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All of the best fairy tales tend to have a cottage.
Fairy tales always have a particular structure to them, a wire running through the story to help it keep its shape— exposition, inciting incident, call to adventure, and so on until the resolution. Though a particular house adds nothing to this thread and rarely is of any significance to the plot itself, many of Stede’s favourite stories involve the humble beginnings of a cottage.
As a child growing up with a home and a name both much too big to fill by himself, the thought of living in a small shack in the country with only the birds in the trees and the fish in the stream for company sounded rather appealing to Stede. Without the need to keep up appearances, his time could be spent focusing on the things that really mattered; reading, painting, horse-riding through the forest, cooking good food he wanted to eat, fending for himself and never having to rely on his father’s name or his father’s money for anything ever again, and perhaps— if he was in a really good daydream— falling in love.
Stede has always thought of falling in love as a rather excellent thing to invest time and energy into.
It’s a shame he wasn’t able to do so sooner.
Warm, tattooed arms snake around Stede’s waist, and the warmth is soon accompanied by a soft tickle at his shoulder where a bearded chin rests. Stede hums in both contentment and acknowledgement, covering the hands on his stomach with his own and leaning back into Ed’s embrace.
“Everything alright?” Stede asks.
Ed nods against Stede’s shoulder. The loose strands of hair that frame his face tickle Stede’s ear in a gentle whisper.
Ed murmurs, low and soft. “S’pretty out here.”
Stede has to agree.
The porch needs a lot of work— there isn’t a single part of the building that couldn’t use some refurbishment, if he’s honest— but it’s still sturdy enough to take the weight of two men for a decent amount of time, so they make the most of it.
From here, they have the most wonderful view of the ocean, and their position means they have the privilege of watching the sun set beneath the horizon; they’ve reached the golden hour, where the sun is just beginning its descent, pouring molten gold across the waves.
They’ll get some chairs for the porch soon. So Ed can rest his knee while he admires the view. That’s high on the list of priorities, once their bedroom is furnished to their liking.
It isn’t quite a cottage, Stede thinks, tipping his head back onto Ed’s shoulder to allow Ed’s lips better access to the side of his throat, but it’ll do quite nicely.
“I think I need a break.”
They’re beside each other on their new chaise, choppy waves lashing the hull with salt. They’ve managed to avoid the storm, Ed reckons, just about, and despite the fatigue in his voice, he says it with enough conviction that Stede is prepared to believe him wholeheartedly. The waves still batter them a little, not content with letting the Revenge out of their grasp without a fight (or at least a small-scale tantrum), and the ship rocks just a little more dramatically than usual. The motion is disorientating Stede more than it normally does, the mixture of the sea’s rougher treatment and the exhaustion a day of fighting the ocean brings with it, and that befuddlement is what he blames for the acid panic that shoots through his heart and directly into his stomach upon hearing Ed’s words.
I think I need a break is a rather innocent statement in the grand scheme of things. It’s something one might say after a particularly large meal, or a taxing sparring practice, or fighting nature herself to keep one’s family alive. Here, in the quiet of the cabin they now share, with a half-drunk glass of brandy in their hands and their knees pressing warmly together, Stede can’t think of anything that would warrant such a remark; in fact, he would consider this their break, sitting in peaceful silence beside the love of his life before they make their way to bed with all the best intentions of having some quality time together but inevitably fall asleep within minutes.
He can’t mean a break from Stede, surely? They’ve only just… well. They haven’t just begun, but sometimes it still feels that way with all the time they wasted. Though they spent some much-needed leisure time together on land before returning to the Revenge, they’ve only been back on the ocean for a matter of weeks, and all of a sudden Stede’s heart is well on its way to sinking to the very bottom of it.
He takes a deep breath.
“From what?” He asks, light as he can.
Ed looks utterly exhausted, halfway to collapsing in on himself on the sofa. He’s so close that he could easily flop straight into Stede’s arms for a sleep, and the fact that he hasn’t yet is another cause for concern; Stede can’t remember a single time Ed passed up the opportunity for a cuddle, and he doesn’t much like the idea that there may be a reason why he’s doing so tonight.
Ed makes a vague gesture with his hand, liquor sloshing in his glass. “From this.” Then, before Stede’s heart can shatter entirely, he clarifies, “Piracy. I can’t do it any more.”
Amongst the whirlwind of thoughts this conjures, the one that settles in Stede’s brain, the one that comes immediately after the inexplicable knee-jerk feeling of rejection, is that this makes sense.
When he thinks about it, Ed has been telling him as much from the very start. He told him when he asked a still-healing Stede what retirement was. When he was so content to just be folding clothes in the academy. When he didn’t particularly want to escape the academy at all. When he told Stede, between the lines of the most meaningful compliment Stede has ever received, that he hadn’t truly had fun in years.
Ed deserves to have fun.
This line of thinking must capture Stede’s attention for longer than he’s aware of; it’s clear Ed is beginning to get a bit nervous, and it’s probably about time Stede said something.
“Alright,” he says first, because that’s the most important bit. That Ed knows it’s alright. And then, because he might die if he doesn’t know for certain, adds with a pointed eyebrow raise, “Just piracy?”
Ed frowns, confused.
“I guess,” he says slowly, drawing out the syllable questioningly. When he finds no explanation on Stede’s face, Ed’s gaze drops to stare thoughtfully at his glass. The urge to reach out and rub his back is unbelievable. “I might still like sailing. Y’know, without the gouging out eyes and fighting crabs and shit. Or trying fishing again, maybe. But I think I just wanna be on dry land. Haven’t done that— actually lived on land, I mean— for ages.”
Before Stede can get another word out, before all the anxiety in his belly can unspool from his tongue like thread, no, I mean me, do you still want me, Ed finally starts to close the gap between them. He sets his glass down on the floor beside the sofa, then shuffles closer until they’re pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and Ed can take one of Stede’s hands in both of his.
Ed always like to keep his hands busy, Stede has noticed, especially when he’s nervous, and his apparent favourite comfort item is Stede’s own hand. It’s rather lovely.
“I thought...” Ed begins, then abruptly stops, swallowing hard. “I was thinking maybe we could… go off somewhere. If you want.” He twists the rings on Stede’s fingers, round and round and round. “Find a little place to live and just, like… fuckin’ live there for a bit. You and me.”
We.
It’s only when the word hits his ears that Stede realises how profoundly he’s wanted it— us, we, you and me— from the start.
