Chapter Text
In the world’s current state, the best way Ed can describe himself is as a fucked up, far more attractive, but way less known, mix of John Hammond and Oppenheimer.
Like, it is so fucking cool he helped bring dinosaurs back to life! He fucking loves dinosaurs! It’s why he became a palaeontologist! Ever since he was small, dinosaurs had been his go-to thing. His favourite cuddly toys had all been dinosaurs. His mum had gone back and forth to the library with him as he worked through all the books they had on dinosaurs (and then back and forth to the university library with him when he’d run out of those, aged 10). He loved going to the beach with his bucketful of plastic ones, burying them, and then digging them up, pretending like he was discovering them all (until he’d lost his favourite Spinosaurus and cried until he threw up).
If someone had told tiny Ed he’d help (and he's giving himself credit, whether his name is on any official document saying so or not) bring back the dinosaurs, and that fifteen years later, there’d be more dinos than rhinos…
Well, he’d probably not believe it at first. But once he did, he’d be so excited.
But big Ed, doom-scrolling on Reddit, feels anything but as he clicks on a link to an article about a dinosaur rescue sanctuary that’s opened right here in Aotearoa.
To the delight of dinosaur lovers everywhere, a dinosaur sanctuary has opened just a two-hour drive from Wellington. The sanctuary, called Aotearoa Rescue Centre for Previously Extinct Animals (ARCPES), is a new and unexpected venture by Bonnet International Investments, and claims to be the most ethical in the world and boasts a variety of species. The sanctuary remains tight-lipped about exactly what it houses, with the PR team stating it wants visitors to be surprised on the day of their visit and relying on old-fashioned word-of-mouth to attract guests.
It’s not that it’s a bad idea.
It’s just…
Ed wishes it wasn’t necessary, you know? This isn’t what he had in mind, all those years ago. He figured a couple of dinosaurs would get made, the 1% Club would hoard them, and the novelty would wear off until eventually there were only a few in captivity for research purposes. Or something.
Instead, the whole thing has spiralled out of control. Somehow, making dinosaurs has become cheaper and easier than making Dolly the Sheep. The result? Dozens, hundreds, thousands of dinosaurs are being held in awful conditions, abused and neglected, used in the military, used as tourist attractions, and, inevitably…
Winding up in places like ‘The Aotearoa Rescue Centre for Previously Extinct Species’.
Letting all the air whoosh out of him, Ed flops back on his bed and chucks his phone aside, torn between his budding excitement and frustration at his younger self’s naivety. All the research he'd done, the papers he'd published regarding, theoretically, bringing the dinosaurs back…
He'd never imagined it all getting stolen and used to this end, but here they are. This is the world they're living in.
But the more he lies there, dwelling on it, thinking about seeing a dinosaur up close, the faster his heart beats. Even the boring light grey of his bedroom ceiling does little to kill the giddiness building in his chest, because all these years – even after all these years –
Ed hasn’t ever seen a dinosaur in person.
The excitement wins. It was always going to. It’d be like seven-year-old Ed rejecting a new box of dinosaur toys. He rolls over and his hand darts out and scoops his discarded phone back up. A couple of taps later, the address of the sanctuary is in Maps, and fucking hell, it’s not even two hours away. There are dinosaurs less than two hours away. There are living, breathing, honest-to-God dinosaurs that he! Helped! Bring to life! LESS THAN TWO HOURS AWAY.
Grinning, stomach full of excited little butterflies, Ed shoots Izzy a message letting him know he’ll be flying solo tomorrow.
He has living dinosaurs to see.
🦕
Come morning, Ed’s still excited, to the extent that he’s not slept much. He’s also got a plan, just in case he stumbles across something nefarious. Okay, well, it’s not really a plan. It's more of an idea to absolutely roast the place everywhere and make sure his name and position are obvious enough to give the criticism weight.
Worst case scenario, he's worried this place is just going to be letting the animals heal up and then setting them loose or selling them on. Setting them loose is a huge no-no. Too many people have already done that, and the damage it's wrecked on the ecosystem is on the fast track to being unfixable.
Honestly, though? Selling them on is even worse, in a way. It'll just send them back somewhere to repeat the cycle.
After a quick breakfast of champions – toast with chocolate spread and a cup of coffee as black as his hair once was – Ed gets in the car and fiddles with the Bluetooth, because God forbid he set off on a nearly two-hour drive without some tunes. He's got a very specific playlist lined up, and he spent an embarrassing amount of time when he was meant to be trying to sleep the previous night putting it together. Two hours of dinosaur-related bangers.
