Just a heads up- please ignore the completely stupid excuse for humor in this chapter courtesy of writing some of this at four in the morning. Also, here's a warning for alcohol.
Anyway, here's chapter 57 of "Welcome Home"!
The night time drive back to the Mystery Shack (Using a borrowed car) was a rather quiet one. After everything that had happened at the concert, neither Chris nor Fiddleford wanted to say much at all. They figured it would be best for Ford to have some time without a lot going on. They couldn't imagine how he felt after going through all that stress and anxiety, only to be told by Bill himself that he wanted to stay. Surely it couldn't be easy.
After a bit though, Chris did have something to say. He had a question, and while he felt bad for asking it so soon, he also knew it was important to know so he could plan ahead.
"So," Chris began, finally breaking the silence that had swarmed in the car during the ride back to the Mystery Shack. He turned his head to look beside him at Ford and asked, "Am I stayin' with you people, or am I supposed to figure this out myself now?"
Ford was silent for a moment, processing the question. He glanced at the blonde before speaking. "You can stay for the meantime." He responded before looking back on the road ahead of him. "I'm not quite sure of a plan yet." He admitted. Chris gave a slow nod to the response before looking out the passenger seat window. McGucket gave a small smile at knowing that his favorite member of Sev'ral Timez would be staying with them for a little while longer.
Chris had fallen asleep in the car halfway there. Ford could hear the man's slight shivering and noticed that Chris had his arms wrapped around himself in his seat to keep warm. His T-Shirt definitely didn't seem like a good idea when it was chilly in the car, but he didn't exactly have a wardrobe to pick from. Ford took a hand and reached it towards the heat dial on the car, turning it on and up a touch in hopes of ceasing the blonde's reactions to the chilled air of the night that was able to get in through the car.
Being that Chris was now asleep, McGucket figured perhaps it would be a good idea to ask Ford a particular question about earlier. He remembered the scientist briefly stating something about Bill having an advantage with his powers if being exposed to something specific. Fiddleford wondered if this was just a theory of the scientists, or if Ford had actually tested his hypothesis or expanded on it with his boyfriend sometime recently.
Fiddleford opened his mouth and put a finger up, wanting to ask about his questions. He looked forward, taking one glance in the mirror towards the front of the vehicle, and noticed that Ford looked as though he were in the middle of contemplating something. McGucket shut his mouth and slowly put his finger down, drawing his eyes down to the car floor.
"What is it?" Ford asked. McGucket looked up with his eyes open in surprise. Had Ford seen him just then? For a moment he wondered if he had pestered the other, drawing him away from his contemplation. McGucket leaned towards the middle seat in the back of the car and tried to steal a glance at Ford's expression beyond the mirror. Fiddleford had stayed quiet throughout, which the scientist noticed.
"Well?" Ford pushed slightly. Fiddleford looked at the man for a moment before sitting up straight in his own seat of the car again. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"I-I had a couple'a questions i'd been a'wantin' to ask ye'," Fiddleford began. He felt guilty for asking Ford a few silly questions when the scientist was clearly upset about Bill not coming home with them.
Ford gave a singular, slow nod. "Proceed." He beckoned, regardless of his state of mind. He pushed his previous thoughts aside best he could in order to pay more attention to his friend.
"Ye' said eh... earlier, somethin' 'bout Bill's power?" McGucket addressed.
"What about them?" Ford questioned, his response sounding much less light-hearted than McGucket would have hoped. It wasn't beyond what he was expecting, but it was still... out of the ordinary.
Regardless, Fiddleford shrugged. "I was just curious on whatcha' meant by what ye' said," He stated. "Maybe we could talk 'bout it later?" He hoped. A part of him was curious about this boost of power that had been addressed. He didn't want to push things of course, being that he knew that Ford would prefer not to talk all that much for the meantime.
