Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ford opened his eyes.

Sitting at a low, pink triangle table made of plastic. Aside from his, there were many triangular chairs, some occupied by stuffed animals with missing eyes or too many eyes, and too many teeth. None of them seemed alive though, luckily. On the table there were little toy teacups and a tea pot, various plastic cookies and cakes. 

"What am I doing here?"

He attempted to stand up, but couldn't. At first he thought, must be these weak old knees. But soon figured out it was more than just that— It was as if his backside was glued to that chair.

"Hell— It's one of those dreams..."

As he struggled with his stool, an ominous triangle-shaped shadow slowly approached the table. 

Ford shuddered. 

He didn't even say hello. Just quietly levitated towards the table, pulled out an empty chair. Sat down, reached into his 'pocket' and pulled out a fucking six shooter?

Not knowing how to react, Ford just raised an eyebrow.

He gently placed the gun on the table, and slid it towards him.

"Russian Roulette! Your favorite!"

"Hello to you too."

"Huh. I'm surprised. I was hoping to hear a swear or two from you."

"And I was hoping to never see your cursed face again!"

"Yeah. Yeah. Whatever," he pointed at the gun, "Five rounds, one empty."

"That's not—"

"I know, I know... Wish there were six. Get it? Cause you're Sixer. It's only fitting. But you needed a chance, or," he air quoted, "It doesn't count as a game."

Ford stared at the gun, picked it up to inspect the cylinder. Correct. Six chambers, five cartridges. Pushed it back into place and spun it. 

"How's it a fair game if we're not at equal risk?"

"What? You think getting shot won't kill me?"

Ford furrowed his brows, as if they weren't furrowed enough, "Yes."

"Well, yes, it won't! Who said it had to be fair?"

"Right... Should've known."

"It won't kill you either. This is a dream. Even I am a dream! Or am I?"

Ford wouldn't look at him. He was quiet, checking his distorted reflection on the shiny barrel. 

"Even when you know it's a dream, there's those pesky animal instincts holding you back, trying to keep you alive, right? Shame, shame... How about this: Point it at me! Easier for you."

Ford's expression turned to worry for a split second. Before he became serious again. He finally lifted his head up. 

He turned the gun to Bill. Aimed it at his stupid giant eye. And pulled the trigger with little hesitation.

Empty. 

Bill pretended to get shot, and threw himself to the floor dramatically. 

He then levitated back up, laughing...

"Oh, Sixer. I'm dead!" he exclaimed with much joy, hands in the air, "Maybe I'm not! But you think I'm dead. Sure it was Stanley's mind that got erased but... You pulled the trigger that killed me. Yet look at you dreaming me alive. Where you're from, they call that hipocrisy."

Ford's shoulders dropped.

Ah. He wouldn't say... Right. It's not him. Of course.

But he wouldn't show his disappointment. 

"You say this is a dream, it's a nightmare!" Ford pointed at one of the Teddy bears, "Look at this thing. See how many teeth it has!"

"Who knows? Maybe deep inside you desire a soft cuddly toy bear with lots of sharp teeth! And maybe, deeper inside, you miss me a little bit."

"In your dreams!"

"Ha-ha! You won't admit to it. Not even in your head! Even right now you're puppeteering a dream version of me to say it to you! That's sad."

He slid the revolver back to Bill. 

"Say, Sixer. You're the smart guy," he turned it to Ford, "What are the odds I pull this trigger now and carve a hole right through your skull?"

"You think I'm not paying attention? A hundred percent."

It's best if I don't mention the metal plate inside my head— There's a chance he doesn't know about it.

"Aww shoot, you got me!" he spun the cylinder, "How about now?"

Ford chose to stare down the abyss of the barrel instead of looking Bill in the eye.

The gun looked a little comical in his little hands. Why would Bill ever use a gun anyway? Only for a game. And this was a game, right?

He pulled the trigger. 

Empty again.

Bill poured himself a cup of imaginary dream tea.

"Is it because it's your birthday?"

"Huh?" Ford managed to shake the initial shock away.

"Can you pass me the imaginary dream sugar?"

The man unfolded his arms, angrily grabbed the little jar with a spoon inside. But before he handed it to Bill, he got a spoonful of 'sugar' and added it to his tea. Stirred, and placed the spoon back into the jar.

"You put the wet spoon into the sugar?"

"Huh?"

"Now the sugar's gonna get all wet and clumpy! Ford, you're better than this!"

"It's— Neither the sugar nor the tea is real! Not even real in the context of the dream! It's double-fake, it's a toy tea set!"

He pushed the jar towards Bill.

"You're one step closer to death, well, if it makes you feel any better, it's not more special than any other day."

"Yeah, and?"

Bill sent the gun back to Ford.

"I don't know, maybe you regret not making the deal with me. Immortality sounds nicer the closer you are to the incinerator, doesn't it?"

"I've seen enough."

"That's a lie, and not even a fun one. I know you."

This is me talking to myself... 

He spun the cylinder.

"What's wrong, Fordsy? You barely touched your black bile tea!" 

"What's a fun lie?"

"What?" he asked with genuine confusion.

"Tell me a fun lie," he raised the gun, "It's my birthday. I need a clown."

He sipped on his imaginary tea. 

"Aren't you a little too senile for that?"

"Never too old for a clown."

"If you really want to know, funniest lie I've been told was about an old man and the sea."

Ford pulled the trigger.

Empty again.

"Now work that cutesy brain of yours once more, IQ. What were the odds of it landing on the only empty chamber three times in a row?"

He bit his tongue, "Low. Not impossible. But... low."

"That's right~" he reached for the gun, "Looks like somebody doesn't want this to end. Your brain is clinging onto that possibility, isn't it?"

Why is he right? 

"I never thought I'd get to outlive you, Bill. It's surreal."

"That's what I like to hear, keep talking, baby!"

He blinked but Ford read it as a wink. 

"I don't miss you! Especially not the real you! Maybe... I just miss... my old perception of you."

His elbows on the table, Bill rested on his hands, listened intently as Ford spoke.

"I always knew you could be destructive if you wanted to but, back then I didn't know you wanted—"

"You didn't?" he interjected. 

"I..."

"No one's listening, Fordsy~ You can open up to me," he raised his hands, "I'm not real!" he said, then reversed, and replayed, "I'm not real!"

He grimaced.

"I could tell playing with you was a gamble. But I thought... I was gambling with myself not the universe!"

Bill's mood turned somber. 

When he spoke, he no longer spoke with a glow...

"I mean, my research was me, I was my research. I was fine risking myself for knowledge."

He stared down at the empty cup that slowly filled itself up with a bubbling, sinister, pink liquid. It even emitted some pink smoke that smelled like burnt roses. 

They spoke back and forth, continuing from where the other left as if they were given a script.

"It would be foolish to pretend I was doing it for a noble cause. Well. Mostly it was."

"But I'm only human, yes..."

"Maybe I liked that a mighty god treated me like I was special."

He couldn't tell who was saying what anymore. At points they both spoke at the same time, said the same words in unison.

"It was the second best thing. After..."

Ford folded, hid his head under the table.

What is wrong with me?

Nothing.

It's just a dream. I'm not in control of it! It's a dream, these are the junkyards of my unconscious. 

"Stanford. Get up."

"What?" he lifted up his head.

And saw the revolver directed right between his two eyes. 

"Happy birthday."

A dramatic exit...

...Is what it would be if the dream ended there. 

But it didn't.

Ford's body fell to the floor with a thud. No blood. No screaming. Just a cartoonishly clean hole on his head. How come the metal plate hadn't stopped a very basic, small bullet? Dream logic, he figured.

Bill drew imaginary triangles on the table. His fingertips left glowing lines on the surface that quickly faded before he could finish the full shape. 

"He's right—" he paused, "He was right."

Now that 'Ford' was dead, he saw the dream through Bill's eye.

"I'm such a simple creature, my imagination is... inadequate."

He looked down and stared at his hands. 

"He's not bound by the limited angles, the limited colors, the limited distance that man can see. I can't even imagine a way of seeing like his. This dream version of him only sees things the way I see."

He sighed, and reached for his cup. 

"When we first met..." he chuckled, watching his reflection on the liquid, "It's kinda bold to introduce yourself as a muse, isn't it? I'm afraid to say it. But he deserved that title..."

"Correct!"

Bill's voice echoed inside the dream void.

Who said that? I didn't say— 

No... It was. Distant, yet so close. Too close. 

Everything began levitating as gravity disappeared. As 'Bill' looked around in confusion, trying to hold onto his chair, the low, pink, plastic, triangle 'table' opened its eye. 

"Ha-ha! Good to know I'm not the only one that had to go through some embarrassing self-reflection!"

Gravity returned as Bill reverted to his true color. His hat popped into existence, he fixed his bowtie. 

"Much better! Hey, Sixer. Why do you look like that?" 

He got uncomfortably close to the Bill sitting on the floor, disoriented.

Why do I— Why were you the table? Wait. Actually, no. In this case, the fact that I'm him is weirder.

With two fingers Bill held him by the ankle and lifted him up.

"How adorable. You know what? Maybe I could turn this Fake Bill shell of yours into a fancy pin or perhaps a keychain," he squinted, "Though the bowtie is just a little too big."

"It... It really is you."

"Of course it's me, silly. What did you think? That I was dead?"

"We— We killed you! There's no way..."

"Well clearly you didn't kill me enough, Fordsy."

"Um... were you the table the whole time? I was just... because I uh. Said... stuff..."

Bill laughed.

 Echoes and the real mixed together. 

And he laughed. And laughed And laughed and...

"Oh, Ford," he wiped a tear with the back of his hand, "Whew! You are pathetic."

"Just answer the question."

"Didn't hear anything I didn't know before."

"O— okay..."

He leaned down and picked up the revolver, handed it to Ford.

"Finish the job."

He pressed the muzzle against himself. 

And pulled the trigger.

...

Ford kept walking back and forth on the deck, screaming and mumbling, hugging himself to self soothe. 

All the sound finally woke Stanley up.

"Hey! What's your problem? Finally caught the sea madness?"

"What? No... It's... I suppose you could call it a madness. Just, unrelated to the sea."

Stanley took a better look at his brother; the darker-and-deeper-than-usual eyebags and quick, shallow breathing could not be good signs.

He cleared his throat, "Is it that damn triangle again?"

"You don't understand, Stanley! I'm too afraid of dreaming him back into existence! And since I'm so afraid I keep thinking about him and since I keep thinking about him I keep having more dreams about him and then—"

He slapped him across the face, held him by the shoulders and shook him till he stopped screaming.

"Cut it out, Poindexter! You're the rational one! We got rid of him! Remember? He's gone. I killed him real good."

"Yeah but— How easy was it to get your memories back? Bill's stubborn. If there's any way to come back, he will find it."

Stanley smiled softly, placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Look, my precious little brother," his smile faded, "I say little in an endearing way, not as in size or... age..." he coughed, "Or weakness—"

"Hey—"

"If that demon comes back, we fight that son of a bitch together. And kill him again, okay?"

Ford thought he was smiling, he wasn't. But he was frowning less.

"Yes."

"But if we wanna have good chance at beating him, we should be well rested. Aaand it's your turn to shoot the nets today, so," he fake yawned, "I'll go back to sleep."

"Fine..."

Stan left the deck.

Gulls levitated over and around the boat, laughing, occasionally swooping down and veering back up. Ford always feared looking up at them, thinking that someday, he'd find them flying in a triangle formation.

They never did.

He stared into the horizon, watched the soft waves dance with the new sun's red. 

He raised an eyebrow, and turned around.

"Oh, you asshole! My turn was yesterday!"

Chapter Text

Ford was in his cabin, sitting on the bed, writing in his journal.

A monster with two heads: One could speak but couldn't listen, the other could listen but couldn't speak: The first one could hear, but refused to listen. The second one could open its mouth and words would come out, but refused to speak its mind. What's worse: only the one that couldn't speak could actually think!

He wrote little notes in code in the corners for his great-nephew to find someday— he could already imagine his excitement.

Tied to the dock, the boat swayed gently with the waves. 

Bill quietly emerged from under Ford's bed, and sat on the side table. 

"Hiya, Sixer!"

Ford raised his index finger, signaling at him to wait. He finished the sentence he was writing, and lifted his head to finally take a glance at him. He didn't react much, except for a sigh.

"Greetings."

Bill blinked.

"Is that the— I was gone for— well for you it was  like, a year— A year and this is how you greet me? Where's the look of terror on your face? Your eyes widening, lips quivering, heart racing, stomach in knots, legs going limp—"

"Bill. Every night I have nightmares about you. Every day I live in fear of you."

"Soo... that means you're always thinking of me? I'm always on your mind?" he said, batting his eyelashes.

"What I'm saying is, this isn't new to me. In fact, we have this exact conversation every night."

"Well I dunno who you've been talking to, cause I wasn't around, but now I'm here for real!"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course you are."

"One sec."

Bill scanned the room then pushed over a glass of water. It shattered into pieces and the water spilled everywhere.

Ford still remained unimpressed.

"You broke a dream glass. It's nothing. Usually you capsize the boat then watch and laugh as I drown."

"Eh— I'm afraid uh. I can't do that anymore. Sorry to disappoint."

"Really? That's different. Why can't you?"

"I don't have any of my powers. Most of them. I can still levitate! But not much else. It's a long story. Super boring. You don't need to hear it."

"I don't."

"You still don't believe I'm real, huh? You're literally wide awake and I'm here in front of you."

"This is just another one of those dreams..."

"'Another?' Wow. Sixer. At least try not to sound lame—"

Ford grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

"Hey! What the— What is this?"

"You're the devil. You're the worst thing that has ever happened to me..."

"And what? You're trying to kill me with the power of love?"

He chuckled softly, and hugged him even tighter.

"You can escape whenever you want."

"I... can't," Bill struggled to speak.

"Maybe you're back. Maybe you're not. Either way, you can't hurt anyone in my dreams... So please, just for a moment, let me play pretend."

He sat down, pulling Bill on his lap.

"Let me pretend you weren't evil. Let me pretend it was mutual. Let me pretend it was real."

Bill glanced up, and saw the corners of his lips curled up... Was that a smile? Not a subtle one but a wide, beaming one. It looked so... real. He felt all six of his fingers running down his back, petting him softly. 

Pretend it was real. Pretend it was real.

The boat swayed wildly as someone jumped on the deck with a loud thud. 

"Stanford! Stanford, you still in there?"

Ford froze.

Loud creaks were heard as he climbed down the ladder.

"Oh shit— You have to—"

He shoved Bill under his bed.

"Brother!" he swung the door open.

"Stanley! Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"Aha... Sorry."

"What do you want?"

"Are you gonna spend all day inside the boat? Come out! I saw some cruise ships near the shore carrying some sexy aged ladies with giant hats and rainbow European money!"

"I uh. I'll join you in a minute. I broke some glass, I should clean it up."

"Well! Those ancient pussies aren't getting any younger! I'm not waiting for you, bye!"

He ran out, singing and whistling to himself. 

Ford took a deep breath, then pulled Bill out. 

"Ehehe... Hi, Fordsy?"

"You really are here."

"I told you!"

"Just... ignore what just happened, please."

"Ooo~ What if I don't? Whatcha gonna do? You'll have to kill me, I guess."

He reached under his pillow, pulled out a sci-fi looking gun and directed it at Bill.

"Oh no! That's too bad."

"Keep your hands up, Cipher. However many you can have."

"Two is all I have now."

"Don't play games with me! One lie and you'll pay for it with your life. Now that you can interact with our dimension, you're much easier for me to kill."

Bill grabbed Ford's gun by the muzzle, and directed it at his eye.

"I'm at your mercy, Stanford. Kill me. If you wish."

The man clenched his jaw. His palms were sweaty, his aim got shaky.

He pulled the trigger.

While it didn't hit Bill directly in the eye as he had wanted, it still hit and pierced a hole through him... and then the ship's hull. He screamed and fell to his knees.

But the hole quickly sealed itself.

"What the— How?" he dropped the gun, "How are you still alive? I don't understand. This weapon's designed to destroy you! You should've disintegrated!"

"I have the same exact question, IQ! What the hell?"

"What do you mean?"

"You think I died and went to a peaceful hell? NO! I went through some infinite agonizing torment they call therapy just for them to reincarnate me like this at the end! I don't have my powers, I can't see shit, I can't do anything. This existence is torture, I want out!" he cried. 

