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Chapter Text

1927. The golden age of prohibition and armed bank robbery.

Stede Bonnet, son and heir to New York’s most prominent banker, is laying under a table with a champagne bottle in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. 

And he is so fucking bored.

He doesn’t even smoke but god anything to break up the monotony of the evening. It’s just as well that he doesn’t have a lighter, though certainly someone will light him up if he exits his hiding spot. A pair of legs appear to his left, and Stede hears the familiar chopping and snorting he’s come to associate with Lucius’ parties. He could do a line, he supposes. But then he’d just be bored and wired. 

Maybe it’s time to head home and pass out, he thinks. His father’s lectures are always more bearable without the hangover. As Stede crawls out from beneath the table and stands, he wills the room to come into focus. He’s had more champagne than he thought but, then, that’s the point of a party, isn’t it? 

Lucius’ apartment is gorgeous. High ceilings, antique furniture, marble floors. There’s a balcony that offers one of the most picturesque views of Midtown (Stede has thrown up on it multiple times). It’s a bit like partying in a museum, except Lucius doesn’t care much if you touch the art. His mother will just buy him another Edvard Munch if the one he has gets ruined. No, he doesn’t care unless it’s his art. Then you’ve got to listen to him talk about his muse and his process and Have you ever been sketched? That’s how Stede’s father ended up paying Lucius $100 for a commissioned painting rather than risk the social faux pas of offending him. 

Artistry is a family trait for Lucius. The Spriggs are well known amongst high society for their sense of style and impeccable eye for art. That’s where their wealth lies and how Lucius’ place is decorated so decadently despite looking like cramped quarters in comparison to Stede’s penthouse. All his friends have something to which they can aspire or some sort of purpose. Lucius’ family knows fine art and so Lucius studies the craft. Wee John, so named because he was anything but, and his family have monopolized the textile market for years. He practically dictates current trends on his own. Frenchie’s family knows music and so Frenchie is well on his way to becoming a talented multi-instrumentalist (Stede’s father hated Frenchie’s family - new money and all that). But the Bonnets’ wealth comes from money. They are rich because they have always been rich. Stede understands social responsibility and burying his own wants and feelings to be a version of himself that won’t embarrass the family. 

Stede stumbles through the room while the people around him move at double the speed. Two people shove past him and into the nearest room, and he hears the lock click behind them. From behind, he hears the shattering of glass followed by laughter. Everyone is either chugging liquor, snorting cocaine, or hooking up. Jazz music wails in the background and blends seamlessly with the city sounds wafting in through the open windows. They’re all having the time of their lives for - what day is it? Wednesday? - the third time this week. It’s miserable.

“Stede? You okay?” 

The voice pulls Stede out of his own head and he realizes he’s just been standing in the middle of the foyer staring into the distance. He’s really had more champagne than he thought. 

“Yeah, yeah. Absolutely fine, Lucius. Time for me to blow out of here is all, I can’t miss the board meeting again tomorrow.” 

“God that sounds excruciating.” 

Stede sighs. “Yeah. It will be. Tell Pete I said goodbye?” 

Lucius fixes him with a look that lets Stede know he’s going to be the point of gossip for the next few days. Lucius will tell Pete who will tell Oluwande who will tell Jim… and Jim won’t care what Stede did or didn’t do. But the rest of them will say Wasn’t Stede, like, so strange at the party? Is he okay? What’s going on? It’s always well meaning, they’re his friends after all, but the truth is nothing is going on. And that’s the problem. 

He offers Lucius the half-full bottle in his hand, but Lucius shakes his head. “Keep it for the walk home.” 

With only minimal effort, Stede gracefully stumbles his way to the elevator before less gracefully stumbling out of it and into the lobby, bidding the doorman goodnight. The city is still bright and alive, at least in this part of town. He is jostled around a little bit on the sidewalk as couples and groups of friends hurry to speakeasies and penthouses and maybe a jazz lounge (but Stede doubts that at this time of night - after a certain hour, you were drunk, high, or asleep). For a moment he’s jealous. Ridiculous, he just left a party and could go right back up if he wanted. But they all sound so unburdened… or maybe he’s just drunk.

Just as he’s about to shove that thought deep back into the recesses of his mind, someone slams into him so hard he falls to the ground and spills some of the champagne.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

If the world wasn’t blurry before, it definitely is now. All Stede can make out as he looks up is a vaguely human shape backlit by some blinding white light. There’s a hand, at least he thinks it’s a hand, so he reaches blindly for it. It’s strong, a little rough, and hauls him to his feet. 

“Okay?” the stranger asks.

Stede just nods mindlessly. Something twinges in his chest when the stranger comes into focus. Long hair, beautiful smile… kind eyes. Such very kind eyes and - 

“Boss, we gotta fucking go ,” came another voice. 

And just like that, both men took off running. Strange, but certainly not the strangest thing that ever happened to Stede on a night out. But he can ruminate on that later.

What is he doing? Right! Home.

Bearings aren’t really necessary for the walk home, it’s muscle memory at this point, but balance certainly is. He puts his arms out to steady himself, but not before taking another ill-advised swig of champagne, then takes off to his left. Stede gets three steps from Lucius’ before turning around. He lives in the other direction.

He makes his way, slowly, all the while drinking the rest of the champagne he swore he didn’t want. So what if his head hurt in the morning? He’d thrown up after dealing with his father sober so, if anything, a hangover is more of an excuse to feign illness. He will have to go to the board meeting, though. Why, he’ll never understand. No one even notices when he’s missing, save his father. He doesn’t do anything. It’s all to save face. So the family can leak stories to the newspapers about the young heir to New York’s banking empire taking an enthusiastic interest in his inheritance. 

Police sirens wail as two cop cars race down the road past Stede. He half-heartedly hides his alcohol in his coat as they fly by. There isn’t much point to it. Even if they weren’t already in pursuit of someone, nobody is going to arrest Stede Bonnet for breaking prohibition laws. Maybe a slap on the wrist for public intoxication, but that’s about it. Dull, dull, dull . It’s not that Stede wants to be arrested, far from it actually, but he wants to live. And that’s so dramatic, he knows, but what good is all the money in the world if everything is lackluster and your future is bearing down on you like a tightening noose? 

He rounds the corner and stops in front of a bank. Not his family’s, which is a feat in itself. The bank in question had been hit just a few days prior. Stede keeps up with the crime reports religiously. There’s a little bit of danger in them he craves so desperately. These particular robbers made off with hundreds of dollars and are apparently still at large. Their leader reportedly calls himself Blackbeard. He remembers that bit of information because it made him laugh. Pirates and gangsters did have a bit of a similar MO, didn’t they? It isn’t an everyday occurrence, bank robbery, but it’s not exactly uncommon either. The board droned on and on last meeting about putting more security on the floor and how to “prevent these lowlife thugs from robbing us blind.” Stede jokingly suggested they keep just the Bonnets’ money in the safe because they wouldn’t even notice if some went missing. His father dressed him down in front of everyone then threw him out. 

I could be a bank robber, he thinks. I’d be a good bank robber. Comic strip-esque fantasies of his criminal alter-ego living life on the lam carry him all the way back to his penthouse and into bed. 

The following morning is not his friend. Sunlight burns through his windows and wakes him at the ungodly hour of 6am. Mistakes. So many mistakes the previous night. His head is absolutely pounding. With great effort, he rolls onto his back and out of the sunbeam’s line of fire. Why is his body so constricted? Stede forces himself to sit up and immediately regrets it. He’s so nauseous and something is cutting its way into his stomach. He can’t have been awake for more than two minutes and it’s already the worst experience he’s had since the last time he stumbled home from a party. When he finally pries his eyes open, Stede finds the source of some of his discomfort. He’d slept in his clothes. That thing trying to make him vomit is his belt. 

But the pounding, why is it so loud? And echoey? He needs sleep and water and whatever greasy food they’ll be selling at the cart outside later. 

“Open the damn door, Stede,” comes a muffled voice. 

The pounding isn’t in his head, it’s coming from the door. Or, his head is pounding but he’s hearing the knocking. On his door. At six o’clock in the morning. Begrudgingly, he drags himself to the door with all the excitement of a man on death row. Only one person could be on the other side of the door this early in the morning so… all in all, that’s a pretty close comparison. 

“Good mor-” but he never finishes that greeting. His father pushes past him and stomps his way into the apartment. 

“You’re supposed to be in the office by seven,” his father growls.”You look like hell.” 

“Sorry, father,” he replies dutifully. “I’m just a little -” he pauses, afraid last night is actually going to come up for a moment “- a little bit ill this morning.”

His father whirls around, face red and angry. “You’re not ill, you’re fucking hungover again.” A thousand bitchy retorts die on Stede’s tongue and he remains silent. A beratement from his father is nothing he hasn’t handled before. Not smart enough, not man enough, not disciplined enough, not enough . He’s heard it all before and he’ll undeniably hear it again. Stede’s father deals in the power of malice and abuse, something Stede despises with a vigor he wishes he could act on. “Pull yourself together and get ready. I’m only here to make sure you don’t miss that board meeting.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Do not embarrass me again, or this,” he motions around the penthouse, “your little depraved parties with your friends, any piece of your life that isn’t about the business? It’s over.”

As quickly as he came, his father leaves and slams the door behind him. But Stede isn’t alone. He is left standing with his father’s overbearing presence that lingers in every room for hours after the man moves on to terrorize someone else. He’s left with the same feeling he’s had since he was old enough to be paraded around as the heir to his father’s empire: he is not one to be loved or doted upon, he is either useful or he isn’t. At least as far as his father is concerned. The part he hates the most is that he wants it anyway. There is a little void within him that he tries to fill with different vices. But somehow, he always ends up feeling like a child chasing something he can never have. 

God, it’s too early in the morning to feel like this. 

Stede’s hangover and inadequacy duke it out for priority as he forces himself through the motions of feeling like a human being again. He moves surprisingly quickly considering how absolutely terrible he feels. The wardrobe is where he always gets stuck. Stede has an eye for style, but banking has no flair. He showed up in a maroon suit one day and was sent home to change. Every morning he looks longingly at his more daring and colorful outfits before reaching for something neutral. At least it helps him blend in so no one pays him any mind unless attention is called to him. 

The commute, if one could even consider it that when work is a five-minute-two-city-block walk away, is uneventful. He’s barely present from the moment he steps into the lobby. It’s routine now, for Stede to check out and go through the work day passively. He sits in on the board meeting, pretending he’s not going to be violently sick at any moment, and offers his hums of agreement. He was right - there’s no reason for him to be in this meeting other than to say he was in the meeting. 

They’re talking about interest rates or something equally dreadful so Stede lets his mind fully wander. It drifts back to his dangerous daydreams. What would it be like to feel the thrill of a gun in his hand? Excitement that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck? Find a group of life-is-cheap type friends who laughed at the law and did as they pleased? That would be something. He might even run a job on one of the Bonnets’ banks, just out of spite. How untouchable would his father be then? If Stede took the respect he deserved by force. Even the hypothetical was exhilarating. 

“Stede? Don’t you agree?”

“Huh?” 

“Don’t you agree,” his father asks again through gritted teeth, “that we should raise the principal interest rate?” 

“O-of course. Makes perfect sense.” 

“It’s settled then,” says the bald man sitting across the table from Stede. “We’ll see to the changes immediately. Last order of business. We’ve all read the papers. What are the odds one of these criminals decides to come after us next?” 

“That won’t happen,” Stede’s father says with a confidence he envies. “I’ve got eyes everywhere. There’s no need to worry about it.” 

Stede watches as all the other men in the room exchange fearful glances but remain silent. There’s that tone again, the one that’s commanding and cold. It doesn’t invite responses and, more than that, it doesn’t welcome questions. It is the final word. So it doesn’t matter if someone out there is planning to rob one of their banks. “I’ve got eyes everywhere” just means any number of cops in the NYPD were in his pocket and doing what he wanted, when he wanted it. If that includes tailing well-known gangsters to make sure they were hitting anywhere but his family’s property, then so be it. 

He wants more than anything for this meeting to be over. There’s a terribly uncomfortable desk in his office that he’s dying to take a nap on the moment he gets the chance. It’s the hangover from hell and he can’t figure out why. He didn’t drink anything strange last night and it wasn’t the first time he’d been smashed the night before work. Unless… who was passing out shots? Frenchie. It had definitely been Frenchie. Stede swore a long time ago to never drink one of Frenchie’s concoctions again because they always completely laid him out the next day. Unfortunately, drunk Stede doesn’t have the same convictions sober Stede does. After all, Frenchie was proud of his, ahem, talent for mixology. It’s only courteous to support his friend! 

His mind registers everyone else standing so he gets up as well. They’re all shaking hands, a good sign for people who need to pass out on the floor of their office for maybe a week. He stumbles a little bit getting up. Maybe he’s still drunk. Can someone be drunk and hungover at the same time? Forget it, it doesn’t matter. He’s about fifty steps from sleep when his father holds him behind. 

“We need to talk.” Stede takes a deep breath and turns to meet his father’s eyes. “You’ve known for years this was coming so try not to look shocked and wounded. I’ve finally found someone suitable for you to marry.” 

“But I -” 

“Dammit!” his father yells. “Don’t interrupt me! You will do this and you will not complain about it. For once in your life you’re going to do something right.” 

“I can understand the business and the board,” Stede begins tentatively. “I just thought I might marry someone I love.” 

“If you think I’d leave that decision up to you, you’re sorely mistaken. If you’d think less about love and more about power then maybe you’d be the son I hoped for.” 

Stede stands in the conference room, deflated and sober, as the pounding crawls its way from his head and down into his chest. It sounds like a drum beating as men are marched before the firing squad.

Chapter Text

“Maybe it won’t be that bad.” 

“Your optimism is appreciated, Olu, but let’s call it what it is. I’ve always been a patsy when it comes to my father. This is just his final gambit to lock me into my future.”

He’s sprawled out on his sofa looking pathetic. There are worse fates in the world than being one of the wealthiest men in New York City engaged to someone who is probably attractive and around his age so they might at least understand his plight. He’s not sure what’s worse: neither of them wanting to marry the other or his newly betrothed falling for him when he has no interest. 

“Why are you so convinced you’ll hate them anyway?” Lucius chimes in. “What if they’re, like, perfect for you?” ( Great point, babe! Pete agrees).

“You’ve met my father. Would you trust him to choose someone you’d love?” ( He’s got you there, babe! Pete agrees). 

And Pete isn’t the only one. In fact, there's a resounding agreement from the group. Even Jim nods their head. 

“Well, you know. Cheers to your death!” says Frenchie, raising his glass. The others follow suit and Stede exhales exaggeratedly. At least someone is finding all of this entertaining. He hauls himself upright and joins them. If he’s going down he might as well enjoy it. The glasses clink and Stede downs his drink. Bourbon burns but he’s been hoping for years that the more he drinks the smoother it’ll go down. It doesn’t, but even the rich can’t be too choosy. What’s available is what’s available. Firm stance on bourbon being disgusting, though. He makes a face of disgust but holds out his glass for a refill. Even the smell makes him a little ill but it gets the job done. 

His friends traipse around the penthouse like they live there, and sometimes it feels like they do. They’ve all got keys, much to his father’s chagrin. His father used to change the locks ( We’re not running a charity! ) but Stede just handed out new keys the next day. Eventually, his father gave up. However, he was punished with overtime hours for a month. Seemed worth it when he came home more than once to find someone waiting for him, even if sometimes they were passed out. It warms Stede’s heart to be useful even if that use is just a couch to crash on. 

“Looks like this Blackbeard fella is the real deal,” says Wee John as he flips through the newspaper. “Cops are saying he's uncatchable. Like a ghost.” 

Then Pete chimes in with the one idea Stede’s brain is going to latch onto for days and days. “I bet if we were a gang, I’d be the Blackbeard. I could lead a heist and I’d treat all of you equally. Except for Lucius who’d I’d obviously treat better.”

They devolve into arguments over the details of their hypothetical crime family. No, they would not wear uniforms! Especially if they were sleeveless! None of them are very good drivers and a getaway car would be essential. Their collective families own a good chunk of Manhattan so they’d have to actually search for a mark. Wee John doesn’t want to be the muscle but he’s kind of interested in arson, Jim doesn’t want to take orders from “any of these idiots who got stuck in a revolving door,” Lucius aggressively reminds everyone that he wouldn’t look good in prison stripes. Stede stays silent.

Stede’s not actually considering it. Because that’s insane. That’s not something you do when you’re a bunch of rich kids bored out of your skulls and booze isn’t cutting it anymore. Or something you do when your life is in a downward spiral. Right? 

“I’d have the sneaky bits under control. I was made for that kind of espionage,” Frenchie announces. 

“Wouldn’t we just walk in and demand the money or something?” Olu responds. 

“But I’d already know where the money is, you know. Undercover, babe.” 

“It’s a bank,” Jim says, “the money’s behind the big door.” 

Then they’re off fighting again about whether it’s more effective to spy first or flash a gun and have a teller do all the work. Neither side is making particularly compelling points but Stede listens to them bounce back and forth like a ping-pong game. There’s a compromise in the conversation somewhere, he thinks. Let Frenchie do recon of some locations until he finds which one is best then let the rest of them kick the doors down and take the money. The next problem is that a bank seems a little high profile. Above their current pay grade, so to speak. No one thinks they’d succeed in robbing an entire bank no matter the tactic. 

“We don’t have to start with a bank,” Stede hears himself say. “Jewelry store, maybe. Fewer staff, less security. Plan the getaway route right and we could find one outside of Manhattan so we’re less likely to be recognized, if we’re that worried.” 

The entire room falls silent and he trails off. A pin drop could be heard pinging on those shiny marble floors if it weren’t for the deafening thump of Stede’s heart. It feels like all the air is being sucked out of the room. He scans the faces of his friends who all share the same expression, one which tows the line between concern and confusion. 

Chill out, just chill the hell out. You can recover.

He forces a light laugh. “Bodega, even, but I think we’re - would be, better than that.” 

For a few painstaking seconds, nothing changes. Stede stares at the group and the group stares back. This is it, he thinks, I’ve finally crossed from eccentric into offputting. Embarrassment isn’t an unfamiliar state of affairs for Stede, and it’s not like his friends are fairweather, but he might be on the verge of a little crisis that he’s not sure he’s ready to reveal in a group setting. For the love of god, somebody say something.  

Pete’s voice cuts through the silence. “I could take the bodega by my lonesome.” Suddenly, Stede isn’t the only lunatic in the room anymore. The tension dissipates as everyone jumps on that claim even faster than the time he swore he fought off five muggers with just his bare hands. Stede lets out a sigh of relief that everyone moved on so quickly. He needs to get a grip and not let this little fantasy take over his every thought. Though, it would be nice to have something to occupy his mind that would break the monotony of it all. 

The rest of the afternoon passes much too quickly for Stede’s liking. His father informed him the previous evening that he would, under no circumstances, miss weekly family dinner. He never needs his father to verbalize a threat to feel its presence, so he shoves his friends out the door with a promise to fill them in on every dirty detail. Now, he’s standing in front of his wardrobe wondering if his teal colored suit is worth being berated by his father. He pulls the gorgeous (custom made, mind you) outfit from its place in the closet and holds it up to his body while checking himself in the mirror. No, best not. The “family” part of family dinner leads everyone to believe the Bonnets have a weekly catch up where they laugh and swap stories. In reality, Stede’s father takes about two hours every week to talk shop and relay all the ways Stede was a disappointment over the previous seven days. Occasionally, Stede gets a small reprieve by bringing a friend or some other guest making an appearance. This week is different, though. 

This week Stede is going to meet his fiancée. The thought buries itself in the pit of his stomach. His love life is the one thing he’s always been able to control. Not that his father ever kept this part of the plan a secret, but Stede is a romantic. Or, he will be when the right person gives him the chance. 

“Dreadful,” Stede says after he’s dressed in one of his business suits. It’s tailored well, cut to flatter him in all the right places, but something still isn’t right. He doesn’t recognize his reflection at times like this. Like he’s staring at one of those mannequins with the dead eyes in the Lord & Taylor shopfront, all put together and ready to be whatever the store associates need so passersby can ooh and ahh. Only his father doesn’t ooh and ahh when Stede plays his part, instead he looks annoyed at the sight of him and contradicts everything Stede says. To be fair, he supposes, his father does that to the sales associates at Lord & Taylor as well.

Like clockwork, a driver appears outside Stede’s building at 6:30pm sharp to take him to his family’s home. As he’s walking out the door, he pauses. He should probably show up with… something for his fiancée, right? He’ll never hear the end of it from his father if he doesn’t make a good first impression. Besides, it’s not their fault. As far as Stede knows, they didn’t lobby for his hand in marriage. They might even feel the same as he does. 

Freshly-cut green carnations sit in a vase in the foyer. He grabs them and taps the stems lightly on the edge of the table to shake off excess water. Good enough. 

“Evening, sir,” says his driver when Stede slides into the backseat. 

“Good evening! Any plans on this find Friday night? After this, of course.” 

“Driving you home, sir.” 

“Ah, yes.” Stede laughs nervously. “Thanks, uh, for that! I appreciate it.” 

The driver grunts noncommittally but says nothing so Stede forgoes any further comments. 

He feels bad that he’s commandeering this man’s entire evening for an event he doesn’t even want to attend. Maybe they could switch places. Stede doesn’t think he’d mind driving strangers around for a night. Think of the stories he could hear! Maybe he’d even get into a little trouble, pick up some effortlessly magnetic type who’d see something in Stede they liked. They’d show him around to their favorite spots and drag him out of his comfort zone. Maybe check out the underground scene everyone is always whispering about. It would be terrifying and thrilling to see life through the eyes (dazzling brown eyes, for some reason Stede can’t quite place) of someone so striking, so daring, but afterwards, Stede would see the city as something completely new. Just the thought is invigorating in a way he hasn’t felt, well, ever. 

This little fantasy is abruptly cut short when the driver announces they’ve arrived at his father’s home. The building is just as big and overbearing as his, just as fancy. Perhaps a little uglier but that could just be because Stede detests it and has ever since his mother died. He hasn’t come back voluntarily in years. 

Each step towards the door feels like his shoes are lined with lead. He grips the flowers tightly in his hands and takes a deep breath when he finally arrives at the door. The rapping of his knuckles on the door sounds as reluctant as he feels. 

“Welcome, Mr. Bonnet!” greets the maid. “Your father and his guests are waiting in the parlor.”

Stede gives his thanks and goes to face his fate. 

“Ah, and here’s my son now,” his father announces when Stede enters the room. There’s a chilling lack of resentment in his voice. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Allamby and their daughter.”

“Very lovely to meet you all. Stede Bonnet,” he says, extending a hand to his new fiancée. She takes it and stands, smiling.

“Mary Allamby.” 

She’s wearing a boxy sort of dress, dropped waist and in a stunning midnight blue. The style is all the rage these days, so if nothing else she’s got fashion sense. Nothing in her expression screams absolute disgust so it’s nice to know his father hasn’t dug in his claws yet. She’s pretty, too. They’ll at least be able to get along, maybe even have a few interests in common. 

“These are for you!” He holds out the bouquet and she takes it, thanking him before returning to sit with her parents. Stede chances a look at his father. So far so good. 

“Sit down,” his father says firmly, and Stede realizes he’s just been standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. So far so… okay. 

The drinks portion of the evening always lasts exactly forty-five minutes, precisely down to the minute, because if dinner isn’t ready when his father is then someone is getting fired. The impressive part about drinks is that forty-five minutes can feel like ten or a hundred. Time flies by when his father’s business associates join them but drags on and on when it’s just Stede and his father staring at each other in silence. Tonight’s not so bad. His father and Mary’s parents carry most of the conversation. Mr. Allamby is in real estate and currently brokering a multi-million dollar deal for a piece of land on Fifth Avenue. It’s in the early stages and negotiations can take months, but he’s confident it’ll go through in the end. Someone wants to build a new skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan and it may be advantageous for Stede’s father to get in on the ground floor! 

Stede catches Mary’s eye and, blessedly, she looks just as bored as he does. The family businesses are definitely in trouble. 

“Have you been given a tour yet?” he asks her during a lull in the conversation.

“No, lead the way.” 

It isn’t a tour so much as a walk to the balcony (which, unlike Lucius’, he’s never thrown up on… that his father knows of). If you’ve seen one high-rise apartment, you’ve seen them all. The Allambys almost certainly have an equally impressive home with just as much priceless art, and Stede isn’t very good at flaunting all of it anyway. The one thing they do have is a premier view of Central Park, a privilege of the Upper East Side. 

“The view is incredible, isn’t it?” Mary says. 

“Yes, it’s quite beautiful! I sort of envy you. Wish I could take it in for the first time again.”

“Stede, I was just making small talk. If I lean, I can see my home from here. We’re practically neighbors.”

“Yes, well. Right.” So much for getting through the night without embarrassing himself. “What do you think about this whole situation?” 

Mary leans on the railing and looks out over the park. Stede can’t read her expression but it doesn’t say Overjoyed! Excited! Thrilled! by any means. They’ve only known each other for about half an hour but Stede always hoped, when the time came, that he’d feel a spark or butterflies in his stomach or a shiver would run down his spine when they touched. 

“I try not to,” she answers finally. “Think about it, I mean. I always knew I’d never have a choice so you’re about what I expected.” Stede huffs at that and she turns to face him.  “Sorry, not like that! Just… come on, Stede. If we met at a party or something, would you have come over and talked to me?”

Stede laughs. That’s fair, and he tells her as much. He’s just a little anxious and probably overthinking. After all, no one is truly charming in the presence of his father. Maybe all that storybook love-at-first-sight nonsense is just that… nonsense. He is a dreamer who fantasizes about grand romance, not the hero who falls in love. That’s alright. It’s just time he finally accepts it. 

“But we haven’t even had dinner yet,” Mary says, extending her hand. “Stranger things have happened. Don’t count us out at least until dessert.” 

Stede holds her hand and feels nothing. 

Dinner features very little conversation. It seems their parents have already planned out the next twenty or so years of their lives. Wedding in six months, grandchildren a year after. Stede is to be given much more responsibility in his father’s office the minute they’re married. To Mr. and Mrs. Allamby, it’s a half-year for a young, single man to transition into married life. To Stede, it’s his father’s final warning to get his shit together. It’ll be valuable, of course, for Stede to learn about real estate and owning property. Balancing time between two successful businesses will be demanding but no one is retiring anytime soon and Mary can choose how much work she wants to take on when the children are old enough. Public image is absolutely essential.

“Engagement announcement comes out in the papers next week,” his father announces to the table.

Something inside him turns heavy. He’s locked in this now. Once they’re married, every decision Stede makes will affect Mary, not just himself. Oh god, and their hypothetical children. Does he even want children? Is six months even enough time to plan a wedding? He and Mary hardly know each other. Stede thought it would be a much longer process. 

Everyone at the table looks happy. Stede’s eyes flit from his father to Mary to her mother to her father and back to his father again. Don’t they feel a cement block tied around their legs dragging them under the water? They must not be drowning, must instead be watching Stede gasp for air.

“It’s been a lovely evening, but I’m feeling quite ill so I think I should leave,” Stede says abruptly. He needs to get out so desperately, to be anywhere but that dining room table. 

He’s out the door before dessert hits the table, doesn’t even get back in the hired car. Instead he walks. He walks and walks, weaves in and out of smiling men and laughing women who didn’t just walk out on two of the most powerful men in New York City. Stupid. Stede is so damn stupid. For years he’s been so wrapped up in the idea of marrying for love that he never stopped to think about what comes after. It isn’t just a fiancée that’s been presented to him, it’s a life. An entire life of nothing. 

Somehow, he ends up at Oluwande’s apartment. 

“Thank god you’re home,” Stede says frantically. He pushes himself inside when the door swings open. 

“Not for long, man, about to head out. What’s going on? You look like hell.” 

“I need to do something, Olu, and I need you to be on board with it! Not kidding, very serious.”

“Alright, alright.” He’s looking at Stede like he’s cracked. Maybe he is. “What do we need to do?” 

“I want to commit armed robbery.”

The next thing Stede knows, he’s sitting in a booth with a Southside Fizz in one hand and a cigarette in the other. This speakeasy is one they frequent - one with more wealthy clientele. Rich patrons means higher prices, but it also means lower chances of a raid if there’s a lot of cash flow to pay off the cops. It’s nice enough, for an illegal business. 

He remembers Olu’s shocked silence at his admission, remembers the Jesus fucking Christ, Stede , even remembers rambling out every little detail from his horrific family dinner as he tried to pace a hole into Olu’s apartment floor. Then he blinked and now all his friends are looking at him with the kind of expressions one might give a stray feral cat - like you want to help but there’s an excellent chance it’ll bite you. It does not help Stede’s erratic mood to know that he should be trapped at his father’s house right then, missing this meetup. 

“I don’t want either of these,” Stede mentions, staring at his hands. 

“Yeah, well, you need to relax just a smidge, and one of those will do the trick,” Lucius says. 

“Can I just try some deep breaths?” 

“We tried that. You shook me by the shoulders and yelled ‘I can’t, I forget how to breathe!’ in my face,” Jim tells him.

“Ah.” Seems he isn’t as adjusted to the idea of his arranged marriage as he wants to be, a revelation that is supposed to remain buried in the deep recesses of his mind until death. “I’m sorry about that.” Jim waves his apology off and goes back to their drink. 

“You wanna explain properly why you showed up at my place talking about,” Oluwande lowers his voice, “committing armed robbery?” 

“I…” He’s not sure what to say. Because I want to is far too simplistic and barely the truth. Because I have no control over any aspect of my life is closer but feels so pathetic to admit to himself, let alone his friends. He settles on, “Break the monotony?” 

For a long time, there’s nothing but puzzled looks and the jazz band’s serenade. He watches the rest of the table steal questioning glances at one another. Stede’s life isn’t the only one stuck in a rut, right? Even if he wasn’t staring down the barrel of his father’s gun, everything is so fucking predictable. He doesn’t really know what living is, but he is so desperate to find out. 

“You know that’s a felony, right?” Oluwande asks. 

Stede does know it’s a felony, he just chooses not to think about it. He also knows his daydreams are thrilling. But, most importantly, he’d gamble that his father wouldn’t ever let him serve anything more than community service. Not because he cares, of course, but because half the city is in his pocket and his heir serving jail time would ruin everything. And, much like the potential legal ramifications of such an act, he does not acknowledge the possibilities of what his father will do to him if he finds out. 

Before Stede can respond, Lucius chimes in, “Being a criminal could be kind of sexy.”

“We kind of already are,” says Jim. “We’re here all the time. This place ever gets raided, we’d be in a hell of a jam.” 

“I’m telling you, I could keep up with Blackbeard,” Pete insists, “so you guys would be lucky to have me,” 

It’s suspiciously easy to garner approval once the idea is floated. Stede sips his drink, thankful they’re talking themselves into it because he’s not convincing at the best of times.

Chapter Text

Lower Manhattan is busy for a Sunday evening.

Blood pounds in Stede’s ears so loudly he’s afraid he’ll never hear again. Lucius’ lips are moving but no sound is coming out. He looks worried and irritated at the same time. What is he doing here? Stede looks down and turns his hands over a couple times to make sure he’s still in his body when something even more distressing catches his eye. Heavy, black metal sits in stark contrast against the bright teal of his suit, and suddenly Stede’s mind registers the weight of the tommy gun in his lap. 

“We don’t have to do this, you know. You need to decide, like, right though because Pete is ten seconds from making this a one-man operation,” Lucius says, nodding towards the back seat. Out of his peripheral vision, Stede can see Pete sitting on the bench seat behind him practicing pointing his gun and smoldering.

“That’s not… ?” he half-asks. 

“God no!” Lucius responds. “No ammo, remember?”

This is not a good idea. Stede doesn’t even know how he’s gotten this far. Sometimes he just speaks an idea into existence and instead of doing the sane thing and saying We’re not doing that, why the hell would you say that?, his friends just went along with it. He’s probably the least qualified to be any sort of leader, but he’s fallen into the role all the same. So somehow, here they all are, sitting in a van ready to rob a jewelry store just for the thrill of it because Stede said they should. Take support where it comes, he supposes. 

This is really not a good idea. 

“So are we doing this or what?” Frenchie calls from the back of the van. A chorus of voices echoing the sentiment follows. 

What the hell, right? Live today or not at all.

The darkening sky doesn’t provide as much cover as Stede would like, but the alley is empty and no one is going to take much notice of a van behind a block of stores. They all pile out of the van and a thrill rockets down Stede’s spine. If he’s going to have another panic, he decides he’ll do it later, at home, while he’s reconciling with what’s about to happen. Might as well do it all at once, nice and tidy. 

His trembling hands manage to wrap themselves securely around the cold metal of the gun. It’s heavy, bearing all too familiar a weight despite not being loaded. Stede shudders at the potential finality of it all. Power, yes, but still not the kind of power he wants. Or could it be? He brings the barrel of the gun up to lean against his shoulder, trying to get a feel for the weapon. It’s a little clunky and probably a decent weapon even without the bullets. He wouldn’t want to be clunked in the back of the head with one. 

“That’s kinda a hot look for you,” Lucius says. 

“What?” 

“Fancy suit and the gun. There’s something insanely sexy about an outlaw, don’t you think?” 

Stede huffs. “I don’t think there’s anything necessarily attractive about a criminal.”

“Come on,” Lucius insists. “On the run from the law? Unpredictable? Troubled? Not a bad vibe.” 

Exhilarating, hair-raising, electrifying. All words Stede feels describe the situation appropriately. Sexy? Hot? What’s so attractive about breaking the law? If anything, these gangsters were terrifying. Intimidating. Maybe that’s the type of power he’s best suited for. 

They go over the plan one more time. Kick in the door, demand money and the jewelry in the case, keep up the demeanor like they know what they’re doing, get out and get back uptown as quickly as they can. And, no matter what happens, Stede is proud of everyone for trying something new but it would be great to, you know, avoid law enforcement if at all possible. 

Stede’s pep talk is the last thing that goes according to plan. 

With more flourish than is called for, Pete shoves the door open with his foot. Or, that’s what he tries to do. The group stands outside for a few painfully embarrassing seconds as they collectively realize the door needs to be pulled open. Stede props the door open and ushers everyone inside with all the urgency of a teacher corralling kindergarteners after recess. Passersby are turning to run in the other direction and it takes Stede a moment to realize it’s likely because he is holding a gun . Off to a grand start! 

When he gets inside, the clerk behind the counter looks bored and the few customers standing around look perplexed. The fluorescent lighting is making his head hurt already but he needs to focus - his friends are waiting for him to take the lead. This is his wild fantasy, after all.

“Hi, all!” he says, addressing… everyone. “We’ll be robbing you this evening! Cooperation is much appreciated!” Stede taps the butt of his gun to emphasize his point. They didn’t have to know the threat wasn’t real! Unfortunately, he hit it with a little too much gusto and nearly knocked it out of his hand. Beads of sweat make their home at Stede’s hairline. No one appears interested in taking him seriously. The store’s patrons eye him warily but continue shopping and the shopkeeper pays him no mind at all. Stede’s never learned how to take back a room once he’s lost it. “Put all the money in a bag,” he says, turning to the sales clerk again. “Please?” 

Not even crickets want any part of how mortifying a silence falls over the room. 

“I suggest you put the money in the bag,” Jim says, suddenly appearing next to Stede. They cock their gun and point it at the clerk’s head. “Or I can splatter your head all over that wall. Entendido?” 

“Jim,” Stede whispers. “We don’t have any bullets.”

“He didn’t know that,” they spit back through gritted teeth. 

“If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll be forced to call -”

The clerk never does finish that sentence because a loud bang from the front door draws the attention of everyone in the space. Stede’s going to be sick. If he makes it out unscathed he’ll go home and marry Mary and become a banker with no questions asked. He’s never going to seek adventure or thrill again. Just boring, predictable - 

“Everyone get on the fuckin’ ground and we won’t have any problems, yeah?” says a man with a deep, rough voice, flanked by a handful of supremely tough looking crew members. Everyone in the room scrambles to the floor. Everyone, except for Stede.

- captivating, magnetic knockout of a man. 

Stede rakes his eyes over the man and the world has the good grace to slow time down. Wild, dark waves cascade across his shoulders, long enough for the ends to kiss his chest. A chest put tantalizingly on display by the choice to forgo a shirt and a purple suit jacket cut down to his naval. Stede’s overcome with the fleeting desire to graze his fingers over the bare skin, to see if the touch will burn white hot. He shakes it off - strange, that - and trails his eyes up to the man’s face. A short, scruffy beard paints his face and black eyeshadow is smeared across his eyes. He means it to frighten, Stede is sure, but his eyes are warm and beautiful despite his current grimace. And familiar. Something is so familiar. 

“Izzy, who the fuck are these guys?” the man growls. 

“Dunno, boss. You want me to take care of ‘em?” Stede tenses as this other man, Izzy, cocks his handgun and walks towards him. Stede puts his own gun on the counter and puts his hands up in surrender. Best not to get shot.“What part of get on the fucking ground did you not get?” 

But that’s kind of rude, isn’t it? “This is a custom suit, Iggy , and I’d prefer not to get it ruined.” 

The mystery man barks a laugh and Stede smiles, thinking for a moment he may have charmed his way out of danger. He is wrong. Izzy and his gun are pushed out of the way in favor of an even bigger gun and imposing presence. 

“D’you know who I am?” Stede shakes his head. “Fuckin’ Blackbeard, mate.” 

Stede’s mouth falls open. An apology tries to run out of his mouth but it trips almost immediately and he stutters over the words. What were the odds they picked the one jewelry store in the whole city that Blackbeard was planning to hit on the exact same day? It seems nearly impossible. Good or bad odds, here he is. Staring down the barrel of Blackbeard’s gun. 

Blackbeard slings an arm around Stede’s neck like they’re old friends reunited. “What’s the deal here?”

“Well - I just - we were -”

“Yeah, yeah, robbing the store. Me too. I mean what’s the deal with this,” Blackbeard says, tapping his gun to Stede’s chest. “The getup. You.” 

“I… never get to wear this suit,” Stede says idiotically. What kind of explanation is that? He glances at his friends on the floor. They look equal parts scared and confused. At least everyone is on the same page. 

Blackbeard doesn’t seem intent on shooting him for providing such a stupid answer to his question, so that’s something. It would be nice to get out of here before his brain catches up with the goings on, though. He’s about to ask if can take his friends and leave when Blackbeard speaks again. 

“Fang! Blindfold this guy and throw him in the back of my car. Izzy, take care of this shit, we’ve still got a job to do.” Stede starts to protest when he’s pulled away by, presumably, Fang, but thinks better of it when Fang bares his teeth and pulls him roughly towards the door. 

“So, like, what about us?” he hears Lucius’ voice ask. 

“You,” Blackbeard says, “are going to get the hell out of here in the next five minutes or you’re never leaving at all. Get it?” 

Frantic shuffling and mumbles of agreement are the last Stede hears (or sees) of his friends. Fang blindfolds him tightly, ties his hands together behind his back, and walks him outside. Stede can tell they’ve reached the car because he’s shoved into it. He hears the familiar bang and click of a door shutting and locking after being pushed inside. Is this how he dies? Driven off to some remote location and shot by Blackbeard? Maybe he’ll be tortured first. Does Blackbeard torture? He racks his brain for memory of any mention of Blackbeard’s preferred methods of inflicting pain. He comes up empty, unable to decide if that makes him feel better or worse. 

This is the kind of power he’s suited for: the absence of it. They’re going to have to invent a new color for his father’s face to turn when he hears about this. Never mind what the press will say. Another failure in the life of Stede Bonnet. Un-fucking-believable. Well, actually, very fucking believable. God, why is it so difficult for him to do anything without ruining it? Everything he touches withers in some form or another. Putting everyone he cares about in a life or death situation is a new horrendous achievement as well. Hopefully they really did leave, they’re better off without him. At least they can escape the plague of Stede Bonnet. Mary is about to be tied to his anchor and thrown overboard. That is, if he survives the night. He pulls deep breaths to try and calm down, it’ll do no good to have a panic attack in the back of Blackbeard’s car. As much as he’s enjoying castigating himself, he tries to focus on making in through whatever’s going to happen next.

It could be ten minutes or an hour that pass before someone else gets in the car. 

“Hello?” Stede asks tentatively. 

“Comfy?” The voice is instantly recognizable as Blackbeard. He doesn’t wait for a response before peeling out at a speed that throws Stede to one side. Without use of his arms to catch himself, Stede knocks his head into the window. 

He stays silent the entire ride, as does Blackbeard. They’re speeding through the streets of New York and he’s grateful to be blindfolded because the reckless driving would have him screaming if he could see how many close calls they’re surely making. By the time they stop moving, Stede is impressed his stomach managed to keep the car sickness down. 

He hears Blackbeard exit the car and then, moments later, join him in the backseat. Stede flinches when he feels a hand on the back of his head. 

“Relax, just taking off the blindfold.” Blackbeard’s fingers fumble with the knot before gracelessly tugging it off his head. “Turn around, I’ll do your hands.” 

Wordlessly, Stede obeys. Not the wisest thing he’s ever done, turning his back in an enclosed space to a known gangster, but if Blackbeard wanted him dead then he’d be dead already. Besides, you don’t gently unbound someone you’re about to torture. Right? 

“Now, just who the hell are you?” 

“Stede Bonnet,” he answers without thinking. Fucking moron. Sometimes it’s like, Hey! Where’s your sense of self-preservation?

“Bonnet?!” Blackbeard says, incredulous. “Like, banking fortune heir Stede Bonnet?” 

“You’ve heard of me?” 

“‘Course. I’ve heard all about you. Why’s the richest man in the city robbing some midtier jewelry store?”

Stede shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. The street lights illuminate the other man’s face with such a soft glow that it cannot belong to Blackbeard, the dangerous and hardened criminal. The sparkle in his eyes, the wisps of hair brushing his cheek, the way his lips are turned up in a curious smile - this is the face of someone who shouldn’t get entangled with the likes of dead weight like Stede Bonnet. He must have leaned in - has Blackbeard leaned in as well? - because now they’re faces are inches from each other. Those eyes are even more beautiful up close. Stede swallows nervously before answering the question. 

“I just wanted to do something dangerous for once in my life.” 

“I’m dangerous.”

“What?!” 

“I said I’m Ed,” he says, holding a hand out between them. That’s not what he said but Stede hardly trusts his own ears considering what a whirlwind the past few hours have been. And it’s nice to put a name to such captivating eyes. 

Stede reaches out and shakes Ed’s hand. A spark runs from where Ed’s fingertips brush his inner wrist, up Stede’s arm, and straight down his spine, making him shiver. Something exciting flutters in the pit of his stomach, stealing the breath from his lungs. It takes all the self control he can muster not to let a noise of disappointment escape his lips when Ed pulls his hand back. 

“There must be something real weird about you, man, ‘cause becoming a criminal for fun is insane,” Ed comments, and Stede pulls back a little. Of course. He got so lost in the moment that he forgot how offputting he could be. “Kinda dig it.” 

Oh? 

“Well, I can be a bit wild when I put my mind to it!” 

“That so?” Ed’s eyes are boring into him now as he dangles Stede on the precipice of something. He doesn’t know exactly what it is, only that jumping off the edge into whatever happens next will change him, irreparably, forever. “Tell me one more thing. You a rat?” 

“N-no.” 

Ed draws his lower lip between his teeth and looks Stede up and down. “Alright. Get in the front seat.” In the blink of an eye, Ed is clambering into the driver’s seat with no reverence for the fact that they seem to be in a very nice Cadillac. Stede just watches him go, dumbfounded. “You coming?” he asks, turning around and locking eyes with Stede.

The little voice in the back of his head, the one usually reserved for self-deprecation, is changing its tune. Go , it says, Follow this man wherever he’s about to take you. So he nods and climbs into the passenger's seat. 

They’d been in Brooklyn, Stede realizes, as Ed drives them over the bridge back into Manhattan. The car ride is silent, but not uncomfortable, so Stede focuses on the stars. The night sky eats every bit of free space surrounding the skyline like it's going to engulf the city in twinkling starlight. He rolls the window down to let the fresh air caress his face. It’s cool and refreshing, calming his racing heart to a slow, steady beat. Stede turns to look at Ed. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other out the window, and an easy smile toying on his lips. 

“Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are we going?” 

“Taking you home, mate. Unless you wanted to sleep in the back of my car?” Ed chuckles. 

Stede’s heart sinks a little bit, and if he wasn’t concerned Ed might mistake the action, he’d roll his eyes. Maybe he can ask Ed to pull over so he can throw himself into the river because god what a desperate thing he is. He shakes it off and tries to remain normal and quiet for the rest of the ride. 

It’s too soon when they pull up outside Stede’s building. He tries to jump out of the car quickly, unsure what the protocol is for saying thank you and goodnight to someone who very technically kidnapped him. 

“Hang on.” Ed grabs his arm. “You ever heard of Spanish Jackie’s in the West Village?” Stede nods. Lucius mentioned going there once or twice because, well, where hasn’t Lucius been? “Meet me there tomorrow at nine thirty.”

“Okay,” Stede hears himself say even though this could very easily be some sort of trap. 

“Good. Password’s oranges.” 

Stede does get out of the car this time and bids Ed goodnight. He thinks he might go upstairs and write the entire evening down from start to finish in case he wakes up tomorrow and finds it was all a dream. He thinks he might also throw up. But, wait - just one more thing - 

“Hang on,” Stede calls through the window before Ed can drive off. “How the hell do you know where I live?” he asks, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. 

Ed smirks. “Do I make you nervous, Stede Bonnet?” 

“No,” Stede lies. 

“We’ll see about that.”

Chapter Text

When Stede wakes up in the morning, he thinks about Ed. When he goes to work, he thinks about Ed. Now, here he is. Sitting across from Mary at dinner. Thinking about Ed. What did he mean by We’ll see about that? Does he want to make Stede nervous? What kind of fucking question is that, of course he wants to make Stede nervous. More than that, he’s Blackbeard for god’s sake! Stede isn’t special to him. If nothing else, Ed’s cultivating quite a reputation and no little rich boy trying to play cops and robbers is going to change that. But why does he want to make Stede nervous? Beyond the obvious, that is. Inexplicably, Stede wants Ed to try and make him nervous. 

On the other hand, Stede can’t believe he’s even considering showing up to Spanish Jackie’s. To any logical person, it would seem he escaped the clutches of Death. Now, he’s rushing through dinner with his fiancée only to rush back into its arms. 

“Stede!”

“What?” 

“He asked what you wanted to eat.”

Stede fades back into the restaurant, the clanging of silverware and low chatter of other diners ringing in his ears. He looks up to find a very impatient waiter staring daggers into him. The server is tapping a pen impatiently against a notepad and Stede’s forgotten every food he’s ever enjoyed in his life. 

“The, ah… spaghetti is fine.” 

“Excellent choice,” the waiter says drily. “And just the salad for you, miss?” 

“Perfect, thank you,” Mary answers. 

A salad? La Vendetta is the best Italian restaurant in the city and Mary is having a salad? Well, to each their own, he supposes. 

God, the silence is awkward. He hadn’t realized just how much liquid courage worked for him on that first night. Mary eyes him expectantly, but he’s never been much for small talk. In truth, that’s misleading. He’s delightfully adept at small talk. What he’s never been great at is feigning interest. 

“So, Mary… I had a lovely time the other night.” The compliment leaves his mouth like blackstrap molasses from the jar, entirely too slowly and lacking any hint of saccharinity. It’s not a lie but it’s not not a lie. She doesn’t need to know the part of the evening that was lovely had nothing to do with her. 

“Yeah. How are you feeling, by the way?” 

“Fantastic, why do you ask?” 

Marry narrows her eyes and tilts her head like he’s just said something questionable. It’s a little unnerving, actually, so Stede endeavors to tear a slice of bread into as many pieces as possible. 

“You ran out of dinner talking about how sick you were. I assumed it was rather awful.” 

Shit. 

“Ah, that. Yes, well, I - I’m fine. All better! Ship shape, as it were.” 

“Good to hear,” she responds, voice steeped in skepticism. “Well, I guess I have to go back to my mother with something so… what do you do outside of banking? Any hobbies?”

Unbelievably, Stede doesn’t have a good answer to that. Partying is not a good answer. Daydreaming sounds childish. Committing felonies? New but arguably the worst option of the three. “Golf,” he hears himself say.

Golf?! Stede doesn’t play golf. Stede barely goes to the country club because there’s nothing to do but have business lunches and play golf. A sport he finds woefully dull. 

“Interesting!” she says. It’s not really, though, is it?

“Do you have any, uh, hobbies?” 

“I love to paint!” she says excitedly. “I’ve actually been taking some classes and Doug, that’s my instructor…”

Mary’s voice fades into the background as Stede’s mind wanders off again. What kind of hobbies might a man like Ed have? Something high action, surely. Armed robbery really got the blood pumping! Even if Stede wasn’t technically armed and that thing pumping his blood so intensely was anxiety. Men like Ed crave adventure and Stede so badly wants to be part of the club. There might even be some room for Stede to hope for membership, if for no other reason than this: Why the hell would Blackbeard kidnap someone just to drive them home?

“... and I’d love to take you some time, if you’re up for it.”

“What? Yes! Sure. Anything you want.” 

“You’re not listening to anything I”m saying!” she accuses. 

“Of course I am!” he lies. They’ve been engaged for a few days, how is he screwing it up already?! 

“Where did I just say I’d take you?” 

Alright so he’s not listening to a word she’s saying. But he’s making an effort starting now! He can smooth this bump over if only he can suss out what she was talking about. Thankfully, the waiter arrives with their food and buys him a little bit more time. It smells divine and Stede realizes just how hungry he is. Maybe if he stuffs his mouth fast enough he can really drag out answering her question.

“The food here is to die for! Strange you ordered a salad when you knew we were coming here, but whatever you like, eh?”

Mary drops her silverware and it clatters loudly on the plate, startling Stede. He jumps a little bit in his chair, shocked by the sudden noise.

“I don’t eat Italian food, Stede, I told you that!” 

A few other diners in their immediate vicinity turn when Mary raises her voice. This is not the kind of attention they’re supposed to garner.

“When?” he asks, perplexed. 

“This morning when you called me to ask where I wanted to go to dinner!” 

“Alright! Alright!” Stede does not remember hearing Mary give any particular preference for or against specific cuisines. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll get it right.” 

“Can you just take me home?” 

“We haven’t even eaten yet.” 

“Please?”

The server is just as excited to box up their untouched meals as he was to take their orders. Stede tips him generously for all the trouble they caused, which seems to improve his opinion of Stede considerably. He and Mary spend the ride home in silence and the discomfort of it all is going to kill him. She’s so kind and, in the few interactions Stede’s had with her, tries so hard to make an effort. To be who they’re supposed to be.

He parks in front of Mary’s building and waits, expecting her to yell or at least express her disappointment. 

Instead, all she says is, “It was the fucking art gallery, Stede. I wanted to take you to the art gallery.”

What an awful first date. He wants to at least be friends with Mary so badly but if first impressions are anything to go by, Stede hasn’t made a good one. Forget falling in love, the only way they’re going to make it through the next six months (maybe the rest of their lives) is together. He needs to keep sight of that. 

“Let me make it up to you,” he proposes timidly. “I’ll think of something spectacular and call you in a couple of days.” 

Mary turns to him, the anger disappearing from her eyes. “I can’t be the only one that tries to make this work. Hell, we didn’t even get more than an hour into our first date.” 

“You’re right. Hopefully no one documented our little spat.” 

She nods, drops her head back against the seat, and closes her eyes. “Can’t have any bad press. Like my mother always says, ‘Publicity is power.’”

“Funny. My father thinks money is power.” 

“Don’t you just love being a commodity? We’ll get it right next time. What were you daydreaming about anyway?” 

A smidgen of panic creeps into Stede’s mind and he rushes out, “Nothing! Just a long day at the office.” 

Blessedly, Mary accepts that answer and gives him a sympathetic look. They promise to reconvene in a day or two and try again. She even agrees to feign illness in front of her parents to explain why she’s returned home so soon. 

He barely gives the date a second thought between dropping Mary at home and heading out to the part of the night he’s actually been looking forward to. 

Stede’s heart races as he stands outside the door to Spanish Jackie’s. Ed didn’t say anything about a dress code or what kind of vibe is going on inside. Just a metal door in a back alley versus a man in a purple suit who sweats when he’s nervous. He dabs his brow with a handkerchief and raps on the door. 

A slot in the door slides open and a deep voice asks, “Password?” 

“Oranges,” he answers confidently. 

The slot snaps shut and for a few painstaking seconds Stede thinks he’s misremembered the password. He ditched his fiancée to hang out in a disgusting, grimy alley because he was chasing a delusion. How typical of him to - ah. The door cracks open and he’s ushered inside. 

The atmosphere in Spanish Jackie’s is unlike anything else. For one thing, no one notices Stede. His style is generally more outlandish (other people’s words, not his) and draws attention, even at the bars he frequents. Here, nobody says a thing. He almost blends in, now that he looks around. There’s a rainbow array of outfits scattered around the room, staff and patrons! For the first time in his life, Stede has walked into a new room and felt comfortable. 

“Stede fuckin’ Bonnet,” says a familiar voice. No one can tell his stomach flips but he’s embarrassed about it anyway. 

“Ed!” he responds, hoping it comes off smooth. 

Ed claps him roughly on the back and throws an arm around his shoulders. His tone is rather joyous, Stede thinks. So far so good. 

“Nine thirty on the dot. Should’ve guessed you’d be punctual.”

“Yes, well I -” 

“Swede!” Ed yells and the man behind the bar looks up. “Two bourbons.”

“Your usual booth?” the bartender asks. Ed nods and steers Stede in and out of people, who are varying degrees of intoxicated, to a booth in the back corner. 

Ed throws himself on to the seat and props his boots up on the table. He’s slightly slouched, leaning back with his hands behind his head. It looks absolutely effortless, if not a little uncomfortable. Stede slides in across from him and folds his hands on the table, unsure of what else to do with them. It takes immense effort for Stede to look effortless so he’s not even going to try. 

It’s difficult not to take him in like a fine painting. There’s a real possibility, Stede realizes, that this man may not own a shirt. The suit is black this time, not cut quite as low as before, but still low enough that Stede can see his chest. Stede’s eyes follow the pinstripes from his neck down to the boots he’s thrown up on the table. If Stede looked that good, he might not wear a shirt either. He meets Ed’s eyes again to find him smirking. 

Stede begins to apologize profusely, explaining that he’s just admiring the outfit (and it’s the truth!), but Ed cuts him off. “No crime in looking. I don’t dress like this because I look bad.” Stede would call that cocky if it weren’t so noticeably true.  

A few moments later, their drinks arrive. 

“Jackie says to take your feet off the table because you know the rules, Mr. Blackbeard.” 

“Sorry, Swede,” he says like a child that’s been scolded, and slides his legs under the table. “Sorry, Jackie!” 

Stede laughs because what else is he supposed to do? This man busted into a jewelry store looking menacing as all hell, threatened to kill just about everyone in the room if they didn’t comply with his instructions, but now he’s apologizing for putting his dirty shoes on the table. 

“Blackbeard apologizes?” 

“I’ll tell you this for free, Stede Bonnet.” Ed slides one of the glasses to Stede. “Do not piss off Jackie.” 

More bourbon. Why does everyone like bourbon so much? “You don’t have to use my full name, you know. Stede will do.” 

Ed shrugs. “Maybe I like your full name.” 

Well that’s - 

He’s never had any particular attachment to his name but it hits his ears like music coming out of Ed’s mouth. He doesn’t argue. 

“What’s your full name?”

“Edward Teach.” 

Something about this is all too easy, but Stede can’t put his finger on it. It’s not deja-vu exactly, it’s something more abstract that taps at the back of his mind. Suddenly, his stomach feels kind of fluttery and he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep anything down. If he embarrasses himself in front of Ed, he’s not sure he’ll ever recover. 

“So why am I here?” Stede asks. 

“You tell me.”

Stede can’t help it, he rolls his eyes. Ed extended the invitation, it wasn’t as if Stede invited himself along on a night out! His glass finds its way to his mouth and he wills himself not to grimace as the bourbon passes over his lips. 

“Not a bourbon fan, eh?” Ed comments. Damn. 

“Not particularly but I’ll drink what’s in front of me.”

“Fair enough. Ya know, you almost botched my whole operation yesterday!” 

“I think you’ll find it was your crew that botched my operation,” Stede reminds him. 

Ed emits a beautifully symphonic laugh and slaps his hand on the table. It makes Stede jump and nearly spill his drink. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…

“You didn’t even have any bullets in your guns.”

“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt!” 

“When you were staging a robbery?!” 

Nefarious activities don’t have to end in bloodshed. And if Ed knew his friends, he would probably agree that no bullets was absolutely the way to go! It’s quite simple, actually, so he begins to explain. Life began to choke him just a little too tight so he coerced all his friends into committing a felony just to feel something that made life worth living.

“Did it work?” Ed asks. 

He’s a little taken aback by the question. Stede hasn’t really thought about it, everything happened so fast. Sure, the robbery was exciting in the most clinical definition of the word. But did he feel something? A good something? 

“It was a fairly poor attempt at the art of criminality,” Stede answers. Ed’s giving him a warm smile but stays silent. It makes Stede want to keep talking. There was a thrill that night, though Stede isn’t sure he wants to admit it because that could be a problem. The problem being it was all the time spent in Ed’s car between being kidnapped and dropped off home. He doesn’t want to say the quiet part out loud. “I suppose I did feel something in the end.”

“Yeah? Which part?” 

“The… gun part?”

“Interesting.”

“Fine, so I’m not the most practiced criminal,” Stede admits. “We can’t all be Blackbeard.” Ed hums thoughtfully and for a second, Stede thinks he’s going to ask another question. When he doesn’t, Stede follows up, “Why’d you pick Blackbeard as your name anyway?”

“Terrifying force of nature, wasn’t he? Legendary pirate who got what he wanted and struck fear into the hearts of his enemies.” 

“Is that what you want?” Stede asks tentatively. “For people to be frightened of you?” 

“‘Course. No one hands you anything for free, you’ve gotta take it. That’s power.” 

“Do you want me to be frightened of you?” 

He watches Ed lean back in the booth and stare at him, eyebrows raised. Stede doesn’t know what possessed him to ask such a question. Of course he’d want Stede to be frightened of him. If Stede was a smarter man, maybe he would be. But Ed - Blackbeard - could’ve killed him twice over already and hasn’t even tried. It’s a fact Stede wants to poke and prod at until he figures out why. 

“Dunno. Are you?” 

“No,” Stede answers without hesitation. 

“I could shoot you right now and no one in here would bat an eye.” 

Notably, Ed doesn’t pull out a handgun to threaten him with. In fact, Ed doesn’t even flinch. Stede’s pretty sure he’s not in any danger. Best he remembers not to press his luck too hard, though.

“You’d’ve done it by now.” 

“Maybe I’m waiting to take you out back and stab you,” Ed reasons.

“Maybe,” Stede concedes. That would be a hell of a story, wouldn’t it? Gut stabbed by this alluring, hardened criminal in the alley behind a seedy speakeasy. Ed downs his drink and Stede can’t stop his traitorous eyes from watching the subtle movements of Ed’s throat as he swallows. The sound of Ed’s glass dropping onto the table draws Stede’s attention back to his face. Ed leans in close. 

“Would that make you frightened of me?” 

“If you stabbed me?” Ed nods. Stede considers this question seriously. Yes, he decides, the threat of physical violence does make him scared. But that’s true of anyone who’d try and stab him, it’s not exclusive to Ed. Would, he said. Not Will that frighten you? but Would. It’s not a threat. No, he’s fishing for the threshold of Stede’s fear.

Ed seems to be wearing two separate expressions. The lines of his face are hard, meant to intimidate, but his eyes give him away. Stede has a gut feeling, like he’s supposed to say no. So he does. “Not even then.” 

“You’re a lunatic,” Ed tells him, and Stede chooses to believe the words are tinted with affection despite not trusting his ears. “I like it.” 

The atmosphere at the table relaxes considerably after that. Ed motions for Stede to move around the booth and sit next to him instead of across the table. Stede’s body moves like there’s a magnet attached to his hip, desperate for the comradery that’s being offered. 

“So what do you do outside of, you know, the crime?” 

“This mostly,” Ed says, gesturing around. “Those wanted posters are getting a little too accurate for comfort and getting caught is not bloody optimal. So, you know. Under cover of darkness and all that.” 

“No daytime hobbies, then?” 

“I mean, I’m not a fucking vampire.” Ed laughs and Stede can’t help but join in. “To tell you the truth, it’s kind of a grind.” 

“But you’re just making a name for yourself!” 

“Yeah, in this city. Contrary to what you all seem to think, this isn’t the center of the world,” Ed tells him. There’s no resentment in his voice, just fact. 

Before Stede can learn more about that very interesting piece of information, a woman comes over and wedges herself onto Ed’s lap before flopping dramatically onto his chest. He chuckles and wraps his arms around her waist. Stede’s eyes flash green so quickly he almost missed it. 

“Eddie, I’m leaving her. I’m done.” 

“Nah, you’re not,” Ed says. “You’re bein’ rude though. Anne Bonny, Stede Bonnet.”

The woman sits up and turns to Stede. “Charmed,” she says, giving him a curt smile before turning back to Ed. “I’m serious this time. Kiss me, she’s probably watching.” 

“No way, last time you kissed me you drew blood!” 

Stede grimaces slightly. She seems… nice?

“No fun!” Anne complains, then turns around to yell, “Mary, Eddie’s not fun!” 

Ed waves another woman, who Stede presumes is Mary, over and says, “Come get the missus, I’m not your relationship toy!” 

If this kind of commotion went on in Stede’s usual haunts, they’d be kicked out immediately. Things have to be very demure in the speakeasies uptown, or as demure as an illegal establishment can get. It’s still an upper class clientele, after all. But no one bats an eye as Mary comes over and pulls Anne off Ed’s lap with an exasperated sigh and an eye roll. 

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Mary quips. 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I wasn’t.” 

It’s a shock to Stede’s system when Anne hops up on their table, wraps her legs around Mary’s waist, and proceeds to kiss her with a ferocity that will make him blush if he looks for too long. Far be it from Stede to deny anyone their passion, but… on their table? In front of everyone? That’s a bit too much impropriety for Stede’s taste. 

Ed nudges his shoulder and leans close, so Stede leans in too. “They’re gonna be a while, mate, and there’s no moving ‘em. I’ve tried,” Ed tells him before sliding out of the booth. 

Stede follows, and they end up taking two seats at the bar. 

“Who was that? Anne, you said?” Stede’s thoroughly intrigued by Ed’s circle of acquaintances. Not that his own friend group isn’t a group of colorful personalities, but this is a completely new world. He flags down the bartender for two more drinks. 

“She will eat you alive, don’t even think about it.” 

“Ex-girlfriend?” Stede asks. 

“Nah, just an old friend. Knew each other as teenagers and reconnected when I moved to the city. That’s her girlfriend, Mary. The two of them want everyone to believe they’re on and off, but they just like to play fucked up games.”

“Hence the making you bleed.” 

“Yeah, man! I’m not opposed to it being a little rough but fucking warn a guy before you bite him!” 

Stede nods, like that’s an issue he can relate to. Sex is fine, he might even classify some of it as good, but it’s horribly one-track and not the least bit out of the box. The upper class like to talk about branching out, they don’t actually like to do it. Not that biting is exactly scandalous by any means, but he can’t show up to his office with any evidence he enjoys life. 

When their drinks arrive, Ed jumps out of his seat and leans on the bar. He’s moved so close that he and Stede are shoulder to shoulder. Ed’s telling some story about he and Anne hiding in a tree to avoid the police after shoplifting when they were teenagers. Why Ed needs to be so close in order to regale Stede with this tale, Stede isn’t sure. He’s not complaining! It’s… nice. Stede watches Ed excitedly recall how he scrambled up to the highest branch he could reach before hanging by his legs to haul Anne up into the tree with him. 

