Chapter Text
Honestly, Ed's annual reread of Stolen by the Gentleman Thief was starting to be a bit of a grind.
Which was tragic, considering everything Stolen had done for him. All those descriptions of blond guys built like brick walls were grade A wank bank material, plus Mum catching him with her copy back when had made coming out way easier. Nowadays, it was top of their safe topics to chat about list, provided they never, ever mentioned the scene where The Gentleman Thief ravaged Rose in the carriage they'd grand theft autoed from the posh nobs who'd slighted her at the dinner party. Never.
Back when he'd found Mum's copy of Stolen in her sock drawer, it had been fun, but that was thirty years ago. Thirty years ago. Before the moon landing. Before colour television. Before the invention of the fucking wheel, if the state of his spine was anything to go by. Ed was old enough to be Rose's fucking dad. All of her angst about being destined for spinsterhood at twenty fucking seven despite being the best fucking highwayperson on the block grated as much as his knee.
But today was Mum's birthday and Ed couldn't stay asleep for more than a couple of hours at a stretch, as per uzhe. If you couldn't discuss your favourite historical bodice ripper with your bone achingly lonely (and only) son on your birthday, when could you?
He pulled on his jacket, the one he'd bought in his mid twenties because it had been on sale and not because it bore a passing resemblance to Rose's completely anachronistic highwayperson gear, and headed out into the night. Morning, technically.
Bermondsey was abandoned and echoey. He kept walking, instinctively heading for the river.
Mum answered his call on the first ring. "Hello Teddy."
"Hey Mum, happy birthday."
"Thank you darling, and for the card. Why aren't you in bed?"
"You know me, I never sleep right." He picked streets at random, letting his feet lead the way. "Time for book club, anyway."
"I’d rather you get some rest."
"I know you would, but that isn’t happening, so lay it on me."
The problem with being a bone achingly lonely gay guy in his late forties with a mum whose favourite book was historical softcore porn was, more and more with every passing year, she would use her subtlest, most casual voice (which wasn't really either) to say stuff like:
"I think you should find someone like Tristan."
Ed resisted mining along as he stared at his weary reflection in a chicken shop window. "Mum."
"He’s your type, isn’t he?"
"Gorgeous blond guy built like a house? Er, yeah. He's also fictional."
"That’s why I said find a man like him."
"Not exactly tripping over eligible bachelors at work," he said.
"But Rose didn't meet Tristan at work, did she?"
"She kinda did: she robbed him, that's her job."
"Yes, but-"
"And he was so into it he became a highwayman, so they were basically both at work when they met."
"Facetiousness isn't attractive, Teddy."
Then what was? His intelligence? His looks? His lack of gag reflex? His encyclopaedic knowledge of Kate Bush lyrics? None of them had served him to date.
"You're right, Mum," he said to circumvent their impending argument.
She took the olive branch and began talking about tried and tested topics like Stolen’s lovely use of symbolic colours and the metaphor laden silk handkerchief. Ed let it all wash over him as he did his best to ignore how itchy his sleepless eyes felt.
The softening shadows and colour seeping back into his surroundings told him it was time to head home. He found the nearest bus stop and tried to make sense of all the numbers and times on the arrivals screen while he carried on making encouraging noises at Mum’s well honed thoughts on the heart wrenching moment Rose wrongly believed that Tristan had abandoned her to return to his upper class life.
"Where’s the 199?" Ed asked the arrivals board softly, for all the good it did.
"It’s been cancelled," a man said. "Overrunning roadworks."
"Ah, shit."
Wait.
Ed whipped around to find the voice's owner. It took a moment to spot him. Maybe because of the insomnia, or maybe because Ed's brain didn't know how to process a guy cling film wrapped to a lamppost.
That wasn’t doing the situation justice. There was a gorgeous blond guy built like a brick wall cling film wrapped to the nearest lamppost. Wearing nothing but a silky black blindfold, pants and socks.
"Teddy?" Mum said.
Ed kept staring, mainly at the man’s chest. There was so, so much of it.
"Teddy? What’s happening? Who was that?"
"I’ve… I’ll call you back," he said, already approaching the lamppost like a moth.
The man tentatively turned his head towards him. Kinda. "Hello?"
"Are you real?"
