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They keep circling back to that fucking dock.
Ed tells the crew, time and time again, that it’s a convenient place to be. They already know the place well enough that the English won’t find them. If they want a safe port it’s either there or St. Augustin, and at least the fucking place where Stede used to live doesn’t have vengeful nuns watching over it.
The crew says, “Aye, Captain”, and they set sail towards it. Every time, Ed feels like they can see right through him.
During the nights, when the waves have lulled the rest of the ship to sleep, Ed rises from bed and checks how close they are to the shore. When the moon allows it, he stays there a moment; turns back to look at the man that’s sleeping at his side. Stede has taken to ogling the pillow whenever Ed leaves his place in bed. Insomnia does not have an easy cure, so when they wake up in the morning Ed has usually been using either his or Stede’s arm as a pillow. Every morning, Stede will apologize and suggest they get another pillow for him. They never do: there’s something alluring in the idea that Stede will search for him even when he’s gone for just a moment.
Ed knows he’s being foolish, he does. Stede has told him, time and time again, with words and actions and whispers, that he will not leave again. He has promised he has made his choice. He has left his life as the rich man he used to be behind him, and has transformed into this hybrid, magnificent creature that makes Ed love him even harder.
Yet, his mind quells the littlest bit whenever they go back there and Stede doesn’t leave. Even after all that’s happened, the crew still believes in his experience and will not go against him, unless he tries to throw someone else overboard. So he tries to give Stede the chance to return to his life, to the wife and children he still writes to every now and then. When he sticks to his side as they roam the streets, Ed manages to breathe a little easier. When Stede steps foot inside the ship as they prepare to leave, Ed’s brain quiets for a little longer.
If Steve has any clue about what’s going on, he doesn’t bring it up.
Summer has just started when they reach land. This means they are going to need to stock up on so much fresh water and on the smelly thing Stede calls sunscreen and has insisted every one of them wears and reapplies at least twice in a day.
(No, really. When Ed got sunburnt – which wasn’t even that bad, to be honest, since he is not the one who has milk-white skin, thank you very much – Stede had freaked out so much that Ed had to sleep alongside the crew for two nights. He had religiously reapplied from that day onwards.)
Summer means, according to Stede, that most of the aristocracy will be in London for the season . What a season is, no one apart from Lucius seems to really understand – and when the Swede had pointed out that it meant there would be a lot of rich people that did not know how to fight on a lot of rich-people ships, and maybe they should go and loot them, Ed had simply declared they could practice a bit of breaking and entering. Stede had told him, quite sternly, that he had pointed it out because they could be a little more lax on their disguises, since there probably wouldn’t be as many British soldiers searching for two pirates who had gotten out of their Act of Grace.
At the end, they had decided that everyone could decide if they wanted to rob houses or if they just wanted to have a vacation. “Free will is something that should be exercised, isn’t it?”, Ed had said. And well, isn’t life made of compromises? Especially if the compromises have charming smiles and even more charming promises of a bit of time alone.
When Ed first notices that Stede doesn’t really feel that comfortable on land anymore, he can’t be anything but pleased. The annoying little voice at the back of his head points out that it isn’t right, seeing a man that was made for fine things insist they stay closer to the marketplace rather than going uptown. It all flies out of the window, though, the moment Stede’s hand reaches out, circles his wrist.
Ed has heard of how people like them are considered. He has never had to deal with it, though, with how young he was when he became a pirate. He decides to trust Stede’s instincts on this: he brushes their fingers together and lets his hand hang there, in something that’s almost a hold. He decides he likes it. Having Stede’s warm grip on his wrist, it feels like being guided.
“I wanted to search for some trinkets, if you don’t mind, dear”, Steve is saying, as they walk through the stalls. “I feel it would be quite interesting to have some new books on board. We have almost run out of night time stories, and since you insist on not telling your stories…”
There’s still something that makes him uncertain, when they speak of his past like this, like it’s something that Stede wants to take in his hands and cradle, making it part of his routine. But his smile’s kind, if not a bit distracted by the crowd; he huddles closer, or at least it seems like that to Ed. “I’m afraid I’m not as good at doing the voices, love”, he says.
“I think you manage the scary pirate act quite well, don’t you agree?”
To that, Ed scoffs. “It’s not an act!”, he says, more incensed than he ought to be.
“Mh”, Stede only hums. He picks up a rather battered book with his free hand. It’s bound in red leather, the lettering faded enough that Ed can’t quite manage to try and see if he recognizes any of the words that make up the title. “You truly are the picture of a mighty pirate, dearest, taking me out for shopping”. There’s a teasing lilt to his words. It manages to throw Ed off course for the tiniest moment.
“I could steal that for you – that would be the pirate-y thing to do, right?”, he asks. Stede looks up at him, gives him the look that makes him feel all bubbly and weird inside.
