Disclaimer: Don't own Ford and Arthur Douglas Adams does, which is just as well really, they're his characters.

Warnings: Slash Ford/Arthur, sweet, nothing to be worried about, a tad AU (They're in Venice)

This is NOT a movie verse fic; this IS a TV series fic!

Dedication: The exams board, PLEASE be kind when I do my exams!

IDYLL

"I've never been to Venice Ford" Arthur Dent looked out over the Canal Grande from the large balcony, the water gently lapping at the 14th Century building he and Ford were currently occupying. It was sunset and it seemed to Arthur that the buildings across from him burned and came alive with the setting, capturing the beauty of even the most run-down of buildings. Still Venice, to Arthur, seemed to exhaled centuries of culture and romantic pastime within its streets and architectural magnificence.

Ford Prefect peered out next to him. He had been to many places in his time, and seen many things, but to see Arthur Dent seemingly wrapped up in sheer worship of such a place as Venice, Italy was something completely new to him. Sure, he could of taken Arthur anywhere in the Galaxy, to the most beautiful of planets that people who visit never want to leave again (Thank you Magrathea) to see night skies so perfect that it was considered polite to make love under them.

But Arthur wanted Venice, on Earth, not that Ford minded Venice was certainly a sight to behold, a new place to go and be amazed and what Arthur wanted, Ford would do anything to get.

They watched as a Gondola past beneath them. In it, a couple laid holding hands, ah! Such is the image of Venice romanticisms! Dusk fell and the city breathed again with life as the evening began in the more modern quarters.

Arthur slipped his arm into Ford's as they made their way down to the pier, signalling a Gondola. Floating down the Canal Grande, Arthur wondered how many other people had gone the same route in the past Five Hundred Years or so. He looked over to Ford and wondered just how many of them had been aliens, Arthur lay his head on Fords' shoulder, it seemed to tuck in perfectly with junction of Ford's neck and shoulder blade.

Ford, in turn, laid his cheek on Arthur's head, blissful few minutes of uninterrupted peace. Arthur's hand settled on Ford's upper thigh, too close to an entrapped, heated beast. Somewhere music was playing, Josef Suk's "Idyll" it drifted through the streets and Canals, becoming an echo of another time and place. This was Arthur's time and place. They stopped and got off. Walking at a leisurely pace, arm in arm, Ford and Arthur went down the various streets until they got to their destination: The Church of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari. It may not be the most elegant of churches in Italy, but it houses fabulous artwork such as The Madonna di Ca' Pesaro and The Monument to Bishop Jacopo Pesaro.

Arthur and Ford quietly slipped inside. They walked down the aisle, marvelling at all they saw. The High Alter had a painting by Titian of Our Lady ascending into heaven.

"I'm glad we came here Ford."

"I'm very glad that you're glad."

"I couldn't think of anywhere else to go for a Honeymoon." Arthur moved closer, slipping his arm round Ford's waist, Ford did the same.

"I could."

"Ford!" Arthur attempted to sound annoyed, but as always, failed miserably.

Ford smiled his unnaturally creepy smile, which made Arthur feel all the more less annoyed, and gently rubbed his nose with Arthur's.

"I love you Arthur."

"I love you too Ford."

They kissed, slow, long and tastefully sweet.

"Idyll" could still be heard, an echoing presence in the Church.

Arthur started to carefully undo Ford's shirt, who leant against the alter, bringing a knee up to part Arthur's legs.

In the soft darkness of the Church of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari there is little noise, except the moans and movement of flesh as Arthur and Ford made their impressions of the High Alter known.