Summary: Margo offers you some overtime. A prequel to Sunday Morning.
Warnings: Slow burn, age gap, drinking, grief, 18+ due to smut in part two
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: In celebration of For All Mankind Season 3 airing tomorrow, this is Part One of my new Ed Baldwin series. Look out for Part Two coming very soon! Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writerand@sociiallydiisoriiented for all your help! <3
In all the years that you have worked for the Director of Johnson Space Centre, Ms. Margo Madison, you have never once known her to joke around, which is why you are certain she is being deadly serious about the offer she has just laid out before you.
Hesitating in the doorway of her office with doubt filling your mind, you bite your lip and attempt to sidestep the question. “I don’t know, Margo. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?”
Seated at her desk, the older woman studies you over the rim of her glasses. When she responds, there’s a familiar hint of impatience evident amidst her lilting southern accent. “It’s just a bit of filing. I thought you wanted all the overtime you could get.”
She’s right. Under normal circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to make a bit of extra money. Whilst working as Margo’s assistant doesn’t exactly pay peanuts, living alone on a single income and paying for your mother’s endless medical bills doesn’t leave you with much change at the end of the month.
I have always loved your Ed drabbles, but now that I have started watching the show, I have a bigger appreciation for how well you capture his character and the world of the show as a whole. As always, you have such a fantastic talent for making your Readers feel like they were always part of the show, just maybe a little to the left or right of the camera (if that makes sense ).
I love the Reader’s backstory and how well you gradually have her warm up to Ed in a way that seems natural and realistic. I am so excited to keep reading!
AAAAHHH!!! I just got caught up to For All Mankind and I am completely in love!!! While I initially started watching the show for Ed, I have now fallen in love with all the characters!
The character development on this show is some of the best I have ever seen with each person fleshed out and so complex. Every choice someone makes, right or wrong, feels understandable given their history and I just love it!
I am so excited for the rest of season 3 and (hopefully) beyond!
I LOVE IT!!!! I’m almost finished with season 2 and I am SO excited to start season 3 so this is such a great teaser! And the details on his shirt and jacket are SO great! They look so real! AHHH! I just love all of this so much!!!
Summary: Margo offers you some overtime. A prequel to Sunday Morning.
Warnings: Slow burn, age gap, drinking, grief, 18+ due to smut in part two
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: In celebration of For All Mankind Season 3 airing tomorrow, this is Part One of my new Ed Baldwin series. Look out for Part Two coming very soon! Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writerand@sociiallydiisoriiented for all your help! <3
In all the years that you have worked for the Director of Johnson Space Centre, Ms. Margo Madison, you have never once known her to joke around, which is why you are certain she is being deadly serious about the offer she has just laid out before you.
Hesitating in the doorway of her office with doubt filling your mind, you bite your lip and attempt to sidestep the question. “I don’t know, Margo. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?”
Seated at her desk, the older woman studies you over the rim of her glasses. When she responds, there’s a familiar hint of impatience evident amidst her lilting southern accent. “It’s just a bit of filing. I thought you wanted all the overtime you could get.”
She’s right. Under normal circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to make a bit of extra money. Whilst working as Margo’s assistant doesn’t exactly pay peanuts, living alone on a single income and paying for your mother’s endless medical bills doesn’t leave you with much change at the end of the month.
a/n: I am in the SOFTEST MOOD YET SO HERE’S A FLUFF WITH ADMIRAL SILVER-FOX. s/o to my babes @bewitchedignition,@lacontroller1991 & especially @edwardbaldwin for the baby name! don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ
Summary: Margo offers you some overtime. A prequel to Sunday Morning.
Warnings: Slow burn, age gap, drinking, grief, 18+ due to smut in part two
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: In celebration of For All Mankind Season 3 airing tomorrow, this is Part One of my new Ed Baldwin series. Look out for Part Two coming very soon! Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writerand@sociiallydiisoriiented for all your help! <3
In all the years that you have worked for the Director of Johnson Space Centre, Ms. Margo Madison, you have never once known her to joke around, which is why you are certain she is being deadly serious about the offer she has just laid out before you.
Hesitating in the doorway of her office with doubt filling your mind, you bite your lip and attempt to sidestep the question. “I don’t know, Margo. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?”
Seated at her desk, the older woman studies you over the rim of her glasses. When she responds, there’s a familiar hint of impatience evident amidst her lilting southern accent. “It’s just a bit of filing. I thought you wanted all the overtime you could get.”
She’s right. Under normal circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to make a bit of extra money. Whilst working as Margo’s assistant doesn’t exactly pay peanuts, living alone on a single income and paying for your mother’s endless medical bills doesn’t leave you with much change at the end of the month.
I have always loved your Ed drabbles, but now that I have started watching the show, I have a bigger appreciation for how well you capture his character and the world of the show as a whole. As always, you have such a fantastic talent for making your Readers feel like they were always part of the show, just maybe a little to the left or right of the camera (if that makes sense ).
I love the Reader’s backstory and how well you gradually have her warm up to Ed in a way that seems natural and realistic. I am so excited to keep reading!
Thank you so much, Vee! That means a lot to me! I’m so glad you enjoyed the first part of this story. I can’t wait to share the rest!
Summary: Margo offers you some overtime. A prequel to Sunday Morning.
