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"You left," Stede snarled, inches away from his face, perfect teeth on display. Soft, gentle, sweet Stede and for a moment Blackbeard didn't know what to say. For a moment the fact that, no, he had been the one left to wait, the one abandoned, like a fucking dog, didn't even occur to him. For a moment, he was not even Blackbeard, the ink scratching at his skin revealing more than it could hide.
For a moment he was Ed again, bathing in the moonlight, looking up at the other as the words, 'You wear fine things well', rung in his ears. Vulnerable and small.
He didn't like it.
A second later and he was gathering the frills on Stede's shirt, the same ones that had always made him look and the silent thrill of finally touching them, revelling in just how soft they were was just that. Silent. And short-lived. He slammed Stede against the closest wooden surface, ignored the way it made the other gasp, ignored how much he liked it.
"You. Left. Me," he drawled and felt a perverse thrill in the way Stede's eyes widened, mouth falling open. He could have kissed him. He wanted to.
But the crew was still there, his crew but also Stede's, all frozen in shock, all too scared to even breathe. He could have dragged the other man to the captain's quarters, his mind whispered treacherously, he could have made him sorry. If he wanted to.
And if he didn't think Stede's crew would genuinely try to skin him if he attempted to hurt their captain. They wouldn't succeed, they knew that as well as he did. Didn't mean they wouldn't try.
His hands must have relaxed around the other because Stede was wiggling out of his grasp, one hand smoothing the frills, the other moving to rest on Blackbeard's heaving chest, before deciding against it. Before curling into a fist in the air.
"Would you...," Stede tried, took a deep breath and for a second Ed worried. Had he slammed him that hard? He hadn't meant to. "Would you like to discuss this privately?"
But then again, he had, hadn't he. He had wanted to hurt Stede. Had wanted to do it ever since that dawn on the beach. He remained silent for a moment, head hung low. Thinking. He didn't know if he could bear being alone with Stede, scared he might do something he would always regret. But he could never... he wanted to know why and yes, it was stupid, it wasn't what Blackbeard would do and yet he... He nodded.
Olu was the first one to move, always the rational one, the one who noticed everything. "Captain," he started, clearly meant for Stede and Ed told himself that it didn't burn. The warning in the other man's voice, the way he stepped forward, ready to place himself between them.
Stede waved a hand at him, not even looking at his crew, eyes dancing across Ed's face. Seeing. Edward knew what he was seeing and he wanted to step away, wanted to cross his arms in front of his chest, wanted to growl. How fucking dare he. How fucking dare he come back, act like nothing had happened, no, worse, like it was Edward's fault. And then look at him like that, soft eyes swimming with pity
He turned away and headed towards Ste... his bedroom. He glanced up only once, eyes deadly, promising pain to anyone who might interrupt them. The way Stede's crew was looking at him, well, it felt like they might just be up for the challenge.
"I'm sorry." That was the first thing Stede said once they were alone. Blackbeard had already steeled himself for the conversation, the mental walls around him thick and unforgiving. He wasn't expecting that, not from the way the other man had attacked him on the deck, the way he had jammed a finger in his chest, had told him he had left.
Blackbeard looked at the other man, gingerly sitting at the end of the table, the only place, really, where one might sit. He should have felt guilty, and he would, he supposed, later. When he was alone, curled in a ball, looking out into the ocean. When he was no longer Blackbeard.
Now, now he was angry.
"You shouldn't have come back," he said, instead, a low growl. A threat. A promise. "There is nothing for you here anymore."
He turned around, didn't look at Stede, didn't want to feel the frost burning in those kind eyes. Stede gasped softly, didn't seem to breathe for a while. And, there it was, a punch to his gut, a spiked ball with rusty nails, piercing his skin.
"You didn't know. I suppose you couldn't, possibly." Stede's voice sounded small when he said that. Blackbeard could pretend he hadn't heard. Instead he froze, careful not to move, afraid that even the twitch of a finger would be enough to swallow the other's words. "It wasn't your man who came to wake me up. It was Badminton. He... he led me into the forest." Stede's breath hitched, just for a second. It somehow said more than any words could.
"By the time I made it back to the beach you were gone. You had left, Ed, you had left me."