“Then we sat up there for, like, four hours eating the candy we stole and talking. Anyway,” Ed shrugs and swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, Stede thinks he probably can’t blame Anne for biting him, “we’ve been friends a long time.” 

He’s trying to think of something, anything, to offer in return for this little glimpse into Ed’s life. It’s been such a long time since Stede’s tried to make a friend. Truthfully, he’s probably never had to. Oh, their group gets on well enough. They’re quite close and genuinely enjoy each other’s company! But it all stems from proximity. His father’s wealthy friends have wealthy children, those wealthy children spend all their time socializing with one another, and boom! That’s the friend group. Stede tries not to think about the ones he doesn’t get along with; they’ve ruined enough of his life. Now here’s Ed - who is very cool, very smooth, and a little bit dangerous - who Stede wants desperately to impress but he’s not sure how. 

Ed shoves Stede’s shoulder and his mind comes back to the bar. 

“Can I ask you something, Stede?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Don’t you have enough money to, like, just pay people to let you rob them or something? Like that tie, that’s gotta be worth more than my apartment.”

He looks down. It’s just a black, silk necktie. Incredibly expensive, admittedly, but basic nonetheless. 

Then, because Stede cannot stop making himself look like an idiot in front of Blackbeard, he lifts the end of the tie up and asks, “This?” 

“Yeah,” Ed confirms with a laugh. “‘S kinda pretty, at least.” 

“I assure you it cost me less than an apartment.” 

Slowly, before Stede realizes what he’s about to do, Ed reaches out and runs his fingers over the tie. He can’t feel the pressure of Ed’s fingertips because he’s still holding the tie away from his chest, but Stede’s body reacts all the same. His skin tingles beneath his dress shirt, and his eyes follow Ed’s fingers all the way down the length of the tie until they meet his own. That spark happens again, the same dizzying rush he experienced when Ed shook his hand the night before. 

Much to Stede’s disappointment, Ed clears his throat and retracts his hand. Stede feels like a bubble has just popped. The music and the howling laughter flood his ears again. Stede takes a shaky sip of bourbon to buy a couple extra seconds to figure himself out. 

While his brain is figuring itself out, however, his mouth is saying, “Do you want it?” 

“Huh?” 

“The - the tie. Do you want it?”

Ed laughs again and it’s sweet as honey when the notes hit Stede’s ears. “I wasn’t trying to rob you. Besides, Jackie has a hard rule about that. No business in the bar.” 

“I understand,” Stede assures him. “I’m offering it to you.” 

“Oh. Nah, man. I couldn’t take one of your fancy, expensive accessories.”

To Stede, Ed looks flummoxed. Like he’s never been given a gift before. The circumstances are a little unorthodox, Stede admits, but if Ed likes it that much he should have it. A quality Stede’s mother instilled in him before she passed was to give back. Give back to your friends and give back to your community, whatever that may be. We have been blessed with financial wealth , she’d said, but it’s more fulfilling to be rich in other ways. Over the years, Stede would learn that just meant making people happy where he could. What good is all the money in the world if you didn’t have anyone to share life with? It’s why Stede lets his friends have keys to his home, so if they need someone at 3am, he can reliably be that person. It’s why Stede collects booze money when he throws a party, so he can donate it all to shelters and buy the alcohol anyway. It’s why Stede is no good at fitting into his life.

And now, it’s why Stede is going to give Ed this tie he’s so obviously captivated by. 

“Like you said, I’ve got enough money. It’s yours,” Stede insists, removing the tie. 

“Thank you,” Ed says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. 

Something Stede can’t read flashes in Ed’s eyes as he adjusts the tie around Ed’s neck. It suits him beautifully.

The rest of the night passes in a drunken blur. Stede is introduced to more people than he can count, some Ed knows and some know who Ed is. The distinction is easy to make before the two of them are even approached. The ones who know Edward (few and far between, as it happens) are very relaxed and very loud. They clap Stede on the back and tell him to “watch out for this guy, he’s trouble!” - whatever that means. Ed’s been nothing but pleasant the entire evening. The ones who know Blackbeard (which is almost all of their conversation interrupters) approach stiffly, like Ed is a celebrity. They also afford Stede their unearned respect; he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would.

The longer it goes on, the more Stede loses himself. Ed becomes larger than life, schmoozing and telling stories and signing autographs. He’s easily the most interesting person in the room and Stede wants to be that charismatic. 

It’s not becoming of a man to be envious of another, so he says nothing. Does nothing. Until the bar closes, he watches Edward Teach be the man Stede wishes he could be.

“Looking kinda down. Everything okay?” 

“Just tired,” he says, waving Ed off. “Long day.” 

Stede can tell Ed doesn’t believe him, but Ed lets it slide anyway. 

“There’s something I need to tell ya before you head out.” Ed throws his arm around Stede again, and Stede’s bad mood remarkably disappears. “This is kind of an exclusive place, so don’t go running your mouth. I’d be kinda upset if I had to shoot you about it, yeah?” 

Stede nods. Ed pats his shoulder and shoves him out the door. Now, he’s standing in the alley, unmoving. His heart is jealous, his head is pounding, his skin craves contact. He doesn’t even entertain the idea that Ed will shoot him. Stede knows none of these are reasonable reactions to a man he met a day ago. He spends the entire trek home confused and lightheaded. 

Failing to rob a jewelry store is the best thing that’s ever happened to Stede Bonnet, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Chapter Text

For the first time in his life, Stede Bonnet wants something he can’t have. Or, more correctly, he wants someone he can’t find. Stede usually considers himself rather intelligent. Witty. A stunning conversationalist, if he’s honest. But right now? He’s an idiot. 

When Stede arrived home Monday night, he intended to go straight to bed. Instead, he paced and paced, head filled to capacity with thoughts about Ed. The conclusion he reached, at the godforsaken hour of 3 am, was that he is envious of Ed and his life. The sparks, the way Stede can’t stop thinking about him, the desperate need to impress him. It all points to the same thing! Ed is the kind of man Stede wishes he could be; he’s confident, charismatic, and free. 

Stede is the kind of man who’s been sitting at his desk all day, waiting for the clock to strike 5 pm so he can rush out the door and over to Spanish Jackie’s in hopes that Ed shows up. He’s been doing this all week, leaning into it like a bad habit. Stede has tried everything to find Ed short of hiring a PI - but that seems like a massive invasion of privacy. No one has heard of Ed Teach, not in Stede’s circles anyway, and inquiring too much about Blackbeard - a literal criminal - would land Stede in hot water. And, so, Stede’s been doomed to sit in the corner of the bar and hope Ed walks in. No such luck, but it can’t stay that way forever! Right?

He’s just hung up with Jim after lying about why he can’t see everyone tonight (the same conversation he had with Oluwande the day before, and Lucius the day before that, and - well, you get the idea), when his father brusquely stomps into Stede’s office with that signature scowl on his face. 

“Dinner tonight,” his father grunts. “Business associates are coming.” 

Stede stiffens. The absolute last thing he wants in the entire world is to spend the evening with his father, much less with any business associates. And all the worse if Ed shows up to Spanish Jackie’s tonight while Stede is trapped in his own personal hell. 

“I have a prior engagement.” 

“Do I look like I give a shit? If it was work, I’d know it. So it’s not. Cancel.”

His father doesn’t wait for a response, just slams the door shut on his way out. 

Later, Stede spends the entire dinner staring dead-eyed at the wall. As he suspected, there’s no reason for him to be there other than to forcibly laugh at crude jokes and take his father’s berating in stride. Yes, it’s so strenuous being in the business of taking people’s money. No, we simply can’t serve the ‘24 wine at the investors luncheon. Oh, by the way, did you hear Anderson has some floozy downtown he’s cheating on his wife with. Maybe the last wouldn’t be so common if love was allowed to enter the equation, but Stede doesn’t say that. He just rolls his eyes when no one’s looking. Same old, same old. When he finally leaves, he manages to slip out without any extra interaction with his father. The other men, irritatingly drunk in comparison to Stede’s stone cold sober, throw their arms around him in the elevator and tell him how much he’s like his father. A compliment coming from men like that, but Stede slips into the backseat of his car and tries not to wonder how true that might be. 

Stede bids his driver goodnight and trudges towards the door of his building. Getting married doesn’t sound so bad if Stede considers he’ll always have someone on his side at Friday night dinner. He’s trying to calculate how fast he can change and get to Jackie’s when a familiar voice sends a shiver down his spine. 

“You sure know how to keep a guy waiting.” 

“Ed?” 

“That okay?” 

“More than. I’ve been trying to find you all week,” he admits. When he realizes what he said, Stede tries to backpedal. “Not - I mean, I just had a lovely time the other night - sorry.” 

“Yeah?” Ed asks, and he doesn’t look annoyed. He doesn’t look frightened or accuse Stede of stalking him. He looks… pleased. “You free tonight?” 

It’s a wonder Stede doesn’t break his neck with how aggressively he’s nodding. “Free as a bird! I’m just in dire need of an outfit change first, would you like to come upstairs?” 

Stede ushers him inside, reveling in the way Ed is taking it all in like a little kid staring at the lights on Coney Island. He’s wide-eyed, looking everywhere at once, and suddenly Stede is dying to get upstairs. If Ed thinks the lobby is incredible, he’s going to love Stede’s penthouse! And the view… he needs to show Ed the view. It’s as captivating as Ed himself. 

When he greets the doorman, Ed follows suit. Stede bites his lip to hide his smile, lest Ed think he’s making fun. In truth, it’s delightful to meet someone not already caught up in the disillusionment of high society. Yes, Stede knows he’s privileged, but it’s all so commonplace to him. If you’ve been to one gala, you’ve been to a dozen. If you’ve seen one luxury apartment with marble flooring and vaulted ceilings, you’ve seen them all. He wishes he could see it all through Ed’s eyes. 

In the elevator, Stede finally gets a good look at Ed. He’s much more casual than their first two meetings - boots, trousers, a button up (still opened pretty low, he notices), and suspenders, all under a leather jacket - and Stede thinks maybe he looks more relaxed. The most peculiar butterflies flutter in Stede’s stomach when he realizes what’s hanging around Ed’s neck. 

Ed is wearing the tie Stede gave him, and that feels tremendously significant. He doesn’t ask about it, afraid he’s wrong (he’s not) or that it’s a strange comment and would upset Ed to point it out (the man who waited outside Stede’s building for him to get home). Instead, Stede smiles discreetly and tucks that piece of knowledge safely in his breast pocket. 

“Holy shit,” Ed exclaims when they walk through the door, and Stede laughs. “What do you do with all this space?” 

“More often than not, there are people around! Most of my friends have a key.” 

Ed is doing laps around the living room, carefully picking up and looking at all of Stede’s trinkets and trying out every piece of furniture. It’s absurdly endearing to hear Ed’s gasps of ‘Wow!’ and ‘What’s this?!’ as Stede relaxes against the door and crosses one leg in front of the other, watching him. Remarkably, Ed chooses to fixate on Stede’s favorite possession. It’s a little ship in a bottle, something his mother helped him make when he was only around seven years old. Little Stede had been impossibly fascinated with pirates and sailing. Something about freedom and adventure - laughable, considering he was chasing the same thing twenty years later. He hasn’t looked at it in years - just put it up on the shelf in a place of honor when he moved in and hasn’t touched it since. It was difficult to look at for years after his mother’s death; he’s used to not thinking about it now. 

“This is incredible! Why didn’t you tell me you had a model of the Queen Anne’s Revenge? Blackbeard is, like, my whole thing, man!” 

“I…” Stede trails off. He’d forgotten it was Blackbeard’s ship. What a beautiful coincidence. “Seems a bit like fate, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Ed agrees. The smile on his face burrows into Stede’s chest. 

For about fifteen seconds longer than is appropriate, Stede holds silent eye contact with Ed. The energy between them shifts and he, once again, finds himself grasping at straws to place the feeling. It’s not bad, though. It’s nice. Kind of like coming home after a long day. 

“Would you like a tour of the rest of the place?” 

“Lead the way.” 

Stede leads Ed to his pride and joy: the walk-in closet. He’s got more clothes than he knows what to do with, but he is definitely prepared for every occasion. Ed looks absolutely amazed, running his fingers over the garments and pulling our various pieces to look at. Finally, Stede has a friend who shares his level of appreciation for fine fabrics and good tailoring! 

“All this is yours?” Ed asks incredulously. He roots through the shelves and racks, pulling out and properly investigating pieces of clothing he must be taken by. Stede can’t help himself, he rarely can where fashion is involved and even less so now that someone has taken an interest, so he shows Ed some of his favorite pieces. 

Ed picks up a cashmere sweater and runs his hands over it delicately, like the fabric might disintegrate under his touch if he’s not careful. It’s a curiously reverential act. Stede feels the urge to reach out and encourage Ed to hold tighter; he wants to reassure Ed that holding something close won’t wreck it. 

If Ed wants that sweater, too, he can have it. It’s a beautiful, deep burgundy that would probably suit Ed far more than it suits Stede. But Stede doesn’t want Ed to think he views him as a charity case or anything, so he lets Ed put it back on the shelf without a word. 

“Fucking amazing, mate. Can’t believe you live like this.” 

“Oh, Ed, you haven’t even seen the best part.” 

“It gets better?!”

Stede waves for Ed to follow him and throws open the french doors leading to the balcony. The city lights twinkle against the night sky and this high up, the Friday night soundscape is nothing more than soothing white noise. 

Watching Ed experience things for the first time is quickly becoming Stede’s new favorite hobby. Ed takes slow, awestruck steps towards the balcony rail and leans forward on it. Stede joins him, putting some distance between their bodies at first before remembering how close Ed got at the bar. He inches closer until their shoulders brush, pleased when Ed remains still. Or… leans into him a little bit? No, just shifting on his feet. Don’t get carried away. 

“What do you think?” Stede asks, because he’s aching to know every thought that’s ever crossed Ed’s mind. 

Ed turns his head, catching Stede’s eye, and says, “Best view in the whole city.” 

From this distance, Stede is privy to the deep, Autumn brown of Ed’s eyes that hold the same elusive magic as golden hour in Central Park. It’s the softness that traps him. It makes him want to spill his guts, just to see if Ed will hear his confession and keep looking at him like something to be revered. Stede’s eyes flicker down to Ed’s smile and it’s blinding - it’s gorgeous. The finest accessory money can buy. 

Suddenly overwhelmed, Stede clears his throat. 

“I like coming out here to think. Helps me clear my head.” 

“Yeah, I can see that. It seems peaceful.”

Stede nods. “Well, you’re welcome to it if you’re ever in need of a thinking spot.” 

“Does that mean I get one of those keys? I’m a key friend?”

It isn’t lost on Stede that it definitely appears like he’s not only invited Blackbeard, a known criminal, into his home, but now just implied he’ll give said criminal a key to the front door. In his defense, it doesn’t appear that way to Stede. This soft eyed, excitable man leaning on his balcony is just Ed. 

So it’s no surprise when Stede says, “I’ll have a copy made tomorrow.” 

“Even though I threatened to kill you?” 

“Maybe I’m more of a daredevil than you think.” 

For a moment, it seems like Ed might have another witty retort up his sleeve, but he just swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and nods. Stede smiles, satisfied that he’s learning how to play Ed’s game. A little piece of Stede doesn’t want to go out on the town anymore. He wants to stay there, on the balcony, and learn every single thing Ed is willing to share.

Ed has other plans, though, and Stede finds he also wants to go anywhere Ed will take him.

“You wanna go cause some trouble?” 

There is nothing - and the smile on Stede’s face cannot stress this enough - he wants more than to cause some trouble with Edward Teach. 

Quicker than he ever has in his twenty-something years of life, Stede disappears to his closet and changes clothes into something a little more colorful. Purple, he decides. He’s always liked purple. When he returns to the living room, entering at a slightly-too-eager pace, Ed is laid out on the sofa like he’s always belonged there. 

“Comfy?” Stede asks.

“Insanely comfy. Gonna come home one day and find me napping here.”

Stede shrugs. “If you like.”

“Ready?” 

New York City has never felt new and exciting to Stede. In fact, it often feels like a cage. But now he’s standing outside his building, determined to look around with new eyes. 

Stede checks his watch. It’s almost 9pm - early by all accounts. He doesn’t usually stumble into bed until well after 3am when he goes out. The cool night air kisses Stede’s face and rejuvenates him, all the emotional energy that swirled down the drain at his father’s dinner returning threefold. It feels like a night where anything could happen, a linchpin in Stede’s personal history. 

“Do we need a driver? I can -” 

He never does finish that thought because Ed grabs his hand and pulls him down the block, expertly weaving in and out of oncoming pedestrian traffic. Stede holds tight, a precaution to avoid getting separated and nothing more, and follows along dutifully. Occasionally, Ed throws a smile over his shoulder and Stede responds in kind. They’re moving South, that much Stede knows, but he can’t imagine where Ed would take him within walking distance of his apartment. Joyous groups of friends and amorous couples with their own Friday night adventures pass by, but Stede isn’t jealous this time. Whatever carefree high they’re riding, Stede is right alongside them. 

Ed abruptly stops walking and Stede becomes painfully familiar with the broad expanse of Ed’s back. Without thinking, he reaches forward to steady himself and his hands decide Ed’s waist is best used for balance. There are layers between Stede’s hands and Ed’s skin, but his fingertips burn all the same. As if that isn’t enough, Ed has reached back and got a hand on Stede’s hip. 

“Alright back there?” Ed asks over his shoulder. Stede is overcome with the desire to gather the hair trapped between Ed’s chin and shoulder and move it out of the way so he can get a better view of Ed’s face.

Stede needs to get a fucking grip. 

Immediately, Stede drops his hands from Ed’s body and clears his throat. 

“Perfectly fine! Just wasn’t paying attention, I suppose.” 

“Well, this is our first stop!” 

Ed turns and motions towards a food cart. A handful of people are standing around it, eating popcorn and chatting. He’s quite full from dinner at his father’s, but if Ed wants him to eat popcorn from this particular popcorn stand, he’s going to do it. 

Ever the gentleman, Stede doesn’t hesitate to walk up and buy two bags of popcorn. Ed tries to protest, but Stede waves him off. 

“Didn’t have to do that,” Ed mumbles when Stede hands him the snack. “It was my idea.” 

“Call it even! You came up with the idea, I executed the plan!” 

Ed grins, and Stede thinks he’ll do anything to keep him that way. He’s hoarding Ed’s smiles in his memory like treasure.

“Come on,” Ed says, and they’re on the move again. 

The walk is much shorter this time, because Ed leads him around the corner, down a couple of blocks, and descends the stairs to the 96th Street Subway Station. Curiouser and curiouser. Stede rarely, if ever, rides the subway. He never has a need - private cars and all that - so stepping across the threshold and into the station feels less like the mundane daily routine of the Manhattan everyman and more like Ed welcoming Stede into his world. As they head towards the ticket gates with goofy smiles on their faces, Stede thinks maybe he’s about to see New York City for the first time. 

Ed hands Stede his popcorn and starts to climb over the barrier, leaving Stede bemused and a little stressed. 

“Shouldn’t we buy tickets?” 

“Don’t need to if you can jump high enough,” Ed grunts, as he twists a little bit and leaps over the locked turnstile. 

“Isn’t that illegal?” Stede asks, a little ridiculously. 

“C’mere.” Ed beckons Stede over like he’s got a secret. He moves obediently, fast as he can without spilling the popcorn. Ed doesn’t speak again until the only thing separating their bodies is the small metal bar. “I’m Blackbeard, man. A little fare evasion is in the rules.” 

“Funny, you strike me more as a rule breaker.” 

“Oh, you have no idea. Question is, Stede Bonnet, are you a rule breaker?” 

The mischief in Ed’s tone beats at Stede’s eardrums like the Pied Piper’s tune. Before he knows what he’s doing, Stede’s got one leg over the bar and an arm slung around Ed’s shoulders as he struggles to haul himself up and over the turnstile. Popcorn is falling out of both bags because, in Stede’s grand burst of enthusiasm, he neglected to pass the snacks over. Ed must not mind that the greasy bag is shoved against his face, though, because he laughs as he wraps his arms around Stede’s body and hauls him the rest of the way. 

“Seems like a resounding yes,” Ed says, smirking. 

“Could be, could be,” Stede responds, straightening himself up and handing Ed a bag of popcorn. “Guess you’ll just have to keep me around and find out.” 

“Think I might.” 

They hustle down to the platform before someone tries to impose consequences on them. It’s fairly empty, though Stede suspects that will change the closer they get to downtown. He wants to ask where they’re going, but the chances of Ed revealing the answer seem slim to none. Alright, he can just be along for the ride. He’s relaxed! Chill! Able to go with the flow! 

Stede watches Ed throw kernels up into the air and try to catch them in his mouth while they wait for the train to arrive. Ed misses four or five times in a row before sighing dramatically, then turns to look at Stede with big, pleading eyes and says, “I think I need someone else to throw it.” 

Little to no popcorn gets eaten, at least not by Stede and Ed. The 96th Street Station rats, however, are going to feast. Stede is making jump shots and trick shots, standing on the benches or getting a running start, and every single piece of popcorn hits Ed anywhere but his mouth. After a particularly heartbreaking miss (it hit Ed’s lip!) Ed insists they switch. Stede isn’t a better athlete than Ed - if anything, he’s marginally worse. Or that could be because Ed is throwing handfuls at him and saying ‘How did you MISS THAT?!’ with playful exasperation. It’s a silly little game, but Stede is laughing more than he has in years, maybe his entire life.

All too soon, the screech of metal on metal signals their train’s arrival and the end of pelting each other with food. 

“You’ve got a little in your hair,” Stede mentions. Ed feels around without looking. “No, up a little. Back.” Ed cranes his neck a little bit, brow scrunching adorably as he obviously struggles to see the rogue kernel Stede is pointing out. “Here, let me,” Stede offers, and Ed steps in close.

Tentatively, Stede reaches up and gently pulls the offending snackfood out of Ed’s hair and drops it on the ground. He brushes a few loose strands of hair out of Ed’s face. Notably, Ed does not step out of Stede’s space after the fact. So neither does Stede. He’s taking all his cues from Ed, and if Ed is going to stand his ground, so to speak, so is Stede. There is something comfortable about being this close, a familiarity Stede’s never found in a friend before.

Ed swallows and moves just a fraction closer, and Stede mirrors him. His eyes flit over every detail of Ed’s face, like Stede’s memorizing it for fear he’ll never look upon Ed again, before settling on Ed’s lips. It’s almost like - but, no, they’re not… unless? Surely not. An incredible blunder on Stede’s part. Got a little too wrapped up in the moment. He clears his throat and steps back; this time Ed does the copying. 

Friendship is somewhat of a complex topic for Stede. He’ll never slight his friend group, they are all wonderful people that Stede will run to help at a moment’s notice, but, even so, Stede still finds himself on alert. It takes so much emotional energy to be constantly aware of how Stede he’s being at any given moment. 

Stede hasn’t felt that way once in Ed’s company. 

That unplaceable feeling rears its head again, this time nagging him not to let whatever connection he and Ed have slip from his grasp. 

They shuffle into the carriage when the subway arrives, managing to grab seats right near the door. The train is crowded, but not full, and very much alive. Dresses that sparkle when they catch the light, cigar smoke looming overhead, and all the joyful chatter swirl together and make Stede light headed with exhilaration. 

“Where are we going exactly?”

Ed rests an arm on the back of Stede’s seat and responds, “You wouldn’t wanna ruin the surprise, would you?” 

“Might do. A little bit, at least.” 

“Don’t you trust me?” Ed asks, and as Stede locks eyes with him, the answer must flash above Stede’s head as brilliantly as an electric Broadway sign (Implicitly! Starring Stede Bonnet, Now Playing) because Ed beams and pats him on the shoulder. “Then just be patient!”

“I suppose I can try,” he sighs. 

They talk about everything and nothing for the remainder of the ride. It’s amazing how quickly time passes with Ed, and Stede’s in shock at how quickly they arrive. He almost wishes they’d taken the car, then Stede would be stuck in traffic with the most fascinating man in the world. 

A little adventure is a fantastic replacement, he finds. 

Stede was right - it’s much busier downtown. Ed takes his hand again, and Stede lets himself be pulled wherever Ed’s whims want to take him. 

The American Laboratory Theatre comes into view, and Stede is practically vibrating out of his skin. If Ed is a theatre man, all the better that they’re becoming fast friends! 

“Okay, see that guy in the ugly suit over there?” Ed points towards a man smoking in front of the theatre. 

“Yeah,” Stede confirms, pulling a face of disgust. It is a rather ugly suit. 

“We’re gonna follow him inside.” 

“We’re going to a show?” 

Ed smiles wryly. “We got popcorn! Not my fault you wasted it all.” 

Stede shoves his shoulder lightly, but he’s smiling so wide his face will ache tomorrow. 

It’s a very rudimentary plan, sneaking into the theatre with the intermission smokers who wanted some fresh air, but it works handily. No one questions them as they enter, the staff only asks if they need assistance returning to their seats. Ed informs him that if they just kind of hang around the bathrooms then enter the upper level after the lights go down, they can watch the back half of the performance from the shadows. 

“What’s on tonight?” Stede whispers in the dark. 

“Bit of Shakespeare,” Ed whispers back. “Figured a fancy man might like some fancy entertainment.” 

In the soft glow of the stage lights, he can see Ed fix his eyes on the stage and clap with the rest of the audience as the curtain rises. Stede has no such focus. What he anticipated as another evening of being further introduced to Ed’s world is now ostensibly something else. 

Ed brought Stede here because he thought Stede would enjoy it. Ed spent one night at a speakeasy with Stede and enjoyed his company enough to not only seek him out, but to put thought into what Stede’s interests could be. Ed planned a night out with Stede in mind. 

No one does anything with Stede in mind. 

Eventually, not wanting to be caught staring lest he make Ed uncomfortable, Stede finds the strength to redirect his attention to the play. The performance is quite good, actually. Shakespeare can be hit or miss in the city, at least for Stede’s taste, but this cast clearly has a passion for the source text! He cheers and applauds with vigor when the cast takes their bow. 

“Ed, that was wonderful!” Stede says as they exit the theatre. 

“Yeah?” 

“Absolutely! The set design alone was inspired! And with the uptick in musicals, there’s not always room for Shakespeare done well, but I think - oh. Sorry, I’m rambling.” 

“Nah, man, go on! Like hearing you talk about shit you love.”

Stede doesn’t mention that Ed hasn’t heard him ramble before, much like he didn’t mention that Ed is still wearing the silk tie. He does let it comfortably seep into his bones, like piping hot tea on a winter’s day.

It’s far too early for their evening to end, on that they agree, so Stede suggests drinks. He doesn’t want to risk running into anyone he knows, so the usual spots are out. The Village is much too far, so Jackie’s is out. Then the simplest solution becomes the best one. 

“We can go back to my place.”

The cab ride takes no time at all, and Stede insists on paying. The driver finds their bickering over the fare neither cute nor endearing, but Stede hardly cares when he’s shoving Ed out of the car with one hand and waving cash with the other, both of them giggling all the while. 

There is a change in Ed’s demeanor, Stede notices. He waltzes through the lobby like he lives in the building. He presses the button for Stede’s penthouse in the elevator like it’s a habit. He leans against the door as Stede unlocks it like he’s got half the wardrobe and a side of the bed. 

How lovely it feels to know Ed is comfortable around him. 

They grab drinks from Stede’s drink cart and settle in on the sofa. 

“What’s your whole deal, Stede Bonnet? You must have everything you could ever want.” 

“I’ve got enough,” Stede agrees. “It’s not always as nice as it seems.” 

“I used to dream about living like this. Never had much growing up,” Ed admits softly. “Probably just as well. Don’t think I’m made for all that fancy shit, anyway.” 

“Nonsense! High society would be lucky to have you.”

Ed scoffs, but Stede can see a smile. “All your nice, soft clothes? I’d look like a kid playing dress up.” 

“I could say the same about your very cool leather jacket.” 

“You’re evading the question.” 

“Am not!” Stede insists. “I told you the other night, I’m just feeling so boxed in.” 

“There’s more to it, though, isn’t there? ‘S just us.” Ed moves a little closer and eyes him expectantly. It sets off a domino effect of what Stede expects to be a very long series of instances in which he is unable to say no to Edward Teach. 

“My father is… difficult.” He stops for a moment to gather some courage, pleasantly surprised when Ed allows him time to collect himself instead of pestering him with questions. “He controls so much of my life, but it’s still never enough. Not smart enough, not man enough, not good enough. Now I’ve got a fiancé I don’t love and I’m being set up for a job I don’t want. I just need something that’s mine. Something he can’t touch.” 

“And you came up with robbery?” 

“Yeah. I know it sounds insane, but I don’t think I’ve ever really lived.”

“Nah, not insane. Makes perfect sense.” 

Ed hops up from his seat and refills their drinks. Stede can’t help but twist himself around and hang over the back of the sofa to watch Ed work. If any of his friends barge in right now, he’s revoking their key privileges forever. 

“Here.” Ed hands him another drink. “For what it’s worth, my dad was a nightmare, too. So I get it. Kind of.” He leaps over the back of the sofa and flops down next to Stede. “Fuck both of ‘em. Cheers to surviving shit dads.” 

They clink their glasses together, and now it’s Stede’s turn to pry.

“What about you, Ed? Everything about your life must be thrilling!” 

“S’alright, I guess. It’s not all kicking down the door and looking hot. Can be a bit of a grind, if I’m honest, you know?”

“Believe me, I’m familiar. Still, I wish I could properly live the danger of it, even just for a day.”

“Well…” Ed begins, and Stede sits at full attention. There’s an invitation on the tip of Ed’s tongue, Stede can sense it, and he’s already checking yes on the RSVP. Ed shakes his head, like he’s already rescinded the offer, and Stede’s heart drops to his feet. “Nah, nevermind. It’s a dumb idea.” 

If it works for Ed… “Don’t you trust me?” 

Ed’s expression brightens, and this time Stede knows for a fact it’s out of fondness because Ed slumps against his shoulder and proposes something spectacular.

“If you wanna learn how to be a gangster, you could come hang around and see how it’s done. Kinda love an audience, I won’t lie.” 

“What do you get out of it?” 

There’s always give and take in a business deal, Stede knows that. 

“Dunno. Just like hanging out with you.” 

Stede’s face is so warm; he’s obviously had a little too much to drink. 

If Ed is offering to bring Stede along on jobs and hone his skills (or help him to, um, acquire said skills), he deserves something in return! God knows Stede has the power to make his wildest dreams come true. 

“Come on,” Stede prompts, nudging Ed’s shoulder. “Anything you want, name it!”

“Tell you what, one day I’ll ask you to do something for me. You just have to promise me you’ll say yes.” 

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

Stede is the kind of man who does anything for the people he cares about and trusts until proven a fool. He also knows never to agree to a vague, open-ended favor - especially in his social and financial position. 

But what kind of man is Edward Teach? Ed seems like the kind of man who does everything with passion. He seems like the kind of man who is fiercely protective. And, perhaps most importantly, Ed seems like the kind of man Stede can trust with his life. 

“Deal.” 

Ed’s hand comes up and Stede shakes it without hesitation. The conversation dies for a while after that. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but expectant. For what, Stede isn’t sure, but he wants to find out. He fills the time stealing a glance or ten at the man using him as a personal recliner. From the floor of the jewelry store, Stede thought Ed was more than a little menacing. Handsome, undoubtedly, and more charismatic than he had any right to be. But, a bit begrudgingly, Stede will admit he feared for his life (for however brief a time). Here, pressed together, Stede can see just how gentle this big, bad, notorious criminal is. The rhythmic rise and fall of Ed’s chest, how his eyes flutter when he yawns, the way he absentmindedly runs his fingers over the silk tie. It’s baffling that Ed thinks he isn’t made for luxury when he’s splendidly soft and beautiful.

Eventually, Ed’s voice cuts through the silence. “I should probably get going.” 

“Oh.” Stede tries not to sound disappointed. “It’s late. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until morning?” 

“I - no - s’okay you don’t - I couldn’t impose.” Ed quickly stands up, face flushing lightly as he stutters out his answer.

Stede’s intention had not been to embarrass Ed by offering for him to stay. Who’s to say Ed even wants to stay? He’s got a home and a bed he’d probably rather sleep in. They’ve been together all evening, surely he wants his space by now. Maybe Stede should learn not to open his big mouth quite so often.

“On second thought… might be nice. I’m kinda tired and I’m not really sober enough to drive.”

Actually, Stede should never shut up again. 

Ed makes himself comfortable on the sofa while Stede grabs extra bedding. One aspect of life Stede’s very confident in is his ability to host. A night in Stede’s penthouse rivals a five star hotel. He sets Ed up with all the blankets and pillows he could want, water and hot tea, snacks, and a hot water bottle (he noticed Ed massaging his knee quite a bit and figured it was bothering him). After checking for the umpteenth time that Ed wants for nothing, he leaves him to sleep.

“Night, Stede.”

“Goodnight, Ed.” 

Even the distance between Stede’s bedroom and the living room feels like a monumental space between them. Stede feels like a little kid who met his new best friend at the playground but was forced to go home for nap time. 

Stede knew he was unhappy. He didn’t know he was lonely. But maybe… that can change. 

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you’re ‘going out’?” 

“I mean I have some business to attend to! Nothing to worry about.” 

“What am I supposed to do, Stede? I rearranged my entire day for this date.”

Stede sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. How can this new and exciting life of criminal activity have caught up with him before it’s even started? 

Mary is standing in his apartment, hands on her hips and an unimpressed scowl on her face, staring daggers at Stede. Fair, he supposes. But what’s Stede supposed to do? Ed invited him to come along and learn! Surely this Doug person could reschedule something as simple as a couple’s painting class! Does Ed enjoy painting? He makes a mental note to ask. Maybe Stede can arrange something as a thank you! 

“Stede!” she says, sounding exasperated. 

“What? Yes! I’m sorry.” There must be something he can do. 

“Can you just give me a little effort? I can’t do this on my own.”

The thing is, he wants to. Stede lucked out, as far as arranged marriages were concerned, because Mary was impossibly kind, if not a little impatient with him. Can’t blame her for that, though, because Stede keeps blowing her off and something tells him she won’t be very understanding if he tells her why. 

Stede feels like he’s being pulled between the expected and the unexpected, and the scales are tilted in favor of lawlessness. 

“I can tell you’re not coping with this well, Stede, but it would be nice if you realized we’re in it together.” 

As Mary walks out of his apartment, guilt sinks into his stomach like a lead balloon. Stede is so used to being a disappointment that this shouldn’t affect him so much. What’s one more person on the list? 

There’s no time to ponder that, not right now at least, because when Ed left this morning he said to be ready at three o’clock sharp! Stede busies himself getting dressed and putting in an emergency catering order to his personal chef. In the afternoon, he gathers everything and waits outside his building with a mere ten minutes to spare.

He wonders if two bags of food will be enough; Ed never mentioned how many colleagues he has. Maybe he should take everything back upstairs and forgo snacks altogether. But it would be utterly embarrassing for Stede to show up empty handed! He should’ve asked Ed more questions before he left this morning, but Stede had been too busy daydreaming like a kid who was promised free reign of a candy store. Perhaps he’s overthinking… 

A horn honks and it makes Stede jump. He looks up to see Ed pulling over in front of his building. Stede relaxes at the sight of him - everything is fine. 

Ed steps out of the driver’s side and flashes a brilliant smile as he leans on the roof of his car. 

“Miss me?” Ed asks. 

Unbelievably, the answer is yes. Yes, of course. But that seems a bit eager, and maybe too sincere when Ed’s obviously just poking fun. So he says, “It’s only been five or six hours.” 

“Just me then,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips. “Come on, let’s get going.” 

For all the time Stede spends in cars, he never pays attention to the people and the buildings he’s passing. It’s a wonder he knows where anything is in the city, honestly. If he does look out the window, he does so in a melancholy haze with glazed over eyes to get it out of his system because the Bonnets are not dramatic (or so his father said before walking out in a huff to make a point). He’s not mapping Manhattan right now either, because Ed’s tying his hair up and putting on his sunglasses while they’re stopped at a red light. Stede’s trying to memorize the shape and style in case Ed’s ever break and wondering how uncouth it would be to call Mary up just to ask what kind of accessories one might purchase as a friendly gift. 

“So what’s in the bags?” 

“Oh, just some snacks,” Stede answers. “I wasn’t sure what you’d all like, so I had my chef prepare a variety of things.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“What? No, of course not. It’s the polite thing to do.” 

Ed laughs, but it’s warm and not mocking. “You really are some kinda gentleman, Stede Bonnet.” 

He wants to ask if that’s a good thing, inexplicably needing Ed’s validation before they’ve even gotten to… Where are they going? Stede never asked, he just hopped in Ed’s car and clicked his seatbelt. If Ed does plan to kill him, it’s going to be the easiest kill he’s ever gotten. 

“Where are we off to, by the way?” 

“Brooklyn. Figured if you’re gonna be a gangster, you’ve gotta see a gangster’s hideout.” 

“Wonderful! I’d love to see where you live!” 

“I don’t live there, mate. I mean, I’ve got a room and all, it’s my operation, but I live uptown.” 

What an oversight. That’s probably the first rule of criminal activity. Surely you wouldn’t want your main living area to be the same place you hide in when the police are after you. There’d be no backup plan! And what’s worse, at least in Stede’s opinion, it’d be like living at work. If Stede had to live at his office… He shudders at the thought. 

Ed clears his throat. He says, “You could come over though, if you wanted. Or not, whatever,” with a nervousness that Stede can’t place. 

Is Ed embarrassed of his home? He shouldn’t be, Stede would never judge his apartment or its decor. If anything, he’s curious to see how Ed lives, especially after how excited Ed got seeing all Stede’s keepsakes. 

“I’d love to,” Stede replies enthusiastically. 

He’s trying to hide it for some reason, but Stede can tell Ed is pleased. Good! It pays to be sincere! And if it helps Stede keep his new friendship, all the better. 

The ride is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Stede steals glances at Ed whenever he’s sure he won’t be caught. There’s some kind of innate charm about him that Stede’s never seen in anyone else. Certainly there are other attractive people in the world, he’s not suggesting anything absurd, but Stede hoped he’d be able to learn how to carry himself in a way comparable to Ed. Seeing the beauty in little things, the way he plays with loose strands of hair when they’re stuck in traffic or the sharp line of his jaw when he tilts his head to the side, forces Stede to confront the reality that these qualities are not teachable. They are embedded into Ed’s very being, and Stede cannot think of a person more suited to such loveliness. 

Just as they’re crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, Ed’s stomach growls fiercely. 

“Got anything in your stash there I can eat while driving? Didn’t eat before I came over.” 

“That’s entirely my fault!” Stede feels awful. How could he let Ed leave his apartment without feeding him?! That will not happen again! Not that Ed said he wants to come over again, it’s just that if he did want to come over again, Stede wouldn’t let such a grievous oversight happen twice! “I’m sure I’ve got just the thing!” 

Stede rustles through the bags until he finds what he’s looking for. The little cakes would be too sweet if Ed’s eaten nothing else all day. Waldorf salad is a non-option while on the move. The tea sandwiches are packed all the way in the bottom. Ah! That will work! 

“There’s a little bakery near my childhood home that makes their own marmalade,” Stede explains. “My mother used to take me there all the time! It’s the best marmalade you’ve ever eaten in your life!” He takes a slice of bread and rips off a bite-sized piece. Carefully, they’re still in a moving vehicle after all, he pops the lid off the marmalade jar and dips the bread in. It’s not a perfect maneuver, he’s jostled around a little bit and ends up getting it on his fingers as well as the bread, but at least Ed can eat something. 

Without thinking, Stede reaches over and holds the bread in front of Ed’s mouth. In turn, Ed leans forward and eats it. That’s exactly what should’ve happened. That’s not why Stede is staring wide-eyed, nor is it why Ed is stammering out an apology. They both seem to realize what happened at the exact same time. 

“I’m sorry, Stede - I don’t know why - I shouldn’t’ve - fuck. Fuck.” 

Stede is silent, unsure if and when he’ll be able to speak again. He should say something, he can’t leave Ed hanging in limbo. But there’s something about Ed wrapping his lips around not only the bread but Stede’s fingers, and licking off the excess marmalade that’s broken Stede’s brain. And if that weren’t enough, Ed made a sound that can only be classified as a moan when he did it. A reaction to the taste of the marmalade surely, Stede gets it, but holy hell. Is that hot? Is Stede allowed to think that’s hot? No, he’s making something out of nothing! It was an accident, Ed’s probably embarrassed about it, and he needs to open his mouth and reassure Ed that everything is okay. 

“It’s alright,” Stede says. “It happens.” 

It… happens? To whom?!  

“Maybe I’ll just wait to eat until we get there?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.” 

Thankfully, they’re close. By the time Stede packs everything up again, Ed is parking. It takes him a couple tries to pull in the spot properly and Stede, who rarely drives and has no business critiquing anyone’s driving abilities, teases Ed about his parallel parking skills. After a little banter and Ed threatening to make Stede walk home from Brooklyn, it’s like the Marmalade Incident (as it would come to be known) never happened. 

The nerves are making Stede ill. They bubble up in his gut the moment he steps out of Ed’s car, and it occurs to him for what should be the tenth time, not the first, that he is stepping into an underworld operation. He looks to Ed for reassurance as they approach the door, snack bags in hand, but Ed’s demeanor has changed. His shoulders are back, his jaw is set, and his hand is at his hip - a handgun Stede hadn’t noticed before. 

Stede doesn’t want to panic but he doesn’t have a gun, he has a tray of deviled eggs, and the reality is that Ed hasn’t known him for very long, so Stede starts looking up and down the street like someone is going to jump out of an alley and - 

“Don’t panic, man,” comes Ed’s voice, calm and even. He knocks on the door in a seemingly random pattern then turns to Stede. “It’s just a precaution.” 

“What is?” 

“The gun. You start making a name for yourself and you’ve gotta be careful, but this neighborhood isn’t exactly teeming with criminal activity.” 

“Oh,” Stede replies simply, because he has no idea how to respond to the sentiment. Blackbeard is the biggest name in the city right now, even if it’s only spoken as a whisper. Violence is part of the job, Stede gets that, but to go through life constantly looking over one’s shoulder… Stede gets that too. He just doesn’t do it with guns and a sixth sense. Stede has been incessantly watching his own back since his mother died, maybe longer. It’s just that Stede’s self-preservation manifests in the form of constant compliance and suppressing himself. ‘Yes, sir. No, sir. I understand, sir.’ all serve him just as well as a bullet. 

The door opens a crack at first, then swings open wide. Ed visibly relaxes as he steps inside, and Stede gets it now. The man in the car was Ed, the man cheerfully pulling him inside and taking his bags is Ed; the man standing next to him on the street was Blackbeard. The differences are subtle - Blackbeard stands a little taller, cuts a sharper gaze, trades that magnetism for something more menacing. It’s quite easy to see how he’d be frightening, but Stede is fascinated. 

“Lemme introduce you to everyone,” Ed says, dropping the bags on a nearby chair. Then he turns away from Stede and yells, “Get out here!” in a voice distinctly more commanding. 

A handful of people appear and Stede recognizes most of them from the jewelry store. The lot of them look confused, all except the one leaning against the door frame in the back. He looks more than a little displeased - Stede can only assume that’s his fault. Izzy, if memory serves. 

Ed slings an arm around Stede’s shoulders and says, “Listen up. This here? This is my new pal Stede. Gonna take him on as, like, an intern or something. Show him what we do, maybe take him out in the field. Got it?” 

A chorus of groans fills the room, like the teacher just told the class they have to be nice to the weird kid no one is friends with. Ed’s arm holds him a little tighter and Stede shifts just a fraction closer into Ed’s side. 

“That’s alright, I can go. It’s not a problem, I don’t want to intrude!” Stede offers quickly. The last thing he wants to do is cause problems for Ed or give anyone a reason to kill him. 

“Hey, Stede? Look at me?” There’s that shift again, the mask pulled back down. Stede does as he’s asked (told?) and shivers when he meets Ed’s eyes. “Shut the hell up.” 

“Why should we?” chimes in Izzy. “He was holdin’ up a store with an empty gun! We don’t need any dead weight.” 

“Because I’m in charge and I fuckin’ said so. Problem with that?” 

A few seconds of silence pass, and Stede holds his breath. “No, boss,” Izzy finally concedes. 

“Any of the rest of you got a fucking problem with?” 

The rest of the crew fall in line pretty easily. Though, and Stede makes note of this, they mostly sounded like they didn’t want the chore. Izzy seems like he doesn’t like Stede, who’s never done anything to him but purposely butcher his name. But he was being rude so they can call it even. 

“Be polite and come say hello! Line up!” Ed tells them, relaxing back into himself and smiling wide. The group does as they’re told (sans Izzy), and suddenly Stede is on the receiving end of several warm and surprisingly genuine hellos. 

Ed claps him on the back twice and smiles at him, but it’s a little different. This one reaches Ed’s eyes and it’s so crystal clear that this is a man Stede will never be able to deny a damn thing. What must it be like, to be blessed with such gravitational pull that you need only flash a smile to get what you want? Not that Stede can’t relate on some level, he’s not going to pretend several people aren’t employed to get him what he wants when he wants it, but that feels too akin to fear. He’s patient and understanding with mistakes, but his family name isn’t. Stede doesn’t want to wield the power of fear. Whatever the hell it is Ed has… Maybe the longer Stede sticks around, the more it’ll rub off on him. 

All the food he brought endears the crew to him properly. They wait patiently while Stede explains the spread, try bites of everything and let him know what they do and don’t like, even thank him for the kind gesture! These so-called criminals are big sweethearts. 

“Look at you,” Ed says, sidling up next to Stede. “Fitting right in like you’ve always been here.” 

“Fitting in where? They’re just happy I brought something to eat.” 

“Dunno, mate. I think you look pretty good here next to me.” 

That kind of approval will hold him over for a lifetime. Maybe he can do this.

His first day as a criminal doesn’t involve much criminal activity at all. Ed does let him sit in on a meeting about their next job, but it isn’t for a few days. Fang, Ivan, and Archie all volunteer to help Stede learn how to shoot a gun and defend himself. Despite the rocky start, it feels like they want to help. Stede starts to worry Izzy’s scowl might be permanently affixed to his face. He’s the only one that doesn’t make an effort to speak to Stede all day and, more distressingly, he seems rather upset with Ed. 

Later, when Ed drives him home, Stede tries to bring Izzy up. He makes it clear, about ten times over, that he does not have to be involved if his presence is going to cause a problem. Stede’s more than happy to continue his clumsy operation alone. Well - not alone - it would be nice if he and Ed can still be friends, but he totally understands if not because being Blackbeard must take up a lot of his time! And, deepest apologies, he’s probably monopolized too much of Ed’s time over the past couple of days! 

“Stede, look at me?” He does. “Shut the hell up.” This time, Stede can tell it’s Ed saying it.  

Right. Shutting up. No rules against smiling, though. That smile carries Stede into the lobby, up the elevator, and into bed. 

-

The next couple of weeks feel like Stede’s speeding down the street only to catch every red light. 

He blows off everything that isn’t absolutely essential to his regular life. Eventually, his painting class with Mary is rescheduled (turns out you can rearrange anyone’s schedule for a price!). It’s pleasant enough, though Stede finds he’s not much of an artist. There may still be some untapped potential inside Stede, but their instructor, Doug, spends so much of his time complimenting Mary or showing her how to make brush strokes just so, that Stede kind of falls to the wayside. 

Stede also takes an evening or two to go out and blow off steam with his friends, but he skillfully dodges their questions about why he’s been so busy. He’s not sure Ed will want to be spoken about given his line of work, and truthfully, Stede isn’t ready to share Ed just yet. In the back of his mind, Stede does make a note to bring his friends to Spanish Jackie’s. They’d fit right in! It would do some good for them to completely let loose. Stede’s not the only one who struggles to be authentically himself. 

Other than that, Stede avoids all optional work activities. Surprisingly, his father doesn’t say much of anything about it. He’s sitting on that resentment for some reason, Stede’s sure, but there’s no way to anticipate when the other shoe will drop. 

But, because Stede spends the rest of his free time with Ed, everything else is just another hurdle he has to climb over to get back to what brings him joy. It’s criminal, he thinks, that time with Ed flies by so quickly. 

The one thing proven solidly over this period of time is that Stede isn’t handy with any kind of weapon. A few members of the crew take turns teaching him the basics. He’ll definitely be able to shoot and point if need be, but he’s not going to be like Blackbeard any time soon. Ed says casing the joint is more of a hands on activity, but briefly goes over how they plan heists. It lasts all of ten minutes before they’re goofing off and laughing. All in all, Stede doesn’t learn much about robbery, but he does learn how Ed takes his tea (7 sugars, dollop of milk) and his favorite song (Downhearted Blues by Bessie Smith) and his favorite cure-all (his mother’s brownies).

When Ed takes him out on his first job, Stede doesn’t know what to expect. They’re going to hit another jewelry store; Ed thinks a bank is too big of a mark for Stede’s first time and Stede can’t help but agree. Even if he wasn’t instructed to stand by Ed the whole time, Stede would’ve. The whole scene is so much more of everything than Stede’s attempt. More violence, more noise, more urgency. The store clerk is visibly shaking as he hands everything over to Izzy, and he apologizes just for making eye contact with Ed. Stede makes note of the gusto - it seems very important to the whole gangster persona. With all the loot shoved in a bag, Ed pulls him out the door, saying something about the fuzz, and hurries him into the front seat. Ed slides across the hood of his car before hopping in the driver’s side, winking at Stede as the engine revs to life and they peel out of the alley. 

Back at the hideout, Stede’s head is spinning. The crew clap him on the back and include him in their congratulations like he did anything more than stand behind Ed and try to stay out of the way. Fang explains how they divvy up the spoils and asks Stede if he’s partial to any kind of jewelry, but Stede waves him off with a sincere thank you. He doesn’t need any money, and he’ll be damned if he’s rewarded for doing none of the work anyway. The only person who doesn’t so much as a ‘Congrats on not blowing it!’ in Stede’s direction is Izzy. In fact, he seems to make a point of sneering at Stede, rolling his eyes and scoffing when Stede speaks, and reminding the room that Stede is a liability for them all. And Stede wouldn’t care - Izzy isn’t the first person who dislikes Stede, and he certainly won’t be the last - if it didn’t upset Ed so visibly. 

“Nice job,” Ed says, throwing an arm around Stede’s shoulders. 

“I didn’t even do anything!” 

“Yeah, maybe,” he concedes. “But you didn’t die, and that’s more that can be said for a lot of gangsters.” 

Right on cue, Izzy huffs like he’s being put out. Stede can feel Ed tense before letting him go. He puts his hands on his hips and turns to Izzy. 

“Something to say?” Ed asks, but it sounds more like a dare than a question.

Stede has since learned not to interject when Blackbeard makes an appearance, but he knows he’s the root of this problem. All he can do is watch it play out. 

“No, sir,” Izzy responds. 

“Sure fuckin’ sounds like it. Out with it.” 

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, having some kind of silent conversation Stede cannot decipher. Izzy looks as defiant as ever, while Ed’s wearing a shade of anger Stede hasn’t seen before. Ed takes off towards one of the rooms and snaps; Izzy follows on his heels. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Archie tells Stede. “They go at it sometimes. I mean, like, way more since you showed up. But it’s probably fine.” 

It doesn’t feel fine. It feels pretty shit, actually. Stede isn’t a fan of Izzy, but that doesn’t matter because he and Ed are friends. Or, at the very least, business associates. There’s no reason for Ed to defend Stede’s honor or to look so personally affronted when someone insults Stede. He meanders over to the couch because he wants to sit down and not at all because it's within earshot of what is now the most interesting room in the world. 

Stede can’t hear much, but he makes out enough. Izzy thinks he’s a distraction, Ed thinks he’s been real fuckin’ nice to everyone. Izzy thinks he’s going to get Ed killed, Ed’s doesn’t give a shit what Izzy thinks. Izzy is worried, Ed tells him to get the fuck over it. Obviously, there are layers to this fight that aren’t about him - Stede knows that. But a lot of it is about his presence, and the sides are quite cut and dry. Izzy wants him to go; Ed wants him to stay. Stede wants Stede to stay, too.

The lock clicks and the door swings open. Ed stalks out, still looking agitated. He finds Stede immediately and flops down on the couch. 

“Okay?” Stede asks. 

“Fine,” Ed growls. Then, softer, “Sorry. Not mad at you, it’s just residual anger or whatever. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Stede smiles. “I’m glad I’m here too.” 

It’s then that Stede remembers what’s been in his coat pocket all this time. He digs around for the little key and pulls it out. He’d meant to have it copied weeks ago, but the shop he normally goes to was insistent that having so many copies was strange and that they didn’t want any part of nefarious activities. This was supposed to be a more private exchange, but Ed needs cheering up and Stede’s just the man for it! 

“As promised!” Stede holds the key out for Ed to take. “Would’ve had it ready sooner but… Ed, you wouldn’t believe the bad luck I had with the locksmith.” 

Ed is staring at Stede’s outstretched hand, mouth agape. He looks shocked, Stede thinks, but why? Stede said he would give Ed a key, and so a key Ed will get. Simple as that. 

“Ed?” 

“You were serious?” 

Stede narrows his eyes and stares at Ed. “Of course I was serious. Why would I have lied to you?” 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, finally meeting Stede’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t you?” 

All the air is punched out of Stede’s lungs and he can’t even try to hide the pained noise of disbelief that escapes him. What the hell does that mean? Something about Ed’s tone makes Stede think it’s not about him. The grand ‘you’ isn’t Stede, and somehow that makes it worse. Thinking Stede is someone who’d just lie to his face is a preferable explanation compared to the implication that Ed just assumes people are lying to him. Well, not Stede. Never Stede. 

He presses the key into Ed’s hand. Ed’s smile is such a gentle thing, like the kiss of springtime sunshine on skin, that Stede wants to bottle it to brighten up his gloomy days. 

The ride home is near silent except for Stede pointing out the occasional person of interest on the street. It’s nice to just be near Ed, so he doesn’t feel the need to fill every bit of silence. A bit of unusual but welcome person growth! 

“Any time I want?” Ed asks suddenly as Stede gets out of the car. He leans in the open passenger side window and sees Ed holding up the key. 

“Any time you want,” Stede confirms. 

-

The next day is easily the dullest of the week. Stede spends most of Sunday morning tossing and turning in his bed. There are a hundred things he could be doing, but none of them spark any interest. He goes through the motions of a normal morning (shower, brush teeth, spend too long in the closet, eat breakfast) and by his third bite of toast, a frown appears. 

Truthfully, he still feels bad about causing a fight between Ed and Izzy. He wants to make amends with Ed, whether Ed thinks he needs to or not, but a simple apology won’t do. No, this is a gift kind of ‘I’m sorry’. 

At the very least, it’s something to do. 

New York is a different city when the sun comes up. The nighttime illuminates all the glitz and glamor, but the daytime is grey hustle and bustle. Stede weaves in and out of people in their Sunday best, passing the occasional person who looks haggard and overdressed for ten in the morning. Fringe and rhinestones should be a look for any time of day, Stede thinks, but maybe without the visible hangover as an accessory (it looks painful - must have been a good time). 

Speaking of the walking dead…

“Frenchie! John!” Stede calls, hustling to cross the street while there’s a break in traffic. The pair of them are walking - well, more like staggering - side by side at the pace of a baby just learning to walk. 

“I know we’re outside, but there’s no need to be so loud,” says Wee John. 

“Yeah, banning loud noises. Loud noises are out,” Frenchie agrees. 

“What happened to you two?” 

“Went to the theatre,” supplies Frenchie. 

“The theatre,” Stede repeats, unconvinced. “And it was… an interactive performance?” 

“It - hold on.” John leans over and vomits into a patch of grass. “It started at the theatre. Then I asked if we were seeing Shakespeare and this one,” he motions to Frenchie, “started losing it.” 

“Everyone knows you can’t say Shakespeare in a theatre or you’ll be terribly cursed forever,” Frenchie says from his position hunched over with his hands on his knees. 

The superstition tracks, but it’s not really explaining the stench of whiskey and cigarettes. 

“And you two ended up here how?” 

“Ah, you see, we were doing the anti-curse, had to run around the theatre and spit and all that, when we ran into a couple of friends coming from a gig. Did you know saxophonists can really put it away? Because we learned the hard way. I’ve never seen so many empty bottles.” Frenchie takes a very deep breath when he finishes explaining - he’d clearly forgotten.

“Frenchie, you’re a saxophonist!” 

“And I wouldn’t be standing here today if I wasn’t .” 

Seeing as the short answer is that they partied a little too hard with Frenchie’s musician friends, Stede encourages them to go home and get some rest. They look a little worse for wear and, knowing his friends, they’re going to try to go out again this evening (an event Stede will inevitably be forced to attend). 

They mumble something about needing chili dogs, a bit much this early but he’s not one to talk (he’s been in worse states), so Stede bids them goodbye and carries on searching for the perfect apology gift. 

A few blocks from his apartment sits a little jewelry shop. Stede stops to look at the display in the window. Most of it is tacky or downright garish, but something in the back corner catches his eye. A little gold ring with an enormous emerald set in it sits shimmering in the midmorning sun. Stede has noticed Ed’s affinity for jeweled rings, and the deep green will no doubt look stunning on him. 

It’s a little strange, Stede will admit, to walk inside with the intent to purchase. 

“Excuse me,” he says, approaching the counter. “Could I see that emerald ring in the window display?” 

“Of course, sir.” 

It’s even more stunning in Stede’s hand. The gem is cut beautifully, it catches the light in every direction, and the ring itself is real gold. Briefly, he lets himself daydream about how it might look sparkling on Ed’s hand as they laugh, adrenaline pumping through their veins, while they make a daring escape from the police. 

It’s perfect. 

“I’ll take it.” 

The salesman’s eyes get wide for a moment and he clears his throat. Somewhat unsteadily, he asks, “Are you certain, sir? Without seeing the price?” 

“Quite! I’ll write you a check.” 

What’s a few hundred dollars between friends? 

Stede signs the check and hands it over. When the salesman gets a look at the name, he starts profusely apologizing for even insinuating that Stede Bonnet couldn’t afford such a fine piece of jewelry. It’s an unfortunately common occurrence, like if shop workers aren’t kind enough or bend to his every whim, Stede will ruin their lives or careers. Which he never would! But his father’s fingerprints are all over the city. He’s trying to get out of the shop with as little fuss as possible, so he throws on his work smile and thanks the man three or four times for his help (which wasn’t much, but that’s not his fault - Stede knew that ring should belong to Ed the moment he laid eyes on it). 

On the walk home, Stede feels just a little lighter, his smile is a little wider. There’s not a doubt in his mind that Ed is going to absolutely love the ring. Not that he has to wear it! Stede’s not expecting anything, it just reminds Stede of him and so… he should have it. But the thought of Ed’s Yeah, fuckin’ love it, mate! as he rearranges his other jewelry to make room makes Stede’s head float in the clouds over Manhattan. Perhaps he should wrap it? It’s not a present, per se, but it’s not not a present. But he can’t just pull a ring box out of his pocket?! That’s - it would look like - no. There’s always the option of the store wrappings but that feels so bland and impersonal. 

It’s a sad fact, but a fact nonetheless, that Ed is the first friend Stede’s made without circumstantial assistance. His friends are lovely, but everyone of Stede’s age and status was forced together so often as children that some friendships were bound to stick (and some enemies as well). Ed just saw Stede and decided he liked him. There’s no reason they ever should’ve met except that Stede is an idiot who thought he could commit armed robbery on a whim. And Stede’s other friends, they exchange gifts on special occasions and whatnot, but there’s some level of expectation to it. Ed is different. Ed is new and exciting and Stede feels like they’ve known each other for a lifetime. Soulmates in a sense, he supposes, but only to himself because that’s a bit much and he doesn’t want it to be misconstrued. 

His point being, he thinks, that Ed can disappear from Stede’s life just as quickly as he arrived. Maybe the ring is a mistake. Maybe jewelry is something one buys a partner, not a friend. He should probably be buying Mary jewelry and buying Ed something like… shoe polish. It didn’t occur to him until this exact moment that a ring is a fairly intimate gesture. If Stede is giving anyone a ring, surely it should be his fiancée. 

But the truth of it is he doesn’t have any idea what kind of gift Mary would like; he knows Ed will love this ring. 

Like with all emotions he doesn’t want to deal with, Stede just takes a deep breath and buries it. He gets along with Ed, but all he and Mary do is tolerate each other. But that doesn’t mean anything.

The high Stede’s riding comes to a screeching halt when he opens the door to his penthouse. Bodies are strewn about his living room, his coffee table is piled high with enough trash to assume that particular vendor is out of hot dogs for the day already, and every curtain is drawn shut. 

“When I said to go home I meant your own home.” 

“Too far. Close to death. So… comfy…” Frenchie murmurs, and the others groan in agreement. 

“Lucius, that can’t be good for your back!” 

Lucius is half on, half off the sofa, upside down, body tilted at some spine breaking angle. “It’s the only position that doesn’t make me nauseous,” he says. 

“That’s not like you,” comes Pete’s voice from behind the sofa. “You’ve got a stomach of steel, babe.” 

“What’s in the bag?” Oluwande asks, pointing to Stede. 

“Oh, er. It’s nothing. A gift! Not for any of you, don't get any ideas.” 

You’ve never seen a group of hungover corpses get the color back in their faces so quickly. The turnaround is near-instantaneous. Stede is barraged by a flurry of questions he has no interest in answering. Unfortunately, most of them majored in relentlessness at NYU. 

“Who’s it for?” 

“Is it for Mary?” 

“Could be for his father.” 

“Why would it be for his father?” 

“But what is it?” 

“Hold on.” Jim waves them all off. “We’re all asking the wrong questions.” 

At the sound of their voice, the rest of the group trades in their pitiful expressions for mischievous ones. Nothing cures a hangover like the prospect of Bonnet family gossip. 

A little bead of sweat runs down Stede’s temple. Jim has always been the most observant and level-headed of the bunch. And realistically, though Stede’s been giving himself props for the last few weeks, all his excuses have been flimsy and out of character. His friends aren’t stupid, nor have they ever let a thing go once in all the years Stede’s known them. 

“Where have you been for the past month?” Jim asks. 

“Nowhere,” Stede answers. “I’ve just been a bit tired lately.” 

“Interesting.” Jim pushes themself up to sit properly. “And why won’t you tell us what really happened with Blackbeard that night?” 

“I did tell you! He took me home!” 

That is the truth! Ed did take him home! Stede just left out the part where he fell into Ed’s orbit and made no effort to escape. 

Stede has a vision of himself - strong-willed, confident, brave. Powerful. That version of himself cannot exist without Edward Teach. He’s everything Stede isn’t, and how can Stede learn and grow with his guidance if this bothersome, albeit lovingly well-meaning, group interferes? Admittedly, Stede never was good at sharing. 

“Oh my god, you like him!” Lucius exclaims. 

“What?!” 

“Look, he’s blushing! You’re blushing.” Lucius says it like a gotcha, like he’s solved some grand puzzle. 

But Stede can’t dispute facts. His face is warm. 

“Stede’s been hanging around Blackbeard,” Jim says. 

“How… ?” Stede’s voice is so quiet, like he’s a child that’s been caught misbehaving. 

“The doorman asked me who the new guy was. Said you were hanging around with some handsome guy,” Jim explains. “Description sounded a lot like the guy who forced us to the ground and threatened our lives.” 

In his twenty-seven years of life, never once has Stede Bonnet been sloppy. He was the most put together kid on the playground, he considered picture day a sport, and there has never been an unsavory story in the paper about him. Now, he takes up one teensy little illegal hobby, throws caution to the wind, and he’s found out almost immediately. 

