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A distinct, solemn quiet washes over the crew of the Revenge, as Calico Jack and his dingy slowly shrink into nothing more than a dark speck on the open sea. Most of them have moved to huddle around Buttons by now, offering murmurs of condolences and hands on shoulders, all distinctly aware that there is little that can be done or said to truly salve the pain of his loss. But not Ed.
Ed simply watches that dingy go, brow furrowed with some deep-seated emotion that Stede can’t quite place- regret, perhaps. Some darker part of him desperately hopes that it’s regret for letting Jack aboard in the first place, and not for deciding to not leave alongside him. That slow-boiling jealousy in the pit of his stomach; Stede had never felt anything like it until he happened to cross paths with this enigma of a man.
“I’m sorry, Ed,” he says carefully, stepping up to meet the pirate at the hull of the ship, “I know he was your friend and all, but…” Stede finds himself trailing off, too scared to find out how he might finish that sentence.
“Nah, you were right.” Ed rocks his palms against the side of the ship, trying to sound okay even when he can’t peel his eyes from the horizon. “Jack’s a fucking arsehole, always has been.” He takes a swig from his bottle, rum sloshing against glass as it’s poured down his throat. He adds, a little more to himself, “Can’t believe I let a guy like that whip my balls…”
It occurs to Stede then, that Ed may only be leant up against the hull like this because he can no longer stand unassisted. He's handling his liquor astonishingly well, considering he’s been drinking suicidal like this since breakfast, but it appears to him now that even Blackbeard himself is still beholden to the limits of mortal man.
“Come on,” Stede takes him by the arm, with the same delicacy that he affords his finest china, and makes a motion to carefully coax him from the side of the ship. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Ed turns then, and finally looks at him with dark, sad eyes, and if Stede had even half an idea of what he could possibly do to get him smiling again, he would make it happen in a heartbeat. Eventually Ed nods, and seems to discard whatever notion had kept him glued to the ocean for so long, allowing his good friend to carefully guide him across the deck.
“Sorry about your bird, mate.” He says to Buttons as he passes, not quite able to look him in the eye, or even linger long enough to wait for a response. Guilt. Stede knows that one. He’s going through a similar thing himself.
—
“This isn’t my bed.” Ed grunts, but he sits himself down on it anyway, with all the obedience of a murderous, drunken child. The rum is gently pried from his hand, and he doesn’t protest.
“True,” Stede replies, cradling the glass bottle for a moment before walking it to the dining table in the centre of his quarters. “But it is a great deal more comfy than the window or the settee, wouldn’t you say?” Or the deck for that matter, or even tangled up in the ship’s rigging once, somehow. The thought of it brings a private little smile to Stede’s face as he returns to the bed with a candle in hand.
“What about you?” It's a nice enough thought, but Ed's already started unlacing his boots, kicking them across the room without a second thought to the hard-earned tidiness of this room.
“Oh, don’t you worry about me. I sleep like a log every night. In fact, I’m actually starting to get a bit sick of it! Might be good for a little change, y’know, maybe treat myself to a nice bracing night on the window seat? It’ll be character-building!”
Ed smiles, huffs a small laugh even, and the candlelight illuminates all the gentle angles of his face.
“You’re a good man, Stede.” He glances up, expression softened by something that might actually be affection in this strange world Stede finds himself in, where history’s most fearsome pirate somehow sees something in him that no one else does.
"Why, I'm nothing of the sort. And I'd ask that you keep such horrendous slander to yourself, thank you very much." Stede smiles, but it must be an uneasy one, because he feels something lurch in his stomach after he says that. He used to think he was a good man, but lately he’s not so sure.
“No, but really, you are. You’re so good, and I…” His head is bowed, expression disguised behind a curtain of greying locks. “Well, you’ve seen what kinda guy I am, now.”
Stede perches next to him, on the edge of his bed, candle held out between the two of them. He doesn’t say another word.
Ed doesn’t look up. He says, “Can’t help but think I should’ve fucked off with ol’ Jacky while I had the chance.”
Bonnet’s brows practically bounce up to his hairline, and it takes everything within him not to grab the pirate’s wrist and cry out no!. Instead he maintains his gentlemanly composure, clears his throat, and sidles in a little closer. “And- ahem- why’s that, then?”