Impossible, some people would say.
But he's Edward fucking Teach. He can do anything, and that now includes making a two-hour-long playlist of dinosaur-themed tunes.
(Admittedly, adding the ‘Barney’ theme tune was a bit of a low point, but what's a guy to do when he needs dino songs, stat?)
His Sat-Nav takes him right to the main car park of the sanctuary and Ed’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s certainly not for it to be so… empty. There are only three other cars parked up, in a car park that is without a doubt big enough for hundreds. It seems like the type of place that should be heaving, with parking marshalls all around to assist, but… Nope. Nothing.
Just a huge empty car park.
There is plenty of signage. Lots of arrows pointing in the direction of the main entrance, which is obvious anyway, because there’s a massive, colourful sign, arching over the path. ‘The Aotearoa Rescue Centre for Previously Extinct Species’ makes for a pretty huge sign. Could’ve been abbreviated, but no, the nut who’s in charge of this place clearly wanted to squeeze the full thing on there.
At least Ed knows he’s not got it mixed up with anywhere else, he supposes.
Swinging his keys around on his finger, Ed saunters towards the entrance. The weather’s warm enough that he’s opted to go without a jacket. His t-shirt, purple and loose, hangs low enough to show some of his tattoo, its wings spread wide across his chest, and he’s wearing a metal chain necklace. He’d been quick about throwing his hair up, so it’s half-up, half-down, with a few strands framing his face. Black jeans and boots complete the look. The ‘look’ is, obviously, looking semi-professional but – he hopes – friendly enough to tease any employees into a false sense of security.
It’s a very well-thought-out look, in Ed’s opinion.
The ground underfoot has been smoothed but kept mostly natural, and even the entryway to the ticket booth has lush vegetation surrounding it. It seems everything is made of wood, or some kind of material made to look like wood, and it feels welcoming. Not clinical, or prison-like, which was one thing Ed had worried about.
Ed wanders up to the ticket booth and slips his keys into his pocket. There’s one bored-looking guy with sideburns manning the entrance, flicking through a magazine, legs crossed, and not looking even remotely interested in what he’s doing.
“Hey,” Ed says, leaning against the desk.
“Hey,” says the guy. He doesn’t look up, fully engrossed in his magazine, which, uh, doesn’t seem appropriate considering little kids could walk up here any time. But, hey, what does Ed know? He’s not spent much time with kids. Maybe they wouldn’t question a magazine with a mostly naked man on the front, titled BEARS WEEKLY.
“...I’m here to see the dinosaurs?” Ed prompts.
The man – his name tag reads ‘Lucius, he/him’ – rolls his eyes skywards and licks his lips before finally looking at Ed. The polo shirt he’s wearing is teal, with the sanctuary’s logo on the arm. “It’s one hundred and twenty-five dollars,” he says, pointing to the sign on the wall behind him. Sure enough, that is the price for one adult, for all-day admission. Then, sounding very scripted, and distinctly British, he says, “Please be aware we do not issue refunds if you do not see any of the wildlife during your visit. ARCPES will not pay for any damages caused by the visitor’s negligence. The animals are not here for your entertainment but for educational and rehabilitative purposes. Children must always be supervised by an adult. Any and all complaints must be directed to the official channels.”
Ed blinks at him. “Right,” he says, pulling out his wallet. “So… one adult entry ticket. Hey, where is everyone, mate? Thought this place would be packed.”
As he types something into the pad on his desk, Lucius shrugs. “The boss wouldn’t let me make social media pages and only allowed one article to be published,” he says, rolling his eyes again. He presents a card machine. “Yesterday. And the kids are all at school. We’ve been open two weeks and had, like, twenty visitors, tops.”
“Huh.” Ed taps his card onto the card machine, which beeps a few moments later and shows a big, green tick. “Doesn’t sound particularly, uh… profitable?”
“Don’t even get me started,” Lucius huffs, tearing off the receipt and then pulling a ticket that emerges from a printer nearby. He hands both over. “He’s all, ‘Oh, Lucius, it’s not about the money, it’s about what’s best for the animals’.” It’s a frankly hilarious attempt at a Kiwi accent. “Anyway. It’s whatever, I guess. As long as he can afford to pay me. I mean, do you think this –” He waves a hand at his general self. “Pays for itself?”