"Very well," Ford complied. "There's not much need to expand on it anymore, but if you're curious I'm sure giving a more thorough explanation is feasible." He said. Fiddleford gave a slow nod, putting his hands in his lap and looking out the car's window.
After a few more minutes of driving, the three arrived back at the Mystery Shack. Ford parked the car beside their normal car, which had been moved back into it's normal spot. They saw Manly Dan and his truck there as well, getting out of his vehicle and walking towards the others borrowed car he had set up for them earlier.
"I missed the concert for this." Manly Dan scoffed to Ford, once the scientist got out of the car.
McGucket also got out of the vehicle, and looked up at the larger man. "It wassa' disaster anyway." He claimed.
"Impossible!" Manly Dan shouted, clenching his fists together. "Sev'ral Timez is always perfect!"
"They dinn't even get ta' perform." Fiddleford explained.
Dan raised an eyebrow. "What?" He questioned, folding his arms.
"Leggy went missin', then someone yelled fire an' everyone in the crowd left," McGucket continued. He adjusted his glasses and muttered, "A weird experience, thas' fer sure." He said. Manly Dan hummed in distaste, but said his goodbye's to McGucket, telling them to get his car ready for him to take back.
Ford opened his car door again and poked his head inside, calling the blondes name. Chris was still asleep, and didn't wake up. Ford furrowed his brows slightly and reached an arm out, grabbing the others shoulder and shaking him slightly. Chris woke up with a shriek, his eyes widening and looking at the man with a fearful expression. Ford was confused by the reaction, but didn't feel addressing it would be appropriate.
"Go inside." Ford ordered, nodding over to the shack. Chris took a moment to get aware of his surroundings before calming down. He gave a slow nod and unbuckled his seat belt, opening the car door and shutting it behind him. Dan then took it upon himself to get his car back, connecting it to his truck.
Meanwhile inside the house, Stan was by the door and heard multiple footsteps walking closer and closer. In one hand he held the bottom of a cake, and in the other a bottle of champagne. He snickered when he heard the doorknob squeak and stood in front of the door. Stan saw Ford open the door and immediately grinned wide.
"Welcome back, ya' idiot!" Stan chirped, still grinning. The others looked at Stan in confusion. Stanley noticed the silence and looked at the group. He saw his brother, McGucket, and Chris. Was he even supposed to be here still? And more importantly- did they get Bill back to the shack?
Chris bit his lip and gave a look of unease. "Oh boy..." He murmured.
Stan looked at the group, his grin failing and one of his eyebrows raising. He tilted his head and asked, "Hey uh, where's Bill?"
Ford looked at his brother with a blank expression before wordlessly shaking his head. Stan furrowed his brows at this and watched as the other walked into the house, McGucket following after him. Chris took a step towards the door and said, "He's not coming." Before entering the shack.
Stan looked at the others with his mouth hung open. "Not comin'?" He muttered, question in his voice. "You serious?" Stan then asked aloud. No one responded, and it didn't seem to be a joke. Stan groaned in disappointment. "Aw, come on. I made a cake and everything!" He said.
McGucket looked at Stan and folded his arms. "That's unlike ye' ta' do that for 'im." He said.
Stan scowled. "Hey! I get bored when you bozos leave me alone at the shack all the time." He stated, walking back into the kitchen and placing the cake and champagne atop the table. McGucket followed Stan and looked down at the cake, seeing the words, "Welcome back, idiot" written sloppily in yellow frosting on top of the white frosting that coated the cake. Stanley scoffed and grabbed the frosting bowl, taking the spatula and putting a blob of white frosting overtop the baked treat. He spread the extra frosting around, getting rid of the words written. This caught the attention of Chris, the blonde walking over to the table.
"Can I do it?" Chris asked.
Stan looked at Chris, then at the spatula. After a second he shrugged, handing the younger man said spatula. "Knock yourself out, kid." He said, walking away. McGucket watched the frosting spread across the cake.
Stan then saw Ford standing still, his arms folded as he stared at the wall beside him in thought. The con man approached and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, catching his attention.