It should have sounded like an accusation, somehow it didn't. It pierced through Edward's lungs one and the same.
"I thought..." He tried to explain, tried to put the rejection and fear he had felt into words. Tried to tell himself he ever could.
"I know. That's why I'm sorry." Somehow it didn't feel like enough. Edward felt like this couldn't have been it, he couldn't have been forgiven so very easily. Not after everything he had done when he had thought Stede was the one who left. That forgiveness was not something he would ever deserve.
But soft arms were reaching from behind him, wrapping around his waist and he was being dragged back, against Stede's chest and maybe... maybe it could be that easy.
It wasn't that easy.
It had been with Stede but then again everything was so easy with Stede.
The crew didn't like him. They made it very clear, the way they would look at him, distrust only shadowed by the occasional flash of hatred. And Ed should have been used to that. He was Blackbeard, being hated was a big part of the job. He couldn't blame them, he had left them for dead on that little island, he had thrown poor Lucius overboard. It was by some wild stroke of luck Stede had found them when he had and nobody had been harmed.
It hurt. He would have never said anything, not when the crew called him Captain, disdain dripping openly. When they followed every order he gave but never addressed him, not if they could absolutely help it. And when they were on the deck, huddled yet again, listening to Stede read aloud or sharing ghost stories or whatever thing the other captain had decided would help bring them together. Edward tried not to notice how they would all keep their distance, choosing their seats as far away as possible, leaving him on his own. When Stede would joke and they would laugh and roll their eyes affectionately, but only silence would welcome Edward's words.
When eventually Stede and him began sharing a room and he would catch Lucius sharing a disapproving glance with Black Pete, a tiny scoff on his face, every night he excused himself from the group.
He deserved it, he tried to tell himself.
He truly believed he did.
In the end it was Frenchie who came to him first.
"Captain?"
He hadn't been expecting it, currently trying to map the quickest way to a Spanish fleet they had been tracking for the past week. Only when the young man repeated it, did Ed raise his head, eyes scanning the room for Stede. They were alone and he was just about to say that when Frenchie moved closer and there was no doubt he was speaking to him.
Edward still could hardly believe it.
"I'm sorry to bother you, captain, sir," Frenchie was looking anywhere but him and out of the corner of his eyes Edward could see shadows behind the door. He wondered idly if this was an ambush, before shaking the thought out of his head. The crew hated him but they loved their captain more. They would have never done anything to make him unhappy.
He nodded once, signalling for the other man to continue.
"It was just... Swede and I were wondering if we could have the floor tonight. We have been preparing a song for some time and thought it would be nice to get to share it?"
Edward stared. That... that wasn't something he had ever had a say in. That was very strictly Stede's department and he had never wanted to interfere, partly, because he liked the activities his... co-captain came up with on a daily basis but also because he preferred his balls where they were, thank you very much.
He must have taken too long to respond, or Frenchie must have noticed the look of apprehension on his face because he was quick to assure him, "We have spoken to Captain Stede who agrees, of course."
Edward didn't ask why then the other man was coming to him. He was suddenly being included and he didn't want to do anything that would make the crew feel like they had done the wrong thing. He hummed, thoughtfully, before nodding. "As long as Stede agrees."
The moment Frenchie closed the door behind him, Edward could hear the distinct sound of cackling. That should have been warning enough for what was to come.
A few hours later, a broken guitar and at least 3 crewmembers suffering varying degrees of injury, Frenchie insisted. "Captain Edward said it was okay."
Stede turned his accusatory look towards him. It wasn't even an accusation, it was mostly disappointment with the tiniest flicker of amusement. "And why, my dear, would you let them perform their song. You know very well we do not have favourites on this ship and it's extremely unfair to single out Swede and Frenchie. We should have had a talent show and let everyone participate instead! No wonder this all happened."
Edward could have explained what happened, he could have said he thought Stede had already been consulted. But he also could recognise when he had been bested. He laughed, throwing a hand around his co-captain's shoulders. "Sorry, mate. Next time, I will come to you first."
The way Frenchie's face darkened only made him laugh harder.
Next, surprisingly, was Roach.
