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Ed slumps forward, pressing his forehead to the cool wood of his cheap, utilitarian desk. He's spent the past two hours on a conference call corralling representatives from a dozen different countries as they argued back and forth over the precise wording on a bullshit risk assessment form. To add insult to injury, they ultimately ended up agreeing to the exact same wording that Ed himself had originally drafted:
RISK OF PLANETARY DESTRUCTION VIA RUNAWAY THERMONUCLEAR REACTION: So improbable as to be statistically equivalent to zero.
(Well, Ed's original wording had been "Risk smaller than a tardigrade's nutsack," but that had only been for Izzy's eyes, and the man hadn't even cracked a smile. Ed should have known better than to waste a good joke on someone who'd had his sense of humour surgically removed at birth, but well, it wasn't like he had anyone else to share a joke with these days).
Anyway, the completely fucking pointless and unnecessary meeting is done, Ed did an excellent job of reining in his Resting Bitch Face, and they are now one step closer to becoming fully operational. It should feel like a win, but… it doesn't. It doesn't feel like anything, really.
Christ, Ed is bored. He's bored out of his fucking skull. But what the actual fuck? He shouldn't be bored — he's Chief Scientist for the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor, for fuck's sake! He's in charge of a project that, if successful, could fundamentally revolutionise the world's energy infrastructure and slam the brakes on anthropogenic climate change. It's cutting-edge, ground-breaking shit!
And yet.
He can't pinpoint the exact moment at which it all became such a grind. There was a gradual shift, he supposes, as he worked his way up from promising graduate student to one of the most eminent scholars in the field of thermonuclear physics. The excitement of solving equations that expanded the limits of human understanding, of dazzling the scientific community with keynote speeches, of publishing his research in the most prestigious journals…. well, it had gotten buried over time under budget reports, project plans, grant proposals, and a mountain of other admin.
Ed can't remember the last time he did any actual science. He can't remember the last time he got to play with numbers that didn't have Euro signs in front of them, can't remember the last time he just lost himself in the process of discovery. And the worst part of it is, he can't see any way out of it. There's no pathway that he can see that gets him back to the parts of the job that actually made him happy. He's trapped. Treading water. Waiting to drown.
With a groan, he lifts his head from the desk, flicking his gaze back up to his computer screen. There's an email at the top of his inbox from a sender he doesn't recognise: The Gentleman Scientist. The subject line reads "Request for an Interview."
Ed narrows his eyes. Media requests don't usually come to him — ITER has a media contact form, and the submissions from that go to Izzy's inbox. And that means this Gentleman Scientist character bypassed the standard processes to ferret out Ed's email address and come to him directly. He taps his fingertips on the cheap wood veneer of his desk, torn between sending the email straight into the trash or reading it. Eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him and he opens it.
Dear Dr. Teach
I host a podcast under the pseudonym of The Gentleman Scientist. Our mission is to make science fun and accessible, so that people of all backgrounds can appreciate the wonders of scientific discovery.
For some time now, I have hoped to produce an episode on the topic of the ITER. As it happens, I will be very close to Cadarache next Thursday, and would absolutely love to interview you in person.
I appreciate that I am making this request at short notice, and I understand if it simply will not be possible to accommodate me.
Should you wish to acquaint yourself with my podcast before making a decision, this link will take you to my back catalogue. Any of the episodes should give you a good feel for the tone and style of my podcast.
Yours in hope,
The Gentleman Scientist
Ed clicks the link, which takes him to a simple yet sleek website. More than a hundred episodes of The Gentleman Scientist's Adventures in Science are listed, and a quick skim of the titles reveals a real breadth of content, with all branches of science represented from astrophysics to zoology. Ed picks one at random and sits back in his chair as a cute little opening theme tune begins to play.
He huffs in surprise when The Gentleman Scientist begins to speak, his unmistakable Kiwi vowels descending over Ed like a warm blanket. He allows his eyes to fall closed as the man gushes enthusiastically about the neuroscience of sleep, expertly walking the listener through the different stages of the sleep cycle and how they correspond to measurably different activity in the brain. He interviews a neuroscientist who is currently studying the brains of people with aphantasia — "an inability to see images in their mind's eye" — during REM sleep, to understand whether their neural activity during dreaming looks any different to people who have more typical abilities to conjure up mental imagery.
