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or, The Correct Use of Soap and Other Simple Botanical Preparations, Essences, Oils, and Floral Waters, for the Restoration and Maintenance of Good Health and Well-Being for the Discerning Gentleman
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Ed's POV of waiting for Stede to wake up. Takes place between episodes 3 and 4.
Ed stares at him. Stares at his hand where it’s touching him, thinks that Stede’s skin is maybe the best thing he’s ever felt. He flexes his fingers so, so gently, not wanting to disturb Stede’s sleep now that it finally looks peaceful but not willing to give up the tiny bit of contact between them. He feels the downy softness of Stede’s chest hair beneath his fingertips and his stomach flips, clenching. For a moment, he allows himself to want.
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“I don’t really think of you as, like, one thing or the other. You’re just Stede to me.”
“Just Stede.” His voice cracks a little. He feels oddly tearful.
Ed sees him. Completely.
“Just Stede. With your fishy merperson tail and your glittery scales alllll the way up here, and your fancy trident and your swishy blond hair.”
“That’s weirdly validating.”
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“I definitely didn’t die?” he asks.
Edward presses two (long, slender, warm, tattooed) fingers to his pulse and says, “Nope. You feel good to me.”
You feel good to me.
Jesus Christ.
Stede almost faints again.
“Stede Bonnet?”
Edward’s fingers fall away, and Stede’s neck feels cold without them, his lifeline gone. The doctor. Yes, of course. He forgot for a second that you feel good to me was not, in fact, his prognosis.
(or: five times Ed and Stede cross paths in the GP waiting room and one time they don't)
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It's the first time they're sharing a bed since his realization, and Ed is finding it really fuckin' hard to be chill about it.