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“…I refuse to believe that I descended from these dimwits. Your theory has no real proof, so I refuse to accept it as fact.”
Arthur declares with what he hopes is confidence, as he casts the line of his makeshift fishing rod into the water. Fjords, apart from their award-winning beauty, seem to be just as appealing to the abundant species of fish that migrate to them.
“If it makes you feel better. Though it makes you seem just as stupid and frankly, doesn’t help your case.”
Ford doesn’t even bother to look up from his own project, a net.
“How daft. Apart from the natives dying out, there’s no evidence.”
“Except that is, well, evidence.”
“And how do we know that your species didn’t evolve from Golgafrinchans hm? For all we know, one of their ships could be landing on your planet as we speak.”
Trying and failing to ignore Arthur’s defensive rambling, he simply looks up at the sky. It takes him just a second longer than normal for his eyes to spot the usually red but now bright yellow star, to which he points at.
“That’d be quite the detour. Besides, from what I’ve gathered, they tend to conform to binary gender norms. More fitting for humans.”
“Binary gender norms?”
Ford huffs as if he’s just been asked to explain that the sky is blue. The earth sky, at least.
“As you know, humans tend to conform to one of two genders, a combination, or lack of. They also tend to shun those who don’t. No wonder you couldn’t figure out intergalactic travel if you ask me.”
He stops to check his work, lifting the net up. The holes are too big to catch anything. He takes it apart to start again.
Arthur looks as if he’s trying to work out millennium prize problems in his head.
“…so, your species doesn’t have those ‘binary’ norms?”
“Nope. Our biology isn’t binary adjacent either.”
Arthur stops staring at the floating bait and turns to look at Ford’s face. It’s a little difficult to make out small details with the only light being that of the dying fire and the stars, but it’s not like he needs it. He’s looked at it quite often and with quite the attention.
“That would explain a lot of things.”
“Would it, now.”
Ford prepares to hear another stupid comment pointing out the obvious and doesn’t bother to look interested.
“Yes. I mean, you’re pretty like women usually are.”
Ford pauses what he’s doing and finally looks at Arthur, who’s staring.
“Last time I checked, human women don’t sport beards. At least not this long.”
“Not the beard, obviously. Your face. It’s softer, kind of like a woman’s.”
“I have a feeling that it’s not me looking ‘like a woman’ that’s on your mind.”
“I, er. It’s not what you’re implying. I like women, you know that, I liked Trillian, that blonde at the bar on our last week on earth…”
It sounds almost like he’s nervous.
“I never implied the opposite. “
“Ah. It kind of sounded like you did.”
The net is set aside, completely forgotten.
“I’m just pointing out, by human gender expression standards, I’m a man. You never seemed to doubt that.”
“I’m not- I’m not doubting that you’re a man!”
“I know.”
There’s silence as Arthur considers how to defend his point, not sure what his point even is anymore. Ford just waits for him to get it.
“What I was trying to say. Is that you’re pretty in a way that reminds me of a woman. That’s all.”
“You really can’t say I’m ‘pretty’ without the ‘like a woman’ part, can you.”
Arthur stammers for a bit, trying to think of a way to word this.
“I- it’s not like that- I’m not saying you’re- ugh.”
He rubs his face with his hand, looking annoyed at how he sounds.
“Just a ‘hey I’ve been thinking you’re cute’ would work. You know, like a normal person.”
“That is not what I was trying to say.”
Ford sighs, clearly getting irritated at this whole thing. It really isn’t that complicated, he thinks.
“Arthur. Mate. Buddy. We’re stuck in prehistoric earth. Your ancestors are complete buffoons, and we have no way of turning back to any form of civilization. We’re stuck here with no electricity, transport, tools and worst of all, alcohol. And yet all you’re worried about is conforming to standards of a society that doesn’t even yet exist???”
Arthur tries to talk back, opening and closing his mouth, searching for something appropriate to respond. He thinks for a long time until he finally settles.
“…I’ve just been worrying about it for a long time. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Honestly, I still don’t know.”
“Would love to help you sort it out, if you want.”
Arthur turns to look at his companion and considers the offer. He knows Ford is probably a lot more knowledgeable on something like this. He has spent most of his life running around the galaxy after all. Travel helps broaden your horizons, or whatever people who enjoy moving around like to say.
“…sure. Okay, I suppose. Help me sort it out.”
“Great.”
Ford gets up and brushes off some fibers from the net crafting. He takes a few steps towards Arthur and just looks. Arthur seems confused.
“Well…?”
Before he can register what’s going on, Ford has taken his face in his hands, placing his lips on his.
Arthur didn’t reciprocate as his mind went completely blank. His heart skipped a beat, then two. Then it started thumping like it wanted to break out of his ribcage, faster than he’s ever felt.
His face is frozen in shock, but he doesn’t dare to pull away. The kiss isn’t soft, but it isn’t firm either. It’s teasing.
Eventually, on instinct, he kisses back. Shyly, as if he hasn’t kissed anyone in years. Which he hasn’t.
He forces his brain to think of a woman instead. Which is easier said than done, when both of their beards are in the way. In the end, he finally, after all these years, makes up his mind. He didn’t want to imagine a girl. In fact, he didn’t want to imagine anyone else. His hands finally come up to hold Ford’s face, trying to deepen the kiss.
Instead, Ford pulls back, looking satisfied and smug.
“There. Happy to help.”
He returns where he was before, taking the net in his hands, pretending having to work on it, not hiding his smile, pleased with himself.
The fish pulling on the bait on the other hand, remains entirely forgotten. Arthur’s not done with this newfound clarity.
And clearly Ford isn’t either.