Chapter Text
Ed should have taken his fucking bike. He would have, if he weren’t such a lovely son, because then he wouldn’t be hauling two large, lovingly matted and framed photographs with him on this trip as a surprise for his mother. But unfortunately, he’s a very fucking lovely son, so he took the car, and now he’s fucking pissed.
He’s been stuck behind the same car for over an hour. Granted, on a twelve-hour road trip, an hour is hardly anything out of the total drive, but without any travel companions and with only the shitty local radio stations to listen to, it’s been excruciating. Infuriating, even. The car ahead of him has been crawling along this two-lane highway at just barely the speed limit ever since Ed came up on it and had to slow his own driving speed. Behind him, the line of cars stacking up and tailgating the shit out of each other has grown and grown the longer this fucker has been clogging up the flow of traffic. Ed’s ready to scream.
He has, actually. Several different times. Hasn’t helped yet, but Ed may keep trying.
His only saving grace is the rest stop coming up. Ed’s done this drive dozens of times; he has a routine, and this stop is one of them. Relieve himself, stretch his legs, peruse the vending machine selections, snap a few photos of the beautiful Oregon landscape. Not to mention it’s the last rest stop for miles, and thanks to the asshole in front of him—whose lifespan is clearly longer than Ed’s, considering the sweet time they’re taking—he’s getting a little desperate for it.
He breathes a sigh of relief the second the rest stop exit comes into view, straightening up in his seat with a newly determined grip on the steering wheel. His foot tenses over the gas, already beginning to pull out from behind Snail’s Pace McGee in front of him, ready to practically floor it down the exit ramp just to feel alive after this painful stretch of his trip—
Snail’s Pace exits ahead of him, halting his flooring-it plans abruptly in their tracks. Ed’s groan echoes around the small space of his car.
Fucking figures. Ed would catch the next rest stop out of pure spite instead if it weren’t a solid fifty miles down the highway. Besides, this one’s got better snacks, and god knows he refuses to be robbed of even the smallest joy at a moment like this.
He reluctantly exits behind Snail’s Pace, grumbling the whole way to the rest stop. The place is sparsely populated, only a few other cars scattered around as Ed follows the car ahead of him into the parking lot. He parks and doesn’t stick around to see more than a blond head and rather startlingly tight jeans exiting the other car before he’s dashing off to the restroom—mostly because the need’s becoming urgent, and a little bit because any opportunity to interact with this person is almost certain to result in Ed acting like a dick.
Not that he thinks it’s unwarranted, that is. But his mother didn’t raise him to be a dick. His dad did, of course, but he tries not to model his behavior off that of a dead man.
Ed is significantly more comfortable by the time he’s washing his hands, and more than a little thankful not to have run into the asshole driver while in the small space of this restroom. He slips out and makes his way around the building to the vending machines, already digging his wallet out and scanning for something to snack on.
He takes his time, makes a selection, and is just watching the small package of cookies fall to the bottom when a voice pipes up behind him. “Aw, you took the last ones.”
Ed turns abruptly, startled at being addressed. His eyes land on a kid standing beside him who couldn’t be more than ten or eleven—or something, Ed isn’t great at guessing ages. He shifts uncomfortably, glancing to the vending machine and slowly leaning down to retrieve his purchase.
“Uh—sorry,” he says, wrongfooted. “Didn’t mean to.”
The kid frowns. “You bought them by accident?”
Ed frowns back. “No, I bought ‘em on purpose, but I wasn’t trying to be some dick about it.” All right, Jesus, he’s just a kid, Ed reminds himself as the young boy crosses his arms.
Ed looks back at the vending machine again. “Well—look, there’s some of those little packaged cupcake things,” he suggests, pointing.
“So?”
“So isn’t that—I mean, you could always get those, right?” Not that this is his problem, but Ed feels a bit like an arse at the idea of walking off with this kid’s dream snack without finding an alternative he’ll be equally pleased with.
Unfortunately, the kid’s got the biggest puppy dog eyes Ed’s ever seen in his life as he eyes the cookies in Ed’s hand. Ed sighs, his resolve promptly crumpling.
“All right, here,” he mutters, holding out the cookies. Then the kid lights up like his whole day’s been made, and fine, maybe it’s a bit worth it.
