Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Not that I’m going to stop you in any way at all, but are you absolutely sure about going now that you got the letter? With your situation and all I wouldn’t risk putting attention on myself, in your place.

Fact is, Lucius probably had been right. Fact is, Stede should have most likely stayed back at campus and not set foot outside, and maybe start planning for real when it came to the decision he knows he won’t come back from, except that –

He just fucking couldn’t do the smart thing and stay, he supposes.

He pushes his sunglasses back up on his face, a pang of envy grabbing his chest full as he takes a good look at the people surrounding him – most of them aren’t overdressed like he is, most of them aren’t stuffed in suits like he is, most of them are wearing flowy shirts with flowers printed on. Stede has an entire collection of similar garments – except of much better quality – stuck in the back of his wardrobe in his room back at the campus, but that he can’t wear them where anyone who knows his father or any of his friends can see it, which means that only Lucius has seen him wear them regularly anytime they sneak out to the bar where his roommate goes picking guys up, and only Mary knows beyond him.

He’d like to wear them at some point, but sure as hell there’s a reason why he won’t risk wearing them now, and there’s a reason why he’s wearing the most nondescript suit he could find and he’s staying to the side and he’s not joining the chants.

Right now, everyone around him is shouting hell no we won’t go, everyone except for him, and he just hopes no one thinks that he’s some kind of cop. Fine, no one did when he attended other demonstrations but that was before that damned letter arrived, and –

As much as he’s here because he wholly, thoroughly agrees with the sentiment, so much that he’s planning something he most likely won’t come back from in order to not go, he can’t get noticed. He can’t afford to.

Just saying, Lucius had pointed out, the last time anyone demonstrated right where you’re going, there was a mass arrest. You’ve been lucky with the others until now, and I’m not trying to discourage you from something I wholeheartedly agree with, but do you really want to risk your dear father having to bail you out? Because I don’t think your charming plan would work, then.

His roommate did have a point or a hundred, Stede thinks, hating how much his hands are sweating. It’s mid-March. They shouldn’t sweat.

And yet here he is, standing in the middle of a few hundred people chanting that they don’t want the war – same as him – and that they won’t go, all people he wishes he could just follow in both chanting and dressing and be open about their opinions.

And instead here he fucking is, standing here like a log, thinking about what his father about screamed at him the day the draft letter came, two weeks ago, and planning his maybe cowardly escape, except that –

No.

No, it’s not cowardly that he doesn’t want to go. That’s what his damned father thinks and he sure as hell never lifted a rifle in his entire life, as much as he thinks going to war will toughen him up.

What did he say, actually?

Oh, finally, if I failed in making a proper man out of you, maybe going over there and shooting some of those commie bastards will do the trick, won’t it? Weak-hearted, soft-handed, lily-livered rich boy that you are.

Yeah, well.

Stede is not interested in shooting down anyone, commie bastard or not, not that what he’s read of their politics ever sounded so bad to him, not when the idea of spilling anyone else’s blood makes him want to throw up his entire liver, and it’s not like he’s rich for any other reason than being his father’s fucking son, but that somehow never gets brought up.

He remembers the time he got a slap to the face for suggesting that his status was because he had been born fortunate.

And it’s not as if he’d have asked his father to do what his asshole friend Badminton did for his twins, as in, pay their way sort-of-out of it – oh, they were drafted and they went, but none of them is actually on the front lines and never will set foot in there. Like hell he would have asked for it. Never mind that he’d have felt horrible paying his way out of it, as if anyone else who got drafted and couldn’t afford such a thing had the same luxury.

But still.

Just the fact that he couldn’t even voice that he was morally opposed to a war in the first place, never mind one completely fucking not justified on any level as this, was… well.

There’s a reason why Lucius is the only person he’s talked to about this. The fact that he ended up rooming with him two years ago when Lucius had just enrolled and Stede was in his second-to-last year has been honestly a lifesaver, and good riddance to the asshole he shared the dorm with before – another son of a friend of his father’s who couldn’t stop making digs at how he never went out or did anything and he hadn’t changed from middle school at all, hadn’t he?

Anyway, Stede has thought it through. Lucius did suggest to just lie at the medical visit and say something that would get him disqualified, but.

The moment he thought of the possibilities, he knew it wasn’t a choice. He never had any kind of health issue that might have prevented him from going anyway, objecting openly would have had dire consequences because he couldn’t exactly hide it, and – well. The other two options would have been saying he was actually a commie or queer, and.

Never mind that Stede has been aware for a while that the second one is actually true, as much as he doesn’t like to dwell on it and as much as he’s never let himself act on it. It took rooming with Lucius for months to actually figure it out, bless him and the fact that he figured Stede out at once, and the only other person he knows is… the childhood sort-of-friend he’d be set to marry except that neither of them wants to, and good thing Mary took it well and told him that if they really couldn’t find a way out of it they could just pretend it was a working marriage and do their own thing on the side, but admitting that to a military doctor would have meant his father finding out sooner or later, imagine if he wouldn’t bribe someone to actually look into his file, and.

Somehow, running away to Canada sounded like a way better and cleaner option than his father being aware that he was either a commie (or that he had opinions that would fall under that definition anyway, as far as his father was concerned) or queer or both, and if he just told him he lied to avoid the draft, well.

His degree is most likely a bust regardless at this point. If his father found out he’d just pull him out of college in the first place, after all he is the one paying for the tuition, and Stede doesn’t know anyone who could house him while he got back on his feet to support himself should he be cut off, and if he goes to Canada, well, goes unsaid, but at this point Canada is just the most painless solution.

It’s not like he has family who’d miss him, and his only friend is Lucius and he’d keep in touch, and at least he’d have his conscience clean also when it came to Mary. If he went, they couldn’t force her to marry him, and maybe they’d listen to her when she insisted she should just be an artist instead of his housewife, which is what her parents apparently have thought she should be since he was seven and she was five. As if.

Hell no we won’t go, he whispers as the chant becomes louder, not daring to join properly.

And he can’t stop thinking about the fact that June 3rd is not so far away.

Oh, it’s months from now, but that’s when he has to join the army, and he doesn’t know if it’s long enough to figure this entire Canada thing out.

First of all, he needs to put aside enough money to actually secure a passage there, and considering that he should have access to his trust fund but his father won’t let him touch it until he graduates and starts working for the thrice-damned family company, that’s not going to work. Then he has to find out how to get to the border, he should get in contact with people who could help him, he should find a host, and he should manage to not get found out throughout the whole thing, and –

Lucius maybe could help him with some of that, he probably has friends in Canada or know people who know people, but – he just feels miserable at the prospect of being a burden on anyone else, and sure, he’s halfway sure that if he could find the right contacts there has to be a network for this, people run off to Canada all the time last he checked, but he has no idea where to start from.

It was bad enough that Mary found him looking at Canada travel guides in a bookshop near campus and sent him an understanding look, and said she was willing to cover for him and pretend their engagement was still valid until he left as long as he covered for the fact that she was taking art classes without her parents knowing and that she might have a thing for her teacher, who is incidentally only a few years older than her, and that’s – more than he could have hoped for. He wants her to be happy. But anyone else could and would have ratted him out, and so he hasn’t even dared doing that, and –

He feels so fucking useless. He wants to do one thing for his morals, one thing so he can live with himself regardless of anything else, and he can’t even figure out where to start? Yeah, well.

Useless weak-hearted, soft-handed, lily-livered rich boy, isn’t he?

He could – stop anyone here and ask, maybe, but with the way he’s dressed anyone would peg him for an undercover cop, wouldn’t they, and if he disclosed his identity they’d probably be suspicious anyway because since when do lily-livered rich boys join protests without wanting to be seen?

They usually don’t.

He’s going to have to figure this out, because hell no he won’t go, if there’s one thing he knows is that he’s not going even if they have to fucking drag him to boot camp and even then he’d just rather throw himself off the helicopter and be done with that because it’s not like he has anything to live for at this point, and that’s it.

From tomorrow, he swears to himself, he’s going to look into it seriously.

Now…

Now he has a demonstration to pay attention to instead of just looking like a fish out of water the way he has throughout his entire damned life.

He takes a deep breath, looks up at the bright blue sky, and –

Run, someone shouts from behind him, and a moment later ten people are barreling into him and his eyes are watering and he hears screaming all around – he dares take a look and he sees that there are a whole damn lot of cops coming on to them, and it was supposed to be safe but of course Lucius was right and –

He runs along with the others trying to not get trampled, getting rid of the glasses because they just cracked the moment some guy’s elbow crashed into his face as he tried to get on his feet, except that now he’s tearing up more because they’re using fucking gas, why, no one was doing anything wrong, and fuck his father knows the police chief of course he does, and if they catch him here he’s not going to Canada, he’s going straight to boot camp months earlier, and the thought just makes him try to run harder except he’s wearing a pair of fancy, polished leather moccasins that do not help when it comes to making his way through a bunch of screaming people and his head is going to burst –

He screams when he feels a baton hit him hard on his right side. He falls on his back to the ground, wanting to hurl for how much it fucking hurts, and there’s some cop with a mask right above him who kicks him right in the same spot and then looks about to do it again and it hurts so much he thinks he’ll faint –

And then the man does kick him, but nowhere near as hard as he could have because someone else must have kicked him from behind or something, and that’s all good but it doesn’t change that he feels like his mouth is filling up with blood and he can’t stay awake and so he closes his eyes hoping he doesn’t wake up in a jail cell –

He’s probably dreaming up the pair of pretty, kind brown eyes staring down at him in worry as he’s lifted up while he passes out.

In no universe anyone would ever look at him that way.

– –

What a disappointment, his father says, staring down at him while Stede feels blood filling his mouth and his lower lip stings. Can’t wait until you’re out there and out of my sight, at least if they kill you in action I won’t have to be ashamed anymore, will I?

He tries to answer but he only feels more blood gurling out of his throat and his entire stomach feels like a bruise and his father’s still staring down at him and he places a polished, stainless shoe on his chest and presses down and he splutters and everything is going red and –

Are you planning on leaving me here with our relatives? Have you even thought about it? You selfish asshole, Mary says, appearing next to his father, looking down at him and shaking her head like he’s not even worth the heel of her shoe, and then she turns her back on him, her eyes cold, and –

You can’t even be man enough to marry her, can you, his father goes on, how could I go this wrong, how could I sire someone so useless, you’d better just deal with it or else, and wasn’t that what he said when he told Stede they had to marry, and suddenly he realizes they’re in his childhood bedroom but there are bars in place of the door and he’s trapped and he can’t leave and oh fuck he’s going to throw up blood he is he is he is –

He opens his eyes again halfway expecting to wake up in a jail cell.

He’s… definitely not in one. He’s staring up at a trailer’s ceiling, and his side hurts like hell and he’s lying on a bed whose mattress is just barely serviceable, but no, it’s not a jail cell, and then he realizes there’s –

His eyes fall on the hand that’s covering his own, resting over a thin blanket over the spot where he got hit badly before.

It’s a nice hand, he thinks. Feels rough, but in the good way, and it’s warm and Stede is feeling cold as hell, and –

He tries to sit up and take a look at the hand’s owner –

“Hey, mate, take it easy, they really got you roughened up,” someone says, and then he’s being helped sit up, and –

Oh.

He’s staring up into those same eyes he thought he dreamed up before he passed out and now that he can actually take a good look at the person they belong to –

Well, fuck.

He’s staring at the most astonishing guy he’s ever seen – never mind that the eyes in question are huge, of a soft brown color that reminds him of the earth he used to plant flowers in before his father found out he was keeping a garden in the property and promptly tore them all out and poured salt on that one lot, except brighter, with long eyelashes framing them, but – the man’s entire face is a marvel. He has long dark hair with a few gray streaks even if he’s obviously near his age, wears a long, black beard that reaches the upper part of his chest, warm dark skin just a shade lighter than the eyes and a very, very lovely set of shoulders hidden under a black leather jacket that looks so good on him, Stede’s throat goes even more dry than it already is.

And he’s looking at him like he’s… really worried. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh,” he croaks, “thanks, uh –”

“Wait,” the man says, patting his hand and standing up, “you so need some water. Sorry it’s gonna be warm, this place is shitty and they cut the current a week ago because the owner didn’t fucking pay the bill, but –”

“Please,” Stede says, “that’s – that’s quite all right. I’m already imposing –”

“Save it.” He presses a glass of warm water in his hand and Stede just downs it at once – fuck, he definitely was thirsty. “Here.” His savior pours him another two from a plastic bottle and Stede just gulps them all over. “Figured all that gas might make you thirsty.”

“Fuck,” Stede says, “I – I had no idea.”

“First round?” The man asks, eyes glinting.

“No,” Stede says. “I’ve been to another ten or so, but never… there. I got warned that it might be dangerous, I went anyway and… did a proper cock up out of it, didn’t I. And – thank you for getting me out of it. I, uh, it wouldn’t have been… great. If they caught me, that is.”

“No problem at all,” the man shrugs, “everyone has to go through their first rodeo with the fucking cops at some point. And how do I call you, by the way?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, where did my manners – Stede,” he says, extending his hand. “Stede Bonnet.”

“Edward Teach,” the man replies, shaking it, a nice, firm grip, “you can call me Ed – just you wait, Bonnet like –”

“Yes,” Stede sighs, his cheeks flaming. He knows what’s coming now, he knows that Ed will just look at him in distaste as he right damn should –

“Well, I can absolutely see why you didn’t wanna be caught,” Ed says, winking at him, what the – “Didn’t know that man had kids that actually had a functioning brain.”

Stede snorts. “Oh, it’s just me,” he says, “and he’s never liked how my brain functioned. Since about forever.”

“Just confirms the general impression some of us proletarians have of him,” Ed winks, and Stede has to laugh a bit even if his side really fucking hurts as he does. “Sorry ‘bout that,” Ed says, “but I don’t have much in the way of painkillers around here. And I couldn’t exactly buy any.”

“It’s all right,” Stede says, “please, you did more than enough. I just – honestly, I barely even remember how it went.”

“Oh, I can tell you,” Ed says, standing up to find him more water, and if Stede can’t help staring at how his leather trousers hug his legs and ass, well. He’s not even going to lie to himself about why. “So, we were all standing there doing our thing like always and the bastards showed up even if we had a permit, like always, but they’ll just say someone was being violent and no one’s going to check twice. Doesn’t happen all the time, but more often than not. I was about to bail because it’s, as stated, not my fucking first rodeo, but then I noticed that you were not too far and trying to go with the flow and that you obviously didn’t know what to do, just before one of those assholes threw his baton into you. By the way, want some piece of advice?”

“Sure,” Stede croaks, taking the glass from him again. He really feels like his throat has been scorched dry.

“Try to take hits on the left side, if you ever are in that situation. Less important bits in there and all.”

Stede nods, putting the glass on the nightstand on the side of the bed. Now that he takes in his surroundings, he can see that it’s really well-kept, with a whole lot of trinkets placed neatly around the place in spite of not being on the large side. The furniture is obviously old but clean and polished, there are pictures hanging on the wall, there’s a record player on the other side of the room with vinyls neatly stacked in a nearby bookshelf, a small New Zealand flag hung on the wall over to the side where the kitchen is. It’s nice. It looks lived in, which is a whole lot more than he could say for his own room back home that has always looked neat in the way his father thought it should have been. He’s curious about the flag, but he’s not going to probe when Ed was this kind to him in the first place.

“Duly noted,” Stede groans.

“Anyway, the guy went and hit you good and proper and you ended up on your knees, and I could see that he was about to give you a few well-aimed kicks, and honestly, I try to stay out of getting involved with cops for a whole fucking lot of reasons, but – well. I was there. And you looked fucking terrified. So, I might have hit said cop from behind, grabbed you before you fainted and dragged you out. And since I didn’t have anywhere better to go, welcome to my humble abode.” He says that sounding a bit like he thinks Stede will have something bad to say about said humble abode.

“Please,” Stede replies, “I am – very grateful. Really. You – kind of saved my hide. If they found me there... I mean. My father finding out I went to a march would have been the least of my problems.” He doesn’t know why he’s saying all of this to someone he doesn’t even know, but for some reason it feels easier talking to this man than it has ever felt talking to anyone at all, and he can’t be bothered to care about it.

“How so?” Ed replies, and that’s when Stede notices the black and white picture on the nightstand.

It’s seven guys standing in front of what seems like barracks in a jungle. They’re all in Marine uniforms. Ed isn’t in it, but why would anyone have a picture of what looks like at least half of a unit on their nightstand if –

“You… you might not think very highly of me, after I tell,” Stede says, suddenly feeling dirty. This man most likely went to Vietnam and he’s here about to tell him he wants to fucking run, what will he think? Sure, he was at a demonstration against the war, but –

“Try me,” Ed shrugs, sitting down on the chair, noticing that Stede has figured that out.

“Just,” Stede says, “I – I had my draft notice a few weeks ago.”

“All right. And?” Ed’s voice is suddenly more controlled than before, as if he doesn’t want to give away any reaction until he knows where exactly this is going.

“My father seems to think it would do me a lot of good to go.”

“I can believe that,” Ed nods, still sounding like that, and Stede misses the easy flow from a few minutes ago, and yet.

“I want to go to Canada,” Stede blurts. “I – I don’t want to do it, I think it’s wrong, I think we have no business going there and mixing up in other countries’ politics, I think it’s immoral that they just would force anyone to go and I hate everything that war stands for. And – I can see you went, I just –”

He stops when he hears Ed… breathe in relief. What?

“Please,” Ed says, “you think I’d judge you wrong because you don’t want to walk into that hell on Earth and you’d go as far as chucking away your entire life and your money for that? You think I wanted to?” He shrugs. “Sorry, I mean, this has nothing to do with you. Just –”

“Most rich guys like me would just complain that their father wouldn’t pay their way out of the draft, right?”

“I mean,” Ed says, “I knew it couldn’t be that because why would you be at a demonstration otherwise, but still. I just… guess I didn’t know what to expect, but that takes guts. I wouldn’t say you were a coward or anything like that.”

Stede thinks he might faint. No one’s ever told him that. No one –

“I think my father wouldn’t agree.”

Ed snorts.

“Your father is obviously a dick, so it’s entirely not surprising to hear confirmation of it. That said,” he sighs, “wanna know how I ended up there?”

“If you would like to share,” Stede says. “I wouldn’t… demand it.”

“Please,” Ed waves a hand. “Want some more water, by the way? Yeah, don’t even answer it. So, let’s say that I come from a very shitty small town on the coast and that my father was, also, a real fucking dick who landed himself in jail for life and couldn’t of course do it before making my mother’s life a living hell and burning out all the money he could.” He shrugs. “I’m not bothering you with the details, but let’s say he landed himself in jail when I was finishing high school.” He sounds… quite bitter, as he mentions that. “So, I dropped out and tried to find a job, and they’d only take me for shitty ones and there never was enough money even if it was two of us working. So I might have – dabbled in local small crime. Stealing car parts and shit. For a few years.”

He stops at that, looking at Stede as if he expects him to change his attitude the moment he hears that, but – so what? Why would he care? He won’t judge anyone for committing small crimes the moment he’s considering committing a pretty huge one and if he couldn’t manage it he’d consider desertion, which… would be a tad more of an issue, in comparison.

He nods. “I wouldn’t be blaming you for doing that. But I imagine that didn’t work out?”

“No. Right. So, this day I’m at the local bar and it was a real crap turn at the stupid local factory I was sweating my ass off in, and some jerk passing by who obviously couldn’t hold his alcohol and came from somewhere fancy out of State starts shouting about how the place sucks and the town is terrible and his hotel sucks and he expected better from his post-graduation road trip. I tell him to gently shut the fuck up while my head is threatening to split, he looks at me and calls me something very unsavory, I punch him in the face, we both landed in the local jail.”

“I… suppose that didn’t go bad for him?”

“Oh, as stated, he was some fresh out of college white kid driving by. He got away with a slap to his wrist after they called his father in New York or wherever the fuck he came from. Me, instead… to no one’s surprise, the sheriff looks at me and says that I can either go to jail for some six months or I can pack my bags and go to Vietnam and send my mother the army pay. The fuck was I going to do?” He shrugs. “So, I left, stayed there a year and some, hated every second of it, got a knee busted in action and it was just my fucking luck I didn’t blow up my entire leg, here I am.”

Oh. He’s gesturing at his left leg and now that Stede looks down at it, there’s a black leather knee brace wound around it.

“Nice souvenir,” Ed shrugs. “Anyway, five out of seven people in that picture are dead and I was the one taking it, that’s why I’m not in it.”

“I’m – I’m awfully sorry.”

“I can hear it,” Ed says, sounding sympathetic, at least that, and Stede just –

“It’s so unfair they didn’t give you a choice,” he says. “And – it’s not like – I mean, I’m – they should have held the other guy accountable, too.”

“First time I hear someone coming from where you hail saying that and meaning it,” Ed winks. “Guess saving your ass wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Stede knows he’s blushing. He knows he must be. And then he tries to sit up straighter and blanches some more.

“Still hurts?” Ed asks, sympathetically.

“Yeah. Guess they hit me hard, didn’t they.”

“Just take it easy, it’s not even five in the afternoon and I’ve got nowhere else to be. By the way, what were you saying about Canada, before?”

Stede shrugs, feeling a tiny bit more confident about it than he was when he blurted it out.

“I weighed my options,” Stede shrugs. “I don’t have any health issues that would excuse me in the first place, and my father knows, so… well. If I lied at the medical visit he would find out and I doubt he’d be much happier with anything if it turned out I thought like one of the commies I should kill, according to him.”

“I see,” Ed nods. “Go ahead.”

“And – I mean, what’s the only other option? Either I run off to Canada or there’s nothing left except going, and – I’m not. I’m just, uh, not really sure of how I should go about it.”

“Why?” Ed asks. “I mean, not to sound crass, but –”

“Oh, but I don’t actually have the money, that’s the issue.” Stede smiles sadly, hissing as his side pulls. He pulls his shirt upwards, looking underneath. Fuck, he has a bruise the size of a plate on there. How hard did they even kick him? “See, my father already doesn’t like that I don’t live at home but I’d rather be on campus, and – I never wanted to study economics, but my hand was forced, because I had to take his place, you know.”

“And what is it that you’d have wanted to do?” Ed asks, sounding like he’s interested.

“Theater,” Stede whispers. “I mean, I don’t know if I would have wanted to act, but direct plays? Now that would have been — I could have been a theater major and taken an economics minor, but of course he didn’t even want to hear it.”

“Figures,” Ed says, “the one thing I didn’t suck ass at in school besides math.”

“You – in high school?”

“Always was terrible at most stuff that didn’t include numbers,” he says, “but when it came to school plays? They always ran after me because they wanted me as the lead.”

Stede can’t help thinking that they had excellent taste, because the man in front of him? He’s so charismatic and handsome, of course they’d want him to be the lead.

“Yeah, you’d think so. Anyway, so you’re stuck studying boring-ass shit you hate?”

“Yes, but – I mean, I have some trust fund money but I can’t access it until I finish my degree and I purposefully dragged it forward so I’d have to postpone the moment I had to work with him and my fucking arranged wedding.”

“They… arranged your wedding.”

“To a childhood friend, yes,” Stede replies, pained. “Except that Mary is otherwise interested – I mean, she’s in love with her art teacher and her parents don’t like that she wants to paint, and for now we’re just… covering for each other. She knows I don’t want it either, so. Anyway. Point is, I can access enough money for basic expenses and so on, but not for a trip to the border. My father knows people at that faculty and he already chastised me for being too friendly with my current roommate who is there on a scholarship and lives in a nearby comune when he’s not at campus, which means that if I tried to write to any… organization helping out people who want to run to Canada he’d find out before I could take action. And I know that asking people to help with it might put them in danger unless they know what they’re doing, and dragging my roommate into it actively? When he already risks getting arrested every other time we go out at night? I’m not really sure I want to do that. Not when he worked his ass off to get there in the first place and he’s already half on thin ice.” He probably shouldn’t have shared that information so easily, but he doubts that Ed would give a fuck from what he’s seen.

“Very noble of you,” Ed nods, “and sensed. Anyway, this whole situation isn’t stopping you from… reconsidering?”

“Like hell,” Stede shakes his head. “I mean, at worst I can just… jump on some train without a ticket or hitch a few rides on cars and hope I don’t get caught and that whatever cash I can bring lasts me to Canada, but I’m not reconsidering. I’m not going.”

“Don’t you really care that you’d leave everything behind and unless there’s a general pardon you wouldn’t be able to set foot here ever again?”

“And so what? I never wanted to live here, I never wanted my father’s job which honestly – I hate using his money in the first place because I know he wouldn’t have half as much if he just paid fair wages and didn’t actively drive away each single union person that ever worked for him, if I ran away Mary wouldn’t even need to be forced to fucking marry me and I know one person who’d miss me and I could write him and he could visit. Honestly? It’s terrifying, but the alternative is worse, and – I’ll admit it, I despise violence and I hate the idea of killing someone, but just – doing it to people I don’t even know from Adam for a cause I don’t even believe in when we have no business being there is just – worse. No. I don’t care.”

“Feisty,” Ed grins harder. “Think I like you, Stede Bonnet. Wanna do something weird?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, fuck me but I think I might be able to help you… if you help me back.”

“... You could…?” Stede asks, and then Ed looks back up at him, a… serious look to his face. The grin has dropped and his fingertips are tapping against his thigh, and he takes a deep breath before he drags the chair closer to the bed.

“Maybe,” he says. “So, uh. Let’s just – put all cards on deck. I told you I stole car parts before they sent me overseas, yeah?”

Stede nods.

“And you’ve got no issue with that?”

“No, but why would I? It’s – I mean, from what I heard you aren’t doing it for the fun of it. And my father pays his bills by underpaying his employees, as if I have any ground to stand on.”

“Well.” He sighs. “When I came back, they sent me to the VA. As everyone else. I’ll – well. I’ll make it short. The VA said a lot of nice-sounding things, said they’d help me find a decent job and whatnot, but I just had to wait out a list and so on. Guess what?”

“That job never showed up?”

“And that would be correct. Now… ever heard of… Blackbeard’s?”

Stede thinks about it for a moment, then – “Uh. Isn’t that… some kind of very well-hidden junkyard where they bring stolen cars to be dismantled? And the owner goes by that name and no one ever saw him and half of the cops that beat us up today would pay to find who he is because nine stolen cars on ten in this city end up there?”

“Yes. Fuck, guess it really is famous.”

“You work for Blackbeard?”

Ed laughs. “You could say that… but no. I am Blackbeard.”

He looks up at Stede with the face of someone who is absolutely sure that this is what makes the other person fuck off.

Well, he just admitted that if any of those cops caught him at the march they’d have had a serious career promotion, and that he’s spent years making ends meet like that, and Stede should have issues with it. He should, except that –

Stede swallows, and opens his mouth, and –

“Should have realized it from the aesthetic,” he says, and Ed laughs in relief.

“You’re – you’re a lunatic. You’re in a room with a wanted professional car thief and shit and that’s what you have to say?”

“The wanted professional car thief saved my life and has been nothing but perfectly lovely to me, so I’d like to hear his side of the story before jumping to conclusions. Also, I’m planning on pretty much deserting. Who am I to call people out when it comes to breaking the law?”

Ed gives him an uncertain look, but he’s obviously convinced, because then he shrugs and clears his throat.

“Right, so,” he keeps on, “they weren’t giving me shit and it’s not like the army gave me back pay or a monthly income or anything, figures, and I got a job at this shit garage – back then it was owned by this asshole Ben Hornigold, who… had the same car stealing business on the side. He found out I had precedents, told me I could make good money out of it. Back then I couldn’t even afford to rent a trailer. I was without options and I figured I’d give it a go until I got back on my feet. So I said sure, turns out I was better than him at just ‘bout anything including turning a profit, and – well. Let’s say he was another piece of shit and ran things making everyone else miserable and underpaying them too with a hefty dose of blackmail so they couldn’t go straight if they chose to. The day he got himself arrested I didn’t do shit to bail him out and everyone decided I was in charge, and – I ended up in charge. And guess what, two years later I’m making enough to rent the stupid trailer, at least. Guess I could aim higher, but I like sharing the cut with the others. Which in turn makes the profits higher anyway because everyone is more motivated if they actually set money aside. Some of them decided to go straight and differently from Hornigold, no one turned me in. Any money I make that I don’t have to spend for necessities, I save up so I can upgrade.”

“Then, you’re a better manager than my father will ever be and I haven’t heard anything that would make me want to leave. Ed, really, so you’re a bigger fish in that kind of pond than most, and what do I care? It’s not like it was your first choice, and you’re hardly killing people. I’d be a right asshole to judge you for it given my plans for the immediate future. What we could help each other with?”

Ed swallows, and suddenly he looks… somehow smaller as he pulls the chair closer and looks down at his hands.

“I’m tired,” he admits, whispering as if saying it out loud would just be too much. “I never wanted to do that to make a living. Everyone seems to expect out of me that I’ll just get better and better jobs, and until now things went well – but what if I get caught or get them caught?”

“Oh,” Stede says. “So… thinking about retirement from that business?”

“Somethin’ like that, yeah,” he says. “Except that… well, the system is setting yours truly up to majestically fail. And if I’ve gotta get anywhere, I need a GED at least, and – it’s not like I ever mingled with your people. I should learn that shit if I want, I don’t know, get a respectable business and deal with ‘em, right? And for what concerns the GED, well.” He shrugs. “Told you, I wasn’t going to be an honor student anytime soon. The assignments were a pain, and my handwriting is just… well. It’s just bad. It’s like it never clicked properly.”

“But you were good at acting, right?”

“Yeah but that involved a lot of listening. It's like it made it easier. What does it have to do with everything else?”

Stede thinks he doesn’t have any words at the moment. He just – keeps on staring at Ed feeling absolutely fucking perplexed because he can’t just make sense of what he’s just heard. Who the – he doesn’t know anyone with that good a memory. It just – who the hell has a student like that and doesn’t even let him graduate? Were they even doing their job or was Ed just unlucky and got a string of incompetent teachers?

“Sorry,” he blurts, “how bad were your teachers?”

“Excuse me?”

“No, how bad were they? I mean, if you had a knack for the whole stolen cars thing when it came to reselling you must be good with numbers, and you said yourself just now that listening helps you memorize things fast, if anyone let you drop out in the first place then they had to be just abysmal at their job.”

“Mate, half of my class actually dropped out. They just didn’t care and wanted to work somewhere they’d get a better pay. I appreciate the solidarity, but I don’t think we had the same posh private school standards.”

“That’s – what the fuck, I just – never mind. You’re right,” Stede says, shaking his head – as much as his own teachers were bad in other ways, it’s not even comparable. But he’s still angry as hell just thinking about it – if that’s your job you should at least try to do it instead of not caring. “I interrupted you. You were saying?”

“Uh, well, maybe you could use your fancy school preparation to help me get the fucking GED, on top of something else,” Ed shrugs. “Exam’s in early May,” Ed shrugs. “When is your draft up?”

“June 3rd,” Stede sighs. “But of course I could do it. I imagine that something else has to do with your future business?”

“Not bad,” Ed nods. “Right. Yeah, I’d need that and… pointers on how to deal with… y’know. Well-off people. I want to start fresh and I won’t start any business if I tell any asshole I don’t like to go fuck himself the moment they look at me wrong. About that… I always liked the sea. Thought I could just buy a damned fishing boat and do that. Wouldn’t get filthy rich, but I’d have a boat, I could live there, I could just go wherever the fuck I wanted and I wouldn’t have to be tied anywhere.”

“You’d be right,” Stede says, “but… I could do that. Of course. It would be no hassle. And… it sounds like a good idea, honestly. I’d only be too happy to help.”

“Well,” Ed says, “let’s say you do that for me. In exchange… let’s say I know people who know people who can help arrange trips to the Canada border. If you can’t use your trust fund money I can just call in some friends who are in that business. They’re usually pretty fast. You help me with my stuff in May, I make sure you’re at the border by the end of the month. If you trust that agreement, that is.”

Stede has his hand out before he even thinks about it twice. There is nothing to think about.

“All right,” he says. “Deal?”

“... Not even taking ten seconds to think of the small print?”

“No,” Stede says, keeping his hand held out. “You saved my hide, you’ve been upfront, you’re not asking for anything I can’t give and it’s an entirely fair proposal, so – no. I’ll do it.”

“Well, fuck me,” Ed says. “It’s a deal then.”

Stede can see his pleased, small grin behind that black, black beard.

He wonders if Ed caught on the fact that he never mentioned lying about being queer at the medical visit before.

He doesn’t think he’ll bring it up for now, but –

“Deal,” Stede grins. “When do we start? I mean, we could even now –”

“Hold on to your horses,” Ed says, “you can barely fucking move. By the way, you are aware that I can’t bring you back to your college like that? Not today, at least.”

Right. As much as he doesn’t want to impose on Ed, he felt like throwing up the moment he tried to swing his legs off the bed. Fair.

“What – what do you propose?”

“Just, crash here tonight. I have another cot on the other side of the trailer. Tomorrow morning you can take a shower, yes, this thing is shit but it has a shower, I can lend you something to wear because your fancy clothing is fucked, and then I drive you back to campus or whatever. Then you spend five days resting and then –” He hands Stede a business card that only has a landline number written behind it. “That’s my office number. You call anytime, you tell me when you’re good. Deal?”

“I – I should take the cot –” “You can barely fucking stand, mate. It’s fine. I was in ‘Nam, you think sleeping on a cot is gonna be what kills my back?”

“Uh, no, of course, it must have been –”

“Chill, I was just fucking with you. Right, I’ll go get some food for the evening then. Don’t try to stand up. I mean it. Unless you need to use the bathroom, in that case – sorry to say the bathrooms are all outside, but they’re like, just on your left.”

“All right,” Stede nods. “All right. And thank you.”

“Right back at you,” Ed winks, and then he disappears outside the van in all his leather-clad glory, and Stede doesn’t know if he dreamed this entire exchange or not, but –

It’s a deal, and one that works in his favor only too fucking much, so he’ll honor it. And if he feels like the guys from the picture on Ed’s bedside aren’t judging him so harshly now...

At least someone seems to think that he’s doing the right thing without even questioning it.

– –

“This is just about heavenly,” Stede says immediately after he swallows the first bite of meat from his plate.

“Now I think you’re maybe exaggerating a bit,” Ed replies as he sets down his own dish in the small table he dragged in front of the bed so that Stede could eat without needing to move, but he sounds… pleased? Probably. He’s also not quite looking at him, but Stede is not going to hear otherwise.

“No, I’m not. It’s just delicious, how –”

“Mate, it’s, like, pork, bacon, sweet potatoes and some green. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Stede is absolutely going to protest. He just will get some more of that exquisite stew in him first. “Are you kidding me? I mean, yes, sure, I had all of that already, but all boiled like this? And with those dumplings on top? I never had anything like that. And it tastes amazing. And I’m pretty sure it’s not a local recipe, but –”

“No,” Ed says after swallowing his own spoonful. “Uh, my mother taught me.” He nods towards the flag on the wall. “Suppose you wondered why that’s hung, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Stede says, “but you don’t have to tell me. I mean, it’s your business.”

“Eh, not a State secret,” Ed shrugs. “My father met her there when he ended up in New Zealand during the war. The other one. He got stationed there after the US army landed there in ‘42, they unfortunately fell for each other and she came with him here when the war was over. Sadly they already had me just after meeting. Then it turns out that she made a pretty shit decision, but she also had no means to go back, especially bringing a kid with. Anyway, she taught me most of the cooking I can do, it was her recipe. I mean, she was extremely disappointed she couldn’t use some ingredients from home that can’t be found anywhere else, but you do what you can.”

“Well,” Stede says, “honestly, you have a gift for it. You could get a fish restaurant on that boat of yours and you’d get extremely rich in no time.”

Ed does laugh at that, like he’s delighted at the suggestion. “Could think about it. Maybe a bar and grill thing. Nothing too pretentious.”

“Pretentious is overrated,” Stede says, wolfing down more dumplings. “Honestly, it’s just delicious. I’m not exaggerating.”

Ed takes a bite from his dumpling. “Mate, not that I’m complaining that you think the boil-up is all the rage, but with all of that posh upbringing of yours, I doubt you never had anything fancier. Dunno, didn’t you have like, hired people to cook?”

It makes sense, Stede supposes. He sighs, scraping the bottom of the plate from the last of the broth before Ed raises an eyebrow and gives him a refill. “We did. I mean, my mother never cooked once in her life. But like, they didn’t choose the menu. They cooked what my father wanted to eat. As in… steak, more steak, sometimes barbecue, sometimes fish, sometimes oysters when he had guests he wanted to impress, and more steak. And I don’t… well. I like meat. Just… you know. Not like that and all of the time. And it was obvious that – I don’t – this is going to sound stupid, but I think you can taste it when someone cooks because they want to and they enjoy it or because they’re paid to. It was good food, but I didn’t like it. This is just – a whole other level. So yes, it’s the best thing I ever had. And no offense taken.”

Ed shakes his head, but it sounds like he doesn’t mind that particular fact. All the contrary. “Well, my mom would be definitely glad to hear her efforts teaching me how to not burn stuff paid off. So, eating fancy meat with all the fifteen different forks they have at that kinda restaurant isn’t all that’s cracked up to be?”

“Not at all,” Stede shakes his head. “Honestly, I’d consider the fish restaurant. A moving fish restaurant.”

“Huh,” Ed considers, “know what, I’ll think about it. Do you want a third helping?”

“Please,” Stede says, and if Ed looks extremely pleased at his enthusiasm... it really is that good.

– –

Later, he does try to sleep, except that by now his side is in a whole damned lot of pain and to his chagrin, he’s not adjusted to sleeping on beds with such a flat mattress, and then he thinks well Ed sleeps on this on the regular and it’s the comfortable one out of the two and he swallows down the shame that comes with it. Honestly, he has shit to complain about. And no one who got sent to that stupid war and came back from it when they didn’t even want to go nor were technically drafted should have to make do like this, if you ask his opinion.

The fact that he can’t manage to sleep, though, means that the moment Ed starts moving weird in the cot on the opposite side of the trailer, he hears it, and he knows it’s a nightmare the moment he starts trashing under the covers and muttering under his breath, and he’s about to just stand and go there, fuck the pain in his side, and then Ed jerks upwards, sitting on the bed, taking in deep breaths and muttering what sounds like a series of fucks under his breath before wiping sweat from his forehead. He tries to keep his breathing under control, desperately pretending he’s asleep the moment Ed mutters thank fuck I didn’t wake him up, and then whispers to himself some more, too low for Stede to hear, and stands out to get a glass of his lukewarm water.

Stede slowly, slowly burrows more under the clean but thin, threadbare sheet and closes his eyes, feeling horrible for not having done anything when Ed spent he doesn’t even know how fucking long watching over him before, and – he thinks of his comfortable bed both at his house and at the dorm and feels even worse.

He sleeps fitfully and by the time the sun is up he can stand but has barely rested, and he’s only too glad to accept the coffee Ed pours him, noticing that he drops at least three sugar cubes in the cup.

“What,” Ed asks, “pegged me for a bitter coffee person?”

“Not at all,” Stede shrugs, sipping his own without sugar. He does enjoy his sweet flavors, just… not in coffee, he supposes. “If you can’t even take your coffee the way you like, what else there is?”

“You wouldn’t know,” Ed says, “how many people side-eye the sugars.”

“People should mind their own business,” Stede shakes his head. “And this is good coffee. Thanks, I –”

“Don’t mention that, mate. By the way, if you want to wash properly, shower’s over there. Not exactly great, but if you want to before I bring you back –”

“Please, don’t even – it’s more than I could ask for. Thanks again, I don’t know what I would have done –”

“Save it, you’re paying me a favor, right? Go ahead, I’ll lend you something to wear.”

