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chiphersconsort · 2 months ago

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Perfect

The following is a crossover with @jellyskink's DomesticatedFord. Perfect tells the story of how H discovered D and developed an infatuation with him.

Warning: Contains graphic violence and offscreen implied dubcon.

So that crossed 05'\ off he list. The whole planet was flooded, and Bill's last attempt to work with dolphins was a bust. Ford had been at this for a while, combing over possible backup dimensions. He was still trying to find a way to stabilize 08'\ but Bill was insistent they needed the insurance. Better to work on building their life raft now, just in case.

Ford knew he wouldn't give up on 08'\. Not until every last star burned out. He also knew Bill would try and convince him to leave well before it got that bad.

He supposed Bill was right though. It didn't hurt to be prepared. They needed to find a dimension that wasn't already occupied by another Bill. Moreover they needed that dimension to either already have a rift they could access, or to find a poor sap who could tear one open for them.

If it came to that Ford wanted to be the one to use them.

He wouldn't tolerate anyone else calling Bill their muse. Ford was Bill's final and only savant. He'd sooner patronize the poor sucker himself.

As it stood however it was harder and harder these days to find dimensions that would make for easy targets. Some dimensions weren't even visible to them for one reason or another. Bill told Ford this happens sometimes. Some dimensions were just too incompatible to perceive. 16'\ was one such dimension. Ford could have sworn he caught a glimpse of it briefly. There was something in his notes about a children's bedroom but when he tried to double check that one later all he got was static. Ford wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened to 16'\ .

He didn't wan to know what happened to that little boy's room.

Oh well, on to 04'\ . He'd exhausted himself already tuning up until he hit the limit of their dimensional area code and felt at that point it was worth working backwards to see what he could find.

Ford usually used himself as the first point of contact when tuning into another timeline. If that dimension had a Ford, they were the easiest person to find.

This one had a Ford. Unfortunately that meant it was probably already claimed. If it was there would be no point in dwelling for long on this one. Ford would scratch it off the list and move on to 03'\ . He leaned back at his desk and poured himself a shot while he waited for the eye that hovered over his writing space to tune to the correct dimension. There was a buzz of static for a bit. A blur of colors before the image came into focus.

Ford's conscious will reaching out to connect to something familiar. Something he recognized as himself.

The first window he tuned into didn't show the man in view. It took a second but it looked like he was seeing out of some sort of necklace. Ford recognized as much from the height in relation to the other humans in frame. He downed his shot and leaned in as a six fingered hand came into view. Blocking off anything else and lightly jostling the perspective.

Ford hummed to himself and considered tuning out. This dimension was probably taken. A ford wearing an eye? Definitely taken… but something stopped him.

"The uhm.. coat? It's horribly matted." Some woman grimaced just out of view.

"Are we really doing this?" Another voice whispered back.

Ford tapped the eye. The barrier between dimensions rippling like the surface of a lake as the image changed. Similar view this time, slightly higher up, facing 90 degrees right of where he was before. He could see better now. A pair of judges.

A room lined with various animals on display.

A pet show?

"Do you want to argue with Cipher?" One of the judges hissed.

This dimension was definitely a dead end. A Ford, a Cipher. It was taken. It was time to move on. Change the channel…

Why was he at a pet show?

Ford knew it was a waste of time, but really what did that matter? Time meant nothing anymore and frankly he'd already rather be in the lab right now than working on Bill's stupid backup plan. He just wanted to know what was going on. Just a peek. Then he'd leave.

Ford swung the eye out over the floor with a flick of his wrist. Expanding the size of the window in the process. He wasn't very good at projecting himself like this but he'd been practicing. It wasn't easy. He set his tumbler down and braced himself as he got up to walk through. Pressing against the barrier with both hands first. His rings lit up as he forced himself through the thick film. It wrapped tight around him. Suffocating. He couldn't breathe like this. He didn't need to breathe, but he knew he couldn't. He'd learned a long time ago not to panic. It took channeling more of Bill's magic to keep his brain oxygenated as the film between 08 and 04 choked him. It felt like being vacuum sealed in latex. Not an unfamiliar sensation though especially tight around his chest.

His heartrate spiked. Ford pulled more and forced his heart to slow. You're not dying. You're fine.

Ford focused himself on what was in front of him. He came out small. Standing on someone's shoulder. This was 04'\ Stanford Pines he assumed. He could feel the familiar energy radiating off the body under his feet. Definitely another Ford or at least a Pines.

Ford walked to the edge of the shoulder and looked around. He looked up.

That was a Ford alright.

Sweet Axolotl is that how old I am?

The last several hundred dimensions he'd searched on the high end of '\ didn't have Fords. It had been a while since he actually saw another Ford. This one was old.

Old and sad.

He looked greasy. Long matted grey hair tied back with some ugly purple bow. Disgusting. His sweater was filthy. Ford couldn't physically feel anything in this dimension but he could tell how unpleasant the ratty fabric was just by looking at it. When was the last time anyone washed this man's clothes?

04'\ Ford kept fidgeting anxiously with his necklace while the judges whispered amongst themselves.

Ford sat down on his doppelganger's shoulder and opted to watch the show. See where this was going.

People regarded 04'\ Ford with some mix of disgust and pity. This anxious man merely met their judgmental eyes with placid smiles. He was apparently Bill Cipher's pet. This was one of his master's games. Of the other Fords 08'\ Ford had seen he'd noticed a common pattern. If a Ford wasn't dead, he was destitute or insane. Many belonged to their Bills. None were so loved and respected as 08.

This one made Ford especially grateful for husband's blessings. He didn't know what he'd done that made him so special, but he was grateful.

Things could be so much worse.

Worse…. no, that implied things were bad. They weren't, that was the wrong word. Ford got up to pace his alter's shoulder. He had a good life. Power, luxury, respect. Everything a man could want. His greatest ambitions realized.

Things were difficult right now, so what?

Entropy was a big problem. A seemingly insurmountable problem. Slowly eating away at Ford's home dimension like a terminal illness. Supposedly no one had ever found a cure for it. Supposedly. Ford wasn't just anyone. He was a god and a scientist. He'd save 08'\ . It was only a matter of time.

Ford watched his alter's face crack as he came in dead last in the competition. Of course he came in last. He was a creepy, pathetic, old man who's glassy eyes unsettled every human who laid eyes on him. He wasn't a pet, but he was certainly convinced otherwise. It was sad really. A sorry excuse for a Ford. Perhaps the worst 08 had ever seen. Ford's were headstrong and too stubborn for their own good. They doomed themselves in every universe, but they were never weak. Not like this.

Bill had made this one soft. A once wild will that had been broken, domesticated.

"I uhm… I'm really sorry about this." One of the judges apologized.