Warnings: Slow burn, age gap, drinking, grief, 18+ due to smut in part two
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: In celebration of For All Mankind Season 3 airing tomorrow, this is Part One of my new Ed Baldwin series. Look out for Part Two coming very soon! Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writerand@sociiallydiisoriiented for all your help! <3
In all the years that you have worked for the Director of Johnson Space Centre, Ms. Margo Madison, you have never once known her to joke around, which is why you are certain she is being deadly serious about the offer she has just laid out before you.
Hesitating in the doorway of her office with doubt filling your mind, you bite your lip and attempt to sidestep the question. “I don’t know, Margo. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?”
Seated at her desk, the older woman studies you over the rim of her glasses. When she responds, there’s a familiar hint of impatience evident amidst her lilting southern accent. “It’s just a bit of filing. I thought you wanted all the overtime you could get.”
She’s right. Under normal circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to make a bit of extra money. Whilst working as Margo’s assistant doesn’t exactly pay peanuts, living alone on a single income and paying for your mother’s endless medical bills doesn’t leave you with much change at the end of the month.
Firstly: “Because Ed Baldwin is exactly the kind of man you want to owe you a favour.“
Secondly: “he flashes you a knowing smile” I could see it in my head, that Ed smile, the way he would stand. So I melted.
Third: just pretend I’m not here… really Ed have you seen you? That’s impossible.
Fourth: let me borrow your assistant for the afternoon — omg please please *incoherent squeaking*
Fifth: I promise not to break her. GOTDAMN
Sixth: FATHER! The TWIST!
Seventh: BEING HERE WITH YOU BEATS A NIGHT ALONE!
Eighth: Aaaah yes YES YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE THAT
Hskssnsksnsksksksjsksjslsbslsbskssb ED BALDWIN!
I loved this I can’t wait for more!!!! Aaaah
Thank you so much! You picked out some of my favourite moments to write! chapter one was going to be much longer, but I figured I’d end it here and turn the series into 3 parts
Summary: Margo offers you some overtime. A prequel to Sunday Morning.
Warnings: Slow burn, age gap, drinking, grief, 18+ due to smut in part two
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: In celebration of For All Mankind Season 3 airing tomorrow, this is Part One of my new Ed Baldwin series. Look out for Part Two coming very soon! Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writerand@sociiallydiisoriiented for all your help! <3
In all the years that you have worked for the Director of Johnson Space Centre, Ms. Margo Madison, you have never once known her to joke around, which is why you are certain she is being deadly serious about the offer she has just laid out before you.
Hesitating in the doorway of her office with doubt filling your mind, you bite your lip and attempt to sidestep the question. “I don’t know, Margo. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?”
Seated at her desk, the older woman studies you over the rim of her glasses. When she responds, there’s a familiar hint of impatience evident amidst her lilting southern accent. “It’s just a bit of filing. I thought you wanted all the overtime you could get.”
She’s right. Under normal circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to make a bit of extra money. Whilst working as Margo’s assistant doesn’t exactly pay peanuts, living alone on a single income and paying for your mother’s endless medical bills doesn’t leave you with much change at the end of the month.
“I do,” you assure her. “It’s just… Ed Baldwin?”
Margo waves her hand as if to shoo away your doubts. “Ignore the rumours. Ed’s just a big teddy bear.”
You’ve seen the man in question around JSC plenty of times and while he certainly is big, you can’t speak to the rest of Margo’s statement. From what you’ve heard of the astronauts’ gossip, Admiral Baldwin’s reputation precedes him; he’s definitely not the sort of man you want to cross, and up to now, you’ve succeeded in avoiding him.
“Besides,” Margo continues, returning her attention to the stacks of graphs and charts before her, as if the matter has already been concluded. “Ed usually clocks off at five on the dot. Swing around a few minutes after the hour and you won’t even see him.”
You open your mouth, still unsure of whether you’re going to accept, but Margo swiftly cuts you off.
“I’ve already told him that this is a one time deal. You get his files tidied up and then it’s his responsibility. We’re not bailing him out every month, just because he thinks he’s too important for paperwork.”
“Whyare we bailing him out?”
Margo glances up from her work and gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Because Ed Baldwin is exactly the kind of man you want to owe you a favour.”
Erring on the side of caution, you wait until ten minutes past five before heading over to Ed’s office. Despite your doubts, Margo wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and having her owe you a favour of your own wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
Approaching the unassuming door, you cast your gaze over the plaque on the wall: Chief of the Astronaut Office. Telling yourself there’s really no reason to be so nervous, you try the handle. Just as Margo promised, the room is unlocked. You take a deep breath and, shaking off the inexplicable feeling that you are doing something wrong, you let yourself in.
Ed’s office, while not as big as Margo’s, is still intimidating - just like the man himself. A large mahogany desk, covered by sheet upon sheet of loose paperwork, fills much of the space. The beige, soft-panel walls boast a variety of photos, paintings and awards, but it’s the huge mission-assignment board on the far side of the room that immediately draws your attention.
Tentatively, you approach the board for closer inspection. It is divided into multiple sections, and you can see that Ed has been busy assigning pilots, engineers and scientists to the next twelve months’ worth of lunar missions. Every astronaut on the programme is represented by a small head-shot, and amongst the photographs, the familiar faces of your friends smile back at you.
After allowing yourself a moment of satisfaction, realising you now hold information that your friends would kill for, you study the rest of the office. You’ve always thought that it’s possible to read a lot about a person from their workspace, and it’s the personal details that fascinate you the most: a soft grey jacket hanging on a stand by the window, a pair of reading glasses lying forgotten on the desk.