“I know you’re all famous now,” Ed continues, as though a single thing other than the words that just left his mouth matter a jot, “and like… this is what you left your home for, and this is what you wanted, isn’t it, to be a pirate legend with a— a crew, and…”
“Ed—”
“But I don’t think I want to do this any more.” He immediately seems lighter having said it, his shoulders dropping as some tension leaves them, though his face remains twisted with anxiety. “That last battle was enough. I’m so tired, Stede.” The rest of his breath leaves him in a long, defeated exhale. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Stede sighs. He rearranges Ed’s hand in his, brushes his thumb across Ed’s knuckles.
“You did tell me, darling,” he says gently.
It’s a difficult thing to admit to himself. Stede has never been great at acknowledging his shortcomings; many people would happily confirm that Stede’s pride is a great, bothersome thing that often gets in the way and serves only to obscure any redeeming qualities he may have, and the thought that Ed could have been stewing in this discomfort for days, unsure whether to challenge Stede while what they have is still so delicate, makes Stede feel more than a little sick with himself.
At least admitting this will help ease Ed’s mind a little, Stede thinks. At least he’ll know that Stede hears him now, no matter how long it took for the words to reach his ears.
He lifts Ed’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss amongst the stars there.
“You told me so many times. You want to do what makes Ed happy.” Stede’s fingers get a happy squeeze, the memory of the last time those words were uttered fizzing pleasantly through them both. “And that hasn’t been piracy for a while, has it?” Ed shakes his head. Stede lets out a long breath, his lips forming into a thin, apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, Ed. You did tell me. I just wasn’t listening.”
A comfortable silence falls over them for a moment. Ed’s head comes to rest on Stede’s shoulder, a wordless appreciation of the apology, and Stede rests his own cheek against Ed’s crown. It reminds Stede of their thumb war in the moments after their first kiss since reuniting, one over the other over the other. He smiles to himself. They’ve never had a problem finding excuses to touch.
Eventually, Ed lifts his head, and Stede takes that opportunity to ask, “Have you thought at all about where we could ‘go off’ to?”
A slight flush rises to Ed’s cheeks. Stede stifles a smile. That’s a yes, then.
“Where Izzy is,” Ed says quietly. “There’s a shack. Remember?”
He does. He does remember.
Stede hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to it at the time, what with being preoccupied first with the English and then by Izzy’s funeral, but now he’s casting his mind back, he sees it; a wooden shack on a hilltop overlooking the ocean, held up with beams clearly storm-weathered but still standing strong, its shattered windows catching the light of the almost-setting sun just so. It’s perfect.
Ed has always been so clever.
Stede nods. “Yes.” He doesn’t so much as reach for Ed’s jaw as be there to catch it when Ed leans into him, and he takes advantage of the contact to guide Ed in for a soft kiss. “Yes, darling. Let’s.”
They break the news to the crew the morning after their conversation.
They’ll be changing course to return to the island they have not long since left, the pair tell everyone, at which point Stede and Ed will disembark the Revenge for the foreseeable future and live out the rest of their days on land. The crew are welcome— are encouraged, in fact— to visit as often and for as long as they would like to, and while on that subject, it’s important to note that the captains’ departure is not a reflection of the crew at all. It’s simply that the both of them feel as though their pirate careers are drawing to their natural conclusion. They will still very much consider themselves, Stede reassures them, part of the crew of the Revenge.
Of course, this means that the ship will be requiring a new captain, whom they can select amongst themselves—
“Well, actually,” Fang pipes up, raising his hand politely as he speaks— which isn’t quite how that works, Stede thinks, but at least he’s got the spirit. “When you left,” he says, addressing Stede, “Bla— sorry, Edward chose Frenchie to be his first mate. And seeing as your first mate is now a gull—”
“Allegedly,” Roach mutters under his breath.
“—surely that means that Frenchie is the automatic new captain?”
Frenchie, for his part, doesn’t look thrilled by this idea, but the rest of the crew murmur thoughtfully, considering Fang’s point. Stede isn’t entirely convinced either, if truth be told (and he will be questioning Ed on his choice of second-in-command at the first available opportunity), but he reasons that in a short while, the decision will have nothing to do with him at all.
Thankfully, the atmosphere on deck becomes considerably more hopeful when they realise that Frenchie too will need to select a first mate, and frankly there’s only one reasonable option on board; Zheng and Frenchie will make a great team, Stede thinks, and when Zheng eventually decides to remove Frenchie from post in what will inevitably be history’s politest mutiny, he doubts that anyone, least of all Frenchie himself, will protest.
Once the crew are dismissed, the majority stay on the main deck to hover around Ed and Stede, offering well-wishes and discussing how they can celebrate this exciting new change. The only exceptions to this are Fang, who goes to relieve Auntie at the helm, and Jim, who pushes past Stede to dart below deck and doesn’t return for a number of hours. Even when dinner time rolls around, they resurface only to retrieve their plate from the galley and immediately return to the ball room again, leaving everyone with strict instructions not to disturb them.
“Y’know… they’ve been having a hard time since Izzy died,” Oluwande explains at the table, likely noticing how saddened Stede is by the rejection despite how strongly he’s been trying to appear unaffected. Clearly, he hasn’t been as successful as he’d hoped, as Oluwande isn’t the first person to notice how his spirit has wilted; Ed pulled him into their cabin earlier, unaware of the cause of Stede’s poor mood but more than willing to placate him with kisses anyway, stroking soothingly over his shoulders and twisting his curls gently between his fingers. “Like, obviously we know things like that can happen but… those two got really close. And I think, like… this is all a lot, you know? There’s been a lot of…”
Losing his words, Olu glances over to Archie, who helpfully provides through a mouthful of stew, “Fucking chaos.”
“A lot of fucking chaos recently. I mean, you two had your whole—” He waves a hand vaguely, and yes, Stede agrees, that is just about the most concise way to summarise it all. “And that messed everyone up. Jim was there when Ivan died, and then Izzy. And things were just starting to look like they could get back to normal, and now you guys are leaving. I think that’s it.” Oluwande takes a bite of his own meal, leaving Stede to sit with the words for a moment, before adding, “Jim’s never been good with change. Best to let them work through it for a bit.”
The words follow Stede through the rest of the day, clinging to him despite the excitement in his stomach.
He’d never imagined something as insignificant as his absence would require someone to need time to work through it. Well, for anyone other than Ed, that is. The way Oluwande phrased it sounds to Stede like grief, as though Jim is mourning something, which makes sense in the context of Izzy but certainly not for Stede. It eats away at him, Stede wondering puzzledly what it all could mean.
Ed notices. Ed always notices.
