Lost Boys

Definitely not singing in the rain

Slight trigger warning for a mention of kinkiness. Though it's probably so slight it doesn't even need it...but I want to cover all my bases. Even though I just made things a little awkward, didn't I?*Clears throat*Moving on...

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Ford's eyes flicked open when a drop of water landed on his nose, and within seconds he was wide awake, sitting up and looking around.

There was nothing in their little campsite that shouldn't be there: just him, the low fire, and his still-snoring brother. The sky was still covered with clouds, he saw through the gaps in the tree canopy, but it was light enough that he thought it was probably getting close to dawn.

Stan shuffled in his sleep, one arm batting at the air, and Ford heard him mutter something that sounded a little like "No, 'm sorry!" before settling down again. He wondered what was going on in his twin's head.

Ford sat cross-legged on his makeshift bed and picked up the quantum destabilizer, checking it over to make sure it hadn't sustained any significant damage from all the recent activity. To his annoyance, the scope had gotten bent to a weird angle somehow; he grabbed up the pliers again and set about fixing it. This occupied him until he heard Stan grumbling his way into wakefulness. He glanced over at Stan, and their eyes met briefly; then his twin let out a soft exhale, and sat up. After spending a moment scratching himself, his twin got up and shuffled off into the nearby trees.

When he came back, Stan dug out more fruit from his knapsack, tossing one to Ford, who was forced to drop the pliers to catch it. He shot Stan an annoyed look; he just smirked and built up the fire a little. Ford sighed and stuck the fruit in his mouth while he picked up the pliers, and began juggling the tasks of eating and working at the same time.

For ten minutes there was silence, save the sounds of chewing and readjusting of metal alloys. When Ford finally finished, he sighted down the scope, nodding in approval. Perfect.

"So," Stan said aloud, making him jump a little at the unexpected noise, "we in the right dimension now?" He pulled his tattered vest and jacket back on.

"Yes, I was able to program the pathway in time. We are in the Dimension of Living Waters."

Stan glanced at a nearby puddle, leftover from the previous night's rain. "Looks like pretty dead water to me."

In a moment that couldn't have been more perfect if some sinister being had planned it that way, there was a roar of thunder from above, and the sound of rain starting to fall around them again.

Stan glared as Ford started to open his mouth. "Shut up, Poindexter."

Ford was unable to avoid smirking a little as he pulled out the map the women had given them, glad that the grove they were in still provided some shelter. "The river we need to travel on should be a few miles to the east..." he stood up, squinting at the sky to figure out where east was. "You wouldn't happen to have a compass, would you?"

Stan shook his head.

"Pity we can't use the sun as a point of reference...except we don't know if the sun here travels in the same path as our own; it could rise in the west and set in the east," Ford realized aloud. Come to think of it, he didn't even know if this dimension had perhaps more than one sun, or somehow made do without a sun at all.

"Can't you just see what side of the trees the moss is growing on or whatever?" Stan asked, as he began packing up their stuff.

Ford looked at the nearest tree, which was absolutely dripping with moss on all sides. "Something tells me that's not a feasible option here, Stanley."