Archive of Our Own ^beta

One: Stede Bonnet was a little bit nuts.

Stede Bonnet was, at first, exactly like every other boss Lucius had ever had. Lucius had been at Revenge Magazine for four years. He’d been a personal assistant since he’d left university and didn’t know what the hell to do with his life.

Stede was in his mid-forties, wore button down shirts and waistcoats that cost more than Lucius’s rent, and drank americanos. He arrived early and left late. He didn’t yell at his employees; frequently took long phone calls at strange hours for out-of-the-country designers and could be a little bitchy when he was tired. His lunch order was a sad-looking salad from the Pret-a-Manger down the road. All pretty normal for a chief editor for a fashion magazine.

The first sign that Stede was actually slightly mental was when he called Lucius in to take notes for a meeting. Stede had had the editor-in-chief job for about three months at that point. Lucius had been his PA that whole time. Usually, there was someone else taking minutes at meetings – Revenge had a lot of employees to do that kind of thing. But today, it fell to him.

“Alright, Lucius?” asked Stede jovially, sitting down on one side of his desk, “pen at the ready?”

Lucius nodded, perched on the fancy velvet sofa at the side of the room. The meeting was with a designer (Lucius was not paid enough to remember his name after the fact.) A new fashion house within one of the big labels. If you wanted details, you’d have to ask someone who actually cared about fashion beyond the thrill of getting a good bargain at TK Maxx.

This designer's new line was getting a feature in Revenge Magazine. The article, Lucius knew, had already been drafted. The purpose of this meeting was to go over it, check the designer was happy; check Revenge was happy, then decide on if they were giving them a cover shoot.

And Stede fucking Bonnet sits down, makes sure the designer is comfortable, makes sure Lucius is ready to take notes, pours the guy a cup of tea, and says, cheerful as anything: “So. Let’s talk about how you’re illegally using child labour in your manufacturing process.”

It was incredible. The guy had been too shocked to say anything. Stede had leaned forward, still smiling, and said, “I don’t want to put a brand new designer on our cover if that designer will be slated by the press in a few months time when they catch wind of how you get hold of your fabrics.”

The designer found his tongue then. “That won’t happen, I assure you. Our sources are a very well-kept secret, you can be certain that Revenge has nothing to worry about.”

Stede leaned back. He laughed. “Oh, you’ve misunderstood me! I’m so sorry. I should have been clearer. I’m not putting you on the cover unless you can promise me that you’ll start looking elsewhere for your textile manufacturing. A verbal contract will be enough.”

That made the designer bristle. “Fine. No cover.”

Stede tilted his head. “Oh, I was afraid you’d say that. Reconsider?”

“No.”

“Well, I tried. I wanted you to get something nice out of this whole mess, your designs really are quite lovely. But I’ll be leaking the story either way if you don’t promise me to start sourcing elsewhere.”

When the designer left, spluttering and furious but with a cover shoot scheduled and a verbal contract to look into a new manufacturer, Lucius whistled.

“Mr. Bonnet, forgive me for talking out of turn, but that was seriously cool of you.”

Stede looked over at him. “Was it?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Stede preened. “Why thank you, Lucius. I’m sure my ego doesn’t need it, but it’s lovely to hear.”

“I have to ask though. What’s your contingency plan for if that guy tells his lawyer that you’re blackmailing him?”

Stede’s smile faded. “Contingency?”

Lucius nodded. “Yeah. Like that was cool, but also like… probably illegal?”

“Was it?”

Another nod. “I didn’t write it down in the minutes, just in case.” 

Stede seemed to think for a moment, brows furrowed. Then he clapped his hands together. “Well, nobody’s told on me yet. Tell you what, I fancy a walk. Shall we head to Pret together today?”

“Mr. Bonnet, are you saying you’ve done this before?”

“A few times. And for heaven’s sake, call me Stede.”

Yep. Completely insane.

Two: Stede Bonnet had a wife.

Lucius Spriggs was not a bigot. Lucius Springs was a proud gay man with proud gay friends and he had worked in the fashion industry long enough to know that not every man who works in it is gay. But also… he’d made reasonable assumptions.

“Hey, boss,” said Lucius, tapping on the open glass door of Stede’s office. “You’ve got a scheduling clash. The Dior photoshoot is set for the same day as–” he checked his iPad again, “lunch with Mary?’”

Stede looked up from his computer. “Oh,” he said, “oh dear. I really shouldn’t be cancelling that.”

“Interview?” guessed Lucius, because the personal events on Stede’s calendar were limited solely to stuff to do with his kids.

“Oh, no,” said Stede, a little distractedly. “Mary’s my wife.”

Lucius tried to scrape his jaw off the floor. Luckily, Stede’s attention was still on his computer screen. ‘Sorry,” said Lucius, “let me just get this super straight. You’re married?”

Stede finally looked away from his screen. “Yes, Lucius. You know that. I mention Mary and the kids all the time.”

Nope. Not fucking true. Yes, Stede has mentioned children. Louis and Alma. Lucius had had to explain over the phone that no, Stede will not make that last-minute conference call, he’s at his daughter's taekwondo meet/piano recital/school play more than once. But never, not once, had Stede mentioned a wife. Lucius would know. Because this whole time, he’d been calling those appointments Stede’s “divorced dad bonding time” in his head.