Then his eyes go out of focus, and they fixate on something over his shoulders. They widen. Ed is glad he’s able to read him so well, then, because Stede’s surprise looks really similar to Stede’s panic and he has at least three blades well concealed under the clothes he’s wearing.
“Don’t freak out”, Stede says then. He refocuses his gaze on him.
“Please, tell me we don’t have to run from the British while we’re on vacation”, is how Ed replies.
Stede’s eyes get even wider, then. There’s some kind of hopefulness there – “We don’t, love, just – would you like to meet Mary?”
Sometimes, Ed wonders if being Blackbeard was easier because Blackbeard didn’t ever, ever take decisions on a whim. Since he’s shed that persona, reserving it only for the situations that called for it, Edward has found himself to be quite an impulsive person. If he felt the need to do this ridiculous test of bringing Stede back to his former home just to be sure Stede won’t leave him again, then so be it. If, on the other hand, he had spent even a single moment thinking about it, he would have guessed that this town wasn’t big at all and that they could run into Mary at any time.
Like a memory, he can feel panic rising. He doesn’t speak, too preoccupied with trying to breathe properly. In his head, he makes a list. One, Stede is here, with him. He has not left him the second he’s seen Mary. Two, Stede’s hand is still on him; it’s even holding a bit tighter, now, like he knows Ed needs the feeling to ground himself. Three, Stede has asked him what he wants to do. He isn’t looking at her, he’s looking at him . If he wants to go, they go. They’ll probably have to talk it out afterwards, but if Edward doesn’t want to deal with this, he can make the choice not to. He trusts – no, he knows Stede’s going to respect it.
He breathes out. “Yes, I’m curious to meet her.”
Stede beams at him, and that’s all it takes for the fear to disappear. He is curious, to be fair: from what Stede’s told him she sounds like someone he’d get along with well. And, well, he also wants to understand what kind of woman would find someone as – as lovely as Stede and let him go.
When he turns and searches for her, Stede’s fingers intertwine with his for good.
Ed remembers all too well the house of the people his mum used to work for. He was brought there from time to time, mostly when she needed a hand or when he was feeling sick, so she could keep an eye on him. They weren’t the worst people: they passed hand me downs to his mum, like the scrap of red silk that’s still tucked in his jacket. Sometimes, they’d give him candied fruit or sugarcubes. Still, their house was so big and so empty that even as a child he could not help but wonder how God could be fair, if they were forced to live in a tiny room and yet some people could have all of this space and not use it.
Stede’s house, thankfully, isn’t like that. He feels uneasy anyway; he resists the urge to take his filthy boots off just because Stede doesn’t, and well, they’ve been in the same places pretty much at all times. It’s certainly luscious, and Ed can pick out the decorations Stede must have chosen, the embellishments similar to those that are all over their quarters on the ship. But this house feels lived in: it feels loved, and worn, and quite frankly comfortable. He doesn’t miss the look of awe on Stede’s face, and he wonders if maybe it wasn’t like that, before. It certainly didn’t feel like it was, from the stories he’s told.
Mary has gotten there some minutes before the two of them, so as not to have any neighbours talking. Even Ed understands why it would be unseemly for her to be seen alone with two men, especially when they look like them – like him. So it’s just him and Stede, standing in the corridor a bit foolishly. “What do you think?” Stede asks, eventually, fidgeting.
He closes in on him, takes both of his hands to stop them from flailing around. “I like it”, he says, and it’s true. “It looks a lot like the ship, in some ways. It feels warm, you know?”
“It wasn’t like this, if I have to be completely honest. Before , I mean. It was stuffy, and empty, and not at all welcoming.” Stede looks around, the tiniest bit of guilt creeping into his words. “It was my fault, I’m afraid. I didn’t really know how to make a house into a home – not yet, at least. I like how it is now.”
For a moment, Ed forgets himself. He reaches out, sweeps the short hair at his temple behind his ear, lets his hand rest there. Stede nuzzles against it, leaves a kiss on the palm. To their credit, when someone clears their throat, they don’t jump away from each other. Stede just blushes all the way to his ears.
Mary has such a satisfied look about her that Ed almost feels like blushing, too. “Sorry to have left you waiting”, she says, not sounding sorry at all. “We’re having dinner in a moment – the children are here as well, so you could maybe keep the knives and daggers to yourselves, if that’s okay with you two. Alma’s taken quite a liking to swords, you see.”
Stede splutters. “I don’t have any weapons on me!”, he protests. Mary just raises an eyebrow at Ed. Oh, he likes her.
The awkwardness that follows them as they step into the dining room is, quite frankly, to be expected. Ed can feel the moment Stede grows stiff at his side – there’s no greetings coming from him, and no tearful reunion with his children, who are staring him down with disbelieving eyes. Ed is terrified of a lot of those things they do, way too outside of his comfort zone, but he’s learning to work through it – mostly for Stede’s sake.