The Gentleman Scientist is an excellent interviewer, asking insightful questions that coax expansive answers from the interviewee. Whenever the interviewee gets a bit carried away with the jargon, the Gentleman Scientist skilfully and tactfully transforms the information in such a way that the average person on the street would be able to understand it. And he does so without ever making it seem as if he is correcting the interviewee, or talking down to his audience. It is pretty fucking masterful, in all.
When the episode ends, Ed can scarcely believe that an hour has passed — it felt like half of that, at most. Without a second thought, he fires off a reply to The Gentleman Scientist's email, feeling excitement flare in his gut for the first time in years.
Over the next week, The Gentleman Scientist becomes a near-constant presence in Ed's ears. Ed devours his entire back catalogue, earbuds in every single chance he gets, because… well, because the thing of it is, the Gentleman Scientist is just so fucking endearing. He's smart, he's funny, and he's passionate about what he does. He tackles any topic, no matter how dry it might seem at the outset, with such unabashed enthusiasm that it always leaves Ed wanting more. It kinda reminds him of the hours he had spent watching Carl Sagan's Cosmos as a kid, his grainy VHS recording straining under the weight of his many re-watches; by the time he went to college, he could recite practically the entire series word for word. And as he listens to the Gentleman Scientist gushing about the role of fungi in the ecosystem or the logistics of establishing a permanent moon base, he wonders whether there are any kids out there whose lives have already been nudged along a different trajectory by this wonderful podcast and its beguiling host. He hopes so.
Thursday looms increasingly large on Ed's calendar, the impending interview consuming more and more of his mental bandwidth as the day approaches. On Thursday morning, Ed can barely focus on anything else. He spends the interminable hours before the scheduled interview reading and re-reading the same few paragraphs of a research paper, the words simply refusing to sink into his brain. He gives up somewhere around midday, instead redirecting his energies into sprucing up his office. Piles of paperwork are swept into drawers and flocks of stray coffee cups are herded into the kitchen. He considers hiding away the plushie octopus that sits on his desk, but figures fuck it. He reckons The Gentleman Scientist might get a little kick out of Kraken Junior.
With ten minutes to spare, he cleans the to-do list from his chalk board (after snapping a photo of it on his phone — he'd be completely fucked without it). Because maths is sexy, he scrawls equations across the board, chalk dust flying everywhere. When the board is full, he steps back to admire his handiwork, satisfied that it looks suitably impressive to greet his guest.
There comes a rap of knuckles on the door, and Ed near enough jumps out of his skin.
"Come in," he says, setting his chalk down and leaning up against his desk in a caszh sort of pose that he hopes says that he's actually feeling quite relaxed, right now.
The door opens, revealing a gorgeous, golden-haired man. His face is perfectly imperfect, creased in a way that suggests that the man is about his own age, give or take a couple of years. A striking nose sits beneath two stunning eyes that gleam with hundred shades of green, brown and amber. Hazel, Ed thinks. That's the word for eyes like those: hazel.
Ed allows his gaze to briefly wander along the length of the man's body. His coral shirt hugs a broad, solid frame; a tuft of blonde chest hair pokes out the top where the first couple of buttons are undone. His gaze slides down further to a pair of perfectly tailored trousers covering what looks to be a set of toned, shapely legs. Legs that would feel incredible wrapped around Ed's ears, or flung up over his shoulders…
Ed swallows hard. It's possible that he is completely and utterly fucked.
Stede's hands are slippery against the steering wheel as he parks in the designated visitor bay outside of the ITER facility. He'd like to tell himself that it's just because it's a warm day down here in the south of France, but, well… the heat can't explain the butterflies in his belly, can it?
It's silly, he knows, to have a crush on a man he's never even met at nearly fifty years of age. But when he'd had the idea of doing an episode on the topic of nuclear fusion, his research had led him to the ITER, which had then led him to Dr. Teach, and, well... Several of Dr. Teach's lectures and keynote speeches were available on YouTube, and Stede had consumed them all like a man starved. And who could blame him? It's not Stede's fault that the man has a brilliant mind and the kind of magnetic presence that can hold the audience in the palm of his hand effortlessly. Just as it's not Stede's fault that he has glorious salt-and-pepper waves, twinkling brown eyes, and a deep, rumbling voice that sounds like coming home…
Stede blinks himself out of his reverie. He might be 'down bad', as his assistant Lucius would say, but he is here in a professional capacity. And if there is one thing Stede Bonnet is good at, it's taking his feelings, shoving them inside a tiny box and stuffing that box into the deepest recesses of his mind. It's how he survived two decades of an ill-fitting marriage, after all.