“You have mentioned your children, yes,” said Lucius as delicately as he could, “but Mrs. Bonnet is… uh… a mystery to me.”

Stede Bonnet had immaculately styled hair, manicured nails, an obsession with vintage fountain pens and had never worn the same outfit twice. Lucius had never been wrong about these things before. What the fuck.

“Well, she exists,” said Stede, which was not a ringing endorsement. And then, in a moment that was immortalised in Lucius’s mind as one of the most panic-inducing moments of his professional career, his boss started to cry.

“Oh, fuck.” Lucius surged forward, tossing his iPad onto the velvet sofa and rushing towards the desk before hovering awkwardly, hands in the air, unsure.

Stede sniffled, covering his face with his hands. Awkwardly, Lucius brought a palm down onto Stede’s shoulder. “There… there?’

Stede’s shoulders were shaking. The glass door to the office was still open. Miraculously, nobody had walked past yet but Stede’s office was just off the main hallway and someone could come in at any moment.

“I’m just going to– uh– give us some privacy.”

By the time Lucius was back from closing the door and lowering the blind, Stede had regained some control of himself. “I’m sorry, Lucius. That wasn’t terribly professional of me.” He dabbed his eyes with– with a lace fucking handkerchief what the fuck Lucius did not believe this man was heterosexual not for one second– and smiled a watery smile up at him. “I'm being ridiculous.”

“Hey,” said Lucius, sitting down in the chair across from the desk and scooting forward a little to catch Stede’s eye. “No you’re not. You’re being sad. You’re allowed to be sad. But — if you don’t mind me asking — why are you sad?”

“It’s all just been a little stressful lately. She’s uh— she’s divorcing me.”

Ok, that at least made sense. “Because you’re…” Lucius started, not quite bold enough to finish the thought.

“Not a very good husband,” said Stede, nodding.

“Oh, fuck no, that’s not what I—”

Stede’s laugh was sad. “I am. I’ve been a terrible partner to her. I’ve been putting my career first for years, it was about time.”

Lucius was so out of his depth. He wasn’t even thirty yet and literally all his friends were some kind of LGBTQ: the only divorced people he knew were his parents. But he’d seen a lot of movies and he was a romantic at heart goddammit, so he did what he felt was his duty. “Maybe you need to like… fight for her?”

It was the right thing to say. The gay best friend in a romcom thing to say. Stede fucking shuddered. “Oh, God no. That’s a terrible idea. Mary and I are miserable together.”

“Oh thank God, I thought that as I was saying it. I don’t know anything about your marriage, I literally thought you were already divorced.” Lucius had a habit of talking very fast when he was anxious, and he was doing it right now. He forced himself to stop talking. Stede, at least, looked amused rather than mad at him.

“You thought I was divorced?’

“Yeah. Two kids and you never mentioned a partner? Sorry. I know that’s bad. I’m nosy, I speculate on my boss’s private life. It’s a problem.”

Stede wasn’t crying anymore. He was twisting the lace handkerchief in his hands. “We… uh. Haven’t been happy for a long time. This lunch is to… make arrangements. Outside from where the kids can hear. They don’t know yet.”

Lucius nodded. “Gotcha. I’ll just email to say you can’t make it — we can send someone else.”

Stede smiled. “Thank you, Lucius. You’re a good friend.”

Lucius, who had no fucking clue he was Stede’s friend and was a little concerned this meant the man had literally nobody else, winked back. “I’m the best fucking friend.”

Three: Stede Bonnet had terrible gaydar.

“You’ve got your miserable old fucker face on,” said Lucius, perching on his now-favourite spot on the edge of Stede’s desk.

“This is my normal face.”

“No, that is your miserable old fucker face. You wear it whenever you’ve just gotten off the phone with the divorce lawyer. Stop scowling, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I’ve already got wrinkles.”

“You’ll get worse wrinkles. Stress wrinkles, rather than that charming crows-feet thing you’ve got going on now. Come on, get up. It’s past six, workday’s over.”

Stede pouted, but he did stop frowning. “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be bossing you around. Something’s gone wrong here.”

“You love it,” said Lucius. “Anyway, you’re coming out with me tonight, remember?” Since he and Stede had become actually-kinda-friends, Lucius had been dying to take the poor bloke out to do something fun for once.

“Ah, yes. I don’t remember actually agreeing to that.”

“But it’s in your calendar!”

“Lucius, you manage my calendar.”

“Yes, but you didn’t delete it, which means you secretly want to go, and I told my friends I was bringing my sad sack boss which means you have to come.”

“Alright, fine, just let me finish this email.”

Half an hour later, Stede was in front of Lucius’s desk in the room off Stede’s own office. He was wearing a thick woollen coat and a cashmere scarf Lucius was pretty sure had been a Revenge cover item a few issues ago. “Looking good, boss.”

“Thank you,” said Stede, a little stiffly. “Shall we head out?”

Lucius’s go-to pub wasn’t technically a gay bar. It was way too laid back and it didn’t even have a proper dance floor. But it was also full of queers, so it was kind of assigned-gay-by-clientele.