That’s why he ’s the one who says, “Well, thank you for having us”, in his politest voice.
The man sitting by Mary’s side looks at him, unimpressed, and asks, “Mate, you won’t pin me down with a butter knife and threaten me like Stede did, will you?”
That shocks a laughter right out of him, startlingly loud. It’s enough to shake Stede out of his stupor, too, and he starts apologizing before Ed’s even stopped laughing.
They settle down, eventually – Mary makes a little comment about giving Stede his usual place at the table ; when Ed notices how far away it is from hers, he raises an eyebrow at him. At the end, the two of them sit side by side. Ed doesn’t know much about etiquette, even after all the lessons, but he does suspect there’s something rather powerful in having Mary be the only head of the table. She seems to appreciate it.
“So”, the boy sitting across from him starts – Louis, he recalls: and isn’t it weird, to know someone’s name without even having a face to it first? And it’s even more weird that his face is, at least partly, so recognizable to him. He isn’t a likeness of Stede by any means, but there’s traces of him in there: the colour of his hair, the arch of his nose. “You’re a real pirate?”
A smile stretches itself on Ed’s face before he can really stop it, and really, why would he? “Aye”, he says then, winking for effect, just as Stede speaks, quite offended, “And I’m not?”
Mary giggles, at that, and Ed only barely stops himself from doing it too. “He is, you know?”, he whispers to Louis, who seems entranced with him. “One of the mightiest of the sea. His enemies have started calling him the Gentleman Pirate, I reckon –” to that, Steve squeaks. Ed can’t help himself: he winks at him, too, then reaches out and squeezes his thigh. “He has quite a high bounty on his head, too. He’s a fugitive from the English army”.
“You said one of the mightiest. So he – sorry, dad – he isn’t the best, is he?” Alma interjects then. There’s a twinkle in her eyes, the same that Stede got the first time they met, when he asked him if he wanted to do something weird.
“I’ll let you know, young miss, my crew and I are really fearsome, indeed”, Stede says in reply. Mary hides her laughter behind her napkin, politely. “In fact, we have had quite the share of dangerous adventures. Wouldn’t you agree, Ed?”
Stede is smiling at him – no, not smiling, smirking: the smirk that drives him mad, that would have had him sitting on his lap immediately if they were alone.
“I would, dear, but really – would you say you’ve had more dangerous adventures than Blackbeard himself?”, he asks. The way Stede’s whole face lights up at that, with love, with pride : that is a sight he’ll never get enough of.
Showoff , he hears him whisper, or maybe it’s just a figment of his imagination. Whatever it is, it’s quickly covered by the children’s voices: they have both stopped caring about their dinner for good, and are instead shouting overlapping questions. Even Doug seems impressed.
“You’re saying you met him?”, Alma says, eventually, once she’s managed to cover her brother’s mouth to keep him from speaking. “ The Blackbeard? The scourge of the Seven Seas? And you’re alive ?”
Ed cringes at the title, and Stede immediately says, “Alma, it’s not polite to call him that, don’t you think?”
“But dad – that’s how your books call him!”
“Books?” Ed asks. He’s delighted. “Didn’t know you were a fan, Stede.”
“Well, Ed”, Stede says, eyes infinitely soft. “They do say to never meet your idols, don’t they?”
The whole room stills, at that moment. Well, almost the whole room: Mary is still eating her soup. There’s a grin she’s hiding there, but Ed can see it clear as day.
“ You are Blackbeard?”, Alma asks. She does not look that convinced. “Where’s the beard?”
Stede gasps, again, like she’s being terribly improper. Ed only laughs. “I cut it off a while ago, but it’s growing back in, see? Even so, I must admit it’s not all black anymore. I got the name when I was younger.”
“But you”, Louis adds, raising an eyebrow at him. “You have ribbons in your hair. Like, purple ribbons.”
Ed’s hand reaches Stede, again. It stops on his arm, doesn’t leave it. “I think, young man, that the ribbons are your father’s fault.”
“It was part of the disguise, dearest. You agreed to it!”
“Look”, Alma says, looking anywhere but at them. Ed is well aware of how smitten they must look. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but – listen, my dad’s calling you dearest and stuff. You don’t look that dangerous, really.” And that’s, that’s – that does something to him. His hand flexes, sharply enough that he can feel Stede’s gaze getting back on him. It’s just something he didn’t expect, not when he has grown so used to being dangerous by default, just because of who he is. Even after Stede, even after the Revenge, the man who had written Blackbeard’s myth in blood and missing body parts was still there, not really buried, more dormant. He truly feared it would just take control back, and then what? But that wasn’t the right moment to spiral – “Do you have anything to prove it? That you’re the Blackbeard?”