"You... want to die?"

"Of course I wanna die! Why do you think I came to you? I tried so many things and nothing worked. Firing squad, electrocution, overexertion, suffocation, starving, falling, piano falling on me and I didn't even plan for that one, burning, freezing, explosion, car crash, rabies— On my way here, I tried drowning but then I got eaten by a fish and I was in there for months! Inside the fish! And I thought, if anyone can figure out how to kill me it's Sixer! And you failed me!"

"I don't know how that failed, I..."

His eyes widened.

"Wait. Of course. It's very likely your material composition is nothing like the one you had before. If there's a way to kill you, it has to be a new way."

"Can you figure it out?"

"I should. I will."

"Okay..."

Bill jumped on Ford's bed.

"Guess I'll just stick around while you work on that."

"Hold on a minute— You can't stay here! How can I even trust your word?"

"Well, if you don't trust me, what can you do? Are you gonna let me out so that I inflict immeasurable pain on others? Or are you gonna keep me here?"

"I uh..."

"Yeah... Besides, don't you need to study my new form or something?"

"That would be helpful."

"Cool. Then I'm staying."

He sighed.

"Fine. Until I find a way to kill you."

Chapter Text

Bill sat on Ford's bed, his feet dangling from the edge. 

Ford sat on the floor, next to him was a box of various medical and non-medical tools. 

He leaned toward Bill, holding a penlight.

"I'm not proud of myself for saying this. But this is exciting. I've always wanted to study you like this. I'm going to need a bunch of samples..."

He pulled out one of Bill's eyelashes with tweezers, put it in a vial.

He rubbed his eye, "Ow— The fuck is wrong with you?"

"You really can feel pain, huh?"

"I know, I know. It's a new thing. It's worse on the scar though. It's meant to be," he airquoted, "A reminder."

"Fascinating. That scar looks deep."

"Deep? I'm two-dimensional! It's cutting me in half! I gotta put effort into keeping myself together, Stanford!"

The scar looked completely flat and infinitely deep at the same time. Hesitantly, he reached and let his fingers hover over it for a moment. It gave off an odd static feeling like old TV screens.

Ford pushed up his glasses. He had an unusually wide smile; His gaze totaly focused on Bill's face. 

Bill fidgeted with his hands, darted his eye away. 

From under his bed, Ford reached and pulled out a suitcase. When opened, it was actually various little lab instruments with blinking lights combined into one machine.

"A few incisional biopsies will be needed. Wish I had access to my real lab equipment, but this mini portable one will have to do. You can only take so much with you on a boat."

Feeling Ford's hands, his constant staring, his breath on his face—

Bill couldn't blink.

"Now say 'Ahh!' Stick out that tongue if you still have it..."

Bill opened up that weird eye-mouth of his, and Ford shone his light into it.

"Surprised they let you keep the teeth."

The man reached into the box, pulled out a small tool with a hollow steel cylinder at one end, and a lever at the other one. 

"Think of this as a fancy hole puncher..."

"Okay?"

He positioned the circular tip on an unscarred part of Bill's face.

"You regenerate pretty quickly, right? Is it okay if I cut out a small piece of your exoskeleton? Or multiple?" he smiled.

"Sure—"

He pulled the lever.

Bill flinched, "AH— Ow—"

The cylinder blade cut a small disc of "flesh" out of his body, leaving behind a circular hole. 

"Wait— I wonder..."

He put his penlight through the hole.

'What are you doing?"

As the hole slowly closed around it, the penlight began emitting smoke. Once it healed completely, the penlight was sliced in half. 

"Wow, it burns! Good thing I didn't put my finger through—" he had a hearty laugh, "It would have cut it off and cauretized the area! This is incredible..."

Bill rubbed his newly healed wound with visible worry.

"Oh this is insane! I have another hypothesis, please..."

He carved another hole into his body.

"OW— Is this necessary?"

"Could you please shove your own finger through that hole?"

"What?!! You saw what that did to your light!"

"Trust me, please. I'm certain you'll be fine."

Ford watched with a freaky grin as Bill's wound healed around his own finger, and sliced it off.

He screamed and backed away as his finger tumbled on the floor and began crawling away.

Bill lifted up his hand and splayed his fingers. Watched as the missing one slowly regrew.

"Told you it would be fine."

Ford looked down and noticed Bill's amputated finger on the floor begin to disappear at the same time. He fixed his glasses, picked it up and showed it to Bill.

"Bill, look! Your body isn't regenerating itself from nothing! It's reclaiming what it has lost!"

He furrowed his brow, "That's... awesome..." 

Ford covered his mouth and gasped.

"Wait! That means—"

He checked all his vials, and found them empty.

"Of course..." he stroked his beard, "This will make things a whole lot more complicated."

Bill stretched his regenerated finger, giving him a side eye, "...Sure..."

Ford put on a pair of goggles with strange lights that made loud beeping noises.

"I'll have to examine your body in one piece."

"Yes! Please! No more plucking or cutting or slicing or..."

Ford's fingers traveled up and down along Bill's sides. The edges were sharp yet somehow weren't cutting him.

"We can't let Stanley see you. He wouldn't let me keep you in here."

"When did we go from you letting me stay here to you... keeping me here."

Ford laughed, "Fascinating... Fascinating..."

Bill gripped on the bed sheets, closed his eye and arched his back. 

"Can you even hear me? Hello? Sixer?"

Under the goggles, he couldn't even tell where he was staring, or how intensely.

It's too much. It's too much. 

The angry waves hitting the boat's hull grew louder and louder.

The constant bright lights made his eye watery and his vision blurry. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve fingertips exploring his overwhelmed, overheating body...

Bill let out a high-pitched moan. 

Ford recoiled.

It felt like the cabin was shrinking and the ship was sinking.

They both froze for a moment.

Until Bill turned away, covering his face with his hands.

Ford cleared his throat, "I... I will ignore that."

"Please do."

"You forget about the hugging and I forget about this."

"Yes. We're— We're even..."

He took off the goggles, and turned them off.

"I suppose I was a bit invasive with my examination. Sorry about that."

"Yeah, you were!"

"For now, let's take a break," he waved his hand dismissively, "You can go back to hiding under the bed."

Bill blinked in disbelief.

"What? I can't hide under there forever!"

"Like I've said, we can't let Stanley find you."

"I can just hide in your room, I don't have to be under the bed."

"You saw how he walked in without warning! We can't risk it."

"I can hide under the covers."

"No chance, that's MY bed. You've sat on it long enough. Now get off."

He shoved him off the bed. Bill landed on the floor on his face. 

"This is humiliating! I am a god!"

"Not anymore you're not."

"I'm not staying under your bed!"

"Suit yourself, I won't save you if Stanley throws you into the ocean, you get eaten by a fish and have to live in its stomach for another year."

"Fine..."

He quietly crawled under the bed.

Ford picked up his journal and began documenting his findings. He began softly humming to himself as he did.

A while later, Bill tapped on the underside of the bed.

"What is it, Bill?"

"Can you sing louder?"

He chuckled.

"Sure, why not..."

Chapter Text

The boat rocked left and right as Stanley returned and hopped on the deck.

"Be quiet."

Stan opened the door to Ford's cabin.

"Hey! I mean—"

He knocked on the open door.

"Hey!"

"You're supposed to knock before you open it, Stanley!"

"Details, details... whatever. Where the hell were you? Told you to come join me!"

Ford took a better look at his brother. He had lipstick stains on his cheeks and chin, and a black eye.

"Seems you had a good time."

"I had a great time! Met some hot old ladies, they invited me to a party, I got drunk, lost my underwear somewhere, and I got every color of Euro they print as memento... from each woman AND man I met."

"Sounds..." he forced a smile, "...lovely, but, you know how I am Stanley. I don't do well in crowds."

"Exactly! Which is why I'm trying to get you to open up! We're not gonna live forever, Stanford!"

"You're right... Maybe next time I'll join you."

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes, "Maybe."

Still hiding under the bed, Bill threw a 38-sided die at Stan's foot.

"HEY WHAT THE—"

Ford got up, tried to push Stan away.

"It's probably the rats again."

"Yeah, one of those sons of bitches chewed on my ear last night!" he pointed at his bandaged up ear.

"I'll set up a uh..." he patted Stan's shoulders, "A sci-fi mouse trap device... thing. Yes."

Stan stared at him blankly.

"Fine. You better catch it or, well, I don't care. It's in your room. It's gonna chew on your ear this time."

"I will."

"Whatever... Meet me at the deck. I got us some leftover food from the party. You're welcome, by the way."

He left.

Furiously, Ford grabbed Bill by his arm and yanked him out.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?"

"YOU KNOW I AM!"

"YOU'RE PUTTING YOURSELF AT RISK. NOT ME. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT?"

"YOU'RE ALSO PUTTING ME AT RISK BY SCREAMING!"

They both turned to the door.

Ford held his breath, Bill refused to blink.

Luckily, Stan didn't return.

Bill tried to free himself from Ford's grasp, but couldn't even get one finger to move.

Ford chuckled, "Sorry, I... It's quite amusing how weak you are."

"Kill me faster, asshole!" he whined. 

"Trust me, I would love to... For now I'll have to handcuff you to the bed's leg while I'm gone or asleep."

"What? No! No, please. I'll behave..."

"You had your chance to behave. You didn't take it."

...

Ford woke up to Bill's giant eye hovering above his face.

"Rise and shine, Sixer!"

"Bill..." he grumbled, "Go back to your hiding place."

"Aww I thought you'd freak out and scream once you saw me!"

"Nope. Not scary enough," he lifted him up, "Huh. Interesting. You're not exactly weightless."

He raised and lowered and raised him above his head a few times.

Bill put his hands on his sides, and furrowed his brow.

"Are you using me as workout equipment?"

"Gotta keep my status as the fit twin!"

They both laughed.

Once they stopped, Ford threw him at the opposite wall. 

"Besides, how did you escape the handcuffs?"

"I chewed my hands off and let them regenerate outside the handcuffs!" he very cheerfully exclaimed, raising his hands in the air.

"Gruesome," Ford responded flatly, "Well I have no choice but to trust you not to leave then."

"Yes! No more restraints!"

Ford grabbed him by the wrist and lifted him up.

"If you escape and I catch you, I will lock you in a box full of rocks and throw you into the ocean, you hear me?"

"Mmhm. Yes," he answered with a shaky voice. 

"Good."

He let him fall to the floor.

"I'll be gone all day. We sail in a few days, we'll need supplies."

"All day? What am I going to do on my own all day?"

Ford took his journal out of the drawer, and put it in his jacket's inside pocket. 

"Count the specks of dust on the floor or something. Not my problem."

...

Bill stared at the old clock ticking on the wall.

"What am I gonna do..." he grumbled.

With his fingers, he drew triangles on the dusty window. 

"Why is dying so difficult?!" He scanned the shelves, "There are some books in here but unless any of these came out last year there's nothing new for me to see! Boring! Boring!"

Ford's perfectly tidy bed caught his eye. 

He shyly approached it...

...then jumped in.

"Sixer wouldn't let me sleep on his bed! Ha! Now he can't stop me."

He pulled Ford's giant blanket over himself.

"Wow, must get real cold in here, huh? This thing's heavy."

Sixer's bed... it's so soft and warm... like a hug...

The clock kept ticking.

And ticking.

"GAAAH! I CAN'T TAKE IT! THIS IS SO BORING! THIS IS almost AS BAD AS THERAPY!!"

...

"Why are you in my bed?" Ford yelled as he entered his cabin.

"Sixer! Oh, I'm so happy to see you! I almost died from boredom!"

"Maybe we should try it again then."

"Nooo!!!"

Without even sitting down, he pulled out his journal and began scribbling.

"Can I watch?" Bill tried to look over his shoulder.

"No," Ford turned away.

"Are you writing stuff about me?" Bill tried to look over his other shoulder. 

"No," Ford turned away.

"Were you writing about me yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Can I read those?"

"No."

"Aww. Why not? Is it secrets? Dear diary, my muse came back and he's more beautiful than ever."

"Yes, yes, and I wrote about your laughable lack of powers."

"Hey now— that's rude."

He hastily finished writing his last sentence.

"And now I'll leave for dinner."

"You— you barely spend any time on our plan!"

"I'm afraid you're no longer my priority, Bill Cipher. Though," he stroked his chin, "It's best if we kill you as quickly as possible. Once we sail it will be much harder to hide you from Stanley."

He reached into his bag, took out a box, and gave it to Bill.

"I bought you a portable DVD player. Well, I bought it for myself. Turns out they were invented and became obsolete all while I was gone. But on a boat it will be useful."

Bill jumped up, "Wait! You bought it for me?"

"No, I said I bought it for myself. But you can use it when I'm not around. You must be... getting bored. There's a delicate balance here. Life shouldn't be so fun that you want to keep living, but it can't be too bad that you escape—"

"Aww," he hugged him, "You care!"

"No!" Ford pushed him away, "I just want to make sure you don't change your mind about dying, and run away! Ehhh... With the chip I installed on you, I can track you down easily, but still..."

Bill stepped back and gasped.

"YOU INSTALLED A WHAT ON ME?"

He laughed, "Yeah. It wasn't easy with your regeneration getting in the way. You broke a few of my chips. But I finally managed to attach it on you with two strong magnets on each side..."

Bill frantically patted different parts of his body to figure out where this chip was.

"That's how I could tell you were telling the truth about not having your powers, by the way. You don't even know what's on your own body, let alone the universe."

"When did you do that?"

"While you were knocked out?"

"I was knocked out?!"

"Yup."

He slumped against the bed. 

"Oh, this is a nightmare."

"Mmhm. Yes, indeed, you are pathetic. You should die," he said as he walked away.

"W— wait! Don't I need a DVD to play on the DVD player?"

"Ah. Right. Almost forgot."

He reached into his jacket's inner pocket.

"Here. It's a new movie. Came out while you were in a fish."

Bill stared at the shiny disc in his hands.

"You made sure it was a movie I haven't seen..."

"Yes?"

"So you DO care!" he pumped his fists in the air.

"Told you it was to—" he pinched the bridge of his nose, and fixed his glasses, "Whatever. I'm leaving. You have fun with your movie."

"Thanks. Bye..."

He waved after him. But Ford didn't look back.

Bill turned the DVD around to check out its printed front side. 

"Is this The Great Gatsby??!"

Chapter Text

Ford entered the cabin and found Bill watching The Great Gatsby (2013)... again...

"You were watching it last night too I— How many times have you watched that movie?"

"Six... Now seven."

"Do you like it?"

"No. Please!! This is so bad. It's torture— Horrible casting, the weird choices with the adaptation, it's nothing like what I had in mind and I hate it!"

"Good thing I bought a few more of those..."

He handed him a stack of DVDs.

Bill sifted through the boxes, picked up Hotel Transylvania (2012).

"What is this? Children's entertainment? Are you trying to stupefy me?"

"I figured some variety might be nice? Plus you died one year ago, it's hard to find movies that came out AND have been released on DVD within that time frame."

"I guess..." he whispered, "Jerk..."

Evil Dead (2013), Les Misérables (2012), Life of Pi (2012), Looper (2012), Oblivion (2013), Sinister(2012), Skyfall (2012), The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012)...

"Of course you got the Hobbit, you nerd."

"OF COURSE I GOT THE HOBBIT!" he said excitedly, "They made Lord of the Rings movies while I was gone! And I could watch this one in theaters!" he calmed himself down, cleared his throat, "I watched it an embarrassing amount of times..."

"Fantastic," Bill rolled his eye.

"Are you going to watch a new movie or...?"

"I'm gonna uh... finish this first."

Ford was about to leave when Bill spoke again. 

"Would you like to watch it... with me?"

"I don't see why not."

He sat on the bed next to Bill.

Bill looked to his left. Then his right. Then left. He fidgeted with his hands, tapped his fingers on the mattress.

"I hate this scene. It's— It's too green."

"It is."

"I like the chaotic party scenes with loud music and dancing people. Wish there were more of those."

His eye twitched, his leg kept shaking involuntarily. 

"When it's quiet it's... boring... and tense."

Ford opened up his journal and began writing.

"Wha— We're watching a movie! You can't just write in your stupid diary while we're watching a movie!"

"Bill, to be quite honest with you, I do not care if I'm being rude to you."

Bill folded his arms and turned away.

