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He said it almost out of nowhere.
She didn’t know that he’d been thinking about this for ages. Didn’t know it was something he’d dreamed of, planned in advance. Didn’t know the words were practiced, considered, needed.
They were in his dorm, the window open and the sun shining warmly, a light breeze drifting through and occasionally blowing a few papers off the desk. Their weekly Saturday study session, although ‘study’ was a relatively loose term. Though she knew Ford could read all day and never get bored, once a few hours of homework had passed she usually switched to a magazine or novel to keep herself entertained. It was a cherished time spent together, though; just existing in quiet peace.
Friends is a slippery slope, however, and for him it had quickly slipped past the nice, neat, ‘friend’ label and dove straight into something more. Something frightening, something he wasn’t used to. But as time went on and she’d seen everything about him and still chosen to come back? He was gone before he’d even had time to realize.
Studying is a great excuse. He could pretend to read a book, turn the pages at practiced intervals, and watch her out of the corner of his eye. Watch the way she’d sigh as she turned the page, delicate fingers slipping past paper and ink. Watch as she blew a stray strand of hair from her face and his fingers twitched with want of brushing it back for her.
Crushes had always ended badly for him in the past. Every part of his mind screaming that it could only turn out in disaster. But they’d been friends for well over a year now, she’d seen him at his worst. Arrogant and angry and frustrated and she’d accepted it all. Stayed by him through thick and thin. Laughed at his bad puns.
Ford being Ford, however, he was incapable of just asking out a girl on a normal date. Where was the drama in that?
Or, more likely; his scientific mind loved to complicate every little detail.
Whatever it was, something truly astounding must have possessed him, as the innocent little question he slipped into conversation made her startle with its spontaneity.
“What?” she said, on instinct, freezing, unsure if she had even heard him correctly. She didn’t think ‘kiss’ was even a word in his vocabulary, surely she was hearing things, surely he hadn’t just said what she thought he’d said.
They were in his dorm, ‘studying,’ Ford at the desk, and she was laying on his bed, on her stomach, reading out of a textbook at least ten pounds heavier than it should have been. She had not been expecting that to come out of his mouth.
“I uh—“ he said, looking suddenly a lot less sure of himself. “I asked if you would help me practice. Kissing. I’ve uh—“ He swallowed. “I’ve never done it before. And I was reading about it—well, I was curious. From a scientific perspective, sensation is something that generally can only be cataloged by experience, and this seems to be an area I’m generally deficient in—“
“Slow down,” she said, cutting him off. “Let me get this straight; you’d like to practice kissing. With me. For science?” she asked, trying to remain as neutral as possible. Trying not to notice the way he blushed, ears tinged pink.
“That would be an accurate assessment of the situation, yes,” he answered sheepishly, not looking at her, and she furrowed her brow, turning so she could face him better.
“Uh, Ford?” she began, closing her textbook. “Wouldn’t you rather your first kiss be more organic—with someone special?” she asked, and he shook his head, looking wildly uncomfortable.
“There’s too many variables. I’d feel much better if I knew what to expect ahead of time,” he insisted, earnest, and she nodded slowly. He had sound logic, as always, but something tipped her off as wrong. He was a little too nervous, avoiding her gaze a little too much.
Had she suspected Ford might like her in…more than a friendly sense? Sure; but that was only because she had formed a rather hopeless crush on him from the beginning. She had assumed her feelings would always go unrequited, Ford too academically focused to care about such things, and she was fine with that. Could deal with it, anyway, but as time went on…she had noticed him acting, well, differently.
Holding doors open for her, insisting he carry her books. Sometimes she caught him staring after her, wistful, adorably cute. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t wanted to scare him off, but now this?
She smiled, grin just a touch self-satisfied. If he wanted to do this, then she’d play along. But she certainly wasn’t going to be a neutral party.
“Okay,” she agreed, voice slow, dragging out the word. “If that’s what you want.”
He nodded, looking slightly less sure than before, and she sat up on the bed.
“Well,” she began, patting the space next to her. “Want to start now?”
He startled at that, straightening, a couple papers drifting to the ground with the force of it. He didn’t pick them up, a sure sign that he was very distracted, rubbing the back of his neck and refusing to look at her.
“Ah, uh—well, I—if you—“
“Ford,” she said, gentle. “If you don’t want to that’s okay, but I’m already here, and Fidds is out of town, so…” she trailed off, waving a hand in the air, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. He nodded, swallowing. Sound logic, the best defense against Stanford Pines.
“Right, yes,” he said, nodding jerkily, and he stood. She was reminded, as often, just how tall he was, walking over to her on the bed with tentative steps. He sat down beside her, about a foot away, hands on his knees and fingers drumming out a nervous rhythm.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked again, skeptical. While she may have been eager to kiss him, she wanted to make sure he was completely certain about this. It wouldn’t go well if he wasn’t.
