Fic: Sand In Your Shoes
May. 15th, 2022 02:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Sand In Your Shoes
Series: Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns
Character/pairing: Ford/Holly
Rating: PG
Word count: 2,610
Summary: Ford has a bad day. Holly makes it better.
Author's note
Based on two of Ford's bad mood quotes:
Greeting 1 (Bad Mood):
Oh. (Player Name).
For some reason I've yet to discern, I'm in a rather sour mood today. I apologize for being unable to give you a smile.
Greeting 2 (Bad Mood):
*sigh*...I've been feeling rather under the weather today.
How odd. I even have you right here with me...
And the song: "Thank You" by Dido.
I unintentionally went for autistic Ford, and you know what? It fits. I'm down with it.
Ford looked up and pursed his lips as the downpour came down on him.
Truly this was a fitting end to a horrible day.
Somehow, Ford who was always prepared, managed to misplace his umbrella the one day he needed it.
And now he was paying the price for that bit of carelessness.
Today Ford had started the day by spilling tea down the front of his coat, he had the most quarrelous patients in the entire valley, each experiment failed. He broke not just one, but two beakers while trying to find a medicine. He'd even spilled some precious medicine that he had taken days to prepare. Some sort of disease had gotten to the tomatoes he was growing, and he was afraid the entire plant might be unsalvagable. He'd have to inquire with his wife, for she was a far better farmer than him.
At least he was a better doctor to humans than plants, he consoled himself. Albeit hollowly.
Now, he was going to be utterly drenched before he got home.
Water dripped down his glasses until he could barely see. A crack of thunder cut the sky above him, but he was too far from town to take shelter and would simply have to press on.
The rain made the dusty roads into a mud bog. His shoes would probably be ruined at this point. The red clay of the mud would stain his pants, and the feeling and texture of it made his skin crawl.
How he hated certain textures. Such as the feel of the wetness on his skin, the awful, cursed mud and how it'd squish between his fingers. Dirt was full of bacteria, dirt was the enemy.
Some found his aversions and reaction extreme, and even freakish. However it was only fitting as a doctor.
He bought all the same shirt and pants for many reasons. Once, he'd read a book that espoused the idea that a way to save time was to buy all of the same clothes. According to the thinker, it could save much time which was wasted in figuring out which clothes to wear. But, it was more than that. For Ford, It had to be just so. Rough material was horrible on his skin. Only certain materials were allowed. Anything else would cause him undue distraction during work, and that was unacceptable.
As a Doctor, he must be at full attention at all times. Something like the constant grating of an itchy or rough fabric could cost lives in a worst case scenario.
And Ford had found it quite successful--though Brad and Wayne had on many times, tried to get him to wear yellow shirts. Why yellow? He couldn't tell. They hadn't succeeded as of yet...but if they ever got Holly to plead, he'd finally lose. Because there was little if anything he could deny her.
The rain grew more intense, and more cold as he came to the entrance of the three towns.
In his mind, he went over diseases caused by the rainy season, usually carried by mosquitoes and other insects.
It was fairly unlikely that he would catch Malaria with one rainstorm, but as a doctor, he knew the task was to never rule out a disease or malady or injury as impossible.
He might, however, catch a chill if he didn't get changed soon.
And Ford wasn't prone to such superstitions, but if he were, he'd definitely wonder if he'd had a bad luck day. Or gotten cursed. Maybe by an angry patient who he told to eat more vegetables.
Such things were just antiquated ways at looking at the world. He was a man of science. Luck was simply coincidence, and it happened that today, everything had coincidentally gone wrong for him.
Finally, the farm house (farm mansion, more like) was in sight. Ford couldn't even manage a grim smile as he opened the door.
The inside was warm and inviting, though that didn't lift his mood as it often did after a long, tiring journey home.
Holly looked up from the plants she was drying in the large, and spacious sitting room. They hung all down the walls. She'd made enough money to upgrade from a barely livable shack, with broken windows and no plumbing. He had to admire her drive--and enjoy living in such a place.
