Chapter Text
Stede panics.
He agreed to a date with the man he admired for years, without understanding until much later what it really meant—and Ed asked Stede, not the other way around.
I think you’re gorgeous, he’d said.
They chat for several days over text message and one phone call that lasts nearly two hours. Only after Stede ends the call and finds himself blushing does he realize they’ve been flirting.
A few hours before their date, Ed texts.
Absolutely Lovely Man (Ed): see you soon 💜
The person he crushed on as a teenager is no longer a dream, instead he’s a tangible person with nice hair and kind eyes, a man who has Stede’s number and seems to like him.
Stede nearly has a meltdown.
But he gets it together in time for dinner. He dresses himself in a copper-colored velvet blazer and aubergine trousers, with a white and black chequered shirt. He’s probably overdressed but he’s used to doing that.
He meets Ed at a Thai restaurant on a busy street in the city. When he steps out of the Lyft, he freezes—Ed stands near the entrance, bathed in warm light spilling out the front window, his starlight-streaked hair coiled in a bun. He looks effortlessly cool in his leather jacket, torn jeans, and what looks like a purple silk shirt embroidered subtly with flowers. Stede’s heart skips a beat. He remembers clearly what Ed looked like as a teenager; the doll in his study is an odd facsimile of the handsome young athlete who sparkled under the arena lights. The Ed then pales to the Ed now, however.
The man in question looks up from his mobile phone, a smile breaking across his handsome face. Stede feels his feet start moving before his brain does, and he’s down the sidewalk in moments.
“Stede,” says Ed. He opens his arms, then stops half way, looking almost shy. Stede laughs, oddly breathless. It feels natural to nod and accept the offered hug, enjoying the warmth of Ed’s chest against his, the feeling of strong arms slipped around his shoulders. Ed smells like leather, orris, and sage.
“Ed,” he says, a bit dazed when they pull apart. “Are you real?”
Ed chuckles, pats himself down. “Think so, mate. You?”
“Unclear. Check back in an hour.”
Ed’s laugh is bright, warm. “You look amazing,” he says, reaching out to brush his fingertips along the arm of Stede’s blazer. “Is this silk?”
“Silk velvet, actually,” Stede replies, fighting the red creeping up his neck and stumbling into his next words, which makes him blush harder. “You’re so handsome. I mean, you—you look good, too. Of course you’ve always been handsome, and—I like this shirt.”
“Yeah?” Ed’s eyes sparkle. He slips his hand into Stede’s—and oh, they’re so close that Stede can feel the echoing shiver in Ed’s body as their fingers interweave. “Come on, this place has the best Khao soi I’ve ever had.”
It’s easy. Stede feels like he’s known Ed his entire life.
He was sure he would make it awkward somehow. Stede’s post-divorce therapist has mostly convinced him that he should be himself, to embrace the things he enjoys and not let others guide him, and not feel bad about it; he tries, he really does. He has only ever been able to be himself, regardless of what people think about him.
Ed seems to find him charming.
And Stede is pretty sure he might be half in love. He has to sit back and take a deep breath. He is so used to most people’s eyes glazing over when he talks about himself, but instead Ed’s bottomless brown eyes seem to brighten over the course of dinner. Stede is equally charmed by the strong, lovely man beside him who likes tabletop games, and books, and punk music, and apparently the entire contents of a nearby bakery.
“Not gonna tell you what to do with your kids, mate,” Ed says a while later, “but Louis would be great in dance or theatre. He really hears the music, moves his body to it. He’s got a spark. Sweet kid.”
Stede’s throat tightens with a number of emotions for his youngest child, who reminds Stede so much of himself when he was young—quiet but neverending curiosity. For all his faults as a father, he’s glad that he, Mary, and now Doug have given their children the space to be themselves, in a way that Stede never had.
“Louis is quite something, isn’t he?” says Stede.
Ed hums. “Alma, too. She could probably make it onto a team, you know. She’s got the technique, the drive. That’s what Jim says anyway.”
“What does Izzy say?” Stede hasn’t spoken with Mary about this, or Doug, but he knows Alma’s good. He could tell from watching just one lesson that she’s talented. She’s always been so strong.
Ed shrugs. “People like to feel like they’ve done something meaningful. That’s Iz’s whole thing. He never made it to the podium, but he can see the potential in other people. He feels good when he can push other people to the top. But it wasn’t good for me, you know? It’s taken years for both of us to understand how hard that was. I’m grateful, but I’m also fucking glad I had the stones to retire. Plus, you know, my knee.”