“...No?” Ed guesses.
“No. Anyway.” Lucius gestures over to the right. “Scan your ticket and the gate will open. Oh, here’s a map. Here are the times of the different shows… buuuuttt this one, this one, this one, and this one, aren’t on today. Those exhibits aren’t open yet.”
That leaves only the ‘Snake Talk’ on. At the Titanoboa ? exhibition.
Yeah, absolutely the fuck not. Just reading that makes him want to time travel and make sure nobody ever touches any of his research, holy shit. Who the fuck decided that was a good thing to bring back?
“Great,” Ed says, taking the map, with the showtimes on the back. “Thanks.”
“Yep,” Lucius says, scooping his magazine back up and shoving his face right back into it.
As instructed, Ed heads over to the gates and scans his ticket. The gate opens up and he steps through, half-expecting to come face-to-face with a dinosaur right off the bat, but instead, he finds himself at a crossroads. The path stretches in three different directions and there's a sign in the middle, telling him where he'd be going. Straight ahead, ‘Dinosaurs’. To the right, ‘Non-Dinosaurical Wonders’. To the left, ‘Nursery and Hatching Zone’.
A glance at the map suggests this place is smaller than he expected, and a lot of the enclosures on the map have little ‘IN PROGRESS’ banners covering them. It also confirms his suspicions that ‘Non-Dinosaurical Wonders’ includes fucking Titanoboa, so he swiftly rules out going to the right. Seriously, who resurrected that monstrosity? Although he’s curious about the ‘Nursery and Hatching Zone’, he decides to leave it for last, because it sounds the most suspicious.
If they’re selling eggs and baby dinosaurs on the sly, to the public or otherwise, he’s going to hit the roof.
Mind made up, Ed sets off straight ahead. The au natural look persists as he follows the path, which branches off occasionally, but the majority of the off-shoots are cordoned off with ‘Coming Soon’ banners slapped on them. The others have big, red ‘Restricted Area’ signs on them.
Fab.
So Ed continues following the path until finally – fucking finally – he arrives at an enclosure. It’s like a tank, with a glass barrier revealing everything inside, which appears to be… mostly trees. Lots of bushes. And there’s bugs – ew – zipping about the place. There’s a river, or stream, rather, running right through the middle. Wood-like panels surround the rest of the exhibit, which is probably about… 400 square foot? If Ed had to guess?
He steps over to the information board to the right of the glass, because he can’t see a single dinosaur on the other side. According to the board, there’s meant to be a pair of Minmi ? in there, but no matter how much Ed squints and peers through the glass, he doesn’t catch so much as a glimpse of one. There is a bald guy in a teal polo shirt in the middle of cleaning up a pile of dung, but aside from that…
Best Ed can do is admire the foliage, which, admittedly, is also pretty cool. They have actual, honest-to-god liriodendrites ? in there, and the ferns aren’t just any old ferns. There are genuine pterydospermatophyta ?, and they look pretty damn similar to life restorations Ed’s seen paleoartists do.
Fucking mental.
Five minutes later, though, there’s still no sign of any Minmi. Ed’s honestly sceptical about there being any in there. He admits defeat and continues onward. There are more enclosures, but just like the Minmi one, they seem devoid of dinosaurs, and as cool as it is to see extinct plants, that’s not what he came here for.
Maybe the warning that there’d be no refunds for not seeing any dinosaurs was, in retrospect, an enormous red flag.
Feeling more deflated with each enclosure he passes, Ed finally comes to a stop by what appears to be a field. It's surrounded by a wooden fence made up of thick beams that’d be easy to climb over. But the result would be landing in the deep trench that's been dug, sides steep enough for it to be impossible to climb back up.
In the middle of the field, there's a lake. It's enormous, taking up the majority of the enclosure, which, unsurprisingly, just like everything else he's seen so far, appears devoid of any dinosaur life. There’s a few rocks in the middle of the lake, and around the outskirts, there are plants.. There’s a cluster of trees, then other trees and bushes dotted around. Years ago, these plants were just imprints on rocks.
But plants don't walk and breathe and eat.
Neither, it seems, do these ‘dinosaurs’. Or if they do, they're invisible and silent about it.
Ed leans against the fence and peers out, itching for anything at this point. Hell, he'd take just seeing a vaguely prehistoric-looking bird.
But despite this being the biggest enclosure he’s seen so far, there’s no sign of anything with legs moving about within.