He’d invited Stede to Friday drinks knowing that his friends would probably love Stede in an exasperated way, same as he did. He also invited Stede to Friday drinks because he was dying (literally dying) to hear his friends’ thoughts on whether or not Stede was some kind of fruit.

“Right,” said Lucius, taking Stede’s arm as they entered the bar, pulling him towards their usual booth and pointing at his friends in turn. “Come meet my merry band of ne’er-do-wells. That’s Oluwande, that’s Frenchie, and this is Pete.” The guys chorused their hellos as Lucius scooted into the booth and patted the spot next to him for Stede.

He felt a funny sort of nervousness introducing Stede to Pete. Like introducing his dad to his boyfriend, even though he would rather shoot himself than consider Stede a father figure and he and Pete had only slept together once and Lucius was maybe jumping the gun a little.

The guys all chorused their hellos. “We expecting anyone else tonight?” asked Lucius, “where’s Jim?”

“Working late,” said Oluwande glumly. He and Jim had been together as long as Lucius had known the pair. Jim worked at the most terrifying boxing gym Lucius had ever seen. He went there once to drop off lunch and thought he was going to be stabbed. Olu taught primary school kids. They were an odd pair.

Frenchie counted off the others on his hand. “Roach isn’t feeling up to it, Wee John is on his way, and the Swede just sent me a line of turtle emojis so who fucking knows, man.”

“Sorry,” said Stede, who had taken off his coat and was now neatly folding his scarf into a square, “Do you have a friend just called ‘the Swede’?”

“Yeah,” said Frenchie, nonplussed.

“Are they Swedish?”

“Dunno man, felt like a personal question.”

Stede opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Ok,” said Lucius, who did actually want Stede to like his friends for some reason and was aware they were making a terrible impression, “Pete, babe, Stede’s my boss at Revenge magazine. I told you about him.”

Pete, bless him, did a little double take. “He’s the one getting divorced?”

“Um, yes! That’s me!” said Stede, with a little wave. “Hopefully that’s not the only thing Lucius has told you about me.”

“He says you’re a cool boss,” said Oluwande, “and you blackmail designers into being more ethical.”

“Blackmail’s such a strong word.”

“I thought you’d look straighter,” said Frenchie.

“I’m sorry?”

Lucius wonders if Stede’s fancy cashmere scarf would rip if he used it to strangle Frenchie. There was a horrible, horrible silence.

 “Erm,” said Oluwande, but he clearly couldn’t think of anything to save the situation either.

“It’s just,” continued Frenchie, “Lucius said you’re married to a woman and have kids and stuff even though you work in fashion and I didn’t expect—”

“Please for the love of god stop talking,” said Lucius.

“Yep, shutting up now.”

Stede was looking at Lucius with a curious expression on his face. “Should we, um, go up to the bar and get a drink?”

It was not subtle. Stede wanted to talk to him alone. Stede was about to yell at him and leave. Or worse, he was about to get fired. Technically, he was employed by Revenge Magazine not Stede specifically but if Stede lodged a complaint—

“Lucius?”

“Yep, sorry, let’s go.” Lucius stumbled out of the booth and followed him to the bar. Once there, Stede leaned against the countertop and gave him a disappointed look. “You know, Lucius, I really thought better of you.”

“Oh my God, Stede, I’m so sorry, Frenchie’s an idiot—”

Stede cut across him. “I know working for a fashion magazine isn’t the most masculine of professions but that doesn’t make me gay. You, after all, work for the same magazine and I’m not making that assumption about you.”

Oh sweet Jesus, this was not happening to him. “Uh… boss. I am gay.”

Stede blinks. “You are?”

“Er— yes? Obviously?”

“Why would it be obvious?’

Lucius waves an arm up and down his general person. Stede tuts. “All I see is an impeccably dressed young man.”

“Who is a raging homosexual that works in fashion. Who is friends — present company excluded — with exclusively other gay people.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Stede glances back at the table. “All of them?”

“Yes, Stede. Well, Olu’s bi and Jim’s unlabelled but basically, yeah.”

Stede looks over at the table again, then back at Lucius. “Oh, I’m sorry. You must think I’m a right idiot, trying to lecture a gay man on homophobia.”

“I think it’s sweet. And I think that you have an atrocious gaydar. But that’s ok, I like you anyway. Drink? First one’s on you.”

Four: Stede Bonnet’s daughter was a menace.

Stede didn’t come to every Friday drinks night. He didn’t even come to most — he had two kids to put to bed, after all. But he came often enough he met the rest of the crew. He was appropriately frightened of Jim, got on very well with Frenchie despite the rocky start, loved Oluwande and talked French pastries with Roach (Lucius had no idea there were enough French pastries to fuel a whole discussion, but then he’d met Stede Bonnet.)

Lucius’s friends seemed to have accepted Stede willingly, something Lucius found he was very grateful for. There was something about Stede that make Lucius feel protective: he got the impression that Stede hadn’t seen much of the world outside his little bubble.

“And we’re absolutely positive he’s not gay?” asked Frenchie to him over FaceTime. Lucius sighed. He was in his bathroom, getting ready for bed. Frenchie had originally called to complain about a stray cat that had been following him home, but now they were just gossiping. “We’ve been over this, French,” sighed Lucius, “I don’t know. Poor guy’s going through a divorce.”

