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cloveroctobers · 2 years ago

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bloodwar — JOEL MILLER

A/N: Y’all voted and so shall you receive! Im nervous writing for such a loved character but here goes nothing! If you’re not familiar with my work…I always provide the angst. You’ve been warned.

GIF BELONGS TO: @pedrohub

WARNINGS: I’m always writing my characters with black or POC in mind yet you’re somewhat welcome to imagine whomever as the character/reader is not fully described, fem! Reader, language, lightly paraphrased sexual themes, trauma/lost, & hints of a toxic!relationship the deeper I went into writing this thing. I do believe Joel can find some healthy love romantically but there’s things within himself that needs to be worked through. I am no therapist, I’m simply a girl who likes to make people feel some things with writing so I’ll stfu! Again this is my first time ever writing for this man so I was trying to get into the mind of his character as I wrote so don’t slander me too much if you feel this isn’t right. Lastly this focuses more on uncertainties? That’s it!

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The bruises and Lambrusco weren’t enough for her to forget or to catch her off guard. She noticed him way off, through the fence and across what once would have been pretty pale blue water, turned murky and brown. Getting around that lake would take some time and that time was granted as she left the watch tower with her bow and arrow. The only reason she came down from the watch spot was to retrieve the mischievous lamb that loved to escape the barn.

“Got you, you little shit.” She scolded as the animal kept up the banter; while she scooped it up from underneath the belly.

Her senses then allowed her to hear footsteps before he spoke, “Do you?”

Tension filled her shoulders as she took a sharp inhale before she spun on her heels, revealing the lamb and her new weapon of choice.

��Joel Miller,” the name pushed through her lips, “can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you.”

The man scoffed, “that’s no way to treat the man of your dreams.”

A roll of her eyes was immediate, “you and I both know you weren’t serious.”

This much was true and if it were any other time and circumstance, the words probably would have stung as they left her mouth.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Joel muttered as he began to stare, which always irritated the woman.

“Can I help you with something or are you just gonna stand there being a creep with your beady owl-like eyes?”

Joel laughed to himself, almost liking that his presence was getting underneath her skin but also at the fact that she wanted to get right to the point.

“What? I can’t enjoy the view and the luxurious secluded home you’ve got for yourself here?” Joel attempted to tease but the woman didn’t appear to be in a joking mood.

Which the man didn’t bother to take offense to—even if he wanted to, he received the emotionless expression that remained on her oval face and assumed his own features showcased the same, although the little twinkle in inky eyes felt like he attempted to make the mood lighter.

It was her turn to trail her eyes over him and she could tell how much life passed him by. It had been years since she last saw Joel. Their history was shifty and rough from the beginning, since everyone was trying to get adjusted to the downfall of society—being thrown towards a new virus and death filled life it was safe to say, they got into some shit together to survive. They both were not as alone at the start since Joel had his brother Tommy, where they ventured from Austin to the east coast and on their way, they met a woman with no filter and her kind but no nonsense having father in Memphis. It was war from the very moment the Millers stepped onto the Lemelle’s riverboat but a truce between the families brought an unlikely path in their relationship. Eventually she, her father, Joel, and Tommy made it to Boston.

After the death of Kendy’s father, the realization that the QZ was not all it cracked up to be, she made the decision to leave first back in the year of 2010; in search of a place with no restrictions. Yet sharing that news with Joel that summer the sun burned down in almost a red hue and instead of just simply disappearing into the night without a word…was something she wished she would have done instead.

“Tommy or Maria sent you?” Her chin lifted in curiosity.

Joel exhaled, “I’m sure you know the answer to that already. I get the sense Maria and I are not gonna be the best of friends.”

“Whaaat? Don’t tell me you never wanted a sister?”

Joel just blinked at her, “fuck off, Kendy.”

“Hey you came to me,” her face held mock innocence, “what you see is what you damn get. Also mind you, I’m the one with the weapon.”

“Yet I’d probably get to that thing before you can even aim to shoot. Lamb chops sounds pretty darn good to me.” Joel warned but Kendy looked more offended than horrified.

The lamb seemed to tilt its head at Joel’s statement as well, floppy ears almost appearing alert.

Which was weird to witness…

“you sure about that grandpa?” Kendy cooed as she pulled her knee up to balance the weapon before adding, “what’s the matter, they’re not feeding you well out in Jackson?”

Joel scoffed and folded his arms as he peered out into the distance of Driggs, pretending to think about it. Of course the food was good, real good considering back in Boston the lbs for food were mostly scraps and back out into the destructive world with Ellie was way worse. Sure he stuffed his belly until it became bloated and uncomfortable but he didn’t want to get used to it, regardless of settling—staying—stationing? in Jackson.

There was no use in complaining about the way things are.

Joel was always about action.

“Why here?” Joel steered the conversation elsewhere, “You’re a great distance away from Wyoming.”

Kendy hummed, “forty-four minutes by car. Longer by foot, which is just fine by me.” Before carrying on, “Did you really expect me to be there too, waitin’ around?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel exasperated, “it’s a sense of community, belonging or whatever they’re trying to go for. Something that would have been good for you and—

Kendy almost stopped breathing, the gears turning in her head, thinking Joel was first hinting at some sort of relationship that wasn’t platonic with his brother, taking into consideration that the pair got along well, however the way he rubbed at his mouth in frustration told her his words were aiming at another topic.

“Ah, now I see why you felt obligated to be here. Trust me, I don’t need this.” Kendy hissed, turning back around to head to the barn.