After a quick glance, the drawings on the page caught his eye.

"Is that me?" 

Ford sighed, "Yes, Bill. That's very obviously you."

"Why are you writing in code, asshole? I can't decode that manually while sitting here!"

"Why do you think?" he snickered, "I don't want you to read it."

"You're writing during the movie AND you're writing in code AND you're writing about me!"

Ford laughed brightly. Then resumed his writing, still with a leftover smile on his face.

Slowly... and slowly... Bill leaned on Ford's side. 

Nearing the end of the movie, Ford heard a little whimper from Bill. Once he glanced down, he had to do a double take.

"Are you crying?"

He flinched, "What? No?"

He wiped his eye with the back of his hand.

"I have this giant eye and your room is dusty as fuck— That's it."

"This is your seventh time watching this movie and you're still CRYING?"

"IT'S AN EMOTIONAL ENDING, OKAY? I HAVE FEELINGS TOO."

Trying not to move his arm too much, Ford kept scribbling.

"I've never seen you cry before." he said, flatly.

"I don't remember the last time I..." he paused, "Nevermind..."

Ford closed the journal, placed it on his lap. 

Took a deep breath.

Wrapped his arm around Bill, and pulled him closer. 

If either of them said a word, it'd be over.

So they didn't. 

The credits rolled.

Bill reached the button to eject the DVD. As soon as he moved Ford pulled his arm away, of course. 

He picked it up the disc with two fingers.

Then he threw it on the floor and angrily stomped on it many many times. It wouldn't break into one million pieces like he hoped it would, so he broke it further with his hands. 

Ford had a pretty good belly laugh as he watched. 

"I hate The Great Gatsby! It's not even great it's just regular Gatsby! Stupid fucking book and it's stupider fucking movie..."

He crawled under the bed even though no one had told him to. 

...

"This just might work... I'm going to scan parts of your body and use this machine I altered to analyze them."

"Cool. Better than removing my body parts!"

"Though you were enjoying that a little bit..." Ford muttered under his breath.

"Hey I heard that, you dick! I was enjoying it a little bit? You were enjoying it way too much!"

"I wasn't enjoying it like that! I was just... excited about..."

Bill nodded. 

"Excited about the new findings I would..." he shook his head, "Fine, I'm sorry. As evil as you are, you don't deserve to be treated like a lab rat. Though you deserve it more than the truly innocent lab rats."

"Thank you."

Once again, as he used the scanner on him, the distance between them was unavoidably too little. At least this time Ford didn't have that horrifying smile on his face.

What he had instead was a soft pink blush, and a pinch of embarrassment. 

"You're quite flexible, aren't you?"

He piched one of Bill's bottom corners and bent it forward.

"SLOW!"

He smacked Ford's hand away.

"You're gonna leave a crease..."

"Sorry! Sorry! I wasn't going to fold it."

"Your stupid six-fingered hands are so big, that's the problem."

He gulped, "What are you talking about?"

"Maybe you want to leave creases, huh, Fordsy?"

"Eh— Wha— I don't... know... what that could possibly mean."

"Are you mad that this giant scar on my face isn't your doing? Hmm? Wish you could leave your own marks on me?"

"Why would I want that, you freak?"

Bill glanced down at the scanner in Ford's hand.

"Is it done scanning?"

"Patience. Just a little longer."

"Do you have to be the one holding it? I could hold it for you. Then you won't have to sit so close to me."

Ford bit his tongue. Cold sweat dripped down his temples.

"No, I don't trust you with it."

"Fine by me. I made my offer."

"Can you sit up straight?" he gulped, "It's not scanning properly."

"Like this?"

"Closer..."

"Sure. You're the boss."

Bill moved too suddenly, causing Ford to drop his scanner. He leaned down and picked it up with shaky hands.

"Wow your face is red."

"The oxygen level here is too low..."

"Well I'm not breathing any!" he chuckled, "That's on you!"

"Why's it still not working?"

"Your hands are trembling from old age. Gimme the scanner."

He tried to grab the machine, but Ford wouldn't let go.

"You'd mess it up on purpose. Let me do it." 

"Alright. Maybe you need to get even closer, allow me to help you with that."

He wrapped his arms around Ford's neck, and pulled him down. He fell to his knees and gasped.

Bill gently petted Ford's hair, staring at his flushed face.

"Close enough now?" he blinked.

Ford freed himself from Bill's arms, and backed away.

"Staying with you inside this tiny cabin was a terrible, terrible idea. I must be losing my mind."

"That's right, baby! Give in to the madness!"

"Look Bill," he looked down, "I can't. I hate you. I'm supposed to hate you."

"Just for a moment. You said it! You said you wanted to pretend!"

"I thought that was a dream! You can't do that in real life, Bill, this is not a game!"

"Why shouldn't it be? What's the harm? I don't get it."

"I played your game once, Bill. It cost me half of my life."

He got up and walked away.

Chapter Text

Ford had somehow convinced Bill to do a Lord of the Rings trilogy plus The Hobbit (2012) marathon. He was sitting there with his legs crossed, clutching his journal in his arms, wide bright eyes and a big smile on his face.

Bill's eyelid was getting heavier with each movie...

"So... you said you were in therapy."

"Huh? Wha— Yes."

"And they let you out. You must've learned some things."

"Oh I learned many things! About myself and the other stuff," he said nonchalantly. 

Ford sighed, "And what did you learn?"

"That I like to forget! Ha! Would you look at that."

Ford closed his eyes, tilted his head back. 

"You like to forget too, right, Sixer?"

"Trust me, I would love to forget you."

"Ah and you're so funny like always!" he playfully pushed him, "Never change!"

The force of the push almost made him drop the journal. For revenge, he pushed him back. 

His hat fell off and rolled away.

He crawled to pick it up, dusted it off, "Asshole," he pushed Ford once again.

"You started it," and Ford pushed him back again, this time a lot harder.

He fell, landed on his back. As he was trying to get up, he saw Ford's hand reaching out for help. 

He just stared at him, blankly. 

"After everything I've done to you... You'd still help me?"

He grabbed his hand with both hands, softly kissed it on the back. 

"Ford I never deserved you."

After a brief pause, Ford pulled his hand away, "It's nothing! For a moment I... I simply forgot how I was supposed to feel about you."

"Oh. Sorry. You want me to... take the kiss back, or?"

"Take it back?"

"You know, I'll take the kiss back and... it'll be like I never kissed it. Look, look..."

He unkissed his hand.

"Hey you— You just kissed it again!"

"Sorry! It's just that unkissing looks a lot like kissing. But it's not the same."

"Give it back."

"What?"

"Give my kiss back, I never said I wanted you to take it! It was mine, I earned it."

Bill blinked, "You did."

He kissed his hand.

"Yes. Good job."

Ford fixed his hair, wiped his face with his hand like he was trying to wipe the blush away. He helped Bill get up, they went back to watching movies.

Bill nestled against Stanford's side, and he wrapped his arm around him once again. Bill's surface was cold to touch, sucking up all of Ford's warmth. 

"You sure Stanley's not gonna come in?"

"Oh no need to worry. I told him I'd be watching Lord of the Rings. These aren't just great movies they're also the perfect Stanley repellent. He won't even get CLOSE to the door. Hell, he might even take his hearing aids out."

Bill chuckled, "Thank you, Sixer."

"Don't thank me. It implies I gave you something or did something for you. Neither of which I did."

"Okay, okay. You're the boss. I'm taking back my thank you."

Ford kept his eyes on the screen.

"So you like these movies?"

"No. They are terrible adaptations with little respect to the source material. But if you say anything bad about them, I will kill you."

"That is exactly what I want you to do though!"

Ford got quieter, "Once we find out how to kill you, this will all be over," he pulled Bill closer, "You'll be gone and my life will go back to normal. Until then... I guess nothing wrong with living out a fantasy."

He reached and held Bill's hand. Brought it to his lips, almost lifting Bill off the floor in the process. 

And kissed it on the back.

"I— I— WHAT? HUH? WHAT??? HUH? WHAT. WHAT??!"

"Yes, yes. I know."

Bill smiled with his eye, "Hehehe... Oh Stanford, I will never lose this hand and let it regenerate again. Thank you~"

"No, I—" Ford stumbled, "I simply paid you back! It was an equal exchange!"

"Oh no~ Maybe you should take your kiss back!"

"I..." Ford turned away, flustered, "No! You're just trying to trick me into kissing you again, you manipulative bastard!"

"Smartest man on Earth fooled by an unkiss, huh?" 

"Yeah and then ah— You'll come up with something and I'll end up kissing you once again and... Let's keep watching the movie."

"Stanford, I need to bite you."

"Too fast."

"Sorry. Okay. Right. Let's watch the movie."

Chapter Text

Bill cupped his face in his hands, gently stroking his stubble with his palms.

"Thought humans were supposed to degrade over time, huh, Fordsy. How are you more handsome than ever? Explain that to me~"

Ford's lips quivered, his eyes became glossy.

"And you look wonderful as always. I feel guilty for finding you so beautiful, but you just... are... You're so perfect it's unfair."

His hand moved to Bill's scar.

"Mostly perfect."

Against his skin, it gave off a faint, fuzzy, static feeling.

"Does it hurt?"

"The scar, or you calling me 'Mostly perfect'? Cause the scar's fine. It's nothing to me."

Ford couldn't help the smirk forming on his face as he poked at it. 

"Ow— Shit, okay, it hurts a little bit when you do that!"

He poked at it again.

"AH— What the hell!"

Bill furrowed his brow and crossed his arms; while Stanford had a hearty laugh.

"You're a dick— You're hurting me for fun! Like a monster!"

"You're right," he took a deep breath. 

He leaned in.

And planted a gentle little kiss on the scar.

Felt the odd static's tickling on his lips. 

He pulled away, and darted his eyes at him.

Bill chose to look away, "That... also hurts..."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No. Please. Do it again." 

Ford raised an eyebrow.

"I mean it."

"I don't know, Bill. That's a bit weird."

Bill grabbed Ford by the collar.

"Everything about me is weird! Now kiss me and make sure it's painful, Sixer! Do it! Shove those fingers in there! And don't stop when I start screaming at a frequency high enough that you can't hear at a volume high enough to rupture your eardrums!"

"I'm not a sadist! What's your problem?"

"Oh but you were totally fine with cutting up many holes into my body and chopping off my finger just to watch it regenerate! I know you want to hurt me, baby! Think of all the horrible things I've done to you! And all the other ones I almost did! I need this!"

"Cut it, Cipher!"

"Yes! Anger! That's what I like to see! Come on, show me how violent you can be! I stole your youth! I wasted your talent! I almost killed your family you didn't even know you had!"

"Can't you be normal for five minutes?"

"I can't! And neither can you!"

He pushed Bill to the floor, stood up as fast as he could, and stepped right on his eye.

Bill's limbs flailed around as he screamed in Morse code and agony.

His hands balled into fists, nails digging into his own palms, he stomped on Bill's flat body over and over and over again. 

Finally, he stopped. Taking rapid, shallow breaths. He looked down at Bill, still lying on the floor, groaning and rubbing his eye.

"You know the eye's sensitive, asshole!"

He calmly crouched down. Shoved his hands into the crack, trying to ignore the little zaps of static.

"Hey hey hey— What's the plan, IQ?"

Then began pulling the two halves in opposite directions, trying to tear him apart.

"Ford please stop, stop, it's too much!"

"Oh so now you regret it? Let's see if I can rip you into two pieces! Is this how your kind reproduces, huh? By dividing yourselves? Am I going to have to deal with two of you now?" Ford screamed as he kept pulling at full force. 

Drops of sweat dripped down his chin onto Bill's face. His fingers went cold, almost numb. The tickling static feeling traveled up his arms.

Bill grabbed him by the arms and tried to push him away.

"You're a freak, but you're certainly nothing special! Even as you're violently attacking me, your primitive mind can't help but wander into the subject of procreation!"

"This clearly is not hurting you enough!"

He felt an unusual warmth on his fingertips. Loud white noise filled the room and Bill went silent as his eye began glitching in and out of existence. 

Finally, he kicked Ford away with both legs, sent him flying back onto the bed.

Bill rolled to his side and threw up some weird black tar on the floor. After a few moans and grunts, he got up and fixed his hat.

"That was awesome," he giggled, clapping excitedly, "Do it again! Again!"

"No, it was not! I'm— Ah— I'm an old man, Bill... Are you trying to kill me faster?"

"Sorry. I don't know what would happen if you managed to pull me apart. Maybe we'll find out someday!"

"My back... Ugh... You're the worst."

"I'd be more worried about those fingers."

Snapping out, he frantically checked his hands. The sight made him gasp— His fingers were a pale white, with small patches of skin peeling off. The pain was like pins and needles, and increased when touched.

He tried to breathe on them to warm them up. 

Bill laughed, "You almost went from Sixer to Zero...er... Shit that didn't work. Okay, forget I said that."

He levitated closer, landed on all fours above Ford.

"Want me to kiss your pain away?"

He stuck his tongue out, then gave Ford's face a big mean lick from the bottom to the top.

He chuckled, both from annoyance and embarrassment, "The pain isn't even on my face!"

"Want me to kiss your hands again?" Delicately, he fixed Ford's glasses. 

"No!"

Bill tried to keep Ford pinned down while Ford tried to push him away. 

"Are you in pain?" asked Bill.

"Why should I tell you? To give you some kind of nasty pleasure?"

"Oh you're pleasuring me already!"

"You'll give me pleasure once you fucking die!" 

"And what? You're edging yourself by keeping me alive, you sick fuck?"

"It's not my fault you're so hard to kill!"

They both looked away. As Ford caught his breath, Bill loosened his grip on his wrists.

"Sorry about your hands. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I had no idea you could get hurt by touching my scar."

"They'll be fine. Luckily it's surface level damage."

Bill pushed Ford's hair out of his face.

"Those six-fingered hands of yours are precious to me, Ford. If you die first I will mummify them and keep them in a locket. So... unless you want that to happen, you better kill me."

"And if I kill you before I die, I will bind my next journal with your skin."

Bill eye got watery, "Ford... You would do that? Oh I'm honored."

Ford sighed, smiling. 

"It appears your pain fades away rather quickly," he said calmly, "It doesn't linger for long after the impact."

"Everywhere else yes, but the scar has this... neverending, pulsating ache... Unrelated to what you just did. It's permanent. Also..."

"Also what?"

"While you were trying to pull me apart, it hurt more, but somehow felt better? Does that make sense? It doesn't."

"Has anything about you ever made sense?" Ford chuckled.

"...No."

Bill lowered himself onto Ford, and gently pressed his eyelid against Ford's lips.

Ford waited.

And waited.

Before he gave in and pulled him into a deep kiss.

In-between soft moans and wet kissing noises, Bill pushed his tongue into Ford's mouth and wrapped it around his. 

Ford's response was to hug him tighter.

Chapter Text

"I must be insane."

Bill beckoned him down with both hands, smiling with his eye.

"Oh, baby, you are fucking mental. C'mere, gimme another kiss."

"I shouldn't," he pushed his hair back, "But... I can't stop. I can't stop."

"A young Stanford would be losing his mind, huh?"

"Oh he certainly would... Once he found out his beloved muse lost all his powers."

"Do you have to remind me of that?"

"I cannot let you forget under any circumstances. Without your powers you're just a large piece of gilded construction paper, Cipher."

"Oh, Ford~ Once you figure out how to kill me, don't— Don't tell me. And then do it as we're making love. Stab me in the back RIGHT at the BIG FINALE!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO DO THAT!"

"Hey, do you hate me or not, kid?"

"I hate you! I just don't want to kill you in a way that will make me hate me!"

"You mean hate myself?"

"No. Wait. Yes. Shut up! I'm— I can't think clearly!"

"Come down here, let me make it worse."

He leaned in for a gentle kiss— at least that was his intention. Until Bill turned it into a rough one by biting his lower lip.

"Wish I could read your mind. We wouldn't have to stop just to talk." 

"I like it better when you're quiet."

"Then obviously don't stop, you idiot."

Ford chuckled quietly.

"What if I'm doing all this to trick you into not running away? Hmm?"

"I would say it's working. Cause I'm not going anywhere."

They took little breaks between kisses to keep talking. Every time Ford tried to pull away to speak, Bill would quickly pull him back in. 

"The new scans look promising. I think we're getting somewhere."