"How ya' holdin' up, Pointdexter?" Stan asked.
Ford's eyes went from Stan and trailed down to the wooden floor. He gave a slow shake of his head. "It doesn't make sense," He began. "How could he prefer that hellhole over the shack?" He asked, looking back at the other.
Stan gave a shrug. "Maybe he's tryin' to avoid workin'." He suggested.
"I'm not so sure," Ford responded, putting a hand on his chin. "That can't be the big reason."
"Maybe it's just a part of it." Stanley said.
Ford gave a hum, putting his hands in his lab coat pockets. He turned to his brother once more. "Do you think it was a set up?" He asked.
"You kiddin'?" Stan scoffed. "Ain't nothin' got control over that psycho." He stated.
"Yes but," Ford continued, "Perhaps if he had reason to give in..."
Stan put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. "Probably all the attention he'll get from people out of it." He said.
Ford adjusted his glasses. "He does enjoy attention." He agreed in a mutter.
"Look, if he wants to, he'll come back." Stanley assured, giving Stanford a rub on the head. Ford grumbled at the gesture, but opted not to complain. The brothers heard an exclamation of assumed confusion and fear from the kitchen, and both rushed over. They looked at the other two to see the frosting-coated spatula sticking to Chris's hair, the bowl on the floor, and a mess of frosting on the blondes shirt.
"...There were a couple'a complications." Fiddleford said with an awkward chuckle.
Chris looked down at his T-shirt with a frown. "I'm gonna need to get changed, yo." He said.
"Shower, then change." Stan and Ford commanded in unison. While Stan said this more to get the blonde to shower, Ford wished more so for the blonde to change so that he was no longer wearing Bill's clothing. The less the man reminded him of Bill (Which Chris had been doing a lot lately,) the better.
"And get outta' those dumb clothes before the frostin' starts dryin' into em'." Stan added. Chris shrugged and nodded, looking down. The three looked at Chris in confusion all until the man began unbuttoning his pants. The three older men all shouted in unison, turning away frantically. Chris noticed the immature outbursts and stopped, raising an eyebrow.
"No no, not here!" Stan complained, waving a hand. He grabbed Chris's shoulders and pushing him out of the kitchen. Chris slid across the floor as he was escorted by the older. Stan gave Chris some instructions before the blonde walked off to get a shower ready. He turned around and leaned on the doorframe, folding his arms and noticing Ford's flustered behavior as he saw his brother's hand overtop his face, hiding slightly in the neck of his sweater.
"You alright there, Six?" Stan asked. "Ya' look like you ain't thinkin' straight." He said with a snort.
Ford scowled and glared at his brother, regardless of his cheeks still blushing slightly. "Oh, very funny." He grumbled in a sarcastically annoyed tone of voice.
"Ah, I'm just playin'," Stan assured, giving a wave of his hand. He reached for a drawer and got out a butter knife, walking towards the sink and grabbing a few cups from the cupboard above it. He placed the items down on the table and handed Ford a cup. "Relax and have a drink, why doncha'?" He suggested.
Ford gave a look of unsureness. "Oh, I'm not usually one for beverages containing alcohol." He replied.
"Ah, quit bein' a pussy," Stan scolded. He put a hand on Ford's shoulder, looking at him. "When was the last time ya' treated yourself?" He reasoned.
Ford hummed and looked down at the cup in his hand. Stan walked back to the table and opened the bottle, pouring some champagne into his own glass. Ford watched the liquid pour and, after a moment of consideration, decided that just a bit couldn't be so bad. Stan was right, after all; it would be nice to take some time to himself and have a bit of relaxation over all his worries.
"Very well," Ford complied. "I suppose a portion does sound nice." He added. Stan nodded and handed his brother the bottle. Ford filled the cup halfway and put the bottle back on the table, taking a sip. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down at the beverage. "That's lovely." He muttered to himself in awe. His gaze went up to Stan. "What flavor is this?" He asked.
