Thank you to ImpossibleJedi4, DarknessLegends, Energy witch, Guest, Whiteling, Berrybanana05, Firefox, Ella Le Hissy, Dum Dum, BakuganNerd52, and Mosaic Mouse for your reviews on chapter four.
Ford's breathing hitched and he opened his eyes to see himself in a lavish room that didn't belong to him. For a moment he wondered if he woke from a long, detailed dream to discover himself in yet another dimension. That thought quickly vanished when he remembered the reason for his current lodgings.
He stretched his arms above his head then lowered them to bump the head of his slumbering boyfriend clutching tightly to his naked abdomen. At Bill's request the two made love a second time before retiring to bed. Too tired, and too comfortable in each other's arms, they fell asleep beneath the covers bereft of clothing.
Ford gently rustled Bill's hair. The blond groaned and mumbled something incoherent before snuggling his face against the scarred flesh.
Lips caressed the pale skin beneath unruly golden curls. Long lashes fluttered to reveal matching gold eyes when the smaller of the two finally woke. He smiled up at Ford before tightening his hold on the human and laying his head back down on Ford's chest.
Ford glanced over at the clock to see it was five minutes until ten. He pulled himself away from the smaller man, chuckling at Bill's protests and whines. Bill sat up and frowned at his boyfriend who hurried into the bathroom.
A minute into the shower it didn't surprise Ford when the door opened and Bill joined in as he often did so at home. Bill wrapped his arms around Ford while leaning his cheek against the human's shoulder blade.
Ford ignored Bill and grabbed the complimentary shampoo on the shelf. He lathered his hair all while Bill clung to him. Suds of shampoo dropped atop of Bill's face. Bill only smiled while the warm water rained over his skinny form.
After they shower they dressed in the robes. Bill stood out on the balcony while Ford ordered room service for their breakfast.
The gentle wind blew through Bill's damp locks. He wrapped his arms around himself. Gold eyes took in the sights below-he saw the very path he and Ford walked the night prior, only the curves looked quite different from a bird's eye view.
The memories of the previous night still stayed warm in Bill's mind.
After their walk they went to sit in a lounge to listen to an orchestra. The music was enchanting, and the audience seemed to be enthralled. Listening to music he remembered fresh three hundred years ago brought on fond memories of what he used to be, as well as a reminder that he'd never again be the same.
Bill glanced over at Ford to see the human entranced with the sound. Ford enjoyed classical music in general and could always pick out the cello in a recording or live performance. Bill remembered visiting one of Ford's memories of a disappointing twelfth birthday. Instead of receiving lab equipment and science fiction books he had hoped for, his mother and father presented him with a secondhand cello someone left at the pawn shop. After some fixing it worked fine, and Ford had been forced to practice twice a week. In time he came to enjoy the music of the stringed instrument for the year he owned it, before the bullies snatched and broke in into four pieces.
At times Bill wondered what would have happened had Ford been allowed the opportunity to become an expert on his favorite instrument. There was no doubt Ford still would have forfeited music in favor of an education and career of science. Although at times Ford wished he could still be given a second chance to play.
Twenty minutes into the performance Ford stood to leave. He insisted that Bill stay if he wanted to hear more, he only sought air. Bill confessed he was ready to move onto the next activity as they only had a few more hours until their weak bodies required sleep. Come morning their time at the resort would be limited.
The two continued their walk outside. The path curved and beyond the pathway stood a rock formation that seemed to shield the next attraction. Bill's eyes landed on the sign that advertised the natural hot spring inside. The two ventured inside to find the hot spring empty save for two other older guests. The place was humid and foggy, yet the smaller man's curiosity had already been peaked.
Bill removed his shoes and jumped into the spring with his clothes on. The two strangers snickered then stared at the man who accompanied the one who appeared to be much younger in age. Bill beckoned for Ford to join him. Ford removed his shoes and jacket, storing both on a chair far from the water. He returned to the edge of the spring and sat down where he rolled up the edges of his pants. He lowered his legs to midway up his calves into the warm water.
Bill crossed over, grateful that the water only reached his waist as he never learned how to swim. Bill grabbed his boyfriend's hand and pulled him in, laughing while the human loudly expressed his annoyance. Nonetheless, the soothing water calmed him, and since he was already wet, he consented to his fate. The glasses were folded and placed atop a flat rock while he enjoyed Bill's company for a half hour.
A knock at the door caught Bill's attention. Ford greeted the maid who wheeled in the cart. Covered ceramic dishes that contained their breakfast sat atop. A pitcher of coffee sat on the bottom shelf with two mugs turned upside-down atop of matching saucers on the same tray. The wet clothes they sent to the laundry last night were washed, dried, and folded in plastic next to the coffee tray.
