Chapter Text
Not three hours after the Jimenez couple finalizes the paperwork with Edward, their twin girls are born on the way to the hospital. Oluwande claims their arrival is chaotic in true Jimenez fashion; he calls and says this to Edward while on the way to spoil the newborns with all the flowers at the hospital’s gift shop he can purchase.
Weeks later at Edward’s moving party, Jim seems happier, showing everyone pictures of their nieces. Edward is stunned so many people show up just to lug his furniture around in the summer heat. The only payment they’re receiving are grilled steaks, beer, and his gratitude, of course. Still, they come ready to help.
Jim is a hard worker as is Oluwande; apparently Edward’s been sorting his glassware wrong all his life and they fix that for him. Buttons is so sunburned that he seems to be immune to working in the baking temperatures. Lucius makes at least three Starbucks runs for everyone and spends the rest of the day in a lawn chair beneath the orange trees, barking orders. Pete helps, though he flocks to Edward a lot of the time, asking for advice on how Edward prefers to hold boxes or tie down ratchet straps. Edward could tell him that they’ve actually been living on Mars their entire lives and Pete would wholeheartedly agree. Frenchie and the Swede are crucial to the moving process since they have a large, enclosed trailer they normally use for carrying band equipment. They were more than happy to lend it to Edward for the day if he promised to double their beers.
And Stede? Well, he rearranges Edward’s sparse furniture about a hundred times. It’s rather adorable to Edward. The man makes a list of all the essentials they need to buy and says, “Ed, dear, you don’t seem to have a blender.”
“Nah, pup, don’t think I do.”
Stede laughs as he glances down at his iPad. “But you’re a cook.”
“A cook. Not a mixologist.”
Stede opens his mouth. Closes it. He then returns to the living room and tells Pete to move a rug.
Lucius was right about the neighbors having a strong sense of community. Two different home-owners drop by to offer baked goods and warm welcomes, including a family of four and an elderly lesbian couple. Their friendliness is a lot for Edward to handle, especially with everything going on with his own guests, but he does his best to be polite.
The moving is finished by sunset when the crickets are humming, and the air is just starting to cool. Everyone gathers in the backyard, sitting in lawn chairs or lounging on blankets as Edward grills. They eat his welcome-cookies while they wait and laugh about someone tripping or almost dropping a piece of furniture. Stede reprimands the teasing before they turn on him and cackle about him slipping on the rug Pete forgot to move.
“Oi,” Oluwande calls to Edward. “They’re killin’ your boyfriend out here, mate.”
Boyfriend.
Edward’s heart flutters, his brows raising to his hairline. He turns from the grill and Stede is stiff as a twig. The group goes quiet, and Edward points his spatula at them. “No teasing my boyfriend.” He points his spatula more threateningly. “Fuckheads.”
Stede lets out his breath and deflates with the remaining tension. He comes over to the grill as the group talks amongst themselves and when he places a hand on Edward’s back, Edward can’t help but droop with guilt. “Sorry.”
“About what?”
Edward’s eyes peek up. “You don’t mind?”
“What? Being your boyfriend?” Stede smiles, his expression as hopeful as his whisper. “I – I wouldn’t mind at all. Would you?”
“Would I mind?” Edward chuckles and pulls Stede in by the back of the neck. “C’mere.” The press of his lips is firm and wonderful, nearly lifting Edward right out of his shoes.
After everyone is full twice over, they depart, but Stede sticks around to clean up and get a few more things done. They try to call the power company, but since it's already closed for the night and can’t be reached until morning, Edward’s out of luck for lights. Luckily enough, Stede gifted him a disaster kit that included some tea candles. They set them up in the living room and golden light flickers across the walls. The orange tree’s limbs scrape the window as the wind picks up in the pattering rain. Even though it’s a humid summer night, they light one log in the fireplace just to celebrate the move.
A bottle of brandy and orange slices sit forgotten on the living room’s primary piece of furniture, a folding chair. Socked feet move across the rug in a relaxed shuffle, not really moving but instead trying to stay close. The little radio on the windowsill plays a ukulele song, staticky from the storm. Enraptured by the atmosphere, Edward feels more drunk on being in Stede’s arms than the brandy he had earlier. Just keeping his forehead tucked in the warmth of Stede’s neck and letting his hands roam up the man’s strong back makes him want to fall asleep standing up.
Joy surges through him so intensely that it leaves him in a whispering laugh. “You’re my boyfriend.”
Stede is just as giddy, just as quiet. “If you’ll have me.”
“Of course I will.” Edward closes his eyes, brow furrowing as he holds Stede tighter. “Of course.” It feels so good here between them, so pliant and safe – Edward just wants to be closer to him. He leans back and steadies his hand on the side of Stede’s throat, which he takes as an anticipatory action. His expression opens, his lips part, his eyes close. Edward could devour him so sweetly.