“Thanks!” the kid says, happily snapping up the cookies and hurrying off. Ed watches him go with a snort, chest warming despite himself.
He comes away instead with a small pack of crackers, beginning to munch on them as he aimlessly wanders around the grass outside the restroom building. There’s something comforting about the regular stops like this along his drive. They feel familiar, somehow like his own little spots. His mood has almost completely lightened when he turns a corner and nearly runs straight into the same blond-haired, tight-jeans-wearing person he watched exit the other car when he first pulled in, busy staring down at his phone and not even glancing up when Ed stops in front of him.
His mood plummets swiftly again, shoulders stiffening as he suddenly recalls, in particular, the twenty-minute span this guy spent going five under the speed limit.
Don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick, don’t be a fucking—
“Y’know, it wouldn’t kill you to drive a little faster,” Ed says gruffly. He’s doing the guy a favor, really. Maybe he’s got no idea that his shitty driving nearly caused a pile-up.
The man looks up, looking as surprised to be addressed as Ed felt by the vending machines, then looking even more startled at Ed’s cutting tone. “I—excuse me?”
Ed is thrown off instantly at the accent that falls from the man’s lips. He’s a fucking Kiwi? It isn’t every day Ed encounters a piece of his old home in the Pacific Northwest.
Still a fucking awful driver, though. Ed’s eyes narrow.
“That your car?” Ed asks, pointing out to the parking lot, because he ought to at least make sure he’s got the right guy before he starts giving him hell.
The man follows Ed’s pointing and nods slowly, still looking guarded. Ed sinks into a glare.
“Mate, I was stuck behind you on the road for fucking ages before pulling off here,” Ed snaps. “It’s a two-lane highway full of no-passing zones. Have a bit of damn courtesy. At least pull over or something next time.”
The man looks taken aback and more than a little put off by Ed’s demeanor. “Courtesy, like walking up to a stranger and insulting him?” he asks, clipped. Decidedly bitchy.
“Not insulting you,” Ed assures him lightly. “Just your terrible driving.”
The man rolls his eyes. “How comforting.”
“Look, mate, all I’m saying is some of us have places to be, yeah? And you—”
“Dad?” a vaguely familiar voice says, and Ed’s words halt as he turns towards the voice.
It’s the kid. The kid with the fucking cookies. Dad, Ed suddenly registers—oh, Jesus fucking—
“What’s going on?” the kid asks as the man reaches out a hand for him, absently brushing down the kid’s messy hair.
“Nothing, Louis,” the man assures him kindly, offering a smile. The shift in demeanor is almost jarring, but then his eyes return to Ed and the disdain returns to his gaze. “This gentleman was just offering some, ah—helpful feedback about my driving.”
“Oh,” the kid says, mildly confused as he looks up at Ed. He brightens. “Hey, it’s you!”
“Hey,” Ed says awkwardly, the same moment the kid’s dad freezes with a sharp, “Him—?”
“Dad, could I get a snack too?” Fucking hell, another kid? She’s older, long hair and bright eyes and a belated, odd look at the group as she appears at the man’s other side.
“Oh—sure, Alma,” the man says, beginning to dig into his pocket. The first kid—Louis, apparently—suddenly holds out a few dollars, and his dad pauses, confused.
“You didn’t spend what I gave you?” he asks. “How did you get—”
“He bought them,” Louis says, pointing at Ed.
Now everyone turns to look at him, and hell, Ed should have just waited the fucking fifty miles for the next rest stop. He swallows, feeling awkward and wildly out of his element now, forgetting altogether whether he’s still angry about something or not.
“You bought him cookies?” the man asks with a perplexed frown. Ed clears his throat, waving a hand.
“Yeah, I didn’t—I mean, I bought them for myself, but then he seemed, uh… a little sad they were the last ones, so I just—” He shrugs, trailing off and gesturing vaguely to Louis before shoving his hands into his pockets. Giving cookies to a random kid admittedly feels much weirder, now that he’s face-to-face with said kid’s parent.
“Oh,” the man says. Ed’s gaze snaps up to his again, surprised at the way his tone gentles a little. He’s looking at Ed curiously now, and Ed can’t handle the scrutiny; he glances at the kids before dropping his shoulders in an apologetic sigh.