At least he can explain everything on his own terms. 

“Alright,” Stede begins. “I have been busy spending time with Blackbeard.” 

Calling him Ed seems too personal, like Stede is betraying Ed’s trust by revealing his identity. Or maybe Stede only wants them to know Blackbeard. 

“By ‘spending time with’ you mean ‘fucking’,” Lucius accuses loudly. 

Pete pops up from behind the couch. “Stede is fucking Blackbeard?!” 

“I am not sleeping with Blackbeard!” insists Stede. “We’re friends!” 

“Uh, you can sleep with your friends,” John adds. 

“Oh yeah, that’s true,” agrees Frenchie. “Sometimes it’s better that way, you know? Trust, very important.” He motions around the room, clearly looking for agreement (which he does get murmurs of). 

Stede doesn’t want to have sex with Ed. They’re only friends, and they have some kind of otherworldly chemistry which, should it ever happen, Stede will never forgive himself for ruining. He wants to listen to Ed talk about his day or dress Ed up in something custom made and take him to The Plaza for drinks or drive upstate and lay on the hood of a car and stargaze. All perfectly acceptable activities to do with friends. 

“If you don’t have a huge crush on this man - and, let’s face it, I wouldn’t blame you - then what’s in your little bag? Hmm?” goads Lucius. 

Fine! Stede has nothing to be ashamed of! If they want to know, then so be it! 

“One of his associates isn’t too keen on our newly blossoming friendship, so I’ve purchased something to apologize for causing trouble.”

“Uh huh.” Lucius sounds unconvinced. “Is that a bag from the jeweler up the road?” 

“Yes! It’s a gorgeous emerald ring. Ed’s quite fond of rings, you see, and -” 

“Ed?” 

“Er, Blackbeard! Blackbeard.” 

“Mhmm, alright. Stede?” 

“Yes, Lucius?” He sighs, tired of this little game. 

“What color are Ed’s eyes?” 

“They’re a really deep, warm brown that twinkle like Christmas lights when he smiles. Why?” 

“Hey, Pete?” calls Lucius.

“Yeah, babe?” 

“What color are Stede’s eyes?” 

“I don’t know, red?” 

That doesn’t prove a damn thing! Pete has always been incredibly unobservant! Besides, Ed probably doesn’t remember the color of Stede’s eyes. It just so happens that the two of them make a lot of prolonged eye contact! If you look at something long enough, you’re sure to remember it. 

Stede doesn’t have feelings for Ed. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. 

Does he? 

“But does he like you back? That’s, like, super important,” Olu asks. 

“I’m engaged!”

Then Jim asks a damning question. “What color are Mary’s eyes?” 

When Stede can’t come up with an answer, the room devolves into chaos once again. Pete thinks Mary’s eyes are probably blue, but Frenchie thinks they might be green. Oluwande and Jim are betting on how long it’ll take Stede to admit he’s got a crush on Blackbeard. Wee John excuses himself to go vomit in the bathroom. Stede takes it all in and considers just leaving his penthouse and moving to his office for the night. He’s about to make a break for it, too, when he locks eyes with Lucius; there’s actually some sympathy in his gaze.

It takes visible effort, but Lucius manages to stand up and pull Stede into the privacy of his bedroom. 

“I don’t want to, like, turn your life upside down, but do you really not think you’re hot for this man?” he asks gently. 

“I object to that phrasing,” is all Stede says. 

“You deserve to be happy, Stede,” Lucius tells him before rejoining everyone in the living room. 

Ed is a marvel of a human. Something in Stede’s brain clicked the first time he sat in the back of Ed’s car. Stede knows, would swear on it even, that a friendship with Edward Teach is more than he deserves, more than he could ask for from the universe. And that’s a crazy thought to have, an absurd notion, when they’ve known each other for about a month. 

There are charged moments, little fireworks that light up Stede’s night sky, but they’re nothing more than that. The colors fade into smoke and disappear in the wind.

This criminal thing is a last ditch effort to experience anything that isn’t signed with his father’s name. The future doesn’t change, and Stede’s future is marrying Mary Allamby and taking over his father’s business. He’s going to learn to love Mary and, god help him, learn to love banking. And that is that because there’s no other choice. 

Stede does not have feelings for Ed because he can’t.

Chapter Text

Stede must not be the romantic he always thinks himself to be.

In his defense, Nigel Badminton’s parties are a fucking drag. Typically, this would be an event Stede fights tooth and nail to avoid, but that usually ends in an argument with his father. If Stede is going to keep hanging around with Ed, he can’t give his father any reason to pry into his personal life more than he already does. But, god, you’d think there’d at least be a little thrill in what is technically an illegal gathering! Even if the rules only sometimes-not-really applied to them! The music is easily drowned out by the chatter, the mood is low, and Chauncy is threatening to arrest anyone caught with trying to peddle cocaine. Ironic when the illegal booze is so free flowing, but someone gave the Badmintons power complexes along with their police badges. 

So, really, who can focus on the art of wooing while they’re dying a slow, boring death?

He’s sitting on a large, velvet, indescribably tacky armchair with Mary on his lap. They’re not facing each other - Mary’s animatedly telling a story to some of her friends while Stede politely keeps his hands on the armrests and pretends to listen. 

Performing all these simple displays of courtship grates on Stede more than he’d like to admit. For the past few days, Stede’s really been trying. He’s apologized profusely for how he treated Mary and committed to giving this engagement his best effort. All Stede’s freetime this week has gone to Mary, he even ditched a few meetings and took an afternoon off to make up for all the dates he’s canceled. All of this done with his father’s approval because it means Stede is taking his future seriously and ‘Maybe you won’t disappoint me after all.’  

“Isn’t that right, Stede?!” 

“Absolutely, darling!” he responds reflexively, tuning in just enough that he can answer the questions Mary asks. She takes one of his hands and holds it between her own, resting them in her lap. Stede hopes he’s a good performer - he’s taking the starring role of Mary’s fiancé very seriously. Somehow, he still feels like the understudy.  

It’s not that the contact is bad, per se, or even unwelcome. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her hand or have her sit on his lap or kiss her goodnight. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take her on the swan boats in Central Park or learn her drink order or watch her eyelids flutter while she dreams next to him in bed. It’s not that he doesn’t want to find out if he can make her blush or how soft her curves are or how it sounds when she moans his name. 

It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. 

Mary is his future wife, and that’s that. He’s going to find out the answers to all of those unknowns whether he wants to or not. It’s already written in the stars that Stede is to trudge through life raising interest percentages, attending Badminton parties, and being tolerated by a very nice girl who lost the arranged marriage lottery. 

So it can’t be any of those things.

But she kisses the back of his hand and it’s every last fucking one of them, isn’t it? 

“A bit too much flourish in that suit for someone of your standing, isn’t it, Bonnet?” 

Stede shakes out of his head and looks up to see Chauncey Badminton staring down at him. Since childhood, Stede has been on the receiving end of thinly-veiled jealousy in the form of snide remarks and personal attacks. The Badmintons are always the worst offenders, well and truly bullies, but after all these years, Stede’s learned to bite back now and again. As a rule, Stede never uses someone’s personal circumstances or shortcomings against them. But, if Ed’s taught him anything, it’s that sometimes rules should be broken. 

“Is your girlfriend in attendance this evening?” Stede asks lightly. “I haven’t seen her yet and would love to say hello.” 

Chauncey just grits his teeth. 

Stede’s engagement may be the most common topic of conversation amongst socialites, but the juiciest gossip always stems from drama. The worst kept secret in Manhattan currently is that Chauncey Badminton’s ex-girlfriend, Sarah, very publicly broke up with him two weeks prior when she caught him talking to another woman. Very closely. With his tongue in her mouth. A sore spot for the Badmintons as a family, the NYPD, and Chauncey’s ego. 

“When you inevitably get tired of this chump, you should give me a call, babe,” Chauncey says, putting a hand on Mary’s thigh. 

And if Stede Bonnet is anything at all he’s protective, so he reaches out to rip Chauncey’s hand off of Mary, but it turns out she doesn’t need his help. 

Mary slaps his arm away and stands up. There’s a fire in her eyes Stede’s never seen before. 

“Don’t ever presume you can lay a hand on me, Chauncey Badminton! You’re a third rate man with the personality of drying paint, whose only real skill is the contortionism you learned in order to stick your head completely up your own ass. Before you think about talking to me or Stede like that again, just remember that I’m friends with Sarah and she’s got loose lips after a couple vodka tonics.” 

Stede’s mouth is hanging open. Chauncey’s mouth is hanging open. Mary remains defiant with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. A hush has fallen over the room as every partygoer waits to see what happens next. 

The tension is thick, and Stede wonders if this is the longest anyone has ever gone without speaking. His eyes dart between them, unsure who is going to outlast the other. If Stede was a betting man, he’d go all in on Mary. 

Finally, Chauncey relents.

“Women,” he grunts as he walks away. 

The party resumes like nothing ever happened. Mary sits back on his lap and immediately turns back to her friends and continues chatting, but not before giving Stede an incredibly sincere, warm smile. He could be much worse off, couldn’t he?

The party dies out a few hours later. On the car ride home, Mary implies she’d like to come over so heavily that even Stede can’t miss it. In the interest of powering through and committing, Stede obliges. It’s bound to happen sooner or later, so why not now? They had a good night! They didn’t fight once! Apt timing, if he thinks about it. 

Once they’re alone in Stede’s apartment, it’s apparent Mary wants to take their relationship a step further. And Stede wants that too, of course. Definitely. She laughs airily at all his jokes, keeps a hand on his upper thigh, leans into his personal space. It’s… fine. After a particularly terrible attempt at flirting, Mary doesn’t pull back. In fact, she keeps leaning in until their lips meet.

It’s awkward at first. Stede is stiff, and it doesn’t feel like Mary really wants to participate despite her initiating. They soldier on and find a groove. He urges his mind to conjure up any thought or image that might make this easier, might make him a little more ‘in the mood’ as it were. Nothing, nothing, nothing, Ed’s chest. Then he suddenly jolts back from Mary like he’s in pain. She stares at him blankly. 

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he promises. “I want to do this.” 

Warily, she leans in again and their lips meet. Immediately and uncontrollably, fantasies of Ed flash through his mind. Ed’s lips on Stede’s neck, pulling Ed’s hair, squeezing tightly at Ed’s waist. Stede breaks it off again, stands up, and starts to pace. That’s not - he can’t - but if that’s anything like the real thing…

“I think I should go, Stede.” 

Go? Yes, go. Mary should go. He needs to sit on the floor and think for a very long time. Maybe for the rest of his life. And draft Ed a letter of apology. How does one apologize for thinking about their friend, um, indecently? Oh god, how does he explain to Mary that he can’t even kiss her without thinking of his very hot - stop it - er, attractive friend?! 

“Stede?” 

Oh no, oh dear, oh fuck. “Yes?” he responds, in a voice that is neither calm nor even. 

“I’m going to go,” repeats Mary, just as the clock strikes midnight and starts to chime. 

He can’t let her go home alone at this time of night. She doesn’t live far, Stede can walk her home. That’s good, fresh air will do him some good. 

“It’s late, I’m going to make sure you get home alright.” 

It’s dark outside. That’s a stupid observation, but Stede is trying to focus on anything but the awkward silence hanging between Mary and himself. She doesn’t seem upset, which is a plus. Confused, but not angry. Fair enough, Stede is confused as well. He’s committed to her! Why is Ed being thrown into the mix?! 

The walk to Mary’s apartment is, thankfully, uneventful. It only takes about fifteen minutes, but Stede is considering cutting that time in half by running back home so he can get on with the aforementioned floor time. Usually he’s good at fixing things, smoothing over situations. This one, however, may just need to sit. Stede’s not a fan of waiting things out. He wants to talk it though, figure it out! 

But how do they figure this one out?

When they arrive at Mary’s front door, she politely bids him goodnight and steps over the threshold. Stede turns to leave, but Mary catches his arm. 

“Stede, we’ll figure this out,” she tells him kindly. 

She hugs him and there’s no spark, no flame igniting in his gut, but it feels safe. Non-judgemental. Mary is a good friend. Or, she will be, when they figure out what the hell they’re doing. 

Stede hightails it out of there as soon as Mary’s door clicks shut. It turns out meandering serves him better than sprinting. The breeze is helping to clear his head and separate all the bits of what just happened. 

The sidewalk holds no answers but Stede keeps his eyes down as he walks nonetheless. Perhaps it’s all just a fluke. He’s been spending so much time with Ed recently that the man is bound to pop into his head once in a while! It just so happens that he and Mary were trying to ramp up to something, and that influenced the nature of his thoughts! 

Yes, that’s it. Just a one time thing. 

Stede is just confused because Ed feels something like a soulmate, but he and Mary barely share a connection. Ideally, it should be flipped. Well, no, ideally he and Ed could keep what they have with the addition of Stede and Mary having better chemistry. It’ll grow to that in time, he thinks. Because soulmates don’t have to encompass romance and passion and gentle understanding and starry eyes and -

“Stede?”

Stede always knew he was a great liar.

He snaps his head up at the sound of Ed’s voice. There Ed stands, about ten steps from Stede, looking as stunning as ever. Ed’s hair is haloed by the moonlight while the rest of him glows like a vision sent down from some higher power to prove Stede both right and wrong. Soulmates do not have to be a handful of amorous daydreams wrapped in tight pants and a dangerous smile. Soulmates can be challenging and unpredictable in the way they help you to change and grow. 

“Funny runnin’ into you here,” Ed says. “In your neighborhood… Half a block from your building… Okay, full disclosure, I was looking for you.” He looks nervous. Adorable, Stede thinks and smiles fondly. “Not in, like, a weird way! Didn’t wanna bust in this late so I knocked but you weren’t there because, well, you’re here.” 

Ed is dressed head to toe in Blackbeard, but his hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s looking shyly at the ground while absentmindedly kicking at a rock. 

Stede thinks soulmates might be something else entirely. 

He is so screwed. 

“Why were you looking for me?” 

“Ah, just kinda had a bad night. Nevermind, it’s dumb. Forget I mentioned it.” 

“It’s not dumb!” Stede assures him hurriedly. “Come on, you can tell me all about it back at my place. Or not! Whatever you like. I’ve got a pretty exciting story about a horrifically boring party if you’d rather.” 

Every time Stede offers Ed what he considers to be basic kindness, Ed looks back at him like no one has ever thought to do anything as simple as consider his feelings. But how can that be? How can anyone have met Ed and not immediately opened their chest to keep him safe inside? 

But all of this is a bit fast. Soulmates and besotted fantasies. His friends should never have put ideas in his head! Stede needs to start out slow and figure out if his feelings are real or part of some delusional breakdown brought on by his existential crisis. 

There’s one way to begin to find out. 

Stede takes the few steps left between them and holds out his hand to Ed. “Shall we?” 

Ed laces their fingers together and all Stede can think about is Ed sitting in his lap and kissing Ed goodnight and, he swallows, what Ed’s voice might sound like high and airy as his lips wrap around Stede’s name. 

They’ve known each other for weeks, but every moment wakes new butterflies in Stede’s stomach. Even this is enough, to stand on a street corner under the midnight moon and hold his hand. Ed’s touch holds an endless charge of static electricity and Stede is hopelessly addicted to getting shocked. 

The walk back to Stede’s building is short. Not a single word passes between them but that’s alright. It’s nice just being close, breathing the same air. He almost drops Ed’s hand when they pass the doorman because his upbringing kicks in ( Don’t give anyone a reason to start rumors about you! ) but he is physically incapable of letting go. So much so that when they finally get into Stede’s apartment, they stare at each other for a moment - Stede because he doesn’t want to lose contact; Ed, presumably, wondering why Stede hasn’t released him yet - before separating to shrug off their jackets. 

Stede never does find out why Ed’s day was so bad, nor does Ed ever hear the story about the party. Instead, the two of them end up in Stede’s kitchen because Ed makes the fatal mistake of revealing that he hasn’t eaten anything since lunch ( ‘It’s just been a long day.’ ‘Even gangsters need to eat, Edward!’ ). It just so happens that Stede has matching aprons in his kitchen should anyone take him up on the offer to participate in his sometimes-hobby of baking! Ed looks lovely in lavender but makes for a less than stellar sous chef. By the time Stede’s finished making the pancake batter, Ed’s eaten all the toppings. Pancakes, Stede reminds him, that are only being made because Ed shared that his mother used to let him have breakfast for dinner as a treat when he was upset. Ed just smiles through the lecture, looking adorably like what he wanted all along was for Stede to reprimand him. With an exaggerated sigh, Stede opens the cabinet to grab more chocolate chips. He has to hold Ed at arm’s length with one hand and sprinkle chocolate chips onto the pancakes with the other. The kitchen is full of warm laughter for the first time since Stede moved in. 

When the pancakes are finished, Ed suggests they dine on Stede’s balcony so he can get another look at the view. As he watches Ed eat happily, Stede admires his handiwork (the flour on Ed’s face) knowing he looks just the same. 

“Ya know,” Ed begins, mouth full of pancakes. “If you’re gonna be a real gangster, you need a cool name. Especially since you’re, ya know, you.” 

“Ah, so you don’t think my name is cool.” 

“I never said that!” Ed points his fork accusingly at Stede. “Told you I liked your name, didn’t I? Better than ‘Ed’ at any rate.” 

“I think your name is lovely!” 

“Yeah?” he says, a sincere (if not pancakey) question. 

“Edward suits you wonderfully! I like Ed, so don’t go changing it for anything.” 

Ed makes a soft huff of amusement. “Maybe being Ed Teach isn’t so bad.” 

Being Stede Bonnet doesn’t seem so bad just then either. 

“About this gangster name, do I have to stick with the pirate theme?” 

“Fuck off,” Ed tells him, but his voice is filled with mirth. “A guy like you needs something real ritzy.” 

Stede shovels more pancakes into his mouth. He hasn’t thought about what his secret identity might be - another fact of criminal life that definitely should have occurred to him before Ed brought it up. But if he’s going to go on jobs alongside Blackbeard, he’d better not be an embarrassment. The nickname needs to flow, needs to fit the vibe of Ed’s whole operation. And you know what? There is no one better than Ed himself to make sure that happens. Stede’s happy to give him final say over this! And not just because Ed giving him this name would be the approval he’s looking for.

But maybe a little bit of that. 

“What do you think I should go by?” Stede asks. 

“Hear me out before you say no.” Ed could fit him with the name Gullible Idiot and Stede would still accept it. “It’s simple, it’s sweet. Just ‘The Gentleman’.”

Ed fixes him with a satisfied look, like he’s just said something brilliant. Maybe he has. 

“I love it.” 

“Makes sense right? Fancy man with his fancy clothes makes for a fancy gangster!” 

Blackbeard and The Gentleman. Now there’s a billing for Broadway. Or a headline for The New York World. They sound good together, just not as good as Ed and Stede. 

“You and I will make history, Stede Bonnet. Count on that,” Ed says, tapping Stede’s foot with his own. “Oh, I almost forgot! Got you something.” 

Stede watches Ed drop his plate onto Stede’s lap, bemused as the man jumps up and runs back inside to where their jackets are tangled together on the sofa. Ed rifles through the pockets of his jacket with a surprisingly serious look on his face. He pulls something thin and red out of the inside pocket. 

“Sorry it’s not wrapped or anything,” Ed apologizes when he returns. “I just saw it and you came to mind so I swiped it.” 

He offers Stede a red silk bandana that almost glows in the moonlight. 

“Oh, Ed, it’s beautiful.” 

“I thought you could use it kinda like a mask when we go on jobs. Figured there had to be a red suit or two in that closet of yours.” 

“And you’re right!” Stede laughs. Ed knows him so well. 

More butterflies flutter in his stomach. There’s not not something there. 

-

Is bank robbery always so loud?! It must have to do with the architecture. Shops are smaller and all the carpeting muffles the sound. Banks are all marble and acoustics. Even Ed’s boots reverberate a bit as he swaggers across the floor to speak with the tellers. They’re already shaking when Ed’s gun comes out of its holster. 

One of Stede’s lessons was to let your gun do the talking. Ed gestures with his gun, points with his gun, sometimes even pokes someone in the chest with his gun. ‘Never let them forget,’ he’d said. ‘You walk in with all the confidence and all the power. Never let them dress you down.’ Stede doesn’t have a gun on him this time, per his own request, because he’s not sure he’s ready. Ed didn’t like the idea, insisting Stede have some form of protection, but Stede argued he already had protection. After all, Stede trusts Ed with his life. 

Ed tosses a bag of cash and Stede catches it easily. Then another. Then a third, which Stede whiffs completely due to his lack of free hands. The big sack hits him right in the chest and Stede stumbles back with an ‘Oof!’ . Did Ed mean to do that? He slides to his left just in time to avoid getting smacked in the face by an unbelievable fourth money bag. Were it not for the red silk covering most of Stede’s face, Ed would be on the receiving end of the world’s deadliest scowl right now. As it stands, Ed is laughing, so Stede starts laughing and throws one of the bags back. Ed brings his free arm up to block and avoids taking a sack of thousands to the ribcage. The teller must find this all a little amusing as well, because he chuckles nervously.

“No,” Blackbeard says, cocking the gun pointed at the teller’s head. “Not you. You don’t get to laugh.”

“Blackbeard, can we get a fucking move on before the fuzz bust in?” Izzy asks from somewhere behind Stede. 

Ed rolls his eyes but nods to the rest of the crew who gather everything up and rush out to the getaway cars. 

Stede’s high after his first bank robbery is short lived. Most of them pile into the van while Ed, Stede, and Izzy shove into Ed’s car. Maybe Ed is showing off a little and maybe Stede is encouraging him. Or maybe it’s just bad luck, who’s to say really! But, either way, now Stede knows the pulse pounding fear that comes with being chased by the police. Ed is turning up roads Stede didn’t even know existed and doing it all with a cocky grin. The door handle is going to have Stede’s grip permanently marked on it. He spends most of the time with his eyes squeezed shut listening to the cocktail of noise that is police sirens, Izzy’s complaining, and Ed’s ‘Shut the fuck up and let me work!’ mixing together to make Stede ill. Thankfully, they do lose the cops and make it back to the hideout unscathed. Unfortunately, the hurricane continues raging. 

“E-fucking-nough!” shouts Izzy the moment they’re safely in the hideout. “You’ve been distracted since you met that idiot!” 

“Watch yourself,” Ed warns. 

“Or what? You gonna let all of this go under because of some pretty rich boy playing criminal?” 

Stede stands with the crew, eyes bouncing like ping pong balls between Ed and Izzy. He knew the two of them weren’t getting along, it was obvious and he’d seen it first hand, but this is a blow up of unbelievable proportions. 

“Just what the hell are you implying?” 

“You’re compromised.” 

“I’m Blackbeard, I’m in charge! You fall the fuck in line or you leave.” 

“He’s changing you, Edward. And it’s not for the better.” 

Izzy walks out the back door, slamming it as he goes. The air in the room is so thick that it’s difficult to breathe. Stede chances a glance at the others. The floor, ceiling, and side table lamp have trapped them all in a trance, it seems. 

Guilt bubbles up in his stomach. Ed and Izzy have been friends for a long time, and Stede has just barged his way into their lives and driven a wedge between them. Perhaps he’s been too possessive. He wants Ed to himself all the time so he jumps at the chance to see him at every moment they’re both free. But now his selfishness is hurting Ed, and that simply won’t do. 

“Fuck off,” Ed mumbles to no one in particular. The group scatters and Ed collapses onto the couch. 

They’re alone again, but Ed won’t look at him. Stede sits on the sofa as well, but at the opposite end. There’s a ton of space between them because Stede thinks it’ll make what he’s about to say easier. 

“Ed,” Stede begins, but when he turns to face him, Ed’s looking between Stede and the empty seat next to him with a wounded look on his face. Without hesitation, Stede scoots over until they once again make the concept of personal space meaningless. 

“Thought you were upset with me for a minute there.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“I don’t know, take your pick. Almost getting caught by the cops. Yelling at Izzy.” 

“I'm not upset with you.” Ed’s head drops to Stede’s shoulder and makes it all the more difficult to go on. “But you and Izzy have been friends for a long time and I can’t help but notice that my presence is causing an awful lot of trouble.” 

“That’s Izzy’s problem.” 

“Maybe, but it clearly upsets you and I don’t want to contribute to that.” 

“If you want to stay, you should stay. Fuck Izzy.” 

The words feel loaded. Stede can tell there’s more Ed wants to say. In time, maybe he will, but for now Stede needs to make sure Ed isn’t trying to placate him or make him feel better. 

“Do you want me to stay?” asks Stede quietly. 

“I want you to stay. Do you want to stay?” 

As easy as breathing, he responds, “I want to stay.” 

Stay he does, in every sense. Izzy makes a point of ignoring the two of them after returning from the longest cigarette break Stede’s ever seen. The others politely avoid them as they go about the rest of their evening. And that’s just fine. Stede cannot think of a single thing he’d rather be doing than sitting on the couch next to Ed’s quiet contemplation. 

This time, when Ed decides enough time has passed for Stede to be taken back to his penthouse, they don’t stop at Stede’s building. It waves at Stede as they pass by, and he’s oddly excited about it. He doesn’t really want to go home, he realizes. It’s Sunday evening! The city is alive! There’s no better place to be than Ed’s passenger seat. 

They drive over a particularly deep pothole and it jostles the contents of Stede’s pockets to the floor. He doesn’t much care where his keys and wallet land, but the ring box was in that pocket. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, reaching down between the seat and the door. He can’t quite search as thoroughly as he’d like because of his seatbelt - it’s choking him a little bit as Stede contorts his body to reach just… a little… further… 

“The hell are you doing over there, man?” 

“Everything fell out of my pocket,” Stede groans, sinking down into his seat with a defeated sigh. 

“It’s cool, we’ll find it all when we get there. It’s not gonna fall out of a locked car.” 

“I was carrying something incredibly important that I’d be heartbroken to lose!” 

“I’ll pull the seats out if I have to so we find it, promise.” 

Hopefully the little box is just wedged between the door and the seat. Ed makes a good point - there’s no hole in the floor. When they park, Stede has to be the one to find the ring box. He can’t imagine the faux pas if Ed finds it. There’s no flourish in the gifting that way! And Stede can’t give his little speech! No, it would seem like there’s no thoughtfulness behind it. 

Stede lets his mind drift back to his little (huge) conundrum (life changing potential truth). His eyes drift to Ed, because they’re incapable of looking anywhere else, and his heart flutters. Point for yes. But Ed is his friend, quickly becoming his best friend. Stede has never had a best friend, and certainly this friendship would feel different than his other friendships. Point for no. Ed’s smile is contagious, blinding even though the sun has long since begun to set, and this red light seems to have personally offended him. As they pull up to the light, Ed tilts his head back and rolls his eyes. Which would’ve been fine, but then he draws his bottom lip between his teeth and twirls some loose hair with his free hand. Very, um, thought provoking. Point for enticing. Platonically! Maybe. Or not? He doesn’t know!

“Have to tell you, mate. You’re fucking fascinating.” 

“Thanks!” Stede pauses. “Why?” 

“You haven’t asked me once where we’re going.” 

“So what? I trust you.” 

“I know. Kinda like that.” 

As luck would have it, Stede likes that too. He hopes the feeling is mutual. 

It takes another ten or fifteen minutes, but they end up in a neighborhood Stede has never visited. It’s rather residential, none of that high rise action like the Upper East Side. There’s a lot more personality and a lot less urgency. Stede hops out quickly when they park, desperate to snatch the ring box from wherever it fell before Ed can see it. Thankfully, he’s successful. He shoves it into his pocket quickly when he sees Ed walking around the car to help. 

Quickly, he holds up his keys and wallet and says, “Look! Found it all.” 

“Even your secret important thing?” 

“Even that!” 

Just like Stede had done the other night, Ed puts out his hand for Stede to take. He does. Ed smiles the entire way up to his apartment, but Stede isn’t one to talk - he can barely contain his giddiness. 

The fact that Ed trusts Stede enough to share his home is nothing short of extraordinary. It’s cozy, bright, and so unreservedly Ed. A gramophone sits in the corner with records strewn about, there’s a well-loved couch with a leather jacket thrown over the arm, and a vase with fresh green carnations sitting on an end table. It’s nice to see somewhere more lived-in. Ed’s room at his hideout is full of Blackbeard’s possessions - makeup, suits, bits of loot. As Stede wanders around the apartment, he finds Ed’s fingerprints everywhere - jewelry scattered on the dresser, several photos of a woman and a little boy, a half-drunk mug of tea atop the latest Fitzgerald - and he collects them like a detective trying to crack a case. Eventually, he’s going to have enough puzzle pieces to figure out the picture. 

“How have we never discussed literature?” Stede asks incredulously, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. 

“Dunno. You like Fitzgerald?” Ed nods towards the copy of The Great Gatsby sitting on his table. 

“I do! Although, sometimes he hits a little close to home, I suppose.” 

“How close? I’m not the Carraway to your Gatsby am I?” Ed laughs. “That didn’t end well.” 

“No! No, of course not. I just know a lot of insufferable wealthy people.” 

“You’re just the latter though, yeah?” 

Ed leans back on the counter and crosses his arms. The briefest flash of shame flickers in his mind before he catches the smirk on Ed’s face. Alright, so they’re teasing now. 

“I like to think I’m at least a little bit tolerable.” 

“Just tolerable? Don’t sell yourself short, mate.” 

Ed has this infuriating habit of rendering Stede speechless. They’ll be having a conversation, then Ed will say something devastatingly kind - and, in retrospect, maybe romantic but he’ll circle back to that after he figures himself out - and Stede is helpless to do anything but stare with that goofy grin on his face. Some kind of spell falls over them until one of them clears their throat and moves the conversation along. 

“Anyway,” Ed begins, right on cue, “that’s an entirely different story if either of them realized they were in love.” 

“Oh, but Gatsby knew he was in love. Or, well, at least he thought so. I’m not sure infatuation with a memory can really count as love.” 

“I mean with each other.” 

“You think so?” 

“I didn’t go to any fancy school to study books or anything, but I think some bonds transcend friendship. And actions say a lot. I think they were too wrapped up in themselves to realize what was in front of them.” 

Ed drops that thought provoking interpretation like it’s nothing and turns to open one of the cabinets. Stede’s felt very wrapped up in his own mind as of late, and perhaps that’s the real key for sorting himself out. He needs to take in what’s in front of him and react instead of torturing himself by keeping score for a game he’s not even sure how to play. 

Stede decides to try it. The truth of it all is overwhelming. 

He watches Ed stretch to reach the mugs on the top shelf and his shirt rides up, exposing his waist. A waist Stede certainly never thinks about in any capacity. Who even cares what it would feel like to wrap his arms around it? It would burn, surely, searing hot. Who even cares what it would feel like to grab that waist tightly and pin him against the wall? Like lightning in his chest, probably, anticipation that crackles with electricity. Who even cares what it would feel like to press his lips to such a delicate form? Like the most important display of devotion he’ll ever make.

Not that he’s thought about it. Not. At. All.

But now he can’t stop thinking about it, and that seems like an inarguably solid confirmation of desire that Stede can no longer ignore. All those times his breath caught in his throat, when he couldn’t help looking a little longer than was appropriate… Stede never wanted to be Ed. 

Once that revelation peeks its way through the clouds of denial in Stede’s mind, everything changes. 

Ed turns to face Stede again, placing the mugs on the table and saying something about how he’s not sure if he actually likes tea or just sugar, and it’s like he’s seeing Edward Teach for the first time. Wisps of hair frame his face, just bothersome enough that Stede wants to reach out and tuck them behind his ear. Ed’s bent over slightly, offering Stede a view of his torso, and it’s all Stede can do not to gawk at such a close distance. Then there’s that smile again, the one brighter than any neon light and worth more than any diamond, that Stede selfishly wants to keep for himself. He wants to see it in corners at coffee shops and under covers and paired with a rosy blush. 

Breathtaking, magnificent, captivating - all correct but not strong enough to describe how gorgeous Ed actually is. 

“You okay, man? Looks like you’re thinking real hard about something.” 

“Honestly? I feel great,” Stede tells him. 

“Good.” Ed’s eyes move from Stede’s eyes to his lips and then back again (or, at least, he thinks). “Mind if I change while the kettle is on?” 

“Please get comfortable! I’ll manage.” 

Ed winks as he leaves the room; Stede drops his head to the table the moment he’s alone. Fine! So he definitely does want to sleep with Ed! That’s half his question answered. Lust is easy, though. He can deal with that! Stede is well-practiced at ignoring his own desires. It’s the other thing that could really complicate matters. But who’s to say that’s even going to be a problem? People find each other attractive all the time! Surely he’s not the only one in New York City to look at Ed and want to know how his lips taste? 

“You want something to change into?” calls Ed from his bedroom.

“I don’t want to put you out!” 

“Stede,” Ed says seriously, walking back into the kitchen, “I’ve bunked on your couch how many times? Some sweats and a t-shirt are no big deal.” 

Drooling is not becoming of a gentleman, and Stede has never understood jaw-dropping in such a literal sense, but he’s opened a floodgate. Ed is leaning against the archway, looking so effortlessly relaxed, with his hair tied up and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Whatever Stede thought was underneath that suit jacket pales in comparison to the real thing. Ed is covered in tattoos and Stede wants to know the story behind every single one. Not right now, though, because the curve of his waist is terribly distracting. Stede’s eyes are memorizing every inch of Ed’s body just in case this is the only chance Stede ever has to see him. Suddenly, he’s hit with a wave of jealousy over every single pair of lips that have kissed promises into Ed’s skin, every pair of ears that have heard Ed sigh with pleasure, every pair of hands that have made Ed shiver with anticipation. 

“Gonna start charging you for looking, Stede Bonnet,” threatens Ed, but that cocky tone doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“As I recall, someone once told me there’s no crime in looking.” 

“If there was, I'd have been locked up weeks ago.” 

Surely Ed’s not implying he’s been looking at Stede? He would have noticed. Stede is so acutely aware of what Ed’s doing at any given moment that something as groundbreaking as Ed eyeing him up couldn’t have slipped by. 

“Uh, anyway,” Ed continues, nervousness coloring his voice. “Help yourself to whatever you want in there.” 

“Thank you.” 

For the first time since knowing him, walking away from Ed feels like a relief. It’s a bit frightening, really. There’s little point in lying to himself now but perhaps this is all just fleeting attraction! Because if this hunger is so intense, the rest of it would be devastating. He grabs the first bits of clothing he sees, grey sweatpants and a turquoise shirt, and changes quickly. Carefully, he places the ring box on top of the dresser before folding his suit - it’s been through enough today. 

He notices a tattered photo sitting in a hand-painted frame atop the dresser. In it, a woman is smiling at the camera while a little boy sits on her lap, clinging tightly and smiling up at her. They look so happy. It reminds Stede of his own mother. 

“Not looking!” comes Ed’s voice from the doorway. “Just checking to see if you’re finding everything okay.” 

“You can look.” Stede can’t help but laugh as he turns to see Ed covering his eyes with both hands like a little kid counting before hide and seek. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Ed points to the picture frame in Stede’s hands. 

“Stunning. Does she live in the city?” 

“Nah, couldn’t get her to move. Likes her little country house too much I think.” 

“Do you get home much to see her?” A whirlpool of sadness and guilt mixes in Ed’s eyes and Stede regrets asking. He shouldn’t have pressed. “I’m sorry, Ed. You don’t have to -“ 

“No, it’s okay!” Ed interrupts hurriedly. “I haven’t seen her in a while. I call her now and again, send her money as often as I can, but that’s it.” 

“You must miss her. You know, I’d be happy to pay for -“ 

“No,” Ed says, serious and finite. This time, he doesn’t cut Stede off in reassurance. It’s a very clear boundary and Stede will respect that. 

“In any case, I see where you get your dashing good looks from.” 

Ed brightens instantly. “She’d agree with you.” 

Stede carefully places the frame back down where it belongs. If Mrs. Teach is anything like her son, Stede will count himself lucky should he ever get to meet her. 

“And just what is this?” 

Ed snatches the ring box before Stede can. He’s already put his foot in his mouth once, how’s he going to explain away an emerald ring?! 

He chases Ed out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room. Ed doesn’t have more than a couple inches of height on Stede, but he uses them to his advantage to keep the box just out of reach. The two of them are giggling the entire time Stede demands his possession back and Ed insists he needs to know what it is first. With one well timed jump from Stede and a poorly timed step from Ed, they tumble to the ground in a heap. In the end, Stede wrestles his way to victory! He’s straddling Ed and has his arms pinned down. 

“Okay, I give up! White flag!” Ed manages through breathlessness and laughter. “Take your little box.” 

“How very generous of you to concede after I’ve so clearly defeated you.” 

“I’m a very giving person!” 

Stede is hyper aware of his current position, but it’s difficult to think straight when Ed’s trying to catch his breath and not even attempting to free himself from Stede’s hold. He’s always doing so much damn thinking, so this time he doesn’t - he lets his instincts take over. Stede leans just a fraction closer and waits. Ed’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. Just one moment of bravery, that’s all it’ll take. Ed’s pulse is pounding, Stede can feel it beneath his fingers, so he leans in again until…

The kettle screeches from the kitchen, startling them both. They scramble apart like the other is on fire and stare anywhere but each other. 

“You… Do you still…” 

“Uh, tea? Yes. Let’s tea. I like tea.” 

Instead of a hot drink, Stede feels like he needs a cold shower. All of this is so new. He’s dated before, but if this is what the fire of passion feels like then it’s no wonder none of them ever worked out. Even if this is it, if it’s all just physical, it's still better than anything else he’s ever had. 

Ed very carefully pours hot water into both mugs before setting the kettle back on the stovetop. He hesitates for a moment, choosing to backtrack and sit across from Stede instead of next to him. Perhaps the whole moment was just a fluke? Stede wishes he was brave enough to find out. 

“So, seriously, what’s with the ring box?” 

Awkwardly sitting across the kitchen table from your new best friend after you maybe almost were going to kiss but now he won’t even sit next to you is as good a time as any, Stede supposes! 

“It’s for you.” It comes out almost as a whisper. “You’ve been incredibly kind to me since we first met, Ed, and I’m afraid all I’ve done is cause you a lot of trouble with your friends.”

“That’s not true!” Ed rushes out hurriedly. “Sometimes I feel like even though I have a lot of friends, Ed doesn’t really have any friends at all. Does that make sense?” 

A knife twists its way into Stede’s gut. Of course that makes sense. It makes perfect sense. It’s such a succinct way of describing how Stede feels himself. 

“I’m your friend,” he says immediately, and the smile he receives in return could power a thousand cities in a thousand countries for a millennia. 

Stede pops the little ring box open and slides it across the table. 

“This is really for me?” Ed takes the ring out and holds it in overly cautious hands, like he’s afraid it will shatter. “Why?” 

“I told you, it’s a token of appreciation for your kindness,” Stede says matter-of-factly. “I saw it in a shop window and knew it belonged to you.” 

Ed shuffles some of his jewelry around and slips the emerald ring onto his left ring finger. Somehow, it’s a perfect fit. Clearly, the universe didn’t want Ed to go a single day without wearing the ring once it was in his possession. 

“You didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Coulda stolen it.” 

“Not even a question! I prefer it this way, though. Gifts and fine things suit you.” 

A shaky exhale, a shy smile, two rose-tinted cheeks - Stede never stood a chance. Everything rushes in at once. Ed in the morning, messy-haired and grouchy, whining that it’s cold when Stede gets out of bed. Surprising Ed with flowers and a private performance by his favorite musician on his birthday. Holding Ed’s hand as they walk to the theatre, stealing kisses when the lights go down while the older couple next to them roll their eyes and complain affectionately about young love. 

Oh and it’s as terrifying as he thought. Once Stede opens himself up to the very possibility of romance with Edward Teach, the future comes so clearly into view for the first time in his life. What’s that old saying? It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Stede’s not so sure. He thinks maybe he can live with the ache of never knowing. He’s not so sure he’d survive having a taste of forever and then letting it go. 

Okay, Stede thinks. Absolutely, unequivocally real. 

The rest of the evening passes by in a blur. The two of them spend most of the time on Ed’s floor listening to records. Whether Stede’s heard the song or not, he listens diligently as Ed recites lyrics and tells fantastic stories about how ‘One time, I was at this club…’ that all seem to end with Ed meeting some celebrity or another. Stede finally recounts the story of the Badminton party, something that endears Ed to Mary immediately. By the time the yawning starts, Stede can’t believe just how many hours have passed. It’s well into the morning when he realizes tomorrow is Monday. Which means work. Which means no Ed and, worse than that, means his father. 

“I have to be at work in six hours,” groans Stede. 

“So catch a five hour nap on my couch and then I’ll take you home.” 

Stede turns to face Ed, who’s looking at him like that’s a plan that makes sense. And Stede’s expression must convey what he’s thinking, because Ed chuckles and amends, “Catch a four hour nap and then I’ll take you home.” 

Not a single moment of sleep comes to Stede. His mind is a hurricane of indecision and confusion. He decides to lay out the facts. Does he, in every sense, have feelings for Ed? Yes. Are these feelings requited? Undetermined. Stede is erring on the side of caution because, sure, that almost kiss went both ways, but that doesn’t mean anything on its own. Heat of the moment and all that. Ed also trusted him with a rather vulnerable moment about friendship. What kind of man would Stede be if he tried for anything more? Not that they wouldn’t still be friends. Maybe it doesn’t much matter? Or maybe it’s all that matters. Stede firmly believes in the strength of their bond, he’s never had such sincerity and closeness before, but the heart complicates things and could ruin what they have. The thought of Ed looking at him like he’s some pitiful thing who severely misread their relationship makes Stede sick to his stomach. 

Four hours of fighting with himself pass all too soon, and when Ed comes in to wake him up, Stede is forced to answer the question he’s been avoiding.

Is he scared to chase happiness? Absolutely. 

-

Stede is dead on his feet by the time he gets the key in the lock. How he’s going to fake consciousness at work today, nevermind interest, is beyond him. But all of that will be dealt with after a shower. He throws the door open and drops everything on the floor in the foyer, unable to summon the energy to even hang his suit to be taken to the dry cleaner. 

“What sort of fucking time do you call this?” 

This must be what a heart attack feels like. His father, in all his domineering glory, sits in the one of the armchairs smoking a cigar. To say he’s an unwelcome sight at six in the morning is an understatement. 

“What’s it matter? I’ll be in the office on time.” 

Diffuse, diffuse, diffuse. 

“Who dropped you off?” 

“No one. A driver,” Stede lies reflexively. 

His father stands up and takes a few pernicious steps towards Stede, smoke billowing out his mouth as he walks. “You show up here in some mystery car, dressed in tattered clothes after disappearing for an entire day, miss the investor luncheon that’s been on the calendar for a month, then have to gall to pretend like it’s none of my business?” 

“It’s - I -” Stede trips over his words, unwilling to speak the truth but unable to come up with a suitable alternative. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me, boy. I’d suggest you really think about what you’re doing and the company you’re keeping, because I’ll be all too happy to remind you of just who the Bonnets are.” 

He drops his cigar to the floor and puts it out with his shoe, and all Stede can do is watch. 

“Understand me?” his father threatens. 

“Yes sir.” 

“Don’t be late.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Just like that, Stede is left shaking, unnerved, and alone. He should’ve anticipated such a sudden shock to his system - he knows every high comes with a crash. No time to cry, so he shoves his feelings down. Emotional displays aren’t becoming of Bonnet men. That’s the only lesson passed on by his father that Stede took to heart. It’s preposterous as life advice - Stede has never seen his emotions as a sign of weakness - but quite an effective method for dealing with his father. The best revenge is appearing unfazed when his father feeds off of Stede’s distress. 

He lets autopilot take over. Put the deadlock on so his father can’t surprise him again. Hang up the suit to make sure it gets taken to the cleaners. Set out what he’ll be wearing to the office. Take the hottest shower in the world. His mind doesn’t shut off once but at least he keeps moving. 

When he wipes his hand over the foggy mirror, Stede is shocked to find his reflection looking back at him defiantly, challenging him to follow his heart instead of his head just this once. 

This can’t be all there is, can it? Life under his father’s thumb, Yes Sir-ing his way into middle age, a loveless marriage and a couple of messed up kids to come in the future. He’ll want for nothing but crave everything. That’s no life, and all because he is too cowardly to take a real risk. 

Stede marks the date and time because he’ll never say this again, but Lucius is right. He does deserve to be happy. Even if he ends up playing the fool, at least Stede will know he’s brave enough to fight for himself. 

The future is whatever he wants it to be, and Stede wants Ed.

Chapter Text

“Did you see when that guy tried to punch me but I ducked and he hit the wall?” asks Stede gleefully as he unlocks the door to his penthouse. 

“Yeah, I saw it! That was such a great move, mate. Your reaction time is getting a lot better!” 

“Thanks! I think it’s because - oh.” 

He swings the front door open and comes face to face with all his friends. Stede is not prepared to share Ed yet. He’s just started wrapping his head around the infatuation of it all. Maybe they can meet Ed in a few months. Or years, he doesn’t want to rush it. And that’s only if all goes well. If whatever this question is clawing its way up Stede’s throat doesn’t ruin what he and Ed have, he’d like to be able to introduce Ed as his boyfriend and have things settled with Mary and his father and - 

“Hi, Ed!” says Lucius. 

“Hey guys! Got room for one more?” 

Everyone on the couch shifts and moves to make room for Ed. He chats with all of them seamlessly, telling the story of today’s robbery animatedly like it’s kindergarten story time. And all Stede’s friends are listening attentively, obviously enraptured by the tale Ed is weaving. 

What the fuck is going on?

“Can I… interrupt?” 

A chorus of no’s are thrown back at him, but Ed says, “Always, man, what’s up?” 

“How do you all know each other?” 

“Oh! Yeah this must look a little weird, huh? Sometimes we hang out here while you’re at work.” 

“You hang out without me in my home?” 

“No, it’s not like that!” Ed assures him. “I just happened to stop in one day when Frenchie and Olu were here. Then another time it was Lucius and Jim. And so on until I met the whole bunch! Did you know you’re the only one with a real job?” 

“Becoming more aware by the second,” he says, shooting a look of disapproval at his friends. 

“You did give us keys,” Pete reasons. “And Blackbeard - oh, excuse me, Ed - has been telling us about your escapades.” 

“Stede, why didn’t you tell us you were cool?” jokes Jim. 

Is Stede cool? No, that’s not the correct question. All Stede’s friends seem significantly more taken with him than usual, looking at him like they’re impressed. But if Ed’s been telling them stories about Blackbeard and The Gentleman and Jim thinks Stede is cool and Lucius is slyly giving him a thumbs up, then the right question must be…

Is Ed speaking about him endearingly when he’s not around? 

But that question doesn’t have much time to sink in, because as much as he wants to interrogate everyone about the tone of Ed’s voice when he tells these stories, if he cracks a smile, whether or not Ed has trouble restraining himself when he brings Stede up - something else rears its head. 

Jealousy is not something Stede is overly familiar with. He’s not sure he really likes the feeling, especially now that it’s intertwined with this craving he can’t quite shake. 

Stede isn’t familiar with longing either, but the two of them are becoming fast friends.

Why should Stede be jealous that Ed’s telling his friends stories anyway? Stede is in them. Stede lives them. There is no need for Ed to recount their adventures back to Stede play by play, especially when they debrief every time anyway! They relive the highlights as though they happened twenty years ago instead of twenty minutes. Stede stumbled into his glory days without even knowing it, so who can blame him for wanting to relive them as often as he can.

“Well.” Stede clears his throat and looks at Ed, “I hope you’re not making me look too bad in these stories.”

“I could never make you look bad! You come off even better than me, I reckon.” 

“Now you’re just flattering me.” 

“Maybe!” Ed shrugs and a playful smile plays across his lips. If he was allowed, Stede would kiss it off him. 

Lucius mumbles something that sounds like ‘Get a room!’ but Stede can’t be certain. It must’ve been something of the sort, because an awkward hush has fallen over the room and everyone is looking between Ed and Stede. 

“Anyway,” begins Stede, desperate to move the conversation along. “I think it’s time for everyone to go! Up you get!” 

A ruckus kicks up almost immediately. Stede moves about the room, hurrying everyone to their feet and shuffling them towards the door. Any other day he’d be happy to entertain and spitball plans about where they’re going to spend Saturday night. But he can’t settle the pounding in his chest and over analyze every little thing Ed does with an audience. 

Ed stands up and follows the chaos towards the door.

“No, no! Not you,” Stede says, motioning for Ed to sit back down.

“Hey, how come Ed doesn’t have to leave?” Pete complains. 

“For one thing, Ed was invited here.” 

“You gave us keys!” John reminds him. “Can’t complain when you invited us in forever, actually.” 

“Guys!” Lucius whisper-yells. “Get a grip, let’s go.” 

Never has Stede been more thankful for Lucius, even though he kind of wants to scream at the way Lucius mouths ‘You’re welcome’ at him as he pulls Stede’s apartment door shut behind everyone. 

“So why didn’t I have to leave? Somethin’ special about me? Better than everyone else?” 

Stede turns on his heel to see Ed laying on the couch, hands crossed behind his head and a smirk plastered on his face. Life was so much easier when Stede wasn’t holding himself back at every moment of the day. 

“Yes, exactly.” Stede walks back and leans on the arm of the couch so he’s hovering over Ed. “You’re my best friend and I don’t want to share you with anyone else.” 

“Pretty good reason to keep me around.” 

“I thought so.” 

“As my best friend,” Ed starts, and Stede already knows the answer is yes, “do you think we can get the end of the Yankees game on the radio?” 

He toys with the dials on the radio until Graham McNamee’s voice cuts through the static. Ed springs to life, suddenly more animated than Stede’s ever seen him. Every time the opposing team is at bat, Ed paces around the coffee table. If the announcers claim the umpire is wrong, Ed throws his arms up in exasperation. He sits in front of the radio, unable to keep still like he’s a kid who’s eaten too much sugar, and talks back to the radio like the players can hear him cheering them on to hit a home run. 

The bottom of the 9th inning is such an intense experience, and it’s just Stede watching Ed grip the radio like it’s going to help the Yankees score two more runs. For some reason, Stede feels like kneeling next to Ed might help somehow. Graham McNamee announces that Babe Ruth is next up to bat and Ed grabs Stede’s arm and insists, “This is it, Stede, we’re gonna win right here!” And, boy, do they. Babe Ruth hits a home run and the Yankees win 8-7. 

Ecstatic is the only word for it. Ed pumps his fist in the air and cheers, then pulls Stede into the tightest hug.

Stede finally knows how to thank Ed for that first night on the town. 

With the game over and both of them exhausted, Ed insists he needs to stop crashing on Stede’s couch and sleep in his own bed. It’s no trouble at all, and Stede reminds him of that more than once, but Ed ends up going home in the end. 

The rest of the weekend passes quietly, like the calm before a storm. Stede spent the entire weekend contemplating the conversation he’s about to have with his father. It’s Monday morning, bright and early, and Stede’s standing outside his father’s office. He’s going to stay late tonight, for the rest of the week if his father wants, and participate attentively in every single meeting. He’s planning to take Mary on a date, something different and more exciting than dinner! Because he’s trying to make an effort, he really is.

He repeats those words exactly when he asks his father for owner’s box tickets to the Yankees game this weekend. 

“Fine,” is all his father says. 

It’s too easy. Or Stede is getting much better at working his father. Could be the latter, his father has no idea that Stede moonlights as a gangster or that he and Mary are constantly teetering on the edge of a break up. But Stede is very good at reading his father, it comes from years of bending over backwards to appease him and avoid setting off that temper. The answer is too accommodating, and Stede knows that’s a warning sign, but he can’t bring himself to care when the most difficult part of his little plan has been set into motion. 

After work (an extra three hours of it), Stede takes Mary out to dinner and asks for a favor he has no right to request. He keeps it as vague as possible, but explains that he needs her to play sick on Saturday. He understands the enormity of such a favor and is prepared to accept nearly any counter offer. Mary thinks it over and for a minute and Stede thinks she’s going to say no. That he’s brazen to demand such a thing. 

“I’ll do it,” Mary says. “But only if you pay for my painting lessons that day. I think I’ll feel sickly enough to stay home, but not bedridden.” 

Deal. Done. More than done, in fact, he’ll pay for twenty painting lessons.

Stede is rather pleased with himself for the rest of the week. Even pretending to be interested in banking can’t bring down his mood. Saturday cannot come fast enough.

No harm, no foul. It’s the perfect crime.

-

“Stede, this is the coolest thing I have ever experienced in my entire life!” 

“We’re not even inside the stadium yet.” Stede laughs, watching Ed practically press his face up against the car window. 

In truth, Stede has never been much of a sports man. Sure, he’s been to a few Giants games, even more Yankees games, and he loves the concept of hometown spirit! But the rules never really stuck with him, he doesn’t understand the lingo, and every time he’s dragged to a game it’s to schmooze with businessmen.  

Until now. 

One benefit of being Stede is access to even the most unreachable of places. Owner’s box access is not easy to come by - unless you’re a Bonnet. He considered buying tickets but since Stede is trying this whole “be honest with myself” thing… He wants to show off. Ed is a master at surprises and spontaneity. Stede wants to prove he can keep up. 

“Where are we sitting?” Ed asks when they make it to the ticket barrier. 

“It’s a surprise, just be patient.” 

Ed groans like that’s the worst thing he’s ever heard and Stede can’t help but laugh. If he’s this excited waiting to gain entry to the stadium, he might rocket off into space when the rest of Stede’s plans come to fruition. 

When he flashes their tickets to the employee, Ed and Stede are shuffled off down a separate hallway from the rest of the crowd by a security guard. 

“You didn’t bring me here to have me killed in Yankee Stadium, right?” Ed leans over and whispers. 

“Just -” 

“Yeah, yeah, be patient.” Ed drapes an arm around Stede’s shoulders. “Ya know, I’m not very patient for anyone else.” 

“And I count myself lucky to be held in such high regard.” 

“C’mon!” Ed pleads. “Tell me what the big surprise is!” 

And Stede almost relents, because Ed pouts a little bit and puts those fairy tale princess eyes to good use. The only thing holding Stede’s tongue is the selfish desire to see Ed’s face light up in the moment. 

“Don’t you trust me?” 

“With my life,” Ed replies with dramatic flourish. 

Laughing about inside jokes so freely and leaning into Ed’s side only solidifies what Stede already knows: that the flutter Stede’s chest is his heart reaching out for Ed’s.

Unfortunately, Stede cannot bask in the glow of that moment for long because the security guard turns around and says, “Is this your fiancée, Mr. Bonnet?” 

Two people have never separated so quickly. Stede dips out of Ed’s embrace; Ed clears his throat and tucks some hair behind his ear. 

“No! No, just - Mary is ill. Insisted we have a little gents day out!” he lies. 

“Now that’s a good woman,” the man says. Stede can’t disagree. 

They walk the rest of the way in relative silence. An uncomfortably large distance separates him from Ed, but that two feet of space serves as a reminder for Stede. Publicly, he is Mary’s fiancé. Privately, he is not Ed’s boyfriend. Anything that can be misconstrued as flirting is off limits. If he lets Ed lead, they’ll be in good shape, because Ed is acting on friendship and not the whims of his little lovesick brain like Stede. 

Good plan. Great plan, even. 

Finally, they make it to the owner’s box. 

“You’re lying!” exclaims Ed as they walk through the door. 

“When have I ever?” 

The pure, unadulterated joy painted on Ed’s face fills Stede with immeasurable happiness. Ed checks out every corner, points out all his favorite players in the old team photos, then takes three bottles of Coke and shoves them in various pockets. 

“You don’t have to steal them, Ed. Drink as much as you like! Then say the word and they’ll bring us more.” 

Sheepishly, Ed removes the Coke bottles in question and sets them back on the table. He can steal them if he wants, he can steal the damn furniture if it will make him happy. Stede picks up a bottle and puts it in his own pocket. 

“For the thrill of it,” he says. Ed smiles so wide his jaw must ache from carrying the weight of its beauty and slides a bottle back into hiding again. 

“They’ll be up to get you soon, Mr. Bonnet,” says the security guard before leaving the room. 

“Come get us for what, Stede?” 

He just whistles and walks over to check out the view. It’s a lovely day for baseball! All the attendees are starting to file into their seats as the players warm up. 

“Stede.” Ed shakes his shoulder. “Aren’t we just watching the game from here?” 

“We can. Or we can sit in our seats behind the dugout. Whatever! Your choice!” He feigns nonchalance, as if he doesn’t know Ed’s mouth is hanging open without even needing to turn his head. 

Ed slams into him so suddenly that Stede almost loses balance. He’s trapped in such a vice grip that all he can do is laugh and bend at the elbows to pat Ed’s arm in hopes it feels like reciprocation. If their seats garnered this reaction - and Stede is not underplaying it, this is the best hug he’s ever had - the big surprise might kill him. 

Admittedly, this is the first surprise Stede has orchestrated for someone that came without anxiety or second-guessing. There was never a single doubt in his mind that Ed would have the time of his life. And Stede loves watching Ed have the time of his life. 

“Can we go down to our seats?” Ed asks excitedly. 

“Oh, I think you’ll want to wait a little bit longer before checking out the seats.” 

Stede isn’t sure he’s ever been on the receiving end of such an accusatory look of suspicion. A jury would condemn him instantly, and he’s not sure he could blame them. But the moment passes as Ed decides that rather than pestering Stede to give up his secrets, his time could be better used teaching Stede a thing or two (or ten) about the “fuckin’ New York Yankees!” with delightful passion. 

“How can you have been to a bunch of games and not know anything?!” 

“I don’t know.” Stede shrugs. “I don’t really pay attention. I’m supposed to be consulting with clients when I’m here, not enjoying the sport.” 

“That’s stupid,” Ed tells him, and Stede can’t help but nod in agreement. It is stupid and Stede’s said as much. He was told to keep his mouth shut. “Today we are going to enjoy baseball.” 

“Can’t wait! But you’ll have to fill me in on the specifics. I’m generally lost, I’m afraid.” 

Ed pulls Stede towards the wall of team photos and positions him right in front of the current lineup. “Let’s start with the basics. That,” he points to a man in the middle, “is Babe Ruth.” 

“Yes, Ed,” Stede huffs. “I know who Babe Ruth is. I don’t live in a cave, I just don’t pay much attention.” 

“Can’t be too careful,” Ed says matter of factly. “What if we bump into him one day? Couldn’t have you embarrassing me.” He nudges Stede playfully. 

Hmm, what if indeed. Stede may not know much about baseball, but he does know people. And people know him. Before he even started entertaining ideas for getting the tickets from his father, Stede made the call and arranged for himself and Ed to visit the dugout before the game started. He assured Mr. Ruppert they wouldn’t be a distraction to the players, would only pop down for a couple of minutes whenever was most convenient and, Stede really appreciated the favor! Thank goodness his father was such an invaluable financial consultant when the team went up for sale! 

Stede is run through the entire team like there’s going to be a quiz. Most of them he’s met at some function or another, but Stede lets Ed reintroduce him to the entire team because each name is followed by a flurry of statistics about home runs and stolen bases and whatever the hell an RBI is. 

“We’re so good this season, Stede. Gonna win the World Series, I can feel it.” 

“Oh!” Stede does at least know what that means. “We can probably attend one of the home games, if you’d like.” 

“Do not fuck with me right now,” Ed says seriously. He turns Stede to face him and puts a hand on each shoulder. The intense look on Ed’s face would be intimidating were they not discussing a baseball game. 

Stede mimics him, placing his hands on Ed’s shoulders. Equally as serious, he says, “I am not fucking with you right now.” 

Whatever Ed’s parted lips are about to say is abruptly cut off by a knock and the entry of another security guard. He beckons Ed and Stede to follow him. The bewildered look on Ed’s face as they’re guided into another staff hallway is incredibly gratifying. 

Impressively, the hallways muffle the sound of the stadium quite well. Neither of them says a word, but Stede can feel the constant quizzical glances Ed is tossing his way. It’s not until the security guard opens the door to the players’ locker room that Ed finally catches on to what is happening. 

“Absolutely no fuckin’ way.” 

Stede laughs. “I couldn’t bring you here and not let you meet your heroes, could I?” 

And he means that sincerely. Stede could not help but pull every single string to give Ed a once in a lifetime experience.

The security guard waves them into the dugout and, despite the couple of inches he has on Stede, Ed hides behind him and whispers, “What the hell, man?” 

Oh, perhaps Stede should’ve asked first, given Ed some time to mentally prepare. He just got so excited about the prospect of a surprise. “Ed, I’m sorry. I thought you’d be excited, but I should have prepared you.” 

“Nah, I fuckin’ love surprises. Just - Stede, that’s Babe Ruth. Right there.” 

“Yes, I see him. George is a lovely conversationalist, would you like to meet him?” 

Ed makes some shocked sound that comes out as ‘Guh?!’ and Stede turns to look at him, stifling more laughter. He can’t help but feel like, no pun intended, he’s hit it out of the park with this entire outing. Because Ed is staring at him with a mix of wonder and disbelief in his eyes like Stede is some sort of genie sent to grant his wishes. That wouldn’t be such a bad life, he thinks. 

“Do I - yeah. Holy shit, yeah. Fucking standing here calling one of the greatest players in baseball ‘George’ like you’re close personal friends, who the fuck are you?” 

He’s sure it’s not intentional, but Ed is inflating Stede’s ego to dangerous levels. 

“I’m going to say hello to George,” Stede begins, walking backwards from Ed. “You’re welcome to come if you want.” 

This must be what it feels like to be admired, or at least a taste of it. A few of the players nod hello as he passes them and Stded nods back in kind. The manager makes it a point to shake Stede’s hand and Stede commends him on a fantastic season so far. This is Stede’s first time in the dugout or meeting any of the players outside of social events, but he’s miraculously blending in like he spends a lot of his free time here. Deep down, he knows the niceties are more out of obligation to his father than genuinity, and any other time that would leave a bad taste in his mouth. But today - Ed is hovering just a step or two behind - he has an audience to impress. 

“Mr. Bonnet! Heard you might be coming through.” Cigar smoke billows out his mouth as Stede extends a hand to shake. Stede may not know much about baseball, but he knows a legend when he meets one. 

“Mr. Ruth, pleasure to see you again.” 

“Who’s this nervous fella?” 

“Ah!” Stede pulls Ed around so he’s right next to him. “This is my friend Ed.” 

Ed perks up at the mention of his name but remains frightfully statuesque, so Stede places a hand on his lower back to encourage him. The touch seems to bring him back to life (but does nothing to alleviate his nerves). 

“Hi, Mr. Ruth, Babe, uh, Mr. Babe Ruth. Huge fan.” 

“‘Preciate it, kid.” 

“I’ve been following you for so long, you’re my favorite player,” Ed says enthusiastically. “I think if it were up to me, and it’s not, but, like, if it were, I’d give you MVP for the World Series that I know we’re gonna win this year.” 

“Very kind of you. Tell you what, hang tight one second.” He turns around and digs in a duffel bag for a moment and comes up with a baseball and a pen. “Hold on to this for me.” 

Babe Ruth signs the baseball, even writes a little ‘To Ed’ on the other side, and drops it into Ed’s palm. It’s no exaggeration to say Ed looks like he might explode. He stammers out a thank you or fifteen, and the whole scene is so sweet to observe that Stede hesitates before steering the three of them back into a casual conversation. Not long after, the manager asks the team to gather up so Stede supposes they should get to their seats. 

Ed spends the entire walk from the dugout to their seats recounting the experience to Stede as if he wasn’t there. But it’s no matter, because Stede is happy to listen to “the best five minutes of Ed’s entire life” over and over again until Ed is sick of telling the tale. When they finally sit down, Ed props one foot up on the dugout and slouches a little in his seat. Effortless cool betrayed only by the way he’s gleefully looking at the baseball gently cradled in his hands. 

