Chapter Text
In the lab, whether night or day, you could never really tell what the weather was like up above. You glanced at the digital clock on the corner of your desk.
12:03
Noon? Midnight? You sighed and put your pen down. When the day had started, Was It day?, Storm clouds had been on the horizon, dark and looming. Maybe it was raining now. You had no way of knowing.
Three months ago, you found a flyer taped to the bulletin board at Greasy’s Diner advertising for the position of a “research assistant”. In between jobs and looking for a new place, you were ecstatic to find that the position also included free room and board. You had, however, not expected your research to be done at a tourist trap named the “Mystery Shack”.
You had grown bored of years of suburban life and after weeks of driving through nothing but trees, you were pleased to find the odd and sleepy town of Gravity Falls. When you arrived, you hadn’t expected to be here long, but after a month had gone by and you found yourself content with the job, the housing, and the general eccentricity of the town, you decided to stay a while longer. It didn’t have to be a forever thing, you’d reason to yourself, just a stepping stone. Yes, a short-term job that would look good on any resume. “Research Assistant to Dr. Stanford Pines”. A man with four Ph.D.s. You expected a haggard old man with a cane and a wandering eye, or maybe a cheery bald man with a persistent cough. Just like you hadn’t expected to stay in Gravity Falls, you hadn’t expected Ford to be so-
“You haven’t taken your lunch break?” he asked walking down the stairs.
Noon. It was noon then.
You sighed and swiveled your chair around, “I wanted to finish that sketch of the walking stump we found the other day.”
Ford nodded and placed his coffee mug on his desk, “That’s how I used to be decades ago. I’d sometimes engross myself so deeply in my work that my body would shut down. You shouldn’t let yourself get to that state.”
From anyone else you would’ve found it condescending but from Ford, it seemed… almost protective. He wasn’t the old shriveled man or the bald guy with bronchitis. Ford was undeniably handsome, rugged, and confident. Fit and intelligent in ways you never imagined. His indulgence in his protective nature extended to his family and after a while to you. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Protective not condescending. You found you didn’t mind it.
“Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” you asked, broken from your train of thought.
“I asked if you wanted the rest of the leftovers from last night and you started to stare at the wall,” he said.
You looked away sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll eat that.”
It was raining after all. You sat alone at the kitchen table eating cold chicken and noodles from the Chinese Takeout place in town as you watched the trees droop with water. You were originally hired for three months of work. May through July and then Ford and his twin, Stan, would be back on their boat sailing the world.
The boat had broken down in June and the twins decided that they’d stay until the end of the year. With Mabel and Dipper coming for the Summer and Ford’s “Recent Hire”, they seemed to be ok sitting still for a little while. It was the end of August now. Mabel and Dipper had left a week ago and the once lively and sometimes overwhelming house had settled again. You loved the kids. Mabel was creative and resourceful. She had stolen you away on many occasions to help with a new exhibit for the shack or to plan scrapbook pages with her and it was fun. You saw a lot of your younger self in her. Over the months he was here, Dipper had joined you and Ford on many of your expeditions. Even the ones you worried were too dangerous for a kid. Like his sister though, he was resourceful and intelligent and ended up aiding you more than he hindered you.
“Anything interesting on TV?” Stan pointed out the window and you turned to him.
“Just static,” you shrugged. He let out a small chuckle.
You sighed, “You should really put pants on with guests in the house.”
He scoffed, “Guests? You’ve been living here for like a year, kid. You’re not really a guest anymore.”
“Three months,” you corrected, pushing your empty container away, “and counting.”
Stan was a great conversationalist and a stark contrast to his brother. You often found yourself enjoying the banter between you two. Playful jabs and smart remarks. When you first met him you worried he was coming onto you but you soon realized he was just a schmoozer. The kind of guy to talk to everybody like he was trying to charm the pants off them right then and there. He was funny and surprisingly generous despite his claims, and you liked it. It was nice to have someone else to talk to besides Ford. Mainly because the conversations you held with Ford were almost always stiff and work-related.
You realized you probably knew more about Mabel, Dipper, and Stan than about him. Yet, you spent most of your waking hours around the man. He was quiet and mysterious and somehow it just dragged you closer into his orbit. He felt like he was a mystery for you to unravel. You just had to wait for a loose string.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
The loose string came a week and a half later while you were busy digitalizing and making physical copies of his journals. You were leaning against the scanner waiting for the ancient thing to pop out a copy of the page when Ford came into the lab from the big empty workspace beyond the glass over his desk. You had no idea what had been there but whatever it once was had to be massive.