Ed simply shrugs his shoulders. His hands are folded between his legs, fingers all intertwined together as he picks at his nails. Stede looks down at that, and then back up at what he can see of the other man’s face, and a small, patient sigh escapes him.
“Well, I happen to think you fit in rather well around here.” A pause. “With me.”
That finally gets Edward to look up at him; slowly, cautiously, as if he doesn’t quite trust what he’s just heard. He wants to though, Stede can see that. His eyes are wide, vulnerable, and glistening with the potential for tears. Even though it’s probably just because he’s drunk, the sight of it fills Stede’s chest with a strange warmth that is as foreign to him as it is intense, yet somehow not entirely unpleasant. He sits up a little.
“You think so?” Ed asks, and it almost sounds like he’s holding his breath. He sits up as well.
“I do,” is Stede’s reply, somehow equally as breathless. He watches the other man’s gaze stray away from his eyes, and further down his face. The candle’s flame twitches erratically.
“Now, I think you ought to get some sleep.” He offers Ed a friendly pat on the shoulder, and uses the leverage to hoist himself back to his feet. “It’ll be dawn before you know it. You know what they say, time waits for neither man nor pirate!”
“Oh- yeah, yeah.” Edward shakes his head, and then he’s wrestling off his clothes with an urgency not particularly befitting of a man running more on rum than water, at this point. Stede watches him do it, catches the flashes of ink on his skin that he sometimes sees little hints of when Ed’s shirt rides up. He wonders if he might regret being so quick to send the man to bed, but then again there would be time for more conversation tomorrow, and for a seemingly endless number of days after, for that matter. The thought of it makes him dizzy and, above all else, painfully glad it wasn’t Edward disappearing on that dingy tonight.
Ed dives under the covers of Stede's bed, nestling into the pillows and inhaling deeply. Stede makes a ritual of flicking oils onto his sheets of an evening and that’s probably what he’s smelling now; hints of pomegranate and rose and white jasmine. Frankly, Bonnet is desensitised to it all after so many years of the same but Ed seems to revel in it, and for that alone he is more than happy to carry on with the arguably expensive habit.
He decides to leave him like that, writhing amongst the sheets like a cat in the sun, but as soon as he turns away…
“Stede,"
He glances over his shoulder. Ed has the silk covers pulled up to his chin. “Think you could tuck me in?”
Stede can’t stop himself from smiling, affection blossoming in his chest. To be needed, openly, by this man that shouldn’t need anyone; it’s a heady kind of sweetness that puts even the richest of fragrances to shame. He sets the candle down on his bedside table. “I think I could manage that.” He definitely sounds too pleased with himself.
Ed bristles excitedly against the sheets, wriggling deeper into the mattress and watching eagerly as Stede approaches a second time.
“Comfy?”
He nods, and then Stede leans over him, beginning to run his fingers parallel to the form of his body. He hasn’t done this since he left the children, but he remembers the routine well enough. The sheets are meticulously tucked beneath him, from his heels to his calves, knees, thighs… and then for a single moment their hands connect, with only the sheets keeping them from touching. Ed makes an amused little noise.
As Stede makes his way up the other man’s body, his face remains still with concentration. It’s only once he finishes tucking the covers around Ed’s shoulders that he finally says, “There.” Then, with all the brazen confidence of a man utterly caught up in the throes of muscle memory, he plants a kiss in the centre of the pirate’s forehead and thinks nothing of it.
Entombed in his silk sarcophagus, Edward does not blink. He very distinctly does not say a word. His beard is tucked neatly beneath the covers.
“How’s that?”
“Fuckin’ incredible, man.”
Stede puffs out a proud little laugh, and wiggles his shoulders a bit as he stands back up to his full height.
“Yes, well, I don’t mean to brag, but I am somewhat of an expert when it comes to matters of the bedroom.” He misses the way that Ed’s brow creases confusedly at that.
“So, should you ever require my services again, you need only ask, and I will be happy to work my magic!” He punctuates his sentence with a wiggle of his fingers.
“Uh, yeah, sounds good, mate.”
Stede nods, but otherwise remains exactly in place, looking down at him. “Well alright then.”
After a prolonged moment, “...So, I reckon I should get some sleep now then, yeah?”
It takes a second for Stede to realise what is being asked of him. “Oh, oh! Yes, of course. I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?” He fumbles with the candle and hurries away, but lingers before he can stray completely out of sight. “I’ll only be across the room if you need me!”