Defeated, ready to cut his losses and head home, Ed straightens up and gives the fence one quick pat.
Then, just as he turns to step away, he sees something emerging from the water. He stops and stares as it continues to break the surface, and a few more start to shift and rise as well.
And then Ed realises those weren’t rocks in the middle of the lake at all. They were crests. The crests of half a dozen parasaurs ?, which are now all making for the shore. And amongst the trees, there’s movement too, as the rest of the herd becomes more obvious. Not absent – just hiding. Camouflaging. Their brown and green colours make them so easy to miss, if you don’t know what you’re looking for.
Ed lets out a laugh and leans against the fence again, staring in amazement. And holy shit, they’re actually making noises. They’re using their crests as resonating chambers, he’s pretty sure, which is something palaeontologists have theorised about for years. Eyes wide, he continues to watch, as the herd interact and then set off at a run together.
The disbelief doesn’t fade, though, even as Ed straightens up and carries on walking, heart thumping wildly in his chest. There’s still a chance they’re animatronics, right? Projections or something? It’s healthy to be sceptical, probably, even if you logically know these are things that are meant to be possible now.
He opts to go back the way he came – back to the Minmi enclosure, where he now has a better idea of what he’s looking for. And within minutes, he claps eyes on one of them, snuffling through the undergrowth, slow and steady and blending in well with its surroundings.
Again, all he can think to do is laugh.
Then he carries on again, until he finds himself back at the initial crossroads at the entrance. Maybe it would’ve made more sense to carry on the way he’d gone – the map indicates all the paths link up, eventually – but he’s here now, so. He heads toward the ‘Nursery and Hatching Zone’, because that’s the bit that really has him concerned.
It immediately has a cosier feel than where he was. It leads into a large, shed-like space. The enclosures inside are smaller. Most of them have nests with unhatched eggs within. The signs explain, ‘These eggs were unfortunately taken from their parents and sold on the black market. ARCPES will incubate them here and care for them once they hatch!’
In one exhibit, there’s a guy in the middle of candling an egg, and fuck yeah, even Ed can see the little dino wiggling around inside of it, despite being a distance away and on the other side of the glass. He watches, wide-eyed, for a full three minutes as the guy diligently checks on each egg, studies a thermometer, and fiddles with some foliage.
He even gives Ed a wave. He’s wearing an apron over the sanctuary uniform, and a name tag affixed to that reads, ‘Wee John, Dino Nanny’.
That might be just about the best job title Ed’s ever heard.
Then he hears a voice, pitched and squeaky, like someone talking to a baby or a puppy or a ventriloquist doing a bit. It’s coming from outside. The door leading out there is propped open. Curious, drawn like a moth to a flame, Ed follows the voice. He finds himself back outdoors, following the yellow-brown dirt path towards whoever’s speaking, the first human soul he’s heard since Lucius.
What he finds is the cutest group to ever exist.
A blond man is sitting on a log in the centre of the pen, surrounded by seven – no, eight little dinosaurs, who seem enraptured by his voice. Ed leans against the railing, a fence combined with a wire mesh that comes up to his waist, and stares, just as engrossed in the story.
Or maybe mostly by the hot DILF telling it.
“...why, this porridge is far too cold!” the man cries, looking around at the little dinos, eyes wide for dramatic effect. “So Goldilocks tried the smallest bowl of porridge and found it was just right!”
Is this guy seriously reading Goldilocks and The Three Bears to a bunch of baby dinosaurs? Amused, Ed continues to listen. A couple of the babies have already fallen asleep – there’s a Stegosaurus curled up with a Struthiomimus ?, and a Koreaceratops ? with its head resting on one of DDILF’s – yep, new name, Dino Daddy – booted feet.
“...Upstairs, Goldilocks found a bedroom and lay down on the biggest bed. But! ‘Oh, no,’ she cried, ‘This is far too hard.’ So she moved onto the medium-sized bed. ‘Oh no,’ she bemoaned,” and DDILF pitches and whines just so, “‘This is too soft.’ So, she climbed into the littlest bed and found it was just right! And fell asleep, right there in Little Bear’s bed!”
With a big yawn, the Pachycephalosaurus ? who, until that point, had been trying to playfully bonk the Protoceratops ? with its head, curls up on the ground.
Ed may be in love.
“‘SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!’” DDILF suddenly roars.
A few of the babies are startled and scatter.