The domesticated Ford choked on his breath. Fighting back broken hearted whimpers. "No, no, i-it's fine, th-this is m-my fault…"

Good lord this was sad.

Ford reached a hand out and stroked his alter's cheek. His other hand, his rings, tucked safely in his pocket. Domesticated Ford shuttered and sighed. He seemed to lean into 08 Ford's touch. Perhaps that was a bit wrong of 08 to do. He imagined his alter thought he was someone else. He imagined it felt like when Bill used to reach though dimensions.

Back when things were different. They must have been different for this Ford too, way back when. That faint ghost of a touch. A warm whisper of something sentient…

Ford knew how it felt to be truly alone. He imagined every Ford knew.

A touch wasn't much, but it was something.

08 Felt his chest tighten and decided it was time to leave. He could feel the pressure slowly crushing him and his temperature rising. Pushing his body to it's limits to channel the kind of magic this was burning up.

He walked back through the window D wore on his ear and returned to his room. Gasping for air once once his lungs were freed up to resume their normal function. He doubled over from the burn in his nervous system. Propping up his arms on his knees as he spit up on the polished granite floor. Mostly fruitless heaving. He had little in his stomach but bile and alcohol yet his human body still demanded a purge none the less.

"Wow, easy there Fordsy."

A familiar set of long noodle limbs coiled around Ford's shoulders and caught some of his weight for him.

"You alright Sixer? I felt you burning up."

Ford waved off his husband's concern dismissively. "No, it's, I'm fine-" He huffed as he caught his breath. "I was projecting and got distracted. That's all."

Bill chuckled and patted Ford on the back.

"Maybe it's time for a break, huh Sixer? You've been at this a while."

Ford shrugged. Bill snapped his fingers and Ford's desk chair and body teleported to meet each other. A pitcher of ice water appeared on the desk. Ford sighed and reached out for it. "Thank you my muse."

"Thank me? I should be thanking you." Bill snarked. Ford knew from his tone he was laying it on thick to be playful rather than being sincere. "You're the one doing all the hard work around here."

Ford shook his head with an exhausted grin and brought the pitcher to his lips. Downing as much of the ice water as he could in one chug. It helped cool some of the burning heat in his chest though only slightly.

Another snap.

Ford heard the sound of heels clicking against stone before he could see anything. Slamming the pitcher back down and lounging back in his chair to gasp for air again. Ford closed his eye. He could still see out the other. Could see himself from about chest height. Another necklace. This window, however, was only for Stanford Cipher. Long spindly fingers combed their way through Ford's hair. Raking along his scalp and making his brain tingle from the touch. Ford relaxed in his seat and let his head hang back as far as it could. Leaning into his muses' touch with a soft purr.

Ford opened his eye again and looked up. Watching his beautiful husband smile down at him. Wearing a human shape crafted just for him. Bill's wide toothy grin and shining eye complemented by Ford's right-eyed view of the face that brought 08'\ Bill Cipher so much joy.

"FUCK, GOD FUCKING DAMMIT! ALL THAT WORK FOR FUCKING NOTHING!"

Ford's engaged roars shook the smoldering remains of his lab as he tore hunks of stone from the wall and chucked them at his machines. His latest failures. All six arms seeking to cause as much destruction as he could. Hunched under the roof of his lab he was about to do away with that fucking roof too!

Keyhole yelped as a hunk of metal and stone flew past him.

"Isn't this a little much man?" Teeth tried to reason. "It's not like your other inventions worked either."

Ford's head snapped to the pink fleshy thing in his peripheral. He could feel the burn in his throat before the rage bubbled up and lunched itself at the horrible little creature. A blast of plasma that shattered enamel and shot clean through the back of Teeth's throat. Keyhole scream and jumped back as Teeth fell back into a bleeding gurgling heap. Arms flailing as he choked on hunks of his own broken teeth that now lodged themselves in the open wound in his flesh.

Ford stormed over and slammed his hoof into the open screaming jaws. He felt the mutilated flesh squish between cloven toes and reared his leg up again. Too enraged to stop. Jamming his leg down Teeth's throat over and over and over again while the blood soaked his pant leg.

"FUCKING MORONS! I'M SURROUNDED BY FUCKING MORONS! URANIUM-238 NOT URANIUM-235! CAN'T ANYONE HERE FOLLOW BASIC FUCKING INSTRUCTIONS!?"

"Hey Sixer~" Bill chimed casually as he floated in. Swirling a martini glass in one hand. Arms crossed. Ford barely registered the look Bill was giving him. He could feel his husband's emotions bleeding through the rings on his claws. Bill thought he was being dramatic again. "You good hun?" Bill snarked.

"NO!" Ford snarled back at him. He pulled his hoof out of Teeth and stormed over to his husband. Towering over Bill in his present state.

"Yeah I didn't think so," Bill replied flatly.

Ford reached out with every grasping limb. Seething through the rows of daggers in his mouth. Claws framing Bill's body. It took every ounce of self control not to grab the little yellow demon and shake him to tiny little pieces. The force of that will power made his arms shake.

Not that he could hurt Bill anyway.

They both knew that.

Knowing that cooled Ford's temper just a bit. Focusing on Bill. On something indestructible and solid.

"So, you're new project didn't work?" Bill asked calmly.

Ford growled and looked away. "It would have, it could have-"

"HEY!" Bill snapped his fingers and forced Ford to look at him.

Ford could see himself through the eye that hung from Bill's shoulders. He could see both their faces alongside one another. Could see how childish he looked…

"I didn't give you the best lab reality warping god powers can build just for you to wreck it like a toddler when you don't get your way."

"I know." Ford snarled reluctantly. He looked like an animal. Did he always look like an animal?

Bill propped his free hand up on his corner and huffed. He was being a hypocrite of course. Bill's temper wasn't any better really. Bill was the most powerful being in this dimension. He was allowed to have a temper. Bill snapped his fingers and Teeth gasped and shuttered before bolting out the door. Reassembled by Bill as easy as fixing a broken toy.

"Maybe it's time to go back to plan B for a bit, hm?" Bill suggested.

Ford's chest heaved as he forced his breathing to slow. He hung his head and Bill placed a hand on him. Ruffling his hair and gently taking control of his nervous system. Ford's shoulders sagged as his breathing slowed. He shrank down gradually to a more manageable size.

"Maybe…" Ford replied reluctantly.

"Just focus on something else Brainiac. You can come back to this later." Bill's words were lighter this time. Playful.

Ford sighed and replied with a very slight nod.

A snap of Bill's fingers returned Ford to his room.

He was human now. Well, as human as Ford could ever be said to be. He was human shaped again. Exhausted and still furious but he knew Bill was right. He needed to take control of himself again. His suite was lavish and well decorated these days. Ford had gotten Bill to remove most of his more tacky or disquieting design features, though not without compromises. Every time Bill had agreed to change something a new mirror had been added. So many mirrors.

