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Edward’s hands were shaking violently as he collapsed backwards onto the window seat in relief.
Izzy had just left the captain's quarters, but before that had delivered the news that among the poor souls floating around aimlessly in the ocean in only a row boat they had captured, was Stede.
His Stede.
Another tear rolled down his cheek and his heart clenched- Stede wasn’t his, he had left him.
He had left him to go be with his family, to return to the nuclear, comfortable monotony of daily aristocratic life that he seemed to hate so much- told Ed he hated.
Stede told him all about his previous life, about Mary’s coldness that he couldn’t blame her for (“after all,” he had sighed one night as they shared a brandy and Stede shared this part of himself “We didn’t marry for love and we’re so different. I never knew how to relate to her, to relate to the children.” Ed’s heart ached.)
and his feelings of treading water, of being an outsider.
He left Ed, to go back to that.
A raw sob wracked his frame.
‘He would rather be miserable than be with me.’ He thought, bringing his legs up to his chest and turning towards the painting.
He ignored it, instead staring blankly ahead.
Despite the fact that his heart ached with Stede’s rejection and his skin itched and stung with anger at the betrayal- he couldn’t help the cool relief that rolled over him from soothing them momentarily.
When he received the news that Stede was dead, he had demanded to know how, no, who.
Who had taken the only ray of sunshine, the only thing that made him happy from this planet.
But the truth was worse, that there was no one to blame, just a series of accidents he’d been told.
Very odd accidents, that he should have known were a ruse by how ridiculously outlandish they were, but his mind had been so fogged with grief at the second layer of loss crashing down on him that he couldn’t tell down from up, let alone form a single sensible thought.
It was worse knowing there was no one to kill, no one to maim as vengeance.
Except the English.
It was the English, who had boarded the ship and threatened Stede, who had forced his hand and caused the chain of events that ended in the only man he had ever loved leaving him.
Any English vessel he came in contact with wasn’t even looted- he didn’t want anything these bastards had touched.
They were set upon and either immediately sunk, the survivors being picked up and painstakingly tortured or they were tied up helplessly and the vessels set a blaze.
Their screams soothed his soul- his yearning for vengeance.
But when he was alone at night it was not a yearning for vengeance he felt, it was what was underneath.
Longing.
A terrible, aching, pulling longing that made him feel like peeling his own skin off wracked through him, because Stede was gone.
There was no chance to see him again- even if Stede didn’t want to be with him.
Just to see him again, to smell his aftershave and feel his uncalloused hand clasped in his, would’ve been enough.
But he was alive.
Alive.
Scrubbing his hands down his gritty face, Ed stood.
Making his way across the room to the secret lever for the auxiliary closet, he pulled it, feeling the springs release and the door pop open.
Slipping through the crack in the door and shutting it behind himself, Ed ran his hands over the fine materials of Stede’s clothes, stopping at that familiar red robe.
Sniffing he pulled off his shirt and roughly yanked open his belt clasp, shoving down his trousers.
Now in only his drawers, his eyes pricked with tears once more as he pulled the robe gently from its hanger.
Carefully, as if the material might disintegrate, Ed pulled it on.
Wrapping it around himself, feeling the smooth silky material shift across his weather beaten skin, he wobbled to the back wall of the closet and sank to the floor.
Sobbing quietly, he curled up into a ball, and wished for Stede.
—
He woke up to Izzy’s annoying and insistently constant voice calling him.
“Captain Blackbeard? Are you here?”
Opening his dry, weary eyes he scowled forward into the dark.
He’d just wait for Izzy to leave- he didn’t feel like dealing with his bullshit.
A moment more of silence was followed by Izzy’s familiar gait striding out of the room and the door shutting.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Ed went back to sleep- He’d deal with Izzy later.
—
When he next woke, it was to the door opening and shutting again- albeit the footsteps sounded a lot more frantic.
With no idea how much time had passed, maybe it was Izzy with an emergency of some kind- or maybe he was just freaking out about his disappearance.
Smiling cruelly at this though, he kept listening to see if Izzy would call out.
But who called out was not Izzy- not Izzy at all.
“Ed?” whispered Stede’s familiar voice harshly.
No.
No- he couldn’t see Stede again- not now, not like this.
The relief from the night before was forgotten and now his heart once again felt as though it was being cleaved open.
“Ed?” Stede called again, louder this time and more frantically if possible.
What was he doing here?
He should be in the brig, not in the captain's quarters.
‘He must’ve escaped.’ Ed’s mine supplied obviously and unhelpfully.
No, he couldn’t see Stede again yet.
Lying in the foetal position on the hardwood floor he had slipped into as he slept, petrified, Ed waited for Stede to either leave or be discovered by a very annoyingly intrusive Izzy.
“Ed.” Stede called brokenly, voice seemingly thick with tears. “Please.”
Ed felt as if he’d been stabbed.
Despite himself, he stood.
He felt like he was moving through water as he wobbled to the closet door and opened it.
There was Stede- stood in the bare room, looking worse for wear than the last time Ed had seen him, but alive.
Blessedly alive.
Apparently Ed had been right about the tears, as the moment Stede set eyes on him they came pouring down his cheeks.
Ed’s feet felt tarred to the floor, all he could do was stare.
Silently taking in Stede’s crying face, he noticed the grime and blood caking his skin.
His hair was dusty and untidy, his eyes red rimmed and puffy.
He was wearing a plain shirt that was torn in the sleeve, tattered trousers and worn boots.
He looked like he’d been through hell.
He looked absolutely breath-taking.
This thought startled Ed into movement
Staggering over to Stede, who stepped forward with a steadying hand on his arm, he gently cupped his face.
He should be furious- attacking with words and blades and throwing Stede overboard- but instead he brushed Stede’s tears away with his thumbs.