“Sorry!” DDILF says, reaching out a hand to reassure those closest to him. “Sorry. I’ll make Daddy Bear a bit nicer, shall I? Sorry, my darlings.” He clears his throat and continues. “‘Somebody has been at my porridge,’ says Mummy Bear.” He appropriately pitches his voice and keeps it much quieter this time. “‘And somebody ate all of my porridge!’ cries Baby Bear.” And Baby Bear’s voice was even higher and squeakier than Mummy’s.
The dinosaurs settle again. Somehow, the Stegosaurus ? has slept right through it all.
“...The bears made their way upstairs and were horrified to find their beds all rumpled!” DDILF continues. “‘Somebody’s been in my bed,’ said Daddy Bear in his great, gruff voice.” Which is, thankfully, not nearly as great as when he’d discovered his porridge. “‘Somebody’s been in my bed,’ said Mummy Bear.”
The commitment to these bear voices is doing things to Ed he never thought possible.
“...’And somebody’s still in my bed!’ cries Baby Bear,” DDILF says, eyes going even wider as he looks around at those dinosaurs who still have their eyes fixed on him. “And Goldilocks leapt up with a scream and ran, ran, ran from the house, all the way home! And chose not to pursue a life of home invasion, for fear of ever running into the bears again. The end.”
Ed can’t help himself. He claps, because the dinosaurs can’t, and this guy deserves it.
The man turns his head so fast, Ed thinks he might break his neck. Then he shrieks and topples backwards over the log, and the babies all jolt awake and scarper this time, even the Stegosaurus. Some of them make distressed noises and it’s utter chaos as they run about, crashing into each other. DDILF jumps up and starts making shushing noises, crouching down to soothe and reassure the panicked animals.
Ed is absolutely mortified. He stares, mouth hanging open, as the blond guy struggles desperately to get the situation under control. Part of him wants to run away and bury his head in the sand. The other part of him really, really wants to stay. “I am so sorry –” he says over the chaos, and the blond DDILF shakes his head and shoots him a smile and continues trying to wrangle everybody, and then – finally –
Finally, he manages to restore a sense of calm. The kids calm down and DDILF breathes a sigh of relief and approaches the fence. He smiles again, and it’s like sunshine, and it warms Ed’s face. The guy sits on the huge tree stump near the fence.
“I’m so sorry about that,” DDILF says, cheeks pink. The dinosaurs gather around him again, and the guy scoops up the Psittacosaurus ?, who’s started scraping at his shins. Of course, that kicks off a round of some of the others – mainly the Struthiomimus – wanting uppies, too, but the keeper has his eyes on Ed now. “We don’t get many visitors. I didn’t realise anyone was listening.”
“I shouldn’t have snuck up,” Ed says, leaning on the fence again. His own cheeks are warm, and this guy being like the personification of the sun isn’t helping, but Ed can’t help but grin back at him. “It was great. These guys seemed to love it too,” he says, gesturing to the dinosaurs.
“Oh, they do! We do storytime every lunchtime, and always before bed,” DDILF says, beaming. He pets the Psittacosaurus’ head, cuddling the dinosaur close.
“That’s your job, then? Reading to these guys?” Ed asks.
“Oh! Ha!” The DDILF’s cheeks go even redder. “I suppose! It’s what I’ve been spending a significant amount of my time doing. I do other things, too.”
Ed’s just struggling to believe the dinosaurs, and this DILF, exist. And they exist at the same time. And they’re all existing in his field of vision at this very moment.
“I’m Ed,” Ed offers. “Paleontologist. Couldn’t resist coming to get a look at this place when I read about it.”
DDILF’s eyes go wide again. “A palaeontologist! Wow!” he gushes. “You’ll know all about these guys already, then, I suppose. I’m Stede. Like ‘Steve’, but with a ‘D’.”
Yeah, Ed bets he’s got one hell of a D, if the tightness of those shorts is anything to go by.
“Yeah, but bones and books don’t compare to seeing them up close like this,” Ed says, looking downwards. The Struthiomimus has given up trying to get picked up, but Ed aches to hold it, or any of them, with the ease Stede is currently holding the baby ‘Taco. “How’d you manage to land a gig here? Think I have a chance?” he asks, only half joking.
“Oh, well.” Now, even the tips of Stede’s ears are pink. “Actually, it’s, um… sort of my sanctuary,” Stede says, with a nervous laugh. “My father died and I thought… what better way to spend his fortune, than on the one thing he hated that I loved?”
