Work Text:
“Edward? Edward!”
“Hm?”
“You coming?”
“Where?”
“The bathroom,” Izzy grumbles. “Obviously.”
Ed thinks of waking up, yet again, with an all-consuming ache throughout his whole body. He thinks of having to lock himself in his bedroom all day long to wait for the comedown to pass, thinks of blowing his clogged nose and having sticky crumbs of whatever they had been snorting the previous night come out. Thinks of how unspeakably disgusting he always feels in those moments.
It’s got to stop at some point, doesn’t it, and neither Izzy nor Jack seem to realize that all three of them got too old for this shit a long fucking time ago.
“Nah. Not tonight,” Ed decides. “I’ll stay and… watch the drinks. Whatever.”
Predictably, Jack and Izzy’s shared reaction is a dumbfounded one. Ed would’ve laughed at their almost comically puzzled expressions if he weren’t so miserable.
“Aw, come on, Eddie,” Jack drawls. “I know you want to. You’ll pass out before midnight without a little something in your system.”
“So?” Ed snaps, feeling his blood beginning to boil. “Maybe I like to sleep at night every once in a fucking while.”
“Fine, fine, suit yourself. No need to get all pissy.”
Then they’re off to do lines in the bathroom of this random pub—just like clockwork. Just like every other fucking night.
For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Ed studies the exit and considers walking out the door without any explanation whatsoever. Maybe even skipping town. Starting over somewhere far away.
Now there’s an idea.
What he wouldn’t give to experience something unfamiliar, something completely brand new, something—
CRASH!
—surprising.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” someone says. Their voice is dripping with sarcasm—or is that just the way they talk? “Ugh, I literally can’t believe I’ve just done that. Silly me! I’m the biggest klutz on Earth, I swear to God. Anyway, you must let me get you a refill.”
Ed slides out of his seat and stands to face the person. He’s surprisingly tall, almost as tall as Ed, and has a tiny rainbow flag pinned to his jacket. A golden splash of glitter covers his eyelids. He has obviously been drinking for a while already; there’s a certain happy-go-lucky way about him that usually only comes with feeling young and drunk and queer during pride month.
Ed, on the other hand, hasn’t felt like that in over a decade. He looks down to find that he has managed to step right into the puddle of what used to be the contents of his glass that just got knocked over, and yep, that does it—he’s officially going home. “Nah, mate, don’t worry about it. ‘Was just about to head out anyway, so. No harm done.”
The man’s expression turns into something that resembles genuine disappointment. “Nope, nuh-uh, you’re coming with me, mister. I feel awful. My group is just over there,” he says, pointing to a crowded table a few rows away. Ed is about to decline the offer once more, but the guy carries on talking. “Listen, you and I are going over to the bar to get you another delicious pint of beer, and then we’re joining them. Sound good?”
Ed has never met a more persistent soul. All he can manage is a bewildered nod, because, well. He wanted to be surprised, and now he is. For the first time in what feels like forever.
“Yeah?” The guy is grinning now—a smile resembling that of a cartoon villain. “Perfect. I’m Lucius, by the way.”
“Edward.” They shake hands. “Actually, mate, call me Ed.”
“Will do! Right this way, Ed.”
Jack and Izzy can manage without him for one night.
They’ll have to.
Once they’ve got their respective drinks in hand, Ed finds himself being pushed down into one of the empty seats at Lucius’ table. All of the people sitting there immediately start to introduce themselves at the same time, and Ed has to try his absolute best to catch their names over the loud music. There’s Pete, John, and Jim—easy enough. And... Frenchie? Olu? Something Scandinavian. Also, an individual going by Roach, apparently. Alright then. Whatever floats your fucking boat.
“Hang on, where’s Stede?” Lucius asks, scanning the group.
“Went to the loo, I think?” says John.
This makes Lucius squeal. “God, I can’t wait ‘til he comes back.”
Ed frowns. Who the fuck is this Stede, then?
“You’re a genius, babe,” Pete says, pressing a kiss to Lucius’ cheek. “This’ll be so good.”
“I know!”
Ed takes a sip of his beer, watching his new acquaintances through a metaphorical wall of glass. Who are these people? And more importantly, what the fuck is he doing here? He can’t quite shake the feeling that they’ve somehow cast him as the central character of some kind of joke and are now waiting for the punchline. It’s bizarre. However, it is also strangely intriguing.
Once all of the introductions have been made, the conversation around the table starts again. Everyone’s participating except for Ed, who’s still trying to figure out what, exactly, they’re talking about. It’s a surprisingly difficult task. Something about... pirates? No, that can’t be right.
There’s an empty seat across from Ed, granting him a view of where he was sitting just a few minutes ago. Jack and Izzy aren’t back yet. Ed wonders how they’ll react when they return to find out he’s gone and abandoned them. He also wonders if he could sink low enough into his chair to keep them from spotting him in the crowd. Maybe. Hopefully.
Turns out he doesn’t need to worry about that too much, because, within a second and the next, the seat across from Ed isn’t all that empty anymore.
“Hi, all! I stopped by the bar to get you some water, Frenchie!”
“Cheers, Captain.”
“It was free, can you believe it?”
“Yes, actually. It’s just water, isn’t it? Water’s usually—”
“Anyway! Drink up, dear. You don’t want to wake up in the morning with another one of those awful hangovers, do you? Remember, we are all going to the—oh,” the man falters when his eyes fall on Ed. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Ed says, smiling at the unusually vibrant stranger. He is… well. He’s fucking gorgeous, actually. Fancy. His colorful designer clothes make it clear that he comes from money, and there isn’t a single strand of hair out of place among the fluffy curls spilling down his nape. This man should stick out like a sore thumb amid his much younger, less put-together mates, but doesn’t. There’s a tangible bond between him and his group that hangs in the air around the table—Ed can feel it despite not being part of it himself.
“Stede, this is Ed. I knocked over his drink,” Lucius announces, flashing them a suspiciously proud smile.
“Lucius!”
“It was an accident, I swear!”
“Oh, you swear, do you? That makes it much more believable,” Stede hisses.
Posh, handsome, and thoughtful. Polite, but also a little feisty. Yep, Ed could get used to this.
“‘S alright, mate,” Ed says, coaxing Stede’s gaze to meet his own by sheer willpower alone. It works. “He was kind enough to buy me a new one. And then he invited me over here.”
Stede’s whole demeanor seems to soften when they lock eyes. “Right, well. That’s, um, good. Nice to meet you, Ed.”
“You too.”
They observe each other in silence for a moment. Something simmers in the air between them. It might be electricity.
Well, alright then.
“Anyway, what Stede was saying before he got a bit, um, distracted,” Lucius says, “is that we’re all going downtown to watch the parade tomorrow. Have you ever been to see it, Ed?”