Ed tilts his head towards him, the rest of his body rendered immobile. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Nunight then!” Stede continues to linger.
“Nunight.”
A moment passes, where perhaps they both expect the other to say something more. But eventually Ed closes his eyes, and Stede affords himself a moment more to watch him, before he slips away.
—
Edward wakes gently, to the lingering scent of flowers and soap and cooked meat. He cracks open an eye and there he is, bathed in window light and expensive silks and all of those delectable fragrances. The mattress seems to mould around his body as though it were made for him. He can’t imagine any God or King having it better than this- with the exception of the hangover, perhaps. One thing becomes very, very clear to Ed then, suddenly: he will never be able to sleep anywhere else ever again.
He sits up with a quiet groan, the sheets tumbling away as smooth and as light as sand. Immediately, his head and his knee both begin to scream at him, competing for his attention.
“Morning sleepyhead,” Stede calls out, already sat at the dining table, “For a moment I was worried you were going to miss breakfast!”
"Me? Never." It takes a moment for the fuzzy silhouette of the other man to come into focus, but the moment it does something wonderful sparks off in Ed’s brain and goes frolicking through the rest of his body. It’s the usual, at this point; shouldn’t even be remarkable to him any more. But somehow, near-infuriatingly, Stede just keeps making him feel like this, like he could just crawl back under the sheets and kick his legs furiously against the mattress.
He doesn’t though; he slides out of bed instead, wrapping himself up in one of those silk sheets and hobbling over to inspect what Roach has prepared for them this morning.
“Just the usual,” Stede remarks. He must have been paying attention to where Ed was looking. “Though- and I hate to be the bearer of bad news here- I'm afraid this is all that’s left of the marmalade.” He leans forward in his chair, conspiratorially. “Methinks one of us has been tucking into the supply a little too generously, and I’ll be damned if I don’t find out who it is- pardon my french. ”
“Hah, yeah, well,” Ed throws himself in the seat beside the captain, immediately spreading himself out at the table. “Definitely wasn’t me, mate, can’t help you there." It was definitely, indisputably him. That marmalade is just too fucking good. He casts a cautious glance Stede’s way, as he reaches in for a sausage with his fingers.
But the man is miles away, smiling vaguely to himself as he pours them both a cup of tea. Even a thoughtless gesture like this, Stede seems to elevate it, performing it with all the elegance of an art form. Ed wonders if any of it is intentional- like the way his pinkie hovers just above the china of the teapot- but probably not. It all looks too effortless for that. That’s just who Stede is. And Ed, well, he catches himself sucking grease from his wrist as it courses down his fingers and wishes he was different.
“Ah,never mind all that," Stede goes on, changing the subject, “How did you sleep? Bet it was all a bit strange when you woke up this morning, wasn't it?” He settles back into his chair, clasping his teacup and saucer with that distinct air of nobility, and watches Ed eagerly.
“Strange, yeah.” He bites the head off of the sausage and makes a point to inspect its insides. “Guess you could call it that.”
“Yes, well, I can’t say I enjoyed the window very much.” Stede wrinkles up his nose in disdain. “If I’m being honest, I don’t know how you do it every night.” He sets down his china, and then gets to cutting a tiny piece of toast off with his knife and fork. “If that’s what character-building is, then I suppose character must be stored in the spine! I’m telling you, my back this morning…” He scoffs amusedly, and then pops the piece of toast into his mouth.
“Well, funny you should say that…'' Ed watches Stede chew, bright-eyed and oh so excited to hear what he has to say. People have listened to him before, but he’s never felt nearly so heard. “I was kind of thinking, maybe I should sleep in that bed more often?”
“Oh, I concur!” Stede draws shapes in the air with the tip of his knife as he speaks, “I can’t stress enough the benefits of a good night’s sleep, and it does you no good at all being cramped up in some dark, dirty corner, I should think.” He seems very enthused all of a sudden, sawing through his toast with such vigour that it makes his neat hair bob. “I’m sure we can rustle you up a nice bed next time we make it to shore. And no expenses spared, either. I’m talking Egyptian silk, goose feather mattress- the works!”
Ed blinks. “What’s a goose?”
“You’ve never heard of a goose?”