Stede winces in sympathy. “I don’t want to hold Alma back from any dreams she might have.”
“You don’t strike me like the kind of bloke who’d do that, mate. If she wants it, she can follow that path. But she doesn’t have to. You know, it’s okay to just like stuff. You don’t have to make it into something else. You should like stuff. What’s the point of life if you don’t like stuff? The problem is when something you like becomes a burden.”
“Was that what happened to you? With gymnastics?”
“Kinda, yeah. Had to nurse my knee for a while after the games. I started thinking about what was next. I could see all these wobbly shapes in front of me: another Olympics, more marketing campaigns, selling my face to the highest bidder, chasing dollar signs, pushing myself harder, hoping my joints could take it—and then what? I loved the mat, but none of that other stuff sat right with me. And I had stopped liking everything I loved about gymnastics by the time I got to Atlanta. I was so tired. So I just…” Ed waves his fingers through the air like he’s parting a cloud. “Let myself drift for a while. I felt like I was drowning before, if that makes sense.”
The breath seems to have all gone out of Stede’s lungs. “I have very much felt that way.”
“So you’re a lawyer, yeah?” Ed asks, laughing when Stede makes a face. “Don’t like it?”
“Lots of mental gymnastics.” Ed smiles at him, gestures for him to go on. Stede sighs. “Well, I shouldn’t say that. I inherited my firm from my father years ago and I just kept going because—well, because it was the only thing I knew how to do. Ever since he died, I’ve been trying to figure out how to use what I know for things I care about. I hired new people, asked them what they wanted to do, tried to find my purpose.”
“Have you?”
“I think I’m getting there, actually. I’ve got a wonderful new team with Oluwande, Frenchie, Evelyn, my new partner Jackie. I have an excellent assistant. We provide free legal advice and representation to underprivileged communities, and many non-profits who can’t afford a lawyer. Mostly queer and BIPOC people. Evelyn insists that everyone deserves good estate planning.” Stede drags his fork through his noodles. “I suppose it helped me figure out what I’ve known all along, in a way. About myself.”
Ed nods, understanding. “You want to talk about that?”
“Maybe not tonight. Perhaps…on the second date?” says Stede, hope dancing through him like a gymnast’s floor routine.
“Yeah, okay. Great.” Ed reaches over and runs his thumb over Stede’s knuckles, pats his hand. His beautiful brown eyes are wide, comforting. Warmth suffuses through Stede. He turns his palm over and weaves their fingers together, boldly, like he could have this. With Ed.
Maybe he can.
“What inspired you to start your gym?”
“I love gymnastics,” Ed says, simply, “but I still don’t think competing’s healthy for kids. I was partially doing gymnastics because it meant my mum didn’t have to worry about where I was after school. Tired me out, all the excess energy. Turns out, I was really fucking good at it. Then Izzy and Ben came out to see me practice, and doors opened I never imagined could. We had more money, and I was glad for that, for my mum, but the pressure was a lot. All the shit people would say, indirectly or directly, about me. I wasn’t used to having to defend who I was, especially to a big audience of dicks who weren’t ready to see a brown queer kid from Papatea Bay bouncing around a mat. Especially as things got—you know.”
Stede nods. “I remember. Very well. I was enchanted with you. You were incredible. Are incredible.”
Ed tilts his chin down. Stede frowns, because Ed’s cheeks have gone a bit dark—possibly from the spice level of the curry. Or—
“I. Ah.” Stede clears his throat. “I think you should know, Ed. Before. Well, I shouldn’t presume! I just feel it would be remiss not to say something, given, er, our date. I didn’t quite know what I was feeling back then, but I can see it now. I had the biggest crush on you, for years.”
“Yeah?” says Ed, shyly, looking up at Stede through his lashes. Stede swallows, nods again. Ed looks a bit like the cat that got the cream for how his eyes almost glow, then he lifts a single eyebrow. “What about now?”
Stede clamps down hard on his brain to prevent any embarrassing verbal curmur (brain farts, mouth sounds). It takes him a moment of wiggling his toes in his Chelsea boots before he can speak again. “Very much so, Ed.”