“Yes,” he answered, almost too enthusiastic. He coughed then, clearing his throat, looking away for just a moment. “I’ve thought about this, and I’ve decided it’s what I want to do.”
Oh she was going to tease him so much about that later.
For now, though, she smiled, gentle. She felt flattered, in a way, that he would trust her with something like this. Felt a kind of responsibility to make it nice for him.
Slowly, being sure not to startle him, she drifted her hand to his face, gently cradling his cheek. He leaned into it almost automatically, like he was barely aware he was doing it. She saw his gaze flicker down to her lips, his eyes suddenly half-lidded. His mouth slightly parted, and she could tell he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Cute.
Biting back a laugh that she knew would scare him off, she leaned forward, giving him ample time to run away if he so chose. He didn’t, but she felt him take a shuddering breath as she moved closer, trembling under her touch. It stroked her ego just a bit to see the normally arrogant and sure Stanford Pines so unsure in this situation. To know that there was in fact something she was better at than he was.
She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, really just a pressure against him. With his mouth still slightly open, there wasn’t much she could do, but she moved to the corner of his mouth and he sighed, inadvertently, then drew back with a sharp jerk of his head.
He was looking at her like a deer in headlights, baby penguin taking its first steps out on the ice, and it was so adorable she had to fight her own cuteness aggression. He looked worried, like he was scared he had done something wrong, and she wanted to be quick to assuage him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and he shook his head minutely, still staring at her. It took a moment before he blinked again, running a hand through his hair, nervous smile that wasn’t quite nonchalant.
“Sorry uh—sorry,” he breathed, sheepish, and she frowned.
“You have nothing to be sorry for?” she said, confused, and he laughed, nervous.
“Right.” He swallowed. “Sorry. Uh, I mean—“
“That wasn’t really a proper kiss,” she interrupted, breaking him out of his loop, and he straightened.
“It wasn’t?”
“No. In order for it to be a proper kiss, you have to do something,” she said, unable to help teasing him slightly. His eyes widened, like she’d just introduced an entirely new variable to the equation, and she had to fight back a grin.
“What do I need to do?” he asked, suddenly serious, like she was a lecturer and he was learning theoretical physics. It was really too cute.
“First,” she said, reaching out and plucking his glasses from his head. “We must remove these.”
“But—I need those to see.”
“A good kiss should be eyes closed. Besides, you’re nearsighted, right, and from this distance—“ she demonstrated by leaning in closer, several inches away from his face. “—you should be able to see me just fine.”
He swallowed, breathing out slowly. “I suppose.”
“Good.” She placed his glasses on the desk, gentle. “Now, a good kiss has movement. You can start with pursing your lips.” She demonstrated, pouting for a moment before breaking into a smile, and she saw him try it out, experimental. The cloak of science shielding him from embarrassment. For the most part.
“Exactly. Now if we both do that, and meet in the middle…”
“What do you do then?”
She had to physically hold herself back from winking, pushing her hand into her mouth to hide her smile. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, thinking for a moment.
“Let’s start with step one and go from there,” she proposed, tilting her head and feeling gratified when he nodded. There was an awkward pause where neither of them moved, and she opened her mouth to say something but decided against it, feeling her own blush start to form.
Finally, knowing that she would have to initiate, she moved swiftly closer, taking his cheek again and flicking her eyes down to his mouth.
“Purse your lips,” she instructed, and he did automatically, dazed. Satisfied, she let herself relax, gently pressing her lips to his, this time in a much better position.
She felt him shaking against her, felt him relax as she tilted her head ever so slightly. He pressed back, adorably stiff, and she pulled away just a fraction so she could look at him.
He followed after her like a lost puppy, seemingly confused as his eyes fluttered open, his hands awkwardly hovering around her. Smirking, she let go of his face for a moment to press his hands to her waist, his eyes wide and unsure. She didn’t give him a moment to think, though, leaning back in and kissing him soundly.
He relaxed enough that he seemed to move more on instinct, turning his head to fit more closely to hers, squeezing her waist as she shuffled closer. Humming, she opened her mouth, teased her tongue on his bottom lip, and it was almost like she could physically feel his body stuttering in real time. Like a physical manifestation of the dialup sound, he froze completely under her touch, not moving a muscle. She drew back slowly, keeping her hands on his shoulders, a question on her lips that died the moment she got a better look at him.
He was panting, cheeks a burning red and mouth parted. His eyes wide, unfocused, hands fluttering over her hips like he didn’t know what to do with them. She realized she might have gotten a little carried away, practically kneeling on the bed to be close enough to him, one bad trick of gravity away from falling into his lap. She tried to shuffle back a little but his hands held firm, keeping her in place, and she looked to him in question.
He released her immediately, seeming to snap out of whatever trance he was in. He held his hands up beside his head, horrified, apologies blubbering up incoherently.
“I’m so sorry I—I don’t know what—sorry—you, I couldn’t—“
“Ford, it’s okay,” she insisted, holding up a finger to silence him. He was still breathing heavily, but he snapped his mouth shut, swallowing harshly. She saw his hands trembling and slowly took them in her own, placing them back over her hips. She teased her fingers over his knuckles, sensual, and she heard his breath hitch.