Idly, you start to wonder who the real Ed Baldwin might be.
Besides the personal effects, you quickly notice the scaled down versions of previous lunar modules that are dotted around Ed’s office, taking pride of place on bookshelves and cabinets alike. One module in particular catches your eye.
Apollo 1.
Without thinking, your legs carry you over to the cabinet where the miniature command module resides next to a small lamp. The first crewed mission of the Apollo program, or at least it would have been…A familiar tightness spreads across your chest as your fingers drift over the figure.
Staring at the miniature Apollo 1, you’re faintly aware of the door clicking open, but it’s not until you hear the deep clearing of a throat that you spin around and find yourself face to face with Admiral Edward Baldwin.
As his sharp eyes assess you, a look of confusion momentarily crosses the admiral’s handsome face.
“Sorry! Uh, hi,” you stammer, hurriedly introducing yourself before he demands to know why you’re lurking in his office. “I’m Margo’s assistant.”
Ed’s face slowly but surely relaxes into the faintest of smiles. “Of course. I know who you are. Margo tells me you volunteered to help fix this mess.” He gestures to the piles of paperwork littering the desk, an apologetic glint now sparkling in his hazel eyes.
‘Volunteered’ is a strong word, you think to yourself as you shrug. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“Margo’s not a woman you wanna argue with, right?” He flashes you a knowing smile. “But I appreciate that she’s letting me borrow you for the next few evenings. Hope it won’t take you too long. I hate paperwork, as you can probably tell.”
Still feeling self-conscious, almost as if you’ve been caught snooping in the headmaster’s office, you nod.
“Anyway, I’ll be out of your hair in just a minute. Forgot my damn jacket.” He crosses the room in a few long strides, snatching the offending article from its hook on the stand. He’s even bigger up close, you decide. Larger than life.
You catch yourself staring unashamedly as Ed shrugs on the jacket over a broad set of shoulders. The white collared shirt he’s wearing seems to strain at the seams and you can feel your skin warm as you imagine all the muscle that is hidden underneath. For a man that now spends much of his time behind a desk, he certainly takes care of himself.
Mentally scolding yourself for such an inappropriate thought, you find yourself rooted to the spot as he rounds the desk, coming to stand before you. You were right. He is far bigger up close, practically towering over you as he glances at the small model by your hand.
His smile slowly fades. “Apollo 1. Damn shame. You know it’ll be ten years-”
“In ten days’ time. January 27th.” It hadn’t been your intention to cut him off, but the date, imprinted on your heart like a brand, just slips out.
Ed’s eyes widen ever so slightly. You suspect he’s not accustomed to being interrupted. “That’s right. I see you got a mind for dates, huh? Some of those ASCANs could take a leaf outta your book. Don’t know their own damn history.”
Feeling yourself shrink under the weight of his gaze, you cast your own attention to the carpet. He’s half right. You do have a mind for dates, but only this one in particular. As if you would ever be able to forget.
When you dare to glance back up, you find him shaking his head, arms folded across the expanse of his chest. “No wonder Margo snapped you up.”
“That’s kind of you to say, Admiral Baldwin.”
His face scrunches up in distaste. “Oh please, just call me Ed. I feel old enough as it is.”
You offer him a nervous smile, relieved that he isn’t going to interrogate you further. This time of year is hard enough as it is. The last thing you want is to drag up the past with Ed Baldwin.
Whether he senses your awkwardness, or he’s just keen to get home, Ed seems to decide that it’s time to take his leave. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get to it. If you have any trouble, come find me in the morning. And thanks again.”
As he slips past you and out of the door, you allow yourself a quiet breath of relief. You’ve survived your first encounter with the infamous Ed Baldwin. Perhaps he isn’t quite as intimidating as you’d expected.
A career in office administration might not have been your primary ambition growing up - in fact, your true aspirations couldn’t have been much further from your current situation - but over the years you’ve been able to find peace and a small amount of satisfaction in the work that you do for Margo, and NASA.
It’s one of the reasons why, despite your initial reservations, you really don’t mind organising Ed’s paperwork, even if it is going to be a greater task than Margo had led you to believe. There had clearly been a system in place once upon a time - back in the days of Ed’s predecessors, you imagine - but evidently, this has fallen by the wayside.
After Ed had left, you spent the first evening of your overtime creating a brand new filing system that would house the current crop of astronauts’ medical charts, qualifications, and psyche-evaluations. Now, as you make your way through the corridors of JSC ready to embark on your second evening of overtime, you start to think about the next steps.
Just like the night before, the door to Ed’s office has been left unlocked. This time, you don’t hesitate before entering. There’s a ton of paperwork to get through and as much as you need the money, you’ve never been the type to push your luck. You’ll work as hard as you need to, in order to get the job done quickly.
As soon as you open the door, you’re immediately aware that unlike the night before, the office has not yet been vacated. Ed is still sitting at his desk, reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as he pours over a handful of documents.
When he hears you enter, he slowly raises his head, a faint look of alarm crossing his face as he glances at the large silver watch on his wrist. “Is that the time?”
Hesitating in the doorway, you take a small step backwards. “I can come by later.”
“No, no, come on in. Don’t mind me.” He beckons you in. “Promise I’ll be out of your way soon.”
Feeling very much like you’re the one in his way, you close the door behind you and approach one of the cushioned chairs opposite his own.
