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Sleep was never something that came easy to Stede for most of his life. As a child, his mind would wander too much, never able to quiet itself enough to slip into REM on a regular basis. He certainly got less sleep than the average child, but Stede never minded. The dark of the night was when he was always able to indulge in the things he wanted to be invested in. There were no bullies chasing him or teasing him, no lessons to suffer through, no lectures and judgment from his father. While the world was asleep, Stede Bonnet would remain awake, curled up under his covers with a small lantern and books scattered all across his bedsheets.
While the world was asleep, Stede Bonnet would lie awake and dream.
As an adult, Stede was no longer able to indulge in these quiet moments in the dark. He accepted this with the same quiet resignation as he did with everything else in his life. After all, when one was married and had two children, one could not so easily hide under the bed covers and read into the wee hours of the morning and find their happiness in the dark.
Still, he did not sleep well. Sharing a bed with another person was, quite frankly, a miserable experience. Mary slept on her back, with her arms folded across her stomach, taking up all of her side of the bed without issue. Even though she never tossed and turned, never crowded his space, Stede would still roll onto his side to face the wall of their bedroom and curl up as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. It was instinctive, his avoidance to being touched by her, and neither of them spoke of it.
So, perhaps when he designed and commissioned The Revenge , Stede purposefully ensured the bed in his main quarters (the Captain’s quarters, how neat was that?) was a little bit smaller than the bed they were used to in their home. Perhaps Stede had a whole separate room set up, nice and comfortable enough of course, that was not meant for the kids, but instead meant for Mary to inhabit. He made sure the room was outfitted with enough space for her to be comfortable, as well as a window of her own, for her growing painting hobby of course! Surely such a set-up would work best for them both.
Not that Mary ever got to see the room. Which was fine. Stede still got his own bed, said his goodbyes in the peace of the evening while his family was fast asleep, and started his new life.
Sleeping at sea was better in many ways, but even still it was an adjustment. The constant rocking of The Revenge was unsettling for a while (Stede never did like hammocks, after all) and he barely slept a wink that first month. His crew had the grace never to mention it, though everyone was still trying to get used to one another so Stede couldn’t be sure if it was actual kindness or something else entirely. His crew certainly had no qualms about questioning many other aspects of his lack of experience or their lack of plans, however, so Stede assumed this was the one area that they decided not to mention. Or perhaps it wasn’t as visually obvious as it felt.
Stede spent so many nights sitting up late, reading one of his many books brought aboard the vessel, that even once he got used to life at sea, he still only captured a few light hours of sleep each night. A Captain had to be ever-vigilant! It wouldn’t do for him to sleep through any type of emergency, after all! So, Stede would continue to lie awake, and he would continue to dream.
Edward, on the other hand, had no qualms with sleeping well through the night, it seemed. Not that Stede knew first hand, of course, but Ed would walk out onto deck looking as refreshed and perky as ever, so he could only assume. Stede wanted to learn everything there was to know about being a better pirate captain, but that particular topic continued to evade him. Ed could seemingly plop down anywhere, cross his arms and close his eyes, and fall asleep within moments. When Stede asked about it, the man just shrugged and made an off-hand comment about how he’d been able to do that half his life.
“When you’re nothing more than a cabin boy stuck below deck with fifteen other crewmen, you learn to catch some z’s when and where you can, man,” he’d said dismissively. “Sometimes it was better to sleep on deck in the elements, and sometimes we’d be stuck with only being able to get an hour or two of shut eye, so we couldn’t afford to take our time settling in and dozing off.”
It was just fascinating, hearing about the pirate life from Ed like that. Stede understood that it was something he’d had to adapt to over the course of his life, and perhaps that particular skill was not one Stede himself was going to be able to brush up on with his inexperience. Ah well, he’d certainly made due so far in his life, this was just an area that he had to accept as is and make the best of.
Stede slept lightly, but it worked for him. Over the weeks they had Ed and his crew on board, however, Stede’s mind started to wander and dream in unexpected new ways. Where before, the idea of someone else sharing a bed with him was so unpleasant it made his skin itch, suddenly there would be evenings as Stede stared out at the moonlit night feeling an ache in his chest, a longing for something more. He craved Ed’s companionship always, they had become best friends of course! Yet, he surprised himself by finding a similar craving as he stretched out in bed alone, his cabin feeling oddly large and empty after hours spent at Ed’s side. Even with his fireplace roaring and his blankets pulled up to his chin, Stede felt a strange chill he couldn’t quite shake. What was once his comfortable retreat to the noise and bustle of the ship deck and the ocean waves started to feel inexplicably loud in its complete silence.