“Oh, yeah. My mates and I used to be part of it every year, actually. You know, by marching.”
“Very interesting,” Lucius replies and takes a sip of his drink.
“I s’pose,” Ed shrugs. “Got a bit fed up with it, though, to be honest. Leather outfits in June—not a very good mix.”
“I can imagine. And believe me, we are imagining. Right, Stede?”
“Uh-huh,” Stede squeaks before proceeding to down the rest of his tequila sunrise in one go.
Fucking adorable, this one. Ed has to have him. Preferably tonight. Preferably twice.
“What about you?”
A beat or two passes before Stede seems to realize who the question is directed at. “Me?”
Ed laughs—a soft, breathy sound that he hasn't heard in years. Huh.
“Yes, you. Ever gone to pride before?”
“I haven’t, actually,” Stede admits.
“Why not?”
“Oh, well, that’s quite a long—”
Jack and Izzy proceed to ruin the moment by exiting the bathroom and stepping into Ed’s line of sight. “Shit, cover me!” he hisses, making himself as small as possible by sliding low into his chair. Stede’s knees knock with his.
“Pardon?”
“My mates are behind you. Don’t look,” Ed tells him. “Don’t move your head, they’ll see me. You’re my partner in crime now.”
“Why on Earth are you hiding from your friends?”
“‘Cause they’re a pair of dickheads.”
“How so?” Stede genuinely looks curious. Like he actually wants to know. The fuck?
As Ed rambles on about why he hates his roommates, he can’t help but take note of the ongoing conversation right next to him:
“Okay, wow. Pete, babe, I think it worked. Like, extremely well. They even have the same accent, right? I’m not just making that up in my head? Oh my God, wait, I should do this professionally.”
“Hell yeah! You’re amazing, babe.”
“—anyway, that’s why they’re getting on my fucking nerves these days. Dickfucks.”
Yes, Ed may have sugar-coated Jack and Izzy’s rogue lifestyle (and therefore also his own) a tiny bit. Wouldn’t want to scare the fancy man away so soon.
“Sounds to me like you need better friends,” the fancy man in question says with a smile that makes something in Ed’s stomach twist—but in a very good way. The feeling is a lot more intoxicating than any drink on the menu, and what the fucking fuck, when did Ed start thinking in clichés?
While they’re on the topic of needing better friends, Ed’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s undoubtedly Izzy demanding his location, so he ignores it. “Yeah? You know any good ones?”
“I’m quite fond of these guys,” Stede chirps, nodding to his crew.
The phone buzzes again, so Ed fumbles with it underneath the table and puts it on airplane mode without taking his eyes off Stede. “How’d you meet them?”
“I work at the theater downtown. I suppose they’re my…”
“… theater kids?” they say in unison.
“Yes, I think that’s what I’d call them,” Stede confirms. “Right now we’re working on a play about pirates, actually.”
“Pirates? Love that,” Ed says, still fucking smiling. It’s a miracle. “So that’s why they call you Captain.”
Stede winces and looks away. “Oh, yes. Bit embarrassing.”
“Nah. ‘S cute, actually.”
This makes Stede lean back in his seat as if taken aback by the reply. “Who are you, Ed? Where did you come from?”
“Edward Teach, born on a beach. That’s all you’re getting for now, I think. I want to keep up the mystique for a bit longer.”
Ed is laying it on thick, he knows. Maybe even more than he should; he never mastered the art of moderation, after all. Stede isn’t really giving him the same type of chat back, but he is clearly quite flustered (cute) and isn’t telling Ed to fuck off, either. So.
They continue to go back and forth for a while. The crew of theater kids doesn’t interrupt them, and Izzy and Jack leave eventually (presumably heading for the next bar). Lucius snags Ed’s forgotten beer and promptly finishes it, probably thinking he wouldn’t notice. Whatever, he paid for it, and Ed’s too captivated by Stede to focus on drinking it.
Their conversation comes to a natural conclusion at one point, leaving behind a trail of soft laughter, and Ed is just about to subtly ask Stede if he wants to get out of here when—
“Right! We better be off, actually. Big plans tomorrow.”
“Shit, yeah, the pride thing. Forgot.”
Nervously fumbling with the cuffs of his sleeve, Stede looks like he’s bracing himself for something. Ed holds his breath. A beat, and then—
“How would you feel about coming along?”
The initial disappointment from hearing that Stede has to leave early fades immediately and is replaced by something else; something very warm and comfortable that reminds Ed of butter melting on warm bread, maybe even topped with a bit of yummy marmalade. He basks in it, smiling at the man sat across from him.
“Oh my God, you should,” adds a very drunk Lucius before Ed can get a word in. “D’you know what, I might host a little pre-thing at my place tomorrow. Yup, I’ve just decided to do that. You will be there.”
“Lucius,” Stede says, sounding slightly concerned, “the parade starts at four in the afternoon.”
“Yes, and? Can’t you have a drink or two before then? Keep up, old man.”
“I don’t think you’re gonna want to have a drink before then, mate,” Ed adds. “At least not an alcoholic one.”
Lucius looks offended and places a hand on his chest. “Excuse me, I’m practically immune to hangovers. I’ll just have my man boil me some eggs when we get home tonight and eat them before bed. It’s literally that easy.”
“If you say so.”
“What do you say, Ed?” Stede asks in that weirdly familiar accent of his. He sounds nervous—like it actually matters to him if Ed, specifically, wants to meet up again. “Will I—I mean, will we see you tomorrow?”
“Please say yes, please say yes,” Pete chants, possibly completely oblivious to the fact that everyone around the table is holding their breath and can therefore hear him.
“Yes,” Ed says.
As if there was any other option.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
It turns out Lucius’ neighbourhood is way nicer than Ed’s, so Ed can only imagine what Stede’s might look like. It’s a little intimidating to think about, so naturally that is what he spends his time doing as he tries to find the way to Lucius’ apartment building.
Last night, Lucius added him to a groupchat thing to send him the address. Stede also had access to the text thread, so there he was; along with his last name and number. And because Ed is a brilliant fucking tactician who likes to come prepared, he decided to spend the better part of an hour stalking—no, looking up—Stede on the internet after he woke up this morning.
Stede Bonnet, 41. Birthday in late July. No siblings. His dad founded some kind of real estate company back in the 60s—it instantly gained prosperity and made their family insanely rich. Although, another quick google search quickly confirmed that the company isn’t based anywhere near here. In fact, its main base of operations is halfway across the country, where Stede must be from. Interesting. How did he end up across from Ed?
Lucius’ apartment looks a lot like the dressing room of someone who really likes performing. A true theater kid indeed. Wigs, clothing racks, jewelry, and large pieces of fabric fill the living room. There’s even a sewing machine in the corner. Ed spins around in slow circles, awestruck from taking it all in.
