Work Text:
Dr Alan Grant, palaeontologist and part-time professor, stood over the work site with his hands on his hips and his trademark hat on his head. It was a glorious day for a dig - blue skies and a light breeze. He squinted against the sun and watched as a bird flew overhead. Briefly, he wondered what breed it was and how closely related it was to his beloved dinosaurs.
"All ready!" A voice called from behind him. Alan turned to face the owner, rolling his flannel sleeves past his elbows.
"Oh yeah? Have you got everything?"
"Yep!"
"Check the list." He gestured to the already dirty scrap of paper that sat atop the sand at his feet.
"Trowel - check!" A tick was scribbled next to the word. "Brushes - check! Paper, pencil, eraser and bandages. All check!"
"Y'sure that's everything?" He was met with a look of confusion, and he smiled his signature half-smile. He tipped his head up and glanced at the cloudless skies above. "It's a hot day."
"Oh! We need water - hold on!"
Alan laughed to himself as he watched his apprentice scurry away. The enthusiasm was there, but it wouldn't take them all the way. He crouched down in the sand and carefully lined up all the tools they would need - not that they would stay organised for long. His favourite toothbrush with its battered, half-chewed handle sat amongst them. Ellie had tried to get him to use one that wasn't missing half of its bristles, but this was the best one he had ever used.
"They don't even make this brand anymore." She had teased him once upon a time. "It's almost as old as you are, you old fossil."
She had been merciless in teasing him about his sentimentality over a toothbrush of all things, but he had loved every moment of it. Before long, his moment of reverie was broken by the approach of rapid footsteps.
"Got it!" A bottle of water was thrust into his hand, still damp from being filled. "Can we start now? Please?"
The ten-year-old was almost vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the spot, unable to keep still. Alan laughed and ruffled his son's hair.
"All right then, let's begin." He grunted softly as he settled himself on his knees in the sandbox, putting his bottle down on the wooden border. Perhaps he was starting to get a little too old for this.
"Now, can you tell me the first step of a dig?"
"Dig!" The boy dropped to his knees at his father's side, spraying sand everywhere. Alan absently brushed some from his lap.
"Well, yes, but that's not all. First, we would have to grid out the area. Each area gets measured out into squares and marked with string." He demonstrated by drawing lines in the sand with his finger, scribbling a number into each of the boxes. "Then each is given a number. Why would we do that?"
"So we know where the fossils came from, right?"
"One point for Jack. But we don't have to worry about that." He swiped a hand through the marks in the sand. "Next task is removing the rock and soil from on top of the fossils. Grab your trowel and start digging right around-"
Alan covered his eyes with one hand and made a show of moving his finger through the air, picking a random spot in the sandbox. His son laughed at his antics and shoved his side. "Daaaad!"
"All right, all right." He laughed, too, lowering his hand. "You pick a spot, then."
Alan sat back on his heels as Jack picked up his trowel - shiny in its newness, complete with the tacky mess from where the label refused to come off the blade - and examined the expanse of sand before him.
"Not so easy, huh?"
"Sssssh, Dad!" The serious look on his son's face was priceless.
The sandbox was only a couple of feet square, making this whole setup relatively easy. The hardest part of his master plan - gifting his eager, dinosaur-obsessed son his own mini dig experience - had been emptying the sandbox without making a mess. Especially as he had done his digging at night so that the burial remained a surprise. It only now occurred to him, however, that there may be a couple of neighbours who would have a few questions next time they said hi in the street. It wasn't often you saw the guy down the street emptying a sandbox in the dark and quite literally burying a skeleton. Shit, he was surprised nobody called the cops.
"Here." Jack drew him from his concern - surely nobody had seen him, right?
"Right, now, swipe along the sand sideways. We don't wanna go around poking holes in our fossils." The boy got the technique almost immediately and began carefully scraping away the sand near the corner.
"What do I do if I hit something?"