"Grocery store flavor." Stan replied. He grinned a cheeky grin afterwards before shrugging his shoulders. "Dunno. Just picked the first one that was cheap." He answered.
"I'm..." Ford began, a decent response failing to come to mind. "...Not sure what I was expecting." He muttered. Looking down at the drink he gave a shrug, downing part of the beverage. His slight smile showed his approval of the drink.
McGucket snatched Stan's cup off the table before the con man could notice. When Stan did realize his drink was missing, he scolded the other. McGucket snickered and made quick work of claiming it as his own by taking a sip. Stanley narrowed his eyes at Fiddleford and went to get another cup out of the cabinet.
Leggy P was currently hiding away in Bratsman's office. He was underneath the producers desk with his legs against his chest. He hoped that his distraction would have paid off by now, and that the blonde stranger who had posed as his brother had been able to escape with his friends. Leggy knew the consequences, but he couldn't stand to see a stranger being faced with what the other boys were all used to.
Maybe he'll be able to get us help. Leggy thought. If he knows what happens backstage, maybe he could be our ticket outta' here.
Leggy gasped when he heard the door suddenly slam open. Bratsman was there, his hand on the door he had opened, a glare on his face.
"Come out." Bratsman commanded. Leggy said nothing. He brought his legs closer to himself and covered his mouth with his hands. The last thing he needed was to be caught, it would only add on to his producers suspicions. The room went silent. After a moment, Leggy heard Bratsman's office door close shut. He gave a sigh of relief, resting one of his hands back towards the floor, the other on his chest. At least now that Ergman was gone, he could start thinking up a better strategy. For a moment he wondered if he too could get away from Bratsman's clutches by sneaking out the back door...
A sudden loud slam was heard above Leggy. The blonde gave a sudden cry of fear at the loud noise above his head. His eyes widened, and he put his hands over his mouth again.
"You ain't foolin' me, Legs." Bratsman sneered, narrowing his eyes. "Come out!" He demanded again.
Leggy's bottom lip quivered for a moment before he crawled out from under the desk, hesitantly standing up. Bratsman had his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face.
"I didn't meanta' cause any trouble." Leggy claimed.
"Whether that was or wasn't yer' intention doesn't matter," Bratsman shot back with a glare. "We had to stop the show because of the little stunt ya' just pulled. It was incredibly embarrassing!" He said, his glare hardening.
Leggy frowned. He held his arm with one hand, his eyes drifting off towards the floor. He knew what he was getting himself into when he went along with his plan, but now a selfish sliver of him was beginning to regret that. Above all though, he was still glad that he was able to distract Bratsman long enough to where the others were able to get the stranger out of the building. At least then his sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.
"Well, what're ya' just standing there for?" Ergman snapped with a glare. He opened his office door and pointed a finger. "Get back to the stage!" He demanded. Leggy nodded, wordless, and rushed out the door. Bratsman slammed the door behind them and walked back to stage with the blonde.
These boys are getting rebellious. Ergman began to think to himself. If they keep it up, they just might be able ta' find a way out of here. I'll have to find a way to stop that from happening.
Leggy P hesitantly poked his head around the corner, looking backstage. He noticed the stranger still there. He hadn't left. Hadn't gotten away. Surely it wasn't by choice- Bratsman had to have done something that got him to stay. There's no way that the blonde would stay at this horrid place as opposed to living at the mystery barn out of town. He could tell that the stranger wasn't in a good mood. Hesitantly, Leggy decided to approach.
Bill was standing up, his arms folded. The hope in what he had of a heart was gone now. If only Bratsman hadn't been on his back the whole time. Without that bracelet on him, he would have been able to escape. Bill had wanted to run away in the moment, but Ergman's grip on his shoulder at the time was too strong. Bill wondered if Ford had been able to see through his lie. Had it been unconvincing, and the scientist had just played along? For once, Bill hoped so. He was a good liar, however, which would make it more difficult for Ford to see through his lies.