When he kisses Stede, he loses his breath with it. His lungs are desperate at once, burning. He opens his mouth against Stede’s and closes them together, again, quicker. Stede grips Edward’s tank. Edward’s hand slips beneath Stede’s tee to feel his warm, damp skin.
“Edward,” Stede pants. “Edward, I –” He pulls away and steadies both hands on Edward’s chest, over his racing heart, and bows his head. “I’m not ready,” Stede confesses with eyes closed in shame. “I’m not ready for things to go further.”
Edward almost doesn’t understand, it’s like walking through water. Then it’s impossible not to understand; Stede’s embarrassment is like a current in the air. Carefully, Edward’s hands go to Stede’s waist to shake him slightly. Stede dares a look at him, and Edward says, “It’s all right, pup.”
Stede’s gaze slides to the side. “I’m sorry. It must feel like I’m leading you on –”
“Hey,” Edward urges. “Are you in my head?” He waits for an answer, but all Stede does is roll his lips in. “Thought so.” Gentler, he rubs the man’s arms. “You’re no disappointment to me, Stede Bonnet. It’s no big deal.”
Stede sighs in relief. “Thank you,” he whispers.
Edward smiles and kisses the center of his palm. “Wanna see how many orange slices I can stuff in my mouth?”
“… you can’t do more than five.”
“Bet.”
A month later, Edward’s house feels more like his own and he’s grown comfortable in his new routine. After waking, he smokes or vapes on his back deck before making some tea with plentiful orange slices. Once he’s begrudgingly prepared for work, his schedule is more or less the same as it’s always been, though he’s got more to look forward to when he gets home – like gossiping when Mrs. and Mrs. Taylor as he checks the mail. Those two are a riot and they adore Stede.
He's on Edward’s mind this Saturday as the dinner rush makes a mess of his kitchen and his brain. Edward often thinks about him at times like this when he can’t move fast enough or work efficiently enough. Getting his cooks and wait staff through their shifts is his main priority, so he takes the time to praise them and ensures they’re taking breaks.
“Edward,” Roach calls across the kitchen. “You’re overdue for a break.” He gestures with his knife. “Go smoke or something.”
Edward, sweating and shaking, goes to promise that he’s fine, then Izzy puts a hand on his shoulder. “You go on,” Izzy says. “I’ll handle things in here. Hype people up, all that.”
Edward stares. “You’re offering to be nice to people?”
Izzy grimaces. “I didn’t say I’d enjoy it, just go smoke!”
Edward does as he’s told, his feet aching on the walk to the side alley. He crouches down and unfurls his hair from its tie, shaking it out. Taking out his vape, he takes a pull as he scrolls through his phone. It dings with a text from Stede: got a minute?
Edward sends the thumbs up emoji, and he picks up Stede’s call. “Hey.”
“Evening! How’s the dinner rush?”
Edward sighs out smoke. “I could think of a thousand different things I’d rather be doing right now.” He smiles tiredly. “And they all involve you.”
Stede coos. “Aren’t you the charmer. I was just thinking about you as well.”
“Oh? Now should l ask what you’re wearing?”
He balks. “You’re a scoundrel, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Edward grins, elation soaring through him. “And you like me.”
“Be that as it may, I was wondering if you would like to take a little trip with me. A vacation if you will.”
“To where?”
“I’ve been planning an international wedding in New Orleans.”
Edward mulls through his brain. “In the States?”
“Correct,” Stede says. “I’ll be needed for the ceremony as well as the rehearsal dinner, but other than that and perhaps a few consultations, you and I will be free to explore the French Quarter. They’ve paid for our tickets and a room.”
Edward pauses. “A room? One room?”
“Yes.”
“How many beds, Stede? Not that I’d mine sleeping beside you, but I don’t want you to get uncomfortable.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I’d rather look forward to sleeping beside you as well, Ed.” Edward can practically see him chewing his lip and it drives him mad. “If you’d like to go, I want to discuss some things with you. But the short of it is… I’d like to. To try.”
Edward’s heart stops. “Try? Try, try what?”
“You know,” Stede hisses. “Try – it. Don’t make me say it, I’m at Starbucks with Lucius and he’ll never let me live this down. It, you know, it –”
“It? You mean – oh.” He stumbles to a standing position from his crouch. “Yeah, when do we leave?”
Stede chuckles at his enthusiasm. “Next week. Can you clear your schedule?”
“My schedule is clear,” Edward says. “So fucking clear.”
“Splendid.” A smile curls Stede’s voice. “I’ll text you the details?”
“Sounds good, pup.” Stede hangs up and Edward stands in the sweltering alley, gazing up at the blazing sky above. “Fuck,” Edward says to the clouds. “I gotta manscape.”