“Well, I do have some knives on me, but I promised your mother I would not use them during dinner”, he replies, shooting a smile at Mary. He knew he could be charming; when she smiled back at him, he felt like it had worked.
“You can ask him to show you, Alma, but after dinner. There are rules in this house.”
“But mum!”
Edward loved fine things: he loved comfort, good brandy and fluffy chairs to rest his bad leg on. He had also learned how to be less wary of them. It was a work in progress. Now, he could wear Stede’s silk shirt without fearing he would ruin them just by putting them on. He could accept powdered soaps and scented oils, could allow Stede to run a comb through his hair and apply kohl on him in a way that enhanced his eyes. Sometimes, though, it all got a bit much. On the ship, it was easy to tune it down: he could always put on his leather and his belts, and even be amazed at Stede’s appreciative gaze when he did. He could find a balance, sure that he would not be judged.
So it was only natural, for him, to step out onto the patio – a patio, really: who had a house so big they could leave some rooms open? Stede was somewhere inside, showing Alma how to spar with fake swords to his children’s request. He looked happy, and lovely, and Ed had not felt any fear of losing him. But it was comforting to be under the stars like this. Constellations were the same all over this side of the emisphere: he could retrace them from here like he did on the ship. It worked, like it always did, to get him out of his own head.
When Mary joined him, he heard her coming from the rustle of her skirt. He didn’t move: he left his back turned on her. Trust, he figured, was a really singular thing. Before, before , he wouldn’t turn his back on a door even when it was just him and Izzy in a room.
“You love him”, she said, as a form of greeting.
He could appreciate someone who went straight to the point. “I do”, he said. When he glanced at her, it seemed that she was studying him. “Very much so.”
Mary smiled up at him, and it felt genuine. “I’m glad. He’s a good man – he wasn’t a very good husband, but I could see he was trying. He is kind, and he’s gentle. I’m glad he’s found you.”
If it felt a bit like a blessing, Ed didn’t let that silly thought get into his head. “You seem happy – you, and the children”, he said instead.
“We are happy. It’s not that it was bad , when he was here, but look: he didn’t want to be here, and it showed. Even when he came back,” and oh, did it hurt to hear it mentioned like that, like it wasn’t something that had destroyed him – “He didn’t fit in, and we were all aware of that. Even he was, this time around. He found me with Doug, you know? I can’t say I apologized for it, but – he asked me what it was like.”
“It?”
“Being in love, what it was like. I don’t think I had the right words for it, but who does? Yet, he said he had found something like that.” Ed didn’t dare breathe. Stede had told him all of that, of course, but to hear it recounted by someone else made it more real, in some way. “That’s why he chose to fake his death. He knew he had made a mistake, and he wanted to find you as soon as he could. And he did, right?”
“Yeah,” Ed said. He looked at the stars. “Yeah, he did.”
When they get back to the ship, under the tenuous light of sunrise, Stede is uncharacteristically quiet. Ed can’t help but notice it: he tries to chalk it up to tiredness, because even if they’re pirates they don’t usually keep this kind of hours. He tries not to let it go to his head. They were fine, they’d been fine the whole time they’ve stayed at his old house. If Stede is lost in thought, that doesn’t mean that it’s because Ed fucked up or anything like that.
Eventually, he asks him. When they’re alone in their quarters, and Stede still hasn’t really picked up a conversation or anything, Ed feels fucking foolish and he asks, tentatively, “You’re alright?”
He watches him blink repeatedly. Anxiety creeps on his shoulders, locks them tight.
“I am, love, it’s just – Alma has asked us to write”, he says, quietly. He’s looking right at him, an edge to his gaze that Ed can’t quite place.
“Us?”, he asks, then. There we go , he thinks, this is where he sees I’m not worthy .
“Yes, and I told her we would. Would it bother you terribly, love, if I added something about you in my letters?” Stede’s rambling, now, and Ed feels like the words are out too quick, like he’s not catching onto the right meaning. “Mary asked me to let her know how we are as well, and she said she’d love to have us back – and we don’t have to, if you hated it, but I don’t think you did, but maybe you were just getting through it for me, and I shouldn’t have sprung it upon you like that, I’m so-”
“Hey”, Ed says then. He takes Stede’s hands between his, lowers his head to graze his lips on his knuckles. “Calm down, it’s okay. I loved them, and I would love to see them again. I would love to be included in your letters.” And then, because Stede looks like he can’t quite believe it: “I spoke with Mary, while you were with the kids. She’s amazing, I kind of wondered if I hadn’t chosen the wrong Bonnet – hey!” He yelps, then, at the playful shove Stede gives him. He’s smiling, and it’s impossible not to kiss him.
“I’m glad”, Stede says when he pulls back from him, rumpled. He doesn’t slip away from Ed’s arms.