Warning: Contains slashy implications.
Pairing: (pre) Ford/Arthur
Words: 363
Disclaimer: Still not Douglas Adams.
Written for the livejournal community otps_galore drabble challenge.
I've been told that Candyland was a cultural phenomenon in the US and not much of anywhere else… and I choose to overlook that fact. If you don't know what it is, Google it and/or pretend that somehow a rogue copy of the game made its way to 80s England or I will beat you over the head with an unwieldy Infinite Improbability Drive explanation.
Sweet
"Wow," said Arthur, staring down into the box. "Ford this is... is…"
After a moment of not being able to describe exactly what it was, he decided to try a different approach.
"It was very nice of you to get this for me for my birthday."
Ford grinned, apparently determined to show off every single one of his teeth, and scooted a little closer to Arthur on the sofa.
Arthur continued to stare. "Where did you even find something like this?"
"Jumble sale," replied Ford. "Well, I think it was a jumble sale. I was a bit drunk at the time. It might have been a shop in Islington." He snuck an arm around Arthur's shoulders, dropping it lightly enough that the puzzled Earthman hardly noticed. "But I like to think it was a jumble sale, for simplicity's sake."
Blinking, Arthur reached into the box that was still half-wrapped in gaudy patches of several kinds of wrapping paper and pulled out a box that was wrapped in clear plastic. He turned it over a few times in his hands.
"Ford… It's not that I am in any way questioning your thoughtfulness," he said slowly, "but why exactly did you get me a Candyland board game?"
"Because it's sweet," Ford explained.
Arthur, however, did not feel that this explained much of anything.
"Sweet?"
"Yeah. Sweet. That's what gifts from one human to another are supposed to be, I read it in the Horoscope section in your paper the other day."
Arthur smiled, and laughed a little in spite of himself. "Ford, I think you must be the oddest friend I've ever had," he said fondly.
Had it been physically possible, Ford's grin would have widened. Since it wasn't, he settled for thinking briefly of the other birthday plans he had in store for his slow-on-the-uptake friend after a quick (or not) birthday trip down the road to the pub. One of them was going to wake up a bit sore in the morning, and he had magnanimously decided to leave it up to Arthur who it would be.
Ford, giving Arthur's shoulders a slightly more than friendly squeeze, merely said, "You have no idea."