Chapter Text
Food fixed everything.
Or at least it was supposed to. Dweeb felt like he was watching a reflection of himself like when one peered into a puddle, except this reflection was off doing crazy things, things Dweeb in his right mind would never have attempted. Like being sat between a hefty Triceratops and a lofty pterosaur eating… hot dogs. That was the name the strange little green creature reported when he unceremoniously deposited the herbivore in this giant space to begin with. And they were delicious, especially when slathered with this yellow, aromatic coating… mustard.
Everything had happened a bit too quickly: one moment he was in a clearing with the rest of his herd, on the move as usual. Up until a strange loud humming filled the air. The normally wary Parasaurolophus were on instant high alert and began backing into the nearby copse of woods. Suddenly a gigantic shape appeared over the tops of the trees, shining bright concentrated beams down into the clearing. Dweeb’s herd scattered but he wasn’t so lucky as the giant thing practically closed in on him as he cowered against a boulder.
One strange meeting with a little green alien and a forced subsequent snack later, and Dweeb had been hauled aboard the big craft, a spaceship. The thing was cavernous, even bigger on the inside, lit with a warm comforting yellow glow. Dweeb was too fascinated to remember being nervous, all up until he encountered two more characters: strangely, a ceratopsian fellow he remembered crossing paths with and a poised Pterodactyl. The Triceratops, Woog, proved to be a breath of fresh air and the two quickly fell into an easy sort of ambiance. The other, Elsa, was harmless if a little snooty.
And then the tyrannosaur appeared.
Dweeb considered himself a watchful sort of fellow, being a herd animal and all, and when the giant predator entered the room, he straightened up and immediately took stock of his surroundings. He noted the visible exits and was about to calculate how best to make a run for it when the rex spoke: a fluttery, nervous sort of greeting. “H-hi, everybody,” before fumbling with something about his neck and reading the inscription. Dweeb blinked at the display, and he wasn’t the only one.
Woog turned a lazy eye on the carnivore and watched him with an unsettling amount of ease, chewing noisily. Elsa seemed rather enraptured at the newcomer’s stuttering. Dweeb was taken aback. Surely he couldn’t be the only one whose fight or flight had kicked in, why wasn’t anyone else reacting appropriately? There was a predator on the ship!
“My name is Rex! Hey, how’d they do that?” The fellow stomped over with a thousand-yard smile, sharp teeth perfectly glinting. Dweeb suppressed a hard swallow as Rex clambered onto the dais, manner excited if a little nervous.
Elsa was the first to greet him with an elegant sweep of her wings and a broader smile than Dweeb thought her capable of; certainly a bigger smile than she’d given him or Woog, he suspected. “Enchanted and delighted to make your acquaintance, Rex. Oh! Pardon my wingspan, won’t you please?”
Uh-oh. Flirt alert. Dweeb would have laughed if not for the situation, but the others still seemed annoyingly calm, so he put a strained smile on his face and waited. Woog was the next to introduce himself, saving Rex from his awkward interaction by very kindly offering him a hotdog. The very hotdog Dweeb was about to go for. The parasaur’s jaws closed on empty air and he was left scowling sourly at the impassive tank as Rex accepted the morsel after a gratuitous scent sampling.
No. He would simply not fall for this. He’d escaped the jaws of this rex one too many times and no matter how fidgety or socially-inept he appeared, Dweeb would not let his guard down. So, Rex could continue to smile and chat all he liked, but – Woog got his attention by waggling his foot and Dweeb caught the tail-end of his query. “How many we had so far today, Dweeb?”
“250! And that’s with everything!” Dweeb found himself blurting, avoiding eye contact with the rex who loomed, expectantly. It was making his scales crawl. He just couldn’t deal with a tyrannosaur right now. It didn't matter that he himself had shown up in a similar state: lost, lonely, and not knowing what lay ahead. He halted that train of thought by literally spearing another hot dog off the steaming pile and finally looking up at the plaintive Rex – after vengefully squirting a shot of mustard at Woog of course.