The chef was bursting into the captains' quarters one day, making Edward jump from where he was sprawled on the couch. He had been reading a book, that is, trying to. Stede had insisted it was imperative for a captain to be able to read so, of course, Edward had agreed to be taught. Not that he had much of a choice, when Stede was looking at him, wide eyes pleading, promises falling from his lips. Edward hadn't even needed to be bribed, he had been ready to say yes the moment Stede had looked at him, but that was something he had very wisely kept to himself.
Ed looked up, annoyance at being disturbed without even a knock quickly dissipating when he saw the chef. He was dishevelled, more so than normal, eyes wild, wilder than normal.
"What is it? Have we been attacked?" He was already on his feet, hand on his pistol and ready to attack but Roach simply shook his head.
"Captain, you need to speak to Captain Stede. Please!" The man's voice was high, almost hysterical. Edward decided to change strategy, just for now. Within a few seconds he was by the other's side, hand gingerly resting on the other's back. He wasn't very good at comforting other people, that was, once again, Stede's role, but he had seen the other man do it numerous times. How hard could it be.
"Calm down, mate. What happened?"
"Captain Stede has asked me to make the crew crème brûlée, sir. Do you know how many eggs that would waste?! He simply will not listen to reason!" Roach looked at him, his dismay almost comical. "I will not have a repeat of the drama with the oranges, I will not. You need to speak to him, Captain."
Roach crossed his hands, nodding to himself. "Not to mention it is now 3 weeks to Easter and I just know the captain will want us to decorate eggs for the holiday. But which eggs, I ask you, when we will have none." He looked at Edward again, eyebrow raised, almost daring the captain to disagree.
Edward just patted him on the back again, awkwardly. "I'll speak to Stede."
He did, in fact speak to Stede. And they did, in fact, end up having crème brûlée.
And when Roach threatened to resign and leave them to eat gruel until they all decided to jump overboard instead, Edward quickly found a merchant ship they could raid. For eggs... and marmalade.
Unsurprisingly, Stede did make them decorate eggs for Easter. Surprisingly, it was Wee John's egg that won the contest, with its bright red and yellow paint, making it seem as if flames were dancing on the shell.
It was a nice spring night, the breeze chilly but not enough to be biting. Stede had fallen asleep almost immediately, curled against Edward's side, his soft snores almost lulling the other man to sleep. But it was such a nice night and he felt almost sorry to let it go to waste.
Carefully, he extracted himself from his co-captain's grasp. The way the other man whined at the loss of his warmth almost made him want to go back, almost, and then Stede was wrapping around Edward's pillow, an arm and a leg thrown across it and just like that, Ed had been replaced.
He made his way to the deck, careful not to trip on the bodies sprawled every which way. Buttons was still awake, steering the ship, and that shouldn't have surprised Edward as much as it did. But then again, Buttons had always been a mystery, ever before everything that had happened. When Edward had still felt part of the... family.
A nod in the other man's direction that was mirrored quickly. A seagull screeched. Buttons shushed it.
"Apologies, Cap'n. Steve didn't mean ta." It was only then that Edward noticed the seagull nested on his crewman's head. He couldn't even say that he was surprised.
"Steve?"
"Aye, Karl's kid." Buttons shrugged, careful not to disturb the sleeping bird. "Livy finally let 'im come visit."
Edward stared for a second. The last thing he wanted was to be insensitive when he had been the reason Buttons lost his friend and Steve, he couldn't believe he was thinking this, lost his father. "He seems to like it here," he offered finally, hoping that would be enough.
The seagull screeched again, one eye opening suddenly and Edward found himself being stared down by a bird. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was being given the ol' fuck-eye.
"Oi!" Buttons said suddenly, one hand reaching up to tap the bird across the head. "Be nice! It's the Cap'n."
Steve screeched, softer now, and was he, was he nodding at Edward?
"That's it," the man drawled, praising. "Sorry, Cap'n, you understand."
Edward's eyes widened, grateful for the cloak of darkness around them, before he nodded. "Of course. Well, goodnight, Buttons," he hesitated a moment, "Steve."
Both man and bird made a sound of acknowledgement. Edward left.
And vowed to never again be left alone with Buttons.