“Do you think you’re making the right decision?” He asks into Stede’s ear that night, curled around Stede’s back between the sheets. Stede twists around to face him, concerned, and finds Ed doe-eyed and looking rather sheepish.
“Edward,” Stede says, flat and unimpressed. “I do hope you aren’t talking about what I think you’re talking about.”
When no answer comes, he turns around fully, looping his arm around Ed’s waist to keep him close. Without a thought, Ed adjusts the covers that shifted with Stede’s movement, pulling the blanket back up to Stede’s shoulders, and Stede’s heart does a rather spectacular somersault at being so carefully looked after. Ed lets out a strained sigh.
“They’re really gonna miss you, man,” he says softly. “You might not have seen all their faces when you told them, but I did. They love you. You’re kind of like their weird captain-dad.”
Stede huffs a laugh, and is delighted as ever to see Ed’s eyes crinkle in response. “And here I was thinking I only had two messed-up kids.” A piece of Ed’s hair escapes from his braid. Stede tucks it neatly behind Ed’s ear. “And I’ll still be their weird captain-dad. I’ll just be a bit further away.”
Even as the words leave his lips, Stede can't quite believe they’re being spoken in reference to him. Captain? Sure. He thinks he’s probably earned that title by now. Dad? Something squirms in his chest, both familiar and not all at once. He’s fathered children, of course, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been a dad. The thought that some of the crew might consider him some sort of father figure to them feels both uncomfortable and strangely right. He just hopes he’s served this new family of his better than he served his other one.
“It’s just that... this is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” Ed adds. He’s averted his gaze, his eyes dropping to fix on a point beneath the covers, and he absently draws a spiral over the bottom of Stede’s spine with his fingertip. “You’re really coming into your own as a pirate, babe. I wouldn’t blame you if this is all getting a bit too much, or, like, we’re moving too fast and you really want to stay.”
Stede’s instinct is to respond immediately, swiftly shut down Ed’s concerns and brush off any of his own uncomfortable feelings that may arise later, but he bites his tongue, swallows the words back down. They’ve both done far too much talking and too little listening to each other for a lifetime, and they know very well where it’s ended them in the past.
Stede came to sea because he wanted adventure and excitement, and he’s certainly had plenty of both of those already. Aside from that, nothing is drawing him to the ocean in particular; if Ed and the crew had found Stede and the others during their time working at Jackie’z, Stede would’ve happily never returned to sea again. If Ed had refused to escape the academy, Stede would have longed for his crew, perhaps, and wondered how they were doing, but he wouldn’t have ached to return to the waves specifically the way Buttons, for example, always did whenever they were stuck on land.
It isn’t a surprise when the revelation occurs, and it certainly isn’t the first time, but it’s always a lovely realisation to come to.
Ed. It all comes back to Ed.
“You know,” he whispers, then immediately cuts himself off to guide Ed closer, to wrap him up tighter. Ed goes easily, slotting cosily into Stede’s arms, and the rest of Stede’s words are spoken mostly into Ed’s hair as Ed snuggles closer. “I could take or leave piracy now, if I’m honest. Far too much stabbing for my liking.” He feels Ed’s lips spread into a smile against his throat, warm and soft, and it spurs him on. “As for actually living, well. I don’t think I’d mind where I was, so long as you were with me.”
Usually, whenever Stede gives an answer that Ed particularly enjoys, Ed lets out a very specific sort of contented hum to let Stede know his assent. It’s a yeah, thought so rumbly sound deep in his throat. Stede likes to think he has become quite well-versed in Ed Noises over the last few weeks, and the sound that this particular admission receives as a response is not one of those approving hums; rather, it’s a hang on sort of hum. A yes, but sort of hum.
Sure enough—
“But you know that goes both ways, right?”
When Ed draws back just enough to meet Stede’s gaze, his eyes are filled with concern, as though it’s suddenly vitally important that Stede gets this, that he understands. His brows knit together at whatever reaction— or lack thereof— he finds on Stede’s face.
“You know that if you needed to stay here, I’d stay too?”
Stede doesn’t answer. He doesn’t think he can. His stomach is doing a rather fascinating acrobatic routine.
“But that’s not what you want,” is all Stede can manage, pathetic and perplexed.
Ed huffs, and yes, this is probably the Ed Noise that Stede is most familiar with: a short outburst of breath filled with fondness and exasperation in equal measure, a you really don’t get it, do you deployed usually when Stede is either being inadvertently seductive or helplessly obtuse.
“Mate, I want you.”
Before hearing it aloud, Stede would’ve said he knew this anyway, that Ed has never fooled him, that he knows Ed loves him without Ed needing to prove it more he already has. He knows Ed desires him, too, and he’s demonstrated the extent of that desire on multiple breath-stealing, thigh-trembling occasions, but to hear the words spoken so easily shifts something into place in Stede’s chest, like a puzzle-box one step closer to unlocking.
Want. It makes Stede feel like a luxury. Like he is something coveted. Like he is a choice Ed makes instead of an unmovable conclusion Ed can’t help but draw to. I want you. I love you because I want to.
“Doesn’t matter where we are, really,” Ed continues, shifting in the sheets to get into a more comfortable position, blissfully unaware of the fairly impressive circus tricks occurring just beneath where his hand lies on Stede’s belly. “I mean, yeah, I’d rather not be getting stabbed and fuckin’ fighting off navies any more, but I would if it meant I got to hang out with you.”
‘That last battle was enough’ Ed had said, and now he’s had the time to think about it, Stede definitely had the feeling at the time that it was a last hurrah for the both of them. Something wordless was exchanged in that secret smile they shared as they braced for battle in Jackie’s, Ed ripping the jacket from the back of a dead soldier: it sounded like We’ve been here before, haven’t we? Isn’t this exciting? and quickly morphed into We’ve been here before, haven’t we? I don’t want to be here again.
He gives a thoughtful hum. “Well, that settles it, then.” Ed frowns. Stede elaborates, fighting to look casual as every bone in his body itches to jump for joy, “If the main thing we both want is to hang out with each other, we may as well do it somewhere with less cannon fire and risk of fatal injury.”
A month or two into life as a pirate captain, a member of Stede’s crew sat him down and asked him, with complete sincerity, if he wanted to live. The answer, as it had always been, was uncertain.
There isn’t a doubt in Stede’s mind now. For as long as his life includes Edward, he wants as much time in the land of the living as he can get.
“There’s still time to change your mind if you want,” Ed tells him, just before slipping into sleep.
“I won’t,” Stede replies, as certain and as truthful as the I love you that follows.