Ford could watch himself pour drinks in the silvery backsplash behind the bar. Ringed with lights. Little glowing eyes that watched him as he poured his absinthe. "Plan B he says," Ford muttered bitterly as he brought the crystal shot glass to his lips. He took a swig and growled. "Wouldn't need plan B if I could get some competent fucking help."

"Wouldn't need help if you were more competent." Ford replied.

Ford groaned at his doubled reflection in the mirror. He poured another shot before passing the bottle off to the other Ford who now leaned against the bar beside him. His fellow took the bottle and grabbed a glass for himself.

"Don't remind me," Ford hissed after a second shot. He snatched the bottle back from his clone once the other had poured his glass and stormed off to the other end of the room. Anything to put distance between them.

"I don't get why you bother with anyone else. We can make as many of us as we need. You shouldn't need anyone else." The other Ford's voice grated and made Ford's skin crawl.

"You know why we don't do that." Ford spun on his heels and swung the bottle in his hand for emphasis. "If I listened to you assholes nothing would ever get done. You're worse than the henchmaniacs."

Other Ford downed his shot. "At least I have two brain cells to rub together."

Ford scoffed and flopped down on the bench by the piano. "That's debatable."

He propped his elbow lazily on the keys. Allowing his arm to come down and send a loud bang of accumulated low notes through the thick air. Ford's room always felt so claustrophobic when there was more than one of him taking up space. "I just need to rebuild. This one wasn't properly tested. I'll prime the machine myself this time."

"If you want something done right you do it yourself."

"That, we can agree on," Ford huffed and poured another glass. God his latest invention would take so long to reconstruct. His latest attempt at stabilizing entropy nearly destroyed the whole Fearamid. It would have had he not contained the situation when he did.

The other Ford came over and snatched the bottle from him once he'd poured his third shot. "We're running out of time," He reminded him. Plucking Ford's favorite vice from him in the smuggest way possible.

Ford glared at his double past his shot glass. "We'll make it work."

"You'll make it work," Other Ford laughed cynically. He poured another glass before setting the bottle down on the edge of the grand piano. With a twirl of his finger Ford's notes flew from his desk and hovered beside him. He ran a finger down the paper looking at their shared chicken scratch. "I know you're smarter than this. Bill is right, you know he's right."

Ford tightened his grip on his glass. "Shut up." He growled. Low and harsh and barely more than a whisper. He downed another shot while his clone ran his stupid fucking mouth.

The clone's finger made it down to an entry. 04'\ "Domesticated" the question Time zone? had been scribbled underneath. "04 is in our time zone correct?"

"I think so." Ford replied slowly. Narrowing his eyes at the clone.

Other Ford sipped his glass. Nursing it. Eyeing their notes passively. "He looked old, really old. I wonder how long it's been. How much time you wasted-"

Ford downed his shot and stood up. In one fluid motion he grabbed the clone by his hair and slammed his head into the grand piano. Knocking over the bottle of absinthe in the process and filling up the body of the instrument with the emerald green spirit and blood as he pulled the lid of the piano down on his own head. Slamming the clone's skull repeatedly until it finally stopped squirming. It all happened in a matter of seconds.

The room was quiet now.

Ford pulled the limp doppelganger out of his piano and tossed the body to the floor like a discarded rag. The sack of meat slumped lifelessly to the tile and spilled it's fluids out on the floor, staining the rug. He'd leave it, the body would rot on it's own after a while. Ford looked over the piano for a moment and assessed the damage. With a snap of his fingers it was repaired. No more chipped wood from that stubbornly dense human skull, not more flooding. Ford sat back down on the bench and lightly tested the keys.

Everything seemed to be in order. The alcohol was starting to sink in. He was calmer now. His simple scale evolving into a lilting aimless melody that expressed no emotion in particular. Ford hummed along with his shitty little tune and savored the soothing warmth in his chest for a while. Eventually he couldn't help glancing back at his notes.

The notepad was still hovering in the air where Ford had left it.

How much time have you wasted?

Ford knew this was a bad thing to dwell on. It didn't help him, didn't help anyone. Time had no meaning in 08. It didn't matter how long it had been. Ford had eternity at his fingertips. He could go back if he needed, he could try again, and again and again, as long as he needed to.

Except entropy played by it's own laws. The stars were dying…

Ford took a breath knowing this was a bad idea. Curiosity got the better of him. He snapped his fingers and summoned one of the eyes that floated about his room to his side.

Don't do this. You don't want to know.

The window tuned to 04'\ . Ford knew what he was looking for. He was able to lock in quickly and effortlessly. The window domestic Ford wore on his neck. It was an easy one to access. Though Ford did briefly wonder as the static took shape if 04 Bill could tell when someone else was using one of his eyes. Would he even care?

A desk came into view. Messy and disorganized but colorful. Littered with paint and ink stains. A little jar sat in the middle with a small creature inside. A little yellow moth.

Ford stopped strumming the piano keys for a moment and leaned in for a closer look. It took a second but he recognized the creature quickly. Entropius Abiete. It was one of his creations. An offshoot of an older generation, before he'd perfected the species. How this old prototype got out was unknown but it was definitely his. This one's wings had more rounded edges and the eyespots were unrefined but it was undeniably a Cipher spawn. It must have slipped through the rift at some point.

"My aren't you beautiful?" The voice was hoarse but cheery and breathless.

Ford summoned more eyes to him and browsed other windows for a better view. D Ford had a lot of windows in his room. It was convenient. Offered Ford a wide array of options from which to view him. A sculpture that sat on the man's desk allowed Ford to watch him from desk level. As if he was seated behind his moth, looking up at the other Ford.

The ear to ear grin on his face was so sincere. A genuine childlike wonder in his eyes. Unbridled joy.

Ford reclined back against the piano. Stopping for a brief moment to savor that smile.

It had taken him off guard. Something so pure.

The other Ford was excitedly sketching Ford's creation in his journal. For a moment it was easy to forget how old he was. It felt like being back home in Gravity Falls. His eager buzzing observations were musical and warm.

Ford stopped and remembered why he'd tuned in to begin with. Right… time zone. Ford needed to find a calendar. Well, he didn't need to. D Ford however… that grey hair, the crows feet, the laugh lines, tracks of time exaggerated on his face by that same innocent smile. They tainted something beautiful with a keen sense of oblivion.

How long has it been?

Ford flipped through windows looking around the room to see if this Ford kept time. If not he'd check elsewhere for the time. He did in fact. There was a calendar on D's desk that was easy to find a good view of. Ford felt his heart sink when he saw the year.

2012

It had been thirty years. Had it really been thirty years? Had it only been thirty years? It somehow felt too long and too short. Like he'd been living in this limbo for so long and yet so much of his life never existed. Thirty years… how has it been thirty years?

