Chapter Text
Edward wakes up in a fancy room in a fancy ship near a coast he hasn’t seen before, naked and wrapped up in a silk blanket. Light streams on his skin through the window and Edward blinks rapidly to get his eyes used to the brightness.
There’s a short moment where Edward thinks ‘I’m dead; this must be heaven.’ The familiar rocking of a ship and the shivers on his skin say otherwise – he’s very much alive. So onto the next best guess: kidnapping. Probable, possible, though his experiences with kidnappings before have been more about violence and death than fancy bedsheets.
“What the fuck,” Edward wonders out loud. Then to make sure he hasn’t just forgotten the past few days, he calls, “Izzy?”
Edward waits twice the time Izzy usually takes to show up, and comes to the weirdly pleasant conclusion that Izzy is not on the ship. There goes the theory of just being so out of it that he simply can’t remember stealing a fancy ship from some fancy people. Which is followed by the unpleasant conclusion that his kidnapping theory is right.
He takes in the room in all of its glory. There’s more books than he’s ever seen in his life filling shelves that surround a fancy seating area. Edward can’t see his usual leather around, but there’s a robe on the back of a nearby chair and he decides to make a run for it. He hops out of the bed and keeps looking around for just something to make himself even a little more intimidating, Blackbeard-ish.
And, “What the fuck,” Edward repeats quietly as he wraps the long robe around himself and tries to ignore how heavenly the impossibly soft fabric feels on his skin. His dagger is on the desk. It’s just there. Whoever kidnapped him has done a damn awful job of it, leaving his dagger within reach and giving him such nice things.
He takes the knife into his hand just as the door opens. He swirls around in a quick motion, holding the dagger out of sight.
“Oh, great, you’re awake,” the man coming in says and his voice is genuinely happy to see Edward out and about. He’s dressed quite fancy, and the way he holds himself reminds Edward distinctly of the rich. The man keeps talking, “I was going to let you sleep in, but since you’re already up I was thinking we could start planning our next destination.”
He walks straight up to Edward and places a hand gently on his cheek. Edward freezes, his hand gripping on the dagger tighter. The man is still smiling as he presses his lips on Edward’s for a lingering kiss.
No, seriously, what the fuck.
Edward pulls out the dagger in a smooth motion, pressing it to the man's neck and backing him against the closest wall.
“Who are you?” Edward asks. He gets as much Blackbeard in his voice as he possibly can, surprised he still remembers how to. “Where am I?”
The man’s eyes widen comically, and he’s trying to push Edward away with his bare hands. “What do you mean, Ed, who am I?”
Edward squints his eyes. Hearing Ed from someone else’s mouth feels so unnatural.
“I’m Stede Bonnet,” the man says. “You know that.”
Bonnet? The new pirate captain Izzy has been talking about? Fancy ship, fancy man, makes sense.
“Right,” Edward growls, gripping the dagger tighter. “Do I?”
And it’s weird, how completely and utterly confused the man, Bonnet, looks. “Yes, of course you do! Ed, I don’t understand what–,”
“Stop lying to me!” Edward yells with a rough voice, pressing the dagger closer to Bonnet’s neck. Bonnet shakes his head, still holding his hands on Edward’s chest as if ready to push him away.
“I don’t understand,” Bonnet whispers. “Of course you know me, Ed. You are in love with me, as I am in love with you. This is our ship, you woke up in our bed. I don’t understand what you’re implying.”
And maybe Edward has gotten soft, but something in Bonnet’s voice, how confused yet confident he is, makes him loosen his grip on the dagger. Not completely, but enough to make Bonnet relax in the eyes. Even with how fucking unbelievable it truly is, Edward still believes him. And it feels crazy to believe him so easily, but this is the first truly interesting thing to happen to him in… he doesn’t even know how long. He’ll at least hear this guy out, he figures. Whatever weird explanation there is can’t be worse than his own thoughts, anyway. His head has been fucked for some time now. He’s been fucked for some time now.
“Tell me more,” Edward orders.