“‘Course I’ve fuckin’ heard of it,” Ed snaps, “...I just dunno what it is.”
“Ah, well,” Stede takes it in his stride, without the barest hint of mockery, and Ed falls in love with him that little bit more for it. “A goose, you see, is a large species of waterfowl. And a rather unpleasant one, to boot. As a child we kept a few on the family estate and let me tell you, they wouldn’t hesitate to have a good go at your backside, given half the chance.”
“Uh huh.” Edward chews, and idly considers the fact that he’s been feeling a similar kind of way, as of late. “Thing is, mate, none of that’s really what I was thinking…”
“Oh?” Stede smiles expectantly, awaiting clarification
“Yeah, cuz, I was thinking, I quite like the bed we’ve already got?” Ed keeps himself busy with breakfast, so he doesn’t have to see the other man’s reaction to that one.
He hears him chuckle, but then when Ed glances up to show that he is very much not joking, Stede's wide grin fades.
"You mean my bed?"
"Yes, exactly! I want your bed." He says it as simply as that, and then happily tucks into a pile of scrambled eggs.
"Well…surely there's no need for that, is there? Wouldn't you rather get yourself a nice new mattress instead?"
Edward nearly protests, but then he spots how Stede is half-grimacing at him and he can't help but grimace back, nodding his feigned agreement.
"Oh, sure, sure, yeah. You're right. I reckon that would be better, wouldn't it?"
"Well, I certainly think so! We're already sharing clothes after all, I'm sure you don't want to have to share bedding as well!" Stede lets out a polite little chuckle, before raising his teacup up to his lips.
Ed mimics that chuckle with a mouthful of food, and decides to say nothing of how he does want that, very much in fact. Because even though Stede will no doubt douse this new bed with the same oils he does his own, Ed already knows that it won't smell quite the same.
—
Stede makes three short little knocks on the cabin door. Rap rap rap.
“Go away!” Is the muffled response he receives from inside.
“Frenchie? It’s me!” He calls out, loud enough to be heard from the other side. When nothing immediately seems to happen, he starts knocking again, until the door finally swings open just a few inches.
“Yes, yes, hello, hi,” Frenchie is saying, face jammed in the gap of the door. “How can I help, Captain?”
“May I come in?”
“Well…” He seems to glance over his shoulder into the room, and then back at his captain. “We’re not really having visitors ‘round yet, sorry. Hey, see you up on deck later though, yeah?” He goes to shut the door but before he can, Stede jams his body in the way, and more or less forces himself into the room.
“It’s just a quickie, won’t keep you long,” he says as he does so, while Frenchie sighs and takes a step back in concession. “Oh! Love what you’ve done with the place, lads.” He casts his gaze around, at all the ratty fabrics strewn about and daggers protruding from the walls. “Very on-theme. And what’s this…?”
In one corner of the room, Wee John is very diligently stacking empty liquor bottles into a kind of pyramid shape on the table. He stops when his captain approaches, and gestures with a big hand. “They’re bottles.”
Stede squints at the display, and tilts his head, trying desperately to understand. “Why?”
Frenchie and John look at each other, and then at the bottles. They are quiet for a while.
“...I think it’s just a room person thing,” Frenchie finally says, followed by a “Yeah,” from his companion. They both keep looking at it though, as though not quite satisfied by their own answer.
“Oh! Well, I like it. Very creative.” Slowly, and ever so casually, Stede makes his way to their bed and sits himself down. “Keep up the good work!” He begins bouncing a little bit, as if testing the springiness of the mattress.
“So, sir, um,” Frenchie watches him do it. Still visibly baffled by the surprise visit, he itches his beard anxiously. “Was there something you needed to talk to us about?”
“Yes! Well, not exactly. It was more like a favour I needed.” He’s groping at the bed now, patting it down. After a moment more he stops, nods to himself, and glances up at the both of them. “I’m afraid I need to take your bed.”
“No!” The two others both cry out in unison. John immediately rushes to the bedside and puts his hands all over it as well, as if to stop Stede from yanking it away from them right then and there.
“Now come on, it’ll just be for a week or so! Until we make land! Then I’ll get you boys something much nicer, I promise!”