At least, the common bathroom is actually clean, which is more than most people Stede knows would have given the place credit for, and while taking the shower hurts because he can barely stand, it’s just about the only complaint he could have – it’s very tidy and sparkling clean, with a couple soap bars, a shampoo and a conditioner bottle hung neatly on a small plastic box attached to the wall, and he takes care to leave them as he found them after making use of both.

He thinks about Ed using them while doing his hair and he immediately quells the traitorous thought that just rose at the thought of Ed’s hair under his hands as he works a nice conditioner and oils into it because that’s really not anything he should be even starting to picture, and comes out of the shower to find that Ed isn’t in the trailer but that he’s left him a change on the bed as promised – it’s a clean pair of plain jeans and a black t-shirt with what’s obviously the logo of some bar on it, or at least he supposes a place named Spanish Jackie’s with a bottle of rum drawn under the name has to be a bar, but it’s clean and soft and it fits him pretty well, and that means Ed would fit in Stede’s clothing, and if Stede thinks that he would look absolutely lovely in any of his cashmere shirts, he stops that trail immediately.

He’s already gone there twice. And fine, he’s into men and Ed is handsome as hell and he’s never dared consider looking at anyone that way, but still. He can’t. He tries to think of his upcoming statistics final to make sure he doesn’t get too excited and gets back to dressing himself.

He’s managed to put his shoes back on with some effort when Ed walks back inside the trailer. “Huh,” he says, “thought that’d suit you. Jackie would have a fit.”

“Wait, is she the owner of… the establishment?”

“She is,” Ed nods. “Doesn’t run the kind of place your crowd would go for drinks at, not that she likes rich people either, so she doesn’t cater to that clientele, therefore she’d have a fit. She also has good alcohol. And cheap. And does veteran discounts, so it’s all good. Ready to go?” He opens the door, and Stede follows him out.

“Sure,” Stede says, and Ed shoves a black, battered helmet in his hands just before he sits in the front of the bike.

“I’ll go slow,” he says, “I’ll stop a block from your dorm just in case. Tell me where to go.”

Stede wishes he didn’t have to, but – well. Better not risk.

“Sure,” he says, his hands shaking as they curl around Ed’s waist, over the jacket, and he sits back on the motorcycle. Which, by the way, is an absolute beauty – it’s a black Harley, kept pristinely considering how much the painting shines under the spring sun. “And – it’s really a lovely ride,” he says as Ed turns the engine on.

“Thanks,” Ed says, sounding very proud, “I take good care of her, not to brag.”

“You absolutely should brag,” Stede insists, and he can hear Ed laughing just a bit before he starts it and drives out of the park.

They ride slowly as Ed promised, twenty minutes of utter and complete bliss and frustration at the same time because Ed is warm and solid and his waist fits perfectly in Stede’s arm and at the same time Stede knows this is the most he’ll ever get and that’s fine, it really is, and when Ed parks a couple of blocks from his dorm Stede is almost reluctant to step back, but – he kind of has to, doesn’t he? He slides off the bike, holding a hand to his side and hissing as he goes back on his feet.

“Shit,” he says, “that’s gonna hurt worse now, won’t it?”

“If you call me before five days I’m personally slamming the phone in your face,” Ed replies. “Rest. Then you call me.”

A moment later, he’s off in the direction he came from and the piece of paper with the number is burning in the pocket of the clothes he’s loaned from Ed and he tries to not wince openly as he heads back to his room.

– –

“Do you ever do things midway?” Lucius asks him not long later as he takes an extremely critical look at the state of his side. “Like, going from all hush-hush – which made sense, by the way – to teaming up with someone half of the cops in this city are looking for is… something, even for you.”

He shrugs, laying down on the bed.

“Well, they didn’t arrest me because he helped, so. And he’s nowhere near as terrible as you made him sound.”

“Oh, he’s not?”

“He’s quite lovely, actually,” Stede protests.

“Oh, quite lovely. And here I thought you weren’t ready to date every time you refused to come to bars with me, and you were waiting for the dashing rogue to sweep you off your feet all along. Didn’t know that was your type.”

“... My type is what now?” Stede is nowhere near sure what Lucius is getting at.

“You heard me the first time.”

“Ah. Dashing rogue? Seriously?”

“Says the guy who’s planning to desert,” Lucius winks at him before saying he’ll go find him some ice, and Stede can’t even disagree with that notion.

He’s… probably not wrong on any of those accounts, is he.

He puts the piece of paper with Ed’s landline in the middle of the book he had on his nightstand – he’s never quite read anything like Outer Dark until now and while he doesn’t know how well he likes it, he thinks most people he knows would loathe it, so he’ll definitely won’t leave it halfway through –, and finally lays down on a mattress that’s miles more comfortable than the one Ed’s trailer and he can’t help thinking that it just isn’t fair at all.

Chapter Text

Five days later, his bruise has turned into a yellow-ish color and only hurts if pressed on, and Stede takes great care to find a phone cabin far enough from campus that no one who knows who he is might see him or worse, overhear him, and dials the number. It’s eleven thirty in the morning – surely it’s a good time to call, he hopes, and maybe his hands are sweating as the phone rings once, twice, thrice –

“Who’s this?” Ed’s voice says.

“Uh. Stede. Stede Bonnet, I –”

“Oh. Right. ‘S been five days,” Ed says, sounding… pleased? What the – he did say he’d call. “How are you doing?”

“As well as I can feasibly manage,” Stede admits. “Still hurts a bit, but no one noticed and that’s good enough for me. So,” he says, “pertaining our arrangement –”

“Yes?” Ed asks, and now he sounds… guarded? Is he thinking I’ll just back out on it? Well, he’d have all the reasons to presume that, wouldn’t he.

“I was thinking, it would be… extremely helpful if when we saw each other you told me exactly what it is that you need to tackle more urgently and give me an idea of… well, you did say your school was terrible and I don’t doubt it, but it would be better to figure out where to start from. As much as I wish we could just do it in my dorm –”

“No,” Ed shakes his head, “of course. I don’t want to risk being seen around either.”

“I talked to my roommate,” Stede says, “and – well, he knows more people than me and this guy he’s, uh, kind of really involved with, he runs this establishment far enough from where the both of us live, and he has an apartment above it, and he says he’s willing to lend us his living room in the afternoon if we pay him something for the trouble.”

“Hm,” Ed says, “can we trust this guy to, like, keep his mouth shut?”

“Let’s say that he’s a fan. Of yours. Of course I didn’t say I was meeting you as in, Blackbeard, but according to Lucius he thinks you’re the man for sticking it to the system and a whole lot of other things and if I say you… work for him, he definitely will. Also, he needs the money..”

“Huh. Well then,” Ed says, “sounds good. How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t have classes in the afternoon this semester. Maybe we can do… from four to seven PM from Monday to Friday if it’s not a problem for you?”

“I make my own hours,” Ed says, “that’s fine. I can just outsource shit to people. Right then. Where’s this guy?”

Stede rattles out the address. “I can start this afternoon, if you’d like.”

“Are you sure it’s not too soon? I can wait another couple days, I waited years after all.”

And you shouldn’t have, Stede thinks. “It’s all right. The sooner we start the better, and it’s not like I relish spending my time on campus. You’d just be paying me a favor.”

“Right,” Ed exhales. “Then – then see you at this… Pete’s Hideout place around then?”

“I’ll be there,” Stede smiles ever so slightly, and if his heart is beating faster than its usual when he puts the receiver back in place… well.

He’s just not going to think about it for now. Fine, he likes Ed, but, he’s not going to – get lost in the gutter. He was asked for tutoring, he’ll do it and that’ll be it.

Right.

I can do it, he thinks as he leaves the cabin and heads back to his dorm. He’ll be there at four and he’ll do what Ed asked for and he’s only too glad if his ticket out of that draft includes being actually helpful to someone else.

– –

“You weren’t kidding when you said he was a fan,” Ed says as Stede closes the door of Pete’s kitchen. “Who is even a fan of people in my line of work?”

“You heard him. And you didn’t tell me that you gave a cut of your earnings to his local food bank on top of everything else.”

Ed doesn’t quite look at him. “Yeah, well, food banks helped when I was young so I decided I’d give back, and I never said they could disclose where that money came from.” He shakes his head. “Guess that when one of your former associates is running it I can’t expect any less.”

“Oh?”

“Fang’s one of the guys who wanted out and that’s where he ended up, so. I guess he wanted to make sure people didn’t think I was the literal worst, but what do I know. So, what’s the poison?”

“It… doesn’t have to be poison. Just, sit down, I’ll make us some tea and we can go over it. Think about it some more while I do.”

“I hope not the kind we used to get in tin cups.”

“Of course not,” Stede replies, and so what if he brought his own from the dorm? From what Lucius said Pete didn’t sound like the guy who kept tea around, but he also figured it’d be better than downing coffee for all the time they’d be here and he’s not going to offer low-quality tea to anyone under his watch. Thankfully Pete does have a teapot around, extremely cheap but it’ll work, and so Stede sets to boil the water while Ed looks down at his hands and picks sort of nervously at a piece of skin on his middle finger, and by the time he’s had his jasmine green tea brewed Ed looks so nervous he might bolt, but he stops picking at his hand when Stede pushes a cup in front of him.

“Huh,” he says, “smells nice. Don’t think I ever drank anything like that.”

“Try it,” Stede says. “If it’s too bitter, we can just add sugar or milk to it.” Pete didn’t have a milk saucer, admittedly, but he supposes he can do with a splash of it from the bottle in the fridge.

Ed tries it and makes a bit of a face. “Er, maybe –”

“Bit of milk?”

“Yeah. That might do.”

Stede pours a dollop of it, but then Ed says it’s still kind of bitter but it’s fine, except that there’s no way Stede’s going to let this go until he actually likes what he’s drinking, and so Stede keeps on pouring sugar spoonful after sugar spoonful, stirring it until Ed declares it good.

It’s seven sugars, but so what? Obviously the man has a sweet tooth.

“Nice,” Ed says, sounding a bit more relaxed. “That’s – not weird, is it?”

“I’ll be the last person to judge anyone on how they take their tea. So, how about you give me the rundown? Honestly, nothing to be worried about. I agreed and I’m actually good at tutoring, and I’m not your former teachers.”

“That you’re certainly not,” Ed says, “all of ‘em were frustrated old hags who just wanted to move on to somewhere with less poor people attending. Anyway,” he sighs, “you know how that test’s structured. Math, natural science, social science which is history and shit and literature. I’m fine with the math – I didn’t get to the point I’m at when it comes to running illegal businesses for any other reasons. Anything else, eh.” He shrugs. “I know my writing’s shit and that I spell like crap because I read like crap and it looks like the letters are moving on the page every other fucking moment and no one believes me when I say it.”

He levels his eyes at him. Stede shrugs. “All right. I do believe that. It never was my problem, but if it’s yours we can figure something out.”

“Yeah, well, that is an issue because – I mean, the whole literature section means you have to write stuff and answer reading comprehension questions and shit, so. There’s that. History… I mean, it was the only subject I sort of gave a fuck about that didn’t include numbers, and with all the crap my good for nothing dad had to say about the war, I think I’m not that terrible, but I guess a run-down wouldn’t be bad. Natural science…” He shrugs. “Not like anyone’s ever bothered explaining that shit to me. Whatever teachers were supposed to teach any class I was in never went out of their way. I know some stuff, obviously –”

“Like all the reasons why you should get hit on the left side?” Stede jokes, and Ed does laugh at that, good.

“Yeah. I mean. I did have to learn basic anatomy, with all people I’ve seen losing limbs. And I learned how to read the weather and the likes, but it’s not like anyone sat down and explained to me why that shit happens. And when it comes to dealing with fancy people and whatnot I don’t know shit, so.”

Stede nods, trying to figure out a sensed plan. “All right,” he says, “then – let me know if this sounds good to you. I didn’t bring any books with, but I saw a shop on the way. We can go there and I buy a few classics that aren’t terribly boring and we see how you read any of them, then I take a look at how bad your writing actually is –”

“It’s fucking bad –”

“Yeah, so you say, but I want to see for myself. We just do that so I know what we’re dealing with and tomorrow I can come better prepared. We do… at least three weeks of just that and we see how your reading fares and if you get too tired or something I can just explain you some science on the side, you’d probably have fun with it. Or some… etiquette. Or however you call that.”

“How do you know that I’d have fun with it?”

“A hunch,” Stede grins – someone who knows basic anatomy and how to read the weather can’t be completely bad at science, after all. “After we’re done, we can plan that and history revising and maybe I can give you something to read in your spare time and ask you random questions that might make it easier to pass the literature bit.”

“And you think the time we have is enough?” Ed asks, still looking down at his fingers.

“I mean, having six months would be better, but honestly? You look whip smart to me. I don’t think it’s above you.”

Ed stares at him like he doesn’t know what to make of him, but… not in a bad way. “You sure as fuck ain’t any teacher I ever had since they were very convinced of the contrary.”

“Then they should have worked in any other field. Now, before we go to the bookshop –” He hands Ed a new notebook he got on the way here and one of his pens. “Write me the recipe for that delicious food you made me last week.”

“... The recipe?”

“I have to check how bad your handwriting is and how much you actually misspell and what exactly you get wrong. It’s not too long but it would have enough words and numbers for me to get an idea, so. Also, I want to learn how to make it.”

Ed’s eyes go wide, but then he shrugs and grabs the pen. “Right. Sure. Boil-up recipe coming right fucking up then,” he says, and then moves the piece of paper behind his arm, not letting Stede have a look for a second, and then when he hands it over he doesn’t quite look at him.

Stede grabs the piece of paper and reads and – he can see what Ed means, because he obviously doesn’t write longhand often, he can only distinguish es from is because of the dot on top and the es are also quite similar to the as, he does invert some of the letters and no one explained him where to put the hs nor how to use punctuation properly, but he can read it. It’s nowhere near ideal for a written assignment, but it’s not as dire as Ed had made it sound.

“How bad is it?” Ed asks, sipping more of his tea and not looking at him.

“Not as much as you think,” Stede says.

“... No?”

“I’ll bring you some exercises tomorrow because you write some of the letters too similar, and maybe after we’re done with the book I can go over this with you and show you a few things, because it’s pretty damn clear that your absolutely idiotic teachers forgot to explain them or did it like shit. I mean, you made the same mistakes more than once and it’s obvious they just didn’t care to go over it. Anyway, I actually could have cooked that dish after reading this. You also need a punctuation refresh, but that’s not hard, we can do that soon. Honestly, again, it just shows no one bothered to actually teach you well, but it’s nowhere near a disaster.”

“Uh. Well. That’s – nice. I mean, not like –”

“Not like what?”

Ed shrugs. “Let’s just say I knew people in my unit who couldn’t sign their name. Or actually read the contract.”

“... They sent people over there when they couldn’t?”

“You didn’t know?”

He shakes his head, feeling honestly ashamed of it. “I – I had no idea. And just – considering what I am planning to do, now it feels –”

“And none of them would have thought you were a coward for fucking off if you could. Stop it right there. The least the better. Now, uh, guess we should go to the shop?”

“Right. Absolutely,” Stede forces himself to smile, thinking of how once his father asked him what he thought of being born into money. Stede had been six or so. He had replied that he felt fortunate. That… hadn’t gone over well, because apparently if they had money they should feel like it was owed to them anyway, and he doesn’t remember fondly the way his father’s hand stung and the way his wedding ring caught on his mouth and split his lip. He said he fell down the stairs at school and that just made everyone call him clumsy on top of the usual names until the year was over. He still thinks he was right. His stomach is curling at the thought of how fucking unfair it is that he gets to have a chance to run and those guys never even had a chance to read the small print.“Let’s get a few and then we can start going through it.”

After some consideration and after Ed tells him that he has no clue of what he should be choosing because it’s been too long since he was in an English lit class, he tries to choose something that is not too heavy but that Ed would also enjoy in itself and that might also turn up on the test. At the end of it, he picks Treasure Island, Of Mice and Men and The Catcher in the Rye, the last one more because he thinks Ed would have a knack with all the profanity in it and less because he thinks it’s a possible test subject, but he also knows that if he actually likes it he’ll read it feeling less self-conscious.

He thinks on it, and hands Ed Catcher in the Rye first the moment they’re back into Pete’s kitchen.

“Try it,” Stede says.

“Should I... like, read it?”

“Read it out loud and take your time. And let me know if it looks interesting to you.”

“But – if I read it wrong –”

“Then I know where you have issues. Come on, go ahead.”

“Fine.” He sits down, grabs the book, opens it. “To – to my mother. Huh. Right then,” he says, and Stede figured that would get Ed’s attention considering the way he talks about his own. Ed clears his throat again and starts reading out loud, stopping at times but otherwise nowhere near as bad as the picture he had painted before. “If you really want to hear about it,” he starts, “the… first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, an… wait, is that written, like, wrong?”

“Yes,” Stede grins. “Says the person who can’t spell, huh?”

“Just, I know how you write and. Is it like –”

“It’s on purpose. Go ahead.”

“... what my lousy childhood was like, fucking blame him, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David… wait, David fucking what, uh, Copperfield kind of crap – huh,” he stops, “do they let people print that stuff now? And wait, wasn’t that the book about some kid who works in a factory but then ends up being a writer or somethin’? There’s a band I like who named themselves after some bad guy in it.”

“Oh, that’s not the wildest thing they let him get away with, when it comes to printing profanities. And yes, exactly that one book,” Stede confirms. “Wait, Uriah Heep?”

“Don’t know ‘em? They’re pretty good.”

“No,” Stede says, “but… you know, it does work for a band name.”

“Knew I remembered that radio interview,” Ed says, sounding pleased with himself. “Anyway, they’re good. Quite like ‘em. You should listen to them at some point.”

“I mean, maybe if I visit you again?”

“Huh. Come over at some other point then. I do have a vinyl player after all.”

Stede is barely wrapping his head about the fact that Ed might have just invited him over again.

“Oh. Of course. That’d – I’d like it.”

“You’ve got a deal, Bonnet,” Ed winks, and Stede just wants to melt at how fucking lovely he looks. Then Ed clears his throat and smiles a bit as he goes on, squinting his eyes. “– but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know… the truth. In the first place, that stuff… bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two… wait a second, the fuck – hemorrhages?” He stumbles over the word, squinting a bit more.

“Indeed,” Stede nods. “You’re not doing badly at all.”

“... apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. Huh,” he says, “they didn’t let us read this in school.”

“I doubt your teachers even read it, if they were frustrated old hags,” Stede grins, and Ed laughs back. “So, what do you think this is about just from reading that?”

“Isn’t it – not enough?”

“The beginning should give you an idea of what you’re in for. No wrong answers.”

“Er, his parents are both dicks if they don’t want him to talk about ‘em and especially his father, and he had a lousy childhood even if it sounds like they were rich, he actually talks the way people do when they’re that age and – dunno, he’s not… I mean, he’s telling it as if he’s actually talking to me? Which I don’t remember from whatever they made us read back then.”

“Congratulations,” Stede says, “you’re entirely more correct about it than anyone in my high school class who read it.”

“... What?”

“They didn’t catch the bit about the colloquial tone and they were all shocked that he’d say damned on page or something like that. See, not doing bad, are you?”

“... I… guess not, but –”

“There you go. Let’s just see how much we can get through until our time is up, how about it?”

“All right,” Ed says, “not that I’m – I mean. I kinda wanna know what happens now.”

Score, Stede thinks, smiling to himself. “Then how about we find out?”

At the end of their time, they have gotten up to page fifteen and Stede has given him a rundown on the recurring mistakes in the recipe. Stede tells Ed that if he’d rather go on with the book on his own he can tell him about it tomorrow before they start on the writing exercises, and Ed nods as he puts all three books in a leather bag he had with and mounts on his bike before speeding off.

Stede is not going to think about how nice it would be to ride behind him, and heads to his dorm trying to not feel like he didn’t deserve for shit all the opportunities his father’s money gave him.

– –

A week later, his murderous instincts are not at all quelled.

“Mate, is that so bad?” Ed asks as Stede stares at the writing exercises he had left him to do over the weekend and at the multiple choice quiz he had whipped out on the fly about the first half pages of Catcher in the Rye – Ed had told him he actually stayed awake to read it for the first time since forever and he was actually enjoying the shit out of it as much as he couldn’t manage any faster, what with having to work and all, and – of course the answers are all correct and the writing exercises are everything but bad.

“No,” Stede shakes his head, “all the contrary. I just think I want to strangle your teachers.”

“... That good?” Ed raises an eyebrow, looking as if he has no idea if Stede is pulling his leg or not.

“You mind writing me that recipe again? The same one as last week.”

“... Seriously?”

“Humor me.”

“You’re weird, but whatever floats your boat,” Ed shrugs, and writes it down. It takes him less than it had before, Stede thinks, and when he’s done he hands the paper over. “So?”

Stede looks down at it. As he thought. He grabs a red pen and underlines what spelling mistakes are there – mostly letters that sound the same, and then takes the old recipe out of his pocket and puts it right next to it.

“So,” he says, “look at them. What’s the difference?”

Ed does, though he doesn’t seem too convinced… until his eyes go very, very wide.

“Holy fuck –” He blurts. “It looks like two fucking different people wrote these, what the hell?”

Stede wouldn’t go that far, but he’s not surprised that after a week of writing exercises all the vowels look actually different and that at least half of the spelling mistakes from the first time are gone, since Ed obviously did pay attention when Stede had explained where he was going wrong.

“The hell,” Stede says, “is that it took you one week to improve that much and figure out about half of them, so if someone actually had bothered to put some effort in their job back in the day you wouldn’t be needing this right now. And don’t argue that it’s not perfect, of course it wouldn’t be after a week, but if by the end of what we’re doing you can’t write that recipe spotlessly I’d be extremely surprised.”

“Huh,” Ed says, blinking and then moving the recipe out of the way. “Now that’s – doable,” he swallows. “Fuck, mind if I take five for a cigarette?”

“Be my guest,” Stede says.

“Actually,” Ed motions for him to stand up as he fishes for a cigarette from a packet he had left on the table before, “while I do that, you can tell me how to survive fancy people meetings. So we don’t waste time.”

Stede can see that it’s an excuse to not discuss the recipe any further, but he’s not going to press when Ed obviously doesn’t want to.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything specific you’d want to know for starters?”

“Eh,” Ed shakes his head, “whatever.”

“All right,” Stede nods. “So, uh, just to have an idea – when you’re talking about buying the fishing boat, we’re presuming you’d just buy the whole thing and wouldn’t need a loan to get started, right?”

Ed shakes his head. “Nah. I live in that trailer also so that I can save money. I mean, it’s not like I never thought I’d go legit at some point. I have enough set aside to buy a decent one, I looked into it. ‘Course, I’ll probably need to find someone to launder it into a legit bank account, but never mind that. I’ll have that covered when the time comes.”

“Good, because it means you’ll just have to open the account and then you’ll only have to worry about getting the license.”

“Yeah, more exams for me,” Ed snorts, “but if I pass this one how hard can the other be?”

“If you know how to run a ship already, I don’t think very much.”

“Oh, I do.” He takes a drag. “That’s not the problem. So, what were you on about?”

“Yeah, right. So, opening the account – after you make sure your money is laundered and you have a good explanation of why you never had one before, you’ll need to find a bank that won’t bleed you dry with interest, but given that you definitely can budget I’m sure you already thought of it.”

“I had, but thanks for not assuming the contrary. Not a lot of people do.”

“When you go, if you have the money they most likely won’t scoff at it. But – well.” He hates that he has to say it. He hates it, but – he can’t sugarcoat how it is, and he doubts Ed wants him to anyway. “You’d probably go to the manager. Managers make good figures. A lot of people who do have a penchant for wanting to show that they’re better than the ones in front of them. In between rich people circles they do it with passive aggression, mostly.”

“Massive aggression?”

“No, passive,” Stede shakes his head. “It’s – saying things that sound nice but are actually meant to humiliate the person in front of you or make them feel bad. When they talk to people they perceive to be their inferiors, in whichever way, they just try to lord it over you.”

“Figured,” Ed shakes his head. “I mean, I’m taking it into account.”

“Right. What you want to do there is not rise up to the bait and try to… do the passive aggression thing. But not too much. I don’t know, let’s say this guy asks you how you got so much money set aside. Let’s say this guy most likely voted for the current asshole in charge, which is… likely, when it comes to assholes working in banks. You go in there dressed with a nice suit and tie, that’s enough to make the right impression. The asshole asks that. You stare at him like this –” Stede makes his best my-father-wants-me-to-behave-spotlessly-so-I-will-but-I-not-so-secretly-despise-you impression, as Ed nods, “and then take a deep breath and go like well, this is the country where hard working people can rise up if they work hard and I worked very, very hard, and I never even asked a cent from the government, and if he says anything else you double on it and says that you were so, so, proud to serve for your country and you just want to give back to it with honest work. And they’d know you did for sure because they would see that you served on your record, so they couldn’t argue with that.”

“Huh,” Ed says, “I see. By the way, you’re not a bad actor yourself. Too bad you didn’t go for it.”

“Yeah, well, can’t cry over spilled milk. Anyway, you just go there, sit, say your piece, anything he says just double down on that and insist on how you just want to make your own money and the likes, and that should do most of the trick. Just… know that they might make digs at how you wear your hair or how you look or question how much of a citizen you really are. Which – I’m sorry, they shouldn’t –”

“Stede, calm your shit down. It’s nothing I hadn’t pictured. It sucks and I hate them, I’m not seeing any surprise in this prospect,” Ed says as it takes a last drag from his cigarette. “Just, what if before this shit is through I have to go to business lunches and so on? I mean, if I want to fucking sell the fish or do anything else with that boat I’ll have to. It’s not like I do your kinda social gatherings.”

Stede could explain it to him, sort of, at least the basic etiquette.

Except that it’s all good talk until you’re actually in one of those situations and he knows even too well that being thrown into a business dinner or party when you never attended one before is a recipe for disaster, and suddenly he has an idea and before his brain can tell his mouth to shut the fucking hell up, he’s spoken.

“Listen,” he says, “if you’d like – I mean. You can say no. But if you want to see that kind of thing first person without other interferences and – well, I suppose less pressure… they throw parties at my college.”

“What – parties?”

“Yeah, I mean, the artsy faculties have actually fun ones. Mine? It’s all… other rich assholes getting dinner and bragging about how much money they’ll make when they inherit their fathers’ businesses. There’s one per month. One’s… next week.”

“Stede, I doubt that stuff is open to anyone who’s not enrolled.”

“No,” Stede says, thinking it through, “but, you can bring people with, if you want. Let’s say that you’re a visiting economics TA from New Zealand who’s in… Princeton for the next six months because you won a visiting scholarship or something like that.”

“Why Princeton?”

“Because I can guarantee you no one in my faculty knows anyone who studies there and they think it’s full of bleeding liberals, so no one is ever going to check.”

“All right, Princeton. And then?”

“I say that you came here on vacation and we met because we were at some bookshop and wanted the last copy of – what’s the thing you like best when it comes to running your show?”

“Math speaking? Accounting,” Ed shrugs. “It’s relaxing, okay?”

“Okay, then accounting.”

“You study that shit in university?”

“You have no idea,” Stede grins. “And I hate it, so hat’s off to you for actually finding it relaxing. Anyway, we met there, chatted, and I invited you to the party because why the hell not. You come with me, I tell them whatever fake name you choose, you just… hang around and see how things are and how terrible they are and if you want to practice your passive aggression, well. You don’t have to see them again ever.”

Ed thinks about it, worrying his lower lip before lightening up another cigarette. “Let’s say that I don’t think it’s a bad idea, but – I don’t have any fancy clothes and the likes. What do I even wear to that kinda party?”

Stede – Stede probably shouldn’t have paid that much attention.

“Maybe,” he says, “I mean. Uh. We’re about the same size. I do have a lot of… fancy clothes. Maybe – next week, instead of meeting here, I can just sneak you in the dorm the day of the party and I can lend you some clothes and you can pick whatever you like best.”

Ed’s eyes go wider. “You’d – do that?”

“Of course,” Stede says. “I mean – I’d be happy to. I don’t – I don’t know anyone with whom I can share that with, and you did say I had nice clothing back when you saved my hide, so – it’s not like I lack for them. And – unless it makes you uncomfortable, but –”

“I mean,” Ed says, voice low, “I always wondered how it would be to dress fancy like that. Just, you know. Even if I can afford that stuff, technically, it just… doesn’t fit with the image, I guess. And it would have been a waste.” Stede can hear he’s not saying something, but he’s not going to pry.

“Then – it’s on Friday. We meet where you left me the first time round, I sneak you in, we get you ready and then we do the party. Just… it’s going to be dreadful.”

“Or maybe it’ll be a learning experience,” Ed grins, sounding excited at the prospect, and – Stede hopes so. He just, he looks so happy that Stede proposed it, as if these gatherings are something to look forward to, and Stede should just double down on how bad it could be… but why? Maybe he’s just worrying too much. He’ll let this go for now.

“Right then. It’s –” He stops himself before saying a date. Fuck, he doesn’t need to get in the gutter on that matter. “It’s decided, then. Now, would you rather go ahead with the literature stuff or you’d rather we go over the recipe again?”

“As much as discussing plots with you is way more entertaining,” Ed sighs, “and as much as I think this stupid language makes no fucking sense when it comes to different words sounding the same, the latter would probably be more useful. I mean, I can manage your quizzes decently, right?”

“More than decently,” Stede winks. “And I’ll have one for the second half of that book next week, if you can finish during the week-end.”

“Oh, I think I can,” Ed grins as he exhales the last drag before putting out the cigarette and sitting back at the coffee table.

Right.

Stede just has to not think about how Ed would look in any of his clothing until he’s out of here, or he won’t be of help to literally anyone.

– –

“Wait,” Lucius says, “you invited him to your frat party?”

Stede, who is typing down his quiz for when Ed’s done with The Catcher in the Rye while trying to not think about the combinations of clothing he might propose Ed for said party lest his brain goes straight into the gutter, only hums in assent.

“I mean, couldn’t you have invited the two of you to my frat party? It’s more your scene. Well, the scene you’d like.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Stede sighs, “except that if he needs to see how stuck-up rich assholes behave, then your frat party wouldn’t help any, would it?”

“Point taken,” Lucius agrees, “but forgive me if I think it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Less than any other option,” Stede sighs.

“Yeah, as long as it doesn’t ruin your chances to get into his very tight pants.”

“Lucius,” Stede blurts, knowing he’s gone as ripe as a tomato, “first thing, that’s not – I doubt he’s interested, second, how do you know they’re tight?”

“I saw you in his jeans,” Lucius shrugs. “They’re indeed tight. Also, you think Pete doesn’t keep on talking all of the time about how nicely the guy you’re tutoring wears leather? Of course, he doesn’t know who he is, don’t fret, but he does dig the style.”

Stede would bang his head against the typewriter, except he doesn’t want to ruin his test. “It doesn’t matter because there’s no way I’ll get in his pants in the first place, and it’s not like I’m not fucking off to Canada forever after we’re done, if everything goes right.”

“Sure,” Lucius nods, “sure. Just, you know your beloved father will know you brought him with, regardless?”

“I’ll handle it,” Stede says, wishing his voice didn’t tremble just a bit as he said that.

“If you say so,” Lucius agrees. “Don’t say I never was your Jiminy Cricket when it came to this, and I should hope I don’t end like the one in the book.”

“Would never do such a thing to you, and thanks. I know. But – I’ll deal with it.” Honestly, his father having his hide for the umpteenth time that won’t ever be the last anyway is not too bad of a price to pay if it means he gets to do something for Ed that he seems to actually want to do, as much as Stede himself always loathed those parties.

He finishes typing his second sheet and puts it on the side and wonders if he should start one for Of Mice and Men, just to be ahead and have it ready.

He did finish all his coursework, after all.

He grabs a fresh sheet, puts it in the typewriter and starts scribbling on his notebook so he can copy it later.

Even if the Canada plan goes pear-shaped, at this point he is going to make sure Ed passes that test for his own peace of mind.

– –

“Wait, I didn’t get anything wrong on that quiz?”

“No,” Stede grins – the way Ed’s looking at the second part of his Catcher in the Rye answers is almost endearing, except for… well. The fact that he looks shocked at it. “By the way,” Stede adds, “I made them more complicated than the average GED test.”

“You did what?”

“I know how they’re structured – I mean, half of Lucius’s friends had to get one at some point after we started being roommates, so I did see enough of what they usually ask. I made those questions harder.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“I mean, if you got all of those right then you’ll most likely be fine whatever it is they ask of you in the actual test even if it’s something you haven’t read. They do give you an excerpt, right?”

“Uh. Yeah. Fuck. That’s sneaky of you, Bonnet. Almost delivish, I might add. But well played. What do I go for next?”

“I mean, your choice, but I already have the quizzes for Of Mice and Men ready and… not going to lie, that one ends way worse than Treasure Island, so maybe I’d do that first, but –”

“Right, I’m good. It’s also shorter anyway so I’m not gonna be complaining. By the way, did you figure out what book we should have been fighting about when it comes to the fancy party rouse?”

Stede thinks on it for a second. Then – right. There were some things from his accounting class he didn’t detest. “Er, A History of the Chartered Accountants of Scotland. It was in one of my classes. It’s about the first chartered accounting body, it’s obscure enough that no one would get two copies of it to sell, but if you’re into it you might want it. And I actually was interested in it, I might’ve wanted a copy for myself.”

“Right,” Ed nods. “So, three days from now, that corner I left you at, when?”

“The party is at six-thirty,” Stede reasons. “Let’s… do three PM. Just in case it takes a while to figure out what clothes you’d rather wear and so on. Just – we’re not the same shoe size, are we –”

“Only one way to find out,” Ed grins, and then leans down and takes off one boot, oh fuck, right, maybe they should have just checked the number but you never know how shoes fit and all. He slides off his shoe, then presses his foot against the side of Ed’s. Huh.

“They do look the same,” Stede swallows. “Try this one on.” He hands Ed his spare shoe and Ed slides it on. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“Nah,” Ed says, “I mean, not exactly what I’d choose to wear, but it fits right. Why?”

“Because then I can lend you a pair and you don’t have to bring anything with.” He tries to not blush as he thinks of how Ed would look in a certain pair he’s thinking of. “More tea?”

“Know what,” Ed says, “we have another two hours of… was it science today?”

“Unless you’d rather do something else –”

“Nah, it’s cool. Yeah, I could do with some. Just –”

“I know, one dollop of milk and seven sugars.”

“Wouldn’t be the same with six,” Ed shrugs, sending a small, pleased look at his all-correct test.

Stede stands up and brews the tea and pours the seven sugars in and hopes that the party goes over well.

Then he’ll deal with everything else.

Chapter Text

Three days later, Ed is standing at the agreed corner and is sending Stede a very, very murderous look.

“Is… something wrong?” Stede asks the moment he reaches him.

“No. I mean, yes. Fuck, not exactly. Ah damn it, it’s just, what the fuck was that book even?”

“Wait, Of Mice and Men?” Stede asks, hoping he got it right because what else could be Ed be discussing now –

“Yes, that one! I mean, what the fuck, Stede? That shit was fucking sad and it kept me the fuck up at night for three days, that’s not –”

“Wait, you finished it?”

“Yeah, sacrificing hours of my stupid beauty sleep,” Ed shrugs. “Then again – I mean. I sleep badly. Might as well get ahead. And again, what the fuck was up with that, because it was fucking unfair, all right?”

“What, the ending? I – yes,” he sighs, “it is. I should have –”

“You did warn me,” Ed handwaves as he moves to his side, thank fuck he’s not upset about it, “I just – y’know. For a second I really thought they were gonna get that farm.”

“I think we all did,” Stede says softly as he starts walking towards his dorm. “I mean, I read it twice. The first time I also thought they were, and then they didn’t, and when I read it ain thought I should have gotten it from the beginning, but what do we know, right?”

“… Why is it that on the second round you thought you should have gotten it?”

Right, he did catch up on it immediately.

“Told you my father is a dick,” Stede sighs. “Just, by the first time I read it, he already had been bad enough, but I suppose not enough to make me too much of a pessimist. The second… I was way broodier and sadder and I had a way better picture of how much things could just go wrong regardless of how much you tried to put effort into making them work. No one I grew up with would have rooted for them to get any damned farm in the first place.”

“I see,” Ed says. “For what it’s worth no one I grew up with except my mother would have put a shred of effort into even trying to get the stupid farm, but I see what you mean. Uh, how are you even going to sneak me in there? There’s a bunch of people at the entrance.”

“Never said we had to go through the main gate,” Stede smirks. “Just follow me.”

He turns the corner, heading for the kitchen’s back entrance – lunch is over at two PM at most, so the place is completely empty at this hour, and he has the key because he has occasionally volunteered there a few times for extra credits and got a copy for Lucius so he could sneak in and out whenever he liked.

“Should you even be having that?” Ed whispers as Stede opens the door.

“Absolutely not,” Stede shakes his head, “and Lucius shouldn’t either, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right? Come on, quick.”

Ed follows him silently until they’re out of the kitchens and into the nearest hallway, then up a flight of stairs, then into an elevator the moment the way is clear, and then finally into Stede’s room.

“Woah,” Stede says, closing the door, “that went fine.”

“Honestly, is this place a fucking maze? And wait, that’s not your bed, is it?”

He nods towards Lucius’s, which is – well.

“I did tell him to not leave it unmade,” Stede groans. “Honestly –”

“Chill,” Ed says, “that’s fine. Just didn’t peg you for the type – yeah, figured yours would be spotless.”

“Yeah, well,” Stede knows he’s blushing, but – never mind. “Gives me something to do in the morning. I like having things in moderate order. Anyway, so,” he says, “let’s just – give me a moment.”

He opens his wardrobe, glancing at the horribly boring suits he has to wear for classes and wishing he could just burn them, and pushes them aside.

“So,” he says, “those are… the clothes I have to wear to maintain appearances,” he sighs.

“Well,” Ed says, “considering you show up at tutoring with those pretty flowers embroidered over your shirt cuffs, I can believe that’s not your thing.”

“Yeah, uh.” He moves aside, so Ed can actually see. “Those are the ones I actually like.”

“Holy shit,” Ed says, looking at the ten transparent plastic boxes piled up at the bottom of the closet. “From what I can see? Those are way more your thing. How fucking many are there anyway?”

“Eh,” Stede says, “I’m a bit of a clothes horse like that. Probably too many. Anyway, I, uh, have picked some that I think would suit you. Here.”

He grabs one of the boxes on top and pulls it out delicately, then opens it – he had carefully selected all of the suits he owned that he thought would look good on Ed, mostly with bold, jewel colors he usually doesn’t wear because they’d make him stand out, and as much as he’d like to it’s better he doesn’t, not in his classes, and the way Ed’s eyes go wide as he traces the velvet of the blue jacket on top is… doing things to Stede’s stomach, all right?

“Fuck,” Ed says, grabbing a plum scarf just near it, running it between his fingers, “it’s so soft, what is this even?”

“Cashmere,” Stede smiles back. “You fancy a fine fabric, don’t you?”

“What if I do?” Ed asks, sounding almost awed and half-insecure, as if he’s not sure of how Stede would take it.

That’s not going to do.

“Then,” Stede smiles, “why don’t we take them out and see?”

– –

The next half hour is both – excruciating and amazing, as far as Stede’s concerned. Excruciating because he can’t help notice how fucking unfairly good-looking Ed is all over again, and even moreso when wearing his clothing, and amazing because every time Ed tries out anything from that box he looks like he’s so happy he’s wearing something this nice, Stede just wants to tell him to take them all home and keep them, it’s not like he wears them anyway, and after a while of tinkering, they settle on a nice, lovely purple suit that is really not Stede’s color but is definitely Ed’s – he gives him a light lavender shirt to go underneath the velvet trousers and jacket which seems tailored for him, honestly, and then tells Ed to hold on a moment and hands him the boots he was thinking of – it’s a black pair he never got a chance to wear because, again, no one approves of leather high boots with soft flowery engravings all over, but they fit him and the rest of the attire so well, he’s really glad someone is wearing it.

