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“I do believe it’s tea time,” Stede said, peering at the sky thoughtfully. It was mid-afternoon during Ed’s first full and uneventful day on the Revenge. “Wouldn’t you say? Would you do me the honor of joining me, Captain?”
“Uh,” Ed said. “Sure, I guess.” Tea wasn’t exactly something regularly indulged in on pirate vessels. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even drunk the stuff, and he didn’t remember enjoying it much.
It became clear quickly that any previous experience with tea was nothing like what Stede meant when he said “tea time”, anyway. His memories largely constituted chipped cups filled with foul dark, bitter brews that were really more for warming up a body than anything. Nothing like this: dainty painted china cups in matching saucers and tea pot, and a shiny silver kettle. There was also a wooden box next to a pitcher of milk and an empty bowl with a shiny, dainty little spoon.
“Please, take a seat. I’ll serve,” Stede fussed, and went about pouring the hot water into the kettle. Then he opened the wooden box, and what Ed saw in there made his eyes widen and his mouth water.
It was an entire loaf of sugar, barely used. He watched, speechless, as Stede picked up a large pair of silver tongs and began cutting lumps away from it and filling the empty bowl with them. Sugar! Even though it was produced right here in the Caribbean, he didn’t come across it very often, except sometimes on raids. A sensory memory suddenly flooded his senses, and he was transported to being a child of about eight years old, a lump of sugar melting on his tongue. His mother had brought some scraps left over from the sugar box at the Carmody estate. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
“Ah, so I see you’ve noticed these,” Stede said suddenly, bringing him back to the present. “Are these not the finest sugar nips you’ve ever laid eyes on?”
Ed blinked a few times. “Ah,” he said, “could you repeat that, mate?”
Stede waved the tongs he was holding in a little circle. “My sugar nips,” he repeated, as though it were obvious.
Staring at him for a moment to determine if he was pulling his leg, Ed came to the conclusion that Stede was entirely serious. “They are very fine,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “Very fine, indeed.”
Stede beamed. “Thank you. It’s really all in the details, I always say.”
Ed was grateful that his beard covered most of his face so Stede couldn’t see him biting back laughter.
In due course, Stede poured them each a cup of tea, then sat down. Ed watched him carefully, not sure what to do next. He watched as Stede added a little milk to his cup, and one small spoonful of sugar. He did the same. Stede brought the cup of tea to his mouth, sipped, swallowed, and sighed with happiness. “Ah,” he said, “that’s the ticket.”
Ed took a sip as well, and tried not to choke. Fuck. He hated tea. It was just dirty water, basically, wasn’t it? Foul.
“Is it to your liking?” Stede asked, eagerly.
Ed swallowed hard and nodded. “Wonderful.”
Stede smiled, and then began to talk, in that wandering way that he had, of a variety of things, only half of which Ed fully understood. There were certain things Ed knew a great deal about. He’d always been a crack hand at memorization, and had great recall of facts, but that was only in the sphere of his experience, and Stede’s experience certainly ran a gamut he had never before encountered: his conversation might veer between great works of literature, interior design, food, fashion, and obscure science at the drop of a hat. In this case, though, Stede’s preoccupation was in his favor, because that meant he was very distracted, frequently turning away from the table to gesture at some feature of the room he was pontificating on. Ed took the opportunity to sneak another spoonful of sugar into his tea in between noncommittal grunts and nods. He took another sip; still bitter. He risked another one. It remained barely palatable to him.
“More tea?” Stede asked, suddenly.
“Uh, uh, no, still working on this one,” Ed said hurriedly.
Stede raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate a man who savors things.”
Again, Ed was grateful for his beard, because this time it was hopefully covering the flush he felt burning his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m really … savoring it.” He pretended to take a sip.
Stede gave him one of those glowing looks that reminded Ed of what it felt like to stare into the sun. Then he returned to talking about Shakespeare or his struggles to properly style his hair or something. It wasn’t that Ed wasn’t interested, he just didn’t know what the hell he could contribute half the time. And right now he was mostly concerned with the tea situation at the moment.
He risked a fourth spoonful, then in quick succession, a fifth and a sixth one. The texture of the tea was becoming quite interesting, more of a thick sludge than a liquid. The taste was improving, though. It was almost becoming enjoyable. Not quite there yet, though!
“This is nice, isn’t it?” Stede asked. “Just two pirate captains, taking a little break from swashbuckling and looting and adventure to share their thoughts over a good brew.”
“Absolutely,” Ed concurred. “This is, er, definitely something I do all the time. Whenever I can, really.” Well, replace the dainty cup with a bottle of hard liquor and “thoughts” with rude jokes and it wasn’t too far off.
Stede drained his cup and stood up with a sigh of satisfaction, then paced back and forth. “I’m so glad. I did worry, you know, that you might think all of this,” he gestured around him, “is a little … well, frivolous.”
“What would make you think that?” Ed asked, reaching carefully for the sugar spoon, but Stede took a sharp turn in his pacing and he quickly withdrew.
“Well, I have gotten some feedback along those lines before,” Stede explained, a cloud passing over his expression. Instantly, Ed wanted to fucking obliterate whoever was the cause of that cloud.
“If you want my advice,” he said, unable to completely hide the heat in his voice, “you should just ignore those fuckers.”
Stede stopped and looked at him, his eyes raising in surprise, and a slow smile spread over his face. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Ed said. “Got no taste, right?” He slurped at his tea, frowned, and as Stede turned away to face the windows, his arms behind his back, he boldly scooped up a seventh spoonful and dumped it into the catastrophe he’d created in the cup. This time, when he tried it, it was … perfect. Almost exactly like that taste he remembered from so many years ago. He hummed with happiness.
“That’s good of you to say, Ed.” Stede was speaking softly, still looking out the windows. “Your opinion means a lot to me, you know.”
Your opinion means a lot to me, too, you absolute weirdo, he thought fondly, and stood up, tea cup in his hand, and went to join the Gentleman Pirate. When he glanced over at him, he thought he could see a touch of wetness at the corner of Stede’s eye. Well, that wouldn’t do. He raised his cup to him in a sort of toast, and Stede beamed, and Ed drank his tea.
*
The next day when Stede invited him over for a cup of tea, Ed came prepared with a number of tactics to acquire the amount of sugar necessary for him to stomach the stuff. But when Stede prepared his cup, he paused after the first spoonful, looked thoughtful, and murmured, “What was it again?” and proceeded to add six more spoonfuls.
“There you are,” he said, placing the cup in front of Ed. “That’s how you like it, isn’t it?”
Ed blinked a few times. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is.”
Stede looked pleased. “Perfect,” he said.