Joel hesitated because part of him didn’t want to do this either…yet it’s been a long time coming. Thirteen years to be exact. He’s in a whole other state and he didn’t travel all this way, by himself (persuading Ellie to stay back with Tommy for at least a couple of days, was hard work and he expected the freckled face girl to find a way to keep close. However Joel didn’t miss how Ellie was starting to spend some time with a certain girl named, Dina.) to not get the answers he deserved.

“Trust?” Joel stomped after her, “I dunno how you want me to do that darlin’ when you’re the one who ran from me, knowing you were carrying a child. My child.”

She whipped back around, making Joel almost bump into her but she shoved him back with a fist pressed to his chest. Her eyes were heated as she met his stare, “it didn’t matter! I wasn’t your problem anymore, ‘good riddance,’ remember? You really think a child would have fixed what we were? We couldn’t get along if we weren’t on top of each other.”

“You still should have had the decency to tell me something. It’s not right how you did it. How I have to find this shit out from my baby brother but even still…he didn’t tell much. So you better start talking.” Joel glared, pointing a finger in Kendy’s face.

Kendy slapped his finger away, “I don’t know who you think you are, Joel Miller but you don’t get to show up here and make demands. This time, I won’t hesitate to put one right in your chest if you keep pushin’ me.”

“Will you put the damn lamb and arrow down, Robin Hood, so we can have a decent conversation?” Joel snorted, finding this image almost humorous, if his blood wasn’t simmering, “I can’t take you seriously.”

Kenny scoffed, “well you better! Seeing you again and talking to me crazy is making me want to go back to old Kendy.”

Joel deeply inhaled and pinched at the bridge of his straight but hooked nose. He was aware what that means, the whole shoot and ask questions later was what life was like at the start of the outbreak and it only increased once they crossed paths.

He still had a bald spot, that no form of nioxin would cure! thanks to the woman throwing an axe at the top of his head (it happened sometime in January of 2004, Joel remembered Tommy slipping on the ice on the boat floor, surprised the younger man didn’t catch that in their stealth—although it seemed he didn’t get much sleep before their arrival to the water. Which caused quite the commotion before the real physical events transpired) , temporarily trapping him against the door the minute he got close to where she was located on the boat. Joel recalled the burning sensation of his hair being ripped from his scalp as he yanked himself from the wall, axe still having a hold on his thick hair, as he struggled to pull the axe from the wooden door.

“And here I thought Jackson was all for redemption, guess Maria isn’t as convincing as she seems.” Joel mumbled.

Kendy gave him a blank stare for a moment before she replied, “not too much on Maria now. Yes she’s opinionated and we don’t always see eye to eye either but shes a great asset to that community and she makes your brother happy. So accept that or talk that shit out when you get back because I won’t continue to listen to anymore jabs you want to toss out while you’re here.”

Joel raised his brows, “you’re gonna let me stay?”

“It’s getting dark out and I’m guessing you left your car across the lake so…you can stay in the barn or the tower. Your choice.” Kendy decided while she entered the said barn.

Joel shook his head, “I’m not sleeping with the damn farm animals.”

“We’ve all slept in much worse places, don’t get uppity on me now, Miller.”

Joel crossed his arms, “You get a one star for hospitality, Ken’.”

“Which is exactly why I put my two weeks in after three days of working at this hotel during my college years so thanks, sugar.” Kendy clapped back, making Joel shake his head in disapproval but not surprised.

Joel watched as Kendy showed almost this nurturing demeanor with the lamb and sheep, silently wondering what she was like with their own child…that was still bizarre to process and Joel was unsure if he even processed this although he was standing face to face with the woman he created another being with! It had been days since he found out this piece of information and now he was trying to do something about it. When they were intimate with each other, Joel foolishly never thought of the possibility of Kendy becoming a mother. He never brought it up because he obviously had no intentions on being that ever again, or spoke much of their past lives once their bodies fell into each other’s hands. It was a after thought when she sat down on him, so warm and sturdy. He was cold, this he knew but falling in love was never in the cards for him, especially with the world crumbling with the little pieces it had left.

What he had left.

He’s seen Kendy and how she was tender to her father once he got sick, he knew Kendy still had soft parts inside of her despite the jagged scar that trailed from the corner of her left eye and down the apple of her cheek, the delicate was still there—just don’t tell her that.

Part of her found something to care for to keep going, even if it were deemed as little things or “nothing” at all in her eyes. Did that also include a child?

Which is why Joel battled with himself on seeking answers. He didn’t speak to Tommy for days after the curly haired man blurted out the secret Kendy withheld from the older Miller. Joel was the one who brought Kendy up, at the saloon one late night, after everything failed at the hospital with Ellie. It was hypocritical of him—sure—but this secret was way before Ellie had been a thought of being the cure.

Joel still wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting to get out of Kendy. The idea of becoming a father again, scared him shitless but he wouldn’t show it. Kendy didn’t create this child all by herself and they had to be grown now, however fatherhood was never a easy task and life after the outbreak was just as stressful; throw a fourteen year old into the mix and it was constant worry from there. He initially wanted to warn Tommy about this and actually deemed him a, “dummy,” for bringing a kid into this fucked up time, until tommy let the news slip from his lips when it really wasn’t his place.

Drops of rain were cool against the Idahoan spring before they started to pelt. Joel shielded the top of his head, standing at the entrance of the shelter as Kendy made her way through the barn, locking and boarding it up just in case she got any other visitors tonight.

“Come on,” Kendy waved the man to follow her to the back entrance of the craftsmanship home, just as the wind began to pick up.

Yanking the blinds down over the glass door, she made sure to lock it and set her bow down by the rest of the archery kit. Joel took the invitation as he scanned the home, straight ahead held an ajar door, he then walked through the small entry way on his left, noticing a set of stairs to the right and headed into the next area which held the kitchen and living room with two other window-framed doors that lead outside, suddenly peaking around for any other source of life.