The energy in the stadium is electric. Fans filter in to take their seats as men with metal boxes full of snacks comb the aisles trying to sell concessions. As the players take the field, even Stede feels the excitement. This is so much more thrilling than being locked up in the owner’s box talking finance! 

The game starts with a bang. In the bottom of the first inning, Babe Ruth hits a home run. Ed, Stede, and the rest of the fans jump up from their seats and cheer as he rounds the bases. The thrill is short lived as the Nationals score two runs to take the lead. Ed looks disgruntled as he sinks into his seat. It’s quite early in the game, but Stede gets the distinct impression that treating every moment like it’s the deciding factor is an important part of enjoying sports, so he doesn’t mention it. And Stede is proven right to not worry! The Yankees score five more runs to give themselves quite a nice lead, and the hot streak doesn’t stop. Over the next handful of innings, the Nationals score two runs but the Yankees score seven. 

Stede gets it now. While he may never love baseball the way Ed does, he absolutely sees the appeal! This may have started as a surprise for Ed, but Stede is having an incredible time. 

It’s the top of the seventh inning when Stede’s stomach growls so loudly that even those sitting around him notice. 

“I wish the concession salesmen would come back,” Stede mentions. “I’m starving.” 

“Could go for a hot dog or a soft pretzel myself, actually.” 

“You know, I’ve never had a soft pretzel.” 

Ed gasps in horror. “Wha… Shut up, you’ve never had a soft pretzel?! Who goes through nearly thirty years of life without eating a soft pretzel?” 

“My father sticks to the box and has the event catered. Foods eaten with one’s hands are beneath him, I’m afraid.” 

“C’mon,” Ed says, standing up and pulling Stede with him. “We’re gonna track one down.” 

“But the game!” 

“Seventh Inning Stretch, slugger,” Ed says with a wink, like Stede is supposed to know what that means. “We’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Slugger?” Stede repeats incredulously, because that’s the thing he should be focusing on right now, but allows Ed to drag him up the stairs and back onto the concourse. 

It takes only a handful of minutes to track down a vendor. Ed refuses to let Stede pay, citing some unwritten rule that you never pay for your first pretzel. It doesn’t sound real, but Stede’s missed out on so many of these common bonding experiences that it could very well be a baseball tradition. 

Ed holds a pretzel, about the size of Stede’s head and doused in spicy mustard, up between them like it’s some sort of sacred object. 

“You are about to be changed forever.” 

“Ed, I think you’re overselling it.” 

It’s a pretzel. A snack food. If anything about it is going to change Stede it’ll be that Ed is nudging it forward to feed it to him. 

Stede takes a bite and immediately admits to himself that, yes, his father has been depriving him of something phenomenal his entire life. Ed is right, and the satisfied smirk on his face says he knows it. Yeah, alright. Cocky looks good on him. 

“Fine, you’re right,” Stede admits, holding Ed’s wrist still so he can take another bite. 

“Mate, you’ve got a little mustard…” 

“Hmm?” Stede swipes at his mouth but comes up mustardless

“Hang on, I’ll get it,” Ed says and cleans Stede’s cheek with a napkin. 

Stede absolutely does not lean into the touch of Ed’s hand when he sets one finger under Stede’s chin and brushes his thumb over the now mustardless cheek. He’s been doing so well being honest with himself, Stede decides he can afford this one lie. 

“What do ya think? Life changing?”    

That’s one way to put it. 

He clears his throat and takes a half-step back from Ed, suddenly jittery that someone might see - not because it could get back to Mary or his father, but because Ed is stunning and Stede knows he looks enamored and he feels like they just publicly performed some private act of intimacy. Stede knows he can’t get too carried away with that line of thinking. When he decided to embrace his feelings, he didn’t think about the consequences. 

Even if Stede got his shit together enough to admit how he feels out loud to Ed… Nothing can ever really happen. 

The two of them head back to their seats just in time for the end of the seventh inning. The rest of the game is not nearly as exciting as the first half, but who can really complain when the Yankees win 15-4?! Ed still animatedly jumps out of his seat when someone gets a hit and throws his hands up when something goes wrong, and Stede watches every second of it intensely so that when he closes his eyes later, he’ll be able to let gorgeous, unbridled joy lull him softly to sleep. 

It takes far too long to get out of the stadium and back to the town car for Stede’s liking. A fantastic win paired with a Saturday sunset full of possibility is no reason to shove towards the exit in disorderly fashion. Not that he’s in a rush to get anywhere, but being crushed up against strangers in a dense crowd is no fun. Then Ed takes his hand and mumbles something about not wanting to get separated, and maybe it’s not ideal but it’s definitely not the worst. 

“It’s still kinda early,” Ed says when they’re finally in the car. He doesn’t follow that fact up with anything, just leaves it hanging between them. 

After his little panic earlier about how nothing can ever happen, Stede should send Ed home. He’s only going to hurt himself the longer this goes on. And, if by some divine blessing Ed were to return his feelings, Ed would get hurt too. 

But Stede is a selfish man who’s used to getting anything he wants. 

“You read my mind.” 

The car ride passes quickly, and most of the time is spent recounting the highlights of the game. By the time they make it back to Stede’s place, one shared look confirms they’re both too tired to go out anywhere. 

An opened bottle of red wine and a hefty tip for the driver to go pick them up some food later, Stede is sitting cross-legged on the sofa while Ed turns the radio dial until he finds a song he likes. 

How lucky might Stede be if this could be his every day. He knows daydreaming is ill advised, pining even less so. And he can only control the former but commits to it anyway, no matter how unbearable it makes the latter. If Stede could kiss Ed right now, he’d do it slowly. He’d wrap one arm around Ed’s waist and pull him in close. Ed’s eyes would go wide, half surprised and half bashful, but he’d bring his arms around Stede’s shoulders where they belong. Then Stede would hold his cheek gently as a reminder that Ed the most precious thing Stede’s ever called his, before tangling those fingers in Ed’s hair. He’d pull Ed close, but not kiss him just yet. Instead, he’d wait until Ed asked him for it. Until Ed became impatient enough to say, ‘Kiss me already!’ And Stede would respond, ‘All you had to do was ask.’ Ed would roll his eyes and let out a little high pitched hum when Stede finally pressed their lips together. 

If Stede were a lucky man. 

“Stede?” 

“Yes?” 

“Lost you for a minute, man. What were you thinking so hard about?” 

Nope. No. Can’t say that. 

“Nothing, just kind of zoned out.” Ed looks unconvinced but doesn’t press the issue. “What were we talking about?” 

“I was pestering you with questions.” Ed twirls around the room with his wine glass. “D’you like to dance?”

“I know all the latest styles, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Oh yeah?” He walks back to the sofa and holds out his hand. “Show me some moves.” 

Stede swallows hard. There’s no reason to be nervous because he’s danced with friends at parties before. But there’s every reason to be nervous because it’s Ed and they’re alone and Stede’s heart refuses to play fair. 

“Alright, but I’m not sure I’m a very good teacher.” 

“I’m not asking you to teach me, I’m asking you to loosen up!” 

Ed hauls Stede to his feet and refills their wine glasses. It’s that smile that does him in, the one that’s halfway between a smirk and adoration, and Stede can’t hear anything except the excited pounding of his own heart. He’s pulled over to the empty floor space between the sofa and the balcony. Ed stands a few steps away, still holding Stede’s hand, and sips his wine. 

The expectant look in Ed’s eye kickstarts Stede’s mind. Right! Dancing. He can dance. He’s good at dancing. 

“Do you know how to Charleston?” Stede asks. 

“Pft, do I know how to Charleston. Practically invented it, didn’t I?” 

It’s a valiant attempt at a lie, Stede supposes. “You have no idea do you?” 

“Nah,” admits Ed, swinging their joined hands. “Maybe I do need you to teach me.” 

Stede walks him through the steps with relative ease. The dance itself isn’t very difficult, only the speed at which it’s performed! At one point, however, Stede has to put his drink down to keep Ed from twisting his hips while his feet move. At a point, it seems like Ed is twisting his hips on purpose. It feels like he’s putting effort into messing up, but Stede can’t be sure. Someone should invent a way to ask someone how they feel about you without showing your own hand, Stede thinks. 

“Okay, I got it,” Ed says confidently, picking up Stede’s wine glass and handing it back to him. “But I have a special request.” 

“Of course you do,” Stede tuts in joking disapproval. “What can I do for you?” 

“I always wanted to be dipped. Dip me.” 

“This isn’t that kind of dance,” Stede tells him through a fond chuckle. Of course he wants to be dipped. 

Ed pouts just a little bit and Stede is all the more susceptible to his charm after a couple glasses of wine. Fuck it, the Charleston can be that kind of dance. 

They manage a near-flawless dance for the most part. Ed is either lying about knowing the dance or a very quick study. The problem comes during the dip. The steps are quick, Stede only has one free hand, and Ed pulls him in with a little too much force. 

Ed and Stede collide, spattering wine everywhere. Most of Ed’s ends up on the floor, but Stede’s ends up covering Ed’s shirt. It’s ruined, completely soaked in red wine that will leave a stain. Stede feels awful. How can he invite someone over to his home and be such a poor host spilling drinks on his guest! 

“Hey, don’t look so upset. It’s no big deal,” Ed says, patting Stede on the shoulder. “S’just a shirt.” 

“But now you’re covered in wine.” 

And that won’t do. Not at all. 

Stede takes Ed by the hand and walks him into his closet. He’s not going to sit around in a wine soaked shirt all night! Nor is he going to sit around shirtless because Stede is woozy just envisioning it. 

“Undress.” The word comes out deep, more like a command than a request. Which is not how he means it! Not. Definitely. Shit. “I just mean - your shirt -“ 

Usually, this is when Ed swoops in and says something roguishly charming to ease the tension. No such comment comes. Instead, they stare at each other intensely like they’re both cats seeing themselves in a mirror for the first time. After an eternity, Ed’s hands come up and begin to unbutton his shirt. Stede turns around to give him some privacy and thinks about what to give Ed as a replacement garment. 

There’s only one choice. 

He braces himself before turning back to Ed, knowing he cannot react to seeing Ed shirtless lest he give himself away. Five, four, three, two, one. Stede readies himself for impact and it’s brutal. The word ravishing comes to mind, followed closely by perfect. Ed is a little more slender than Stede, but muscular all the same. If there’s a time in a man’s life to bite his own hand to stop from whimpering, this is it. But it’s a cruel twist of fate that Stede cannot, so he tries his best not to think about kissing every bit of Ed’s bare skin to find out where he’s soft and sensitive. 

“Here.” Stede offers him a sweater. 

Ed pulls it over his head and, god, Stede was right. That deep burgundy suits Ed far more than it ever did Stede. He’s stunning. 

As Ed reaches behind him to gather his hair, Stede says, “Allow me.” Ed nods. 

Stede steps close, almost touching Ed’s chest with his own, but keeps a few inches of separation. Carefully, he pulls Ed’s hair from inside the sweater and arranges it neatly around one side. 

This time, Ed’s the one who swallows hard, but Stede says nothing. 

“Don’t think I can wear your fancy cashmere sweater. It’s too nice for me.” Ed’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Of course you can,” Stede tells him sincerely. Because why shouldn’t Ed be wrapped in every soft luxury money can buy? None of them are worth as much as he is anyway. “You wear fine things well.” 

A gasp so delicate Stede almost misses it falls from Ed’s lips. 

No words are exchanged, not a single limb moves. Just Stede, meaning what he’s said with his entire heart, and Ed, misty eyed and wonderstruck.

Ted Lewis’ voice echoes throughout Stede’s apartment as the radio plays When My Baby Smiles At Me. Minutes tick by, and it feels like the longest amount of time Ed and Stede have ever gone without speaking. The seconds drag on and on, and Stede doesn’t know what to do. 

Until he does. 

My baby’s lips are sweet, as sweet as sugar cane

And when my baby kisses me, well I just can’t explain

Stede toys with a bit of Ed’s hair, twirling it around his finger while he tucks some loose strands behind Ed’s ear with the other. Ed’s breath hitches but he doesn’t move. 

It seems the sun comes out, keeps shining all the while

And all the world is filled with love

Just like my baby’s smile

He leans in, just a fraction in case Ed wants to stop him. Stede knows he should ask, should use his words, but they’re under some sort of spell that’s stolen his voice. Their lips get closer and closer, and Stede thinks he’s really gone and screwed up this time when Ed brings a trembling hand up. He doesn’t stop Stede though, no, instead Ed cups his face and brushes a thumb over Stede’s cheek. Stede can feel the heat radiating off Ed from how deeply he’s blushing, and finally he won’t have to dream about what Ed’s lips taste like anymore, he’ll know. He can drown in it from now until eternity -

Someone pounds on Stede’s apartment door. The two of them jump apart, unkissed and scared half to death by the sudden noise. Stede is going to kill whoever it is.

He mumbles an apology and goes to answer the door. It’s the driver with their food. The food Stede no longer wants from a restaurant he’ll never eat at again because he’s had a chance to kiss Ed twice now and both times have been rudely interrupted. 

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe. 

They sit on opposite ends of the couch, both pushing food around their plates without eating much of it. The silence puts miles between them and Stede hates it. He never did learn how to keep his whims in check. 

Some spark exists there, it has to, but Stede is paralyzed by his lack of confidence. His bravery is horribly overtaken by his fear that one wrong move could chase Ed out of his life forever. Once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. He considers both incidents objectively. The first time could’ve just been the moment. Stede was sitting on top of Ed and had leaned in first. Fine. Just now, in his closet, Stede leaned in first again, but Ed did bring a hand up to his face. 

What does Stede ascertain from this analysis? Not much more than he’s desperate to kiss Ed, and Ed is at least not repulsed by the idea. If he could concoct a third time right now just to see if it’s really a pattern, he would. He doesn’t know if he can wait god knows how many more weeks for another moment to occur naturally. 

A dinner roll to the face stirs him from his scientific process. 

“You’re thinking so loud I can practically hear it,” Ed says. God, Stede hopes that isn’t true. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for today.” 

“No need!” Spending the day with Ed is thanks enough. 

“‘Course there is. First of all, if it ever got back to my mother that I didn’t, she’d kill me. Second of all, you went to a lot of trouble for me and you didn’t have to. So… thanks.” 

“Not a single bit of it was trouble, I wanted to do it for you.” 

“Why?” 

The answer is very obviously, even to Stede, not “Because I know you love baseball” despite Ed’s casual tone. He has the same look in his eye Stede remembers from weeks ago when he tried so hard to get Stede to admit to being frightened of him. A little crack in the armor the world has forced him to take shelter inside, Stede suspects. 

“Because I like to see you happy,” he answers simply. 

“Even though I could, like, kill you if I wanted to?” 

“You keep threatening that,” Stede puts his food on the coffee table and moves to sit closer to Ed, “but you don’t scare me.” 

“Not even if I hid behind a door and jumped out when you weren’t expecting it?” 

“Alright,” he admits. “Maybe then.”

The tension magically melts away as the two of them come up with increasingly ridiculous scenarios in which Ed could, in fact, scare Stede. Most of them involve the same process, Ed appearing from behind something when Stede doesn’t expect it, but in increasingly ridiculous locations. There’s no reason in the world for Stede to be standing at the edge of dock on Coney Island on a foggy night but, yes, it would frighten him if Ed appeared out of said fog making scary ghost noises. Which, naturally, leads to Stede admitting he hasn’t been to Coney Island since he was a little kid. A travesty that Ed insists on correcting as soon as humanly possible. 

Takeout containers and dishes pile up on the coffee table as the full weight of the day finally hits them both. Stede slumps against Ed’s shoulder and closes his eyes, exhaustion hitting him like a foul ball to the face (something that very nearly happened at the game earlier, speaking of frightening). 

He can feel himself drifting, so he says, “You need to hand wash that sweater in cold water, by the way.” 

Ed shifts them both so he can bring an arm around Stede’s shoulder and whispers back, “Had no intention of keeping it, mate, don’t worry.” 

“It’s yours. Don’t try and give it back to me because I’ll just give you another, and I’ll double it every time. You’ll have an apartment full of cashmere.” 

“Your threat is to buy me more fancy things?” 

“And I mean it.” Stede tries to sound even mildly stern but it’s quite difficult when he’s speaking through a yawn. 

“Okay, I’ll keep it.” Ed emits what can only qualify as a giggle and adds, “What a polite menace you’re turning out to be.” 

“That’ll be my brand when I’m a famous gangster,” is the last thing Stede says before falling asleep. 

-

Stede wakes up alone. Alone and in a distinctly different position than he fell asleep. Ed is gone, and Stede is laying down on his sofa with a pillow under his head and a blanket draped over his legs. He looks around the room for any sign of Ed. Nothing. Then, he gets up and checks the rest of his place. Not in the bedroom, or the bathroom, or the kitchen. Stede finds evidence of him, though. There are clean dishes in the drainboard, leftovers in the fridge, the jacket he’d hung on the chair is laid out on his bed, and there’s a note on the table. Damn, he’s a deep sleeper. But Ed could’ve woken him up! He wouldn’t’ve been upset about that! 

He picks up the note and reads, 

Stede -

Sorry for blowing out so early, I had some shit to do. Thought about waking you up but you looked kinda peaceful so I didn’t wanna disturb you. Thanks again for yesterday. It was probably the best day of my life.

Be seeing you soon, Polite Menace.

Ed 

He can hear Ed’s voice as he reads the words, even see the wink as Ed calls him ‘Polite Menace’. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he’s missed out on something by being asleep. Which is ridiculous because Stede sees him more often than most anyone else in his life. This crush is taking over his every thought, and he worries it’s going to become so all-consuming that one day he’ll just see Ed and blurt out something stupid. 

And there’s something there, right? Stede has been collecting little moments that show Ed might reciprocate his feelings. More than once, he’s caught Ed staring at him with a smile. Even Ed’s friends think he’s been showing off on jobs since Stede showed up. Then there were the most obvious moments, like in Stede’s closet.

Stede needs to talk to someone. Two near-kisses, but no moves made. He thinks he could be the one to do it if only he were sure these feelings are requited. The baseball game had been a date, hadn’t it? In every sense except that neither he nor Ed called it as such. Even if he had all the information, Stede doesn’t know the code of conduct. He doesn’t know how to be casual about dating! Not that he wants to be casual about Ed at all… See! He has no idea what he’s doing.

And what about his girlfriend? His fiancée! Maybe she can knock some sense into him one way or another. 

The time it takes for Stede to get ready and bolt to Mary’s apartment feels like a world record. He pounds on the door, suddenly unable to keep all of these conflicting feelings inside him any longer. The moment she opens the door, it’s all going to come pouring out of his mouth like projectile word vomit. Which is a horrible, if not accurate, image. 

“Stede?” Mary looks astonished to see him when she opens the door. 

“I cheated on you!” he blurts out. 

“What?” 

Stede takes a deep breath. “I cheated on you. Emotionally. I think. I don’t know, please help me.” 

He knows he sounds desperate but until the exact moment he arrived at her door, Stede didn’t realize how colassally this had been weighing on his mind. Having a crush on his best friend isn’t exactly the same as cheating, but everything comes rushing in at the same time and plays like a film in his mind. All the times he’s canceled on Mary without so much as an apology, all the time he’s lied about being busy so he could go out with Ed. 

Mary waves him inside and sits him down on the sofa. He has no idea what energy he’s emanating right now, but it must be distress because she makes him some tea and wraps a blanket around him. 

“What are you talking about?” she asks. 

“I have feelings for someone else and I don’t know what to do about it.” 

Mary lets out a long exhale and stares at the ceiling. “Fuck. Okay. This isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation.” 

Does… Does she know? How can she know?! Stede knows he was a little bit reckless, but certainly not to the point of hanging around anyone in Mary’s social circle! 

“Look, Stede.” Mary takes another deep breath. “You don’t have to feel bad for having feelings for someone else. You should maybe feel bad for being a shitty fiancé, but that’s it.” 

That’s the coldest truth Stede’s heard in some time, and it runs through his veins like ice. “I’ve been awful to you, haven’t I? I’m so sorry.” 

Mary turns to fully look at him. It’s not that Stede wants to create more problems for himself, but she doesn’t look terribly put out that he’s been the worst. 

“I cheated on you too. Emotionally. Also physically. And probably a couple other ways as well.” 

He’s gobsmacked. It turns out those painting lessons he promised to pay for are a little more hands on than advertised. Apparently, Mary and her painting instructor, Doug, have been somewhat of an on and off thing for quite some time. She made a valiant go of it with Stede when they got engaged, but decided not to give up the person that made her happy when it became apparent Stede was not a great substitute. 

They’re in love, she says, and the words twist like a knife in Stede’s gut. He wants that. Stede wants it so badly he’s sick, and he may have found the one person to experience it with but he’s too much of a coward to find out. 

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he tells her sincerely. “Really, I am.” 

“So, who is this girl that managed to catch the eye of Stede Bonnet? What’s her name?” 

“His name is Ed.” 

Mary wraps him in a tight hug. She doesn’t speak a word, but Stede hears her all the same. 

Stede tells her the whole story. The whole story. Once he starts talking, he can’t stop. It feels so freeing to unburden himself from all his own stupidity and sudden affinity for spontaneity. He tells Mary about the first robbery and the Shakespeare play and the red silk bandana and how he has to physically stop himself reaching out for Ed whenever he’s nearby just to feel the little sparks shoot up his arm. 

“Didn’t you think you had a shot with him when he didn’t murder you? Or when he invited you out to a speakeasy? Stede, he planned a date for you!” 

“I didn’t know what it felt like,” he admits quietly.  

“You’ve had friends and relationships before, though!” 

“Relationships,” he scoffs. “No one courts anymore, they date. Except for people like us,” he motions between them, “because we just float along like flower petals in the breeze until someone catches and crushes us in their hands.” 

“Stede, I think you’re spiraling.” 

“For once, I’m not! I’m so clear on everything now! Anything resembling a relationship was just a bid for my father’s approval, you know? But I always felt suffocated, regardless.” He stands and begins to pace. Maybe he is spiraling but it’s a good spiral, if there is such a thing. “Trying to find the middle ground between being in love and ‘a good match for the family’. And I’ve barely been able to distinguish between them anyway, other than the obvious difference in activities. Actually, my current friendships feel safer and more exciting than any of those relationships ever did, even at their best.” 

“How does Ed make you feel?” 

Stede doesn’t know how to answer. Ed makes him feel so much all at once, in such overwhelming volume, that Stede’s afraid his body won’t be able to contain it much longer. 

“Overwhelmingly happy. Safe. Two things I’m not well acquainted with. He’s remarkable and breathtaking and he’s all I think about.”

“Stede, you need to tell him.” 

Mary is right. Of course, she’s right. Stede just hoped something would happen before he was forced to take the risk. 

Stede can tell him. How hard can it be? Ed is his best friend, Stede can talk to him about anything. Even if that thing is Stede’s deep longing to hold him and kiss him and make sure he never wants for anything. Simple. Simple and not at all the scariest conversation Stede’s ever needed to have. 

“I can’t.” 

“You can, Stede. You’re braver than you think. And you deserve to be happy.”

That is the kicker of it all. Much of Stede’s hesitation stems from the bigger picture. Oh, it would almost certainly feel world shattering to ruin his relationship with Ed, but what about the rest of it? His father, his name, his notoriety. All his life, Stede has been using them as excuses not to chase happiness because of what could happen. Dates and opportunities and invitations Stede wanted to accept passed him by because of the big What If? looming over his head. 

But Stede has never wanted anything or anyone as much as he wants Ed.

With Mary agreeing to have a longer conversation at another time, Stede rushes out the door. He needs to do this before he loses his nerve. 

- 

Stede runs all over the city looking for Ed, and he doesn’t seem to be anywhere. Despite what he thought, his resolve to confess his feelings only grows the longer it takes to find him. Like the lead in those romance books Stede loves to read, he has to earn this. 

After searching for a couple of hours - why is Manhattan so big? - Stede settles on staying put in one place. He ends up on a stool at Jackie’s, determined to wait as long as it takes. Sooner or later, Ed will walk through the door. 

He orders a drink to take the edge off, intending only to shake off his nerves. It burns going down but for the first time, he doesn’t think it’s so bad. The bourbon has an undertone of sweetness that reminds him of Ed. Would Ed taste sweet? Or would he burn? Stede would have to take his time to find out. Slowly, just teasing with light kisses at first until he’s worked up. Then he’d kiss Ed harder, deeper, like he really means it before tracing his tongue over Ed’s bottom lip. 

A loud commotion reminds Stede where he is. He turns his head to follow the noise and the room follows in a slow, blurry motion. Stede’s gotten drunk just thinking about Ed’s lips. Or maybe it’s not Ed’s lips at all, because Stede has four empty glasses in front of him. 

A familiar face has just walked in, attracting the attention of the whole place. Ed looks so mind-numbingly hot that Stede could cry. Does he have an endless supply of those low cut suits?! Because if he doesn’t, Stede will buy him more. 

Stede is about to yell over a hello when Ed smiles at one of the women standing far too close to him and throws an arm around her. She sinks easily into his side and that ugly, green eyed monster in Stede’s mind stirs as she adjusts the tie hanging from Ed’s neck. Stede’s tie. 

“Ed!” he calls at what is hopefully a normal volume. 

“Stede?” 

Immediately, Ed unwraps himself from the mystery woman and does a half-jog over to Stede. He leans on the bar with one arm, standing so close that Stede’s mouth is about 6 inches from his chest. 

Focus!

“Ed! I have been looking for you!” 

“At the bottom of a bourbon bottle?” 

“That was for nerves, not for you.” 

Ed’s look of amusement transforms into one of concern. He practically carries Stede out of the bar and into a cab, citing that he needed sleep. It’s hard to argue when Ed’s got a hand around his waist all the way out the door and runs a hand through Stede’s hair in the cab when he feels carsick. 

He’s so pretty up close, like every piece of him has been hand sculpted personally for Stede to look at. Ed doesn’t complain when Stede’s head tucks under his chin. Drunkenness notwithstanding, Stede will swear under pain of death that Ed kisses the top of his head. 

It’s far too soon when they pull up outside Stede’s building (though he’s thankful because the nausea is becoming unbearable). He takes some deep breaths as they stand outside, determined not to throw up. Ed watches him, looking on fondly if you ask Stede, but stays quiet. 

Now or never. 

“What’s with the pout?” Ed asks, tapping Stede’s leg with his foot. 

“I miss you.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“No, you don’t understand!” Stede groans in frustration. Inebriation is hindering the process but he still has to try. 

“Okay, okay. Help me understand. What are you thinking right now?” 

“I want to kiss you.” 

“You’re far too drunk for that, mate.” 

Stede pouts again because why can’t he have anything! The idea that sobriety would’ve seen him locking lips with Edward Teach right now is enough to make him swear off alcohol forever. 

“Hey now.” Ed tilts Stede’s face up at the chin so they’re making eye contact. “Don’t bring that pout out again. How’s this?” 

Ed leans in and kisses Stede on the cheek. His lips are warm and his facial hair scratches, the combination makes Stede’s entire body bubble with giddiness. 

“Better?” Ed asks quietly. 

Stede nods, having been stripped of the ability to speak. 

“C’mon, let's get you to bed.” 

Ever the gentleman, Ed makes sure Stede drinks several glasses of water and gets into bed without stumbling into any furniture. It’s the change into clothes that nearly does him in. Stede is a rather easy going drunk, always understanding when it’s time to leave the party or when he needs to lower his voice. Balance, however, is not in his control. So while he does his very best to change into his pajamas, it makes a lot of work for Ed who has to keep him from smashing his head on anything. By the time he flops into bed, the drunk sleep starts to set in. 

He should feel bad for commandeering Ed’s evening, but how can he when Ed is crouched next to his bed, running a hand through his hair, and asking if he needs anything else. Very bravely, he insists he’ll be alright and that Ed should go back to his friends. Stede would rather Ed stay, but he’s going to fall asleep at any moment. 

“I’m gonna go, but the next time you party it better be with me, yeah?” Ed jokes. Even through the darkness, Stede can see Ed smile and it’s blinding. 

Stede sees him hesitate for a moment before walking out of the bedroom, but ultimately the click of his front door lock cuts through the silence of the night. It isn’t exactly how Stede intended the evening to go, but it’s a hell of a start to getting what he wants. 

He falls asleep with his hand on his cheek and a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

“Hey, I wanna get you something to thank you for the other day,” Ed says as he places two drinks on the table and slides into the booth.

Stede rolls his eyes, failing to suppress a smile. “I told you, I don’t need anything!”

“C’mon, there’s gotta be something. Let me know what you want, I’ll steal it for ya.” 

“Oh, I think you’ve stolen quite enough,” he jokes, shoving Ed’s shoulder. 

Stede’s father clears his throat and Stede sits up straight in his chair. He’s spent most of the night pushing food around his plate and smiling politely at everyone when they address him because the only thing he can think about is Ed. 

Five days have passed. Five long, excruciating, going to put his head through a wall, days. He’s seen Ed once since Sunday, Stede came home from work to find Ed asleep on his sofa and they went out for drinks, but nothing was discussed and that confuses Stede the most. They still sat on the same side of the booth, still leaned too closely into one another to speak, still did that thing where they look at each other like something is about to happen (that is the most frustrating part, and now that Stede can put a name to it - flirting). 

So Stede does not understand why it seems like his drunken confession never happened. If Ed was so adverse to the idea of kissing Stede, surely he’d be acting differently now! On the other hand, if Ed was amenable to the idea, he’d be doing something about it! But the status quo remains the same. And maybe Stede still isn’t brave enough to bridge that gap sober, and maybe it shouldn’t all be on Ed to take that step, but Ed is the kind of man who takes what he wants. Stede tends to wait around and hope. 

“The board is happy to turn more responsibility over to Stede, provided you sign off,” says a man Stede’s never bothered to learn the name of because he’s never taken his head out of Stede’s father’s ass long enough for Stede to ask. 

“This shocks even me to say, but I think he’s ready,” replies his father. 

There is a subtle note of sincerity in his father’s voice, and it makes Stede shiver. All those years he spent chasing his father’s validation only to feel like he needs a shower over a few words that barely string together a compliment. 

“Thank you,” Stede says evenly. No sense in riling the place up. 

“It’s admirable of you to keep everything in the family.” God, there are so many of his father’s flunkies here tonight. Everything they say is just another feather in his father’s densely packed hat. 

“Well, Stede would never betray the family.” His father squares his shoulders and looks right through Stede. “He knows better than that.” 

There’s a sound of resounding agreement at the table, like that thinly veiled threat is a normal thing to say. 

For her part, Mary looks like she’s barely containing enough rage to take down everyone in the room. She can and will, if what she said to Chauncy Badminton is anything to go by. But the consequences would be dire, so she’s cutting off the circulation in Stede’s hand instead. 

“The family is my top priority,” Stede lies. Or, mostly lies. Family is his top priority, but Stede and his father have very different definitions of the word. “I won’t let you down.” 

“I know you won’t,” his father agrees. It sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth until he follows it up with, “You have no other choice.” 

Stede floats through the rest of the night in his usual haze, made bearable only by the fact that he and Mary are set free when they make the excuse that Mary isn’t feeling well. There’s no telling for sure, but Stede suspects people are beginning to grow concerned over Mary’s health so he makes a mental note to come up with more varied lies for them going forward. 

On the ride back to Mary’s apartment, Stede’s mind drifts to Ed again. He suddenly wishes he’d paid more attention to how Ed interacts with his other friends. Perhaps what Stede is interpreting as flirting is just how Ed acts. On that first night at Jackie’s, Anne did slip into Ed’s lap like it was nothing. Ed barely seemed phased by holding her, even admitted to kissing her for the sake of it. But there’s that voice in the back of Stede’s head reminding him that Ed had his arm around some girl like he was ready to take her home before all but shoving her aside to run over to him. Could there be some sort of dating etiquette Stede isn’t privy to? “Dating” isn’t nearly as rigid as “courting.” Maybe this is part of the fun somehow?

Gah, sexual politics. Stede will never figure it out. 

Doug is waiting to greet them at Mary’s, and Stede has to admit, despite his first impression, that Doug is lovely. He’s ever so kind, treats Mary wonderfully, and is actually quite talented! Stede is going to introduce him to Lucius soon to help him cast a wider net in the art world. 

“What was so important that we had to lie to get out of my father’s house?” Stede asks when they all settle in the living room. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

“Stede,” Mary begins seriously. “You need to go and get Ed.” 

“He’s probably out, but I can guess where he’d be.” Stede thinks for a moment. He’s probably at Jackie’s, if not at home or at Stede’s. That’s the first place he’ll look, anyway. “We were just out, though, we could’ve done that before coming here.” 

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Mary shakes her head and gently takes his hand. “You need to tell Ed how you feel. Soberly and honestly.” 

Ugh, Stede knew he’d regret confiding in Mary. He’d filled her in on what happened before dinner but there wasn’t much time to discuss it. Just go and spill his guts to Ed, like it’s that simple! All of Stede’s life has been about bending to other people’s power, he doesn’t know how to exercise his own! He only knows how to fear the consequences. 

“I know it’s horrible putting yourself in such a vulnerable position,” she continues. “But we only have this one life. Don’t you think you deserve a shot at real love?” 

“What if I ruin everything?” Stede’s voice is small, it sounds childish to his ear. They are both adults capable of having a conversation and choosing to work through feelings even if they’re not on the same page. He and Ed are close enough that unrequited feelings couldn’t destroy their friendship, Stede trusts that. And yet… What if Ed doesn’t feel the same and it ruins their friendship? 

“You won’t.” 

“Why can’t I just wait for Ed to do something? I just want to be sure before I go mucking everything up.” 

“What if he’s just as scared as you?” 

It seems to be a glaring oversight on Stede’s part that he’s never considered that possibility. It makes much more sense than the seesaw of emotion he’s been riding trying to figure this out. If the roles were reversed, he reasons, Stede would never treat Ed unkindly or make light of his feelings, nor would he want to stop being Ed’s friend. And it doesn’t make being the one to open that door any less intimidating, but it gives Stede a reason to find his bravery. 

“Alright,” Stede begins slowly. “Let’s say I got the courage to tell him. What about the two of us? Somehow I don’t think either of our parents will be understanding about the situation.” 

“Truthfully, I don’t know. But I’m sure between the four of us, we can come up with something. We’ve still got five months.” 

Hearing how short a time is left until the wedding has the opposite effect on him from what Mary intended, Stede suspects. Five months is nearly no time at all. Time enough to fall in love so deeply that the fallout could devastate the entire city, not quite enough time to change the mind of an unpleasant, unfeeling man who cares for nothing and no one but himself. 

Then Doug chimes in with, “It’s a complex situation, but Mary and I thought for now the two of you could keep up public appearances and our private lives will remain just that.” 

“If Ed’s alright with it,” Mary adds. “I’m sure this is going to be a lot for him.” 

The entire idea is overwhelming for Stede, so he can only imagine presenting it to Ed. It’ll be a conversation sprinkled with landmines. ‘Hi, Ed! Lovely day, isn’t it? Just wondering, no worries if not, but did you want to go out on a date and maybe be my boyfriend? Yes, I still have a fiancée but she has a boyfriend and we’re just going to lie and hope divine intervention provides a solution in the next 5 months!’ No one in their right mind would respond favorably to that! Besides, Mary and Doug have had god knows how long to talk and discuss while Stede’s been stuck in an endless loop of pining that would shock even a Jane Austen protagonist. 

He exhales and sinks back into the sofa cushions. “This is… a lot at once.” 

Mary nods knowingly and pats him on the shoulder. 

Why is it so easy for everyone else? The absurdity that Stede can decide on a whim to commit a felony but can’t confess he has feelings for someone is laughable. Someone who, he can admit in the privacy of his own mind, is obviously very willing to lock lips. It isn’t about a potential relationship ending badly, and it isn’t that Stede is afraid of rejection. 

So what the fuck is his problem?

“Can you give us a minute?” Mary says to Doug. He nods and makes himself scarce. “Come on, Stede. What is it? This is about more than being scared to ask him out.” 

“If my father ever found out -” 

“Your father is going to make your life hell either way.”

She’s right, and he hates that she’s right. Every single moment of Stede’s life has been controlled by that man, every decision he makes is rooted in how his father might react. All Stede’s calculated rebellion and malicious compliance are the only tastes of real freedom he’s ever dared to reach for, opting to do what’s expected of him just well enough that his father usually lets him be (for the most part). But Ed… when Stede thinks about choosing him, it’s nothing to do with his father. There will always be an undercurrent of fear about his father’s wrath, but Stede is not choosing Ed to act out or get some kind of petty revenge on his family. 

“This is going to sound so pathetic.” 

“Try me.” The empathy pooled in her eyes makes Stede feel like the smallest man alive. He’s treated Mary so poorly and definitely hasn’t earned her kindness, but she’s offering it anyway.

“I’ve never had something I’m afraid to lose before,” he admits.

Then, Mary asks the only question that matters.

“Does Ed make you happy?”

Stede doesn’t know how to answer. Ed makes him feel so much all at once, in such overwhelming volume, that Stede’s afraid his body won’t be able to contain it much longer. 

“Ed makes me feel like I could be… somebody. Not with notoriety or money, but someone who hums for no reason and buys flowers to celebrate a meaningless Sunday and has trouble falling asleep alone.” 

“So tell him, Stede. Be somebody.” 

There isn’t much more to say after that. Those words ring in Stede’s ears for the rest of the night. He insists on paying for Mary and Doug’s next date, it’s the least he can do after she held his hand through such a magnificent breakdown. Breakthrough? Breakthrown. 

The night is calm as he walks home. To be perfectly honest, he’s terrified of talking to Ed. A good terrified, like the first time he and his friends snuck out to a speakeasy, but terrified nonetheless. He looks up at the stars as he walks, but they offer no advice. He thinks they’re rooting for him though, because they sparkle just like Ed’s eyes. 

As he turns the key in the lock, Stede cannot decide if he wants Ed to be on the other side of the door or not. On one hand, he’ll have done all his agonizing in one day and maybe, finally, get to kiss Ed. On the other hand, Stede wants to plan just the right thing to say to make himself and his intentions clear - something he can only do alone because Ed turns his brain to radio static. 

Stede walks into an empty penthouse. It’s fine, he thinks. He’s gone this long without kissing Ed, he can wait a few more days. This time, the third time, he intends to make sure it becomes a habit. 

-

Twenty minutes. That’s how long Stede has been in Ed’s car. He planned it perfectly: meet before the job, spill his pathetically romantic guts to Ed, rob a bank, maybe kiss. That’s the genius plan he spent all Saturday coming up with. But they couldn’t get a minute alone because this job is tricky. Very few banks are open on Sunday, and the ones that are have limited hours. There is a very small window during which they can commit this robbery. Then he thought maybe he could do it in the car, but Izzy is in the backseat and he doesn’t like Stede on his best days. He never put much stock in signs from the universe, but maybe he should. Some higher power must think this is a bad idea. 

“Go make sure they’re ready, Iz,” Ed directs when they park in the alley. 

Izzy gets out of the car to do as he’s told but comes back to lean in the passenger side window. “Try and stay out of the way today, Bonnet. This is a big job, let the professionals work. You stand in the corner and try not to dirty your pretty red suit.” 

“Go,” Ed growls.

He’s used to Izzy getting a dig or two in before a job. Just because he’s not exactly adept at the whole criminal thing does not mean he’s useless. Stede has tried to carry his weight and, according to everyone else, he’s mostly succeeded. Ed may be his best friend, but there’s never been a question that Stede knows Ed’s in charge and falls in line. It just so happens that Blackbeard likes The Gentleman next to him. And if anyone’s jealous of that, well, that’s not really Stede’s problem, is it? 

“Sorry he talks to you like that,” Ed apologizes. “I’ve told him off before but he just won’t give it up.” 

“It’s alright.” 

“It’s not.” The words are spoken in a firm tone that shuts the door on any argument. 

Stede is no stranger to unkind words, but Izzy is like a cheap imitation of his bullies. He’s quite sure Izzy cannot come up with anything he hasn’t heard before, and even if he did, he couldn’t summon the vitriol to hurt Stede’s feelings. He’s had too much practice for that. But Stede smiles and thanks Ed anyway because what a relief it is to have someone in his corner. Stede never gives much thought to what people say about him when he’s not around, largely because they repeat it to his face, but there is a comfort in knowing for certain someone is sticking up for him when he’s not around. 

They sit in silence for a couple minutes while they wait for the all-clear from Izzy. Stede moves his gun from hand to hand, a mildly anxious gesture he’s come to accept as pre-robbery jitters. To date, Stede has not fired the gun on a job, nor has he had a gun fired at him. All that boardroom talk about better security at the banks must be bogged down by paperwork. The situation is morally grey to Stede, but he still doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt. 

Aileen Stanley’s rendition of Everybody Loves My Baby drifts out of the radio, making Stede an entirely different kind of nervous. 

I am his sweet patootie, and he’s my loving man

Knows how to do his duty, loves me like no other can. That’s why

Stede glances at Ed out of the corner of his eye. He has one arm draped over the steering wheel and the other rests on his thigh. His eyes are dark and smokey (Stede helped!) and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. Stede is going to pass out if he waits any longer.

Everybody loves my baby

But my baby don’t love nobody but me

“Can I talk to you about something?” he asks tentatively.

“Is this about my makeup again? I told you, I like the way you did it.” 

“No, although I think you’re just flattering me.” 

“Why can’t it be both?” Ed huffs, mildly agitated at the statement. No one has ever tossed sincerity and flattery in Stede’s direction at the same time before, and getting used to that is slow-going. But as he runs his hand over the silk bandana around his neck, Stede decides this is just one more reason to take the final step.

“Ed, I -” 

Izzy appears at Ed’s window. “Ready to go, boss.” 

“Let’s do it.” 

The bank is small, nothing like what the Bonnets own. There is nothing grandiose about the building, the staff is a meager five workers. Security is non-existent. By all accounts, Blackbeard’s crew should overwhelm them easily. With well-rehearsed ease, the robbery starts off as flawlessly as Stede has ever seen it. Ed demands the money, Archie and Ivan guard the exits, Izzy walks one of the tellers back to the safe at gunpoint, and the rest of them wait around to start hauling cash. Ed barks at Fang to go help Izzy, and moments later everyone is shuffled into an assembly line tossing bags of money into the van. As far as robberies go, it’s actually a little dull. 

Ed lightly shoves Stede’s shoulder and smiles as the last bag of money goes out the door. “Easy one, eh?” 

“Not one of the more exciting jobs, I’ll concede.” 

“Oh, not up to your standards, huh?” He expects Ed to throw an arm around his shoulders, something that always follows the cheeky tone in Ed’s voice, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Ed wraps an arm around his waist and pulls Stede into his side. “How can I make it more interesting for you?” 

There is a non-zero chance that when Stede opens his mouth in a second, the words ‘Let’s make out!’ will come out. 

“You could -” 

But Stede never finds out the end of that sentence. Ed roughly pushes him away, and he barely catches himself as he stumbles. He’d be horribly put out and offended… if it weren’t for the gunshots.

He pats himself over and finds no blood. Okay, okay, that’s great. But - oh, he has a gun. Stede pulls it out with a shaky hand. Luckily he hasn’t cocked it, because he’s aiming haphazardly around the room, unsure who is shooting. Ed - oh, god, did they hit Ed? He takes an uneven breath and wills his eyes to focus. Ed is standing over one of the tellers. Before he can stop them, Stede’s feet walk him over to the scene. 

The teller’s hand is wrapped around Ed’s ankle with tears in his eyes as Ed’s foot presses on his neck. Ed’s gun is pointed at his head and he appears to have been shot in the shoulder. 

“Thought you’d get a cheap shot off and put a bullet in my friend here?” The man makes some strained gargled noise. “Shut the fuck up, I’m not finished. Feel that bullet wedged in your shoulder?” Ed cocks his gun. “I don’t miss twice. Try that shit ever again and the next one goes in your head. Blink twice if you understand me.” He does, and Ed takes the pressure off his windpipe. 

As the man on the floor gasps for air and holds his bloody shoulder, Ed lets the rest of the workers know they’ll regret it if he hears any sirens. They quickly nod in agreement. 

“Come on,” he says gruffly, grabbing Stede’s hand and hauling him out the door. 

Stede knows this is part of the life as much as he knows it’s fucked up. He knows what he’s gotten himself into and he knows who Edward Teach is. So as they fly down the streets of New York in Ed’s car, the rational side of him decides to be grateful Ed saved him even though he’s definitely scarred by his first look at real violence. That seems to tie a bow on it nicely. The other side of him, however, the side that has been running the show for weeks now, is acting so indecently. Ed has not said a single word, not even glanced in Stede’s direction, since they sped away from the scene. But Stede is spending the entire ride keeping his blood pressure in check because he is so unbelievably turned on right now. The growl in Ed’s voice, the way he flipped from teasing to threatening. Pretending he didn’t want to tackle Ed to the ground right then and there took restraint.  

As they pull up to the hideout, Ed has not relaxed. He’s been wearing an angry scowl since it happened, and Stede wants to tell him it’s alright but he’s not exactly exuding a vibe that says he wants to have a heart to heart right now. 

Stede follows him silently into the building. Anything the crew says to them as they enter is muddled as Ed shoves Stede into his bedroom and locks the door. Admittedly, Stede is still a little out of it from the whole experience, but feels surprisingly well adjusted. He barely registered the man trying to shoot him; he definitely registered Ed shielding him from harm and threatening that man on his behalf. Done and dusted, time to move on. It does seem like he’s lost his chance to confess his feelings though, and with Ed in this mood, he’s not sure when will be an appropriate time to try again. There may well always be a roadblock situated between them.  

It seems so futile to think of Ed as anything more than a friend when Stede cannot seem to do anything about it. That kiss on the cheek must have been a one-off, a way to placate Stede’s drunken impropriety. He should be thankful Ed is still his friend because that could have ruined them. But here and now, Stede is drooling over how hot it is to see this gorgeous, smooth talking gangster defend his honor. If they were dating, Stede isn’t sure they’d have made it out of the bank. 

Another part of him is just grateful Ed was there. He can probably count on one hand the number of people who consider him worth protecting, and even less that would face down a potential bullet for him. 

As soon as the lock clicks shut, Blackbeard all but disappears and Stede is left with Ed, babbling a mile a minute and looking terrified. 

“Stede, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Shit, I should’ve checked before now. Listen, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shot that guy in front -“

“Ed -“ 

“- of you. That’s so fucked up, why did I do that? And, like, I don’t stand on people’s throats a lot, okay? I don’t know where that came from. I’m -“

“Ed -“ 

“- sorry. I’m so sorry. Won’t happen again, okay? Just, I promise, I can -“ 

“Edward!” 

Ed shuts right up at the use of his full name. His eyes fix on the floor and he wrings his hands nervously. The juxtaposition of this sheepish, anxious, sweet to be concerned man in front of him with the low cut suit and smokey eyes is almost funny. Endearing for sure, and Stede sets out immediately to put him at ease. 

“Ed, I am fine. Perfectly safe. I don’t feel anything short of cared for. Thank you.” Stede extends his hand and Ed takes it without hesitation. “Thank you for protecting me.” 

If you look into his eyes, Ed can’t hide anything. His gaze flickers up at the word protect and holds so much awe. The moment is suddenly so charged that Stede almost reaches out for Ed’s cheek, but just manages to stop himself. 

Ed has no such self-control. 

It’s by the grace of some higher being alone that Stede’s knees don’t give out. There’s not a single kiss in history that comes close to this one, of that Stede is sure. It’s messy and apprehensive, Ed’s lips land a little too high, but Stede knows this is what he was put on earth to do. Ed has been trickling into Stede’s life slowly, like an IV drip, ensuring Stede never wants to walk through life without Edward Teach coursing through his veins. One soft kiss, one quick taste of his lips, and Stede signs his life away. 

Stede wants to do this, kiss Ed until he’s lightheaded and dizzy, every single moment of the rest of his life. Here, right now, Ed’s lips are pressed to his, Ed’s arm is wrapped around his waist, and Stede finally understands what the hell everyone is talking about. Nothing’s ever felt like this before and no one will ever make Stede feel like this again. Something inside Stede is marked now, forever, with Ed’s name etched in gold. 

The moment Stede reaches out, needing Ed closer, it’s done. Ed lets him go and takes a few steps back. There’s very little time to be confused, because Ed bolts out the door and leaves Stede in stunned silence. 

He follows instinctively, but his feet feel like lead. Walking out of the hideout through the crowd of Ed’s crew feels like a walk of shame. They might not know what just happened, but they definitely saw Ed run past them. Thankfully, no one says a word. Not even Izzy. Stede trudges towards the door, at a loss for any explanation as to what the hell just happened. 

There’s no telling where Ed may have gone or when he’ll be back, so Stede does the only thing he can think to do - walk until he comes across a taxi. 

Something Stede ruminates on quite often is what’s fair. As the city speeds by out the window of the taxi, he runs through the list again. Not fair that he has all the financial security he could ever need at the expense of emotional fulfillment. Not fair that his sense of self is so fucked up that he sabotages his own happiness. Not fair that the best thing that’s ever happened to him walked out before Stede got to have him. 

All in all, it takes Stede an hour to get home. It’s the least enjoyable ride he’s ever had. Stede’s head is spinning with a hundred different emotions and he can’t decide which one to deal with first. He’s desperate to think about something besides Ed, but it’s too difficult a habit to break in one car ride. All that time he spent kicking dirt and worrying about ‘Does he like me back?’ like a teenager for nothing because it’s true, it’s all true. The dream was right there, and it shattered like glass. Whether it’s rebuildable or not remains to be seen. As he exits the taxi, Stede decides he should just sleep it off and make it a problem for the Stede of tomorrow. 

So it’s unfuckingbelievable when Stede pulls up and exits the cab to find that Ed is pacing outside his building. 

“Edward,” Stede says, keeping his tone as even as possible. Something is going on, and Stede is no stranger to panicking. 

“Yeah?” 

God, Stede can’t help but roll his eyes at the casual tone. 

“Did you want another kiss so you could run off somewhere else?” Yes, it’s kind of a bitchy question, but he’s owed some sort of explanation. 

Ed scoffs. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what? You kissed me. You ditched me. ” 

Stede knows what he felt, and he knows Ed felt it too. Everything unfolded in front of Stede once he stopped lying to himself. And even if he didn’t know now that Ed was taking him on dates or existing a little closer into Stede’s space than any friend would, Ed kissed him. That’s as clear a signal as any. 

“We were caught up in the moment! I think it was a mistake.” 

The wind is knocked out of Stede’s chest. There’s no pretending that doesn’t hurt, but Stede bears the weight of it easily. If that were true, if Ed was rejecting him, Stede would rush right upstairs to let tears and alcohol race to put him to sleep. 

But it’s not true. Ed’s eyes are glassy and he looks small despite his hands on his hips and the hard line of his jaw. 

“You’re afraid,” Stede tells him. 

“What?” 

“You’re afraid of whatever this is.” 

He doesn’t even wait for a response, just storms into the building. Good. Leave Ed standing alone, mouth agape, this time. Maybe they both need time to cool off, then they can talk it through in a day or two. It’s just… shit. Ed’s lips felt so right. Like Stede’s been waiting his entire life to kiss this exact man. 

Stede slams his apartment door shut and stalks over to the balcony. Fresh air always does him good. 

It’s not even five minutes later that his front door swings open. 

“What the hell did you mean by that?” 

He whirls around to see Blackbeard in the flesh, standing just far enough from Stede that one of them will have to bravely move forward to touch the other. 

“Let’s not do this, Ed.” 

“Oh, I think we should.” 

This is not how Stede thought today would go. From start to finish, the universe has been throwing him curveballs he just can’t hit. 

“Fine,” Stede concedes. If Ed wants to talk about it, they’ll talk about it. “I’m sorry it took me so long to understand that I had feelings for you. But I do and I’m here. You’ve got me.” 

Ed doesn’t respond, just shifts on his feet. So Stede continues. 

“But you just kiss me and run away? And then say it’s a mistake? I never took you for a liar or a coward, but I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought.” 

Stede’s heart is pounding out of his chest. Pushing forward on the offensive could very well be a mistake. This doesn’t have to be a big blowout argument if they can just choose to be honest with one another. 

“Fuck you, Stede Bonnet.” 

Or they can fight. 

He’s tired of ignoring that that’s exactly what he wants. “Do it yourself.” 

That’s the kind of thing that usually slips out of Stede’s mouth before he realizes what he’s said. This time he means it, wholeheartedly and sincerely. They’ve been dancing around each other for weeks on end. He’s partly to blame, he knows, because Stede only recently finished the puzzle. They could’ve been screwing around this whole time. Well, Stede’s done waiting. 

“What?” Ed asks, a hint of danger in his voice. 

Stede takes a deep breath. “You heard me.” 

Ed takes three huge steps forward and traps Stede against the balcony rail. He’s not afraid anymore, not of his feelings and certainly not of Ed’s feelings. For the first time in his miserable life, Stede wants. And, more than that, he knows he’s wanted. Even if Ed tries to pretend otherwise. There’s nothing wrong with indulging in desire. What’s a little sex between friends?

“Do you know what you’re asking?” Ed growls. 

“I’m asking you to drop the act.” 

Blackbeard remains ever present on Ed’s face as he holds Stede’s gaze. If Ed wants a battle of wills he’ll sure as hell fucking get one. Stede doesn’t flinch when Ed starts to unbuckle his belt, barely moves when Ed unceremoniously shoves his pants down his legs, all the while keeping that burning eye contact that could set them both alight at any moment. 

“Are you sure?” Ed whispers. 

Stede pulls the idiot in and kisses him, praying he’s not making a mistake. But this is the risk he’s been chasing, that all important thing that could change his life forever. Immediately, Ed’s lips move with his and Stede knows he’s finally found what makes life worth living. Instinct serves him well, Ed gasps when Stede wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in until they’re chest to chest. 

When Stede finds the strength to pull back, he thinks Ed looks beautiful with his flushed cheeks and stunned expression. 

“Does that answer your question?” 

That’s how Stede ends up bracing himself against the balcony railing while Ed (Blackbeard?!) falls to his knees. They’re keeping eye contact again, and Stede feels like he could combust under Ed’s gaze. 

Being in Ed’s mouth is now at the top of Stede’s pyramid of needs. Moans are let loose from his lips and echo into the night. He reaches down and tangles his fingers into Ed’s hair, and that only serves to make Ed move more vigorously and dig his fingers into Stede’s thighs. Before he can see stars, and that moment is approaching rapidly, Stede pushes Ed back and hauls him upright. 

There’s mild confusion present in Ed’s eyes, but Stede swallows the question before it can pass Ed’s lips. He kisses Ed hard and fast, trying to devour every inch of Ed Teach in case he wakes up tomorrow to find this is all some cruel hallucination. Ed meets him with matched vigor so intense that it’s difficult for Stede to keep up. The aggression from their earlier conversation lingers and makes this feel like a competition - who can kiss the other to death. Stede fancies himself a winner either way. 

“Tell me what you want, Ed,” Stede says through labored breaths.  

“I wanna bend you over and see if I can figure out what makes Stede Bonnet scream.” 

He says it with all the reflexive ease of his coffee order, like it’s second nature. An automatic answer to a common question. The words come out so easily that they leave Stede speechless. Like that’s the kind of thing one can just say. 

Like Ed’s been thinking about it. 

“Too much?” asks Ed tentatively. 

“Not at all,” Stede assures him. 

“You sure? Because we don’t -“ 

Softly, gently, Stede holds Ed’s jaw still and places a delicate kiss to his lips. “I want you.” 

Stede places a hand on Ed’s chest, pushing him backwards into the living room. Ed starts peeling layers off them both, first his jacket then Stede’s shirt then everything else piece by piece. Part of him wants to help, but Ed is incredibly determined and Stede has a much more primal urge clawing at the confines of its cage. 

Being allowed to touch is making Stede a greedy man. He can’t map Ed’s body fast enough, can’t memorize every tattoo and every curve nor every spot that makes Ed shiver as his fingers ghost over bare skin. Ed’s arms, shoulders, chest - Christ, his waist. With a hunger Stede’s never felt before, he grabs the back of Ed’s thighs and lifts him up. Ed’s legs wrap around Stede’s waist like it’s an old habit and it snaps the final, fraying thread of Stede’s self-restraint. 

Ed tastes like heaven and he knows it, tilts his head back the moment Stede’s lips touch his neck and says breathily, “Been waiting forever to do this, haven’t you?” Unwilling to separate from Ed’s skin to even breathe, he just hums in return. 

Lower, he needs to get his lips lower, so Stede carries him into the bedroom and lays him down. Stede kisses down his body, reveling at how Ed lifts up to chase his lips and pulls his hair. The closer Stede gets to his hips, the more trouble Ed has keeping still, so Stede stops his teasing touches in favor of holding Ed down. 

He looks up and waits for a nod of confirmation before taking Ed in his mouth, and it’s better than he could’ve imagined. There’s a fleeting thought of thanks that they’re on the top floor because the sounds pouring out of Ed’s mouth would leave little to the imagination if Stede had neighbors. It’s difficult to hold himself back when it’s so tempting to make Ed come like this. Stede has so little regard for his own orgasm now that he’s got a chance to give Ed one. In fact, he’ll give him two or ten or a hundred, fuck, he’ll keep Ed in his bed for the rest of their lives surviving off little more than the warmth of Ed’s touch and the sound of his name in Ed’s mouth. 

Suddenly, Ed rapidly taps his shoulder so Stede pulls off him to check in. 

“Okay?” 

“Fine, great, perfect,” Ed says, pulling Stede up and into a flurry of messy kisses. “Too soon to finish,” he explains against Stede’s lips. 

“You could if you wanted,” Stede tells him. “We’ll just wait ten minutes and keep going.” 

“Only ten minutes, huh?” Ed laughs, and it sounds so light and unburdened and beautiful that Stede can’t help but join him. “Don’t think I’d even need that long with you.”  

Astonishment that Ed is talking about him, about needing Stede so badly he doesn’t even need recovery time, is shoved aside by wholehearted agreement. Because after slipping down the cliff side with nothing to grab onto, Stede expected to crash into the sea and drown. Instead, the waves kindly rolled him ashore and now he’s basking in warm sunlight. 

Ed rolls them over and pins Stede’s arms to the bed. He can feel a blush coloring his face and crawling down over his chest. 

“You really wanna get mixed up with the likes of me,” Ed murmurs in soft wonderment. 

Yes. Please. There’s no longer a version of Stede that doesn’t crave every piece of himself Ed is willing to share. And now seems like as good a time as any to make that known. 

“You really need me to lay it out for you?” 

“Mmm, yeah. Tell me what did it.” 

“I think you’re the single most beautiful and interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I want you to myself all the time.” 

That is such a succinct way to explain it but could never fully encompass how Stede really feels. He’s a man obsessed. 

Then Ed’s lips are on his and it’s like being reborn again and again and again. 

“You just think I’m pretty,” Ed accuses mildly. 

“I’m not sure you understand just how devastatingly, fall to my knees and become a religious man, want to learn to be a poet and have you as my muse, gorgeous you are.”

For a moment, Ed remains still. Stede might’ve thought Ed didn’t hear him were it not for how the fingers around his wrists tighten. 

Stede gasps when Ed bites his neck, groans at how good it feels when he flips between scraping his teeth over sensitive skin and the soothing swipe of his tongue. Somewhere, in a corner of his mind that seems so far away now, Stede wonders how he’ll hide what’s sure to be a massive mark, like a glaring sign that says he belongs to Ed. He should stop Ed before he leaves a bruise. 

But then his body will match his heart, won’t it? 

Ed places a final, delicate kiss to his neck. “Look at that,” he says reverently, lightly brushing his fingers over the spot. 

“What?” Stede asks, dazed. 

“You wear fine things well too.” 

He thinks they must look like an oil painting of two lovers destined to find one another. Stede, looking up at Ed like he’s rearranged the constellations in the sky; Ed looking down at Stede like he’s the only thing in the universe that matters. And there is something cosmic about what’s happening, Stede feels his heart tilt on its axis towards Ed’s sun as it adjusts to the new center of his galaxy. 

“I bet you use that line on everyone,” Stede goads, but instead of a witty retort, Ed hums knowingly and kisses him. 

“Between you and me, I stole it from this guy I’ve been aching to get my hands on.”

“What’s he like?” 

“Blond bombshell. Heartbreaker.” Ed winks. “Hell of a right hook.”

“Sounds dangerous.” 

“Nah, not dangerous.” Stede pouts. He takes risks! Lives on the edge! Ed laughs and continues, “Okay, okay, Polite Menace. He’s very dangerous.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Yeah, real wild. Lawless. He’s trouble.” 

“Now I just feel like you’re patronizing me.” 

Ed drops his voice impossibly low and promises to make it up to him. The deep baritone hits Stede like a second glass of bourbon, smoky and sweet all at once as it convinces him nothing will ever be as important as this moment right now. 

Desperate for something to happen, anything, Stede reaches out towards the drawer containing lube and condoms in hopes it will remind Ed that he did promise to fuck Stede so well he’d scream. Ed chuckles, pulling Stede’s arm back and coaxing him to roll over. He does so dutifully while Ed rustles around in his nightstand.

Face down, ass up, with Ed’s fingers dancing up and down his spine is Stede’s new favorite form of self-care. 

Everything is moving in slow motion. Stede has been wound up for weeks, so the thought of Ed taking his time sounds like torture. He tries to voice that, to urge Ed to just fuck him because he can’t think clearly anymore, but Ed just keeps that slow, steady pace of stroking Stede’s back. 

“Just relax for me.” 

“I’ll relax when you do something.” 

He swears Ed laughs at that, but it’s hard to hear much over the rhythmic thumping of lust pounding in his ears. Stede pushes his hips back, about ten seconds from pinning Ed to the bed and giving him a taste of his own medicine, when he finally gets some relief. 

As it turns out, Ed is a tease. He gives Stede a taste of the real thing with his fingers, and Stede pushes his hips back into the touch instantly. 

“Just get on with it,” Stede complains. “I can take it.” 

“How can I be sure you’ll scream for me if you’re not even willing to whimper first?” 

Stede’s head is in the clouds as Ed’s fingers do their best to make Stede come from their wicked touch alone. Were he not already on his knees and muttering incoherently into his pillow, this would do it. It’s done with the touch of a master, like Ed’s expertise is Stede’s body and it’s second nature for Ed to take him apart like this. Ed keeps his other hand soothingly stroking up and down Stede’s back. But now that Stede’s had a taste, his hips keep pushing back in search of more. Of what, Stede isn’t sure - fingers, pressure. That Ed will give in and just fuck him already. 

“Feel good?” Ed asks, and finally gets his wish. Stede answers with a whimper, quite sure that Ed is going to edge him into an early grave. “Thought so.” 

When Ed removes his fingers, Stede lets out a defeated sigh. 

“Ed, come on. ” 

“Demanding isn’t very gentlemanly of you,” Ed mentions, voice high and airy.  

“I don’t think a gentleman would be caught in such a position.” 

“And yet, here you are.” 

Stede amends, “Then, he might if he was asked nicely.” Or told. Or guided. Or whatever Ed wants, really. 

“Alright, since you’re a gentleman.” Ed kisses up Stede’s spine and then whispers in his ear, “Can I fuck you until you can’t even remember your own name?” 

Stede pretends to think it over. “You can try.” 

The anticipation makes Stede feel like he’s drunk. This time when Ed tells him to relax, he takes a deep breath and tries. As Ed presses into him it’s like a dream. 

“God, you feel so fucking good.” 