You picked up the page and instantly your brow furrowed.
“Bill Cipher?” you read aloud.
Ford froze and tensed, turning to look at the paper.
“You’re on the third journal already?”
You nodded scanning the page. The writing seemed more frantic than what you had read in the others, “Who is this guy?”
Ford wiped the grease from his hand onto an already dirty cloth as he quickly took the paper from you.
“An entity I once worked with. The embodiment of pure evil. From a distance, he was a suave and alluring figure, but it was merely a facade. He’s gone now, dead or banished to another dimension. I’m not sure. Wherever he is I’m glad he’s there. Dead or alone.”
You stared at him for a moment. What you did know about Ford was that he was always one for the dramatics.
“He was like, what, a crazy ex?” you ventured trying to lighten the conversation.
He shrugged uncomfortably, “Akin, sure.”
You glanced over at the grease-stained paper before turning around and pressing the copy button again.
“You know,” you started turning towards him, “I think that’s the first thing you’ve told me about yourself and it wasn’t even about you. Most of what I know about you I learned from either observation or talking to your family.”
For a moment, Ford looked uncomfortable before he sighed, “I prefer to keep things professional between my assistants and myself. I find it keeps things uncomplicated.”
You looked at him confused, “You’ve never been friends with any of your colleagues?”
He sat in his desk chair and looked up at you. You tried not to look away from his gaze but it was hard. His stark gray eyes stared up at you in almost a pleading manner as if to say “Let’s not talk about this”, but he continued anyway.
“I worked alone for thirty years, before then I was extremely close to my old partner. When you become friends and then they leave it stings like an open wound. I’d rather not go through that again.”
You tried to make sense of the vague words. He lost a friend before. You would leave in a few months. Did he not want to get attached to you? Did he worry it’d be the same outcome?
“You can still talk about your life and… you know… stuff other than magical creatures.”
“Anomalies,” he corrected.
“Sure, anomalies, but I don’t know. I find you interesting,” you shrugged and he looked at you with an air of surprise.
“If you want to know about me, you can just ask,” you offered, the copier made a dying, sputtering sound, “I’m an open book.”
He seemed to weigh his options in his head for a split second.
“Here,” you offered, “The lab can be our ‘professional space’ but how about after work we go out to a bar or just watch TV or something? We both only have one friend and it’s the same guy.”
“Stanley,” he sighed.
“Yeah,” you felt yourself getting excited, “But we need to have more friends than Stan and he’s your brother so that’s like a double negative.” You weren’t really sure if it was but you hadn’t been fired over your lack of mathematical knowledge yet.
“I appreciate the offer but I still don’t think it’s in either of our best interests,” Ford said tiredly, “Like I said. Professional.”
You sighed, “Professional in and out of the lab, got it.”
The scanner groaned and another copy of the “Bill Cipher” page spat out untouched by grease. You picked it up and set it next to him before heading for the elevator.
“I’ll finish the rest of the journal tomorrow, Stan asked me to watch this old movie with him.” And with that you left the lab, leaving Ford there with the paper still untouched on his desk.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
“So after the guy ripped my license plate off the back of the old Stanley Mobile and tried to hit me with it, I figured that it was ok to steal his license plate too and speed off,” Stan grunted, dumping burnt scrambled eggs onto his plate, “And that is how I got banned from the state of Wyoming.”
You laughed, “And you never realized he was a congressman?”
Stan groaned, “It’s not like they wear nametags or anything.”
You laughed again as you drank your coffee. It was a Saturday morning which meant a free day to do whatever you pleased. You usually spent your Saturdays wandering around the woods looking for a good place to read or wandering around town looking for literally anything to do but today you felt like staying in. Already dressed down into a T-shirt and shorts you readied yourself for a full day of watching TV and eating whatever you felt like. Until Ford came into the kitchen and called your name.
“Yeah?” you replied.
Ford looked to Stan sheepishly before looking back at you. Ok, that was odd but you let it slide.
“I need to pick up a few things in town and I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me,” he said before looking back to Stan. You turned confusedly to Stan but he had his back to you, frying bacon.
“You’re sure you want me to come?” you asked him.
He didn’t seem sure but he nodded.