“Where’s—

“Joel,” Kendy clipped, “take off your damp shoes, you’re tracking mud. Do you want some wine or coffee first before we tackle this, since you’re so adamant to talk?”

Joel peeled off his jacket and bag, before using the couch arm to kick off his shoes with his feet. He then held them up silently asking where he should put them and Kendy pointed at the front entrance door.

He then replied, “Coffee.”

“Black, no sugar and no cream.” Kendy whispered to herself as she went to the kitchen, fighting with her intrusive thoughts to tell him to make it his damn self.

Joel silently watched her for a moment before he headed over to the wood stove which seemed to be going already. His eyes still searched the walls for any pictures or sculptures just like Tommy and Maria had in their own home but the walls were empty besides it’s horrible aqua color.

His attention was brought back to Kendy, walking by him, reaching for the handle on the stove, opening it to reveal the fire behind. She squatted down, mitten reaching for the tray to place the mug right on top, before shoving it back over the center of the fire. She counted sixty seconds before pulling back out, closing the stove and moving back to the side table to place the black coffee down.

“Give it a few minutes,” Kendy told the man who dipped his head as he moved back to the spot he claimed on the sofa.

Kendy soon made her way around, taking a seat on the opposite couch, bottle of Lambrusco and wrapped herself in some fur blanket that probably belonged to one of her many sheep.

Sorry animal lovers, desperate times call for desperate measures and you’re supposed to help the sheep shed their fur from time to time!

Taking a swing from the bottle, Kendy deeply inhaled after swallowing before her eyes set back on Joel, “okay. Ask away but don’t ask to respond. Listen, or else we won’t get far tonight.”

Joel rubbed at his pants legs, hearing Kendy and decided to not pick that response apart.

“…when did you know?”

“Not long after you and Tess.”

Which happened once after they both had too much to drink and Kendy wasn’t in the mood.

Believe me, Joel’s knows how shitty that was, he was the one who lived it.

“There was no Tess and I.” Joel uttered, not getting the chance to further explain that relationship but they were friends who spent time together as smugglers.

There was chemistry there regardless.

“So just like us, got it.” Kendy snapped her fingers, breezing over that as she ordered, “Next question.”

Joel scratched at his salt and pepper beard, “was the…baby also the reason why you wanted to leave? Did you think I’d ever find out?”

“A small part of it yes. We already know what the main reason was: Boston’s QZ was becoming dangerous and suffocating just staying there, I needed to get out whether you knew i was carrying or not.” Kendy answered, taking another sip from the bottle.

Joel could understand that but he figured it wasn’t any easier being out there on your own especially with a life growing inside of you, her elderly father was deceased and Tommy was debating on another trip out (with the damn fireflies and Joel wasn’t sure which pissed him off more!) ; although they shared hushed conversations about their exit…part of Joel still didn’t understand why she put herself through that on her own.

“Well how did that work out for you?”

Kendy let out a humorless laugh at the sarcasm that radiated off Joel, pulling one leg up onto the couch, “just dandy. I’m living the dream with my sheep and this eye-blinding house.”

Alone.

He breathed out a laugh through his nose, mind fuzzy, heart not feeling as steady as it should as he fidgeted with his hands. Before he got the next question out, he turned to grip the mug by the handle and brought it to his lips. The steam mists his nostrils as he took a sip of the coffee, the heat not bothering him in the slightest while the dark liquid slid straight to his stomach, igniting the impulse to see some action.

“Was Idaho the place you envisioned to raise the kid?”

Kendy closed her eyes briefly as she said, “No. I didn’t see myself as a mother because I didn’t have much of one in my life. It wasn’t really a goal of mine. I stayed in Pennsylvania for awhile, three months maybe? made a friend that was once in the medical field and thankfully she helped me through it all.”

“She helped you deliver and then what?” He pried.

Joel rested his elbows on his knees, eyes set on the woman not so far from him this time. He felt the shift in the room rising as he continued to ask whatever popped into his head. He noticed the woman rack her nails against the black bottle, plump bottom lip with a beauty mark on it moving to the right as she bit down on it out of habit.

This was something she commonly did, Joel remembered that.

“Joel…it’s been thirteen years.” Kendy averred, “I couldn’t do it.”

Joel tried to keep his breathing steady, “meaning what? You got rid of it? Let this friend take care of them…what Kendy?”

He was never a man with patience.

And Kendy had time to cope with this.

So instead she got to her feet, holding the neck of the bottle to place on the coffee table before she set her eyes back on Joel. He leg began to bounce as it seemed Kendy was almost playing a game with his mind right now. A frown of his brows appeared in between them while she began to unbutton her jeans, pulling them down some and yanking up her shirt to reveal a scar underneath her navel.

“It was a ectopic pregnancy. I needed surgery, I was bleeding out and Kristi did what she had to do. I almost died and I kinda wished I did, along with that baby. And finally away from all this shit.” Kendy vented.

Joel felt a smidge of bile rising in this throat but taking another swing of coffee pushed it back down. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel, or if there was a right way to feel.

“So…this was for nothing then.”

Kendy blinked, “what?”

“Coming out here, seeing you, and almost having wishful thinking when you killed the baby that you originally didn’t want and I wasn’t sure I even wanted.” Joel told, placing the mug back on the table.

Kendy couldn’t help the cackle that escaped her lips. She had to press her fingertips to her lips as she pointed her pointer finger up and down at the man.