“Fuck,” Ed says, looking at his reflection in Stede’s mirror, “I don’t think I ever dressed up so fancy in my entire fucking existence.”

“Like it?” Stede grins. “With your hair pulled up like that it’s just perfect – uh, just you wait.”

He goes to his tie drawer and rummages in it a bit, and then –

“There it is,” he says, bringing up one of his silken black cravats. “Let me just – this should look nice, and paired with that scarf it should be even better.”

Ed nods, letting him place the cravat around his neck – he ties the knot fast, he knows how to do this thank you very fucking much, and when he steps back –

“Well,” he says, “you – you look great. Uh, I should, I’ll just pick one of these –”

“Why?” Ed asks, and Stede stops dead in his tracks.

“Uh, sorry?”

“You obviously detest those undertaker suits, mate. You just can’t stop glaring at ‘em. So what if whoever’s at this fancy party is all stuck up? You don’t have to if you don’t like it. And with all the actual nice shit you have stored in the back of that closet, why should you? I mean, maybe this is too… extra for ‘em, whatever, but you can put on something you don’t despise.”

Huh.

He –

He actually could, he does have enough suits he likes that are passable for that kind of occasion, and honestly, why not? He’s really tired of dressing the way his father thinks he should.

“Know what,” Stede says, “you’re right. Let me just – where were those, let me see, right,” he mutters, grabbing another box from the very back of the closet, and –

Yeah.

There it is.

He had a nice teal suit that isn’t as… extra as some of his other pieces, but that he likes a lot better than most of the ones he usually wears, and he can’t help thinking it would pair very nicely with purple, and –

Ah, fuck it.

He grabs the suit, and then – well. Ed didn’t go to the bathroom to change. He’ll just – he takes a breath, hoping that this doesn’t become weird, and then puts the trousers on, then one of his ivory silk shirts that are so very comfortable and don’t feel stuffy, and then the jacket, and instead of the usual tie he decides to just not wear any and fuck that, right?

“That’s way better than anything you got hung there,” Ed says, sounding like he appreciates the end result, and if Stede’s heart does somersaults, well. He’ll keep it for himself. “I hope you’re not bringing those undertaker clothes to Canada, are you?”

“Sure as hell not,” Stede smiles. He could burn them for all he cares. He checks the time – it’s five PM by now, and in order to get to the party it’s – not long, they’re at the last floor and it’s on the ground one, so he just grins and takes both his tests from his desk drawer.

“We’ve got an hour. Fancy getting ahead?”

“Son of a bitch, you did have them ready.”

“Sure I did,” Stede grins, and when Ed gives the first one back half an hour later after having triple-checked it, Stede is not surprised that it’s absolutely spotless.

“No mistakes again,” he says.

“… Really?”

“No. I’m this tempted to ask you a report, to be honest. You do look passionate about this one.”

“I don’t think I ever wrote one after third grade and they valued it like shit.”

“I think that instead I really want one for – well. It’s Friday. Let’s say Wednesday so you don’t have to spend the weekend on it.”

“… And what should I put in this report?”

“Oh, just – a few info, when it was written, who wrote it and the likes, a few words about themes and whatnot, and then I just want your opinion on it. As long or short as you’d like.”

Ed seems to think about it, then shrugs. “Fine. You’ll get your report. And do we go to the damned party now?”

Stede lets himself smile, hoping that it ends up just being a bore.

“Sure,” he says, “follow me. By the way, what’s your name? That I should introduce you with.”

“Oh. Right. Uh, Jeff,” he says. “’S as good as any. Jeff Thatch, at least it’s similar enough but no one would be none the wiser.”

“All right, Mr. Thatch. Should we?”

“After you, Mr. Bonnet,” Ed replies, smiling under that luscious black beard that Stede really wants to run his fingers through, damn it.

He shakes his head and opens the door.

They have a party to get through. Then he can think about all the ways he’s terribly in the gutter and he should just not act on it anyway.

– –

“Holy shit,” Ed whispers as Stede makes way for him into the hall, “you said you do this once per month?”

“Well, this is the one where I’m invited,” Stede whispers back – he knows that he’s not invited to any other, and he doesn’t care for it, but – he always showed up when he was to keep up appearances, but as it is right now, the moment he sees the tablecloths all laid out with shiny silverware he feels like his stomach is not going to hold in anything he’s going to eat.

“They have others?”

“Every other week, but I’m not that popular. Anyway, we’re going to have to sit in a while, so don’t worry about that now.”

“How did you know I was worrying?”

“You’ve been staring at the silverware like it’s going to eat you.”

“There are three forks and two spoons and two knives at each place,” Ed hisses. “How do you even use that shit? Fine, I can distinguish a knife for meat from a knife for any other thing, but forks?”

“This is… extra,” Stede says. “If you go to a business lunch at most you’ll find two. Anyway, start with the ones on the outside and then go towards the inside with each dish. That’s pretty much the universal trick.”

“Right,” Ed says. “Not too bad. Doable. I guess –”

“But look at Baby Bonnet here, I didn’t know you brought company!”

It’s not like Stede had hoped to not meet any Badminton brother today – that would have been asking for too much.

But for any Badminton brother to not be the first asshole they would run into? Now that wasn’t asking too much, was it?

“Nigel,” he says, plastering on his best passive-aggressive grin. “This is Jeff Thatch. He’s an accounting teaching assistant from Victoria University in Wellington – he’s doing a semester in Princeton.”

“Oh,” Nigel says, “and how did you two meet? I didn’t know you knew anyone from Princeton,” Nigel goes on, eyes fixed on Ed.

Ed clears his throat. “Well, since I’m here for the semester and all, I thought I’d do some sightseeing. I spent hours on that plane to get overseas, might as well make use of it.”

“Fair enough,” Nigel says. “And you chose our fine town because…?”

“I have a little side interest in pirate history,” Ed smirks back, and Stede’s stomach keeps on doing stupid somersaults just at the mere idea that Ed is holding his own against this jerk. “Just a little hobby of mine. Then I thought I’d check the local bookshops and ran into our common friend here. He was so nice that he let me have the last copy of… A History of the Chartered Accountants of Scotland.”

“Baby Bonnet giving up a book about some obscure stuff no one else cared about in that stupid class? My my,” Nigel goes on, “you must have made… an impression.”

Ed’s eyes narrow. Stede clears his throat and grins a bit wider.

“He had been searching for it for ages and I can get it at the campus library anyway,” Stede says. “Not like I ever see you there.”

Nigel sends him a glare that doesn’t promise anything good.

“Yeah, well, some of us buy the books we need. Anyway, I’ll be glad to see you both at dinner. Enjoy your visit, Mr. Thatch,” he says. “Hopefully Baby Bonnet here is less of a bore to you than he used to be back in the day. He used to be a lot of fun just when we got him out of his shell a bit,” he winks. “He did quite like the horses at our boarding school.”

And then he turns his back on them and leaves.

“Fuck,” Stede sighs, “I’m sorry, that was –”

“Were you both… passive-aggressiving all over the fucking place or what? And what’s with that stupid nickname? You’re hardly a baby now.”

“Yes,” Stede sighs. “I mean, that was passive aggression at its finest. Also, we went to the same boarding school. Since… well. Since elementary times. He still calls me the same way he did back in the day.”

“What the fuck, mate?”

“I know,” Stede sighs. “And if he mentions horses again – well. Just. Let’s say there were horses at those schools and they forced me to kiss a few of them in… middle school, I think.”

“… Excuse me?”

“It was a long time ago,” Stede says, “and – I mean, I can – tell you about it later. Just, try to ignore them.”

“Fine,” Ed says, sounding like it’s not fine at all, “but he’s a dick.”

Stede has to smile at that. “Oh, he is,” he agrees. “Anyway, ignore him. And his twin, if he’s around.”

“There’s fucking two of them?”

“Sad to say,” Stede nods. “Here, I’ll just… introduce you to some people who aren’t as bad.”

“Right. So… the whole mingling thing?”

“Yeah. Just talk to them, don’t let them stare you down, and honestly, most people here just… have their degree in their pockets already and they’ll inherit their fathers’ business. If you actually talk to them about… well, accounting, they won’t know what you’re saying half of the time.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not at all. Give it a try and tell me I’m wrong.”

Ed doesn’t look too convinced, but when Stede eyes someone from his history of economics class who’s usually just a bore but nothing worse than that and introduces them… well, the guy certainly isn’t immediately friendly but the moment Ed says something that went over Stede’s head completely (blame him, he hates accounting) but sounded extremely competent, he looks impressed, and five minutes later, some other five guys that Stede barely even talks to are gathered around them and actually listening, and Ed’s holding his own fairly well, but then again… he’s charming, he’s sporting his best grin and the moment he wraps his head around the fact that he has the floor he actually looks somewhat more in his element. Then again, it was obvious he was someone who could charm people very easily from the get-go, and everything would be just dandy if Stede hadn’t noticed how some friends of both Badmintons are watching the whole scene play out.

As in, the way they used to watch him whenever he read a book report in middle school and the teacher praised him openly, except… with some extra contempt that was never reserved for him.

Then he sees Chauncey come closer, even worse, and confer with them before eyeing their small group again.

It’s probably telling that he doesn’t even think about it before he excuses himself and moves in the middle of Chauncey and Ed, behind Ed’s back, facing the asshole upfront.

“Bonnet,” he grins, “fancy seeing you here. Didn’t think you’d attend, after last time.”

Right. Last time, when he kept his mouth shut as the two of them recalled exactly the episode with the boat and the rocks. “What can I do,” Stede replies, “I certainly can’t do worse than that and I suppose I should miss good food in a few months. Might as well make the most of it.”

“Aw, you sound sad. Then again, you would miss the good food.”

He can’t help flinching a bit.

Never mind. “I’ll miss more than that,” he finally settles on. “But don’t worry, Chauncey. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. Unless you join me at some point.”

Chauncey laughs at that, of course he does. Stede just hopes someone rings the bell that signals food is ready because he just wants to be done with this bullshit before Chauncey can try to fuck this up for Ed, and if meanwhile he sows seeds that he’s made peace with going to war, well. All gained.

“Doubtful,” Chauncey grins. It’s of course the face of someone whose father has already made sure he won’t ever get a draft notice. “But you can hope for that. Not that they’d put you anywhere except sending telegrams,” he smirks. “And who’s your friend over there, by the way? Quite the character, if –”

The bell rings.

If Stede still bought into religion – he stopped the moment he confessed to the family priest that he wished his father would just be kind to him after the umpteenth time he dragged him to see pigs get slaughtered at their country house, and that he wished he’d just stop doing it, and he was told that good boys never question their parents’ decisions and to recite some ten Hail Marys for penitence, which he never did – he’d probably be crossing himself in thanks right now.

“See you at dinner, Baby Bonnet,” Chauncey says, winking at him, before he heads for the table.

I hope I’m not going to hurl before this entire business is over, Stede thinks, and then goes back to their group.

“Shall we take a seat?” He asks, looking at Ed. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving.”

He’s not, but he needs to warn Ed about Chauncey and he needs a damned breather.

Everyone thankfully agrees with the notion and Ed falls into step beside him.

“Mate, what’s the issue?” He whispers.

“… How –”

“You’re tense like a live wire. If it’s about me, ‘s cool, actually I thought it wasn’t going so bad –”

“No, you were doing great. Just, the asshole we met before? His brother just showed up and he’s… well. As bad. Or worse. If he tries to rile you up just ignore him. Actually, just… try to ignore him at all.”

“Duly noted. And what was – from the outside to the inside with the forks, right?”

“Very much so. Right – let’s take a seat.”

“You really don’t like this kinda thing, do you?”

Stede isn’t even going to deny it.

“No,” he admits, “but it’s all right. This one is already better than average.” Because you’re here, he doesn’t say as they finally take a seat. Of course, the only thing already on their plates is some flimsy crab appetizer, but he’s not even hungry enough for that. He only nibbles on his, while Ed takes back up his previous conversation with whichever guy ended up sitting at his left, but of course both damned Badmintons are in front of him and Ed. Thankfully they’re focused on Stede, so – he’ll take it.

“Aw,” Chauncey says, “you said you’d miss the food and now you’re barely eating it?”

Stede shrugs. “Maybe I just want to savor it.”

“Come on,” Nigel interjects, “maybe he realized that whoever poor soul ends up being his CO, they won’t want him like that. Who goes to war without even being fit?”

Stede can feel Ed tensing up next to him, though his tone doesn’t falter.

“Maybe I really am savoring it,” Stede insists. “And I think I’m doing well enough, thank you,” he tries to cut them off as he lifts up a fork with the second bit of crab he cut off before.

“Meanwhile I see in Princeton they really are quite liberal,” Nigel says, and –

Stede can see the moment Ed realizes they’re talking about the fact that he picked up the crab with his hands and ate half of it, which – well. Stede hadn’t even thought of that, but it’s a stupid appetizer and he only cut it out of habit. If he had been alone he’d have used his damned hands too.

Thank fuck Ed just glares back at them before swallowing the bit of crab he had in between his fingers.

“What?” He shrugs. “It’s a single, lonesome crab. Didn’t feel like dirtying cutlery just for that. Also, shows you never go to the beach, I suppose.”

Chauncey’s eyes go wide. Okay, maybe Stede is enjoying seeing him taken by surprise.

“I do not see how that might be relevant to the conversation at hand.”

Ed makes a show of rolling his eyes. “I mean, not talking about my hometown, Princeton is what, an hour from the seaside? On the weekend I like to go there, alone or not. And I never ate anywhere they would make picking up an appetizer with your fingers a question of being liberal.”

Stede should not think that seeing him match that idiotic drivel is making him think entirely not chaste things right now, and yet it is. And he did notice the vaguely sarcastic tone when Ed mentioned his hometown, as if he was implying they couldn’t locate it on a map anyway. Which… they probably couldn’t.

“That said, the seaside is good for you. You should both try it.” Ed grins slightly wider, and it’s not reaching his eyes. “Staring at the ocean is such a good way to come to terms with one’s priorities.”

“Please,” Nigel says, “thank you for the advice, Mr…?”

“Thatch,” Ed offers.

“Mr. Thatch, but I am quite busy with actual serious matters that do not involve frolicking in the sand. Can’t understand how your liberal friends up North actually get anything accomplished, but you do you.”

“Maybe they just have low standards,” Chauncey suggests. “Not like Bonnet ever had a bar set high when it came to his… friends, doesn’t he?”

At that, Stede can feel Ed going extremely rigid. Well, fuck. He knew they were going to say it, he knew –

“My bar,” Stede interjects, “is absolutely well-set, and you have both brought external people multiple times, so I don’t see what’s the issue.”

“Feisty,” Nigel winks, what the hell, “is this some way you make a pathetic attempt to stand up for yourself before you have to do it before you go somewhere way more dangerous than our meager get-together?”

Fuck. Ed went even more tense, as if Stede blames him.

“I should be glad to see how well you fare when you receive the letter,” Stede retorts, not even trying to hide how much he despises the both of them. “If I’m still alive by then, but I suppose brave men like you can’t wait to open that one envelope, don’t you?”

At that, both of them sort of freeze, as if Stede couldn’t have guessed, and then he feels Ed’s hand on his knee, squeezing it, what, but it’s – good. Honestly, it’s almost grounding and he likes it, damn it to hell and back.

Too bad it doesn’t last.

“Of course,” Chauncey replies, “surely more than you. I am quite wondering how your dear father feels about it.”

Of course they brought that up.

“He certainly hasn’t pulled any strings to make sure the letter didn’t come,” Stede shrugs, “and that’s all right. It’s a duty, I suppose I will have to do my best.”

“Does that imply dealing with liberals and –” Nigel starts, and Ed goes very, very tense, and Stede is just fucking done.

He’ll deal with the consequences another time.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Stede says. “The answer is no, and he’s certainly better company than any of you ever could be. And don’t think that no one here knows that the only reason you haven’t received any letter yet is that your father did pull strings, and you can pretend all you want, but we all know you’re never setting foot in a military plane, or if you do you’ll never see anything but army headquarters, and I’m frankly tired of wasting my time with the likes of you. It’s been twenty years, I think I’m done. Jeff, should we go have dinner somewhere with better company?”

He hopes that Ed isn’t angry at him for cutting this short instead of just enduring them, but Ed sends him a relieved look for a split second before he grins again – fake, Stede can see it – and stands up.

“You know what, lead the way,” he says, and Stede doesn’t even look back as they stand up and flee the stupid room.

He says nothing until they’ve walked far away from the damned campus, right on the ocean’s bank, and he realizes he’s never walked this fast from anywhere in his entire life, and then he turns to look at Ed to apologize and his breath gets caught in his throat because there’s a full moon tonight and its light is falling right over his face, but the streetlamps nearby emit a soft, orange glow that makes him look as if he just stepped out of a painting, and he’s looking at Stede like he’s sorry, what the hell –

“I apologize,” he says, “it was – I should have realized –”

Ed shakes his head, “I – maybe I wasn’t ready for that, but honestly, they were bad to you, too. I figured they might presume shit about me, but – what the fuck was that about anyway?”

“They’ve picked on me since we were children,” Stede shrugs, “but – that’s – water under the bridge. I mean, no, it’s not, because it still hurts if I think about it, but what can I do? And it’s not that you weren’t ready. It’s that you’re way better than any of the assholes in there and I stand by it. Same as I stand by… well. Having dinner somewhere less pretentious.”

Ed stares at him for a moment, then his mouth curls in a small grin as he nods.

“Sure. Let’s just stop at the first decent place we see. And – uh. Thanks, I guess.”

“And for what? You do look extremely sophisticated, you know. And you had the others eating out the palm of your hand, before.”

“Yeah, guess I did,” Ed smiles a bit wider, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Nice to know I can manage that if I put my mind to it. By the way, those asses never actually went farther than the North Carolina border or was my impression completely fucking wrong?”

“Not at all,” Stede shakes his head. “Pegged them just right. And for what it’s worth I’m just… sorry they seem to presume everyone but them who gets sent overseas is… disposable or whatever else.”

“Don’t you worry,” Ed says, his voice turning sour, “I had enough of their kind over there. If there hadn’t been a cover to keep up I could have held my own.” He kicks a few stones as they walk along the riverbank. “But – not many people ever thought to stand up for me like that, so. Appreciated it.” He sounds choked, like it really is the first time that happens, and Stede just – wishes it wasn’t the case.

“No need,” Stede says, “I was just… telling the truth.”

Ed gives him a small nod, kicking another stone, and then he looks at his right. “Uh. That place any good?”

He nods towards a small diner where they advertise their pizza.

“I ate there a couple times,” Stede says. “It’s not bad. Feel like it?”

“I’m starving and that crab didn’t do anything for it. Should we?”

“After you,” Stede says, and follows him inside.

– –

“Stede Bonnet, what the hell are you doing?”

Stede looks down at the fork and knife he’s holding in his hands, as he’s cutting the plain cheese pizza he ordered – he really didn’t feel like anything heavier.

“Uh,” he says, trying to not stare at Ed’s forearms – he pulled back his sleeves so he wouldn’t ruin the shirt before and now he can see them in all their glory, firm and covered in black ink, tattoos swirling all over the skin painting an exceedingly pretty picture. “I’m… eating the pizza?”

“You,” Ed says, “are eating that like a mouse. That’s not fun. That’s not how you eat pizza, fuck’s sake.”

“Oh,” Stede says, putting fork and knife down. “And… how does one do it? I think I should like a lesson.”

Ed’s eyes are glinting under the shitty diner light right now, a grin appearing under the beard. “First, pull up those sleeves. No need to ruin that pretty suit of yours. Come on, up.”

Stede does, rolling them up to his elbows – he almost never does it, it doesn’t look appropriate, his father would say every single time he tried it, and so he lost the habit, but – it’s nice, he thinks.

“Right. Now, reach down, fold that damned pizza with your hands and just fucking eat it. It’s not proper if you haven’t felt the oil under your fingertips. And bite it, don’t just nibble.”

Stede thinks of how horrified his entire family would be at the prospect of eating pizza like this, his dear father first and foremost.

He reaches down, folds the piece in two, lets the damned oil run down his fingers and takes a huge bite.

“Oh, that’s better,” Ed says, just before sinking his teeth into his own. “So, doesn’t it taste better?”

It probably objectively doesn’t, but.

Ed’s smiling at him and there’s a bit of tomato caught in his beard and he’s still making sure he’s not staining the suit, his eyes are so huge and lovely as they wink at him and he takes another bite, and his throat is working as he swallows and he looks so relaxed, way more than he did at that stupid party, and Stede’s so fucking gone over this man, he can’t even keep on denying it or tell himself he shouldn’t be, and is feeling so comfortable and warm and he’s so glad they just came here, and –

He thinks it tastes different from the few times he came here for a quick bite in between classes and sat alone at the corner table cutting the pizza into little slices he’d bring to his mouth with a fork as politely as he was taught he had to behave even on his own.

“You know what,” he says, “yes. Much better.”

“See? Told you,” Ed winks again. “Should we get another one after? I am really fucking starving.”

“Absolutely,” Stede says, and when they get a second serving he doesn’t even think about cutting it with the damned knife and fork.

Maybe he did manage to salvage this stupid evening, after all.

– –

Half an hour later, they’re standing on the pier again, staring at the ocean’s waves lapping at the sand calmly beneath them. It’s peaceful. Nice. It’s not a pier that’s very crowded, and it’s not too chilly yet, and in a couple of months he’s going to leave it behind but he can’t feel too sorry about it, and he’s opened his mouth before he can think on it.

“I can see why you’d want a fishing boat,” he says, breaking the silence between them.

“Oh? You do?”

“I mean,” Stede shrugs, “look at that. It’s just – I can believe why someone would want to live there and not… here. It’s just you and the waves, no one being after you, nothing to prove to anyone, you don’t have to be tied anywhere, what’s not to like?”

“You really hate it here, don’t you?” It’s not judgmental. Stede turns, swallowing as he meets Ed’s pretty, pretty eyes, and finds himself nodding.

“I mean,” he says, “it sounds… I shouldn’t be complaining about it, but. I had to fight tooth and nail to go to a public university, my father insisted for a Christian school but I managed to sell it to him, and I hate it anyway. The moment I’m done, I’m supposed to marry a woman I don’t love and who doesn’t love me just because it would be a good merger for our stupid families. And – it would be just more of those guys being always around in my life, if I didn’t die overseas, but – honestly, they all paid their way out. Which – I mean, it’s ridiculous that I call them out on it when –”

“Mate, they’re cheating the fucking system with daddy dearest’s money. You’re just saying fuck it. That’s nowhere near the same thing. And I respect someone who says fuck the system way more than I could ever respect ‘em anyway. But… I think you get it,” Ed nods, and then – “You’re right about the ocean. I want it for all of that. But know what it is that makes me want it more?”

“What?”

“It’s just so calm out there. You wouldn’t think, but it is, and even if it’s stormy, it’s nothing like… how it sounded back overseas. The last fucking 4th of July I was about to lose my shit with all those stupid fireworks. And that’s not even the worst thing,” he shakes his head, pulls out a cigarette. “And every single time I hear anythin’ like that, I just feel like such shit, I can barely bring myself to get out of the stupid house, and then I have to do it anyway. But that’s not the fucking worst thing about it.”

“Do… do you want to talk about it? Just if you’d rather. If not, it’s your business.”

“I never told anyone since – well. Not many people I could tell anyway,” Ed says, taking a drag. “Might be I want to. You did see that picture I have on the nightstand, yeah?”

Stede nods. “You said –”

“All of ‘em died except one. You probably don’t remember now, but the guy on the left in that picture, was the one that didn’t. Went by Izzy. We were in the same unit from the get-go and then it never quite changed for the year and a half we were there. Let’s say… I mean, I didn’t really do friends back then. And haven’t sorta done it since. Never mind. I don’t… know if we were friends, for that matter. It was just… I mean, I came from where I came from, he got the draft while working at some bar after spending half of his life in a group home because his dad was too much of a drunk to look after anyone and his mother was long dead, that is, until they kicked him out, we sort of got each other. We had… a thing.” He says it carefully, not going further. Stede nods, motioning for him to go on. “It wasn’t – let’s just say we were extremely caught up in each other and the more time passed the worse it got. Also… I was sort of the one in charge, not technically because our shit officer was some rich guy who hated all of us, but everyone else decided I was the one with the best survival instinct in there so they just followed me instead.”

Stede can believe that, but he says nothing and lets Ed talk.

“He kind of… thought that me being some kind of army legend at least as far as our circle was concerned would be a ticket out of there because if the… I don’t want to say enemy, they never were mine, but anyway, the people fighting against us knew I was in that unit they’d just not even try to take on us. It… lasted almost all of the time we were overseas. We just fed off each other like that and it was… bad.” He sighs. “Then our idiot rich officer sends us on some recon mission which was obviously a bad fucking idea and didn’t want to hear otherwise. Walked right into an ambush.” He puts away the cigarette and lights another. “Everyone ‘cept us died. I got my knee blown for good and that got me the honorable discharge and a stupid medal I ain’t ever wearin’ anywhere, Izzy got out with all his limbs there, but… he was the only one conscious when the medics arrived. Last thing I recall before I passed out while he was putting a tourniquet on my leg was that he was fucking covered in someone else’s brains. And not just that.”

He takes a drag and Stede dares putting a hand on his wrist, squeezing it. Ed doesn’t shrug it off – actually, he seems to exhale in relief.

“So,” he goes on, “long story short, he also gets discharged because the unit shrink had visited him and said he wasn’t in condition to fight anyone. I wake up from, like, a week hooked to an IV and completely high on fucking morphine and no one can tell me where he’d go, he wasn’t at the hospital. And – it took me three more weeks to actually manage to walk without crutches and shit.” He takes another drag, his fingers gripping the end of the cigarette hard. “So, I could’ve gone home, but I figured I owed it to him to see what the fuck he was doing. I ask around, check places and shit, and – well. Crazy bastard had spent the previous month making the rounds of all the seediest places in Saigon and engaging in whatever self-destructive behavior he could feasibly fucking pull off. I have no idea of half of what it was, I’m pretty sure he tried any substance under the sun that he could find and by the time we caught up it seemed like he was intent on never coming back.” He stops, taking a couple more drags from the cigarette. “Anyway, I found him and convinced him it was a fucking shitty idea and that if we survived that massacre maybe we oughtn’t throw our lives away, and we came back here, but.” He chucks the cigarette to the ground, putting it off with the heel of his boot. “Just went to shit. Until we were there whatever we were doing was tolerable, but here? It just… didn’t work. We were just bad for each other, we screamed at each other every other day and if I said I was tired and I just wanted to go legit he’d start on tirades about how the system was out to screw us anyway and I should just bank on my supposed legend. At some point it just got really fucking bad and I almost choked him while we were arguing, and – I said I couldn’t do that anymore. He left and I haven’t seen him in some… bit less two fucking years.”

He looks at Stede as if he expects him to bolt.

Stede doesn’t think he could at this point. Or ever. He shakes his head, trying to not come too close in case anyone starts getting ideas because getting them arrested would just be bad, but – he has to say something here.

“And… I imagine you regret that?”

Ed lets out a small, relieved breath. “I do,” he says. “He just – we went through that shit together, y’know. And I – I’m trying to go straight and I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing or if he’s even alive or not, and I feel bad because I was responsible for all of them back in the day, our fucking CO sure as fuck wasn’t, but it’s not like he left a return address. Every single fucking time I think about being there I start thinking about how it went to shit and about how even if I manage to make something out of my life he’s most likely not going to do the same and I insisted that he come back.”

“And if you didn’t he’d be dead,” Stede points out. “It’s – you did the right thing, Ed. It’s not your fault it spiraled badly. And for what it’s worth they should have helped him.”

“You’d think,” Ed shrugs. “Fucking VA told me that I could just hope to find some work if a miracle happened last time I set foot there. Sure as fuck they didn’t help him. Then again, what do I know. Maybe my mother was right, at the end of it.”

“Your… mother?”

“Ah, fuck,” Ed says, and then Stede realizes that the hand that was holding the cigarette before is nervously fingering something inside the suit jacket’s inner pocket. “It’s – ah, shit. I mean. Whatever. You haven’t laughed until now, guess this won’t be what seals the deal.”

He slides his fingers from the jacket, producing what looks like a square of red silk with frayed hems, that looks… old, and maybe worn out, but it had to be some excellent fabric from the looks of it.

“That’s…” He shakes his head. “She gave it to me when I was… young enough my stupid father was still around being his shit self. She got it from the rich people she worked for, she cooked for ‘em and looked after their kids and whatnot. Anyway, it was a scrap from some scarf the lady got made that she threw away. Mom brings it home and gives it to me and then goes off and says to just… see it exactly for what it was because fucking God didn’t intend for people like us to have that kinda thing. I mean, I don’t blame her for thinking that, with the hand life dealt her, but – I ended up keeping it. I just… bring it everywhere because I can’t exactly visit her, she’s still in my crap hometown, and it’s the only thing of hers I have. Just… I want to think she’s wrong, but maybe considering how that stupid party went maybe –”

“May I?” Stede asks, interrupting that train of thought and motioning towards the silk. Ed says nothing when his fingers grasp it, and when he pulls it he doesn’t take it back, just stares at him with his lips half-parted, and –

It is really nice silk, Stede thinks as he touches it.

“It’s quite lovely,” he says, running his fingertips over the surface.

“It’s a tatty old thing, mate,” Ed shakes his head. “Please, it’s nice of you, but –”

“Sometimes,” Stede says, ignoring that notion, “the old things are the best things. Let me just see.”

He thinks about it for a moment, then folds the silk easily into a nice pocket triangle – he could do them in his sleep and he always liked the look, and like this the hems won’t show. When he’s done, he places it carefully in Ed’s jacket pocket – it does look great with the purple, admittedly –, fixing it so it doesn’t accidentally slip out. “There,” he says, moving back, taking in the sight, and – fuck’s sake, Ed’s staring at him so intensely he feels like he’ll faint and he looks so handsome in the moonlight, like he just walked out of some romance book, and he’s opened his mouth and spoken before he’s even thought, but he just can’t stop himself from saying –

“You wear fine things well,” he whispers, blurting it out before he can stop himself, and then Ed’s mouth parts a bit, and he thinks his lower lip is trembling under the beard so he can’t be sure, but –

He doesn’t expect Ed to take a worried look around the pier, and then he stares for a second at a darkened corner on the side out of the way of the streetlights, and –

“Fuck this,” he says, and then grabs Stede’s arm and drags him there and before Stede can ask what the hell is going on Ed’s mouth is on his own, and it’s more tentative than he’d have pictured if anyone asked him how would Ed Teach kiss you –

But it’s better and he has only so much self-restraint, and he’s kissing back before Ed can think he got this wrong, moving his hands over Ed’s cheeks, feeling the beard under his fingertips as he drags him closer – Ed moans into his mouth and kisses him harder and almost falls into him as Stede’s tongue licks into him, and he doesn’t know how they ended up with Ed’s back against the wall and Stede kissing him again after parting for air and oh he’s never kissed anyone else before except chaste fake kisses with Mary when they wanted to fool their relatives and this is nothing like it and his heart is beating so wildly he feels like it’ll burst out of his chest, but the moment they both pull back they’re clutching at each other and Ed’s hands are shaking and he’s smiling against Stede’s chin and fuck he can’t believe they kissed he can’t –

“Hey,” Ed asks, voice so low it’s barely audible, “fancy coming back to my place?”

“Yes,” Stede says at once. “God, yes, I – are you sure –”

“I’ve never been more fucking sure in my life and right now I’d like to do things that would get us arrested if anyone walked by, so if you are –”

“I’ve been wanting to since I woke up in your bed,” Stede admits quietly.

“… Oh, we are going now,” Ed blurts, as if he can’t wait for it as much as Stede, and when he steps out of the corner and into the light and follows Ed towards the campus…

Well. This is the fastest he’s ever walked in his entire life.

– –

Any other time he had ridden on that bike of Ed’s, it always seemed too short for his liking.

This time, it feels like an endless amount of time before Ed finally parks it in front of his trailer, and Stede would just grab him and kiss him against the door, but he can’t know if anyone’s watching and the park is still lightened well enough that anyone could see, so he stops himself from doing it until Ed opens the door, and when he lets the keys fall once to the ground because his fingers are shaking… Stede gets it, he does, and a moment later he’s opened the door and turned on the light and Stede’s rushed in. As Ed closes it, he takes a look at the surroundings – it’s pretty much the same as the last time, except that now the small table in the little kitchen area is covered in pieces of paper and books and Stede’s tests, all stashed together messily, but it’s obvious that Ed had been working on them just before he left. He shakes his head before moving ahead and closing the curtains on the trailer’s large window just in front of him.

Then he hears the door lock.

He turns, and Ed’s closing the curtains on the only other window.

“Fucking finally,” he says, and then grabs the lapels of Stede’s shirt and hauls him in and kisses him slow, one of his hands moving back to cup his neck, and Stede immediately moans into his mouth, his own hands finding Ed’s hips under the jacket, grasping at the silken lavender shirt.

“I – can’t disagree with that notion,” Stede breathes when they part before leaning down to kiss him again, and then they’re both sitting on the bed without breaking the kiss, and when Ed’s hand runs at the back of his head Stede groans into it before returning the favor – he moves his own hand upwards, undoing the bun he had styled Ed’s hair in before in a hair-do they had chosen together, feeling those black silken waves fully, finally, and fuck it’s so soft he wants to card through it forever, and then Ed moans into his mouth almost brokenly, and he has to lean back –

Just to almost falter in front of how intensely Ed’s staring at him, again, so softly Stede wants to faint because who’s ever looked at him like that –

“Just –” He starts, his throat swallowing heavily, “since then?”

Stede gives him a little shrug, still carding through the hair at the back of his head.

“I just – I never realized I was into men until… well. Rooming with Lucius was a bit of an eye opener,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I never acted on it. Not really. Couldn’t risk it, and my circle isn’t exactly… you’ve seen them. I don’t like them.”

“And you like me?”

“Very much,” Stede says, bringing him closer, feeling Ed sigh as he wraps his fingers around his neck. “I just… never even presumed I could act on it, and I didn’t know if you’d be interested, but – I never felt this way for anyone else. Ever.”

“Fuck it,” Ed says, not sounding as assured as he was probably aiming for, “didn’t know I’d be interested, I spent the whole time you were passed out hating whoever the fuck was the Mary you called out in your sleep because I figured she was your girl or something.”

“Well, she’s not,” Stede shakes his head, “and – fuck, I never – I mean, I never.”

Ed raises an eyebrow. “Not even with a woman?”

“Please, I – promise you won’t laugh?”

“Cross my heart,” Ed grins. “Come on, you and Mary tried it out and it was abysmal?”

“Please,” he snorts, “her parents want her to arrive at her wedding pure.”

“... Why are you laughing?”

“Whatever she’s doing with her art instructor surely doesn’t fall under that definition at any point, but – no, uh. My father, when I turned eighteen, he – drove us to a brothel.”

“He did what now?”

“He said that since I obviously was not a real man or whatever and that I should know what to do when I married Mary at least, because of course he wants grandchildren, I should… get some practice. He paid this girl for the entire night, she immediately figured out that I wasn’t interested and – well. As far as my father knows, we did the deed.”

“I presume it didn’t go like that?”

“Uh, no. We talked books.”

“You did what?”

“Hey, she read a lot!” He protests, his cheeks flaming red. “She said I did look like I’d rather be doing anything else, I said I’d rather finish the novel I was in the middle of, turns out she had rather insightful opinions on Wuthering Heights and we had a lovely talk. For… well, the entire night, and she did give me some, er, advice, but. It was… supposing I’d be with a woman.”

“How am I not at all surprised,” Ed says fondly, and then he leans in. “Tell you what, it’s not rocket science. Now, I think you should be a gentleman and take me to bed already and then we can figure it out, but if you’d rather –”

“No, I think I really would like to take you to bed.”

“Then please do. Vaseline’s in the first nightstand drawer,” Ed winks, and Stede’s just – he grabs his hips, kisses him again as he walks the two of them towards the bed where he woke up the first time he was in this trailer and gently lays Ed down on it.

“Know what,” he says when he sees Ed sitting up and reaching for his boots, “let me get to that in a moment.”

Ed lays back down, eyes on him, and Stede has no idea how does one strip in some kind of seductive way so he just settles for removing his clothing piece by piece and putting each folded one down on the nearest chair. Ed keeps on staring at him, mouth parting slightly when he takes off his shirt, and no one ever looked at him like that and his head is about to fucking spin, but – never mind. He takes off his shoes and trousers and then forgoes modesty and shucks off his underwear too, and if he hears Ed gasp the moment his more-than-half-hard dick comes out in the open, well.

He had been hot and bothered all the way back here. Blame him for that.

He tries to not feel too self-conscious as he grabs the Vaseline and puts it on the nightstand, and then.

“Allow me,” he says, and takes off Ed’s first boot.

Ed groans at it, as he slides off the other, too, and then carefully does the same with his socks placing them back inside the shoes, and then he groans louder when Stede kisses his right ankle first and then the left.

“Fuck,” he says, “what –”

“I’m doing this right,” Stede protests – he doesn’t want – well, it’s the first time he has sex with someone else, sure, but he wouldn’t have wanted it to be a tryst anyway nor to make it fast. He’s been wanting to – to be with Ed for a damned long time, he barely might know what he’s doing but he does know what foreplay entails, and so he rubs his thumbs over Ed’s ankles, massaging them a few times, before he kneels on the bed, takes off Ed’s brace slowly before placing it on the chair, too, and reaches down for Ed’s belt.

He slides his own clothing off him slow and careful, uncovering his legs, and he can see that there’s still shrapnel in his knee, fuck’s sake he can believe he has to wear the brace, and leans down to kiss it once, twice, thrice, and Ed makes strangled noises against the pillow but doesn’t tell him to stop, and so Stede finishes taking off the trousers and his underwear, noting that Ed is also indeed very affected by their current predicament, and forces himself to ignore it for the time being. He folds the trousers, moves them on the chair, takes Ed’s jacket off and lays it over them, too, making sure the red silk stays in its pocket, and then Ed sighs as Stede’s hands touch his chest through the silken shirt.

Huh.

“Maybe I’ll just leave these,” he says, nodding towards the shirt and the cravat. “Unless you’d rather –”

“No,” Ed says, “feels good, fuck – leave ‘em on. Unless you don’t want it dirty –”

“I can’t care less, I’ll wash it,” Stede shakes his head and leans down again, kissing him as he moves in a better position – Ed jerks upwards when their dicks touch, and – Stede has no fucking clue what he’s doing, but it’s not like he’s never jerked off, and how hard can it be to –

He reaches down, sliding his hand around both their dicks, and strokes, and Ed surges up and moans into his mouth again and again while Stede keeps on doing it, and fuck fuck this is going to his head and he’s trying to think of what advice that woman gave him that might work on men too, but then Ed’s moaning louder and louder as Stede jerks them off just like that and maybe –

Maybe he doesn’t need to fucking overthink it. And wait, if Ed fancies a fine fabric –

“A moment,” he says, and then he fishes for his trousers on the ground.

“The fuck, Stede,” Ed says, “just come back, I –”

“Oh, I think you’d like this,” Stede says as he finally gets the silken handkerchief he was looking for out of the back pocket, and then he wraps it around Ed’s dick at once and the sound that leaves Ed’s mouth is enough to make his cock harden even more, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life –

“Stede, holy fuck, just – what’s that –”

“Pure silk,” Stede says, rubbing his thumb over the head of Ed’s dick, pressing down on the fabric, and Ed makes another strangled noise.

