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"Louis, please," Stede pleads, trying to keep his voice as even and calm as possible. That's no mean feat, considering the thrumming, pulsing headache that has formed behind his eyes, brought on by two hours of squealing children and aggressively cheery Disney tunes.
"I don't want to go!" Louis moans, stubbornly refusing to put his right foot into his shoe.
Stede draws in a deep breath as Let It Go begins to play for the third time since they arrived in this sensory nightmare of a soft play place. "I know, Lou, but the party has finished now. All of your friends will be leaving soon."
Louis refuses to listen. He's not usually this stubborn, but the overwhelm of the past couple of hours has frayed his nerves, rendering him fractious and obstinate. Stede can hardly blame him. He feels it, too. Between the strained small talk with other parents he has nothing in common with besides having children of a similar age, and the sheer sensory overload of this place, Stede is beyond done. He needs nothing more than to crawl into a dark room where no-one will speak to him or make any demands of him for at least a few hours.
Unfortunately, that's not really on the cards, as Mary has taken Alma to a horse riding competition for the weekend, leaving Stede to look after Louis alone. Which is fine. It's fine. He can handle it. He sets his shoulders, tells himself that he is adequate — that he is bloody well capable of looking after his own son for a weekend — and somehow, he manages to wrestle Louis into his shoes and coat.
Finally, they are out of the door. Stede gulps in the fresh air like a man getting his first taste of freedom after years in the clink. It's a real Shawshank moment - well, minus the river of shit, anyway. He sighs. With any luck, Lou will fall asleep in the car, and Stede will have a few minutes of silence to replenish his severely depleted social batteries before they get home and Louis demands to be entertained. All they need to do is make it the fifty-odd meters across the car park — shared with the motorbike repair place that sits rather incongruously next door — and they will be clear.
Stede takes Lou's hand and steers him past a group of leather-clad bikers with a muttered series of excuse mes and thank yous. He pays them little mind; his eyes are fixed on his teal Mini, his little bubble of peace that will whisk him away from this place — hopefully forever.
Louis pulls his hand from Stede's, eager to dig into his party bag and find out what treats await him in there. They've barely taken two steps when Lou trips. Stede goes to grab him but he isn't quick enough. He gets a fistful of air as Lou goes flying. Lou lands hard on his hands and knees, the sweets and crayons in his party bag spilling out all over the gravel.
There's a second of stunned silence, and then Lou is wailing.
"Oh, Lou!" Stede exclaims, crouching down to get on his level. His entire face is crumpled up, and there are tears streaming freely down his cheeks.
Stede helps Louis to get off of his hands and knees, encouraging him to sit on the ground so he can assess the damage. Lou's joggers have ripped at the knees, and the revealed skin is scraped and bloody. Stede winces at the sight of the tiny bits of gravel that have embedded themselves in his son's skin. Those are going to need to be carefully picked out before he can clean and dress the cuts.
"Lou, sweet pea? May I see your hands?" Stede asks.
Louis clutches his hands in tight to his chest, shaking his head vehemently as the sobs wrack his little body.
Stede reaches out, coaxing Lou's hands away from his body as gently as he can. He turns his son's hands over to inspect them. Much like his knees, they are scraped raw. He gently tries to pluck out a piece of gravel that has wedged itself in the heel of one of Lou's palms. In response, Lou screams bloody murder, the pitch and volume of his wails drilling right into the core of Stede's already fragile brain.
"Hey. Can I help?"
The deep, rumbling voice cuts through the din with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. Stede looks up from his son's scraped up hands and finds himself staring straight into a pair of warm, brown eyes. Any coherent response is temporarily stolen from Stede's lungs as he takes the owner of said eyes in. Long, wavy, salt-and-pepper hair. A full, curly beard, more salt than pepper, but luscious and soft-looking and obviously meticulously cared for. Tan skin, delicately creased in a way that suggests that the man has a similar number of years under his belt to Stede. And leather. So much leather.
"Mate?" The most beautiful man to have ever walked the face of the Earth prompts.
"Oh!" Stede exclaims, forcibly snapping himself from his stupor. He glances back at Louis, who is still shrieking, completely inconsolable. Stede is ashamed to admit that there is a part of him that bristles at the fact that he needs help, but it is undeniable that he does. "Yes, thank you."
The man smiles at Stede, and it's warm and genuine, making the crows' feet around the corners of his eyes crinkle. He turns his attention to Louis. "Hey, bud. Got yourself a little banged up there, didn't you?"