“Make yourself at home, and all that. I’m in desperate need of caffeine,” the host groans, squinting against the sunlight spilling through the open windows before retreating towards the kitchen in a haste.
“I take it the boiled eggs didn’t work?” Ed shouts after him and continues his tour around the room, inspecting everything from floor to ceiling.
“Piss off!”
Stede appears in the doorway less than five minutes later. He’s even prettier today than he was last night in the low light of a bar. Dressed in a loose-fitting, white blouse, he looks soft in a way that Ed has never been able to achieve despite secretly longing for it. The sleeves are fucking frilly, even. Ed, on the other hand, is wearing a black cotton shirt that is tearing apart at the seams above the waistline where he’d cropped it himself. Bit of a difference.
“Ed,” Stede breathes, reflecting summer sunlight. “You came.”
“Only because I knew you’d be here,” Ed says with what he can only hope is a charming smile and watches as Stede ducks his head, reverting his gaze to the floor.
“Ah, well, that’s...”
Not even ten seconds into the conversation, Ed’s already made him, what, uncomfortable? Shy? Flustered? All of the above? There is certainly a blush on his face.
“Oh! And you have quite the collection of tattoos!” Stede exclaims once his eyes are back on Ed.
Last night Ed had been wearing his signature leather jacket, but this morning he decided to leave it at home after checking the forecast. With most of his ink on display, some insecurities come creeping in that he usually doesn’t have to worry about with anyone else. The thing is, Stede definitely doesn’t have any tattoos. A fancy man like him does not spend his money on having people stab ink into his skin. Such an elegant gentleman would never even consider giving himself sloppy stick-and-pokes just to pass the time.
“Yep. Did most of ‘em myself,” Ed admits. “That’s why they might look a bit handmade, but I dunno. I like ‘em.”
“As do I,” Stede says, much to Ed’s surprise. “They’re quite impressive.”
Impressive. Okay, then. Today will definitely be interesting.
Ed and Stede settle down on the couch after going through some of the clothes on the rack—most of them turn out to have been used in many of the plays their local community theater have put on throughout the years. Not long after the clunking sounds from the kitchen come to a stop, Lucius reenters the room with Pete in tow, each carrying a hastily put-together breakfast item. There’s barely any space left on the sofa for them, and Ed feels a bit rude, but they don’t seem to mind taking their seats on the floor. The carpet looks fluffy enough.
“Starting already, are we?” Stede asks Lucius as the latter gets his toilet bag open and pours the contents out onto the living room table.
“That’s a lot of makeup,” Ed points out.
“Uh-huh. I intend to look good today.”
“Sweetie, you always look good,” Pete says.
“Thanks, babe, but the pressure is on today. It’s only the gayest event of the entire year.”
“... I thought that was Eurovision?”
“Okay, you have a point. Wait, how do you even know what that is? You’re American.”
“Yeah, but you talk about it a lot.”
“Huh. I suppose I do.”
Stede is watching the conversation happen with a fond smile stuck to his face. “Where is everyone else?” he asks. “I thought you invited them as well.”
“Oh, they’re coming, I think. Or we’ll meet them there. Doesn’t matter,” Lucius mumbles with a mouth full of bread. “Oh my God, wait, I’m such a bad host. Would the two of you like something to eat or drink? Um, I don’t think we have a lot of food, though, we literally just took the last slices of toast. Ugh, that rhymed. Anyway, sorry, this is a very impromptu get-together.”
“That’s okay. I’m alright,” Ed says, because he is. He’d gotten home relatively early last night and woken up without feeling like shit for the first time in weeks. Jack and Izzy, on the other hand, were so out of it that they didn’t even wake to the bustling sound of Ed making himself some lunch in the kitchen.
“So am I,” Stede adds. “Aren’t you going to have that beer you were talking about last night, though, Lucius?”
“I literally am, I just need to finish my breakfast.”
“I was joking!” Stede gasps, looking straight-up appalled. “Gosh, I have never missed being in my twenties less than I do at this moment.”
When Ed opens his mouth to chime in with something equally funny, a surprised burst of laughter is the only thing that tumbles out. Is this going to become a thing? Is he going to turn into someone who laughs all the time? Izzy would have an aneurysm if that ever happened. Wouldn’t that be something?
Time passes differently in Stede’s presence. Ed listens to him talk about the plot of their ongoing play for what he thinks is only a little while, but when he looks up again, they’ve been left alone in the room for God knows how long.
“Hey, do you know where your mates went?”
“To get dressed, I imagine. Why?”
“Don’t you want yours done too?” Ed asks, nodding towards the pile of makeup products Lucius left behind on the table in front of them.
“Oh, no,” Stede replies, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s quite the hassle, I’m afraid. Glitter everywhere, gets all over my clothes, that sort of thing.”
“Glitter. Lame,” Ed scoffs, even though glitter sounds like a really fucking cool accessory, especially for an event like pride. Lucius’ closet is probably filled to the brim with a lot more colorful, fine things. Ed tries his best not to look too wistful about not getting to see them. He decides on a new tactic. “Fuck if I care, but… we should, maybe, still go after them. To see if they need help or whatever.”
Stede winces at the suggestion. “Best not to. They get rather, ah, affectionate with each other behind closed doors. The last time I barged in, they were… well. Occupied, let’s say.”
This man can’t breach the subject of sex without blushing. Fucking fascinating. “Oh,” Ed says, once again trying his best not to sound too disappointed. He casts the scattered makeup things left on the table a long look, trying to picture what it might be like to try some of it on. If Izzy were here, he would call Ed some weird degrading British slang word like ponce just for looking at the stuff. Jack would be confused at first and then tell him to man up—whatever the fuck that means. Ed, however, would most likely enjoy it. And it dawns on him that he can’t actually remember the last time he indulged himself for the sole purpose of having fun. Well, except for turning up here today, maybe.
Stede is studying him closely when something suddenly seems to click. “Ed, do you want your makeup done?”
“I don’t care, but… maybe,” Ed shrugs. “Might be a bit of fun. Whatever. Dunno how to do it, though. Never have.”
Stede beams brighter than the June sun. “I could do yours!”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’m certainly no expert on the matter, but I could give it a go. If you want me to, that is.”
“Oh, I want you,” Ed blurts out. “To! To do that.”
“Lovely! What are you thinking?”
“Thinking?” Not much at the moment, clearly.
“What do you want me to do with your face?”
Ed can think of several things. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from giggling out loud. Is he going to become someone who giggles, too? Iz might actually die. “Your call, Captain, this is obviously your thing,” he says. And then, only because he can’t help himself: “Do whatever you want to me.”
“Oh! Well. That’s—well,” Stede stammers, turning a lovely shade of pink. Okay, that may have been a bit too much, then. Oops.
Clearly looking for a distraction, Stede reaches for one of the square thingies on the living room table, flips it open with a gasp, and presents it to Ed. “This one looks exciting, doesn’t it? I think this is one of Lucius’ favorite palettes.”