"You find something solid, you switch to your brush. The wide paintbrush will get the most of the sand off and then the toothbrush is for the finer work. But you've gotta find the bones first, bud."
"I will!"
Six feet wide by six feet long, six inches deep, that would keep the boy amused for a while yet. Alan perched himself on the wooden border around the sand and took a sip of his water.
Ideally, he would prefer to take Jack out to one of his digs, but the funding had fallen through this year and the summer holidays only lasted so long. He had promised the boy that he could come to the next one, so long as it didn't clash with school, and he could learn how to dig properly. In fact, it would be a wonderful experience for the whole family. He knew that Ellie missed digging, and their daughter was showing an interest in all things wild and wonderful. Though she wasn't very interested in dinosaurs, Alan had no doubt that his little girl would end up working with nature one day.
"What do you think you're going to find in here?" Jack had already scraped a couple of inches on the first two feet, working systematically from left to right. Smart kid.
"Dad, there's not any real dinosaurs in here."
Alan barked a laugh. Smart ass kid. "Yeah, I had an idea. But what do you hope it is?"
"Trike."
"Did you wanna think about that before answering?"
"Nope. Triceratops." The answer was not a surprise.
The herbivore had captured his son's heart from a very young age. One night when Jack was six or seven years old, he and Ellie had discussed whether they should ever tell him about their experiences on Isla Nublar. The near-death experiences and traumatic parts would clearly be omitted, but both knew that the kid would get a real kick out of knowing his parents had touched a real, living triceratops. Even if she had been a genetically modified creature as opposed to a true dinosaur.
But the simple act of discussing the island had brought nightmares for them both that night, and the topic had been shelved for another time. They had yet to revisit it.
"How would you identify it as a triceratops?" He reached over and adjusted the boy's hat. Ellie would kill him if he brought him in all sunburnt.
"Three horns and a bone fringe." Jack swatted his father's fussing hands away. "Sturdy bones, short hands, three hooves on the front legs, four on the back."
It never failed to amaze him just how much information children could absorb. He had run into his fair share of knowledge-thirsty students in his career - his wife being one of them - but none of them could compare to the sheer joy that children held for learning. His son was a veritable encyclopedia on dinosaurs. Jack knew more than the majority of adult students who came his way.
"I would have settled for three horns, you show off." He playfully kicked the boy's booted foot.
"Dad, I'm working!" Jack laughed and kicked back blindly.
Alan just hoped that the 'fossils' he had buried in the box wouldn't overly disappoint. Many kids would be delighted to find a dinosaur skeleton in their backyard. But his son would easily recognise that the previous year's Halloween decoration - which Alan had painstakingly taken apart and arranged in the dirt late at night - was not anatomically correct.
Sometimes the kid was too smart for his own good.
"Oh! Oh!" The trowel was thrown aside in favour of digging with hands. "I found something!"
"Brush." He reminded softly.
Jack grabbed the brush he was offered and started brushing off what he had found, gasping in delight when the off-white plastic was exposed to the sun. He had been tempted to paint the 'bones' a more natural brown colour, but Ellie had laughed at him, reminding him that Jack wouldn't mind, not really.
He would be too excited to dig. With you, she had added, making him smile like a fool.
"What have you got?" Alan knelt beside the boy and peered over his shoulder.
"Vertebrae - look!" Sure enough, the rough bristles of the paintbrush had exposed several tiny vertebrae from the end of the tail. He frowned and glanced around them. How had he managed to bury it facing the wrong way? Oh well, it made things more interesting.
"Looks like the rest of it could be under you."
"Get out of the way, dad!" Jack shooed him aside and immediately started to scoop at the sand, revealing more of the small bones as he went. Laughing, Alan climbed out of the box and stretched his back, ignoring the twinge that tried to double him over.
All it took was a few minutes to reveal the rest of the skeleton, still half buried in the sand. Jack had the old toothbrush in hand and was brushing sand out from between the teeth and in the eye sockets.