He steps out of the rental and slings his messenger bag, full of recording equipment and notebooks, over his shoulder and heads into the facility. He's greeted at the reception desk by a lovely man who rather improbably introduces himself as 'Fang.'
"I don't suppose you have these in any other colours, do you? Something with a bit more pizzazz?" Stede asks, as he accepts a visitor pass from Fang, which comes attached to a painfully dull, grey lanyard.
Fang's brow creases as he fumbles with his own pizzazz-less lanyard. "Nah, I'm afraid that's all we've got. But I'll pass along the feedback."
"No bother," Stede says, rummaging around in his bag. "I always bring my own." He withdraws his own favourite lanyard, slipping it around his neck, and attaching his visitor's pass to it. "See? Pizzazz!"
Fang's face lights up as he leans over the desk to admire the little cartoon merpeople that adorn the lanyard, their colourful tails sparkling against the fetching teal ribbon. "Aww, that's cute!"
Fang leads Stede through a twisty maze of corridors, giving him a brief history of the ITER and advising him of some local places to visit while he's in the region. Try as he might, though, Stede cannot focus on Fang's words. It's proving rather difficult to think of anything much beyond his own racing pulse when each footstep is drawing him closer to the recent star of his many daydreams.
Fang's footsteps slow as they approach an unassuming door. A brass nameplate reads "Dr. Edward Teach, Chief Scientist."
"Here we are, then," Fang says, with a grin. "The boss is expecting you."
"Right. Yes," Stede says, smoothing down the fabric of his shirt. He takes a deep breath and raps on the door.
"Come in." The sound of a deep voice — his voice — from the other side of the door sends a shiver down Stede's spine. He glances across at Fang, who smiles and nods at him encouragingly. Figuring there's nothing for it, Stede swallows his nerves and opens the door.
And there he is, Dr. Edward Teach himself. He was stunning through a laptop screen, but in real life, he is breathtakingly beautiful. He looks effortlessly stylish, hair pulled up into a bun, sporting a black t-shirt paired with distressed black jeans. He's leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest, casual and confident in his own body in a way that Stede never is.
Stede's eyes are drawn to a smudge of chalk on Dr. Teach's cheek, smeared just above the line of his full, glorious beard. For a fleeting moment, Stede feels the urge to walk right up to the man and rub the chalk away with the pad of his thumb. Luckily, he still has enough control of his senses to quash that particular compulsion.
Dr. Teach pushes himself upright, crossing the room in three slow strides, hips swaying with every step. His lithe movements seem to suck all of the moisture from Stede's mouth, leaving him parched as the Sahara Desert.
"The Gentleman Scientist, I presume?" Dr. Teach asks.
"You've heard of me?" Stede manages to squeak, instantly kicking himself for asking such a silly question. Of course Dr. Teach has heard of him! They have corresponded via email, for crying out loud!
Dr. Teach's eyes warm, brown eyes gleam with a hint of mischief. "Oh yeah, I've heard of you. I've heard all about you."
Dr. Teach extends a hand, and Stede reaches out to clasp it in his own. A frisson of excitement passes along the length of Stede's arm as their hands make contact. As he feels his cheeks pinken, Stede realises that he's gonna need a bigger box to contain this particular crush.
He gulps, biting back the wave of panic that wells up inside of him. What was he thinking coming here? He's not a science communicator. He's an idiot!
"It's Stede, by the way," The Gentleman Scientist says. Ed thinks he's misheard him at first, 'cos that's not a real name, is it? But he flicks his gaze down to the visitor's pass nestled between the Gentleman Scientist's impeccable pecs, and yep, there it is: S-T-E-D-E.
"Stede Bonnet," Ed reads aloud, just for the joy of tasting this man's name in his mouth. "It's nice to meet you."
"It's quite the honour to meet you, Dr. Teach," Stede gushes.
"Ah, none of that Dr. Teach stuff, mate. I'm Ed."