“Yeah, ok,” you said, getting up, “Are we getting like food or…”
“Oh! Um, yes, we’re picking up some minerals I need for an experiment and I heard they opened a rock shop in town.”
You nodded, a bubble of excitement in your chest. Screw your lazy day plans, something better just popped up. A day to finally get to know Ford.
“Let’s go,” you smiled and went to the entryway to get your bag.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
You took Stan’s car. Ford drove with you in the passenger seat. The drive into town was mostly silent save for a few rare comments about places you both had spotted creatures.
The store you pulled up to was called “Earthbound Soul” and had neon signs in the window advertising incense of various kinds. You turned to Ford.
“The rock shop you were talking about is a hippie store?” you tried not to laugh.
Ford looked at it, confused, “It said on my phone that it offered a wide selection of crystals and minerals.”
You laughed a little, “I need to show you how to effectively use Google.”
The store was empty save for an overly excited woman in her fifties that greeted you both using the words “children of the universe”. Ford stared unfazed. The shop reeked of rose incense and you watched him walk along a wall of baskets filled with various crystals.
“This isn’t real malachite,” he mumbled, “This is some sort of slag.”
“It has those black lines in it?” you looked over his shoulder.
“Yes,” he seemed surprised, “Did you take a geology class in college?”
“No, I went through a ‘child of the universe’ phase.”
He chuckled lightly under his breath and you felt a warm spark in your chest. That was the first time you made him laugh. You felt a little pathetic being this enthralled with a man, especially one much older and more successful than you, but you let the feeling simmer anyway. It felt nice.
Ford picked his way through the wall, grabbing some quartz and fluorite before heading to the counter. You picked up a piece of rhodonite and added it to the pile too. He quirked a brow at you. Shit, even that was kind of hot.
“Maybe I want to restart my collection,” you shrugged. He said nothing but you could see a small smile on his lips as he turned around.
“$35.04,” the woman said, smiling.
Ford sputtered before mumbling to himself, “Right, inflation.”
He would say odd things like that sometimes. Things that seemed almost out of place in a way you couldn’t perfectly articulate. Like he had been displaced out of time.
The inside of the car felt like a sauna as you got back in. You quickly cranked the window down but stopped as you realized Ford was watching you. You turned to look at him.
“What? I’m sweating,” you huffed.
“Do you want to get… food?”
You stared at him, “Like for the house or for lunch?”
“Lunch.”
You continued to stare at him. He was stiff and sweating as well which in his case made a lot more sense. You had no idea how he could be wearing a turtleneck and a trench coat during the dog days of Summer.
“Sure,” you said slowly so as to not scare him, “Greasy’s?”
He nodded and started the car.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
After you ordered and had gotten your drinks, the silence continued. You tried to think of something to say but surprisingly Ford spoke first.“What do you usually do on your day off?”
He seemed to have his normal cool, suave demeanor back on. It was slightly comforting to see. He had been so nervous all morning but suddenly, he was back to the Ford you recognized. You indulged him, talking about your slightly boring Saturdays and he listened intently.
You spoke all the way through lunch asking each other questions and laughing along with some of the answers. You learned more about Ford in that one sitting than you had in nearly four months. Even after your plates were cleared and the bill was settled, you kept talking. It was such a sudden change of pace that it almost made you weary but you didn’t have the heart to care.
You learned about his original plans for the shack, his love for sci-fi novels, and his penchant for drawing with ink. In turn, he learned about how you ended up in Gravity Falls, your hopes for the future, and much more. Eventually, the topic of conversation landed on your past romances.
“I’ve been all over the map if you know what I mean,” you grinned, “it’s been a while but I feel like I’m ready to start looking again. You?”
He faltered for the first time since you had started really talking, “I’ve had my fair share of experiences but never anything… concrete or at least concretely on both sides.”
“Really?” you were taken aback, “Stan showed me some old photos last week and you were really cute back in the day, I mean, you still are but-“
Why the hell had you just said that?
You stared wide-eyed at him expecting some kind of discomfort or appalment but instead, he stared at his empty plate, blushing slightly.
“Uhm, Thank you,” he mumbled, “You’re quite beautiful yourself.”
Now it was your turn to stare at his empty plate and blush.
“Thank you,” you mimicked him.
The air in the booth was suddenly very stuffy.
Ford cleared his throat and straightened his coat, “Anyway, we should probably get going. I know you had other plans for today.”