The man's voice is so gentle and soothing. Louis reacts to it instantly, his shrieking fading out as abruptly as if someone had just twisted his volume dial. Louis looks at the stranger, eyes wide, and he sniffs — well, it's more of a great, snotty snort, if Stede's honest — and he nods, his lower lip trembling.
Stede watches on, a little dumbfounded, as the stranger begins picking up the items that had spilled out all around them, popping each one back in Lou's party bag. "Ooh, Fangtastics," he says, waving a tiny bag of Haribo. "I fu — flipping love these, mate. Good score."
The man shoots Stede a wink, accompanied by a little click of the tongue, that almost has Stede swooning like a Victorian maiden. Goodness, he needs to pull himself together.
"There's a first aid kit in my office," the stranger says, gesturing back towards the motorbike service centre behind him.
"Your… your office?" Stede echoes.
"Yeah. I own this place," the man says. He extends a hand, wrapped in a fingerless leather glove. "I'm Ed."
Stede takes the proffered hand in his own. He tries his hardest to suppress any outward sign of the shiver that runs down his spine as Ed's warm, calloused fingertips touch his skin. "Stede."
Is it just Stede's imagination, or does the handshake last a beat longer it should?
Ed releases Stede's hand with a soft chuckle, before turning back to Louis. "And who's this then?"
Louis looks over at Stede, as if asking permission to give his name to a stranger. Stede smiles encouragingly, and gives his son a little nod.
"I'm Louis," the boy squeaks out, between sniffles. "And I'm six."
"Well, I'm Ed, and I'm…" Ed pauses, brow furrowing in concentration. "Forty seven," he finishes. "I think."
Louis giggles. "You don't know how old you are?"
A warm, soft chuckle rumbles through Ed. "It probably seems hard to believe now, mate, but when you get to our age" — and at this, he grins at Stede — "you do tend to forget."
Louis looks absolutely incredulous. He looks to Stede for confirmation. Stede schools his face into something very serious and nods. "It's true."
Ed hauls himself upright, grunting just a little bit, before holding out a hand to Stede. Stede stares at it for a moment before gathering his wits and clasping it, allowing Ed to pull him up to standing. This has the unintended side effect of putting him right up in Ed's personal space, practically nose to nose.
Stede clears his throat and takes a step back, hoping that the heat in his cheeks doesn't look as obvious as it feels. He scoops up Louis, who clings to him like a baby koala. His sobs have died down now, but the last little lingering hiccups remain. Stede presses a kiss into his son's sandy blonde hair. "You're being so brave, sweet pea."
He turns back to Ed, who is watching on, a softness in his eyes that is so at odds with his whole macho biker aesthetic. Ed seems to realise he's been staring, and his eyes quickly dart away.
"It's this way," he says, and he leads Stede and Lou over toward the garage. The little crowd of bikers part before them like the Red Sea, allowing them to make their way through easily.
Ed holds open the front door and Stede steps through into the garage, Lou still in his arms. The smell of oil and petrol hits him immediately. It's strong, but not altogether unpleasant. The walls are covered in tools, in spare parts, in miscellaneous motorcycle memorabilia, and yet it all has an order to it — everything in its right place. It's clear that Ed runs a tight ship.
Ed leads the way through the workshop, nodding to the couple of mechanics who are busy tinkering with bikes on the shop floor. "It's just through here, mate," Ed says, when they arrive at a rather unassuming wooden door. He pushes the door open and steps through, holding it open for Stede and Lou.
Stede casts his eyes around the small office, compelled to learn whatever he can about this man. The walls are covered in framed photographs, but they all seem to be connected to Ed's work. In many of them, Ed himself stands grinning alongside people in motorcycle gear. Several of the photographs are signed, and so Stede assumes that these people are famous in the world of motorcycles. The photos seems to span a significant period of time, judging by the changing shades of Ed's hair and beard — virtually jet black in the oldest of them, and much closer to his current starlight streaked silver in others. And though he does, indeed, look stunning in those older photos, the thought occurs to Stede that the man has aged like a fine wine.
Ed sweeps a stack of paperwork on his desk aside, clearing a sizeable patch of the surface off. And goodness, maybe Stede has been reading too many romance novels, because he can't help but picture Ed doing the same thing in order to lay out a romantic partner (Stede. It's obviously Stede) on the desk, ready for the taking.