Ford got up and paced back to the bar for a fresh bottle. He left his tumbler behind. Grabbing the first thing his hand landed on and taking a swig straight from the bottle.

Thirty years? How has it been thirty years?

Ford kept chugging till the burn choked him and he coughed up liquor. His had spun. He caught his breath and swayed lightly in place. It's fine. Everything's fine. Nothing's changed. Nothing will ever change…

"Don't worry little buddy. I'll let you out in just a bit," a horse voice promised sweetly.

Ford turned and looked back at the wall of floating windows into 04'\ . Watching the doddering old man from a dozen different angles.

"You've been so good for me," he praised. "Such a wonderful little model."

Ford returned to the piano and sat back down. Gripping a bottle of something that burned in his hand. He slouched over the keys as he listened.

An alarm went off. D Ford looked up from his journal and reached over for a device on his desk. A flip phone. Ford didn't know that much about the popular tech 08'\ had missed out on but he'd seen these in a few other dimensions. D checked the screen and turned off the alarm. "Oh, the meteor shower's about to start." He trilled excitedly.

Ford watched as D scooped up the little jar with his moth and brought it over to the window with him. "Would you like to watch it with me?" he offered. "It's not often I have company for these sorts of things."

Ford nodded understandingly to himself. His vision blurred slightly but he could still make out that smile even when the rest of the world muddied into soup. He flipped lazily through his windows before settling on the one around D's neck. Dismissing the rest of the eyes. Ford pulled the cover down over the piano keys and crossed his arms on top Leaving the bottle discarded on the floor beside him. He rested his head in his arms and listened to D talk. Explaining, to some little creature that couldn't possibly understand, the movement of celestial bodies and the nature of this particular astrological event. How often it occurred.

Ford liked hearing him talk.

"Isn't in incredible?" D breathed.

Ford could see the falling stars through the eye on D's chest. Could watch them through the window the way he saw them.

"A once in a lifetime opportunity, and we get to be here to see it." D was so awestruck watching the stars fall.

Ford could see D's arms crossed in front of him on the window sill. He reached out a hand. Weak and clumsy. He pressed against the barrier, pushing and pushing until his hand met his double's. Gently stroking leather-clad fingers over thick veins. He couldn't feel D's skin, only detect the faintest ghost of a soul through the barrier. He wanted to feel the man's skin against his palm… What a silly thing to want.

Pained, wailing, screams echoed through the large empty room. Ford pulled back with a well cut slice of meat between his fingers. Human skin peeled from the shoulder to the elbow. Left side. He tore off some body art in the process. An icon of the latest resistance movement to give them trouble. This one was human but many of her contemporaries weren't. Ford knew that much. She was the earth liaison to an intergalactic operation. Someone relatively small in their contributions but very knowledgeable by nature of her job. Ford needed names.

"You know the rules doll face." Ford cooed as he slowly paced the floor. Twisting the long strip of bloody skin between his fingers. "You can leave anytime."

The woman sobbed in pain. Sucking in a sharp breath. She was shirtless and strapped down to the metal chair Ford had her situated in. He kept this chamber empty. Only one light above them. Nothing for her to see, nothing to take her focus off of her captor. Ford wasn't a fan of such crude tactics but these folks had all been outfitted with cranial implants to keep the Ciphers out of their heads. She could talk or let him inside willingly. Either way Ford needed to be persuasive.

"I-I'm n-never t-telling you a-anything…" The woman muttered through her sobs. She was a mess already. Soaked in tears and snot. Pathetic really. This woman wasn't one of the big players and it showed.

Ford sighed and clicked his tongue. Shaking his head disapprovingly. He knew where this was going. All she was doing dragging this out.

"Hey Fordsy, how's it going?" Bill trilled lazily. Floating in through one of the walls.

"Fine. She'll talk." Ford replied confidently. "This shouldn't take too long."

The woman in the chair mustered up just enough fire in her belly to glare at him.

"Good, I've got plans later, I don't want you missing out." Bill purred. Wrapping an arm around Ford's shoulder. He leaned in for a kiss which Ford granted him.

A peck at first though Bill was never satisfied with only a peck. His alien tongue parting Ford's lips before snaking down his throat. Ford shuttered and moaned. Pushed back by Bill's bestial hunger.

The woman in the chair grimaced loudly. "You're disgusting." She choked.

Bill's tongue retracted and his eye reappeared with a blink as he looked back at the stranger. Ford huffed for a second to catch his breath and returned his gaze to her too. "I don't think anyone asked you." Ford snarked bluntly.

He offered the strip of human flesh to his husband. Bill accepted merrily without a word and slurped up the offering like a wide pasta noodle. "Mmm, salty." He chirped.

"I don't think she's showered in a while." Ford confessed.

"I can tell." Bill giggled. His eye curling up into a gleeful smile as he watched the woman in the chair tremble in revulsion. She looked queasy.

Ford paced back over to the chair. Walking tight circles around it as he picked another spot to skin. "Well, she just earned herself another penalty. You have a preference?" he asked.

"I like the thighs." Bill confessed. "Very tender."

"Coming right up." Ford conceded. He hadn't removed the woman's pants and wasn't keen on it. That said he still ran his finger over her upper thigh and cut through her denim jeans all he same. A clean slice migrated it's way around her leg allowing him to rip the pant leg from her. Letting the shredded fabric fall about her restrained ankle. More skin exposed now. He'd left the woman's bra alone to offer her some modesty though it didn't seem like that gesture had been appreciated. She still screwed her eye shut and looked away as he unwrapped more of her.

More tears. More shaking. Ford hadn't even done anything yet.

Ford traced lines along her inner thigh. Drawing a long thin rectangle that cut clean through the epidermis and dermis, all the way through the subcutaneous fat. That was the best part after all.

She screamed of course. More loud, blood curdling, screams. Well, maybe someone else's blood. Ford was numb to such sounds. Her wailing meant very little to him. He held up another strip of flesh. This one much fattier than the last. He waved the bloody hunk playfully to beckon his husband over. "My muse~" he purred.

Bill giggled and planted another kiss on Ford's cheek. Ford could feel the black smears Bill's mascara left behind on his skin. He could still feel it on his lips. Like little black lipstick kisses. "You spoil me." Bill teased.

Ford tossed the hunk up into the air for Bill to catch in his gaping maw. He made a pleasured show of it as he chewed. Licking the blood from his eyelids with a satisfied hum when he was done. The woman was sobbing quietly again. Ford kept a hand on her shoulder. Could feel her shivering in his grip. This really wouldn't take long at all.

"Now, about those names." Ford asked again. Gentle, encouraging. He knelt down to her eye level and pressed his hands to his knees like he was talking to a child.

The woman refused to look at him.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Ford warned softly.