“Don’t you truly remember?” Bonnet asks. Edward shakes his head. “We’re in China, currently.” Edward feels his eyebrows rise on his head. China, really? He’s always wanted to go to China. “After all the shit that happened, we finally ran away. Just the two of us. Ring any bells?” Bonnet continues, and Edward shakes his head again. Bonnet’s eyes turn sad.
“I don’t remember meeting you,” Edward says, his grip on the dagger loosening.
“Oh, dear,” Bonnet despairs, his eyes still with that awful sadness in them, though it’s not quite pity, so Edward can’t figure out why the expression bothers him so much. “You’ve lost at least several months. Nearly a year.”
“Prove it,” Edward whispers, and Bonnet raises his eyebrows as he glances around the room, completely at ease with the knife against his neck, as if he knows Edward won’t use it, as if he trusts him, the dread pirate Blackbeard, the Kraken. It makes Edward’s heart tremble in a way that he thinks should be painful but isn’t, somehow.
“Ah!” Bonnet suddenly says, reaching to the side. Edward is so surprised that he actually lifts the dagger from his neck a bit to allow him the motion, though Bonnet just picks something up from a nearby table and holds it up. Edward looks down at it and freezes entirely when he recognizes it.
“Your mother gave this to you when you were a boy,” Bonnet explains, tugging the little scrap of red silk between his fingers. “She got it from the estate she served in, and wanted to show you the kinds of nice things they had there. It’s been through quite a lot, lately, but it’s still quite a fine fabric.” Edward looks up from the silk to find Bonnet looking at him, and his eyes are so… so fond, the kind of fondness that Edward doesn’t think he’s ever seen directed at him.
Edward’s grip on the dagger falters completely and he lets it clatter to the ground. He steps away from the man, a hand coming up to grip his head. He’s starting to get a headache.
“So, we’re in love?” he asks, because he can’t think of any other explanation for that look, or any other reason he’d ever tell someone about the silk. “I never thought–,”
“That you would be in love? Happy?” Bonnet asks, the sadness creeping back into his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”
It’s an absurd idea, but the more he looks around and at Bonnet, the more fascinated he is about the idea of love, of the ridiculously fancy ship and the life he’s apparently built. He’s been interested in Bonnet since the moment he first heard about him and his weirdly incapable crew, and this just adds to the feeling. “Fascinating.”
Bonnet looks determined as he gestures toward the couch. “Let’s sit?”
Edward has definitely become soft, but if this is a fever dream or the result of some really bad tobacco then he might as well take advantage of it and get comfortable. He follows Bonnet to the seating area of the quarters and sits down on the seat the man offers for him. The couch is nice, plush and soft, and Edward lets himself relax into it.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Bonnet asks. “Or when is?”
Edward’s life lately has just mushed together, but Bonnet is probably looking for a reference point, and he can at least help with that. “I’ve heard of you. From my first mate.”
“Izzy,” Bonnet says, nodding. “Okay, so let’s say a year is missing.”
“Yeah,” Edward agrees. Is it possible this is just Bonnet pulling a complete fuckery on him? If he knows Izzy, then is the whole crew involved? But why would anyone pull such a huge fuckery on Blackbeard?
His headache is getting worse.
“A year,” Bonnet murmurs. Then he takes a deep breath and smiles. “That should be quick to recap, right?”
Edward just stares at the man. It’s weird, but he can see why he would fall for him. He’s so different to what Edward’s used to, so refreshing. Edward can’t put a finger on Stede Bonnet, can’t seem to understand him from just one look and that’s what makes him interesting. “Right,” he whispers uncertainly.
“Or not,” Bonnet says. “If you’d rather just look around first and see if it makes you remember then that’s okay as well.”
Bonnet is handling it surprisingly well, Edward considers. If he is telling the truth and they truly are lovers, his partner forgetting everything about the past year is not something Edward would know how to handle with such care. But Bonnet, or Stede, whatever Edward should call him, seems to.
Edward shakes his head. “I’d like to know how we met.”