Ed indicates that you should take a seat, offering you a warm smile that goes some way to easing your nerves, even if the smile itself is a rarity. Every time you’ve seen him around the corridors of JSC he seems to be wearing a rather stoic expression.
Smoothing down your skirt, you slip quietly into the chair, attempting to take up as little space as possible. The files you were working on last night remain in a neat pile at the edge of his desk. You feel his attention on you as you reach for them.
“Just pretend I’m not here.”
He makes it sound so easy, as if you don’t feel his presence with every nerve, every cell, in your body. All of the energy in the room seems to gravitate towards him. Is this what his astronauts mean when they tell you how he puts them on edge?
With little choice but to ignore the insistent tug and get on with your task, you lower your head and begin arranging the pile of medical charts into alphabetical order, but it isn’t long before your attention is once again pulled towards the man sitting opposite.
“Damnit.” Ed removes his glasses and massages his temple. “I need more pilots. I ain’t got shit to choose from.”
You watch silently as he pushes back his seat and stalks towards the mission-assignment board, one hand resting on his hip.
“Had to drop Bowen from the mission,” he explains, without bothering to check whether you’re listening. “He just found out his wife is pregnant. Can’t have the man up on the moon, missing the birth of his first child.”
There’s not a soul working at JSC today who doesn’t know what happened to Ed’s young son, Shane, while Ed was stranded on Jamestown. It’s just one of the many reasons why the admiral is so revered, and it makes perfect sense that he would be thinking of his astronauts’ families as he sends them up into space.
“What does Bowen think about that?” You don’t know the astronaut as well as some of the others, but you do know he had been excited for his first trip to the moon.
“I think he was relieved.” Ed turns and shoots you a faint smile. “And I promised him a seat in eighteen months time.”
“That was kind of you.”
“Don’t look so surprised,” he teases. “I’m not always the big bad wolf those rookies make me out to be.”
His gaze lingers on you for a beat and you will yourself to look away. Grasping for something to say, anything to alleviate the tiny spark of tension that is threatening to catch, you squint at the board - specifically, the pool of available pilots.
“What about Michaels?” you find yourself suggesting. “Sure, it would be his first time, but he trained with Commander Ripley for years. She’ll keep a close eye on him and…”
Whatever look you found in Ed’s eyes a moment earlier has now been replaced by obvious surprise. “For Margo’s assistant, you sure know a lot about my astronauts.”
There’s no hint of accusation in his tone, but fearing you’ve spoken out of turn, you attempt to explain. “I went to school with some of them, and we’ve remained good friends over the years.” You choose to leave out the fact that you’ve dated some of them, too. For some reason, you don’t want Ed to judge you for that..
“Is that so?” Ed seems to study you a little closer, turning his body to face you as he leans against the board.
You sit up straighter. “Yes. We were in the same class, but I didn’t get the grades for NASA.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him this, unprompted. It’s usually a topic you try to avoid, but something about the way Ed is looking at you draws it all out, almost as if you don’t want to hide from him.
“But here you are,” he muses. He’s still watching you carefully, and you don’t miss the glimmer of curiosity in his eye.
“Here I am.” You could tell him all about the turn of events that saw you working for Margo, but really, it’s not much of a story.
Eventually, Ed turns back to the board. “Michaels, huh?” He removes the picture of the astronaut in question from its place at the bottom of the board. “You think he’s ready for his first flight?”
“I mean…it’s just what I’ve heard. Whether or not he’s ready - I guess that’s up to you.”
Ed glances over his shoulder and gives you a wink. “There’s only one way to find out.”
You watch, bewildered, as Ed adds Michaels’ picture to the upcoming mission roster. You hadn’t expected him to actually listen to your suggestion, never mind follow through on it.
When he notices your expression, Ed chuckles. Low and rumbling, you feel the sound in the pit of your stomach and deep within your bones. “Michaels was on my shortlist. You just settled it for me.”
The following morning, the halls of JSC are a hive activity as usual, but as you pass the astronauts’ briefing room on the way to Margo’s office, there’s only one thing on everyone’s mind. Admiral Baldwin has just given Jason Michaels his first flight ticket after nearly five years on the program.
You smile to yourself, realising that you are maybe just a tiny bit responsible for that. Not that you’d ever admit to having Ed Baldwin’s ear, no matter how fleeting the moment might have been.
Ed had left you to your filing shortly after the conversation about Jason. With the admiral gone, it felt like you could breathe freely again, but at the same time, his departure seemed to take all the energy from the room. The rush of adrenaline you felt whilst talking to Ed had instantly disappeared, and you’d struggled to concentrate on the task at hand for the remainder of the evening.
The day gets off to a slow start. You accompany Margo to her meeting with General Bradford, where you sit, invisible in the background, taking minutes, and trying not to mull over your first two encounters with Ed. As ever, the general is not particularly forthcoming about the military’s plans for the future of the lunar base, and Margo’s annoyance is palpable.
After lunch, you’re typing up the notes from the morning’s meeting when a shadow falls over your desk. You drag your gaze away from the computer to find the now familiar figure of Ed Baldwin looming over you. Flustered, you give him your best attempt at a friendly smile whilst hiding your surprise. It’s rare for Ed to wander over to this side of the building.
“Is the boss in?” He gestures to Margo’s door, hazel eyes flashing with amusement.
“Go ahead.” If it was anyone other than Ed, you would have called ahead first, but you know that Margo has nothing scheduled for the rest of the day, and you don’t feel inclined to make him wait.
