Rapture [1.1]
Can I ask you a question? How do you know? I mean, how do you really know that you can trust me?
Ford shifted his position on the couch, slouching to form a more comfortable nook for the girl on his left. She lifted her head from its place on his shoulder revealing a hundred-watt smile, making him grin back at her. It was a typical Friday evening for them. Date night: A different flick, same bowl of popcorn.
Their usual routine was one night spent at her house, the next week spent at his. Regan was scheduled for this week's roster but the past few dates had been at the Pines' home after she requested it, stating it was far more homey than her own place.. not that Ford had minded. His parents gave them more privacy than they needed.
I don't. That's what trust is. Good hunting, Lieutenant.
"That's one of my favourite quotes." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. A couple strands of her hair tickled his nose but the feeling wasn't unwelcomed. He loved the scent of her shampoo, it was a clean and subtle aroma that suited her perfectly.
But as he breathed in he caught a whiff of a foreign scent. Her hair smelled different from usual, she must have used a stronger soap, cinnamon, maybe.
He was about to open his mouth to ask her if she had switched shampoo brands when he heard the front door open and close. An unrecognizable tune was being whistled, clashing with the music already coming from the television set. Stanley strolled into the living room, coming around to stand by the end of the couch.
"Hey sixer."
"Hello Stanley." Ford greeted back, sitting upright once again and letting his arm fall from Regan's shoulders. He wasn't one for PDA and tried to keep it to a minimum around Stan, who liked to tease them every chance he got. Contrary to Stan who flaunted what he had.. when he had it.
The light from the TV illuminated Stan's face, revealing an amused expression. He bent down and reached across Regan's torso to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl sat between the couple. A couple of kernels spilled from his fist and bounced off Ford's legs, falling to the floor. Ford reprimanded his twin and reminded himself to pick them up later.
Stan paused, mid-grab, and peered at the girl from over his outstretched arm.
"Hey bookworm."
"Hi Stan." She replied, quietly.
They studied each other briefly before he brought himself back upright and shoved the fist of kernels into his mouth.
I thought it was because of the twist.
The TV blared continuing with the plot that no one was currently listening to. Stan stood beside the armrest of the couch, fingers drumming against it. His line of vision was focused on the moving picture but he looked far away, lost in thought. Ford's left side had gotten cold in the amount of time Regan had been apart from him. It wouldn't hurt to invite Stan now that they were no longer locked against each other.
"Would you like to join us?" Ford offered.
Stan laughed heartily, throwing his head back for extra exaggeration. "Sit through this lousy marathon? Nah, no can do."
Ford smiled and shrugged, turning his attention back to the television. He waited for the retreating footsteps of Stan but he hadn't moved from his spot. It was strange of him to stick around, especially since he found everything aside from heavy action flicks boring. In that way Stanley was similar to their father, who fell asleep during everything but heavy wrestling and football.
Regan was pointedly ignoring him, immersed in the film. She plucked a couple kernels from the bowl and popped them into her mouth one by one, crunching them slowly so the noise wouldn't interfere with the current scene.
But as Stan turned to leave, she quickly looked up catching his retreat and Ford saw his eyes linger on hers. It was so fleeting that he blinked and convinced himself it was the just glare from the television that was altering how he interpreted the shared look.
He was quick to compose himself, muting the sound as the commercials break began.
"If Stanley actually gave this a shot, I bet he'd like it. He's closed minded like that."
Regan hummed and leaned back into his arms but fluffed the pillow beside her and brought it to the back of her head, leaning into it instead of his shoulder. A silent infomercial played on, the spokesman was so extravagant they could practically read his lips forming the word: BUY BUY BUY.
It was late when they finally finished off the program and still they stayed pressed against each other until the credits stopped rolling. Reluctantly, Ford eased himself out of her embrace and off the couch to turn the lights back on.
He stood tall and stretched, feeling all his joints pop. The light momentarily blinded him and he had to blink away the dots until he could focus properly. Regan joined his side with the empty bowl, placing it next to the lamp light.
Ford smiled lightly and twirled a finger around her hair. "Ready to head back?"
"Yes. Let me just say goodbye to your parents real' quick."