Going home to his family was, in many ways, both the worst and best decision of his life. He was sharing a bed with another person again, but it still didn’t satisfy the need for something more that he’d started to dream about. His thoughts drifted to Ed, as they always did, whether he was sprawled across the bed and getting shoved at by Mary, or sitting by himself at the dining table, or walking through the garden on their grounds.
Ed had kissed him. They had kissed. And then Stede ran. What did Ed think of him now? Did he think of him at all? Did Ed’s lips tingle at the thought of their shared moment on that beach too? Or did Stede just disappoint him, too?
In the wake of his discussion with Mary about their newfound loves, Stede realized that his feelings of yearning, his aches back on The Revenge all made sense now. He knew he could not rest again until he was reunited with Ed. It wasn’t a new thing; Stede hadn’t rested in weeks, years even. Plus, it was difficult for one to get any kind of rest on a dinghy. No matter how run down and sore he felt as he rowed across the vast ocean before him, Stede did not sleep.
The days spent on that dinghy, the exhaustion that seeped deep into his bones, into his very soul , all evaporated once he finally laid eyes on Ed again. Were it not for the dark bags under his eyes, he doubted that anyone could have guessed just how exhausted he was. Their reunion was a messy one, but Stede never went without hope. This hope was finally rewarded the day that Ed wordlessly reached a hand out to him, standing in the door to the Captain’s cabin, a hesitant but hopeful expression on his face. Stede would never forget the feeling of warmth that traveled through his entire body when he reached out and took hold of him. Stede never wanted to let go again, unable to tamper down the desperation for Ed’s touch and company as he was led inside the space, familiar and yet unfamiliar all at once, his heart pounding.
Sleep comes easy to Stede now. A bed that once felt too small and too large at the same time is now just perfect. He can’t imagine how he got so lucky, but he swears to himself every morning as the sun rises that he will never take this for granted for as long as he takes breath.
He stirs as the body he’s pressed against shifts slightly, the movement pulling Stede halfway to waking. A mumble breaks the silence, a grunt as Ed continues to sleep as deeply as ever, rumbling from deep within his chest. Stede can feel the vibration against him, and he rolls into it, draping an arm over Ed’s body and instinctively seeking out his warmth. Another shift, and Stede sighs as he feels Ed’s fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck.
Blinking his eyes open finally, Stede glances up at Ed, his face still slack with sleep, lips parted as he breathes heavily and evenly. His features are illuminated by the dying embers of the evening’s fire, and Stede is in love. The thick, warm arm that’s not curled around Stede’s form is tucked under Ed’s head, tangled in his own long strands as they splay across the pillow.
Stede tucks himself in, curling tighter against Ed’s side in his effort to get as close as possible. Sleep is threatening to take over again, its heavy pull too enticing to ignore, but Stede wants so desperately to fight it off for once. He just wants a moment more to bask in the peacefulness of this moment, to admire and adore Ed as he is. He imagines lying here awake, waiting for Ed to stir, for that sleepy loose smile to spread across his face when he opens his eyes. These are some of Stede’s favorite moments, partially because he gets to experience the honest joy and love that Ed feels waking up at his side. It’s also a rare moment - Ed is almost always the one to wake first - but Stede is greeted with a loving smile upon waking regardless. It’s just a different smile, even if it conveys almost the exact same emotion.
Stede wants to spend the rest of their days cataloging Ed’s smiles.
With a sigh that melts into a yawn, Stede lowers his head and presses his forehead against Ed’s cheek. He pulls his arm in, moving it from where it was draped across Ed’s waist and curling it into a loose first that grips Ed’s shirt. Ed hooks their ankles together in response, letting out another content grumble in his slumber. Stede’s heart is fit to burst with love for this man. His mouth twitches up in a small smile, and finally he lets his eyes fall closed again. Sleep pulls him under again quickly, as it always seems to these days, soothed by the slow rise and fall of Ed’s chest and those calloused fingers twitching in his hair.