All Stede can do in response is nod weakly against his pillow. Correct. Agreed. So fucking good, incredible. Only that’s wrong, because Ed starts to move and somehow it’s better. How there’s ever been a point in his adult life Stede’s gone without Ed’s fingers digging into his skin and the thrusting of Ed’s hips, he’ll never know. Or how Stede never liked his name before hearing it from Ed’s mouth, but now it floats through the room tinged with desperation and swirling with satisfied sighs and Stede loves it. He will never dream of being someone else, somewhere else, ever again because even his deepest fantasies cannot compete with the reality of Ed.

Ever the over thinker, Stede can’t help but wonder how he’s never had sex this good before. How has it only ever been middle of the road and - fuck, that’s good - how can he ask Ed to do this again, every day, until the end of time? 

His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the sheets, somehow teetering near the edge without being touched. Then Ed mumbles something about needing to be closer and suddenly Stede is hauled upright to his knees; Ed doesn’t stop his hips, only slows them. Stede leans back against Ed’s chest as an arm wraps around his waist. Ed’s body behind him is firm and warm, and a comforting sense of safety washes over him. 

“Doing okay, dollface?” Ed drops kisses along Stede’s shoulder. 

“I can honestly say -” He interrupts himself with a moan and Ed chuckles. “- I’m doing fantastic.” 

“Oh, I think we can aim higher than fantastic.”

Ed’s free hand shoots sparks along the skin of Stede’s thigh. Every touch pushes him closer and closer, but fire never quite catches. He takes Ed’s hand and tries to relocate it, but Ed just laces their fingers together and kisses him on the cheek. 

“Something you wanted?” 

All those times Ed has reminded Stede he could kill him, this must be what Ed meant. His goal has always been to work Stede up to the brink of orgasm and let him hang there for eternity. 

“Please?” 

“Hmm.” Ed tightens his grip around Stede’s waist and lifts up their intertwined hands. “My hands are full at the moment, you might have to take care of that yourself.” 

“Oh, I see.” Stede tries his absolute best to sound serious despite the strain in his voice and shiver down his spine. 

“See what?” Ed mumbles into his skin, seemingly unwilling to stop kissing every bit of Stede he can reach for more than a handful of seconds at a time. 

“That was all talk earlier, about making me scream. You promised and now you can’t deliver.”

Ed freezes, breath coming in shallow waves. “I - Yes I can!” he huffs. 

“No, no, I understand.” Stede kisses the back of Ed’s hand. “We all have different talents.”

The bed creaks as Ed pulls out and pushes Stede down unceremoniously onto his back. The little ‘Oof’ that escapes him is unbelievably satisfying because he’s considering making his new living in riling Ed up if this is the payout. Stede practically pulls Ed down onto his lips and grabs a fistful of Ed’s hair. Everything blurs into a decadent haze after that - his leg pushed up into his chest, the moans, Ed wasting no time getting back inside him. It’s rough, but ever so caring. 

Stede swears his eyes roll back in his head when Ed wraps a hand around him. Human nature is such a curse, because if he wasn't so greedy to cross the finish line he’d let Ed touch him and tease him for an eternity. He’s never considered himself an impatient man, nor one who overindulges in guilty pleasures, so urging Ed to fuck him harder and stroke him faster feels out of body - or maybe that’s just his orgasm building. Because he’s waited for this longer than any sane man would, and he doesn’t feel guilty about a damn thing he’s done with Ed. 

Stede tugs firmly on Ed’s hair, a weak attempt to keep from completely unraveling. The solitary thought he can manage is Ed’s name. He pleads it, prays it, screams it. It tastes like honey on Stede’s tongue and he’s developed a voracious sweet tooth. He scratches down Ed’s back because how is it better with every thrust, with every twist of his hand? Ed is beautiful, he’s perfect, he’s Stede’s, and - and - 

When he comes, Ed muffles his moans beneath sloppy kisses and soft whimpers. Stede kisses back as much as he’s able while pulling deep, full breaths and reveling in maybe the best orgasm anyone has ever had (certainly the best Stede’s ever had). He can feel Ed shaking too and traces his fingers rhythmically along Ed’s back until cries of Stede’s name turn to quiet panting. 

The ambient noise of the city drifts back into the room as the spell changes but doesn’t break. Ed collapses on top of him but the weight is not unwelcome. Afterglow is just as overpowering as carnal lust. They drift through it together gently, Stede combing his fingers through Ed’s hair and Ed peppering kisses anywhere his lips reach. 

After a few minutes, Ed moves to lay next to Stede, but doesn’t go very far. They still end up pressed against one another, stealing quick kisses like someone might try to separate them soon. 

“That was…” 

“Phenomenal?” Stede offers. 

“Yeah,” Ed laughs. “That and a million other good things.” 

The absolute bliss is unlike anything Stede has ever felt before. Regardless of how life turns out, the yet unknown twists and turns, future Stede will turn the clock back to this exact moment when he reminisces about the good old days. 

“You’ve got makeup smudged all over.” He tries to wipe away the eyeshadow on Ed’s temple but only makes the mess worse. “Come on,” he tuts, pulling Ed out of bed. 

“I wanna sleep.” 

“And you will! After a little cleaning and pampering.” 

Ed lets himself be dragged toward the en-suite without much resistance, though Stede does note that he pouts the whole time. He’s criminally adorable, and if Ed is going to be arrested for anything, it shouldn’t be armed robbery, it should be for managing to look so cute as a grown man. In the back of his mind, Stede knows that sulking over menial tasks is the first of many things he’ll be compelled to kiss Ed about. 

He lightly presses his lips to Ed’s and says, “You know, my mother always said if you keep pouting your face will stay that way.” Another kiss, because he cannot help himself. Maybe he’ll never be able to stop. “Looks darling on you though.” 

“I like that. Call me that again.” 

Stede brushes his knuckles along Ed’s jaw and repeats, “Darling.” 

The blush on Ed’s cheeks is gorgeous; ducking his head and biting his lip won’t hide it. Stede wasn't sure it was possible for Ed to be shy but here he is, looking at Stede through his lashes and toying with their intertwined fingers. 

Perfect.

Stede reaches up and unpins (what’s left of) the half updo in Ed’s hair, just because he’s allowed. Tucks the waves that fall into Ed’s face behind his ears, just because he’s allowed. Tangles his hand in Ed’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss, just because he’s allowed. 

“You start pulling my hair again and I’m gonna drag you back to bed,” Ed threatens with surprising control of his voice. 

“Maybe that’s the goal.” 

“Who says you could have me?”

“Pretty sure I can have anything I want.” 

“And you want me,” Ed says, easy as stating the sky is blue. 

“And I want you.” 

All the build up seems so silly now. They spent so much time not kissing and giggling and touching to their own detriment. 

He does want Ed to drag him back to bed, but it’s been a long day so some pampering is definitely in order! After one more kiss, Stede steps around Ed to turn on the shower. Ed follows him as he trails around his bathroom collecting all his finest beauty products, the ones he saves for special occasions or when he’s had an awful week and needs to treat himself. He takes Ed’s input on scents and grabs the very expensive towels that feel like wrapping yourself in a cloud. Only the best for, well, the best. Stede finally feels like he has a reason to spend all his god forsaken money - to spoil Ed. 

When the steam starts to fog up the mirror, Ed says, “I’ll just, uh… wait in your bedroom for my turn.” 

Stede grabs Ed’s hand as he tries to step away and pulls him back. Ed stumbles on his way, but Stede doesn’t intend to let Ed fall ever again. He catches Ed around the waist and holds tight as Ed steadies himself on Stede’s shoulders. 

“I think we’ve done enough waiting, don’t you?” 

The hot water feels incredible against his sore muscles - a combination of what just happened and all the stress he’s been carrying. Stede helps Ed into the clawfoot tub with him, mentally kicking himself for not running a bath instead. That’s much more romantic! All his fancy soaps and fragrances and they’re just going to shower together? Come on, Stede! Get it together! 

Ed touches Stede’s body tentatively, like he didn’t try to bend Stede in half and introduce him to god about twenty minutes ago. But Stede doesn’t mind taking the lead. In fact, he thinks it’s about time. 

Stede lathers up the soap and asks Ed’s permission. When he gets a nod of approval, Stede cleans the makeup from Ed’s face. It’s not that Ed isn’t striking with the low cut suits and the makeup - it’s what had Stede practically drooling when they first met - but he looks so much dreamier like this. His eyes look bigger, like the secret to a happy life is kept safe within his irises, and his smiles are the only truth Stede will never need. 

“I am old enough to wash myself, mate” Ed says as Stede begins cleaning the long day off his arms and chest. 

“Is that so?” Stede responds, running a soapy hand down Ed’s side. When lets out a quiet, shaky exhale at the touch, Stede starts a new list in his mind of sensitive spots on Ed’s body. “Do you want to do it yourself?” 

“No.” 

“Didn’t think so.” 

It’s dangerous work, romancing Ed Teach in the shower, because if Ed hadn’t held Stede tight around the waist first, he might’ve slipped and fallen at the force with which Ed kissed him. But any amount of risk is worth tasting Ed’s lips, even only for a moment. 

Ed’s hands link behind Stede’s back and pull them chest to chest as his kisses become more frantic, more insistent. A soft moan eke’s out in the fraction of a second Ed separates their lips, and Stede can feel on his hip just what’s so urgent. His own body can’t help but agree. Stede slips a hand between them and takes Ed in his hand, emboldened when Ed whines at his touch. Hunger stirs in Stede’s gut again. Heat that has nothing to do with the water temperature builds between them, working Stede into a frenzy. Carefully, so neither of them slip, he pushes Ed back until he’s leaning against the shower wall. With something to brace Ed against, Stede kisses him harder, faster, until they’re both panting. 

“I didn’t know showers got you so excited,” Stede teases. 

“Just the two I’ve had with you.” 

That’s curious. “Two?” 

“Still counts if you’re in my head, right?” 

Stede swallows thickly. That’s, uh… That’s very interesting. He’s never been the subject of anyone’s fantasies, he’s quite sure of that, but to be who Ed thinks about makes Stede’s head spin. Being who Ed thought about before they’d even kissed should make Stede feel at least marginally foolish for ever questioning Ed’s feelings, but there’s no room for regret in his mind because that is so fucking hot. 

“Tell me about it.” 

Not a request, an instruction. 

Suddenly bashful, Ed turns his head away. God, Stede could get used to seeing Ed blush. He gives Ed a quick stroke of encouragement then takes hold of Ed’s jaw with his other hand and turns him back. 

“It was the day after the baseball game.” 

At a pace so slow it could last a lifetime, Stede moves his hand teasingly until a whimper drips from Ed’s lips - a promise of more to come if he recounts his little fantasy. 

“I didn’t leave because I had things to do,” Ed continues. “I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.” 

Oh, Stede feels so unprepared for whatever is about to come out of Ed’s mouth. He takes a deep breath and wills himself to focus. After all, they’re playing a game now. 

“Then what?” Stede asks, moving his hand a little faster. 

“I went home and just kept thinking about it until… Stede, come on.” 

“So impatient,” he tuts. “Until what, Edward?” 

“Fuck… Until I started imagining what might happen next.” 

Ed bites his bottom lip after rushing the words out and a strange pang of jealousy sparks in Stede’s chest. He leans in and kisses Ed again - bruisingly so, as if his very life depends on it (after tonight it might). Ed groans and it only serves to spur him on. Stede bites Ed’s lip and Ed throws his head back, so Stede sees no reason to limit his lips to just one area. 

“What did you imagine?” he mumbles against Ed’s neck.

“That you took me to the balcony, and - and then -” 

It doesn’t take any sort of impressive intellect to figure out where Ed is heading, but Stede wants to hear him say it. It’s such a covetous desire, but this new experience of being wanted is addicting. He wants to know when Ed wants him and how, whether that’s cuddling up listening to the radio or in bed doing things that would make even the most experienced of men blush. So he keeps his hand slow and steady, and he waits for Ed to find the words. 

Ed’s voice is breathy when he finally says, “I leaned on the railing while you fucked me and kept whispering all these nice things.” 

“I’d love to do that for you one day.” 

Hopefully they’ll get to that particular activity in the near future. Although, hearing that Ed is imagining the two of them fucking on the balcony brings Stede’s attention back to what he’s been trying to ignore - how turned on he is. But Ed has started pushing his hips forward and squeezing tightly at Stede’s waist, so Stede decides he’ll gladly continue to be a pushover if it means Ed gets what he wants. 

Everything happens quickly when Stede stops his teasing. Watching Ed come undone is utterly exquisite. Without his own orgasm to focus on, Stede can take in everything from the furrow of his brow to the arch of his back to the way Ed says his name like a prayer. 

Stede’s about to kiss Ed through the comedown when their positions flip. Unlike Stede, Ed seems disinterested in a slow build up. He takes Stede in his hand and strokes him like he wants to see how soon he can make Stede come. 

“I decided I needed a cold shower because even thinking about you was too much,” Ed tells him, leaning in close.

Shit, he forgot this story ended with Ed getting off in the shower thinking about him. 

“How’d that go for you?” 

“You’re cocky, you know that?” Ed strokes up and does some sinful twisting with his hand that has Stede apologizing for his attitude. “But you’re right, I couldn’t help myself.” 

Predictably, he’s close already. It’s embarrassing that he is practically on the edge just from making Ed come, but Ed doesn’t seem to care. Stede’s passion is mirrored in his eyes; Stede’s devotion is mirrored in his touch. 

“Ed, I’m -“ 

Ed barrels on speaking like he doesn’t hear Stede. “So when I touched myself, I pretended it was you.” 

There is every chance this is Stede’s last night on earth. He’s running out of gods to thank and willpower to hold back. Ed’s hand and voice work in equal measure to send Stede falling off the cliff and into orgasmic bliss. 

“And when I imagined you telling me to let go, do you know what I did as I came?” 

“What?” 

“I screamed your name.” 

Stede tries to return the favor, but Ed swallows his own name as it flies out of Stede’s mouth. This orgasm is not as earth shattering as the last, but it’s so much sweeter. The moans it pulls out of him are deep and appreciative. It takes a minute or two of drifting serenely before Stede remembers they’re still in the shower. 

They come to an unspoken agreement that they should definitely shower properly. To avoid round three (to prevent wasting more water, not because it isn’t on the table), they keep their hands to themselves. It’s harder than it should be, avoiding even casual contact with Ed, but he manages to soldier on. Once they tumble into bed, they can touch all they want. 

Some temptations, however, are too strong to resist. 

“Would you like me to wash your hair for you?” 

“You want to?” Ed sounds genuinely shocked. 

“Just because we got a little sidetracked doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about pampering you.” 

It isn’t a downside, per se, but Stede lathering shampoo onto Ed’s head means his hands are free to do what they will. His lips too. Face to face isn’t the ideal way to wash someone’s hair, but he tried to turn Ed around three times and he kept turning back. It’s a heavy burden, to be kissed over and over again, but Stede finds a way to get through it. Ed sighs happily as his scalp is massaged and that makes Stede smile so brightly. Every moment spent with Ed is not only better than the last, but far outshines anything else going on in his life. 

As Ed tilts his head back to rinse the shampoo, Stede is met with the sight of his neck. Water droplets drip slowly down Ed’s skin, almost daring Stede to stop them with his mouth. 

So he does. 

Ed’s skin tastes like lavender honey soap and something much more potent that Stede cannot place. If he’s fortunate, it’ll take a lifetime of hands-on research to figure it out. 

“Now who’s being a distraction?” 

Stede hums contentedly and rolls his eyes. “Let me condition the rest of your hair and we can finally get out of here.” 

Exhaustion seems to hit both of them at once. Ed yawns as Stede finishes his hair, and Stede is a little unsteady on his feet when they finally step out of the bathtub. He wraps Ed in a warm, fluffy towel before doing the same for himself. A few cosmetics and skincare products are spread out on the counter, and Stede performs his nightly routine on autopilot. 

Stede has never cared for any of his dates or relationships to stay the night, regardless of whatever activities they got up to. Certain routines are sacred, best done alone so he can wind down and relax. As he starts dabbing moisturizer onto his skin, Ed copies him. Stede puts some cream on both his cheeks, so does Ed. He puts some on his forehead and chin, Ed looks the same. The idea of domesticity always made him feel so blasé, but Ed laughs while he puts a little bit of moisturizer on Stede’s nose and Stede wants to do every ordinary task in the book with him. 

With the shower and beauty regiment finished, Stede slips into his closet to retrieve sleepwear for them both. The silk striped pajamas go over like gangbusters. Stede’s never seen someone respond so preciously to a bit of clothing. Apparently, Ed just sleeps in the most comfortable thing within arm’s reach or nothing at all. Stede opens his mouth to express his strong support of Ed doing just that, but Ed is already dressed and on the other side of the bedroom. He asks Stede to look at him - as if Stede would be looking anywhere else - and walks in front of the bed like he’s on a runway. He stops, juts out a hip and puts on his best blue steel, then forcefully whips his hair around (hitting Stede in the face with a few rogue drops of water because it’s still damp), and takes the imaginary catwalk back to the other side of the room. 

“Edward Teach, wearing the latest in men’s sleepwear, walking for… Who makes these pajamas?” 

“Louis Vuitton.” 

“Walking for Lou- Louis Vuitton?! Oh my god.” 

Ed walks over to the bed very stiffly, like even bending his knee might somehow tear the material. Once he gets to the bed, however, Stede watches realization dawn on his face - Ed cannot get into the bed without bending in some form or another. It’s quite possibly the funniest thing Stede has ever witnessed. 

“Ed, just get in the bed!” Stede insists through raucous laughter. 

“I don’t wanna wreck them, I can figure this out!” 

“If you wreck them, I’ll just buy you more. In fact, I hope you do. Then I can buy you some in your favorite color instead of mine.” 

“Hmm.” Ed relents and crawls into bed. “You’re too nice to me.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

He’s never considered a bed as anything more than a piece of furniture until this very moment. Now that he’s got Ed in his bed, he thinks maybe they’re cozy and warm and certainly where he belongs. They share the duvet and they share smiles, they trade kisses and they trade secrets. For all the screw ups he’s made in life, at least Stede did one thing right. 

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” 

Stede shrugs, wholly unconcerned with anything that isn’t Ed’s sleepy, half-lidded gaze or Ed’s fingers tracing patterns onto his palm or the way Ed shuffles himself a little closer after asking the question. “Yes,” he answers simply. 

“Oh. I can fuck off and let you rest.” 

“I’d rather you stay and keep me up.” 

Because what exactly is the point of having someone like Ed and letting him walk out the door at the end of the night? Stede will go into work exhausted every day if it means Ed will stay here, in his bed, asking questions and telling stories. For the first time, Stede willingly looks into his future and sees that it’s this, it’s the two of them drifting into each other’s orbit and refusing to leave. 

Stede is not naive - he knows it’s too soon to talk about love or long-term plans. But this thing with Ed is shiny and new, and Stede is so tempted to neglect every other part of his life in favor of committing to giving Ed the best of himself at every moment. 

As Ed struggles to keep his eyes open, Stede reaches over to trail his fingers up and down Ed’s back in hopes he’ll give in and just sleep. ‘You don’t have to’ dies on Ed’s lips thanks to a yawn, and Stede kisses him softly to let him know it takes no pains to be gentle with him. It may well become a discussion, all Ed’s passive attempts to let Stede off the hook, but that’s alright. In time, he knows he’ll learn why Ed thinks of himself as an intrusion despite Stede’s enthusiasm. Until then, Stede will take great joy in choosing Ed, even when Ed opens the door just to see if Stede will walk out. 

Ed falls asleep quickly, looking like an angel with a peaceful smile on his face. Stede wants to watch him all night, make sure his lips never frown with melancholy from a bad dream nor that he shivers from slipping out from under the duvet. He wants this to be the best night’s sleep Ed has ever had, not just because he deserves it, but because then he’ll want to do it again and again and again. It’s not really the sex - though they should definitely keep doing that - but the intimacy that’s so intoxicating. He could spend forever right here, watching the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of Ed’s chest and fighting the urge to wake Ed up just to hear his voice scratchy and heavy with sleep. 

It’s with fantasies of waking up early to make Ed breakfast in bed that Stede finally falls asleep. He doesn’t stir once, only shifts a little closer to Ed as he dreams about holding Ed’s hand in Central Park and pulling Ed into alleys to kiss him, of going to bed with Ed every night and waking up with him every morning. 

As if there was ever a doubt, Ed is still in Stede’s bed the following morning. When his eyes flutter open, Ed is watching him curiously. 

“Morning,” Stede says drowsily. 

“Morning, handsome.” 

Stede can feel himself flush at the nickname, and Ed just smiles smugly. Absurd, really, because what’s there to blush about after last night? But Stede’s pale skin betrays him regardless and he cannot even think of something to call Ed in return. 

Thankfully, his alarm clock saves him from any extended embarrassment. 

“I have to get ready for work,” Stede says, not at all moving to get out of bed and ready for work. 

“Sounds like it.” 

“I wish I didn’t.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ed pushes himself up and hovers over Stede. “What would you do instead?” 

Stede tangles a hand in Ed’s hair and pulls him down, because why talk about his favorite hobby when he has a willing participant? Their lips move lazily together, and kissing Ed is just as electrifying the morning after as it was the night before when Stede had the lustful appetite of a starving man. If he were someone else, anyone else, Stede might get away with ditching work to kiss Ed until he runs out of breath. As it stands, life is cruel and he has to stop himself before he gets too carried away. 

“What are your plans for the day?” 

“Not sure,” Ed answers, kissing along Stede’s jaw. “Haven’t thought about much beyond this.” 

With great effort, because every part of Stede is begging his brain to let Ed continue with whatever he’s ramping up to, Stede pushes Ed back by the shoulders until their positions are switched. Ed pouts, clearly irritated at the interruption, so Stede kisses him to make up for it. 

“You have no idea the amount of willpower I’m exerting here, but you have to let me get ready for work.” 

“Fine.” Ed rolls his eyes. “Better pick something with a high collar.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“I did a number on you last night.” 

Stede untangles himself from the bedsheets and checks himself out in the mirror. The mark isn’t huge but it’s certainly dark and prominent. There’s no way he’ll be able to hide it without a turtleneck. God, it’s going to invite questions if anyone takes notice and he’ll have to come up with some incriminating story about Mary to cover. But as Stede faces the bed again, he sees Ed sitting up and nonchalantly twirling his hair, like he’s completely innocent and has no idea why Stede’s looking at him with equal parts adoration and disapproval. Then, oddly enough, he doesn’t want to cover it up. Ill advised at the office, but perhaps tonight Stede will see what his friends are up to and wear something horribly low cut that draws attention to his neck. 

He crawls back into Ed’s lap and wraps his arms around Ed’s neck.

“I’ll get you back for this,” he tells Ed before kissing him. 

“I’m counting on it.” 

Against all odds, Stede does manage to get ready for the day after that. Ed does try to keep Stede in bed by flashing big, pleading eyes and holding tight around Stede’s waist, but ultimately fails. Although, Stede suspects Ed’s attempt was only half-hearted. He knows deep down if Ed insisted on spending the entire day in bed together, he would be beyond helpless to deny that wish. Thankfully, he does manage to find a thin turtleneck in his closet. There’s no telling how well the outfit is going to go over with his father, but a little fashion faux pas is favorable to the alternative. When he exits the closet, Ed is drifting off to sleep again. 

“Stay as long as you like,” Stede says quietly, crouching next to the bed. Ed’s eyes peek open as Stede brushes the long waves away from his face. 

“Never leaving, mate. You’re stuck with me now.” 

“Lucky me.” 

Stede surprises even himself with the sincerity of such a statement. Not that he’d ever joke about wanting Ed in his life, but he really, truly means it. Someone like him has no business getting everything he wants, hasn’t done enough to earn it, but as he kisses Ed goodbye, the world seems a little more colorful. He locks the door behind him and sets off into a beautiful, sunny New York day and thinks even if he doesn’t deserve such an incredible twist of fate, he’ll hold it close and never let go. 

Chapter Text

Work has never been so pleasant. There is nothing on God’s green earth that can bring down Stede’s mood, not even his father insisting he work a few extra hours in the evening. He agrees without a fight, and his father makes as close to an agreeable grunt as he is capable in return. 

Last night was undeniably the best moment of Stede’s life and there’s not a single person to discuss it with. Well, there’s Ed. But Ed isn’t here, and Stede is so full of thoughts and emotions that he might explode with it. He’s sitting at his desk staring at a stack of documents, unable to make heads nor tails of them. Something about interest rates and insurance for the bank’s assets. Stede cannot, in good faith, sign off on whatever these papers are without diligently reading them first, but the numbers and letters look alien to him. 

Stede is spinning in his office chair, a completely valid focusing technique, when there’s a knock on his door. 

“Come in.” 

The door creaks open and an exasperated voice says, “Thank god you’re in today.” 

“Lucius?” 

“Look, you have to have lunch with me. My parents are here for a meeting with your dad and forced me to come in case he wanted something special commissioned. Suddenly he’s very into collecting art.” 

Oh, god. That’s probably for the wedding. The Bonnets only give gifts that appreciate in value after being given. It makes sense. Art is a sign of wealth and culture. Though, Stede is surprised his father would give them anything at all. 

“I’ve got time for lunch.” Not like he’s making headway on his work. 

“Good, because if I have to sit in on that meeting I’ll lose it.” Lucius pushes the knick-knacks out of his way and sits on the edge of the desk. “We just have to say we talked shop. Give me an investment tip or something.” 

“I don’t have any,” 

“Isn’t this your job?!” 

“Right, because you hear me wax poetically about my love for stocks so often.” 

Lucius hums in agreement. “Yeah, fair point. You look weirdly happy, though. What’s that about?” 

Stede scoffs. “I don’t.” 

“You have the same look on your face Pete had when I told him we could do that thing in bed.” He opens his mouth to ask but Lucius cuts him off. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. I pulled a muscle and he got a concussion.” 

Maybe… he can tell Lucius. He and Ed have yet to discuss anything, but Stede is going to burst if he doesn’t let off a little steam. 

“Lucius, you’d have to swear to secrecy. I mean it.” 

Everything needs a dramatic flair, or so he says, so Lucius mimes locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key. 

Stede is insistent that he won’t utter a word in the office, so he and Lucius head to the nearby lunch car to grab a bite to eat. The diner is small, only about ten stools along the counter, but Stede swears by their food. They sit on the two stools furthest from the entrance since that’s as close as one can get to a private back corner in such an establishment. In the time it takes for their sandwiches to arrive, Stede downs three cups of coffee. Ill advised, sure, but once he starts speaking, he cannot be interrupted by the arrival of their food. However, now he’s vibrating out of his skin because he’s consumed triple the caffeine he would on any normal day. Mercifully, the sandwiches arrive before he can slam a fourth cup. 

“You nervous or something?” Lucius asks, eyes darting between Stede’s face and the empty coffee mug. 

“No, quite the opposite! Or maybe somewhere in the middle? I feel like if I don’t say anything, I might explode, but then I think maybe I shouldn’t, but then I can’t believe any of it myself anyway, so perhaps none of that matters!” 

The coffee really has him rambling now, fantastic. 

“Take, like, fifteen deep breaths. I promise not to tell anyone. Not even Pete.” 

Okay. Okay, he can do this. If Lucius is promising not to tell Pete, he’s really serious. Which likely means Stede looks a little dire, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“I’ve had feelings for someone for a while now -“ 

“Ed,” Lucius interjects. 

“Not Ed! Last night this anonymous person and I both admitted to having feelings for one another.” 

“We all know Ed likes you.” 

Stede huffs. Well that’s just grand for everyone else, isn’t it? God forbid anyone clue Stede in on what’s going on right in front of him. 

“It’s not Ed.” Lucius rolls his eyes, but Stede ignores him and presses on. “Anyway, we slept together and they stayed over. And it was just so… right. Like we’ve been living in each other's company for years.” 

The gasp Lucius let out could be heard around the world. “You guys - And then - Oh my god, look at your face! You’re in love with him.” 

Stede just blinks. That’s… not true. Is it? No. Surely not. Whatever they are is not even twenty-four hours old, there is no conceivable reason to believe that Stede is in love with Ed. Just infatuated. Which is normal! 

“I am not in love with Ed.” 

“So you admit it’s Ed?” 

Oh, he’s going to scream. “Of course it’s Ed!” he exclaims in exasperation. “Who else would it be!” 

“No one is going to be surprised, if that’s what you’re worried about. Actually, they might be shocked that this just happened.”

It’s a little exhausting not being privy to certain aspects of his own life. If everyone has been whispering about this, they should’ve said something! He’s an idiot, don’t they know that?! 

“Can I ask you something, Lucius?” 

“Anything. Within reason. I’m not giving you sex tips.” 

“Not that, I promise,” Stede laughs. “Is it insane to feel like Ed is the missing piece of a puzzle I didn’t even know I was putting together? Like he’s it for me?” 

“I think you can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.” 

And just what the hell that means, Stede has no idea. 

He sidesteps the comment. That’ll be something he can suss out the hidden meaning of later. For now, Stede has a captive audience and another burning question. Mary is definitely one of the most intelligent people Stede knows, but he’s worried. There’s every chance Mary’s judgment is impeded by her feelings for Doug. Not that Stede can blame her, but he needs third party input. 

As he explains the half-baked scheme to Lucius, it sounds absurd. But perhaps no more absurd than committing a felony after a little breakdown. 

“Do you think it can work?” 

“You and Ed? Yeah, you’re obsessed with each other.” 

“No,” Stede huffs. “I mean with everything else!” He gestures around the air as if the sad facts of his life will appear to prove his point. 

His baggage is so volatile that no part of Stede can just kick back and enjoy much of anything. There are steps to be taken, some secretive and some deliberate, to keep the family name intact. Stede walks a very thin line, has done his entire life, but in the past 49 days he’s become a proper rebel. Someone who’s an embarrassment to the family name, or would be if they discovered his new hobby.

Weird number, 49. Stede doesn’t even know why it popped into his head, but he knows it’s correct. But forty-nine years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and forty-nine days are more than enough for others. Or whatever Jane Austen said. 

“You’re jumping too many steps ahead,” Lucius reasons. “Wait until, like, a week in before spiraling.” 

Sure, easy for Lucius to stay. When he started dating Pete, Mr. and Mrs. Spriggs were thrilled to see their son with someone so driven and creative! There’s no telling if the Spriggs know Pete exaggerates wildly, but damn if that man can’t weave an exciting tale. Stede’s father doesn’t care for fanciful stories or creativity. 

“But what about -“ 

Lucius slaps a hand over Stede’s mouth to stop him talking. A bit rude, actually. What about his father? His wedding? Should he give up everything and become a gangster? Or would Ed prefer to get a day job? If Stede does have to get married, would he, Ed, Mary, and Doug have to live together? But where would he even find a place big enough to accommodate the needs of four people and two couples in the city?! 

“Give yourself a chance,” Lucius tells him.

“Mmohmph!” Stede argues against his hand. 

“Oh, my god! Ew, did you just lick me?” Lucius pulls his hand back in disgust and wipes it with a criminal amount of napkins. 

“Sorry!” He barks a laugh that is decidedly unapologetic. “I‘ve been finding it difficult to think clearly when he’s around, so I guess I think twice as hard when we’re apart.”  

“I can solve this for you, but you have to be honest with yourself.” 

Stede draws an X over his heart and puts his hands together as if in prayer. He’s much better at being honest with himself these days. 

“If I told you that it was a horribly undercooked plan, would that stop you from doing whatever you and Ed are doing?” 

The answer comes barreling out of Stede’s mouth immediately, like it shot out of a rocket from his chest instead of descending gracefully from his mind. “No.” 

“Then that’s it, isn’t it?” Lucius asks, holding out his coffee mug. Stede reaches for one of his empties and happily clinks them together. 

The rest of their lunch passes with easy conversation. There’s a lot of information to catch Stede up on. As of late, he’s been very neglectful of his friendships and feels truly apologetic about it. Lucius tells him not to worry, that they all saw this coming and it would sort itself out when the honeymoon phase is over, but that’s not good enough! No, instead of waiting - because god knows how long that will take - Stede jots down all the information about Spanish Jackie’s onto a napkin and says he and Ed will meet them there tonight. It’ll be fun! It’s nice to be social! 

When they get back to the office, after a short walk they take as slowly as they can manage without crawling, Lucius gets pulled into the meeting he’d been trying to avoid. Stede should’ve known they were only allowed their little lunch jaunt because his father planned for it. Meticulous and cold as he is, Stede’s father grasps the idea that a loner as the Bonnet heir will not be received well by the public. He needs to be sociable! Be seen at events! The Everyman that anyone can become, if only they were born into generational wealth. And so, oddly enough, Stede gets occasional play dates built into his schedule like he’s a child. It’s certainly not the worst of his father’s plans. 

A couple of hours later, when Stede is contemplating banging his head against his desk for the thrill of it, Lucius comes running into his office again. 

“Hi, I told them I wanted to say goodbye to you. They asked me so much about you and Mary, but I covered! The two of you will have to sit for a painting, though. It’ll be fun, not my fault, okay bye!” 

Before Stede can process any of that information, Lucius is replaced by a much more menacing figure. All the color is sucked out of the room and replaced with greyscale. 

“You and Mary should come to dinner tonight. Big business dinner downtown.” 

Ah, a demand disguised as an offer. Classic. It was always just a matter of time until his father started asking questions. Stede isn’t a great liar at the best of times. 

“Mary’s got a painting lesson tonight, and I wouldn’t think of tearing her away from it.” 

Except when he’s lying to his father. 

“Reschedule it.” 

Stede closes his eyes for a moment and puts on his most pleasant smile. If anyone asked his father to come to dinner the day of, they’d be laughed out of New York City. No notice? Preposterously bad manners. 

“Her instructor is quite busy, I’m afraid. And we both know how important it is for my wife to be culturally educated.” 

His father growls like an agitated animal. “You’ll come then.” 

“I am attending as well! It’s important to take interest in her hobbies. Happy wife, happy life, and all that.” He silently asks forgiveness before uttering the final nail in the proverbial coffin. “After all, if I keep her happy now, she’ll be more willing to do anything we might ask of her in the future.” 

Stede feels utterly vile for even pretending a relationship should be so transactional, especially one that involves his father. But it does the trick. Stede’s father narrows his eyes for a few seconds and then relents. He even nods, in some bizarrely unfamiliar approval of Stede’s choice. Then, the conversation is over. He mentions some paperwork he needs on his desk before Stede goes home and that’s that. 

As vibrance returns to the room, Stede can’t help but feel a little smug. Everyone in his life is wrapped around his finger. When this happened, he isn’t sure, but if he can quickly explain himself out of a business dinner, then it must be true. 

A little taste of power is nice. 

He works the rest of the day without complaint. How could he not, really? With all his bases covered, Stede is free to do whatever he wants tonight. ‘ Or whomever,’ he thinks wryly as the previous night’s activities flash through his mind (and some things they haven’t done yet but Stede is keen to try). Wait, would Ed want to be thought of so lewdly? It’s all rather presumptuous of Stede to walk around assuming he can have sex with Ed whenever he wants. But Stede thinks it’d be a shame to deprive the ether of Ed’s quiet whimpering, so he hopes a lot more sex is on the table. 

Stede laments this conundrum the entire walk home after work. It’s crass to think of Ed in such a way without permission, but… come on, it was so damn good. Surely Ed is thinking the same thing! Maybe after the speakeasy they can go back to Stede’s and discuss it. Or Ed’s! Both places are perfect for that discussion.

The lock to Stede’s door clicks open as he’s debating the pros and cons of each apartment. His apartment takes the lead in pros.

“Hey, dollface.” 

Stede immediately decides it’s alright to think about having sex with Ed. More than alright. He’d probably even be encouraged to do it. 

“Oh, Ed! I thought we might -“ 

Another in a growing collection of sentences Stede will never finish. Ed is standing in the archway between the living room and the bedroom suite. He’s leaning against the wall with one hand while the other is on his cocked hip. His hair is thrown up in a messy bun except for the few strands he’s meticulously pulled out and let hang loose. And, as if all of that isn’t enough, as if Stede isn’t already about to drop to his knees, Ed is only wearing his underwear and one of Stede’s dress shirts. Ed slides the arm he’s leaning on up the wall, just above his head, and it causes the shirt to ride up so Stede can just see his hip peeking out. 

“You thought we might what?” Ed asks, and Stede is going to kiss that smirk right off his face just as soon as he remembers how to walk. 

“I…” Stede swallows hard. “I thought we might go out tonight.” 

There must be some wire loose in Stede’s brain, he must have short circuited, because his mouth is hanging open and the only conscious decision he can make is raking his eyes over the tantalizing display in front of him. Ed meanders over to Stede, who is still rooted to the spot, and runs his fingers along Stede’s lapel. 

“Are you still thinking about that?” 

“No,” he answers, voice just barely audible. 

Ed wraps his arms loosely around Stede’s neck and leans in to ask quietly, “What are you thinking about?” 

“You.” 

“What about me?” Ed bats his eyes innocently. 

Words are a lost cause, that much is apparent, so Stede leans forward and kisses him. There’s so much practiced ease in the motion and Stede revels in it. How beautiful it is to live in a world where Stede’s lips kiss Ed’s like they’ve been doing it for years. For a few minutes, that’s all they do. Kiss slowly, hum affectionately. All the urgency from the previous night has vanished, but the passion has doubled. He gets a little carried away, unable to help himself, but Ed doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he kisses back with just as much ferocity until they’re both panting. 

“That’s a lot of thoughts,” Ed says when they separate, and Stede sneaks in one more quick kiss.

Ed slips a few fingers under the collar of Stede’s turtleneck and pulls him towards the sofa. Stede drops everything in his arms to the floor in order to free up his hands for something much more important. The gasp he’s rewarded with when he grabs Ed’s by the waist is nothing short of delicious. They back up until Ed’s sitting on the armrest, bypassing Stede’s lips and giving him an oddly chaste kiss on the cheek. 

“I can make you a better offer than going to a speakeasy with your friends,” Ed says softly, voice low and seductive.“We can go out and sit in a booth and have a drink. Or…” 

“Or?” 

“You can sit right there,” he motions behind him to the middle of the sofa, “and I’ll sit right here,” he runs a hand down Stede’s thigh, “and if you’re real nice to me, I’ll ride you until my knees give out.” 

Speakeasy? Friends? Stede has no idea about any of that, he was Ed’s the moment he walked through the door. There is no other offer on the table. Ed Teach in Stede’s shirt and next to nothing else is not a gift to be wasted. 

“I’m always nice to you.” 

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

A bit cartoonishly, Stede scrambles to the front door and puts on the deadbolt. He tries to fit the stupid little piece in the stupid little lock so quickly that it takes three tries to turn it in the right direction. Then he clicks the regular lock shut and sprints towards his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake.

“Where are you going?!” 

“I need to get…” but he trails off as he roots through his bedside table for lube and condoms. The drawer is suspiciously empty and Stede cannot help but feel like he’s drunk a cocktail of confusion and disappointment. He hustles back over the threshold to the living room to see Ed leaning on the back of the couch, head resting on his hand and a lazy smile on his face. “I can’t find the -

“Do you think I concocted this whole plan to fuck you on your sofa and didn’t prepare?” 

The man is a genius, no wonder his wanted poster is plastered all over the city but the cops can never catch him. Ed is one step ahead of everyone, including Stede. But that is the one unknown that doesn’t scare him. That’s the one question mark that doesn’t end in dread. It ends in brown eyes flecked with gold and lips that feel like home. 

He approaches Ed with a much more relaxed demeanor. Realistically, Stede figures he looks a bit ridiculous. Trousers around his ankles, one arm in and one arm out of his shirt, turtleneck stuck on his chin. But how else is a man supposed to react to this situation?! 

“You’re very eager,” Ed comments. 

Oh. 

“That’s kinda hot,” Ed continues. “No one has ever been this excited to have sex with me before.” 

Oh.  

Stede kicks out of his trousers and rips off his shirt the rest of the way. No one in their right mind should have the gall to do anything but thank Ed for such a privilege. He walks around to the front of the sofa with purpose and sits down, pulling Ed into his lap. Stede is deadly serious when he says, “Then you’ve never slept with anyone who deserves your company.” 

“You do.” 

It’s half question, half statement. Stede can’t be sure which one is intentional, so he chooses to believe it’s the question. He’s a professional at proving himself, and this time he actually wants to do it. 

Ed readjusts so he’s straddling Stede. The rays of the evening sunset filtering through the windows wrap Ed in a golden, angelic glow. His chest peeks through the few open buttons, and it’s a view Stede’s seen before but this time he looks gentler. Ed’s suits cut sharp lines designed to tow the line between sexy and intimidating. Stede’s shirts are a blend of fashion and comfort, meant to accentuate curves and softness. Of their own accord, Stede’s lips pull forward and press against the tattoo between his collarbones. He places another below that, then a third, until he reaches fabric instead of skin. Ed’s fingers come up to unbutton the shirt, but Stede stops him. 

“Leave it on,” Stede tells him. “I like seeing you in my clothes.” 

“You’re sweet.” 

In an effort surely designed to drive Stede completely insane, Ed grinds down into his lap and drags messy kisses along his jawline. He turns to try and catch Ed’s lips with his own, but Ed dodges him, laughing softly as he jumps down to Stede’s collarbone. If Ed stops he might die, so Stede grabs him securely around the waist with one arm to keep him in place and threads the other through his hair, gripping tight. He wants to drown in the moment, but is instantly distracted by the absolutely filthy whine that leaves Ed’s lips. 

“I haven’t even started yet,” jokes Stede. 

“Shit.” Ed’s breathing heavily when he looks Stede in the eye and, yeah, Stede understands the feeling. “That’s good, keep doing that.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Being a little rough. Taking control.” 

Ed’s wish is Stede’s command. 

Thankfully, there’s very little clothing left to remove, because his patience is wearing thin. It is a regrettable twenty seconds, when Ed leaves his lap, but nudity is a blessed necessity for what is about to happen. Ed does keep the shirt on as requested, but undoes a few more buttons. 

The lube and condoms were sitting right in front of Stede’s eyes on the coffee table, as it turns out, but he’s giving himself a free pass on not taking stock of his surroundings. His hands shake a little as he opens the lube - perhaps there’s something to be said for being too excited, but Ed taking a deep breath and biting his lip does nothing to curb it. Ed runs his hands down Stede’s chest, his stomach, his - fuck. Right. Control. 

He grabs the offending hands and puts them back on his shoulders. 

“Let me be nice to you,” Stede requests, stealing a kiss. He intends to learn every single trick that makes Ed shiver and moan.

Teasing is fun, and Stede thinks he might have an affinity for it. After a short argument about how Stede “needs to do this right” and Ed “needs to be fucked right now,” Stede comes out on top. He learns very quickly that constant, light pressure with his fingers makes Ed dig into Stede’s skin and demand more; pressing hard at rapid, varied intervals involves a lot of cursing and rhetorical questioning of how Stede is so good at this. The last one, though, is an easy favorite. 

Ed rolls his hips forward and drops his head to Stede’s shoulder. God, this is so much better than going out or whatever stupid idea he had for the evening. Stede cannot wait to get inside him, to see Ed completely come apart because of him. 

“Thought you were being nice to me.” 

“Oh, you’re not having a good time?” Stede asks flatly.

“No,” he answers, animatedly and just a little too loud.

“Because your whimpering seems to say otherwise.” 

It’s a unique sight, to see offense and pleasure twisted together on someone’s face, but Ed pulls it off rather handsomely. It’s only fair to hear him out, though, so Stede stops trying to make Ed melt completely and stills his fingers. 

“Why’d you stop!” 

The eye roll is one of Stede’s best. “You can’t have it both ways, Edward.” 

“Yes, I can.” Ed kisses him. “Can have anything I want.” He kisses Stede again. 

Alright, Stede agrees. Ed can have anything he wants and then some. He curls his fingers inside Ed and watches his eyes roll back. He does it again and again, until Ed looks a little desperate. Until even Stede cannot bear another moment of waiting. 

“You ready?” 

“Stede, I’ve been ready since you walked in the door.” 

Ed emits a dreamy sigh as he sinks down onto Stede. He captures Stede’s lips in a never ending kiss as he starts to move. Part of Stede wants to commit the visual of Ed riding him while wearing his shirt to memory, but the rest of him wants to kiss Ed until his jaw aches. The latter wins out. He reaches up and pulls Ed’s hair again, over the moon when Ed whines and tips his head back. 

“Again,” Ed pleads, and Stede obliges. In the back of his mind, Stede vows to explore this more one day when he’s not feeling quite so desperate. 

He mumbles endless endearments into Ed’s skin. Stede doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point, only that every word in every language that pertains to beauty should be imprinted onto Ed’s body by Stede. Ed’s fingers dig into Stede’s shoulders, and he finds himself hoping the marks will still be there in the morning. This is so much better than the fleeting fantasies from earlier in the day. Every time Ed pushes up on his knees, Stede tilts his head and considers offering a prayer to such an angel. When Ed sits down on Stede’s lap again, he holds Ed tight enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest. To feel his heartbeat. A reminder that every part of this is real.

“Ed, can I - shit - tell you something?” 

“You can tell me anything you want as long as you keep talking,” Ed answers breathlessly.

“I was thinking about this earlier,” Stede confesses. He squeezes Ed’s hips to confirm he isn’t still daydreaming. “But I stopped myself. Wasn’t sure if I was allowed.” 

“You were thinking about fucking me today?” Ed asks, voice rising higher with each word. 

“Among other things.” 

Stede is not prepared for such an intense reaction. Ed kisses him with such force that the sofa creaks as it scratches against the floor, shifting an inch or two backwards. If just a vague admission elicits this kind of response, then when Stede goes into detail… well, they’ll probably end up where they are right now. He feels like he might have undersold his feelings earlier when talking to Lucius. The sex is fantastic - especially when Ed rolls his hips like that, jesus fuck - but Stede feels warm for reasons that have nothing to do with his building orgasm. 

“Is that alright?” Stede manages between kisses. 

“Are you asking for my permission to fantasize about me throughout your day while you’re literally in the middle of fucking me?” Stede nods, at a momentary loss for words as Ed takes his hand and moves it down between their bodies. “Yeah, fuck, of course that’s okay, you lunatic.”

Ed whimpers when Stede starts to stroke him and it’s the loveliest song he’s ever heard. 

“I was thinking about how you might look pinned down to my bed.”

“Oh yeah?” Ed sounds completely fucked out now. “Pin me down for being bad?”

“No, I’d pin you down if you were good.” Stede has no idea what’s compelling him to reveal this information right now, but it’s making Ed gasp and clench and, god, he can’t fucking stop. “If you were bad, I’d have to restrain you.”  

He thinks Ed means to say, ‘Jesus fucking Christ, Stede’, but it comes out as a strangled cry that’s only the vague outline of some words. Ed taps him on the shoulder, clearly a frenzied effort to warn Stede how close he is. Stede strokes him faster, keeps whispering that he’s thought about Ed on his knees in coat closets and bent over Stede’s desk at work where he has to keep quiet, and Ed comes with Stede’s name dangling from his lips. The sight of him coming apart, the scorching hot feeling of Ed clinging tightly to his shoulders, is enough to send Stede over the edge. He leans his head forward and rests it against Ed’s sternum. The rhythmic rocking as Ed slows down carries Stede through his orgasm like gentle waves rolling onto the shore. 

Stede kisses every bare inch of Ed’s chest as they both come down, desperate to stay in the afterglow as long as possible. They do for a time, trading kisses and smiles and soft giggles because something about Ed makes Stede so giddy that he’s constantly struggling to contain it. 

“That good?” Ed asks through a laugh, kissing Stede’s cheek. 

“You’re swell,” Stede says, taking over the world record for most embarrassing thing ever said after sex. Why would he say that? Who has the hottest person in New York City in their lap, the person who organized this little couch sexcapade, and says that?! 

“How can you say such filthy things to me during sex and then afterwards be so endearing?” 

There is no mocking in his voice, nor does he cringe and recoil. Instead, Ed tightens his hold around Stede’s neck and looks at him fondly. And Stede realizes, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there is nothing about him Ed won’t meet halfway. 

The euphoria is short-lived, however, because Ed hisses in pain when he finally stands and puts pressure on his left leg. 

“I didn’t realize you were being literal when you said you’d ride me until your knees gave out.” 

“Just an old injury.” Ed waves him off. “Acts up from time to time when I stress the joint.” 

His face drops. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

“Uh, because I wanted to ride you and I knew if I told you, you’d make a big deal out of it.” He says it so matter-of-factly that Stede can hear the silent ‘Duh!’ punctuating the sentence. 

Stede stands up too, unwilling to let Ed experience even a modicum of discomfort in his presence. “But now you’re in pain.” 

“Sure, but so satisfied. I cannot emphasize that enough.” 

There is no universe in which sex with Stede is worth how Ed keeps flinching in pain (no matter how well they fit together). The way he brushes it off raises a red flag. There’s no telling if this is the way Ed’s always been or if someone in his past convinced him that his pain doesn’t matter, but Stede won’t stand for it! 

“Come on,” Stede says. “You need a hot bath and a massage.”

“Oh yeah? And where am I gonna get that?” 

It is hard to say whether Ed is difficult for the sake of it or if he just enjoys working Stede into a huff, but, god help him, Stede finds it cute. Yesterday Ed was standing on a man’s neck and waving a gun around and now he’s wearing Stede’s rumpled shirt and looking terribly vixen-esque with his curls pulled to one side and a hand on his hip. 

As good a time as any to catch him off-guard, Stede supposes. Before Ed can put up a fight, Stede wraps an arm around his back, puts the other behind his knees, and lifts Ed up. 

“What are you doing?!” he asks, looking very startled as he wraps his arms around Stede’s neck. 

“Listening isn’t your forte, is it?” 

“I listen,” he mumbles. 

“You didn’t think I was going to watch you limp to the bathroom in pain, did you?” 

Ed smiles serenely, looking just as smitten as Stede feels. “Nope.” He kisses Stede’s cheek and holds tighter around his neck. 

Bankers are not known for their upper body strength, and Stede is no exception. The distance is much further than when he carried Ed the previous night, and their position is not nearly as advantageous. He will definitely be lifting weights so he can carry Ed anywhere and everywhere. For now, however, he pushes through. It doesn’t help that Ed laughs when he stops to readjust his grip.

“You don’t have to carry me around like deadweight, mate, I am capable of walking.” 

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to. So just get used to being taken care of!” 

Stede places him on his feet again when they get into the bathroom. He’s wearing some dumbstruck expression, like Stede has just rocked his world to the very core. But all he did was what anyone would do. You see someone in pain, you help them. You see someone you care about in pain, you do anything for them. Simple. 

He draws a bath and works a little magic with his soaps and fragrances while Ed strips out of the button down. In an effort to eliminate even the slightest possibility that stepping into the bathtub will cause him any additional pain, Stede pulls Ed’s arm around his shoulders and braces Ed at the waist. He can tell from a sidelong glance that Ed thinks he’s being overly cautious, but no argument comes. Instead, Stede receives a fond smile that blooms like a rose in his chest. 

As Ed sinks beneath the bubbles, Stede pads to the bedroom, positions the radio towards the the bathroom, and turns on some music before return to join Ed in the bath.

He’s a man who takes his responsibilities very seriously - at least, those he deems of any worth - so he sets out massaging the aches from Ed’s knee. Curiosity begs to know how such an injury came about but it’s drowned out by the pounding of Stede’s heart as he takes in the sight before him. Ed’s head is tilted back, hair cascading over the lip of the bathtub, his lips slightly parted to let out little relaxed sighs. 

“You’re on deck to do this forever now.” 

Stede hums, unable to resist some playful pushback. “And what if I occasionally have to go to work?” 

“You know the answer.” 

“Ah, yes. You’ll kill me, I presume?” 

“That's the one,” Ed confirms, gathering some bubbles in his hand and blowing them at Stede. 

They spend the time laughing (especially when Ed complains about the absence of rubber ducks), swapping stories (Stede finally has an attentive audience for all his office gossip), and kissing (because God himself could not stop them). Despite being clean, and decidedly pruney, neither of them make any move to get out. Even when the water goes cold, they stay with their knees knocking together just above the waterline because they keep crowding closer into each other’s space. It isn’t until Ed’s stomach growls that either of them consider a change of scenery. 

All the movement sloshes some water on the floor, so Stede gets out of the bathtub first and requests that Ed stay put until he’s lined the floor with extra towels. There’s no point to relieving Ed’s pain only to have him slip and make matters worse! Thankfully, Stede’s attentiveness pays off and they make it to the bedroom unscathed. 

“What can I get you to eat?” Stede asks. 

“No, you stay!” Ed insists. “I’ll get us food.” 

“You stay right there,” Stede drapes himself across Ed’s body on the bed to keep him in place, “and rest your leg. I’ll find us some dinner and be right back.” 

He drops a quick kiss to Ed’s cheek and hurries towards his kitchen. It becomes quickly apparent that the food he promised Ed is nowhere to be found. He’s got bits and pieces of different meals, but the preparation time for anything else is far too long - he’d like to be back in bed with Ed as soon as possible. Then, a brilliant idea strikes him. He takes flour, baking powder, and sugar from the cabinet, and eggs from the refrigerator. Last time they had pancakes, Ed loved them! It’s the perfect dinner idea. As he mixes the batter, something feels off. Ah! Of course, how could he forget? Stede opens the cabinet again and takes out the chocolate chips. He pours them in the batter until it looks like enough, no need for measurements here! 

Twenty minutes later, Stede returns to the bedroom with a huge stack of fluffy pancakes. Ed perks up the moment Stede walks in the room, although it’s unclear if this is caused by Stede or the pancakes. Like everything else, this is easy. The conversation never dies, Ed insists on feeding Stede, and Stede plaits Ed’s hair while he finishes eating. Stede asks why Ed was such a menace last time they made pancakes, and Ed just shrugs, citing that Stede is cute when he’s flustered. Which, in turn, flusters Stede. He gets a kiss for his trouble. 

They pile the plates up on Stede’s bedside table and get ready for bed. Tonight, there’s no discussion about borrowing clothes or sleeping arrangements. They happily crawl under the covers in matching pajamas and fall asleep wrapped up in one another. 

-

The next four days pass in much the same way. Stede gets up to go to work, Ed does his best to keep Stede in bed. Stede spends the entire day thinking about Ed, then he comes home and they fuck and talk until they fall asleep. The details change a little bit - one night Stede makes dinner and ends up bent over the kitchen table, another night they’re on the floor next to the fireplace - but the story stays the same. 

They’re all laughter and kisses and talking about their days in hushed tones under the covers. What’s funny is that Ed goes out, but he never goes home. Doesn’t even stop by to get clothes, he just wears what he likes from Stede’s wardrobe. He asks what time Stede will be home from work and what kind of take out he should pick up later. He sleeps on the same side of the bed every night. It’s almost like Ed has moved in. If he has, Stede doesn’t think he minds too much.

It’s the fifth day when Stede knows he really is an idiot. It took him five days to understand what Lucius meant. Five days for his brain to understand what his heart already knew. 

Every fiscal quarter, there’s an investors meeting at the bank. Each one takes hours to finish and delves into a wealth of information Stede doesn’t fully understand but knows is important. It’s the one meeting he never bothers to try and skip - Stede knows he has to be there. That morning, he let Ed know it could be nearly midnight by the time he got home. There was an unspoken ‘So I’ll understand if you’re not around tonight.’ in his words, and he’d meant it. There was no sense in Ed wasting his whole night just for Stede to come home and hopefully make it into bed before passing out. 

But when he arrives home, disheveled and exhausted, Ed is still there. He’s tucked in and fast asleep, hair twisted neatly on top of his head, and wearing one of Stede’s sweaters. Adorable a sight as he is, that’s not what squeezes Stede’s heart so tightly it might burst. On Stede’s side of the bed, the duvet has been folded back and his pajamas have been laid out. There’s a note on his bedside table that says, ‘Dinner is in your fancy electric icebox. Wake me up when you get in bed, I have something important to tell you.’ and that’s when it hits him. The feeling sneaks up on him and takes up residence in a part of Stede’s heart he didn’t even realize was vacant. 54 days is more than enough for some people. Or maybe it only counts as 5. Either way, Stede feels the same. 

Stede decides to forgo the food, because he’s so tired that he’ll feel sick if he eats, and goes through a shortened version of his nighttime routine. He stumbles putting his pajamas on (lack of balance being an unfortunate side effect of fatigue) but manages without injury. None of it seems so bad, though. Not since he knows who’s waiting for him just on the other side of the bathroom door. 

He’s about to give in and sleep when he remembers one more thing. 

“Hey,” Stede whispers, gently shaking Ed’s shoulder. “Ed, I’m home.” 

Ed stirs awake, bleary eyed and confused. He doesn’t seem to register Stede’s presence right away, just looks a little grumpy that someone had the audacity to wake him. 

“Hi,” Stede says again, just barely stifling a laugh at how cute he looks. 

The effect is immediate. “Hi,” Ed responds, his grimace melting into a sleepy smile at the sound of Stede’s voice. 

“You left me a note and said you had something to tell me.” 

“Oh yeah! So tired but it’s important,” Ed forces out through a yawn. 

“Then tell me quickly so you can go back to sleep.” 

Ed shuffles over and makes himself at home on Stede’s chest. Stede immediately runs a hand through his hair and wraps an arm around him. Perfect. 

“I missed you,” Ed says. 

“I missed you, too. What did you want to tell me?” 

“That’s it.” 

That’s it. Ed wanted Stede to wake him up from a dead sleep just for that. Because it was important. And now he’s fallen back asleep already, leaving Stede alone with his spinning mind because what if ‘I missed you’ is as good as ‘I love you’ ? 54 days or 5 days or even the 15 minutes since Stede’s walked in the door - they were always going to end up here, with Stede holding out his heart for Ed to steal. 

-

Saturday morning, Stede wakes up alone in bed. As he opens his eyes , he amends that thought. He wakes up in bed by himself. The blankets are messy on Ed’s side of the bed, there’s a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand, and he can hear a distant shout of ‘Shit! Stupid fucking kettle!’ from the other side of his apartment. He stretches and sits up against the headboard. From this position, Stede can see Ed’s suit draped over the chair in the corner, where it's been for nearly a week. Having proof of Ed’s existence everywhere brings a smile to Stede’s face. If he dusted for fingerprints, Stede would find Ed’s in the living room where he piles pillows on the floor to listen to the Yankees, on Stede’s cheeks where Ed holds him while they kiss, and on the balcony rail where they watch the sunset and sheepishly link their pinkies together. 

A few minutes later, Ed comes walking into the bedroom steadily holding a silver tray that he places on Stede’s lap before hopping back into bed. Somewhere between rooms he’s lost the sweater he was wearing. Laid out on the tray are two filled teacups and saucers, the matching sugar bowl and creamer, impressively even slices of fresh bread Stede doesn’t remember buying, and several porcelain ramekins filled with different flavors of marmalade. 

“What’s this?” Stede asks. 

“Just my way of saying thank you,” Ed answers timidly. “I know it’s sort of stupid, but this has been a really great week for me.” He barely gives Stede a moment to breathe before launching into a deflection. “Except for, like, this new burn I have which is kind of terrible.” Ed holds up his hand. “Look! Right where my finger bends! Kinda fuckin’ hurts.” 

Stede reaches out and catches Ed’s hand before he can lower it. None of this is stupid to Stede, not even a little bit. He kisses the horrible, detestable, nearly invisible burn on Ed’s finger and feels like he might float away when Ed falls into his side in response. 

“It’s not stupid, it’s lovely,” Stede says sincerely. “This has been my favorite week in recent memory. Maybe ever!” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Of course, definitely, certainly, unquestionably, beyond the shadow of a damn doubt. 

Ed settles himself so Stede’s arm is around his shoulders. When Stede asks how he’s meant to have breakfast with one hand, Ed waves him off and says that’s not something he has to worry about. There are four different marmalades, Ed explains, because when he sought out the bakery yesterday, he couldn’t decide which one to get. There’s lemon, grapefruit, orange, and blood orange marmalade, and Ed insists Stede eat as much of the grapefruit marmalade as he likes. It’s definitely because he thinks Stede will like it and totally for sure not because Ed tasted it earlier and hated it! As for the bread, Stede doesn’t remember purchasing it because he didn’t - Ed knows how to bake. 

“Used to make bread with my mother all the time,” Ed says. “‘S just one of my many talents.” 

Since the sugar bowl is closest to Stede’s free hand, he drops seven cubes of sugar into Ed’s teacup followed by a splash of milk. As he’s pouring milk into his own tea, a piece of bread slathered with marmalade appears in front of his mouth. In an oddly familiar interaction, Stede accidentally catches Ed’s fingers when he leans forward to eat it. Given the situation, a horribly inappropriate moan leaves his mouth as the flavor hits his tongue. 

“Is that because you liked the bread or you liked having my fingers in your mouth?” 

“Shut up!” Stede swats lightly at Ed’s shoulder. “As I recall, you had my fingers in your mouth first.” 

“Yeah. Liked it, too.” 

“Well…” Stede trails off and clears his throat. “I’ll… see what I can do about making that happen again.” God, he hopes that comes off with even a glimmer of seduction instead of, he fears, nerves in the face of Ed’s brazenness. 

Breakfast carries over well into late morning. There are infinite things to discuss, endless giggles to share, and Stede does end up eating most of the grapefruit marmalade himself and saving the orange for Ed. Not that Ed asked for that last bit, but Stede felt it was fairly obvious. What a small price to pay to watch Ed happily eat the remaining marmalade with his fingers. Which gives Stede an idea… Ed makes a small noise of protest when Stede untangles the two of them to place the tray safely on the floor. He rolls his eyes affectionately - Stede has no intention of leaving bed any time soon. He leans in and kisses Ed as an apology. 

“You taste like oranges,” Stede says, threading his fingers into Ed’s hair. 

Ed makes a face of disgust. “You taste like grapefruit.” 

Stede laughs. Ed’s face is all scrunched up and he looks thoroughly unimpressed that Stede finds this situation so hilarious. But he can tell Ed put no forethought into having Stede eat all the grapefruit marmalade when Ed is oh so fond of kissing him. 

“Fix that so I can kiss you,” Ed commands, completely non-threateningly. 

There’s still marmalade on Ed’s fingers, so, in the interest of fixing things, Stede brings Ed’s hand up to his mouth and licks his fingers clean. 

“That should do it!” he says cheerily. 

Ed’s mouth is hanging open, and Stede’s eyes do their best to maintain his innocence. The rest of the food is all the way down on the floor. What was he supposed to do? 

When it becomes apparent Ed is frozen in place, Stede leans forward like he’s going to kiss him. He doesn’t, instead stops just an inch from Ed’s lips, and puts two fingers under Ed’s jaw to close his mouth. Teasing Ed might just be his new favorite hobby, so Stede waits for Ed’s impatience to bubble over. 

“You gonna kiss me or not?” Ed demands. 

“I thought you wanted to kiss me?”

The retort barely leaves Stede’s mouth before Ed’s lips are on him. The kiss is greedy and forceful, and Stede matches the fervor with ease. He lets Ed run the show for a minute or two before getting back to what he really wants to do - make all of Ed’s fantasies a reality. 

“Sit back against the headboard,” Stede tells him. 

“Not done kissing you,” Ed argues. 

“I have other plans for your mouth, sit back.” 

Ed does as he’s told, but not without wide eyes and an impressed grin on his face. “Where the hell does a gentleman learn this kinda shit?” 

“I think you bring it out in me.” Stede tugs Ed’s pajama bottoms down before reaching over to get the lube from the bedside table and opening it.

“Oh,” Ed says thoughtfully. “Good for me.” 

Stede spots the ramekin Ed’s been eating from (that thankfully hasn’t spilled on the sheets) and scoops the remaining marmalade out with his clean fingers. “Hopefully it’s very good for you,” Stede says. “Open.” 