Stede, meanwhile, felt as if he was walking on air.
The hardships of getting here, back to Ed, leaving his children again, faking his own death, had all caught up with him in that moment- his exhaustion culminating in what he felt were very childish tears.
Seeing Ed there, in his red robe, looking so shocked it seemed as if he’d seen a ghost (‘maybe he thinks he has,’ Stede thought. ‘I’m not sure if the news of my faked death would have reached him out here.’) had been the last straw.
Ed continued to gently and lovingly brush away Stede’s overwhelmed tears.
“Ed-” Stede sobbed brokenly, trying to speak.
Ed shushed him, allowing himself this moment, this one moment of comforting the man he loved.
It would be enough- it had to be.
Leaning forward only slightly, Ed pressed a reverent kiss against Stede’s brow, shutting his eyes tightly.
Savouring the contact, knowing it could be the last time- knowing Stede could push him away at any moment.
Ed was crying when he pulled away, Stede scrubbing his own tears away with his sleeve- very un-Stede-like, worry churning Ed’s gut.
“I’m so sorry Ed.” He said softly.
Observing the way Ed stiffened, he added, equally softly “We can talk about things later. You look like you need a good relaxing wash darling.”
Snorting and choosing to ignore all that had happened to focus on the fact that the man he loved was still in the room despite seemingly coming to his senses, “So do you.” He rumbled hoarsely.
Stede smiled slightly, reaching his arm out as if he were a wild beast who might bite.
Ed tried to push the pain of that realisation down as Stede gently took his calloused hand in his own soft one.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as he pulled Ed towards the bathroom.
Ed’s brain stuttered to life, allowing a thought to take shape.
“Wait,” He mumbled. Stede stopped and turned to him, those warm brown eyes meeting his own.
“I doubt that Izzy is in the habit of giving prisoners hot water- especially escaped ones.”
Stede frowned, Ed’s heart sinking with it.
“Izzy isn’t operational at the moment I’m afraid.”
Ed didn’t really care to ask whether that meant Izzy was dead or not- it was sufficient enough of an answer.
Ivan and Fang weren’t loyal to Izzy even slightly so he doubted they’d trouble Stede.
He’d kill them if they did- and they knew it.
Nodding slightly, Ed let Stede once again begin leading him into the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back, Love. Just need to ask the crew to heat water for the bath.”
And then he was gone and Ed was alone again, reeling.
—
Ivan and Fang had been the ones who trudged in after Stede about ten minutes later, or that’s how long he thought it had been- time was hazy, blurring together.
As the bath gradually filled, Ed retreated further and further into his own mind.
Until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Ed? The bath’s ready.” Stede said softly, moving his hand back and forth in soothing motions.
“Mhmm.” He hummed mildly in response, slowly and reluctantly taking off the red robe that had tethered him to Stede the past few weeks.
Stede took it from him gently, his smile was bittersweet.
“Well,” He said, breaking away from their sustained eye contact. “The bath isn’t going to ready itself!”
Taking a few short steps towards the tub, Ed watched as Stede poured in something milky looking, following it up with strong smelling oil.
Lavender filled the air, the very same scent that clung to Stede himself.
“There we are.” Stede said, straightening and turning to Ed again, “The shampoo is here next to the soap.”
He pointed to a small bottle with a label scrawled in Stede’s own handwriting and a luxurious looking bar of soap.
“Call me if you need anything, dear.”
With that, Stede turned and started towards the door.
Panic seized Ed’s heart.
“Wait!” Ed cried, his bare arm shooting out and catching Stede’s soft hand.
Stede turned to look at him, blinking in surprise.
“Well…” Ed muttered, courage gone as quickly as he had acted.
Stede waited patiently, worry spreading rapidly over his face.
“Could you, maybe, stay?” Ed trailed off, studying Stede’s face for his reaction.
“Oh.” Stede said softly, staring blankly.
Oh no, no, no, no.
He shouldn’t have asked, now Stede was going to leave again.
He needed to apologise, quickly.
Before he had the chance though, Stede’s face cracked into a wobbly smile.
“Of course dearest.” He agreed in a watery voice, a single tear escaping his eye.
Ed nodded, brushing the tear away, cupping Stede’s face gently.
Stede leaned into his hand and he couldn’t help himself.
He leaned forward and kissed him gently, as though he might break or disappear in a puff of smoke.
Leaning closer, Ed savoured the feeling of Stede’s soft lips on his own chapped ones.
Everything about Stede was soft, juxtaposing Ed’s own rough person with comforting warmth.
Ed left out a sob of relief into the kiss, that he was able to have this, this moment- that he was allowed it.
The kiss didn’t last very long, but it felt like a healing salve spread over a burn, or a flood right after a drought.
As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead tenderly to Stede’s and held him close carefully, wrapping his strong, tattooed arms around the man he loved.
The man he absolutely adores.
Stede smiled tenderly at him, slipping his head past Ed’s and burying it in the crook of his neck.
Ed squeezed him tighter, resting his chin on the top of Stede’s head and pressing kisses to his sandy hair.
Stede pulled away, smiling at him, whispering “Come on then sweetheart.”
Being pulled towards the brass tub, Edward let himself be led.
He resisted the urge to snort at the idea that the fearsome Blackbeard was allowing someone- let alone the man he was in love with- to lead him anywhere.
Stede turned to him, “If you don’t mind, dear?” he asked, gesturing to Edward’s britches.
He felt like laughing.
Stede could ask him to kill the English king and he’d do it, why would he say no to this?
Pulling them off, Ed leaned forward and kissed Stede’s lips chastely.
Pulling away, he stroked Stede’s cheek tenderly and slipped into the hot water.