It does look exciting. The palette (so that’s what they’re called) has matte and shiny shades in every single color of the rainbow. It must be pride month.
“Hm, lots to choose from,” Ed says, letting his eyes dart back and forth between the different options. He likes all of them.
Stede hums. “I’m thinking… purple?”
“Yeah? Love a bit of purple.”
“I think you would look rather dazzling in it.”
And just like that, Ed is rendered speechless. “Oh,” he says eventually, begging whoever might be listening that Stede didn’t notice the glitch in his cool-guy demeanor just now. “Cheers. Purple it is, then.”
Stede just smiles—a pretty, tentative little thing—and goes to grab a few of the tiny brushes lying around.
The thing is, Ed’s used to it—the flirting, the hooking up, and the occasional second or even third date before the thrill of it all inevitably runs out in the sand. That sort of stuff does come with its fair share of flattery, but this, with Stede, who calls him shit like rather dazzling, is different. Because Stede is sincere without wanting or expecting anything in return—he wasn’t even looking at Ed when he said that, for fucks sake, he was too busy inspecting the palette in his hands—so it seems as if he only let the observation slip because he felt it to be true; not because he wanted to please Ed.
Rather dazzling. Fucking fascinating.
And so, it’s Ed’s turn to feel his cheeks heat up, and Stede hasn’t even touched his face yet. Who the fuck is this man? This man in particular, who says words like shall and perhaps and refers to the act of fucking as being affectionate. Ed finds himself desperate to crawl under his skin and figure him out.
Stede dips the brush in the purple pigment and looks to Ed. “Right. Shall we begin?”
“Do your worst, mate.”
The featherlight touch of the brush in the crease of his eyelid makes Ed shiver, possibly only because it’s Stede’s doing. This up close, he becomes aware of two wonderful things at once: Stede uses lavender-scented aftershave, and he has freckles dotted across his nose and cheekbones. Freckles! Ed puts his elbow on the back of the couch, rests his chin in the palm of his hand, and starts counting.
He gets to freckle number thirty-one before Stede speaks again. “So what do you do, Ed? I just realized I never asked you last night.”
There it is: the question. It was only a matter of time. “Oh, you don’t want to hear about all that.”
“Nonsense! I’ve asked now, haven’t I? I’d love to know.”
“I, uh, do a lot of things I don’t actually want to do, let’s just say that,” Ed says. A slideshow flashes before his eyes—the drugs, the scams, the occasional robbery when desperation knocks on his door. “Trying to get away from all that, though.”
Despite the ambiguity of his carefully chosen words, Stede doesn’t prod for clarification. “Ah. I know what that’s like, I’m afraid. Rather difficult, isn’t it? Starting over?”
“I wouldn’t know, mate. Haven’t actually succeeded yet.”
“Oh, you will. I get the feeling you’re quite tenacious,” Stede says just as his gentle brushstrokes come to a halt. “Close your eyes for me?”
Ed does. He feels like he can’t breathe when Stede gently presses the pad of his fingertip to Ed’s eyelid before moving on to the next one.
Stede, oblivious to the frantic beating of Ed’s heart, continues talking. “I myself did start over once. You see, I grew up quite far away from here. I used to work for my father, but unfortunately, he was… how shall I put this…”
“A dick?”
“Ah, yes, that term certainly works. He was not very accepting of my views on, well… anything, really.”
Most plausible translation: Stede’s dad is a homophobic arsehole. Interesting. The pieces are falling into place.
“My dad was like that, too,” is what Ed surprises himself by saying. He’s barely even spoken to Jack or Izzy about his past, so what the fuck is it about this stranger that makes him want to open up? He clears his throat, and wills the fragment of sudden vulnerability to fade away unnoticed. “So. One day you just said fuck it and left? Just like that?”
“Yes. It was just last year, actually, when I finally decided to quit my job and leave everyone behind—my parents, my colleagues, and the dreadfully posh and ignorant community I grew up in.”
Ed opens his eyes again, helpless to it. Stede’s ever-growing smile is just as bright and colorful as his personality. Ed wants to feel it pressed up against his throat. “Incredible,” he breathes.
“You’re very kind, Ed, but you don’t have to say that,” Stede counters. “It’s not incredible. In my case, it’s cowardice, if anything.”
“Oh, shut up. It takes some serious guts to get up and leave your life behind like that, mate. Been wanting to do that myself, to be honest.”
Maybe not anymore. Maybe Ed’s willing to give this town one last chance. Maybe it could be enjoyable with the right people by his side.
“And now you’re here,” Ed continues. “Is it any better than where you grew up?”
“Oh, yes, in every possible way. Everyone here is much more accepting. For one thing, I can wear my silly little outfits without having to worry about things like dirty glances from strangers. Tilt your chin up for me a little bit?”
Ed obeys, happily meeting the brushstrokes. “Your outfits aren’t silly.”
“Thank you, Edward, but they are. That is the point, though, I think. I’m a bit of a silly person. Soft, some might say. But I've come to realise that it takes a lot of strength to be soft, and so, that’s what I’m working on,” Stede says, casually, like he didn’t just nudge Ed’s entire world into motion again with just a few sentences.
“I reckon I might be a bit soft, too,” Ed admits. “I just needed someone to bring it out of me.”
I think I found him last night, is what he doesn’t say. It might be too forward, even by his own standards. Or maybe not, actually, because Stede’s looking at him like he wants to get closer; like he might want to climb into Ed’s lap or something. The universe seems to zoom in on them and their little moment, and then—
Stede scares the tension away by pressing something into Ed’s hands—a handheld mirror. “I believe I’m finished with your eyeshadow!” There is something new in his voice, a nervous hitch of breath betraying the otherwise upbeat tone. “Here, have a look.”
Ed does. His eyes have been covered in a shade of deep purple which is blended into the crease seamlessly, creating a certain depth and contrast to the lighter shade of lilac glitter beneath it. All of it sparkles pleasantly in the afternoon sun as Ed inspects the work from every possible angle.
“Mate, this looks incredible. Are you sure you’re not some kind of expert?”
“I may have done my fair share of looks for different plays,” Stede admits sheepishly.
“So you lied to me. You are an expert.”
“I wouldn’t say that…”
“And humble, too,” Ed murmurs, sounding a bit too entranced for his own liking. This man is too much of a good thing. “Christ.”
Stede looks away and clears his throat. “So, what’s next? Shall we stop here, or… Or I could add something else to the look?”
Ed perks up, intrigued. “Like what?”
“Perhaps some highlighter?”
“I have no fucking idea what that is, so… yes. Let’s be silly.”
“Right, good idea. Hand me that other brush, will you, darling?”
“Darling,” Ed echoes, like he tends to do sometimes, not realizing he has actually done it until Stede goes wide-eyed.