Bill could sense that someone was coming up towards him at the sound of footsteps and turned around, seeing Leggy there with a sympathetic expression. The demon growled.
"Don't give me that look." Bill spat, narrowing his eyes.
"Look man," Leggy began. "I-I'm just worried about you. It's not fair that a stranger like yourself has to be here like us." He said.
Bill gave a half-hearted laugh. "Oh, I'm sure its just one of the multiverse's many punishments." He responded.
Leggy didn't understand what the blonde meant by such. He shook the confusion away and extended a hand. "Uh... so w-what's your name?" He asked, his hand out as if asking for a handshake.
Bill looked down at the hand and narrowed his eyes. Was he being mocked by this clone? Was he being given a subtle reminder that he no longer had access to any of his power in this place? Perhaps it was just a friendly gesture, but unlikely, being how unused to such affection he was. Bill glared down at the hand and spat on it. Leggy looked down at his hand and scrunched his nose at the warm saliva. He looked at Bill with a frown to see the demon turn his back to him, arms remaining folded.
"The name's Bill," Said blonde revealed. He turned his head to look back at the other. "What's it to you, peasant?"
Leggy was taken aback by the response. His brows furrowed slightly at the mans rudeness. "I just figured it'd be good to know the right name if we're acquaintances." He said.
Bill scoffed. "There's no point in being acquaintances, i'll be outta here in no time!" He said, even though he wasn't completely confident in his own statement.
Nonetheless Leggy shrugged. "I'm not sure you should be too confident in that answer." He muttered. Based on what he'd seen Bratsman do, he wasn't so sure Bill would be able to easily escape. His attempt had already failed twice, strike three meant he was out.
"Oh, you'll eat your words when you see me find a way outta here." Bill said in a cackle, displaying slight anger behind it.
"What if you do escape?" Leggy then asked. Bill's cackling stopped, and he looked at Leggy with a blank expression, giving a confused chuckle.
"What?" The demon inquired. He didn't understand why the other was asking him such silly questions.
Leggy folded his arms. "What happens if you do escape? Then what?" He asked. "Where will you go?"
"Back to the Mystery Shack, of course." Bill answered. "That ol' shack is much better than this dump. And besides, I've got someone there expecting me." He said. Or... did. Bill added to himself. He pushed the thought aside.
"Well, I don't know what that's like for you humans," Leggy said with a simple shrug. Bill scowled at the label. "But it sounds nice, having someone waiting on you to return." He added.
Bill was silent. He turned around, his scowl remaining on his face. Leggy noticed the expression and shivered. Had he said something wrong? Perhaps he had offended the other.
"Human?" Bill questioned. He narrowed his eyes at the clone. "Is that what you called me?" He asked. Leggy gulped at the continuing stare the other directed towards him, but nodded nonetheless. Bill kept his scowl for a moment, all before snorting. Leggy flinched at the sound. Bill's scowl quickly turned to a grin, and he began to laugh. The other cringed at the laughter, taking a step backwards.
"Gee Legs, you never seemed to be the type to underestimate." Bill said, followed by a chuckle. Leggy wasn't sure if he was more confused or concerned. Regardless, he felt the urge to leave. He took a few steps backwards, only to bump into Bratsman who had turned the corner. Leggy stopped and turned, looking up at the producer to see Ergman glaring down at him.
Bill's laughter ceased when he caught sight of the man. He put his hands on his hips and said, "Quit laughing so loud, Legs." With a scoff. Leggy looked at Bill with wide eyes.
"Is there a problem?" Bratsman asked with narrowed eyes.
Leggy and Bill both looked at the human. "Nope." They both replied.
