Chapter Text
Which nail polish would it be today? Stede scanned his collection, all neatly stacked in a row arranged by colour. Perhaps a light aquamarine? Or canary yellow? No, tonight wasn’t just any night - it had to be something bold, something unique. Pink!
He hesitated for a moment over the shade, debating whether to plump for a gentle peach or delicate salmon, but his eyes were drawn to the bright, Barbie pink bottle that always made a bold impression at social functions. Why settle for subtle? This was a very special night!
He plucked the bottle from its slot and shook it a few times to rid it of bubbles, humming along to the Girls Aloud song spinning quietly in the CD player.
He loved painting his nails - the strong, pear-drop scent, the way it felt as he gently brushed it against his perfectly manicured nails, the way it transformed his appearance from forgettable to extraordinary. What was the point of fashion if not to stand out? Stede hated the idea of blending in.
He finished his left hand, holding it up to the window to admire his handiwork in the sunlight before starting in on the right. Any well-dressed gentleman knows it takes just three strokes to cover each nail - the perfect balance of enough liquid to keep the colour strong, but not too much to spill over the side or overlap on the cuticles. Ooh, he could even add a sprinkle of glitter! How cheeky!
As he gently blew on each nail in turn to dry them, a large envelope slid under the door. Captain woke up from his nap, yawned and trotted off to collect it, running to Stede with it clamped in his mouth.
“What’s this, Captain?” he asked, tickling the chihuahua behind his floppy little ear. Captain gave him a cheerful yip in reply and padded back to his cushion, diamanté-studded collar jangling musically.
After making sure his polish was dry, Stede peeled back the envelope and pulled out the card inside, sighing dreamily when he saw the front. His friends in Delta Sigma Pi were so cute - they’d made him a huge card emblazoned with splashes of paint and glitter. It was perhaps a little clumsily made but he appreciated the effort. He opened it up and cooed when he saw all the signatures inside, every person in the whole fraternity had signed! Even Derek, whose ability to hold a pen was occasionally questionable.
He flipped to the front again to look at the cover, patting the words “GOOD LUCK ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT!” with an excited grin on his lips. His eyes flicked to the framed photo by his bed - Mary, his beloved girlfriend - and he blew it a delicate kiss.
Not long to go until she became the future Mrs Stede Bonnet III!
—
Stede squirted himself with his favourite cologne, whistled to Captain who obediently bounded to his side, and gave his golden curls a final sweep with a wide-toothed comb before leaving his room, closing the door behind him. As he turned around, a confetti gun blasted and a hundred voices yelled in unison.
“Congratulations!!” they bellowed, descending upon him, punching him on the arm and fondly ruffling his hair.
“Ohmigosh, you guys are so lovely!” Stede said, trying to rearrange his mussed curls without seeming too rude. He loved living with the guys, he really did, but their attitude towards the importance of hair care needed a bit of work. Most of them just rinsed the 2-in-1 shampoo out of their hair and let it drip dry - without even a lick of gel or oil! Even the notion made Stede shudder!
“The card is so adorable. But I haven’t even asked her yet! She could still say no!”
Rick, a broad-shouldered football player, rolled his eyes playfully.
“How could she say no? You’re perfect for each other!”
Mark, the tallest basketball player on the team, nodded enthusiastically.
“Totally! Don’t sweat it, she’s got to accept. Besides, no one could ever turn down that rock you got.”
Stede fished the ring box out of his inside jacket pocket, where it always stayed tucked. It was a pretty impressive ring, he had to admit. He’d spent ages dithering over it, dazzled by the hundreds of tiny glimmering jewels in the display case. When he showed a picture of it to his mother, she’d gasped and clapped over it, gushing about what a lovely girl Mary was and how happy they’d be together. It even earned a slight eyebrow raise and monotonous ‘very good’ from his father, which was his way of expressing approval. Which totally wasn’t the reason why Stede chose this ring.
As the three of them stared at the glittering ring serenely balanced on the cushion, Stede had a horrible realisation.
“Guys…” he said, a creeping note of foreboding in his voice. Mark and Rick looked at him in alarm.
“What’s wrong, dude? Did you forget to make the reservation at the restaurant? You know they don’t accept bookings this late!”