And so Stede tells him, clearly glad to do so. He talks about the Spanish, of how he had been sure he’d die there before Blackbeard showed up, and Edward listens. He tells him about Edward staying by Stede’s bed the whole time he had been unconscious, and how Stede told him about the secret hallways of the ship.
Edward raises an eyebrow, then, and Stede smiles knowingly. He stands up and crosses to a corner of the room and pulls on a lever that’s dressed up in a tiny little suit jacket – Edward blinks at it, amazed at how unnecessarily extra everything here is. A door by the lever opens, and Edward feels his eyes widen as he stands up. “Fuck off,” he says on instinct.
Stede laughs, his whole face lighting up with it. “That’s what you said the first time, too!” he exclaims, sounding absolutely delighted about it.
“Yeah?” Edward asks, following Stede into the absolutely massive closet. “What else did I say?”
Stede blushes, weirdly enough, which just makes Edward want to know even more. He looks around at all the clothes hanging around them to avoid thinking about how weirdly pretty the man looks with his cheeks stained red like that.
“Well, you called me a lunatic, for one,” Stede says, flicking absently through the hangers on Edward’s left.
“Bet I liked that though,” Edward replies, completely genuinely. He runs his fingers over one of the thick jackets on his right, enjoying the feeling of the soft, cool fabric on his skin.
“You did,” Stede says quietly, and Edward looks up to see that little fond smile on his face again. “Your exact words were ‘you’re a fucking lunatic and I like it,’ I believe.” He returns to looking through the clothes, and Edward breathes a near-silent sigh of relief now that those eyes aren’t looking at him anymore. It’s overwhelming, being looked at like he’s something precious, something valuable. He still, for some reason, doesn’t want Stede to stop.
“Ah-ha!” Stede exclaims out of nowhere, causing Edward to jump. “Here they are. We traded clothes that first day, just for fun. You wore these.” He holds out a pair of red silk pants, and Edward blinks dumbly at them.
“I wore those?” He asks, and he means it to sound incredulous, like he can’t believe Blackbeard would ever be caught dead in something like that, but instead his voice just sounds quiet, almost longing, as he reaches out to find that the pants are just as soft as the robe he’s still wearing.
(And isn’t that something, that he’s been in nothing but a flimsy pink robe this whole time, and he hasn’t felt unsafe once?)
“You did,” Stede repeats. “The shirt you wore isn’t in here; it’s become one of your favorites lately. Your cravat should be out by the bed, too.”
Edward just hums, one hand still running the fabric of the pants between his fingers, trying to imagine himself in them, to comprehend that he’s even able to wear something this nice. He can feel Stede’s eyes on him again and looks up at him, finding him with the fondness and sadness mixed in his eyes this time.
“You wear fine things well,” Stede whispers, and Edward blinks, wondering if the man can read his mind somehow. “I told you that once, not too long after we met, and I still have to remind you from time to time. You deserve nice things, Ed.”
Edward tries to hum, to pass over the compliment, but his voice breaks on it and the sound comes out like more of a whimper. Stede’s eyes flash with sadness again, and he takes a half-step closer to Edward. “May I hug you, Ed?” He whispers, and Edward looks up at him in surprise. He can’t remember the last time he had a hug, especially not one specifically meant to make him feel better.
Maybe that’s why he nods.
Stede lets go of the pants as he steps forward, and Edward doesn’t bother to hold onto them, instead letting them slip to the floor in a pile of fabric as he cautiously brings his arms up to wrap around Stede’s waist. He feels Stede’s arms go around him slowly, as if giving him time to pull away. When Edward doesn’t, one of Stede’s hands finds its way to his hair, stroking gently as the other settles around his shoulders. It feels…really fucking nice, actually, the linen of Stede’s shirt warm and soft under Edward’s hands and cheek.
They stay there for a few seconds, and Edward starts to wonder when Stede will pull away – how long do these things usually go? It takes him a few more moments to realize that Stede is waiting for him to pull away, that he won’t move until Edward does, and the realization has his heart trembling all over again. Edward steps back after just a few more seconds, not wanting to waste Stede’s time with hugging him when they probably should be figuring out what’s going on and catching Edward up on the memories he’s missing. Edward knows he could probably stand there like that all fucking day, though he’s sure Stede wouldn’t appreciate it.