Ed realises that he and Stede have been shaking hands for a good few seconds longer than is probably normal. Embarrassed, he releases Stede's hands and clears his throat.
"Anything I can get for you, boss?" Fang asks from the doorway. He's grinning knowingly, his eyes darting from Ed to Stede and back to Ed again as if he's spectating at a fucking tennis match.
"Nope," Ed says, with a hard pop on the p. "We're good, Fang. I've got this from here."
"Okey dokey," Fang says, shooting Ed a quick double thumbs up before he vanishes off back toward the reception desk.
Ed watches Stede as he scans the office, eyes lingering for a while on the equation-filled chalkboard before landing on his desk.
"Oh hello, who's this then?" Stede asks, reaching out and running a finger along one of Kraken Junior's soft tentacles.
"Oh, him? That's Kraken Junior. He's good for bouncing ideas off of."
"Knows a lot about thermonuclear physics, does he?" Stede asks, a teasing gleam in his eye.
"Course he does. How else would he have got the job here?" Ed quips. Ed lowers his voice, glancing around as if to check no-one is listening in. "Don't tell anyone, man, but this guy is the real brains of the operation. I'm just a pretty face."
Stede's mouth opens and closes again, as if he had to bite back whatever response rose up to his lips. He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his cheeks before turning back to the octopus and gripping his tentacle in a handshake.
"Well, hello Kraken Junior," Stede says, as he pumps the tentacle up and down like a complete and utter lunatic. He releases the tentacle, rubbing his thumb over the Pride bracelet wrapped around the plush appendage. "It's always good to meet another member of the community."
Stede's eyes briefly flick up to Ed's face before darting away again. Interesting. Very fucking interesting.
Stede begins rummaging around in his bag, pulling out a notebook. "Before we begin recording, I thought maybe we could talk through some ideas. I've made a few notes…"
Stede begins flicking through the notebook, reams of handwritten notes filling dozens of pages.
"A few notes, huh?" Ed echoes, mouth quirking up in amusement.
"Yes, well, I watched several of your lectures on YouTube," Stede says. "All of them, actually. For research."
Ed's smile grows wider. "For research. Sure."
Stede's cheeks turn a deeper shade of crimson, the flush now extending down to that tantalising vee of chest. Ed chuckles softly as he settles into his comfy leather chair, across the desk from Stede.
"Well then," Stede says, "let's get started, shall we?"
The interview with Dr. Teach — no, Ed. His name is Ed — passes like a dream. Ed is a wonderful conversationalist with a real knack for distilling complicated scientific facts down so that just about anyone can understand them. He lights up as he explains the processes that occur inside of stars — heat and pressure squeezing atoms together until their nuclei fuse, generating almost unimaginable quantities of energy — and how the ITER is attempting to replicate those processes here on Earth. They talk at length about the technical challenges that need to be overcome to create a controlled and sustained fusion reaction, and about the promise of harnessing nuclear fusion for weaning humanity from fossil fuels, thereby paving the way to a more sustainable future. Stede hangs on Ed's every word, completely losing track of time as they talk.
Eventually, Stede's list of prepared questions comes to an end and Stede regretfully draws the interview to a close. He begins packing away his laptop and microphones, his heart sinking at the prospect of walking away from the beautiful, brilliant man on the other side of the desk. Still, he supposes he should be very grateful for the — Stede glances at his watch. Shit! — three hours that he has spent in Ed's company.
"Thank you so much for your time, Ed," Stede says, as he slips his notebook back into his messenger bag. "This is going to be a real gem of an episode!"
"Pleasure's all mine, Stede. This is the most fun I've had at work in ages," Ed says.
"I find that hard to believe," Stede protests, waving toward the equation-covered chalk board for emphasis. "You're out here on the cutting edge of science! Changing the course of humanity's future!"
Ed chuckles, flicking his gaze to the chalkboard. "I just did that to impress you."
Oh. Well, that's… Stede's not quite sure what to make of that. Before he can process it further, though, Ed ploughs on. "Most of the time, it's just paperwork. Funding proposals, risk assessments, budget reports. To be honest, I've been thinking about packing it all in. It's all become a bit of a grind. But then here you come, with your podcast and your mermaid lanyard and your whole… you."