“Hi, I’m Dweeb,” he said, breezy and noncommittal, before he went back to loudly and messily dousing his portion, not caring if he ended up all mustardy as a result, just anything to get the rex’s eyes off him. He half-heard Woog and Elsa mention something about sauerkraut – Dweeb hadn’t been a fan - before Rex up and seated himself right next to him! The parasaur’s heart was beating so fast he half expected it to jump out of his chest! Could anyone else hear it? Why was everyone else so calm about this?!
“Smells good,” Rex commented. And at the risk of showing how he felt, because the last thing Dweeb wanted was to publicly snub the apex predator, he carefully plucked a hotdog up and practically thrust it towards Rex. Maybe with some food in him he wouldn’t be so -–
Oh, Dweeb hated being wrong. Rex got such a kick out of the single bite he had, and to be honest so had Dweeb, that he apparently thought it most prudent to rear up with a belly-deep roar of “That’s what I call LUUUUUNCH!” The port where they were seated vibrated and the metal buzzed in response. One could swear even the lights flickered.
As a parasaur, Dweeb possessed a few natural survival advantages: a booming sort of “honk” that was amplified by his crest to warn other paras in closer proximity of danger. Another was his weight; he’d seen and even known a few members of his species absolutely throw down with a predator and oftentimes emerge victorious. Lastly, Dweeb could swim and he was darn good at it, too. However, there was no water in sight here, and judging by his size Rex could easily snap him in half, so Dweeb’s next response kicked in and it was far from a protective measure. He laughed. Not the funny ha-ha sort of laugh, but a high, snorting cackle. It had caused him plenty of embarrassment back in the herd, especially as he was more the type to run and hide from threats than face them, and it was such an out-of-pocket response. And he was practically belting it out now. As things came to a settle but the nerves still flew sky-high, Dweeb did something else that couldn’t be blamed on anything save the rising adrenaline. “Ha! Lunch? That’s whatcha used to call me!”
At that, Rex’s face did a funny thing where it crumpled like a withered leaf and he started to fold in on himself, his eyes casting to the floor of the dais. Dweeb snapped his jaw shut as the terrifying predator before him fidgeted in his place before murmuring softly. “Hey, I’m sorry for how I acted. I was… I was a real animal.” His gaze briefly flickered up to meet Dweeb’s, and the parasaur was shocked to see the sincerity filling his features. And he was even more surprised to find that he was inclined to believe him. Was empathy a result of the Brain Grain? Did Rex truly regret his past actions? Yes, carnivores had to eat, but it’s a different story when you’re on the menu.
Elsa was the next to speak, calm and compassionate. "We all have regrets, Rex." She moved to drape a wing over Rex's drooped shoulders and judging by the look in her eyes, Dweeb was prepared to believe she spoke the truth. Did he share that sentiment? Did he have any regrets?
"Tell me about it," Woog grunted in assent, turned all eyes to him. "The things I've stepped on," the hefty ceratopsian lifted a foot to reveal and cartoonishly squashed outline of a small lizard. He huffed an embarrassed chuckle, which was the most emotion Dweeb had seen form him since their meeting.
There followed a collective silence as the four dinosaurs came to terms with this recent turn of events. Dweeb had been so preoccupied with his own nerves and fears that he hadn’t stopped to consider Rex. He’d appeared to what was essentially a buffet and yet he was the one acting nervous and dare Dweeb even think it, scared. Could a tyrannosaur be scared? Looking at Rex’s face was all the proof needed. And with that, Dweeb made a choice. It was a highly unorthodox choice, and he suspected it would take some time to get used to, but he forgave Rex.
Hey, let’s face it,” he spoke, flashing a small smile towards what had been his mortal enemy only seconds before, willing Rex to see it and hopefully understand and appreciate his mental struggle and the important decision he had come to in silence. Either Rex had telepathy, or the conviction in the smaller herbivore’s eyes compelled him, but he returned the smile, shy and hesitant, but broader as the seconds ticked by. “We’ve evolved.”