Frenchie and John look at each other, both desperately seeking a way to negotiate themselves out of this. “We’d love to lend it to you, captain,” Frenchie starts, “but, um…”
“I’ve got a back thing,” Wee John finishes for him, and to illustrate he doubles over, wincing, hand at the base of his spine. “I need the support of a mattress, otherwise it’s just a whole nightmare.”
“Yeah, he’s got a back thing. And besides, you don’t want this bed, sir, it’s…” Frenchie holds out a hand, but falters a little under the weight of his captain’s too-sincere frown. “There’s bed bugs, yeah.”
“And rats.” John adds.
Stede immediately bolts to his feet, and dusts off the backs of his legs. “There are rats in your mattress?!” He asks, pointing down at it.
“Um. Yeah.”
“Uh huh.”
“Oh. I see. That is a shame.” Stede wipes off his hands, and then without warning, begins to yank off the sheets. “I suppose we won’t be wanting it at all then, will we? Come on, help me throw this old thing overboard–”
“No!” They both say again, and Frenchie grabs his captain by arm to stop him. “Look, captain, there's not really bed bugs, or rats…"
Stede shoots him a gentle frown, like a displeased father.
"Yeah, sorry. But we really do like this bed, sir.”
“Ties the room together.” John agrees, nodding solemnly.
“Right, exactly. So…do you really have to take it?”
Moved by his crew’s sincerity, Stede sits himself back down with a sigh, and folds over into his lap. “No, I shouldn’t. It’s not fair on the two of you."
The two pirates visibly deflate with relief.
"I wouldn’t have even asked," Stede goes on, "but quite frankly I’m running a little low on options here, fellas.”
Simultaneously, Frenchie and John sit down either side of him. “What’s the problem, sir?” The first asks.
“Well it’s Ed, you know? He’s been staying with us all this time, and he doesn’t even have a proper place to sleep. I plan on getting him one when I can, but in the meantime… it just doesn’t seem right.”
“In fairness, cap’n,” John says soothingly, “no one else has got a bed either. I don’t think he really minds.”
“Well that may very well be true, John, but I do mind. It’s very important to me that he feels at home on this ship.”
Because otherwise, Stede thinks bitterly to himself, he may very well find that home elsewhere.
“I always thought a real proper pirate like him would like sleeping rough,” Frenchie muses, giving Stede a few comforting pats on the back, “Probably prefers the deck to a real bed.”
“I thought so too! But I let him sleep in my bed last night, and now it turns out he doesn’t want to go back, would you believe it?”
Stede is too busy staring mournfully in his lap, to see the look the other two exchange. Frenchie leans down a little bit closer to his captain. “With you? Or…?”
“Oh! No, wouldn’t that be funny,” Stede lets out a chipper little laugh, and Frenchie flashes a nervous smile in response. “I took the window seat, actually, but I think I’d rather not sleep at all, than do that again tonight.” He sighs unhappily. “No, it appears I have a true dilemma on my hands here, boys.”
For a moment, the three of them merely sit in contemplative silence.
“...Well, here’s an idea, cap’n,” When John speaks next, he doesn’t seem entirely certain of himself. “Couldn’t the two of you just… share? That’s what me ‘n’ Frenchie do.” From over the curve of Stede’s spine, Frenchie flashes a look at his friend which clearly says stop. But John just smiles a little sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders.
“...Share?” Stede sits up a little bit, and looks at him. “At the same time, you mean? Together?”
“Yeah, um,” he fidgets a little, comically large perched on such a tiny bed. “It’s actually kinda nice.” He lets out a shy little giggle, despite himself. “Sometimes we cuddle.”
“And that wouldn’t be…weird.” He squints, even though already sounds half convinced.
“Nah, nah,” the other two quickly say in unison, shaking their heads. “Not weird at all,” Frenchie adds.
Stede stares off into space, apparently picturing the entire scenario. "Yeah…yeah!" Slowly he begins to unfurl, bracing his hands on his thighs as he straightens up. “Sharing a bed with Ed, that could work!” He looks between the two of them, smiling again, “A bedward with Edward, you might say!”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t though, sir,” Frenchie suggests gently, moments before Stede throws his arms around the both of them and pulls them into an awkward embrace.
“Oh, thank you, Frenchie! And you, too John! You’ve gotten me out of a real pickle, here!” Filled with a sudden energy, he leaps to his feet and spins around in a flash of frills and lace. “I suppose I should go tell him the plan, shouldn't I?”