Louis squirms in Stede's arms, abruptly pulling Stede's thoughts back from the exceedingly inappropriate places they had wandered off to. He sets his son down on the desk and pulls up a chair so that he can sit before him.
"Let me get the first aid kit," Ed mutters. As he reaches up to rummage around in a high cupboard, his jacket and black tee shirt ride up, exposing a fuzzy belly with the perfect amount of softness to it. Stede's mouth goes a little dry as he imagines nuzzling against that tummy like a cat, rubbing his cheeks all over it… He quickly averts his gaze and draws in a deep breath.
Focus, Stede!
He busies himself with carefully rolling up the legs of Louis's ruined joggers so that he can more easily get to his scraped knees. He murmurs softly to the boy, praising him for his bravery and cooing soft words of reassurance whenever Louis whimpers or sniffles.
Ed quietly clears his throat. "Got the kit," he says, setting the first aid kit beside Louis on the desk. He opens the clasps and pulls out some antiseptic wipes, handing them to Stede.
"Thank you," Stede says, placing them in a little pile on the desk and ripping open the packaging of the first one. He looks Louis in the eye. "This might sting a little, Lou. Okay?"
Louis's lip starts wobbling instantly, his eyes going round as saucers.
"Hold up a sec, mate," Ed says, clapping Stede on the shoulder. Stede can feel the warmth that Ed's touch leaves behind as the man darts around to the other side of his desk, yanking open a drawer. He pulls out a little plush octopus with curly tentacles. It's a bold purple colour, with enormous eyes and a sweet little smile. Ed looks to Stede, an eyebrow raised in a clear question. Stede nods.
Ed circles back round the desk, crouching down beside Stede so that he's closer to Lou's eye level. "This is Kraken," he says, holding the plushie out in front of him. "He gives excellent cuddles. And you wanna know something?"
Louis looks at Ed, wide-eyed. He nods.
"Kraken cuddles have magical healing powers. Whenever I hurt myself, a few minutes with him sorts me right out."
Stede bites back a whimper as Ed places the plushie in Lou's hands. Jesus Christ, could this man be any more perfect? Was he put in this earth for the sole purpose of torturing Stede with his perfect, unattainable Ed-ness?
Lou clutches Kraken to his chest. He sucks in a sharp breath as Stede begins cleaning the cut on his left knee. Stede glances up to see Lou's face screwed up, his grip on the octopus white-knuckled.
He frowns at the tiny piece of gravel that has embedded itself in Louis's knee. "Ed, do you have any tweezers in there?" he asks, nodding toward the first aid kit.
"Yeah, mate," Ed replies, rummaging around and pulling out a pair of tweezers. He hands them to Stede.
Louis begins curling in on himself, clearly distressed by the prospect of the tweezers coming anywhere near him. "Hey, bud," comes Ed's voice, low and soothing. "Louis, can you look at me?"
Louis squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head.
Ed leans across to Stede. "What are kids into these days? Do they still like dinosaurs?" he whispers.
Stede chuckles. Good god, this man is cute. "Yes, Ed. Kids still like dinosaurs. Louis loves them, in fact."
Ed nods and turns back to Louis. "Okay, little man. Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna look at me, and we are gonna try to list every dinosaur we know, okay?"
And they do, batting dinosaur names back and forth in a rapid volley. Ed goes in strong with the most famous ones — T-Rex, triceratops, brachiosaurus — while Louis delights in the obscure — suzhousaurus, gigantoraptor, deinonychus. By the time Ed has exhausted his repertoire of dinos and started inventing new ones (the Jeffosaurus Rex pulls a particularly indignant squeal from Louis), all of the gravel has been removed from Lou's cuts and every scrape has been thoroughly cleaned.
"There," Stede says, with a sigh of relief. "That's the hard part done."
Lou looks down at Stede in surprise, as if he'd completely forgotten what Stede had even been up to at all. "Oh! That wasn't so bad!"
Stede grins at him. "You did brilliantly. Now we just need to get these cuts bandaged up, and we can get out of Ed's hair." Stede tries to ignore the way those last words tug on his guts.
"I've got just the thing," Ed says, hauling himself back up to his feet with a bit of a grunt. From his first aid kit, he pulls an entire handful of brightly coloured plasters. He starts picking through them. "Let's see. We've got… Pokémon, Peppa Pig, unicorns, Bluey…"
"I like Bluey," Louis pipes up.
"Yeah? Good shout," Ed says, handing a Bluey sticker to Stede.
