Chapter Text
A picture of a title card for the story. It says, "A Spoonful of Courage," in blue, in a fun, flowy font. It also says, "An OFMD AU, Written by MegOFMD, for OFMD Disney Week, Day 3: Theme Parks. The background is a faded, stylized image of the Disneyland castle, with the statue of Walt and Mickey visible in front of the castle.
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Ed feels an unexpected lightness as he strides through the theme park's backstage area. It’s late winter in Southern California, the kind of season where the air holds a hint of crispness but promises warmer days just ahead. The sky is a bright, endless blue, and today, he’s shed his usual leather jacket, letting the mild breeze brush his arms. For once, he’s ahead of schedule, a rare feat that has Izzy’s typically pinched expression softening—though only slightly. Punctuality is the height of Izzy’s standards, while Ed leans toward an easygoing disregard for the clock. After all, this job is just a paycheck until university is behind him and he’s working as a professor.
They step into the dimly lit Utilidor locker room, where the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint scent of cleaning supplies greet them. Ed drops his satchel with a thud, the metallic clang of the zipper pulls echoing in the narrow space. He shoots a glance at Izzy, who’s meticulously tucking his own belongings into his locker, movements precise as ever, but his expression is one of annoyance.
“You know, they call it the happiest place on Earth for a reason, Iz?” Ed’s voice carries a teasing lilt as he slams his locker door shut with a grin. “You can’t go around looking that grumpy all the time. They’ll fire you, mate.”
Izzy spins around, his eyes narrowing into dark slits that could cut steel. “I literally play Grumpy,” he replies, deadpan, the words laced with the kind of exasperation that only Ed can summon from him. “I think they’ll allow it.”
Ed bites the inside of his cheek, fighting back the laugh that threatens to break free. Riling up Izzy is a sport, one he never tires of, especially when it comes to his job. He hates playing characters, but he’s… surprisingly good at it. The kids love him, for some reason Ed can’t explain.
Once they're dressed in their uniforms, Ed and Izzy part ways. Izzy heads toward the character staging area, shoulders squared and determined, if still a bit annoyed by Ed's remarks. Ed, meanwhile, starts toward The Jungle Cruise, where he plays the role of a skipper, piloting the boats through the jungle. As he reaches the tunnel leading to Adventureland, he slows down. The sunlit day outside is too inviting to ignore, and the idea of taking the dull, concrete passage makes him groan inwardly. He has a bit of extra time—what harm could a stroll through the park do?
With a grin that hints at mischief, Ed steps out of the gate onto Main Street, relishing the warmth of the sun on his skin. He knows he shouldn’t be here, but he walks tall, as though he belongs. Confidence, he reasons, is key. The moment you look guilty, you might as well be.
Sticking to the right side of the street, Ed glances briefly up at the window above the firehouse. Walt Disney himself still spends time there, despite the park having been open for seven years now. Ed’s pulse quickens slightly, but he pushes on, blending into the bustling crowd. Once he's passed The Emporium, he crosses to the left, skirting close to the storefronts, trying not to stand out.
As he nears the Candy Palace, the sugary scent of caramel floods his senses, and he stops dead. It’s more than a smell; it’s a magnetic pull. He takes a few steps closer, peering through the glass-paneled window to catch a glimpse of the confectioners inside. What he finds inside isn’t just the source of the mouthwatering smell but something, or rather someone, that takes his breath away.
A young man, focused on his work, moves with practiced ease behind the counter. Beneath his cap, a few strands of wavy, golden-blonde hair catch the light. His smile, warm and genuine as he looks at a couple kids watching him, deepens a dimple that tugs at something deep in Ed. Hazel eyes turn back to his work, staying trained on the task at hand, and Ed’s gaze tracks the subtle flex of freckled arms as the man handles the candy.
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A drawing of Ed, leaning against the window frame, watching Stede work in the window of the Candy Palace. Stede's outfit is described above, and he has a slight smile on his face, looking down at his work. There is a blush on his cheeks. Ed is wearing his skipper uniform of a straw hat, and grayish-cream shirt tucked into pants of the same color. He's standing casually, but very clearly looking at Stede. He's seen from behind.
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Ed stands frozen for a moment, a surprised smile forming on his lips. The day has taken an unexpectedly interesting turn. He thinks he could stand here for hours watching the handsome young man in the window.
It’s as if a trance settles over Ed, holding him in place as he watches the man behind the glass. The guy’s smile fades into a look of deep concentration, brows knitting as he carefully spreads caramel over a tray. Ed thinks it might be the cutest thing he’s ever seen, the way the man bite his lip in concentration, and it makes his heart skip.
Ed’s eyes drop to the name tag pinned to the confectioner’s apron, and he mouths the name softly, testing how it feels on his lips. “Stede.” The sound rolls out quietly, a private little secret.
The spell breaks when Ed glances down at his watch, a sudden jolt of realization hitting him. He’s been standing there too long—long enough that he’s now late. A sharp twist of panic grips his stomach, and he risks one last look at Stede, still unaware of his captivated audience. Ed sighs, the moment already slipping away, before turning on his heel and sprinting toward The Jungle Cruise.
As he weaves through the guests, his mind races as fast as his feet. He’ll need to make up for lost time, but at least Fang and Ivan are on line duty today. A small, relieved grin crosses his face. Those two wouldn’t dream of ratting him out, not even for showing up a little late with a flustered flush still on his cheeks.
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