“Nothing’s really changed with you and this is the exact reason why I should have put an arrow right through your chest where your heart is supposed to be,” Kendy seethed, “you’re a very broken person with no ounce of mercy. I saw it in your eyes the day I met you and I should have believed that then.”

“If that was true then you’d already be dead, back in Memphis, on that boat. So don’t stand there and try and tell me who you think I am.” Joel lowly stated.

Kendy huffed, pulling her jeans back up her wide hips and buttoning them before raising her hands, “why not when you’ve already shown me exactly that? You’ve never given a damn about me and certainly wouldn’t give a damn if the baby lived! Nobody compares to—

“Shut up! You don’t get to speak her name!” Joel was also on his feet now, absolutely aware what wanted to leave her lips.

The room was quiet for a mere second, besides the crackle of fire in the wood stove and the dash of rain outside.

Kendy tilted her head to the side, framed piece of hair sliding to cling to her eyelash, “Sarah.”

And that set Joel off, a forearm going to Kendy’s throat and his hand slapping against her mouth. He harshly breathed into Kendy’s face as he glared down at her. The rings of bags underneath her eyes showed just how tired he felt. He’s never spoken to Kendy about Sarah but it didn’t take her long to figure it out with his nightmares when they slept in the same space, going city to city.

Tommy only implied that he and Joel lost someone prior to their role of survival and Joel’s said her name a few times in his sleep.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Joel gritted, “you think I haven’t changed when it’s you who hasn’t. You’re a know it all without actually knowing anything. You run any chance you get, always thinking about what’s best solely for you and nobody else. What a lonely life, don’t you think?”

A fist went to the side of his neck first, catching the man off guard, followed by a knee going up into his abdomen, leaving Joel fighting to catch his breath. He let go of Kendy who circled around and crouched to get into Joel’s face.

“Why would I stay? Imagine me having a normal pregnancy in my forties and having a child with a screwed up man that can’t love? Or doesn’t even like me enough? I’d say I dodged a bullet here and I thank god.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, using her other to bring the cross around her neck to kiss with a wicked smile.

Once Joel got his breath back, with the quickness, he swooped his arm underneath Kendy’s, locking her in his hold as he yanked her side to his chest by the shoulder. Kendy winced as she tried to spin her body out of his hold and when he wouldn’t let go, she tried to ram her shoulder into him but with his grip, he merely stumbled.

“Get off me!” Kendy yelled, ready to jam her foot right into Joel’s.

He kept hold of her shoulder, knowing it wasn’t at its strongest, even after all these years, hearing it click from scar tissue as he freed one hand to grip the side of her head, bringing her ear to his lips.

“If I didn’t like you…I wouldn’t have followed you that night to make sure you made it to Connecticut’s state line back then, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have accidentally called Tess your name once while looking at her but not really seeing her, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t picture you when I touch myself, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have numbed myself out of missing you since you left, I wouldn’t have asked Tommy about you, and I damn sure wouldn’t have thought about you and I with Ellie, the kid, and Sar—on the ride here. like I said, you don’t know.” He then shoved Kendy away from him.

Kendy felt a lump in her throat at Joel saying this. Sure these were his words and it sounded nice, although she didn’t know who this Ellie person was but that didn’t mean he never hurt her and with his back to her now, she tugged on his belt loops, getting him to face her again. She wasted no time, moving her hands to grip the collar of his long-sleeve shirt to bring his lips right to her’s.

Joel hesitated feeling Kendy’s lips against his after all this time. It wasn’t unfamiliar so he was only shook for a second before the desperation settled in. His hands rested on her cheek, then down to her backside, then back up to her cheek, the pad of his thumb touching where her jagged scar ended and the other on the back of her coarse hair.

He tasted the Lambrusco, she tasted his precariousness, his left ear rung as the tip of her tongue traces his bottom lip, and he lets out a groan as a form of a unsaid apology. Until Kendy nipped his bottom lip—hard to the point she drew blood and Joel had to pull back to test his theory.

“Did you just—

Kendy deeply inhaled and exhaled with her lips raw and puffed from the pressure, “I want you gone by the fucking morning, Joel.”

He wiped the blood with his thumb as he watched the woman move around him, snatching up the wine before she made her exit.

Snorting he shook his head at her retreating form and moved to take a seat back on the couch with a exhale. This is what it used to feel like with Kendy leaving his sight after whatever interaction they had but this time felt a little different. There was no way in hell he could say this was a new beginning. He stared up at the ceiling in thought, quite conscious how this all played out and that this was a trial and error—when wasn’t it with the two? However this battle was not something he wanted to entirely give up on just yet.

Not anymore.

He had the time to get it right and part of him wanted to with Kendy.

And if they couldn’t…it’ll be a fair one this time.

No it didn’t make any sense and no this probably wasn’t the healthiest of relationships but Joel was never perfect, the flaws: scars, the bruises that were black, blue and sore, and the blood were okay with him as long as he was doing it with Kendy, he never wanted perfect.

Perhaps fighting, getting it all out into the open field was the answer and you can ask anybody: when has Joel Miller ever been afraid of getting his hands dirty?

And so he sat in the quiet with Kendy upstairs in her bedroom lost in her own thoughts, her back against the door when a crooked grin appeared on his own lips.

Here’s to additionally another round with Kendy Lemelle!

But…Who’s counting?

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Continue along with my spring anthology series here.

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all-the-things-2020 · 2 years ago

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Year of Fandom Crossovers: June

Title: “Fifty Shades of Orange”

Pedro Character: Dieter Bravo

Fandom Crossover: The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

Warnings: expletives, mentions of sex, mild LGBTQ+ content

Summary: Dieter Bravo unexpectedly joins the crew of the Heart of Gold.