Ed raps on the door and a few seconds later you hear Margo call out for him to enter. To your surprise, Ed leaves the door open.
Despite your best efforts not to eavesdrop, you can everything.
“Afternoon Margo."
"Hi Ed.”
“I need a favour.” He doesn’t beat around the bush.
There’s a brief pause, before Margo responds dryly. “Another one?”
“Let me borrow your assistant for the afternoon.”
Your pulse spikes when you realise that he’s talking about you. What could he possibly want?
Margo begins to interrogate him, obviously sharing the same thought. “For what? She’s already scheduled to continue with your filing tonight.”
“I need help with some admin."
There’s no trace of humour in his voice, but Margo scoffs lightly. "You don’t do any admin.”
“Exactly. That’s why I need help. I promise not to break her, alright? You can have her back as good as new tomorrow morning.”
You realise you’re gripping the arms of your chair tightly as you listen to them talk about you, as if you’re not just sitting on the other side of the door. Your stomach fills with a swarm of angry butterflies.
Even from your distance, you can hear Margo sigh. “Fine, Ed. But you had better keep that promise. I don’t need anyone else running to me about how you’ve made them cry.”
“That was one time, Margo. The guy couldn’t take a damn joke.”
Margo grumbles something unintelligible under her breath, and then Ed is backing out of the office. You return your attention to typing, pretending you haven’t heard every single word of their conversation when Ed approaches your desk, laying his broad hands out on the surface.
There’s a hint of mischief in his smile. “Need your help with something.”
A few minutes later, you find yourself anxiously following Ed to his office, struggling to keep up with his long strides. You’re still none the wiser about his plans for you, but his promise to Margo continues to play on your mind.
I promise not to break her.
That was just a joke, right?
He waits until you’re safely inside the room and standing by his side before explaining. “You impressed me these last couple of days. Figured I could use some of your insight.”
“My insight?” You frown up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I want you to give me the lowdown on these guys.” He points towards the mission-assignment board in front of you. “Who gets on with who, any rivalries, stuff that could affect a mission.”
The realisation quickly dawns on you. Folding your arms, you level him with a look. “You want me to snitch on my friends?”
Ed takes a step back so that he’s now standing behind you. “Don’t think of it as snitching.” With a gentle hand on each of your shoulders, he ushers you over to the board. “I’m not gonna bump them off their flights. I just wanna make sure I’ve got the best crews for the mission.”
“I don’t think I’m really qualified…”
“Personality is just as important up there,” he tells you, removing his hands. You feel the loss of their weight immediately. “These guys and girls are gonna be living together 24/7 for six months. And you know them better than I do. I’m just looking for a second opinion.”
You stare at the board as Ed returns to your side. “I guess I can do that.”
Over the next few hours, you give Ed a run down of what you know of the astronauts - or at least, a heavily filtered version. At the end of the day, they are still your friends. You don’t tell him anything he couldn’t work out after a few hours in their company at The Outpost, and he assures you multiple times that nothing you say will affect their assignments.
Meanwhile, you take the opportunity to carry on with your filing. Ed isn’t taking notes, so it’s difficult to gauge how serious his request for information really is, and talk eventually turns to other matters: tidbits of gossip from the mission control centre, and speculation over who might become the next flight commander.
After a while, you find the courage to bring up a subject that has been weighing heavily on your mind since you left Margo. You wait until Ed is sitting down, reclined in the chair opposite you. He seems relaxed and hopefully unlikely to take offence.
“Can I ask you something?”
Ed looks up from the miniature Enterprise shuttle he’s been playing with. “Go ahead.”
“Did you really make someone cry?”
He returns the shuttle to his desk and rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly. In all your years of working at JSC you have never once seen Ed look anything other than calm and in control, so his look of chagrin takes you by surprise.
“Can I be honest? I really felt bad about it afterwards. I was only messing around. Thought the poor kid was gonna piss himself.”
As bad as you feel for the astronaut in question, you have to stifle a laugh. It must have been quite the sight. Truly, you can believe that Ed has the ability to reduce anyone to tears.
Emboldened by this easy-going side to Ed that you are starting to discover, you lean forwards in your seat. “Can I be honest?” When Ed nods, you continue. “When Margo first asked me to help, I was scared of you, too. But I think I’m starting to see that you’re not really that bad.”
Ed chuckles, his expression softening into a warm smile.
No, he’s really not so bad at all.
You don’t see Ed for the rest of the week, or the start of the next, meaning it’s much easier to make progress with his filing. Equally though, you find yourself inexplicably disappointed each time you walk into the empty office. His presence, whilst continuing to be utterly captivating, no longer sets you quite so on edge.
What does set you on edge, however, is the fact that the date you’ve been dreading has quickly rolled around. Just like every year, Margo offers to give you the day off. But you’d rather keep busy than be left alone to wallow over something that happened a decade ago, completely outside of your control.
Walking into the lobby of JSC that very morning, you’ve convinced yourself you can hold it together. It’s just another day. Keeping your head down, you make your way straight for Margo’s office, but like a magnet, no matter how hard you want to avoid it, that one particular picture attracts your gaze - and it’s aided in no small amount, by the American Flag and ribbon that have been specially placed by its side for the occasion. You can’t help but be drawn over.
The photo shows the crew of Apollo 1, taken just days before their launch test, where the cabin caught fire. The three men standing before the launch pad had no idea what fate was to befall them. One face, as familiar to you as your own, stares back at you with a crooked smile.