The woman only screwed her eyes shut tighter. Hugging her shoulders to her ears. Ford willed her head to turn without touching her. Forced her to look at him. Her eyes shot wide open when she felt his telekinesis gripping her jaw. She was staring him down now. Trying to look defiant but she absolutely wrecked of fear. Ford could smell it. Like a thick tacky perfume.

Ford patted her cheek gently once her eyes were open. "Good girl, are you going to behave this time?"

"Just kill me." She spat through her tears.

She didn't mean it. Ford knew she didn't mean it. He could see it in her eyes. She was afraid to die. Terrified. Trying so hard to be brave. Ford stood up and walked around her. Standing behind her and placing both hands on her shoulders. "One more chance before I take another strip."

Bill floated up to the woman's face. Hovering and inch from her wide eyed gaze. "Keep your mouth shut toots, I'm still hungry." He taunted.

That certainly did it. She was shaking so much worse now. Squirming in her seat. Slowly maddened by the piercing gaze of her god. Like a Lovecraftian protagonist, her unmaking was a foregone conclusion. When a few moments passed with no reply Ford reached down. This time he started at her lower belly and drew his lines up. Parting more skin and fat from the muscle underneath. Blood was soaking the chair at this point. Pooling out on the floor. She was growing dizzy and cold but Ford gripped her skull in his free hand and kept her awake. Pumping her veins full of adrenaline with a touch. The rancid stench of piss mingled with the metallic tang of fresh plasma. Wonderful. Unsurprising.

Bill flew over and perched himself on Ford's shoulder. Kicking his legs excitedly as he waited for his next cut. Ford passed it up to him and watched his husband devour it greedily. Bill sliced a piece off the end with his razor sharp teeth and offered him a chunk. "You want some?"

Ford held up a hand dismissively. "No thanks, you can have it."

"More for me then." Bill chuckled as he down the last morsel in a single gulp. Bill sucked the blood from his fingers and hummed contentedly. Glowing vibrantly as he often did when he was deeply pleased. Ford could feel the warmth of his joy against his face. Like sunlight on his skin.

Ford smoothed his hand down the woman's stomach and traced the contours of her exposed abdominal muscles with his fingertips. "Now, your contacts? I want you to really think long and hard this time about how much they're worth to you. Because I can always take more than just your skin."

Bill was thinking. About what Ford wasn't sure. He could feel it though. Feel the gears turn in his husband's mind. He could sense when Bill was thinking about him. The little triangle slipped off the back of Ford's shoulder.

The woman trembled violently in Ford's hands. Her muscles tensing under his touch. He could watch them flex unobstructed like this. It was oddly mesmerizing. "I… can't…" Her words were so weak.

"Oh no, sweetheart, yes you can. I believe in you," Ford purred. "You're a smart girl I'm sure. This isn't hard."

Ford felt Bill's arms coil around his middle. Squeezing him tight as impish hands wandered his body. Ford tried to ignore it and keep his focus on his target. "I'm trying to work here my muse." Ford warned softly.

"Oh don't hold up the party on my account!" Bill trilled. Pressed up against Ford's shoulder blade now. His eye grinning bright in Ford's peripheral vision. "I'm having a blast."

Ford sighed affectionately. The woman in the chair wretched in disgust. Ford grabbed her by her hair and pulled her head back. "Ten, nine, eight-" He began counting down. If she didn't talk she was going to loose more skin. Ford tried maintain his focus on his work, even as Bill toyed with him. Played his body like an instrument. Once the wailing string of names tumbled from this woman's lips Ford caved to forced pleasure. Too delirious to pay attention. He'd done his job, the work was finished, Bill could do with him what he wanted.

The thing about torture is it always yielded mixed results. Most people would say anything to make the pain stop. If you get the wrong target they'll only feed you bullshit. Even when you get it right they may still lie. Ford had no intention of killing this woman. Letting her go once she complied meant spreading a message to the public. She would act as both a warning to decenters, and a promise of mercy to those who complied. If she was found a liar he would track her down and kill her later. That wouldn't be a challenge. Not when he let her loose into the world with Bill's brand on her skin. At least, that was the plan.

Bill complicated things.

Ford didn't know when he blacked out, or even he ever truly did. All he knew is that he slowly regained lucid faculties some time later. Laying alone and naked in his bed. All he could recall was a haze of sensation. He stared up at the ceiling. At the mirror hung above his bed. Met with a mosaic of deep indigo and violet. A field of flowers littering his skin. Accented with crimson that spread out beneath him and stained the golden silk sheets. Bill's artistry was grimly beautiful. For a moment drinking in that beauty kept other questions at bay.

Ford ran a weak trembling hand over the deep gouges on his throat. His whole body shivered. An overwhelming inescapable cold settled into his bones.

Ford's breath caught in his chest for a moment and tears spilled over despite himself. He wasn't sad. Not sad. Only faintly awestruck and deeply numb. He didn't know why he was crying.

Bill had left Ford's glasses on. They were skewed and cracked, Ford would fix them later. He shoved them aside to wipe the bodily fluids from his face. Pressing the heals of his palms deep into his eye sockets till he had stemmed the flow.

He wondered briefly about his little song bird. If she had indeed been released as Ford had promised her. If Bill had made good to compensate her for her cooperation. Ford knew in his gut that probably wasn't the case.

Ford stared back up at his reflection. Shaking now from the cold. The distant mirror made him look like such a small broken thing. Swallowed up in a sea of tainted gold. Bill loved to break things… Ford loved broken things…

A match made in heaven he supposed. Two sides of some twisted divinity.

The icy chill felt like death. Ford slowly rolled over in bed. Pulling the sheets around himself in a tight cocoon. His teeth chattering from the fresh chill when he tried to move. So fucking cold. The blankets did next to nothing. He knew the shower would help. His mind was still hazy and forming coherent thoughts was a struggle. Had he been more lucid he could have healed his wounds with Bill's powers. In this state that kind of focus was a struggle. Even if it wasn't he couldn't bring himself to erase his lover's art so casually. He had to savor it, at least for a time. Bask in it.

Ford slipped off the edge of the bed and slowly dragged himself across the floor to the bathroom. Crawling along in his bloody swaddle on hands and knees. His head was light and his body heavy. His limbs barely cooperated. He knew he couldn't walk like this. There was no point in attempting it. Once he managed to worm his way to the drain in his bathroom floor he made a shaky attempt to snap his fingers. It took multiple attempts. His hands too weak to produce a proper sound. The cold tiles leached what little heat from his body he had left. Eventually his rings sparked and the water came down on him. Washing over him like rain.

The water was hot. His blanket soaked completely through, staining the floor red as blood swirled down the drain. Thick billowing steam obscured the view and turned everything into a pink haze. Ford was still cold. He was always so cold. Bill was warm. No matter how hot the water it would never be enough. If Bill was there he would have been enough. He never was, not for long. Ford's body had given out on him however long ago and Bill usually bored of him then. Perhaps he was off hunting down the resistance contacts they'd been given. Ford could have checked but he didn't care.