Stede can't help his eyebrow quirking up when Ed meets his gaze. Ed chuckles. "When your place of business is next door to a soft play place, it pays to be prepared. This sort of thing happens a lot more often than you might think."
"Oh, I see. Yes, that makes sense," Stede says, trying hard to keep the disappointment from his voice at the realisation that Ed has helped any number of people in this way. It's rather obvious in hindsight. Ed is a good man. Of course he would step in to help out anyone who found themselves in this situation! It would be absurd to think otherwise.
Stede sets to work dressing each of Lou's cuts.
"Ah, looks like we're all out of Bluey plasters," Ed says, when both of Lou's knees are done, along with one of his palms. "Sorry, mate."
"Oh, Ed, that's okay," Stede says. "Lou, is there something else you'd like?"
Lou looks down at the floor. "I like unicorns," he says, in a shy, quiet voice.
Stede understands Louis's hesitation — his entire childhood, Stede had been mocked and scolded for liking the "wrong" things, after all — but his heart hurts a little nonetheless to see Louis so unsure.
"Heck yeah!" Ed exclaims. "Magical horses with massive horns sticking out of their skulls? What's not to love?" He finds a unicorn plaster — pink, sparkly, floral — and hands it to Stede, never once questioning Lou's request, and oh, would it be too soon to ask for Ed's hand in marriage?
Stede places the plaster on Lou's palm, and his son beams as he admires it, turning his hand this way and that so that it sparkles in the light. Stede stands and pulls him into a hug, pressing a kiss into his soft hair.
"Thank you again, Ed. You're a good man."
Ed squirms a little under the praise, ducking his head as his mouth quirks up into a little smile.
"So, I guess we'll get out of your way, then," Stede says, with considerable reluctance. God, what he wouldn't give to stay in this man's orbit for a while longer.
"Oh. Yeah," Ed says, and is Stede imagining it, or does he sound disappointed? "Or…. Louis, would you like to sit on my motorbike?"
Louis lights up like a Christmas tree. "Can I?" he asks, turning the biggest, most pleading puppy dog eyes imaginable on Stede.
Stede laughs at Louis's infectious enthusiasm. "As long as it's okay with Ed."
"I offered, didn't I?" Ed says.
"I suppose you did! Well, then, yes! Lead the way."
Louis gives Kraken one last big squeeze before placing him down on the desk. He hops down and marches straight over to Ed, taking him by the hand.
Ed freezes, eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights. He looks over to Stede, the panic etched into every line of his face. Stede smiles and gives a nod, biting his cheek at just how unbelievably endearing the scene is before him.
Ed clears his throat. "Right, then. Well, it's just… this way."
Stede follows Ed and Louis back out of Ed's office and through the workshop. Lou talks Ed's ear off the whole time. It seems that Kraken has reawakened Louis's previously dormant interest in sea creatures. Ed listens attentively, nodding and throwing in odd remarks as the little boy tells him all about the denizens of the deep — anglerfish and giant squid and the like.
Stede's throat burns a little as he watches them. Louis is usually such a shy kid. It takes him such a long time to warm up to new people. And yet Ed has managed to put him at ease so quickly. It's wonderful, but it really isn't doing anything to ease Stede's rather rapidly intensifying crush.
Finally, they come to a stop in front of a gleaming motorbike. Its wheels are strapped to a sort of table that can be raised up, and a toolbox sits on the ground beside it as if someone was working on it very recently.
"Ed, it's beautiful," Stede breathes. And it's true, it really is. Stede may not know the first thing about bikes, but even he can appreciate the aesthetics of it — the shining chrome, the sensual curves, the raw power of the thing. It has a stunning custom paint job, too — writhing, twisting black tentacles against a deep purple background. "This paintwork is incredible."
"Thanks, mate," Ed murmurs. He rubs the back of his neck, bashfully. "I, er… painted that myself."
Stede gasps, looking between the man and the bike. And knowing that Ed lovingly adorned this bike with these tentacles, he can't resist reaching out, following the line of them with his fingertips.
"Can I get on the bike now?" Louis asks. Stede flinches back, feeling as if some spell has just been broken.
"Yeah, of course, bud," Ed says. "But safety first, eh? Can't get on a bike without the appropriate gear." He plucks a helmet from a nearby desk. It's the exact same shade of purple as Ed's bike, leaving no doubt as who it belongs to. He pops it on Lou's head where it wobbles around comically. Lou just beams, looking proud as punch.