“I know,” said Frenchie, “But like…. he gets on so well with us all.”

Lucius loaded up his toothbrush with toothpaste. “So?” he asked, sticking the brush into his mouth.

“So why would we all like him so much if he’s actually straight?”

Lucius spat into the sink. “We are all capable of having straight friends.”

“Historically, that has not been true.”

Lucius sighed and shoved the brush back into his mouth. He couldn’t fight him there.

Lucius took his job very seriously. However, recently he had also taken “Hay Day” very seriously (a crappy mobile app his mum got him hooked on.)

It was practically the middle of the day (3pm). Stede had been on a phone call for ages and he had nothing useful to do with his time. So maybe Lucius had snuck away from his desk to a meeting room he knew was always empty to harvest his wheat fields in private. And then, possibly, he’d seen that Pete was online and spent some time building up a nice flirtation and heavily hinting that their one-time thing needed to be a two, three or even four time one.

He got back to his desk, convinced nobody would have noticed his absence, and there was a child in his seat. Lucius did not know how to talk to children.

“Er, hey sweetie. What— watcha doing here?”

The kid was wearing the uniform of that fancy private school near Lucius’s apartment. She was probably about eleven? Twelve?

“Waiting.” she said. She had a notebook open on the desk in front of her, along with assorted pencils.

“Mmm-kay. And why are you waiting at my desk?”

“S’near Dad’s.”

Lucius looks a little closer at the kid. Oh. Oh Jesus. “You’re— you’re Stede’s daughter?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re here because…?”

The girl — Alma, her name was Alma — shrugged. “Mum had to go sort out a work thingy. Dad’s meant to be looking after us tonight.”

“And where’s…” fuck, he couldn’t remember the boy’s name, “The other one?”

“Louis is at dance practice.”

“And your mum just left you here?”

Alma looked up at him with a “well-duh” expression.

“Well, that’s my desk, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

“There’s a chair over there,” she said, pointing at the sad little chair in the corner nobody ever sat in. Lucius considered arguing, realised there was no way to not look like a dick arguing with a twelve year old whose parents were getting divorced, and sat in the damn chair. He did most of his work on his iPad, anyway.

There was a period of silence where the only sounds were the gentle scratch of Alma’s pencils in her notebook and the muffled sound of Stede’s continuing phone call. Then the scratching sound stopped and Lucius looked up. Alma was staring at him.

“What?”

“Are you my dad’s boyfriend?”

Lucius choked on air. “Fu—” he caught himself, “God no. Why would you think that?”

Alma swung her legs, her feet hitting the bottom of the desk. “Just thought you might be. That’s good that you’re not though. You’re too young for him.”

Lucius was rapidly realising that this kid was just as mad as her father. “What— what makes you think your dad has a boyfriend?”

Alma shrugged again. “Can you keep a secret?”

Do not gossip with twelve-year-olds, do not gossip with twelve-year-olds, do not gossip with twelve-year-olds— “Yeah, of course.”

Alma put down her pencil and leaned forward. “Mum and dad told me they’re getting divorced because they want different things.”

“That’s what I heard, yeah.”

“But,” said Alma, “I overheard mum on the phone to Aunt Evelyn. She said—” Alma put on a slightly different voice Lucius guessed was supposed to be an imitation of her mother —“‘I think Stede and I want the same thing, Ev.’ And then my aunt Evelyn, who talks really loud, said ‘men!’ and my mum laughed.”

“Oh…” said Lucius, “That could— I’m sure that could mean lots of things.”

“I’m not stupid,” said Alma. “I know that means being gay.”

Did… was Lucius supposed to educate her in this scenario? Who else would? “Well, hon, I don’t know if your dad’s gay, but being gay isn’t a bad thing to be. It’s… neutral. And if he is, that doesn’t mean he loves you any less—”

“I know all that,” said Alma, waving her hand like a bossy old lady. “Loads of people are gay. I’m trying being gay at the moment.”

“…Right,” said Lucius after a pause to think. “That’s— that’s awesome, kid. Welcome to the club. Does your dad know?”

Stede’s office door opened. “Do I know what?”

Lucius wondered for a second if he was about to have to cover for this kid, but Alma said promptly, “That I’m trying being gay.”

Stede nodded sagely. “Ah, that’s a good idea. Bisexual not working out for you, then?” He looked over at Lucius, “She came out as bisexual last week.”

“Boys are annoying,” said Alma.

“That they are,” Stede agreed pleasantly.

“I don’t see why anyone would go out with boys, but mum says they get better when they get older. Either way I’m not straight.”

“Perish the thought,” said Stede. “Got your stuff? Ready to go?”

Alma nodded, pushing her pencils and notebook back into a battered but expensive-looking rucksack. “Where’s the toilet?”

Stede pointed her in the right direction and she disappeared off. Lucius sidled up to Stede. “I think you handled that very well.”

“Handled what?”

“Your small child coming out to you.”

“Oh!” said Stede. “It’s nothing. Alma knows we’d love her regardless of who she wants to date when she’s older. Or, of course, if it turns out she wants to be — er— not a she.”

“You’re a good dad.” Lucius said.