“Look, mate, I didn’t—I didn’t realize you had kids with you,” he mutters. “I—I get it. The whole… slow driving thing, being cautious or whatever. Sorry.”
Alma scrunches up her face a little, then rolls her eyes as she suddenly cuts in. “He’s not being cautious,” she says, pointed in her father’s direction. “He just drives like a grandpa.”
“Alma,” the man scolds lightly, looking wounded. “I do not. You know your brother gets carsick, I was simply—”
“I used to get carsick,” Louis pipes up, rolling his own eyes now. “When I was, like, way younger, Dad. I’m fine now.”
Ed doesn’t realize he’s smirking until the man catches his gaze again and scowls. Ed grins wider, snickering. The man heaves a put-upon sigh with an eye-roll.
“Fine,” he relents, though Ed grows oddly warm at the lack of bite behind the word, the small smile playing on the man’s own lips. “I suppose I could go a little faster next time.”
“The masses would thank you,” Ed says with a smirk. The man doesn’t muster a glare; Ed would almost say he grins back, in fact. Almost.
“I’m Stede,” the man suddenly says, holding out a hand like a truce. Ed blinks down at it, smile faltering out of pure surprise, but he only hesitates a moment before accepting it.
“Edward. Ed,” he says. Stede smiles and squeezes his fingers.
“Well, Ed,” Stede says with a light smirk of his own, “I’d invite you to join us for the lunch we brought, but I heard you’ve got… places to be, I think it was.”
Ed blushes, of all ridiculous fucking things he could do, huffing and glancing away sheepishly. He scuffs the toe of his boot absently against the grass. “Actually, I was, uh… gonna stick around for a bit,” he admits. Not that he plans to intrude on this family’s goddamn lunch, but it’d be a bit awkward to decline and then hang around with his fucking camera like he’d planned.
To his continued surprise, Stede smiles wider, as if he’d had a feeling. “Come on, then,” he insists, nodding towards an empty picnic table. “You shared your food with us first. And apparently I was quite the inconvenience to you today. Least I can do.”
Ed opens his mouth, ready to apologize again for saying anything about Stede’s driving—and it’s a little insane, actually, how quickly he’s gone from wanting to throw this guy off the road with his bare hands to feeling guilty for being angry in the first place—but Stede is already turning away pointedly, as if prepared not to take no for an answer. The kids follow, and Ed wonders what the hell sort of dad lets his kids buy cookies right before lunch, and before he knows it, he’s following as well, wondering instead what he’s about to have for lunch.
***
This guy’s sort of a weirdo, Ed decides.
The first thing he figures out about Stede is that he clearly loves his kids like hell. Like, fucking adores them. It’s plain as day every time Alma tells a story or Louis tells a joke; Stede looks on with this besotted little smile, like he’s pretty certain his daughter hung the moon and his son placed the stars themselves in the sky.
He learns that Stede lives in Santa Cruz. He learns that Stede is divorced. He learns that Stede is going to Seattle, like Ed is. He learns that Stede takes his kids on this road trip every year, and it’s one of their favorite traditions. And the kids don’t even roll their eyes at that, and Ed learns in the first ten minutes that they don’t hold back from rolling their eyes at a lot of what Stede says, so Ed’s betting they actually agree with him on this one.
None of this makes him weird, though. What makes Stede weird is that he pulls sub sandwiches out of a takeout bag from some place Ed’s never heard of and promptly cuts his own sandwich in half to offer it to Ed. What makes him weird is how he met Ed under an hour ago when Ed walked up to him to yell in his face about his shitty driving, and now Stede is sharing his food and asking curious, delighted questions about how another Kiwi wound up in the States and what Ed is headed to Seattle for, then asking more questions when he learns Ed is a photographer, and more and more questions when he learns Ed does this drive several times a year to catch the seasons at their peak. He’s hanging on Ed’s every word and responding with utter and sincere enthusiasm, and Ed doesn’t think he’s ever had a more unexpected lunch in his life.
This guy’s sort of a weirdo. Ed sort of likes it, he decides.