"I’m sorry?"
There was only one way to find out. Heart in his mouth, Ed reached out to pull off the blindfold.
The man kept his eyes screwed shut. "If you're going to pee on me, I'd like the blindfold back on!"
"What?"
The guy dared to peek at him.
Hazel eyes. Fuck off. They crinkled with momentary relief and gratitude - fuck off - before going wide as the man properly took Ed in.
"Oh," the guy squeaked.
Ed stared. He had been staring way too long.
He cleared his throat. "Gotten yourself in a bit of a predicament."
The guy looked down sheepishly. "I have."
"Want me to get you off?" Open goal.
"Sorry?"
"The lamppost, or are your mates coming back? They're not filming this, are they?"
Fuck knew there was enough video of Ed in the universe to last a fucking lifetime without adding footage of his bed hair into the mix.
"Ah, no, on account of not really having any of those," the guy said, before realising himself and grimacing at the pavement.
"Then who trussed you up?"
"Oh, it's stags. Not actual- And they're not my…" The guy saw he was losing Ed and took a moment to collect himself. "I'm on a stag do."
"Yeah, I got that."
"But it's not my stag do."
Ed tamped down on his hopeful expression. "You're not the groom?"
"No."
"You're supposed to tie the groom up, mate." Why, Ed had no fucking clue. There was no explaining the shit straight blokes did.
"I'm aware. There was a vote and the rest of the group nominated me for the honour instead."
Ed frowned as he began searching for the end of the cling film. "No offence, but it sounds like you've got some shit mates."
"None taken. Like I said, they're not my friends, they're old school… chums. I imagine they only invited me and some of the others to make things seem more credible."
"Why would a stag do lack credibility?"
"I meant the marriage itself. The groom is marrying his former secretary weeks after divorcing his wife."
"Ugh, gross."
The guy gave an appreciative little laugh. "Very. I'm convinced he's already cheating on poor Cordelia too, with his new secretary."
"What's the appeal of the bastard?"
"Wealth? Status? Certainly not looks. He does own some handsome cars."
"Why did you accept the invite?" Ed said.
The guy looked like he would have sagged, were it not for the cling film. "Because I'm a coward. Our families know one another, it's all a futile effort to appear respectable."
Ed paused walking round and round the lamppost like a fucking maypole dancer to pull a face.
The guy smiled wryly. "I know, the whole thing's dreadful, but I was reluctant to contest a democratic vote. Not to mention this way I get to escape them for the rest of the night."
"How long have you been here?"
"Hard to say, but there have been seventeen buses during that time."
"And no-one's freed you before now?"
Good, Ed thought deliriously, more handsome weirdo for him.
"No." The guy sighed. "Can't really blame them, it is London. Making eye contact’s illegal, removing someone from a lamppost is practically a marriage proposal."
Fuck. Off.
Ed focused on unravelling the final bit of cling film then dumped the lot in the nearest bin. He rewarded himself with a look at the guy's inexplicably shuttlecock covered underpants.
The guy stumbled away from his former prison. "Oh, thank God! I mean, thank you, you were rather more instrumental in freeing me than God. I'm not actually religious, it was more a turn of…"
Ed smiled wider and wider as he watched the guy.
"I'm Stede, by the way." He offered Ed his hand.
Ed was fucking great at handshakes. "Ed."
"Thank you, Ed." Stede shivered. "Gosh, it's really not that warm tonight, is it? I almost miss the cling film."
"I could put you back, if you want," Ed said, as playfully as possible to keep Stede from freaking out.
Stede gave him an admonishing smile that made Ed want to use one of his talents in particular. "I think I'm alright."
"You sure about that?"
"Oh, fine." Stede oh so casually covered his rock-hard nipples with his forearm. "What time is it?"
Ed checked his phone. "Uh, three o'clock."
"Why are you outside at three in the morning? Is everything alright?"
What was a freshly de-cling filmed guy, standing in socks, novelty briefs and a shivery smile doing asking Ed if he was okay? Stede had some fucking nerve.
"Couldn't sleep."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Ed was going to go insane if he didn't make some incredibly unsubtle enquiries. "Do you wanna borrow my phone, let your wife know where you are?"