Notes: I have been a HHGTTG fan since high school. Douglas Adams and Monty Python seriously impacted the development of my sense of humor. The character of Balthazar has been floating around in my subconscious since the late 80’s when I was brainstorming for an unwritten sequel to a fic my high school BFF and I wrote that featured cameos by Ford and Arthur. Since it is June, and Dieter is canonically bisexual, I decided to add a queer flavor to the ending.

@yearofcreation2023 @perennialdoll247

Arthur Dent was confused, but that was not an uncommon occurrence. He entered the lounge on the Heart of Gold and found a rumpled man, close to six feet tall, with uncombed hair, a patchy beard, and a green dressing gown staring at the tea dispenser. He turned toward Arthur and scratched his head.

“Does this thing take American money? And where’s the button for the KitKat?”

Arthur blinked twice, then again for good measure. The man seemed human enough, but then, so had Ford Prefect when Arthur had first met him.

“Erm,” said Arthur. “Excuse me.”

He backed out of the lounge and sought out Ford, who as usual was in his quarters, listening to some sort of electronic banjo music from the latest Arcturian band. “Ford,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” said Ford.

“There’s a man in the lounge. Wearing a dressing gown. He looks mostly human.”

“Oh, that’s Dieter,” Ford said, waving his hand dismissively. “Zaphod picked him up while you were asleep. Someone found him on their doorstep and they knew we had an Earthman with poor taste in clothes, so Zaphod thought it was you.”

“But he saw me at dinner last night. He had to know it wasn’t me.” Arthur was perplexed. Zaphod was absent minded and scatterbrained (despite the fact that he had two brains, due to having the two heads) but he couldn’t have forgotten about Arthur, could he?

Ford shrugged. “Probably forgot about you,” he said. “He has a hard time remembering what you look like, anyway. Saw the dressing gown and the dark hair and thought ‘Oh, that’s our Earthman.’ I can recognize you right off, but then I was stuck on Earth for a long time. Most sentient beings have a hard time telling Earthpeople apart.”

Arthur was not appeased. “He certainly can recognize Trillian well enough.”

“Well, it’s different with her,” Ford said. “She’s not boring.” He sat up and switched off the music. “Best we go see what our new friend is up to.”

They went back to the lounge, where Dieter was sitting on the floor, looking glumly at a paper cup of tea. “It’s tea,” he said, sadly when he saw them.

“No, it’s not,” Arthur said. “Not really. But it’s as close as it’s possible to get now that Earth’s gone.” He took the cup from Dieter and sipped gingerly at the liquid. As always, it was almost but not entirely completely unlike tea. He grimaced, but swallowed anyway.

“I hate tea,” Dieter said. “And what do you mean Earth’s gone? I was there last week. I think.”

“More like last year,” Ford said. “You’ve got a bit of freezer burn, mate.” He pointed out the frizzled ends of Dieter’s hair and some discoloration on the hem of his dressing gown. “Probably some Gozerians out picking up ‘specimens’ for jollies and forgot you in the freezer.”

“Whoa, there’s two of them!” Zaphod wandered into the lounge. “You been playing with that DIY cloning kit you got for your twelfth birthday again, Ford?”

“I don’t look anything like him,” Arthur protested. “I mean, look at us side by side.”

Zaphod tilted one head to the side, while the other stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, okay, I can see it now. That one’s handsome.” He pointed at Dieter. “The other one is … not.” He turned to Ford. “Which one is yours again?”

“The not one,” Ford said.

“Shame,” said Zaphod. “But I suppose two is almost as cheap to keep as one. He probably eats tea and biscuits like yours, right?”

“I hate tea,” Dieter said firmly. “And I want a KitKat. And an explanation. And a drink. And a joint. At the least.”

“The drink, I can provide,” Zaphod said. He pushed a button on the wall and a cabinet opened, displaying an array of exotic liquors. He used all three arms to pour a colorful concoction into a large snifter, which he handed ceremoniously to Dieter. “Not exactly a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster,” he said sadly, “but the best I can do without a full bar.”

Dieter sniffed the drink, took a cautious sip, and then tipped the glass back, downing the entire beverage in three gulps. “Now about that KitKat …,” he said before his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed in a drunken heap on the floor.

Ford and Zaphod exchanged impressed looks. “Four seconds,” Ford said. “Not bad for such a primitive life form.”

“Humans are not primitive,” Arthur protested. This produced a look from Ford that quickly silenced him. Images of war, corporate greed, environmental destruction and reality television swarmed his brain. Sometimes he forgot Ford was mildly telepathic. “Well, compared to Vogons, we aren’t,” Arthur muttered.

“Your poetry’s better, I’ll give you that,” Zaphod said. “But what are we going to do with two humans?”

“Three,” Arthur pointed out. “Trillian’s human, too. There are three of us.”

“I meant two useless humans,” Zaphod said patiently. “Trillian is a woman. Earth women are amazing. Earth men …” He waved two of his hands derisively at Arthur and Dieter. It was justified in Dieter’s case, as he was drooling on the floor, but Arthur felt rather disrespected.

“At any rate,” Ford chimed in, “I’m sure we can find someone somewhere who wants a pet Earthman. They’re quite rare, after all.”

Now Arthur was properly indignant. “I say, you don’t consider me your pet, do you?”

Ford patted him on the shoulder. “No, no, of course not, mate. But not everyone in the galaxy is as enlightened as I am.” He nodded toward Dieter. “And just look at him.” Dieter was now curled up in the fetal position, sucking half heartedly on the end of his dressing gown belt, making little whimpering noises and muttering the words “KitKat” and “feathers” in an odd accent.