“I try.”

“How’s the custody battle progressing?”

“It’s looking very hopeful,” said Stede, and then, because Alma appeared at the end of the hall and was once again in earshot, “Off we trot, then?”

Alma nodded. “Bye dad’s office! Bye dad’s weird friend!”

“Alma.”

Five: Stede Bonnet had other friends (or friend, singular)

“Lucius!” said Stede, arriving at work later than his assistant for once. His cravat (yes, this man wore a cravat) was askew and he looked a little frantic.

“What’s up with you?”

Stede bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “It’s all sorted. Papers signed. I get the kids for the first two weeks of each month.”

Lucius jumped up from his chair. “It’s done?”

“Completely. Totally. I’m no longer a married man.”

Lucius hugged him, he couldn’t help it. Stede hugged him back, so Lucius figured that they were the kind of friends who hug now. “How’re we feeling?” he asked, drawing back, his hands on Stede’s arms.

Stede thought about it. “Happy. Nervous. There’s sadness, of course, that I’ll have to spend time away from Alma and Louis. But… excited, too. To start the rest of my life.”

“I’m no expert, but I think that means you’ve made the right call. Drinks on me tomorrow to celebrate?”

Stede shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lucius, I get paid significantly more than you. But yes, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Congratulations on your divorce!” crowed John when Stede sat down the following day, loud enough that a few other patrons looked over. “To a free man!” The whole crew had made it tonight (Lucius may have done some light threatening in the group chat) and they all clapped Stede on the back and congratulated him as he settled down with his drink.

“Oh, guys, really, it’s not such a big deal.”

“Yes it is!” said Roach, “You were miserable, man!”

“Speech!” shouted Frenchie. Stede rolled his eyes, but obliged.

“Well, I did want to say thank you to all of you, actually. You’ve been very kind and welcoming — I know it’s odd having an old man cramp your style—”

“Aren’t we the same age?” interjected the Swede, but he was shushed.

“—And you’ve made this whole divorce process much more bearable. So, thank you, and thank you Lucius, for introducing us.”

Lucius tipped himself into Stede’s side. “Love you too, boss.”

Conversation flowed naturally after that. Oluwande dragged Frenchie into a conversation about politics; Jim and Roach were arguing good-naturedly about something or other, and Lucius found himself only half listening to Pete, John and the Swede’s discussion about the upcoming Eurovision song contest. Normally, he’d be all about it, but his attention was on something else. Stede was texting.

He bumped his shoulder. “Everything alright?”

“Huh? Yes, fine.”

“Only…. you seem to be a little distracted?”

“Mmm. No, I’m not.” said Stede, eyes on his phone.

“Who are you texting? Nobody will mind if you have to head out early for the kids.”

Stede glanced at him. “No, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. Just texting a friend.”

Olu and Frenchie had trailed off and were now looking at Stede too. “Got somewhere else you have to be?” asked Oluwande, not unkindly.

“No, no. Like I said, talking to a friend. But I’m being rude, I’m sorry.” Stede put his phone on the table.

“Who’s the friend?” asked Jim.

“Oh, nobody. He’s called Edward,” said Stede.

“You’ve never mentioned an Edward before,” said Lucius. He was thinking about Alma Bonnet and her mother’s insinuation that Stede might like men. He tried to lean over to look at the phone, but Stede flipped it face down. Was that suspicious? Or was it just a habit from living with two young kids while organising a divorce?

“He’s a new friend,” said Stede.

“And where did you meet this… Edward?”

Stede smiled. “We met over an argument about fountain pens, believe it or not! I’m on a message board all about them, and Ed had good words to say about what I thought was a rather subpar Kweko Sport—”

And he was off. That was cute. Stede had an internet friend he talked about weird, pompous nerdy things with. With a name like Edward, the guy was probably just as upper class and ridiculous as Stede.

Six: Stede Bonnet had a crush.

Stede moved out of the house he bought with his wife and into an equally swanky apartment. A week or so after moving, he held a housewarming party.

Lucius and his motley crew were there, plus old work friends of Stede’s and — surprisingly — Mary and the kids. It was the first time Lucius had ever met Mary Bonnet and he’d been expecting… well, a dragon. Sure, Stede only ever had perfectly nice things to say about Mary but Stede is Stede. He can find something pleasant to say about anyone if he wants to. Lucius had just sort of assumed Mary must have been awful, because she made Stede unhappy.

But Mary Bonnet was genuinely awesome. She was a painter (“amateur for now”), bright, bubbly and great with Alma and Louis. She and Stede were frosty, sure, but there was clearly some love there. The two hugged when she arrived, and Stede excitedly told his assembled guests that she would be painting him a seaside scene for his living room wall. She even corned Lucius at one point in the evening, just to say thank you. “I know you’ve been a good friend for Stede while we worked all this out,” she said, “I think he really needed you.”

Stede had diagrams of ships and fashion photography up on his walls; separate bedrooms for his kids and a huge oak desk with an actual inkwell which he swore had hidden compartments. He seemed truly, genuinely happy.

“I just wish Edward had been able to come,” he sighed, as they’re all trickling out.

“Fountain pen guy? You invited him?” You’ve met him in real life? was the question Lucius was really asking.