Ford thanked the maid then opened up the tray to see the scrumptious meal of eggs, sausage links, toast with jam, and boiled potatoes on a single dish. Over to the side sat a small bowl filled with orange and apple slices and seven green grapes.
"Do we have to go?" Bill asked. He sat down at the table next to Ford. The satin robe waved at his mid calves. Bill opened the lid of his own dish to see an identical meal. "I kind of like it just being me and you."
Ford nodded. Although he knew he could never force Stan to leave, not after all his brother had done for him, and how well they had mended their relationship. Perhaps with Stan soon to marry he and Susan might seek their own living space, but for the time being it wasn't an option. Besides, he and Bill could always take a vacation should they need some time alone.
After breakfast the two dressed in their recently laundered clothes then headed back to the Mystery Shack. When they arrived they were surprised to see Soos showing the customers around in Stan's stead. Ford hurried over to where the replacement Mr. Mystery stood.
Laughing, Soos ended the tour then brought the tourists inside to browse the shop being manned by Wendy. Bill noticed the girl looked more absent than normal. A customer snapped his fingers in her face twice before the redhead gave her usual bored scowl and rang him up. She didn't exchange any banter as she usually did.
"Soos, where is Stanley?" Ford asked.
"He was tired, so I told him I could look after the place while he rested," Soos answered.
Ford could have slapped himself. He had been so caught up enjoying his time with Bill he never considered that Stan jumped back into work after enduring a week without proper rest.
"He didn't even protest, he just let me take over," Soos said. He rubbed underneath Stan's brand new fez fit comfortably atop his head.
"How long ago was it?" Ford inquired.
Soos held his hand underneath his chin as he thought it over. "I think two hours ago," he answered. "I woulda checked on him, but Mr. Pines don't like to be woke up." Soos laughed as he recalled that horrible memory from seven years ago.
Bill stood beside the counter where Wendy rang up a customer. The teenager glared at her co-worker then returned the change to the woman.
"Where were you at all night?" Wendy asked, not taking her eyes off the next customer.
"Me and Fordsy had a date night at this swanky hotel," Bill explained.
Wendy rolled her eyes then asked Bill not to share any details surrounding the evening. Bill chuckled.
The next customer approached and slammed the merchandise down on the counter. His son hopped, chatting nonstop, while the mother held her hands on her hips, shaking her head at the attractions within the tourist trap their child begged to see. The cashier handed back a five and a one.
The customer counted over the bills then cried, "Are you tryin' to short change me on purpose?" The others in the shack looked up. Wendy tensed. "You gave me six thirty two, it's suppose a be eight thirty two!"
Wendy checked the register then looked at the change in the man's hand. Sure enough she had made a mistake. Apologizing she opened the register to hand the fuming customer his extra two dollars. The customer snatched the money from the girl, calling her a vulgar name then stomping away from the counter.
The two people with him followed after and those who had been a part of the tour group all laid any possible merchandise back down on the shelves. Half of them put the items wherever they desired. One by one the customers all piled out of the shack.
Once Bill recovered from the shock he stole a glimpse at Wendy. Never had he seen her so shaken up before. He figured the reason for her odd behavior was not due to that man's poor behavior, but there was no doubt he had made her condition worse. Bill shoved his hands in his pants pockets then followed out after the fleeing customers. Ford realized too late. By the time he swung the door open to step on the porch Bill had already called the group over.
The seething man narrowed his eyes at the grinning blond.
"You all came for some mystery," Bill announced. He held one hand up, bent at the elbow. "How about I show you all a real magic trick?"
"You mean other than that little welp cheatin' me out of my cash," the irate customer fumed.
"Similar," Bill said with a grin.
Ford hurried to make his way down the steps.
Bill stepped closer to the man. The rest of the tourists surround the claimed magician. Bill clapped his hands together to reveal his top hat. The majority of the guest applauded and Bill placed his favorite hat atop his head. He then held out his hand to make the cane appear. Without the use of sheets, smoke, the crowd searched for any possible mirror trick.
Ford tried to push through, but the crowd refused to budge.
"Bill, that's enough!" Ford yelled, but both the demon and the audience ignored him. Ford took a deep breath, hoping Bill would only stick to small tricks.
"Wow! That's so cool!" the man's son shouted.
"Shut up," his father snapped. "It's just another cheap trick just like the rest of this place." He then threw the bag of merchandise in the kid's hands. "Take your junk. It's enough of a rip off without that little sh- cashier tryin' to rip us off too."