"Dad?"
"Yeah, buddy?"
"They made it wrong. Look - the leg bones are fused." The disgruntled tone was eerily similar to his own and he had to fight the urge to laugh. Sometimes, his son was a little bit too much like him.
"I know, I'm sorry. Next time I shall make sure it's right."
"Next time it'll be real, right?" Brilliant blue eyes, the same shade as Ellie's, looked up at him, full of hope.
"It's not as easy with the real ones but we can keep our fingers crossed, okay?" It seemed that his answer was acceptable and digging quickly resumed.
"Why did they make the lower leg just one bone? That's stupid, it's meant to be two." Jack muttered to himself whilst pulling bones free from the sand. The boy held up the combined tibia/fibula and wafted it in his general direction. "See? It's all wrong."
"What's all wrong?" His heart sped up several beats when he heard her voice. Ellie.
"The bones, mom. They made the lower leg and forearm just one bone each!" The bone was now being waved in the other direction.
Alan smirked at his wife over their son's head - the look she was giving him was priceless. It just screamed this is your fault, Alan Grant, you and your genes. It was her fault for insisting she wanted to have his children. "Hey, he made that observation himself. No help from me."
"I don't doubt that for a minute." He recognised her sigh for what it was, good-natured and adoring. "I was just coming out to inform my working men that lunch will be ready in a few minutes. It's time to come in and wash up."
"But, mom!"
"No buts, Jack. You need more sunscreen, too."
Alan gave his son a gentle push. "We can come back out later on. Who says there's only one skeleton in here?"
"There's more than one?!"
He could hear Ellie's soft laugh behind them. "I dunno. Best go inside and refuel so we can come back out and double check."
Jack didn't need telling twice. He dropped the bone in the sand and raced towards the house, pausing only to let his mother give him a quick kiss. She patted his shoulder as he ran on. "Don't forget to wash up!"
Alan took a moment to tidy up and gather their water bottles for refreshing. Ellie had always teased him about his messiness, and it seemed both of their children had inherited this particular trait. He tossed the bottles and tools in the old, battered wagon that once might have been red and joined his wife near the door.
"What did I do to deserve the two of you?" Her hands settled on his chest as he slipped his arms around her waist. He was sure she could feel the way his heart raced every time she was near.
"Three of us." He leant down for a kiss, but she dodged his lips.
"Oh no! You leave my daughter out of this, Dr Grant. She's going to stay a mommy's girl."
He couldn't hide his laughter, earning him a smack on his chest. He caught one of the hands in his and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. "I don't think she's on the same page as you are, sweetheart."
"This is all your fault."
There was that teasing glint in her eyes, the same one that had stolen his heart so easily all those years ago. It was hard to believe that they had been together for more than a decade, and she still caused him to act like a lovestruck teenager. He held the hand he had caught to his heart.
"I know, and I'm proud of it. Proud to be your husband and the father of your children."
He noticed the way her breath hitched and managed a half smile. He still wasn't the best at romance, but he liked to think he had some tricks up his sleeve. The way her lips pressed against his in a firm kiss only confirmed it.
"Going soft on me, Dr Grant?"
" Never. " He growled, stealing another kiss and also her breath.
Her body melted against his, arms hooking around his neck as he pulled her as close as possible. Whilst he had never been a fan of public displays of affection, sometimes a man simply had to make out with his wife in the backyard of their suburban home. A home they nearly never had.
Their kiss was distracting - her fingers running through his hair, nails scratching his scalp. He hissed, nipping her lower lip, relishing in the moan she rewarded him with. Then her hand was on his chin, gently pushing him back with a panted laugh.
"Later, honey. It's time for lunch." Her voice betrayed how much their kiss had affected her, and he briefly considered just how much it would take to convince her to head upstairs instead of into the kitchen. Until two little blonde heads appeared in the doorway, calling out to their parents. "Come on."
"Yes, ma'am."