"Fucking finally. I was starting to doubt your smarts, old man."

"These things take time. Sadly, we're sailing in the morning, we'll have to be much sneakier from now on."

"Ooo sounds fun~ We can sneakily make out behind Stanley's back!" 

"It is not fun! And I don't mean the making... out... I mean hiding you in general!"

They heard footsteps above their heads.

That was when the light shining in from the small window caught Ford's eye. 

"WHAT— It's morning?" 

He sat up, his head in his hands.

"I lost my sense of time completely! Oh no no no... This is not good."

Ford got up and hastily put on his shirt, tripping over his own feet.

"You stay here."

He pulled the blanket over Bill.

And Bill immediately moved it out of his face.

"You're going out like that?"

"Like what?"

He pointed at his face.

Ford ran to the mirror on the wall. And screamed upon seeing his reflection.

"AH— HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN THIS?!"

He grabbed Bill by the sides and shook him really hard. 

"You've been sucking on my face all night and now it looks like a war zone!"

"Oh yeah, and you were LOVING it, Sixer! If it helps, there's no way he'll be able to tell that's from kissing."

Ford pushed him back on the bed. 

"STANFORD!" Stan yelled from above, "Come up here, we don't wanna lose more daylight!"

"I'm coming! Do not leave the dock without me, I need to perform some visual checks before we sail!"

"All I heard was a bunch of useless words! Come here now and do whatever you say you wanna do!"

Ford paced back and forth inside the cabin, one hand on his chin, the other on his back. 

"I'll just come up with a stupid excuse."

"Tell him it was the rats!" Bill yelled after him as Ford climbed up.

Bill could hear the whole conversation from below. 

"Now where the hell— HOLY FUCK WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!"

Ford laughed nervously, "I woke up like this."

"Could it be some sort of... Sea monster disease or something?"

"I can assure you it's nothing, I fell asleep on my arm, that must be it."

"Okay. If you say so..."

After many footsteps and creaks, the boat slowly left the dock. 

"So my scanner is detecting a very linear anomaly. It is about 300 ft long and, oddly static..."

"So what is it? A really long dead snake?"

"That or... a sentient crack on the ocean floor?" he shrugged, "If we maintain this speed, we can make it there in two days, eight hours and thirty-five minutes."

"Well. I'm calculating that amounts to many rolling papers."

Ford laughed, "Yeah. Probably."

"Does your face hurt? I am not touching you till that shit fades away, by the way, I do not trust that."

"It— it's fine, Stanley. I don't even feel it."

"I'm just saying if you start foaming at the mouth I will not hesitate to push you into the water. I may cry! I said may cry, not will. But I will push you."

...

Ford finally returned to the cabin in the afternoon.

"Ford!" Bill jumped up.

"Hey! Don't get too excited, you demon. We're not suddenly buddies just cause we kissed... a few times."

"A FEW TIMES?" Bill cackled, "Oh, why not just say once then, just one continuous kiss that went on for a full night!"

"Shut up! Doesn't matter. What matters is I still hate you."

"Whatever you say, Sixer."

He walked to the shelf and pulled out a book. Crouched down near Bill, opened a page and held it in his face.

"Okay. A quick examination today. Let's try this: Read the first sentence."

"Okay... On one side hung a very large oil-painting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in the unequal cross-lights by which you viewed it... Damn that's a long sentence—"

Ford backed away a few steps.

"Continue reading."

Bill looked up at him, puzzled.

"Where was I... Ah. Right. ...it was only buy— by diligent sturdy and a... of symptomatic visions to it, and creative inquiry of the... something?... What is this book?"

He backed away once more.

"That's the key here: You should try not to remember! Or else you may remember what's written. Read."

Bill squinted, "...what you c— any by account. No not account, there isn't a tall letter at the end. At in unbewaring... what? of its... that's either a p or an f..."

He walked to the other end of the room.

"Read."

Bill stared at the book with a defeated look.

"It just looks like scribbles. I can't recognize a single letter from here."

Ford grimaced, "I see. Doesn't look good."

"Told you I can't see like I used to."

"That's very... interesting."

He opened his laptop, clicked around for a few minutes, then wrote a few sentences in his journal.

"I'll take a nap now, before it gets dark outside. Don't wander around, Stanley's in the cockpit and very much awake."

...

"Stanford! I'm going to bed!" Stan called out from outside.

Ford turned on the light and put on his jacket.

"Where the hell are you going at night?" Bill sat up on the bed, rubbing his eye. 

"Don't you remember? We're in the middle of the ocean now! You need alert eyes on deck, especially when sailing at night. We take turns and now it's mine."

"May I come?" Bill asked reluctantly.

Ford looked to the side, "Stan's unlikely to show up when it's his turn to sleep... I guess there's no harm. Come, but be quiet."

Ford checked to make sure Stan was gone, then beckoned him over.

Dark, bubbly waves gently rocked the boat. Cool wind blew into the lowered sails. 

And if it weren't for the moonlight, you wouldn't be able to tell where the sky ended and the ocean began.

Ford pulled a cigarette case out of his inner pocket. Held one between his teeth as he looked for his lighter. 

Bill held out his hand, "Can I have one?"

The weak flame of the lighter illuminated Ford's confused face.

"A cigarette?"

"Yea."

"What would a cigarette do for you?"

"What does it do for you?"

He pulled one out and handed it to Bill. Then lit it as he held it between his fingers.

Ford watched curiously as Bill placed it between his eyelid, inhaled, then exhaled a small cloud of smoke. 

"How are you doing that?"

Bill shrugged and continued smoking. 

They rested their arms on the railings, and looked up at the stars. Away from all the light pollution, the sky was clear, and full of bright stars.

"It's crazy to say this. But I miss dimension hopping sometimes..." he laughed, "It's cause you forget. Only the good memories remain. The thrill of it all... This life feels too calm sometimes. Too serene."

After a deep sigh, he took a long drag. Felt the warmth fill his lungs. Then exhaled it all at once, watched the smoke briefly cover his vision of the stars.

"But then I look up at night. And I remember: This place isn't boring. There's too much to see, too much to learn within a lifetime."

Bill stared at the thin line of smoke rising from the end of his cigarette.

"You're quiet."

It took him a moment to speak, "I got nothing to say."

Ford reached and grabbed his hand, interlocking their fingers together.

He turned him around, and gave him a lengthy kiss.

Bill didn't react, just let himself get kissed.

Until he pushed him away gently.

"I'm going back inside."

"Inside?"

"Yeah. I can't stay out for too long. Remember? Too risky. I'm gonna go hide under the bed."

Bill climbed down the ladder, and went into Ford's cabin. 

Just when he was about to hide, he noticed the journal on the side table.

He opened last page.

ivz yp q cvyctr gqukbdpgqbgn u'a om owpqqf bduikn at igp? qu sf hic owuc at qmwmpduom g'p uqedbjlj? q rsfm igp, qp k ioz. lr eqxpss fh ekctst rr lko.

"Oh great, what was I expecting? He wrote it in code, obviously! I can't decipher all this! I don't even know what kind of code it is, I... Why can't I understand?" 

A drop of tear landed on the page. 

Bill closed the journal frantically. 

"Oh no. Oh no no no. What do I..."

He put it back and hid under the bed, didn't say another word all night. Even when Ford came back, and asked if he wanted to come to the bed. 

Chapter Text

Bill watched in fear as Ford opened up the journal, right on that last page he had gotten wet with his giant tear drop.

The paper and the ink on that area was visibly warped, and it had spread to at least two pages. 

But Ford did not react. 

Aside from drawing invisible circles around the damaged spot with his finger.

He sighed, "Sometimes I feel like I'm just hallucinating you, Bill."

"Well that would make all the kissing we did a whole lot more embarrassing."

"Certainly."

"You wanna... do a lil more of that?"

He shrugged.

"Why not?" 

He put the journal away, and opened his arms. 

Bill JUMPED on his lap, making him wince. 

"Oh, Sixer. Thank you for making my HOPEFULLY last days so special."

Ford lifted him up in his arms. As his lips softly brushed over his eyelid, Bill reached up to play with his hair, his little hands getting lost under the grey locks. 

"I'm still surprised they let you keep the teeth," he cleared his throst, "And the tongue."

"Duh! How else was I supposed to eat?"

"YOU DON'T EAT!"

"I don't but I could! They let me keep the claws too."

"The claws?"

"Ha-ha! You got excited, sucker! I don't have any claws."

"I wasn't excited." 

"It's good to see you're still the world's worst liar." 

Ford smiled.

"Wait! That's it!"

"What's it?"

"We might be able to use your tears or saliva as samples!"

He jumped off the bed and pulled out the portable lab. He sat next Bill and held a vial under his eye. 

"Could you spit in this?"

Bill had his arms folded, his legs crossed, his brow furrowed.

"Hmph," he turned away.

"What?"

"We were busy there, you can't just... stop unceremoniously because you had an Eureka moment."

"Eh— Bill, THIS is our real goal here."

"Is it?"

Slowly, Bill began crawling on Ford's lap.

"I know you're DYING to find out what else this eye is capable of, aren't you, Fordsy?" he said, batting his eyelashes.

"Yes. For example, I would like you to show me if you can SPIT IN THIS DAMN VIAL."

Bill folded his arms.

"Shouldn't we wait a little bit? I mean, the insides of my eye might be a little contaminated right now."

Ford recoiled, "Maybe," he played with the cuffs of his shirt, "We should wait a little..."

"Do you wanna keep making out as we wait?"

"That would make the contamination— Bill! Please just spit in this thing."

"No," he turned away again.

"Quit sulking!" he sighed, "Look, Bill..."

He shook the empty vial in front of his eye.

"...If you give me a sample, we can make out while the machine is running~" 

Bill snatched the vial, spit in it, placed it in the machine and started the test by himself. 

"There. Done. Back to kissing, old man!"

Ford got up.

"Let me double-check that."

"You don't trust me? You think I can't operate your dumb machine?"

"Yes. I made it after your death. It took me so long, about half a day... You can't know how it works."

"You're insulting my intelligence at this point! I'm not that dumb!"

"I'm not insulting your intelligence. I'm simply acknowledging its limitations."

Stanley barged into the room.

Then he calmly walked out of the room.

Then he walked back into the room holding a rifle.

"Stanford. Don't move," he aimed at Bill, "There's a geometric motherfucker right behind you."

"Stanley! Please!" Ford put out his hand.

"ARE YOU PROTECTING HIM?"

"NO! I— YES! Let me explain!"

"Explain then!"

Stan lowered his rifle. Ford pulled him outside and closed the door on Bill before he could say anything. 

"Stanley, Stanley..." he pinched the bridge of his nose, "You thought a simple bullet could kill him?"

"I wasn't gonna kill him, I was just gonna mortally wound him then throw him into the ocean for sharks to feast on."

"That wouldn't have worked either!"

They both stepped away, and took a breath.

"He is... back. But he's completely harmless."

"Gotcha so easier to kill then."

"Not exactly. I have yet to find a way to kill him. We have, to be precise. He loathes his existence and wants to die. That's why he came to me. We're trying to find a way to kill him."

"Do you actually believe this lie? He's just lying low, he's going to gouge out your eyeballs while you're asleep."

"Well he hasn't done that yet."

"Yet? What do you— HE'S BEEN THERE FOR HOW LONG?"

"Since last week."

"LAST WEEK? Oh great. You've been feeding him our leftovers or something?"

"HE DOESN'T EAT!"

"And I thought the pig was weird enough as a pet!"

"He's not my pet! He's still our enemy!"

He opened the door to the cabin, and pointed at Bill.

"Which is why we're working together... To kill him."

Stan glared at Bill.

"So you're saying... You're trying to Kill Bill, huh?"

"That's correct."

As Bill slowly backed away, he tripped over the tool box. Stan stood over him as he sat on the ground, cowering in fear. Then, he smirked.

He went back to Ford and whispered into his ear, occasionally glancing at Bill. 

"I don't know."

"Ha?" Stan grinned wide, "Come on. We gotta give it a try."

"Fine. We'll try everything once."

They all went out to the deck.

"You stay right there, okay?"

Stan handed Bill a wet dead sardine. 

He stared at it blankly. Then at Stan. Then at the sardine again.

"What do I do with it?"

"Just hold it, lift your hands up and wait."

A colony of seagulls swooped down and began attacking him.

"Ow— Please! Not the eye! Stanley, you maniac! Stanley!"

Stanley gave Ford a friendly but firm pat on the back, while having a laughing fit. 

"Stanley, that's mean..." he grimaced.

"Can you blame me? Had to do it just once."

His laughing fit transformed into a coughing fit. On the floor.

He pulled himself up by holding on Ford's arm. 

"I'm okay. I'm okay," he let out a leftover cough, "But it's funny, isn't it?"

"I don't know. He's still screaming."

No longer able to watch his brother's discomfort and worry, Stanley began stomping towards the pile of birds.

"Alright, alright! That's enough! Shoo! Shoo! Leave my brother's pet demon alone, you jerks!" he flailed his arms around. 

"I'm not his pet!"

"He's not my pet!"

Stan walked away, then came back with a broom and scared them away by running and screaming!

"That's right! Do not mess with Stanley Pines!"

The colony returned, this time attacking Stanley.

"Hey— Get off me! Get off me! Stanford! Come here! Kill 'em! Kill 'em!"

Bill pointed and laughed...

...until he met Stanford's gaze full of anger.

Ford rushed to his brother's aid: Together, the brothers managed to get rid of the seagulls... For now...

"Are you okay, Stanley?"

"I'm fine," he shook his fist in the air, "It's gonna take more than a bunch of stupid birds to take me out!"

His hands rolled into fists, his stance wide; Stan walked up to Bill, not breaking eye contact.

"Alright, I'll let you stay. Only because I trust my brother to kill you. And, I'd love to watch."

"Hey, you killed me before, remember? It's the least you can do."

"You think I killed you? You got yourself killed, you son of a bitch."

"Fine. Maybe I did a little."

"But if I hear ANY funny noises at night I'm marooning both of your asses on an island full of..." he stopped yelling, "What lives on an island? Bees?" he continued yelling, "Bees that eat brains and triangles!"

"What— What are you implying, Stanley?"

"I'm not implying anything! If nothing is happening, surely I won't hear a thing, right?"

Bill and Ford glanced at each other.

"Right?"

"Right," they replied in unison.

"Good. And since he's so flat, we can use him as a backup sail!" He leaned towards Bill and whispered, "Before you, our only option was Stanford's underwear." He then returned to his usual speaking volume, which is loud, "Ha! Get it? He's fat!"

Ford punched him on the shoulder.

Chapter Text

Ford had his eyes locked on the anomaly scanner.

"It's so... interesting... No matter how close we get, it still appears to be a thin line."

Stan sipped on his drink, "Eh. That's not that interesting."

"If everything goes according to plan, we'll make it to our destination in... 24 hours."

"24? 24 hours? Just say a day, you pretentious nerd!"

Ford shook his head, and walked out of the cockpit.

"I'll go check up on Bill."

"What could he possibly be up to?" Stan yelled after him.

He found Bill rewatching a random movie.

"I had to return. Stanley was getting on my nerves."

"He's mad I'm here, huh?"

"Tch. He's always been irritable and annoying. It's nothing new."

"If you say so..."

He tapped on the floor.

"The machine beeped while you were gone. Don't know if that means anything, didn't touch it."

"That's wonderful!" he laughed, "And even if you touched it you wouldn't understand."

Ford opened up the portable lab, and stared at the small screen in the middle, reading carefully.

"You touched it."

"You can tell?"

"Yup. A couple of failed entries. Worry not, I'm not mad. It is understandable."

He pressed a button on the side, and a small keypad popped out. He wrote down some seemingly random string of letters, then pressed another button. 

That button brought up a different screen. It's bright green glow reflected on Ford's glasses.

His expression unreadable, he quietly opened his journal, and wrote down a few words. 

"So... What does it say?"

He pushed the keypad back in, and the screen turned itself off.

"Once again, we haven't learned a thing from these..."

"Are you... sure?"

"Excuse me? Are you doubting my word?!"

Bill flinched, backed away two steps... 

"No, of course not, no..."

"You're even more of an enigma than you used to be, Bill."

"Sorry."

"Okay, okay... Fine," Ford smiled, "Don't give me that sad look. Look at your eye, it's even bigger than it normally is!" 

Ford picked him off the floor, lifted him up in his arms.