They both smile at him uncomfortably, extremely aware that they have probably just set in motion an irreversible and extremely consequential series of events.
But Stede doesn’t notice. He's too busy bouncing over to the door.
—
Bird funeral aside, it had been another easy-going day at sea for Ed. As the evening rolled in the crew had spent the time regaling each other with the usual tall-tales, sharing wine and generally making merry. All of it was ever so simple, uncomplicated. Blackbeard might have even called it dull. But it never was, not with men like these. Not with Stede by his side.
He’d spent all day trying to desperately find another excuse to sleep in the captain’s bed without upsetting the man too much, but nothing had come to him. And so he had finally conceded to himself that last night would have to be a blissful one-off experience, and that maybe it would be for the best to not get overly attached. Of course, some might argue that he already was overly attached, and there was no changing that now, but if there was a point to stop it would probably be at insisting on sleeping in Stede’s bed.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said over breakfast,” Stede says that night in his quarters, while he changes into his pyjamas, and Ed can only think God fucking damnnit.
But what he actually says is, “Oh yeah?” and spreads himself out on the couch cross-legged, as casual as you please.
“Yes, the whole sleeping situation? I actually think I’ve come up with quite a nifty compromise, if I do say so myself.”
This tone, Ed knows it far too well by now. It’s exactly how he sounds when he’s about to suggest something crazy. He shouldn’t get excited, he shouldn’t. But his heart won’t listen, and it starts to thud in his chest unbidden. He lifts his hands in the air, so that the light from the chandelier filters through his fingers. Be cool. You’re Blackbeard. Be fucking cool. “What’s that then, mate?”
Stede steps a little closer, buttoning up his sleep shirt. “It’s a little out of left field, but hear me out before you say anything, alright?"
"Alright…"
"I thought, since we both need a proper place to sleep tonight…well, maybe simply ought to sh–”
“Share?!” Ed says, at precisely the same time that Stede does, and his head snaps around to face him. The other man’s expression is surprised and otherwise indecipherable, but he sees a little smile there, he’s sure he does.
“Honestly, Ed, I thought you’d take a little more convincing than that.”
“Nah, fuck that, man!” He starts scrambling over the back of the couch, and barely saves himself from falling flat on the floor. “Let’s fuckin’ do it!”
Stede is clearly taken aback by his unfiltered enthusiasm, but not unpleasantly so. He watches Ed tear across the room towards the bed, but says nothing more until the pirate begins to wrangle off his shirt.
"Oh, um, you're doing that, are you?" His voice sounds a little higher than usual.
Ed freezes with his arms crossed around his front, hem of his shirt already lifted from his stomach. "Well it’s not like I’m gonna sleep with the whole fuckin’ kit 'n' caboodle on, now am I?"
Stede stares at him for a moment, but then seems to shake something off. "No, no you're right. Get comfortable." He begins to slowly creep towards the bed, straightening out the cuffs of his sleeves as he does so. "Sorry, I suppose it's just been a while since I've shared a bed with anyone." He lets out a nervous little chuckle.
“Ah, there’s nothing to be worried about, man,” Ed finishes pulling off his shirt and casts it aside to work on his belt. “Y’never know, might even find you prefer it.”
“Hah, wouldn’t that be something.” If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought that Stede sounded a tad breathless, saying that. Ed glances up wordlessly and finds he’s being stared at. There’s some odd smile on the other man’s face which makes it just that little bit more difficult to step out of his trousers.
Breaking their eye contact, Stede clears his throat and is the first one to slide into the bed, nestling himself beside the window. Once Edward is about as undressed as he dares to be, he joins him, slipping under those wonderful silk covers yet again. The two of them turn on their sides to face each other simultaneously, and place their heads on the pillows. There is silence, and a very distinct lack of touching.
Once the quiet grows a little too uncomfortable, Stede lets out a satisfied sigh. “Well, this isn’t too bad at all, is it?” He tucks both hands under the side of his face, like a little makeshift pillow.
“Nah.” Ed does the same, and wriggles himself into a slightly more comfortable, but still very separate position. It is not a particularly large bed, and he is almost hanging off the side of it with how diligently he is not touching the other man.
Another prolonged period of silence follows, and even though his pulse is throbbing in his ears and Stede’s warm gaze threatens to melt away his resolve like butter, it’s more than not bad, it’s nice.