“Fuck, feels too good, I’ll – oh, just – I’ll – ‘s gonna get ruined –”

“Who fucking cares,” Stede blurts as he leans down and kisses him once and twice and thrice, and then Ed’s thrown his arms around his neck and pulled him close and said that he wants to feel him too, and – he leans down, sliding his dick along Ed’s leg, right next to where his hand is, and fuck he could come just from this, he thinks he could –

“Do it,” Ed says, and did he talk out loud, fuck he had no idea but – he jerks Ed off faster and faster until he’s coming against the kerchief with a groan that Stede covers with his mouth as he immediately follow, rubbing his dick against the inside of Ed’s thigh, and he doesn’t care it was fast and messy and he barely even touched it for fuck’s sake, because the white exploding behind his eyelids is making it so good he can’t even think, and then he’s leaned down and kissed Ed again, and again, and –

He’s drunk on this. He’s completely fucking drunk on how good it feels and so what if he moves down and licks his way down Ed’s chest until he gets to his dick?

“Stede, you aren’t –”

“Ed, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing but I think I want to do this, so –”

“Oh, fuck,” Ed groans, his dick twitching back to life as soon as Stede licks a stripe along the top of it, and it’s – salty and thick and it sits just right on his tongue, and so why the hell not?

He doesn’t move back up until he’s licked Ed as clean as it gets and he’s half-hard again, and –

Well. Why the hell not, indeed, and he licks the top of Ed’s dick before taking it in his mouth.

“Stede, fucking hell, give a man a warn– fuck!”

So, maybe he had listened when Lucius was drunk and went off about how much sucking dick was an art. Again, he’s only ever thought about it, but. He only takes in what he can, mindful of not wanting to choke on it, and he sucks lightly at first before starting to move his head for real and fuck but the feeling of Ed hardening in his mouth is making him even more aroused, and at that point Ed has his hands in Stede’s hair and he’s pushing and saying that it’s perfect and he’s close again and oh fucking hell where was he hiding all of this he’s close he’s close –

Stede doesn’t move when Ed comes in his mouth. He’s far back enough that he knows he can swallow and he does like the taste and he doesn’t move until Ed’s completely spent, and – well. It takes him a few strokes to spill all over the bedsheets and Ed’s thigh again, and so what if he cleans it up with the silken kerchief as Ed trembles underneath him before he chucks it over the side of the bed and curls up next to him on the cot?

He thinks for a first time, he didn’t do too bad.

“Fuck,” Ed laughs against his neck, curling up against him, “now that was – if it was your first, let me tell you, can’t wait to experience the next ones.”

“So… I wasn’t terrible?”

“I’m not fucking dignifying that with an answer,” Ed shakes his head, standing up. “Wait a sec. I’ll clean us up and then – I just remembered I promised you a thing, a while ago. Stay put, hm?”

Stede stays put, unable to stop grinning to himself, and he lets Ed clean them both up with a towel after he comes back from the bathroom, and maybe he looks at his naked ass as he walks towards his record player – oh, right. Ed leans down, picks a record, and turns it so Stede can check the title – right. Uriah Heep, … Very 'eavy... Very 'umble, it reads, and a moment later Ed places it on the turntable, letting the needle drop on the record, an electric guitar sound immediately filling the room, and it’s – nice. Not too slow, not too fast, and as Ed gets back into the bed .

“‘S my favorite of theirs, so far,” Ed says as he lifts up the covers and nestles up against Stede – the bed is absolutely too small for the both of them and if either of them moves they’ll crash down to the ground, but he wouldn’t have it any other way – he’s never slept curled up to someone like this.

He moves a hand to the back of Ed’s head, letting the lyrics wash over him – wake up, set your sights, for never shall we fail, stand up for your rights and justice will prevail – and places a kiss at the top of his head. Ed snuggles closer, an ankle hooking around Stede’s.

“Nice,” Stede says, “think I can hear the whole thing tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Ed grins, “it’s the week-end after all, isn’t it?”

“I like how it sounds,” Stede says, kissing him again before Ed closes the light, and even if the bed is cramped and they can barely move he thinks he’s never went to sleep so happy in his entire life.

– –

When he wakes up the next morning, neither of them fell of the bed and the sun is shining through the windows bathing the entire room in a soft peach-like orange light and Ed is looking radiant as he opens his eyes and looks up at him with a small grin under the beard, and Stede is about to faint all over again.

“Know what,” he says, “it’s the first time in years I actually slept without waking up in the middle of the night.”

“What, really?”

“Hm,” he nods, “maybe if you can spend the week-end I could do it again.”

Well.

It’s not like he had any prior engagements, had he?

“I absolutely can spend the week-end,” Stede winks, “you do owe me more of that record you like, don’t you?”

“You’re on,” Ed grins back, and when he puts the record back on to another song, the moment Stede hears the lyrics, he gets the message.

– girl before you go now, there's one thing I wanted to do, that's get you to come back, because I wanna make love to you, got me real turned on –

“Oh, I see how it is,” Stede says. “Think you could come to bed?”

Ed takes a couple strides and immediately slides next to him, moving on his back until Stede’s straddling him, and they’re barely managing to not fall because it’s barely enough for two people laying down if they are really close to each other, and yesterday he wasn’t exactly trying to do anything except laying down on Ed, but – he can work with this. He leans down, kissing him again, sighing as Ed’s hand reaches up at the back of his head and pulls him downwards. He doesn’t try to hurry it up, just enjoys it, his tongue running across Ed’s over and over before he pulls back.

“Hey,” he says, “are – are you sure you want me here? I’ve never – I don’t know if it’d be easier –”

“Stede,” Ed interrupts him, “it’s not rocket science and I really, really have wanted you in me for ages, so how about you stop worrying and fuck me the way I’ve been dreaming of?”

“Oh, you have?”

“Even when I was fucking awake.” He runs his hands over Stede’s thighs. “These fucking legs, I just – never mind. Stede. It’s fine. If you’d rather have a condom they’re somewhere –”

“I’ve never done it with anyone except for you,” Stede shrugs.

“Well, I haven’t been with anyone in years and I took a test after, so –”

“Okay,” Stede says, “okay, just – fuck, what do I –”

Ed reaches down, palming for something under the bed, then hands him a small box of Vaseline. “That,” he says, “is your best friend. Just fucking use it on both of us and then you get that dick in me. Not that hard, Bonnet.”

“Right – right,” Stede says, opening up the little box as he leans back, figuring Ed will want to move. “Hey,” he says, “do you really have to – be on your stomach?”

“Would probably be easier on this bed,” Ed says, “unless –”

“Can – can I see you?”

The way Ed looks at him then, as if he hadn’t expected that question –

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, just – move carefully,” he says, moving on his back, spreading his legs wider – Stede tells him to leave down the left, no way he’s bending it with how Ed’s knee is, and then Ed moves his right over his shoulder so he can get some leverage, and then he slides his fingers inside the box, putting the tip on the rim of Ed’s ass, and the way Ed starts trembling and saying yes please as he pushes inside –

Fuck.

Fuck.

He tries to not have his hands shake as he pushes a fingertip inside slowly, then two, then turns them enough to slide them in further, and Ed clenches down on them and tells him to go on and that he’s doing really fucking good and that makes him feel like he’s not completely useless at it – he kisses Ed as he leans forward and curls his fingers inside him a bit, and Ed mutters something about going in in deeper and Stede does after dipping them in Vaseline again and then he pushes and Ed about keens as he curls them again.

“Fuck, yeah, right there,” Ed says, “told you it wasn’t rocket science.”

It’s not, and he’s getting hard all over again and Stede’s so fucking beyond aroused that yesterday looks like nothing in comparison, and he thought he was gonna explode yesterday.

Fuck –

He pushes the damned fingers in deeper, and then his arm almost gives out.

“Is it – can I –”

“Yeah, ‘s fine,” Ed says, “it is, never minded a bit of a stretch, just lube it up and you’re good, oh fuck –”

Stede nods and lathers his dick in Vaseline before moving it right where his fingers were a second ago, and –

Fucking –

Ed’s tight and so fucking warm he could sink inside him and never pull out, and it’s a bit of a stretch, but not so much that he can’t go all the way in inch by inch as Ed’s arms grab his shoulders and he grasps at his back – he leans down, kisses him open-mouthed as he inches in deeper and deeper, until he’s sure he can’t possibly do more and fuck he feels like he’ll come just from being buried inside Ed just like this but – but he’ll last, he’ll make himself last if only because it would be just fucking embarrassing now wouldn’t it – he moves back just slightly and then thrusts and Ed groans against his mouth as Stede kisses him again and then presses kisses all over the jawline, through the beard, before moving down to his neck, and then he moves back and thrusts and the leg Ed has around his shoulder is pulling him in tighter and –

“Fuck,” he says, “fuck, this is – I –”

“Keep on going,” Ed says, “you’re doing great, fuck –”

“You feel so good,” Stede blurts, and Ed moans – Stede leans down again, kissing behind his ear, his free hand cupping the back of Ed’s head.

“Do – do I?” Ed blurts.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re – fuck you feel amazing, you feel perfect, you look like a damned painting, I can’t – I can’t believe you – wanted me –”

“Don’t finish – that stupid sentence,” Ed says, “don’t you dare –”

“Fuck, so fucking good,” Stede blurts again, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, losing whatever little rhythm he had managed to build up, but Ed doesn’t seem to care as he digs his nails into Stede’s back and pulls him down, his mouth searching Stede’s as Stede gets closer and closer, and –

He moves the hand he had on the back of Ed’s head downwards, searching for his cock that by now has been leaking as it rubbed all over his stomach, and when he gives it another stroke Ed whines against his ear, a cascade of fuck and Stede and yes falling from his mouth, and Stede thrust and thrusts and then Ed’s come against his hand with a strangled cry and he can’t –

He can’t hold back anymore as he lets go inside Ed, thrusting as deep as he can and pulling Ed close as he kisses him desperately, and Ed locks his leg around his neck as he does and doesn’t let the grip go until he’s lying completely boneless against the bed and Stede’s wrapped around him with his blood burning and feeling like he’s fucking floating in thin air – he pulls Ed closer, searching for his mouth again as they trade a few messy, slow kisses as they try to not fall off the bed.

“Bonnet,” Ed grins, his voice hoarse, “think you’re a natural.”

“Am I,” Stede smiles back. “So I can stay all week-end?”

“I would be absolutely offended if you didn’t.”

Stede thinks he’s not going anywhere until tomorrow evening.

Chapter Text

When he gets off Ed’s bike at the usual block from campus, he hates that he can’t even kiss him goodbye. But the way Ed’s eyes are twinkling in the sunset’s light as Stede gives him back his helmet, he can see he’s not the only one.

“So,” Stede says, “see you tomorrow at the usual time? You owe me that recipe, again.”

“You’ve got it,” Ed winks back, and then he’s back on his bike and he’s driven off and Stede’s only consolation is that Lucius is about the one person that he knows might give him decent advice about what to do from now on.

Which is why he’s entirely surprised when he walks into their room and Lucius looks at him like – like one relative died and he was about to give Stede his condolences.

“Lucius?” He asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” Lucius says, “I – imagine you never came back because you were at… Ed’s, right?”

“Yes,” Stede says, unable to stop the small smile from spreading on his face.

“Yeah, uh, I – wish I could congratulate you properly, but – fuck, you should sit down.”

Stede does, immediately understanding he won’t like what comes next.

“What happened?”

“I think – the Badmintons talked to their father who talked to your father who, uh, showed up here.”

Stede’s good mood evaporates in a split second.

“I – I’m sorry, what did he –”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. He just implied a bunch of things I’ve heard a bunch of times, who cares. The thing is that he asked me where you went, and I said you left to buy books and maybe see Mary as far as I knew, thankfully it was mid-afternoon on a Saturday and it sounded plausible, but he said you had to go back to the house and talk to him the moment you knew he wanted you to. And if you didn’t show up by Monday, he’d come find you here just after classes.”

Well, fuck. Stede had hoped he’d have some time before the asshole found out what happened at the party, but – better that he deals with this now than else.

“Right,” he says, wondering if he should change into a more… supposedly proper suit, and then decides that if it’s going to be a fight, there’s no sense in… well. Pretending he cares about that. “I, I should go now. Just – fuck,” he breathes, because he doesn’t know what the hell his father might cook up, but it could be bad. “Listen, just – I don’t think – I mean, depends on what it was about, but if I don’t show back up here by tomorrow morning just –” He hands Lucius the piece of paper with Ed’s work landline that he had kept in his desk’s drawer. “Call Ed and tell him what happened and that if I don’t show up tomorrow it’s – well. That. And I’ll try to work it out.”

“Stede, you’re what, twenty-five? He can’t –”

“Lucius, he can. He really can. Anyway, I hope I’ll be back tonight. Just, tell him if I’m not, okay?”

“Sure,” Lucius nods, not convinced. “Just – never mind. Good luck with the lions’ den. I’ll man the fort.”

“Thanks,” Stede whispers, patting his shoulder, and then stands back up and leaves the room.

He needs to get a cab to go home, as much as he loathes that place by now.

– –

The more he spends away from his house, the worse it looks whenever he steps back in it. It looks even more massive and downright excessive now, all white and huge and pretty much screaming that the owners are wealthy and want the rest of the world to know.

He knocks on the door, a maid he’s never seen before letting him in.

“My father wanted me, I was told,” he says, trying to sound polite and not like he wishes he could fucking bolt.

“Sir is in his study,” the girl replies, moving aside. “Shall I –”

“No,” Stede shakes his head, “I know where it is.”

He knows indeed. He’s walked every single possible way there from any corner in this house, and it never was for good reasons. Walking through the door at the end of the corridor on the first floor always felt like walking a damned plank and he’s hated it since he was four and had to do it for the first time, but –

You’re not four anymore. You’re in your twenties and you’re planning on leaving and never seeing him again in a few months. Whatever the hell this is, you can do it.

He knocks on the door.

“It’s me,” he says.

“About damned time,” his father replies, and Stede can hear how angry he is as he opens the door.

Hell, he’s walking right into the lion’s mouth, not in the den, but –

He breathes in, closes the door and turns back to his father’s desk, where he’s standing straight, wearing one of his usual black undertaker-like suits and he’s staring at Stede like he wants him to drop dead on sight worse than usual. That’s… worse than what he had taken into account.

“What is,” he starts immediately, “this nonsense Oliver Badminton is telling me?”

“I – I am afraid I will need you to be a bit more specific, sir,” Stede replies, not that he ever wanted to be called any other way.

“Don’t be cheeky with me. What was it about his sons saying you brought someone from – Australia or whatever –”

“New Zealand,” Stede corrects, not at all surprised. He’s sure that he’s not even lying and he really wouldn’t care to know the difference.

“Who the fuck cares, it’s the same thing,” his father snarls. Of course he’d say that. “You bring some man from over there or whatever to your university party without an invite and disrespect them in front of everyone else just because they were pointing out extremely true things?”

Stede knows that his father never thought much of him, since the second he threw back in his face the fact that he was rich, as if it wasn’t his father’s stupid money, and he never brought friends home and the few times he brought home acquaintances he didn’t hate he made sure to inform him of how much he disapproved. He never even bothered correcting him. No point in that. But – just the fact that he thinks what the Badmintons said about Ed was true when he’s never even met him, is making him want to talk back and do it for the first time in his life, and he should probably not do it, but – he’s opened his mouth before thinking twice about it.

“Everyone else has invited people over,” Stede says, trying to stay calm. “I met him at a bookshop, he sounded interested and I thought he would like it. Simple as that. And I don’t see what is so concerning about bringing a friend with.”

“Oh, sure, a friend, when you’ve never had any unless they were absolutely not suitable, and then you disappear for two days? Do you really think I bought whatever your heathen roommate was trying to sell me?”

“Leave Lucius out of this,” Stede starts.

“You are not going to tell me what to do or not.” His father’s voice has suddenly turned cold in a way that has always made him want to just cower in a corner and run, and – fuck, he wants to just turn tail and never set foot here again. “And what is with that ridiculous suit anyway? I thought I had made it clear when I told you that’s not how someone who should have this job dresses,” he says, motioning at his desk. “Anyway, I know you weren’t with Mary, because I asked her parents.”

Of course he hadn’t asked Mary herself.

“And we are going to talk about her, too, because I don’t see you trying to make her realize that when she marries you, no way she will be able to waste her time with painting and whatnot.”

“I don’t think –” Stede starts, and then his father slams his hand on the desk.

“No, you’re not going to think. I’m going to tell you right now that if you went off with whatever lowlife you found yourself that was pathetic enough to follow you around for two days and that if you did what I think you did – actually, even if you didn’t, you obviously haven’t realized what your place is. Yet. You’re coming back here tomorrow after taking whatever you have from your stupid college dorm, you’re finishing your classes by mail or whatever, and I’m marching you to the doctor’s visit so you don’t even think about trying to flunk out of it.”

“Sir –”

“I didn’t say you could talk, either. I just hope you went and got drunk with him or whatever instead of what I’m suspecting, though that wouldn’t be a surprise for anyone. Unfortunately.”

Stede keeps his mouth shut. He’s itching to argue, but he knows what will come out of it, as in just more ranting about how queers are society’s sickness or whatever, and he doesn’t need to hear it right now.

“You are going to go, if I even catch whiff of you lying to get out of it – which I’m sure you would, spiness lily-livered rich boy that you are, you’ll see fucking consequences, and if I hear again of you consorting with low-lifes from the other side of the world you won’t like what happens. You have exactly one day to be back here with your things. I’ll arrange the matters with the dean.”

“I’m – you can’t be –”

“It’s not your money paying for it, and I absolutely fucking can. And I can see on your face that I was wrong. You did fuck him, didn’t you? Or maybe he fucked you. I doubt that you’d manage even that much.”

Stede knows he doesn’t want an answer, though he’s this tempted to give it to him anyway and say that no one complained on that account, but the only thing he can think of is that if he gets out of this house maybe he can find a way to never come back in the first place and everything else can… wait, he supposes, but if he pisses his father off more now he might even not let him go back for his things, and –

“Never fucking mind. I don’t know what I did wrong to deserve such a rotten apple for my only son but hopefully shooting some commie bastards wherever part of the world your supposed friend comes from will straighten you out. Now get out of my fucking sight before I think back on it.”

“Sir –”

“I said get out of my sight,” and Stede should have expected the blow to his face.

He really should have.

It doesn’t sting any less for it, but – he knows his lip is trembling right where the man’s tacky wedding ring split it with the hit, but that’s – he can worry about it later.

“Very well,” he whispers, and turns tails and gets out of the room, tasting blood on his lips.

He doesn’t let himself cry as he walks out of the house, putting one foot in front of the other and trying to not throw up at how bitter his mouth feels right now considering that there’s blood all over the lower part of his chin.

He’ll – he can do that later. When he’s – when he’s come up with a plan B, because there’s no fucking way he’s coming back. He’s not spending another two months locked up in this damned house, regardless of anything. Not at fuck all.

It’s not like he planned on ever seeing the place again anyway, right?

– –

“Stede, what the fuck –”

“There’s no time for it now,” he interrupts Lucius as he stands in front of the mirror and tries to clean off the blood from his split lip – fucking hell, that ring gave him a bad cut, didn’t it. “I – I need your help, I think.”

“Fuck it if you don’t,” Lucius says. “What the hell? Did he just –”

“Nothing new,” Stede sighs. The cut keeps on bleeding, the red of his skin is starting to border on a shade of plum he doesn’t like and he wants to be sick. He’ll have time for it later. “Did plenty worse when I was younger. Listen, I – he said I have one evening to get my things and go back there. He thinks – I mean, he’s sure Ed and I spent the weekend… well. Doing what we actually did. I couldn’t try to convince him differently, but he didn’t even let me have a word in regardless.”

“You are not doing it, I hope.”

“Well, I’d rather not, but I need help. I – I mean, I don’t know anyone I could ask except you and Ed but I don’t want to risk my father actually finding out he’s not… who we said he was.”

“No, of course,” Lucius says, biting down his lip and thinking for a second. “Well. You think he’s amenable to give you a ride way out of town?”

“... He probably would be,” Stede nods slowly, “why?”

“Because,” Lucius says, “if I call my friends real quick and I tell them the situation, I’m pretty sure they can find you something to do until you try to skip out to Canada.”

“Wait, you mean –”

“I doubt your father is going to look you up in a commune and sure as hell I didn’t put it as my address of residence on my records here, I don’t need them getting into trouble. I mean, the farm is owned and all, but better safe than sorry.”

“Are – are you sure? I mean, it would be sudden –”

“I don’t think any of them would give a flying fuck and the moment I tell them why you need a place to stay they will definitely be okay with it. I’ll go find a phone and call them, you worry about that cut. So, you’d need to stay there until late May?”

“I mean, my draft is on June 3rd,” Stede says. “I should be in Canada before then, but – yes.”

“Right. Hold on, I’ll go.”

Stede nods and lets him leave, then – one thing at a time. Thankfully he had a few suitcases he used to bring his things here still, which… well, not enough to store everything he had brought over the years, but never mind that. He fills one with only his novels – he doubts he’ll be finishing his degree and honestly, he can’t care less at this point, then he stacks toiletries, underwear, nightwear and so on in the second, the smallest of the three, then decides to add one change of clothes if it’s the one he has to choose to bring with and he can’t put so many suitcases on a bike. He can have Lucius bring or send the other two after hiding them in his closet, he supposes. He opens the wardrobe, immediately ignoring the stuff at the forefront – he can do without the so-called undertaker clothing. He reaches in the back, grabbing a couple pairs of designer jeans and some silken floral shirts that he never dared wearing and puts them with the nightwear. Then he opens the third suitcase and – well. He can’t take all of the damned closet with.

He chooses some of his favorite suits, both pastel and jewel tones and maybe if he picks two just because he knows they’d look good on Ed, well, it’s a large suitcase. He packs brightly colored trousers and more silken or floral shirts (or both) and a few matching jackets he never managed to wear, either, sticks a couple pairs of shoes in two plastic bags before closing it down and he feels – well. He doesn’t like leaving behind anything he couldn’t pack that wasn’t things his father bought or forced him to buy, but that’s fine – it’s not like he could have run off to Canada with his entire wardrobe anyway, right?

His mouth fucking hurts, he realizes as he sits back down on his bed.

And of course the moment he feels happy for the first time in his entire stupid existence and he’s looking forward to – everything, he doesn’t have three full days of it before his father comes to ruin everything.

He’s just – he’s going to think about it later, because if he does now –

Lucius opens the door and Stede is really fucking grateful he got shoved off that train of thoughts.

“They’re good with it,” he says, then hands him a piece of paper with an address. “You know how the place is.” Stede nods – Lucius did tell him everything about it back in the day after he realized he wasn’t going to rat him out for his sexual preferences. “It’s an hour’s drive with a car but I suppose it’d take longer with a bike. Unless you want to rent a car, but –”

“I’d risk leaving a trail,” Stede shakes his head. “No, that’s all right. I imagine taking the bus would be a bad idea, too?”

“Eh,” Lucius shrugs, “it’s hard to reach. You’d have to walk half an hour from the last bus stop, at least.”

“Right. Listen, if I only bring one suitcase, can you – hide the other two and have them sent over? I mean, I guess that if Ed actually has a car I don’t know of –”

“It’s fine,” Lucius says, “I’ll bring everything you don’t want your father to have at Pete’s place and – I mean, we go there every other week-end. I can just show up the next one and bring them along. Also, here.” He rummages in his desk drawer and gives Stede another folded piece of paper. “That’s a map from the nearest highway exit onwards. They haven’t put signs because they don’t want to get noticed more than necessary, especially because the neighbor also sells weed on the side, so just follow it and it should get you there.”

Stede pockets the folded paper. “God, you’re a lifesaver, you know it?”

“Modestly, I’m just that great. Right. What’s the plan now?”

That’s when Stede realizes that Ed doesn’t have a landline at the trailer park.

“I’ll take a cab as close as I can get to where he lives without the driver suspecting my destination and hope he’ll drive me. I’ll see you next week then?”

“You will. Right. Good luck, and don’t worry, I’ll throw some wrong info your dad’s way.”

“Thank you,” he says again, then grabs the small suitcase and heads downstairs. Good thing no one notices him go.

He’s about to call a cab, and then he realizes that maybe Mary should find out from him that he’s doing this. He doubts she’d rat him out anyway and even in the remote chance she would, she doesn’t know where Ed lives, so –

Right.

He walks into the first payphone he sees, brings the suitcase with, closes the door and dials her landline.

He’s really, really glad that she picks up.

“Allamby manor, how –”

“Mary? It’s me.”

“Stede, what the – I mean, your father has showed up and he’s been talking to mine for the last hour and they’ve been collectively raging and my mother is sending me pitying stares and informing me that I really was unlucky but I have to get through with it and as long we have one male son and we keep pretenses up I might just get away with ignoring you, what the fuck is happening?”

“Er, were you briefed concerning the fact that I brought a, uh, friend, to the frat party?”

“Yes, Mr. Badminton was here on Saturday for tea. And?”

“My father is, uh, convinced that it’s not just friendship and said I should immediately go back home, finish my studies by mail and not leave until I have to go to war.”

“Wait, a damned moment, and is it? Just friendship?”

“Mary –”

“I can hear it, Stede,” she says, sounding… sympathetic? What – “Did you forget I have been hiding Doug on the side for months at this point?”

“No, of course not, and – well. What if it’s not?”

“I see,” Mary says, and then – “A moment. Sorry, I was checking if anyone was around. Listen, what – why are you calling?”

“Because I’m not doing that. I’m leaving. I can’t tell you where –”

“I don’t even want to know,” she immediately says. “You think I want to risk ratting you out?”

She really will be good for Doug, or any man who’ll be so lucky to have her, Stede thinks. Just not him.

“Yes, well. I’m – going to do that. And then I’m going to Canada anyway. I – I don’t know if I’ll be able to call, but – I can’t. You understand that –”

“Oh, please,” she says, “I do, and honestly? You’re paying me a favor.”

“I… am?”

“Sure. Who’s going to ask for my hand and whatnot when you ran away from our arranged marriage? No one, which means I’ll have time to plan my own escape with the man that I love, and good fucking riddance. Really, that’s all right. Don’t you dare apologize.”

“Thank you,” Stede says, not hiding his relief and pushing in a few more dimes. “Hey, uh, can – can I ask – I mean, you and… Doug, you’re… you’re happy, right?”

“Very much so.” He can hear her smiling. “We are. I just wish we didn’t have to hide, but we’ll see to it. And – if you found something like that, you shouldn’t give it up because your father is who he is.”

“Just… can I ask… I mean, you did say you’re in love with him, I’m – how does that feel?”

“... Is there a reason why you’re asking?”

“I – I just need to know.”

Thing is, he’s mostly sure that is what’s happening, but he’s never been the best at feelings and he’s never felt like this, and he’s only ever read books, and everything’s happening so fucking fast, it’s just – he needs to know.

“I’d… I’d say that it feels... easy. It's just like breathing. He understands my idiosyncrasies.”

Stede feels like he got punched in the gut. He thinks of how Ed was charmed at his wardrobe.

“Finds them charming, even.”

He almost doubles over in the cabin as he remembers how every single time he opened his mouth and said something that others would have mocked him for, Ed just seemed to like it or at least to not hate him for it.

“We expose each other to new things, new ideas.”

Ed’s face when he talked about those two books. Stede’s own delight when he tasted that delicious food.

“And we laugh a lot.”

Didn’t they laugh the entire week-end? Didn’t they laugh the first time they met even if Stede was this close to passing out half of the time? Haven’t they done that plenty during their lessons?

“We just pass the time so well. I'd call those things love.”

The fact that every single moment he’s spent with Ed felt just so fucking right the way nothing else ever had.

“Stede? Are you still there?”

“Yes. Yes, sorry, I – I was – I realized something for a moment.”

“What it is? I was going to say, I hope you find that, but –”

“No,” Stede says, letting himself smile through the deep breaths he has to take to not hyperventilate. “I think I have. I think I did.”

“And I don’t even get to know this man’s name?”

“Ed,” Stede whispers, “his name is Ed.”

“Then I just hope you’re happy. Write if you ever can, or call, or – well. I suppose you’ll be a stranger for a while, but do try, all right?”

“Yes. I will. And – I hope you get away, too.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have been working on it for a while. Off you go. And good luck for everything.”

“Same to you,” he says, closing the call.

All right then.

It's time he finds the damned cab, because as it is he just wants to be at the trailer park right the hell now.

– –

He has the driver leave him a mile from the trailer park, and then walks all the way there wishing he had different, less impractical shoes. When he gets there his feet are hurting so bad he wants to scream, but at least all the reception’s lights are down. He clutches the suitcase as he sneaks inside and finds Ed’s trailer. The light is on, thankfully, and he can hear faint music coming from the inside, the same record they had been listening to through the week-end.

He swallows, trying to not lose his shit, and knocks on the door.

“Fuck is it at this time? Charlie, if it’s –”

“It’s me,” Stede replies, his voice thin.

Ed opens the door at once, obviously not expecting him, and then he makes a shocked noise as he takes in his face. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

“Can – can I tell you inside? I also need a favor, I’m sorry but I can’t ask anyone else –”

“Don’t even fucking joke,” Ed says, ushering him in. He locks the door, turns off the music and sits him down on the bed. “Here, have something cold. And tell me right the hell now.”

Stede takes the bag of frozen peas Ed is handing him gratefully, placing its side on the cut. “The Badmintons told their father that I showed up at the party with you and he reached some conclusions, I barely even managed to get a word in before he decided I had to go back home and not leave it until my draft was up and I had one evening to go get my things.”

“The fuck? And he did that because…?”

“Because he could, and he wanted to make sure I did what he asked, and because until now it’s always worked great when it came to — well. Me giving up on antagonizing him.”

“You’re saying he did it before?” He sounds murderous, and it makes Stede feel warm, but –

It’s not the time to get into it. He doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Since forever, but – let me just – finish. I decided there was no way I’d let it happen this time, and… Lucius’s friends live in a commune here.” He hands Ed the address. “He said they’d let me stay until I had to leave, but I can’t – I need a ride there. And – I know it means it’d be harder for our lessons but maybe you could drive there a few days each week, but I can’t stay here and –”

“That is your top worry now?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Stede, your dick of a father has just pretty much thought he could fuck with your life like that and you have to run and you’re worrying about teaching me shit? It’s not a priority, really –”

“Too bad that I’m in love with you and that matters to me!”

That… was not the way he had planned to say it, but the way Ed’s mouth falls open and the way he looks at him with even wider eyes, his hands suddenly going still.

“You’re – you meant that?” He whispers, looking like his legs will falter sooner rather than later.

“‘Course I mean that,” he slurs against the frozen peas bag that he had to move closer to the middle of his lower lip, “I – I might’ve figured it out the moment I had to decide my priorities. And – please. I want to. You’re – you don’t deserve any of the crap you had to deal with and whatever happens with the draft, if I can help you get what you want then I don’t want to give it up.”

“Fucking goddamned hell,” Ed shakes his head, and then he’s moved away the ice and slowly framed Stede’s face in between his hands and leaned down to kiss him, so impossibly gentle and mindful of the cut that Stede almost wants to cry, and then he licks blood off his wound and Stede about whimpers into his mouth before letting his head fall against Ed’s shoulder the moment they pull back. “Guess what,” Ed whispers, wrapping his arms around him, “you damned lunatic, I think I’m in love with you too and there’s no damned way I’m not driving you there, but – you said that’s a commune? Not a regular farm?”

“That’s what Lucius said. From how he describes it, it should be rather… rowdy, in the good sense.”

“Hm,” Ed nods to himself. He squeezes his shoulders and pulls back, grabbing the frozen peas and running his fingers along the beard while he puts them back in the freezer and gets him a new packet. “Right. I think I have a solution for that, but – you obviously need to be outta here as soon as possible, so let’s just – I drive you there first thing tomorrow morning at dawn, ‘s not that long anyway, you get settled, I go ahead with whatever you already told me to do for this week, then I come back over there next week-end and I tell you all about it. That good for you?”

“Sure,” Stede says, “even if we fall a bit behind, I can just… get the materials ready.”

“Right. Then take off those clothes and come to bed because you look right fucking exhausted and it’s one in the morning, you need it.”

“Thanks, I –”

“Don’t even say that,” Ed shakes his head. “And your dad should be happy if I never run into him in my entire life.”

No one should feel glad someone sounded that murderous when it came to their damned father, and yet Stede does, and as he puts the Spanish Jackie’s t-shirt Ed hands him and puts away his clothing, he decides that he’s not regretting one single decision he’s taken this evening.

Chapter Text

“It doesn’t look any better, does it?”

Stede is entirely aware of how rhetorical the question is – they’re sitting at a cramped table in a diner half an hour outside the city limits, it’s eight thirty in the morning and he feels like he could go right back to sleep and his mouth is hurting hard.

“No,” Ed shakes his head, pouring an entire pack of sugar into his coffee. “And the more I stare at it the more I want to go back and try to punch your asshole father in the face, but I understand neither of us would gain from it, so I’ll try not to.”

“Figured,” Stede shakes his head. “Well, guess at least I won’t have to pretend I care about my classes any further and I don’t have to see him from now on.”

“You sure he won’t think to look for you at this… Revenge ranch place?”

“No,” Stede shakes his head. “Lucius took care to make sure he didn’t mention it anywhere on his application and it’s not his address. And he technically has no living blood family they’d get a hold of, and he’s certainly not going to tell, so I should be fine.”

“Right. And did he tell you what this Revenge name was about or are you jumping into the unknown?” He makes a face as he drinks the coffee – Stede pours him another two sugar packets inside. “Uh, thanks, but how did you know –”

“That’s about the same as seven cubes for tea,” Stede winks. “Maybe you should get some cream for it, too.”

“Right,” Ed smiles slightly, asks the server for some. Stede waits until she leaves, then clears his throat.

“No, he did talk about them quite a lot, actually. Long story short, all of them ended up in the same group home for – well. Some of them had been there longer, but they aged out within two or three years of each other and since all of them had a different gripe with the system and so on, they figured they’d just all pool resources together for the farm and run it the way they like. Which… well, is a commune, but of course they didn’t name it that on the deed.”

Ed nods. “Sounds… nice,” he says. “But they seriously pulled that off when they were just out of a damned group home?”

Stede stuffs into his mouth a piece of pancake that he thinks is below average, but it’s not like he can be a chooser here.

“They’re resourceful,” he says, “but – long story short, one of them, Jim, ended up there because their family died in tragic circumstances and they technically inherited the ranch itself, but they had no other close relatives who’d take them and they were supposedly problematic and so they ended up there.”

“‘Course that would happen,” Ed shakes his head.

“Also, no other relative cared for it so when they finally inherited it the place was in shambles, but – guess it meant they could just remodel it to their liking, you know? When they left along with a couple of the others they renovated it completely.”

“Oh, so how many are there?”

“Let me think – well, there’s Jim, of course, then there’s Oluwande, their partner, they co-run the whole business. They were the ones leaving first along with the cook… uh, Roach, I think.”

“What kinda name is Roach now?”

“Oh, he goes by it. Lucius said he’d tell you if you asked him. Then – well, Lucius was doing the economics minor so he could supervise finances, he was the next one aging out I think, then there was – right, Frenchie. He’s a musician, he works on the ranch, but last I knew he was starting to get gigs at bars nearby. Then – right. They hired a few people in town for renovations, one of them wasn’t really having a great time with his parents either and he and Frenchie apparently hit it off so he never left. That was John, I think. There’s also… well, I don’t know if they even know the name, Lucius just calls him the Swede.”

“What? Who goes by that?”

“Eh, he’s actually Swedish. From what I know Frenchie was singing in town one day, he was passing by and he wanted to join and he actually had a nice voice so Frenchie asked him to stay for a while so they could do a few gigs together, he did and then he also never left. Supposedly he wanted to go to the States in honor of his illustrious murdered union man compatriot –”

“What, Joe Hill?” Ed snorts. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“And with that,” Stede says, “we are foregoing history lessons because if you know who he is then you don’t need any.”

“I mean, I did join the union before they sent me off to ‘Nam, but thank you. Anyway, you fucking serious?”

“Yep. Anyway he said he’d rather go by that and he’s still there, so I suppose it’s worked out for them. Oh, and then they have this neighbor who kind of has a bird sanctuary full of gulls and speaks to them, or so he swears. And sells weed on the side.”

“He speaks to gulls. Sounds like a lively neighborhood.”

“What can I say, according to Lucius they are very smart birds. Anyway, I just hope they don’t mind that I’ll have to crash there for two months, but maybe I can just… offer the economics expertise as much as I hate it.”

“Hey, maybe when you go to Canada you can get into the theater for real. Who’s gonna stop you?”

Stede has to laugh a bit, even if it hurts when it pulls at his lip. He hadn’t even thought of that, but… he’s not wrong, is he?

“Right. No one,” he admits quietly. “I should hope sometimes you’ll visit with that boat of yours, though.” Fuck, if after he leaves they never see each other again he doesn’t know how –

“Oh, you can bet on that,” Ed says, winking at him, and Stede just exhales in relief, and then Ed scrunches his nose. “These pancakes are fucking awful.”

“Good I’m not the only one thinking that,” Stede confesses. They really are sub-par. “Maybe when you come next weekend we could have better ones? I can get as far as cooking breakfast food.”

“That’s a damned date,” Ed winks back, his voice lowering and sending a very good kind of shiver down Stede’s spine, swallowing the next bite a moment later and washing it down with the coffee, and Stede’s heart is beating so fast just looking at him, and fuck but he hopes he can make the next two months good for the both of them. At least.

– –

It takes another hour to finally reach the exit leading to the farm, and at that point he brings out of his pocket the hand-drawn map that Lucius gave him – Stede finds it charming, Ed somewhat less.

“Sorry, is that like, a rock?”

“That looks like it, yes. Some… three miles from the exit?”

“This entire road is full of rocks,” Ed mutters, starting the bike again. “Hold on to that suitcase of yours because this is going to be a fucking mess.” They ride another three miles… where there are, indeed, some five rocks and three possible paths going inward. “I… guess it’s the second one? He put a little two next to it.”

“Well, let’s hope,” Ed says, starting the bike again, and they get lost at least once because dirt got in Stede’s eyes and he couldn’t manage to see well while needing to keep a hand around Ed’s waist, and it takes them another half hour to see a sign with just a few oranges painted on it, which is also on Lucius’s map.

“Here,” Stede says. “Should be it.”

“Well, feels like a damned proper treasure hunt. Serves me well for being into pirates. I mean, not that they actually gave a damn about that.”

“Are you telling me Treasure Island is based on a lie?” Stede mock-protests as Ed drives the bike forward towards a beaten path that seems to lead towards the property, unless they’re colossally wrong.

“Maybe,” Ed says, “but I’ll give it to you, the thirty pages I managed to read so far were entertaining. Now let’s just – oh, fuck me, finally.”

He stops the bike in front of a wooden fence with an opening leading to another beaten path moving through what looks like an insane amount of orange trees. Stede gets off the bike, grabbing his suitcase and handing Ed back the helmet. There’s a battered Volkswagen van parked in front of the entrance and a smaller, equally battered Ford – he supposes it’s the right place.

He grabs his suitcase. “Right,” he says, “time to see if there’s some kind of way to ring the bell, I –”

He never finishes the sentence because then he hears the sound of a rifle’s lock being lowered. He’s been on enough hunts with his father to know that.

“Are you Lucius’s friend and his ride? Because if you’re not, you can’t park here.”

“Yes,” Stede immediately says, meeting Ed’s eyes – he looks impressed. “I’m Stede. He’s Ed. I suppose you’re Jim?”

“Yes,” comes the reply, along with the lock being put back in place. “You can put your hands down. Sorry, just had too many idiots showing up here outside allotted times.”