Stede got an expression like that woman in the meme with all the maths on it. Ed helped his thinking along by putting an uncasual hand on his waist. His jacket tugged open enough to showcase his clearly not heterosexual crop top.
Stede did some staring because he wasn't fucking blind. "Uh… I don't have one. I mean, I did."
What? Shit. All that midriff for nothing. Ed resisted pouting, barely.
"But now I don't!" Stede said with a wild eyed look. "Because I'm gay!"
Ed wrestled with the urge to grin. "Then do you wanna let your husband know where you are?"
Stede went impressively red. "I, ah, I don't have one of those yet- Either! I don't have one of those either."
"What's your plan, Stede…"
"Bonnet."
"Teach."
Ed Bonnet? Ed Teach-Bonnet? Ed Bonnet-Teach? Ed Tennet? It was possible Ed had missed the off-ramp for being normal about the situation. He blamed how unnormal it was.
"What's my plan for…?"
"Well, unless you've gotten very creative with where you've put your keys…"
Stede went redder. Ed was having the most fun he'd had in years.
"Right, I'm sans… everything," Stede said. "Keys, phone, money, dignity."
"Are you local?"
"No, we're staying in a hotel in Pimlico."
"I can give you money for a cab," Ed said.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose!"
Who said stuff like that? Tristan. But actual, real humans? No-one Ed had ever met. It was possible he was hallucinating.
"You can't walk back to Pimlico in your undies, man," Ed said.
"I can try!" Stede's chin jutted with determination.
"At least borrow my jacket if you're gonna be that nuts."
"I can't take the clothes off your back, Ed!"
"And I can't let you freeze your tits off!"
Now as red as a fire engine, Stede redoubled his chest covering efforts. "Then we're at an impasse!"
"Not even close." Ed pulled out his keys as dramatically as he knew how, which was pretty fucking dramatic. "I live fifteen minutes that way."
Stede looked like his brain had gone completely offline.
"I'm sorry?" he said after a delay.
"Which part?"
"All of it?"
"My flat." Stede continued to look blank. "My abode? The place I reside?"
Stede nodded sluggishly along. "Okay?"
"Is fifteen minutes' walk that way. Twelve if you're going fast cause you're half naked."
Stede stared in the direction he was pointing, as though he might catch a glimpse of Ed's place if he tried very hard. "Right."
"You can come with me. There's walls and heating and everything."
Stede fully boggled. "I could be an axe murderer!"
"Not sure where you're hiding that axe, mate. Can't be comfortable."
Stede went from fire engine red to glowing like a traffic light. "I'm not actually an axe murderer."
"Maybe I am."
"Don't be ridiculous! How would we have this kind of rapport if you were an axe murderer?"
It was Ed's turn to flush. Tou-fucking-ché, Stede.
"Good point. So, are you coming? Seriously, if you'd rather go back to your hotel that's fine, I just-"
"Where my chums are? I’ll see enough of them tomorrow." Stede gestured down the street. "Please, lead the way."
Ed shrugged off his jacket. "Put this on first."
"Won't you be cold?"
He would, he always ran cold. "I run hot, besides, again, you're in your undies. Wear the jacket."
Stede looked dazed but delighted as he slipped it on. "Thank you. Wow, it has a wonderful weight, doesn't it? The craftsmanship!"
"Thanks, that thing's old enough to drink."
Ed led the way, eyes peeled for anything sharp or pokey to guide Stede around in his sock clad feet. As he passed the chicken shop from before, he caught sight of himself again and saw the piss poor job he was doing of hiding his giddy smile.
"You've taken excellent care of it," Stede said, still fondling his jacket. "The leather is beautifully supple, isn't it?"
I'm beautifully supple, Ed's brain offered. Which was a barefaced lie, but he could dream.
"Are you a tailor?"
Stede's eyebrows flew up. "Sorry?"
"Just seem to know a lot about clothes." Ed didn't have a lot else to go on, beyond how Stede wasn't a killer and maybe liked racket sports and that Ed really wanted to marry the guy, please.
"Ah, no, I'm just something of a clothes horse."
They both gave his gorgeous, toned, toned, toned legs a glance.
"In normaller circumstances," Stede said. "I'm an actuary, actually."
"Are those the guys who figure out when everyone's gonna croak?"
"Basically."