.
“It’s funny,” the blond says, “when we met, I never suspected you’d be one for sharing anything.”
“I wasn’t, ‘til I wound up here. Now I think I rather like it.”
Stede laughs softly at that. They’re both speaking with low voices, but then again they’re so close they don’t need to be any louder. Ed inhales, and that same saccharine mix of elegant fragrances overwhelms his senses. He’s kissed men at far more inopportune moments than this, but he’s never had this much to lose. So he doesn’t.
“Clothing, meals, captainship… I suppose there isn’t much we haven’t shared, at this point. Isn’t that funny?”
“We haven’t had a bath together yet.” He says it way, way too quickly, and thanks the high fucking heavens that they’re laying here in the dark and Stede shouldn’t be able to see him wince.
“Oh, now there’s an idea!” Stede laughs at the thought, and appears to take the suggestion as an off-beat joke. “Though I daresay the tub would be a little cramped with the both of us, don’t you think?”
“Nah, it’d be alright. I’ll even scrub yer back if you like.” That just sets them both off giggling again.
Once Stede’s chuckles die down he hums thoughtfully and then, after a beat, “What about secrets?”
“Secrets?” The two syllables creak out of Ed’s mouth with such timidness that he would probably kill any other man for merely bearing witness to the sound.
“I mean,” Stede wriggles in a little closer, a hint of mischief suddenly all-too evident in his tone. It makes Edward think that maybe a kiss would be worth the potential consequences, after all. “Something we’ve not told anyone else. We haven’t shared something like that yet.”
Edward swallows and his throat is dry. He has a thousand and one such secrets he could pick from, but only one seems to be coming to mind right now. So he just says, “You first.”
“Alright.” Stede wriggles again, and then again, suddenly seeming restless. “I…” He goes quiet.
“Oh, come on, this was your bloody game man–”
“I abandoned my family.” He says it with all the suddenness and force of cannonfire, and it leaves Ed’s ears ringing in a similar manner too. “My wife, and two children. For all of this. To become a pirate.”
Ed doesn’t really know what to say. “...Why?”
He sees Bonnet’s mouth open and close in the dark, like some kind of giant, grounded trout, “I-I don’t know. I suppose… it just felt like something was missing.”
Edward knows that feeling better than the other man probably realises. And fuck if he wouldn’t cut down a thousand men to bring Stede whatever it was he needed to stop feeling that way.. “Well…have you found it yet?”
“Found what?”
“What you were missing.”
Ever so quietly, sounding almost afraid, Stede replies, “ Yes. I think maybe I have.”
Ed sees the moment, clear as day, to swoop in and claim Stede’s mouth. But he doesn’t. He just stares like the useless fucking twat that he is.
“I’m scared, Ed. I think I might be a bad person.”
Edward knows there is nothing sincere he can say to that. Because if the best person he’s ever known thinks he might be bad, then there will be no convincing him otherwise. So instead he just sidles in and replies, “You think that’s bad, listen to this,” An apologetic smile. “I’m the fucker that ate all yer marmalade.”
Stede laughs, and sniffles, and ever so gently slides a hand out from under his head. “Oh Ed, I knew that,” he knocks his knuckles up against the side of Ed’s wrist affectionately, “You’ve been leaving sticky fingerprints all over the furniture for weeks now.”
Ed decides right then and there that Stede’s secret doesn’t matter a jot to him. Every fibre of his mortal being is still screaming to hold him, even just for a moment.
“Alright,” Stede laughs, and seems to wipe his eyes. “Now it’s your turn, and I reckon I’m owed a good one after all that.”
“What? No, no, the marmalade thing was mine.”
“Well, as we’ve already established, that wasn’t really much of a secret now, was it?”
“Well,” Ed scoffs, defensive, “I dunno what you think there is to tell, mate.” If his hands weren’t already pinned under his head, they might have started shaking. “I’m kind of an open book, you know. Wear it all on my fuckin’ sleeve. Honest Ed, they call me.”
“Alright, never mind then. I suppose it was a bit of a silly idea.” Stede closes his eyes as if settling down to sleep, and Ed can see how his shoulder rises and falls as he sighs. Goddamn it. Fucking beautiful blond bastard.