“No, no, it’s not that, I just remembered I’ve already worn this outfit on one of our other dates! I can’t disgrace her by wearing the same suit twice! I need to go shopping!”
—
Stede loved a good department store. He’d spent his childhood following his mother round in places like this, wandering along the aisles of crisp shirts and shelves of ties like flicks of colourful birds; sniffing every tester in the perfume department; being fussed over by tailors as he got fitted for his first suit at age nine.
It was home for him, like an endless linoleum library of pumped oxygen and bright, white lights.
The local Neiman Marcus knew him very well by now, he was regular enough for the security guards on the door to nod at him as he entered and staff members to smile and wave at him on his journey.
Usually he liked to walk around without aim or purpose, just taking it all in, but today he was on a mission. With Mark and Rick in tow, he headed straight for the suit department.
“Hiya, Stede!” Jeremy, the manager, came up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Nice to see you! Got your eye on anything in particular today, or just browsing?”
“Something special today. I’m seeing Mary - got a little question to ask her.”
Jeremy’s eyes twinkled knowingly.
“I understand. I’ve got to go and see to some other customers, but you know your way around here. If you need anything, just ask Anthony. He’s our new trainee.”
Jeremy waved him over and Anthony, a short man with thin mousy hair, sidled up to the group. He looked Stede up and down, taking in the velvet jacket and pink nail polish. His expression curdled, though he tried to iron it out into ‘generic customer service face’.
“Absolutely,” Stede said. “Lovely to meet you. Anthony.”
“You too… sir.” Anthony said, lips curling.
Jeremy left, and Stede started flitting around, picking pieces out that he thought would fit well with each other.
“What about this shirt?” Mark asked, proffering a light green sleeve for Stede to feel.
“Mmm, bit low-key. This isn’t any old date.”
“How about a white number? You do love a power move,” Rick suggested, pointing to a snowy white jacket and matching trousers.
“Might be a tad obvious. I don't want to come right out and scream ‘wedding’ - she has to say yes first!”
Anthony materialised behind them, holding a plain black tuxedo jacket with a powder blue pocket square.
“Have you seen this piece? We just got it in, it’s Armarni’s latest. Perfect for a blonde.”
Stede knew how many beans made five when it came to clothes: he wasn’t a fashion student for nothing, and could tell when someone was trying to bullshit him. This suit was clearly off the sale rack that they were desperate to get rid of before the style went totally out. He decided to humour the man: what was life without a little fuckery?
“Wow!” he exclaimed loudly, running his hands lightly over the fabric. “Is this the 2002 single breasted charcoal range?”
Anthony blinked, but maintained his poker face. “That’s the one!”
“With a viscose ermazine taffeta lining?”
“Absolutely. It’s one of a kind!”
Stede smiled.
“Yep, this is rayon, not taffeta; you can tell by the texture. Taffeta’s sheer, not shiny. Armani would never line their suits with a synthetic poly blend, even a semi-synthetic one. Besides, I saw this piece in the back pages of June Vogue a year ago. If you’re trying to sell it to me with a fifty percent markup, I suggest you sharpen your sales pitch.”
Anthony scoffed, a light blush staining his cheeks, and he stalked back to the till to count clothes hangers, pointedly avoiding Stede’s gaze.
Stede turned back to the rails, too excited to mind.
“This is it, boys,” he said, rocking on his heels. “In a few hours, Mary and I will be engaged!”
—
After a modest amount of time fussing over his outfit, Stede was ready. He finally went for a shirt printed all over with a kaleidoscope of flowers and a satin blue jacket. With his pink nails and golden curls, he looked like a bright Spring afternoon.
“Wish me luck, Captain!” he said as he adjusted his rings and took a final glance in the mirror. Captain barked a happy little reply.
He waltzed down the spiral staircase where Mark and Rick were waiting, spritzing him with cologne and showering him with ‘good luck!’s. He tucked the ring box inside his jacket pocket, and gave them a grin.
Strolling out into the hot California evening, he effortlessly unlocked his Porsche and popped down the convertible top, blasting Britney on the stereo. It was a short drive to Mary’s place, one he easily could have walked, but it was nice to arrive in style.