The island itself is uninhabited but is only a short distance away from a neighbouring island, which has a tight-knit community that seems heartwarmingly eager to welcome Ed and Stede in, and a market that stocks, unbelievably, almost everything they could ever need to sustain them.
They aren’t far away from a major town either, according to the few elderly ladies who seem very eager for an excuse to talk to Ed, and the pair of them have made the short journey a handful of times now, loading up their small dinghy with as much furniture as they can transport without sinking the thing entirely and then going back for more. Of the stall holders, they pay the elderly modestly, the poor handsomely, and they rob the arseholes blind.
Stede doesn’t think he’s ever had so much fun in his life.
The place is coming together, albeit slowly. Admittedly, they both rather like taking advantage of the lack of outside commitments they now have and deciding on a whim to spend all day in bed, which isn’t ideal for their productivity but works wonders for Ed’s mood. He’s more consistently content than Stede has ever seen him, freed from the weight of his leathers and living mostly in flowing cotton, and he smiles like the sunrise, and he kisses Stede so much, because he wants to, and he has the time to, and he has the freedom to.
He is utterly radiant in every way. Stede couldn’t be prouder of him.
Edward goes fishing every few days. He rows to the market to collect eggs for their breakfast and he wants to start making his own marmalade. He collects wildflowers every morning and makes sure Izzy’s grave is as fresh, clean and bright as it can be.
When they first discussed burying Izzy on land, and when not a soul in the crew disputed Ed’s proposal, Stede was confused.
“I thought land burials were reserved for captains,” he’d asked Ed later in the privacy of the galley.
Ed had shrugged. “He was as good as, mate. You heard what he said, he was as much of Blackbeard as I was in the end.” He paused, his eyes going fuzzy as a proud, melancholic smile tugged at his lips. “And he was a fuckin’ legendary captain.”
And while that was true, Stede suspected that the decision had more to do with knowing exactly where Izzy was. It made sense. He didn’t suppose he and Ed had ever been apart for very long; he could understand why Ed would want to keep an eye on him.
Plus, Stede didn’t much like the thought of a burial at sea himself. The ocean could be cruel, for one, and there’s no telling what harm could come to Izzy below the surface. All sorts of creatures could be lurking beneath the depths. Sailors had all sorts of stories about it. No. Best for Izzy to stay nice and safe on dry land.
They take tea with him some mornings, Stede and Ed, sitting at Izzy’s side and watching the sun come up.
Ultimately, the way the crew decide to celebrate Ed and Stede’s last week on the ship is by going Back To Normal.
What this consists of, Ed and Stede learn during conversation with the crew, is everything they would do before things went, as Frenchie so articulately describes, ‘a bit shit’: they want Roach to make cakes and pastries, and for Frenchie to start sing-alongs during rounds, and for Lucius to draw to his heart’s content. They want to learn knife tricks and hand-to-hand combat, and how to sew and knit, and how to read the moon the way Buttons could.
Of course, some of the things they miss cannot be reinstated. No-one in the crew can mimic Izzy’s voice quite well enough to be convincing when barking orders across the deck, and only Archie has a repertoire of filthy jokes that matches up to Ivan’s, but they manage, and they don’t shy away from trying. They keep their names in their mouths and they feel their absence.
The main request that the crew have— or perhaps demand would be more accurate— is that nightly story time be brought back for the week Ed and Stede have left on the ship. This means, they clarify, not only a story from Stede, but a story from Ed as well. He’s good at the spooky shit, they tell them. They want more Blackbeard stories, told by Edward.
It’s the purest form of forgiveness and acceptance Stede has ever seen, and if the half-panicked, half-delighted Did you hear them, love? They still want me, too that’s whispered to Stede once the crew clear out is anything to go by, the significance of it is not lost on Ed.
And so a routine forms; every night, just after sundown, the crew gather on the deck. Edward tells a story, recounts a pirate legend told to him by crew-mates of old or an anecdote from his own past, a tale of adventure and dynamism and general ‘badassery’ (both Frenchie and Pete insist they invented this one, and they argue over it).
Then, to settle everybody back down after the excitement of Ed’s adventures, Stede reads them a book.
It makes sense that the story the crew request is the first one Stede looked for in every market they trekked through to find their way back to the ship, the only book Ed kept behind when Stede’s library found its way, book by book, into the ocean.
On their final night on the Revenge, Auntie retakes the helm to steer them on the final stretch of their journey. Everyone else, as they have done every night for a week, settles in for story time.
Beneath Stede’s feet, Wee John supports his back against the mast, and Roach lounges against him, using the side of Wee John’s arm as a backrest. Across from them, leaning against a potato sack, sits Pete, with his legs akimbo and Lucius sprawled between and across them, his back resting against Pete’s chest. Beside Pete sits Frenchie, and beside Frenchie sits Fang, and beside Fang sits Ed, whose sparkling eyes have not left Stede once. Jackie and The Swede can’t really be considered sitting at all, having collapsed into a kind of cuddle-heap along the edge of the deck before Stede even began reading.
On the other side of Pete is a configuration of bodies that Stede can’t quite decipher. Archie sits cross-legged and straight-backed, her hands folded politely in her lap, her eager eyes wide and shining. Jim lies beside her, their knee pressed to Archie’s with their back resting against Oluwande’s side. Olu’s arm is slung lazily around Jim’s shoulders, and his own back leans against Zheng’s legs where she’s perched on a barrel above them all. Her hands knead mindlessly at Olu’s shoulders.
Stede pauses for a moment to clear his throat.
Suddenly, Pinocchio heard his name called, and looking around to see from whence the voice came, he noticed a large snail crawling out of some bushes.
“Don’t you recognise me?” said the Snail.
“Yes and no.”
“The fuck does that mean, yes and no?” Wee John rolls his eyes. “It’s a great fuck-off snail. Surely you’d know if you’d seen it before.” Roach hums in agreement.
“Do you remember the Snail that lived with the Fairy with blue hair? Do you remember how she opened the door for you one night and gave you something to eat?”
“I remember everything,” cried Pinocchio. “Answer quickly, pretty Snail, where have you left my Fairy? What is she doing? Has she forgiven me? Does she remember me? Does she still love me? Is she very far away from here? May I see her?”
At all these questions, tumbling out one after another, the Snail answered, calm as ever:
“My dear Pinocchio, the Fairy is lying ill in a hospital.”
“What the fuck?” Ed murmurs, frowning. “You said this had a happy ending!”
“It does,” Stede replies swiftly, shooting Ed a look. “And you’ll see that when I’m able to get to it!”