She wore her colorful rain coat, and red spotted rain boots. Her long blond braids were still a little wet from the downpour.
She smiled, then her lovely mouth formed an 'o' as she saw the state of him.
"Oh! You're soaked!"
"Yes, quite," he said.
"Is something the matter? Usually you give more of a greeting than that," she said.
Ford tugged at his tie and looked away. He probably looked a fright, like a drowned rat, as the metaphor went.
"I'm in a rather sour mood today. I apologize for being unable to give you a smile."
"No wonder, you're probably freezing. I'll get you a towel."
He even had her near him, yet the downpour still ensured his horrible mood continued on.
She left only for a moment. He stripped off his lab coat at the door. He was just working on undoing his belt when she laid the towel over his shoulders.
"I brought you some fresh chamomile, for your experiments. I found some growing right by the garden. Do you want me to leave it on the dining room table for you?"
"Ah, that would be best," he said.
She had found out early on that he liked herbs. Both for their potential use in experiments and medicine, and how they could be used as flavoring, or teas. And she always hunted out what she could find, from mints to chamomile and more.
The gift lightened his spirits a little, even if it was a daily occurrence at this point.
"Tell me about your day," she said.
"What is to tell but failure and awfulness?" he said bitterly.
"What? What happened?"
So, he told her it all. The quarrelsome patients, the broken beakers, the spilled tea, the rain and every other bad thing that had transpired during the day.
Of course, farmer that she was, she zeroed in on his failing garden.
"Your tomatoes? Here, I'll let you take some of my plant medicine with you to work. I bet they can still be saved."
"Well, that is one comfort at least."
He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was snap at his wife. He hated to see her upset, and thankfully, fights between them were very rare. Ford did not do well with such arguments with her. Loud noises and lifted voices reminded him of his parents, and how he'd given up on years because he couldn't believe it could ever exist for him.
Not after what he'd been through, and the stern, eccentric man he became.
And he hated to see her cry.
"I should probably go take a bath. I'm in no mood to speak until I've warmed up, I'm afraid," he said.
"I wouldn't want to be cross with you in my current state."
"Yes, yes. You'll get cold if not. Let me brew you up some tea," she said.
"With the way my day is going, I might spill that too," Ford said.
"Then I'll just make you another," she said.
Her smile was so bright and soft. He'd always been a little captivated by her lips. For quite some time, he'd told himself he just liked her smile, when he'd had to push aside the thought of kissing her and convince himself it was a fluke.
Now, he could kiss her quite often. And he did so.
"I'll go warm up your bath water, okay? Just leave your clothes at the door. I'll make sure they're taken care of."
"If they're left they will mold and--"
She held up her hands, with a laugh. "Now, now, Ford. I know how fastidious you are. I'll do a good job. I promise. I'll make sure they don't get musty and do what I can to get the mud out."
"All right, I'll trust you, then," he said.
And with that, he headed down the hall to to the bathroom.
*
Ford got into the bathtub, his wet clothes were left far behind. The heat of the water was a little shocking, which showed just how cold he'd gotten. He'd added more Epsom salt recently. He was studying the claims that it had medicinal properties. So far, he'd certainly seen some improvements in aches and pains and mood when using it within bathing.
Of course, more studies would be needed.
She knocked at the door and came in with a tray.
"Are you feeling better?"
"A little."
He sank down into the water and let the heat and her presence soothe away his troubles.
"I'll make dinner tonight, don't worry about it. You've already had enough stress," she said.
He certainly wouldn't argue with that. With the way his day had been going, he'd probably end up burning it, or making something completely inedible.
Which wouldn't just be another stress for the day, but might be bad for her as well, considering that she was pregnant. Burnt and ruined food wasn't exactly ideal for a growing fetus.
"Do you want to read in the bath?" Holly asked.
"With the day I'm having, I'd probably drop it in the water," he said.
She laughed. "Gotcha. I'll just let you warm up."
She set the tea on the side of the bath tub, and left.