And the kids are a fucking riot, as it turns out. Ed’s never spent a whole lot of time around kids, and he frankly has always assumed that he’d be pretty shit with them. But these kids are easy, he finds. Louis tells Ed more facts about turtles in the space of a mealtime than Ed’s ever heard in his life, and Alma asks about every single one of Ed’s tattoos that she can see. Ed shrugs off his jacket halfway through the meal, and it might be partly just to watch her eyes light up in amazement at the additional, sprawling ink across Ed’s arms.
What catches Ed most off-guard about the whole thing, though, is when he begins glancing up to find Stede watching him. He’s not staring, exactly; he doesn’t look expectant any of the times Ed catches him, and he always averts his gaze rather swiftly. But that besotted little smile starts staying on Stede’s lips even when he’s not watching his kids. Even when he’s watching Ed instead.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Ed surprises himself by losing track of time, only remembering the rest of the long drive ahead of him when Stede says they ought to get going. Ed helps gather the trash from their lunch and hands it off to Stede, who makes his way towards the restroom building to toss it all away.
The surprises never cease, apparently, because the moment Stede steps away, Ed finds Alma stepping up to him with a scrap of paper in her hand, a number scrawled across it in purple pen.
“My dad’s number,” she says simply after Ed accepts it, confused. His eyes widen at her.
“What?”
Alma gives Ed the sort of dramatic, knowing look only a teenager could muster, then glances towards Stede across the lawn, as if nervous he’ll see them talking. “He’s kind of stupid sometimes, okay? So he’d never give it to you himself. But he obviously likes you. Like, really likes you. And you said you’re from the Bay, and that’s not that far from him, so maybe you could, like… call him or something. I bet he’d like it.”
Ed is so dumbfounded he doesn’t know what to say. How the fuck old is this kid, even? Thirteen? Fourteen? God, he really is shit with ages, but he’s certain it isn’t terribly common for a kid in her young teens to be trying to—what? Jesus, set up her dad with the random guy who joined them for lunch?
Or, fuck, maybe it is common. How the fuck’s Ed supposed to know?
“Oh, I, uh—” Ed begins, panicking a little at the number in his hand. “I don’t think that’s—I mean, your dad’s probably—”
“Just think about it, okay?” Alma insists, and wow, they’ve got the puppy dog eyes down pat, these kids. “I think he gets lonely. And he’s, like, weird with most people, but not you. I think you sort of get him. So think about it.”
Ed gets him? In what universe does Ed get anything about this guy? But he’s running out of reasonable ways to respond to this wildly bizarre moment, so he finally swallows and shoves the scrap of paper in his jacket pocket right as Stede walks up again.
“Ready to go?” he asks Alma and Louis brightly. Both kids nod, Alma with a smile so innocent that Ed wonders where the hell she learned to switch the angel act on and off so quickly. Stede’s gaze lifts to Ed next, his own smile still warm and sincere.
“It was… lovely to meet you, Ed,” Stede adds, and it sends a tiny jolt of lightning through Ed’s heart, and he can’t help but glance at Alma. She’s staring at him with wide eyes, a brow raised pointedly. “You were wonderful company. And I hope the… driving incident isn’t—”
“It’s fine,” Ed insists hurriedly. Fuck, his earlier anger feels like it’s from a different decade already, rather than just a different hour. “Really, I mean it. Drive however you want, man.” Stede chuckles, and Ed remembers himself enough to go on quickly, “And thank you. For lunch, that was—I mean, I had a lot of fun. Most fun I’ve had on one of these trips in years, if I’m honest. You didn’t have to do that, so I… I appreciate it.”
Stede raises his brows minutely, smile widening a little. “You didn’t have to share your cookies,” he points out simply. Ed huffs, soft and self-conscious, dropping his gaze sheepishly.
“Yeah, well—glad I did,” he says, and it comes out more honest than he expects. He doesn’t manage more than a couple seconds before looking back to Stede’s face, like his expression is a magnet drawing Ed in.
And then they’re both sort of staring, quite frankly. Stede looks hopelessly warm and Ed wants strangely to fall right into it, forgetting for a heavy, startling moment about everything—about the drive, about their snippy exchange earlier, about the fact that Ed really does have somewhere to be.
“Well—take care, Ed,” Stede says at last. Does it sound fucking wistful, or is Ed losing his mind?
“Yeah—thanks. Thank you. You too, Stede. All of you.”