"I think yer' overreactin' a bit, here." McGucket tried to practically no avail. He was currently in the parlor with Ford, the sun setting, the two sitting in front of the fireplace that burned at a gentle pace. One look at his friend told him that Ford wasn't one to take alcohol well. Perhaps this was the reason that he wasn't usually fond of drinking. He hadn't intended to get drunk, he'd just gotten carried away with the beverage he'd acquired (And gone back for) in the kitchen. Stan wasn't aware of Ford's current state, though he had seen his brother take multiple trips to the table in the kitchen.
"Maybe it's my fault." Ford said, furrowing his brows and cupping his hands into his lap.
Fiddleford shook his head. "It ain't yer' fault, Stanford." He said. For extra reassurance he scooted closer and put a hand on his friends shoulder. Ford looked to his side and made half-lidded eye contact with the other.
"Did he tell you that?" Ford grumbled.
Fiddleford was silent for a moment. He put a finger up, only to retract it. He glanced at the flooring for a moment before looking back at the scientist. "W-Well, no, but-"
"Then how are we supposed to know?" Ford dramatically asked, waving his arms out in front of him before bringing them into his fluff of grey hair. Fiddleford gave a small side frown and gave the other a gentle pat on the back. He could tell that Ford was much more emotional while he was drunk, whereas when he was sober he would show his emotions much less.
"I'm sure he'll come back." McGucket tried to assure.
Ford just shook his head. "No, no he's not." He argued. "He won't. He's not coming back." He said.
"Now if ye' keep up that attitude, I'm gonna have no choice but ta' go an' fetch the joke book." Fiddleford warned.
Ford's eyes widened at the threat. He slowly turned his head to look back at the man, Fiddleford seeing the look of complete horror on Ford's face. "No," Ford practically begged. "Not the joke book."
"Then yer' gonna haveta' look on the bright side." Fiddleford stated.
"Nothing about this situation screams 'bright side'." Ford grumbled. Fiddleford ignored the others comment and continued.
"He came back last time, didn't he?" McGucket asked.
Ford rolled his eyes. "That's different." He stated. "Bill came back last time from Cresentfalling Cav-whatever because he realized that he made a mistake." He said, running his hands through his hair.
"So maybe he'll realize that stayin' there was a mistake too." McGucket replied. "If ol' Chris didn't like it there, surely he won't either."
"Or he'll love it." Ford scoffed. "If it involves pain I'm sure he won't be one to refuse." He stated.
Fiddleford frowned. "Well if he don't come back here because a' that place, I'm sure he'll come back fer' you." He tried.
"Of course he won't," Ford grumbled, folding his arms. "Didn't you hear him? He doesn't love me." He stated with a scowl.
"I heard nothin' a' the sort." McGucket responded. "I think the alcohols goin' to yer' head." He said, putting his hand back on the others shoulder.
"Maybe this is just another trick." Ford continued, as though he hadn't heard what the other had said. "Maybe I've been giving in to another trick-"
"Okay, Stanford, I think ye' need ta' lie down before you hurt yer' own feelings." Fiddleford said.
Ford scowled. "I'm not tired." He whined, though his tone displayed otherwise. He looked at the parlor doorframe and asked, "Do you think Stan made coffee at this hour?"
"Ye' don't need coffee." McGucket said in a firm manner. Ford groaned and looked at the other with half-lidded eyes. He reached an arm out behind him to reach for his cup, grasping the rim of said cup after a few attempts. He brought the cup closer towards him and brought it to his face as though he were to drink it. Fiddleford cringed slightly as Ford proceeded to make eye contact, as though he were zoning out, unaware that the cup was at his cheek rather than his mouth. Ford tipped the cup, the champagne pouring out and onto the side of his face. The liquid trailed down his neck and the side of his lab coat.
McGucket hesitantly reached a hand out, moving his hand towards Ford's and grabbing the cup out of the scientists hand. Ford looked at Fiddleford's hand taking the cup from him, and then glanced down, now noticing the spill of champagne on his lab coat. He chuckled at the sight, smacking his hand against his cheek and feeling the liquid that managed to remain on the side of his face. He chuckled more, taking his hand away and looking beside him with a bit more attention.