He sipped at the fresh chamomile tea, and let that heat seep through him too.
*
After he'd dried off and gotten dressed, Ford read over some scientific articles he'd been meaning to get to as he waited. The sitting area had quite a lovely aroma, due to all the drying herbs. Soon some would be ready for cooking or experiments. She always had some in the pockets of her dress, her backpack and in hand.
It still was quite heartening a memory, how she had searched so determinedly for these herbs the moment she had found out that he wanted them. And when she'd learned of his favorite food, she'd grown just the right ingredients for several seasons just to spoil him.
Soon enough, the room was filled with a delicious aroma.
He set aside the articles and came to the table.
"Ah, Pistou soup. My favorite. Very nutritious, and there's a theory I read--that tea and soup are comforting because of the warmth reminds one of a hug. I have rarely found hugs comforting...until you," he said.
Brad and Wayne knew to give him his space. His parents hadn't been much for touching, and well, his patients usually kept their distance when faced with his usual sternness.
Touching often had the wrong texture and feel. He didn't want people in his space, touching his things, and especially not him.
But, she didn't mind his eccentricities. She was patient and kind in a way no one had been.
And despite it all, when she touched him it was...nice.
"I was going to save it for a special occasion, but I think you need it today."
"I didn't get a chance to ask you about your day," he said.
"No, no, it's okay. I wouldn't have wanted you to until you had your bath and got warmed up."
"It was a perfectly normal day. Because the rain started, I didn't get to town, but that's okay. I'll go tomorrow."
"Just normal?"
"It's good. I'm living the life I wanted. I get to take care of cute animals and all my crops are flourishing. And look at the incredible man I married. And in just a couple more seasons, we'll have a family."
His brow furrowed. "You didn't overwork, did you? You know that you must take extra care of yourself due to your condition. Doctor's orders."
"No, no, doctor~ It was rainy so I didn't have to do any watering, remember~?"
"Ah, yes."
He savored the soup, and the conversation faded into comfortable silence and the sound of their utensils occasionally clinking against the bowls.
He rose from the table.
She rose too, and came to him. Her hands were out, ready for a hug.
Ford had throughout his life, not been fond of touch. From the creeping realization that the person touching him likely had not been as fastidious in their cleanliness as Ford, and he was now covered in their bacteria, to the shiver of the sudden, unpleasant brush against his skin.
But, with Holly it was never an issue. She never forced the issue or made him uncomfortable. He found that to his surprise, he'd liked kissing her. Craved it, even.
He gladly pulled her close. He could feel the softness of her curves, which were slightly larger now, as well as her stomach press into him. Her blond braid twisted in his fingers as he held her.
Funny, that by all accounts he should've calmed down. Scientific research theorized that love was in essence, a drug to ensure procreation happened. And those effects would fade after time.
But, his heart still beat so fast when she was near.
In some ways, he had calmed. He no longer dreaded and awaited the end. He had, despite everything, found a reason to believe in love with her. Ford was at the point where his first impulse wasn't to question her sense in loving someone like him. Someone so awkward, eccentric, and stern. He simply accepted that love as a blessing and gift that somehow, he'd managed to find someone so kind, someone who loved him even for all his flaws and foibles.
"I hope tomorrow is better, okay?"
She leaned up and kissed him. It was gentle and not demanding. Her lips were soft and warm and thrilled him just as much as the first time they'd kissed so many seasons ago.
She pulled away only to snuggle close against him.
"With you around, it will surely be," he said.
Ford wasn't so foolish as to believe that falling in love would right every wrong and ensure that every day was blissful in all respects. However, her presence was a soothing balm.
And when it came down to it, was the day truly so bad? He came home to a wife who loved him. The bath was quite relaxing. He and Holly made enough money that the loss of a pair of shoes or beakers wouldn't be more than a mild annoyance. She'd even brought him chamomile and made him his very favorite meal.
She was in his arms now, and suddenly all the troubles of the day seemed very insignificant and far away.