"And do you li-" Stede was already shaking his head emphatically. "Sorry mate, that's shit."
"You're kind for saying so, Ed. I keep toying with retiring early but honestly, I don't know what I'd do with myself if I did."
Me, you could do me. Ed was going to fire his brain.
"What about you?" Stede said, possibly for a second time. "What do you do?"
"Oh, I work for the council."
"Do you li…" Ed borrowed Stede's trick and shook his head hard. "I'm sorry."
"Did at the start, just…" Got bored of it. Got cynical. Couldn't convince himself the pension made up for the monotony. "Feel stuck now."
"I know the feeling well."
They were, somehow, on Ed's street. As he let Stede into his deeply 2010s building, he considered how his place would look to him. What had his last visitor made of the place? When had someone other than Izzy even paid him a visit?
Logically, Stede would comment on how tidy everything was. Too tidy. Maybe Ed could give things a ruffle before Stede got a proper look.
Alright, dial it back, that was fully insane.
They rode the lift in awkward silence, then Ed opened his front door and took a sudden, pronounced interest in his own boots while Stede looked politely around.
"Oh, this is lovely."
Lovely. Ed's shoebox flat with its miserable, open plan kitchen stroke dining room stroke living room, pokey bedroom and singular cupboard off the postage stamp that passed for a hallway, was lovely. Ed would have tried figuring out how it was lovely, if he hadn't been so distracted by Stede.
The man took off his leather jacket and carefully hung it on the peg by the door. He seemed even more undressed now they were inside. Ed wasn't sure how that worked.
"Can I get you a drink?" he said. "Something to eat?"
"I would really love some clothes." Stede cringed apologetically. "If it isn't too much trouble."
"Right, yeah. Maybe pyjamas?"
"Thank you. And, if it isn't a bother…"
"Yes," Ed blurted out. "Anything you want."
Stede looked touched, if stunned. "I can wash my feet?"
"Right, yeah, there's flannels in the cupboard under the sink. You can have a shower too, or a bath."
And now he was inviting Stede to take off the rest of his clothes. Sure, why not?
"A shower sounds fab, thanks. I won't be long."
"Take your time."
Stede gave him another warm smile as he hovered in the bathroom doorway. Ed returned it. Stede smiled wider. Ed returned it.
"Right," Stede said, as though corralling himself.
"Yeah. I'll get those pyjamas."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Stede gave him a smile. Ed returned it.
"I'm going to shower now," Stede said, though Ed was unclear if he was saying it for his, or Ed's benefit.
"Right. And I'm getting those pyjamas."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Ed had to go before he offered to shower with Stede on environmental and definitely not horny grounds.
The bathroom door finally clicked shut and Ed power walked the three steps to his bedroom, where he located his nicest, softest pyjama top and bottoms. He caught sight of himself in his mirrored wardrobe doors, mouthed what the shit at his reflection, then took out his phone. There were a handful of missed calls and texts from Mum. He called her back.
She answered straight away. "Teddy, what's-"
"There's a blond man in my bathroom," Ed whispered.
"What?"
"There's a handsome blond man in my bathroom, Mum!"
"Are you safe?" she said.
"I'm fine, it's okay, but." He paced the five steps from the wardrobe to the window. "Blond man. Mum. He called my flat lovely. Mum, what the fuck should I do?"
"You can stop swearing, for a start."
"Sorry. He's having a shower, what do I do? He's my age, and he's an actuary, actually, and he's got these legs."
"Is he someone you work with?"
"No, I just found him."
"Found him?" Mum said.
"He was tied to a lamppost. Mum, I'm going insane."
"Teddy-"
Stede's head poked into the bedroom and Ed fully yelled.
Stede gave a yelp of his own. "God, sorry!"
Ed hung up on Mum, again. "Sorry! Everything okay?"
"Fine, just, pyjamas?"
"Right, yeah, here you go."
Stede took them with a smile. "Thanks, I'll just go and make myself presentable."
No need to on my account. Ed nodded along.
He gave Stede a freakishly long time to put on the pyjamas, just to be on the safe side. When he emerged from his bedroom, he found the bathroom empty. Because Stede was in the living room.
Because Stede was in the living room, thumbing through Stolen. The bastard had stolen Stolen.