Bill glowered at the man.
"I told you not to come here, but you just had to give him his way again," the mother griped.
"If it'll make the boy shut up for two minutes," the man argued.
"Now for my final trick!" Bill called.
Ford's breath halted.
Bill snapped his fingers and in an instant the money in that man's hand set ablaze. He dropped the eight dollars on the grass where it burnt to a crisp. The flames died before any damage was set to the lawn.
The tourists all gasped and whispered among themselves. One woman stepped away from the circle with both hands over her mouth.
"I guess you got burnt on that transaction," Bill said. He held onto his belly as he leaned forward and guffawed. Many of the others surrounding joined in on his joke, all the while Ford facepalmed.
Content to believe it was all a part of the show the other tourists returned to their cars. One little boy came up with a theory that the pretend customer held a tiny lighter in is hand. Many of them were excited to return at a later date to see what other tricks that magician prepared.
Once the others were out of the way Bill approached the now shuddering customer. He stepped back, tripping over his own feet. The middle-aged man fell to the ground, staring up at the gold-eyed man.
"You may wanna think about how you treat my friends," Bill threatened. He stepped forward with a balled fist. "Next time it won't just be a coupl'a dollars." With those words Bill's entire fist burst into blue flames.
The man quickly nodded. He jumped to his feet and ran for the car. His shoe tripped over a root sending him to the ground once more. A few pebbles fell from his jacket as he scrambled to move all while staring back at the glaring demon.
The mother ushered her child into the backseat of the car. The child stared with wide eyes and an even wider grin in hopes of seeing another of the stranger's magic tricks. The man smacked against his car then threw open the door. The two inside the vehicle shouted requiring details.
He fiddled with the keys, dropping them on the floor of the car. Trembling, he picked them up, nearly dropping them a second time. It took three tries until the keys inserted into the ignition. Quickly the seatbelt was thrown on and he wasted no time hurrying off the Pines brothers' property.
Bill turned to see Ford glaring at him with his hands on his hips. "What have I told you about magic in front of normal people?" he chided.
"Come off it, Sixer, he deserved it," Bill defended.
"Well don't come asking me for help when they come to collect you," Ford replied.
Bill rolled his eyes and the two headed back for the shack. At the very least he hoped Stan didn't find out about the crowd's reaction to Bill's show, or he'd force Bill to perform for every tour group. Now Ford wondered why Stan never jumped at that opportunity.
Soos stood next to the counter where the cashier had gone missing.
"I gave her a fifteen minute break," Soos answered.
Bill patted the temporary boss on the arm then headed into the living room where he witnessed Wendy screaming at her boyfriend on the phone. He had caught the tail end of the argument right as Wendy ended the call and held her cellular above her head ready to smash it into pieces.
The teenager felt eyes on her and turned to see Bill in the doorway. She wiped away a falling tear, pocketed her phone, then fell into the recliner. Cautiously Bill made his way over to where the girl sat. Wendy didn't say anything, but she didn't push him away either.
"Robbie's being a major dick right now," Wendy explained before Bill had the chance to ask.
Bill nodded his understanding, although he had always found Robbie to be a jerk. Though he figured those who knew him better could tell the difference between his normal personality and when he was worse.
Bill sat down on the arm of the chair. Wendy pursed her lips, but she didn't say anything to dissuade his action. The look on her face informed him that she didn't want to go into detail about her relationship troubles at the moment.
"Do you want me to go?" Bill asked.
Wendy shook her head. She leaned her head against the cushioned back and let the frustration of the last two days exit. As much as she tried, the worry on her heart refused to take its exit.
"If it's any consolation to you, I guarantee that butthead customer will never bother you again," said Bill.
The girl's curiosity begged for answers, but she decided that with Bill, sometimes it was best not to ask. Besides, she'd hear it from Soos in a few days.
Ten minutes to seven Ford and Bill headed out to their car. A well rested Stan along with Soos who decided to stay for dinner waved them off as they left.
It was only a seven minute drive to Tate McGucket's house. The younger McGucket courted a young woman from town, which gave the older man some time alone to invite a few guests over. Tate consented, genuinely happy that his father reconnected with a friend from his past.
Fiddleford ran out the door with his arm raised high above his head. He waved at his visitors as Ford parked the car in the driveway. Both he and Bill threw off their seatbelts.
"Good evening, fellers, I was startin' to wonder if y'all were gonna show," Fiddleford greeted while the two made their way up the steps of the modest house.