There would always be bad days, but there would be Holly as well. She would support him and love him, until their dying days.
Series: Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns
Character/pairing: Ford/Holly
Rating: PG
Word count: 2,610
Summary: Ford has a bad day. Holly makes it better.
Author's note
Based on two of Ford's bad mood quotes:
Greeting 1 (Bad Mood):
Oh. (Player Name).
For some reason I've yet to discern, I'm in a rather sour mood today. I apologize for being unable to give you a smile.
Greeting 2 (Bad Mood):
*sigh*...I've been feeling rather under the weather today.
How odd. I even have you right here with me...
And the song: "Thank You" by Dido.
I unintentionally went for autistic Ford, and you know what? It fits. I'm down with it.
Ford looked up and pursed his lips as the downpour came down on him.
Truly this was a fitting end to a horrible day.
Somehow, Ford who was always prepared, managed to misplace his umbrella the one day he needed it.
And now he was paying the price for that bit of carelessness.
Today Ford had started the day by spilling tea down the front of his coat, he had the most quarrelous patients in the entire valley, each experiment failed. He broke not just one, but two beakers while trying to find a medicine. He'd even spilled some precious medicine that he had taken days to prepare. Some sort of disease had gotten to the tomatoes he was growing, and he was afraid the entire plant might be unsalvagable. He'd have to inquire with his wife, for she was a far better farmer than him.
At least he was a better doctor to humans than plants, he consoled himself. Albeit hollowly.
Now, he was going to be utterly drenched before he got home.
Water dripped down his glasses until he could barely see. A crack of thunder cut the sky above him, but he was too far from town to take shelter and would simply have to press on.
The rain made the dusty roads into a mud bog. His shoes would probably be ruined at this point. The red clay of the mud would stain his pants, and the feeling and texture of it made his skin crawl.
How he hated certain textures. Such as the feel of the wetness on his skin, the awful, cursed mud and how it'd squish between his fingers. Dirt was full of bacteria, dirt was the enemy.
Some found his aversions and reaction extreme, and even freakish. However it was only fitting as a doctor.
He bought all the same shirt and pants for many reasons. Once, he'd read a book that espoused the idea that a way to save time was to buy all of the same clothes. According to the thinker, it could save much time which was wasted in figuring out which clothes to wear. But, it was more than that. For Ford, It had to be just so. Rough material was horrible on his skin. Only certain materials were allowed. Anything else would cause him undue distraction during work, and that was unacceptable.
As a Doctor, he must be at full attention at all times. Something like the constant grating of an itchy or rough fabric could cost lives in a worst case scenario.
And Ford had found it quite successful--though Brad and Wayne had on many times, tried to get him to wear yellow shirts. Why yellow? He couldn't tell. They hadn't succeeded as of yet...but if they ever got Holly to plead, he'd finally lose. Because there was little if anything he could deny her.
The rain grew more intense, and more cold as he came to the entrance of the three towns.
In his mind, he went over diseases caused by the rainy season, usually carried by mosquitoes and other insects.
It was fairly unlikely that he would catch Malaria with one rainstorm, but as a doctor, he knew the task was to never rule out a disease or malady or injury as impossible.
He might, however, catch a chill if he didn't get changed soon.
And Ford wasn't prone to such superstitions, but if he were, he'd definitely wonder if he'd had a bad luck day. Or gotten cursed. Maybe by an angry patient who he told to eat more vegetables.
Such things were just antiquated ways at looking at the world. He was a man of science. Luck was simply coincidence, and it happened that today, everything had coincidentally gone wrong for him.
Finally, the farm house (farm mansion, more like) was in sight. Ford couldn't even manage a grim smile as he opened the door.
The inside was warm and inviting, though that didn't lift his mood as it often did after a long, tiring journey home.
Holly looked up from the plants she was drying in the large, and spacious sitting room. They hung all down the walls. She'd made enough money to upgrade from a barely livable shack, with broken windows and no plumbing. He had to admire her drive--and enjoy living in such a place.