Stede turns, breathing in relief, noting that Jim looks exactly the way Lucius described them – black hair tied up in a short ponytail, similar black eyes, long-ish face, wide beige hat and no-nonsense clothing. The only exception to it are a pair of very nice black leather boots with leaves all over the surface, indeed very lovely as far as Stede is concerned. They put away the rifle in a smooth, fluid motion.

“Nice knife you got there, mate,” Ed says, his eyes zeroing on Jim’s belt – oh. Now he notices it. It is very nice, Stede thinks – looks sharp, with a wooden carved handle.

“Thanks,” Jim shrugs. “Prefer that to shotguns, actually, but you can’t nail two people with one. Well, haven’t found out how to, yet. Also, the fuck happened to your face?”

Oh. That was for Stede. “Er. My father. Lucius told you why I am here, didn’t he?”

“Right,” Jim says, “didn’t think he was exaggerating, but your old man is a right proper hijo de puta, sì?” They shake their head, then motions for them to come in.

“Something tells me,” Ed whispers, “I just met the one person who could nail two people with one knife and when they do find out how please have them explain it to me.”

“Oh, you’ll be the first to know, if they do while I’m here.”

They follow Jim along the path, stopping when they do and –

“Swede, Frenchie! You can leave them oranges be for a moment, here’s Lucius’s friends!”

“Coming!” A voice answers, and a moment later they’re in front of two other men – one is blonde with long hair and a bandana with a Swedish flag on it, the other is about the same height, dressed in looser darker old trousers and a Bob Dylan t-shirt, dirty with earth, with a short dark beard, curly hair, dark brown eyes and a welcoming grin on his face. They both are smiling as they come closer, and then both of them kind of falter when they see the bruise on Stede’s mouth.

“Fucking hell, man,” Frenchie says, Stede figured it has to be him, shaking his hand. “Uh, I’m Frenchie, by the way. Jim did say Lucius sounded weirded out yesterday, but that looks like shit.”

“Eh, thank you,” Stede shrugs. “There was a reason I had to run quickly, y’know.” He shakes his hand, then he moves towards the other man’s.

“Nice to meet you. You can call me Swede, but I suppose –”

“Lucius told me you like your mystery aura,” Stede smiles as much as his aching lip is allowing him to. “Nice to meet you. Sorry to barge –”

“Please,” Frenchie says, “there’s what, five free rooms here. Go ahead and get settled, we’ll see you at lunch after we finish with picking up today’s haul.”

“Sure. If I can help –”

“Surely not today and not with that outfit,” Frenchie grins, “but feel free to after you get settled. C’mon, mystery guy, we want to be done before lunch or that lot’s gonna spoil in the next two days.”

They disappear in between the trees again as Jim sends them a half-fond look. “Right,” they say, “so, Oluwande, John and Roach are in town buying food and supplies to fix the barn right now so they’ll be back later. And you aren’t gonna meet Buttons before evening anyway.”

“Is… there a reason why?” Stede asks.

“Oh, he mostly sleeps during the day unless those birds of his have some specific needs, but he spends half of the night doing his weird moon rituals, so he’s surely asleep now. Yeah, yeah, I know, completely out of it, but he’s an okay guy if you roll with it. Let me just get you in and show you the room, then he can help you settle in and whatever. You’re welcome to stay for lunch and visit if you’d like. I mean, considering why he’s here, I suppose you would.”

Ed startles, not realizing Jim was talking to him. “Oh, uh, actually, that’d be great. I’ll stay for lunch. And what if you suppose right?”

“Good for the both of you,” Jim shrugs, and they follow him through the path and into the ranch house at the end of it. Stede barely notices the surroundings for how tired he is – he merely follows Jim upstairs, turning left and stopping in front of a wooden door. “Right,” they say, opening it, “I just had time to air it, but no one’s slept here since… well, ever, just wasn’t in anyone’s dibs and it stayed like that. But it has the biggest closet and Lucius was very adamant we’d give it to you, so here you go. The bathroom’s at the end of the corridor and the only one on this side of the house is Roach when Lucius isn’t here, so you’ve only to share with him. Settle in and whatnot, lunch’s at one PM unless those three get held up, and in that case it’s whenever Roach gets back. Everyone else just sets the stove on fire. Have fun,” they say, and then close the door behind them.

“Well,” Ed says, “that’s someone who has no time for nonsense, isn’t it?”

“They’re — no,” Stede shakes his head, “but honestly? It’s refreshing.” He takes in the room – it’s not huge but an adequate size, and the closet is indeed quite large, obviously put together by hand. It’s wood from the orange trees, most likely, and has a few pretty oranges carved into the shutters. The bed is larger than Ed’s cot and his own dorm one, not by much but enough that it’d be comfortable for two people, and when he checks, he notices that it was already made.

Did –

For a moment, he feels his throat close up.

“Hey,” Ed asks, “what’s wrong?”

“No, just – someone took the time to actually make it before I showed up.”

“Well, yeah?” Ed takes his arm, wrapping his fingers around the elbow, helping him stand because his legs are fucking faltering. “I mean, if I invited someone over I wouldn’t have them make the fucking bed, if I had one to offer ‘em anyway. So what?”

“They don’t even know me and someone bothered to, and – just – every time I came home from boarding school, I’d just – I always arrived late and the bed would be bare and no one would leave me any dinner. My father said that you only ate at the allotted time, so if I arrived late it was my problem, and for the bed, well, no point in having it made if I was out for months?”

“... How old were you?”

“Er, I was in boarding school for – every grade, actually.”

“... You mean since you were six?”

“I can make a mean bed, though,” Stede huffs, and it just comes out of him. “I just, my damned family never bothered and I always felt like they never cared, and these people never even met me and – this is fucking stupid, isn’t –”

“No,” Ed says, “I don’t think it is,” and his fingertip is brushing under Stede’s lip and before Stede can think about it twice he’s crying his eyes out against Ed’s shoulder and Ed’s holding him back and it’s the first time anyone ever does something like this for him when he feels like he just wants to scream his lungs out, and Ed doesn’t try to push him away or anything while he works it out of his damned system and as he holds him back tighter he knows he’s one hundred percent sure he’s not going to regret anything he’s done since he walked out of his father’s house.

– –

They don’t come back down until it’s midday, and it’s to Jim slamming the phone into the receiver.

“Hijos the puta madre,” they mutter to themselves before noticing them coming down the stairs. “Oh, right, hello. Lunch is whenever.”

“Did anything happen?” Stede asks.

“Olu’s just called,” Jim shrugs, “there’s a wreck on the way from town, so they’re stuck until they get it sorted. Which means it’s gonna be a while and I’ve been up since fucking five AM.”

“Well,” Ed says, “if there’s any food left at all I can try to whip somethin’ up for them, too? I mean, not a problem.”

“You can cook?” Jim asks, staring at him as if that was the last thing they expected, but then they shake their head. “Yeah, sorry. Shouldn’t judge books from their covers and all that, just didn’t expect it. No, there’s still something in the fridge. Knock yourself out. If you need help, I can cut vegetables and that’s about my skill set’s extent.”

“Please,” Stede says, “I’ll help him in case there’s the need.”

“Well, anything that keeps me out of the kitchen is good for me,” Jim shrugs. “Right over there. Knock yourself out.”

Ed nods and goes to peruse the contents of the fridge, mutters something about managing fried bread rolls with whatever meat they have in the fridge, and puts Stede on chopping vegetables duties, smiling as he looks for the right pan and says he can’t only ever cook just boil-up, he’s not that cheap, and Stede grins back at him and thinks of how much he wishes he could do this every day, and then he remembers his draft notice and keeps his mouth shut.

– –

“You’re telling me he’s not the one who’s staying? Too fucking bad.”

“Roach! Fuck, I’m sorry, he can be rude when he wants to –”

“Please,” Stede says, “no offense taken. I know.”

They’re all settled at the table eating Ed’s fried bread rolls – Oluwande, Roach and John arrived a short while ago, one hour and a half after they were supposed to and just before Ed had finished cooking, and after the introductions they all went to eat and Stede had found himself famished, and the fact that Ed looks flushed under the beard when everyone seems to actually love the food is just so fucking endearing, he’s almost forgetting all the reasons why he’s here in the first place.

Oluwande, who had been the one trying to apologize, still glares daggers at Roach before eating more of his food. “I mean,” he says, “this is really good, but there still was no need for that.”

“Oh, because a man can’t be sad that he’s not getting another permanent lodger around who could cook sometimes?” Roach rolls his eyes. “But seriously, I wasn’t serious. ‘Course we’re glad to have you. Just too bad we’re not getting the whole set.”

“You’re on fire today, aren’t you,” Frenchie comments. “I mean, yeah, they’re adorable, but you’ve just met them, chill.”

“I don’t live in a commune to chill, Frenchie,” Roach says, and Stede is… well. At least glad everyone seems to think they are indeed adorable, instead of thinking they should have never been a thing in the first place.

“Maybe I can relieve you whenever I visit,” Ed says, sounding like he quite doesn’t believe Roach is serious.

“Please, give me the break. It’s fucking delicious,” Roach says, digging into the next bread roll.

“Told you it was good food,” Stede whispers as he squeezes Ed’s hand under the table.

“Guess it was,” Ed admits, squeezing it back.

He tries to not think of the fact that they’re not going to see each other for the next five days after lunch is over.

– –

“Hey,” Stede says as he sees Ed off after they all had coffee, “will – will you bring me the written recipe for the bread rolls next week-end?”

“Oh, now I’ve gotta give you two recipes?”

“Yes,” Stede says, “absolutely. I’m – I wish we didn’t have to –”

“Yeah,” Ed says, “but – I’ll be here on Friday afternoon. Keep care of that, all right?” His thumb is brushing over the bruise on Stede’s face all over again and Stede wants to weep at how gentle it is.

“Sure,” he says, “‘course. See you on Friday, then. And don’t you dare skip on the Steinbeck report. I want as much of one as you can manage.”

“Will do,” Ed grins again, and presses their mouths together before he gets on his bike and speeds out of the beaten path.

Stede already misses him.

He stands there, staring at the empty street, until he hears someone clearing his throat behind him.

“Oluwande? I’m sorry, am I just – being in the middle?”

“Please,” he waves him off, “you can just call me Olu like everyone else. And you’re not, but you just – I mean, I get it.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s just say that Jim and I, we figured out we liked each other… well, ‘round sixteen or so. Then they got placed somewhere else for six months and we didn’t know if it was going to be permanent or not. It wasn’t and they came back, but it just – felt like the world was ending and I was just glad I had friends with, you know? If you want to come out in the backyard, we’re just chilling right now.”

“Oh. Well. If I’m not imposing –”

“Please, they all want blackmail stories about what Lucius is doing in college and you aren’t imposing for shit. Wear something comfortable and get out back.”

He gives Stede’s shoulder a squeeze and heads back to the house.

His only comfortable clothing is one of his silken pjs, but no one bats an eyelid when he shows up in it, and – he refuses a joint when he’s handed it because he never smoked one before and he’s not sure this is the right day to give it a try, but he can breathe way more freely than he ever has in the last – he doesn’t know how long, but surely any time in his life except when he was with Ed, and by the time he goes upstairs and finally, finally manages to sleep without worrying about his damned father and his damned studies and his damned entire failure of an existence so far, he decides that however long he gets to stay here, he’s going to make sure everyone knows how much he appreciated that he hasn’t felt like the odd man out for a single minute since he set foot here.

– –

The next day, he finally lets himself wear jeans and a white floral shirt with a pattern of yellow daffodils printed all over that he bought months ago and never even took out of the plastic wrap, and, secure in the knowledge no one will be breathing down his neck because it’s inappropriate, he goes to find Oluwande on the porch because he has to be here for two months or so and he’s not going to… well, not earn his keep, if he can.

“I’ll admit I’m a tad useless at most physical labor,” he admits, “but if there’s anything I could do around here as long as I’m staying, I’d really feel better.”

“You don’t have to,” Oluwande replies, “Lucius explained the situation and it’s really not an issue. But – well. I could… probably do with lessons in being fiscally responsible until Lucius is back with his degree. I’m saying I could do it because no one else around here wants to see numbers from afar, but just if it’s not an issue.”

“Please, it’s not like I have much else to –”

“Oh, fuck this shit sideways,” Jim groans from somewhere nearby before stalking towards the two of them. “This is going to be so much of a problem.”

“Uh, what exactly?” Stede asks as Jim grabs a bottle of water from the little table where Oluwande had been sitting and downing half of it.

“Too many fucking oranges and not enough people on picking duty,” Jim shrugs. “I mean, I should have known, but these couple years – well, the place was abandoned. We had to fix the whole entire yard up. Those trees never were this fucking healthy, except that even if all of us picked the fruit up it still would be too many to sell and they just rot. And oranges don’t exactly grow through the fucking summer, so we can’t go wasting them now. So if any of you has ideas, I’m all ears.”

“Uh,” Stede says before he can stop himself, realizing that no one probably wants suggestions from the last guy showing up but at most they’ll just tell him no, “ever thought about… making marmalade out of them?”

Both Jim and Oluwande turn towards him, and from the way they look at him… it’s obvious they didn’t.

“Marmalade?” Jim asks, sounding pensive.

“I mean, uh, you need ripe fruit for that anyway, and it doesn’t spoil. You could just sell it throughout the summer, or if you’d rather sell pies or something like that occasionally you’d have it. If it was a stupid idea –”

“No,” Oluwande says, “it’s not, except that it’s not like we can only put Roach on that. Like, it’d be… a whole lot of marmalade. I’m sure he knows how to make it, but –”

“I know how to,” Stede blurts. They still aren’t looking at him as if he’s completely outstaying his welcome, so – that’s good, he supposes.

“You do?”

He shrugs. “I had the cook teach me when I was eight or so. Well, I helped her for a while, then my father found out and – never did it since. If you think this bruise here is bad, what I got then was worse. Anyway, I remember how she used to make it, but if Roach has a better recipe I can adapt. It’s about the one thing I can do in the kitchen, so if he’d like help, I’d be glad to –”

“You want to pay off your stay, you can just go and do that,” Jim says, sounding relieved. “Want to know something in all confidence?”

“Er, sure?”

“I should’ve given Lucius a bit more credit,” they say, and then stalk back towards whichever tree the others were picking oranges from.

“What – what do they mean?” Stede asks.

“Oh, just that Lucius always talked about you in pretty nice terms, but Jim wasn’t so convinced. No offense, but no one here ever had great experience with people with… your background.”

“None taken,” Stede shakes his head. “There’s a reason why I never fit there, anyway.”

“I think they just realized you actually are cool. So, guess you’re on sweets duty and giving me occasional fiscal advice?”

“Beats studying for my finals,” Stede lets himself smile. It also beats thinking about how much he misses Ed and how much he hates his damned father, but – he can hold on until the fucking week-end. And he can make a lot of marmalade in the meantime.

– –

Turns out, Roach’s recipe for orange marmalade is not that different from the one Stede knew, so they end up going for it and after twelve hours of hauling ripe oranges in the kitchen and pretty much monopolizing the place, Stede’s arms hurt, they have enough produce to fill some four boxes and Jim is extremely satisfied as he tells them that tomorrow there’s at least as many oranges to pick, but the moment he joins all of them in the back garden after dinner his arms are sore in the good way and at least he can say the marmalade was damned good.

“Hey,” Roach says as he sees him coming over, “what are you doing standing there? Sit down and have a smoke, if that’s your thing.”

Right. He’s holding a newly rolled cigarette in between his hands – Stede sits down gingerly in between him and the Swede – Frenchie and John are after him, kind of laying against each other, then Olu and Jim, also wrapped up in each other, then the Swede, who’s tuning Frenchie’s guitar muttering something about how Frenchie plays it weird – on his side, Frenchie warns him to not fuck it up too much and can’t they just pool the money for a second one, and for a moment Stede feels himself missing Ed so much it hurts, and it’s ridiculous because they kissed not even one week ago, but – what does he care? That’s how he feels. He’s done denying to himself any of that.

“Uh, I don’t really go for cigarettes, but thank you nonetheless.”

“So polite,” Roach snorts, “ah, but just you wait.”

“What?”

“If you don’t smoke cigarettes maybe you’ll want to relax differently.”

“Right, isn’t he late?” Olu asks, glancing somewhere behind him towards the fence and the next property.

“It’s a full moon,” Frenchie says, “he has to do his rituals.”

“His… rituals? Wait, we’re talking about –”

Stede never finishes that sentence because a moment later two seagulls fly right over his head and then land in front of him, and technically it’s a bit too far from the sea for that kind of birds but Lucius did say the neighbor had some kind of bird sanctuary thing going on.

For a moment, no one says anything and the gulls stare at him.

Then –

“Oh, they like ye,” someone with a heavy Scottish accent says from behind him, and a moment later a fellow with a white beard, long white hair he obviously cuts himself and wearing a robe made of… well, a bedsheet, but arranged in some kind of ancient Roman style, sits in between Roach and Jim, and Stede is halfway sure he doesn’t have underwear under the fabric. “Good,” he says, “I trust their judgment. Oh, they’re Karl and Olivia, by the way.”

“Uh, Stede,” Stede replies, not sure if he should tell that to the birds or to the other man. “I presume you’re Mr. Buttons?”

“Oh, they told ye about me?”

“And Lucius, did, too. Uh, nice to meet you.”

“He is polite,” Buttons shrugs, “more than the lot of ye anyway. Fancy a smoke?”

Stede is about to say no. Then he’s handed a freshly rolled joint.

“Grown it myself,” Buttons says proudly. “Just don’t go advertisin’ it, yeah?”

“Uh, no, of course,” Stede says, and – well, fuck it, he thinks, how bad can it be? He’s with what, six other people. If he has a bad reaction or anything like that they can help, and he really does need to relax. “I’ll – thank you. Just, I never smoked weed before.”

The others all look at him.

“Can believe you’re tense as a live wire, brother,” Frenchie says. “Don’t worry, if it fucks with you no one’s going to mention it in the morning and in case you just know to not do it again.”

“Right,” Stede says as John hands him a lighter, “thank you.”

He lights up the joint, taking a drag, kind of relishing in the fact that he’s doing something he would have been gutted for had he been found in the act at any point in his life, and then he coughs it out but he doesn’t hate it, so he takes another, slower, and then he feels warm all over and before he knows John has told a pretty bad joke that makes him laugh so hard he cries and then he takes another drag, feeling his shoulders loosen with each passing moment.

Fuck.

He might actually do this again, if it doesn’t kick him in the ass later.

Turns out it doesn’t, and he decides he might consider having one once in a while. He did need to relax.

– –

Three days later, he’s slicing his third pound of oranges for the day when Olu clears his throat and asks him if they can talk a moment.

“Sure,” Stede says, feeling loose and relaxed in a way he’s never felt in his entire existence, thinking that he really could have used upturning his life around a hell of a long time ago. “I – I hope there’s nothing – my father didn’t –”

“Nah,” Olu shrugs, “your father is apparently furious but has no clue where you are.”

“And you know this how?”

“I talked to – Lucius,” Olu says, shrugging, and then – “Listen, you really are gone on your guy, aren’t you? I mean, fine, you just dumped everything and ran off so your father wouldn’t fuck with whatever you have, but just humor me for a moment.”

Stede doesn’t even try to dance around it. He’s too tired for that. “Yes,” he says, “and it was a damned bad moment for it, but –”

“Oh, is there ever a good moment for this kinda thing?” Olu half-smiles, looking at Jim who is telling the Swede that you don’t let stack oranges like that and how many times will I have to repeat it and yes you can have one as long as you don’t ruin the others just finish picking them fuck’s sake.

“Probably not,” Stede admits. “Just, doing it before I plan to flee the country doesn’t seem like a great idea, you know?”

“Right, that – would not be ideal,” Olu says, as if he’s mulling over something. “But you never know how things turn out.”

“At this point, I’m just hoping my father doesn’t find out and he gets his diploma, but you are right, I think. No point in being a pessimist, right?”

“Yeah,” Olu agrees. “Yeah, no point. Sorry for holding you up, but – never mind. Just was curious.”

“Please, you’re hosting me free of charge. No need to apologize.”

“Just forget about that,” Olu waves him off. “And remember you have another five crates of oranges to slice tomorrow.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Stede says, meaning it, and so what if when he goes to sleep later that night the one thing he can think of is that both Ed and Lucius will be here tomorrow but Ed first and foremost and that he hates that he already has limited days here and he can’t even see Ed each single one of them?

At least since he arrived here he’s never slept like crap as usual. He’s not going to complain.

– –

The next day, he and Roach have finished closing the third crate of marmalade for the day – they really had a lot of those oranges, didn’t they – when he hears a car park outside the gate. He doesn’t dash out of the room just because he supposes Ed wouldn’t drive a car and he’s sure the others want to say hi to Lucius on their own, so he cleans his hands, rolls up his sleeves – he’s found out he quite likes that look – and calmly leaves the kitchen, heading out of the house.

Lucius is indeed here, everyone else crowding him as he tells them to go get the insane amount of luggage he was saddled with.

“Insane amount?” Stede laughs when Lucius waves at him. “I just had two suitcases, not –”

“Do you think I didn’t pilfer everything else you left behind I figured you might have wanted?” Lucius rolls his eyes. “Also, it’s not just your shit.”

“... Why wouldn’t it be just my shit?” Lucius never comes back here with suitcases since most of his stuff is here anyway.

“Oh, just you wait,” Lucius says, and a moment later he hears a motorbike pull up outside the gate.

Which – fine, he figured – he excuses himself and runs there just to find himself in front of Ed, who has left the bike parked where he left it the other time, is looking exceedingly handsome in his usual leather get-up, and –

Grabbing three more suitcases from the trunk of Lucius’s extremely battered car.

And they’re not his.

“Ed?” He asks, clearing his throat, and a moment later Ed has sent him a relieved look.

“Stede,” he says. “I see five days in the middle of nowhere already did a good number on you, didn’t they?”

Stede knows he’s blushing. “Maybe they did,” he admits, and then Ed’s dropped the suitcases and he’s just ran at him and grabbed his face and they’re kissing, and then Ed is kissing back and moaning into his mouth, his hands going to Stede’s waist, except –

“That’s all good,” Jim says, “but maybe you wanna bring your shit to his room. You’re sharing the fucking wardrobe.”

“Wait, what?” Stede says, and then Ed sends him a sheepish look. “What is this –”

“So, uh. Right. I might’ve… called here. A couple days ago. And talked to them.” He nods towards Jim. “I, well, you know I wasn’t relishing the trailer and I wasn’t… feeling my old job and so on. Also, I already, uh, gave instructions to launder that money because I wanted to focus on passing that exam and told one of the guys he can take my place from now on. So. I don’t have to be there. And I saved enough damned money that I can move on now, and here it’s nice and just – ‘course I told them who they’d be hosting and they said they’d ask the others but didn’t care, and I just asked if I could come stay until you did, so if – I mean, I don’t want to presume, but –”

“Ed, how about we get the hell upstairs now and you stop presuming, because – of course you could have presumed, and you think I haven’t spent each single day here wishing you weren’t so fucking far away? Of course it’s – more than I could have hoped for.”

“Oh,” Ed whispers, and then they’re kissing again and grabbing their damned suitcases and dragging them upstairs, leaving them in the corner.

Then Stede is all over Ed again, grasping his face in his hands again, thumbs running over that soft beard before he pulls him in and kisses him again as they about crash on the bed, limbs tangling as they both kick off their respective boots.

“Fuck,” Ed laughs, “this is way nicer than the bed at my place. Least we don’t risk falling out of it.”

“No,” Stede agrees, leaning down again and searching for his mouth as Ed sits up and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it to the side. “Fuck, I missed you so much –”

“‘M here now, yeah? Also, the floral look? A winner. Where did you have all those pretty shirts hidden?”

“In the damned closet,” Stede shakes his head. “I’ll make sure to wear them all the time, especially if you like them so much. Fuck, I need this off –”

“You should keep it, actually,” Ed says, raising his eyebrows, and – oh. Well. He can work with that.

“Well then,” he says, and only unbuttons the shirt in question, leaving it on before he gets rid of his jeans while trying to not move too far from where Ed’s getting out of his leathers and hissing about tight shit being a hassle in this damned situation, and by the time Ed has nothing on and Stede has just the shirt and Ed’s kicked trousers and jacket way farther to the side after retrieving the little Vaseline box from the latter, they’re all over each other again, hands roaming – Ed’s are grasping at his back, Stede is running them all over Ed’s chest, leaning down and sucking at the skin at the side of his neck, and Ed groans as he does, and then moans loud when Stede moves further down and draws his teeth lightly over his right pec, just after he licks a stripe over the tattoo just nearby.

“Fuck,” he says, “oh fuck, you can do that again –”

“Like this?” Stede grins before moving to the left, reaching up and grasping at the one he just left with the right just as Ed arches up underneath him, his cock hardening against Stede’s shirt as he does, and Stede moans himself as he feels it because fuck it feels amazing and he just – he wants so much and he needs to get a grip before he comes untouched just from the way Ed’s writhing underneath him and grasps at his shoulders and the back of his neck.

“Yeah, shit, I missed you too, you –”

Stede drags his head back up, kisses him again, hand reaching down and wrapping his fingers around Ed’s cock, giving it a few lazy strokes as he runs his tongue inside Ed’s mouth, moaning into it when Ed grasps at the lapels of his shirt and drags him closer as he spreads his legs until Stede’s kneeling right in the middle of them.

“Please,” Ed moans as he moves back, “please get in me right the hell now, I –”

“When you ask so nicely,” Stede says, reaching for the Vaseline, trying to get it open with one hand and failing until Ed does it for him, and then he plunges his fingers inside – Ed leans back, legs spread open, his dick hard and leaking and looking like he’ll come the moment Stede touches it and fuck but the image is just –

“You’re just – something else,” Stede blurts as he brushes his fingertips against Ed’s rim and then pushes them inside – he really would fucking love to put his mouth on it but he’s in too much of a hurry now, and Ed keens as he does and relaxes around him, and shit he’s so tight Stede’s going to burst but he can’t when he hasn’t even managed to get them all the way in.

“Am I,” Ed blurts, sounding… like he’s not entirely sure of it.

“Yeah,” Stede manages, fingers going in deeper, and then he curls them trying to see if he can find the right place again without prodding too much and that has Ed arching up once over, hands at Stede’s shirt again except that then one moves to the back of his head, grasping at the hair there, and oh yes – “Never seen anything prettier in my entire life.”

“Don’t – don’t put yourself down like that,” Ed gasps before Stede moves his fingers back and slams them forward, curling them right at the end, and that has Ed clenching around him harder.

“Oh, so now I’m pretty?” Stede flushes. “Thanks, but nowhere as much as you, and I mean it.”

“Please, that’s – fuck,” he doesn’t finish, because Stede’s slid his fingers inside and outside and inside again and – “Please just get in me, it’s fine, I don’t need another, just –”

“Just?”

“Need you,” Ed blurts, sounding like he absolutely completely means it, and Stede’s just – he doesn’t even wait a second, he moves back, slicks his own, neglected, aching cock up in Vaseline while Ed spreads his legs more, the left going back to the side of the bed, the right hooked around his shoulder. He lines up all over again, his dick breaching at Ed’s by now slick entrance, and then he’s sinking in and Ed’s pulling him closer and –

“You have me,” Stede says and as it leaves his mouth he knows it’s true and that whatever happens now he’s not counting only himself in his future plans, whatever they may be, and that obviously gets to Ed, too, because he about arches against him, grabbing his head and pulling it down in a hard, frenzied kiss just as Stede starts to thrust for real.

“Fuck,” he says, “fuck, you felt amazing last time and you feel fucking perfect now, I – I can’t –”

“Do I,” Ed wheezes, throwing his head back a moment later. Stede leans down, sucking slowly at his collarbone.

“Yeah, so – just so good,” Stede says against the ink running over the warm skin on Ed’s shoulder as he keeps on thrusting and thrusting into Ed, the warmth of it making him go faster, and he’s so fucking close, but – he tries to hit the right place as many times as he can and from the way Ed just about unravels under him as he moans his name all over he thinks he’s not doing too damn bad. “The – I haven’t – I never thought it could feel like this, you’re just – so much, I want you, oh fuck I want you –”

“Stede, fuck,” Ed blurts back, “want you so much too, oh please yes just like that oh fuck I’m close, I’m –”

“I’ve got you,” Stede says, grabbing at Ed’s back, pulling him closer still, and the moment he says it, fingers threading to the long hair at the back of Ed’s head, carding through it a moment before grasping and pulling on it, Ed moans so loud they most likely heard them all over the ground floor but Stede doesn’t care because he can feel Ed coming against his stomach, spilling and spilling as he clenches around him, and – Stede can’t hold on either, he grabs Ed’s hair again, angling his head so they can kiss again, and then he’s let go with a last thrust and his entire vision is going white and his entire body is shaking and unraveling when before he felt taut like a string ready to snap, and Ed’s tongue feels perfect against his as they kiss and kiss while he keeps on coming and Ed’s searching for friction against his skin even when he’s obviously spent, and –

“I love you,” Stede blurts again before sealing their lips again as lets himself fall down, and Ed grabs him and holds him closer as he finally winds down, and if he hears a me, too, whispered against the shell of his ear, he can’t help grinning as he does and as his arms grab Ed’s waist just a bit tighter, still.

– –

“Are you really sure about this?” he asks later, his fingertips running across Ed’s arm as they lay down on the mattress. It’s still not dark outside, though the sun is about to set down, and it’s probably a stupid question, but the last thing he wants is for Ed to regret it.

“Y’know,” Ed says, his own hand tracing the healing bruise on Stede’s chin, “Izzy always used to say that I did too much shit on impulse.”

“And was that true?”

“Oh, out of all the things we got wrong about each other, that wasn’t one. Still, sometimes you just wanna go with your gut, you know? And – I mean. I was already bored as fuck with that life and I couldn’t stand it anymore, and… I don’t know, growing up I always kinda wanted to settle down at some point, not… whatever it was that I was doing. You – kind of made me want to do something with all that stupid boredom when I thought I’d just resign myself to it. And I got enough near death experiences to know I don’t wanna wait around for shit to happen. However it goes, it was – couple months I could spend seeing you every other weekend and feeling miserable the other five days or couple months I could be with you somewhere people actually seem to think I’m good company or at least – well, they care I can cook, they don’t care that I’m good at illegal shit I never planned to get into. Seemed like a no brainer, y’know?”

“Then you can be sure I’ll try my best to make them good,” Stede breathes against his mouth. “Also, no one I ever knew thought picking me was a no-brainer choice, for the record.”

“Shit taste,” Ed says, and then they’re kissing again and he’s halfway sure they’d have gone further if John hadn’t started knocking on the door saying that they should be decent if they wanted dinner.

“This might be a laid back place,” he adds, “but no one’s interested in seein’ naked people they aren’t sleeping with.”

“Hey,” Stede asks, “just – you can have a pick of anything I brought.”

“Wait, you don’t need to –”

“Ed, I’m more than glad to. Also, I like you in my clothes, if that’s what you’d like, of course –”

“Oh, I do,” he says, and when he pulls on a pair of black silken trousers and a pale lavender shirt embroidered in plum roses, Stede decides he’s never wearing either of those garments again. They look too much better on Ed anyway. “Like what you see?”

“Very much,” he replies. He stands up, puts his own clothing back on and smiles to himself as he sees Ed tuck the red silk into the pocket of the shirt – he’s not showing it off, but he supposes that if they’re this laid back he just wants it with.

Still, he thinks of when he folded it and he feels so warm he could burst.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s have dinner and chill a bit after. I think there’s some place I might want to show you tomorrow if we’re not too tired.”

“I like that plan,” Ed says, pulling his head back in a messy bun that looks very fucking good on him, and then they’re off downstairs.

– –

The plan only goes through halfway – the moment Pete finds out who Ed actually is, about the same time Buttons shows up with the daily weed offering, everyone proclaims there is no way they let them fuck off somewhere before giving him the proper welcome. So they end up dragged in the backyard, the joints being passed around, Ed looking completely shocked when he realizes that these people actually think he’s some kind of person to look up to as they ask questions and so on, and by the time they smoked a good amount of weed, listened to a mini-improvised set of songs by Frenchie and the Swede (who of course is only sticking to Joe Hill penned songs), he decides that he’s glad they went for the proper welcome because Ed looks like he’s having a blast and honestly, he is, too. When the welcome party winds down, both of them are half-asleep on their feet – Jim tells them to get upstairs and sleep it off and to not worry about the next day because they don’t work week-ends here, they have an ethic, and so they end up falling into the unmade bed they didn’t have time to fix before, and – the previous five days, it just felt empty, but now it doesn’t and Stede goes to sleep with a grin on his face for the first time since he came back to his dorm.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, but he comes awake when it’s still dark outside – though he can see a sliver of violet in the distance out of the window, so it has to be six in the morning or so – and Ed’s shaking against him so much that the moment he regains consciousness he would have fallen off the bed, if they hadn’t gone to sleep with Stede spooning Ed from behind and he didn’t have his back against the wall.

As it is, Ed is starting to half trash in his loosened grasp, a pained groan coming from his throat mouth, and he’s – he’s talking, we shouldn’t have fucking done this oh fuck this is bad Izzy what the fuck are you doing no you’re not I never said you could oh no no no fuck this I can’t –

Stede grasps his shoulder, shakes it as firmly as he can, but he keeps on trashing and the kick he gets in his shin for that is enough to make him move back and try to get over to the other side. He grabs both of Ed’s shoulders then, grasps, shakes him again, and then Ed finally slams his eyes open. His entire forehead is covered in cold sweat and he’s still trembling and for a moment he looks completely frozen, as if he can’t move at all.

“Hey,” Stede says, moving a sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead. “Hey. It’s fine. You’re – we’re at the farm. Can you take a breath?”

Ed blinks, then nods and does, haltingly but he does, and by the time there’s some light from the outside making the room less dark he’s half-sitting up and still trembling a bit, and then he groans and lets his head fall against Stede’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” he says, “sorry ‘bout that. I, uh, don’t usually sleep well.”

“I knew from the first time I slept at your place,” Stede says, carding slowly through the hair at the back of Ed’s head – he leans into it, a small huff leaving his mouth.

“Fuck, I woke you up?”

“You did, but – I mean, it’s not – I care that it was bad. I mean, you don’t have to talk about it. I could tell.”

“Eh,” Ed says, “it’s always the same one anyway. Never quite got the fuck over the time I was lucky just my knee got blown up. Fuck, I feel – it’s fucking stupid.”

“What?”

“I feel like I’m still there even now. I know I’m not. It’s just – I still feel hot in the way you do when it’s so humid you can’t fucking breathe and –” He shudders again.

“Is this bothering you? Am I crowding –”

Ed grasps at him tighter. “Don’t you dare. You’re not. And I know it’s you. It’s just – fucked up. Shit, I just – I’ll be fine in a moment, it’s –”

“Ed, it’s not, but – you know what, do you think you could take a hot shower and get dressed while I… do something that might help? I mean, it’s what I wanted to do yesterday, but –”

“Yeah, uh, actually, that sounds good. The hot shower, I mean. Just – yeah, ‘s fine, I can just put on the brace later. Yeah. See you here in… how long?”

“Half an hour at most, but I hope to be done sooner.” He leans down, kissing him softly but firmly, and then thinks on it again and his lips meet Ed’s forehead before he stands up and reaches for a dressing gown. “See you here.”

“Right,” Ed says, “see you.”

Stede turns his back and runs downstairs then. He’s going to be as quick as possible – he doesn’t want to make Ed wait too long, but he also needs a bit of time to put everything together.

Hopefully it will help.

Chapter Text

Makes fucking sense that after a week on edge and sleeping like shit the moment he could bring himself to relax he’d end up sleeping even worse.

It’s not like Ed’s slept decently in years – honestly, he didn’t sleep well even before they put him on a plane and sent him overseas, but maybe he had tricked himself into thinking that sleeping with someone who obviously gives enough of a shit about him to uphaul his entire life so he doesn’t get in trouble would help in the long run.

That’s uncharitable, though, he thinks as he steps out of the shower and dries himself in Stede’s towels – even those are soft and light, and it’s not like Ed ever bought shitty towels himself because he likes for them to not scratch, but his were the best he could find at the nearest retail store, these are just on another planet. Now, If only he could stop fucking smelling humid jungle, that would be fucking great, but it’s been long enough that he knows it won’t happen soon.

At least he’s in the middle of nowhere, which – honestly, he wouldn’t have cared either way, but the trailer park is noisy and it doesn’t help with whatever the fuck is wrong with him, and the idea of being somewhere far away from all of the crap in his life had been so damned appealing, it did help taking the decision. Sure, it had been one of the many pros, but still, a pretty damned huge one. He doesn’t bother drying his hair, it’s warm enough, and dresses again in the clothing he had picked yesterday. It just was so soft, even more than what he had worn to that party and hadn’t he felt like a whole new man the moment he put those clothes on, and admittedly he kind of likes how it’s not as constricting as the leather and that it’s so light, and he does like how it looks on him as much as it’s not his usual style, and knowing it’s Stede’s clothing just makes it better somehow.

He closes the last button, slides on the boots Stede had left him after the party and gets out of the room, to find Stede at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh, here you are,” he says, looking at him so sweetly that Ed wants to fucking faint because no one looks at him like that, “just in time. Come on outside, I have everything ready.”

Ed follows him outside – Stede heads for the back of the house, where they all sat yesterday evening, but then moves ahead towards a little path and walks for about a minute until he moves away with a little arm flourish that Ed can’t help find endearing as fuck, and –

Fucking hell.

They’re at the top of the small hill right behind the farm, on a side that gives a view all over the neighboring properties. It’s dawn now, but the sun is not quite out yet, so the surroundings are all violet and light pink, and the entire place is covered in flowers – there are noisette roses growing up on the rocks around the small area and yellow jessamines all over the ground, except where it’s covered by a small cloth where Stede has –

“Did you just fucking bring breakfast here?” Ed asks, looking down in awe at the damned full tea set for two laid on the cloth, along with a large plate full of already staked up pancakes, two smaller empty ones, a jar of marmalade and freshly cut orange slices. “And did you cook that in what, half an hour?”

“Oh, the batter was already done,” Stede says, “I just had to flip them. The marmalade is – well. Roach and I, we made a lot this week, and Jim said I could take some if I wanted, so I thought we could just use that instead of the syrup. And – I found out where this place was the second day I was here. I’ve come up in the mornings when I couldn’t get back to sleep, and – it’s nice. It’s quiet, it’s far from the next property and, well –”

“You can enjoy your flowers in peace?” Ed says, his voice turning fond in a way he didn’t know it could. He doesn’t think he’s ever talked so softly to anyone in his entire life. He doesn’t… he doesn’t hate it. Not at all. “You know those guys wouldn’t give a fuck, yeah?”

“I know,” Stede says, “I just – never had the chance to enjoy it on my own in my entire life, you know. I couldn’t even keep a plant in the house.”

“Fucking hell,” Ed says, sitting down cross-legged, “and you bring me here when you wanted it for yourself?”

“Oh, but I do want you here,” he says, “anytime,” and – Ed’s gone on this guy, okay? Who has ever not thought for a second before telling him that shit? No one ever, that’s who.

Fuck. He breathes in. “Yeah, well, then let’s try the marmalade.”

He thinks his heartbeat goes off the rails when Stede pours him a cup with the seven sugars and then the dollop of milk before he hands it to him with a spoon placed inside, and it’s just so – domestic, he doesn’t know what to do with it. He never even knew he could be. He thinks he likes it.

“Perfect,” Ed says, sipping it. “Wouldn’t be the same with six sugars, after all.”