Ed does so dutifully, grabbing Stede’s wrist and happily taking his fingers in his mouth. Stede straddles his legs, but takes in the view before sitting down. Ed’s slouched down a little bit, and Stede finds he likes seeing Ed from this angle. From just slightly above him, Ed is always looking up prettily through his lashes. Stede’s eyes can flicker down and be granted a view of Ed’s entire torso. The tattoos that beg to be kissed, the increasingly rapid rise and fall of his chest, how there’s so much softness hidden beneath the mask that Ed willingly shares with Stede. 

“Who could’ve guessed you’d be so good at following directions?” Stede teases, sitting back onto Ed’s lap. 

Not that he could speak clearly if he wanted to, but Ed nods in confirmation. It’s such a natural exchange between them that it makes Stede giddy. He can feel it again, the unstoppable urge to keep speaking. To talk Ed into and through and down from ecstasy just to prove he’s capable of it. Because Ed’s eyes flutter shut when Stede compliments him and he gasps when Stede describes all the fantasies he’s helpless to prevent from popping into his head. 

Stede takes Ed in his hand and slowly strokes him. The sigh that manages to break through the barricade of Stede’s fingers is nothing short of gratified. There’s something to be said for being hot and heavy and how they’ve taken so quickly to pinning one another down and fucking wildly the moment they’re within arm’s reach. Stede loves that, loves being wanted and desired so desperately. But as he keeps his unhurried pace that gives Ed just enough to whimper but not enough to scream, Stede knows he loves this more. He can feel Ed trying to thrust his hips up, but Stede is too firm a weight on top of him. 

“You have one job,” Stede reminds him. “And it’s not worrying about your orgasm.” 

Some muffled protest comes in response, but Stede can feel Ed’s tongue swiping along his fingers with renewed vigor so he doesn’t bother to decipher it. 

Ed reaches out and grabs at Stede’s thighs, so he moves forward a couple of inches. Stede moves his hand a little faster and leans in to kiss Ed’s neck. Or bite it. He’ll find out when his mouth gets there. Ed tilts to give Stede better access without needing to be asked, and an exquisitely throaty sound punches out of him when Stede nips at his skin. 

Suddenly, Ed’s fingers are walking their way up to Stede’s waist and tugging at his pajamas. Yes, yes, yes, okay. Please. If he wants. Stede sits up on his knees and lets Ed undress him as much as he’s able (just enough to get hands on skin). Ed looks Stede dead in the eyes as he grabs the lube, puts some in his hand, and starts stroking Stede at a punishing pace. His moans are reverberating around the room before Stede even realizes they’re coming from his own mouth. Ed is wagering Stede’s orgasm against his own but that’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with competition when the end result is so sweet. 

Stede intends to win anyway. 

“You look ravishing when you’re this close, you know,” he tells Ed. “You’ve probably never seen yourself come, but I think you should.” 

“Why?” Ed asks, muffled. 

“Because right before you fall apart, you shut your eyes tight and let out this little gasp.” Right on cue, Ed does. “Then my name falls out of your mouth, almost like an accident. Like you can’t help yourself.”

Stede takes his fingers out of Ed’s mouth and kisses him hard, swallowing a cry of his own name in the process. Ed’s free hand grabs desperately at Stede’s bicep as he comes. It’s almost a reward in itself, to watch Ed take heaving breaths and smile lazily, with the knowledge no one else gets this privilege. An arrogant thought that no one else could ever make Ed feel quite this transcendent creeps into the back of Stede’s mind and he doesn’t shoo it away. 

“Now you,” Ed says, obviously still deep in the post-orgasmic haze. 

He’ll never need to be told more than once. Ed’s hand is moving a little erratically, but Stede can’t blame him when his head is up in the clouds. So, he helps - puts his hand over Ed’s and moves it quickly and steadily, until Stede has to lean on the headboard to hold himself upright. His orgasm knocks the air out of him, and Stede drops his head to Ed’s shoulder. The pleasure comes in waves, each one blissfully soothing as Stede rolls his hips into Ed’s touch and repeats his name over and over. 

It’s quiet for a couple of minutes, the two of them coming back down into their bodies, but they can’t keep up the reverent act when their eyes meet. Stede giggles and kisses Ed, quite sure this was never really his intention by making breakfast. 

“I can never eat marmalade in public again,” Ed mumbles. 

“Oh, I think you’ll manage.” 

“Yeah.” Ed kisses him again once, twice. “As long as you’re nearby.” 

“Where else would I be?” 

The rest of the day moves slowly, but they have nowhere to be. By the grace of some god, they find the strength to get out of bed and shower. It takes nearly two hours for them to get dressed because Ed has to stop and kiss Stede, or Stede has to stop and stare at Ed until Ed blushes and asks what’s wrong. They mean to leave the apartment, they really do, but the sofa is so comfortable and the breeze coming through the open balcony doors is so cool that no one could really blame them for taking a quick nap together. Stede wakes up before Ed does, and he passes the time by twirling strands of Ed’s hair around his fingers and then brushing them back when they fall in Ed’s face. It’s tough work, but someone’s gotta do it! About fifteen minutes later, Ed stirs on Stede’s chest. 

“Hi,” says Stede when Ed blinks away and looks around to get his bearings. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm, yeah. You’re comfy.” 

“I aim to please.” 

They listen to the music on the radio, and Stede makes a late lunch. Ed asks questions about a photo album he found a few days prior, and Stede tells him anything he wants to know ( ‘They sent you to school wearing those shorts?!’ ‘I’ll have you know those shorts were very fashionable, Edward! ). Stede asks Ed what he wanted to be when he was a kid, and Ed admits it was between a baseball player and a ghost ( ‘A ghost?’ ‘Uh, yeah. Ghosts can fly and go through walls and shit. Very cool.’ ‘But didn’t you realize you’d have to die to be a ghost?’ ‘It’s why I’m not one, mate. Maybe in sixty years or so.’ ). 

As the sun starts to set, Stede wonders aloud what his friends are doing this evening. Ed guesses they’re definitely going out drinking. 

“We could join them,” Stede offers. “But only if you want! I’m happy to stay here with you.” 

“We could go out, I guess.” 

“You don’t sound all that enthused about the option.” 

Something unreadable passes over Ed’s face for one blink-and-you’ll-miss-it second before he slaps on a roguish grin. “It’s been a while, might be fun. There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“We’ve gotta dress the part. Reputation and all that.” 

“What devastating news,” Stede laments dramatically. “I, for one, hate dressing up.” 

The outfit change doesn’t take quite so long this time, but it still takes Stede three times as long as it would’ve if he were alone. He tries not to fawn too much over how devastating Ed looks in his suit, but there’s only so much one man can contain. 

It’s gone dark by the time they make it out the door and into Ed’s car.

Unsurprisingly, Jackie’s is packed. Stede garners a fair amount of attention being out with Ed, even more so now that the streets are whispering about his criminal activity. It’s nothing compared to Ed, but it feels good all the same. As they make their way through the bar, people step out of his way and a few strangers pat him on the back as he passes by. One particularly excited looking fellow tries for an arm around the shoulders but backs off when Ed stares him down. 

“Beat it,” Ed says to a small group of men in his usual booth, and they scatter like sewer rats. Ed slides so far into the booth that Stede understands he’s not meant to sit on the other side. 

Another stranger comes over and slides a drink to Stede, smiles awkwardly at him, then scurries off.

“What’s going on?” he asks Ed. 

“Well,” Ed begins, throwing his legs over Stede’s lap. “You’ve got a little notoriety. The Gentleman has street cred.” 

“Street cred,” Stede repeats incredulously. “How do they even know it’s me?” 

“Handsome blond man in fancy suits hanging around with Blackbeard. It’s not difficult to put together.” Stede must visibly panic at that, because Ed immediately follows up with, “Hey, don’t worry! No one’s gonna narc. Not here.” 

He sounds so sure that Stede instantly relaxes. If there’s no danger of being found out by his father or the authorities, maybe a little bit of fame could be fun. 

Without having ordered anything, drinks arrive at their table. Ed raises his glass to the bartender (who’s trying a new look of tight pants and a cropped shirt that’s really working for him) before taking a sip. 

As good as it feels to be out, Stede can’t help but worry just a little bit. He isn’t sure how to behave. They can not act the way they do in Stede’s apartment, that’s downright indecent for such a public setting, but Ed’s got his legs in Stede’s lap despite being dressed in his Blackbeard getup. Worst of all, Ed seems very calm and normal about it all. Perhaps he just needs to be a little more like Ed, a little more easygoing. He’s making a mental list of the steps he should take in order to appear easygoing when people start piling into the booth opposite them. 

“Mind if we sit here? Nowhere else is free.” Lucius, Pete, Olu, Jim, and Frenchie all pile into the u-shaped booth.

“Oh, shit! When did you guys get here?!” Ed asks excitedly. 

“Just now,” Lucius answers. “We would’ve been here half an hour ago but someone had a self-imposed wardrobe malfunction.” 

“Babe, I am cultivating a brand,” Pete insists. “If I start wearing sleeves now, who am I?” 

The rest of the group nod in solemn agreement, though it’s difficult to tell if they’re actually on Pete’s side or just hell bent on driving Lucius insane. Likely a bit of both. 

There’s one person missing, however. Unusual. 

“Where’s Wee John?” 

“Haven’t you been here at all this week?” Frenchie asks.

Ed and Stede glance at each other, then look anywhere but. There’s always the option to lie, but it seems ill-advised considering the smug looks on all his friends’ faces. He should never have confided in Lucius, that was a severe error in judgment. 

Mercifully, Olu explains the absence before the silence drags on too long. “John’s got a job here. Kind of. The first night we were here, Jackie came over because she hadn’t seen us before.” 

“Wanted to make sure we were cool,” Jim adds. 

“Then one thing led to another, and now he’s one of her regulars. Gets to do his drag performance most nights, it’s very good.” 

“That’s fantastic!” Stede says sincerely. 

“Should be on in a few, actually.”

Very good is an understatement. Ten or so minutes later, the crowd is hushed and the non-stage lights are switched off as a commanding presence takes the stage to sing. He’s wearing a stunning turquoise dress, one Stede knows he made himself, with a beautifully painted face that makes him look something of a sea goddess, and has a voice like a siren’s call. The entire speakeasy is captivated. Not a single conversation is had, no drinks are refilled. The next half hour is spent in community with every other person in the building, taking in an incredible performance that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the city. 

When the lights come up again, Stede is so close to Ed that Ed has to choose between keeping his knees bent or scooting the extra few inches forward to sit in Stede’s lap properly. He’s unsure when or how that happened, and the look on Ed’s face says he doesn’t know either. 

Stede can see all his friends’ eyes darting around, having a silent conversation amongst themselves. He shifts back over to his own side of the booth in hopes it will deter any questions. The group of them are clearly arguing over who’s going to ask, but Stede would like to avoid the inquiry if at all possible. When Stede moves, Ed tries to retract his legs, but Stede holds them down and squeezes his knee to reassure him. Ed doesn’t try to pull back a second time. 

“Eddie!” 

Every time Stede solves one problem, another materializes. 

“Eddie!” Anne calls again, bounding over to the table in much the same manner as she did the first night Stede met her. “You’ll never guess - oh.” Anne stops her complaint midway and sits down on what little space is left next to Stede. “What’s this?” 

Ed huffs. “I’m not solving your relationship problems tonight.” 

“No, no. Forget about that.” Anne waves him off. “I’m much more interested in your relationship.” 

“What - I don’t - What relationship?” Ed stammers. 

Stede is uncomfortable. Oh, Stede is so uncomfortable. 

“I know that face,” Anne says, but there’s a tone to her voice that Stede doesn’t understand. Ed clearly does, though. “Where’d you get the ring?” 

Ed looks down at his hand, then up at Stede. Indecision flashes in his eyes. “We’re just fooling around, okay? Like, hooking up or whatever.” 

That saves them a conversation, Stede supposes. He feels part relief, part disappointment at such a description. He’s not sure he’s ever had a real hook up, but this feels like more than that. At least, to Stede. Maybe it doesn’t to Ed. That’s the lie he’s going with, at any rate. Because the reality is they are still sitting in a speakeasy in front of mixed company and Ed just told everyone they were having sex. 

“If you’re just having a bit of fun, then you won’t mind if your friend here helps me with my girlfriend problems!” 

She leans in to kiss him on the cheek. Stede is about to lean away from her lips when Ed yanks Stede towards himself with his legs. In a voice layered with a possessiveness Stede’s never heard before, Ed says, “Exclusively.” It sends a shiver down his spine.

Anne emits an honest to god cackle and runs off yelling for Mary. Stede has no idea what just happened, but he feels like a pawn in a game he didn’t know he was playing. 

“Psycho,” Ed mutters, downing his drink. 

So he and Ed are hooking up. That’s technically true. Copious amounts of sex and lots of fun is the definition of a good hook up, if Stede’s friends are to be believed. They definitely have that going on. That’s - it’s fine.

It’s fine. 

Pete’s voice breaks through the awkward tension. “So how’s the sex?” 

“What the fuck?” Ed exclaims at the same time Stede says, “Not your business!” 

Lucius smacks Pete’s arm and he groans in pain. “I need to know if Stede is good in bed.” 

A drink. Stede needs another drink. He lifts Ed’s legs up and shuffles out of the booth, relieved when Ed doesn’t fight him on it. “Bourbon?” he asks Ed, not waiting for a response before bolting to the bar. 

With a little breathing room, Stede relaxes. He orders their drinks and takes a deep breath. What’s he so worked up about anyway? No matter the label, he’s still cheating on his fiancée while she cheats with her boyfriend, both behind the back of his horrid, manipulative father. Why shouldn’t it be called hooking up? It could definitely be called a lot worse. 

“A lot on your mind?” asks an unfamiliar voice. 

Stede looks up to see a man with shaggy brown hair and a mustache addressing him. 

“A bit.” 

“Care to tell me about it over a drink?” 

There’s nothing Stede would like less. This man has an off-putting aura about him. “I should really get back to my friend.” He starts walking away before even finishing his sentence, hoping the man will take the hint. He doesn’t. The man trails him all the way back to the table. 

Then the unthinkable happens. 

“Jack?!” 

Ed practically climbs out of the booth and pulls the man into a hug. Stede is not jealous. Jack looks Ed up and down like he’s got intimate knowledge of Ed’s body. Stede is not jealous. Ed pulls Jack into the booth and they sit next to each other, forcing Stede to sit on the other side of Jack. Stede is not jealous. 

“Stede, I haven’t seen this guy in like five years!” 

“Is that so?” He’s trying so hard to sound interested, for Ed’s sake. 

“We used to get into so much shit.” Ed turns to Jack. “Wait, do you remember the first time we got arrested?” 

“That’s what we get for breaking into the zoo,” Jack says solemnly. “What are you up to these days?” 

“Shut up.” Ed punches Jack in the arm. “You’ve probably got a wall of my wanted posters.”

The two of them recount old times Stede can’t relate to, nor does he care to try. However, his friends on the other side of the booth are enraptured by the stories. Jack calls him Steve more than once, and Stede’s patience wears thin very quickly. Jack seems to have at least a vague idea of who Stede is because he keeps explaining criminal activity to Stede like he’s an idiot. But that’s not what bothers Stede. What bothers him is that Jack punctuates every condescending sentence by throwing a look to Ed that clearly means ‘Can you believe this guy?’ Stede has never been one to show off much, but right now he wants to brag about his own criminal record. 

Jack drops a hand to Ed’s thigh and asks, “So, you seeing anybody?” 

Stede is jealous.

“Kind of,” Ed answers. 

As the words hit his ears, Stede instantly pinpoints what’s making him feel so strange about being labeled a hook up. It’s not the term itself, and it’s not everyone knowing he and Ed have been missing for days because they can’t keep their hands to themselves. It’s because it’s a damn lie. Ed’s eyes meet Stede’s at the same moment Ed brushes Jack’s hand off his leg. Ed shrinks for a moment after that, but quickly dusts himself off and returns to form. Stede sees him, though. Sees the way his eyes flit around Jack, the way he keeps biting his lip, the way he’s leaning excessively into his bravado. 

This is an Ed that perplexes Stede more and more as the night goes on. Jack’s friend Ed isn’t someone Stede would choose to spend a lot of time with. The pair of them are disruptive, crass, and a bit rude. The crowd in Jackie’s starts to thin out as the night goes on, but Ed and Jack never slow down. It seems like hours ago that Stede said goodnight to his friends, but it may have only been a few minutes. Every second in Jack’s presence feels like a punishing eternity. 

At one point, while Jack is busy getting rejected by three women at the same time, Ed comes over to Stede. “Hey, you don’t look like you’re having a good time.”  

Stede is stuck between telling the truth and not wanting to hurt Ed’s feelings. Ultimately, he settles on the truth. “I’m not very fond of your friend, I’m afraid.” 

“Jack’s good fun when you get to know him! He just told me he’s been going through a rough time. He’s blowing off some steam.” 

“I think I should -“ 

“Hey!” Jack interrupts, stumbling forward and just barely catching himself on the table. “You losers want some blow?” 

He unceremoniously dumps cocaine out on the table and struggles to cut it into lines. Stede has no right to pass judgment but he’s doing it anyway. 

“No thanks,” he says politely. 

“Psh, didn’t think you would. Eddie?” 

“I really shouldn’t.” 

“Mugs, both of you. I can do all of it by myself.” 

Jack slips when he bends down to snort the coke and smacks his head on the table. Jesus Christ. Stede mutters something about being tired and gets up to leave. He and Ed can discuss whatever the hell is happening some other time, but he’s not going to subject himself to this torture for a moment longer. And a little space might do the two of them some good, anyway. They’ve had a rather intense start to all this. 

He gets about four steps from the table before Ed grabs his wrist. 

“Don’t go.” 

“Ed, I really think -“ 

“Please?”

Stede’s never going to suggest they leave the house again. 

There are enough patrons hanging around to ensure Jack won’t notice they’re gone for a few minutes, but not so many that they have to fight through a crowd to move. Stede lets Ed drag him to the back of the bar, then watches him pick the lock on the storage room door. He shoves Stede inside, not unkindly, and quickly closes the door behind them.

“What’s wrong?” Ed asks, genuine concern seeping out of him.

Stede pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “I don’t like your friend, and honestly, I don’t like who you are around him.” 

“What d’you mean?” he responds defensively. “This is me!” 

“Look, I’m not telling you who to be friends with. Just who I won’t be friends with.” 

Ed scoffs and runs his hands through his hair, the way he always does when he’s frustrated. Normally, Stede thinks it’s cute. 

“I’ve known Jack for a long time,” Ed explains. “You guys would probably get along if you tried. You’ve got a lot in common.” 

Stede hums in disbelief. He prides himself on being a good judge of character, and Jack doesn’t seem to have any. 

“Jack’s kind of an ex I guess,” Ed continues. “We used to fuck around.” 

Something inside Stede snaps at that admission. 

“The way we’re fucking around.” 

It’s not a question. Silence terrorizes the room for what feels like centuries, waiting for one of them to bravely vanquish it. 

“No. Not - He’s not like you. Not about this.” 

Panic swirls around in Ed’s irises. Stede wants to chase it away, but he isn’t sure how. Because that means something, that Stede isn’t like Jack. It means a whole lot, actually. 

“Why did you say we were just hooking up?” Not an accusation, just an honest question. 

“Because we are.” 

An involuntary laugh of disbelief crawls up his throat. “Ed,” he begins seriously. “You haven’t been home in days. Hardly anyone has seen us in a week. All we do is talk and cuddle and kiss.” 

“And have mind blowing sex,” Ed adds. 

“Don’t be cute right now! I’m serious! You have a key to my apartment and a side of the bed!” 

“All your other friends have keys.” 

“I don’t shower with my other friends,” Stede counters. “They don’t ask me to wake them up just to say ‘I missed you’!”

“Why can’t that be hooking up?!”

“Because you know damn well it’s more than that!” 

Stede closes his eyes and wills himself back to this morning. Twelve hours earlier they were intertwined in bed eating marmalade and moaning and living for nothing but each other’s company. Now they’re having a ridiculous argument in a dark closet over something that doesn't matter because they’ve only been together for five days. At any point, Stede could have brought this up. It didn’t have to get this far, and he blames himself. 

“This is who I am, Stede. Doing flips off the bar, pulling shit with Jack. Antagonizing strangers for a laugh.” 

And that doesn’t sound right at all. Ed is kind, he’s sweet. The idea of him antagonizing anyone just to be a pest is laughable. Hell, he was the politest person at the ballpark when they went to the Yankees game. Stede looks at Ed, really looks at him. His jaw is set, his shoulders and hips are squared, and his hands are shoved in his pockets. Stede’s seen this before - it’s exactly how Blackbeard presents himself on the job, hard and towering and immovable. But his eyes are still laden with apprehension. 

“Ed, be serious.” 

“I am serious! You were always going to see me for what I am.” 

“What are you?” 

Ed opens his mouth but snaps it shut immediately. He tries again with the same result. The same anxious disposition he had the night he kissed Stede for the first time is radiating off of him. They wait a lifetime, but Ed’s answer never comes. 

Whatever Ed thinks he is, he doesn’t want Stede to know it. Whatever Ed thinks he is, Stede vehemently disagrees. 

Finally, Ed says, “No one is forcing you to be with me.” 

“Now you’re just trying to be an ass.” This night has gotten so far away from Stede that he doesn’t know what to do. 

Ed takes a step forward and points an accusing finger at Stede. “This is who I’ve been the whole time. You’re the one that wanted to go out tonight!” 

“If we’re incapable of being around anyone else, then we’ve got more than a few problems to work out!” 

They’re both raising their voices now, trapped in some stupid fight that barely makes sense. Stede’s right, he knows he’s right, but maybe they shouldn't have left bed. If they were still tangled up with one another, they wouldn’t be arguing. But they did, and it’s escalated beyond their control. Stede can see everything crumbling before his eyes. 

Ed strikes the final blow.

“Maybe we should just stop whatever the fuck this is right now!” 

“Maybe we should!” 

“Fine!” Ed yells. 

So Stede yells right back, “Fine!” 

Ed walks out the door and slams it so hard it rattles in the doorframe. Maybe it is for the best. Maybe this has all been a pipe dream, some insane fucking whim Stede tried to keep because he’s some spoiled jackass who has never heard the word ‘no.’ He got a week. The best week he’ll ever have. But the status quo is the status quo, and he was always a child dressing up in a costume and playing pretend. 

But if all of that’s true, why does it hurt so fucking bad?

Stede kicks a nearby box out of frustration and curses when his foot throbs in pain. God, he’s screwed this up royally. He should’ve known better. He does know better. Stede Bonnet does not get some fairy tale ending, he’s not built for it. He vacations in other people’s stories occasionally to derail them, then he returns to his sad existence as an onlooker while others get to live. It’s better that Ed leaves now, gets out before Stede rewrites part of his life that can’t be erased. 

He - It’s just - 

Fuck this. 

Stede takes a deep breath to calm down. He’s going to shove all those feelings to the side. He’s going to shut out every insecurity that’s built up over the years. It’d be so easy to go home and cry, then wake up tomorrow and just move on with one more weight tugging at his heart. He’s been doing that his entire life. But why the hell should he continue that way? It’s high time he took his own advice - just because he can doesn’t mean he should have to. Ed can be as frightened as he needs. Hell, Stede is scared too. But whatever they’ve got between them is something special. 

It’s something Stede is willing to fight for. 

He all but runs over to the door and yanks it open. Edward Teach is not walking out of his life, not tonight and not like this. Stede intends to walk every square inch of New York to find Ed if necessary. 

It turns out he won’t have to go very far. 

Ed is standing on the other side of the door wearing deep frown lines that have no business indenting his skin. Stede wants to wipe them away, trail his fingers along Ed’s cheeks until the frown transforms into a gentle smile. There are any number of things in life that may make Ed frown, but Stede never wants to be one of them. They can waste more time placing blame or Stede can just fix it. 

Stede starts small by placing a hand on Ed’s chest over his heart. It’s just an offering, a way to determine if Ed is skittish. He looks into Ed’s eyes again and finds that, while worry is still present, they’ve darkened. It’s a dare. 

All the air is sucked out of the room and into Stede’s lungs as he fists Ed’s lapels and pulls him back into the room. He spins them around, walking Ed backwards until they hit something solid. A pause, not because Stede’s confidence has been shaken or nervousness has bubbled up in his gut, but because he can’t be the only one that wants this. He waits for permission. 

“Even after… ?” Ed’s voice comes out even softer than a whisper, at some frequency that only Stede can hear. 

“Even after,” Stede repeats. Ed can storm out of every single room in Manhattan, but Stede is going to follow him. 

The nod is so subtle that a less practiced man may have missed it. Not Stede, though. He feels it in his chest, warm as sunlight and light as a feather. Despite spending so much of the past week familiarizing himself with the inside of Ed’s mouth, their lips come together tentatively, like the two of them are offering a final chance for the other to back out. Stede never wants to give this up again, so he presses his lips against Ed’s harder and slides one hand up to cradle the back of Ed’s head. Soon, it’s like they’re twisted up in Stede’s sheets again, teasing and giggling and blissfully unaware of anything outside the bedroom. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Stede promises through gasping breaths. 

Ed doesn’t answer, just pulls Stede in and kisses him again. 

Chapter Text

Stede Bonnet is a genius. 

Kind of. 

After fighting in the supply closet last night, and maybe breaking up for thirty seconds, he and Ed agreed to spend a few days apart to sit with everything that happened. Stede had done his best to assure a very reluctant Ed that this was just a deep breath. Then, Ed had very coyly asked for one more kiss to hold him over. Which, obviously, turned into many kisses, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, they’re going to take a few days and process the evening separately. 

It’s undeniable that he and Ed need a little practice hanging out amongst friends while in this new stage of their relationship. This is where his genius comes in. Stede has come up with the perfect solution. 

The problems with going to Jackie’s were as follows: there was very little preparation time, Ed had to juggle being himself with being Blackbeard, that Jack person showed up, and they hadn’t talked about their relationship. All very fixable issues! Except Jack, the jury is still out on how Stede will deal with him moving forward. But another baseball game would be neutral ground. The Yankees are playing in the World Series, and Stede is determined to swing his connections for a box. He’ll give Ed plenty of notice, he’ll invite his friends and Ed’s (so there’s less pressure and more leeway with his father), and ensure that he and Ed are the only two people who have actual seats in the grandstand. Ed can just be his fun loving, baseball obsessed, charming self. After the fact, it’ll be an easy bridge to have a more serious discussion. It’s a perfect plan. 

Stede picks up the phone and makes the call. He skips the formality of going through his father and calls Jacob Ruppert directly. What his father finds out about after it’s already happened can’t hurt him! Well, it can hurt his pride, but Stede won’t lose sleep over that. Mr. Ruppert isn’t quite so accommodating to the hefty request of shoving fifteen or so people into the owner’s box at game four of the World Series at first. Something about the Bonnets always wanting the impossible. So Stede offers something impossible back. He offers to take Mr. Ruppert to dinner and put him on the VIP list for the next Bonnet-sponsored gala. Suddenly, the owner’s box is empty, and Mr. Ruppert will be sure to make the necessary arrangements. Stede may not care for all the nuances of high society himself, but he does love being able to work circumstances to his own advantage for Ed’s benefit. 

Afterwards, Stede flops down on his sofa. He looks over to the clock to find he’s only managed to keep busy for about half an hour. Now it’s just past eleven, and he is so damn bored. What did he used to do before spending all his free time with Ed? Surely he had hobbies! Stede wracks his brain. The past week was nothing but Ed. Before that, he spent all his free time with Ed or thinking about Ed. Before that… Oh. Right. Before that he spent all his time hating himself or his life or both simultaneously. Best not to go back there, if he can help it. 

Stede stares at the ceiling, hoping the white paint will color itself into some sort of answer. He feels dramatic even thinking this - they just saw each other last night! - but the living room feels empty and hollow without Ed’s laughter echoing around it. He could sit out on the balcony and read, but what fun is the balcony without Ed and pancakes? And if that’s not an option, he can’t even entertain the idea of going back to bed. 

He lets out a dejected sigh. Perhaps some fresh air is in order. A walk in Central Park will do him good! Clear his head and take his mind off Ed. He doesn’t need to see Ed every day! Stede is his own man, perfectly capable of entertaining himself and dealing with a few days of separation! 

He trudges around his apartment looking for his jacket and his keys, resigned to a lackluster day fit for such a dreary existence. That thought brings a smile to Stede’s face; Ed’s tendency towards the dramatic is rubbing off on him. The smile immediately turns to a frown. Ed would’ve ribbed him for such a remark and said something about Stede being able to afford such fancy words when Ed himself would’ve used ‘shitty’ twice. In the interest of taking some space, Stede has cut himself off from his best friend. Horrible! Stupid! Egregious! 

It’s minute ten of feeling sorry for himself when a knock on the door stirs Stede from his thoughts. Nothing like a little surprise to brighten up what promised to be a wasted day. 

Maybe the day won’t be wasted at all.

“Hey, dollf-” Ed stops and clears his throat. “Stede,” he corrects. “Hi, Stede. May I come in?” 

Ed has never been so formal with him before. It’s odd but a clear performance. He’s standing stiffly and bouncing on the balls of his feet, more than likely to stop himself from just walking in. Stede can relate - he’s flexing his hands to stop himself from reaching out for Ed’s. 

“Of course.” 

They both make their way into the living room and stand with an awkward couple of feet between them. This is very against the rules of taking time apart. However, Ed certainly wouldn’t be here without a good reason. 

“Stede, can I talk to you about something? Like, best friend stuff?” 

See! Good reason. 

Stede motions to the couch and the two of them sit down. The extra space is unwelcome but it’s for the best, because self-restraint isn’t usually on the table. Ed shifts a few times, crossing his legs only to uncross them again, and ends up facing Stede with his legs hugged to his chest.

“Okay, so, I have a problem,” Ed begins.

“Alright! Lay it out for me and I’ll help in any way I can.” Stede tries his best to sound nonchalant, but can’t help how his shoulders stiffen at the mention of a problem. 

Something akin to but not quite a smirk plays across Ed’s face before he says, “So I’ve been seeing this guy.” 

Stede wonders if he’ll ever stop being conned by Ed Teach. The tension in his shoulders melts away and he puts all the affection he can muster into his eye roll. “Handsome, is he?” Stede asks. 

“Really handsome. And dangerous.” Stede hums at the flattery, and Ed continues, “Anyway, it took us forever to get together, and when we finally did, it was…” 

“What?” 

Ed lets out a long exhale. “Fucking incredible.” 

At least they’re on the same page as far as last week is concerned. But he’s building up to something, and Stede is dying to know what, so he asks, “What happened with this handsome, dangerous man?” 

“I think I hurt his feelings,” Ed confesses. “I was feeling kind of backed into a corner and said some shit. We fought about it, and I feel pretty bad about the whole thing.” He uncurls himself from an Ed-shaped ball and bravely slides himself to the middle cushion of the sofa, cutting the space between them in half. “We’re supposed to be trying this whole ‘taking time apart to think’ thing, but I kinda started coming up with excuses to go see him the moment I woke up.”

“And you want me to tell you how to fix this?” Stede guesses. 

“That’s your job as my best friend, yeah.” 

That does, Stede supposes, fall under the responsibilities of a best friend. The water is a bit murky considering Stede is the guy in question, yes, but he intends to swim through it anyway. Besides, this is the cutest olive branch Stede’s ever been offered. 

“I think this guy feels the same way you do about the past week.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, most definitely,” Stede replies confidently. “I’d wager he feels like he could’ve handled the situation better. And he’s probably been bored out of his mind all morning without you around.” 

Somewhere between ‘oh’ and ‘around,’ Stede manages to close the remaining gap between them. Ed really is breathtaking up close. Not a single light in Manhattan shines brighter than his eyes; they’re blinding despite the late morning sun pouring in through the windows. Stede would gladly let his retinas burn if it meant keeping his eyes on Ed forever. 

“I know I’m not supposed to be here, but it’s been a really long ten hours.” 

“Let’s hear the excuse.” 

The excuse involved a bit of set up. Ed goes back into the hallway, insisting Stede let him in again. And Stede obliges, always happy for a bit of dramatic reenactment. The mere prospect of this little performance is already more fun than his entire morning. 

Ed knocks on the door again, and Stede opens it. 

“Stede, I have a clothing emergency!” Ed exclaims, barging right into the apartment. 

“What kind of emergency?” 

“I think I ruined the sweater you gave me! Feel it, doesn’t the cashmere feel rough?!” Ed takes Stede’s hand and places it on his upper arm. 

“Ed, it feels fine.” 

“Yeah,” Ed leans in like he’s telling Stede a secret that the cashmere-sweater-concerned versions of them can’t know. “But see how your hand is on my arm now?” 

“Oh! Very clever,” Stede commends. “Carry on.” 

Ed clears his throat and snaps back into character. “I think I need you to show me how to do it. Right now.” 

“You’re not wearing anything under that sweater, are you?” 

“Not a thing,” Ed confirms with a proud grin. 

He’s very, very good, Stede will give him that. What an absolutely devious plan. “And what would happen next?” 

“You’d either get very distracted by my shirtless body, or I’d learn how to wash this sweater.” 

Stede laughs in disbelief at the absurdity of such reasoning. “Ed, I’m sure your attempts at laundering this sweater were more than adequate.” 

Then, Ed drops his head a little and sheepishly mutters, “I haven’t washed it yet because it smells like you.” 

Stede is going to claw his eyes out. 

Space was such a horrible idea. Why did he even suggest it? Now there’s hardly any space between them, and it feels comfortable, feels right. The bar, the fight, everyone else - it all feels so much less pressing when Stede’s hand is still on Ed’s arm. He can feel Ed flexing slightly, like he doesn’t already have Stede wrapped around his finger. 

Throwing out the entire game plan after less than twelve hours doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. His head should really let his heart lead the whole operation. 

“This is not what we agreed on, you know,” Stede reminds him, squeezing Ed’s arm to reaffirm that he’s not the least bit upset. 

“If you want me to leave, just say the word,” Ed replies, in that dramatic wistful voice that makes it seem like Stede is being cold and unreasonable. 

Stede should tell him to go. It’s the principle of the thing. Everything that happened last night is still a grey cloud hanging over their heads today. It doesn’t matter that Ed’s pout is the most dangerous weapon he owns, Stede needs to stand his ground for both their sakes. He can’t get caught up in Ed’s charm or be tempted to run his fingers through Ed’s hair. It’s important that both he and Ed figure out what they want and how they feel before jumping back into one another. Because look where they are! Ed came over under the guise of having a conversation with his friend, and now Stede’s hand is on Ed’s waist. Nevermind the skipped steps, like the conversation coming about under false pretenses or the fact that Stede isn’t sure which of them put his hand on Ed’s waist. Pure, streamlined infatuation will not be denied. But Stede is strong-willed! He can break it to Ed gently that taking a couple days is really for the best! 

“Do you have any plans for the day?” he asks, and Ed shakes his head. 

They fall back into their rhythm like the speed bump never happened. Not two minutes later, they’re spread out on the sofa together joking and listening to the radio. Between the foyer and the living room, they come to an unspoken agreement. They sit close, but not on top of one another. Their hands brush, but they never lace their fingers together. Multiple heavy silences pass without Stede leaning in to kiss Ed, and vice versa. And Stede deserves a damn medal for that, he thinks. 

“Got a job in a few days, if you wanna join,” Ed offers. “You don’t even have to fake being sick from work! It’ll be late at night.” 

“What are the details?” 

“Nothing you haven’t done before. Jewelry store. Nothing I even want, but I heard some grunts talking about it in Jackie’s and they’re not cut out for it.” 

“Is that allowed?” Stede asks, puzzled. “Can you just take someone else’s job?” 

“Can do whatever I want, mate,” Ed tells him with a wink. “I’m fuckin’ Blackbeard. ‘Sides, you don’t discuss business in public unless you want someone to come and snatch it up.” 

That does make sense for a man in Ed’s line of work. Stede likes the late night jobs better anyway; they make him feel more like he’s living a secret double life. Boring banker by day, daring gangster by night! So he agrees. 

A couple minutes of contented silence pass before Ed says, in a way that’s completely sincere and not in any way sarcastic, “You know, I’m really glad we decided to ban all sexual activities between us.” 

What comes out of Stede’s mouth is not so much a laugh as a guffaw. “Is that why you came over here less than twelve hours after the ban was implemented?” 

“I just wanted to make sure you were getting on okay.” 

“Very noble of you.” 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Ed says proudly. “Knight in shining armor, come to collect my reward.” 

“I don’t think chivalrous knights do anything for the reward.” 

Ed wrinkles his nose, visibly unhappy with that response. It’s not exactly rocket science to figure out what Ed is fishing for, and if he asks, Stede is going to give it to him. But until then, it’s best to just maintain the maddening cycle of almosts the two of them are caught up in. Not that Stede is keeping count, but if he had to venture a guess, they’ve almost kissed about ten times now. 

“Just as well because I don’t want one,” Ed announces.

Reverse psychology is for getting children to go to bed on time or to eat their vegetables. It doesn’t work for getting a grown man to give you a kiss just because you’re pretty, and charming, and he really wants to… Where is Stede going with this? Right! He’s not going to kiss Ed just because Ed is pretending he doesn’t want one. 

In the interest of lasting at least a day into this agreement, Stede jumps up and starts babbling about tea. It’s very nearly afternoon, the perfect time for a cup of tea! And that’ll keep his mouth occupied for a short while. 

He hurries off to the kitchen, sparing only a quick glance back at Ed, who is grinning like he’s won the fucking lottery. 

Thankfully, Ed doesn’t follow him into the kitchen. Stede gets the kettle on to boil and leans against the counter. Right. Honesty. If Stede is determined to be honest with Ed, then he has to be honest with himself as well. What are the odds his little walk through Central Park would have ended up at Ed’s apartment? Ugh, likely. Very likely. But it’s difficult to suddenly be forced apart after spending so much time together! They both agreed it was the right thing to do, but that’s not what he wants. And the thing is, Stede knows what he wants. If he could only open his mouth and talk about it, they’d be in business. 

Stede prepares both of their drinks on autopilot. He’s memorized so many of Ed’s preferences in recent days that everything is muscle memory. Really, the hardest part of keeping his lips to himself is that kissing Ed has quickly become a habit. 

He bounds back into the room with two cups of tea and groans at the sight before him. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he complains. 

“I have done nothing beyond sliding into this very comfortable lying down position. If my shirt rode up a little bit on the way, then that’s not my fault.” 

It may or may not be Ed’s fault, but Stede’s resolve is slipping very quickly. He’s running out of reasons as to why he shouldn’t have his cake and eat it too. 

“Fine. Since you’re taking up the entire sofa, I’ll have my tea out on the balcony.” 

Stede puts the teacups on the coffee table and goes to open the balcony doors, pointedly ignoring the shocked look on Ed’s face. The crisp, Autumn air will cool down this pressure cooker of an apartment. 

He barely gets a finger on the handle before he’s being lifted up. 

“Ed, put me down!” Any glimmer of sternness in his voice is dead on arrival thanks to his laughter. 

“Fine,” Ed sighs. Stede’s feet hit the ground softly as Ed puts him down with care. Notably, Ed does not let go. “But you’re running out of excuses not to kiss me, I can tell.” 

“I am, but… Ed, I’m concerned.” He turns around in Ed’s embrace. “What about last night?” 

There it is again, that unknowable emotion dropping over Ed’s face like a veil. He can still see Ed behind it, but the view is obstructed. It disappears as quickly as it came. 

“I’m sorry about last night. I like you a lot, Stede. I don’t wanna do this with anyone else,” Ed affirms with visible difficulty. 

Stede can’t help but wonder, “What is this?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” Ed swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “I could show you, but I’m not going to break the rules unless you’re okay with it.” 

Ed’s ability to spin a situation is striking. The rules are rather arbitrary, and they’ve as good as broken them at this point. But Stede gets the distinct impression that Ed knows what he wants too, he just can’t figure out what the fear is lingering in Ed’s irises. Even so, it seems like that minimal confession is a big step for Ed, and Stede wants to meet him halfway. And all this actively denying himself is turning him on. Mostly the meeting Ed where he’s at, though. 

“I like you a lot, too. I wouldn’t dream of doing this with anyone else,” Stede tells him. “I think we’ve earned a little rule breaking.” 

The instant Stede gives him the okay, Ed cradles Stede’s face in his hands. His thumbs brush the apples of Stede’s cheeks, and Stede swears his heart flutters at the touch. Ed leans in slowly, almost like he isn’t sure he has permission, and presses a soft kiss to Stede’s lips. It’s not demanding, but it is insistent. Not urgent, but a little desperate. And so, so overflowing with devotion. 

“That’s what this is,” Ed says. 

“I like that.”

“Me too.”

It’s okay, Stede realizes. It’ll all work out and they’re okay. 

“Now do it like you mean it,” Stede challenges.

The tea ends up going cold. Somewhere between the fierce kisses and tugging at clothes, the two of them end up in Stede’s bed. He almost laughs at the relief he feels giving in to desire, even though they just had sex yesterday. He’s impatiently gripping Ed’s waist and moaning like they’ve spent months apart. No reason to be embarrassed about it, though, because Ed is just the same. They nearly pull the fitted sheet off the mattress as they tumble around together, pleasurable gasps cutting through giggling and hungry lips swallowing demands for more. 

Afterwards, when they’re both on their backs and drawing deep breaths, Stede can’t find an ounce of regret in him. ‘I like you, I want to be with you’ is enough for the moment. 

They spend the rest of the day the way only the two of them can: with a peaceful sense of comfort Stede’s never had before Ed. 

-

Committing a felony feels more dangerous in the dark. 

Logically, Stede knows that doesn’t make sense. It should feel safer because there are no employees to call the cops, and Blackbeard’s crew takes casing a mark very seriously. Unless they end up tripping some kind of silent alarm, but Stede tries not to think about that. 

“What happens when this other crew turns up? Doesn’t this seem ill-advised?” Stede asks nervously from the passenger’s seat. 

“Dunno. We scuffle,” responds Ed nonchalantly. 

Stede scoffs, because gangsters don’t have scuffles. They have shootouts. “Sorry. What I meant to say was, isn’t this incredibly stupid?”

“Don’t worry, you’re with me! Blackbeard doesn’t lose.” 

It’s painstakingly difficult to protest such a claim when Blackbeard’s track record speaks for itself, but Stede is willing to try. “What makes you so sure? Hmm?” He puts a little playful snark in his voice for added effect. 

Ed looks out the driver’s side window. He turns his head and looks out the passenger’s side window. Then, he leans on the center console and beckons Stede closer. Stede sinks down in his seat a little bit and leans in too. There must be some trick Ed’s been waiting until the last minute to reveal. 

A resigned hum of disappointment in himself is muffled by Ed’s lips. A more observant man would’ve seen a kiss coming. But kiss-theft rates are skyrocketing, and Stede is the number one victim. He chases Ed’s lips when they pull away, stealing his kiss right back. 

“Still doubting Blackbeard?” Ed asks, in some crude impersonation of his own voice, the way a child might imagine Blackbeard speaks. 

“I suppose not. Though, I could probably do with more convincing later.” 

Ed winks and says, “Just try and stop me.” 

Izzy taps on the window. “You ready?” 

“Let’s do it.” 

The heist does not go as planned. Well, it kind of does. Just not for Blackbeard and his crew. 

As Stede looks around, he finds he’s the only one looking a little uneasy with the whole standoff that’s happening right now. There are guns pointed in every direction. Even Stede’s gun, though he’s aiming at quite a large gap between two people. 

It had been eerily easy. Not that Stede expected a lot of trouble, it was a run of the mill jewelry store operation. Pick the lock, break the glass, get away. The back door of the building was already unlocked. Seemed lucky at the time, but just as the crowbar was about to shatter the glass case, a grating laugh like a poorly played violin cut through the room. 

“When they told me some long haired, low cut suit wearing, washed up nuisance was listening in on their conversation, I knew this opportunity wasn’t one to be wasted.” 

“Ned Low. Fuckin’ great,” Ed scoffs. “You’ve got a nice shine going on under all this fluorescent lighting.” 

Stede snorts. The man is wearing this horribly made metallic suit that wants to be attending an event at The Plaza but is running late for a street performance in Times Square. 

“Cute,” Ned says sarcastically. “Get it all out now, you might not have a chance later.” 

“So what? This was a trap for me or something?” 

There is a certain tension filling the room that’s making Stede nervous. The potential gravity of the situation is not lost on him. But Ed is so unimpressed with this Ned Low character that he’s leaning casually against one of the jewelry cases and rolling his eyes with that smug grin plastered on his face. Something about that damn attitude, that cocky know-it-all demeanor, has Stede wondering how quickly they can wrap this little conflict up. 

“You and your little protégé.” 

“Leave him out of it.” Ed stands up to his full height, taking a far more menacing stance. 

“That’s fine, we can start with you.” New Low starts to circle Ed like a shark. “Blackbeard! That’s all anyone talks about. He’s uncatchable! He’s dangerous! He’s so dreamy! Disgusting.” 

It’s not really Ed’s fault that all three of those things are true. 

“It’s alright to be jealous,” Ed taunts. “I am generous enough to give you some tips.” 

“So, so pompous,” Ned says condescendingly. “But I was here before you, and I’ll be here after you. I run this town, and I”m tired of your pathetic attempts to upstage me.” 

“Seems a bit fairy tale villain,” Stede reasons. “If you hadn’t set this whole thing up, you could’ve just done this job.” 

“Exactly,” Ed agrees. 

Ned stops his circling and turns to Stede. “The Gentleman, if I recall correctly? The one who trails after Blackbeard like a pet.” 

Now it’s Stede’s turn to cross his arms and roll his eyes. “I see witty retorts aren’t your strong suit.” 

“I had a brother that used to mouth off to me. You know what happened to him?” 

“You killed him,” Ed guesses. “Killed him and probably have a picture of him on the wall you throw knives at, or some melodramatic shit like that.” 

Heads do not explode from anger, but Ned’s is giving it his best shot. His entire face is red as he whips around and stares daggers at Ed. What an unbelievably detailed and accurate guess. 

“Oh shit.” Stede laughs. “Think you got it in one!” 

“It’s almost too easy, ya know? Another one of my talents.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ned pulls out his gun and points it at Ed. “Do you ever stop fucking talking?!” 

“I talk a lot when I’m bored.” 

Ned cocks his gun, and suddenly, Stede isn’t laughing anymore. 

“Maybe don’t encourage him,” he tells Ed. 

It occurs to Stede just then that Izzy has yet to chime in. He’s never usually one to keep his mouth shut, especially if it involves insulting Stede. He chances a glance around. Izzy’s nowhere to be seen, nor are Fang and Ivan. He catches Archie’s eye and she points to Ned then gives a thumbs down. 

“I don’t respond well to threats, mate,” Ed says. 

“Oh, no?” Ned points his gun at Stede’s face and cocks it. “How about now?” 

Ed visibly tenses. 

Last time Stede had a gun pointed at him, he didn’t know it. Ed had pushed him out of the way and taken care of the man himself. That doesn’t seem likely this time around. 

“If you even think about pulling that trigger, there is not a place on this fucking planet you’ll be able to hide from me,” Ed threatens, voice low and severe. 

Stede swallows hard and closes his eyes. If he’s going to be shot in the face, he doesn’t want to experience the fraction of a second in which he sees the bullet coming. He’s had a good run. Well, no he hasn’t, but the last month and a half has been pretty great. He’s not particularly keen on Ed watching him die, but at least it’ll be quick. 

“I’d think twice before doing something so incredibly stupid,” calls a familiar voice.

Izzy, Fang, and Ivan all come through the front door. Fang and Ivan both have a gun in each hand, and Izzy’s holding a Tommy Gun. 

“Did you really think Blackbeard didn’t have a contingency plan?” Ed asks, cocky tone back where it belongs. 

Stede has never seen a man so angry. For a moment, he thinks Ned might blow him away just for the hell of it. Thankfully, he uncocks the gun and lowers it before admitting defeat. 

“I know when I’m beat,” Ned says. 

“Escort them out the front, Iz.” 

Izzy starts barking orders at Ned Low’s crew who, to be perfectly candid, look relieved. They don’t seem to like him very much at all. 

“Hey, you okay?” Ed asks, putting a hand on Stede’s shoulder. 

“Shaken up, but fine.” 

“C’mon, let’s see if we can think of something fun to calm -“ 

Stede doesn’t think. He doesn’t breathe. He points and shoots. 

Like a sixth sense, he heard the now familiar sound of Ned Low’s gun cocking. In blurry slow motion, he turns around to see the gun pointed at Ed’s back. The little voice in the back of his head is screaming ‘You have a gun in your hand!’ And he does. Stede’s intention is to wound Ned or shoot the gun out of his hand. He just wants to buy them enough time to get out of the building. 

The bullet hits Ned dead in the chest.

The next five minutes are hazy. His eyes unfocus as Ned collapses to the ground, but he sees the blood clear as day. There’s yelling, there’s chaos, and Stede knows he should run but he’s rooted where he stands, glued to the scene of his crime. Someone lifts him up, and the entire scene becomes cloudy. His mind snaps violently back to reality when he’s in the back of Ed’s car. 

“He just wasted Ned Low,” he heard Izzy say. “Somebody is gonna want a fucking word about it.” 

“We’ll worry about that later, or just tell everyone it was me,” Ed responds. 

“In a room full of witnesses that just happen to be Low’s crew?!”

Stede fucked up. Jesus Christ, has he fucked up. He just killed a man. 

“I want to go home,” he says. 

Ed turns his attention to Stede at lightning speed. “Back with me?” 

A panic attack is coming, he feels it building painfully in his chest. His breathing comes short and quick, and he’s shaking.

“I want to go home,” he repeats incessantly to Ed, to Izzy, to a God he’s not sure he believes in. 

“Fuck,” Ed mutters. “Fuck. Shit.” 

It makes sense, Stede’s ruined it all. Ed keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, and he’s shaking, all while eyeing Stede. He needs to get it together, needs to calm down but - I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home. Suddenly, he can’t breathe. His lungs hold a mere fraction of the air they used to a moment ago, and Stede cannot catch his breath. 

Something warm envelops his face. 

“Hey, look at me.” 

He does. 

“Ed, I want to go home.” 

“I know. I know, mate. Can you count with me first? Count with me and we’ll be home before you know it.” 

Count? He can count. If he counts he can go home. Ed asks him to count five things he can see. Ed, Izzy, the stoplight, the empty Coke bottle on the floor, Stede’s tie hanging from the rearview mirror. Ed asks him to count four things he can touch. Ed, the bandana around his neck, the leather seat, the window. Ed asks him to count three things he can hear. Ed’s voice, the rumbling of the engine, the radio. Ed asks him to count two things he can smell. Exhaust and sweat. Ed asks him to count one thing he can taste. Marmalade. He thinks of the taste of marmalade. 

Remarkably, Stede begins breathing easier by the end. He’s still shaken up, but he doesn’t feel like death is imminent anymore. 

“Take some deep breaths for me,” Ed requests. Stede complies, finding that his lungs are no longer restricted. “How do you feel?” 

“Okay,” Stede says, clutching at Ed’s hands that are still holding his face. “I’m okay.” 

“I need you to trust me, can you do that?” Ed asks, and Stede nods. “You can’t go home right now. We have to go back to the hideout for a bit first.” 

Stede pulse spikes again, and he can feel hot tears welling in his eyes. 

“It’s just to keep everyone safe,” Ed continues. “You can go home in a few hours, and I’ll go with you. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Fifteen minutes later, all of which are spent cutting off the circulation in Ed’s hand as he recounts last night’s Yankees game to keep Stede’s attention, they pull up to the hideout. Stede doesn’t spare a glance at anyone or anything, just lets Ed pull him inside. He’s put on the bed while Ed scurries around the room doing god knows what. Stede stares at his hands, spotless and stained at the same time. There’s not a single drop of blood on them, but he keeps wringing his hands in a Lady Macbethian manner. Perhaps they’ll never be clean again. 

Stede doesn’t know how he’ll ever reconcile with what he’s done. A man is dead because he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. Stede isn’t naive, death is a hazard if the job. He doesn’t regret protecting Ed, doesn’t even really care that Ned Low in particular is a corpse, but the knowledge that he, Stede Bonnet, is capable of such an act is too big to wrap his head around. The earthquake has stilled, and the aftershocks wrack him with guilt. 

“Can I touch you?” Ed asks, sitting down next to Stede on the bed. He nods, and Ed takes his hand. “Should’ve asked earlier too, but I didn’t know what else to do. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be, it helped.” Stede squeezes his hand. “How did you know that would work?” 

“Had nightmares when I was younger. It’s what my mother would do for me.” 

A sob crawls up his throat. He won’t manage to stifle it, he doesn’t want to break down, but this isn’t something he can shove down and save for later.

“Ed, can you -“ Stede stops himself, in part because he’s about to start crying, but also because it’s too difficult an ask. 

Which is so fucking absurd because they’ve known each other in whimpered pleas and in secret smiles and in belting laughter. But Stede feels like Ed knows the deepest parts of him and nothing about him at the same time. Like he’s both friend and lover, but separately. 

Stede wants them intertwined. He wants to ask Ed to hold him like a friend and a lover while he cries out the ache in his heart and comes out the other side a changed person. He wants Ed to greet him the same way regardless, with bright, shining galaxies in his eyes and honey on his lips. 

Some of that must be wrong, though. After all, memory loss is a side effect of grief. Because someone who compartmentalizes their relationship wouldn’t know what Stede intended to say as he choked on the words. 

“Yeah, of course,” Ed says. “Come here.” 

Then Ed’s pulling Stede into his chest. Stede is crying before Ed even wraps his arms around him. One of Ed’s hands gently cradles Stede’s head as he lightly rocks the two of them back and forth. Not a single word is uttered. Instead, Ed keeps Stede safe while he lets himself drown in emotion. 

By the time he cries himself out, Stede is exhausted. 

“Do you still want to go home?” Ed asks tentatively. Stede shakes his head. “That’s okay. We’ll just stay here.” 

When Ed tries to stand up, Stede holds him tight. Not just yet. Stede feels like he might crumble to pieces if Ed leaves right now. He’s the life vest keeping Stede afloat in stormy salt water swells, and he’s the sun that breaks through the clouds as the sea calms again. That’s why Stede doesn’t want to leave now that the panic has dissipated. 

Ed is home. 

“I’m just turning off the light, I’m not leaving,” Ed promises. “Take your suit jacket off and lie down.” 

Stede’s hands shake a little as he unbuttons his jacket and shrugs it off. He feels heavy as he hauls himself further up the bed, like his bones are lined with lead and mercury is coursing through his veins. As his head hits the pillow he just stares at the empty side of the bed as the light turns off, leaving the room engulfed in nothing but moonlight. 

“One more minute,” Ed tells him, appearing next to Stede and running his fingers through Stede’s hair. Stede doesn’t turn his head, but he nods. Ed is kind enough to leave the bathroom door open as he washes his face so Stede can still see him. 

Ed drops his suit jacket haphazardly on the floor and lays himself down across from Stede. 

“Does it get easier?” Stede asks. He inches a hand out between them. Ed grabs it immediately. “I killed him in cold blood.” 

“Wasn’t really cold blood if he had his gun pointed at me.” 

“Oh,” is all Stede manages. He isn’t sure how he said it, but he knows it wasn’t in relief. 

“You’re not a monster, Stede. You took a blind shot because you were protecting me.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” 

Which really is the point. If Ned Low had taken the shot and hit Ed in the back, where would Stede be? Causing a riot in the nearest hospital? Hovering over Ed’s body, begging Ed to stay with him, and Ed bleeds out? How could Ed have been so flippant?! All over nothing. Some choice words, a battle of egos, and jewels that are almost definitely insured. Stede will insure the next mark personally if it means he never experiences another night like this.

But there are worse places to be than in Ed Teach’s secondary bedroom, looking at your world soaked in moonlight as he looks back at you with nothing but absolute concern and adoration. 

Stede should’ve told him. Should’ve found the time between rustled sheets and hearty laughter and safe embraces to explain that Ed is affixing himself to an anchor, not a life preserver. Because Ed has some wall up in his mind, that’s painfully clear, but Stede is the one with a fiancée and an assigned life trajectory. He wants to run to the highest floor of the Woolworth Building and shout about relinquishing control of everything else if Ed is the one thing he gets to keep. But that sentiment is a bit rich from someone who won’t even admit the extent of his truth to himself. 

“Try to sleep,” Ed says. “The first one is always kinda a mindfuck. You’ll feel better.” 

He’s not sure if that’s true, but he can’t keep his eyes open much longer anyway. As Stede drifts rapidly towards slumber, he feels Ed shuffling closer to him on the bed. Ed lets go of Stede’s hand, and that makes his eyes snap open. But the distress quickly dissolves as Ed’s hand finds new purpose rubbing soothingly up and down Stede’s back. 

Sleep finds him quickly after that. 

-

Stede blinks awake. The room is still shrouded in darkness, so he hasn’t slept through the night. He’s sure he didn’t fall asleep on his back with Ed on his chest, but that’s where he finds himself now. Ed is probably asleep, so he squints through the blackness in an attempt to read the clock. Nothing doing, it’s too far away. 

Ah, well. Stede had already planned to call out of work tomorrow. Ed was right, he does feel better. Some acidic guilt still sits in his gut, he’s a different man now, but the world isn’t ending anymore. 

Ed stirs on his chest; Stede pets his head to settle him. 

“Did I wake you?” Ed’s voice breaks through the silence. 

“Not at all. I was worried about waking you.” 

“Never slept.” Ed pushes himself up to look Stede in the eyes. “How do you feel?” 

“Better,” Stede says, and Ed kisses him on the forehead. Even without the light, Stede can see him fighting against heavy eyelids. “Why haven’t you slept?” 

Ed shrugs. “Wanted to be awake in case you needed me.”

Every cell in Stede’s body screams at once. That’s the kind of thoughtfulness Stede’s been searching for his entire life. Ed takes care of him like he’s not an imposition, even when he feels like one.

“Did I put you on my chest in my sleep?” It’s not out of the realm of possibility that his unconscious self reached out for Ed, god knows he does it subconsciously when he’s awake. 

“No, I…” Ed refocuses his attention to what must be a very interesting button on Stede’s shirt. His voice is small and shy when he continues speaking. “The other night I had a nightmare and it woke me up. But I was okay, because I was in your bed with you on my chest, and I felt safe. So I thought it might help.” 

Oh, Stede’s heart aches. Who could ever wrong someone so sweet? He’s been doing Ed a disservice by leaning into his own cowardice, but no more. It’s not now or never, it’s now. 

Stede tilts Ed’s head up so their eyes meet again. “It helped more than you know.” Then, he leans up and kisses Ed on the cheek as an innocent display of gratitude. 

Ed pouts. “You missed.” 

There will never come a day when Ed asks for something and Stede doesn’t give it to him, of that Stede is sure. He threads his fingers through Ed’s hair and pulls him down for a real kiss. Reverence is now something Stede holds for Ed alone. Not just for the taste of his lips, but the way his eyes flutter shut right as Stede kisses him. And for the gentleness in his heart, the musicality of his laugh, the blinding brilliance of his smile, the safety of his embrace. 

When they part, Ed surprises Stede yet again by taking the leap before he can get the words out himself. 

“Stede, I know it’s shit timing to bring this up, but are you my boyfriend?” 

Then, Stede surprises himself by saying, “I’d very much like to be.” 

“How?” 

It’s a loaded question, holding so much in one tiny word, but not one Stede has trouble answering. “I think we need to have that long overdue conversation we’ve both been terrified of.” 

A few moments of static silence pass between them. Stede considers getting up to turn the light on, but the words will almost certainly come easier in the dark. 

“When we first met, I told you I had a fiancée,” Stede begins. They’re sitting up now, legs crossed and facing each other, close enough that their knees touch. It’s not even skin to skin, but that little bit of contact slows Stede’s racing heart. “And that I wasn’t in love with her. I am friends with her, though. I told her about you.” 

“What did you tell her?” 

He takes a shaky breath. No going back. “I told her I’ve never had something I was afraid to lose before. Not until you.” 

Ed takes Stede’s hand for an all too brief second and squeezes it. 

Stede’s body reacts instinctively to Ed’s touch, and enough moonlight streaks across Stede’s face that Ed can definitely see him smiling. “I also told her that you make me feel like I could be somebody who smiles for no reason and hums when I cook. Besotted, I think you’d call me.” 

Ed is smiling now, too. But they’ve gotten caught in this trap before. The kind words to making out pipeline is incredibly dangerous, and Stede wants to make sure they finish this conversation. He presses on, no matter how sweet Ed looks with his messy hair and backlit by moonlight. “Our wedding is set to be in just under five months, but Mary has a boyfriend she’s quite taken with. She proposed we keep up appearances in public while the four of us try to figure things out in private.” 

“Kind of like planning a heist.” 

“Exactly! If that sounds alright to you. I don’t want to undersell how taxing this could be, and I would completely understand if you wanted time to think about it.” 

Ed is quiet. Unsurprising. Stede is still kind of processing that particular conversation. But Ed doesn’t tell him to leave or walk out, so he’s putting a tick in the positive column. This is the kind of taking their time they can afford; they’re finally doing this right. 

“I’m sorry for saying we were just casually hooking up,” Ed says finally. “It was always more than that for me.” 

“I know,” Stede tells him. “I know that.” 

“God, this is so fucking embarrassing.” Ed touches the back of his hand to each cheek, visibly disgruntled as the first signs of blush. “I was scared, because sometimes when you say ‘boyfriend,’ you have to unsay it. And I know you’re different than he was, but I’m the same.” 

Stede takes both Ed’s hands in his and holds them tight. “I don’t know who hurt you,” though he can certainly guess, “but I don’t intend to repeat their mistakes. The truth is, Ed, you feel miles beyond where I should be able to reach. I won’t take that for granted. Anyone who misused your affections didn’t deserve them to begin with.” 

The blush on Ed’s cheeks deepens. “So… boyfriends?” 

“I want to be your boyfriend, if you want me to be your boyfriend.” Stede can’t say the word enough, it tastes so sweet on his tongue. 

“Yeah, I like that.” Ed nods, then adds, “I trust you.” 

He's held out long enough. Stede quickly adjusts to get up on his knees in front of Ed. He drops Ed’s hands in favor of cupping his face, and Ed stares up at Stede wide-eyed. There’s no conceivable reason for him to be nervous, but he is. It’s their first kiss as boyfriends. It’s a commitment, and one he takes very seriously. 

Stede inches down slowly, anticipation eating away at him like Ed might ask him to stop. When their lips meet, it’s exactly like before and completely different all at once. It’s hard to believe they’d been holding back up until now, and Stede scarcely believes it himself. It feels like kissing Ed for the first time all over again. The sparks shock every nerve in Stede’s body; he knows he’ll never be able to kiss anyone else. 

“Did you know it could get better?” Ed asks. Stede shakes his head, and the two of them fall into giddy, nervous laughter. 

They both need sleep, but it proves difficult to move more than a few inches without the rewarding elation of kissing his boyfriend. It’s not exactly a new problem to have. In fact, it’s surprising that they even got to the job tonight, but Stede chalks that up to Ed not being in his apartment when he returned home from work.  

Ed doesn’t keep much in the way of clothing at the hideout, just enough so that Blackbeard isn’t returning to Ed’s apartment in the middle of the day, but they manage to find two pairs of sweatpants. Matching pajamas must be one of their gross couple things now, even when it’s unintentional. 

“Are you sure you feel okay about what happened tonight?” Ed asks as they settle back onto the bed. 

Stede kisses him again, quickly and repeatedly all over his face, until the scrunch in Ed’s brow becomes laugh lines around his eyes. If this is the outcome, Stede wouldn’t change a single thing about this evening. 

“With Ned Low,” Ed clarifies. 

Not even that. But Stede doesn’t understand why Ed sounds so grave. 

“I will be,” Stede answers, and he means it. Taking a life is a lot to wrap one’s head around, and he doesn’t plan on ever doing it again. Doesn’t really have the stomach for it. But, as with all things, there are exceptions to the rule. Tonight was an exercise in just how sincere Stede is when he says he’ll do anything for Ed. 