The shadow of grief that has never quite released its hold on you, now grips your heart like a vice, squeezing so tightly that your vision blurs with unshed tears. Ten years. The pain is just as raw as it was that day.
Willing yourself not to break down, not to cry, you become faintly aware of a crowd gathering behind you. No doubt they’ve been drawn over by the flag and ribbons, as they too remember the date. But the last thing you want is an audience for your grief.
Voices hum around you, a constant drone of hollow thoughts and prayers. You’ve heard it all before. Or at least, you think you have, until one familiar voice stands out over all the others, and you sense the crowd parting.
You don’t need to look up to know that it’s Ed standing beside you. He’s silent for a moment, studying the photo, and then quietly, so that only you can hear, he murmurs, “After ten years, it still doesn’t get any easier.”
Your hand flies to your mouth in a failed attempt to cover your choked sob. You can feel Ed’s attention fixed on you, but it’s too late. The tears are rolling freely down your cheeks.
Shielding you from view with his large body, you feel Ed’s hand land gently on your waist. Wordlessly, he guides you away from the picture; you’re only half aware that your feet have even been carrying you, until you arrive outside Ed’s office. His hand remains on your waist as he ushers you through the door and into one of the chairs.
Focusing on a frayed spot on the carpet as you will your tears to fade, you hear Ed make a call to Margo, informing her that he’s borrowing you again. You can’t hear the other half of the conversation, but Ed leaves no room for argument in his calm, measured tone. Then, without asking, he pours a small glass of liquor from a bottle that’s been hidden somewhere within his desk.
It might not yet be nine AM, but you accept the drink with trembling hands and take a sip. The liquid burns your throat, but it goes some way to chasing off a sliver of grief.
“I should have realised who your father was earlier,” Ed tells you somberly, leaning against the desk with his own glass in hand. “I knew him back in my early days with NASA. He even did some of my training. He was a good man. Terrifying, of course. But a good man nonetheless.”
You take another tentative sip of the whisky, trying not to screw your face up in disgust. It’s a welcome distraction at the very least. “He wasn’t like that at home.”
The corner’s of Ed’s mouth uptick into a soft smile. “Of course not. It’s all an act, you know. A habit that just keeps getting passed on, or…something like that.”
You let the statement linger for a moment as memories of your father invade every corner of your mind. “He was never in any doubt that he’d go to the moon one day,” you tell Ed, quietly, staring at the amber liquid as it swirls in your glass. “I think he would have been glad to see that you made it there eventually.”
“I think about him every day. We all do,” Ed admits. When you meet his eye, you find nothing but sincerity in his expression. “Every time we step onto the launch pad, we know there’s a high chance we’re not gonna make it back. So many of us didn’t.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Space?” He shrugs. “Sometimes.”
You can tell there’s more to his answer, but you don’t push it. Not yet. Not today.
Unable to stand the thought of silence, you keep talking. “I always wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps.” For some reason, it feels easy to admit this to Ed, hidden away in the privacy of his office. “But after the accident, it sent me spiralling. I started drinking and smoking. I flunked all my exams. The school offered to let me resit them, but I couldn’t bring myself to care any more. I just felt like what was the point, you know? Was I just going to share the same fate as him?”
“But you still ended up at NASA.”
“I guess Margo and Thomas Paine took pity on me. They kept in touch after the accident and when my mom got sick they reached out, offering me a job. It’s not quite what I had in mind when I was a child…”
You trail off when Ed reaches out and covers your hand with his. His skin is warm against your own, and that heat travels along your arm and up into the centre of your chest, thawing away another sliver of grief.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think pity is Margo’s style.” The ghost of a smile crosses Ed’s face.
“Perhaps not.”
“But I am sorry to hear about your mom. Life sure knows how to kick us when we’re down.”
Coming from anyone else, you might have paid little mind to his pretty words, but you know Ed has experienced more than his own share of grief. You murmur your thanks as he withdraws his hand, instantly feeling the loss of contact.
He takes your glass and sets it beside his own on the desk, studying you closely. Just as you think he’s about to say something more, the door to his office flies open and the familiar figure of Gordo Stevens bursts in.
Gordo’s gaze immediately lands on you, seated in front of Ed’s desk with watery eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "Woah, I’m not interrupting anything am I?” He takes a step back.
“You’re always interrupting, Gordo,” Ed grumbles as he offers you an apologetic grimace.
“I should go,” you tell Ed, shooting up out of your chair. Breaking down in front of Ed was one thing, but if Gordo gets wind that you’ve been crying in Ed’s office, no doubt the rumours will start to fly.
“Wait, are you sure you’re-”
But Ed doesn’t get the chance to finish his question, because you’re already out of the door.
With the anniversary of your father’s death behind you for another year, it feels like a small load has been lifted. Margo sent you home on time that evening, so you didn’t see Ed again. But when you enter his office the next day at five pm sharp - you’ve long since stopped waiting until ten past the hour before showing up - you find him seated behind his desk.
“More goddamn paperwork,” he grumbles by way of explanation, noticing your look of surprise.
He doesn’t say much more, but you can tell that his attention is fixed on you as you drag one of the chairs over to the filing cabinet, ready to pick up where you left off. Though you may be as keenly aware of his presence as ever, you no longer feel anxious in Ed’s company. If anything, you feel calm. Safe.Something seemed to pass between the two of you yesterday, an unspoken understanding. He too knows how it feels to be weighed down by grief.