You took a second to process but nodded, “Uh, yeah. I was going to watch Ducktective reruns,” you smiled, “It’s very important that I get back to that.”
The sudden tension slightly evaporated and he smiled back. There was a sadness behind his smile that you didn’t feel like analyzing in front of him.
The drive back was slightly more talkative than the drive there. The tension remained but it was no longer awkward, at least, not on your end. You caught him glancing at you as you watched the road and you felt the heat of his stare. If he noticed you watching him too he didn’t say anything. You had admitted that you found him attractive, and he called you beautiful. It replayed in your mind. The way his face reddened and the sudden silence following the admissions.
Once you were home and locked away in your room, you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. Something was shifting. So long for professional.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
The week following your excursion held the same tension although it wasn’t a bad kind. You talked more freely in the lab, sharing stories and making jokes. It started to feel like you had known him forever. After your small mutual diner confessions, you also started to flirt a little more freely. There was no way a man like him would be into you but it didn’t hurt to have a little fun. He was older and more accomplished, he was established and sure about what he wanted out of life which was a stark contrast to your current state.
It was an overwhelmingly hot Tuesday for the beginning of September and you weren’t pleased to find out that that was the day Ford had planned a field trip to the Gnome Forest.
You dressed down from your usual “lab coat over business casual” to something more suited for hiking. Heavy boots, a tank top, and shorts. You grabbed your water bottle and met him outside, the sun already glaring down on you.
“This trip couldn’t have been planned for a colder day?” you asked him, leaning down to tie your boots.
He was silent for a moment and you looked up at him. He was staring down at you with slightly widened eyes and already sunburnt cheeks. No wait that had to be blushing-
“Gnomes tend to stay inside more during the winter months,” he said, quickly looking away. Ford pulled out the new journal he had acquired and started to flip through it, “I need to ask them about Dipper’s addition to the weakness section of my research and what he meant by ‘Leaf blowers’.”
You got back up and sighed, “Whatever you say, boss.”
It took nearly a half an hour to get there from the Shack and halfway through you were already sweating through your top.
“I still don’t understand how you’re wearing so many layers right now,” you huffed as you kicked a rock.
He was writing in his journal, “I have a lot of-“ he stiffened and stopped himself, quickly going back to writing.
Now you were intrigued, “You have a lot of what?”
He didn’t respond. You kicked the rock again.
“I don’t judge, you know,” you shrugged, “I have little scars here and there. Some tattoos, and weird freckles. If you’re worried I’d like freak out at the sight of your bare arms-“
“I’m just not comfortable with it,” he said quickly.
You stopped kicking the rock. The easy tension that had been lingering for weeks quickly turned tense. You shut your mouth. You walked on in silence for another few minutes before Ford sighed and put the journal away.
“If I tell you, you have to promise me that this will stay between us,” he said quietly.
You cocked your head, “Who else would I tell? Stan?”
He sighed, “Touché,” And then to your surprise and slight delight, he took his trench coat off and laid it on a nearby log.
You watched silently as he hesitated and then removed his sweater, knocking his glasses slightly out of place. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt underneath it but his arms were bare. His arms were bare and littered with scars. Bullet wounds, teeth marks, burns, scratches, things you couldn’t put a name to, and that was only his arms. There was a tattoo of what looked like a smiling star poking out of the high neckline of his shirt and you squinted at it.
He cleared his throat and you realized you had been staring for a lot longer than you meant to.
“I’m… sorry you had to go through all that,” you said mildly, keeping your face still.
He looked taken aback, “You’re not… repulsed?
You shook your head and finally met his eyes, “Skin’s meant to protect you and it looks like it did its job. It’s not ugly Ford, it actually makes you look kind of… rugged.”
He stared at you and you looked away. Under the scars, his arms were built. Muscular with a thin layer of fat over them. You honestly hadn’t been expecting that
“Rugged,” he mumbled.
You looked at his coat and sweater on the ground and then back to his neck. There was a jagged line on the front of it that dipped below his shirt. You really needed to stop staring but you couldn’t. Any thoughts of him being hideously ugly under his layers dissipated because now your fantasies were true. He was hot.
You picked up the clothes and handed them back to him. Ford looked at the pile before shaking his head.
“No, thank you. Now that you know, I don’t have a reason to wear them anymore,” he said with confidence but you could still hear the slight waver in his voice. You dropped them back on the log and smiled.
“Well thanks for being honest with me,” you replied, “I know that probably took a lot.”