And away they go, piling into their car to hit the road again. Ed still feels a little dazed as he settles into his own driver’s seat, clicks his seatbelt on, and pulls out of the parking lot a few minutes later.
It doesn’t take him long to catch up with Stede again on the road, though his car isn’t moving at quite the same snail’s pace as earlier. Admittedly, still a little slow. Admittedly, Ed doesn’t mind anymore. His chest feels bright and heavy now, and he barely even notices the smile on his lips as he drives in Stede’s wake.
Eventually, Stede exits. Ed stays on the highway, silently bidding him one more fond farewell as his car disappears from sight.
***
The few days Ed spends in Seattle are as invigorating as usual. The city is green this time of year, unbelievably saturated with life, and Ed breathes it in every moment he can.
Leaving, too, is as bittersweet as usual. His mother gives him a desperately tight hug and thanks him for the hundredth time for the beautiful photos he brought her, as if her walls aren’t already overflowing with his photography. But he’s never been one to deny his biggest fan.
“Take care of yourself, mum,” he murmurs into her shoulder, reluctant to let her go as they stand beside his car. Being with her feels at times like he’s a boy again, small and protected from the world around him. He definitely isn’t about to fucking cry, just like he always definitely doesn’t cry when he says goodbye to her.
“I always do, love,” she promises. “You be gentle with yourself.” She says it every time.
“I always am.” A lie, but he says it every time.
“Liar,” she says, knowing and affectionate. With one more squeeze, she releases him, patting his shoulder before stepping back.
Ed gets into his car. If he wipes away a tear or two, that’s no one’s business but his own. It’s an ordinary goodbye; they say them every time he visits on these trips, and he’s not sure why this one’s getting to him.
It sticks with him as he sets off on the long drive back home. He’s felt strange all weekend, if he’s honest, like the earth has somehow shifted beneath his feet. He’d felt more moved by the landscapes this time around, more desperate to capture every moment of their beauty. He’d savored the time with his mother even more than he usually does, unable to help the empty echo in his chest thinking about returning back home to a lonely, busy city where his friends are sort of shit and his only family is two states away.
He hits traffic just outside the city and frowns. This part of his drive is usually pretty smooth. He crawls along through the jammed-up traffic until he reaches the explanation; some rough-looking car accident, with the car decidedly worse for wear and someone standing beside it on the shoulder of the road.
And then Ed does a double take, stares, and has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of him.
That’s—that guy. That fucking guy. Stede.
Stede?
For an odd few beats, the world slows down. Ed’s brain gets tangled up with the sudden rush of feeling he had at the end of their shared lunch days ago, the sudden memory of this very guy’s phone number in his pocket.
He’d had kids with him. Ed doesn’t see the kids. Something cold settles in his chest, a misplaced dread or panic.
He swerves sharply to pull onto the shoulder.
Stede looks up as Ed pulls over, looking wildly distressed but physically fine. When Ed steps out of the car, halfway out of his mind with absolutely no plan here, Stede’s distress gives way to a moment of pure surprise.
Neither of them says anything for a moment. Ed has no idea what to say, in fact. Then he remembers Stede was clearly just in a car accident and hurries forward to reach him.
“What the—shit, mate, what the fuck happened?” Ed asks, stunned as he takes in the sight of the car.
“What are you doing here?” Stede asks, looking dazed. Ed looks at him abruptly, caught off-guard by the terribly reasonable question.
“I was just—I just got on the road to head back to the Bay and… saw you,” Ed explains, frowning. “Recognized you.”
“Oh.” He still sounds dazed. After a second, he looks back to his wrecked car. “Right. Someone… I’m not sure what happened. They lost control, I guess, and hit me. Everything’s fine.” Ed gives him an incredulous look, and Stede huffs. “I mean—clearly everything’s not fine. I’m fine. The other person was fine, we exchanged all our information, I just, um…” He trails off, waving a hand vaguely, and Ed stares, wildly stunned.
“Where the fuck are the kids?” he finally asks, urgent and a little desperate. Stede blinks.
“Oh! Oh, I—they’re not with me,” he assures him, giving Ed an odd look. “I was dropping them off up here.”
Fuck—right. Ed remembers now. The ex-wife and all that. He breathes a sigh of relief.