“I reckon it wouldn’t,” Stede smiles back, and – fuck, he looks good like this. When they met and throughout their acquaintance, he always looked amazing to Ed, but it was obvious something was holding him back, that he felt stifled, that he wasn’t really doing what he wanted to half of the time… but now, in his pretty teal shirt all covered in printed cream orchids and matching silken trousers, he looks absolutely at ease, and then he says something like fuck it I’m not being uncomfortable and takes off his shoes. Ed places the cup back on the cloth and follows, then sips his tea again while Stede gets a cup, and as he turns his eyes towards the rising sun he feels – good. Everything smells lovely and fragrant, it’s just the right temperature and there’s enough of a chill that he stops feeling wet heat all over himself, and then Stede has handed him a plate with four pancakes, marmalade drizzled over and the orange slices placed all pretty over it, and he thinks his heart swells two sizes larger, when he thought it was never going to happen at this point.

“You didn’t have to,” Ed says, “we’re going to eat it in a moment, anyway.”

“No point in not doing things properly, right?” Stede shrugs. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Ed agrees, and it’s true. “Y’know, this – is something else.”

“I know,” Stede says, quietly. “And I’m – I mean, I’m not regretting anything, just so you know.”

How did he know Ed had been wondering if he was regretting upheaving his entire life in the span of ten hours?

“Really?” Ed asks. “Because –”

“Ed, no. I’ve – never been truly happy until I met you, I think. And I was miserable at mostly any other given time – I mean, not counting rooming with Lucius and ending up here, of course, meeting you was pretty much the one thing that’s happened to me that actually made me truly, completely happy, you know. Now – I’ve been here five days and I’ve never felt so relaxed. I just… missed you so badly it ached, and now you’re here, and why the fuck would I regret anything? I wasn’t planning on graduating anyway.”

“Oh,” Ed blurts, realizing that – yeah. That’s a point. He just didn’t think – he’s never been happy until he met him? Just – fuck. He’s not even sure he can process it. “I’m – that’s good. I just, I said, I’m kind of an impulsive ass when I want to, but –”

“Please,” Stede says, “nothing to object. Hm,” he says, nodding down at the jessamines right under his nose. “Wait, let me just see if I’ve forgotten how to do this.”

“Wait, what?”

“I knew how to when I was a kid,” Stede shrugs. “Then I got caught and I stopped, but it’s not like anyone’s stopping me now, right?”

“Go ahead,” Ed nods, and he stares at Stede’s pretty, long fingers picking yellow jessamers all around him and then snagging a rose here and there. He starts weaving the stems together, threading a rose in between every five or six jessamines, until he has a nice flower crown in his hands.

“Huh,” he says, “didn’t come out half bad. You mind?”

“What? You’re gonna put it on me? Thought it was for you.”

“I can make myself another one later. Come on, your hair is made for it.”

“Dunno about that, but you do you.” He puts away his empty pancake plate and lets Stede place the crown over his head, and Stede looks at him like he’s staring at something beautiful and Ed can’t quite fucking compute it.

“You’re a damned picture, you know it?”

“No,” Ed says, “but I’ll trust your word for it. Come on, make yourself one.”

“Ed –”

“Hey, I’ve gotta wear one, you’ve got to do it, too.”

“All right, all right,” Stede shakes his head and starts making a second one. Ed snatches it when he’s done so he can place it on his head, and – fuck. He looks lovely in it, the colors of the flowers complimenting his hair so well, not counting that now that the sun is fully rising he just looks like he’s glowing. Ed’s in this so fucking deep, he can’t even start computing it.

“That – looks great on you,” Ed says, feeling like he’s fucking fifteen and he should be smoother than this, and yet –

“Oh, believe me, it looks better on you, my dear,” Stede replies, inching closer, and the pet name about fucking undoes him, and he just – grabs Stede’s neck gently, pulls him closer, presses their lips together and he tastes fresh orange on Stede’s lips as he breathes in the flowers and the cool air of the morning and no kiss has the right to make someone feel like they’re walking on clouds.

When he moves back, he realizes he hasn’t thought about that damned dream since they sat down here.

Oh.

He could try to tell Stede that, but he’s not sure he has the words, and so he breathes, leans down and kisses him again.

– –

“I see you’re embracing the whole flowery aesthetic fast, aren’t you?”

Somehow, Ed’s not entirely surprised that Lucius ends up asking him that after they show up at everyone else’s breakfast without having taken the flower crowns off.

“Maybe,” Ed shrugs. “‘S a nice change of pace, I guess. What, I’m not pulling it off?”

“Please,” Lucius waves him off, “you both are pulling it off, and believe me he’s never looked happier now that he doesn’t have to dress like he’s a forty-year old banker, but just – has either of you thought about how you’re going to make it work? Because you’re already at the, uh, doing-a-lot-of-impulsive-shit-for-each-other stage, but as much as they all like him, they’re not going to hide his ass if he misses the draft and he’s still here when the day comes.”

Ed, who has tried to not think about that notion specifically, can only nod and sigh as he tries to give Lucius a sensed reply. “I know that,” Ed says, “I do. Guess I haven’t thought it through, but – I don’t – are you asking me if this is a fling?”

“It doesn’t look like that whatsoever,” Lucius shrugs, “but – listen, I know I’m probably not minding my business but hey, that’s something I never managed to do, and I’ve known him for years and I – I mean, he told you that he had no idea he was into guys until recently?”

“He did,” Ed nods.

“Well, I feel kind of protective, I guess, so just – whatever you do, just don’t go break his heart. And before you ask me, I’ve given him the same speech already.”

“... Wait, you told him to not – why now? We barely even met!” Are all these people just fucking out of their minds, that they don’t even know him and give their friends shit on his behalf after telling him he can stay here after one stupid call?

“That man,” Lucius says, “has a fairly stupid tendency to ruin things for himself whenever he has the chance to and he’s been around enough pricks that – well. Let’s just say he got drunk once, very drunk, and started ranting about how much it’s obvious he just ruins everything he touches, which is not true, but – anyway, I might have told him to not even try to think that.”

“Well, I mean, thanks,” Ed shrugs, not sure of how to take it. No one has exactly ever worried about… giving other people the shovel talk, when it came to him. “I’m – I don’t plan on doing that.”

“Good,” Lucius says, “then I suppose you’ll both figure it out. Just, if I were you, I’d make myself scarce in town, if you have to come back.”

Ed’s blood runs cold for a moment. “What – what happened? I mean, I’ll have to go take the GED test, but –”

“That’s not a problem, it’s what, a month from now? No, just – let’s say his father showed up again and he’s sure the two of you ran off together somewhere, which might be the first thing he’s right about in his entire existence, and he’s – well. He really wants to find out where you live.”

“He can’t,” Ed snorts. “I didn’t tell anyone my real name at that party, only the people who worked with me know what my real job was and I doubt any of Stede’s friends would actually manage to describe my face to him in detail. Also, even if he managed… what is he going to find? The only record I have is getting arrested before going to war and I have a stupid medal, he can’t exactly find someone who’ll arrest me when there’s nothing linking me to… well. My actual damned job.”

“Good,” Lucius nods, “but still. That man is insane enough he would turn half of that city inside out, so the least you show your face anywhere near it the better. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you two just came here.”

“You… you are?

“Why wouldn’t I be? He’s my friend and he’s never looked happier in his life, and I met you what, four days ago and you’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours and you already seem five years younger. Far from me to complain about any of that.”

Then he gives Ed a pat on the back and heads back to the house, leaving him with a half-smoked cigarette in his hand and feeling utter shock from that entire damned conversation.

Fuck.

He’s not sure how he ended up here, because a week ago he’d have never thought of just saying fuck it and run because the idea of not seeing Stede every other day was making his chest hurt, and now he is and fuck him, he’s glad he did.

Anything else, well, he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

– –

“By the way,” Ed says later, after Stede’s back from the daily marmalade cooking session, “here you fucking go.”

He pretty much slams the folded sheets in Stede’s hands without even looking at them.

“What’s that? Oh, you did write that report.”

“I’m not hanging around while you read it. Actually, I’m going to help out in the kitchen. I don’t even want to know.”

“Fine,” Stede says, fondly, “but I don’t think there’s anything you should be worried about. I’ll give it a look over, shall I?”

“Yeah. You do that. Bye,” he says, and maybe it’s not too smooth of him to run down the stairs the moment it’s left his mouth, but – honestly, he thinks it was a bunch of nonsense put together and he doesn’t need to watch Stede’s face as he reads about how he thought it was obvious that George had the worst hand of the deal not for anything but because being forced to mercy kill your friends never leaves you sleep well at night and how it’s obvious that the author loathes whatever system made sure George would have had to do it, or that they couldn’t get the farm, or how he found it admirable that he didn’t skim on how the system was out to fuck anyone that wasn’t born with money.

It’s probably not… too wrong.

He just is absolutely sure it was abysmally put, and so he helps Roach with dinner until he’s kicked out of the kitchen because everything just needs to be put in the oven and his presence isn’t needed, and goes back upstairs.

He doesn’t knock on the door, but –

“I hear you,” Stede says, sounding still so impossibly fond Ed doesn’t know what to do with it. “You can come in, I’m done.”

He does, and Stede looks… smug? What the –

He stands up and hands Ed the corrected report. “Stop thinking it sucked,” Stede says.

“I wasn’t –”

“You were. And you had no reason to do that.”

Ed forces himself to check the actual corrections and –

He squints. There are a few spelling mistakes that he might have seen coming or not, but in comparison to how that first recipe was, it looks almost spotless. In a few places, there’s some advice as in expand on this further or this is a very sensed statement but try to write it less colloquially, but nothing… bad. Or criticizing the content. When he looks at the A- at the end of it, he thinks he scoffs.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“That’s how I’d have graded it if I was a teacher and we were in high school. The minus is because of the advice bits, but honestly? You haven’t said anything wrong, you went to do research on the author’s life specifically for the first paragraph when I didn’t even ask it of you –”

“Well, that’s how people did it, I think, so –”

“And it was extremely well done. You understood the themes, you didn’t say a single wrong thing in the entire report and you gave a personal opinion that was well-argumented. Why would I rate it less?”

Ed wants to say because I never got this kind of grade, but he stops himself just before it leaves his mouth.

“Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t fake-rate it,” Stede says, earnest, and –

“Fuck,” he says, “I really could have been decent at this, huh.”

“Ed, you are good at this. Not just decent. It’s not your fault they didn’t let you, but – really. By the time that exam’s date arrives you won’t have much to worry about, I think.”

Huh. Well. Maybe – maybe he should start considering that option. He folds the paper carefully, placing it on the desk in the room, and when he turns Stede has his arms half-open and he doesn’t think twice before falling against him and holding him back when they wrap around his waist.

He doesn’t think he’ll move for a while, but they do have time for this here and now, don’t they?

– –

The next month is – something out of his wildest fantasies, probably, except better.

No one seems to expect anything from him except helping in the kitchen and whatever else he volunteers for, he can revise in peace, he keeps on getting answers right on each single test Stede hands him to a point that he starts to think he might actually not fuck this up. At some point someone says that listening to the same covers every night is boring, Stede proposes that they all read from some book they liked and Ed realizes he really is into Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories and it translates into the two of them reading them to each other before bed from Stede’s worn-out copy, and they go have breakfast in the meadow every morning and it’s just so fucking calm he can’t even remember the last time he could just relax and worry about his own business without performing being someone else for everyone around him. Even the people who know he’s Blackbeard don’t kiss his ass too much, after the first few days.

Honestly, it’s the best month of his entire damned life.

Then – he has to go back to Charleston for the exam, and he can’t leave in the morning because it would take too much time, so after lunch on the day before he asks Stede if he can borrow some clothing (maybe he says less chance anyone would recognize me in case, but what he’s really thinking is that if Stede can’t be there with him then dressing in his clothes would be the next best thing), and Stede smiles so bright as he says he can take whatever he wants. He chooses a pair of real nice dark red jeans and one of his least frilly silken white shirt, and then –

He breathes in, then grabs two pieces of paper from the little desk in their room and hands them over to Stede.

“Here,” he says, “I just fucking hope they’re decent.”

“Oh,” Stede says, “let me – ah, of course.” He smiles as he reads the two damned recipes that he wrote down yesterday evening while everyone else was in the yard playing never have I ever, a game he’s sworn off ever playing in his life, and maybe he is a tad anxious as Stede reads the two of them, but then there’s a certain gleam in Stede’s eyes when he looks back up at him.

“So?” Ed asks.

“They’re perfect.” Stede’s voice is soft and he sounds proud, and he’s looking at Ed like the cat who ate the cream and was sure he’d manage, it, and – fuck.

“What, really?”

“Not a mistake in sight.” He stands up, puts the recipes on the desk, and presses his mouth to Ed’s firmly before pulling back, but not that much. “Which I was sure you’d manage. Now – how long does it take for you to get the results?”

“Eh,” Ed says, “I think a week or so. I rented a PO box near where Fang lives, I'll go see him after the test and tell him to call here when they’re in so I don’t have to, like, go and check. Why?”

“Well, I’d rather wait until we get them to… discuss anything else,” Stede says, sounding worried, and of course he would – it’s a month from now and then he’s supposed to fucking leave, and Ed doesn’t want to even think about it, but they’ll have to at some point.

“Hey,” Ed says, “you know that – I mean, I don’t – I didn’t exactly figure it out yet, but – we’ll come up with something, okay?”

“I mean,” Stede says, “I know that –”

“Stede? We will figure it out. We have a month for that. And now that – that you already went and did half of the job and that I know you and the last place I want you to go to is a fucking war regardless of anything, no way you’re doing anything but following your original plan. I’ve always been good at rolling with the punches. We’ll see. Okay?”

Stede nods, and kisses him again, telling him to please go and kick ass, and he has to tear himself away before he thinks on it again and decides to stay, but – that’s fine.

That’s fine. He’ll take the test, and he’ll get the results and then he’ll see what to do with his life, he doesn’t dare think their life even if he wishes he could.

That’s a fucking plan.

He just has to stick to it.

– –

He gets a hotel room for the night right next to the center where he needs to take the exam – no point in going back to his trailer and risking anything if Stede’s father actually tracked him down when Fang has all the stuff he couldn’t bring with, so it would just look even sadder than its usual.

It’s a shit room. It’s small, it’s cramped, the window has a view on the inside courtyard which looks like no one cut the grass in five years, the bed is barely large enough for him and the mattress is hard. The only upside it’s that it’s clean, but other than that, nothing. He misses Stede’s warmth and that soft, large bed something fierce, but then he thinks of how Stede squeezed his hands before he left, said you’ve got this before letting him go back to the bike and just – it’s probably sad as fuck that no one else beside his mother ever seemed to be so sure he could succeed when it came to fucking schooling, same as it’s sad as fuck that no one before him noticed Stede that way, which is an entire other crime in itself.

But just, he did put his work into it and he did sweat and he did get better and he’s not going to turn tail and go back to the Revenge just because he misses that stupid place the way he’s never missed any place in his life.

He eats a shit hot dog at the diner below the hotel before going to bed, and he probably got spoiled when it came to sleeping nicely because he wakes up from a dream where he’s back in that damned jungle just outside Ben Het and his face feels naked because of course they forced him to shave and cut his hair and there’s a reason why he’s kept them long ever since, his clothes are stuck to his skin as he aims ahead towards the general direction he’s been told he should shoot and he never wanted to kill any of these people he doesn’t even care what the hell he’s even here for and he just wants to leave and never come back and he should have just gone to jail instead who told him he should have gone oh right fucking sheriff who had known him and his damned family since forever and hated him as much as his father and he brought up Ed’s mom and imagine what she’ll think of you if you don’t go and you end up in jail after being drunk like your old man the asshole had said yeah well imagine what she’ll think of him when he’s back if he ever comes back and then Izzy’s shouting at him and saying the communications are down and they can’t talk to their useless fucking CO and what should they do he’s the one who can think best like this and he hates it he hates it he doesn’t fucking want to think but if he quits now they all die and he doesn’t want to fucking die here when he never wanted to even be here in the first place –

He wakes up bathed in cold sweat.

Fucking hell.

The bed is empty except for him and it feels so wrong he wants to hurl, and by the time he’s taken a cool shower and went back to the bed with the hard mattress and no Stede in it he wants to scream out of frustration.

He rummages into the one small backpack he brought with, figuring maybe he’ll revise some of the notes he painstakingly put together while revising in the previous month –

Wait.

He didn’t bring any books with, did he?

Except there is one in between his notes, and it’s – Stede’s copy of selected Edgar Allan Poe short stories that they read for the previous month? Why the hell is it in the middle of his stuff?

He opens it at the first page… where Stede has written something in pencil in his pretty neat handwriting Ed kind of really envies him as much as his own vastly improved lately, and –

My dearest, I’m still questioning how you find this kind of story relaxing just before bed, but as I don’t like to judge and I have the uttermost impression they do help, I’ve taken the liberty of leaving this with you. I hope you can rest before tomorrow. For that matter, please do keep the book, I have another copy but you seemed to really like this one, so please don’t try to give it back.

I love you.

S.

He’s going to – he’s never going to tell a soul he fucking cried the moment he stopped reading that note because of course the fucker took the time to leave him a stupid book with a stupid note, one he actually liked, and he’s just – the mere sight of it does wonders in making him calm his shit down.

Well. He figures he might just go and try to read some of it if only to pass the time.

Against his predictions of spending the whole night up, he ends up falling asleep three pages into The Tell-Tale Heart and he doesn’t have any more dreams until his alarm rings four hours later. Not as long as he hoped to get, but he’s survived worse with way less sleep than that.

He can do this, or at least he can try to, and then –

Then he’ll think about everything else.

– –

“Can I tell you that you look well, boss?”

“I haven’t been your boss in a while, quit it,” Ed says, shaking his head as he takes the beer bottle from Fang, “but fine. You can tell me that I look well. ‘S not like I can’t admit it to myself.”

“Joke about it as much as you like, but you look better than I’ve ever seen you since we met.”

As in, just after he came back from the war. Probably doesn’t say much, and yet.

“Anyway, can I do anything for you or is it just a social call?”

“No,” Ed shakes his head, “I mean… yeah, it also was a social call, but. I’ve gotta – I’m not staying in town anymore and I can’t tell you where I am, just… well. Let’s just say the least people know the better.” He hands him a piece of paper. “Here’s the PO box where I should get results of that stupid test a week from now. Can you go check it out after your shift and then call me at this number?” He slides a piece of paper with the Revenge’s landline number written on – Fang takes it, folds it in two and nods.

“‘Course. Not a problem at all.”

Ed opens his beer and clinks the bottle against Fang’s. It’s not even bad.

“Your taste in beers has gotten better, I see,” Ed says after swallowing the first gulp.

“It never was that bad,” Fang protests. “Anyway, if you’re in a hurry, I’m not offering you a second.”

“... How is that you know I’m in a hurry?”

“You’ve been fidgeting since you walked inside this place and I’ve known you a hell of a fucking long time.”

“What if I am?”

“It was high time you let yourself be happy. Why would I stop you?”

Ed tries to not let it show that his eyes are fucking burning as he tells Fang to shut the hell up and finishes his beer.

“Say,” he asks then, figuring it’s time to. “Is Ivan – does Ivan still have his little side job in New York or wherever the fuck he was?”

“The little side job including helping deserters cross the border if they don’t have contacts already?”

“That one,” Ed nods.

“Yeah, he does,” Fang nods. “Why, need a favor?”

“I do,” Ed says. “I – someone I know. Needs it, before June 3rd.”

“Hm,” Fang says, “I reckon – yeah, sure.”

“Wait, what do you reckon?”

“Half of this city knows that that arse Bonnet’s son has disappeared a week before you fucked off to wherever you are right now and his father’s made very clear on the news that he expects his offspring to go to Vietnam, and I don’t know how you’d get tangled up with that kinda people, but if he wants smuggled out, Ivan can do that. And for a friend, he’ll probably do it for free. Just tell me and I’ll give him a heads up.”

“Right. Thank you,” Ed says, and chucks off the empty bottle. Then he tells Fang he’ll see him at some point soon, runs down to his bike and rushes the fuck off to the Revenge. He’s been gone too damned long.

– –

“So,” he says as he and Stede lay in bed tangled up in each other hours later, after dinner, “I talked to my… former associate. The one who’s running the food bank, to make it clear.”

“Oh. What for?”

He stares at Stede’s arm, where he’s running circles with his fingers so that he doesn’t have to look up at him when he says this. “He’s going straight now, obviously,” Ed says, “but – he’s the one who has a lot of contacts, you know what I mean. And I do have a part of a bargain to uphold, don’t I?”

“Right,” Stede nods, sounding… well. Ed doesn’t want to say sad, but it kind of feels like it, and he knows why, fuck’s sake, because the one thing he wants to do is for the both of them to just stay here and never leave, but he knows that’s not feasible and they’d just put the whole of them in danger they don’t deserve or need, on top of it. “And – what did he say?”

“Well, as I thought, another guy who used to work for me and then went half-straight helps deserters get out of – somewhere in New York near the Ontario border, can’t remember the place but he had to get back to me anyway. He says if you show up there at any time before your due date he’ll get you through and then you can go through the proper channels and since he’s a friend he’s not going to ask for payment, so you just need a ride, but – I can give you that, if anything. Just –” He shakes his head, grasping at Stede’s wrist tighter. “I mean, you can just – stay close to the border or go somewhere with a port, and I can just – show up after you’re settled and I have everything ready, but –”

“Oh,” Stede sounds relieved at that, “just – don’t mind me, it’s – I thought – I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“That it meant we’d be done? I don’t ever want to be done with you, if I can help it,” he admits, his heartbeat entirely too off the charts.

“I – I don’t want that either,” Stede admits quietly, “I wish we could stay, you know.”

“Oh, I do,” Ed says, and doesn’t he want the same so fucking badly, but they don’t have a choice, do they?

He sleeps like shit that night, waking up thrice with cold sweat all over his face and screaming his throat raw, and the last time he wakes up thinking Stede is covered in someone else’s brains and it takes him a minute to realize that no, he was just fucking dreaming.

And when Stede looks at him with worry as they walk out to their meadow (he doesn’t know when it became their in his head but he likes it and so he’ll just roll with that punch, too) and asks if he can do anything to help, Ed just shrugs and says he already is.

Which is true.

He just has no idea how he’ll fare the moment Stede has to leave.

Chapter Text

A week later, he’s staring at the phone waiting for it to ring because it’s about the time Fang gets off and he said he’d go at the PO box immediately after and he just wants to know the results either way, and everyone’s giving him enough of a wide berth that he kind of feels bad about it except he can’t fucking stop fidgeting, and he’s probably driving everyone mad with how much he’s pacing and fidgeting and the fact that June 3rd is looming closer is doing zilch to help his crappy mood, and that’s how Stede finds him – he comes into the room where they have the only phone in the house drying his hands and with an old shirt dirtied in marmalade stains and his arms bare because he rolled up his sleeves as usual when he cooks and fuck Ed just wants to fall into them and stop thinking about this entire fucking mess –

“Hey,” Stede says softly, “I was thinking. I mean, can we talk? Or would you rather wait –”

“Please,” Ed says, “will take my mind off it. Go ahead. In case he calls we can just pick it back up later.”

“Well, listen, not to pry, but – you do talk in your sleep.”

“Do I,” Ed sighs, figuring that of course he would. Not that he had anyone informing him of that regardless lately, did he?

“Yeah. And – I mean, I can hear what you say and I obviously can’t get it, but – Ed. We have another three weeks before trying for Canada. I talked to Roach and it seems like he has relatives in Québec that would be fine with having me there while I figure things out, and – well. I can just find a job and try to earn some money after I’m cleared and then we’ll see, but – Ed, do you want to go look for… your friend, I guess?”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, I don’t know what you are to each other, but – Izzy? You keep on talking to him when you’re asleep and it doesn’t sound good at any point, and – from what you said, it’s obvious you aren’t over however it ended. Maybe we could just – take your bike and see if we can find him? How long has it been anyway? Years?”

“I mean, we lasted some six months after we came back, so. ‘Bout two years give or take”

“I mean… it is enough for things to cool down. I think. You should talk to him. What do you have to lose?”

It entirely makes sense. Except –

“I don’t know,” Ed shakes his head. “I mean, last we saw each other we shared a crap apartment in the outskirts and then I moved to the trailer and he said he needed to change air, but I don’t know where he might have ended up. I guess his VA might know, but it’s a long shot. And it’s your last three weeks here. You’re happy here. Do you really want to spend a huge part of them finding a needle in a haystack with me? I don’t – I could do with talking to him, yeah. Just… is it worth it?”

“Ed, I don’t care about that as long as I’m with you. I want to come with you if you think you need closure.”

“Oh,” he gasps, not expecting it even if maybe he should have, the man did drop everything for him didn’t he, and – then the phone rings. Fuck.

“Right. A sec, let’s just – Fang?”

“Boss,” Fang says, “I’ve got the letter. You want me to open it? You sure? I could just drive –”

“No,” Ed shakes his head, “the least people know where I am, the better. Just, open it and tell me.”

“All right,” Fang says, and Ed can hear the paper tear open, and fuck he just hopes he passed it even the minimum would be fine – “Fucking hell, boss.”

“... What? I passed it?”

Fang makes a noise as if he can’t fucking believe what he just heard. “Boss, you got, like, 180 on 200, so yeah, you passed, but you had like a perfect score on – the math section, yeah, and the others are a bit lower but still, you sure as fuck passed and you can go collect your piece of paper in, uh, a month’s time or something, but if you wanna pass by and grab the papers –”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, uh, I just might, soon, right, fuck, thank you, I’ll – I’ll let you know.”

“Sure,” Fang says, “and celebrate.”

He closes the call and Ed feels like fainting.

“Ed? What’s –”

“180,” he blurts, barely believing his own ears. “Fucking hell, I thought I’d scrape by but –”

“Or maybe you never were the scraping by sort,” Stede says, with the face of someone who is bursting to say I told you so for the next ten years.

“I – i can’t even – maybe it was wrong –”

“Or maybe you actually deserved it, how about that?”

“... Fuck,” Ed blurts, and then Stede has grabbed his face and kissed him firmly, thumbs brushing through his beard, pulling him closer, and Ed puts his arms around his waist and holds on tight and when Stede leans back he looks so happy for him he could burst.

“Congratulations,” Stede says, meaning it, “and do we want to celebrate?”

“Hell, yes. Roach can do the orange cake. He has way more than forty at his disposal. And – I mean, if you’re still up for it –”

“Of course I’ll drive you to see your friend, if we find him.”

Of course. If only Stede knew how not for granted he would take that notion.

Never mind. Now that this is out of the way, he thinks he can do it. And if he ever drops by his old high school, he’s slamming the GED copy in front of each single one of his teachers he can find.

– –

“Let’s just – I mean, I don’t think going on a wild goose chase would be worth it. And I don’t want to spend three weeks roaming around if we could be someplace we actually like,” Ed tells him later, after he’s thought about it without the anxiety from the test results eating his fucking liver out. “But, I think I should talk to him, and you’re right ‘bout it. Now, let’s just say – Spanish Jackie, the one from the shirt I lent you… she’s the person who’s in contact with the guy that has to launder my money, so I gotta drop by her place anyway when I go get those papers from Fang. But, I mean, last I heard Izzy worked for her and stayed in the apartment above the bar while he looked for something better, and – he doesn’t anymore, and I never set foot there since we argued and always called or sent someone else, but if anyone knows where he ended up, that’s her. We can just drop by and if she has an address we can check it out, if not – I’ll live. But are you sure you’d wanna come with?”

“That sounds like a plan,” Stede agrees, “and again, yes. I’m very sure.”

“I’m less sure about you going in there dressed your usual,” Ed shakes his head. “Lucius did say your father has people on the lookout for you everywhere. You’d stick out like a sore thumb there, unless…”

“Unless…?”

“Say,” Ed grins, thinking of how Stede seems to like it when he wears his clothing, and realizing he very much wants to see for himself how that feels. “Want to do something weird, tomorrow?”

“I’m listening,” Stede grins back.

After all, Ed reasons, if Stede’s clothes fit him and his own casual ones fit Stede back when they met… he will fit in his leathers, won’t he?

– –

Well, if this place hasn’t changed for shit, Ed thinks as he walks inside Jackie’s with Stede next to him and tries to not ogle at how good the man’s legs look in his leathers – now he understands why Stede gets… well, that excited about Ed wearing his own clothing, because fuck but never mind that the leather makes his legs stand out and his short sleeves make his arms stand out, seeing him in stuff that he wore just makes his blood run hot, and if only he could drag him inside the bathroom and –

Yeah, certainly not here unless he wants Jackie to actually ban him from the premises.

“What’s that?” Stede says nodding towards his left.

Oh. Right. “Eh, that’s the nose jar.”

“The what?”

“Chill, Jackie says it’s real noses of clients who died in here since she purchased the bar, but it’s like, fake ones. It’s all for show.”

He reaches the counter, sitting down on the first available stool he sees. Shouldn’t be long before –

“Edward Teach, as I live and breathe,” Jackie says coming out from the staff-only backdoor. “The fuck you doin’ here at four PM? No one comes here this fucking early.”

Ed takes a good look at her bright red velvet suit. “I see you’re doing well,” he nods appreciatively.

“Yeah, well, I ain’t dressing like a slacker even if half of my clients counts for that fucking notion. Anyway, what brings you here? Haven’t seen you in two fucking years. In person, anyway. And wait, who’s he now?”

“Just a friend,” Stede says, wrapping the leather jacket around his midriff. Too bad, because if he showed off that chest of his that would look amazing, but still. Ed’s fine in a pair of Stede’s designer pale blue jeans and a plain black shirt of his – it’s soft, what did Stede say it was, right, viscose, but it’s also not… standing out. “Don’t let me distract you.”

“Sure,” Jackie says, looking at him up and down before turning back to Ed. “I see you’re changing your style, too? Or just lending your clothes around to… friends?”

“Maybe I got tired of tight shit all the fucking time. Never mind, Jackie. I’m here for two things. Number one, how is that affair with your fifth husband proceeding?”

He can hear Stede mutter fifth? under his breath, but he gives him a slight kick in the shin warning him to not bring that up.

“Oh, that one. Says it’s going. Couple weeks from now on, you can go deposit your cash and that’ll be it. He’ll leave it where he found it. Minus his fee, of course, unless you change your mind about things, and in that case let him know as soon as you can.”

“Of course,” Ed nods. Good. “Second thing… listen, you happen to know where Izzy ended up?”

“Now that comes as a surprise,” Jackie says. “Thought you two were done.”

“Oh, we were. Are. But – I think I wanna talk to him. I mean, I know he’s not working here anymore, but if anyone knew where I could find him – unless he told you to… not tell me. I guess.”

“Well,” Jackie says, “he never told me anythin’ like that, but he also was sure that y’all were through, and he wasn’t a very happy bean about it. Not judging either of you, I mean, y’all were fucking bad for each other at that point, but anyway. Three months after you argued he said he was done tryin’ to make a living here because he hated this shit town anyway and he only came here for you.”

Ed tries to not wince openly hearing that. “Right. And?”

“Said he’d just go back to his father’s house in – wherever the fuck it was –”

“West Virginia,” Ed supplies, remembering all too well how much Izzy said he hated that place. “Wait, seriously?”

“The old man died a month after you two argued and he inherited it, I think. Anyway, beats me but he said he was just gonna go there and see if he could get a moment of peace.”

“And he didn’t leave you a phone number or return address?”

“Please, that house had no phone, or so he said. But, he did give me an address in case I was bothered to forward his mail, if he got any. Wait there.” She opens a drawer under the counter, rummages around and then takes out a piece of paper and slides it over to Ed. “There’s your address. You can keep it, he hasn’t gotten any mail in months anyway.”

“Right,” Ed says, pocketing it. “‘Preciate your help, Jackie. Never close, huh?”

“You’ll get me dead out of this bar. Now shoo, both of you. And by the way, blondie?”

“What, me?” Stede asks, startled. He probably figured Jackie forgot he existed.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t show my face around here. Sure, people would think twice seein’ you in all that leather, but took me five minutes to figure out exactly who the fuck you are.”

“... And you know that how?”

“‘Cause your father’s on each single local news channel sayin’ that you got corrupted by some heathen queer lowlife – not that we don’t know your father’s a right piece of shit and if Hell existed he should rot in it – and there’s a hefty reward for anyone who can tell him he’s seen your mug around. He won’t learn shit from Jackie, I don’t need his fucking money, and good for you that you know your priorities, but you get me, yeah? Now scram. You don’t wanna be here when clients actually show up.”

“‘Course,” Ed nods, swallowing. “We’re off. Thanks, Jackie, you’re a real treasure.”

“Shove that fake flattery up your ass and leave. And good luck with whatever straightening your shit out thing you’ve got going on. Say hi to Izzy if you manage to find whichever hole that fucker ended up hiding in.”

“Appreciated,” Ed says, waving at her before he gets off the seat and grabs Stede’s arm, dragging him outside.

“Fuck,” he says when they’re back at the bike, “how much of a control freak is your father?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Ed huffs as he hands Stede his helmet. “Yeah, probably. Right, let’s just – we should head back and check that address. Hopefully someone has relatives over there who know where the fuck is that place, ‘cause I don’t remember the name but from what he used to say it was some small town in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Oluwande has a street map book for the entire States,” Stede shrugs as he goes behind him, wrapping his arms around Ed’s waist and doesn’t that make him feel warm every single fucking time.

“Of course Oluwande out of everyone there has one. Entirely in character. As in, at least someone had the foresight to get that shit because you never have one when you need it. Yeah, we’ll check on his street map then. Anyway, hold on. Can’t wait to be the fuck outta here.”

Ed starts the motorcycle, heading back as fast as he can get away with, and when they arrive, after explaining the situation, they all sit down at the large living room table where they usually eat.

“Right, so,” Ed says, opening Jackie’s piece of paper. “Mount Hope, West Virginia, 25800 Valley Loop, the postman will know if you ask? Is this even a fucking address?”

“Did you say it was his father’s house?” John asks.

“Yeah. Said he built it himself and it was kinda shit because he wasn’t really that great at that. Why?”

“Then wherever he built it he just never bothered to inform anyone at the city hall and people in town know he’s there ‘cause it’s small and they all know each other. I mean, I had family someplace similar though it was in Kentucky, guess it’s the same.”

“I mean, I suppose you’re right,” Ed says. “Anyone know exactly where the fuck is this place? I mean, I’ve been there a couple times but I stopped at their Charleston, and Izzy never exactly fucking said.”

No one seems to have a clue. “Well, I have a street map book,” Oluwande says, turning to Jim, “and I hope that you’ll stop making fun of me for my extremely sensible purchase from now on.”

“Go get the fucking map,” Jim shakes their head, but their tone is the same kind of fond Ed can recognize from his own when he talks about Stede’s thing for flowers, and when Oluwande is back with the book, which is fucking huge, they all bend down over it to try and find where the fuck is the damned place. Ed finds the name at the index, turns back the pages and finds it after a bit of squinting. “Right. Midway in between the border and Charleston. Could be fucking worse. Let me think – in a car it’s what, a day’s drive stopping for lunch, but in a bike it could get longer. Then again, if we’ve gotta be out for more than one day maybe we should just drive a car and bring a change with? Especially if he doesn’t kick me out of the house, if he isn’t dead yet.”

“You can have the spare one,” Jim shrugs. “I mean, no one’s driven it in a year and there’s a reason why it’s spare, but if you don’t wanna risk renting one out…”

“Would that be all right?” Stede asks. “You don’t have to –”

“Bonnet, there’s a reason why we pooled in to get a new one. As long as you go slow, you can use it. And no one’s gonna miss it anyway.”

The reason is clear enough the moment they actually see it – there is no way they can actually not have the car break down if they go past forty-five miles per hour, but he figures that’s fine. At worst it takes them longer to get there, but they have more than enough time.

“I’ll take it,” Ed says. Jim drops the keys in his palm.

“Wreck it for all I care, just don’t wreck yourself with it and come back in one piece.”

There probably is a catch, Ed thinks, but it’s a car. As long as it doesn’t sputter every five miles, he’s good.

– –

Turns out, he hadn’t realized the car was a stick until he sits down in the driver’s seat.

“Oh, fuck me,” he says. “This is gonna be bad.”

“How so?”

“Because I hate driving stick cars – I like bikes, okay, if I’m driving a car I don’t want to put effort into it, and if we have to go slow I’ll have to change the gears every other moment, damn –”

“I know how to drive one,” Stede says, sounding like he doesn’t relish the fact.

“You – seriously?”

“Last time I tried to impress my ass of a father,” Stede shrugs. “He’s of the opinion that real men drive stick cars. So I learned and his only comment was that it was about fucking time I got one thing right, and then he never let me drive his anyway. Or any other.”

“What, thought you’d actually fuck off somewhere without his ugly mug around?”

“Pretty much,” Stede sighs. “Anyway, I can drive. Obviously we won’t go fast, but no one ever told me I was a danger..”

“Right,” Ed says, “you know what, knock yourself out.”

Turns out, Stede’s not bad at it even if he keeps on apologizing for going too slow, and at that point Ed tells him to not even try because he knows how to drive this crap car and Ed doesn’t really – he starts rummaging in the small box of tapes he found in the back of the car, hoping to find some decent tape if the radio works, which he’s nowhere near sure about, but they haven’t tried it yet, have they?

He checks the labels.

“Is it me or Jim doesn’t look like the kinda person who listens to Frank Sinatra?”

Stede shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Olu might, though? No, I think Frenchie said he liked him at some point.”

“Dunno, strikes me more – okay, maybe the Ronettes tape is Olu’s, then. Wait, who the fuck put here an entire tape with different versions of Joe Hill – right, why am I even asking. Hello, I’m Dolly? Has Jim thrown here every single tape in the house they don’t like?”

“That’s… John’s, I think,” Stede says, driving forward. “He seemed to be quite into country songs. But yes, I think that’s exactly what Jim did. Bit mean of them, admittedly. Dolly Parton isn’t that bad.”

“Not bad? I mean, not my turf, but that girl’s got talent. Anyway, I’m so not in the mood for any of this, let’s see – I guess Lucius’s personally chosen best of Chuck Berry might work if there’s nothing better.”

“How do you know it’s Lucius’s?”

“He wrote it in all caps on the side,” Ed shakes his head – somehow that sounds exactly like what Lucius would listen to. “Well, Jim definitely hates country. And Bob Dylan. And the Beach Boys.”

“Do they,” Stede says, sounding… disappointed?

“Why, are they your thing?”

“I mean,” Stede says, “yeah, uh, it’s not like I ever had much of a collection or anything because, well, the moment I could I lived in a dorm, but – I always liked what songs of theirs I heard.”

“Right then,” Ed says, “guess you’re getting treated to Roach’s selection.”

“Wait,” Stede says, “if you don’t like them –”

“You’re driving my ass to talk with someone I need to talk to and that you don’t know from Adam, I think you can pick the music.”

“When you put it like that,” Stede half-smiles, and Ed pushes the tape as he steers out towards the highway.

It’s not a bad trip – the music is lovely, Stede singing to it is even lovelier and the car makes its steady way towards North Carolina at a respectable pace, but by the time they’re some twenty miles past the state border the engine is making noises Ed doesn’t like and there’s a motel on the way, and it’s not like – well.

He postponed this conversation for years, a few hours more won’t make a difference.

– –

He should also have predicted things would go badly the moment he saw the room – the motel is just the usual crappy place you find along the road and they get two separate but nearby rooms to make sure no one gets suspicious, and it’s – well. Probably all shitty motels smells the same, but this one is reeking of bleach and it reminds him very fucking painfully of how his own house used to smell back in the day when he’d find his mom bent over the table trying to scrub it clean of blood stains. It also reminds him very painfully of the damned hospital he woke up in after his knee got blown up, which also smelled like bleach and alcohol so much it made him nauseous, and he doubts that Stede’s smells differently, so it wouldn’t even make sense to try and sneak in there now.