"If you need my help, I need your trust, my muse."

My Muse.

Feels like the emphasis is more on the My and less on the Muse.

"When the sunlight hits your face just right, you look stunning."

He laughed, "Yeah. Once I melted a man's face with the light reflecting off me."

"I can believe that," he gave him a quick little peck on his scar.

"Ow—"

"Why don't you come join us on the deck? Stanley knows you're here, there's no point in hiding anymore."

"Uh. Sure."

He held him tighter.

"But I have to put you down~ We can't let him see us like this."

Bill's eye twitched, "Awesome."

As soon as they entered Stan's field-of-vision, he yelled.

"Hey while you're standing there could you get me another soda?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"You want me to ask the triangle? Be glad I'm not asking why he's here. Go get me. A damn soda."

Stan watched him climb down to the storage. Then yanked Bill from his wrist and lifted him up. 

"Listen up. If you even DARE to betray my brother, you best believe I'll be rolling the world's weirdest joint using your flat three-cornered body."

"Wow, relax old man. I'm not planning on betraying anybody. Besides, you would NOT enjoy the trip you'd get out of smoking me."

He dropped him on the floor.

"You're taking up too much of Stanford's time. Why do you two have to make so many experiments, like, you're one triangle? How hard could it be to kill you?"

"Well I'm nothing like anything that has ever existed before!" he looked up at him all cutesy and innocent.

"Yeesh! We get it, you're so special."

Bill glanced at the wheel. Right next to the helm were a bunch of empty soda cans.

"You like playing captain, don't you?"

"I am the captain!"

"Ford told me he was the captain."

"He's the co-captain. We're both captain."

"Hah! Bet you two fought over that too."

"It was a peaceful and democratic decision!"

"Yeah, right."

Ford came back with the drinks. Three cans to be exact. He gave Stan his soda.

And handed a can to Bill.

"The fuck— He's living on our boat, wasting our time, eating our food AND he's drinking our soda?"

"Told you he's not eating food..."

Bill cracked open the can, "Not while you're looking," he whispered.

"...And he's not drinking soda, I gave him beer."

"Oh FANTASTIC he's drinking our BEER you think I'll get less mad at that?"

"What? He's not steering the boat, it's fine."

Stan's face turned red. He slammed his soda can on the pedestal, grabbed the can out of Bill's hands.

"Now he is."

And stomped out of the cockpit.

"Hey— You haven't sipped on this thing yet, right? I don't want my lips touching where your gross eye-lip-whatevers touched."

Bill snickered, "I spat in it, my spit is acid, it'll melt your insides."

"That's a lie," he left.

"Oh."

...

Ford and Bill were on night watch. 

No land within visible distance, it looked like the boat was floating inside an endless black void.

"No stars or moon tonight."

"Are you sure we're still going the right way?" Bill asked with a weak, shaky voice.

Ford cackled, "Are you scared?"

He looked down.

"I am scared, Ford."

Ford stopped laughing.

The sea was calm, too calm. You couldn't tell how fast the boat was moving, or if it was moving at all. It could even be moving backwards, or going in circles...

"My world begins and ends with this boat. I don't know anything that's happening outside! My brain feels so small and cramped— And it's like I'm starting to forget the stuff I used to know! Like there's not enough space for all the information anymore. I'm scared, Ford."

"Don't worry," Ford put his hand on his shoulder, "This nightmare will soon be over. For both of us."

Bill looked to the side, "Thanks, Sixer..."

...

When Bill woke up— he found out that he can sleep, but doesn't have to— Ford had already left the cabin. 

NOW he leaves his journal behind every time... is it that he trusts me? Or that he's certain I won't be able to read his stuff? Or that he wants me to read it?

Or that he's challenging me? 

He opened up the journal and stared at the last page.

This one's easier, Bill: GdGbmlrigjjwmsGkrfczybeswpgefr

He closed the journal as fast as he could. And backed away into the corner.

This stuff is too complex for Sixer, not just me! The only reason he can write in code is because he's got the help of computers! And— and it's easier to encrypt than to decrypt, right? Right???

"Hey, Bill! Come see what we found!" Stan called out from outside, suspiciously joyous.

Chapter Text

"Bill come quick!" Stanley screamed.

Bill slowly approached the bow of the boat where the two were standing.

"What?"

"Oh, Bill, it's nothing, you can go back—"

"Nothing? What is YOUR plan then?"

"I... I'll think of something."

"Yeah, we don't have time for that."

Stan put his hand on Bill's side.

"Bill, old pal, remember when I told you I would throw you in the ocean? Good times, right?"

"Where are you going with this, Stanley?"

"We're gonna throw you in the ocean."

"What?!" he turned to Ford in disbelief.

"Yeaaah. Well. Um. Look down."

Deep down in the water, you could see a thin, faint line of light. 

"We found the anomaly. But we have no idea what it is. We don't think it's alive, but that's it. It doesn't move, at least not voluntarily. Rather, it gently drifts with the waves."

"If you're asking me I've got no clue whatever the fuck that is."

"But you can find out!" Stan grinned, rubbing his hands together, "Hey! Best case scenario, you die!"

"Why me? Ford? Don't you have some machine that can dive in?"

"We do," he pointed at the small, wet ROV hanging from the side of the boat, "But sadly, Duchess here runs out of half her fuel before she can make it all the way down there."

"I named her that," Stan folded his arms with pride.

"Normally, she's extremely fuel efficient, but I suspect something about this... whatever it is... is causing her to use it up rapidly."

He walked up to the submersible and opened a small compartment on its side. Inside was a tiny grey rock. From his pocket, he took out a little black box. It had a slightly larger glowing rock inside. 

He held each rock in one hand.

"This is a very dense energy source I came across inside the Gravity Falls mines. Sadly, I only ever ran into one ore body of it. A tiny piece can last for decades, at least I thought they could. Good thing the boat doesn't use these as fuel."

Bill picked up the grey rock, squeezed it in his hands. Watched it crumble into dust.

"We haven't tried though it is reasonable to assume we would run into the same problem with our 1-atmosphere diving suits."

Stanley yawned, "And you don't look like the kind of guy that'd be afraid of some silly decompression sickness, so... Unless you're a coward, you can go, right?"

Bill looked up at Ford, but couldn't read his expression. Though he could sense a bit of worry, which wasn't reassuring. 

"Fine. I'll do it. But... say I find this thing and bring it on board... Do you have any more of these rocks, cause they'll all turn to dust, won't they?"

Ford's face fell, "I uh... I will go hide them in a protective case right now."

He rushed to climb down to the storage.

So Bill and Stan were left to awkwardly wait.

"So... how's my brother's room? Enjoying the rats?"

"Better than prison." 

Stan coughed, "You know, you could move into the storage room or something if you two can't stand seeing each other. Which I'm guessing is the case."

"Oh there's no need to do that. Sometimes we run experiments ALL NIGHT if I moved out it'd be impractical."

"I. GUESS..." Stan's eye twitched. 

Ford came back running like he could feel the tension boiling upstairs. His hands on his knees, he caught his breath.

"Good. Good. Both of you are in one piece," he fake-laughed, "I secured the rocks, they should be safe from the anomaly's energy-draining effects."

He reached down and wrapped a utility belt around Bill, but not before grabbing him by the sides for a millisecond. 

"This is an infinity belt with some extra stuff. Make sure it doesn't slide off. Not because you'll need it but because I want it back."

Ford picked him up and sat him on the railing. He pulled on the end of the infinity belt, tied it to the winch's spool multiple times.

He adjusted the belt, held his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Once you're ready to come up, press that button to lock it in place, and press this one to alert us, got it?"

His tone was devoid of emotion. It wasn't even his usual, serious tone. Just... flat. He took quick sneaky glances at Stan to see if he was watching.

He was.

"Got it."

He gave him a few pats on the arm, didn't smile.

"And you can fight off the fish with this," Stan handed him a spear. 

"Wow, thanks Stanley... Awesome," he rolled his eye.

And just like that, Bill jumped into the ocean. As he sank deeper and deeper, the water got darker and darker... Soon the only visible things were the faint glow of the infinity belt, and the strong, clear glow of whatever was down there. 

"Wow is this thing really all the way down there? This is taking forever!"

Meanwhile, in the cockpit, Stan and Ford were watching Bill's descent through the belt's camera. Stanley filled the table with sodas and snacks.

"This taking forever!"

"It's been five minutes, Stanley," he yawned, "He's dense but his surface area is slowing him down a bit."

"I hope he gets stung by a giant jellyfish! Ha! That'd be fun to watch. Too bad we can't see his face."

"Yeah... too bad."

When his feet touched the ground, his grip on the spear tightened. He tried his best not to get tangled up in the piles of dead seaweed.

"It's just a glowing rope thing. Meh. That's disappointing. I was hoping for some action. I didn't get to use my spear once!"

His first few attempts to grab it were unsuccessful as it was thinner than hair. He ended up pinching the sand and rocks on the oceanbed. 

"Fuck— What has my life become, picking up some cursed shoelace from the bottom of the ocean to please some human's curiosity?"

Finally, he managed to pick it up. He followed it to the end, which wasn't tied it to the spear and rolled it into a tiny ball. 

Bill pulled on the belt's wire to alert Ford. Soon the winch began pulling him up. Once at the surface, he climbed on the boat and jumped on the deck.

No one was around.

He left the spear on the floor, walked into the cockpit. 

"Sixer? Stanley?" 

He found them knocked out in their seats.

"OH."

Just as he was about to turn around, the glowing rope wrapped itself around him.

"Thank you for this vehicle. Now I can finally move around!"

"No way! I am NOT fighting a piece of string!" said Bill as he struggled to free himself.

"Don't worry! You won't! Once I drain enough of your energy, you'll pass out like your little friends. You won't even feel a thing as you die."

"Well guess what, sucker! I am not dying to a piece of string either!"

He walked out and jumped into the water, but the rope held onto the boat's winch and pulled him back up. 

"I know what you're trying to do. You're not taking me down there. Not again."

It tied him on the railings, wrapping itself multiple times around his body and all his limbs.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you? Soon you'll succumb to sleep..."

"I don't have any 'energy' you can 'suck' out of me, idiot!"

"Quit struggling! I'm unbreakable."

"Oh yeah, but I am not!"

His body shaking and his eye tearing up from the unimaginable pain, he freed himself by letting the ropes cut him into pieces. 

As the rope tried to hold onto his disappearing pieces in confusion, he hid in a corner to regenerate his body. Also found out that, if within reach, he could simply reattach his broken pieces for a faster recovery.

On the other hands, one of his corner pieces along with his leg had fallen into the water; and that part was taking a lot longer to regrow, possibly due to the distance. Didn't matter to him anyway, cause like, he levitates...

So he sneakily went down to the wet room, stuck a hose into the faucet, went back up and splashed the thing with water, quickly gathered it up into a pile.

"I guess throwing you as far away as I can is my only choice."

But as it dried up, it started to wriggle in his hands.

"No! Just hear me out for a moment! Look... I can consume everyone around me! But, everyone means everyone. I can't pick and choose whose energy I steal. And that means... I'm always alone."

"The last thing I want to hear is your pathetic sob story."

Bill squeezed it into a ball between his palms, struggling not to let it escape.

"But you're special! You're not affected by my powers!"

"Oh, please" he rolled his eye, and squeezed it harder, "I HATE sorry little creatures like you! If you're cruel, be cruel! Own that shit! Don't say 'Oh I'm secretly very sad and lonely,' when you KNOW nobody gives a damn!"

"I have all this power and no real way to use it! You and me, together, we could find a way! We could—"

Then he shoved it into his mouth and swallowed. 

"Whew. Okay," he blinked, "That was easy."

...

A few hours later, Ford opened his eyes.

He yawned, "Where— What happened? Bill? Fuck, my head hurts."

"Hi Sixer! So good news and bad news and neutral news. Good news is I found the energy thief rope thing and brought it here. It tried to consume you but I consumed it first. Bad news is it tasted bad."

"Oookay..." he stared at him, confused, "And the neutral news?"

"Those rocks you've been using as Duchess's fuel are alive."

...

Bill and Ford were lying on their bed, taking notes in the journal together.

"...Turns out it can't move underwater," he looked to the side, "Couldn't."

"Intriguing."

"Ford, were you worried about me?"

He fixed his glasses, "Not for the reasons you think, okay? I just... I don't want you to end up in another 'Eaten by a fish' situation. That's just torture. I want to make sure you actually die, not suffer."

"Oh, Ford, you amuse me with your humanity."

Ford chuckled, "And you amuse me with yours."

"Huh? What now?"

"You saved us, didn't you? That rope couldn't drain your energy. But it was going to slowly kill us."

"Yeah, but I only saved you because I need you. And the talking rope was exasperating, that one-dimensional dickhead."

He nodded, "Right. Of course."

He noted down that 'exasperating' part. 

...

Ford kissed him right under his eye. 

"You're so gorgeous, I am bewitched by your eternal golden glow."

"Oh, Fordsy, aren't you a charmer?"

"You were so good today, weren't you? So good. So good."

His fingers gently traced the grooves between the brick patterns on his body.

"No, I... I wasn't trying to be good."

"You were good by accident?"

"Yup."

Ford chuckled, shook his head, "Cute."

Maybe you're not my muse anymore. Maybe you don't possess the infinite knowledge he had. Maybe you're just a little toy shaped like him. But I must admit defeat...

I am enjoying this game.

Chapter Text

Bill woke Ford up with a kiss that had a lot of suction power behind it.

"Ow—" Ford laughed, "Five more minutes."

"Yeesh when did you become lazy, Sixer?" 

He hid his head under the pillow, "I'm not lazy, I'm sleep deprived. You wouldn't let me sleep..." 

"It's kinda my fault, isn't it? Tell you what— What if I went and prepared breakfast for you two? And then I'll come back, wake you up?"

"Sounds perfect... Perfect..."

For the next thirty minutes he had neverending nightmares about omelettes with teeth and pancakes with eyes and human fingers swimming in his tea.

...

"...And that's why Euclidian anatomy doesn't include a separate exit and entrance."

"Horrifiying," Ford smiled showing all his teeth, as he noted down in his journal.

"Can we talk about something else?" said Stan who was also there.

"Stanley, this is scientific research!"

"I just want to eat my breakfast in peace, is that too much to ask for?"

"How's the food?" Bill asked.

"IT'S LOVELY!" he slammed both fists on table.

He then daintily cut up a piece of his stuffed crepe, and ate it.

"Okay, it's decided, you're the cook now."

"You're not worried I'll add human pieces in your soup?"

"I think we'll notice if old Sixer here is missing a finger."

He laughed, "Yeah. Probably."

"So what's next? Returning to the land or is there anything else we could check on the way?"

"Eh, nothing the scanner can detect for now."

"This whole trip was a waste. We found one lame thing and the demon ate it. At least we can sell some of this fish."

"More coffee?" 

Stan rolled his eyes, "Yeah. Thanks, Bill."

Under the table, Bill gently touched Ford's hand, then slooowly moved to his thigh at snail's speed to make sure he didn't jump up and alert Stan. 

Ford didn't jump, or scream or squeak but he instead froze and blushed with an unusually big smile which was equally if not more suspicious. 

"Are you ill? What's up with you?"

"Oh I burnt my tongue on the coffee, heh," he fanned himself with his hand.

Bill held his hand out, asking for the journal and the pen. Ford. He quickly scribbled something then handed it back to Ford, all without breaking eye contact with Stan.

Ford read the sentence and burst into laughter.

"Bill! I'm crossing that out, no, no..." he said, shaking his head repeatedly. 

Stan bolted upright, slammed his hands on the table. His mug tipped over spilling coffee everywhere. 

"I can't take it anymore!"

He grabbed Ford's crepe out of the plate—he had finished his own—and sprinted to his room. 

"You think he uh, suspects anything?"

"Oh I think he probably thinks we're fucking... Which we should be doing, honestly."

"DON'T—" he caught himself yelling, and lowered his voice, "Say that. Bill we were supposed to hide our... closeness... around him."

"That's what we're calling it? Sure. But how am I supposed to help myself around you?" he reached to squeeze his cheeks, "When you look this cute with your messy bed hair..."

Ford pushed him away. 

"We can't— This is a delusion. We have to kill you and end this!"

"Yeah, we've already established that it's a delusion. It's just so fun to indulge in it!"