“Oh, God, sorry, I shouldn’t have—I’ve just met you—”
“Nah, mate, ‘s fine,” Ed croaks, trying to still his pounding heart. “Don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before, is all. Caught me off guard.”
“I see.”
Stede had said it so easily, almost in an infuriatingly mundane way, like he hadn’t felt the need to stop to consider if Ed was worthy of such a name. Ed isn’t, obviously, but he’s still willing to do just about anything to hear the word slip out of Stede’s pretty mouth again. Ideally under completely different circumstances. Like, maybe, if they ever got each other alone, Stede would let Ed make him feel so good that he’d gasp lovely, ridiculous things like gosh and darling and oh my goodness and—
“Ed, the brush...?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Which one d’you want?”
“One of the bigger ones. Doesn’t matter, really.”
“Here you go.”
“Thank you,” Stede says. There is also another product in his hands now; it’s shaped like a heart, which makes Ed smile. “This will make you sparkle a bit more.”
“Love that.”
“Tilt your head to the right. A bit more. Here, I’ll just…” Stede’s fingers are suddenly on Ed’s jaw, carefully tilting him into place, making Ed’s breath hitch audibly in the suffocating silence between them. The soft brushstrokes across his cheekbones cease.
“Right! There we go,” Stede announces, impossibly unaware. Even the most oblivious bloke on the planet would’ve picked up on Ed’s hints by now.
Maybe he’s just not that interested anymore. The spur-of-the-moment invitation last night might’ve just been the alcohol talking. Ed doesn’t seem to be his type. After all, the two of them couldn’t be more different. Which one is the dealbreaker for Stede—Ed’s rough exterior, his excessive cursing, or the coming on too strong? It wouldn’t be the first time Ed’s been rejected for his immoderate way of diving headfirst into uncharted territory without thinking twice. Maybe the tension between him and Stede is something he created in his head. Maybe this ridiculously fancy gentleman just calls everyone darling every once in a while. It would make sense—Ed’s never been one to obtain the fine things in life, and Stede is the finest thing he has ever come across.
Who knows. Who fucking knows anything when it comes to this man? He’s unlike anyone Ed’s ever met.
Stede stands up suddenly. “Something’s missing, I think,” he says, studying Ed like he is trying to solve an equation.
“What, more glitter? Mate, I may be gay, but I reckon there’s a limit to—”
“No, no. Come here.”
Stede leads them across the room to a spot in the corner. On one of the dressers amongst various theater paraphernalia, a jewelry hanger in the shape of a tree has been placed. From the branches hang several necklaces in different colors and materials. Stede appears to consider them all before choosing one in particular and plucking it from its branch.
It’s a string of small, shiny pearls. Fucking pearls. As if Stede had looked at them and thought, these will look even prettier on Ed.
“Lucius won’t mind?”
“Oh, definitely not. Most of these are mine anyway. Turn around?” Stede murmurs, and Ed is quick to oblige, grateful for the opportunity to hide how flustered he is.
Now facing a full-length mirror propped up against the wall, Ed has a nice view of himself and Stede, together. They look good. They’d look even better, Ed thinks, if Stede, maybe, decided to wrap his arms around him, or something. Or maybe if he hooked his chin over Ed’s shoulder. Kissed his neck. Yep.
“There we are,” Stede whispers once the pearls are in place. Then, ever so softly, he gathers Ed’s hair up in a bundle and lifts it up, fingers brushing the back of Ed’s neck in the process, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Ed, now blushing all over, has to try his absolute best to suppress a full-body shiver.
“Ta-da!” Stede exclaims, meeting Ed’s wide eyes in the mirror. “You’re a vision, darling.”
How the fuck is Ed meant to respond to that? He finds himself so taken aback by the endearment and the gentle way Stede’s been treating him that he feels lightheaded with it, almost delirious, and can only reply by dismissing the words entirely. “Fuck off, no I’m not.”
Because, well, Ed doesn’t know about being a vision, per se, but the pearls do look especially bright in contrast to his brown skin and the dark tattoo of a bird etched into the space between his collarbones. His eyes, both surrounded by sparkly hues of purple, look even bigger than usual. He looks… soft. Pretty, even. Ed has never felt pretty before in his life. Handsome, attractive, intimidating when necessary, yes, but never pretty. It’s all Stede’s doing.
The magician in question smiles, bubbly and bright and brilliant. “You are! Believe me, Ed, you look absolutely lovely.”
“I—thank you,” Ed says, bewildered, bashful, breathless. He wants to kiss this man so fucking badly. Maybe even nibble on his earlobe a little bit. Drop to his knees, if the situation calls for it. If Stede would let him.
There will be time for that later. If Ed plays his cards right today.
After a few moments of silence, Lucius and Pete reemerge from wherever they fucked off to earlier. Good timing. Almost too good, actually, as if they’d been waiting for their cue somewhere within earshot. Ed wouldn’t put it past them. He has come across some cunning people in his time, and Lucius is definitely one of those people—he’s got that look in his eye.
“Don’t you look lovely,” Lucius drawls, giving Ed no time to respond. “We should probably get going, actually. The parade starts in less than five minutes.”
Stede looks horrified. “Lucius! Why didn’t you come and fetch us earlier? The traffic will be awful!”
“Nevermind that, let’s go!”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
When they get there, the celebrations are already in full swing. The four of them are greeted by the rest of the crew, who have saved them a good spot at the front where a makeshift fence blocks off the spectators from the road.
Stede looks a bit overwhelmed by it all at first. Ed can understand why; it’s probably a little tumultuous to go from never having seen a pride parade to suddenly being thrown into the heart of one. And this one’s got it all—way too many balloons, obnoxious pop music blaring from shitty speakers, drag queens, and leather daddies alike.
Once used to the chaos, however, Stede fits right in. Instead of watching the parade, Ed watches Stede watch the parade with childlike wonder, excitedly shouting stuff like Guys, would you look at that! and gasping whenever he spots someone with an especially dramatic outfit. Watching him, Ed’s heart beats rapidly, and the carefully constructed walls around it begin to deteriorate. There’s nothing he can do to stop it from happening, he realizes.
The summer sun shows them no mercy, especially not Stede; his cheekbones and the tip of his nose are already turning red by the time the first couple of pride floats have passed by. He’s lovely; there is a confident glow about him now that wasn’t there earlier.
Ed goes to grab a bottle of water from Olu (possibly the nicest bloke he’s ever met) and comes back to find that something has dimmed Stede’s light completely.
Finding the reason doesn’t take long. There are several reasons, actually, and Stede is staring at all of them, frozen. Across the street is a gathering of about a dozen idiots advancing towards the parade, all holding up signs that say stuff like GOD HATES YOU and SIN & SHAME, NOT PRIDE. Ed’s surprised they’ve managed to spell all the words correctly.