“Really?” The Marionette cried. “Oh, how sorry I am! My poor, dear little Fairy! I have only fifty pennies, but here they are. I was just going to buy some clothes. Here, take them, little Snail, and give them to my good Fairy.”
Various oohs and awws float across the deck.
Back home, he went to bed and fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamed of his Fairy, beautiful, smiling, and happy, who kissed him and said to him, “Bravo, Pinocchio! In reward for your kind heart, I forgive you for all your old mischief. People who love and take good care of their family when they are old and sick deserve praise, even though they may not be held up as models of obedience and good behaviour. Keep on doing so well, and you will be happy.”
When Pinocchio awoke, it was with great surprise that, on looking himself over, he saw that he was no longer a Marionette, but that he had become a real live boy!
“Oh, no fuckin’ way,” Archie exclaims loudly, making Oluwande jolt in his spot, started from his peaceful reverie. She beams as she turns to Jim, pointing at the book in Stede’s hands. “Did you know that was gonna happen?!”
Jim shrugs, fighting back a smile, and Archie is quickly hushed by Zheng, who seems to be trying very hard to act like she isn’t equally as invested. Across the deck, Jackie sniffs wetly into The Swede’s shoulder.
He ran into the next room, and there stood Geppetto, grown years younger overnight, spick and span in his new clothes. He was once more Mastro Geppetto, the wood carver, hard at work on a lovely picture frame.
“Father, Father, what has happened? Tell me if you can,” cried Pinocchio, as he ran and jumped on his Father's neck.
“This sudden change in our house is all your doing, my dear Pinocchio,” answered Geppetto.
“What have I to do with it?”
“Just this. When bad boys become good and kind, they have the power of making their homes gay and new with happiness.”
“Hear that?” Lucius mutters quietly, mischievous though his voice is thick, tilting his head back to smirk at Pete. “Only good boys get gay stuff.”
Pete huffs. He makes no effort to untangle Lucius from his legs.
“I wonder where the old Pinocchio of wood has hidden himself?”
“There he is,” answered Geppetto. And he pointed to a large Marionette leaning against a chair, head turned to one side, arms hanging limp, and legs twisted under him.
All of a sudden, a lump forms in Stede’s throat that proves impossible to push a sound through. His vision blurs as he tries valiantly to focus on the final words on the page, the final words of the story itself.
Stede has never had much cause to be proud of himself before. He hasn’t achieved anything great, or broken any records. Back in Barbados he was mostly insignificant, save for when various upper-class pricks needed someone to laugh at, and his own family made it clear frequently that his presence wasn’t helpful or necessary. He was treading water and waiting to drown, convinced each new wave would be the one that dragged him under and not particularly concerned with fighting it.
But here, sitting before a ship of people who love him, he can’t shake the feeling that, despite all of the obstacles they faced, every decision he has made in the past must have been correct, because the journey led him here.
Here, he can’t help but feel as though he has, at last, done something that matters, become someone who matters.
Instinctively, Stede searches for Ed as he blinks the tears away and finds Ed already looking in his direction, his eyes large and curious and his brow furrowed with concern. Across the deck, Stede offers him a watery smile, and Ed returns it immediately, understanding at once.
After a long, long look, Pinocchio said to himself with great content:
“How ridiculous I was as a Marionette! And how happy I am, now that I have become a real boy!”
They’ve packed their lives into three large trunks.
One is half-filled with various soft furnishings, books, knickknacks and tchotchkes they want to bring with them to their new home, and the remaining space is filled by some necessities; some packages of food, flasks of fresh water, and a small portion of the treasure the crew pilfered most recently for them to sell or trade as they establish their inn. The other two trunks are filled with clothing (primarily Stede’s; he’s managed to begin rebuilding his wardrobe of fine fabrics since he’s been back on the Revenge, and Ed has even started his own collection), and will be topped off with the essentials that they still need tonight, such as their soaps, hair products and bedclothes.
Already in bed, Stede sits upright against the pillows, the duvet folded back on itself and a book resting on his lap, and waits for Ed.
The sight of the trunks, sitting neatly under the now-empty bookshelves beside the cabin door, reminds Stede of his childhood, of the nights preceding the days he returned to boarding school. He’d lie in bed with a belly squirming with anxiety, the covers tucked up high under his chin as if they might shield him from the morning, staring at the silhouettes of the pile of luggage in his bedroom and wondering why he couldn’t stay at home, just this once.
Stede doesn’t remember when exactly he learned that his presence was little more than inconvenience to those who had the misfortune to be around him. It seems to be a feeling he was born with, an innate knowledge he’s never known life without. An instinct.
It can’t have always been that way, though, he’s occasionally reasoned to himself. From the little Stede remembers of his mother, she seemed to be rather fond of him, though his father would likely put that down to the fact that he hadn’t yet learned to talk.
Thinking about it now, it must have been those moments, the packing of luggage and the loading of a carriage every school term, that cemented such knowledge into Stede’s head. If his own family didn’t want him around, his own flesh and blood, how on earth could he expect anyone else to tolerate him?
Stede wishes now, wishes it so strongly that the surge of emotion now settling in his stomach makes him nauseous, that his younger self would know that one day the sight of packed trunks wouldn’t mean he was unwelcome in his home, but instead that someone wants to form a new one, with him and him alone. One day, that boy will be wanted by a man, the best man Stede will ever know save the man Edward has yet to become, who will see every flaw Stede has, both on his flesh and inside his mind, and will still choose to love him with everything he has.
The door creaks open slowly, as if there was even the slightest chance Stede could be asleep without Ed lying beside him, and Ed peeks his head through the gap, grinning when he sees Stede still awake. Stede gives him a little wave. Even in the low light of the cabin, Stede can see the faint blush rise above Ed’s beard as he ducks his head and gently shuts the door behind him.
Ed likes Stede to read to him in the evenings. He asked for it before the nightly story time for the crew was reinstated and requested it still afterwards; though he made a habit of being present for the crew’s story time most nights, either planting himself next to Fang as he did tonight or sitting sweetly at Stede’s side as he reads, Ed often still requests his own, private story in the comfort of their cabin, a different story, and Stede, helpless to deny him as ever, always agrees.
He falls asleep to Stede’s stories, sometimes. It used to offend Stede a little— if his lover couldn’t even bring himself to feign interest in what he had to say, it seemed there truly was very little hope for him— but despite the dozing, despite how obviously exhausted he sometimes was of an evening, Ed still continued to ask Stede to read to him in the evenings, so Ed couldn’t have found him that unbearable.