Stede says nothing. He doesn't know what to make of Ed's words. He knows he's a lot, knows that most people find him… a bit exhausting. Is that what Ed means? Has he been too much, yet again?
But then, a warm smile spreads across Ed's face, his eyes seeming to twinkle. "You're a breath of fresh air, Stede."
And that? Wow. No-one's ever called Stede anything quite like that before. A disappointment, sure. An incredible fuck-up, absolutely. But a breath of fresh air? Never.
Stede deflects the compliment before he does something horrendously embarrassing like launching himself across the desk tongue first. "I just make a silly little podcast. I'd give anything to be in your shoes, doing real, world-changing science, even just for a moment."
Ed leans back in his chair, a faraway expression crossing his face. He turns his gaze on Stede. "You wanna do something weird?"
Stede doesn't hesitate, doesn't even ask what the fuck Ed is asking him to do, the absolute lunatic. He just cocks his head to one side as his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Yes," he says.
Ed stands, circling round his desk until he's standing an arm's length from Stede. He takes off his standard issue ITER lanyard and staff card, and holds them out to Stede. "Come on. For one day only, you can be Dr. Edward Teach, Chief Scientist of the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor."
Stede beams at him. He removes his own visitor pass first, then takes Ed's lanyard and slips it over his neck, muttering a reverent "wow" as he peers down at Ed's staff card. Then he stands, holding up his own lanyard. "May I?" he asks softly.
Ed nods, unsure exactly what it is he's agreeing to, but already knowing that there's pretty much no question Stede could ask that he'd say no to. Stede steps forward, closing the distance between them until they're almost nose to nose. Ed's breath catches in his throat as Stede reaches up, looping the whimsical, mermaid-covered lanyard over Ed's head and around his neck until it settles on his shoulders. Stede runs his fingers along the length of the ribbon, smoothing it down, his knuckles grazing Ed's chest as he does so.
"Look at that," Stede murmurs.
Ed glances down at where Stede's visitor pass now rests against his own frantically pounding heart. He brings up one hand, trailing his fingers across the letters that make up Stede's name.
"You wear fun lanyards well."
A little huff escapes Ed as Stede's words steal the air from his lungs. When he looks up at Stede, he finds those wide, hazel eyes gazing fondly back at him, a soft smile on his face. Ed's heart beats once, twice, three times as he holds Stede's gaze.
Ed begins to take a step forward, already preparing himself for the sensation of Stede's lips against his own, but then Stede steps back and the moment is shattered.
Shit. Looks like Ed misread things. He course corrects, diverting his motion into a casual and not-at-all awkward arm pat.
"Right. Well, er… coffee?" Ed asks, hoping that his beard hides most of the heat he can feel burning his own cheeks. "I'm parched after all that yapping."
Ed is quiet as he leads Stede toward the staff kitchen, and Stede can't quite shake the feeling that he's done something to make Ed feel uncomfortable. He replays the moment with the lanyard back in his mind, realising with horror that he had rather invaded the man's personal space. What on Earth had he been thinking? He stares at the floor tiles beneath his feet, willing one of them to open up and swallow him whole.
Still, Ed had asked him to join him for a coffee, hadn't he? Surely he wouldn't have done that if Stede had completely fucked it, would he? Maybe there's still time to salvage this encounter. Stede will just have to rein himself in a little harder, that's all. No more overly familiar actions. No more encroachment on Ed's personal space. He can do that. No problem. He just needs to jam the lid down tighter on the box that containing his crush, that's all.
"Well, here we are," says Ed, as he opens a door into a small, windowless kitchen. "It's a bit shit, but it's home."
Stede glances around the room, looking for something — anything — complimentary he can say about the space. But the truth is, it is rather uninspiring. Functional, but bland.
"So, Dr. Teach," Ed says, leaning against the kitchen counter. "How do you take your coffee?"
Stede blinks, momentarily thrown off by being addressed by Ed's name. But then he remembers that he is, indeed, wearing Ed's staff card around his neck, and it seems that the man is fully committed to the bit.
"One sugar and a dash of milk, please, Mr. Bonnet," Stede replies.
"Please, Mr. Bonnet was my father's name. Call me Stede," Ed says, with a wink.