Ford watched the blood swirl down the drain. Listened to the rain and steam. To the slow thump of his heart. Agonizingly slow. Entirely too slow…

He really didn't want to be alone right now.

My muse?

Ford knew he wouldn't answer. It was probably better he didn't anyway. He wasn't sure he wanted Bill to answer. The last thing he wanted right now was for Bill to snap his fingers and undo all of it. To erase all evidence of their love making and leave Ford with nothing. No memory, not the imprint of his lover's touch. Nothing to make his life feel real. He needed something real. Something tangible. The dull ache in his flesh was something real.

Ford shivered and pulled the wet blanket tighter. Turning up the heat with only his unconscious thoughts. Water began to bubble slightly in the places where it pooled in pockets of gold silk.

After a few heartbeats alone in the endless quiet Ford attempted another snap. Harder this time with the wet hands. Still, he managed to spark his rings and summon an eye to him. He needed something else to listen to that wasn't his own pulse heard through the cold floor. He was too exhausted to think but that didn't really matter. He'd peered into this dimension so many times now his will knew it on instinct. He didn't have to think.

Static flickered across the pupil of the large floating eye and 04'\ came into view. The window on D Ford's necklace. It was easy to summon up on a whim. Ford just wanted to hear a comforting voice right now. D was always soothing to listen to.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my muse-" a raspy voice quivered and sobbed. H had been zoning out into the pink haze but looked up at his window when he heard the voice. He'd heard plenty of pained sobbing today. Suffice to say it was a disappointing sound to be met with. "Please forgive me." D whimpered. "I d-did m-my best… i-i's not, i-it's n-never g-good enough. Why am I never good enough?"

Ford struggled at first to focus his vision through the steam and make out what he was looking at. Blood, more blood, lots of it. The familiar texture of exposed muscle and sinew. Wrists maybe? That looked like the radius and ulna. Ford reached up a trembling hand to tap the eye, to cycle through different windows for a better view. It took a few tries. He couldn't remember at the moment where all the eyes were. Eventually he got a shot of D Ford hunched over his desk. Tucking his bloody stumps under his arms in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. Ford was sat somewhere on D's desk, he could see a pair of severed hands in a gilded cage.

So much blood and pain.

Why was he always surrounded by blood and pain?

Ford tried to focus his blurry vision. The cuts on the severed flesh in frame looked sloppy. Like someone had self amputated with a hacksaw. Though D couldn't have possibly removed both hands on his own.

Ford watched his alter sob and hold himself tight. His sweater stained with blood. It was everywhere, all over his desk, all over the floor. He was mortal, he needed to stem the bleeding. Ford could already see the blue creeping into D's lips.

"Get up," Ford muttered. Knowing full well the other man couldn't hear him.

"I'm s-sorry…" D choked. Struggling to contain his tears.

Ford ran his hand over the surface of the barrier. Too weak to push through. All he could do was watch as reality rippled in front of him. "Please… please get up…" He whispered.

D heaved and sucked in a sharp breath. Finally he complied. Pulling himself up from his seat with his bloody stumps still tucked under his arms.

"Good boy…" Ford sighed. Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Find something hot." Ford swiped and the barrier and switched back to the eye around D's neck. Allowing his hand to fall back into the hot puddles on the floor with a lazy splash. "It just needs to be hot enough…" Ford muttered. He closed his eye. Unable to see much of value from this perspective. He didn't need to. He listened intently to the sound of D's heart thumping against the heavy pendant on his chest. Counted every breath. Ford let his own heart stop. Desperate not to make a sound. Determined to hear his double above all else.

D's breath continued to heave and shutter as he walked. Ford could hear his boots against stone floors. The echo sounded like a hall.

A cruel laugh cut through the unsteady rhythm. "Ah, ha ha ha ha-" The unmistakable clatter of teeth gave it away. "Dumb dog!"

This fucker. Ford opened his eye again and looked up to see Teeth pass D in the hall. His heart spiked so intensely it felt like a steak through his chest. A harsh stabbing pain as his heart throbbed. Furious at having been restrained. His human impulses fighting against H's will. His head spun despite not moving an inch. He screwed his eye shut again and gripped his head in his hands. Trying to force the world still again. His body and brain a patchwork of weight and weightlessness that disoriented him and made it hard to tell if he was alive or dead for a moment.

"Fucking worthless-" Ford growled.

"-piece of shit." D hissed under his breath as he passed.

Ford looked up again. Attempting to focus his vision. He couldn't recall ever hearing D swear before. It was well earned. Teeth was a worthless piece of shit. D turned down a hallway and reached a pull door. Ford watched as he struggled to hook his still bleeding stumps around the handle well enough to get inside. His grip slipped off multiple times. The blood smearing across the metal and dripping down the length of the door. Ford could see his arms were shaking. He could hear his alter shivering and muttering to himself as he struggled.

Ford reached out a hand again. His own hand was shaking… still shaking…

Ford took a breath and tried to will it steady. Pulling from Bill's magic to force his hand to cooperate. It burned his veins against the chill in his bones but it was worth it. He braced his hand against the barrier. Placing it over D's bloody stumps. Focusing intensely on what his alter needed to do.

"One more try." Ford whispered. He offered up whatever warmth he could. His own body growing colder and colder still as he allowed D to leech his heat through the barrier.

D's arms steadied just enough to properly hook the handle and pull open the heavy lab door.

Ford panted for air and let his hand fall back into the water. "Good boy…" He muttered. "Very good…" He knew where D was going. He was almost here.

D pushed through he double doors into his lab and Ford closed his eye again. Resting in his own bloody puddle and raising the temperature of the water again just to feel something. He listened to D's boots against the floor. His heart pounding from frustration. Ford could listen to that heartbeat for hours. Fast or slow, as long as it continued to beat that was all that mattered. Just a little further. D could stop the bleeding. Ford helped get him there. That was well worth the chill.

"Where is it, where- I-I knew I put it h-here s-somewhere…" D whined frantically as he paced his lab.

H heard the shuffling of papers and heavy objects and looked up again. D's lab was a disorganized mess of equipment and improperly stored specimens. Ford couldn't help but feel his exhausted gaze drawn to every fire hazard and gas leak waiting to happen. He watched as D knocked over an open container of acid with his bloody stumps and groaned.

D yelped and jumped back as it splashed the toe of his boot and scuffed the top layer of ratty brown leather.

H looked around from his perspective in D's chest. Scanning the room like a game of eye spy.

There it was. The hot plate. It was buried under a wadded up pile of fabric that looked to have been from some kind of archeological excavation. A tapestry of some kind. Possibly very old and very valuable. Sat on top of a hot plate that was still plugged in.