"It is," he pushed him further, "But, really. I shouldn't get attached to you, Bill."

...

Bill sat on the floor, his eye red and watery from already having cried a lot.

"So the distance affects the regeneration speed," said Ford, holding one of Bill's detached arms. 

"Yeah," said Bill, holding a chronometer.

As soon as his last fingertip fully regenerated, he clicked the button to stop the timer.

"30 seconds."

Ford wrote down the results in his journal.

"There must be an equation to calculate its speed— Seems pretty consistent. With these results I should be able to figure it out."

Bill wiped his tears, "Yeah I hope so. I don't want my arm chopped off for the eleventh time. It's like watching paint dry."

"Awww wait, I wanted to try another thing."

"What other thing?!"

"Sorry. I just... you said you could also reattach the broken pieces, right? As in you don't have to regrow them?"

"Yeah?"

"Well I won't test that, I believe you, but... Like what if we tried to attach your left hand to your right? Or an arm in the place of a leg?"

"Oh. Huh. That's actually interesting."

"Would you like to see?" Ford smiled.

"Hell yeah, I wanna see!" he jumped up, "C'mon, I wanna do the switching arm and a leg thing."

"Okay!" he clapped excitedly.

But then he coughed, and fixed his glasses.

"Now ready yourself, we can't wait for long between cutting your arm and your leg, so be prepared for both."

Bill sat down, opened his arms and closed his eye, bracing himself. Ford grabbed his oversized pruners, positioned the blade right at the point Bill's arm connected to his body. 

And snipped.

Before Bill could finish screaming, he'd moved on to the leg. 

"Shush. Shush... It will all be okay, my muse," Ford whispered, as he softly pet him on his sides. 

He grabbed the arm and held it in place of the missing leg.

Bill was still shaking a little, "It's— It's only bad for a moment. Like time stops, I go blind and only hear loud ringing. And the pain is so strong you curse the day you were born and every single step you took that got you into this situation. But then it goes away," he smiled, "Is it working?"

Ford clicked his tongue, "Unfortunately, no. This area is not accepting the arm. And your leg is trying to regrow, pushing me away... I'm just slowing it down."

"That's disappointing."

"Yeah. At least we learned another thing about you."

He placed whatever was left of the detached arm back in place, and this time his body accepted it.

"You're full of mystery, Cipher."

He stretched his arms and legs, "This time I'm mysterious even to myself."

Ford leaned down to kiss Bill on the eye.

"Sixer, come down here and pull my eye out, baby!"

"I won't be doing that."

Bill wrapped his arms around his neck, and his legs around his waist. Lay on his back and pulled Ford down with him. 

"Boring bastard."

"I love the coldness of your hands. Aww," he held both his hands, brought them to his lips and gave them a loving kiss, "And they're so little..."

"Hey— Shut up! I would've been bigger if I could choose!"

"Oh you're precious, so precious."

"Tch. Sounds like someone's getting attached~" Bill took Ford's glasses off.

Then he held the hem of Ford's sweater, and slowly lifted it up. But Ford grabbed his hand and moved it away.

His lips then moved to Bill's scar. 

"Ow— OW— Please!"

"Please what? Stop? Continue?"

"Please. Keep going. Please."

"As you wish."

He left a trail of soft kissed along his scar, each one getting a quick little cry or gasp out of Bill, until he reached the edge.

"HOLY SHIT— Are those your teeth I'm feeling on me, you crazy old man?"

"Perhaps."

"Careful not to lose your dentures, princess. Oh boy, this is too good."

"Okay this is enough insanity for today."

"Aww..."

"I wonder what it's going to be like once you're dead. Will you decompose, or will you stay this beautiful forever? Will your edges fray? Will your glow fade? Will your body still insist on keeping you in one piece? Or will I be able to tear you into as many little pieces as I want? Your arm as a coat hanger, your foot as a door stopper..."

"And you'll still bind your next journal with my skin, right?"

"Of course, my beloved. Can't forget that."

"I can't wait to die in your arms, Ford. Tell me, you think it will be painful?"

"If I have the option I'll make sure it's more painful than you can imagine."

"See, I knew it. Knew I found the perfect man."

...

Under the cloudless night sky painted with countless stars, the boat sailed through the calm waves. 

The brothers were chatting over drinks and snacks.

"Eww— Stanley, that's... nasty..." Ford laughed. 

"Hey! I didn't say I fucked the spider lady! I'm just saying I would try if I were desperate!"

He shivered, "Even the idea is horrifying."

Stan tapped on the table with his fingers... Avoided Ford's eyes, slammed another shot of vodka...

He cleared his throat, "So... How's your plan with the demon going? Found a way to kill him yet?"

"Not really. Still nowhere near close."

"Too bad... Too bad," he coughed, "You're still trying to kill him, right?"

"Yes. Of course we are, Stanley."

"Got it. Had to be sure," he scratched the back of his neck, "Look, Stanford. I just wanted to say..."

He put his hand on Ford's shoulder. 

"...You're my brother. Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy, okay?"

Ford paused for a second. His brother knew, and he was... being supportive? 

"Thank you, Stanley," he smiled softly, his eyes bright with hope.

"Unless you're banging the triangle in which case it is gross and I do not support it."

Ford's face fell— He sprung up from his chair, banged his fist on the table.

"Do you have to ask in such a... crass manner? Is there no tactful way of inquiring such a thing?"

"Well, no, there isn't. What do you want me to say? Are you having sexual intercourse with that triangular individual?"

"No, I mean," he rubbed his temples, "Do you have to bring up the sex thing?"

"Fine," he crossed his arms, "You have some kinda... special relationship with Bill?"

Ford sat down.

"Unfortunately. I do."

"What is it?" 

"I guess you could say the feelings were always there..." he sighed, "Eh... One-sided feelings."

"Don't you mean three-sided? Ha? Get it? Woo!"

"Yes, very funny, Stanley."

"By one-sided you mean his side, right?"

"No, Stanley."

"Boo..."

Ford rubbed his shoulder, swirled the drink in his glass.

"And now that he's back and no longer trying to destroy our dimension, those feelings are coming back and... I'm so conflicted. I'm not in love with him! But there's other... stuff..."

"You're still talking about the triangle, right?"

"YES I AM TALKING ABOUT THE TRIANGLE!"

"Look, honestly? I wasn't expecting you to say yes. I uh..." he grabbed the empty bottle and shook it, "I gotta get another bottle."

As Stan ran away, Ford yelled after him, "I'm taking back my Thank You!!"

Chapter Text

Bill was flipping through the journal as Stanford walked in.

"I told Stanley."

"Told what?"

"I told Stanley! I told him we have a thing!"

"Oh. Good. Now we can make out around him."

"Bill— No! This is... horrible."

"Did he take it well?"

"He ran away."

He chuckled, "Coward."

"I don't think he's being a coward, I'm afraid to admit in these circumstances, he's the reasonable one. In fact he might be underreacting."

"Just give him time. I'm sure he'll react more."

"It took me so long to rebuild my relationship with my brother, I don't want you to ruin it again!"

"It took you very little time to rebuild it, you just haven't tried for forty years."

"You're insufferable."

"Okay. Ford. You've convinced me. Let's stop all this kissing and cuddling and biting nonsense."

"Wait nooo! That's not what I said..."

"Well, what do you want then, huh sir? What should happen?"

Ford's shoulders dropped.

"I don't know. Maybe we should give it some time."

"If you're counting on us becoming buddies, tough luck. Stanley is not blinded by his lust for me."

His confusion and anger quickly turned to defeat.

"Can't even defend myself. You're right."

"Oh please, don't blame yourself. You're hardly the first one to fall for me, princess!"

"See, I should get mad at you for calling me that, but I can't! I am enjoying this more than I should."

At this moment, Ford finally noticed the open journal in front of Bill. He quickly closed it, but Ford caught a glimpse of the 'My Muse was A Monster' page.

"Sorry," he looked away, "Do you mind?"

"Nope. Not really. As long as you don't damage it, you can read it... If you can, of course."

"Jerk."

Ford bit his lower lip.

"Reminiscing about the good old days?"

"A bit," he reopened the page, "This one is a classic. You really are an artist. A dramatic one."

"Hmm? You like that? You like that this is how you made me feel?"

"C'mon, Fordsy. Like you said. The good old days. They're old! So... old."

Ford got really close to Bill's face.

"Yeah... soo old..."

He forced a laugh.

"So old it's almost as if that's not you."

He held him by the sides, turned his face to his, and gave him a sudden, searing kiss. 

"You can't be a monster now. No. You couldn't be, even if you wanted to."

And then he slammed his face on the journal. 

"DO YOU LIKE THAT? DO YOU LIKE IT?"

"Hell yeah, I do!"

"Can you smell the old ink and decaying paper?"

"All I can smell is fear and regret... Oh and there's sorrow too."

Bill struggled to push himself up, to no avail. Ford's hand stubbornly pushed him down, rubbing his face against the pages. 

"Please! Let me— Ow— You've made your point, okay?"

"You know, an apology wouldn't fix shit but it sure as hell wouldn't hurt either!"

"Then why would I waste whatever's left of my dignity on a useless apology?"

Ford let him go.

"That page was missing something. Now it's got both our tears."

He walked to the mini lab, turned it around to make sure Bill couldn't see the screen, began twisting a knob on the side as pressed a few buttons on the keyboard in a repeating order. 

He shook his head, "What am I doing? I'm acting like a bully."

"It's fine. I liked it," Bill rubbed his eye, "You're hot when you're mad. Anyone told you that? Just kidding. I know no one did."

"Good one, Bill."

"I'm sorry."

Ford didn't react at first. He kept fiddling with that same knob and buttons. When he finally did respond, his focus was still on his work. 

"Thought you wouldn't waste your dignity on a useless apology."

"I don't know. If you asked about it, maybe it means something to you."

"It doesn't."

"Ow."

"But I'm pleased you wasted your dignity on me."

"It was only fair."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Glasses helped you with that laptop and the lab machine, right? Not exactly your field of expertise."

"Yes. I must admit these portable computers are a little useful. Sometimes. Only a little. On specific occasions."

He turned the screen to Bill.

"Look at these two images and tell me which one is me."

There was a picture of Ford versus a picture of an Atlantic blue marlin.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Sort of. Pick one."

He picked the fish.

"Bill, stop dicking around."

"Fiiine."

He picked the correct answer.

"Wonderful. Pick again."

This time he showed a picture of Ford versus a picture of Famous Sports News Reporter Bodacious T. 

Slightly annoyed, he picked Ford.

"Again."

Now it was between Ford versus Stan. 

"Oh how could I possibly choose? These two are the same picture~"

"Wouldn't be the first time you've made that mistake."

He succesfully managed to pick Ford. 

"Good choice. Almost shot you into space..."

"As if you could."

"Again."

Now both images were slightly distorted. But still recognizable enough for him to correctly identify Ford.

"Again."

The images were now even more distorted. It took him a moment but he could still figure it out.

"Good. That's correct" he laughed, "I was worried there for a second. Again."

"I..."

"Something's wrong?"

"Just a sec."

He made a guess. A lucky guess.

"Again."

He made another guess.

"Ah. Too bad. Your finger must've slipped. Try these two."

The machine's light's turned red. It made a loud buzzer sound. 

"Huh... Interesting. You actually can't tell which one's the right one?"

"Should I be able to? Can you tell? Is something wrong with me?"

"No. You're normal in your own way. It's just that your normal is quite pathetic. And that amuses me, I can't lie. That wasn't even Stan, by the way, you just mistook newsreporter Shandra Jimenez for me."

Ford yawned and stretched. 

"I'll head to bed."

"Can you... Turn down the volume and dim that light? I wanna do this a few more times. I don't wanna wake you up."

"Eh, knock yourself out."

Bill spent the whole night redoing the test over and over again, but couldn't 'get better' at it in any meaningful way. 

...

While Bill was getting supplies for breakfast, Stan entered the storage wearing Ford's coat.

"Heey, Billy~ It's Stanford. Come give me a kiss, won't you?" he winked.

"Yeah sure. C'mere, princess."

He opened his arms, opened his mouth as wide as he could, showing all three sets of his teeth, and began slowly approaching Stan. 

"GAH— What the FUCK? I'm Stanley— I'm Stan with the "ley" please!"

Bill shed tears from laughing.

"Stanley, you're a fucking joke!"

"Do you kiss my brother with that mouth? I'm not talking about the swearing, I'm talking about... You know what, I changed my mind, do not answer that."

"Maybe next time if you try harder, you'll fool me."

"Next time? Now that I know the risk, I'm getting plastic surgery to look even less like Sixer. Cause what if it's a little dark outside and you mistake me for him?" he gagged, "I'll go puke."

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Death."

"You and me both, old man."

Stanford's sudden scream made them pause.

"All crew to the cockpit!" 

The fog had drawn in.

It engulfed Stan-o-War II; reducing visibility to zero. 

"What the hell?" Stan complained, "Great. We can't see shit."

"Might be the worst fog we've encountered. Luckily, we don't have to rely on our eyes to find our way. The navigation—"

...was glitching out, jumping from position to position as the on-screen compass' pointer spun around non-stop. They all stared at the panel dumbfounded.

"I'm certain there is a logical explanation for that."

"Turn off the damn auto helm! This bitch doesn't know where she's going!"

Ford stroked his beard thoughtfully. 

"If this is some form of supernatural fog I'd love to study it." 

"We are lost at sea, we have limited supplies, we can't afford to go too far from the course. And all this nerd cares about is whether the fog-that's-gonna-kill-us is special or not..."

"You think the unusual magnetic activity is tied to the fog?" Bill chimed in.

"I say it'd be too big of a coincidence if it wasn't... Let me go grab the EMF meter..."

Ford left the cockpit, and disappeared into the fog. 

"Lights on... Signals on..." Stan mumbled to himself, "Bill. You go to the bow and put that big old eye to use!"

"Don't... boss me around." 

As the visibility lowered, Bill had to rely on the railings to find his way around the deck. 

He dropped his hat, bent over to get it back.

Couldn't see it. 

His legs went limp... He sat on the floor. Closed his eye. 

Was he still on the deck? Where on the deck was he? They could be heading towards the biggest iceberg of the planet, and he wouldn't know. His scar ached worse than it usually did. He squeezed the metal railing until his hands began to hurt. 

"Hey!"

He opened his eye.

Looked around, couldn't see anyone. 

"Sixer? Is that you? Where— Are you on my left or right?" 

"Down here... Look down..."

The sound was coming from outside the boat. From the ocean.

He looked out, saw more fog. And in the distance, he saw an odd silhouette.

Is that Ford on... some sort of raft?

"Come down. It's not safe up there."

"What do you mean? Sixer, you're not making any sense. Why are you in the water?"

"It's not safe up there. Come down."

"You've drifted too far, you're the one in danger! Hold on. I can't see..."

Bill slowly climbed up the railing.

"Bill!" Stan screamed from behind, "That's not Stanford!"

"What?"

He pushed Bill aside. Shoulders up, elbows down, he aimed his rifle and pressed the trigger. 

As soon as the bullet hit 'Ford', he dissolved into the fog, along with his 'raft'.

"What the—"

"Are you crazy? If you jump right now and get lost, we WON'T find you. Not "may not", not "cannot", WE. WON'T. You're not worth the risk."

Bill nodded, "Where's Sixer then?"

"No clue. Hopefully downstairs."

"Ford!" Bill called out.

Voices echoed inside their heads, like cries and loud whispers.

Down. DOWN. Come down.

DOWN. Not safe.

It's not safe. Come down. DOWN. DOWN.

Down.

Come. Down.

"Hey! Don't pretend you care about him, okay? He's smart enough not to fall... hopefully. Hold my hand, let's head back to the cockpit... If we can find the damn door."

Down. 

"Where do we go?"

Down.

"Forward."

"Which way is forward?"

Down.

"I don't know! Just... we need to get out of this fog and it's magnetic fuckery!"

"Sooo... we just pick a direction and stick to it?"

"That's the plan. Keep the helm stationary."

So they sailed forward...

"Is that a giant rock? Turn right."

"It's not on the radar?"

"Huh? Well my eyes are fucked, can you see it too?"

"I can see it."

"Then turn right. We can't risk it."

"Okay..."

"Another rock? Turn left."

"There's one on our left too."

"Then turn ri— Wait a damn minute."

He grabbed his rifle, ran out, tried to shoot the "rock". The bullet passed through it. 