They both dissolve into giggles, and just like that, the earlier tension is gone. They banter back and forth as Ed fixes two cups of coffee, carefully spooning a single sugar into Stede's and an seven entire spoonfuls into his own. He glances over at Stede, an embarrassed half-smile on his face. "The coffee here is fucking awful. I can only drink it if it's mostly sugar."
Stede can't suppress his own smile. "Well, it wouldn't be the same with six, would it?"
Ed hands a mug to Stede. The question "What's the most terrifying word in nuclear physics?" is emblazoned across the front. Stede turns the mug in his hand to read the answer on the back, snorting at the singular word printed there: "Oops!"
Ed nods toward the mug. "Physicist humour," he says, with a shrug.
They settle down to drink their coffees, the conversation flowing easily, meandering aimlessly from topic to topic. They discuss their memories of Aotearoa as well as their shared love of science and how it led them to where they are today. Of course, Ed's pathway is a little more straightforward than Stede's, whose foray into science communication followed hot on the heels of the decision to blow up his former life, marriage and career included.
Stede is used to receiving pitying looks when he reaches that part of his story, as if the life he has created for himself is the consolation prize for failing at being a proper adult. It always makes Stede feel so small, like he's little more than a child playing with toys. But Ed doesn't react that way. Ed looks at him like he has done something remarkable, something brave. When Ed calls him "fucking incredible," Stede has to swallow down the lump that forms in his throat.
"Thank you, Ed," Stede says, when he reaches the end of his tale.
"For what, mate?" Ed asks.
"For making me feel like what I've chosen to do matters. Most people look at me like I'm a joke."
"Hey, bro," Ed says, his brow furrowing. He leans across the table. "I want you to listen to me, and I want you to listen carefully. Science communication matters. It matters a whole fucking lot; changed my life when I was a kid. And more importantly, you matter…" The corner of Ed's mouth twitches. "…unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light squared. Then you energy."
And that is it. Stede is gone, clutching his belly as the laughter threatens to shake him apart. Before long, both of them are wheezing, tears streaming down their faces. Whenever they get themselves under control, one of them will whip out another terrible science joke — "Edward, why can't you trust atoms? Because they make up everything!" "Hey Stede, what does a subatomic duck say? Quark quark!" — and they are off again.
Stede can't remember the last time he laughed so much with anyone. He's never before found anyone with whom he passes the time so well. He is rather afraid that his crush may have transformed into something much deeper. Something that will soon explode from the confines of the much-too-small box. Something that will make it considerably harder to walk away from this wonderful man after today.
Stede's giggles abate as his thoughts take this more maudlin turn. Ed, too, appears lost in his own thoughts, tapping his finger against his now empty mug and staring into space. Stede can't help but wonder what he's thinking, wonders if he might be feeling even a fraction of what Stede is feeling, wonders if he is also affected by the anticipatory sting of their inevitable parting. His reverie is interrupted when a raspy voice invades their private little bubble from somewhere out in the corridor.
"Edward, you in here?" says the disembodied voice.
Ed glances at Stede, pressing his finger to his lips in a 'hush' gesture. It's no use, though; a second or two later, a short man with a goatee appears in the doorway. The man looks between Ed and Stede, lips turning up in a sneer.
"Jesus, Iz, why are you still here? It's…" Ed looks at his watch, eyes widening a little as he registers the time. "Christ, it's seven o'clock! Go home and watch Bake Off or something, man."
The awful man scowls, thrusting a pile of paperwork in Ed's general direction from the doorway. "I'd love to, Edward, but this funding proposal needs to be submitted by the end of the week, and it's not going to finish writing itself."
Stede has half a mind to leap to Ed's defence, the man's tone instantly raising his hackles, but a sly smile creeps across Ed's face. "I'm not Ed," he says, leaning back in his chair. He points at the staff card dangling from Stede's neck. "He is."
"That's right!" Stede chimes in. He gestures to Ed. "And this is my good pal, Stede. Also known as the Gentleman Scientist."
Recognition flares in the gremlin man's eyes as he stares at Stede. "You're that twat that's been emailing for the last few months?"
"Wait, months?" Ed echoes, glancing at Stede. Stede nods in confirmation. He had, indeed, been trying to set up an interview for months using the ITER's media contact form, but he had never received a response. Not until he bypassed the form entirely and went straight to the Chief Scientist. Ed glares at the man in the doorway. "And you never thought to pass those emails along to me?"
