Twofold
By StarWolf
1/24/2004
Title:
TwofoldAuthor:
StarWolf (elendraug@yahoo.com)Rating:
PGWarnings:
SlashFandom:
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the GalaxyPairing:
Arthur Dent x Ford PrefectDisclaimer:
I don't own them. Douglas Adams does. May he rest in peace and hoopiness.Distribution:
Don't put it anywhere without asking me first.Summary:
Catch your breath and try not to fall.Authoress' Notes:
First HGTTG fic. Takes place during Life, the Universe, and Everything. I'm not entirely happy with this fic (nor the title and summary), but it turned out alright. Something of a drabble.------------------------------
Arthur blinks.
The magnitude of just how unlikely it was for him to have flown into a building, rounded a corner, and found himself facing Ford Prefect suddenly strikes him. His muddled brain then goes on to comprehend just how likely it is for him to sway, fall, and never see Ford again. Squeezing Ford's hand tighter, Arthur smiles, ecstatic that he is, in fact, facing Ford Prefect.
Ford grins widely, eyebrows relaxed with relief, and Arthur wants to kiss the smile from his face. Wind playing with their hair, they both hold on to each other and the pathetic bit of struggling hope that stubbornly clings to the edge of their minds.
Ford had saved his life. Again. Arthur also realizes that he wouldn't ever want to owe anyone else that amount of debt.
Bracing himself against the wall, Arthur inches closer to Ford. He thinks he couldn't ever be close enough, but he fears that if he moves within snogging distance of Ford, they may end up falling off this ledge. Arthur doubts his ability to sufficiently explain how to avoid thinking of flying when it's the only useful idea you have, and so decides to save it for later. Later meaning when they aren't in such a precarious position and state of extreme disbelief and danger.
On second thought, they may not ever reach a safe place, so it wouldn't matter. Hell, why not now?
Arthur glances to his right. Eye contact. Balancing himself delicately, Arthur leans towards Ford, who catches his drift just as his hair is caught in a draft. Ford carefully scoots nearer and tilts his head. Breath mingling, their are lips about to touch when Slartibartfast coughs, loudly and rudely. Arthur feels the urge to slam his skull against the wall of the building, but wisely reconsiders. Ford sighs, and they both resign themselves to the fact that Fate does, in fact, have something against them.
Slartibartfast starts to say something of importance and significance when Arthur slips and yelps, his travel bag soaring upward. Catching it, Ford quickly rummages through its contents, and hands the older man the bottle of retsina.
"Here."
Ford, who doesn't have enough leverage to attempt to rescue Arthur, looks down.
"If you can't save 'em, join 'em," he explains to Slartibartfast.
Ford jumps.