At least it has a fucking bathroom. He checks it out and it has the smallest and crampiest tub he’s ever seen in his existence, though he supposes a guy could get inside it if he kept his knees up to his fucking chin. Then again, it doesn’t have bugs, so he supposes it’s a better deal than a wholeass lot of places he’s slept in, so he just throws his backpack in the corner and tries the bed.

Obviously, it’s shit – same as the one he had in the trailer, more or less, just bigger. Sometimes he wonders why he didn’t spend any of his money on actually making that place halfway comfortable instead of hoarding, it wouldn’t have been such a set-back if he just got a decent bed, except – except maybe he felt guilty at the mere thought of it, because why would he get one when most of the people he knows were in a grave and couldn’t have afforded it if they weren’t, and wasn’t that fucked, but –

Never fucking mind.

He needs to talk to Izzy and make it civil, if he’s managed to not die in a ditch somewhere yet, and then he needs – then he needs to think about what he should do here, because he did have everything figured out, didn’t he. Get the GED, get his bank account, get his business, buying the damned boat and then he’d just be out there, alone, no one asking shit of him, no need to do illegal stuff to get by every other moment, no one to remind him that he didn’t fit anywhere else, no obligation and no fucking boredom, and he’d have had time to lick his wounds properly for good, except that now he doesn’t know about that.

Well, he still wants all of that, just – not on his own. He knows it’s ridiculous and they’ve known each other for not even half a year but the idea of just sending Stede across the border and then maybe visit when he gets the boat and he hopefully lives somewhere with a port is – not enough. Not fucking enough. The mere concept makes him want to hurl, and – now that they saw each other every day for a while, how could he go from that to maybe once every few months? And it’s not – South Carolina isn’t exactly bordering with Canada, is it, and sure, he could relocate somewhere nearby, but he has no idea of how long it would take for him to get permits to fish in Canadian waters with a US license and he should actually buy the boat and get the permit and the license, which would take at least a few months, it’s another wholeass exam after all, and what if they drift apart in the meantime?

It – it doesn’t look likely, it doesn’t feel likely, but he couldn’t ask Stede to just – wait for him like that until they found a better solution, and he doubts that anyone who goes to Canada for desertion will be pardoned before the turn of the century at this rate.

Then again, he can’t ask Stede to just… not go and hide somewhere until he gets the boat and then he could just live there because who’d look for him, because that would be just bad and he’s been through enough shit with Izzy to know that it’s a recipe for disaster. And it’s not like Stede can stay here anyway – he has a feeling that his shit father will never give up on looking for him and the last thing he wants is that either of them get fucking arrested for the one good thing that happened – well, at least to him, but if he has to accept what Stede says, as completely impossible as it sounds to hear that he is a good thing that could happen to someone like Stede, to the both of them – yeah. No. That’s a fucking bad idea.

And it’s just – it’s less than a month and it’ll be June 3rd and he’ll have to drive Stede to the border because no way he’s letting him go on his own, and – maybe he could just give him some of that money he laundered, it’s not like he hadn’t done the math and he can spare it, and maybe like this he could settle sooner, and they could write to each other

(he wouldn’t hate his handwriting as he penned those letters anymore, would he)

but it wouldn’t be enough. He knows. The entire situation is just sitting badly on his stomach, so much he wants to hurl.

And then Stede knocks on the door. “Do you want to grab some dinner?”

“Sure,” Ed says, not really feeling like it, and so what if he grabs that same pair of Stede’s jeans he wore at Jackie’s and another one of his soft viscose blue shirts? He’s not sure it’s a good idea for either of them to dress floral or silken in this patch of the woods, but he’s already this close to suffocating with everything going on right now and he doesn’t really feel like wearing his own damned leathers or tight shit. He puts them on, then leaves the room and locks the door.

“Ed, are you quite all right?” Stede asks after a minute.

“Yeah. Peachy,” Ed shrugs. “Why?”

“You’re lying,” Stede says with the face of someone who saw right through it, and how did he learn to read him so well, “but I understand not wanting to talk about it. Just – you can when you need, all right?”

“Right. Sure. Thanks, mate, will – will do. Just – not right now.”

“We do have time,” Stede says with a soft smile that makes Ed’s knees weak, but isn’t that the point?

They don’t have time.

Not that much anyway.

– –

He manages to get through their not so great dinner without losing his shit or fidgeting too much. Which is fine. The way the motel owner glares daggers at them when they come back… that’s not at all fine, instead.

“I suppose,” Stede whispers on his doorstep, “that we should try to… keep to our rooms?”

“Yeah,” Ed says, hating the prospect, but they’re on the first floor and that guy really seemed a bit too interested in staring at them. “Just, I’ll leave the door open. In case you need anything or whatever.”

“All right,” Stede says, “I’ll do the same.” He squeezes his arm, leaning it for a second, then thinking better of it. “Good – goodnight, then.”

“Night,” Ed replies, the sensation of wrongness in his chest getting worse and worse with each step Stede takes towards his own room.

If it was up to him, he’d just skip on sleeping altogether, but if they get to West Virginia tomorrow he really can’t afford that.

He gets under the thin sheet covering the bed, feeling colder than he has any right to be, and tries to not think about how he could be in the next room with Stede right now.

– –

It hadn’t been raining when he half-slept, but it is now as he slams his eyes open to the sound of water hitting the glass of the window which is right next to the bed, fucking shit, and the moment he wakes up and smells bleach along with that sound he has to fist his hands in the sheets to keep his wits to himself. Fuck, no, this isn’t good, this isn’t fucking good and –

Suddenly he hears sounds coming from the next room and he barely manages to focus enough to realize whoever’s sleeping on the side opposite Stede’s is watching some movie when he hears someone shooting instead, and – fuck it’s probably the movie, most likely the guy’s watching some late night western or some shit, but then there’s another gun firing off again and suddenly he wants to throw up and the smell of bleach is overpowering and everything he can think of is the way the house smelled every single time his mom cleaned it up after his father had a fit and blood was spilled and –

He can’t be here.

He can’t be here but he can’t even be anywhere else can he, except – Stede said he would – he can’t wake him up, he won’t, he knows how he gets when he gets over in his head like this but he needs to be somewhere fucking secluded and he doesn’t have his crappy small shower here, but –

He’s out of the bed before he’s thought of it, not even bothering to try and slip on some shoes, and he’s made his way into Stede’s room silently a moment later. He’s dead to the world, sleeping in the equally crappy bed, and Ed’s not going to wake him, but —

Fuck. ‘Course he brought the damned dressing gown with. A golden one he uses around the house when he doesn’t have to interact with other people because he says it’s comfortable. He even asked Ed if he wanted one of his others but he always said no – never saw the point in it.

Ed’s barely even thought before he’s snatched it, ran into the bathroom, went into the cramped shit small bathtub and draped the thing over himself. At least it smells like Stede and not like bleach, and the more he buries his nose inside it the better it feels except that everything else feels wrong and it’s pathetic but he just wishes he could stand up and crawl into Stede’s bed, and oh fucking hell he tries to not sob out loud lest someone hears him, but he’s shaking all over and he can’t get the way the air smells when you have someone’s guts open next to you out of his fucking nose even if he knows no one is bleeding out here and oh fuck why did he think doing this was a good idea he’s just going to freak out and they’ll find him and he can’t afford that there’s people depending on him he can’t get himself killed no wait that’s not it he can’t move did he get inside the closet yet oh fuck please don’t let him open the door and –

“Ed?”

Fuck.

Fuck, that was Stede’s sleepy voice pulling him out of whatever fucking dumb train of thought he had been spiraling into, and he’s standing on the door looking down at him as if he’s concerned, and that’s – he can’t –

“You don’t have to be here,” Ed rasps, trying to sound like he has his shit together, or some of it anyway, “it’s okay, I just – I need a moment, it’s –”

“It’s not,” Stede says, kneeling next to the tub. “Ed, you look awful. What’s wrong?”

If only he could say it. If only he could just blurt it out and be done with it, but he’s never told anyone, no one but his mother knows and there’s a reason why he never visits, because that night just ruined something for them and it was all his fucking father’s fault, but –

He hears a thunder outside and jerks under the robe, tightening it around his shoulders, wishing it didn’t feel so nice when he knows it’s just pathetic as hell.

“I told you my ass of a dad got himself landed in jail, yeah?”

“You did,” Stede nods.

“He did – not for anything he should have, but – he – he beat a guy up outside a bar when he was going to get even drunker than his usual and it turned out the guy was related to the local police chief. But – the reason – was that – fuck, I was fourteen, it – it was a night more or less fucking like this.” He’s aware he’s talking faster and faster but it won’t just stop. “He went off at my mother because he didn’t like the way she cooked his fucking meat, as if we had money to spare for seasonings or as if the meat wasn’t crap because we couldn’t afford it unless it was on fucking discount, and he started beating her up hard enough she was spitting blood. She told me to just… hide in the stupid closet and not move, but it was slightly open and I saw and I couldn’t stay there as fucking usual and I tried to get in the middle but he just – kicked me, not that it was the first time, and said I shouldn’t get in the way and it was my turn after, and –” He shakes his head, trying to just get through it and get it off his chest.

“There was a rope nearby – he worked at the docks so he brought some of that stuff home sometimes. I – I grabbed it and I almost choked him with it just to have him back off her.” He resolutely doesn’t look up in case whatever look is on Stede’s face makes him falter. “I – I let it go at the end, told him that if he tried to lift a hand on her or me again I wouldn’t stop the next time, and – I don’t even know if I fucking meant it. I just wanted him to stop. But – he got up and left and headed there and got drunker and – yeah. And – after that, I – I hated it, I told myself I’d never – do something like that again, I came this close and it fucked with me enough that I can’t stop dreaming about it and I could barely face my mother since, and then they fucking sent me down there to do exactly that but to people that hadn’t done me shit and didn’t deserve it, and –” He’s trembling so much by now, he should feel embarrassed, but he doesn’t have the force of will to spare for that. “I’m not a damned good person and we’re going to see someone who – whatever we had, he trusted me with his life and then I couldn’t even help when we were back and I was the one dragging him here kicking and screaming, and I just – I don’t deserve –”

“Stop right there,” Stede says, sounding entirely too understanding for Ed’s tastes. “You deserve being here and not dead and there is no way any of that is on you. Your father’s crap is on him and you did it to defend yourself and your mother, and you never even wanted to go to war and you feel like shit about it, what do you think it means? That you’re not a good person?”

“I don’t know what I think,” he says, his voice smaller than he’d like.

“I think you are. And – you’ve been my friend and you’re the – I love you, Ed, I – this doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It… doesn’t?” He doesn’t know if he ever considered that notion seriously.

“No,” Stede says, softly, a hand moving to the border of the tub, and Ed lays his head over it without thinking, and then –

“What do you say if we decide fuck the owner and you sleep with me? If they check we can say your room had bugs or something.”

“Could – could we? It’s risky, I –”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Stede replies, holding a hand out, and Ed takes it like a lifeline, and as he joins him under the covers, the bed is still shit but Stede is here so it’s already better, he’s still drained and tired and hating this place, but he’s not smelling bleach anymore, he’s smelling Stede’s fucking lavender-scented aftershave and Stede’s curled against his back, holding him close, and –

It’s not so bad, like this.

And as he falls asleep, he knows he can’t give this up. He needs to find a way not to. Because he just –

He just can’t.

– –

“I’m sorry,” he says the next morning as they check the roads over breakfast. These pancakes aren’t as shitty as they could be, but his stomach is still halfway closed and he doesn’t know if he can even eat.

“For what?”

“Whatever yesterday was,” he shrugs.

“You were distressed and for good reasons, don’t you even try to do it,” Stede shakes his head. “Ed, I – I didn’t mind, okay? I minded more that you obviously were in pain, and I’m – I’m sorry it ever happened, for what it’s worth.”

“More than you could think,” Ed says quietly, painfully reminded of how much no one who ever was aware of that story or of his father’s moods ever gave a shit. “So, reckon we can get there in a couple of days or…?”

“If you guarantee that the car won’t crash and I keep on going at the same speed, I think I can get us in Virginia today for sure,” Stede says. “Then, well. If I could push probably I could manage as far as the West Virginia border, but –”

“No,” Ed says, “that car isn’t going to accept any pushing. It’s fine. I got way worse than three days listening to Roach’s Beach Boys selection, anyway.”

“You can change it if you like anything else better.”

“Stede, you glow when you listen to that stuff.”

“... Do I?”

“You smiled the whole time and you’re driving my ass to middle-of-Nowhere-West-Virginia to meet a guy with whom I had a horrid falling out but with whom I was sleeping before you, yeah, you do.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, watching you grin your way through Good Vibrations is a treat, so yeah, I can handle that.”

“Fine,” Stede says, “then – I’ll just go pay for breakfast and we can get a move on.”

“Right. I’ll get to the bathroom and meet you outside.”

When he leaves it, he notices that this service station has a small section where they sell books and shit for the road – he buys a bag of cheap chocolates because he’ll fucking need that, and then – huh. They do have cassettes for cheap.

Among which Pet Sounds and Smiley Smile.

Well, it’s more songs than in Roach’s selections. He buys them, and when he throws them at Stede he grins even brighter and Ed really can think of worse music to listen to all the way to their destination, when Stede smiles through each song the tape plays.

Now if only his stomach didn’t feel completely closed just thinking of the confrontation ahead, well. That’d be so much fucking better.

– –

It doesn’t get better with every mile they get closer to the damned border in question.

The following night they don’t bother with separate rooms – the motel clerk is a fifteen year old kid who barely even looks at them as he checks them in, and he sleeps very little as Stede holds him close. The morning after it’s obvious that he hasn’t gotten any rest, and after they pass the border he feels like throwing up, which is ridiculous – he never did in the war and he does now at the idea of… talking to Izzy? Shit.

“You know,” Stede says putting down his coffee cup, “maybe if you want to get something off your chest, it's better you do it with me.”

“What?”

“You’re worried,” Stede says, “and you’re eating yourself with it. What is that you’re afraid of? That he’ll tell you he doesn’t want to talk it out?”

“Sort of,” Ed shrugs. He pushes some of his already cut pancake around the plate. He’s not hungry at all. “I mean, he never wanted to talk about anything really, so there’s that, but – no. I’m afraid they’ll tell me he died in the meantime and I never would have known otherwise.”

“That bad?”

“He – we were pretty self-destructive when we split up, kinda. We both drank too much and couldn’t cope otherwise if not with – well, I don’t even remember half of the shit we did while fucking, but while none of us didn’t want it, let’s just say – he had survivor’s guilt and I had… fuck do you call ‘I should have kept everyone alive and I didn’t’?”

“I call it ‘you should have never been there in the first place’,” Stede says, and Ed has to laugh at that.

“Yeah, well. Sounds pretty much accurate. Anyway, we didn’t… not want it but at some point I was sure if I did something wrong I might actually hurt him seriously, he replied that it would be about time if I did and it just got fucking ugly. I told him that I couldn’t be his CO in civilian life anyway because that was all kinds of fucked up and he just – I wanted to go straight and shit and he kept on saying that it was no point because we were both fucked so why even trying, and – I couldn’t handle that. Last we saw each other he drank too much still and I know his dad’s house was a dump because he didn’t talk much but he talked a lot when it came to how much he hated it, and I doubt he had any family he kept in contact with, so. Yeah. I just. I gave up on whatever it was we were doing and I never checked and now – what if he just drank himself to death? Because if he didn’t go to the VA back in Charleston he’s sure as fuck not going here. Not that it helps any.”

“It still wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Yeah, I know, but – not rationally, I guess. Shit. I just – what if he hates me for that? He should.”

“That’s what you’re afraid of?”

“I guess,” Ed admits. “I mean, I know it wasn’t my fault or his and we just – weren’t good for each other at that point or ever, not like that, but – we got through a lot of shit and – shit. This is gonna sound horrible.”

“Go ahead. He won’t hear it from me in any case.”

“No one else that was with us over there survived,” Ed says quietly. His hand goes to his beard, stroking it. “If he’s dead, no one – no one except for me will remember that. And – sometimes I just, I used to ask him if he remembered stuff the way I did because it just got so muddled and every day was just the fucking same unless someone died or got hurt bad enough to get sent away that I couldn’t remember if I made it up or not. And it’s not like we talked, but if he’s dead then I’m the only one left and that’s just wrong because then what the fuck was it all for – fuck – sorry, I don’t know what I’m getting at.”

“Can I guess?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe – maybe you hated being there, and it doesn’t make it right that you were but how it makes you feel is another matter… but if no one remembers it, then you’d just… you might as well never have gone and it would have been even more useless. But like this, someone was with you? Is – is that it?”

Oh.

Oh.

It – actually was it. He just couldn’t manage to put it together in one sentence.

“What if it is?” Ed asks softly, figuring there’s no point in beating around the bush.

“I think it’s human,” Stede shrugs. “You didn’t want to go and you had to and you did your job, just stands to reason you would want it to matter.”

“But it didn’t,” Ed says as Stede drives forward. “That’s the point. It didn’t. It was all fucking useless. I shouldn’t want it to matter.”

“And you didn’t leave there without consequences. Of course you want it to matter some. I’m not presuming to know better than you, just – it seems human to me.”

“Maybe you’re not completely wrong,” Ed admits, and he didn’t know it’d be such a relief to hear someone get it out loud.

The knot in his stomach does feel just a tiny bit looser.

– –

Mount Hope is… well. Not what you’d call a huge place. It’s as small as Izzy described it and their beat-up car doesn’t look too out of place as they drive on until Stede parks in front of a diner a bit outside of the outskirts – he could have found a spot to park in town, but most people were looking at them as if they expected them to be cops in disguise or something like that, so he figured this one would be a better choice. He doubts it’s the kind of place where people don’t know who’s who around the entire area.

They walk inside the diner – the owner is an old man in his sixties who looks none too impressed with either of them.

“What can I get you?” He asks, sounding tired already. It’s three in the afternoon. Ed can sympathize.

“Coffee,” Ed says. “Bring cream with, please.”

“I’ll have, uh, the same,” Stede says, obviously not pleased with the choice of teas on the menu.

“And I’ll need… to ask about someone who should live here. Last I knew.”

“Now that’d be a novelty,” the man says, going to the counter. He pours them two cups and then brings them over, with the cream in a small saucer. Stede looks at it in approval before he sips from his black coffee. Ed takes a breath.

“Uh, yeah, it’s – he was with me in the war. Izzy Hands. Last I knew he moved back here ‘cause his father was from the area, but –”

“Oh, he’s here all right,” the man says, and at least he doesn’t sound like Izzy is some kinda sore subject in town. “Came back a year and so ago, after his old man died. Not that it was a great loss, but anyhow, he’s still at his house. More like a shack thrown in the umpteenth curve of a shit road, but. Dunno how he fucking lives in that dump considering it doesn’t even have electricity, but what do I know?”

“It – what?” Ed asks.

“Doubt he fixed that in the meantime. Anyway, drinks too much but he’s never picked a fight with anyone and he gets by. You wanna see him?”

“I mean, if he’s home.”

“It’s a fucking Sunday, he doesn’t go to church for sure.” He leaves them indications to reach the house and gives Stede a refill – Ed’s barely touched his cup, but the moment the guy has his back turned he dumps four packets of sugar into his it and drinks it.

He’ll fucking need it.

“Hey, if you want to wait –” Stede asks.

“Nonsense,” Ed replies. “Just – let’s do it now.”

They pay and grab the indications, and Stede drives towards a small hill, turning where the man had said a few times, and then –

Well.

Shack thrown in the umpteenth curve of a shit road sounds like an accurate description. It’s a wooden cabin that has seen better days but was obviously recently half-renovated because it doesn’t look like it’ll fall down anytime soon, right next to a small creek, with an old post box where you can barely read Hands on the side. Stede stops the car, the music dying the moment he turns off the engine.

“Well,” Stede says, “should I come with or –”

“Please,” Ed says, “someone has to drag me out or I’ll never do it.”

Stede nods, and they’re outside the car when Ed hears the door slam open.

“I’ve said a hundred fucking times I’m not buying shit – the fuck?”

Yeah, well. Cat’s out of the bag.

He takes a deep breath and turns towards the entrance of the cabin, figuring that Izzy wouldn’t immediately recognize him if he’s not dressed with his usual leathers.

“I’ll be fucking thrice – Edward?”

“Izzy,” Ed says, “how have you been?”

Chapter Text

He realizes it was a shit thing to ask the moment he takes a good look at the man – he’s thinner than he was back then, and he already was more muscle than anything else, he doesn’t keep his hair neatly combed and styled anymore – now it’s longer, graying but still black in points. He remembers how the both of them just did the opposite thing after coming back – he stopped cutting his hair and he grew the beard because they wouldn’t let him go two days without a shave in the army and he hated that they had a say in how he wore his hair, while Izzy kept his own in meticulous order. Not anymore, apparently, since he’s wearing a full beard, not the short goatee he used to take immaculate care of. Well, it’s still not a slouchy look at the end of it, but in between that, the nondescript old clothing he’s wearing, all browns and beiges when he used to like black most, and the tired way he’s looking at Ed while his eyes have bags under them to rival his own… he already knows the answer.

“Do I have to answer that?” Izzy asks, wearily, and then – “And who is he? But mostly, what do you want?”

“I – he’s a friend. Drove me here.”

“A friend. Sure. Edward, you were the one pointing out friends were commodities in your line of work.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking of switching it.”

“Don’t mind me,” Stede says, “this isn’t about – it’s about other things.”

Izzy sends him an unimpressed look, then focuses back on Ed. “What the hell do you want, Edward? I thought we were clear enough the last time we were in the same room.”

“And I feel like shit about it and I’ve felt like shit for years, and – listen, can we talk? Ten minutes, then I’ll be outta your hair.”

“You drove all this way to fucking talk to me? And who told you I was here?”

“You gave Jackie a return address,” Ed points out.

“Right. I did that.” He sighs. “Fine. Come in. However fucking long it takes. Since you came all this fucking way and all.” He turns towards the entrance and makes way for the both of them.

The inside of the cabin is – well. Izzy was never a slob, and it shows because the place is as neat as it goes, even if the only decorations inside that Ed can see are full whiskey bottles with the occasional bourbon thrown in the picture. There’s another room in the cabin, probably the bedroom, but as Izzy tells him to sit on one of the two wooden chairs without any kind of pillow, he doesn’t prod further. Stede doesn’t get a seat, but there’s just two of them and so he excuses himself, standing near the door. He probably can hear, but not much at this point.

“Right,” Izzy says. “Talk.”

Maybe he should have rehearsed a speech, before. Never mind. He can do this.

“Listen, I – I’m sorry it went the way it did. I – I can’t say I would have done things differently, because it was bad and none of us was headed someplace decent, but – it wasn’t right.”

“What does it even matter?”

“What the fuck does it mean, what does it matter? I – I should have tried to talk it out then. There was no reason to… just blow up like that.”

“Edward, being volatile was never a reason I was mad at you.”

“Yeah, well, it was maybe not such a bad trait when I was trying to not die in the middle of the fucking jungle and worked for the adrenaline rush, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it and – see, that’s the damned problem, I wasn’t good to live with, you shouldn’t – never mind. I can’t tell you how you should feel about it. Just – I’m sorry it went like it did. I’m sorry I never looked you up. We went through enough shit that I owe you that. And – I’m sorry I – I mean, I convinced you to come back. And then I didn’t even check on you.”

“Edward, you know what conclusions I came to since I fucked off here?”

Ed, who’s trying to not glare at the candles around the place and doesn’t want to ask Izzy how he hasn’t frozen to death in the winter, shakes his head.

“We’re – well, you look like you put yourself together, but whatever. We were both fucked up in the head at that point. I don’t think I’m not, I just – I’m too damned tired to do anything more than drink on it. You know why I decided I’d fuck off here? Because I thought that if I was in the middle of nowhere at least I wouldn’t get any reminder of how it was over there and I could just not put a face for anyone else. I didn’t with you, but – you get it. And honestly? At least I don’t have to pretend I’m an adjusted member of society, but I’m just fucking tired.”

“You – you do look it,” Ed says, unable to keep it in.

“And you look decent,” Izzy offers, “which – I mean, good for you. Really. Just, I really don’t think I can do better than this and I’m not faulting you for shit. You kept my ass alive and you had your fucking issues, no point in thinking it could have gone differently.”

“Come on now, you can’t do better than this?”

“Edward, don’t be fucking kidding me. I’ve barely finished high school and only Jackie would have me on back in the day and we all know it was to pay you a favor, here it’s just – whatever, you get by, but there isn’t a decent job around anyway that’d have me, I can’t live with other people anyway because everything sets me the fuck off, I can’t. That’s how it is. As much as I fucking hate it, the only time in my life I felt like I had some basic fucking purpose was when we were in the army and I didn’t wanna end up there either, like hell I’m enlisting again. And while I don’t feel like obliterating myself out of consciousness right now, that’s the fucking best I can do. So, no. I can’t. I made peace with it.”

“That’s – I thought I was a fucking pessimist,” Ed shakes his head. “Listen, that’s not – I mean, I thought I couldn’t do better than selling car parts and that my teachers were right about, y’know.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Turns out it wasn’t true. I, uh, got the GED. Couple weeks ago. I mean, he helped,” he nods towards Stede, “but – I managed. And not even scraping. I wouldn’t have even presumed it, two years ago. What – what we had to do doesn’t have to mean shit. Especially if it’s, like, wasting your life away.”

“Oh, and so what should I be doing now according to you? Because the VA ain’t helping me and you know it. Please, just – I’m glad you’ve got your shit together. I really am. And for what it’s worth… well. You showed up. That’s more than anyone related to me has ever thought to do in my entire life.” He looks down at the table and Ed desperately wants to say that the bar is set too low, even if he is the least person with the right to point that out. He keeps his mouth shut. “But – do you have to make me say it?”

“What, Izzy?”

“I’m not an idiot. Friends don’t drive you all the way to West Virginia. If that’s your type, guess I had no hope in the first place. And I’m glad you found it. I’m not so delusional I can’t see you look way better now. Just… I thought you’d be it. And it wasn’t meant to be. I’m fine with it. But don’t tell me it can be that much different, because it can’t.”

Ed knew that, and he honestly never quite knew how to deal with it. He doesn’t particularly want to re-open that wound, but – they do have to talk about it.

“I – I’m sorry I couldn’t. It… wasn’t like that for me.”

“I knew from the beginning,” Izzy shakes his head, pouring himself a glass from the nearest bourbon bottle. “It’s fine.” Ed has doubts about that if he can’t be sober after saying it.

“Can I just – if you knew, why did you stick around? Didn’t that make you miserable?”

“Oh, because I could do any better? I liked you that way. It was enough. Can we just not discuss this anymore?”

“Izzy, I thought I couldn’t do shit and that I’d buy my stupid fishing boat and die alone and – well.”

“Well?”

He nods towards Stede, who seems to get that this is about to become private and excuses himself before walking out of the room.

“I ran into that guy over there whom I like very fucking much when I thought it was a closed chapter, I got the damned GED and since he’s planning on running off to Canada to avoid the draft I’m – half in mind of going with.” He never even admitted it to himself before this very moment, but the second it comes out of his mouth, he knows it’s what he wants.

“... On a whim?”

“I don’t know if it is,” Ed says, “but – I think I want to. And you know what, I’m – I’ve been happy. Actually happy. I thought I forgot how it felt like. And I gave up on that shit. You never were such a horrid person that you couldn’t do better than fucking me, Iz.”

“Wait, he wants to run away to Canada? Looks like a guy whose –”

“Don’t say whose father pays to make him dodge it,” Ed sighs. “His father’s a right piece of shit. And yes, he does. It was the deal, actually. He’d help me with the GED, I’d help him run.”

“Romantic,” Izzy snorts. “But if going to Canada is what works for you, go. I mean, you were never happy at any point since I met you. I don’t think being delusional about it helps anyone. And your fucking point?”

“My fucking point is that if you stay holed up here then you don’t even give yourself a chance to do anything else. And – listen, this is gonna sound selfish as fuck, but I didn’t drag you back here kicking and screaming thinking you’d just be miserable.”

“I can’t make myself not miserable for you, Edward. That’s not how it fucking works. And even if I decided to go out there or something like that where the fuck do I go? Please. At least here no one does interviews before hiring you and they all know how the hell I tick. Not that I like it, but. Whatever.”

He wishes he could argue with that point. He can’t. But it’s just wrong. He shakes his head. “That’s nowhere near healthy.”

“Yeah, well, you were the people person, not me. Let it go, Edward. It’s fine. If you want to stay for a drink you’re free to, even if it won’t be too great, but just – let it go.”

Ed figures he will… for now, but this is just irking him. “Fine,” he says. “Just – I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“‘S water under the bridge,” Izzy shakes his head. “I made peace with it.”

“Yeah, well.” Ed can’t help pressing on. He has to do something before he leaves here. “Listen, did you even have lunch?”

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Just – fuck this, I’m gonna put something together, if your pantry isn’t completely fucking empty.”

“It’s not. Matches are in the first drawer if you wanna lit up the stove.”

“Then fuck off. You can talk to Stede while I do.”

“What do I even say to him?”

“Just let him talk. And don’t worry, you can bond over shared disdain for the army.”

“Still can’t believe that guy has disdain for the army.”

“In spades,” Ed says, and he heads for the kitchenette figuring that maybe if he focuses on putting a decent meal together he’ll at least have done something more than just showing up dishing advice, maybe he’ll think of something better than that, and maybe when they leave he’ll feel like he actually did make up for how badly he let things spiral back in the day. Maybe.

– –

Obviously, since the place has no electricity, the only stuff he finds in the pantry is canned food, which is another whole damned issue, but at least there’s enough for some edible tomato soup, so he sets on trying to do it with whatever spices he finds around the kitchen– at the end of it, by the time it’s simmering, it does look like it won’t kill them upon immediately eating it, and so he lets it boil. He glances out of the window and – well. It looks like Stede and Izzy are talking. Izzy’s smoking a cigarette, or better, he’s chain smoking because he can see three other studs put off on the ground. He also shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the glass in the windows is thin and he can actually hear the moment he gets closer, and fuck he should just knock on the glass and make sure they know he’s there –

“– not what I pegged you for, I guess,” Izzy sort-of-painfully-admits as he takes a drag.

“Well, good that I’m surpassing expectations,” Stede replies.

“Yeah, well. You won’t fuck him over, will you?”

“No,” Stede replies immediately, and Ed’s never going to get adjusted to the way he’s just so sure when he answers that. “I couldn’t. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but –”

“Don’t fucking think on it again,” Izzy interrupts him. “I wish I’d have fucking lied at the visit every damned day of my life, not that it would have been much of an improvement, but don’t. If anything, if I had any reason to respect you, that’s one.”

“Well, thanks,” Stede says with a small shrug. “But – excuse me if I don’t believe you really can’t do better than that.” He nods towards the cabin.

“Fuck off. I can shoot. That’s fucking about it.”

“Do you get by shooting people around here?”

“No, smartass. I get by doing what manual work they give me.”

“Then you can do other things.”

“That’s not what you call qualified and I can’t hold jobs for long anyway. Can you not charity case me?”

“I’m not doing that,” Stede replies. “I just – listen, I don’t know you but he does and he does care about you and I don’t like to see people putting themselves down when they’re obviously better than whatever it is they think.”

“Oh, I’m obviously better?”

“Yes,” Stede says, “and for what it’s worth, I get that thinking your father watches you from the afterlife and hates everything about what you’re doing is great, but it’s not worth it in the long run if it means being miserable.”

“Wish I could tell you to shut up,” Izzy sighs, “but you obviously know what the fuck is that deal.”

Oh, so Stede did tell him.

“Whatever. Just be good for him. I couldn’t. Someone as well fucking might. I need to drink something.”

Ed immediately heads for the door, saying he was going to take a breath and to not touch the soup, and then joins Stede near the four spent cigarettes still fuming on the ground.

“How much did you hear?”

“The end,” Ed replies, not even asking how Stede knew he was listening. It was probably written on his face.

“I was wondering,” Stede says. “Maybe we should just – call and ask if they’re okay with it and then give him Jim’s number.”

“... Wait, what?” Ed hadn’t even thought of that, but – now that Stede says it...

“It’s not like they lack space at the Revenge,” Stede shrugs. “If he can do manual work, whatever it means to him, they probably could use it. Maybe he could try it out? Also, didn’t he say he only felt like he had a purpose in the army? That’d be team work.”

“Don’t they take people in, like, on recommendation unless you already knew them?”

“Yeah, and we were there for a month and some and they know us. Hey, at worst he comes back here, but at least they do have electricity over there, don’t they?”

Ed thinks about it. He doesn’t know how Izzy of all people would fit with that bunch of lunatics at the Revenge considering that he never was the most social person to begin with. But – well. What does he know? He has a clue that if anyone could change that, that’d be them.

“Can’t be wasted time. There was a phone cabin down the road. If you wanna go call while I check on the food –”

“Right,” Stede nods, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Sure. And – y’know, that’s nowhere near a bad idea.”

“We’ll see if they agree. I’ll go call then.”

Ed nods and he goes off towards the phone cabin.

He goes back to check on the soup while Izzy sips slowly from a glass of whiskey muttering something about not even rich people being predictable anymore and the world going to pieces, and says nothing else.

At least the soup is edible, he thinks after tasting it. He turns off the stove and says he’ll go get Stede and Izzy can at least be a decent host and set the table, and while Izzy does, grumbling under his breath, he leaves the cabin to find Stede on the doorstep.

“So?”

“Jim said that if none of us think he’d be too much of a jerk they’re not gonna kick him out if he decides to show up.”

“Well, not bad,” Ed says. “So, you’re going to try my attempt at making canned tomato soup taste vaguely decent?”

“Lead the way,” Stede says, walking inside the cabin, and well, at least Izzy does have a clean tablecloth and a set of plates, glasses and cutlery that’s not overtly mismatched.

The soup is edible.

It could have been a lot worse.

– –

“I should call who?” Izzy says as he stares at the piece of paper Stede just handed him.

“The friends at whose place we’re staying,” Stede shrugs. “I mean, it’s –”

“Do I look like the person who joins a fucking commune?”

“Better than being on your own. Anyway, they said to call if you’re ever interested. They’re nice people. And they’d have something for you to do, don’t worry. At worst you can cut vegetables for Roach.”

“Who the hell is named Roach?”

“He just goes by it,” Ed says. “Listen, you don’t have to. Just, they’re… nice, if that word applies, and I’ve been there a month and honestly, I could do with another year for how better it was in comparison to anywhere else I’ve lived. What do you have to lose anyway? If it doesn’t work out no one is cheating you out of this cabin.”

“Doubtful,” Izzy says, then shrugs and pockets the number. “Guess I’ll think about it. Just – we’re fine, Edward. If I drink myself to death it’s not your fault.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Ed says, “and I mean it. I’ll – I mean, I said, so I don’t think –”

“That’s fine. If I call them I suppose they’ll have your number.”

“All – all right. Well. I’d – please call them. As a last favor.”

“You really are set on this, huh. Fine. I will. Now scram or you’re not getting back there anytime soon, not with that shit car anyway.”

“Yeah, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Izzy rolls his eyes. “You can’t even drive a stick, last I recall.”

“He can.”

“Rich boys being full of surprises, huh,” Izzy shakes his head. “Right. Off you go. I’ll call them, just stop looking at me like that.”

Stede raises his hands in defeat before offering one to Izzy, who shakes it after staring at it for five seconds.

Ed doesn’t know what the fuck he should be doing, and in the end of it they settle for what’s probably the most awkward hug in history, but at least Izzy doesn’t kick him the moment he tries to.

Ed tries to open his mouth after, Izzy glares at him and tells him to not even try it, and at that point they can just head back for the car and drive off.

“Do you think he’ll call?” Ed asks when they’re already five miles past the cabin, headed back towards the highway.

“I think he will,” Stede replies. “I mean, I – when we talked, the one thing I’m sure of is that however bad it was over there he missed being… y’know. Part of a group that actually looked out for each other? I think he will. Maybe not now, but he will. And if he does, I mean. You’ll probably be there while you work your things out, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Uh, I guess so.”

“... Ed, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

He could stall and take his time to think about something he might have already decided anyway.

Or he could just go and say it.

“Can you pull over?”

They’re still on a backroad with no one else in sight, so Stede pulls over on the side, making sure to leave space for any car coming by. “Right. What is it?”

He swallows. “I – I think I want to come with you,” he blurts, figuring there’s no point in holding it back.

What if he says no, a treacherous little voice whispers in the back of his head.

Stede’s eyes widen. “Wait, you mean, coming to Canada? But – but then you can’t –”

“Listen,” Ed says, “to have a fishing boat and do that job, or even if I wanted to do the sailing restaurant thing, I’d need to do another exam and no way it’d be before a few months at least, which would take time. And then I’d only have a permit to fish and stuff in US waters, but not in Canadian, and I don’t know if I could just go and show up wherever you choose to live, I mean, I could, but not permanently, and – I just – it might be a year at least before it’s finalized. I don’t – I don’t want to wait that long to see you once in a while.”

“I would wait, you know, I –”

“Stede, boats are boats. I can just get Jackie’s guy to give me some advice and either change the money into Canadian dollars or open an account there, I dunno, but he probably could do that, and then – I mean, I can just take the exam there and buy the stupid boat there and that’d be better, wouldn’t it?”

“I mean – yes, of course it would, but – Ed, I’d just say it’s because of the draft and they’d take me. I don’t know if you could just like that. I mean, I don’t know about how that works if you’re a US citizen who’s not in my current predicament, but I don’t think it’d be as easy.”

Which – yeah. It’s a problem, but –

“Listen, I just – I can apply normally. Which is – I mean, it’s not a given I’d get accepted as soon as you would but – I don’t know, I’ve got dual citizenship and Canada’s fucking Commonwealth, maybe that gets you in faster, I’ll look up into it, but – I can’t wait a year. I can take the stupid license exam there and I can do anything I’d like to do here over there, I can’t – I can’t have back all the time I’d lose if I waited and honestly, who the fuck cares where I settle? I don’t give a fuck either way. I’m not attached to Charleston or anywhere near it either. And you know fucking what, at least over there I don’t risk ending up in jail if they find us kissing on the side of the road, so I don’t really see a reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Ed –”

“I – the moment we get back I’m looking into it, I’ll apply before I drive you, then – I dunno, I should probably see my mother or something before that goes through but the second I’m accepted I’m coming over.”

“You’re – you’re set on that, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes so easy, now that he knows Stede wouldn’t say no to it. “I am. I just – Stede, let’s be fucking real. How much did you think about it before you packed your bags and came to my stupid trailer instead of doing what your father wanted?”

“... not much at all,” Stede admits. “I just – I knew I couldn’t do it and so I didn’t. It wasn’t even an option. Why – oh.”

“Yeah, oh. The moment I thought what if I go with him, well. I can’t think of any other option, so.”

“I – I mean, yes, of course I’d want you to come, of course I don’t want to wait a year before seeing you whenever you can come, I – there’s nothing else I want more, for –” He sounds so flustered, as if he’s so happy he can’t even conceive it, and if the deal wasn’t already sealed, well.

“Then I’m coming,” Ed says, his tone final, and then he’s thought fuck it and climbed over the gear shift and dropped in Stede’s lap, and Stede says something about him being a fucking lunatic before he pulls the seat back and Ed can actually move his legs enough that he’s straddling him.

“Are you sure –” Stede starts, but from the way he’s looking at him, he very much is down with this.

“No one took this stupid road since we got in it before lunch, I’d have heard. No one’s here. Yeah, I’m fucking sure.”

“Oh, fuck this, not like I can resist,” Stede says, and a moment later he has his hands on Ed’s belt and Ed moved up on his knees, the left be damned, it can hurt later, he doesn’t care, and he’s managed to get out of his trousers after a whole damned lot of contorsions while the car fucking creaks under them.