The odious man rolls his eyes. "You have better things to do than waste your time with stupid little podcasts, Edward."
"That's for me to decide, Izzy," Ed growls, voice dropped low.
"I beg to differ. It's my job to make sure you're doing your job. And that means making sure you don't get distracted by time wasters like this twat," this Iggy fellow says, flapping the paperwork in Stede's general direction.
"Now here's the deal, bucko!" Stede says, anger flooding through him. How dare this cretin speak to Ed this way? "I'm the Chief Scientist around here, and it's after hours, so you can kindly fuck off, and we'll finish the proposal in the morning."
Ed snickers from beside Stede, but Stede doesn't tear his eyes away from Iggy. The man's jaw clenches, the colour rising in his cheeks. He steps into the room, dropping the pile of papers dramatically on the table. He ignores Stede completely, leaning so far into Ed's space that his breath causes the loose strands of hair framing Ed's face to move. "I'm not risking my job. Not for you, and not for that ponce. You can finish the proposal yourself. Oh, and by the way, you've got shit on your face," the foul-tempered bozo snarls, before striding from the room.
"Dickfuck, what?" Ed says, scrubbing his hand across his face.
"It's just a little chalk," Stede says. He watches Ed try and fail to wipe it away. "Come here," he says, unthinkingly. And then suddenly, Ed is leaning toward him, and Stede is reaching out, rubbing his thumb along Ed's cheek just as he had wanted to when he'd first laid eyes on Ed in his office. It's only after the chalk is rubbed away that he realises that he has failed rather spectacularly at keeping himself out of Ed's personal space. Bloody hell, it's not usually this difficult to keep his hands to himself! Actually, it's usually very easy.
He flicks his gaze up to Ed's, and shit. Ed is staring right at him, his expression unreadable.
Stede clears his throat, shrinking back into his seat. For the second time in the space of an hour, he finds himself hoping he hasn't completely fucked up. He tenses, waiting for the brush off, the polite signal that it's probably high time Stede hit the road.
It doesn't come.
"Thanks, mate," Ed says, voice soft and quiet.
Stede flinches as a door slams a little way down the corridor. That'll be Iggy, Stede supposes, storming off with his knickers in a twist. "Is he always like that?"
"Yeah," Ed sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But hey, you wanted to be Dr. Edward Teach. Well, now you know what it's like."
Stede huffs, folding his arms across his chest. "Maybe it's not my place to say it, but that man's a complete arsehole, Ed. I hate that he talks to you like that."
Ed waves it off. "Eh. That's just Izzy." Ed leans across the table, a smile creeping across his face. "Now, what do you say we go and see the good shit?"
Ed leads Stede over to the Reactor Building. It's by far the largest building in the facility, towering over everything that surrounds it. It has to be to contain the enormous fusion reactor, which extends four stories above ground and another two stories beneath.
Ed grabs a couple of hard hats from the cubby holes in the building's lobby, tossing one to Stede and perching another on top of his own head. He snags them a couple of hi-vis vests, too. Not exactly a sexy look, but even Ed's status won't protect him from the shit that would rain down on him if he was caught in the Reactor Building without the proper safety gear.
They head up two flights of stairs and pause before a huge set of double doors.
"You ready to see her?" Ed asks.
Stede's eyes shine as he nods his head eagerly. "Yes."
Ed points to the staff card still dangling from the lanyard around Stede's neck. "You'll need your staff card, then, Dr. Teach."
"Oh, right," he says, holding it against an access panel.
The panel turns green and the access door opens. Stede gasps as they step through the doors and onto a viewing platform, which looks down into the vast reactor pit. Dominating the space is the largest Tokamak reactor ever constructed. She's shaped like a giant doughnut, her silver casing gleaming under the LED lights that shine down upon her.
"Ed, it's incredible," Stede breathes, leaning his elbows on the metal railing of the viewing deck.
"It sure is," Ed agrees, standing alongside Stede, elbow to elbow. He's not looking at the reactor, though. He's looking Stede's profile, at the wonder on his handsome face. "A couple more years, and we'll really see what she's capable of."
She's not quite finished yet. More than one billion components had to be manufactured, shipped in, and assembled on site. But with just a few thousand components to go, the finish line is tantalisingly close.