“Don’t look so distressed!” he tells Ed, whose face has returned to a troubled state. “I will be. I don’t think it’s fully sunk in yet, not beyond the initial shock. But I’m reasonably sure my boyfriend will help me through it.” 

Stede expects a sparkle in Ed’s eyes, or a quirked brow with that signature smirk. Instead, Ed shrinks into himself. Something else is wrong, Stede can tell, and it has nothing to do with tonight.

“Stede.” His name leaves Ed’s mouth in a way it never should - watery, quivering, and frightened. “Fuck. There’s something else you need to know.” 

Now Stede is worried. Not about what Ed might say, but that he’s shaking and on the verge of tears. Stede immediately reaches for him, hands cupping his face and thumbs brushing away any tears that would dare to stain Ed’s cheeks with the anguish they carry. 

“What is it?” 

“I should’ve taken that shot tonight, not you. Now you’re - and I’m already - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

None of that guilt will lay on Ed’s shoulders, not if Stede has anything to say about it. Stede cocked the gun, Stede pulled the trigger. He’s going to own that, for better or worse. 

Ed averts his eyes, but Stede moves back into his line of sight. “That was not your fault,” Stede assures him.

The tears begin to fall, and Stede swears he can actually feel a crack run through his heart. Ed’s fingers wrap around Stede’s wrists. For a moment, it seems like he might try to remove Stede’s hands from his face, but he doesn’t. “I don’t think you’ll want to be my boyfriend or my anything when I tell you this.”

Stede can’t fathom not wanting to be Ed’s boyfriend (or his anything). A chorus of reassuring words threaten to spill out, but Stede manages to quash them. Ed is bravely opening up, and Stede wants to honor that, so he keeps quiet.

“When you started to panic tonight, I recognized it,” Ed continues. “You don’t deserve to carry the weight of all that. It wasn’t premeditated, and it wasn’t even on purpose.” 

Everything feels out of body. It’s a lie to say Stede feels perfectly content with what transpired, but he’s an expert compartmentalizer. He’ll be alright. But this reassurance, as sweet and welcome as it is, feels less about comforting Stede and more about discomforting himself. 

Then, the hairline fracture in Stede’s heart splits him wide open.

“You’re not a monster, Stede. But I am.” 

Puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. The way Ed is always daring Stede to leave him, his aversion to leaving the bubble of Stede’s apartment, that glazed over look Stede could never quite decipher. He’s struck by how well he knows Ed, how he can finish his sentences and anticipate what Ed wants without him needing to ask, and simultaneously how he doesn’t know Ed at all, what makes him jittery at the first sign of vulnerability and who the hell made him believe he’s anything less than sacred. 

Ed sniffles and shakes his head. “I was supposed to rob you weeks ago and kill you if you found out. But you just… Fuck, you always looked at me, not the rest of it. Next thing I know, I’m awake in the middle of the night thinking about you, and now I miss you when you leave the room.” 

“I’ll never leave the room again.” That draws a weak smile from Ed. If his heart was ever in it, they would never have made it this far. 

“I’m not a good person,” Ed says, voice breaking. “That's why I don’t have anyone.” 

“You have me.” 

The moon hides behind a dam of heavy clouds, blocking the light from streaming into the room. Stede’s eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and he squints until he can see Ed again. Even in the pitch black, his eyes flicker with lightning storms. 

“I killed my dad,” Ed confesses in the dark, voice alarmingly even. 

He dangles it in the negative space between them like a noose, offering it up so Stede can hang him with it if he so chooses. But Edward Teach will not see the gallows, not so long as Stede Bonnet remains breathing. So Stede doesn’t respond. He waits, because he knows there’s more to the story. He keeps his thumbs wiping away stray tears, he keeps his eyes trained on Ed, and he waits. 

Another shaky breath, and then, “My father was an angry son of a bitch, and he loved to take it out on my mother. She’d take me to the market or to the park, and when people would ask, she’d say, ‘I’m terribly clumsy!’ or ‘I tripped bringing the groceries into the house!’” 

Stede’s blood boils, but he shoves the anger down and saves it for another time. What Ed needs is support, so Stede listens as he continues. 

“She got pretty good at explaining away her bruises, but I guess it got harder when he started hitting me. Kid like me with a broken wrist or a dislocated shoulder coulda been playing too hard or gotten into a bit of trouble. Something like a shattered knee was a little harder to wave off.” 

It’s more difficult for Stede to contain himself after that revelation. He keeps it to an aggressive exhale. 

“As I got older, I felt guilty about going out with my friends, but my mother felt guilty having me at home all the time. She kept telling me to go out and live my life.” Ed laughs a little. It’s fond but sad. “She’d always say, ‘Eddie, I don’t want to see you until the sun goes down or Mrs. Bonny brings you home by the hair!’” He relaxes a little bit, so Stede inches closer. “Annie’s mother never liked me much,” he adds. 

“She has no idea what she’s missing,” Stede says simply. 

“That’s what my mother always said.” 

Ed twists his body, forcing Stede to let go. Thankfully, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans to rest his head on Stede’s shoulder, and Stede shifts to accommodate him. Stede likes Ed this way, close enough to be held tightly, so he wraps his arms around Ed and kisses the top of his head. 

The hand Stede is resting over Ed’s heart feels the attempt at a deep breath. The inhale is good, it’s strong, but Ed’s chest sputters on the exhale as Stede’s heart tries to rip out of his chest. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Stede whispers. He’s heard enough to loathe Ed’s father for multiple lifetimes and absolve Ed from any sin he thinks he committed. 

“I’d just turned sixteen. He came home drunk and pissed off because he’d lost his job.” Stede feels Ed’s body trembling beneath his hands. 

“Probably been putting myself between them for four or five years at that point, so as soon as I heard him stumble through the door, I went to find my mother.” 

He wonders if Ed knows how brave he is. It’s been nearly thirty years and Stede has never been able to stand up to his father. 

“The night wasn’t much different than any other. I ended up with a black eye, but he looked a lot worse, and eventually he passed out on the sofa. Something inside me snapped, Stede. I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I waited until my mother went to bed, I told her I loved her, and I told her everything was going to be okay.” 

Tears run down Ed’s cheeks and onto Stede’s shoulder. He lifts his hand to wipe the rest of them away. 

“He kept a pistol under the sink. I took it, loaded it, and cocked it. Then, I kicked him awake and walked him outside. Told him exactly what I thought of him. He spat it back at me, but I never gave a shit what he said about me.” 

Good. Fucking good. Ed’s father sounds like he was a vile human being, and Stede is so proud of Ed for knowing his father’s opinion wasn’t worth anything.

“I had him there in the dark, but couldn’t pull the trigger. He kept laughing and calling me names. Kept saying, ‘You’re gonna kill me, boy?! I’m gonna kill you!’ Not sure I would’ve pulled the trigger if he didn’t bring my mother into it. He said, ‘You’re gonna shoot me for that bitch?’ and I unloaded every fucking bullet into his chest.” 

Moonlight begins to peek through the clouds again. It trickles into the room at the edges of the window. Not enough to illuminate Ed and Stede on the bed, but bright enough to remind them that darkness is not everlasting. 

Is Ed still expecting Stede to leave? He sounded so convinced that Stede wouldn’t want to be his boyfriend anymore. But how could he leave Ed like this, achingly raw with his chest torn open? He won’t. 

Stede is getting dangerously close to dislodging the word stuck in his throat. 

“I’m the real monster, Stede. All premeditated revenge and burning hatred.” Ed’s voice is hushed but steady. 

He believes it, Stede realizes. That’s the person Ed sees in the mirror, some creature deserving of animosity. But Stede sees Ed, too. The Ed he sees is the real one, he’s sure of it, not some antithetical reflection.

“You’re many things, Ed. Brave, kind, gentle. You’re funny, you’re talented, and you’re beautiful. You are adjectives that haven’t been invented yet. But you are not a monster.” 

“But I -“ 

Stede interjects quickly; he’s not interested in whatever self-loathing nonsense Ed is about to let loose. 

“You were brought up in a horrible situation and you protected yourself and your mother the only way you could.”

Ed cranes his head to look at Stede. He traces the lines of Stede’s face with one finger, almost like he’s trying to memorize the shape for posterity. There’s a wonderstruck quality about him, Stede can see it even underneath the tears and the pain. 

“You still have me,” Stede says confidently. “We can run through what abouts until the sun comes up if it’ll make you feel better, but you won’t change my mind.” 

“Okay,” Ed responds weakly. 

This amount of emotional labor is unfamiliar to Stede, and he suspects to Ed as well. It’s the kind of thing that gets easier with practice. He’s much more familiar with burying things until they claw their way out of the grave and eat him alive. But he wants so badly to be someone Ed can lay the worst of himself in front of and be sure Stede won’t walk away, which means reciprocation and gentle landings; meeting everything with grace and soft voices. 

“I hope you know none of that was your fault,” he says quietly as he coaxes Ed to lie down. “You didn’t deserve any of it. I’m very grateful you trusted me enough to share that.” 

Ed moves forward like he’s going to kiss Stede but stops short. As far as Stede is concerned, Ed can kiss him whenever and as often as he likes, no matter the time and place. He closes the gap, but it’s not hurried. It’s less of a kiss and more of a promise, but tender all the same. Their lips move together slowly. It’s not lazy like in the afterglow, but a diligent attempt to relearn the feel of one another. Ed’s lips are impossibly soft, delicate as silk, and his tongue feels like velvet. Stede’s skin tingles where it scratches against Ed’s beard, like tinder sparking into flames. He’ll happily be engulfed in the holy fire of Ed’s touch for eternity; Stede wants to be burned.

“Stede, can we take things slow?”

“As slow as you like.” 

They drift off to sleep together, but Stede endeavors to stay awake until he’s sure Ed has fallen asleep. It doesn’t take long. The feeling of Ed's breathing being soft and even for the first time in hours is calming. When Stede finally succumbs, it’s with a fluttering heart and arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend.

Chapter Text

It’s well into the afternoon by the time Stede wakes up. The sun is bright and high in the sky, making Stede squint when he opens his eyes. For a moment, he doesn’t recognize the room, but the faceful of hair clues him in. 

Last night was, in a word, arduous. Stede hasn’t experienced anything so taxing in quite some time. He hopes Ed hasn’t either. Then, as Ed throws a leg over Stede and holds tighter to him, seemingly still asleep, he amends that thought. Last night was, in another word, extraordinary. 

All the other things notwithstanding, Ed is Stede’s boyfriend. His boyfriend. Someone Stede can openly shower with affection and kisses and gifts. Someone who finds Stede’s stories compelling, who wants him around all the time, and who, if Stede may be so bold, is mind-meltingly hot. He wants to know every single thing that’s ever happened to Ed; he wants to be there for anything that happens to him in the future. But right now, Stede will settle for watching him sleep. 

He runs a hand up and down Ed’s back, delighted when Ed tries to snuggle closer. 

Stede must have drifted back to sleep himself, because the next time he opens his eyes, Ed is beside him, looking the same as he did the night before. Big eyes, wild hair. But now he looks dazzlingly happy.

“You’re pretty,” Stede mumbles sleepily. 

“You don’t have to flatter me anymore,” Ed says. “‘M already your boyfriend.” 

“Okay, I won’t flatter you.” Stede yawns. “You’re pretty,” he says again. 

Ed doesn’t respond, but he does wrap a strong arm around Stede’s waist and pull him close. 

A quick glance at the clock lets Stede know it’s already after two. There’s still plenty of day left to waste, however, and Stede knows exactly what to do with all that time. Careful not to snag any knots, Stede plays with Ed’s hair and scratches his scalp, receiving the most pleasant hums in return. 

“I like waking up with you,” Ed says quietly. “Is that okay to say?” 

Stede looks at Ed, all soft eyes and a sleepy smile. His hair becomes increasingly messy because Stede can’t stop playing with it. He’s gorgeous and he’s Stede’s. 

“More than okay. I’d even call it encouraged,” Stede tells him. He leans in for a kiss, but Ed pulls back, though he can’t go very far with Stede’s hand tangled in his hair. Ed’s looking at him expectantly. Stede laughs breathily and says, “I like waking up with you, too.” 

“Good.”

After that, Ed relents and pulls Stede in to kiss him. 

Honestly, Stede thought he’d feel sick this morning. When he drinks too much, Stede wakes up feeling so nauseous he can barely get out of bed. So many things changed last night, so many truths came out, that Stede is still anticipating the hangover from hell to hit him at any moment. His brain is still floating in limbo over everything that transpired with Ned Low, but it’s difficult to tell if he’s repressing it or if Ed being his boyfriend has jumped the queue of things he needs to process. 

In any case, Ed takes precedence at this very moment and at any moment when they’re twisted up in bedsheets sharing intimate secrets and hungry kisses. 

“So,” Stede begins, stealing one more kiss because he’s an insatiable, greedy man. “We’re boyfriends.” 

“Doing pretty well in the first twelve hours,” Ed says, looking terribly proud of himself. 

“I want to do this right.” Stede tries to sit up, because this feels like more of a vertical conversation, but Ed grunts and keeps him in place. “Okay,” he laughs. “But we have to behave. This is important boyfriend stuff.” 

“Scout’s honor,” Ed promises, then immediately breaks that promise by kissing Stede’s lips, jaw, neck. “I never joined scouts,” he whispers smugly, like he’s just conned Stede out of his fortune. 

Luckily, Stede knows how to deal with criminals. “You’re cute.” 

“I’m dangerous,” Ed corrects, some familiar flirtation in his voice.

Perhaps he is, but not in a look-over-your-shoulder-and-keep-your-valuables-locked-up kind of way. Stede’s given Ed the ability to shatter him. Ed could split Stede in two with a snap of his fingers. So, sure, the cons list is short but deadly: complete devastation. But the pros list obliterates it, because Ed looks at Stede like he controls the tides and holds him with unconditional understanding. Some things are worth getting one’s heart broken over, and it would be an honor to have his heart broken by Ed Teach. 

In order to prevent the reverse, Stede needs to learn their relationship ground rules before he lets himself fall in too deep.

“Alright, you’re dangerous,” Stede concedes lightly. “Can I ask a dangerous man a question?” 

“If you think you’re brave enough.” Ed’s so cocky about it that Stede almost derails this (very important!) train of thought to spend the rest of the day in bed showing Ed just how brave he can be. 

“What does taking it slow look like?” 

Ed rolls onto his back and hums. He tosses his head back and forth slightly and draws lines in the air like he’s making a checklist of dos and don’ts. There isn’t a facial expression Ed can’t make endearing, so Stede is keeping a ranked list. Thinking hard falls just under confused in the rankings, strictly for the pouting potential. 

“Even though it was only a week, I think I kind of became your live-in boyfriend.” 

“Which was very fast and we never talked about it,” Stede confirms. 

“Right. So I should go home sometimes at the end of the night. Or you should if we’re at mine.” Ed turns back towards Stede and traces his fingers along his bare arm. Stede shivers. “Maybe we could go on dates,” Ed shyly suggests. Then rushes to add, “If that’s okay, I know it’s complicated.” 

Now there’s an idea. If there’s something Stede was put on this planet to do, it’s romance Ed. “There’s nothing I would love more than to take you out. Every night, if you like.” 

“Maybe not every night. Just most nights.” 

Ed smiles, so Stede smiles. They stay like that for a few minutes, both grins growing impossibly wider as giddiness replaces any leftover trepidation from the night before. It’s the purest happiness Stede has never felt and he vows not to take it for granted. 

“Anything else?” Stede asks. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it might be nice to be patient and wait to have sex again.” 

“Okay.” He says it sincerely, twirling those loose curls of hair that always fall in Ed’s face around his finger. “I’m sure we can control ourselves,” Stede says confidently. “Can I still kiss you?” 

“If you stop kissing me I’ll probably die, so…” 

“Oh, then I’ll never stop kissing you!” he promises. “Your life is safe in my hands.” 

Stede proves that into the bathroom while they clean off the previous night and as they take far too long to get dressed. He proves it for ten minutes while the car idles in park and at every red light. He proves it in the elevator, against his front door, and on the sofa until his stomach growls so loudly it frightens them both. It’s easy to ignore and giggle away, because what Stede’s got on top of him is far more nourishing than any food. They kiss until they fall asleep again, and Stede wonders if he’s been exhausted his entire life and only now feels safe enough to get the rest he needs. 

Angry pounding of fists on wood jolts Stede awake. He looks around bleary eyed, unable to find the source of the noise. Ed is still asleep on top of him, looking angelic and peaceful. The banging continues, now accompanied by yells of Stede’s name spoken with venom and resentment that can only belong to one person. 

“Hey.” Stede shakes Ed’s shoulder but there’s no response. How the hell is Ed sleeping through this racket?! He covers the ear not pressed against his chest with his hand so he doesn’t deafen Ed when he yells, “Just a moment!” 

Stede silently prays they remembered to deadbolt the door, because his father cannot walk in on them like this. Everything would fall apart before it even began. He shakes Ed with more urgency, his only other option being rolling Ed off of him onto the floor (which would wake Ed up but at what cost?!). Ed groans, a blessed sign of life. 

“Why?” Ed whines, rather unhappily. 

“I’m sorry, but my father is this close to breaking down my door,” Stede says quickly. 

Suddenly, Ed is wide awake. He pushes himself up frantically and jumps off the sofa, eyes darting between Stede and the door. 

Stede’s mind should be on the pressing situation, he should be formulating a quick plan so that his fragilely strung together happiness doesn’t come apart at the seams, but instead he’s disappointed to have Ed’s weight leave him. 

“What do I do? Should I leave? Wait, how would I leave… Should I climb out the window?!” 

Panicked rambling shouldn’t be cute, but it is cute, and Stede wants to kiss him about it but there isn’t time. “No need to be quite so daring,” he says, standing up. “Just go to the bedroom and I’ll get rid of him.” 

Ed doesn’t even waste time walking around the sofa, he launches himself over the furniture and books it into the bedroom. As he speeds towards the door, Stede tries to make himself appear more put together and less like he’s spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours trying to fuse his lips to Ed’s. He unlocks the door with shaky hands, unsure of what exactly is about to happen but knowing it won’t be pleasant. 

The door is barely cracked open before his father bolsters into the foyer. 

“Where the fuck were you today?!” he yells. 

“I’m ill,” Stede lies. 

His father whirls around and fixes Stede with a glare that could kill. The cold in the man’s eyes is bitter and cutting. Stede shivers unpleasantly. 

“Bullshit,” his father spits. “I won’t hear any of your excuses. You are on the thinnest ice imaginable with me and I’d implore you not to misstep.” 

Usually, Stede would shrink and spew deadpan apologies just to be left alone. Or, if he’s feeling particularly bitchy, he cops a little bit of an attitude and rolls his eyes. Now, he does neither. 

Stede rolls his shoulders back and takes a deep breath. 

“I said I was ill today, and you have no reason not to believe me,” he says evenly. “I will be at the office early tomorrow to make up some of that time.” His father grunts and Stede fights the urge to scream. “Until then, kindly allow me some rest so that I don’t have to stay home again tomorrow.” 

If any merciful god is watching over Stede, his father will toss a solitary insult over his shoulder as he walks out the door. No such luck, as it turns out. Stede eyes the bedroom nervously as his father walks into the living room. 

“Whose is this?” he asks, picking up Ed’s leather jacket and holding it away from his body like it’s done something offensive. 

“Mine.” 

He tilts his head in clear contemplation of Stede’s answer. Other than the stark deviation from Stede’s usual wardrobe choices, nothing about the jacket particularly screams ‘My boyfriend is a gangster and he’s in the bedroom behind you!’ , but Stede is anxious all the same. This isn’t what he wants to be grilled about. Especially when the only person gripping the collar that tightly should be Stede when Ed isn’t close enough to kiss. His father having the jacket held tight in his fist feels like an invasion of privacy. 

“No son of mine dresses like a degenerate. People will get the wrong idea.” 

Stede stifles his sigh of relief but lets the implication spark resentment in the back of his mind. 

“I find it suits me quite well.” 

“It’s sloppy. Not put together. It’s for common people.” His father throws the jacket roughly at Stede as he walks past him towards the door. 

At least he’s fucking leaving. Stede puts Ed’s jacket on just to make a point. “I’ll wear this as often as I damn well please.” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

The door slams shut after his father, nothing but a grumbled ‘Sorry excuse for a son’ left in his wake.

His father’s parting words are a curious threat for something as trivial as a leather jacket, but then he always did get hung up on the strangest details. If Stede isn’t allowed to wear his more colorful suits to the office, he certainly can’t be seen in anything so common during his leisure time. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Ed asks as he comes ambling out of the bedroom. 

There’s nothing sloppy or common about Ed. He’s perfectly put together in a shape so lovely, so fucking perfect, that Stede can’t believe his own fortune to have done such a shit job of committing armed robbery. 

Stede never wants to take this jacket off. 

“I’m used to it,” he answers, dodging the question. “I’m only sorry you had to hear it.” 

Ed eyes him warily, and Stede can tell he’s weighing his next question with careful consideration. Stede doesn’t talk about his relationship with his father because there isn’t much to say. He’s a horrid, uncaring man who wanted a son that could follow in his footsteps but got stuck with Stede instead. Everyone sees it, so there’s no point in bringing it up. 

“You think this suits you, huh?” Ed pads over to Stede and readjusts the collar on his leather jacket. “Even if it makes you look like a degenerate?” he asks in a hushed, seductive tone. 

“I think it makes me look refined.” 

“And dangerous?” Ed adds with a quirked eyebrow. 

The continuation of their little game relaxes Stede just a fraction. The more they label each other as dangerous, the funnier the bit becomes. Every brick Stede removes from Ed’s wall proves just the opposite. He’s safety. Protection.

But yes, of course, wearing Ed’s leather jacket makes Stede feel dangerous. The danger doesn’t come from fear of being caught doing something wrong or breaking any rules. Instead, it’s the danger of becoming so attached, of feeling unconditionally adored by a man he’s known less than two months, of finally understanding that home can be a person. He’s dangerous because Ed trusts him.

“I’ve never felt more dangerous.”  

To prove it, Stede closes the gap between them and kisses Ed like he hasn’t done so in days. Making out until he forgets the last fifteen minutes isn’t going to work, he recognizes that, but he can damn well try. Stede presses himself so firmly into Ed that he takes a few steps backward. 

“Hang on a sec,” Ed manages through the onslaught. 

Stede stops and drops his forehead to Ed’s shoulder with a groan. 

“C’mon.” Ed chuckles and kisses him on the head. “I’m trying really hard to be a good boyfriend right now instead of pinning you down on this ugly rug and sucking another bruise onto your neck.” 

“A good boyfriend would do that!” Stede argues, lifting his head to pout aggressively. 

The look on Ed’s face is soft. That’s it, just soft. Stede can’t remember the last time he was met with anything but self-deprecation after one of his father’s tirades. This particular instance doesn’t even rank in the top five worst, but that’s all relative when the comedown is experienced in solitude. Now that someone is there to catch him, Stede’s entire perspective is tilting on its axis. 

“Seriously.” Ed takes Stede’s face in his hands. “I can’t make you talk about him. But you listened to me and it felt nice. I want to listen to you too.” 

Something unfamiliar burrows deep in Stede’s chest. He waits for the knee jerk reaction of fear to come or for his mouth to open and insist it isn’t a big deal. But Stede isn’t afraid and he doesn’t downplay it. So that thing making a home in his heart must be trust. For most of Stede’s life, people have picked apart pieces of him only to turn around and throw them back in his face. He tries not to give bits of himself away anymore because most people walking around with a piece Stede in their pocket think of him as some social toy. Ed won’t do that. 

“I want to tell you.” He can hear the apprehension in his own voice, but it’s the truth. Stede wants to tell Ed everything, and then he wants to start making things up after that just so he has reason to keep the conversation going. 

“If you really want,” Ed lowers his voice, “I’ll still tackle you down to the floor and suck on your neck after.” 

“Promise?” Stede asks through a laugh. 

A mischievous glint sparkles in Ed’s eye. Before he can ask, Ed hauls Stede up and over his shoulder. 

“Ed, put me down before you hurt yourself!” 

“Nah, can’t do that, mate. We are expediting the conversation by moving to the bedroom.” 

Stede isn’t really in a position to argue, so he lets Ed carry him to the bedroom. But he does cross his arms and paint a scowl on his face to ensure Ed knows he’s unhappy. 

The mattress double bounces Stede as Ed flops him down unceremoniously. Regrettably, that makes Stede laugh, completely ruining his tough, serious demeanor. He flops backwards and sighs, turning his head when the bed dips and Ed lies down next to him. 

“Why’d you bring me to bed?” 

“Dunno.” Ed shrugs. “We do all of our best talking in bed.” 

They scoot up the bed and lay side by side. Stede isn’t excited to share, but it doesn’t feel like this big, daunting shadow looming over him. His father is a complex subject and not a burden Ed should have to shoulder. 

Perhaps Stede should start there - that his father has him convinced that knowing him is a burden. 

“So that out there? Twenty-seven years of it.” 

Ed frowns. 

“He wasn’t pleasant before my mother died, but she offset him a little bit,” Stede continues. “I think she understood me, whereas my father has never cared to try. Couldn’t have been more than five when I asked my mother if he loved me. Funny, because I don’t remember a lot from that age, but I do remember her hesitation before telling me that she loved me.”

Stede has never said that out loud before. To this day, he can’t fathom what sin a child could’ve committed to warrant such intense loathing, but he’s adjusted to it over the years. His father has always seen Stede as an asset more than a son, and assets don’t pick flowers, or dress in loud clothing, or cry. They speak when spoken to, do as they’re told without question, and agree without question. Stede never knew how to be anything but himself, but he got very good at pretending. 

Knowing he’s an asset and not a child does nothing to dull the pain that’s been taking up residence where love should be. 

“Once I figured that out, I had to play Dutiful Bonnet Heir because it’s all I knew. Now, it’s been twenty-something years and I’ve been pretending for so long that I don’t really know who I am outside of that role.” 

Good lord, it all sounds so much sadder out loud than it does in his head. All this has been decades-long static in Stede’s brain, eating away at his sense of self until Stede accepted happiness wasn’t an option. 

Ed, who has been keeping an impressively respectful distance, taps Stede’s foot with his own. Someone knows who he is, even if Stede’s doesn’t know himself, and that’s huge. 

“I’ve never been enough of anything for my father, even when I was trying to be. His favorite pastime is public dressing downs, and I’m not an exception.” Stede fixes his gaze down to his hand on the bed. “I think I’m actually the rule.” 

He feels so childish for letting this bother him. He's a grown man, who the hell cares if his father reprimands him in public? Everyone looks at Stede with sympathy and knows his father is an angry, horrid, colossal sleazebag. It doesn’t affect how any of them treat Stede, save the handful of assholes just like his father. But he still feels like a little kid begging for his father’s approval, like if he could just get one thing right, then he’d finally be worthy. 

“So I just let him strong arm me into anything he wanted,” Stede explains. “I get in some malicious compliance here and there, hence the exceedingly fancy wardrobe, but it’s just easier to give in.” 

Stede’s eyes are burning with need to look up at Ed, but he doesn’t think his heart could take seeing disappointment. “You must think I’m terribly weak-willed.” 

“No, I don’t.” Ed puts two fingers under Stede’s chin and tilts his head up; Stede doesn’t resist. “I think you’re brave.” 

“Why?” Stede isn’t afraid to stand up to his bullies, he’s been doing it for most of his life. But there’s nothing brave in how he just rolls over and dies when it comes to his father. 

“I get the shitty dad thing. It’s all about surviving, man, and you’re doing it.” 

He is, isn’t it? Regardless of how difficult it is, Stede has pieced together some semblance of a life. He’s got loyal friends, new friends, hobbies, a boyfriend. He has become so happy in spite of his father, but it still feels like balancing on the edge of a knife. 

“I’m afraid he knows how much my life outside the office means to me,” Stede admits. “He’s always threatening to tear it all down, whatever that means.” 

“Fuck him. ‘Sides, he can’t take everything from you. He can’t take me.” 

Stede isn’t quite sure he believes that, but Ed looks so certain. He’s seen his father in action - he can take anything from anyone, including people. There’s no definitive proof that he’s had anyone killed, but Stede’s overheard some phone conversations and noticed when certain people just stop showing up at events. It seems like every entity in the city bends to his father’s will, and that makes him the most dangerous of all. But that’s such an ominous threat, to reveal that his father probably can take Ed from him, so Stede keeps his mouth shut. No need to frighten anyone when Stede’s father doesn’t even know Ed exists. They’ll be fine forever, because Stede has never wanted something this much and he intends to protect it. 

“Yeah,” Stede agrees. “He can’t take you.” 

There’s no telling who moved first, only that the tension completely melts out of Stede’s body when they kiss. How one person can possibly contain so much power over him, Stede will never know, but he’s glad it’s Ed and no one else. It’s slow, not leading anywhere, but the finest thing money can’t buy. Ed brings a hand up to Stede’s cheek, and his skin tingles where Ed’s thumb brushes gently back and forth. Something rattles in Stede’s chest at that, something he’s been ignoring because it’s far too soon, and he fights to soothe the monster banging in his chest. He manages to pull back unscathed. 

“Sorry.” Ed chuckles softly. “I’m supposed to be listening.” 

“Interrupt as often as you like.” 

“No, keep going. I’m practicing patience.” 

Stede holds Ed’s hand to siphon some bravery from him before continuing. 

“I suppose I don’t see myself as a person of consequence,” he says quietly, like he’s ashamed to admit it. He is, a little bit. “I get along with everyone just fine, but I’m no one’s favorite. I’d lift right out and no one would know the difference.” 

“I would notice,” Ed counters. So much for practicing patience. 

“You don’t have to -“ 

“I know I don’t,” Ed interjects. “I would notice. You’re my favorite.”  

Stede smiles so wide his face aches, the embers inside him burn so hot that his chest must be glowing. He doesn’t immediately contradict Ed, nor does he tell himself that Ed is just being nice. This is what it feels like to be chosen; this is what it feels like to be wanted. The thought that’s been stuck in his throat makes its way up to his tongue. 

If Stede were a braver man, he’d say what he feels. Instead, he tucks Ed’s hair behind ear and kisses him. 

“You’re my favorite, too.” 

“I know,” Ed retorts smugly. “Thanks for letting me listen.” 

“Thank you for caring enough to listen.” 

The two of them exchange more kisses until they finally accept that, no, they cannot survive on that alone. But little domestic tasks suit them, so they cook dinner together and blow soap bubbles at one another when they wash the dishes and linger just a little too long at the front door when Ed reluctantly says he should get going at the end of the night. It’s like the fight with his father never happened. 

When Ed finally leaves, Stede’s apartment feels empty. It’s for the best, taking things slowly, but suddenly there’s all this space that should be filled with Ed’s laughter, his dramatic gasps, and his unbridled moans. 

It’s early yet when Stede decides to go to bed, but he can’t be late for work tomorrow. Besides, the sooner he sleeps, the sooner he can see his boyfriend again. 

-

Stede’s father never misses a chance to remind Stede of his place. Work has rarely been such a nightmare. He can’t be sure his father told every employee to bother him with the most inane questions, but it sure did seem like it. He worked overtime too, just to catch up. The banking world moves at a much faster pace than it seems, but that does not make up for its dullness. 

By the time he leaves work, it’s pitch black outside. He trudges home more than he walks, his feet feel like cement blocks with every step. 

Stede practically falls through the door when he finally arrives home, it’s been such a long day. He’s greeted by the smell of burnt food and a shout of ‘Fuck!’ echoing from the direction of his kitchen. 

“Ed?” 

Ed appears in the foyer wearing a pink apron with his hair piled on top of his head and looking mildly stressed. Adorable. 

“Hi, baby - Stede. I mean Stede. Hi, Stede. Shit. Fuck.” 

The shitty day slips right off him. Who cares if work is a living hell and his father finds new, inventive ways to torture him every day. Stede used to come home to no one, but life can change in the blink of an eye. Now Stede comes home to everything. 

“Baby?” Stede asks wryly, a smirk playing on his lips. That’s new. And welcome. Very, very welcome. 

“No - I didn’t mean - Hey, I set your kitchen on fire, let’s go look at that!” 

Ed grabs Stede by the wrist and tries to pull him into the kitchen, but Stede digs in his heels and remains still. He’s very cute when he’s flustered. 

“Baby?” Stede asks again. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Ed huffs, blowing some hair out of his face. “I meant to say your name, I just misspoke.” 

The endearment sounds as natural to Stede as his own name. He wonders what the word might sound like whispered in the moonlight, gasped in pleasure, or sighed happily while tangled together. 

“You can call me baby if you want.” 

“Yeah?” Ed responds timidly. 

“I’m your boyfriend, you can call me anything you like.” 

“What about me?” It’s remarkable how quickly Ed can turn the attitude on and off. 

“I recall you being quite fond of ‘darling.’” 

Ed drops his head a little bit, shyly, and Stede knows he made the right call. 

The kitchen is not on fire. It has definitely looked better, though. As Ed explains it, he tried to do too much at once and lost track of it all. Stede watches Ed weave an animated tale about how he went to the grocery store and the butcher and how he’s a good cook, but Stede’s kitchen is full of fancy gadgets that have it out for Ed. So, really, Ed did nothing wrong but as it stands, there is no dinner. 

No one has ever even offered to cook for Stede before, so he considers forcing the burnt bits down just as a show of gratitude. As he assesses the damage (of which there’s none, culinary crimes notwithstanding), Ed continues telling him about the fight to get the stove lit and how the worst part of it all is that Stede still hasn’t kissed him hello. 

“Hello,” Stede chuckles, grabbing the top of Ed’s apron and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Better,” Ed mumbles against Stede’s lips. “But there’s still no dinner, and your entire place smells like burnt food.” 

There’s an obvious solution here. “You have a perfectly fine apartment uptown.” 

“If we go back to mine, you have to buy dinner and I’m not bringing you home later,” Ed says, wrapping his arms around Stede’s neck. 

“Oh no! How will I ever survive?” Stede says sarcastically. “Anyway, let’s clean this up and I’ll grab a suit for work tomorrow, then we can get going.” 

Ed laments the fruits of his labor as they’re dumped into the garbage one by one. Some of it is salvageable, but Ed insists that the first meal he cooks for Stede has to be perfect. That doesn’t stop Stede from tasting everything. Ed went to a lot of trouble, and Stede will be damned if he doesn’t appreciate that effort to the best of his ability! It’s good, too. He’ll be requesting a repeat of this meal as soon as possible. 

After the kitchen is relatively tidied, Ed opens the windows while Stede packs a bag. This is another first. Making sure he’s got everything he needs to spend the night at his boyfriend’s apartment feels like such an adult thing to do. He packs everything he could possibly need very neatly, including that silk button down Ed likes to walk around the apartment in (Stede intends to “accidentally” leave it there). 

The smell is already starting to fade, but Stede is too excited about spending the night at Ed’s to mention it for fear it might be easier to stay. Besides, they might have the space and the amenities at Stede’s, but Ed’s apartment is much more cozy. It’s homey and lived in, the kind of place where he imagines laundry collected on a chair in the corner and teacups abandoned on the nightstand. And they’d swear they were going to use the day to take care of chores, but it’s always ‘One more kiss!’ or ‘Just hold me for five more minutes!’ or ‘Wait, let me tell you what happened yesterday…’ instead. Neither of them are ever that bothered, however, because the pile of clothes is there because they stumbled in from their date the night before, giggling and gasping and desperate for one another. The teacups are from a few hours later, when Stede insisted a hot drink would be relaxing and the honey would soothe Ed’s throat. Ed argued that he wasn’t that loud, to which Stede laughed and said he’d try harder next time. They never get to those chores, they’re too wrapped up in one another, but it’s alright. There are infinite tomorrows. 

Or whatever, you know. It’s not like Stede’s thinking about some distant future that isn’t even feasible. He doesn’t think about it when they hold hands in the elevator, nor when Ed opens the passenger side door for him. He doesn’t think about it when they eat fortune cookies while waiting for their takeout and his says: True happiness in life is to love and be loved. He doesn’t think about it while they make up life stories for pedestrians at red lights, and he definitely doesn’t think about it when Ed says the sunset-kissed sky is the same color as Stede’s cheeks when he blushes. 

“I should get you a key for my place,” Ed mentions as he unlocks the door to his apartment. “Only fair, after all.” 

“I’d love that.” 

Having a key to Ed’s apartment means Stede could swing by and leave little surprises, or come over to cook Ed dinner, or let himself in to take care of Ed if he isn’t feeling well. When Stede gave Ed a key, it wasn’t really a romantic gesture - all the friends he trusts have them. But Ed offering this in return feels like a relationship step. They’re not moving in together, that wouldn’t be taking it slow, but it’s a commitment all the same. A show of trust. 

Unfortunately this delight is short lived as the door swings open to a disgustingly unpleasant surprise. 

“Jack?” Ed’s tone is confused and, Stede swears, tinged with suspicion. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just really need somewhere to crash. Hard times, ya know?” 

Ed squeezes Stede’s hand once, then asks, “How did you even get in?”

“I can still pick locks,” Jack answers with that stupid eye roll. “C’mon, it’s not like you’re busy.” 

They are busy, actually, but Stede doesn’t say that. They worked through the last incident with Jack, but it’s still fresh in Stede’s mind. He doesn’t want a repeat, or, god forbid, a sequel. 

“Kinda busy, man,” Ed tells Jack, motioning towards Stede. 

“Oh, well, excuse me!” Jack throws his hands up in the air. “Saving a guy’s life doesn’t mean jack shit anymore!”

It’s astounding that this conversation is happening when they’ve barely crossed the threshold. Stede still has one foot in the hallway. Still, Jack is kind of pitiful. And it’s not Stede’s place to say no, though every passing second makes it more difficult to remember that. 

Ed turns to Stede, uncertainty prevalent in his eyes, and says, “D’you mind if I talk to him in private?” 

To Stede’s surprise, he really doesn’t mind. His disdain for Jack runs deep, but other than some concerning behavior that night, Ed isn’t untrustworthy. Besides, a lot of that fight came from not talking. Now they talk! And he wants to make an effort for Ed, even if that means being nice to Jack Rackham. 

Still, Stede can only temper one Jack-related feeling at a time. So if he’s being cordial, then something else has got to give. 

“Not at all,” Stede answers. “I’ll put the game on the radio and relax on your sofa.” 

“Thank you,” Ed says softly. 

Ed puts their dinner down and motions for Jack to enter his bedroom, and that smug look on Jack’s face pushes him just an inch too far. 

Stede grabs Ed’s wrist and yanks him back, dropping the bag of clothes to catch Ed around the waist and prevent him from stumbling. He kisses Ed with a ferocity that catches them both off guard. Its intent is possession, struck from some primal part of Stede he didn’t know existed. He’d feel bad if Ed’s hand didn’t immediately find its way into his hair or the faintest moan didn’t hum in the back of Ed’s throat. It’s hot and desperate in a way it shouldn’t be, not when Stede is only trying to prove a point. Jack makes an incredibly satisfying gagging noise. Mission accomplished. Ed chases Stede’s lips when he pulls back, a whine just barely audible over their panting. 

“Don’t be too long.” Stede drops one more fleeting kiss to Ed’s lips before making his way to the living room. 

As Ed’s bedroom door clicks shut, Stede does as he said and flips on the radio before dropping himself onto the sofa. Graham McNamee’s voice immediately fades into the background, and later Stede will be so over-the-top apologetic to Ed that he wasn’t paying enough attention to recount what the Yankees were up to while he was having what’s surely a god-awful conversation. But for now, he’s deep in thought. 

Stede starts with the facts: he trusts Ed and Jack is irritating but non-threatening. If Ed tells him about their conversation later, great. If not, he’ll respect Ed’s privacy. There’s not a doubt in his mind that soon enough, he and Ed will be cuddling on the sofa alone. 

So why the hell did Stede feel so compelled to devour Ed in front of Jack over a smirk?! 

Jealousy is not something Stede is well-acquainted with. He’s been jealous in his life, of course, but not like this. In the past, he’s never gotten jealous or possessive over a partner. As he slumps further down into the cushions, a few memories come rushing back. He did get oddly uncomfortable when Anne sat on Ed’s lap that one night. And there was the night he told Ed he wanted to kiss him! Stede may have been drunk, but he does remember a very clear flash of jealousy when Ed has his arm around that random girl. Now, Jack made a very pointed expression, but this time Stede needed to prove him wrong. 

No other partner has ever sparked a hint of jealousy in Stede, not even when he found out one of them had been cheating on him. 

“Wouldn’t even notice I was here, but whatever,” comes Jack’s voice from down the hall. Stede hurriedly sits up and pretends he’s been enthralled with the baseball game this entire time. 

“C’mon, man. You get it, right?” 

“It? Yeah. Him? No.” Well that’s fairly rude, but Stede never expected Jack to like him. The vindication when Jack yells, “Ouch! Why the fuck did you kick me?!” feels great, though. 

The two of them walk into the living room, and it’s all Stede can do not to jump on top of Ed again. Jack looks splendidly annoyed with the way he keeps shifting on his feet and huffing, not unlike a teenager after being told they have to abide by curfew. Ed, however, is looking at Stede with such apologetic eyes that he wonders how much damage someone like Jack can do during a ten minute conversation. 

“My bad for showing up unannounced, Steve,” Jack says. 

“Stede,” Ed corrects. 

“No one is named Stede! Fuckin’ grifter, this guy.” 

Maybe Jack isn’t evil. Maybe he’s stupid. 

“It’s Stede,” Stede confirms. 

“Ooookay!” Jack throws his arms up in defeat. “I’m sorry, Stede. Let me just grab my shit and I’ll blow outta here.” 

Stede just raises his eyebrows and nods. He appreciates that Jack is leaving without a fuss (well, aside from whatever happened in the bedroom), but it’s not Stede’s place to say, ‘Thanks for getting the hell out of my boyfriend’s home!’ no matter how much he wants to. For his part, Ed stays rooted to his spot in the middle of the room. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his eyes are fixated down on what must be a captivating pair of shoes. 

The click of a closing door has never sounded so pleasant. Jack has the good grace to hastily apologize a second time as he leaves, though it sounds rehearsed. A lot of Jack feels rehearsed, come to think of it. But perhaps that comes with the lack of sincerity. 

Ed launches into a speech at the same moment Stede is about to suggest they pick up where they left off earlier. 

“Stede, I’m so sorry. He’s always done whatever the fuck he wants. But I didn’t invite him here!” 

“I know,” Stede responds, somewhat bewildered. He holds a hand out and breathes a sigh of relief when Ed walks over and takes it. Stede pulls him down onto the sofa, but he’s still contorted into a remorseful slouch. “I know that,” Stede repeats firmly. 

“Me and Jack have history, and I know you probably think something weird was going on, but I swear all we did was talk, okay, I promise I said that we were together, Stede, and then I told him that he couldn’t stay here.” Ed rushes the words out so quickly that he’s surely set a world record for Most Words Spoken Between Breaths. 

This reaction is concerning for many reasons, not the least of which being Stede’s suspicion that Jack has a lot to do with Ed’s current behavior beyond the last fifteen minutes. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I trust you.” 

“You trust me.” Ed repeats the words like they’re an affirmation. 

Nothing else is said on the topic but that’s fine. It’ll surely come up later. Besides, a smile has returned to Ed’s lips and the stars to his eyes, just how Stede likes him. Soft and beautiful and happy. 

Much to Ed’s chagrin, Stede insists they finally eat something instead of trying to survive on kissing alone. He backs up his suggestion by reminding Ed that he can listen to the end of the Yankees game while they eat, but Ed insists he can multitask his two favorite activities at once. In the end, Stede scores a rare win. Ed ends up sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table because it’s closer to the radio (sometimes he has to put his hands on the radio to send good energy when the Yankees are in a tough spot, or so he says). He’s so excited that he stands up and does a lap around the room while he claps when the Yankees win. It’s inconceivably endearing. 

As expected, Ed does ask how the first four runs were scored, but Stede doesn’t know what to tell him. 

“Weren’t you listening to the game?” Ed asks in the tone of a man who knows damn well Stede wasn’t paying attention to the game. 

“I was!” Stede replies defensively. 

“Mhmm.” Ed moves himself on to the sofa and throws his legs across Stede’s lap. “So you weren’t distracted by how hot it was when you kissed me in front of Jack just to prove he couldn’t have me?” 

“Yes, well.” Stede clears his throat. “Can’t have you forgetting about me.” 

“No chance of that, dollface.” 

It can’t be healthy to feel so dizzy all the time. The room spins and Stede’s heart thumps thunderously in his chest, and nothing can ground him except his name on Ed’s lips. Taking it slow is a good idea, but he’s only managed to do that physically thus far. Ed never makes him feel like an afterthought, always ensures Stede feels wanted. Hell, he knew Stede’s work day would be arduous after that run in with his father that he wanted Stede to come home to a hot meal. Stede’s mind is taking it at lightspeed, no matter how scary that L word is. 

“Don’t ‘dollface’ me! That gets us into trouble,” Stede jokingly scolds. “Taking it slow, remember.”

Ed lets out a defeated sigh and settles for giving Stede a kiss on the cheek. “Whatever you say, baby.” 

Despite it being so early in the evening, Ed decides there’s nothing else to do but go to bed. Stede sees through this ruse immediately but plays along, because why shouldn’t he lie in bed with Ed and kiss and talk and play with Ed’s hair until he falls asleep? It’s one of the little joys of life. 

As they dance around each other in Ed’s bedroom and bathroom getting ready for bed with unpracticed synchronicity, ‘later’ turns into ‘now.’ Stede doesn’t need to know every single detail of Ed’s conversation with Jack, but he thought he’d get something. Especially considering the way Jack left did not instill a lot of hope in Stede that he’d be gone for good. It felt more like Ed had put up a wall between his boyfriend and his alleged friend. Then again, Stede should just be grateful to have been the one chosen. 

“So what did Jack want anyway?” Stede asks lightly as he folds down the duvet and slips into Ed’s bed. Very relaxed, very nonchalant.

“Uhh, nothing much,” Ed answers, voice muffled through a mouthful of toothpaste. “Place to sleep.” 

“You just seemed a little shaken up after. I wondered if he said something that upset you.” 

Ed waits until he’s crawled into bed next to Stede to respond. In reality, that’s only a minute or two, but it feels like an eternity. The sink turns on, then off. Ed exhales. The bathroom light turns off. Ed stares at Stede, hands on his hips, for a few seconds before sitting cross-legged on his side of the bed. Hours have ticked by. 

“Nah, ‘m fine. Told him to go stay at the hideout.” 

A partial lie, at least, but Stede doesn’t want to press. It would be some kind of horrible record to upset his boyfriend two days into their relationship. 

“Okay,” he says, hoping Ed doesn’t pick up on the evident disbelief. Just let it go, he thinks. Everything turned out fine.  

Vibe sufficiently killed. Great job, Stede! 

Stede is looking at Ed, but Ed is looking at his hands folded in his lap and continuously puffing out his cheeks over and over again. Some sleepover this is turning out to be. Stede can fix it, though. He’s the king of fixing things! And it all starts with a single word. 

“Darling?” 

The only part of Ed that moves is his eyes, now staring directly at Stede. They’re wide but exhilarated, like a deer caught in headlights if it enjoyed the danger. Problem solved. 

“Darling,” Stede tries again. More a prompt than a question this time.

“Hm?” Ed answers, voice oddly high. Bottling the high of reducing your hot, usually audacious boyfriend to a puddle with the use of a single pet name is a business venture Stede should look into. 

Stede grabs Ed’s wrist, much less aggressively this time, and pulls him until Ed topples like a Jenga tower, limbs landing this way and that as he falls into Stede’s embrace. How anyone could’ve let this go, Stede will never know. Ed rests his head just low enough that Stede can kiss the top of it, he sighs happily as Stede runs a hand up and down his bare back, and he wraps a leg so securely over Stede’s hips that there’s no escape. 

“Don’t go to work tomorrow,” Ed requests. 

“I wish I didn’t have to, but my father would have my head, I’m afraid.” Stede sighs. The sole benefit of taking over the company is no longer having to answer to his father, at least where work is concerned. 

“I’ll have his head,” Ed mutters. 

“I appreciate the threat.” 

Ed pushes himself up to look Stede in the eye. “What am I supposed to do while you’re at work?!” He’s adorably exasperated. 

“See what your friends are up to,” Stede suggests. “Try to find cool birds in the park. Rob a bank!” 

He rolls his eyes and mutters something like, “Maybe I’ll rob your bank and then you’ll have to hang out with me.”  

Now seems like as good a time as any to reveal the big surprise. Stede would like to take Ed out on a proper first date before bringing their friends into the fold, but time is of the essence. He can get box seats for the game, but he’s not sure he can get Major League Baseball to move the game. 

“Alright, what are you doing Saturday?” 

“Saturday?” Ed looks at Stede incredulously, as if he can’t comprehend how Stede would ask such a ridiculous question! “I’m gonna be planted in your lap in front of a radio. That’s game four of the World Series.” 

Stede hums as if that’s new information. “I see. You’re really married to listening to the game, then?” 

“Yeah, it’s like the one thing I look forward to all year. Not changing my plans, not even for Stede Bonnet.” 

He sighs wistfully, like that throws a real wrench into his weekend plans. Ed doesn’t look suspicious at this reaction but he does look concerned. Perfect. 

“If your plans are so rock solid, I’ll just have to go to the game with someone else. Perhaps Fang? He’s always very - Oof.”  

Sometimes, it’s like having a six foot golden retriever who has all the stealthiness and attitude of a black cat around. Ed launches himself up and on top of Stede so aggressively that the bed knocks against the wall. Stede laughs through the absolute onslaught of kisses he’s receiving, and Ed mumbles something that could be “best boyfriend,” but he doesn’t want to flatter himself. Even if that is the title he’s aiming for. 

“So your plans are flexible then?” Stede teases. 

“Uh, yeah!” 

“I thought we could kind of… try again. We’ll go with our friends, maybe be better behaved.” Ed opens his mouth to say something, and Stede knows exactly what, so he cuts him off. “And if you want me all to yourself, we’re the only two with actual seats.” 

“You’ve thought of everything, huh?” Ed holds Stede’s face gently in his hands. “Still think you’ll wanna be my boyfriend after seeing who I become at that game?” 

“As long as you like me more than the Yankees.” 

“Stede, Stede, Stede.” Ed kisses along Stede’s jaw and nips at his earlobe, then whispers, “Know your limits.” 

Stede scoffs, grabbing Ed’s waist tightly and maneuvering him down onto his back on the bed. Having caught him by surprise, Stede eats up the shocked look on Ed’s face as he hovers over him. Now that he’s had a little taste of confidence, it’s difficult to stop. If the only power Stede ever gets exists purely in this bed, it’s enough. 

“What are you waiting for?” Ed asks. 

In truth, Stede isn’t sure. Something about the way Ed looks beneath him - his hair splayed messily around his head, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, that impatience on his lips contrasting the shock in his eyes - feels like a core memory. God willing, Stede will get to experience this again, but he’s etching the vision into his mind just in case. 

And maybe it’s just a little bit fun to make him wait. Ed may be cocky but Stede has an attitude. 

“I was waiting for you to ask nicely, sweetheart, but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards.” 

“Sweetheart is new,” Ed comments. “Like that.” 

“I’m glad, sweetheart.” Stede kisses him. “Darling.” He kisses Ed again. 

Stede straddles Ed properly, pinning him to the bed by his wrists. They always kiss like it’s the last time they’ll ever have the chance to taste one another, but that’s exactly how it feels when Stede pulls back to breathe after making sure Ed is flushed and kiss-bitten and panting. There’s barely an inch of space between their lips, and Stede is still catching his breath, but the distance is insurmountable and they haven’t kissed in an eternity. Ed keeps craning up for more, lips ghosting over Stede’s lips, his jaw, his cheek. It’s far too much leverage, Stede decides, so he slides Ed’s arms straight up above his head so Ed can’t move as much. Manhandling his partner isn’t something Stede’s ever considered, but Ed reacts so positively to the slightest hint of Stede being in control that he lets instinct lead the way. 

“One of these days you’re gonna make good on that promise to restrain me, dollface,” Ed tells him followed by a breathy laugh. 

“Name the time and place.” 

As the checklist of proposed sexcapades grows ever longer, he considers looking into extended vacation time from work to take Ed upstate and make every filthy fantasy a reality. For now, Stede grinds his hips down into Ed’s lap, lavishing in the sinful gasp it causes. He does it again, and Ed’s eyes flutter shut. 

“Have to tie me up at yours,” Ed breathes. 

“Why’s that?” Stede asks, kissing a mostly faded bruise on Ed’s neck. 

“No volume control around you. I have neighbors.” 

As if to prove that point, Stede nips at Ed’s skin just to hear him whimper. It’s Stede’s favorite sound in the world and it plays on repeat constantly. Then, when he finally gets to hear it in person again, it blows his memory out of the water. He lets Ed’s arms go free and they immediately wrap tightly around him. Stede shivers as Ed’s hands slip under his shirt for the sole purpose of clawing at bare skin. 

Stede isn’t grinding as a tease anymore. The ever present embers in his gut are being stoked to roaring flames, and he moans against Ed’s skin. 

“Baby, wait,” Ed says, straining to get the words out. “We have to stop.” 

Right, shit, they’re supposed to be taking it slow. And here Stede is, turning a make out session into foreplay. 

“I’m sor-” 

“No!” Ed covers Stede’s mouth with his hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, but you have to stop because I’m two seconds away from begging you to fuck me.” 

Apparently, Stede’s forbidden from speaking, so he raises his eyebrows in question.

“I don’t want to break the rules but having you on top of me is making that difficult,” Ed answers. There’s a twinge of a whine in his voice, as if Stede’s dastardly plan was to get them both worked up for no reason. 

Still, that’s a fine compliment. He gets off of Ed, putting as much space between them as the bed allows. 

“Better?” he asks. 

“No. Be less hot.” 

“Be less hot, don’t go to work. Anything else you want from me?” Stede smirks and crosses his arms. 

“Yeah. Make me think about anything but how mind-blowing it’s gonna be when we finally have sex again.” 

That’s a tall order, and not at all made easier by how messy Ed’s hair is when he sits up. Stede does not think about wrapping it around his hand and pulling to see how loudly he can make Ed moan. The whole point of delaying that form of physical intimacy is to work on their communication! Build trust! Learning to be vulnerable with one another! Actually… 

“I can’t have you withering away from kiss deprivation, but we’ve proven ourselves rather incapable of, ah, holding back.” Ed leans in, and Stede is happy to accommodate (though he fists the duvet to keep his hands to himself). “I propose that when we find ourselves on the brink, we stop and share something new about ourselves instead,” Stede suggests. 

Ed brings a hand to his chin and knits his brow. He’s silent, apparently deep in thought. It’s a rather reasonable suggestion. Ingenious, even, if Stede does say so himself. It’s the best of both worlds! There’s no need to implement a kissing ban and there will be near nightly opportunities to wear their hearts on their sleeves. But Ed starts miming what looks to be some math equations midair, and Stede wonders if he accidentally started talking about work. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” 

“I’m doing a cost-benefit analysis.” 

“Cost-benefit analysis?” Stede repeats, bemused. 

“Yeah.” Ed lies down again, making sure he slides over enough to have his head in Stede’s lap. “You know, like, considering the pros and cons of your proposal to see if it makes sense. If it’s worth it,” Ed explains. “You’re a businessman, baby, you should know what a cost-benefit analysis is.”

The laugh that bursts from Stede’s chest is filled with so much mirth he can hardly believe it. Ed’s got that stupid ‘Gotcha!’ smirk on his face to match the playful look in his eyes. “And what information have you ascertained from this analysis?” 

“That talking with you is my favorite thing in the world.” 

Honest to god, Stede’s heart skips a beat. He’s got enough of Ed’s lip prints on his body to argue for something different to be Ed’s favorite Stede-related activity, but he doesn’t mention that. He’d happily talk himself hoarse as long as Ed was involved in the conversation. And still, somehow, a little fear creeps into Stede’s mind. He’s never been able to stop himself from jumping to conclusions, especially when they lead him off a cliff. The Sword of Damocles follows him wherever he goes. 

He shakes it off. Ridiculous. Stupid. He’s got his boyfriend in his lap, smiling and practically purring at the way Stede’s scratching his head, wearing a lazy smile and a smitten gaze. Why would Ed leave just because Stede starts divulging his relationship baggage? He wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

“Hey,” Ed says, reaching up to brush his knuckles along Stede’s cheek. “Where’d you go?” 

“Nowhere,” Stede answers quickly. “Just thinking.” 

“Yeah? Anything you wanna share since we’re doing that?” 

No. And yes. And some petulant whining noise. Being honest with Ed is the easiest and most difficult thing he’s ever done. Stede doesn’t want to lie, but he’s not quite ready to dump all his insecurities onto a two-day-old relationship. Besides, there are lots of thoughts rattling around in his head that Ed doesn’t know. Best to ease into this new game. 

“Yes. Something you don’t know about me is that I almost kissed you in the back of your car the night we met.” 

The arrogant, self-satisfied look on Ed’s face could put even the sleaziest politician to shame. Oh, he’s so satisfied with himself - it’s equal parts annoying and attractive. 

“You should’ve kissed me.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Stede scoffs. “Like I could’ve just kissed Blackbeard when you had me bound and blindfolded two minutes prior.” 

“Could’ve,” Ed insists. “I wouldn’t’ve stopped you. Think I even offered to go a little further than that.” 

Stede opens his mouth to respond but immediately snaps it shut. He does this three more times as the wheels inside his head begin turning. Smoke billows out of his ears as he replays the conversation in his mind. Stede knew he didn’t mishear Ed that night! Good lord, how many other dropped hints has he walked right over? 

“You’re telling me that we just so happened to rob the same store on the same night, you had me thrown in the back of your car, and then decided your next course of action was to flirt with me?!” Stede asks incredulously. 

“I also, very technically, kidnapped you.”

Best thing that ever happened to him. “Right, all that and you just had to have me. Why?” 

The answer is, apparently, so serious that Ed has to sit up and face him. It isn’t as though Stede thinks Ed is lying about his attraction - Stede’s had more than enough proof of that - but he’s never quite understood why Ed is so ready to pounce on him at any moment. Usually, he shoves that down, as no good can come from that line of thought. 

Ed takes Stede’s face in his hands and stares at him unblinking. The severity of it all makes Stede giggle, so he holds Ed’s face in kind. 

“Standing there with your hair done just so, in that absurdly well-tailored teal suit you never get to wear? Mouthing off to Izzy and looking at me like I’m something special?” The weight in his voice melts away, replaced with pure affection. “I never stood a chance.” 

There it is again, sitting on the tip of Stede’s tongue. He runs through the list of excuses: it’s too early, it’s too fast, he’s going to scare Ed away, he just really likes Ed. The taste lingers, even after the urge passes. Every reemergence of this feeling makes it more and more difficult to tame the wild heart he didn’t realize lived in his chest. 

Too anxious to say it, too cowardly to admit it, but incapable of stopping himself from feeling it. 

“I’m glad you never stood a chance.” Stede smushes Ed’s cheeks together so his entire face is squished, eliciting a disgruntled groan from his boyfriend. “But I do wish we’d made out in the back of your car.” 

Ed takes Stede’s hands off his face and squeezes them tight. “That offer does not expire. Ever.” 

“Good, uh, good to know.” Stede clears his throat. A less smitten man might be embarrassed that the prospect of kissing in the backseat of a car is making him giddy when he’s got bruised knees, a questionably repaired kitchen table leg, and an outrageous water bill. But Stede likes that he still gets a little nervous and flustered - that’s how hopelessly infatuated he is with Ed. 

“Guess it’s my turn, huh?” That cocky smirk makes a reappearance. “Something you don’t know about me, apparently, is that’s not the night I met you.” 

Now, that’s just not true. It can’t be, because Stede would remember meeting Ed. He does remember meeting Ed. Time slowed down while he looked very respectfully at Ed and with a zero percent chance of drooling. 

“You’ve occupied my every thought for weeks, I think I’d remember meeting you prior to that evening!” 

“Dunno.” Ed shrugs. “You seemed pretty drunk, and I slammed into you really hard. But I did help you up, gentleman that I am.” 

It sounds familiar, but for the life of him, Stede cannot recall the night in question. Ed wouldn’t have been at any of those stupid high-society parties - if he had, this whole arranged marriage business wouldn’t be such an issue. “Then what?” 

“Asked if you were okay, then talked Izzy to death about you for the next three hours.” 

“Nice things I hope.” 

“I don’t remember all the details,” he obviously lies, avoiding eye contact. It’s nice when Ed’s the one who’s flustered. “You were pretty, and I don’t think you meant to but you smiled at me. Couldn’t shut up about you.” 

Stede’s never been much for fate, but it’s hard to argue with the facts. 

It’s sweet, tucking into bed together after that. Stede insists he wants to stay up and talk even though he’s fading, but Ed promises they can wake up early and get in some of that backseat action before he has to be at work. 

The city sounds are quieter here. Combined with the dark and Ed’s gentle snoring, it’s almost enough to let Stede pretend. The two of them live together in some quiet town, far enough from the city that life is leisurely and stress free but close enough that they can drive in whenever they want. They have a little vegetable garden out back, a piano in the living room, and maybe a cat. Sometimes the cat digs up the garden and the piano is a bit too big for the room, but it’s cozy and it’s theirs. A majority of their time is spent in the bedroom anyway. After so much practice, they’ve perfected the ratio of kissing to talking to sex and like to draw that triangle as often as possible. It’s hushed, domestic bliss. 

Ed stirs a little on his chest, so Stede rubs his back until he settles. 

Tomorrow, Stede will be exhausted. He’ll have to fight himself to get up and work will be miserable. But Ed’s weight on top of him feels so right that Stede misses it when they get out of bed, so he doesn’t want to miss a moment. It’s safety, it’s comfort. He can sleep when he’s dead.

- 

It’s a beautiful day for baseball. 

The autumn air is crisp, every corner of the city is alive, and the New York Yankees are up an impressive three games to none over the Pittsburgh Pirates in the 1927 World Series. If they win this game, they’ll be World Series Champions and have solidified their reputation as the best baseball team of all time. 

Stede isn’t very invested in any of that. He cares in the sense that a win will have Ed over the moon, but that’s about it. 

The box is full of chatter. Not much of it is about baseball, but this is as much a social outing as it is a sporting event! If nothing else, Stede is ecstatic that their friend groups seem to be blending seamlessly. Archie and Jim are deep in conversation and looking at each other in a pointed way even Stede recognizes. Lucius is speaking animatedly with Fang from Pete’s lap. Olu, Wee John, and Frenchie are laughing emphatically at something Ivan’s said. Even Izzy seems to be having an okay time. He’s in the corner alone drinking a Coke, but there’s not a scowl in sight. Anne and Mary are missing, but Stede is trying not to think about that. He’d been assured the two of them would be on their best behavior; he can’t say for sure what their best behavior looks like. The room is stocked with enough Coca-Cola, hot dogs, and soft pretzels to feed a small town. He really knocked this one out of the park, pun absolutely intended. 

Ed is pacing in circles with a pretzel in each hand. Occasionally, he stumbles over in Stede’s direction. Stede has been given the very important job of holding a Coke bottle up to Ed’s lips so he doesn’t have to put down his snacks. 

“Is this excitement or nerves?” Stede asks. 

“Both! They could win it all today and I could be in Yankee Stadium when they do it!” 

“That’s the plan!” 

“Hey,” Ed leans in close and drops his voice low. “Can I kiss you in here or is that not allowed?” 

Stede looks around the room. He frowns at the understandable presence of staff in the room. “Better not in front of the staff. Who knows what gets back to my father.” 