Arthur shrugged. After all, the man had clearly said he hated tea. Perhaps he did need a minder.

***************************************************************

Dieter woke up with the worst hangover of his life. “Take these,” a voice said, handing him two white tablets and a glass of water. The voice seemed friendly enough, so he swallowed the tablets and almost immediately felt better. His vision cleared and his head stopped pounding.

“What the fuck?,” he said, rubbing his hand through his hair. He really needed to stop dropping acid without supervision. “This isn’t my hotel room.”

“No, it’s not,” the voice said. Dieter looked up. It was a blonde woman, seated on a chair. He was on the floor surrounded by a small puddle of drool, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to smooth down the hair he’d just disheveled.

“Um, hi,” he said. She was a bit of a looker. “Is this … your room?”

“It’s the lounge of the Heart of Gold,” she said.

“I thought this was the Westwood Arms Hotel and Conference Centre,” he said.

The woman sighed. “I’m Trillian,” she said. “And this is the spaceship Heart of Gold. You aren’t on Earth anymore, I’m afraid.”

Thoughts swirled in Dieter’s head. He remembered a bit about last night: some guy with two heads and three arms making him a drink; someone mentioning Earth being missing; and either another guy wearing a bathrobe or the world’s worst mirror reflection. “Um … if I’m not on Earth, then I guess there aren’t any KitKats available?”

“No, sorry,” Trillian said. “I might be able to replicate you a KotKat but they aren’t really the same. Mostly because they come from Arcturus Prime and the closest thing to chocolate on that planet is the vomit of a peculiar green dung beetle.”

Dieter felt nauseated, but whether it was the aftermath of whatever chemical was still pickling his brain, or the dung beetle, he couldn’t tell. “Yeah, no, that’s fine,” he said. “So, um, this spaceship …”

Trillian stood up. “You can watch the educational tapes later,” she said. “Right now, you need to get cleaned up. Zaphod put out a classified ad for you and there’d been some interest. The showers are this way.”

Dieter struggled to his feet, swaying lightly. “Um, okay,” he said. “I’m Dieter, by the way. Would you like to have sex with me?” Now that he was sure his head wasn’t going to fall off, he thought he would shoot his shot. Trillian was the most attractive person he’d seen on this ship so far, and he might as well start at the top.

“No,” Trillian said simply. “I don’t think Zaphod would like it much, and besides …” She looked him up and down, her face indicating a certain degree of disgust.

Dieter shrugged. It was like that sometimes.

***************************************

“The Antarian Brain Slugs just want to eat his brains,” Ford said, shaking his head. “We can’t waste a perfectly good endangered species, even if the price is right.”

“But capitalism, man!” Zaphod’s arguments tended to boil down to whatever would get him the most booze and/or sex.

Ford snorted. “There is more to life than money, dear Zaphod.”

“Name one thing.”

“Alcohol.”

“Money can buy it.”

“Sex.”

“Again, money …”

Ford groaned. “Friendship?”

“Friends are ten for a dollar on Jabbux.”

Ford screwed up his face as he thought very hard. It was like watching a seal try to fly. “Inner peace!”

Zaphod laughed. “The monks of Zelus Three have a ten part course you can buy, inner peace and enlightenment guaranteed. I’ve done it six times. I’m ultra-enlightened.”

“Well, anyway, we’re not selling Dieter to the Antarians,” Ford grumbled. “How about this offer?”

Zaphod peered at the screen with one head, while the other was picking its nose. “Hmmm … Fashonia Six. Never been there. Might be good for a laugh. And we can pick up some new clothes for your Earthman while we’re there. That dressing gown is getting a bit tatty.”

“Fashonia Six it is,” Ford said. “Laying in coordinates. Engaging Infinite Improbablity Drive in twenty minutes.” He flicked on the PA system. “All hands, prepare for improbability in twenty minutes. Repeat. Improbability in twenty.”

***********************************************************

“What the fuck?”

Arthur had found that Dieter was quite fond of that sentence. He had said it approximately thirteen times in the past three hours.

“We’re heading somewhere fast,” Arthur explained. “We’d best get to the rubber room.”

“Rubber room?”

“So we don’t hurt ourselves when things go pear shaped,” Arthur said. “And I mean literally pear shaped. Once I went banana shaped and I was terrified of monkeys for a week.” He led the other man down the corridor toward the rubber room. Trillian was already there, checking the integrity of the restraints.

“You can have the deluxe seat,” she told Dieter, “as this is your first time experiencing improbability.”

“Lucky bastard,” Arthur said. “It has a cup holder.” Once, he’d unthinkingly brought his tea (not tea) with him and it had spilled all over the rhinoceros, which had made for an uncomfortable silence, not to mention the tragic loss of tea (not tea).

He and Trillian strapped Dieter into the seat, double checking all the buckles and tie downs and bungee cords. “Is all this really necessary?” Dieter asked.

“You’ll find out,” Trillian said ominously. Arthur simply gave Dieter a cheery thumbs up before taking his own (cup holder-less) seat. He cinched the belts tight and slid his hands into the restraining cuffs.

Zaphod and Ford strolled in, discussing the results of the latest Ultra-Racquetball match. It was a slow point in the sports season.

“T-minus five minutes,” Ford said, as he assumed his seat.

Arthur leaned toward Dieter. “It’s rather fun once you let your mind go mad,” he said. “The first time is the worst. Or the best, depending on how strong your ties to reality are to begin with. I threw up six times. That means my mind was exceptionally dull and boring.”

“T-minus two minutes,” Ford said. “Hang onto your heads, everyone.”