If Filbrick and Ma Pines weren't out on a date themselves, they were reading quietly in their bedroom or having their own late-night dinner in the kitchen. Her search was unnecessary as the two of them strolled into the living room after noticing the lights were back on.
"Oh, are you leaving now?"
"Uh huh, I was just about to come find you to say Goodnight. Thanks for having me so often."
"It's no trouble, hon. Ford, remember to leave the porch light on this time."
"Have a good night." Mr. Pines said.
As they headed for the front door, Regan noticed a small pile of papers, stacked neatly next to a crudely-made anatomical heart. She walked over and gently tapped the mould, making sure it was dry before she picked it up.
"It's not finished yet..." Ford said, sheepishly. He was a skilled artist but it was always embarrassing when someone saw a work in progress.
"Is this for your presentation in biology on Monday?" She asked with a small smirk.
"Yes.. what do you think?" He scooped the clay heart from her hands and began to mold the arches back into shape from where they flattened on the table. "I still have to work on the pulmonary veins as well as the finer innermost functions but it's coming along."
"Nifty. It looks great, even when it's unfinished."
Ford felt his ears grow warm as he avoided her eyes and stuck a finger down the pulmonary artery to create a cavity. She reached for his head, slipping a pencil out from behind his ear he hadn't even remembered leaving there. He must have forgotten to take it off when he picked her up for their date earlier.
"Try this for the smaller veins."
He would have kissed her if his parents weren't watching from further down the hallway. Her comment was motivating and he felt driven to complete the heart but it was late and he had to take Regan home first. Pressing a thumb to leave a final impression on the atrium, he set the heart back down. The clay would settle once more by the time he got back home and he would have to once again, form the arteries back into a tunnel-shape and round the organ off.
Ford took his jacket off the coat hook, slipping his arms into the sleeves. He was interrupted as he began buttoning up his coat.
"Ford, it's alright." She shrugged off his questioning stare. "You should finish it before the clay sets again. Knowing you, it'll be done before midnight and you can bake it."
He hesitated at first, his politeness winning over her reasoning. The determined look in her eyes vaporised the guilt he felt for even considering her offer.
"It's not proper, you can't walk home alone this late." He sighed and finally relented. "At least let Stanley drive you."
As if on cue, Stan came bounding down the stairs, twirling his keys around his finger.
"Need a ride?"
Ford pulled Stan aside as Regan got her coat from the rack.
"Get her home safe, Stanley."
"Don't worry! I'll get her home safe and sound." Stan assured, patting Ford on the arm.
Ford scoffed, brushing off his hand and planting his fists on his hips. "No reckless driving either."
Stan rolled his eyes and headed out the door, waving goodbye without looking back. Regan wandered over to kiss Ford on the cheek and bid him goodnight before following Stan to his jalopy.
The car rumbled to life and Ford watched from the doorway until she clicked her seat beat into place. He waved at them as the Cadillac pulled away from the curb and drove away.
The roads were clear of traffic but Stan continued to pause at every stop sign and break at every red light. He turned the radio on and softly the starting lyrics of "Somebody To Love" filled the car. He bobbed his head along to the beat.
When the truth is found to be lies
And all the joy within you dies
They drove without conversation for another street before Stan finally broke the silence.
"Are you hungry?"
Slowly, a tiny smirk made its way across Regan's face. The passing streetlights made her look impish.
"No." She replied lowly. "..But I wouldn't mind a vanilla milkshake."
"Just vanilla? Ho-hum." Stan replied, jerking the wheel hard. The car swerved as he cut across the oncoming lane and revved the engine, speeding back down in the opposite direction. So much for the riskless driving.
He cranked up the music with one hand, keeping the other firmly on the steering wheel. This time Regan began to mouth the words to it, excitement bubbling to the surface.
Don't you want somebody to love? Don't you need somebody to love?
Stan caught a whiff of her new shampoo, pleased that she remembered it was his favourite fragrance, as he leaned in close to her and whispered gruffly into her ear, "With a cherry on top?"
You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi
Somebody To Love - Jefferson Airplane
Hot Stuff - Donna Summer