They talk a little about Ed’s record, and that Stede like everyone else in 1996 had been glued to their cathode-ray tube television sets as Ed catapulted the national team into first place. Ed giggles through Stede’s explanation of the letters he used to send Hornigold. They share mango and sticky rice at the end of dinner, pressed thigh to thigh as they eat. Stede can smell Ed’s cologne this close, and it makes a thrill somersault through his chest and spiral down toward his navel. Ed smiles at him.
“I truly regret not taking more gymnastics classes when I was young,” Stede sighs, smiling back as he pushes away the empty bowl.
“I could give you a private lesson,” says Ed, dropping his voice a register.
“Oh, I’m far too old to get back on a mat like that. I only took lessons for a few months when—oh! Oh. You mean…you mean.” Stede’s gone scarlet, heat creeping up his neck, but he can’t help the hopeful, if slightly stunned, lilt of his voice. (He definitely didn’t squeak, he’s relatively certain of that.)
Ed lifts his eyebrows, then nods. “At least let me kiss you on something soft for a bit.”
Stede’s dissolving. He wants. He ducks his head for a moment, then looks up at Ed with a beaming smile. “I’d love that. My flat’s a twenty minute walk, if that’s all right, or we could take a—”
“Honestly, a walk sounds nice.”
The walk home goes faster than Stede imagines possible. Their shoulders bump as Ed talks amiably about the novel he just finished. Stede talks about his houseplants. Even with the promise of kisses and the anticipation of maybe more, it’s still so easy—like they’ve done this walk home dozens of times before. He lets Ed through the teal-painted front door with an over-the-top wave of his arm that would have made Mary roll her eyes, but seems to delight Ed in the way that his eyes crinkle.
Ed hangs his jacket beside Stede’s blazer just inside the door, then they look at each other in the quiet of Stede’s flat.
“Can I—can I make you a cup of tea?” Stede asks, definitely not panicking again.
“Sure, mate.”
Stede introduces Ed to Gerald the maidenhair fern as the water boils. Then they lean against Stede’s countertop side by side, chatting and sipping vanilla chamomile until Ed puts down his mug and kisses Stede with honey on his lips.
It takes a moment for Stede to realize what’s happened, even though they both acknowledged they wanted this. For an extra, wild moment he wonders whether Gerald is scandalized. Then he puts down his mug, remembering what Ed said at dinner. It’s okay to like things. It’s good to like things. And he likes Ed, very much. He looks at Ed, whose eyes are cautious but hopeful, and Stede decides he’s all in. So he slides his hand over the soft, textured fabric of Ed’s shirt, cups his hand around Ed’s neck, and draws him close.
Stede lets out a moderately embarrassing whimper when Ed finally breaks them apart. He leans forward for another kiss, crowding Ed against his refrigerator. Ed laughs against his mouth, warm and sweet, but he puts a flat hand on Stede’s chest to gently but firmly push him back.
“Too much tea. Give me a minute, love?”
While Ed excuses himself to the toilet, Stede hurries past the guest bathroom and hastily closes the door to his office, not sure he can have the conversation yet about why he has a Barbie doll in Ed’s likeness on prominent display. If this—connection—between him and Ed goes further, he’s resolved to show Ed. Just not before he’s about to make out and, hopefully, get a little handsy with him on his beloved blue velvet sofa.
“Hey, uh. Stede?”
Stede turns around to see Ed craning his neck out of the bathroom, his brown eyes very round. Stede’s stomach plummets, because he already knows what’s coming.
“Everything all right?” he says, voice higher than he means, forcing himself to walk toward Ed.
“Yeah, great.” Ed tilts his head toward the tub. “Quick question, though. Why’s there a Barbie of me doing an inverted cross in your bathroom?”
Stede watches with absolute mortification as Ed untangles the Barbie doll from the rings of the shower curtain where Alma must have put it the prior weekend. Unable to keep watching, Stede all but runs back to his living room and drops onto the sofa, face in his hands. He only looks up when he hears Ed’s footsteps.
“Ed, I’m so embarrassed, I—”
“It’s me!” Ed crows, holding up the Barbie. “How do you have this?”
“I—well, it’s a long story—but, ah, you see, Alma likes to jumpscare me by putting him in random places and—”
“Oh, hell yeah. It’s totally got Elf on the Shelf vibes, but even more cursed,” says Ed. He plops down beside Stede, laughing as he wends the doll’s arms and legs in all directions. “His eyes look like baby cow eyes!”
Stede stares at him. “You’re not—you’re not freaked out?”