*******************************************

Dieter had experienced most drugs available on Earth, and yet what happened next was beyond anything he had ever seen, felt, smelt, tasted, or heard. Thirteen blue impalas pranced through the room; the fact that three of them were automobiles made the display even more impressive. His hands turned into hamburgers and were devoured by his feet. Arthur became roughly the shape of a large lemon, although his skin was a delicate shade of puce spotted with purple-black blotches. Trillian was riding a one horned lion with ballet shoes on. Zaphod was conversing with a large piece of cardboard. Ford was floating upside down while wearing a skirt made of rhubarb. All of this in just the first four seconds. After that, things got weird.

Dieter’s mind floated freely through the madness. He tasted aquamarine and saw a high C note. Words and feelings drifted past him and he latched onto some of them. A platypus dealt him a hand of poker and he won a stack of plastic chips that turned out to be tiny flying saucers full of minuscule green men wearing blue kilts, who promptly shot him with their ray guns and disappeared. It rained Gatorade and a forest of pickles sprang up around him.

All too soon, a voice began to soothingly chant, “Normality in thirty seconds. Twenty nine. Twenty eight …” By the time the voice had reached “five,” the room was almost back to its original state, save for a slight tinge of lavender and the lingering scent of frogs.

“Whoa,” Dieter said. “I don’t know what that was, but I liked it.”

Arthur goggled at him, his face very pale. There was a dribble of vomit on the collar of his dressing gown. “You … you liked it?”

“Dude, I’ve dropped acid, smoked peyote, drunk ayahuasca, injected stuff some guy in a lab in the back of a panel van cooked up on his Coleman stove,” Dieter said. “But that was the best trip I’ve ever been on.”

Zaphod laughed. “Ford, are you sure you don’t want to trade in your Earthman for this one? He’d be a lot more fun at parties.”

Ford frowned. “I’m rather fond of Arthur, actually. I think I’ll keep him.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Dieter said. “Would you like to have sex with me?”

Ford ignored him and Dieter shrugged. Two down, two to go. He might still get laid, although the idea of settling for Arthur was really dragging him down.

*************************************

Fashonia Six was a small but tasteful planet, close to Fashonia Five, which was much larger and filled with factories where clothing was made from the fibers grown on Fashonia Four. No one talked about Fashonia Three, which was a penal colony for those who had offended the Fashion Police, who were the ultimate authority in the Fashonia system.

“You did send a picture of him, right, Zaphod?” Trillian asked as they walked along the promenade in Guccitown. Everyone was dressed extremely well, which made Arthur and Dieter stand out like very ugly sore thumbs.

“Yeah,” Zaphod said, heads swiveling about to take in the sights. “No accounting for taste, I guess. Maybe they’re doing one of those extreme makeover thingies?”

Dieter was unimpressed. He’d worked in Hollywood for years, been to countless red carpets and after parties and fashion shows, and honestly had no use for fancy clothes. Flannel pants, a comfy tee shirt, Crocs and a bathrobe for chilly evenings was just fine for him. He dressed up for work, of course, because they paid him obscene amounts of money, but it was never really his jam.

Arthur, on the other hand, seemed cowed by the glamorous people passing them by. It could have been because he was wearing actual pajamas and slippers. Dieter had no use for pajamas. Too formal and matchy-matchy. And slippers fell off your feet so easily. Not like Crocs. Switch those babies to sport mode and you could run all day. If you had to. Dieter was not a big fan of running.

“Here is it, number 42,” Ford said. The building was small but made of elaborately carved marble. The door was painted a tasteful shade of pomegranate, to match the potted pomegranate bushes to either side of the entrance.

They went inside to find a cream colored waiting room, with ivory colored chairs, eggshell colored tables and a snow colored rug. A bright green door, painted to match the potted lime trees to either side, led to the interior of the building.

“Welcome to the House of Balthazar,” said a soothing voice. “We will be with you shortly.” Soft jazz began to play, as bland and inoffensive as the decor.

“Posh,” Ford said, looking around. “I hate it.”

The door opened and a young woman with pale lavender hair, which matched her dress, which matched the sprig of lavender pinned to her shoulder, entered the room with a tray of champagne flutes. “Balthazar welcomes you,” she said. “Please, have a sparkling beverage before we enter the inner sanctum.”

To Dieter’s disappointment, the beverage in question was not champagne but rather an insipid lemon-lime soda, almost but not entirely like the cheap 7-Up knockoff he’d drunk as a kid.

When the glasses were empty, the young woman collected them on her tray and led them through the bright green door. The room was empty, save for a table on which a pile of shocking orange fabric had been left in a heap. The woman bowed to them and disappeared through a blue door painted to match the potted blueberry bushes to either side.

They stood awkwardly for a few moments, until a deep voice said, “Welcome to my house.” Dieter looked around, but there was no one else in the room.

“Erm, thank you,” Ford said tentatively.

The voice chuckled. “I see you are confused. Come closer.”

“Closer to what?” Trillian asked.

“To me.” The pile of fabric began to writhe until it had formed an approximation of a mouth. “It’s rather hard to move on my own, so I hope you don’t mind.”

“Is … is the fabric talking to us?” Arthur asked as Zaphod stepped closer.

“Yeah,” Zaphod said. “Totally hoopy. What are you?”

“I am Balthazar,” the fabric said. “I am a sentient form of polyester, brought to life due to an industrial accident involving a power surge from a lightning strike, a radioactive Canopian cuttlefish, and a misplaced ham sandwich. My intimate knowledge of the inner life of fabric has made me a sought-after designer, but alas, my lack of muscles and skeletal infrastructure makes it extremely difficult for me to get around.”

