Crazy Little Thing Called Love (1/?)

Words: 800~ || CW: None yet || During his third year of college, Ford meets someone called Bill. Things progress dangerously and quickly after that. (Billford fic) || CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3

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Psychology was a pointless extra curricular, at least to Ford it was. It probably says something about this school, or about the professor, that they’re actually touring the local asylum though.

They’re idly wandering through as a class, the professor somewhere up front. He had been paying attention to them, but he kept finding himself tuning out of the lecture.

There was a muffled thud, not terribly loud, but enough to get Ford to stop and turn his head.

There behind some clear glass was a blonde man who had his fist up on the glass. He was wearing the usual asylum garb, but he seemed to stand out in the dull outfit. He smiled when Ford noticed him and knocked a few more times, lighter and unnecessary.

“Uh, hello.”

“Hey.” He said, “couldn’t help noticing you looking absolutely bored out of your skull. Let me guess, not your major?”

Ahead, the rest of the class was milling about or walking ahead at a snail’s pace. “No, it’s not.” He said.

He hummed. “Ah, I can’t blame you. I don’t care for it either. Heck, look where psychology got me.”

And Ford cracked a small smile at that.

The man seemed encouraged, now conversationally talking to him. “So, what is your major then? Oh- oh, I bet I could figure it out.” He said pointing a finger at him, tip touching the plexiglass.

“Really?” He took a couple steps towards the glass to talk to him. “You think you can figure it out? You would just be guessing.”

He hummed. “Science major, right?”

“You guessed.”

“It’s not a guess when you know you’re right.” He said, a tad smug.

“Alright,” Ford ventured, “how’d you know then?”

“Easy. That class is a higher level elective, but if your major isn’t psychology then you need it for another science elective.” He answered, and truly the reason Ford was in this class to begin with. “How about a game.” He suggested then. “Give me a hint and I’ll pin down what you’re in all of this for.”

He seemed so certain, and there was no way he’d figure them all out, so Ford agreed. “Alright.”

The man settled a bit against the glass, watching him expectantly.

“The first hint,” he said, restraining feeling a tad smug himself, “I have more than one major.”

The man’s eyes sparked up then. “You’re a real genius, aren’t you?” He paused, giving Ford a very considered lookover before looking back at his face. “Criminal science?”

Ford couldn’t help the slight smile now. “No.” A completely wrong guess.

He waved his hand. “Another hint then, come on.”

He had to take of a moment to think of the next one. “It involves many laws and theorems.”

“Physics.” He answered without hesitating. “Even if that was a cop out. Give me a good hint.”

Ford laughed slightly. “Alright, fine… I study cells.”

The man hummed. “And biology. Unless you’re talking about prison cells.”

“I’m not, and you’ve got a second one.”

He gave a wide smile. “How many more do I have left to guess?”

“A few, at the very least.” He answered.

“‘A few?’ Oh, you are one ambitious guy. What’s your name, smart guy? I gotta know before it starts showing up in all the newspapers.”

He briefly glanced aside with a small bashful chuckle. “It’s Stanford, but please, call me Ford.”

“Well nice to meet you, Ford. I’m Bill.” He put his hand out to shake… on the other side of the glass.

The gesture itself made Ford hesitate and he looked back up to Bill’s face.

A knowingly mischievous smile spread across his face before he pulled his hand back up by his head, shaking it slightly for effect.

Ford laughed at the display. “Polite of you to offer.” He said with a lingering smile.

“What can I say?” He leaned his side against the glass. “I’ll have to try again another time.” He said, tapping the wall with the back of a fist.

The professor’s voice then called down the hall to him. “Pines.”

Ford turned, surprised to see the class had gotten to the end of the Hall, most of the students lingering while they still could. “Coming!” He called back, taking a few steps back from the glass. He looked back to Bill. “It was ah, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Stanford Pines. Swing back around sometime, smart guy.” He said with a wink. Or- well he could have just been blinking. Bill’s hair covered one of his eyes.

Ford gave a small awkward smile in return, “I’ll uh- I’ll try.” He says noncommittally before turning back to catch up with the class.

The professor continues, leading the group through the door. Ford glanced back in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Bill, but failed. He barely looked and there wasn’t much to distinguish the cells apart from one another.