"Dammit. It's making us draw circles."

"You stay out there and keep shooting then?"

"And you sail forward unless I tell you there's a real obstacle."

"Got it."

"Got it."

So Bill was left alone in the cockpit.

"Am I holding it straight? Am I holding it straight?"

Even when inside the voices could be heard, though faintly.

Help. Help us. Help.

"Oh come on," Bill rolled his eye, "Now that I know you're not Sixer, I don't care who's drowning."

Outside, Stan waited with his hand on the trigger. 

And one by one, the rocks disappeared. 

Come down.

Please. Help. Please.

Down here.

Jump.

A feeling of unease surrounded him. He lowered his rifle, scanned his surroundings.

"Whatever the fuck you are, you can't fool me..."

Down. Come down.

Help. Please. 

I'm here. 

Realizing no more fake rocks were coming, Stan returned to the cockpit. 

"On top of everything, it's cold and I'm hungry."

"Oh quit complaining."

"I'm allowed to complain on my own ship!"

They both jumped when they heard a loud knock on the door.

"So where are we headed?" Stanford asked calmly.

Bill jumped into his arms, "Sixer! You're okay!"

"Don't let go off the helm, you bastard!"

"Bill, get off me!"

"Oh it really is you! And not a weird foggy apparition."

Stan cackled, "You should've seen him, Sixer! Little Billy here got so scared of some fog he was shaking like a leaf! He kept crying out your name!"

"Is that true?"

"No!"

"Where the hell were you anyway?"

"Oh, I was photographing the wonderful forms this fog can mimic."

He began showing off all the polaroids he'd taken.

"This one looks like a man on a raft! And a drowning child! And even a full sized boat with screaming people on deck. I assume it's trying to lure sailors into the ocean, kind of like how sirens do. But sirens do that to eat people. Why the fog does it, I'm not so sure. Maybe just for the hell of it?" he laughed, "I also recorded their creepy voices."

"See, Bill? This is the guy you were worried about. He doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything... Except his research."

"Oh come on, I didn't tell you to worry about me, how was I supposed to know?"

"Didn't you hear us yelling?"

"Well I heard voices. But I heard so many I didn't realize some of them were you."

"Whatever... The fog's clearing up a bit. Bill go and make breakfast."

"What?! We— The navigation isn't working yet, we're still in the fog."

"You're scared? Stanford. Go make your pet make us breakfast."

Bill raised his hand, trying to grab Ford's. Ford rolled his eyes, held his hand and walked out to the deck. 

"Bill, there's no way you're afraid of the fog. Is this your excuse to hold my hand?"

Come down.

There's still time.

Turn back. 

Before it's too late.

It's not safe.

"It's... an excuse. You got me."

Nothing else is real.

Wrong way.

Only down.

They soon safely made it out of the fog. 

The navigation began working. The compass stopped spinning.

It was as if they hadn't moved an inch, and not even a second had passed. 

Chapter Text

"I'm really not sure, Bill."

"Come on, you'll have to get used to it eventually."

"Sorry, it's just that... I'm looking at it from a human's perspective. We usually avoid the eye. It's kind of sensitive."

"So is mine. But obviously it stays at the back."

"Um. Not sure if I'm following."

"I mean it's— I've said it, it stays at the back so it's safe."

"Okay..."

"Don't be a baby, it's fine! It's research, right? Don't you have to know what's in there?"

"You're right."

"You wanna put on gloves?"

"Eh. Not necessary. I'm worried about hurting you, not myself."

"Good. Cause that was a test," he turned away, "If you chose to wear gloves I'd be very offended."

Ford took a deep breath, rolled his sleeves.

"I'll take different swabs at different depths, okay? Okay."

He first put his hand into Bill's mouth, then pushed his arm inside. 

"Wow," he laughed nervously, "It's quite deep."

"Aww, you're making me blush, Fordsy."

He waved his hand around, felt the walls of his mouth covered in rows and rows of sharp teeth leave light cuts on his skin.

"This is different? Are these also teeth or..."

"Oh you must've reached the baleen. That's for, you know, filter-feeding."

"Ah. Of course."

 Mostly it was like a damp, cold cavern. 

At some point, he was in there all the way up to his shoulder. A sense of dread filled him as he realized: Had Bill decided he wanted to chomp on his arm, he likely wouldn't be able to pull it out fast enough.

"We're a little tense, aren't we?" Bill snickered.

"A little, yeah."

"Not gonna bite your arm off. Promise."

He slowly closed his mouth, not fully of course, but enough to partically sink his most outer row of teeth into Ford's arm. 

He sighed, "I can't go deeper while you're doing that."

"Just teasing..."

He let go. 

That's when his fingers brushed against something wet and squishy.

"WAIT A MINUTE— What is that?" he pulled his hand out, "What the hell is that?"

"You've reached the eye! Congrats!" Bill clapped happily.

He blinked to bring his eye back to its original place. 

"You're not freaked out, right?"

"No. I..." he fixed his collar, "I simply wasn't expecting to hit anything. Since you told me your eye was safe at the back."

"Sorry, should've warned you."

Ford cleared his throat, "Is it always that far back?"

"It doesn't have to be. I just wanted your whole arm in there. You know, for the thrill of it."

"Does it... feel good when your eye is touched like that?"

"It burns like hell."

"Oh."

"But like, good hell?"

"Oh."

"You wanna do it again?"

Bill asked, not expecting a yes.

"Yes."

"That's fine, maybe lat— YES?"

"Yes. I'd like to try again."

This time Ford's face was both more determined, and redder.

"Bill, please," he laughed, "Stop trying to pull me in with your tongue."

"Sorry~ Guess I can't help being silly~"

"You'll pay for this once we're done."

"This is hot."

"Don't make things weird!"

...

Ford excitedly climbed up the ladder, almost falling off at some point. 

"The scanner's detecting something big!"

"We don't need the scanner," said Bill.

Bill and Stan were standing at the starboard side, looking out.

In the distance was a giant rock, casting a massive shadow onto the ocean.

Stan was unamused, "Looks like a rock to me."

"Let's change course a little and approach it from the side, maybe? We wouldn't want to crash into it."

A very large scavenging of seagulls were attracted to this rock: Constantly pecking at it, fighting each other just to get closer. As a small group fought right above the boat, they dropped the thing they were presumably fighting over. It fell near their feet with a wet plop.

 It was messed up badly, and obviously dead. But still identifiable as an anglerfish. Which immediately got Ford stroking his beard.

"How peculiar. These animals live at the very bottom of the ocean. How could it end up on this rock?"

The gulls swooped down and picked it up, continued fighting over it in the sky.

And then they reached and... immediately passed the rock.

"It's almost completely flat. A little bumpy, but still. Almost... Two-dimensional?"

Ford avoided making eye contact with Bill, fearing what he said might be offensive somehow.

Stan leaned over and pointed at Bill.

"Maybe it's Bill's mother!" he laughed.

"Uh huh. That's odd, considering this is how your mother looked last time I was done with her."

"HEY NOW YOU LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER—"

Ford separated them before they could fight. 

The other side of this rock looked nothing like the back. It was a lighter color, very wet and almost squishy-looking? And there were subtle but visible movements on its surface.

"Of course it's alive. Fuck my life."

However, even more peculiarly, it looked as if the rock had a large shadow on this side too. But the sun was hitting it from this side, there was no way it could have a shadow there... Not to mention, the water in that area appeared shallow, too shallow. 

Maybe something else was hiding underneath.

Also notably, there were some smaller spiky rocks standing in this dark water. 

Slowly, they sailed toward the spikes to inspect.

Ford stood at the bow with Bill while Stan was inside the cockpit.

They heard a quiet thud.

"What was that?"

They all froze. 

"I think we hit one of the spikes."

"Is the radar broken, you waste of space?"

"You're the waste of space! The radar's fine. It's just that there's so many of these spikes!"

"Nothing happened right? Nothing is happening, right?" 

Nothing happened.

So they sailed on.

Ford had his journal out, was too busy doodling.

They hit another spike.

"It's fine. We're fine."

*Creak*

*BANG*

*SPLASH*

*SPLASH*

*splash*

Then there was total darkness...

"Are we dead?" asked Stan: his voice echoed, and echoed...

He came out with a flashlight.

"Where's he?"

"I think he's fallen overboard, I don't know! He was too close to the railing!"

"I'm okay!" said Ford, indeed from below.

Stan threw him a recovery ladder and got him back onto the boat.

"Three-corners! Get him a towel and dry clothes, come on."

Bill rushed to Ford's cabin. 

"How the hell did you manage to fall?"

"I almost dropped my journal so I— I managed to save it but I fell instead..."

"Are you injured?"

"Yes."

When Stan shone his flashlight at him, they saw the deep cut on his leg, and the pool of blood he was sitting on. Right after that the smell of iron hit him. 

"Dammit! Why didn't you say so? I need to get the med kit. Don't move too much!"

They dried and dressed him, wrapped up his leg as best as they could.

"You're lucky we're not too far from land."

"It's not that deep anyway. I'll be fine."

"Of course you'll be fine. But you'll be useless! I can't do all the work around here!"

"How did you cut yourself?" Bill asked, staring at his dressings with worry.

"Ah. I almost landed on one of those spikes. It could've been so much worse."

"Where the hell are we anyway? We didn't even get to question that thanks to this clumsy porcelain doll."

"I think this is a giant oyster with some... Venus flytrap attributes mixed in? It's fascinating. That first rock that was upright? That was its top shell. And what's underneath us is its bottom shell."

"Yeah, I've shucked many oysters in my lifetime and never saw any spikes inside."

"That's the flytrap part! I think those are trigger hairs. You touch one, you're okay. It's the second touch within a small time period that triggers them. That tells them something is indeed inside their mouth."

"Wonderful, wish we knew that before we got trapped here."

With both hands, Bill grasped Ford's hand.

"You could've died..."

He laughed, "Yeah, it's part of being human."

"How are you so calm about this? That was pure luck, a few inches to the left and you would have been impaled by one of those spikes!"

"I know."

"I— What would I do without you? How would I live without you? How would I die without you?"

"Please, Bill. I'm fine."

"But I'm not fine! I can't lose you like that! Not to some... some accident! You're too important for that! If you die you should die in a way that matters. Like, beautifully. Possibly because of me. But— Not like this!"

Ignoring the looks he got from Stan, Fors beckoned him over. He quietly sat down next to him, and Ford wrapped his arm around his back. 

"We can discuss my mortality later, Bill. Right now we need to find a way out before this thing digests us."

"Don't die without me."

"I promise, I won't."

"If you two are gonna be gross you can stay inside the monster oyster, it's got all the privacy you need, it's spacious, it's big— Wait."

He jumped up.

"We can sell all this oyster meat! Holy shit! We're gonna be rich!"

"We don't have time for that!"

"What if there are giant pearls inside?"

"We don't have time for those either!"

"Your stupid leg can wait a few hours!"

"It's not about my leg!"

Even though he was literally yelling about his leg, Ford tried to get up, forgetting said leg was badly injured. Obviously the leg folded immediately, and he fell back down.

"Ow— Do you remember the anglerfish? It's likely this creature lives at the bottom of the ocean. And now that it's caught its prey, it may go back there at any moment! We must leave!"

"What if we, like, blew a giant hole in its shell?" Bill suggested.

Stan and Ford looked at each other. 

"Yeah."

"Good idea."

They decided it would be better for their own safety to burn the hole instead. And they sailed out of the oyster as fast as they could, then headed straight to the nearest shore. 

...

Ford lay on the bed with his leg propped up by some pillows. Despite his exhaustion and injury, he was working with the mini lab. Right behind his head, Bill sat with his back against the bed's headboard. He gently played with Ford's hair, occasionally leaning in to kiss his face. 

"Any results from those swabs you took earlier?"

Ford shook his head slowly. 

"No. No results."

Bill stared at the machine, once again unable to understand what was going on. Seemingly random strings of symbols and letters and numbers flashed on the small screen.

"Bill, can you get me the screwdriver? It's in the tool box."

"Sure."

Right after he got up, Ford quickly pressed a few buttons.

"Here it is."

"Ah... There's no need for it anymore. You can put it back."

Bill raised his eyebrow, he stood there with the screwdriver in his hand.

"Ooookay... I will..."

"Um. Thank you, my muse. For helping, I mean."

"Alright... Sixer saying 'Thank you' AND 'My Muse' in the SAME sentence, that's not normal. You didn't even use the thing I brought! Are you possessed? Are you letting OTHER beings into your mind? Shameful."

He laughed, "It's still me, Bill. I just can't think straight! Probably due to all the blood loss."

"Probably..."

Chapter Text

"Do we really need to go to the hospital? Think about all the crazy hospital bills, I mean..."

"Ehh... Not sure if I can trust just some normal doctor. I've stitched my own leg before, I can do it again."

"YOU ARE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW!" Bill screamed. 

They got Ford's leg stitched up, got him a cane and returned to the boat.

"I told them I got a tetanus vaccine in the Rust Dimension but they wouldn't listen!"

"How the fuck are we supposed to pay for all this?" 

"I don't know," he sighed, "We should've just stayed in the boat."

"No, I'm telling you, we should've stayed a little longer to look for pearls inside that thing..."

He looked down at Ford's injured leg again. 

"It's... whatever. All we have to do is sell all this fish we caught with my fishing license."

He pulled out a little card with a horribly photoshopped fish photo and "Stanley Pines" written in sharpie. The printed expiration date was 1999 but it was changed to 2099 with, once again, sharpie.

He grinned, "Valid on any lake, river, pond, pool, puddle, swamp, hot tub or ocean."

"Wonderful."

"You go rest and I'll go to the market. But only today! Alright? Tomorrow you're coming with me. With that cane, or a walker or... something. I don't care."

Ford climbed down the ladder, going "Ow—" with each step. 

Bill was on the floor, surrounded by open books.

"You're back! And you're still limping."

"Yes. It is going to take some time to heal. Good thing I have my own ways to speed up the process."

"Why are humans so... fragile? You blink once and you lose an arm! Blink twice and you're dead!"

"Bill, you don't deserve to be comforted, but trust me. I am not easy to kill."

"I want to believe that but you're not making it easy! You can avoid death one billion times it only has to catch you once, pal. I need you. In more ways than one."

"And I only need you in one way."

He laughed, "Ha-ha. I know~"

Ford carefully lay down, beckoned Bill over.

Bill snuggled up to him, rubbing his face on his chest. Ford softly petted him on the back. 

"Do you get mad when Stan calls you my pet?"

"Ugh. Why this?"

"You get mad, don't you?"

"Obviously I get mad! It's humiliating! I'm not your damn pet, I'm—" he paused to think, "Something else... If anyone here is a pet, it's you, asshole!"

"Excuse me? Tell me— Who used to sleep under whose bed just a few days ago?"

"You forced me to!"

The fact that Bill's voice still had genuine anger in it amused Ford greatly. Combined with his grumpy face tinged with red.

"What if I called you my pet?"

"I would bite your nose off."

"Does it carry some truth? Do you feel like my pet? Is that why it hurts?"

"No..."

"I'll tell you— Bill, you're not my pet. Oh no. You're my research subject. You can't both be my subject and my pet, those two things contradict each other."

"Do you kiss all your research subjects?"

"Well. No."

"Is kissing me part of the research?" he chuckled.

"Not exactly."

"Then surely I'm not just a research subject."

Ford looked away.

"Move to this side of the bed so I can roll over."

"Okay?"

Bill moved to the side of the bed that was facing the wall. Ford rolled to his side and then moved even closer to trap Bill between himself and the wall.

He laughed, "There! Now you're my prisoner."

"What?!" Bill also laughed, though in pain, "Move, asshole! You're squishing me with your heavy body!"

"That's the plan! I'm not letting you go!"

He kissed him on his eye over and over again.

"Ford, please!" he tried to push him away, "That tickles."

"Oh, my muse. No sound in this or any other dimension is more perfect than your laughter."

"You're so— OW— Ow... Careful with the scar..."

He pulled away, bit his lower lip. 

"And those pained cries are the second best one," he whispered.

"Sixer, oh my—" Bill fanned himself with his hand, "You wanna hear more of those, you'll have to try harder than that."

"I think it'll be quite easy, actually. These days it feels like someone replaced my old muse with a crybaby."

"Oh I don't have to cry, I just don't hold back, if I— OW OW! OKAY! I'M SORRY! PLEASE STOP!"