(It was weeks after Ed first fell asleep in the middle of a chapter that he finally explained why.
“I dunno,” he shrugged, his cheeks burning where they rested on Stede’s bare chest. “S’just nice to hear your voice. Relaxing.” He shifted a little against the sheets, tucking himself closer into Stede’s side, before admitting, “Makes me feel all warm and cosy.”
Stede’s heart had done a rather impressive flip at that, practically turning itself inside out with fondness. He wasn’t aware that ‘safe’ was something he was capable of making other people feel, let alone a man who likely hasn’t known safety for the better part of forty-eight years, but that bashful admission in the dwindling candlelight made Stede feel stronger and more untouchable than he ever has with a sword in his hand.)
Ed stays awake for this one. It makes sense; they’re approaching the end of this book too, a tale of the forbidden love between a duchess and a highwayman, and they’ve both been quite gripped by it for the last few chapters. Ed wouldn’t want to miss a bit of it.
Once Ed has changed into his night-clothes, they lie together on the bed to read. Stede is on his back, sandwiched between Ed and the covers, with one hand holding open the book and one hand rubbing absentmindedly between Ed’s shoulder blades. Ed’s head rests on Stede’s chest, rising and falling with each breath Stede takes.
When they last left the story, the duchess was heartbroken; she was sobbing alone in her room, having been informed by her father that she was now betrothed to a wealthy prince from a neighbouring kingdom and forbidden from ever seeing Thomas again.
“He better fuckin’ find her,” Ed warns darkly as he settles into place on Stede’s front. “He should know that she’d have written to him by now. He already knows her dad’s a dick, he’s gotta figure out he had something to do with it.”
Biting down a fond smile at Ed’s investment in the story, Stede scans the page he marked until he finds the beginning of their next paragraph, muttering a quiet ‘Ready?’ before clearing his throat and beginning to read aloud.
Soon, the dusk became darkness, and a thick fog settled over the manor grounds. From the duchess’s bedroom window, it appeared as though she was suspended in a dark, stormy cloud, high above the Earth and out of reach from every living soul on the ground. Her skin felt taut and raw with tears, and her stomach ached with hunger. She had never felt more alone.
“Wait,” Ed says sharply. Stede dutifully marks their page, placing his fingertip over the first word of the next sentence. “Why is she hungry? Did everyone else eat dinner without her?”
Stede hums. “It appears so.”
Ed frowns. “But she’s gone hungry. Does no-one care?”
“No, I don’t suppose they did,” Stede replies. “Of course, whether she joins them at the table or not is her own choice, and she’s perfectly within her right to decline the invitation, but I would’ve expected a butler to bring her a plate of something.” He pauses, before adding absently, “Though actually, that kind of thing is quite a common punishment for unruly children in those circles.”
That makes Ed lean up properly, enough for his head to leave Stede’s chest, and he stares at Stede incredulously.
“They punish kids by not letting them eat dinner? Kids?” Stede nods. There’s a pause. “Did you ever get punished that way?”
Stede hesitates for just a moment, deciding whether it’s worth being honest if all it’ll do is work Ed up when they’re having such a relaxing evening, but then he nods again. Ed looks murderous immediately, his expression turning dark and clouded with anger.
“That’s fucking diabolical,” he whispers.
Stede grimaces apologetically. “Yeah.”
Huffing annoyedly, Ed returns to Stede’s chest, tugging at the neckline of Stede’s nightshirt until he can lay his cheek against bare skin. Maybe that’s the way Ed’s choosing to soothe himself, Stede thinks amusedly: nuzzling into the dip in Stede’s chest to remind himself that Stede is far away from that world of cruelty now. Stede continues to read.
The weight of Ed’s head, solid and comforting on Stede’s chest, grows heavier as the pages turn, though the occasional shuffle of his legs or fingertips circling on Stede’s hip lets Stede know he’s still engaged with the story. There’s a good part coming up, Stede knows; he hasn’t read the full book before, he promised Ed as much and did so truthfully, but he did sneak a look at the final chapter when they first began reading. Stede knows how much Ed hates an unhappy ending to these things. He had to check.
Just as sleep was about to take her in its arms, Olivia heard a familiar sound that shocked her into bright wakefulness.
In Stede’s arms, Ed tenses with anticipation.
For a brief moment, she wondered whether she was hallucinating, whether the noise was but her mind playing a cruel trick on her and conjuring the sound she longed for more than anything in the world, but then… then came the unmistakeable echo of a horse’s whinny and hooves battering gravel.
“Fucking knew it!” Ed cries delightedly, laughing at the way his volume makes Stede startle beneath him. “I knew it,” he repeats, quieter this time, pinching Stede’s hip to emphasis the point. “I knew he wouldn’t leave her. He’d know that letter from her dad was bullshit.”
Sure enough, when she leapt from her bed and ran to her window, she was greeted by a sight that had become such a familiar comfort to her over the previous few months: the silhouette of a man on horseback, illuminated by a small lantern held level with his head, his cloak billowing around him as they raced through the trees.
It was exceedingly unlikely that her father would still be awake at this time of the evening, but the nerves spiralled in Olivia’s stomach nevertheless, conjured by both the fear of her love putting himself in such danger and the ecstatic joy the thought of their reunion, though perhaps brief, brought.
Without a second thought, and still in her nightgown, the duchess fled her bedroom and raced out into the manor gardens to await her lover’s arrival.
This scene is followed by a bit more canoodling— quite a lot more canoodling, in fact, right in front of the horse and everything— and Ed squirms impatiently, clearly urging Stede to hurry on to the juicy bit. The important bit. Stede locates it quickly.
Overcome with such a huge surge of conflicting emotions, and against her will, Olivia began to cry, her tears soaking into Thomas’s shirt.
“I’m afraid I have the most awful news,” she choked out through thick, wracking sobs. “My father, he… I am to marry the prince. I am to leave at sunrise. He has forbidden me from ever seeing you again, no matter the circumstance.” Olivia wails with pain. “Oh, Thomas, it’s the most awful fate. And there isn’t a single thing I can do to avoid it.”
The highwayman didn’t say a word. He stood still as a shadow, his arms wound snugly around the duchess’s back to shield her back from the chill of the midnight air. He was silent for so long that Olivia interpreted this silence as indifference, and suddenly pulled back a little to study her lover’s face.
“Are you not affected by this news?” She demands. “Does it not distress you, that I am to be wed to another man in a mere forty-eight hours?”
“Nah, he’s gonna have a plan,” Ed mumbles determinedly. “I know it. He’s not gonna let her be taken anywhere.”