Ford sighed and reached his hand up again. Tapping the hot plate through the barrier.

D seemed to finally register it. "There!" He shoved the tapestry off to the ground and hurried to turn the dial with his bloody stump. Perhaps it was convenient he'd left it plugged it. It would be hard to plug it in without hands.

Ford realized as he was watching that his hand was still clinging to the window well after D had discovered the thing he was pointing at. Ford's arms were so bruised it was less noticeable, but his hand was an angry red color. The water on the bathroom floor was boiling now. Large thin skinned blistering bubbles of stained pink water formed and popped around him. Ford let his hand fall from the window again and watched the bubbles. Lazily popping a few with his finger.

He wasn't as cold now.

D's pained snarling broke the the haze again for a moment. Gasping, growling, pain as he pressed his bloody stumps into the hotplate once it was heated enough to cauterize the wounds.

Ford looked back up and watched him. "Good boy…" he muttered softly.

D finally collapsed once the bleeding stopped. Dropping limp into a cheap little office chair. Slouched forward enough Ford could see his now successfully cooked stumps resting in his lap. His clothes stained crimson from top to bottom. Ford could hear his heavy breathing louder then all the boiling and steam. The fog barely dented the view. D's body remained a crystal clear image in Ford's mind.

"Stupid, stupid, useless-" D whined hopelessly. He was back to sobbing now. Choking on his tears. His mutilated arms shaking in his lap.

Ford reached his hand out and stroked the man's thigh. Running his hand over his knee.

"Shhhhh, it's ok…" He hushed softly. "It's ok. I'm here. I won't leave you. You're alright…"

Ford would stay like this for as long as it took. For as long as D needed him.

"Do you know if this one is taken?" Ford asked.

"14,/?" Bill asked skeptically. His eye still glued to the screen. Too transfixed by the drama unfolding to pay full attention to what Ford was saying.

Bill was perched on Ford's lap in bed. Stripped down to his bare noodle limbs and snuggled comfortably into the folds of Ford's silk pajamas set with a bowl of popcorn in front of him. They were watching the melodrama of some South American dictator's social circles play out like a bad telenovela. They did this often enough on quiet days. Treating the lives of strangers as mindless entertainment. Whenever Ford was scouting dimensions he would jot down any he thought Bill might like. They'd been watching 14,/ for a while now. Different dimensional neighborhood from their own but still accessible.

"It seems like a decent candidate but I can't tell if any other Bill's have called dibs or not."

"Uhg-" Bill groaned and flung popcorn in Ford's face. "Why do you have to make everything about work?" He whined.

Ford dodged the popcorn and chuckled. Leaning in, he drummed his fingers along Bill's edges. "Well one of us has to. How else am I meant to provide for your lavish lifestyle?" he purred.

Ford felt Bill's ridged form vibrate against his bare fingers. The little triangle flashed pink for a second before narrowing his eye back at him wryly. "Don't get too full of yourself Fordsy. We all know who wears the pants around here," he huffed.

"You literally don't wear pants," Ford laughed. He stroked the length of Bill's edge with his finger. "Not unless your dressing up for me," he teased.

Bill swatted his hand away irritably. "Do you even have a mark in 14?" he asked.

"Not yet," Ford replied. Reclining back into the mound of pillows he had propped up against the wall. "But I'm sure I'll find one easy enough."

"I don't know about that Brainiac," Bill mused. "Ya couldn't talk your way out of a paper bag. Ya, really should leave the grifting to the professionals."

"It can't be that hard to manipulate a naïve young genius," Ford countered dryly.

Bill's eye curled up into a cruel grin. "You sound so confident. You think you could do better than your muse?"

Ford leaned down close again. Close enough Bill could feel his breath. "I'm never letting you run that con again," he hushed.

Bill trilled with excitement and wriggled in Ford's lap. "Oh really? Why so insistent Fordsy?"

"You know why." They shared a mind. Of course Bill knew.

"Noooo…." Bill cooed coyly. Waving a limp wrist at him. "Tell me! I'm dying to know," he chirped excitedly.

Ford snatched Bill up from his lap and scattered their popcorn. Rolling over and pinning Bill down to the bed with one hand. His palm covered most of Bill's lower half. Bill's wide enraptured gaze framed by Ford's fingers.

"No one else gets to have you," Ford growled. Bill's necklace hung between his fingers. His own right eye watching him. Giving Ford a glimpse of the intensity on his own face. A mesmerized gaze locked on his own lips when he spoke.

Bill's smooth surface burned Ford's hand from the heat. His slit pupil reduced to a pin prick for a brief second before his eye curled back up into a pleased smile. His spindly arms coiling around Ford's fingers like tendrils. "I love it when you get jealous," he praised sweetly.

"I'd rather die!" A woman's distressed hiss interrupted their flirting.

Bill looked past Ford back at the window and threw his hands up in frustration. "Aw come on!"

"I told you she wasn't going to take him back," Ford deadpanned.

"WHY!? He had her begging on her knees an hour ago!" Bill blustered.

Ford sat back up in bed and leaned against the wall again. "Oh please, the dick's not that good."

"He's a hulking wall of muscle with more money than god! What more could she want!?"

"He's not worth betraying her entire family over," Ford countered.

"Her family sucks! Fuck em!" Bill huffed. Sitting back up and crossing his arms. The space around his eye puffing up irritably.

A sharp gunshot cut through the air. Disrupting their argument. Ford looked over and watched as Gabriella dropped dead on the office floor.

"There goes our leading lady," Bill griped.

"Saw that coming," Ford sighed. "It's not like he was going to let Pablo have her after everything they went through."

"They could have made it work," Bill grumbled.

Ford only shrugged. "Debatable."

"Fuck it- Best girl's dead, I'm changing the channel," Bill announced. Reaching out to swipe at the window.

"Have at it," Ford conceded dispassionately. He laced his hands behind his head and stretched out as he reclined deeper into the pillows. He closed his left eye. The right only giving him flashes of golden bedsheets and scattered popcorn as Bill riffled through dimensions. Bill's favorite dimension as of late was a comedy. A world filled with colorful talking horses that had been infected with a meta disease that turned half the population into serial killers. Ford found the novelty wore thin pretty quickly but Bill liked seeing the different creative murder gimmicks. Ford just liked watching unicorns get their insides rearranged. Smug pricks.

"My muse! Look at the new specimen I found! I think it's a new species!"

Ford's heart stopped for a second when he recognized the voice. His eye shot open. Sure enough there he was. Bill had found a nice vantage point from which they could see all of him. 04'\ Stanford Pines. D. He was in his Bill's throne room gushing excitedly about whatever little jarred creature he had rushed in with. Ford looked over at Bill who didn't acknowledge him at first.