“Yes, of course,” said Stede, “but he was busy with work.” Working too late for a party that started at seven? This Edward guy must have been even more of a workaholic than Stede. He probably had some corporate job, or worked as a professor - they always had marking to do, right? Lucius could see Stede getting along with a stuffy old professor with a fondness for expensive writing equipment. 

“How are you two?” asked Lucius, blatantly fishing for gossip.

“We’re lovely. He’s lovely. We went for coffee the other day, you know.”

Coffee? And Stede was calling him lovely? Suspicious.

Ten pounds on Stede having a crush on his fountain pen guy. Lucius texted the group chat the following day. (It wasn’t mean that Stede wasn’t in their group chat. He actively asked not to be, having found the notifications overwhelming.)

Not fair, Frenchie texted immediately, you have insider info.

Twenty says Stede has a crush but doesn’t know it yet, responded Jim, which Lucius had to admit sounded even more likely.

Since the divorce and custody arrangement, Stede’s involvement in Friday night drinks became a lot more routine. Basically, if Alma and Louis weren’t staying with him, Stede was there. So it was a surprise when, on a night Lucius knew the kids were with Mary, Lucius knocked on Stede’s office door to ask “drinks?” and got a no.

“Aww,” said Lucius, “You’ve got to come. I need backup with Pete.” He and Pete had been sleeping together for like a month. And it was good, it was chill. Super casual hookup vibes. But Lucius had had had some kind of aneurysm last Tuesday and told Pete that he loved him. They weren’t even in the throes of passion or something, just hanging out on Pete’s manky sofa. Pete had smiled, but didn’t say it back, and Lucius had fled into the night.

He needed Stede’s moral support in case Pete showed up that evening. The man had been frighteningly normal over text all week, like Lucius hadn’t completely destroyed the delicate balance of friends with benefits. Lucius had no idea what it meant.

“You’ll have Oluwande.”

“But he’s not you,” said Lucius, aware he was whining but completely unwilling to stop. Yeah, Stede had somehow become his best friend or whatever. So what?

“I’m sorry, Lucius, but I really can’t. I’m going out with Ed.”

That stopped Lucius mid theatrical flop onto the couch. He hit the sofa at an angle, twinging his back unpleasantly, and had to scramble upwards again to look at Stede.  “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Like, on a date?”

Stede’s eyes widened fractionally and he went a little pink “Oh— oh, no. Not a — not a date, I don’t think.”

It was finally happening. Lucius could feel it. His queer sensors were tingling.  “Stede, honey. Do you maybe… want it to be a date?”

Stede said nothing. He stared at Lucius for a long moment, frozen. “Um.”

“Boss?”

Stede made a noise like a balloon letting out air. “I really hadn’t— I hadn’t considered that, actually.”

Oh my God. Lucius owed Jim twenty quid. “Oh, Stede.” 

Stede looked a little like he’d been hit over the head. “I’m an absolute fool. I’m far too old to be figuring this out now. I’m a divorcee, for God’s sake.”

Lucius clicked his tongue. “Not sure what that’s got to do with anything. We don’t all come out the womb singing show tunes.”

Stede groaned, folding his arms on the desk and resting his head on them.

“Hey,” said Lucius, determined not to let Stede get too into his head about this. “Remind me what you said to Alma that day she came out to you?”

Stede spoke into his arms. “Oh, I don't know. Probably something about how she could love whoever and I’d still love her. Parenting basics.”

Lucius, who had not spoken to his father in almost 15 years, thought this went beyond what most parents managed in terms of basics. But he kept that to himself. “Well, all your friends and family will say the same to you.”

Stede sniffed a little, and his face was puffy when he eventually raised his head. “You must think I’m silly.”

Lucius patted him on the back. “I always think you’re silly. But not about this. Finish up, come on. I’ll sort your face out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my face,” said Stede, swiping at his eyes.

“No, but I can improve it anyway.”

Lucius slid into their usual booth forty-five minutes later and Pete put an arm around his shoulder. “What’s the matter, baby? You seem stressed.”

“Baby?”

Pete started to remove his arm. “Is that not ok? I thought after what you said on Tuesday…”

Lucius grabbed his hand and pulled his arm back, nestling into Pete’s side and kissing him on the cheek. “It’s perfect, I love it.”

Wee John, Frenchie and Roach all started making kissing noises. Lucius glared at them. “Just for that, I’m not telling you all my Stede gossip.”

He rolled his eyes at their immediate complaints and apologies and then leaned in to kiss Pete again.

Seven: Stede Bonnet had unexpected taste in men.

Actually, officially dating Pete was kind of the best thing ever. The man was a total sweetheart: inviting him out for dates, kissing him on the cheek, buying him flowers. Lucius found himself sharing stuff he didn’t usually like sharing — what it was like coming out to his mum, being bullied in school. Pete shared similar stories. Turned out he had a pretty rough time as a teenager: he got caught up in drug running and hung out with a biker gang for a while.

“Don’t get me wrong they were like, seriously badass. And they thought I was awesome,” said Pete, “but I had to leave it behind, it wasn’t good for me.”

Pete had a coin on his bedside table. Five years sober from Narcotics Anonymous. “You’re too good for me, babe,” Pete said, when he saw Lucius looking at it. Lucius kissed him.