"You spilled it." Ford said to the other. McGucket knew that it hadn't been him who had spilled it, but Ford was clearly drunk, so there was no point in correcting him. The scientists chuckling turned into laughter. Fiddleford looked on as Ford laughed drunkenly at the stupidity of the situation. His laughter toned back down to chuckles once more, followed by frowning and, before McGucket knew it, Ford was sobbing on his shoulder.
"Erm..." McGucket muttered to himself. He gave the other a few gentle pats on the head. "There, there." He said, awkwardly looking away. Ford clutched onto the mans shirt, his shoulder with the other hand. A pair of tears leaked from his eyes, dribbling down his cheeks.
Fiddleford frowned. "I-It'll be alright." He tried.
"He doesn't love me." Ford sobbed, burying his face further into the other mans shoulder.
McGucket rolled his eyes and sighed. "Drunk as a skunk, aren'tcha?" He slightly teased. Ford didn't seem to notice the humor. Instead he moaned of grief, continuing on with his weeping. McGucket hummed and gently rubbed circles atop the scientists back, intending to be at the least a bit calming. It took a moment for Ford to take in the gesture, but he didn't seem to mind it. He just sniffled and frowned.
"That feels nice..." Ford murmured, welcoming the gesture.
"Does it?" McGucket asked, receiving an 'Mhm' in return from the other.
"It's soothing." Ford admitted in a mutter, his voice muffled slightly. The engineer gave a nod at the approving signs from his friend.
"Jus' try an' relax." Fiddleford advised, gently using his other hand to run his fingers through Ford's hair. The scientist let out a sigh, hesitantly shutting his eyes as Fiddleford proceeded with the comforting actions. Within a few moments, Ford was passed out on the other's shoulder. McGucket didn't notice at first, all until he heard a slight snore come from the scientist. Ford seemed at peace for the moment.
Fiddleford gave a light chuckle. "Drunk as a skunk." He repeated, gently grabbing Ford's shoulders and taking the old, sleeping man off of him. He laid the scientist down on the floor, Ford's arms lazily laying above his head. McGucket crawled over to him and grabbed his wrists. He stood up, keeping a grip on the others arms and walking backwards, slowly dragging Ford across the floor.
Meanwhile, Stan was back in the kitchen with a plate on the table. He looked at the champagne bottle to see that most of it was gone. Stan hummed for a moment. He shrugged, brushing it off and proceeding with his intentions for the trip. He sliced a piece of cake and put it on his plate, putting the fork back on his plate and walking away.
Stan stopped at the doorframe in complete confusion, seeing McGucket round the corner, dragging Ford along with him.
"What's goin' on?" Stan asked, squinting his eyes.
Fiddleford proceeded dragging the scientist, however he looked over at Stanley for a moment. "Blackout." He replied.
Stan's eyebrows raised. He looked behind him at the near empty champagne bottle on the table. "Oh." He muttered to himself. He looked back at the two, looking down at Ford as his unconscious head faced towards him. He was snoring slightly. Stan cringed when Ford inhaled a piece of house dust on the floor, coughing and gagging as it landed on the back of his throat. He unconsciously managed to sloppily spit it out back onto the floor, the dust now covered in saliva. Stanley wrinkled his nose at the sight of said dust.
"Yeesh." Stan commented to himself. He shivered and walked back towards the living room as Fiddleford dragged his brother into the gift shop.
The stairs were a bother. McGucket nearly fell backwards multiple times. halfway down the stairs, he saw the light of the vending machine open up. Stan poked his head out and watched as McGucket partially held Ford up.
"Ya' think you could drag 'im a little quieter?" Stan asked. Fiddleford gave an awkward chuckle and sighed in relief when Stan came down the stairs. "He ain't a punchin' bag." Stan scolded the other with a roll of his eyes, noticing the stairs that were pressing against his brothers legs. He bent down (Groaning about the pain in his back) and grabbed Ford's ankles.