“Stede?” Ed sits up a little, and watches the other man half open his eyes. He hesitates, mouth agape, and then, “...I never knew how good my life could get, until I started sharing it with you.” Stede’s eyes are definitely wide open now. Ed sees the corners of his mouth curve into a smile in the dark. “So I suppose…that’s my secret.”
It’s difficult to see for certain, but he swears he sees Stede’s gaze stray away from his eyes, and further down his face.
“Thanks, Ed,” he whispers, “...I suppose we ought to get some sleep now.”
“Time waits for neither man nor pirate, right?”
Stede chuckles one last time, before closing his eyes for good. “Exactly.”
Ed affords himself a moment more to watch him, before he does the same.
—-
The sun is warm on his face as Stede drifts into consciousness. He hums, and snuggles closer into the pillow he’s clinging to.
His hot, breathing, man-sized pillow.
Whoopsie.
Slowly he cracks open his eyes, like he’s afraid of what he might see when he looks. What he does see is Ed looking sideways and down at him, bleary-eyed with sleepiness himself and close enough that Stede catches the pleasant musk of tobacco and gunpowder on him. It’s impossible to say how long Stede must have been sleeping on his arm, or how long his hands have been spread up against the bare expanse of his chest, but the pirate doesn’t particularly seem to mind.
“Oh,” Stede says.
“I thought of something else we haven’t shared yet.”
“Oh,” Stede says again, as Edward moves in and presses their mouths together.
The man’s lips are warm and heavy, but not forceful, like how maybe a pirate’s kiss ought to be. Ed kisses him so very gently, as though Stede were something delicate or maybe even holy, basked in all of this golden sunlight. And God help him, he’s kissing Ed back, not because he ought to, or because it’s the polite thing to do, but because it feels very nice and he would rather like more of it.
The moment he does, though, Ed sucks in air through his nose and pushes back against him, suddenly enthused. He takes Stede’s cheek in his hand, tilting his head and deepening their kiss until Stede’s skin begins to buzz with the sheer delight of it. It’s only once he feels a flash of tongue against his mouth that it all gets a bit too much to handle, and he lets slip a tiny gasp that seems to make Ed stop. The pirate is panting, seemingly concerned, but he must spot something telling in Stede’s expression because suddenly he breaks into a cheeky grin and rolls over the other man, only to start kissing him again.
He can feel Ed still smiling against his mouth, and Stede can’t help but chuckle too; at the absurdity of it all, and the easiness, and the sheer hedonistic pleasure he seems to be taking from what he had always found to be such a mundane interaction before. Inevitably, Edward begins to grow more passionate again, pressing forward with his tongue a second time, but this time Stede accepts the wet warmth of it more readily. He braces his hands at the back of the pirate’s neck, amidst that great tangle of hair, and sighs happily into the other man’s mouth.
Ed growls his enthusiasm, a sound more aligned to what Stede might have expected from the man, and it thrills and terrifies Stede in equal measure. He can feel Ed skirting a knee up the inside of his thigh and he doubts it’s an accident. He wants to say something, to ask for a few minutes to collect the beehive of thoughts whipping up a frenzy in his mind, but he’s afraid if he asks outright then it will only prove to highlight his inexperience. Stede wants to appear relaxed about all of this, like all the others seem to be. Like kissing Blackbeard in his bed and flirting with far more impure things besides, is just no biggie.
“Um,” he breaks off their kiss, so he can speak, “Isn’t it a little early in the day for, um, a bit of the old hanky-panky?” Perfect. So relaxed.
Ed stares down at him with that dark, intense gaze, long locks curtaining them both. Then immediately he collapses on top of the blond in a fit of laughter, cuddling into Stede’s chest and kicking his legs against the bed like a big kid. Eventually, he props his chin up and reveals a massive, idiotic grin, hair a mess about his face and all caught up in his beard.
The way Ed looks up at him- that kind of adoration- Stede always assumed it was only reserved for other, happier people. Not him.
“You’re fuckin’ brilliant, did you know that?”
Stede can’t help but smile, soft and vulnerable, and once he does he sees the exact same expression mirrored back at him. Wordlessly, Stede brings a hand to one of Ed’s, and their fingers slot together as perfectly as though it was all they were made for.
That strange, foreign warmth in his chest; he still can’t be sure what it is, but he’s starting to think he has a hunch.