Life is cruel because that makes Ed pout, and the only sure fire way to dispel such a frown is to kiss it away. He’s already planning to make up for his crime later. 

“Fine,” Ed sighs. “If you need me, I’ll be over in the corner near that restroom door where no one on the other side of the room can see us.” 

Tactical genius. 

He gives it a minute before following Ed over to the other side of the suite. There are enough people scattered about and making noise that no one is paying specific attention to him. 

“Hi,” Ed says, trapping Stede against the wall. 

“Hi,” Stede replies, pulling Ed in by his waist. 

“Thank you for putting all this together for me.” 

After a glance around to be one hundred percent certain, Stede presses a quick kiss to Ed’s lips and says, “You’re welcome.” 

They rejoin their friends after that, both acutely aware that this is not the time or place to get lost in one another. There will be time for that later. Besides, Ed wants to commit his focus to the game, and Stede wants to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. 

Thankfully, Stede does find Anne and Mary. Unfortunately, they come running into the room out of breath and insisting they’ve been here the whole time. 

“Where’d you guys go?” Ed asks. 

“To the bathroom,” Mary answers. 

Anne, clutching her side and leaning on a chair, adds, “And that will remain the official story.” 

Stede will probably lose his mind if the two of them ruin this day for Ed because they have to make trouble. They do, at least, seem to genuinely care about Ed enough to not, say, burn down Yankee Stadium. He’s having security keep an extra eye on them, however. Just in case. 

The first pitch is scheduled to happen in ten minutes, so Ed is adamant about getting to their seats as soon as possible. He’s deadly serious, Stede can tell because Ed doesn’t even try to coax another kiss or seven out of him before heading for the door. He looks like an impatient child, so Stede laughs and tells him to just go and he’ll catch up in a minute. Ed bolts out the door, and Stede can see him high-fiving strangers and cheering excitedly through the suite window. 

“Eddie really likes you, you know,” Anne comments, sidling up next to him stealthy as a cat. 

“I know. I really like him, too.” 

Anne hums, considering his response. “I know how to dismember a man. It’s a long and painful process. For them, not me.” She twirls a bit of hair around her finger. It’s horribly unnerving and makes it difficult to tell if she’s trying to scare him or if she’s serious. 

“She does,” Mary says, appearing from nowhere.

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” he says to Anne, then turns to Mary and asks, “Where the hell did you come from?” 

Mary shrugs. “I go where she goes.” 

“Just don’t go making any promises you can’t keep. Okay, blondie?” Anne punctuates her point with a vice grip on his shoulder. 

Wha- blondie?! Five minutes ago, Stede was considering risking it all to feel Ed up in the back corner, and now he’s being vaguely threatened by Anne Bonny. He has to admit, childhood friend or not, he didn’t see this protective attitude coming. 

“I assure you both, I only want to make Ed happy.” 

“Then go and do that,” Anne says, pushing him towards the door. 

He shakes off the odd interaction and hustles down the concrete stairs to his seat. 

It’s strange, Stede thinks, how he can feel the weight of what might happen today in the air. He may not care for sports very much, but there’s about being in the stadium camaraderie that cannot be ignored. Even the most sports-averse person would fall under the spell. 

Stede finds Ed practically vibrating in his seat, looking like he needs to run the bases ten or fifteen times to get rid of all that nervous energy. 

“Stede, I owe you so much for this.”

“If you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

Ed squeezes his hands tight in lieu of a kiss.

The Pirates draw first blood. It’s only the top of the first inning, there’s so much baseball left to play, but the look of anguish on Ed’s face would make anyone not in the know think the Yankees were on the verge of defeat. They do manage to make it out of the first inning with a tie game, which seems to ease Ed’s anxious disposition. 

The next three innings are scoreless on both sides. It’s a little dull, especially given the hype around this particular game. Both sides are hitting easy balls to the infield and being thrown out, making the game move fairly quickly but not giving the stands anything to cheer about. The energy has fizzled out a bit, and Ed keeps groaning when the Yankees can’t get anything going. 

In the bottom of the fifth inning, the top of the Yankees batting order comes back around. 

“Somethings gonna happen here, I can feel it,” Ed says. He’s notorious for claiming that every time Babe Ruth has an at bat, but Stede doesn’t mention it. 

With one out and one runner on base, Babe Ruth steps into the batter’s box. The first pitch is a ball; Ed’s claps, complimenting his patience in waiting for the right pitch. The second pitch is a strike that’s hit foul; Ed just barely leaves his seat as the bat and ball make contact but stays seated. Magic happens on pitch three. The ball absolutely cracks off the bat. The entire stadium jumps to their feet. It’s going, going, gone into right field! Babe Ruth hits a two run home run to give the Yankees the lead! 

The crowd lights up. Everyone is cheering at the top of their lungs and jumping so hard the stadium is rattling beneath their feet. Out of sheer, unadulterated joy, Ed squeezes Stede tight and lifts him off the ground. Stede hugs him back, unsure if his own excitement is from finally understanding the appeal of the game or this blatant public display of affection. When Ed puts Stede back down, he leans in for a celebratory kiss but swerves at the last second. Stede’s eyes blow wide and he can feel the smile on his face transform from one of joy to one of nervous excitement. 

“Sorry, shit, got carried away.” 

“No problem,” Stede squeaks. This is a thrill he shouldn’t seek. The risk factor is far too high. But the sidelong glances Ed keeps throwing him make it harder and harder for Stede to care. Somehow, they manage to behave. 

The Pirates tie the game in the top of the seventh inning, opening up the possibility of the series going to a fifth game again. Stede would hate to see that - he wants Ed to have the experience of a championship win at home. Unfortunately, the game itself is the one thing Stede can’t control. 

During the Seventh Inning Stretch, Stede asks if Ed wants any refreshments from their box. 

“I can get -“ 

“No,” Stede interrupts. “You sit here so you don’t miss a moment. Now, tell me what you want.” 

“Just a Coke? Thanks, baby.” 

“I believe my baseball name was slugger,” Stede corrects. 

Ed barks a laugh. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, slugger.” 

“You’re welcome!” 

He hustles back up to the box, given the inning break is quite short, and grabs two of the glass bottles from the ice bucket. Someone calls, "You should kiss him next time!’ after Stede as he leaves again, but he ignores it. Easy for them to say! When he gets back to their seats, Ed takes his soda and clinks it against Stede’s bottle. The sunlight glints off the glass bottle, and Stede’s first thought is that it matches the sparkle of Ed’s eyes. 

The game remains tied until the bottom of the ninth inning. Everyone is on their feet again, but this time it’s out of stress. Earle Combs and Mark Koenig are on base as Babe Ruth steps up to the plate. The entire stadium holds its breath, but he doesn’t even get a chance to win the game because he’s intentionally walked. But now, the bases are loaded. The next two batters strikeout, causing Ed to squeeze Stede’s hand so tight that he’s got to be hindering circulation. Tony Lazzeri steps up to the plate with the weight of two outs on his shoulders. If he doesn’t put the ball in play, the game will go into extra innings and give the Pirates another chance to score. 

Lazzeri fouls the first pitch, causing a booming groan to echo through the crowd. 

“I have never been so stressed out in my life,” Ed laments. 

The second pitch is thrown, and it’s wild. It speeds right past the catcher’s glove, bounces, and spins off towards the dugout. The catcher chases the ball and the pitcher runs to cover home plate. Combs books it up the third base line and slides into home plate as the catcher tries to throw him out. The throw is too late, Combs is safe. 

The New York Yankees have won the 1927 World Series. 

The crowd absolutely erupts in excitement. Stede cheers and claps and hugs strangers and pumps his fist in the air. Ed grabs Stede by the shoulders and shakes him while repeating ‘Holy shit!’ over and over again. The laugh Stede lets out makes him feel so light, so carefree, that he lets impulse get the better of him. No one is paying attention to them anyway! They’re all celebrating! 

Stede grabs the lapels of Ed’s suit jacket and pulls him in to kiss him. It’s quick, he hasn’t lost his mind completely, but he’s got so much adrenaline coursing through his veins that he can’t stop himself. This was the best possible outcome for the day. It’s perfect. 

The kiss leaves Ed dumbfounded. He’s frozen in place, shocked, like he didn’t expect Stede to actually do it, especially after that close call earlier. But Stede is allowed to indulge sometimes, too. A kiss is a perfectly acceptable way to celebrate. 

The next thing Stede knows, Ed is pulling him up to the owner’s box and into the suite’s restroom. The door is barely shut before Ed is kissing him roughly, hard and fast.

“Have I thanked you yet today?” Ed asks through bated breath. 

“Several times, but I can always hear it again.” 

“Thank you,” he says against Stede’s lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Ed picks Stede up and holds him against the door. His legs wrap around Ed’s waist like it’s second nature. The celebrations are loud on the other side of the door, and Stede is so grateful for the cover when Ed starts listing all the ways he’s going to thank Stede for taking him to this game. 

Not that Stede will ever complain about this turn of events, but he’s not quite sure what’s caused such an intense rush of emotion. Other than that this is the longest they’ve gone without having sex since their first time, they’re purposely depriving themselves, no one has ever desired Stede so it occupies his thoughts all day long, and the craving for physical intimacy Ed’s awoken in him. Besides the adrenaline thrumming through both of them so powerfully that Stede can feel Ed’s pulse, the thrill of this relationship being forbidden, and Ed’s late night promises to one day see if they can keep quiet enough in public not to get caught. 

It’s a wonder they didn’t end up in the bathroom sooner. 

“…and you wouldn’t even be able to walk afterwards, that’s how good I’d be on my knees for you.” 

“Ed -“ he gasps, choking on the rest of the sentence. 

Ed laughs, and Stede can feel it reverberate where Ed’s lips are attached to his throat. “Yeah?” 

He can’t think of something meaningful to tell Ed, his head is completely empty. But Stede has enough wherewithal to know tonight he has to be the one to slow them down, that Ed deserves to be romanced and know as much about Stede as he wants before they jump into sex again. 

And while he’s learned in the last couple of minutes that he’s not opposed to semi-public sex, this whole boyfriend thing is going to be done right! 

“I’ve never been to Las Vegas!” Stede blurts out. 

“What?” 

It did the job, though not gracefully. 

“I’ve never been to Las Vegas,” Stede repeats. “Something you don’t know about me.” 

“Fuck.” Ed rests his head against Stede’s chest and catches his breath. “Yeah. You’re right. Yeah.” 

The sheer willpower it takes for Stede to unwrap his legs from Ed’s waist is matched only by the display of strength Ed shows by squeezing Stede’s thighs once before placing him back on the ground. 

“I haven’t been to Las Vegas either,” Ed says. 

Who knows where the hell Las Vegas came from, but if neither of them have been, then they should go together! Stede isn’t sure how he’d get away with that one, though. Maybe his bachelor party? God, but then he’s still getting married to Mary. Would he have to invite Doug? His other friends? It would be very strange to take one person no one in his high society life has ever met. His father would ask questions too. Never mind, scratch all of it, he jumped the gun. 

“Shall we rejoin the party?” Stede offers, desperate to quash his most recent line of thought. 

“I guess.” 

It seems like there’s something else Ed wants to say, so Stede stops him from reaching for the doorknob. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“D’you think this whole taking it slow thing is stupid? Feels stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid. Why would it be stupid?” 

“Because I’m just stopping us from doing something we both clearly want to do and I don’t even know what the end goal is.” 

Stede hopes that his enthusiasm for what they get up to in the bedroom isn't being mistaken for the sole reason he wants to spend time with Ed. It’s great fun and unimaginably good, but sex has never been a priority for him in a relationship. 

Time to be direct! What kind of boyfriend would Stede be if he let Ed go on thinking he was only in it for the sex, or that not having sex would somehow change how Stede feels?

“My affections for you have nothing to do with how much sex we do or don’t have, Ed.” He holds Ed around the waist, firmly but not tight. Not filled with ravenous heat but with support and safety. “I like holding your hand, and listening to you sing in the shower, and watching you put your hair up five or six times until you get it looking just right, and hearing every single thought you’re willing to share.” 

“It’s not always easy getting the perfect bun to loose strand ratio,” Ed mumbles shyly. “I don’t want you to get bored or something because I’m in my head.” 

“Edward Teach,” Stede begins sternly. “There’s not a chance in hell of that.” 

“What if I have no idea when I’ll be ready?” 

“I’m in no rush. You’re worth the wait.” 

Stede has never meant anything as much as he means those four words. He waited twenty-seven years to meet Ed, there’s no way he’s going to screw this up. 

The celebration hasn’t lost an ounce of its energy. He and Ed have barely gotten out of the bathroom when drinks are shoved into their hands and arms are slung around their shoulders. Tomorrow, Stede won’t remember any of these conversations, who started the group singalong, or who suggested they move the party to Jackie’s. But he will remember being surrounded by friends and joy and being comfortable enough to not give a single fuck what anyone thought about him. He’ll remember the warmth in his chest when he watched their friends getting along and making plans and how nice it felt that Izzy took a night off from antagonizing him. But most of all, Stede is going to remember how natural it felt to pull Ed into his lap and hold him close, how wonderfully lightheaded he became when he was teasing Ed and Ed kissed him to shut him up, and how the entire night felt like the best family dinner Stede has ever attended. 

Later, Stede insists on paying for the taxi back to Ed’s apartment. 

“You don’t have to pay for everything, Stede,” Ed says as he slides out of the cab. 

“If we’re doing this right, I can and I will!” He hands the driver enough cash to cover their ride three times over and follows Ed into the lobby of his building. 

“Why are you going home tomorrow morning just to come back?” 

“Because I’m going to show you what it’s like to be wined and dined by the most romantic person you’ve ever met.”

Ed rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He’d gotten rather drunk earlier and kept bragging about anything and everything Stede had done for him. To which all of their friends listened politely and seemed genuinely happy for Ed. It did make Stede wonder if Ed has ever had thoughtful gestures to brag about before, but he’s eager to make sure Ed’s got enough bragging material to last for the rest of their lives. Ed ended every story with, ‘Yeah, he’s probably, like, the most romantic person in the whole world.’ in an incredibly casual tone and then waited for anyone to agree. To everyone’s credit, they did. Fang even mentioned to Stede how he’s never seen Ed so happy and relaxed. All of that, of course, in between Ed’s many, many toasts to the Yankees’ win.

“Gonna court me or whatever the fuck, huh?” 

“Or whatever, yeah.” Stede’s face aches from smiling so much today but he can’t stop. “It’s going to be the best first date you’ve ever had.”

Chapter Text

This is the first Sunday that Stede Bonnet has experienced in recent memory without existential dread sitting like a rock in his stomach. 

Stede feels lightheaded as he walks Ed to his apartment door. He knows this date needs to stand on its own, so he can’t go inside where there will almost certainly be rumpled clothes, hickeys, and impatient whining. This feeling isn’t dissimilar to how Stede felt when they were dancing around one another, but the anticipation is ten times more agonizing. 

“So…” Ed begins, but trails off immediately. He looks from Stede’s eyes, to his lips, to their intertwined hands, then back again. 

“So,” Stede parrots, rubbing little circles into the back of Ed’s hands with his thumbs. 

Everything went to plan. The picnic, the swan boats, surprising Ed by taking him to a Bessie Smith performance. Stede didn’t need any thanks but a tipsy make out in a dimly lit club had been welcome all the same. And now here he is, having walked Ed to his door with every intention to kiss him goodnight and be on his way - like a gentleman. 

“What happens next?” 

“Next, I kiss you goodnight and return to my own apartment alone.” 

Ed groans at this turn of events, clearly not keen on the idea of sleeping alone. Neither is Stede if he’s being honest, but absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that! At least that’s what he’s telling himself. Hearts don’t get much fonder than his. 

“Better make it a good one,” Ed challenges. 

Roger that. Stede exchanges Ed’s hands for his waist, then backs Ed up against the door. He untucks Ed’s dress shirt just enough to sneak his hands beneath the fabric. Ed’s skin is hot and he jumps a little when Stede’s cold hands touch him. That’s exactly what Stede wanted, because as Ed moves forward to escape the freezing touch, he presses their bodies together and allows Stede’s arms to wrap tightly around him. 

Their faces are barely a hair’s breadth apart, and there are those golden flecks in Ed’s eyes again. Ed’s irises swirl around like molten pyrite, drawing Stede in deeper and deeper until he’s reaching out to willingly burn himself. He wonders if the nerves ever fully disappear or if he’ll spend the rest of his life with shaky hands and trembling lips when he touches someone so magnificently seraphic. That thing in his chest rattles its cage again as the latch becomes uselessly loose. 

“What happens next?” Ed asks again, barely above a whisper. 

“Next, you wrap your arms around my neck.” Ed does. “You take a deep breath.” Ed does. “And then…” Stede kisses Ed with enough force to knock him over were it not for the door behind him. He wants Ed to think about this for the rest of the night and into tomorrow. Their lips move together seamlessly as always, but that note of desperation is missing. It’s been replaced with longing, because Stede doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough. 

“Stede.” 

His name leaves Ed’s lips with gentle solemnity, so he returns it with an equally tenderhearted, “Darling.” 

“I’m ready. I miss you, and I want you, and I’m ready.” 

Stede takes a deep, uneven breath. “I’ll make the wait worth your while as soon as possible,” he promises, rather comedically considering his arms are what’s keeping Ed’s shirt bunched up so high. “Besides, a gentleman doesn’t have sex on the first date!” 

“Should’ve known,” Ed says, shaking his head but smiling. “What date does a gentleman have sex on?” 

“Oh, only after months of courting,” Stede says gravely. Ed’s face drops, expression changing from shock to disbelief to worry. “But I’d never make you wait that long, darling,” he says sweetly, and Ed relaxes into an easy grin again.

One more kiss, far less pearl-clutch-inducing than the last, and Stede bids his boyfriend goodnight. As soon as possible is more likely to be tomorrow than a few weeks from now, so he’s less inclined to give into those batting eyelashes than he normally would. 

He’s halfway down the hall when Ed calls his name again. 

“You’re really not going to come inside and teach me something about being boyfriends, huh?” 

Brazen as always, something Stede admires about him. Stede shakes his head no and wears a fond smile on his face. He keeps walking towards the stairwell but backwards so he doesn’t have to break eye contact. 

“Baby, don’t go,” Ed pleads, but it’s half-hearted. 

“Goodnight, Edward,” Stede replies, firmly but playfully. 

The journey home is long, or maybe Stede is just impatient to get there. The sooner he goes to sleep, the sooner it'll be tomorrow evening and he’ll be having dinner with Ed. 

When Stede does arrive home, he stumbles through the door exhausted. It’s a satisfying sort of ache though, the kind one only from overwhelming happiness. As he rushes through his nighttime routine, Ed is all he can think about. His lips feel lonely with no one to kiss, his fingers empty with no one to hold, and his body untethered with no one holding him down to earth. Never in Stede’s life has he missed someone as soon as they were out of sight, but it’s becoming harder and harder to convince himself that Ed is just someone. 

Ed likes to think himself dangerous, and he is in many ways, but Stede has never really agreed until now. The cage in his chest is shut but never locked because the thing inside is not captive. It’s boisterous and impatient and desperate to be known, but not a prisoner. Stede tends to it without realizing, often tells himself it’s a figment of his imagination. The havoc it would wreak will have catastrophic consequences. He’s powerless to stop it. 

Stede is beginning to think power and courage are intrinsically linked. His father punishes bravery. 

As he looks at himself in the mirror, rosy-cheeked and content, Stede adds a step to his routine. He peels back the wrapping on his hip and gently wipes at his skin with a warm cloth. It doesn’t hurt, which surprises him. It’s still a little bit red, but Ed assures him that it will be gone tomorrow. He traces the outline, unable to help himself. 

How has he gone this long without admitting it?

They play I Spy as they weave in and out of fellow pedestrians, and Stede is desperately trying to find something yellow in a sea of neutrals when Ed stops dead in his tracks. 

“Hey, Stede?” 

“Yes?” 

“You wanna do something weird?” 

And that is exactly how Stede Bonnet ends up in a chair at a tattoo parlor of questionable quality. 

He wants to do this. He does. However, that doesn’t make it any less frightening. Ed went first and didn’t look like he’d even felt the needle. But Ed has lots of tattoos and must be used to the feeling by now. Stede is a tattoo virgin with a paralyzing fear of needles. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Ed reminds him for the fifth time since he’s sat down. 

“Of course I do,” Stede replies, determined. “I want to!” 

“I’m just sayin’, I won’t be upset if you don’t.” 

“I can do it, I’m just psyching myself up!” 

Ed laughs and squeezes his hand. “Try relaxing, baby, it’ll work wonders.” 

Logically, Stede knows his boyfriend status doesn’t hinge on getting this tattoo. When Ed suggested getting matching tattoos, he jumped at the chance! And now Ed has a heart that Stede drew on him permanently inked above his left hip bone. Ed has drawn a heart on Stede in the same exact spot, but it’s not quite so permanent yet. 

“Just keep talking to me and it’ll be over before you know it,” Ed says. “It takes no time at all.” 

Stede looks down at the charcoal-stencil heart on his skin, then over to Ed, who still has his trousers shimmied down and shirt unbuttoned. Ed’s skin is red and irritated around the fresh tattoo, but the ink is dark and the lines are clean. Stede had redrawn the stencil four or five times because he couldn’t get the heart shaped quite as precisely as Ed deserved. He’d been going in for attempt number six when Ed stopped him, insisting that he was less into symmetrical geometry and more into having a piece of Stede with him permanently. The left side of the heart is a little bigger than the right, and the right has a slight curve at the end, but Ed keeps looking at it fondly and saying it’s his favorite tattoo despite its flaws. 

“Stab me!” Stede says confidently. 

The tattoo artist begins to explain that it’s not really a stab so much as a series of fast, tiny pricks of the needle, but Ed cuts him off and says, “He’s got the spirit, just get going.” 

It takes all of two minutes to affix Ed Teach to Stede Bonnet for an eternity. 

Thankfully, Ed’s hand is not broken by just how tight Stede squeezes it. It doesn’t hurt all that much, but it certainly isn’t comfortable either. He can’t imagine how Ed has done this for so many tattoos and for pieces that are in much more painful locations. But Stede is proud of himself! So much of what he’s done over the past few months has felt like an act of defiance against his father, but this? His father would disapprove, certainly, but this has absolutely nothing to do with revenge. This tattoo is an act of devotion. 

Ed presses his lips to the back of Stede’s hand, and Stede begins leaning up for a real kiss, when the tattoo artist asks, “How long have you boys been married?” 

“We’re - Well, not ye-oh, my god,” Stede squeaks out at the same time Ed becomes a thesaurus entry for the word ‘no.’ 

“I’m so sorry,” the man apologizes. “I just saw the ring and assumed.” 

All three of them immediately look to Ed’s left hand. Come to think of it, Ed does wear that emerald on his ring finger. It’s. Yes. Hmm. It’s quite interesting. Fascinating, even. Stede always envisioned proposing to be a big to-do. Not anything public, necessarily, but something he’s planned thoroughly! Candles and wine and flowers and a starlit night on the roof, that sort of thing. But this isn’t even - pfft - this is a first date. Their first date. 

Stede looks warily at his tattoo, then at Ed, hoping one of the two could give him a solid exit from the conversation. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Ed supplies cooly. “We’re on a date.” His ability to appear calm and collected in these kinds of situations is enviable (Stede himself tends to freeze up and flush red), but Stede can hear Ed’s heart pounding. 

“Bit of an unusual date activity,” the man comments with a shrug. “But I appreciate the business.” 

The three of them sit in awkward silence for another few minutes while Stede’s tattoo is cleaned and wrapped. For a dingy little shop in midtown, the hygiene practices are surprisingly good! Nothing spectacular, mind you, but Stede’s initial fear of infection has diminished quite a bit. Stede tips the man generously for his time, in part because he had to put up with two bumbling idiots who are learning how to navigate their feelings for one another. 

He and Ed walk out of the shop hand in hand, giggling to themselves about what they’ve just done. Not proper first date decorum, but many of those rules seem arbitrary at best. Besides, Ed seems happy, and that’s all it’s ever been about. 

The heart is perfect. So perfect, in fact, that Stede wishes he’d gotten it somewhere less appropriate but more visible. If Manhattan or the state of New York or the whole entire world could see his tattoo, there’d be no mistaking the only truth that matters. 

Stede is in love with Ed Teach. Cosmically, earth-shatteringly in love with Ed. 

He’s in love with Ed when he sees the scorecard from the Yankees game on Ed’s bedside table. He’s in love with Ed when he takes one more peek at his tattoo before pulling up the covers. He’s in love with Ed when he falls asleep to the memory of Ed’s smiling face. 

- 

Dinner at his father’s is more bleak than usual. 

Stede and Mary sit side by side as their parents and no less than four of the city’s foremost wedding planners offer them far too many choices for the wedding. Even for Stede, who loves a bit of pizazz, this is all a bit much. There are color choices and fabric choices and venue choices and, god, cake choices. Actually, the cake is the best bit. The word ‘tulle’ has been mentioned at least six times, and Mary has gagged each time (much to the chagrin of her mother). 

They end up conceding most of the decisions to what their parents insist upon but put up enough of a fight to keep up the facade.

“I don’t want a long train!” Mary asserts again, and the entire room tenses. She’s squeezing Stede’s hand tight as her father tries to placate the outburst, and Stede has to stifle a laugh. 

To the other end of the table (the Wedding Council, as Mary and Stede privately refer to them) clearly think Mary’s raised voice comes from spoiled entitlement. Instead, she’s cutting off the circulation in Stede’s hand to keep herself grounded. 

Prior to dinner, Mary and Stede had met up to talk logistics. In recent days, they’d really let their public relationship slip in order to spend time with their boyfriends. Which, of course, meant questions were going to be shot at them from all directions. The only solution was to apologize, agree, and promise to go on more public dates. They would play up the lovey dovey angle, of course, and protest that it’s difficult to leave each other’s apartments because they hate to share one another with the outside world! 

They agree to have a different designer draw up new wedding dresses if Mary and Stede agree to let their parents choose the catering menu. Everyone happily agrees. 

“Stede, they’re driving me insane,” Mary says, pacing back and forth in the lounge while they wait for dinner to be served. 

“Really? Because I’m rather relaxed.” 

She stops dead in her tracks and turns to him. “Are you being funny with me right now? Don’t do that.” 

Stede throws his hands up in surrender. It’s a rare thing for Mary to be more stressed out than he is. 

“Whatever,” she dismisses, shaking it off. “How’s you-know-who?” 

“He’s…” For a moment, Stede isn’t sure how to finish that sentence. He’s hesitant to say he’s in love with Ed for the first time in his father’s lounge. That’s best saved for Ed in private. “He’s perfect,” Stede lands on. Judging by Mary’s reaction of a knowing smile, that achieved the same effect. 

“We should have dinner, the four of us.” 

“You want to make sure he’s good enough for me?” Stede jokes. 

“Of course not,” Mary retorts. “I want to make sure you’re good enough for him.” 

The bell for dinner rings like it’s alerting the second round of a boxing match. Both of their smiles falter as they realize in unison that the night has only just begun. 

Dinner is significantly quieter than the wedding planning. Stede’s father talks boring business with Mary’s father while Stede pushes his third course around his plate. He’s always known what his future is, and he’s always known he wants out. But after recent emotional revelations… it’s becoming quite pressing. 

“How about those two new degenerates targeting banks and businesses in the area?” Mr. Allamby asks. “Have you taken any extra precautions?” 

“Ah, yes. Blackbeard seems to have taken on a bumbling idiot protege,” replies Mr. Bonnet. “The Gentleman, if I recall from the wanted posters.” 

Stede sits up straight. Blessedly, the wanted posters don’t do either of them justice, but the mention is still too close for comfort. 

“It’s a non-issue,” his father continues. “The NYPD prioritize patrolling around our banks because we’ve more than taken care of them, and we have better security than anyone else.” He turns to look at Stede. “It would be a death sentence to try. Right, Stede?” 

Poe himself could not have written a louder heart than Stede’s at this moment. He doesn’t know. How could he? Although, it’s certainly his M.O. to drop such a bomb at the dinner table. Dread floods Stede in an instant as his entire life comes crashing down before it’s even begun. Can he lie his way out of this? Is there any point in attempting damage control? How much does he know about Ed? 

“You did sign off on the security expenditure, didn’t you?” his father presses, both unamused and impatient. 

Right. Fuck. Exhale. 

Ten hours ago, the paperwork hit Stede’s desk for a technically necessary but realistically performative signature on using the funds. Stede is so used to signing whatever gets put in front of him that it never crossed his mind. But of course that’s what his father is referring to! Because he'd be furious if anything happened to the family’s assets, but he’d love nothing more than to publicly harangue his son over a paperwork oversight. 

“Yes, of course. The moment it was handed to me,” Stede answers. His father does nothing but grunt in reply. 

Mrs. Allamby clears her throat. “The two of you need to go out more,” she says. “Social power is just as important as financial. I almost never read about you in the paper these days!” The tone is a bit overly dramatic, as though Stede and Mary have become recluses. “It’s all about the Sprigg’s boy and his boyfriend. My, they do get around.” 

Lucius will be thrilled to hear his social escapades are a topic of conversation at the Bonnet dinner table. 

“Throw a party or something,” Mrs. Allamby continues. “We’re not paying all that money for a wedding without the notoriety.” 

“It’s hardly good press for the engagement to throw a party during prohibition,” Mary says, clearly trying to save them the pain of pretending in front of all their peers. 

In a calculated move that sent a shiver down Stede’s spine, Mrs. Allamby placed her silverware down neatly and dabbed her cloth napkin lightly against her lips. Then, she turned and offered Mary a smile that said she thought her daughter a naive fool. 

“Everyone knows what the upper class does in the dark, my dear,” she explains calmly. “The press does not challenge us, neither does the law. And don’t you dare sit in front of me and act like you haven’t taken advantage of that.” 

The steely, resigned look on Mary’s face as she forces out her dutiful response is like looking in a mirror. “Yes, mother,” Mary replies through gritted teeth. 

With a compromise to attend a party or two (at least they have the option to leave) their parents ignore them for the rest of the evening. Stede’s shoulders carry a little extra weight when he walks out the door, same as every time. He deflates a bit at the knowledge that this is a random Tuesday and he’ll be right back here Friday night. 

-

A hundred things fly through Stede’s mind as they speed away from the scene. 

The energy has been bizarre all day. When he’d shown up at the hideout in the morning, as he always did when they made a weekend of crime, something was off. For one thing, everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells and there was a distinct lack of condescension being thrown at Stede. For another, Ed didn’t meet him at the door with a besotted greeting and demands for a kiss. Stede had found Ed in his bedroom looking incredibly locked in for the job ahead. 

Aside from the extra ten steps he had taken to find Ed, nothing else had been so unusual. Ed had immediately dropped his makeup brush when Stede opened the door, immediately fell into Stede’s arms, then called him ‘dollface’ and demanded a kiss. Stede asked if he was alright because his friends seemed rather on edge, but Ed had explained it away with nerves over a big job. It was crystal clear that Ed didn’t want to share so Stede didn’t press, but the absence of Izzy Hands was unmissable. 

The other contributing factor to the mood, and much more pressing to Stede, is his libido. Ed said he was ready, and Stede believes him, but it’s been nearly a week since then and they still haven’t had sex. Anxious isn’t exactly the right word, but it’s close. The anticipation is such that instead of having to stop themselves from going too far, their hot and heavy makeouts end in nervous laughter and cuddling. Which would always be more than enough if they didn’t both want it so bad. 

Stede knows the tension will break eventually. In the meantime, it’s all he can do not to draw blood from his bottom lip. Suddenly, everything Ed does is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. And it’s not just the obvious - like drops of water dripping down his back as a towel sits low on his waist - it’s everything. Ed had made a quiet grumble of frustration when his rearview mirror wouldn’t sit exactly where he wanted, and Stede’s mind dove right into the treasure trove of memories in which he’d pulled that exact noise from Ed’s lips, only louder and more desperate. 

The problem - if one can really call having a drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend a problem - is that in addition to Ed being his dream man in every sense, Blackbeard is also an absolute smokeshow. Along with his usual obscenely low-cut-no-shirt-underneath suit, Ed is wearing a pearl necklace Stede stole for him (he did a successful crime!). It draws the eye directly to his collarbones, a location with which Stede’s mouth is intimately familiar. His hair is half-up with some strands pulled out to frame his face, a Very Important Task that had been entrusted to Stede earlier in the day. 

“You staring at me because something’s wrong or because you’re imagining me pressed up against something solid?” Ed asks, keeping his eyes on the road. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Stede replies cooly. 

“What I mean,” Ed clarifies, “is that I chose to bend over the teller’s counter when I could’ve easily walked around it.” 

The teasing has been ruthless on both sides, to the point that Stede thinks they might have the fastest sex anyone’s ever had when they manage to get past the giggling. 

Blackbeard is cocky on any job, but Ed has to put all his pent up energy somewhere. While the tellers stuffed bags full of cash, Ed had pulled out his gun and pointed it while slowly turning in a circle. When his gun rounded on Stede, he stopped. Stede hadn’t been frightened in the least, quite the opposite (if arousal is the opposite of fear, he supposes). Ed fixed Stede with a sultry gaze, mimed shooting Stede, and then winked at him. This had been sandwiched somewhere between giving Stede orders while pulling him close by the tie and the aforementioned bending over countertops. If Ed hadn’t dragged him out of the bank by the hand, Stede might not have made it, what with his brain unable to do anything but plead with him to get down on his knees and do something about it. 

“All you had to do was ask,” Stede retorts. Now safely over the Brooklyn Bridge, Ed’s following the laws of traffic again and stops at a red light. He reaches over and slides his hand down the back of Ed’s suit jacket, just enough so his fingers can draw little circles at the base of Ed’s neck. 

Ed shivers; Stede smiles. 

The final ten or fifteen minutes of the drive are spent in silence. Tense, heated silence. Ed’s breathing is unsteady and his grip on the steering wheel is deadly. Stede keeps shifting in his seat and running his fingers through his hair. They meet eyes multiple times, each instance asks the same question: Should we pull over? But they keep driving. 

This is the moment, Stede can feel it. No more nerves, no awkward conversation redirects. Only indulgence and passion and fireworks and love, god, so much love. 

An illegal park job, the front door rattling on its hinges as it’s slammed open, fists challenging the stitching on his suit, that’s all it takes for the dam to break. 

Stede is backed into the bedroom by way of a vice grip on his waist and Ed’s lips attached to his. The door shuts with a bang, and Stede is impressed Ed even has a mind to think about privacy when all he can think is ‘I need you now.’ His back meets something solid - the dresser, Stede knows because Ed lifts him to sit on top of it. Regrettably, he needs a moment to gather himself and breaks their kiss. It does nothing to stop his brain from running an anticipation marathon of Ed’s burning touch, Ed’s tattooed chest, Ed’s hips oh god.

“What should we do now?” Stede asks through uneven breaths. He’s so hungry, he’s starving, but there’s not a chance in hell of breaking the fast until Ed gives the word. 

“We can do anything you want, dollface.” 

That sends a jolt right to Stede’s heart every time. Words like ‘baby’ and ‘dollface’ come tumbling out of Ed’s mouth so often it is a wonder Stede remembers his real name. Nothing competes with the thrill of meaning something to Ed.

“Even if what I want is just to sit here, hold your hand, and drink you in?” 

Stede kisses him again, softly. Teasing. 

He feels Ed’s touch drop from his lips and waist before humming a note of agreement. How respectful. Stede puts Ed’s hands right back where they belong and kisses him again. He doesn’t know the source of this controlling confidence, but he will follow its electric current as it runs down his spine. 

“Even if what I want is everyone to know I’m yours tomorrow?” Stede asks innocently.

Ed laughs. “I think they know. You want me to make a big speech or something?” 

Stede grabs him by the lapels, pulls him in close, and wraps his legs around Ed’s waist. He can’t help but be proud of the shocked look on Ed’s face. They’ve been a little rough before, but never has Stede taken firm control of the situation before. He likes it, and more importantly, the fingers digging into his hips prove Ed likes it too. Money is a fool’s game and guns are a facade. This is power. And Stede Bonnet has never had power. 

He leans in close to Ed’s ear, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“I was thinking something in a shade of purple,” he suggests, soft and low, before kissing Ed’s cheek, Ed’s jaw, Ed’s neck. Stede bites and sucks until he’s sure there will be a mark there tomorrow, delighted when Ed reacts like it’s the first time Stede has marked him. The noise that leaves Ed’s lips is nothing short of a whine, something that will haunt Stede delightfully for days to come. He kisses his way back up to Ed’s lips, but at a tantalizingly slow pace so he can enjoy the journey. 

“Something like that,” Stede remarks innocently. 

Ed is putting so much effort into breathing normally, and it’s so satisfying to have that effect on him. Shakily, he asks, “How does this let everyone know you’re mine?” 

“Ah, well. The opposite will do the trick, don’t you think? You did say we could do anything I wanted.” 

“I did,” Ed confirms. 

This feels significant. It isn’t a crackling lightning strike like the first time, this time it is a mountain of pining and anticipation threatening to bury them both in an avalanche. 

Stede likes risk now. 

“Even if what I want,” Stede’s voice is low and heavy, “is to fuck you into the mattress until the only word you can remember is my name?” 

Ed lets out an honest to god whimper in the form of Stede’s name. This is it. This is the height of indulgence. Fifth Avenue does not sell a luxury more coveted than the blush creeping up on Ed’s cheeks, the New York elite will spend their lives chasing the elation Stede floats on when the sound of Ed’s voice praying his name reaches his ears. 

“Please,” Ed says, almost a whisper. It’s all he needs to hear. 

Stede untangles himself from Ed and hops off the dresser, then walks Ed backwards towards the bed. He vaguely registers the sound of the rest of the crew filing into the hideout and the radio volume being turned up in the next room, but he hardly cares. If Ed wants to be loud, let him be loud. Let him be whatever he wants as long as Stede is the one who takes him there. 

It’s almost too much when Ed just allows himself to be at Stede’s mercy. He’s only seen Ed this disarmed once, and never after a job. The bare part of Ed’s chest peeking through the jacket demands to be kissed, so he presses warm lips to warmer skin and it burns something hot and gorgeous. Ed’s breathing is becoming fast and shallow as Stede continues to paint lip prints down his body. He stops when he reaches fabric and stands upright to look Ed in the eye while unfastening the buttons with purpose. There’s something new in Ed’s eyes. Fear? Stede hesitates while slipping the jacket off his shoulders. No. It’s awe, his eyes big and wide like a wounded animal being tenderly patched up. Stede guides the suit jacket to the floor and puts his hands on either side of Ed’s face. 

“Don’t tell me no one’s undressed you before,” Stede says lightly. 

“I’ve never let anyone undress me before,” Ed admits. It feels weighty, and tomorrow Stede will realize he’s never undressed Ed himself until tonight.  

“Oh,” he responds, feigning surprise. His hands find their way down to Ed’s trousers and work their magic. “What’s so special about me then?” He doesn’t expect an answer but his ego desperately wants one. 

“You,” Ed begins but stops. So Stede stops. He’s considering his words carefully, Stede thinks, because they’re just - oh, they’re kissing. Ed’s got one hand in Stede’s hair and the other wrapped so tightly around him that he’s surely leaving bruised fingerprints despite the layers of clothing. And that’s fine, more than fine to have Ed tattooed all over him like they belong to one another. In fact, they do. The rest of their clothing comes off at lightning speed; the only damage done is to Stede’s waistcoat. 

“Too many fucking buttons,” Ed tells him before ripping it open. Loose buttons fly everywhere, and Ed mumbles something about buying him a new one while he tries to fuse their mouths back together. Before long, Ed is sprawled out naked beneath Stede and he could die at the privilege of such a vision. 

This is what painters mean when they speak of muses. Ed is exquisite. He is a marble statue so meticulously chiseled that one wonders if the artist’s hand was guided by a god. He is the reason the sun rises every morning. He is the first sip of merlot after a long day, and Stede is so intoxicated he might blackout. 

Stede lets his fingers drag from their place on Ed’s cheek down down down his body and back up again like he wants to memorize every inch. Ed shudders beneath him. 

“Do I make you nervous, Edward Teach?” he asks, now tracing the tattoos on Ed’s chest with a feather light touch. 

“No.” 

The lie is so obvious it makes Stede feel like he could fight God. Untouchable. Ed is always in control. He’s quick to make decisions, he commands any room he enters, he’s cool under pressure. But now? Now he’s shivering under Stede’s touch. Willing and eager for Stede to completely take charge. It’s overwhelming, it’s raw, Stede feels feral with want - with desire - because they’ve fucked before (and he’s fucked before Ed, though it hardly compares) but he’s never wanted to devour someone until now. He wants Ed to writhe, wants him to beg, wants him to profess how good it feels and how no one else could ever come close. And the way Ed is staring up at him with wide eyes and shaky exhales, Stede thinks he just might get his wish - it’s unbearably hot. 

It is an immense responsibility to know how to wreck a lover but never break them. 

He feels so wildly in love that he’s barely maintaining control, but Stede won’t say it out loud. He can kiss Ed like he means it though, so he does. With a firm hand on Ed’s jaw, Stede kisses him hard and deep and at far too insistent a pace for Ed to keep up. That doesn’t stop him, however. 

“I want you to let me take care of you,” Stede tells him through ragged breaths. “Does that sound alright?” 

At Ed’s nod of confirmation, Stede is up and rooting around in Ed’s dresser for lube and condoms. He ignores the groan of protest coming from the bed and takes his time. Somewhere in the lust-clouded haze, he’s considering if anyone has ever been gentle with this man before. This beautiful, chaotic man with the softest heart in the world. The idea of control is eating him alive, but Stede doesn’t want to take. No, he wants to give. 

When he climbs back on the bed, Stede weighs his options of what to do next. There is something filthy and enticing about the idea of flipping Ed over and making good on properly fucking him into the mattress. But that brings a twinge of remorse to his heart. Sex really means something this time, more than ever before. Perhaps in the future they can test the muffling power of a pillow against Ed’s moans. For now, Stede wants to read every second of this on Ed’s face. 

Impatience is not a quality of Ed’s that is restricted to life outside the bedroom, Stede finds. Thinking back to any other time they’ve slept together, he should’ve known that. But, then, the point was mainly to get off. Together, of course, but falling in love has given him crystal clear vision. Stede is going to take his time and let sweet nothings hang from his lips. 

Slowly, at a pace designed to drive Ed insane, Stede’s fingers move inside him. Ed’s hips roll up in time with Stede’s movements, moans tumbling from his mouth like prayers. No one has ever taken Ed apart like this, Stede is sure, because it’s impossible to give up such an addicting vice. He can’t stop. 

“Relax,” Stede coos, running delicate fingertips over Ed’s ribs with his free hand. “Don’t make me hold you down.” 

“You threatening me now?” 

“That wasn’t a threat, it was a promise,” Stede tells him. 

He’s beautiful. He’s gorgeous, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and fighting to look Stede in the eye while throwing his head back and arching off the bed at the same time. 

“Fuck me,” Ed demands. “You don’t have to do all this, just fuck me.”

Now that just won’t do, will it? Stede removes his fingers, and the irritated growl that rips from Ed’s mouth should be frightening, should make Stede reconsider his course of action, and it would if Stede were anyone else. 

In the grand scheme of life, a couple weeks is not a significant amount of time. For Ed and Stede, it’s a lifetime. It only took Stede 5 days to fall in love, so 14 days is an eternity. One doesn’t greet their lover with quick and dirty intent after extensive time apart. But, Stede supposes, even hours apart would be the same. Telling Stede he doesn’t have to ‘do all this’ is an attempt to let him off the hook. For what he isn’t sure, but Stede likes being hung up right where he is. 

Stede crawls up the bed and hovers over Ed, face to face, with his hands on either side of Ed’s head. Ed’s trapped and the scowl he’s wearing doesn’t know it, but his eyes do. Stede smiles sweetly, utterly unfazed. 

“Are you going to be good for me or not?” he asks. 

“Fuck. Me. Now.” 

Alright, he wants to do it the hard way. Stede can play, too. 

He kisses Ed roughly, quickly, biting his lip hard enough to elicit a yelp. When he pulls back, Ed’s chest is heaving. Perfect. 

Stede drops his voice low and serious. “That shit might work with your crew, but it doesn’t work with me. I told you I wanted to take care of you and that’s exactly what I’ll do. If you want something you can ask for it,” Ed helplessly grinds his hips up, “with your words. Or, you can have nothing at all. Up to you.” 

“Oh fuck,” Ed breathes. He looks dazed, completely reverential now. Stede is sure he could ask Ed for anything and be met with an enthusiastic yes.

“I’ll ask you again,” Stede begins, knowing he’s already won. “Are you going to be good for me?” 

“I’ll be anything you want,” he whispers. 

What Stede wants is for Ed to be so lost in pleasure that he’s not even coherent. He gives Ed a much gentler kiss this time before returning to his place between Ed’s legs. When Ed’s thighs shake, it’s with the effort of keeping still as Stede’s fingers work him into a moaning mess. 

As Stede’s other hand touches him in an absolutely sinful manner, Ed chokes out something that Stede translates to ‘ Guhmph?!’  

“What was that, beautiful?” 

“You’re trying to kill me?” 

Stede laughs. The look on Ed’s face says he didn’t mean it like a question. 

“Not kill, darling, I promise. Maybe maim.” 

This time, Ed laughs. “Love a good maim.” The final word is drawn out in a moan, and at that moment, Stede decides Ed has waited long enough. Absolutely nothing to do with how delicious he looks with his hair splayed out on the pillow, eyes shut tight, writhing. Definitely not. 

Stede means to ask if he’s ready, but only half the question leaves his mouth before Ed is whining impatiently. The few moments it takes for Stede to clean his hands and find where he tossed the lube and condoms are the longest of his life. Finally, he drops a kiss to Ed’s lips and then - fuck. There is no comparison in the world to being inside him. Stede’s hips begin to move on their own, like it’s muscle memory to know exactly how hard or fast Ed likes it. Like they’ve done this a thousand times during a thousand lives. 

The thing driving Stede completely mad is the sight of the tattoo on Ed’s hip. He traces is softly, completely undone by the fact that he, Stede Bonnet, is part of Ed’s body for life. Stede’s rib cage rattles in the aftermath of Desire's tectonic plates shifting deep within his chest as the fire in his gut burns blue. To have Ed beneath him, trusting and spellbound and so undeniably his, makes Stede want to cut his own heart out and offer it up as thanks. Such extremities might be attributed to lust in anyone else, but Stede feels the same way when he’s daydreaming in the middle of the afternoon. 

“You are heavenly,” Stede tells him, unable to keep such a truth to himself. 

Whines are a better response than words. Stede knew Ed would fall apart quickly, such was his confidence that Stede almost forwent the teasing with his fingers. He’s glad he didn’t, though, because who can argue with these results? 

“Come on,” Ed groans, and Stede can’t help but laugh in disbelief. He snaps his hips faster but has every intention of making this nice and long. 

Ed moves a hand down between their bodies, but Stede bats it away. 

“All in good time,” Stede assures him, bringing the offending hand to his lips. “Behave.” 

And Ed does. Kind of. Stede watches Ed’s wandering hand move between them again but this time it grabs Stede’s wrist and drags him right to -

Eh, they’ve never been very good at taking their time anyway. 

It takes no time at all for his hand and his hips to match each other’s rhythms. If the others thought it a disturbance when they were banging around on the dresser, they’ve probably left the building by now. Just as well, because Stede is dying of thirst and there’s only one way to quench it. Everything's coming up on him too fast so he distracts himself with little experiments. Biting Ed’s neck (good), tugging Ed’s hair (good), pinning Ed’s arms down so he lets out frustrated groans (good).

Minutes or days pass by before Ed’s broken voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Stede, can I… ?” 

Ed doesn’t even need instruction to ask for permission, he just knows, and that’s such a sacred moment. It’s not about him, it’s about Ed, but god Stede’s only human, so he snaps his hips hard once, twice, then stills and takes a deep breath. He can’t help it, he can’t help it, he doesn’t want this night to end. “Not just yet. You can hold on for me, can’t you?” 

“For you,” he concedes. Stede’s not sure he believes it; Ed doesn’t look like he believes it either. But oh to see him try, to see him caught between an orgasm and his desire to behave.

“Good boy.” 

‘Fuck’ is the last word Ed gets out coherently for quite some time, Stede sees to that. His hands stroke, his hips thrust, but only until Ed reaches up and starts clawing at his back. Then he stills completely, save lazy kisses that Ed doesn’t seem to be able to participate in but whines about if Stede tries to stop. Stede can go on like this forever. He never needs to come again if he stays like this, watching Ed teetering on the edge of absolute fucked out bliss while looking up at him like he’s moved mountains. 

There’s just one more thing Stede wants, but he won’t ask for it. He needs to see if he can pull it from Ed’s throat with nothing but the heat of skin on skin and rhythmic banging of the headboard against the wall. It’ll be the prettiest sound in the world, he thinks, to hear Ed beg to come, to beg to fall apart under Stede’s touch because here, in this bed, Ed can indulge himself in the deepest pools of desire knowing Stede will always see him through safely. Then, as if Ed can read his mind…

“Stede, please - can I - please please,” Ed begs, and Stede can see tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Wanna be good but - shit - so close, please please please.” 

And who the hell is Stede Bonnet to deny Edward Teach anything? 

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs into Ed’s neck. “Let go for me.” 

He does, he does, and Stede is awestruck by his beauty. Ed throws his head back into the pillow and moans so shamelessly that Stede can feel himself blushing despite his current position. It’s impossible to look away from Ed riding through his orgasm beneath him. Suddenly, Stede can’t bear to not be kissing him. It’s messy and feverish and how any lover Ed’s ever had has given him up, Stede will never know. He both does and doesn’t want this moment to end, but he won’t have the choice much longer anyway. Ed’s fingers dig into his shoulder blades as he lets out a breathy, high-pitched moan of Stede’s name, and that does it. Stede drops his head to Ed’s chest and gasps his way through euphoria. 

It’s minutes before Stede can move. He catches his breath while planting kisses all over Ed’s skin, anywhere he can reach. 

“Where’d you discover your affinity for - for that?” Ed asks. 

“Oh, just now,” Stede answers honestly.

“Fuck off ‘just now.’” 

“Made it up as I went along,” he says with a shrug. “Thought it would be nice for you to not make any decisions for once. Just followed my instincts.” 

“Good instincts, I think I blacked out for a bit at the end. How come we never did that before?” 

Stede shifts to lie next to him and get comfortable. When he looks over, Ed has a look of offense on his face. What could he have done in five seconds? Ed’s eyes flicker to his shoulder, and Stede chuckles as he rests his head there. Ed’s been impossibly clingy since they’ve committed to a relationship, and Stede is on cloud nine that someone wants him so close at every moment. 

“Because what we were doing before was more like a means to an end, right? Casual. Intense,” Stede adds. “But casual. At least officially.” 

“Right, right. So this is what boyfriends do? Because if I’d known that I would’ve gotten over myself like three days after meeting you.”

Stede is reasonably sure cartoon hearts pop out of his eyes, but if that’s true, Ed doesn’t say anything about it. “I don’t know about that. This is what lovers do, I think.” 

Ed hums. Stede is waiting for an objection to the word ‘lovers’ but it never comes. Why is he still so anxious about Ed bolting over him saying the wrong thing? It’s a direct conflict with Stede’s desires to shower Edward in every romantic whim his little lovesick mind can concoct. 

“Okay then, you’re the expert. What do boyfriends do?” 

There’s another one of those whims pinging into existence. Stede acts on it faster than anything else he’s done in his life. 

He jumps out of bed, pushing Ed back down when he goes to follow. “I’ll be right back.” The next few minutes are spent cleaning up and telling Ed to stay where he is when he tries to help and ‘Just put the sweatpants on or you’ll be cold!’ and wrapping them up together under the blanket. 

“I think that’s what boyfriends do,” Stede explains when they’re intertwined again. 

“Yell at me?” Ed asks with a wry smile. 

“Take care of one another.” 

They lay facing each other without a word spoken between them. Ed wears a smile laced with such gentleness and affection that Stede wishes he had a camera. He’d carry that photo with him always, tattoo it on his heart if he could. It almost feels wrong to be so happy and content in this moment, so much so that anxiety blooms in his chest because of how precarious a situation he’s found himself in. He shouldn’t be thinking about what his father is going to do when he finds out, but he is. Ed is always concerned with Stede’s safety on jobs, but the truth is that the Bonnets can and have done more damage than any gunshot wound. It’s selfish of him to put Ed in harm’s way, Stede knows that.

Stede is in love with him though, and his heart is making decisions. He’s truly, madly, deeply in love, and he knows he’ll ruin himself if Ed will let him.

Does Ed love him too? He hopes so, but he’ll settle for Ed’s very strong like. If not, at least Stede knows what it feels like to be in love. But, then again… he might. Ed might love him with the same all-consuming passion Stede feels bursting from him at every moment of the day. He might look at Stede and melt at the thought of a life together, of waking up in a home that’s their own, of being in love loudly. 

In lieu of revealing all this inner turmoil, however, Stede reaches up and brushes some hair out of Ed’s face. “Pretty,” he says, because it’s the truth. 

Ed intertwines their hands and says, in the most timid voice Stede has ever heard, “You can’t keep saying shit like that to me, man. Not outside of sex.” 

Bemused, Stede asks, “Shit like what?” 

“Pretty. And good.”

“Why not?” Stede retorts indignantly. “Because you’re a criminal? It’ll ruin your underworld reputation?” 

“No.”

“Then why not?” he asks again, moving a little closer until there’s barely any space left between them. 

“Because then it feels like you really mean it. I’m scared I’ll start to believe you.” 

‘As well you should!’ Stede wants to scream. ‘You should have every soft word the English language has to offer because they were made for you. I will find anyone who’s ever told you otherwise and make them pay.’

“Darling,” he murmurs softly. “I mean all of it.” 

Something flashes in Ed’s eyes, and Stede thinks he finally understands. They’ve been the same from the beginning, twin flames with different journeys and the same destination. They can’t undo each other’s pain, but they can cushion the landing. Stede isn’t ready to say it out loud either, so he takes it upon himself to break the tension. 

“I’ll never lie to you,” Stede tells him. “If I say you’re pretty.” He kisses him. “If I say you’re handsome.” He kisses him. “If I say you’re a saint.” He kisses him. “If I say I want Frenchie to help me write songs about you -“

“Okay, okay,” Ed cuts him off, laughing. “I get it.” 

“My point is, I want you to believe the good things I say about you. Not the bad anyone else might.” 

Ed nods. “I’ll try.” 

“Trust me?” 

“More than you can imagine.” 

Stede pulls him close and kisses him again and again and again. He loves Ed so much he’s sick with it. If Stede’s lips had healing properties, Ed might never be ill again. He runs his fingers featherlight over Ed’s side and swallows the soft giggles. If Stede could reach beneath Ed’s ribs and pull out the self-loathing making its home there, he’d be all too happy to do it. ‘ Beautiful,’ Stede murmurs into Ed’s mouth. ‘Incomparable, beloved, divine.’ 

A whimper and the rutting of Ed’s hips against his body is more than Stede deserves but he’s all too willing to take it. 

“Already?” Stede teases. 

“S’your fault. I was happy to go to sleep before you started talking.”

“I’ve got nothing but choice words for you, Edward, so I guess we’re never leaving your bed.” 

“Like what?” he asks, in a voice so small it’s almost laughable when he’s grinding himself against Stede’s thigh. 

“Precious,” Stede tells him and kisses his forehead. Ed pulls their bodies flush together. 

“I’m not -“ 

Before he can finish protesting, Stede strokes him through his sweatpants and leans into his ear to whisper, “Well-behaved.” 

“Yeah.” 

Gently, Stede rolls Ed onto his back and kneels to look down at him. Ed looks overwhelmed now, like he’s going to start crying at any moment. 

“Sweetheart,” Stede says, leaning down and cupping his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“You do make me nervous, Stede.” Tears are welling in his eyes. “You terrify me.” 

“Do… you want me to go?” 

“No!” Ed practically yells. His fingers are digging into Stede’s shoulders, keeping him firmly locked in place. “No. That’s what terrifies me. That you will, now that you’ve seen what I am.” 

What a privilege it is, to see Ed and to love him.

“They would have to drag me out kicking and screaming and lock me up to take me from you. Any version of you. I promise.” 

Stede searches Ed’s eyes for any flicker of doubt, any hint that he hasn’t made himself explicitly clear and understood. His entire life, every choice has been made for him. His food, his clothes, his career, his partner. But here’s Ed. Ed, who’s got his shoulders in a vice grip like he’s going to disappear. Ed, who’s met him with nothing but acceptance from day one. Ed, who parades around like the most dangerous person in the city but only wants what anyone wants - to be chosen even after he’s seen. Stede chooses him in this moment and will choose him in every moment after, because he can. And more than that, he wants to. If he has to tell Ed the truth of it every day from now until eternity, he will. 

“Okay,” Ed whispers. 

“Why don’t we get some rest?” 

Ed shakes his head vehemently and pulls Stede close. Stede lets him, wanting whatever Ed wants at this moment. Whatever will make him feel safe and loved. 

“I want you.”

“You’ve got me,” Stede says, and he means it. 

“Wanna be close to you,” Ed tries again. 

“I don’t know how we can get closer than we were earlier.” Stede pets his hair and waits to see if it’s okay to lighten the mood. When Ed breathes a soft laugh, Stede closes the small gap between them and kisses him. Now more than ever, he wants to scream ‘ I love you’ at the top of his lungs but curses his own cowardice. 

It doesn’t take long for Stede’s mouth to hover around Ed’s hips. He looks up to meet Ed’s eyes again, one hand gripping Ed’s left thigh, now thrown over his shoulder, and the other skimming over Ed’s stomach, to make sure this is what he wants. That this is what will make him feel better. Not that Stede’s averse to the idea - just that sex isn’t all they are or all Stede wants him for. 

“Please,” Ed implores airily, and Stede plants kisses down his thigh.

When he takes Ed in his mouth completely, Stede can feel Ed shudder beneath his hands. It’s slower this time, both in the build up and the lack of urgency. Stede takes his time, oscillating between pulling debauched moans out of Ed and purring sweet sentiments of love into the skin on his thighs. If they’re lucky, the sun will never come up and they can stay intertwined, belonging to only each other, suspended in a perfect moment forever. 

There’s no interest in making Ed wait or ask for it this time. When Ed begins thrusting up a little erratically, Stede can tell he’s close. Suddenly, there’s fingers grabbing at his wrist and Stede almost stops to ask what’s wrong. What actually happens could bring Stede to tears. Ed pulls Stede’s free hand up to hold it. He squeezes Stede’s hand tightly, and it’s some intimate, fragile gesture Stede never wants to let go of. He keeps hold of Ed’s hand through to the end, through the moans and the whispers of his name, until Ed’s voice falls heavy with overstimulation. And he keeps holding Ed’s hand, adjusting so their fingers are laced together, as he kisses his way up Ed’s body, only to come face to face with a heart-shattering scene. 

Ed’s beautiful face is tear-stained, tracks running through his makeup, and soft whimpers fill the space between their lips. When Stede takes both his hands and gently cradles Ed’s face with intention to wipe away the tears, Ed tries to wrestle out of his grip. 

“Hey. Hey! What’s going on?” Stede is worried now.

Ed sniffles in response, and then suddenly Stede is on his back. Ed’s going through the motions, tugging at Stede’s sleepwear. Alarm bells sound in Stede’s mind. 

He sits up, needing to put an end to this right away. Stede won’t have this moment become transactional, refuses to let whatever’s eating away at the most enchanting, compassionate, incredible person he’s ever known taint this memory. 

“Ed, wait,” Stede says, grabbing at his wrists to stop him. Ed freezes, head snapping up to meet Stede’s gaze, and oh, Stede could fall apart at the rejection evident on his face. But it’s not that, never that, and how could Stede have screwed this up already? 

“But you -“

Stede slides himself back to sit against the headboard and pulls Ed with him onto his lap. 

“Edward,” he says firmly but full of affection. “Don’t worry about me. Tell me what’s bothering you.” 

It takes a minute for Ed to speak, but Stede is nothing if not patient. This time, when Stede brushes the tears from his cheeks, Ed doesn’t fight him. 

“I don’t deserve all of this,” Ed admits.

“What could I have possibly given you that you don’t deserve? Attention? Orgasms? Yankees tickets?“ 

“You.” 

Stede Bonnet’s never had the air punched from his lungs so startlingly. Some kind of unfamiliar rage swirls in his chest, red and angry and begging to be unleashed if only Stede knew the target. 

“I’m not the kind of person that gets to have whatever this is,” Ed elaborates.

Deep breaths. “You have absolutely no idea, do you?” Stede wonders aloud. Ed stares, unmoving and unspeaking. So Stede continues, “Just being around you feels good. This is a privilege I hold dear.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“No,” he says simply. “Not only are you the kind of person who gets to have this, you deserve to have this.” Mary’s words echo in his mind, ‘We only have this one life. Don’t you think you deserve a shot at real love?’ “I’m very content to spend every moment together proving that to you.” 

The air in the room is thick with anticipation, but the smile on Ed’s face cuts through it straight to Stede’s heart. He looks like a mess, honestly, still kind of fucked out and eyes red from crying, hair wild and a loving bruise painted on his throat. Stede’s never seen anything more exquisite. 

Stede coaxes him out of bed and into the bathroom, all the while holding his hand or touching the small of his back or pressing loving kisses to his shoulder. Neither of them say a word as he runs a hot bath, helps Ed into the tub, and starts to wash him. The world has been harsh and cruel to Ed, but no more. Stede won’t stand for it. He scrubs an eternity of unkindness off Ed’s skin, replacing it with wisps of lavender and affection. The eye makeup comes off last, once Ed’s had time to calm down and relax, for no other reason than Stede selfishly wants Ed comforted enough to lean into his touch. 

“There you are,” he says when the last of the eyeshadow has been cleaned away. 

Ed crosses his arms over the side of the tub and rests his chin on top. “Will you wash my hair too?” 

“As if you even have to ask, my darling.” 

He lathers up Ed’s hair with the citrus shampoo they both love so much. Stede digs his fingers into Ed’s scalp and massages him for the better part of ten minutes, just to hear Ed hum pleasantly. A kiss is the only fair trade for Stede daring to remove his hands from Ed’s head, so Stede gives him three. As Stede rinses his hair, Ed hollows his cheeks and blows bubbles like a fish. The two of them laugh as Stede pulls Ed from the water and kisses him once more before running conditioner through his curls. 

Taking care of Ed is the greatest privilege of Stede’s life. 

Afterwards, when Stede has meticulously dried every inch of Ed’s body and wrapped him in the red silky robe he stole from Stede’s apartment, they wander back into the bedroom. 

Quietly, reverently, Ed says ‘I love you’ in the most earth-shattering way Stede can imagine.

“I would die for you, you know.” 

And Stede says ‘I love you’ right back.

“Don’t you dare.” 

All at once, Stede needs Ed in some impossibly close way so fiercely he feels he might burst with it. Before they can reach the bed, he pulls Ed in with one hand in his hair and the other wrapped tightly around his waist. Stede kisses ‘I love you’ into Ed over and over again in hopes he understands. 

I love you, I love you, I love you, until Ed melts in his embrace. I love you, I love you, I love you, until Ed’s arms twist themselves securely around Stede’s body. I love you, I love you, I love you, until they’re both panting and breathless.

“What was that for?” Ed asks, looking flushed and dreamy. 

“For being you.”

They tuck into bed calmer, lovelorn despite their limbs being tangled together and lips refusing to part. 

As passion gives way to exhaustion, Ed’s drowsy voice murmurs, “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“Just… you.” 

Stede holds Ed so tight to his chest that he nearly asks if it’s painful. Whatever the storm, they can weather it together. They’re happy. They can stay happy. Stede will keep them both happy.