She wore her colorful rain coat, and red spotted rain boots. Her long blond braids were still a little wet from the downpour.
She smiled, then her lovely mouth formed an 'o' as she saw the state of him.
"Oh! You're soaked!"
"Yes, quite," he said.
"Is something the matter? Usually you give more of a greeting than that," she said.
Ford tugged at his tie and looked away. He probably looked a fright, like a drowned rat, as the metaphor went.
"I'm in a rather sour mood today. I apologize for being unable to give you a smile."
"No wonder, you're probably freezing. I'll get you a towel."
He even had her near him, yet the downpour still ensured his horrible mood continued on.
She left only for a moment. He stripped off his lab coat at the door. He was just working on undoing his belt when she laid the towel over his shoulders.
"I brought you some fresh chamomile, for your experiments. I found some growing right by the garden. Do you want me to leave it on the dining room table for you?"
"Ah, that would be best," he said.
She had found out early on that he liked herbs. Both for their potential use in experiments and medicine, and how they could be used as flavoring, or teas. And she always hunted out what she could find, from mints to chamomile and more.
The gift lightened his spirits a little, even if it was a daily occurrence at this point.
"Tell me about your day," she said.
"What is to tell but failure and awfulness?" he said bitterly.
"What? What happened?"
So, he told her it all. The quarrelsome patients, the broken beakers, the spilled tea, the rain and every other bad thing that had transpired during the day.
Of course, farmer that she was, she zeroed in on his failing garden.
"Your tomatoes? Here, I'll let you take some of my plant medicine with you to work. I bet they can still be saved."
"Well, that is one comfort at least."
He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was snap at his wife. He hated to see her upset, and thankfully, fights between them were very rare. Ford did not do well with such arguments with her. Loud noises and lifted voices reminded him of his parents, and how he'd given up on years because he couldn't believe it could ever exist for him.
Not after what he'd been through, and the stern, eccentric man he became.
And he hated to see her cry.
"I should probably go take a bath. I'm in no mood to speak until I've warmed up, I'm afraid," he said.
"I wouldn't want to be cross with you in my current state."
"Yes, yes. You'll get cold if not. Let me brew you up some tea," she said.
"With the way my day is going, I might spill that too," Ford said.
"Then I'll just make you another," she said.
Her smile was so bright and soft. He'd always been a little captivated by her lips. For quite some time, he'd told himself he just liked her smile, when he'd had to push aside the thought of kissing her and convince himself it was a fluke.
Now, he could kiss her quite often. And he did so.
"I'll go warm up your bath water, okay? Just leave your clothes at the door. I'll make sure they're taken care of."
"If they're left they will mold and--"
She held up her hands, with a laugh. "Now, now, Ford. I know how fastidious you are. I'll do a good job. I promise. I'll make sure they don't get musty and do what I can to get the mud out."
"All right, I'll trust you, then," he said.
And with that, he headed down the hall to to the bathroom.
*
Ford got into the bathtub, his wet clothes were left far behind. The heat of the water was a little shocking, which showed just how cold he'd gotten. He'd added more Epsom salt recently. He was studying the claims that it had medicinal properties. So far, he'd certainly seen some improvements in aches and pains and mood when using it within bathing.
Of course, more studies would be needed.
She knocked at the door and came in with a tray.
"Are you feeling better?"
"A little."
He sank down into the water and let the heat and her presence soothe away his troubles.
"I'll make dinner tonight, don't worry about it. You've already had enough stress," she said.
He certainly wouldn't argue with that. With the way his day had been going, he'd probably end up burning it, or making something completely inedible.
Which wouldn't just be another stress for the day, but might be bad for her as well, considering that she was pregnant. Burnt and ruined food wasn't exactly ideal for a growing fetus.
"Do you want to read in the bath?" Holly asked.
"With the day I'm having, I'd probably drop it in the water," he said.
She laughed. "Gotcha. I'll just let you warm up."
She set the tea on the side of the bath tub, and left.
He sipped at the fresh chamomile tea, and let that heat seep through him too.