He beeped the horn to let her know he was there, and nervously adjusted his tie in the rear view mirror while he waited. She finally opened the front door, letting out a spill of golden light, and hopped in the seat next to him.
“Hello, darling,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. She was dressed down, in a black skirt and waistcoat with a black tie, her brown hair piled into a messy bun. She always dressed simplistically compared to Stede, making him feel like he stood out like a sore thumb, but he told himself that her style was classy. Her family was old money, that much was obvious.
“Hi Stede,” she said, smiling. “Where are we off to?”
“I was thinking The Penthouse? I know how much you love the cocktails.”
“Sounds great.”
They chatted casually on the drive over, Mary waxing lyrical about a new surrealist exhibition she’d seen in the Art Muse, and Stede tried to give her intelligent answers in return. Mary adored art, constantly dragging him to endless showings and exhibitions. It all looked more or less unintelligible to him, but he kept an interested smile on his face and attempted to understand what she was saying about brushwork and symbolism.
Inside the restaurant, they were greeted by a server in a red waistcoat who showed them to their table, surreptitiously pulling out their chairs for them and placing thick cotton napkins on their laps. A pianist on the corner was playing a gentle jazz cover of ‘Life On Mars’, and Stede unconsciously swayed in time to the music. This was a lovely place to ask such an important question. He could definitely do this tonight.
—
After a few bottles of wine shared between them, Stede felt the moment creep up on him. Mary was miles away, finishing up her salad and wiping her lips delicately with the napkin, talking about her friend Evelyn’s pet leopard, and Stede knew it was now or never.
“He’s perfectly tame, of course, and she dresses him in this darling little collar that-”
“So, Mary.” he said, interrupting her. She stopped and looked curiously at him: usually he was very mindful of his manners.
“We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now, and I think we’re suited to each other in a lot of ways. I… I love you very much, and so I have an important question to ask you.”
Mary’s face was slowly turning as scarlet as the waiter’s waistcoat: Stede could see the realisation dawn on her. He took it as a good sign and soldiered on.
“I was wondering if you’d do me the very great honour of… becoming my wife?”
He slid the ring box from his pocket and prised it open, enjoying the way the diamond glinted in the candlelight. Several couples from other tables noticed and looked over, sighing to each other at the romance of the scene.
“Oh, Stede.” Mary said softly. “I… I can’t.”
It felt like a rock fell through Stede’s stomach: his mouth flapped open and his hands shook a little.
“What?” he asked stupidly, thinking he’d simply misheard her.
“I can’t marry you, Stede.”
“I see.” he said, tucking the box back in his pocket and wishing people would stop staring at them.
“You don’t.” Mary said. “I’m going to Harvard Law School next semester, you have no idea the pressure I’m under to do well there. My brother’s in the top three of Yale Law and my father’s fixated on the idea that I’ll become the youngest ever female senator which means I have to do that by the time I’m thirty… you see? I need to marry someone… well, serious.”
“I’m serious,” he protested weakly. He could see her look at his foppish blonde curls, his electric blue suit, his sparkly pink nails. He suddenly saw himself through her eyes, and he was ashamed.
“Stede, you’re a fashion major at UCLA. Your biggest achievement was bumping into Donna Summer at a pool party. I’ve got bigger dreams, you know? I just don’t think we fit.”
“But I am serious. I'm seriously in love with you,” he said miserably. She gave him a smile, just a little one.
“Stede. I know you. Better than you think. I know you’re…”
“Yes?”
“Never mind. I’m sorry. In another life you and I would be great, but… I have to go.”
He nodded and flagged the waiter over for the cheque, avoiding her eyes. They sat in uneasy silence as he paid, waving away her half-hearted insistence on splitting the bill.
“Can I at least drive you home?” he asked as they walked out into the balmy night. She looked away guiltily.
“I’m sorry, Stede. I hope you have a great life.”
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed one final kiss onto his cheek, making a little ghost imprint on him with her lipstick. She went to wipe it off but he protected it with his hand, not willing to give it up. She shrugged sadly.
“Goodnight.”
Stede watched her go, and had the feeling that his whole carefully planned future was slipping further away with every step she took.