"Can I wear a cool leather jacket, too?" Louis asks.
"Sure you can, mate!" Ed's fingers move to the various buttons and fastenings on his leather jacket before he second guesses himself. He looks over to Stede. "I mean… as long as that's okay with your dad?"
"Of course!" Stede replies. "Lou needs to look the part, after all."
Ed undoes his jacket, and, well, fuck. Stede may have been too hasty, because Ed's form-fitting undershirt is revealed, and it pulls tight across his pecs as he slips the jacket from his shoulders. If that wasn't bad enough, he can now see Ed's arms. And not only are they toned and beautiful and utterly biteable, but they are covered in tattoos — most strikingly, a black-scaled snake that winds its way up the entirety of one arm.
Stede is, for want of a better word, fucked.
Ed holds the jacket out and Lou slips his arms into the sleeves. The jacket completely swamps him, of course, swallowing up his tiny frame and hanging down to his knees. It provides a very welcome distraction from the rather impure turn of Stede's thoughts, though, and he finds himself biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a laugh.
"You look great, mate!" Ed declares. "Now, I think you're all set." He steps back from Louis, a clear cue that Stede should be the one to lift him onto the bike.
Stede does so, scooping Louis up and popping him on the saddle. It takes a moment or two, as Louis can't quite seem to figure out where his legs are supposed to go, but they get there in the end. Lou leans forward, stretching his arms as wide as he can to hold onto the handlebars.
"Wow!" he squeals. "Can I drive it?"
Ed barks out a laugh. "Not a chance in hell, buddy! Ask again in fifteen years."
"Twenty!" Stede counters.
Stede lingers by Lou's side, arms hovering awkwardly, half-raised so that he might catch him if he falls. Ed strikes up a more causal pose, leaning back up against the desk, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded across his chest.
"Oh! I should take a picture for Mary!" Stede says, pulling his phone from his pocket.
Ed straightens up a little. "Who's this Mary then?"
"She's my mum," Louis says.
"Your wife?" Ed asks, as he rubs at an oil stain on the back of his hand.
"My ex-wife," Stede corrects. Rather an important distinction, that.
"Dad likes boys," Louis pipes up. "That's why he and mum don't live together anymore."
"Louis!" Stede chides, as his face is instantly set aflame. "Sorry Ed, I—"
"Nothing to apologise for," Ed says, who is no longer staring at the oil stain on his hand, but at Stede. A smile creeps across his face. "It's cool. That you figured yourself out, I mean. Congrats."
"Well, thank you," Stede says, softly. "Though I do feel I should clarify when Lou says "boys", he does mean—"
"Men."
"Yes. Men."
Ed chuckles. "Yeah, I figured. But, erm…. good to have clarity."
Stede distracts himself from the lingering embarrassment of the moment by snapping a few photos of Lou to send to Mary later. For one mad moment, he considers asking Ed if he'll take a photo with them. But that would be weird, wouldn't it? They're strangers! Surely such a request would only serve to make Ed feel uncomfortable. He swats the idea away and pockets his phone again.
Comfortable that Lou isn't going to topple from the bike, he wanders over to Ed and leans against the desk beside him, palms flat against the wood. He and Ed watch Louis as he pretends to roar along on the bike, turning the handlebars the little he can and making the occasional sound of screeching tyres.
"Have you ever ridden, Stede?" Ed asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
"Me? Oh, no," Stede replies, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Would you like to?"
Stede whips his head around to look at the man beside him, desperate to discern whether the offer is a genuine one, or whether there might even be some deeper meaning to his words.
"Dad! Can I get down now?" Louis calls out, and the thread of tension abruptly snaps.
"Coming, Lou," Stede says, shooting an apologetic look at Ed. Ed smiles back, a soft little thing just barely visible beneath his glorious beard.
Stede lifts Louis from the bike, and he tries not to dwell on the fact that there is no reason to stay any longer. If Stede was a braver man, he might ask Ed out for a coffee, or slip him his number. But he's not. And besides, why would a man who looks like that be interested in a middle-aged baby gay with an ex-wife and two probably messed up kids? No, Stede shouldn't mistake Ed's kindness today for romantic interest.
"Well, let's get all of this off, then," Stede says, plucking the helmet from Lou's head and placing it carefully on the bike's saddle. Louis wriggles out of Ed's jacket and thrusts it into Stede's arms. It's heavy and warm, and the leather is supple and soft in Stede's hands. It takes every ounce of willpower Stede has not to bury his face in it and breathe in its scent.