“Cool,” said Zaphod. “But what does that have to do with us? More precisely, with him?” He pointed a thumb at Dieter, who was still trying to decide if this was part of the trip or if reality had shifted way more than usual.

“It has always been my dream, even before I gained sentience, to be a Leisure Suit,” Balthazar said. “A noble purpose of a member of the polyester tribe. And the finest leisure suits have long been known to be those created in the seventh decade of the twentieth century on the planet Earth. This person is an Earthman, and he would be a worthy frame to carry me into the galaxy.”

Dieter blinked. “Wait, you want me to wear you?” He thought about it. It was kinky, but was it the kind of kink he enjoyed?

“Yes,” Balthazar said. “I am willing to pay the asking price for your services, as well as a retainer, food and drink, and sleeping accommodations. In exchange, you will transport me wherever I need to go.”

“Room, board and an allowance,” Dieter mused. “I’m listening.”

Arthur was indignant. “But … but that’s insane.”

“Hey, man, it’s no worse than what I’ve been doing,” Dieter pointed out. “I’m an actor. I wear what they tell me, I stand where they tell me, I say what they tell me. In exchange, I get money and fame, which gets me food and booze and drugs and sex. This deal’s not much different. In fact, it might be better, because Balthazar here will do all the talking. I just have to stand there and look good. I’m really good at that.”

“But a leisure suit? A polyester leisure suit?” Arthur looked perplexed.

“Best of both worlds, dude,” Dieter replied. “It’s a suit, but it’s casual. No tie.” He turned to Balthazar. “I still get to wear my Crocs, right? ‘Cause that’s a deal breaker.”

“Your footwear is your own concern,” Balthazar said. “After all, I want my conveyance to be comfortable. And of course you can wear whatever you like — or nothing at all — at night when we are both resting from the cares of the day.”

“Where do I sign?”

Balthazar shivered and a psychedelic pattern of purple, yellow and blue dots shimmered over his surface. “Whoa!,” said Zaphod. “How’d you do that?”

Balthazar returned to his previous shade of shocking orange. “I told you a cuttlefish was involved in my transformation from mere fabric to sentience. It takes some energy and concentration, but I can change my pigmentation at will.”

“Awesome,” Dieter said. “So, like, a mood suit.” He got a series of blank stares. “You know, like a mood ring? Where the hell were you people in the seventies?”

Arthur blinked. “Oh, yes, that’s right.” He turned to the others and began to explain. “A mood ring was a trinket that changed colors depending on temperature. It was supposed to show the mood of the wearer …”

Here Zaphod cut him off with a wave of two hands. “Yeah, whatever. The main thing is, do I get my finder’s fee?”

“Of course,” said Balthazar. “Margot will write you a check. Margot!”

The young lavender-haired lady came back into the room, with a stack of papers and a large silver and turquoise pen. “I have everything ready, Balthazar,” she said, delicately sliding a portion of him over to clear room on the table for her work. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, flushing slightly, her hands trembling a little. Dieter didn’t really notice, because he was busy checking out her ass. Yeah, maybe he wouldn’t have to settle for Arthur after all, although the idea of what Zaphod could do with two heads and three arms still intrigued him …

********************************************

Arthur was pouting. He was still angry at Zaphod for interrupting his explanation of the mood ring, and even angrier at Ford and Trillian for trying to convince him to trade in his pajamas and dressing gown (which were very comfortable and still smelled like Earth) for something more “fashionable.” Now they were back at the House of Balthazar to say goodbye to Dieter.

“Don’t know why I had to come,” complained Marvin, the android. “Brain the size of a planet and they ask me to attend a farewell party for some apeman.”

“Shut up, Marvin,” Arthur snapped.

“Shut up, Arthur,” said Ford.

Margot greeted them at the door. She was wearing a purple mini skirt with a black leather vest over a lavender blouse. “Welcome to the House of Balthazar,” she said.

“And Dieter,” said Dieter, who was standing behind her in a shocking orange leisure suit over a purple and white patterned shirt. He had one hand on his hip, striking a dramatic pose.

“Yes, and Dieter,” agreed Balthazar, using the breast pocket of the suit as a mouth. “I must say, the freedom I have experienced since joining forces with Dieter has been delightful.”

As Margot left the waiting room to fetch a tray of drinks, Dieter peered over the tops of his sunglasses. “And the amount of sex I’ve been experiencing is also delightful,” he said. “Get this … Margot has a thing for Balthazar. Always has. So she lets me bang her, as long as I wear the jacket.”

“That’s … interesting,” said Arthur.

Dieter nodded. “And the best part is, Balthazar is ace and I’m bi, so from a distance it looks straight but it’s really queer as fuck. I mean, is there even a word for someone who’s attracted to polyester?”

“Polysexual?,” said Zaphod.

Dieter laughed. “Yeah, I like it. Ace plus bi plus poly equals good times for me.”

“It amuses him,” said Balthazar, “and brings joy to dear Margot, who has worked for me all these years without uttering a word about her feelings toward me. I am quite fond of her, in my way.”

“So, all’s well that ends well, I guess,” said Ford, as Margot returned with actual champagne this time. He clapped Arthur on the shoulder. “Sure you don’t want anything before we leave the planet, mate? Maybe some nice trousers or a sport coat?”

“Balthy can whip you up something,” Dieter said. “On the house.”

Both Balthazar and Margot quickly shushed him. “For a generous discount,” Margot said firmly. Dieter shrugged and tossed back another glass of champagne.

“No, I’m fine,” Arthur said. “Although I could use a decent cup of tea.”

Everyone laughed as though he’d told a hilarious joke, but as usual, Arthur was dead serious. Really, who could honestly joke about tea?

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