Stede grabs Ed’s arm, steadying himself in the hectic crowd. “I think I need to sit down.”
They end up on one of the benches nearby, far away from the protestors but still close enough to watch the crew, much like a pair of responsible parents would watch their kids.
Or something. It’s not like Ed is actively making that comparison.
Stede has a troubled frown stuck on his face. If he was allowed, Ed would smooth it out with his thumb and make it go away forever.
After a long stretch of silence, Stede finally speaks up. He is leaning back against the bench, pouting like a little kid. “My family, particularly my father, used to say awful things like that. That god hates… people like you and me. They said other things as well, but I’d rather not repeat those.”
“You don’t have to,” Ed assures him and tries to suppress the white-hot anger boiling in his gut. “It’s all bullshit anyway, mate. Why the fuck would god hate us? Why’d he make so many of us like this, then?”
Stede shrugs, staring out into the void. “I never did manage to grasp the logic of Catholicism. It’s rather complex, isn’t it?”
“If by complex you mean doesn’t make any fucking sense, then yeah. Also, I’ve never even had a conversation with the guy. Have you?”
“With god? No. Well, that depends on if you count the one-sided ones.”
“Don’t think I should, mate. So why should we care about the opinion of someone who’s never taken the time to speak to us? Besides, he might not even be real.”
Finally, the corners of Stede’s mouth twitch, and once the seed has been planted it blossoms into brilliance—a guiding light of a smile. “Ed, you’re so…” his voice is coming unexpectedly close to sounding awestruck. “You’re unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.”
“Which is a good thing, I presume?” Ed asks, even though he is pretty sure of what the answer is going to be. They just met last night—Stede hasn’t seen the bad sides to him yet.
“Oh, yes. Quite a wonderful thing, I’d say,” Stede confirms. His eyes are practically sparkling. No glitter needed.
It’s Ed’s turn to smile. “Wonderful, huh?”
“I think so.”
Their shared bubble pops when an especially gruff voice calls out from the crowd, making Stede flinch.
Ed’s heart breaks. “You alright?”
“Yes, but I… nevermind, it’s silly.”
“What is? Tell me.”
“I keep thinking I’m going to turn around to see a very angry version of my father marching up to me,” Stede admits after a beat of hesitation. “You know, to take me home. Or shout at me for being here. Possibly both.”
Ed scoffs at that. “He’d have to get through me first.”
“That’s sweet of you, Ed, but he would rather die than waste his precious time by setting foot in this town, I am absolutely sure of it. So why can’t I get the thought out of my head?”
“‘Cause it sounds like you grew up with a homophobic dickhead of a dad with shit morals.”
“Ed!” Stede gasps. He looks scandalized.
“What?”
“You can’t just—! I’ll have you know that my father is a very powerful man,” Stede hisses, scanning the crowd with worried eyes. “He’s got weirdly devoted employees all over the country. Be careful!”
“Don’t care,” Ed grumbles, shrugging. “He sucks.”
“Edward!”
Ed tries but quickly fails to suppress a full-blown grin. “What, you’ve never heard anyone call him a dickhead before? I could go on, you know. I know a lot of bad words.” He raises his voice. “I think Mr. Bonnet, CEO of the famous Bonnet company, whatever the fuck it’s called, is an absolute fucking prick, and—”
“Stop it, you nut!”
And just like that, they are lost in a fit of giggles—actual giggles, what the fuck?—like a pair of teenagers who haven’t got a single clue about anything. And it’s easy, too, so incredibly easy, to laugh with Stede. Easy as pudding and fuckin’ pie.
“Anxiety aside, I really do love it here. I have never seen a happier crowd of people,” Stede says with a cute little sigh when they’ve settled down a bit. “I can’t believe my parents have been depriving me of this my entire life. Been depriving myself, really, if you think about it. I’m an adult, for god's sake, and I have been for quite some time! I could’ve come here way sooner.”
“You’re here now, mate. That’s what counts,” Ed tells him. “Better late than never, yeah?”
Stede shoots him a grateful look. “You’re a good man, Ed.”
“‘M not. Just proud of you,” Ed mumbles, knocking their shoulders together.
Mirroring the gesture, Stede smiles again. “Exactly my point.”
Ed makes a mental note to get his revenge on the so-called family he’d felt the need to flee from, to make them pay for whatever it is they’ve said or done to make Stede doubt himself all these years. Revenge can wait for now, however. “Are you?”
“Am I…?”
“Proud.”
Stede seems to consider the question for a moment. “Yes,” he says eventually, looking at Ed, whose heart flutters helplessly at the sight of this realization dawning on him. “I think I am, actually.”
Ed wants to kiss him. Put a hand on his thigh. Something. Instead, he slides his hand into his own pocket and reaches for the rainbow pin he acquired earlier when someone in a sparkly bodysuit had been handing them out. “Good. Can I pin this to your fancy shirt?”
“Oh, Ed, how lovely. Yes.”
Once the pin is in place, right above Stede’s heart where it so rightfully belongs, Ed pats his chest and grins mischievously. “There, now everyone can see how proud you are. You can shove it in their faces! ‘S fun. Just look at what your mates are doing.”
Unfortunately, the dickheads from the dark ages are still around. The silver lining, however, is Lucius and Pete, who are standing just a few meters away from them, making out like it’s their last day on Earth and receiving a loud cheer of applause from the never-ending stream of people passing by. Frenchie is sitting on Wee John’s shoulders, cupping his hands around his mouth to shout profanities at the intruders.
“Oh, dear,” Stede squeaks. Ed just laughs.
Roach is there too, keeping the group of lowlifes from advancing any further by bouncing around in circles right by their feet and raising both middle fingers high up in the air.
“Captain!” he yells when he notices them looking, “Mr. Ed, sir! Come quick, I think we’re going to throw paint at these homophobes!”
And just like that, they're having fun again.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
When the bigots have been drenched in every color of the rainbow and are on their way back to whatever shithole they crawled out of this morning, Lucius makes an abrupt announcement.
“What do you mean, you have to go?” Stede splutters in response. “All of you? Really?”
“Yup, all of us. We’ve got, you know, a thing. Later. Soon,” Lucius blurts out, stumbling over the words with great difficulty. “It’s mostly for young people, so…”
“Rude,” Ed mutters under his breath.
Stede still looks skeptical. “Are you sure? We were all having fun, weren’t we?”
The Swedish bloke whose name Ed will never be able to pronounce is nodding vigorously. “Oh, yes, så much fun! I always löve picking on homophobes. But Lucius säid we need to leave you two alone så that you can—”
“Anyway!” Olu chimes in. “It has been a great day, Captain, but we really do have to go.”
Oh. They might be onto something here, Ed realizes. “Let them go do their young-people thing, mate, ‘s probably boring as fuck anyway. Let’s grab some dinner, yeah? I’m starving.”