*
After he'd dried off and gotten dressed, Ford read over some scientific articles he'd been meaning to get to as he waited. The sitting area had quite a lovely aroma, due to all the drying herbs. Soon some would be ready for cooking or experiments. She always had some in the pockets of her dress, her backpack and in hand.
It still was quite heartening a memory, how she had searched so determinedly for these herbs the moment she had found out that he wanted them. And when she'd learned of his favorite food, she'd grown just the right ingredients for several seasons just to spoil him.
Soon enough, the room was filled with a delicious aroma.
He set aside the articles and came to the table.
"Ah, Pistou soup. My favorite. Very nutritious, and there's a theory I read--that tea and soup are comforting because of the warmth reminds one of a hug. I have rarely found hugs comforting...until you," he said.
Brad and Wayne knew to give him his space. His parents hadn't been much for touching, and well, his patients usually kept their distance when faced with his usual sternness.
Touching often had the wrong texture and feel. He didn't want people in his space, touching his things, and especially not him.
But, she didn't mind his eccentricities. She was patient and kind in a way no one had been.
And despite it all, when she touched him it was...nice.
"I was going to save it for a special occasion, but I think you need it today."
"I didn't get a chance to ask you about your day," he said.
"No, no, it's okay. I wouldn't have wanted you to until you had your bath and got warmed up."
"It was a perfectly normal day. Because the rain started, I didn't get to town, but that's okay. I'll go tomorrow."
"Just normal?"
"It's good. I'm living the life I wanted. I get to take care of cute animals and all my crops are flourishing. And look at the incredible man I married. And in just a couple more seasons, we'll have a family."
His brow furrowed. "You didn't overwork, did you? You know that you must take extra care of yourself due to your condition. Doctor's orders."
"No, no, doctor~ It was rainy so I didn't have to do any watering, remember~?"
"Ah, yes."
He savored the soup, and the conversation faded into comfortable silence and the sound of their utensils occasionally clinking against the bowls.
He rose from the table.
She rose too, and came to him. Her hands were out, ready for a hug.
Ford had throughout his life, not been fond of touch. From the creeping realization that the person touching him likely had not been as fastidious in their cleanliness as Ford, and he was now covered in their bacteria, to the shiver of the sudden, unpleasant brush against his skin.
But, with Holly it was never an issue. She never forced the issue or made him uncomfortable. He found that to his surprise, he'd liked kissing her. Craved it, even.
He gladly pulled her close. He could feel the softness of her curves, which were slightly larger now, as well as her stomach press into him. Her blond braid twisted in his fingers as he held her.
Funny, that by all accounts he should've calmed down. Scientific research theorized that love was in essence, a drug to ensure procreation happened. And those effects would fade after time.
But, his heart still beat so fast when she was near.
In some ways, he had calmed. He no longer dreaded and awaited the end. He had, despite everything, found a reason to believe in love with her. Ford was at the point where his first impulse wasn't to question her sense in loving someone like him. Someone so awkward, eccentric, and stern. He simply accepted that love as a blessing and gift that somehow, he'd managed to find someone so kind, someone who loved him even for all his flaws and foibles.
"I hope tomorrow is better, okay?"
She leaned up and kissed him. It was gentle and not demanding. Her lips were soft and warm and thrilled him just as much as the first time they'd kissed so many seasons ago.
She pulled away only to snuggle close against him.
"With you around, it will surely be," he said.
Ford wasn't so foolish as to believe that falling in love would right every wrong and ensure that every day was blissful in all respects. However, her presence was a soothing balm.
And when it came down to it, was the day truly so bad? He came home to a wife who loved him. The bath was quite relaxing. He and Holly made enough money that the loss of a pair of shoes or beakers wouldn't be more than a mild annoyance. She'd even brought him chamomile and made him his very favorite meal.
She was in his arms now, and suddenly all the troubles of the day seemed very insignificant and far away.
There would always be bad days, but there would be Holly as well. She would support him and love him, until their dying days.