“Oh, shit,” Ed says, staring at him, and then looking around. He clocks a pair of honest-to-god Microraptors ? on the trees behind him, and feels, quite suddenly, like he’s transported to another planet. Shaking his head, trying to drag himself back to the moment, he refocuses on Stede. “So this is… all yours. All of it? Even the – the fucking Titanoboa?”
Stede does another nervous laugh. “Yep,” he says. “I promise, they’re all rescues, so I don’t really consider myself their owner or anything like that. All of us here, we’re just… playing our part by protecting them.”
“Love that,” Ed breathes, staring at him, more than a little bit in love. “You’ve always liked dinosaurs?”
“Since I was a boy,” Stede confirms, still petting the ‘Taco, still smiling, and still with those lovely pink cheeks of his. “Never imagined this, though. It’s a little bit mad, isn’t it? Look at them.” He cuddles the ‘Taco close, cooing softly, and Ed is gone.
“Yeah, me too,” Ed says, voice coming out hoarser than he intended. “I’ve, uh, never actually seen one in person,” he admits. “Just – never had chance, you know?”
“Really?” Stede asks, blinking at him in surprise. “God, you – here,” he says, shifting his position, angling himself so he’s facing Ed more. “Feel him.”
“You sure? I don’t want to, I dunno, hurt him –”
“You won’t,” Stede assures him, so Ed takes a breath and takes the plunge, reaching out a hand to touch the Psittacosaurus.
It’s real. He’s warm, moving, and made up of actual bone and muscle and skin beneath his hand. His little heart is beating and he has organs and tissue, and he’s real. Ed’s touching a dinosaur. He’s touching a dinosaur.
He sniffles, and a tear rolls down his cheek. His throat suddenly feels clogged up, and he can’t take his hand away for fear of the magic disappearing. Some of the other dinosaurs are pressing against the fence, too, trying to get his attention, or maybe they’re concerned? He thinks they might actually be intelligent enough to worry. Oh, God, they’re adorable.
They’re alive.
Maybe nobody will ever acknowledge it, but they’re alive because of him.
“It’s okay,” Stede says, voice soft. “Oh, it’s all right, let it out. I cried too, you know, the first time I touched one. They’re incredible, aren’t they? Do you want some tissues? Here, let me just –”
Sadly, that means putting the ‘Taco back down. Ed then gets the fantastic view of Stede’s marvellous legs as he clambers over the fence and makes his way over to a sanitiser and hand towel dispenser. He comes over with a big wad of hand towels, which he offers to Ed.
“Thanks,” Ed says, all sniffly, and wiping at his face and nose. “Sorry. Dunno what happened.” He continues dabbing at his eyes, which are still leaking a bit.
“No need to apologise!” Stede assures him, laying a comforting hand on his back. “It happens. It’s a lot. This is a judgment-free zone.”
It takes a few minutes for Ed to get himself together. The dinosaurs are watching them with curiosity, except for the Protoceratops, who’s wandered off, and the Pachycephalosaurus, who’s followed and is attempting to bonk it again with its head.
“They’re incredible,” Ed says, and it sort of makes him want to start crying again. “You’re incredible. For doing all this. And it doesn’t even seem like… fuck, I was worried this place would be taking advantage of them, you know?”
“God, no,” Stede says, shaking his head and leaning against the fence. “No, I could never. I love them too much. And I never want any of them to suffer again. We owe them, you know? We brought them back. The least we can do is care for them properly.”
Yeah. Ed loves him.
“I’d love to show you more of what we’re doing here,” Stede says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But I don’t have time today, I’m afraid. Duty calls. What about a private tour, maybe, next time?” he suggests.
As if Ed could ever pass that up. “It’s a date,” he says before he can even stop and think about it. Surprise flashes across Stede’s face and Ed blanches, hurrying to correct himself, “I mean, uh – it’ll be on a date. Of the month. Obviously. Duh.” He makes a face, trying to play it cool.
Surprise melts into fondness, then into a cheeky smile. “Obviously,” Stede says. “I’ll radio Lucius and let him know to give you my number on your way out. We’ll arrange something.”
“Sounds good. Sounds great,” Ed says, grinning, feeling as if he could happily float away.
🦕
When he returns to the entrance, Lucius doesn’t even look at him. He just rolls his eyes and slides a card with Stede’s name and number on it across the desk.
Ed’s buzzing with excitement the whole drive home.