“Yes, absolutely, great idea!” Lucius takes Pete’s hand in his and begins to drag him down the street. “We better get going! See you at rehearsal, Captain. Have a nice night. Also, we’re all very proud of you. I hope you know that.”
Awww. That’s the sound Ed’s heart makes when it melts.
“Why, thank you, Lucius,” says a delightfully bewildered Stede, much like a parent who just got hugged by their kid out of nowhere. “And thanks, guys! See you all on Thursday. Don’t forget to memorize your lines, okay?”
After waving goodbye, the crew trails off into the city, leaving behind a stunned Stede and a very excited Ed.
“They’ve abandoned us, it seems," Stede muses.
“Yep.”
“Dinner, you said?”
They end up in a very fancy seafood restaurant down by the harbor. Ed feels extremely out of place at first, but when Stede starts talking, everything else fades into the background. He could listen to him talk for an eternity.
Their fancy dinner is followed by some fancy dessert, which is followed by a drink or two each. Stede, ever the gentleman, insists on paying for it all.
By the time they’re stumbling back out the door, Ed’s stomach hurts from laughing, which he’s pretty sure has never happened to him before. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt, he decides.
Down by the docks, the water is completely still and lets the moonlight reflect itself in a way that makes it look like a shot from a movie. Also, the moon is big. Bigger than it should be. Like, scientifically. Whatever.
The two of them walk along the wharf together, commenting on the various boats docked in the harbor. With the exception of the raving cicadas along the treeline, they’re alone.
Ed is just about to work up the courage to kiss him when Stede comes to a stop by the railing. He takes a deep breath. “Ed, I have to tell you something,” he says, looking extremely guilty. “I feel terrible about it.”
“Alright,” Ed murmurs, confused but also intrigued. “Tell me something.”
Stede visibly braces himself. “I’m fairly certain Lucius spilled your drink on purpose.”
Ed doesn’t know what he expected to be said, but it certainly wasn’t something even remotely close to that. “On purpose? Why?”
There’s that infuriatingly charming blush again, accompanied by a self-conscious grimace. “Oh, Ed, this is rather mortifying to admit, but I had been watching you from across the bar for quite a while last night,” Stede blurts out in one breath.
If it weren’t for the railing they’re currently leaning against, Ed’s knees would’ve buckled and he’d topple into the water, probably dragging Stede with him. “You—? What? Really?”
Lucius was clearly up to something, alright, but this is new. The past 24 hours start to make a lot more sense all of a sudden. The abrupt departure of the crew, too.
Something hopeful flutters in Ed’s chest.
“Yes, and after it became apparent to everyone that I was…” Stede hesitates, avoiding Ed’s gaze as he seems to choose his words carefully. “Checking you out, so to speak, they all started coming up with ideas on how to get you over to our table. Bastards. I didn’t think they’d actually go through with it, so you can imagine my surprise when I came back to find you sitting there.”
Ed laughs softly as it dawns on him: “Oh, so Lucius only invited us over early so we could spend more time together.”
Stede cringes. “Most likely.”
“Why d’you feel terrible about it?”
“Because, well, I’m assuming you’d be quite uncomfortable by the notion of me...” Stede’s blush intensifies, “courting you.”
Courting? Who the fuck uses words like that in this day and age? This beautifully strange man, currently standing right in front of Ed in the moonlight, that’s who. Stede fucking Bonnet.
“Why would I be? Fucking excellent matchmaking, isn’t it. He should do it professionally. Look at us.”
Stede’s frown only deepens. “What do you mean?”
“Dunno about you, but. I’d say we fit kinda well together,” Ed says, because he just can’t wait any longer. There it is. If this were a rom-com, this is the moment where Stede would lean in for a kiss.
People like Ed and Stede don’t get rom-coms made about themselves. But, maybe, just maybe, they could make their own.
Stede goes almost comically wide-eyed and starts spluttering out words in a high-pitched voice. “What? Does that—I mean—Ed, you would… go on a date? With me?”
Fucking cute. Not not interested, then, Ed deduces. Just clueless to his own charm.
“Mate, I just did.” There had been candlelight and expensive wine, after all. Stede had even pulled Ed’s chair out for him.
It seems to dawn on Stede all at once. His face twists into a troubled expression that Ed wants to kiss, over and over again, until it turns into another one of those radiant smiles of his.
“Yes, of course you did,” he groans. “We did. I didn’t realize you actually wanted me to—oh god, I’m such an idiot.”
“Shh, don’t say that. You’re a brave lunatic, is what you are,” Ed says, tapping the tiny yet incredibly momentous rainbow flag pinned to Stede’s shirt. “And I’m very happy I met you yesterday. Remind me to thank Lucius later, yeah?”
Stede takes Ed’s hand in his like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I know we only met last night,” he says with an adorable little smile, and Ed holds his breath in anticipation of what’s about to happen. “And I know I paid for dinner, so please don’t feel obligated to say yes to this, Ed, but… could I… that is, would you perhaps let me…”
Feeling like he might explode any second, Ed doesn’t waste time. “Yes,” he blurts out.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“Doesn’t matter, mate. I’ve already told you, you can do whatever you want to me.”
“Edward!” Stede hisses, scandalized in that adorably posh way of his.
“Sorry, go on.”
Taking a deep breath, Stede braces himself one more time. “May I kiss you?”
A jolt of something hot and electric goes through Ed, nearly making his knees buckle. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” he says just as he realizes it, cradling Stede’s jaw, completely and utterly astonished by him. “You’re too fucking nice.”
Stede winces as his hands fly—seemingly on their own accord—to Ed’s waist. “Is that a yes? An insult, perhaps?”
Ed tries for a glare but doesn’t quite manage it. “It’s a fuck yeah, Stede. Obviously.”
“How could I have been sure? You called me mate two seconds ago!”
“Yeees, ‘cause that’s what I do,” Ed murmurs, caressing Stede’s cheeks with his thumbs, hovering right by his mouth, hopefully teasing the shit out of him. “Could call you other things, too. Maybe I will, if you fucking hurry up and kiss me already.”
“All right, yes, sorry!” Stede squeaks, “I’ll just—”
They meet each other in the middle.
Ed wonders if this is Stede’s first time kissing a guy. It might be, from what he's told him about his life. And Ed wants to pull away suddenly, just to tell him how brave he is for being here right now, where anyone could be watching them. Ed’s heart leaps into his throat at the realization of what they’re doing; standing in the glow of the romantic-as-fuck moonlight, making out after pride like a pair of teenagers. Stede is still holding his waist, too, like in a proper movie.
Ed hears a soft sound being pressed into the kiss between them and can’t tell who it came from. He wants Stede so fucking bad he’s practically dizzy with it. Stede seems to share the same feeling; he’s now holding Ed tight enough to bruise, moaning softly into their kiss when Ed deepens it.