As you work through the files, you sense him watching you from time to time. He still doesn’t say anything, but it makes your cheeks warm, and your heart beat a little faster. And you take the opportunity to sneak glances at him, too, quietly cataloguing his expressions as he’s illuminated by the soft glow of the desk lamp. From the crease of his brow as he frowns at whatever he’s reading, to the way his bottom lip softly juts out as he rests his chin against his hand. Objectively, Ed Baldwin is a handsome man, but beyond his fine features, you’re starting to see another side to him. A side that is slowly starting to captivate you.
On more than one occasion, you meet his gaze across the room. Each time this happens, you quickly look away, but not before you feel a sudden rush of energy. It flows through your veins, setting your nerves alight, almost as if you’ve been struck by electricity. Does he feel it, too?
After the second time that your eyes meet, Ed gets up abruptly and leaves the room. Panic sets in as you start to wonder what you could have possibly done to offend him. Just how many times did he catch you staring? But your doubts are swiftly alleviated when he returns minutes later with a coffee in each hand.
“Figured we could use a pick-me-up,” he grins, handing you one of the mugs. It’s impossible to avoid brushing your fingers against his as you take the drink, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
As the evening draws on, Ed shows no signs of leaving. Curious, considering Margo told you he finishes at five like clockwork, but you’re not in a position to question him. Instead, you gently inform him when you’re ready to go.
“Hold up, I’ll walk you out.” He rises from his chair, pausing only to grab his briefcase and jacket, before joining you at the door. You can’t quite shake the feeling that he’s been waiting for you to finish, although you really have no evidence to support it.
As you walk through the deserted corridors and into the lobby of JSC, Ed shortens his strides, making it easier for you to keep up. Now that you are outside of his office, he seems to find his voice again. “Sorry about Gordo bursting in like that yesterday. He sure knows how to pick his moments.”
“It’s ok.” In reality, you’ve been hoping Ed’s friend didn’t jump to the wrong conclusion and assume that you were receiving a dressing down from the admiral. A rumour like that would spread like wildfire, and you don’t think you could bear the embarrassment.
When you reach the exit, Ed is quick to hold the door open for you. Your sleeve brushes his arm as you pass by, and a shiver runs down the back of your neck. You can’t help but feel that the cool January evening is not solely to blame.
“I wanted to make sure you were alright before I let you go,” Ed continues as he falls back in step with you. “Are you? Alright, that is?”
Touched by his concern, you offer him a small smile as you fish your car keys out of your purse. “I’m fine.” At least, you suspect you’re as fine as you’ll ever be. You’ve learnt to live with the pain.
Ed’s stern expression suggests he doesn’t quite believe you, but he lets it slide as he follows you through the parking lot and over to your car. “Well, I hope this goes without saying, but if you ever need anything, just holler.”
“Thank you, Ed.”
For a moment, it seems as if there is more he wants to say, but realising that you’re now standing before your car, his time has run out.
You offer him another faint smile. “See you tomorrow?”
“You will.”
Sure enough, the next day at five, you find Ed behind his desk again. You do so the following night, and the night after that. At first, he tells you he has more paperwork to sign, but eventually he drops the pretence, practising his short range golf swing, or just chatting to you about the astronauts. Around the same time every evening, he’ll disappear for a minute or two, quickly returning with coffee, and sometimes even a snack. Believe it or not, you’re beginning to suspect that Ed Baldwin is a bit of a mother-hen.
One evening, when your work is almost done, and Ed has seemingly run out of valid excuses to linger, you build up the courage to question him about it - to ask why he’s been staying in the office so late. Curiosity has been burning in your chest for a while now, and you’re afraid if you don’t bring it up now, you might never find out.
He’s deep in concentration, lining up a shot, when the question spills from your lips. “Don’t you have a home to go to?”
Ed raises his head, momentarily surprised. You worry that you’ve inadvertently offended him, your question was a little blunt, but his eyes soon crease softly in amusement. “You trying to get rid of me?"
"No. Nothing like that,” you assure him. “I guess I’m just curious. Margo led me to believe you didn’t stick around, but you’ve been here every night for the last week. You can trust me, you know. I won’t break anything if you leave me unattended.”
Ed puts down the golf club and leans against the desk. He’s watching you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. “You want the honest answer?”
You nod, and for the first time since you started your overtime, you feel inexplicably nervous again.
Ed hesitates, leading you to wonder if he’s not really sure how to respond. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands either, gripping the edge of the desk, before folding his arms across his chest. Finally, in an uncharacteristic display of unease, he scrubs a hand over his jaw and replies. “Being here with you beats another night alone.“
His admission knocks the wind out of your lungs. Of course, you’re aware of his divorce, but it has never crossed your mind that he might be lonely, too.
“I’m sorry, I -”
“Don’t apologise.” He pushes off the desk and moves to stand by the window. “It’s been two years since we separated. I should be used to it by now.”
“Time doesn’t always heal.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” His steady gaze flickers over you, before he returns his attention to the window. “Karen really thought that we could make it work. I knew we couldn’t. She was never gonna forgive me for not being there when Shane…” He trails off and you know that it’s because it’s still too raw, too painful, to say the words out loud. “And I could never forgive her for keeping it from me.”
He opens the blinds, revealing the window and the pitch black sky beyond. “I was in a really dark place when I came back down, and Karen couldn’t even bring herself to look at me. We were supposed to be there for each other, isn’t that what marriage is all about? Instead, we were like strangers, separated by our grief… our anger.”