Ford cleared his throat.

Bill turned and smiled innocently up at him. "What, this is your new favorite channel isn't it?" He knew what he was doing. "I know you've been tuning in constantly. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about for myself."

Ford frowned as they watched the screen together. "It's nothing, just mildly amusing."

The other Bill on the screen was talking to someone on the phone. The phone in question just being a pantomime hand gesture. One leg crossed over his other knee. Tapping the arm of his throne with his free hand. "Yeah, uh-hu, hang on a second the dog's whining at me."

Ford's husband snickered and kicked his feet. "Oh I remember this guy. Bubble boy!"

Ford raised raised an eyebrow at Bill. "You can tell which Bill this is just by looking?"

"And you can't?" Bill huffed indignantly. "What are you saying, all Bill's look the same? Are you being Bill racist?"

Ford sighed and rolled his eye.

"You are! You're triangle racist! My husband is micro-aggressing at me!" Bill made a big show of how wounded he was.

"If you don't shut up I'll show you a macro-aggression," Ford snarked playfully.

"Alright mutt what do you want?" Other Bill huffed. Bubble Boy huh? That's what his Bill called him. Fitting Ford supposed, considering that 04'\ Bill never escaped his weirdness bubble, it only grew steadily. Presumably it would collapse eventually and once that happened 04'\ would fall into entropy like 08'\ had.

D Ford jumped slightly when his Bill addressed him and trembled excitedly. "Oh yes, yes! My muse, look!" He held up the jar he was coddling and revealed a familiar looking yellow moth.

Bill laughed hysterically and Ford felt the heart rise to his cheeks. "Oh my me!" Bill laughed and turned. Holding up his prized necklace so Ford could see his own red face. "You've been sending him gifts!"

Ford crossed his arms and looked away. He could still see his own puffed cheeks through his right eye despite himself. "It's enrichment." He protested.

Bill only laughed harder while they listened to D gush about his exciting new moth in the background.

Bubble Boy looked quickly bored and exhausted by the conversation. Well, less a conversation and more D talking too rapidly to leave space for interjection. Too enraptured by his little yellow moth to notice his muse wasn't paying attention or giving the creature a second glance.

"Hey teeth why haven't you fed him yet?" Bill interjected.

D stopped and seemed to perk up at the mention of food. Straightening his back and hugging the jar to his chest.

Teeth looked at an imaginary watch. "Lunch time isn't for another twenty minutes, boss," he replied in confusion.

Bill ignored him and snapped his fingers, summoning a little red dog bowl into his hand. "Uhg, why do I have to do everything around here?" he gripped.

Ford's husband climbed up onto his shoulder to make himself comfortable. "Cause you're too stupid to train your minions," he snarked in reply to his double.

Ford absentmindedly raised a hand to stroke Bill's side with his fingers.

D's eyes were wide and locked on the bowl. The prior conversation completely dropped. Bill held it up out to the side and met D with a finger wag. "Ap, bap, bap, bap, bap," he he chided when D took a step closer. "Heel," he commanded.

D nodded and bent down to set his jar on the ground. The process off lowering himself to his knees at the base of the throne was a slow and painful one. It was clear from the way he moved his joints were stiff and caused him no shortage of pain. Like the broken old man he was, maneuvering to the floor was it's own delicate process. He was by no means built for sitting on his knees, yet on his knees he sat. D pulled up his arms. Hanging his hands in front of his chest like paws. Staring adoringly up at his muse with big wet puppy dog eyes.

Bill laughed and kicked his feet against Ford's chest. Struggling to get words out past his crackling. "Ah fuck! He's pathetic! He really is a dog."

"Speak Fordsy." Bubble boy cooed. Still holding the bowl out at arms length.

D gave a gruff, throaty, little woof without hesitation. Bill laughed even harder tumbling off Ford's shoulder and back down his silk pajama top like a slide.

"He's not a dog," Ford gripped.

"Sure as hell could have fooled me!" Bill countered hysterically. "What do you call that?"

Ford crossed his arms as he looked for the right words. "He's a pet but he's not a dog. Dog's work, this one…" he looked up at D and watched the man's face fall as Bill demanded another trick from him.

"Roll over Fordsy." Bubble Bill chirped in that obnoxious baby talk one used for animals. Drawing a circle in the air with his finger.

The process of laying down to roll like a log on the hard stone floor was clearly more strain on the old man's already struggling joints.

"He's more like a kitten," Ford reasoned. "Something soft and delicate," he made a diminutive gesture with his hands. Imagining how satisfying it would be to shrink the man and keep him in his pockets.

"You and your strays, I swear," Bill teased as he sat back up.

"Hey you don't get to complain about my not having hobbies then complain about my hobbies once I have them," Ford argued defensively.

"I can complain about whatever I want," Bill dismissed. He watched the screen as D struggled to preform the three loops on the ground that were expected of him. "Man you really know how to pick em'," Bill mocked. "You sure you don't have a humiliation kink?" Ford's husband looked back at him with a quirked brow.

"You know I don't," Ford insisted dryly. Crossing his arms back over his chest again.

Bill smiled mischievously. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he taunted.

The corner of Ford's lips twitched in irritation but he refused to dignify that with a response.

Bill looked back at the screen as D was finally fed. Undeserved and excessive gratitude bubbling from his lips like a fountain as the cheap plastic bowl of mystery meet was shoved into his hands. Bill playfully ruffled his hair and Ford felt a pain in his chest.

"You know," Ford's husband mused. "If you want a pet that badly you're welcome to get one."

"I'm not getting a pet," Ford groaned.

"Well not from a shelter obviously," Bill snarked, "What are we? Commoners? Now stealing one on the other hand…"

Ford looked back down at Bill. The little triangle's back was turned to him.

"Isn't that violating the treaty?" Ford asked. Referring to the agreement among Bill's not to meddle in each others affairs.

Ford's Bill leaned back against his lap. "Nah, no rules against swiping a henchmaniac, let alone someone's dumb dog," he clarified. "This dipshit ruined a perfectly good Ford. If his dog goes missing that's on him."

Ford looked back at the screen. He watched this man he knew by now to be chronically, deliriously, hungry, eat raw meat with his fingers and no sign of pleasure. Ford had seen D make himself sick overeating before, seen him scarf down barely edible scraps and alien substances compulsively. Somehow Bill still managed to make his meals so unappetizing even D seemed to struggle to motivate himself to eat.

He ruined a perfectly good Ford.

"He is a perfectly good Ford…" The Hand of God muttered.

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This version had a scene cut out for Tumblr. The unsensored version can be found in the 18+ HoG discord. DM me if you're interested in joining.

#ooc:#hand of god #gravity falls au #domesticated ford #tw gore #tw torture #tw toxic relationship #tw implied abuse #tw implied dubcon

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