“That’s a total lie. Not that it would matter either way, considering I’m embarrassingly in love with you.”

Lucius started taking calls from Pete at work and Stede never told him off for it. Just made a lot of cringey comments about “the lovebirds” and raised his eyebrows knowingly whenever Lucius was late because he’d been staying at his boyfriend’s. Lucius, in response, made a point to ask after the mysterious Edward whenever possible.

“He doesn’t like me like that, Lucius,” said Stede, as the two of them wandered along the street to pick up lunch. “He’s just a nice guy who’s looking for a friend.”

“Is he gay?”

“It’s never come up.”

“And you haven’t at least got a theory?” asked Lucius.

“You’re the one who said I have—  what was the phrase you used? ‘No gay radar?”

“It’s not gay radar it’s— never mind. What’s your gut telling you?”

Stede hummed. “It is telling me that we have fun together. He gets me. The rest doesn’t matter.”

Lucius grimaced. “Oh, you’re in deep.”

Stede sighed. They’d reached the door of the coffee shop and Stede pushed it open for Lucius, letting him in first. “I know. He’s important to me, though. That would be true even if I didn’t feel… how I feel.”

“Then I hope I can meet him sometime.”

“I thought I could bring him to Friday night drinks sometime? If that’s ok?”

“Are you kidding? Frenchie would probably wet himself, he’s so curious to meet him. Go for it, whenever he’s free.”

Stede beamed.

Working in fashion, Lucius encountered a lot of eccentrically dressed people. A lot of them had meetings with Stede. So it wasn't unusual for someone wearing alternative fashion to show up at Lucius’s desk, asking to meet with his boss.

Full motorcycle leathers was a first, though.

The dude was terrifying. Tattoos all up his arms and on his hands; a wild, salt and pepper beard and long, greying hair. He had multiple ear and facial piercings and there was a strip of black fabric tied tight around his throat.

When he spoke, his voice was gruff. His eyes were darting around the office space, like he was on something. “I’m here— uh. I’m here to see Stede Bonnet.”

Lucius swallowed. “Do you have an appointment?” he asked, even though he knew full well Stede’s only meeting today was with their in-house design team that afternoon.

The guy rubbed at his beard. “Not, um, officially. But he’s expecting me.”

That seemed… unlikely. Lucius pressed the intercom button he almost never used. “Hey, Stede? There’s a man out here to meet you. He’s called…” Fuck, he didn’t ask for the guy’s name.

“Ed,” the man supplied.

“Ed,” Lucius finished. Hang on, this wasn’t the Ed, was it?

“I’ll be right out!” came Stede’s bright reply through the tinny speaker. A moment later, the man himself appeared. He was grinning. “Ed! I thought we were meeting at the cafe!”

“Got bored,” said the leather guy, “Thought I’d come early and pick you up. That ok?”

“That’s absolutely wonderful. Give me a second to grab my coat and sort a few things out.”

Stede bustled back into his office. Lucius was trying to completely rearrange his world view. “You’re Edward.”

 “Ed is fine.”

“Stede’s Edward? Who he met because of an argument about fountain pens?” How did a guy who looked like this have anything in common with Stede?

Ed groaned. “He’s telling people the pen story? Man, that is so embarrassing.”

“Stede’s interests aren’t embarrassing,” said Lucius sharply.

Ed’s attention finally seemed to focus on him. “Are you—  fuck, you’re Lucius, aren’t you?”

“Yes?”

Ed ran a hand over his face. “Fuck. Fuck, of course you are. Dammit.”

“Is that… a problem?” Lucius was rapidly losing all comprehension of this situation.

“Yes it’s a fucking problem! You’re like Stede’s best friend! I’m supposed to be making a good impression! I was gunna— fuck, and I’m wearing my fucking leathers…”

Was this guy… anxious? To meet him? “Erm… you haven’t made a bad impression either, if that helps? Perfectly neutral,” he lied.

Ed looked at him miserably. “Can you forget I said the thing about the fountain pens? I didn’t mean it’s lame Stede loves fancy pens, nothing Stede does is lame. It’s just… some of my friends take the piss of me cus I like buying classy shit now and then.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “Sound like shit friends.”

“They are a bit, yeah. Not like Stede, he’s the best. Not that I like—  well obviously he’s the best. You know him. He’s Stede.”

Holy shit. Holy. Shit. Stede’s Edward was an ageing biker/leather daddy who was clearly absolutely gone on him. This was incredible. How the fuck did Stede find this man?

Stede himself reappeared a moment later. “Have you two introduced yourselves?”

“Yep,” said Lucius, “we were just discussing what a DILF you are.”

To his intense amusement, Ed shot him a panicked glance.

Stede made a puzzled sound. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Ed, grabbing Stede’s arm, “let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s. Lucius, I’m going out for lunch. Feel free to take a break of your own, I’ll be back at about half one.”

“Thanks, boss. Have fun!” Lucius tried to inject as much ‘oh-we-are-SO-talking-about-this’ into his voice as possible. He didn’t think Stede picked up on it, but Ed shot him a warning look. Whatever, the guy was far less scary now Lucius had seen him talk about Stede Bonnet with stars in his eyes.