Stede smiles fondly. “Well, let’s find out whether you’re right.”
“I’m always right, mate. Keep up.”
“Forgive me for contradicting you, my lady,” Thomas spoke at last. “Rest assured I will not make a habit of it, but—”
“Don’t call me that,” she interjected, shoving him harshly away. Her voice, strained with emotion, raised enough in volume to startle some starlings from their nests. “You need not address me with such formalities, as though you do not know me more deeply than any other soul in this world.”
With a knowing smile, Thomas stepped in closer once more, reaching for Olivia’s hand and lifting it to his lips. “But you are my lady, are you not?”
“Ooh,” Ed murmurs approvingly, half muffled by Stede’s shirt. “Smooth bastard.”
“All is not lost, my love,” the highwayman promised emphatically, grasping Olivia’s hands tighter in his own. “I told you once that I will always be here at your service, and I do not intend to go back on my promise.” He swallowed down his nerves, and told her, “I have found a home for us. It is small, far smaller than what you are used to, but it is ours if you want it to be. I am yours if you want me to be. I will get a job, a real job, and I will provide for you, and we will be happy. If you would like.”
Ed gives a watery sniff.
What follows are some of the most convoluted love confessions Stede has ever read, elaborate promises of endless love and eternal devotion, but he doesn’t dare skip even a single word; Ed has shifted so that he’s almost leaning over the book himself, trying to catch a glimpse of the page without actively trying to read ahead. They’re approaching the end now, with less than four pages to go, and Stede already misses it a little.
Trusting her lover’s words more than any promise she’d ever heard before, the duchess left Edelweiss Manor that evening not by carriage, and without the trunks filled with her treasured possessions, but on the sturdy back of Ruby, with only the clothes on her back and the man she loved in her arms.
With a pleased hum, Stede closes the book and puts it to the side with a gentle, “The end.”
Silence.
Ed makes a low noise of protest in the back of his throat, lifting his head up to challenge Stede with a frown. “The fuck d’you mean, the end? That can’t be where it ends.”
Stede shrugs. “Well there’s no more book.”
As if to prove it for himself, Ed reaches across Stede’s body until he has the book in his own hand, and he lifts the back cover. Stede watches Ed’s eyes dart across the page, confusion and outrage knitting his brows together, before Ed sits up properly.
“But what happens after that?” He demands, waving the book between them. “That’s the shit we wanna know. Like, yeah, they run off together, but what comes next? Do they... I dunno, do they get married? Get a house? Or does Olivia’s dad find her and fuckin’, like, shoot Thomas in the face and drag her home? How are we supposed to know? What if they’re super unhappy and depressed and fucking hating their life and we don’t know because—” Ed's eyes flick to the front cover, “— fuckin’ T. Lake couldn’t be fucked to finish a fucking story properly.”
All at once, Ed’s outburst ends, and his expression seems to morph into one of quiet distress.
Stede isn’t always the quickest on the uptake, but all at once, he thinks he sees Ed’s concerns with brilliant clarity.
“Darling,” he starts softly, carefully, as though he’s trying his hardest not to spook a frightened animal. “What is it about the ending that’s got you so worried, hmm? They’re happy, my love. We saw that.”
“‘M not worried,” Ed responds, a reflex. “I just… wanted to know how it ends. Properly. Like, what if…”
He pauses. It turns into a rather long pause. Stede watches Ed’s chest expand and contract as takes some deep, contemplative breaths through his nose. Before long, Ed gets himself comfortable, sitting upright properly on the bed, and then reaches for Stede’s hand to fidget with his fingers, his gaze dropping to Stede’s rings as he speaks.
“What if the duchess decides that like… she doesn’t like the house they find. Or that she actually doesn’t like being poor as fuck and she’d much rather be with the prince and all the other posh nobs eating even posher desserts, or adventuring somewhere like… well, wherever posh people go on adventures. Or Thomas secretly has some super annoying habits that Olivia didn’t notice before and fuckin’ hates, like he gets crumbs in the bed or doesn’t always clean out the loo, and she might still love him with all that but like... when she’s cooped up in that tiny shack with him day after day, she realises she doesn’t, like… like him very much. Any more.”
Stede’s chest tightens.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had similar concerns. That’s one of the main reasons why he went back to Mary in the first place, after all; the thought that Ed might want him, might actually desire him, had felt just a little too unrealistic to let himself believe. Though he knew in his heart that Ed would never be so cruel to him, Stede half-expected the entirety of their friendship to be a hurtful prank, just like the ones he grew up on the receiving end of. It all just felt a little too good to be true.
He knows better now, though the self-doubt hasn’t gone away entirely. On Stede’s bad days, the worry still lingers, those niggling thoughts that one day Ed might wake up and realise this was all a mistake— or worse, that leaving the ship was the right move but Stede was the mistake…
Ed’s eyes drag up from Stede’s hand to meet Stede’s gaze, wide and sparkling and patient and expecting and so full of love Stede’s breath catches.
They are it for each other and they know it, but a reminder never hurts.
“I could ask the same about Olivia,” Stede says gently. Ed’s hand stills in Stede’s, and Stede twists in his grasp until he’s doing the holding, stroking his thumb across Ed’s skin. “Thomas could very easily think all those same things.” Ed frowns, opening his mouth to protest, but Stede gives his hand a quick squeeze and the words die in Ed’s throat. “Maybe he’ll realise that even in a new home, she’s still a bit of a snob, and too much of a snob for him to even like, let alone love. Or maybe he’ll get sick of always having to teach her things, because a life of being waited on hand and foot means she has very few skills to speak of. Or maybe he’ll get restless being stuck in one place, you know, seeing how he was always on the go doing highwayman things, and he’ll want to run away and seek loads of lovely new adventures without her holding him back.”
“Impossible,” Ed dismisses, immediate and certain. “He doesn’t want any of that any more. He just wants to be with her, all that other shit’s not important. He said so himself.”
Stede leans in close, whispering like he’s sharing a secret. “And so did she.”
It’s always a pleasure to watch Ed’s face soften when Stede says something particularly romantic, and this time is no exception; his eyes just seem to melt with affection and understanding, though they light up a little with amusement as well. Stede gets it. He always feels a little foolish whenever he realises that his concerns, no matter what they may be about, are shared by Ed. It makes him feel both validated and not in equal measure, as though Ed’s anxieties both soothe and justify his own. It makes him feel a bit stupid for not realising who they are, how strong they are, what they can withstand together.