He nodded and turned away, picking up his satchel. You looked at the marks that disappeared under his shirt, wondering how far they wrapped around him. The thought made you a little sick. Not out of disgust but out of sadness that he had felt so much pain.
As you walked on, he continued.
“I also have a few regrettable tattoos,” he mumbled.
You pointed to his neck, “Is that star one of them?”
He chuckled lightly and you felt the tension lift.
“Yes, amongst a few more.”
You tried to not let your mind wander but you couldn’t help it. Picturing what he looked like under his shirt, what and where those tattoos might be. He had been more vulnerable with you than ever before and here you were mentally undressing him. You scolded yourself but looked at him again. He was walking with more confidence than before. His shoulders were back and there was a look of determination on his face. Suddenly the word fit better than ever before. Rugged.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
The trip was underwhelming once you found out what Dipper meant by “Leaf blowers” and you headed back after only ten minutes of conversation. Ford scribbled furiously in his journal as you found his discarded clothes. You handed them back but he just slung them over his satchel.
“Stan already knows about the scars and we’re going through the lab entrance,” he said without looking up.
When you got back, the sun was receding into the sky and customers were filtering out of the Shack. Once in the lab, you got to work on sketching one of the gnomes you saw from memory. They were actually on the easier side of some of the things you had to recreate from one sight alone.
After about a half an hour, the elevator dinged and Stan waltzed into the lab.
“Geez, the tourists today- Kid, don’t turn around!” he exclaimed and you kept still.
“It’s fine Stanley, I showed her this afternoon.”
You swiveled your chair around to see Stan’s dumbstruck face.
“You showed her your tramp stamp?”
Your eyes widened and Ford sputtered.
“I didn’t get naked Stan, I just…” he trailed off. Stan looked at you.
“Forget I said that.”
“Noted,” you replied. You would not forget he said that.
“Dinner’s ready upstairs, Soos brought over something his grandma made and he’s overly excited about it so hurry it up with the nerd stuff,” Stan huffed before going upstairs.
“You go on up,” you said hunching back over your desk, trying to hide your blush, “I want to finish this sketch real quick.”
Ford left without a word and as the elevator ascended once more you let out a sigh and put your head in your hands. You imagined a lot but you hadn’t imagined a goddamn tramp stamp. The sketch had been finished for a while, you just said that to allow yourself a moment to recompose. You looked around the lab and your eye caught on something. Ford’s journal was laid open on his desk. It wasn’t the journal that had caught your attention though, it was the drawing inside that did.
You walked over, knowing you shouldn’t invade his privacy like that but you had to be sure you saw what you thought you did. As you looked down your heart raced. It was an intricate sketch of you. You in your hiking outfit squatting down to talk to a gnome. There was a smile on your face so accurate to your real smile that you brought a hand to your lips just to make sure. You had drawn a gnome from memory but he drew this from his? How long had he watched you talk to that gnome? Something in the back of your mind told you this was creepy but it was drowned out by the swell of awe and affection. You hesitantly flipped the page to find notes, another flip and more notes, another flip and- you again.
This time at your desk hunched over a paper and beside that another one of you in profile. The way he drew you made you look so ethereal, almost angelic. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Was the flirting actually working? Had Ford-
He called your name and you whipped around. Ford stood there back in his sweater staring at you with wide eyes.
“I-I’m sorry,” you felt your words tumbling over one another, “I shouldn’t have looked at your journal without permission. It-“
“You saw the drawings?” All color had drained from his face.
You nodded slowly.
He looked away and started to pace, “I should be the one apologizing. It was highly inappropriate of me to… to draw-or study- no that’s not the word. If you’re uncomfortable and would like to resign I completely understand. I shouldn’t-“
“They’re very beautiful,” you muttered.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
“I like the way you draw me,” you said a little more confidently, “I could pose next time if that’d be easier.” You cringed inwardly at yourself. That sounded a little too suggestive.
“You’re ok with them?”
“Does that surprise you?” you asked, smiling slightly.
He blushed, “What can I say? You’re… surprising.”
You looked back at the journal. There was so clearly affection in the way he drew you. You tapped the one of you with the gnomes.
“That’s my favorite,” you smiled, “I like the detail you did with the lighting on my hair.”
Ford was still frozen in place. You sighed and leaned against his desk, looking up at him.
“If you have something you want to tell me just say it,” you spoke quietly. This was it. If you weren’t right, everything was going to fall apart very quickly.