Stede was sick, just the flu he had said but Edward had also seen plenty of men die from less. He knew he was fussing, couldn't stop it even when the other man was slapping his hands away, laughter on his lips that made him double up in a cough.
Edward brushed his lips against Stede's brow, pebbled with sweat. His lover was burning, heat radiating from his whole body and Edward tried to tuck the blanket around him even tighter. Which was impossible, as he had already tucked it in as tight as it could ever be.
"Love, can you not?" Stede sounded almost annoyed now and even if he wanted to Edward couldn't blame him. He fully realised the best thing to do would be to leave the other man to sleep it off. He had already done more than enough. He had ensured Stede had everything he would need on his bedside table. He had consulted a doctor too, not Roach, thankfully, who had been eyeing his cleaver far too giddily for Edward's comfort, but an actual doctor they had found in a village close to where they had docked.
Stede had medication, he had food and water and he was safely tucked away. All he needed was rest. Edward understood that, he was not stupid. But a small, irrational part of him was whispering, 'What if he closes his eyes and never opens them again.'
'What if it was not enough.'
A knock and his head snapped in the direction of the door. The crew knew not to bother them and damn his redemption but he would snap each and every one of their necks if they were bothering Stede for anything not life-or-death. And even then...
Oluwande poked his head in. "Sorry to bother you, Captains, but the crew is asking if we are to have a story tonight?"
Edward growled, he couldn't help it. Could they not see Stede was unwell? How could they be so inconsiderate? He was just about to ask exactly that, quite rudely, when he felt the other pat his arm.
"Could you please do it for me, love?" Stede asked. It was a small mercy his eyes were closed so Edward was not subjected to a look he couldn't resist. He could actually think about it and decide for himself.
He nodded. Of course he did. He didn't even think about it that hard to begin with. Stede had asked him to so, of course, he would.
It was still nice to pretend he had some choice in the matter, however.
The crew was waiting for him, everyone settled into place. Oluwande handed him the book, already opened on the correct page. Edward settled between them, mentally preparing himself. Stede had been teaching him how to read for months now and he was certain he wouldn't make a fool of himself. Even with the whole crew looking at him expectantly.
"Can you do the voices?" Wee John asked, voice already heavy with sleep. It was as if everyone had been waiting for someone to speak first, and suddenly they were all talking over each other, arguing which voice was the best.
Edward shushed them and was surprised when they didn't quiet down immediately. Instead, the arguments subsided gradually, words exchanged in a whisper before stopping completely.
They didn't fear him anymore. Edward was unable to name the feeling stirring deep inside his chest, only certain that it was not anger.
He read the story. He even tried to do the voices. And nobody laughed at him when he stumbled over a long word or mispronounced something and had to go back. Instead, they listened intently when the wolf ate the heroine's grandma and cheered when he was finally defeated.
Everyone was softly snoring by the time the story was over and Edward made his way back to his bedroom, careful not to wake them up. He wasn't sure if he could take any more of that reading aloud business.
Stede was also sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. A soft kiss on the forehead, just to be sure, and his fever had gone down too.
Only then did Edward finally let himself fall asleep, curled around the other man's body.
"It's your anniversary next week," Lucius said from beside him and Edward almost jumped. Whipping his head back, he saw the other man raise an eyebrow, almost as a challenge.
It was the first time the younger man had spoken to him ever since... ever since that night and Edward couldn't blame him, not one bit. Which is why it took him a moment to focus on the words and not on whom was saying them.
He was filled with dread. He had forgotten, he had completely forgotten and knowing Stede, the other man had already prepared the most thoughtful of presents and organised the best date Ed could ask for.
The panic must have been painted on his face in bright colours because Lucius laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh, Edward knew what that sounded like. He turned, wide-eyed, towards him.
Lucius was already handing him a list. "This is everything the Captain has mentioned he needs in the past few months. There is a port about a day's journey from here."
Edward scanned the list, before glancing up to thank him, but Lucius was already leaving.
"Thank you," nonetheless, he decided to yell at the retreating figure.
Lucius stopped, hesitated for a moment. When he turned around, he was grinning. "Don't mention it." A beat. "And wear something purple, he adores you in purple."