He reluctantly hands the jacket back to Ed, who pulls it back on. Goodness, Stede can't decide whether Ed is more brain-meltingly attractive with the jacket on or off. He thinks, somehow, impossibly, both might be true.
Ed glances up at Stede, catching his gaze, and Stede realises he was probably staring a little bit there. "Right!" he exclaims, clapping his hands together for emphasis and forcing some cheer into his voice. "Come on then, Lou. Let's let Ed get on with his day."
Ed escorts them back through the workshop to the door they had entered through earlier. And why does the distance feel so much shorter now than it did on the way in here? It's so unfair, when every footstep is bringing Stede closer to the point of leaving Ed behind forever.
They step back out into the spring sunshine, and Stede finds himself squinting a little against the glare. He steels himself with a deep breath and turns to Ed. "Thank you again, Ed, for your kindness today. You have turned what was shaping up to be a bit of a disaster of a day into one that Lou won't forget for a very long time."
Ed's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. "It's honestly no problem. Glad I could help."
They lapse into silence, and Stede knows this is the point where he has to walk away, but he can't seem to make his feet move. So he just stands there, no doubt looking monumentally awkward and strange.
"Hey, Lou," Ed says. "You see that big guy over there, with the studded belt on his head?"
Stede looks over to see a man with a kind, round face and a close-cropped white beard perched on a picnic bench with a coffee in his hand.
"His name is Fang, and he's one of my oldest friends. Why don't you go ask him to teach you the secret biker handshake?"
"Can I, dad?" Lou asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.
"Sure," Stede says. He trusts Ed, and so he has no qualms about Lou talking to this Fang character.
Lou bounds off and Ed turns to Stede, taking half a step closer into Stede's space. From somewhere, he produces a business card. He taps it against his palm a couple of times before taking a deep breath and handing it to Stede.
Stede glances down at the card. The front reads Blackbeard's Bike Repairs and Servicing, and it shows the business phone number, socials and web address, just as one would expect.
"My, erm… my personal number is on the back," Ed murmurs. "In case you decide that you'd like to take that ride."
Stede flips the card, and sure enough, a mobile phone number is handwritten across the back in black ink.
Stede's eyes fly back up to Ed's. It seems impossible that this beautiful man could be asking Stede out. Stede studies his face for any indication that he might be misreading the situation, but all he sees in Ed's eyes is nervous hope.
"I feel like I should tell you I don't make a habit of this," Ed says, as he scuffs the toe of his boot against the ground. "Giving my number out to cute dads, I mean."
"Cute?" Stede echoes, disbelievingly.
Ed looks back up at Stede through his lashes. "Very cute."
"Oh," Stede says, as Ed's words settle over him. "Well, I… I think I may just take you up on that offer sometime."
Ed reaches out to pat Stede's bicep. His hand lingers there for a moment, the warmth of his leather-clad palm bleeding through the cotton of Stede's shirt.
"See you later, Stede," he says, taking a step back.
"Yes. You will," Stede replies, slipping the business card into his back pocket.
Walking away is much easier now that Stede knows that this isn't the last time he'll see Ed. In fact, his steps are light, as if there are dozens of helium balloons tied to his waist, trying to pull him skyward.
Ed's friend, Fang, grins at him as he approaches. He and Lou demonstrate their secret handshake (which Stede is pretty sure Fang made up about a minute ago), and then they are making their way back to Stede's car.
He straps Lou into his child seat and slips back behind the wheel.
"I like Ed," Lou says, simply. "He's funny."
"He is," Stede agrees, locking eyes with his son in the rear view mirror.
"And I like his bike," Lou says, digging through his party bag.
"Yes, it's very cool," Stede says.
Lou pulls out an uninflated balloon from the bag, discarding it on the seat next to him in search of better treasure. "Is Ed your friend now?"
Stede grins, feeling the business card burning in his back pocket. "Yes. I think he is."
Stede turns over the engine of his beloved teal Mini and backs out of his parking space. Lou presses his face to the window as they pass Blackbeard's, waving frantically to Ed, who's lingering in the doorway, watching them go.
Ed raises his hand in response, waggling his fingers in a little wave. Stede grins, waving right back at the knight in black leather who saved his day and who, Stede fears, he may already be well and truly gone for.
And as he pulls out of the car park and back onto the main road, he can't help but wonder how soon would be too soon to call...