“I’m afraid of the reaction,” he all but whispered.
You were barely a foot apart now and you had to crane your neck to look at him. He was staring down at you with something like desperation painted across his features. You took a step forward.
“Things have shifted into the ‘unprofessional feelings’ area haven’t they?” you asked.
He nodded, “I tried not to let them, but sometimes the heart outweighs the mind. It’s a horrible design flaw on evolution’s part.”
You laughed lightly and he relaxed.
“If it makes you feel any better,” you said quietly, “I’m probably experiencing the same evolutionary flaw.”
His brows furrowed, “About… me?”
You laughed again, “For a genius, you can be kind of dumb sometimes. I mean that in a nice way,” you added on quickly, “I’ve been dropping hints for months, were they not getting through?”
He shook his head, his eyes still wide and trained on yours, “I’ve never been very proficient at ‘picking up hints’.”
You closed the distance and put your hands on his chest. His rapid heartbeat matched your own. For a moment, you felt yourself leave your body, completely in disbelief at what was happening.
“I’ll state it clearly then,” you looked him in the eye, “I like you, Ford. Which feels like a silly word for it but I do. I like you more than just a lab partner or boss or whatever.”
He continued to stare but his hands came up to wrap around your own still on his chest.
“The feeling is mutual,” he replied. He glanced down to your mouth and you started to lean closer.
“I’d really like to kiss you now. If you’d be amendable to that,” he muttered quickly and you laughed.
“I’m very amenable.”
He looked you in the eye once more as he leaned down and your lips met. Instantly, you could feel that spark of a fire in your chest and you leaned into him hoping to spread that warmth to his. Your hands traveled to the back of his head and neck and his found your waist. You could feel his wide palms gripping you tightly and you moaned slightly at the feeling which in turn caused him to as well.
He began to push you back against the desk and you hopped onto it without breaking the kiss. Your hands traveled across his back and chest and even under the thick sweater, you could feel just how scarred he was. His hands didn’t seem to know where to go but you didn’t mind. You just kept kissing him until eventually you felt dizzy and had to break for air.
“You are extremely good at kissing,” he huffed and you laughed.
“Like you said, I’m full of surprises,” you pulled him back down, kissing him rougher. His hands lingered in the air and you guided them to your chest. His breath caught but you both moaned as six fingers squeezed each of your breasts.
“Oh god,” you mumbled, kissing frantically across his jaw, “That feels so good. Ford…”
He buried his face in your neck and you could feel his glasses dig into your skin but you didn’t care, not with the way he was kissing down your neck to your collarbone and the way his hands continued to knead at your-
“What’s taking so long? Dinner’s ready!”
You pushed off of each other at the same time and your head hit the glass behind you.
“Shit,” you mumbled.
Stan had called from the top of the stairs. Ford looked back and rushed over to you inspecting your head.
“Damn it, Are you all right? Is your head-“
“I’m perfect,” you grinned, “a little annoyed at the intrusion but otherwise I’m perfect.”
He grinned back, “I- I’m glad to hear it.”
He offered you a hand and you hopped off the desk.
“We really should get up there before he comes down here,” you mumbled sadly.
Ford stared at your neck and you put your hand to it, “What?”
“I uh,” his eyes were dark and you instantly knew.
“You gave me a hickey?” you hissed turning to look at your reflection in the glass. There was a small dark mark right at the base of your neck.
“I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, “Everything just happened so fast and-“
“No, no it’s fine,” you squeezed his hand and reached for your sweatshirt on the back of your chair, “This should cover it up.”
“Christ, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, squeezing your hand a little too tight, “I really didn’t mean to.”
You put your hand on his jaw, leaned up, and kissed him softly. He immediately responded by wrapping his hand around your waist.
“It’s ok,” you said again and smiled, “I like it. Just not right before dinner.”
“Dinner. Right,” he sighed.
“We can talk more later,” you offered, “Continue this conversation.” You raised your eyebrows and he nodded.
“I’d like that very much.”
You laughed and parted before heading upstairs with a new spring in your step. It still felt unreal as you sat at the kitchen table and listened to Soos ramble on about the new game he was playing. Ford was attracted to you. You and Ford kissed. Your mind was fuzzy with the thoughts and as you ate you looked over at Ford to see him staring at you with a sort of softness. You looked away, flustered, and went back to talking to Soos. After dinner couldn’t come soon enough.