It warmed Ford's heart to see his old friend dwelling somewhere other than his hut in the dump. Not much guilt was lifted from his shoulders, but at least he could sleep well knowing that Fiddleford no longer had to rest on the hard ground.
The two guests followed their host to the living room. It was slightly cramped, but the furniture comfortable. McGucket hurried to the kitchen to bring two smoking mugs of tea with him. Ford was taken aback at its sweet flavor, but Bill appreciated the taste.
On the table sat a few framed photographs of young Fiddleford McGucket with his son aged two in one picture, three in another, and four in the last. Ford recalled how his assistant used to talk about his wife and little Tate. Ford had even met him on a few occasions, but conversation with the little one was usually brief. Ford wondered if Tate saw him now if he'd even remember the man who cost his father everything.
After the end of Weirdmageddon, Fiddleford and Tate managed to make up for lost time. Ashamed of how he had treated his father when he most needed help, Tate offered to move him in the two-bedroom home he owned.
"How'd your meeting go?" Ford asked.
Fiddleford smiled. "Great," he answered. "That man from Washington done bought three of my inventions. The comp'ny said they're real useful."
"Really? For how much?" Bill asked.
"About twelve million fer 'em all," Fiddleford answered.
"That's incredible," said Ford.
He scratched at his chin. "Don't know what I'll do with all that money. S'pose I can give some ta Tate. Life ain't been the best fer him."
Ford wanted to tell Fiddleford that life had been more unfair to him, but knew it wasn't his place. Besides he knew it would be hypocritical to criticize Tate's treatment of Fiddleford, when he had done much worse.
"He also wants me ta meet all the heads of the comp'ny," McGucket added. "Don't know if I wanna take the job."
"Aw, what a shame you won't be terrorizing the town with your robots anymore," Bill commented.
Ford glared at him, but Fiddleford only laughed.
He slapped his leg then said, "Oh, there'll be plenty a time fer that."
Ford congratulated his friend, although he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy that Fiddleford managed to sell his genius work while he had to keep his secret. Unfair as it may be he glared at his boyfriend who he blamed for wasted time.
"Stanford, you okay?" Fiddleford asked upon seeing the disgruntled look on his friend's face.
"I'm fine, just thinking about something," Ford answered. He smiled and took a sip of the unnecessarily sweet tea.
The three talked for a while-mostly Ford and McGucket talked while Bill listened. In a way it was just like old times, so much so that it somewhat scared Fiddleford. However, one look at the human form and he remembered that there was nothing Bill could do to harm him, Ford, or the world.
Fiddleford suddenly remembered why invited Bill over in the first place. He hopped off the leather chair to grab the banjo he kept in the corner. The old man held the prized instrument in his lap. He shut his eyes and began playing his favorite tune by memory.
Bill rocked his head to the melody. Ford shut his eyes and let the song take him back to the late seventies, early eighties, when his assistant used to play to keep his mind sharp and his anxiety at bay. Ford recalled how he used to find the music annoying, but now he smiled at knowing the man he once considered his closest friend returned to himself.
Summers of his teenage years washed over McGucket's mind. How much he enjoyed sitting on the porch with his brother, father, and grandfather after working on the farm. The four of them would pick at their various instruments until called for dinner, sometimes they even delayed the evening meal to enjoy another hour of music, even if it meant eating cold food.
Fiddleford finished his song and received applause from his two guests. He offered Bill a chance to try his hand at the instrument which the blond declined.
Bill waved his fingers. "These hands are for the piano only," he said.
"What 'bout you?" Fiddleford asked his old friend.
Ford shook his head. "I'm not much of a musician," he said.
"Sure you are, you played the cello," Bill argued.
Ford opened his mouth to inquire where Bill learned that bit of information when he remembered that the demon once had free access to his mind. He frowned with the curiosity of how Bill could remember insignificant moments of his history, but not important details about how to defeat Kryptos.
"Maybe you can bring yer cello over sometime and we can play together," Fiddleford suggested.
"I don't exactly own it anymore," Ford replied.
The bearded man tilted his head to the side. "Well if ever you comes across another, we can have a pickin' night."
"That might be fun," said Bill.
Ford went to protest, but the more he thought about it, and having witnessed Bill, Fiddleford, and the orchestra play, he did miss music, if just a tiny bit. Perhaps it wasn't too late to relearn his favorite instrument. Realizing the slim odds that he'd ever own another cello, Ford agreed to the terms.
Fiddleford again positioned the banjo. He strummed the strings, and began to sing along with a favorite from his early years.
The flames in the fireplace flickered. Time passed as it usually did. In that moment the three were granted to return to a happier time before life barged in with other plans.