“What? Nah, man, this is hilarious. I look like a fucking vampire clown in this get up. Facial features are all fucked up, and they put me in this head to toe leotard so they could pretend like I wasn’t already tattooed at eighteen.” Ed’s whole face is lit up, and it calms the nerves buzzing through Stede. Ed runs his hands over the doll’s rhinestone-covered shoulders, smoothing down its unkempt hair that’s smeared with something hot pink (Stede blames Louis, in this case), and he grins down at it.
“I found it when I moved,” Stede admits. “Still in the box from 1996. The children insist on playing with him, and scaring the daylights out of me. For what it’s worth, they haven’t made the connection between you and the doll, even though I told them all about you when I found the boxes. About Edward Teach, I mean, not Thomas Edwards. This was before we met, of course!”
Ed looks up at him, absolutely beaming. “I haven’t seen one of these since they came out. Might have one in storage, but I dunno.”
Stede’s still very embarrassed, but he puts on his metaphorical grown-up pants and says, “I actually have two. There’s another in my office. If you want to see it.”
“Maybe on the second date,” Ed says, and winks.
Fuck, Stede thinks. Ed’s fingers are still twisting the doll’s limbs into different shapes, but his gaze is trained on Stede’s face and Stede would very much like those fingers on him instead.
Ed puts the doll aside and puts his hand on Stede’s knee. “I love that you have these, Stede.”
Stede can feel the blush still heating his cheeks, but Ed isn’t looking at him with anything other than affection and something that makes him feel like he’s vaulting through the air. He boldly reaches up to cup Ed’s face, stroking his thumb over the silver-grey scruff outlining his jaw. Ed’s pupils flare dark. Stede swallows, nods, and before he knows it he’s being pressed down into the cushions and being thoroughly kissed.
Stede isn’t sure how long they kiss. Ed’s hair comes loose at some point and he pulls the tie out, silvery hair falling around them in a curtain. It feels like they’re teenagers, for the way they’re fully dressed and rutting against each other. He hasn’t dated many men, anyone really, but his body seems to know what it wants and his brain is quickly getting with the program. His mind neatly catalogues every detail of these moments like it’s a little notebook filled with stats and scores—only the the topic is simply Ed, and the smell of his hair and the press of his lips and the way he seems to slot so perfectly into Stede’s arms.
Eventually Ed lets Stede sit up, barely, hanging onto Stede’s shoulders so he’s forced to deposit Ed into his lap. They rock against each other, the tension mounting. Stede grips Ed’s hips through his jeans as he tries to steady them, but he can’t stop kissing Ed or touching him, and then his brain starts to overflow and he starts babbling. It takes several moments to actually hear himself, and it’s a litany of praise that’s bubbling up from somewhere deep inside him.
“—fuck, and you’re just, you’re so—”
Ed pushes him back and starts unbuttoning Stede’s shirt from the collar. His face is flushed, his lips kiss-bruised. “That’s nice, Stede. But I need to say something.”
Stede’s a bit dizzy from the calloused, dry fingertips dragging along his skin. “Hmm? What’s that?”
Ed grins at him, stroking his fingers down Stede’s sternum. “That I think you’re fucking fascinating. And hot. And dorky. And smart. I want to know everything about you if you’ll let me. I want to bite your legs and kiss your shoulders and tell you that you’re pretty.”
Stede melts. He feels hot all over. “Stay with me tonight? Please? I like you so much.”
Ed flips his hair over his shoulder, bats his eyelashes down at Stede, and god he’s a menace. “You know, I may have retired, but I’m still very flexible. If it’s okay with you, I’d love to give you a demonstration. In your bedroom. Might even let you judge my performance.”
Stede takes Ed’s hand and lets himself be drawn off the couch. “I’m sure you’re a ten out of ten, Ed,” he says, brushing back the long hair so he can kiss his neck. He scrapes his teeth gently along the long cord of Ed’s throat, smiling when he feels more than hears Ed gasp. “I’ve always thought so.”
Unbelievably, Ed wraps him up in a hug. Startled, it’s a moment before Stede winds his arms around Ed’s waist, but he sinks into the embrace, realizing that his heart has been racing. He listens to the steady beat of Ed’s, anchors himself to it. Ed nuzzles his hair.
“I know we’ve just met each other, Stede,” he says, his voice remarkably tender, “but you’re better than gold.”
Art from Deanbird