"Thinking about it again, maybe the best and second best could be switched."

"Ford I fucking need you I need you more than I've ever needed anything. Don't die and leave me alone here."

Ford stopped laughing. 

"You say that... and yet... You want to die and leave me alone."

"Yes. It's what you want, right?"

"It is..."

"Get some sleep, Ford. We'll have plenty of time to kill me later."

"I suppose I should."

...

The salty green smell of the ocean hitting the shore with the soft wind. Cargo ships coming, going, waiting...

"You better have a good reason to call me over here, Bill. Climbing that ladder is torture. Guess we'll have to install a lift after all..."

Bill floated toward the table, holding a tray.

"Fish is good for rebuilding your blood supply, Sixer. Luckily, you live on a boat! For you I've prepared... pan-seared black sea bass. Olive oil, white wine, lemon juice. And lots and lots of love," he smiled innocently.

"It certainly smells delicious. What's the catch?"

"There's no catch! Enjoy your meal, princess. I cleaned it well. You grab from the gills, pull them toward the guts and you get all the innards out in one pull. And I made sure you won't choke on any bones!"

He stared at his plate. Thick slices of fish, cleaned and perfectly seasoned. Piping hot with its crispy exterior still sizzling.

"Don't tell Stan you opened that wine just to cook fish."

"I just wanted to make it fancy for my um... my you."

He poured some of that same wine into his glass.

"You are not going to join me?"

"Tch. Sure you wanna waste food on me?"

"It is just a little awkward when you watch. You can have a drink, at least."

Bill pulled himself a chair, and sat down. He was so small only his hat was visible.

Ford laughed.

"Funny."

He floated up and pretended to sit on air. Ford poured him a glass of wine. He then cut up a piece of the fish, brought it to Bill's eye.

Bill stared at the fish, then at Ford, then at the fish.

"Have a taste, I insist."

Bill took the bite.

The fish was cooked just right, flaky, somewhat buttery, rich and fatty. 

He then watched as Ford put that same fork into his own mouth. They were... already kissing, this wasn't supposed to be such a big deal, yet still... 

The sauce was bright, acidic and fruity from the wine and lemon juice.

"It is not fun to admit, but you are a great cook. I'm still convinced it has to be contaminated somehow, but still. Good work."

Bill leaned forward to signal he wants another bite. And Ford obliged.

"May I feed you too?" he put his hand out.

"I don't see why not."

He got on the table, and moved closer to feed Ford. They kept switching back and forth to feed each other. 

"Sorry I'm stealing from your blood replenishing materials."

"Guess you will have to cook for me more often."

Bill put the fork down, and picked up a piece of the fish, pushed it between Ford's lips with his fingers. 

He didn't resist.

Just as Ford was about to repeat that, he looked up to see Bill licking his eye, reminding him that his mouth was a freaky death trap.

He took a deep breath, and put his hand into Bill's mouth. He playfully scratched his fingers with his teeth. 

"You've got more than enough fingers, don't you, Sixer? Is that why you're willing to take such risks?"

"No, I know there's no risk. You need these fingers more than I do."

"Oh boy, I sure do. Gimme another bite."

"It is my turn."

"Ah. Right."

He hand-fed him the last chunk of the fish. Ford bit down on his fingers for a second before letting go.

He quickly pulled his hand away, "Sixer, you dog!" he laughed. 

"What? You can bite me and I cannot bite you? I got my teeth done in Dimension A1Z26. It would be a shame not to put them to use."

Despite the fact that you cannot read my mind, I cannot help but hide my thoughts...

9-6 9 4-15-14-20 20-5-12-12 8-9-13 9-19 20-8-1-20 19-15 2-1-4

Bill chugged his remaining wine, pushed the plate to the side. He wrapped his arms around Ford's neck and pulled him closer.

"I'll feed you so well you'll recover in no time," he kissed Ford on his forehead, "You'll have so much blood you'll be begging me to drink some of it!"

"I'm sure I will."

10-21-19-20 1 12-9-20-20-12-5 12-15-14-7-5-18

Chapter Text

Winds were starting to cool down. Summers were short, and not even that warm to begin with. Still, they wore their summer clothes. Because if you stop wearing summer clothes, if you pull out the heavy blankets, if you turn on the heaters... that means you've finally accepted that summer is over. So you stubbornly deal with the cold, for just a little more summer...

"Fordsy, come to bed~"

Ford was on the floor tinkering with his lab again. 

"Hey. Dickhead. I'm talking to you. Come to bed."

"In a sec."

"Come, you can be the little spoon tonight."

He tried to suppress a laugh; it came out more like a weird cough.

"Hey now, I heard that."

"Look I'm... I'm busy, Bill. You sleep first, I'll join later."

"I can wait."

Bill pointed at the spider web in the corner.

"Looks like we're sharing this room with a third."

"Yup. A beautiful Steatoda Grossa, commonly known as the False Black Widow. I named her Aura."

"Aura?"

"The Oracle. Or just Aura for short."

"Tch. Lame name for a spider. I mean, if I had eight fucking eyes, I would've prefered a much better name."

Aura's home was cleaner and better organized than their boat. She sat there, motionless. Waiting for her next victim. 

Just as Bill was starting to fall asleep, Ford got in the bed.

"Find anything new?"

"No. No results. Sorry."

"It's fine. You'll kill me someday. I trust you."

Ford bit his tongue.

"Sorry, Bill. Go back to sleep."

"No... I waited for you."

Bill wrapped his arms around Ford's neck, and pulled himself toward his face.

"I don't want to touch you tonight. I can't. Please."

"Oooo~ That's fine by me. I can do all the touching," he ruffled his hair.

"No, I..." he gently pushed Bill away, "I meant no touching at all. Let me sleep."

"Okay. Goodnight, my Ford."

"Goodnight, my... Goodnight, Bill."

I can't get over this guilt. I have no choice. 

...

The warmth of the morning filled the cabin. 

Ford was on the floor tinkering with his lab again. Again.

"Ford... You're exhausting yourself working on that thing. There's no need to rush, you're injured. Get some rest."

"Excuse me? No need to rush? Bill, have you forgotten? I don't want you here! I want you gone as soon as possible. While you're sleeping peacefully, I'm working twice as hard just to get rid of you!"

"Jeez— Relax! I just... said... something."

"It's fine. Just... please shut the fuck up."

"Wow we are extra grumpy today... I know what will cheer you up."

Bill slowly approached him from behind, began massaging his shoulders.

"Bill... please..." Ford wanted to argue, but... then gave in.

He turned off the lab's screen.

Closed his eyes. 

Let his tense shoulders slowly relax. 

"That's right," Bill whispered, "Just like that."

"Bill, I need to get back to work..."

"Don't you need to have your breakfast first? How's your brain supposed to work without any fuel?"

"I... don't know."

"Yeah, you don't. Good thing I'm here to help you with my wisdom, huh?"

He pushed his hands under his arms to reach and feel his chest.

"How's this?"

He gulped, "It's wonderful... but I shouldn't. This feels wrong."

"Doesn't that make it more fun, in a way? You want these hands on you..."

Slowly reaching his collar, he began unbuttoning Ford's shirt...

"BILL—"

He stood up really fast, then gasped in pain and stumbled from the pressure he put on his stitched leg.

As he tried to regain his balance, Bill ended up falling off his back. 

"I SAID I NEED TO WORK! LEAVE. ME. ALONE."

"Fine! You know what? Work harder! Cause I wanna die and I wanna die now!"

He left the room.

...

At the breakfast table, Ford played with his food by arranging the sausages into the shape of a triangle. In the middle was his fried egg, representing the eye. He continuously stabbed at it with his fork. 

"Sooo... how is everyone?" Stan smiled, "You look great. Both of you. I can sense the positive energy."

Bill was also playing with his food. He arranged the food in the shape of a six-fingered hand print —the egg as the palm and the sausages as fingers— and furiously cut the finger into tiny pieces.

"I love silence!" Stan continued to happily eat his food. 

Once the breakfast was over, Stan got ready to leave for the fish market. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to come, Stanley?"

"No. I don't wanna have to babysit you!"

"But you said I could only rest for one day."

"I changed my mind."

"Stanley..." he raised an eyebrow, "Do you feel bad for me?"

"What? No! I... hate you! I just— I don't want to spend time with you!"

He laughed, "Okay."

"So you stay here and rest some more, got it? I can handle it myself."

"Can I come too?" Bill joined the conversation.

"Where? Who? With me? Why?"

He glared at Ford, "I'm not wanted here."

"Ah. If it's going to cause problems in you two's relationship, that's great news! Sure, come with me. You can help me scare the cops away if needed!"

...

At the fish market: Everything smelled of salty ocean water, and fish. Some alive in tanks, most displayed on ice. Whole fish, shellfish, fillets... A few working grills near the end even cooked them for you if you wanted. 

"Can I come out?"

"Stay in the bag, shithead. I need you to scare the pigs away, not the customers."

"Fine, fine..."

So he lay in the bag, listened to Stan fight with customers. Someone threw a live crab in his face. Another guy got attacked by a live octopus. Another slipped on a fish and broke his hip. Someone called the ambulance. And then another... 

 ...someone said something... 

....that was boring...

...and then something something...

...and... then...

...

"Ah. Welcome back, Stanley," said Ford.

"Someone stole Bill and I let them."

"You WHAT?"

...

Bill woke up to the bag rattling. Inside, it was still just as dark, but he could hear people arguing outside.

"You almost got caught!"

"No way, man. The old guy saw me take his bag, and just shrugged and gave up. He figured he'd never catch me!"

"You're a joke. Let's see what's in this thing."

Bright light filled up the bag and burned his eye. He stood up and peered through the opening. 

Two young men stood there and stared at him, confused. This was some kind of alleyway. Unable to hear the seagulls, he figured they were quite far away from the shore and the marketplace.

"Holy fucking shit!"

"Dude, you're an idiot."

"Is that a fucking genie?"

"It's probably just a toy."

"How could this be a toy? Look at it! Look at the way it moves."

"Yeah its eye is following us bro it's freaky."

"Blink, motherfucker!"

"It might be a camera."

"Dude, I don't wanna touch it, it's kinda gross-looking."

"Eh. That is true. He's got that old man smell on him."

"Yeah, and not the good kind."

"What?"

"What?"

"Nothing..."

The men looked in opposite directions. 

"I wonder what it would look like if we... set it on fire."

"You know what hell yeah! Fire!"

"Fire!"

They both pulled out their lighters.

And Bill just sat there, like a well behaved little cat. As they sat him on fire.

Turns out Bill was highly flammable. He was just... instantly engulfed in flames. But didn't burn.

So he was essentially a floating ball of fire.

He let out a high-pitched scream which the thieves first thought was a painful cry. But instead it was a warning.

So he started to chase them down the street.

You see, this was a good plan. Because he was 1. Chasing them and, 2. They were running toward water so the ocean so Stan-o-War II. 

And just as he had suspected, they led him to the shore. 

It didn't take him long to find the boat. 

...

"Ah. Welcome back, Bill," said Stan.

"Someone stole me and I set them on fire. Well, I tried to. They were lucky..."

"Good job, pal. Hope you brought back my bag."

"I uh... I knew you'd ask about it you cheap bastard. I was on fire so I couldn't."

"I thought you were trying to set them on fire?"

"It's a bit complicated."

"Eh. Whatever. It was full of trash anyway.

"Then why did you ask— Wait— YOU PUT ME IN A TRASH BAG?"

"Not a trash bag, it was a bag with trash in it. But hey, it was fitting!"

"You asshole! Sixer, say something to him! He's bullying me."

"Stanley is one hundred percent correct. You belong in the trash."

"Oh fuck both of you, I'm going to my room."

"It's not your room, Bill. You don't have a room."

Bill stopped.

"May I... go to... your room then?" he said, defeated.

"...Yes. You may."

...

"Why are you being a dick? You've been like this all day! I don't get it."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe I should have... gone to your little friend Fiddleford, huh? Bet he'd be more willing to kill me!"

"Certainly more willing, but less capable."

"How can you be so sure? You haven't found a way to kill me..." he paused, "...either..."

If I stay still, can I stop time?

"Sixer, are you fucking lying? You're lying to me?"

"Now, now... Why would I ever do such a thing?" he cackled.

"I don't know if I should be proud, or afraid!"

"How about both, My Muse?"

"Don't call me that! Answer me!"

"I figured out how to kill you, Bill."

"What? WHEN? WHAT?" 

"Just last night. Not before. However, I..." he looked away, "I always knew we were getting close."

"But you didn't tell me."

"Correct."

"And you were going to keep it a secret?"

"NO! I was going to tell you. Eventually. But I couldn't, I just couldn't..."

"Why?"

Why would you ask why when you KNOW WHY— Putting it into words. Saying it out loud. That's what's hard. You just want me to humiliate myself.

"ISN'T IT OBVIOUS? Oh, I'm selfish, and a damn fool for saying this: Bill, I wish you could stay."

"Really?"

"And I know you want to die. I know it's selfish to keep you here. I'll be torturing you and betraying the kids and Stanley and Fiddleford and my whole dimension and all the other dimensions you've terrorized but still... Still. Even when I consider all these factors; this feeling, whatever it is, it's so strong that I cannot help but... wish you could stay."

"Why would you even want that?"

"Isn't this fun? Aren't you having fun? You like fun, Bill. I know, I know~ I should kill you. But why today? Why tomorrow? What change does it make? There's no need to rush."

He laughed quietly.

"Why don't we just... die together? I can attach a device on both of us that'll kill you as soon as my brain functions cease."

"Oh... Ford... This is all so—"

"It's not affected by distance. Well, it is, but we'd have to be 300,000 miles away. Which seems unlikely. So, no matter where I am, no matter how I die, it'll kill you with me. Worst case scenario, you can also do it manually. How does that sound?"

Ford held his breath, waiting for a response. Had he messed it all up? Was it over? Bill didn't seem... scared, necessarily. Rather he seemed perplexed? Like he was still in the middle of processing the information. 

Finally, his expression softened as he swooned:

"Oh, Fordsy, you're such a romantic~"

"You'd like that, right? I knew you'd like that."

If you saw the innocent smile on Ford, you'd think this was a middle schooler's love confession. 

"That's it Sixer. This is IT," Bill tried to slip out from under him. 

"What is it?"

"We are FUCKING, old man. Get off me— We gotta take this to the bed."

"Oh umm. How?"

"You're a damn animal! You'll find a way! I am NOT dying until we run out of possible sex positions. You wanna get rid of me? Here's your new mission."

Ford's face was flushed with all shades of red, "I uh... I'll do my best."

He began taking off his coat. 

"WAIT! But before we do that, maybe you should install that auto-killing device you were talking about. Just in case, you know... your old man body overreacts."

"Oh. About that..."

"Don't tell me— It's already on me?"

He nodded.

"Sixer, you filthy monster. Take off those clothes, baby, we'll rock this boat!"

"What about Stanley?"

"He won't hear a damn thing."

Ford carried him to the bed in his arms.

"So does the killing device leave anything behind? Like a reminder of us to the universe?"

"It's a surprise."

"That I won't get to see! C'mon, tell me! Etch our initials in a heart on the surface of the Earth? An explosion that will create a triangle of mysterious misery bigger than that lame Bermuda Triangle?"

"Not... misery necessarily. But killing you will create a new weirdness spawn area. It's a side-effect I didn't come up with, but... I decided to leave it as is. I think it's rather poetic."

"Huh. Since when do you not give a shit about your planet and its inhabitants?"

"I do care. But... weird doesn't have to be bad, right?"

"You're right. Weird doesn't have to be bad."

Immediately after saying that, Bill shot out his tongue, wrapped it around Ford's neck and pulled him down. 

"Aww Ford, you're so red now you're starting to turn blue! Wait, that's from the lack of oxygen."

He retracted his tongue.

Ford gasped for air, "You've lived inside my head long enough. Now I want to open up my ribcage and put you in there. They'll say, 'Stanford Pines is a good man, he's so selfless. He's keeping that monster in there for our safety.' But they won't know that I want you in there. That I want you for myself."

"Mr. Author, you know exactly what to say to a pretty little lady to make her heart explode!"

"Correct. And exactly what to say to a disgusting triangle freak to make him weak."

"Oh, sure you do, Sixer! Come down, I've got some extra special bites for you~"