That’s when a second epiphany presents itself; if he saw himself right now, maybe from someone else’s perspective, he’d probably have that look in his eye—the one he saw last night on Lucius and many others. The look of feeling young and drunk and queer during pride month. Stede makes him feel like that—young, bold, untouchable. Drunk on how lovely everything is.
This is not how these things usually go—Stede is clearly the human equivalent of lightning caught in a bottle. Therefore, they probably shouldn't do this tonight, not so fast. They should wait and get to know each other more before they—
Stede moans again, louder this time, when Ed licks into his mouth.
Fuck it. Ed is too old to play nonchalant anyway, like he doesn’t want this immediately. Yeah, right. The current is way too strong to swim against. Best to let himself float downstream.
“Wanted you the second I saw you. You’re so fucking sexy, love.”
“Edward, Ed, my goodness, you’re—” Stede mumbles in between kisses, taken aback in the cutest way possible, struggling to keep up with Ed’s pace, but Ed doesn’t slow down, he can’t help himself, he needs this man to know how desired he is right the fuck now.
“Yeah? Go on,” Ed whispers against soft skin, pressing kisses to his throat. “What am I?”
The gentleman isn’t as careful anymore; he tightens his hold on Ed’s waist and pulls him in even closer. Pressed up against one another, they can both feel how much they want each other.
“You are driving me a little bit, ah, insane at the moment,” Stede breathes, stuttering when Ed continues to kiss his neck.
“Mm, come home with me and I’ll drive you all the way insane,” Ed mumbles against his throat before kissing Stede’s mouth again, deep and slow, drawing out another delicious little sound from it before he has to break them apart to utter a sudden and also very irritating realization. “Fuck! My roommates are probably there.”
Stede looks like he’s gone two rounds already with his adorably messy hair and flushed cheeks. “Would you prefer to come back to my place? It’s only fifteen minutes away, give or take.”
“Why didn’t you fucking say so?” Ed says, then winces at the tone of his voice. “Sorry. Bit impatient.”
“That’s okay, darling. So am I.”
“Kiss me again and then book an Uber, yeah?”
The fancy man has a fancy apartment. No surprises there.
No time to take it all in, though.
“Have you ever done this before?” Ed asks, narrowly avoiding tripping over the vast collection of shoes in Stede’s hall.
“Yes, once or twice, but I... it was a very long time ago, Ed. And none of it ever felt like this.”
“You know just what to fucking say, don’t you?”
“Not really. Now that I think about it... no. Hardly ever, actually.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Can I take off your shirt?”
“Yes,” Stede squeaks.
When they finally reach the bedroom, Ed expects Stede to just push him down into the mattress and have his preferred way with him, much like Jack tends to do when they’re drunk or high enough to want each other. Stede, however, hesitates once they’re done shrugging all their clothes off. Instead of taking whatever it is that he wants, he asks what he can do to make Ed feel good. No one has ever been so careful with him, so gentle yet thorough as they work him open with their fingers—no one but Stede. No one has ever hesitated to press into him after he’s declared himself ready for them, nor have they ever expressed any concern about hurting him in the process.
No one has ever called him darling or sweetheart or made him laugh in bed; not until now. The laughter quickly turns into desperate moans when Ed gets exactly what he wants, what he’s been aching for ever since Stede took the seat across from him at that fucking bar.
“You feel so good, Ed.”
“Yes, Stede, yes, talk to me,” Ed sobs with his thighs drawn up to his chest, feet in the air, Stede hovering above him. “I’m so fucking close already,” he admits, willing Stede even closer by hooking both legs around his waist.
“I was hoping you’d let me—but I never thought—god, Ed, you’ve been driving me mad all day,” Stede stutters, sounding desperate and breathless already, just like Ed.
Ed smirks, tangling his hands in the other man’s hair. “Yeah?”
“Yes. You’re so—so unbelievably beautiful, darling. So pretty in purple,” Stede says between heavy breaths, panting against Ed’s neck where the pearls still rest on his flushed skin. “Clever, charming, all of it. I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
All of the air is knocked out of Ed at once. He has no clever retort at the tip of his tongue, no way to downplay how worked up this gets him. He understands now why Stede had used the word affection. They are being affectionate with each other. Almost painfully so.
Stede stares into him, undoubtedly noticing the effect his words have on Ed. “Gosh, look at you,” he says, breath hitching when he speeds up the movement of his hips. “You’ll have to tell me about these lovely tattoos of yours.”
“Later,” Ed laughs, throwing his head back when Stede gets the angle just right. “Bit—ah!—busy right now.”
“So am I, as it happens.”
“Go a bit harder, yeah?”
“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want,” Stede says, words muffled by pressing wet, lingering, open-mouthed kisses to Ed’s now very exposed throat. “My god, Ed, I never thought it could be like this.”
“More,” Ed hears himself say after a particularly loud moan. More of what, he can’t find the words to specify, but Stede seems to understand anyway; more of everything. He grabs Ed’s leg, coaxing it higher into the air, hitting the spot inside of him with newfound strength.
“That’s it, love,” Ed gasps, unsure if Stede can even hear him over the sound of skin slapping against skin and their shared heavy breaths. “That’s it, yes, yes!”
“I must be making you up,” Stede says right before he comes, thrusting into Ed over and over and over until they’re both seeing stars.
Once back on Earth, they take one good look at each other and promptly burst into a fit of baffled laughter at the exact same time.
Stede’s laugh is fucking wonderful. “That was—that was—"
“—incredible,” they say in unison.
More pearls of laughter bubble up from Stede’s throat, popping one by one against Ed’s smiling mouth. “We said the same thing. Again.”
Ed kisses him, once, twice, three times. “Yep. Sure did.”
Stede returns the smile and makes Ed’s overstimulated heart go wild again by brushing a few sweaty strands of hair off of Ed’s forehead. “Would you like a glass of water, darling?” he whispers. “A wet towel to clean you up with, perhaps? Something to sleep in?”
Ed is speechless for a moment, waiting for the punchline because no person on Earth could possibly be this lovely, not even Stede. No punchline ever comes. “Uh… yes? Yes. All of those things would be… nice. Thank you,” he stammers, completely stunned.
“You deserve the nicest of things, Ed. Hang on a second, I won’t be long,” Stede says, kissing him again before getting up. It’s more of a peck, really, which makes Ed blush for some fucking reason. It’s alarming, actually, how intense this one is. How, after knowing him for less than two days, Ed would trust Stede enough to let him take his tatty old heart in his gentle hands, study it, treat it like it’s something pretty, and then hand it back with care.
“Okay,” Ed says, watching Stede put on a gorgeous robe in fucshia. “Hurry back.”
“I will,” Stede replies.
And Ed believes him.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