“There’s no need for you to apologize here. At all,” she reassured, bringing her hands back to his shoulders and feeling him relax slightly under her touch. “Are you enjoying this?” she asked, unable to keep the grin off her lips, and he nodded, thumb rubbing over her hip almost unconsciously.
“Yes, I—yes,” was all he could say, and her grin grew wider, just a touch self-satisfied.
“Good. Because I am too—now,” she continued, ignoring the way his mouth fell open in shock. “I’m going to kiss you again. With tongue,” she announced, feeling as though being blunt was the only way to go about this with him. He could only nod minutely in response, and she winked, leaning back in.
He pursed his lips on his own this time, a quick learner, as she might have expected. She deepened the kiss right away, turning her head and opening her mouth against his. She swiped her tongue over his bottom lip, and this time she felt his breath stutter before he relaxed into it, groaning quietly. He opened his mouth to let her in, dragging her tongue against his, feeling as though she was in way too deep.
Was she getting carried away? Absolutely. But who could really blame her when he just looked so dang cute, starry eyed and innocent, asking her to be his first kiss?
She would be lying, though, if she said her heart wasn’t beating just as fast, running a marathon in her chest as she leaned further and further into him, forcing herself not to moan into his mouth. One of his hands rode up her back, flitting over her spine, and she smiled against him.
They broke apart slowly, eyes half-lidded, she saw his lips red, mouth parted. He came back to himself slowly, blinking, and she took a moment to calm down as well. Neither of them moved away.
“That was nice,” he said, dazed, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. She nodded along, pressing her lips together, trying to think. Which was increasingly hard with his hands around her.
Apparently she took too long, though, because a moment later he seemed to come to some realization, eyes widening as he let go of her, shrinking back on himself a bit. She let go of his shoulders in response, startled, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair.
“I mean—thank you. For showing me,” he coughed, straight back to clinical. She would have been a little hurt, actually, except she could still see how fast his heart was beating, his chest rising and falling far too rapidly.
“I’m sure—I mean, I know,” he laughed, ironic. “I know most girls in the past haven’t exactly been eager to do—um, that, anyway. So, uh, thanks,” he said, rambling. She felt a piece of her heart break, his eyes darting everywhere but her, suddenly so unsure it nearly killed her.
She should have confessed her feelings sooner, she realized. Ideally prior to kissing him senseless, but better late than never right?
“Ford, no, I—“ she cut herself off, nervous too. She laughed, short, dry, swallowing and attempting to gather her courage. Goodness, why on earth was this harder than just kissing him?
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she confessed, making his head jerk up as he finally looked back at her, mouth open in apparent shock.
“You—you have?” he asked, voice barely a whisper, and she smiled, sheepish. She nodded, small, wringing her hands, and she saw him lick his lips, his eyes darting down to her mouth.
“I’ve liked you for a while now, actually,” she continued, feeling a little emboldened. His eyes widened, and he looked at her, mouth moving with no sound coming out.
“You like me?” he asked, incredulous, and she was beginning to feel like a broken record. She laughed, bright and warm, the inanity of confession catching up to her.
“Yes, Ford, I like you. A lot.”
“I—“ he breathed, laughing too, almost hysterical. “I like you too.” He whispered her name, reverent, making her heart flutter in her chest. “I didn’t know how to tell you—but I wanted you as my first kiss,” he continued, blushing, looking like he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. She just smiled, leaning forward a bit and brushing his hair back from his forehead, making him look at her confused.
“A pretty calculated experiment, huh?” she said playfully, and he broke into an immediate smile.
“More of a hypothesis, really. A testable prediction,” he replied, attempting bravado and succeeding enough to make her heart pound.
“Oh? And what was the prediction?” she asked, leaning closer, and his hands automatically came to rest on her hips.
“That—ah—“ he cut himself off when she pressed a kiss to his cheek, breathing in sharply before continuing. “That it would be—ah—enjoyable—I didn’t dare to think that you might—“
“Sweetie, I’m not exactly the type to kiss at random,” she teased, his smile morphing into horror at her words, stuttering over himself to correct it.
“Of course not—I didn’t mean to say—I mean—“ he huffed, catching onto her teasing grin, squeezing her hips and she wasn’t sure if he even realized what he was doing.
“Why don’t you just kiss me again?” she asked, and he complied immediately. Much more skilled now, she might add, just a little proud.
She may have gotten a little too enthusiastic and leaned a bit too far forward, making him tumble back onto the bed. She may have ran her fingers through his hair, messing it up so it fell into his eyes. She presses kisses to his jaw, his neck, and watches him shiver beneath her, watches him moan like he doesn’t know how to hold back. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm, and she was more than confident that, with his scientific mind, he would be an expert in no time.
At the very least, it was an excuse to keep kissing.