Eight: Stede Bonnet needed a shove in the right direction

Now Lucius had met Ed, Stede talked about him way more. Ed rides a motorbike. Ed runs a bar at the other side of town. Ed’s tattoos all have meanings, and would Lucius like to know what they are? It was both extremely endearing and a little like talking to a preteen with their first crush.

“You should ask him out,” said Lucius for the millionth time. Stede just shook his head.

“We’re friends, Lucius.”

“You could be more than friends. Ask him out.”

Stede huffed a frustrated breath. “You know I can’t do that. Besides, why would someone like Ed be interested in a man in his forties with no experience?”

Lucius groaned. Every time he brought it up, Stede had another reason why Ed wouldn’t possibly be interested in him. If he wanted to get them together, he’d have to persuade Ed to do the asking.

His moment came about a week later, when Stede finally brought Ed to Friday night drinks. Despite Lucius’s warnings to the group that Edward was nothing like they’d all been imagining, Frenchie still spent the entirety of the introductions with his mouth hanging open. Stede ran though their names, pointing them out in turn. (“Frenchie, Oluwande, Jim, John, Pete, and you’ve met Lucius of course.”) Ed hovered next to him, his hand on Stede’s back. It was not subtle.

“Babe,” said Pete, leaning over to murmur in his ear as Jim and Oluwande scooched up to make space for the newcomer, “you didn’t say he was cool.”

“Cool is such a subjective term,” Lucius responded. Then, louder, “Good to see you again, Edward.”

Ed gave him a tight-lipped smile, and Lucius wondered if he was nervous again. “Er—good to see you, too. Stede, bud, can I get you something from the bar?”

Stede had already sat down and smiled gratefully. “A gin and tonic, if you will.”

Ed clapped him on the shoulder. “Great, it’s on me. Be right back.”

“Could you get me—” started Wee John, but Ed was already gone. When he came back, he squeezed into the booth next to Stede and immediately put his hand on Stede’s thigh. Lucius wasn’t the only person to notice.  

“You two seem cozy,” said Jim.

“We are!” said Stede cheerfully. “Best mates, aren’t we, Ed?”

Ed nodded. Jim leaned forward across the table, their expression dark. “You treat our boy well, Edward?”

Ed swallowed. “Of course.”

“We’re very protective of him, you understand. Stede deserves the best.”

Stede tittered awkwardly, “Jim, there’s no need—”

But Ed met their gaze steadily. “I know he does.”

“And you think you’re the best?”

“’Course not. I can try, though.”

This seemed to satisfy Jim, who leaned back again. “You can stay. I like you.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking terrifying?” asked Ed, also relaxing again.

“I’ve heard that, yeah.”

Lucius coughed. “Well, now Jim has said their part, does anyone have any non-threatening questions for our guest?”

Pete immediately jumped in to ask Ed questions about his motorbike, and conversation proceeded mostly normally after that. Ed, Lucius noticed, seemed much more comfortable when he was leaning so close to Stede they were practically touching. Not that Stede made any effort to pull away.

When Stede eventually got up to take a call from Mary about childcare, Lucius pounced.

“You need to ask out Stede,” he said. Ed widened his eyes.

“Me—ask out—why would I do that?”

“Because he’s too chickenshit to do it himself and you’re clearly gone on him.”

“It’s true,” said Oluwande, “I’ve only known you an hour and even I can tell.” A few of the others nodded.

Ed scratched his cheek and glanced anxiously at the door to the bar that Stede had just exited. “You don’t think he’s… well… too good for me? Being a fancy magazine editor and shit.”

Oluwande shrugged. “It’s not about that, is it? He likes you.”

Ed still looked nervous. “How do you know? I’ve been dropping hints, but…”

“Trust me,” said Lucius. “He likes you.”

“Right,” said Ed. “Ok. That’s great and all, but I’ve only just met you guys and I’ve known Stede a while now. I’m not about to fuck up this friendship and risk getting rejected.”

 “Fuck me,” said Lucius, “You two are made for each other. I am so tired of this— Stede!” Stede had just re-entered the bar, hanging up his phone. Lucius waved him over. “Stede, it’s no use. He’s just as much as a scaredy-cat as you are.”

Stede’s mouth dropped open. “Lucius, you didn’t—”

“Edward, Stede thinks you don’t want to date him because he’s got no experience with men. Stede, Ed thinks you’re too good for him. Have at it.”

Lucius sat back in his chair, pleased with his handywork as the two middle aged men in front of him turned bright red. Everyone else on the table was looking at him in horror. Well, sod them. They didn’t work with Stede, they hadn’t dealt with all of his pining.

Eventually, Ed spoke. “Is that… true?”

Stede was still standing by their table, phone in hand. He nodded. Ed scrambled out of the booth. “Want to get drinks sometime? Alone?”

Stede grinned. “I can do you one better: want to come to mine and check out my vintage writing desk? I’ll let you use my 1940s Parker fountain pen.”

Ed looked at him like he hung the moon. “I am so fucking into you.”

Stede grinned at him, then glanced at Lucius. “Thank you for your help Lucius, but I can take it from here.” And with that, Stede took Ed’s hand and pulled him out of the bar.