”
At that, Arthur gave in. At least he was getting free drinks.
Which is how he’d ended up in this predicament. Ford’s hair was tickling his nose, and he held back another sneeze. The Betelgeusian hummed softly, lifting his head for just long enough to finish the last of whatever his current drink was.
Usually, Arthur wouldn’t like this much prolonged contact, but he was drunk enough not to care. He was also drunk enough not to care Ford was this close to his unprotected neck.
If he was being honest with himself, he actually quite enjoyed it. Ford gave off more body heat than a human would, which felt nice considering Arthur was still in his ratty old dressing gown.
“Ford? Hey, Ford!” said Arthur, lightly shaking the man. “It’s getting pretty late. I’m not taking care of you when you have a raging hangover tomorrow, so we should get back to the ship.”
Ford groaned, but nodded. “Zaphod’ll leave us behind if we don’t…” He struggled to stand, giving up after a few moments and collapsing back onto Arthur. “Arthuuur, carry me..?” he whined.
“You are a grown man, Prefect. You can walk.”
“No, I’ll fall and crack my head open and die and then you’ll never be able to thank me for getting you free drinks.”
Arthur started to protest, but he knew from experience that Ford was not someone he could argue with. Not if he wanted to win, at least. He let out a resigned sigh, grabbing Ford before struggling to stand. Arthur Dent was not a muscular man.
As he was picked up, Ford let out a small giggle, looping his arms around Arthur’s neck.
Arthur thought he could get used to this.