“Fuck,” Stede says, “do we even have –”

“Wait,” Ed says, reaching for the glove compartment and grabbing some more Vaseline that was stuck in it. “There we go.”

“Jim keeps it in the car?”

“You think we’re the only ones who need it? Never fucking mind, please just –”

“Yeah, yeah, a second, fuck –” Stede grabs the Vaseline after Ed opens it and a moment later slick, cold fingers are prodding at his asshole and Ed’s sinking on them, he doesn’t care if it’s too much at once, he never shied away from a bit of pain and it’s not like he’s ever hurt seriously when it came to Stede, and –

It’s just – the way Stede’s looking up at him as if he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him makes something in him unfurl every single fucking time, and as he sinks down on his fingers he tries to relax as much as the position allows him, the car creaking again, but he can’t fucking care less, not when Stede’s other hand is running over his back, under the shirt, so warm –

“Do you even know what you do to me?” Stede breathes as he curls those long fingers inside him and makes him almost scream, except that doing it when they’re already in the open would be a bad idea and so he bites down on his tongue.

“Maybe,” Ed whimpers, “I have a clue, but –”

“You drive me completely mad, if you told me –” He slides his fingers back, then forward – “one year ago that I’d be doing something like this I wouldn’t have believed it for a second, and – oh you feel so good –”

Ed clenches around his fingers, once, twice, rolling his hips, and Stede makes a noise that goes straight to his gut, in the good way, heat spreading all over his veins, he doesn’t remember the last time his blood was running this hot, and when Stede adds a third finger he has to lean down and kiss him so he doesn’t scream out loud, and then –

Stede starts going slow, which is not what he had pictured, but – he starts lowering the pace, and when he curls his fingers he keeps them there and he’s stretching him as he does and Ed groans, gasping into his mouth and then moaning when Stede’s other hand grasps the hair at the back of his head, tugging at it and oh it feels so good he’s going to fucking burst –

“You’re a marvel,” Stede breathes, his voice half-shaking. “Fuck, look at you, I just – you’re so good to me, you know that?”

“I – wouldn’t, before,” Ed blurts, thinking of how he’s never had sex with anyone who said that, who made him feel like they weren’t lying – with Izzy it was just intense in a way that left him off-center half of the time and they barely even talked outside it and it was never – intense like this, and he never felt like there was something just so fucking soft at the root of it

(every other person he fucked with was just – they got each other off, and then there was that time with fucking Jack just before he got sent to war that he probably should just fucking forget and how stupid could they be risking to get caught fucking in the bathroom in the goddamned stupid factory they were working underpaid in just because they could and they hated the owners, what the hell were they thinking)

except with Stede it is and this is not what he had thought would happen the moment he hauled his ass out of that march, but –

“No one’s told you that?”

“Not – not really,” he blurts, Stede’s fingers curling inside him again, and then Stede’s moved back and oh oh he’s about to –

“Too bad,” Stede says, “because to me, you are. Always. All the damned time,” he almost sobs, and then he’s moved his dick right over Ed’s ass and he’s pushing up and Ed immediately lowers his hips down, going slow so that he can sink on Stede’s dick and fuck he’s so hard he can feel the stretch for every single inch but that’s fine, he wants to, oh damn it it feels so good, and he rolls his hips once, twice, then again and Stede moans as he drags his head down before moving his hands to his sides, grasping there, and then he pulls and –

He did put up muscle while at the Revenge, Ed thinks for a second before his brain short-circuits – Stede’s fucking raising him and lowering him down again while Ed tries to meet his movements and he’s fucking up into him deep and hard and oh fuck yes yes yes it feels perfect, it feels like he’s being split open in the best way and he’s just – the car is creaking louder and Stede’s breaths are echoing inside the car and he just – he needs –

“Come in me,” he blurts, “please just do it, do it –”

“And how could I refuse when you ask so nicely, my dear?”

Ed keens at that, who ever fucking called him my dear in his entire life, or my anything, not like this, and then Stede’s fucking into him harder and –

“Touch yourself,” he says, “I want you to come on me, Ed, please –”

“Fuck,” Ed moans, “yeah, yeah, fuck –” He does, reaching down and jerking himself off while Stede manouvers his hips the way he wants to and keeps on hitting the right spot over and over, so slow and so deep Ed’s going to go fucking insane, and the moment Stede goes still and moans his name and parts his mouth softly as he thrusts up for the last time and comes inside him as Ed clenches down, Ed immediately follows because he can’t fucking hold on anymore, and he’s coming all over Stede’s shirt and they’re completely ruining their clothing and he can’t care less because Stede’s grinning up at him and he feels like he’s floating as he leans down and kisses him while Stede’s still buried deep inside him and as Stede kisses him back so gently, so softly, as if he’s the most precious thing he’s ever handled in his life, Ed knows that he’s not going back on his plan to fucking follow him wherever he goes.

He’s sure of it. Completely, one hundred percent fucking sure.

– –

He calls Jackie first thing as soon as they’re back at the ranch – he says he’ll be with everyone else shortly and then asks if he can use the phone. Jim tells him to knock himself out and he heads to the room immediately.

“Spanish Jackie’s. You better have a good reason to call on a fucking Saturday night.”

“Jackie? ‘S me,” Ed says.

“Oh. Did you find Izzy?”

“I did. Still kicking. Anyway, I need to ask you or your guy or both a couple favors.”

“Shoot. Too bad I fucking owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, let’s say that – I’m planning on relocating.”

“Where now?”

“To Canada.”

“To – oh. Right. Guess – yeah. Fine. You want my husband to make sure your money is viable for starting your business over there?”

“What if I do?”

“And have you thought about your excuse to go there? ‘Cause you ain’t deserting, as far as I know.”

“No, uh. Figured I’d just apply normally. As soon as possible.”

“Right,” Jackie says, “then good luck managing that, but. Ah, fuck it. Listen, let’s say that I pay you a huge favor on top of asking my husband to change shit at the last minute. Do we consider all our debts squared?”

“How huge is that favor?” Considering that the only reason she’s still open is that when a former business partner of hers was about to send her into bankruptcy on a technical legality he lent her enough money to stay afloat for a year in exchange of favors when he needed them, it should be… very huge.

“Let’s say that another husband knows someone who owes him a favor at the immigration office.”

Ed gasps. “Are you shitting me?”

“Nah. It’s the one that used to… help people when needed, if they were in situations like yours. He knows people in a lot of immigration offices. Anyway, there’s favors being owed. Let’s say that you apply all properly after we sort out your money, the husband in question calls his friend and we make sure your application has priority and gets approved within… well. Three months. Don’t think any application gets processed in less time than that. Does that square us?”

“Fucking hell, yeah, that squares us. If you’re sure that’d work out –”

“I’m sure that’d work out. So, do I ask him?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ask him. Thanks, I –”

“Save it. Won’t miss your face.”

She gives him an appointment for next week concerning the money, and that’s one done. He picks up the phone again, calls Ivan at the number Fang left him and asks him about Stede’s passage – Ivan immediately agrees and Ed says they’ll meet him on June 1st. Right. Two weeks from now. Then –

Then it’s three months. Which is a lot less than a year.

He can handle three months. He closes the call, takes a deep breath and heads for the backyard where everyone else has been while he was making his calls.

“ – can’t you just sing stuff by literally anyone else? No offense but I could sing fucking Pie in the Sky in my sleep.” Was that Roach? Probably.

“See, you don’t even remember the title,” the Swede huffs, and wait, are they discussing his limited choice of songs to cover? “It’s The Preacher and the Slave, by the way.”

“That doesn’t exactly change –”

“You do not understand,” the Swede goes on, “that it’s a matter of national pride! You needed a guy from my humble hometown to write good music about strikes, that’s what it is, and by the way, there isn’t a word in those songs that doesn’t apply to your not-so-fair country to this day.”

“He’s got a point,” Olu concedes, “I mean, what didn’t fit?”

For a second, no one replies. “See? I’m right!” The Swede says as Ed gets out of the house and heads for the empty spot next to Stede.

“Bob Dylan exists if you like protest songs,” Frenchie says, “not that I’m judging your choice, but maybe some variety –”

“Bob Dylan was not born in my hometown and he can’t write a funny song in his sleep. Can you imagine Bob Dylan writing Casey Jones the Union Scabber? No, you can’t!”

“He’s not too wrong about that either,” Frenchie concedes.

Ed sits down next to Stede, who has wisely kept out of the entire debate.

“And what do you think?” Roach asks him as he sits down. “Please talk some sense into him. Maybe some of us want to hear a change of repertoire.”

“Uh,” Ed says, “honestly, I don’t feel so strongly about this matter, but hey, guy stuck it to the man and got murdered for it and no one knows him outside that other one song no one remembered until two years ago, if that’s what he likes to sing in public let him?”

“Thank you,” the Swede replies triumphantly. Roach cries betrayal, everyone else tries to get the noise down and Ed catches the chance to lean down closer to Stede.

“I think Jackie knows someone that can get me in Canada in three months. And you’ve got a ride there June 1st.”

“Oh,” Stede says, sounding elated, “really?”

“Yes. I’ll take those three months to fix up everything here and see my mother, but – well. I don’t know where you plan on going or if you’re staying where Roach’s relatives are, but I’ll see you there by then, yeah?”

“... Yeah. Yeah, that’d be – that’d be perfect,” Stede nods, looking so happy he could burst. Ed drops his hand into Stede’s, and suddenly he can barely hear everyone else around them. “You’re sure, right?”

“Told you,” Ed says, “I’ve never been – I’ve never had so much fun than since I met you. I’ve never been better. I think – I think you make Ed happy, so why should I not be sure?”

“And what about you making me happy, too?”

“Good to hear,” Ed grins before kissing him, unable to resist.

“Get a fucking room!” Jim shouts, and a second later an orange hits the back of his head while Stede mutters ouch and – oh. Jim hit them with two oranges at the same time?

Somehow that sounds absolutely in character.

“Right, right, we’re cooling it,” Ed concedes, but they hold hands throughout the rest of the argument and as they share the joint Buttons hands them when he decides that the Joe Hill conversation has gone on too long.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this – fine. He’s not even worrying about Izzy too much because they talked it through and he wants to hope he’ll call, and they have their ride, and he’ll follow Stede in three months and he can move on with his life and be happy with it.

Fuck, that’s a new sensation, isn’t it just?

– –

“Are you absolutely sure –”

“Oh, for – you two managed to do a round trip with that shitty car and if you have to go to New York without attracting too much fucking attention you can’t go with that, and you’d be back in two days or so, just take the damned keys before I think back on it, yeah?”

Jim slams the keys of the actually viable car with the blessed automatic shift gear in Ed’s hands, gives Stede a pat on the back telling him to not get caught and then gets back inside the house mumbling about having done their part.

Well. At least they do have a decent ride.

Stede, who is currently wearing a pair of nondescript trousers and shirt for the first time in ages, but then again they said they wouldn’t try to attract attention, looks at Lucius – who drove here specifically because it’s May 30th and they need to leave – and opens his mouth.

Lucius raises a hand. “I am going to send your stuff the moment we have an address. If you tell me to take care of your books being packaged well for the, oh, thirtieth time, I’m keeping them.”

Stede closes his mouth.

“Good. Don’t get caught, if you want me to leave your father a letter or so let me know after you know they’re not kicking you back here and don’t do anything stupid. Or too impulsive.”

“I think I had enough for a while,” Stede says, but he looks like he’s moved, and then he’s hugged everyone close and swore he’ll write before grabbing his one suitcase and joining Ed in the car, sitting on the passenger seat and telling Ed to leave before he decides to risk his neck and stay hidden here, after all.

As they drive off, Ed can only think three more months, three more months, three more months, and I get to spend them there, it could be so much fucking worse, couldn’t it.

– –

“You know,” Stede says later that night as they lay in a bed in a proper hotel not too far from Raleigh that Stede insisted to get because if it’s their last night together for the next three months, at least, he’s not going to spend it in a shitty place, and he had agreed, “I was terrified the asshole would have paid off some border patrol cop to see if I’d try to get out of State.”

“Maybe he didn’t even think you would.”

“Oh, absolutely. I mean, he doesn’t think I have it in me to do anything more than hide around the area.”

“I’m just sorry I won’t ever have the chance of decking him in the face.”

“Your intentions are duly noted,” Stede says, leaning down for a kiss, then another, and fuck, Ed hates this is the last time they get to do this for a while, but there’s no other choice, is it?

From the way Stede’s looking at him, he knows he’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Hey,” Ed says, “you know I’d go with you in a heartbeat if I could, yeah?”

“I mean,” Stede says, running his fingers over the side of Ed’s face, and he shivers, and not for the first time he wishes the beard wasn’t there because it’s just in the fucking way and he wants to feel Stede’s fingers on his face the way he does on the rest of his body, “you know I’d stay with you in a heartbeat if I could, don’t you?”

Oh, he does know that, as much as it might have been hard to believe, but he does, he can’t doubt that with the way Stede sounds so sure.

“I know, but I don’t want you to risk shit. I can wait. It won’t even be that long. Just –”

Stede leans down and kisses him again as he moves a leg in between his own, nudging them apart, and then he moves downwards, moving the beard aside for the moment as he sucks at the skin around the base of his neck, and then he moves back slightly and –

“Dear, could – can you turn?”

“On my stomach?”

“Yes,” Stede says, and oh, oh, Ed does it immediately, feeling himself shiver with the anticipation of it, but he knows why he was asked and oh yes he does fucking want it, he does because –

The moment Stede’s hands grab at his ass and part it and he leans down and puts his tongue right over the rim he keens against the pillow, shuddering as he feels Stede’s tongue work its way in slow, and – fuck, it’s not the first time they do this and he knows Stede likes it for some reason he’s not quite grasped yet because sure as hell it wasn’t something anyone’s ever done to him before or that got brought up much, but he’s just – his tongue is warm and soft and it’s working him open steadily, and – he swirls it in one direction just to switch without warning and it makes Ed fucking melt against the mattress, his dick leaking against the sheets and hardening at once, as if he hadn’t been already, and he’s moaning into the pillow as Stede’s hands grasp his hips and he keeps on licking him open. He doesn’t know how long he has worked his tongue inside him when he leans back and sucks ever so slightly at his rim and Ed shudders hard enough he probably half-kicked him off the bed, but then Stede just laughs and fucking pets his sides while he shakes for how fucking intense that was, and then he’s put his tongue on him again and started plunging in again and oh hell he could fuck him just with that and Ed would probably come at some point but then he’s moving back and plunging two lubed fingers inside him and –

Fuck.

For someone who never even had sex before that night in Ed’s trailer, he certainly learned fast, hasn’t he, Ed lets himself think, and then he’s biting down on the pillow because Stede’s curled his fingers inside him just the fucking perfect way and Ed’s going to go fucking insane because he knows exactly where to push now and –

“You know I can’t get enough of that, don’t you?” Stede breathes as he thrusts a third finger inside him.

Ed is going to fucking come untouched at this rate and he can’t even feel anywhere near embarrassed about it.

“Wouldn’t think – my ass tasted that good,” he tries to joke, but then Stede’s slid his fingers in and out and in and out and Ed’s arched up again and then Stede’s grabbed his hips and flipped him over and now that is also hot in ways he’s not even going to try and describe right now, and –

“All of you is absolutely exquisite,” Stede blurts, and from anyone else it would have sounded ridiculous, cheesy, probably half a mood killer, but damn the impossible idiot Ed’s completely fucking gone for actually fucking means it as he parts Ed’s legs and grabs the right one and brings it in the usual position himself and then slides home inside him right then and maybe Stede’s hands are shaking ever so slightly and maybe for a moment it feels like he’s going to lose equilibrium but then he’s right inside him and Ed wants to fucking keep him there as he clenches down on his cock.

“God, fuck, yes, absolutely perfect, darling you’re a fucking marvel –”

“You’re the one doing – all the work, love,” Ed breathes, letting his back relax against the mattress as Stede keeps on thrusting and thrusting and thrusting –

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still one. And I’m going to hate every single moment I’ll have to wait for you.”

“‘M going to hate every single moment I have to stay here,” Ed admits as Stede fucks him harder, and then it’s suddenly not so slow-paced anymore, it’s faster and faster and deeper and every time Stede fucks into him Ed sees damned stars as he arches up and clenches down on him and pulls him as close as he possibly can, and it’s true, he will hate it, but what are a few months against maybe a whole life of this?

The thought takes him off-kilter – he imagines doing this every morning, somewhere theirs, without anyone else possibly barging in, without obligations, without worries, just them and a bed and Stede’s face looking down at him and saying I love you over and over, and maybe it’s fucking embarrassing that is what sends him over the edge and spilling all over Stede’s stomach just as Stede groans and comes inside him and stays buried right there as he does, and he’s trembling and floating as he grasps at Stede’s back and pulls him closer, fingertips running through the sweat at the back of his nape, making that pretty blonde hair stick to his skin, and –

“Love you too,” he says into the silence of the room when Stede’s pretty much fallen on top of him without moving and it’s all so warm and still and being sticky isn’t anything that makes him scrunch his nose yet and he never wants Stede to pull out.

Stede makes a noise against his throat and holds him closer, and Ed doesn’t even attempt to move.

He’ll miss this in a short enough time, after all.

– –

“Will you – will you write the moment you’re settled?” Ed asks as they stand just outside Ivan’s car. Ivan is waiting for Stede at the driver’s seat and thankfully not looking at them like he’d like for them to hurry the fuck up. He hates how much his voice is shaking.

“Of course,” Stede says. “I’d call, but –”

“Don’t risk it. Last thing anyone needs is people tracing you before you get all the papers and so on. Just – I’ll try to tell Jackie to make it fast. I’m – I wish I could –”

“Ed, you worked your ass off to not do illegal shit, I’m not agreeing to that. After all, you’d be coming… legally, right?”

“Right,” Ed says, grasping Stede’s hands. “Just – I love you. I’ll miss you. A whole fucking lot. Wish we could just get on that car and fuck off somewhere else, but something tells me that’s not doable, is it?”

“I don’t think so,” Stede replies, sounding sad. “I’d have thought nice new names for us, if we had gone.”

“Save them just in case. Hey, huh,” he says, reaching in his pocket, “just – don’t take it badly but – I know you don’t have your mother’s money and you probably never have. Might have told Jackie’s guy to change some of my money into Canadian dollars earlier than the rest.” He brings out a thick envelope, putting it in Stede’s hands. “Please just take it, all right? If anything it’d help you get settled.”

“Ed, I –”

“Stede. Please just take it, all right?”

He nods, his throat working furiously fast as he does and slides it into the inner pocket of his pretty summer teal coat.

“All right. I’ll – I’ll write. And I’ll see you very soon, right?”

“You can fucking bet on it,” Ed says, squeezing his hands again before letting him go, and his heart misses a beat when Stede leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth.

– –

“Hey, you’ve got mail!” Roach says barging into the room, and Ed’s just extremely thankful he says nothing when he finds him with his head buried in Stede’s pillow. It might have been two weeks since he left but it still smells faintly like him and he can’t help himself, but he thinks he did earn some slack here, considering they won’t see each other for who knows how fucking long.

“From Fang?”

“No, from my fucking cousin,” Roach rolls his eyes as he slams an envelope on the desk. “Can’t believe I’m here playing postman for you. Whatever. Knock yourself out.”

Wait, if it’s from his cousin –

He grabs the envelope – it’s already opened, the outside one addressed to Roach from his cousin, but there’s another letter inside and he’d recognize the Edward in Stede’s handwriting anywhere. He tears open that one envelope and takes out the sheet inside it, unfolding it at once.

My dearest,

I hope this finds you well, as much as I wish we could have just gone together. Be assured that I’ve been missing you since the moment I crossed the border. The whole procedure hasn’t been as terrible as it could have been – I explained my situation and they sent me to Montreal in order to work out the legal bits and process the application, but it’s been accepted at once. I still have more paperwork to process and so on, but as I had a place to stay here in Québec City they agreed to let me go as long as I check in on each due date. Roach’s family has been extremely accommodating and they assured me I could stay as long as I needed, so I suppose I will until my paperwork is in order and I can look for a job – good thing that I remember enough French to get by, right? Of course, I could go somewhere else, but I think I quite like this city so far and the port area is absolutely lovely – I’m sending you a few photos I took to give you an idea. I think you would like it here, hoping that I’m not being too presumptuous. Anyway, as much as I’m glad I’m here and that I don’t have to worry about being shipped overseas anymore or about my father or about a marriage I didn’t want, I miss you terribly and I can’t wait to see you again, and be sure I will kiss you the second I do. You really can do it here. How novel, isn’t it?

Please say hi to everyone else at the Revenge and feel free to write to me at this address until I find my own accommodations. Be assured that I wish every single moment that we didn’t have to be apart.

I love you,

Stede

He’s not going to cry.

He’s not going to fucking cry, he thinks, except he’s wiping at his eyes anyway.

Fuck, fuck and fuck. He fishes in the envelope, taking out the pictures – he remembers that Stede had an old camera in his belongings that he must have packed with the one bag he brought. It’s – yeah. It’s very pretty, with beautiful, historical houses and buildings right behind the span of clear water, and large streets with more three-storey buildings at their sides, and he can imagine them in different colors instead of the stark black and white of the photos, and then he looks at one that shows the entire pier of the port, and for a second he thinks, I could keep a ship there.

He smiles at the pictures, putting them carefully in the envelope again.

He thinks he needs to call Jackie and ask for an update on his situation right the hell now.

– –

A month later, he’s about to get on his bike and drive straight back to the Revenge, hoping he won’t have to go anywhere but Jackie’s anytime soon as he leaves his mother’s house. Good thing Jackie told him that his application is as good as accepted and they’re just letting a plausible amount of time pass before they send him the official answer.

He dragged himself here because he had to tell her and it was a long overdue conversation, and as much as she had sounded puzzled when he said he was relocating to Canada permanently, the moment she found out why – he hadn’t known how she’d react, but she gave him a tired smile and said that if one of them got to be happy then it was enough for her and to please write her and to not be a stranger, which – had been way more than he had figured would happen. Maybe he had tried to not lose his shit in the bad way when she told him that she knew he accepted to go to war for her benefit more than anything else and she knew what it took out of him and so she couldn’t begrudge him any happiness where he could find it.

Maybe. Or maybe he had lost his shit anyway and now he’s wiping at his eyes wondering how he’s managed to cry them out so much in the last few months when he managed not to for fucking years, but never mind that.

Anyway. He was about to get on the bike and then realizes that in place of the old shop selling meat that always was in front of the house there’s a barber now – a pretty nice one, Ed thinks. The inside is all clean and new, freshly renovated with pretty green walls, and suddenly he’s seeing his reflection in the window glass, and –

He always liked having long hair. He hated that he had to cut it when he was in the army, which is why he let it grow back immediately the moment he could. The beard, though –

He hasn’t exactly taken great care of it lately – the basics, sure, he trimmed it and so on and he never let it get out of control, but it’s work and it’s hot and maybe once it didn’t matter because if he felt it on his skin then he couldn’t be reminded of how it felt to have fucking blood and human viscera right on his face and he couldn’t risk being reminded of it every other moment because it felt too naked and vulnerable, and sure, it felt like a fuck you to his superiors to just let it grow, but –

Does he even still want it? Does he even still need it?

He looks inside the shop – the seats are all empty. If he’s leaving – and he is – does he want to just bring the baggage along, or –

Or does he want to start fresh?

Fucking hell, he thinks as he walks into the shop, it’s hair. It grows back, if I don’t like it.

He asks the barber to get rid of the beard and give his hair a minimum trim just to get rid of any split ends if there are any. The man gets down to it and he closes his eyes as he leans his head back.

When the towel falls from his now shaved face and the barber asks if he likes it, he faces himself in the mirror.

His hair doesn’t look any shorter, though the split ends definitely were taken care of.

His face, well. Fucking hell, he feels like he hasn’t seen it in too fucking long except for the picture he kept on the nightstand in the trailer, but – his skin is smooth and free of hair and his mouth is curling up in a small grin as he takes in the sight, and on top of some of Stede’s clothes that he had pretty much appropriated, the dark red jeans and another black silken shirt, he thinks – he thinks he likes what he’s seeing for the first time in… entirely too long.

“Sir? Do you need more adjustments with the hair, maybe?”

“No,” Ed says. “No, it’s perfect.”

He gives him a couple of dollars as an extra tip before he gets back on the bike and drives upstate.

He thinks he’s not going to tell Stede that he cut it off, in his next letter. Maybe he wants to see how he reacts when he shows up, hopefully soon.

He can’t fucking wait, and that’s when he realizes that it’s the first time in his entire life he’s actually excited for something like this, and he grins wider as he drives on. He thinks of how he didn’t think he had any prospects the day he flew back and set foot in Charleston again, and he thinks of what expects him now, and –

Fuck. Who’d have even thought?

Chapter Text

If anyone had told Stede a year ago that standing a mile from the border at Lac-Frontière, a city he had no idea existed before he checked what was the closest border town he could reach from Québec without too much hassle, would be the most anticipated moment of his existence he’d have laughed in their faces.

Except that now he’s right there, staring at the road leading into Maine that he can’t cross, not that he’s particularly interested right now, and he’s checking his wristwatch… well. Maybe a tad obsessively. He said around six PM when he called yesterday, he thinks. It’s five thirty. Fuck. It’s not late. You’re early. And you missed him and you counted down the days since you knew when he could come and you have already put his stuff in your apartment and you really need to chill he’s not going to bail on you.

He couldn’t, not when he had already had boxes sent to the apartment Stede’s been renting for the last month and a half – he got some help getting started by the student union he had been directed to at first, and even if he technically didn’t have qualifications, because he didn’t finish that degree now did he, he had a stroke of luck because he walked in front of a local community theater just as someone about wept in front of a sign asking urgently for a new director because theirs just bailed halfway through their Measure For Measure production three weeks earlier with no answer, he had stopped and said he had no experience but might have really wanted that job, and they were desperate enough to say that if he could manage to actually direct it they’d hire him.

He had managed, and now he has a paycheck that might not be six figures but gets him by doing something he loves and he’s absolutely dragging Ed to the rehearsals for Julius Caesar, the next play the theater’s showing, as soon as he gets settled in. Anyway, he had managed to rent a nice three-bedroom apartment in not too far from the docks, and the things he got sent from the Revenge about managed to decorate a third of it and the entirety of the very spacious closet that he absolutely doesn’t regret buying – well, he did ask Ed since it was his money and he immediately said to go for it, and it’s not like they weren’t sharing clothes in the first place anyway, right? Then Ed said he had a date for October 6th and that he’d send his shit over first so he could just get the bike and ride over to the border with his approved papers and then they’d just go to the nearest place to process them as he got cleared to do it – apparently whoever Jackie knew at customs really owed them a lot. Stede had gotten the boxes and placed in the apartment everything he could without feeling like he was overstepping, leaving the rest for Ed to put around the place if he wished to, and now it’s fucking October 6th, he took a train and a bus to get as far as here and he’s just staring at the damned border as if doing it might get Ed to appear out of nowhere when literally no one has come this way since he took his spot on the side of the road.

Get a grip, Bonnet, he’ll show up around six if not later –

Then he hears a sound he recognizes even too well, and looks up from his watch to the road where a familiar black motorcycle is crossing the border line and headed his way and oh fuck he’s early isn’t he, and he can’t help grinning at the sight as the bike gets closer and closer.

“You’re here!” He exclaims as Ed stops the bike.

“Never left,” a voice he hasn’t heard for too long replies as leather-gloved hands reach up to undo the helmet.

He barely manages to take in that Ed worn his dark red jeans for the trip, just over the boots he lent him that time at the frat party and that black silken shirt he seemed to really like, because then he’s pulled off the helmet and –

He thinks he’s gaping in the most unattractive way in existence, except that seeing Ed’s face without the beard showing from under the helmet was not what he had expected and – oh fuck. He’s just – he’s smiling like the cat who just ate the cream and he can actually see his whole mouth as he does and oh he’s so fucking lovely he can’t even put it into words, and –

“Wow,” Ed says, “that shocked? Does it look so terrible?” And – it actually sounds like he’s not entirely sure of that.

Stede realizes he just stared for what, a minute?

He takes a step forward, grabs Ed’s face in his hands, feeling the soft, bare skin under his fingertips, shaking his head. “Oh, no,” he says, “not at all. All the contrary. You look stunning. I just – took me by surprise.”

“Oh,” Ed says, and now Stede can see that his cheeks are flushing and fuck his heartbeat is so off the charts, “I just, well. Thought it might be time for a change. But I liked the hair long.”

“I love your hair long,” Stede says, “and I love seeing how pretty your jawline is, among the rest, but – ah, fuck that, I can’t – I can’t,” and then he moves forward and kisses Ed right there in the middle of the road, moving on his toes because he’s still sitting on the bike and he’s slightly higher, and then Ed’s arm is around his waist and he’s dragging him forward and thankfully no one is around but it’s not like they could do anything about that, could they, and when he moves back for air Ed’s laughing against his mouth and shaking his head and he’s so warm, fuck –

“I missed you so fucking much,” Stede confesses.

“Yeah, because I fucking didn’t? Come on, let me just get you the second helmet and then we can stop at the next proper diner, you can tell me where I drive and I sure as hell hope you treated my stuff well.”

“Oh, don’t worry, your records are waiting for you in a bookshelf made just for them.”

“Good,” Ed winks, and then stands up, gets the helmet from where it was tied at the back of the bike and hands it over. “Can’t wait to get there. You’re good with this or –”

“Please, I took the bus exactly because I was hoping for a ride.”

“Oh, just that kind of?”

“You’re a damned tease,” Stede shakes his head before putting on the helmet, resolutely not thinking about what Ed just implied or he’s not going to last the entire ride.

“But you love it, don’t you?”

“I do,” he replies without even waiting a beat, and the way Ed grins at him as he puts on his own helmet –

He can’t wait to get home already. He really can’t.

One year later

“We’ve got mail!” Stede says as he opens the door of the bedroom in their new apartment – this one is right next to the port area, they chose it so that Ed could come and go from the ship at a short notice. He’s in good spirits also because he finally managed to call Mary for the first time since arriving here, but considering what news he got from Lucius, who kept on giving him updates, he couldn’t have risked it before. But now she has apparently managed to pool together enough resources so she and Doug could elope to San Francisco – her parents are mad, Stede’s father is livid and she’s never been happier, and he’s really glad it worked out for her, too.

It’s in that good mood that he heads for their bedroom. Ed’s lying on the mattress, barely covered by a silken lavender sheet that Stede is absolutely not regretting purchasing, and his eyes immediately zero on the paper bag he’s holding in his right hand carefully while the left is grasping the envelope he got from their box downstairs.

“From the tone, I guess it’s from the Revenge?”

“Quite right,” Stede says. “Fancy reading it while I put breakfast together?” He heads for the kitchen, which is on the other side of the bedroom anyway so he can listen if Ed doesn’t keep his voice too low, and proceeds to heat the water for their tea.

“Right,” Ed says, “let me get it. Uh, they sent pictures, too? Who the fuck was getting into it, again?”

“Lucius, I think. Says taking good pics is like drawing but with less effort and at times he can’t be arsed. So, how about it?”

“Right, so. Who wrote it this time – oh shit, was it Buttons’s turn now?”

“How do you know?”

“There were two seagull feathers in the envelope,” Ed says – Stede turns and sees him shake his head and put it on the side. “Right, let’s see. Dearest Stede and Edward, at least this guy has a decent handwriting, felicitations from everyone including Karl and Livy for your new accommodations, now the birds know we moved?”

“What do those birds not know?”

“Fair enough. I’m happy to inform you that things ‘round here are pretty much going the same, except that Jim might’ve destroyed that car you took for that drive once because they couldn’t stay below the limit and it’s now lying dead in one of the shacks around the property. The oranges are selling very well now that we’re heading into winter, and the last time some cops showed up to see if there was illegal shit going on they couldn’t find anything thanks to Ed’s wise advice. Wait, they actually followed through when I said that if they had weed on the premises they should just hide it in that half abandoned shack at the limit of their properties that looks like it’ll fall down on itself every other moment?”

“Seems like they did.”

“Yeah, let’s go on. But I am sure that you would like to know about Ed’s friend, yeah, maybe just say how the fuck that’s going.” Right. Because Izzy apparently did call around mid-August – took the man a year to decide – and showed up mid-September saying that he was sure it was going to go to shit but he’d take that as paying Ed one last debt. Or something. And that was the last they heard of it. “I personally thought he was all right because Karl immediately liked him, which he seemed to find exceedingly perplexing. Fuck, now seagulls like Iz? That’s new. Anyway, he did stick to himself mostly for a while, but whenever anyone had a job for him he was happy enough to do it and he’s apparently very efficient at picking oranges. Frenchie says to tell you he was a fucking orange-picking machine, which is good for him because then it means he has more time to compose. That was until Lucius came back for one of his usual week-ends. Oh, now I want to know where this goes. Lucius took at look at the guy and started flirting with him at once, which kind of took him out of left field because he kept on sputtering about Lucius not knowing what the fuck was up, and then apparently Lucius starting it meant everyone else who ever thought he was attractive but presumed he wasn’t interested decided to make their cases clear. Oh my fucking – I knew it was a damned good idea. Long story short, I’m not privy to what goes on in your friends’ house ‘cause it’s not my business unless they say, but I’m pretty sure something went down because he was a lot less wound up on the next Monday. Couldn’t get out of ‘em with whom he actually slept, but it seems to me like he’s not plannin’ to leave anytime soon. Jim says they’re fine with it as no one else actually puts that much effort into picking the damned oranges, word for word. You can find enclosed pictures if you’d like more of a visual update. Please keep the feathers for the new house. What, now we have to use them for decor?”

“I mean, we could use them for writing. Or – Ed, you are the one who’s opening a fish restaurant on a boat a month from now. Just use them there.”

“Y’know what, good idea. They’re going on the ship. Well, let’s – oh, you made tea already?”

“Was quite a long letter,” Stede grins as he brings over a tray with two cups of tea, one of which is already dosed with the usual seven sugars and dollop of milk, and the cinnamon buns he bought at the bakery downstairs. “There we go. Show the pictures.”

He moves under the covers again so that the tray is balanced on both their knees, then Ed takes the pictures from the envelope and starts flipping through them. There’s one of Izzy picking oranges looking like he’ll murder whoever took the picture in question, but –

“Oh, thank fuck he cut the beard,” Ed says. “He was always so fixed on having it all neat and shit, at least it means he’s somewhere in his right mind. Sorta. I guess.”

“I see he’s doing work for three?” Both Frenchie and the Swede are in the back of the picture, laying against a tree trunk and obviously trying out a song.

“Yeah, always had a knack for that. Anyhow, let’s see – woah, he let Roach actually put an arm around him? After less than two months of knowing each other? Now that is fucking something.” He moves on to the next one, which is – everyone else in the backyard as usual. Lucius probably took it, since he’s not in it, and Izzy’s standing against the backdoor, smoking… well, a cigarette, most likely, he never was the type for weed, and he looks like he thinks all of them are insane but he doesn’t totally hate being there. The last one is a picture of their old room, completely bare except for some black clothing all around the place, and there’s a message in the back. Ed squints, then hands it to Stede. “That’s Roach’s fucking horrid calligraphy. You read that.”

Stede squints. “Well, he was in med school, you know. All doctors have bad penmanship.”

“Just fucking decipher it.”

“Er, left your old room to Izzy, says to ask Ed why the fuck he needed such a large wardrobe. You write him if you want him to know, I’m not even trying. I think. Shall we pen a reply sometime soon?”

“Soon,” Ed says, “right now I’m enjoying my damned tea. Well, you did have a good idea, you know.”

“Apparently,” Stede says, smiling to himself as he takes a sip from his cup. He glances out of the window, then back at Ed who’s just taken a bite from the cinnamon roll and who looks like he’s enjoying it very fucking much. “By the way, all good with the permits yesterday? I forgot to ask.”

“The – oh. Right. Yeah, I just need to set an appointment with the people who check if your kitchen is a hazard for the clients, but I have the spot reserved and I have the fishing license, so it’s all good.”

“Already thought how you’d call it?”

“Hm, well. As much as that beard wasn’t doing it for me anymore, since I should make it nautically themed, I was bouncing ideas around. Was thinking, Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill and Other Delicacies and Delights, or is that too long?”

“I mean, it would cover just about everything.”

“I don’t know, maybe since it’s a fishing boat where I cook my own fish and whatnot I should have a small gift shop with the fishing gear? Or is that really overdoing it?”

“How about it’s your place and you sweated your ass off for it –”

“Wasn’t exactly legal, Bonnet.”

“You still did,” Stede says, “never mind that. And if I set foot back in the US I end up in prison straight, your point? Anyway, what I was saying, do whatever you want with it. If no one buys the fishing gear you just do something else with the space.”

“I don’t know,” Ed grins up at him, swallowing the last of the bun. “I guess a bunch of people don’t go eat out to end up in the gift shop after.”

“And maybe there’s some guy who likes gifts and would run there.”

“Hm, that’d be the kind of guy I’d want as a client, then.”

“And what if I really like buying gifts?”

“Didn’t doubt it for a second,” Ed says, moving away the tray and leaning up, the sheet falling down and uncovering those pretty, pretty tattoos of his covering his entire chest. Stede meets him halfway, their mouths touching and then moving back and kissing again, and Stede gets immediately rid of the robe he had on, crawling closer under the covers.

“Just save me a table, won’t you? I could want to come on Saturdays after performances.”

“Dunno, they’re pretty busy nights, but I guess I could make an exception for you and your acolytes.”

“They’re not acolytes,” Stede shakes his head.

“They are, never heard of a community theater that sells out every night and neither did they. That place is never letting you go.”

“Well, I’m not planning on moving anytime soon.”

“Hm, neither do I,” Ed says, and then he moves back and Stede takes a good look at him in the morning light, and – he really does look amazing like this, his hair loose on his shoulders, kiss-swollen lips, barely-there stubble on his face and no bags under his eyes anymore because he actually doesn’t wake up every other night anymore. “Hey, Stede?”

“Yes?”

“Never bought into religion and shit, but be sure that not a day passes by that I’m not thankful I got your sorry ass out of that march.”

“You can be sure not a day passes that I’m not thankful my sorry ass was there,” Stede replies. “I love you, you know that?”

“Think I do, actually,” Ed admits, like it’s some kind of secret, “but guess what? Love you too. Fucking lunatic. Who the fuck stages Rhinoceros at a damned community theater and sells out with it?”

“Shut up, you love that play. And maybe I’m just that good at my job, ever thought about it?”

“Never doubted it,” Ed says, “still makes you a fucking lunatic. Which is kinda my type, so I ain’t complaining whatsoever.”

“I mean, as if you aren’t one when you corrupted a fucking government official to get here.”

“I did no such thing,” Ed grins. “Maybe fucking lunatics are meant for each other, then?”

“Know what, I like how that sounds,” Stede says as he leans down and kisses him again, and again, and –

Oh, he is fucking glad he went to that march. Best decision he ever took in his life.

From the way Ed’s looking up at him, he agrees, and maybe after one year he’s learned to accept that someone can look at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them, except that the reverse is valid, and Ed laughs against his mouth as he tells him just that.

So, maybe they’re what makes the other happy.

So, maybe he really likes the idea that they’ll make each other happy for a very long time.

And while he had zero prospects when he thought he’d just leave… maybe now he has a whole lot of them.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ed.

“No need to pay me. Just thinking about how much you make Stede happy, that’s all.”

“Hm, to think I was just aiming for – well. Being… somewhat content. And instead I’ve got everything I want now.”

“What you deserved,” Stede whispers, and Ed grasps at him and kisses him again as he drags Stede on top of him, as if he hasn’t just told the truth.

Well, he thinks he can stand repeating it for the very long time they’ll make each other happy.

He thinks that’s a damned good plan, and he intends to follow through with it.

End.