"Thanks." Fiddleford muttered. Stan heard him, but didn't choose to respond.
"Up ya' go, nerd." Stan said, pulling Ford up off the stairs and holding him up. The two hesitantly walked down the stairs, holding Ford and making sure he didn't fall. Stan nearly tripped over Ford's lab coat that dragged along the stairs. Stan grunted and quickly grabbed the bottom of the coat, holding it up along with one of the scientists legs.
After making it to the bottom of the stairs and down the elevator, the three made it to the elevator. The two conscious moved Ford towards the bedroom. Stan grabbed him and held him up as Fiddleford opened the door. The engineer walked inside and grabbed the sheets on Ford's side, pulling them back to make room. After that he reached over and turned on the lamp on the man's night stand. Stanley noticed the lazily placed pillow and sheets on the other side of the bed, causing him to raise an eyebrow.
"Did Sixer have a dog in here?" Stan asked, snorting.
Fiddleford noticed Bill's side of the bed and saw that it hadn't been made. Then again though, he'd thought that Ford would have fixed it by now. Surely no one else could have been downstairs, right? He shook away the thought.
"He moves around in 'is sleep a lot." Fiddleford lied with a shrug of his shoulders.
Stan laughed. "Eh, I guess you'd know." He said before holding his brother up into a standing position, still keeping him in place so he wouldn't topple over. Ford gave a snore before hanging his head. Stanley rolled his eyes a second time. He picked Ford up bridal style and nearly laid him down, only for Fiddleford to stop him.
"Wait," McGucket halted. Stan stopped and set Ford down, letting Fiddleford remove the man's damp lab coat, along with his satchel. He crouched down and removed Ford's boots off him as well.
Stan gave another mocking laugh. "Betcha' miss doin' all that." He joked, folding his arms.
Fiddleford placed the boots by the scientists' side table before blushing from embarrassment and shooting a scowl towards Stan. The con man noticed the look and began howling in laughter. McGucket wasn't amused. He wasn't sure that Stan realized that he'd lost his romantic feelings of affection towards the scientist, let alone anything further. And besides, if at all, Stanford would be undressing for someone else.
McGucket shook his head. "That ain't happenin'." He told Stan. "Les' quit the dilly dally and move 'im." He suggested, standing up and grabbing Ford's arms. Stan agreed and grabbed his ankles, the two gently placing him on the mattress. Fiddleford made quick work of grabbing the sheets and pulling them overtop the other man, adjusting his pillow slightly. He hadn't noticed Stan leave, but McGucket had seen him return with a small bin in his hand. Stanley dumped out all the crumbled up papers and notes out of Ford's small recycling bin, scattering them across a part of the floor and placing said bin beside his brother's bed.
"He's gonna need that." Stan said, folding his arms.
"Ford's gonna be pretty mad atcha' in the morning." McGucket said, standing up.
Stan scowled and looked at the other. "Hey! He did this to himself." He stated. "Besides, how was I supposed to know he couldn't handle a little alcohol? We're old!" He exclaimed, tossing his arms up.
"We should give 'im some space." Fiddleford suggested. Stan looked at his unconscious brother and agreed. He was ready for the morning and just hoped that Ford wouldn't be in too much pain. Surely his head would ache in the morning, and he would have a migraine. Stanley was preparing himself for those complaints that were just waiting to happen come morning. Fiddleford turned off the lamp and removed Ford's glasses, placing them on the night stand. Stan and Fiddleford walked away and shut the door behind them. There was no telling exactly how Ford would react in the morning, but they could certainly take some good guesses. The two entered the elevator, exiting the laboratory for the night.
I'm sorry that this chapter took a while to finish, I had an awful case of procrastination so I kept putting writing off. This is also a couple days late since procrastination struck for the 50th time during the editing bit.
Hopefully you enjoyed anyway. Prepare for a grumpy Ford.