Ed’s worry is beginning to leave him, Stede can tell. He’s leaning back into Stede’s space again, not quite ready to lie back down properly but clearly preparing to sprawl over him in some way. Ed’s forehead comes to rest against Stede’s own, and Stede tries valiantly not to get distracted by the innocent warm press of Ed’s hand on his thigh.
“How do you think it’ll end?” Ed whispers, his warm breath fanning over Stede’s lips. “Those two. Do you think they’ll last?”
Without hesitation, Stede nods.
“They’re very good at talking it through,” he murmurs, by way of explanation for his certainty. “Bodes well for them, I think.”
Ed’s breath catches in his throat with a helpless little noise, and Stede laughs, removing the inch of space between them to kiss the punch-drunk expression from his face.
“I love you,” Stede tells him, soft and heavy with affection.
Ed beams. “I know.”
The rest of their nightly routine is completed mostly in silence. Roach delivers them some tea per Stede’s request, and they sip it quietly in bed, their pinkies linked together above the covers and their ankles brushing beneath them. There is so much to discuss that none of the words want to leave them, their minds buzzing with excitement and relief and do you think they’ll manage alright on their own and countless other questions that each of them has answered a thousand times before. The mood of the evening is undoubtedly one of gratitude, of optimism, of love.
When they’re properly ready for bed, Stede lies on his back and opens his arm for Ed to curl into him. Ed slings an arm across Stede’s middle and Stede’s spare hand comes to rest protectively over it, absently stroking up and down the length of the snake wound around it. They aren’t going to sleep for a while, it’s far too early in the evening for that, but there’s no better way to spend their time together than this.
“So,” Ed says after a while, his voice laced with a mischief that Stede tunes into immediately. “Last night on this ship. Last night in this bed.” Ed’s fingers walk up Stede’s chest, before lightly tracing along the neckline of Stede’s nightshirt. Stede’s skin tingles at the featherlight touch. Ed’s eyes meet his, all deep, warm pools of affection, and his voice drops to a low purr. “What d’you wanna do about it?”
And that might be a come-on, but Ed does look so very cosy where he’s cuddled against Stede’s chest, his salt-and-pepper waves falling loosely around his shoulders, and Stede can’t be certain that Ed would want to move, which— try as they might to make this position work— lovemaking would require them to do. Ed has fixed him with a look like this in the past, and on the most recent occasion it did mean get on top of me and make me come, but it has also meant I love you pretty man please tell me nice things and kiss me to sleep, and the stirring of Stede’s cock against the leg Ed has slung over his thigh is going to become rather awkward if Ed meant the latter—
“Stede?”
Stede blinks. He’s met with Ed’s amused smirk, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
“You alright in there?” Ed asks.
“Yes,” Stede tries to say, though it gets caught in his throat, and he has to cough it out before he can ask for clarification. “I was just thinking… what I mean to say is, what—”
“That means I wanna ride you,” Ed says flatly, his smile growing as Stede’s eyes widen in understanding. “If you’re amenable.”
It’s for the best that Ed clearly doesn’t expect a coherent response to his proposal, because there’s no way in hell that he’d get one; he leaves Stede stammering helplessly and laughing at his own uselessness as Ed snakes up the length of his body, the warm weight of him pressing Stede into the mattress as he giggles against his lips.
The very next day, just after dinner, the ship reaches its destination.
The crew drop anchor in the bay, and Ed and Stede say their cheerful but emotional goodbyes on deck, reminding everybody that they can visit the inn— they would love it, in fact— and to please get Lucius to write a letter whenever they dock in a port. (Lucius rolls his eyes but offers no protest. He complains of a piece of grit in his eye as he turns away.)
It takes two dinghies to transport all three trunks and both captains to the shore, at which point Pete, Oluwande, Archie and Roach help carry the luggage up the hill and into the shack. They come out complaining about an awful fucking smell, what the fuck died in there before they hover awkwardly on the front deck, the wooden slats creaking beneath all of their weight. They all leave the inn with a wave, and some cheerful promises that they’ll see you soon, guys, and Ed and Stede watch in a peaceful silence as the four figures grow smaller, then smaller still. By the time the Revenge is little more than a dot on the horizon, the sea glows gold in the light of the setting sun.
Stede turns to Ed with a soft smile.
“So,” Stede says quietly, his heart thumping with excitement, with fondness, eager to dive headfirst into this new chapter. He’s always loved a good story. “We’re innkeepers, then.”
All of the best fairy tales tend to have a happy ending.
It usually arrives after the resolution, which follows a prolonged period of hardship the hero must valiantly overcome, and often involves the hero living contentedly with his love and far away from danger, somewhere where they can be self-sufficient and comfortable.
Stede isn’t sure exactly what makes one qualify as a hero, but he certainly hopes he fits the bill.
As a child, Stede’s favourite part of any story was always the happy ending. Of course, the build-up is fun, and everyone loves a huge great battle where a villain is slain and the hero rescues the princess with nothing but a sword and luscious, swooping hair, but even before he’d had the first-hand experience, Stede imagined the hardship wouldn’t be all it cracked up to be. It was the ending, the falling immeasurably in love, the hero’s reward for a job well done, that Stede adored.
Maybe that’s why he sought out adventure the way he did. Maybe it wasn’t the hero status but simply the happy ending alone that he longed for all along.
It’s a bitter evening; the wind howls, rattling the windows on the other side of the shack that have yet to be mended. If he listens very carefully, Stede can hear the soft hush of raindrops scattering across the deck.
Ed’s hair is fighting its hardest to slither into Stede’s mouth, though Ed himself is sleeping still and heavy in Stede’s embrace, his back pressed firmly to Stede’s chest. It’s their first night in their new bed, having finally upgraded from a pallet on the floor, and even despite having double the amount of sleeping space they had on the Revenge, Stede still finds himself smothered by limbs and crushed into the mattress daily. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
It isn’t quite a cottage. It certainly isn’t a palace, or a castle, or a manor in the centre of town.
Ed stirs briefly, stretching in a long and luxurious press against the length of Stede’s front. Clearly still asleep, he shifts beneath the blankets, turning slowly in Stede’s arms until they’re face to face. His eyes are closed, a tiny frown knitting his brows together, though his expression goes slack once again when Stede gathers him close and folds him neatly in his arms. He hums as Stede holds him tighter; it isn’t so much of an emotive sound as an affirmative one, a yes, that’s right, that’s what I was missing.
It isn’t quite a cottage, but there are two chairs sitting side by side on the front porch, and there are wildflowers blooming in the grass, and Stede’s favourite adventure is snoring softly into his chest, so this must be a fairy tale after all.