Ed’s words burrow beneath your skin, finding their way to your heart and unlocking something deep within your chest, until once again, you find yourself speaking to him without fear of judgement. “Sometimes the people who are supposed to be there for you… they let you down. After the accident, my mother turned to drink. I know she had just lost her husband, and I wasn’t a child anymore - I didn’t need her to look after me - but I’d just lost my father. I really needed my mom, you know?”
Ed turns away from the window. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone.”
“It is what it is.” While the grief of your father’s death will remain with you forever, you’ve finally managed to make peace with your mother. She was doing her best, and you don’t want it to cloud whatever time you have left with her.
A beat of silence passes between the two of you before Ed speaks again. “One thing I found, up on Jamestown, was that no matter how dark it got, the light always returned. Cresting above the horizon and bathing us in that beautiful glow.” His hazel eyes are fixed firmly on your face. “Sometimes, you gotta weather the dark times to appreciate the light.”
It seems like no time has passed at all before your overtime finally draws to an end. The stacks upon stacks of paperwork that littered Ed’s desk have been sorted, alphabetised, and filed away. As relieved as you are that the mammoth task is over, you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment that you won’t be spending any more time with Ed.
Placing the final document into the filing cabinet, you step back and smile to yourself. "All done.”
Ed’s now familiar voice chimes out behind you from his position at the desk. “Really? That was quicker than I expected.”
You glance over your shoulder and meet his eye across the room. “Should I show you how it works?"
A wry smile forms on his face. “You could, but I probably won’t remember.”
“Don’t you dare let all this work go to waste,” you warn, waving your finger at him as he continues to grin. “Margo won’t let you have me again.”
“I’m sure she could be persuaded,” he muses. “Everyone has a price.”
“Just come over here and humour me, ok? I’m proud of this."
The tentative relationship you have with Ed has thawed entirely since he spoke so candidly about his divorce, and it’s starting to feel more like friendship. He truly seems to appreciate, and possibly even enjoy your company. A feeling that is most assuredly mutual, although you can’t quite find the words to tell him so.
"Alright, alright.” Ed holds up his hands in defeat, pushing the chair out from under his desk. “Let’s see what you’ve done.”
You wait until he joins you at the far side of the room before beginning your demonstration. “The first three drawers are the astronauts’ files, A-Z by surname.” You open the drawers in question, proceeding to explain how you’ve organised the documents within each file, too. It’s hard to tell if Ed is paying attention. He’s nodding and humming in all the right places, but there’s a slight glaze to his expression.
“The bottom drawer has spare folders, so when you get a new astronaut you can…Ed! Are you even listening?”
“Yes!”
You shoot him a doubtful expression as you crouch down and open the bottom drawer, testing him. “What did I say was in here?”
“Spare folders. Got it."
You’re not convinced, but you guess it’s Margo’s problem.
When Ed offers his hand to help you back up, you gratefully accept. His fingers curl around yours, dwarfing your hand with his much larger one. Once again, you’re instantly startled by the heat of his skin, so at odds with the cool exterior he portrays around the building.
As he starts to pull you gently to your feet, your eyes meet. His expression has shifted from boredom to something more intense, and that inexplicable rush of electricity returns. You feel it from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. At the very last moment, your heel slips on the carpet, causing you to stumble forwards, but Ed is there to catch you. With a steady hand at the base of your spine, he draws you to him.
Attempting to regain your balance, your free hand flies out, landing on his chest. His warm, solid chest. When you dare to look up through your lashes, cheeks burning and ready to apologise, you’re just in time to see him lean in.
To say that it takes you by surprise would be an understatement. Ed’s lips are soft and warm as they brush against yours, and you can feel his heart pounding beneath your fingertips. But before you can respond, before you can lose yourself entirely, he staggers backwards and your fingers slip from his grasp.
post the last line you wrote (from any wip) and tag the same number of people as there are words.
This is from my upcoming Ed Baldwin fic, A Sky Full of Stars…
A beat of silence passes between the two of you before Ed speaks again. “One thing I found, up on Jamestown, was that no matter how dark it got, the light always returned. Cresting above the horizon and bathing us in that beautiful glow.” His hazel eyes are fixed firmly on your face. “Sometimes, you gotta weather the dark times to appreciate that light.”
Summary: Margo offers you some overtime. A prequel to Sunday Morning.
Warnings: Slow burn, age gap, drinking, grief, 18+ due to smut in part two
Word Count: 7.5k
A/N: In celebration of For All Mankind Season 3 airing tomorrow, this is Part One of my new Ed Baldwin series. Look out for Part Two coming very soon! Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writerand@sociiallydiisoriiented for all your help! <3
In all the years that you have worked for the Director of Johnson Space Centre, Ms. Margo Madison, you have never once known her to joke around, which is why you are certain she is being deadly serious about the offer she has just laid out before you.
Hesitating in the doorway of her office with doubt filling your mind, you bite your lip and attempt to sidestep the question. “I don’t know, Margo. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?”
Seated at her desk, the older woman studies you over the rim of her glasses. When she responds, there’s a familiar hint of impatience evident amidst her lilting southern accent. “It’s just a bit of filing. I thought you wanted all the overtime you could get.”
She’s right. Under normal circumstances, you would jump at the opportunity to make a bit of extra money. Whilst working as Margo’s assistant doesn’t exactly pay peanuts, living alone on a single income and paying for your mother’s endless medical bills doesn’t leave you with much change at the end of the month.