"Do you really think she could change the world?" Stede asks.
Ed hums thoughtfully. "I do. It's why I do this job. I have to believe that we can still turn things around, y'know? That there's a better future out there."
Stede points to the metal staircase that leads down into the pit. "Can we go down there?" he asks, looking every bit as excited as a little kid on Christmas eve.
"Fuck yeah, we can!" Ed says. "Though…" he glances at the door, wondering whether Izzy is still skulking around the complex somewhere. "Might be best to lock us in first."
Stede blanches a little at the suggestion. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if we get stuck?"
Ed allows a wolfish smile to spread across his face. "What, are you scared? Go on, Dr. Teach. Take your staff card and lock us in."
Stede gulps before walking back to the access panel, pressing Ed's staff card up against it. The light above the door turns from green to red, the locking mechanism clunking audibly inside. Stede eyes the door warily. "And how does one… get out again?"
Ed laughs. "The card'll get us out again. Easy, peasy, pudding and fuckin' pie." And because he can't resist being a bit of a flirt, he adds "Besides, would it be so awful getting stuck in here with me for a night?"
Stede doesn't answer the question, though the blush that rises up his cheeks is answer enough.
They make their way down the metal staircase together, footsteps clanging on the stairs and echoing around the vast chamber. When they reach the bottom, Ed leads Stede around the reactor to an access hatch.
"In there is the vacuum chamber," Ed says. "When this thing is operational, the temperatures in there will exceed 1.5 million degrees, mimicking the conditions in the core of the sun. Lucky for us, it's not hooked up yet, so we can go in."
"No. Really?!" Stede squeaks.
"Mm hmm," Ed says.
Ed gestures for Stede to step through first, and then follows him through. The inside of the reactor is huge, its curved, panelled sides dwarfing the two men within it.
"I can't believe I'm standing inside a fusion reactor," Stede says, running his hand along the smooth, metal walls. "This is… well, it's phenomenal, Ed."
Stede turns to beam at Ed, awe etched into every line of his face. It's blinding, like staring straight into the very same sun that they will be trying so hard to emulate inside this chamber in just a few short years.
And in that moment, something in Ed shifts. All day long, he's been holding himself back, unable to suss Stede out. But he's done being coy now. He takes a step forward, watching Stede intently. He sees Stede's gaze flick down to Ed's lips and back up again. He sees the spark of recognition ignite in Stede's eyes, the shared understanding that yes, this is happening. He sees the way Stede's breath hitches, sees the desire in the slight parting of his lips.
Ed takes another step. He's pulled in by Stede's gravity, tumbling across the event horizon, the point at which nothing can escape. Not that he wants to escape. No, he wants to fall into Stede, wants to get fucking spaghettified, stretched and warped by the sheer force of the attraction that has been building between them all day.
They're so close now, just inches apart. Ed leans in, tilts his head, senses Stede mirroring him to meet him in the middle, when — CLACK — their hard hats collide.
They both giggle, breathless and nervous. Stede plucks Ed's hard hat from his head. He flings it aside, wincing a little and mouthing a "sorry" as it clatters off the floor of the multi-billion dollar machine that they are standing in. Ed divests Stede of his own hard hat, dropping it to the floor by their feet.
"Let's try that again, shall we?" Ed purrs, gathering Stede in his arms and pulling him in. Their lips finally meet and it's fucking everything. It feels like coming home, somehow, like everything in Ed's life has been leading him to this moment. Probably an insane thing to think about a guy he just met today, but fuck it. Ed doesn't care.
Stede's tongue swipes along Ed's lower lip. Ed parts his lips, allowing Stede in, and they melt together; their own fusion reaction, played out in miniature. Hands roam along backs and shoulders, sliding beneath hi-vis vests. Stede is broad and solid beneath Ed's palms, just as Ed knew he would be.
When they eventually surface for air, Ed moves to take a step back to suggest that maybe they take this somewhere a bit more comfortable. He's pulled up short by his lanyard, which seems to have tangled itself around Stede's.
"Oh, look at that!" Stede exclaims. "We're joined to one another."
"Intertwined," Ed murmurs.
Stede smiles so softly, reaching out to cup Ed's jaw in his hand. "I like the sound of that," he says, as he pulls Ed back in for another, glorious kiss.