“I was just getting on the road to head home myself when this happened,” Stede sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. For the first time, Ed takes in the sight of him properly, gaze sweeping over him with concern.
“You’re—you’re okay?” he says, relieved when he doesn’t spot any blood or particularly misshapen limbs.
Stede meets his gaze, looking as if he’s suddenly remembering himself. “Oh—yeah, I—yes. Yes, I’m all right.” He sighs, gesturing to nothing in particular as cars whiz down the highway in front of them. “The—the paramedics checked me out, said I’m fine. And the other person was—like I said, no one was hurt. Police took their statements, the other person left, everything’s…” He trails off, hand dropping to his side uselessly as he stares at his car. “I’m just… I’m trying to figure out what—what to do now, that’s all.”
And then Ed is trying very fucking hard to talk himself out of a very fucking stupid idea. He doesn’t manage it before opening his mouth.
“You’re never driving this thing again,” Ed states matter-of-factly. There’s a sickly, orange fluid leaking from the crumpled car and an unpleasant burning smell filling the air around them. Stede casts him a rueful look.
“Thanks for the observation,” he says flatly.
“No, I mean—they’re just gonna tow this thing and destroy it, right? You’re not waiting around for repairs.”
Stede’s expression relaxes and he shakes his head in agreement. Ed swallows. It’s stupid; it’s a ridiculous, very stupid idea that he definitely should not say out loud, because Stede will probably think he’s insane. Or dangerous, even.
“You’re heading to Santa Cruz?” Ed asks, and Stede nods again, slower this time, staring at Ed curiously. Ed shrugs and jerks his head towards his car, decidedly failing to think the better of it.
“I could give you a ride.”
Stede looks as if his shocked, silent question has answered itself. “Oh—lord, Ed, that’s—that’s very generous, but you don’t—”
“Mate, what else are you gonna do?” Ed scoffs, gesturing at the ruined car. “C’mon, I’ve got the space, I’m going down that way anyway—may as well go a little farther. It’s no sweat.”
“It’s—aren’t you up in the Bay? That’s a few hours added to your drive altogether, you don’t—”
“Stede,” Ed says firmly, instantly satisfied when it shuts Stede right up. “I’m not leaving you on the side of the road, man. Get your stuff.”
Stede looks hesitant for one more long, heavy beat before finally sighing, nodding and darting to his mess of a car. He has to wrench open the crunched backseat door to reach inside and pull out his bags.
Ed’s never been in this caliber of car accident before, but Stede seems… remarkably calm. Ed’s fairly sure he’d be rattled and panicking if their situations were reversed, but Stede is acting resigned more than anything else. Merely put out, as if this is simply another event in a long line of unfortunate happenstances today.
He helps load Stede’s bags into his car before sliding back behind the wheel, careful not to rush Stede as he settles inside. Stede calmly buckles his seatbelt and fidgets a little awkwardly, taking in the small space they’ll apparently be sharing for the next twelve hours.
“All good?” Ed checks carefully, glancing back to Stede’s car. “You, uh… need a minute?”
“Had plenty of minutes already,” Stede sighs heavily, dropping his head back against the seat. He turns after a second, meeting Ed’s gaze with a wry smile.
“Sorry,” he says instead, voice suddenly soft. “I’m fine. We can go. Just—probably still in a bit of shock at all this.”
From the accident, Ed assumes. And, possibly, from the coincidence of being picked up by a stranger he’d met at a rest stop days earlier. Ed’s in a bit of shock himself.
“Oh,” Ed suddenly realizes aloud, twisting to reach behind himself into the backseat. He comes back with a chocolate bar and tosses it into Stede’s lap. “Here. Might help.”
Stede blinks down in surprise, belatedly picking up the chocolate. “Got quite a sweet tooth, don’t you?” he remarks with a small grin.
Ed casts him an odd look. “Are you—mate, I pull over on the side of the highway and save your arse after your car wreck, and you’re gonna criticize my snack choices?”
“Not criticizing,” Stede corrects, grin stretching wider as he tears open the chocolate bar, breaks off a chunk, and holds it out for Ed. “Just observing.”
Ed arches a wary brow, but accepts the chocolate and pops it into his mouth. He tries to hide his small smile as he turns on the engine and pulls carefully back into traffic without another word. Here goes nothing, I guess.