“Anyway,” Stede clears his throat, stepping back. “That’s how we met.”
Edward is inclined to believe him. He doesn’t know how all of this could be a fuckery, anyway, not when Stede knows all about the red silk piece and can read Edward’s expressions so well he practically reads his thoughts like a book.
“Fuck,” he says simply, trying to pull himself together. He’s Blackbeard, he can’t very well be falling apart after one little hug. “Well, it sucks for me to forget all that. It seems like we’ve had some fun times together.”
Stede smiles at that. “You once told me that the weeks after we met were the most fun you’d had in ages.”
Edward shrugs. “Sounds like it,” he says. “From what I remember, I haven’t been happy in years. All I remember is going in circles, doing the same thing over and over and over again.” Actually saying the words out loud feels very different than just thinking them, Edward notices.
Stede smiles again, that sad look back in his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before, as well.”
Edward groans and walks back out into the main room, hearing Stede follow behind him and close the closet door. His head really is hurting. “What now?”
“I suppose we’ll just,” there’s a slight pause where Stede seems to be contemplating his words, “see what happens. I mean, I can’t think of any reason you’d lose your memory like that. It might be temporary,” he sounds hopeful, and Edward sighs before flopping back onto the couch.
“What a fucking mess,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and rubbing them roughly.
“What would you like to do for now, then, Ed? We could go see the crew, see if they have any suggestions on how to get your memories back?” Stede asks, sitting on an ottoman across from Edward.
“Do you think they’ll know anything about it?” Edward asks, his brows furrowing. From what Izzy’s told him so far, Stede Bonnet’s crew is nothing more than a bunch of idiots, but maybe they’re more capable than Izzy implied.
“Well…no, no I don’t,” Stede replies sheepishly.
“Izzy might have some ideas,” Edward says with a sigh, because asking Izzy for advice sounds absolutely awful, but he’ll do it if they have no other choice.
“Ah,” Stede begins, his smile shifting into more of a smirk. “Izzy isn’t with us. He’s still in the Caribbean. I believe he’s taken up the moniker of Blackbeard lately, now that you’ve set it down.”
Edward raises his eyebrows. “I stopped going by Blackbeard?” He asks, amazed at the mere concept. He hadn’t realized that was a thing he could do, frankly.
“You’ve retired,” Stede replies with a smile and a nod. “It means to stop working by choice and pursue a life of leisure,” he explains, seeming to read the confusion off Edward’s face again.
“Huh,” Edward says simply, glad he was at least right in his assumption that Izzy isn’t on the ship. It’s quiet between them for a moment, Edward looking around the room and Stede watching him, probably with that fond look in his eyes again. “So who’s the captain?” He asks, because clearly these are the captain’s quarters, but Stede said earlier that the bed is theirs, and the ship is obviously Stede’s, but Blackbeard hasn’t been on a ship that he didn’t captain since he took up the name.
But he’s not Blackbeard anymore, apparently, so who knows.
“Oh, we’re co-captains, actually,” Stede replies, and Edward whips his head around to look at him.
“That’s fucking mental. No way that’s a thing.”
Stede shrugs. “We’ve made it a thing. You could say we found the two absolutely perfect people for it.” He meets Edward’s eyes, a knowing little smile on his face.
“Is that something else we said once?” He asks, feeling like he’s missing some context here.
“Oh, yes, it was,” Stede says, seeming suddenly flustered for some reason. He twists at a ring on his hand, and Edward zeroes in on the motion, narrowing his eyes when he recognizes it.
He shifts to sit normally on the couch before leaning forward and taking Stede’s hand gently in his, stopping the motion and allowing him to see the ring, a gold band with a black onyx set into it. It was one of the first nice things Edward stole, something he took from a merchant’s ship and put on himself, just for the sake of having something nice. “That’s mine,” he breathes, unable to tear his eyes away from the way the ring sits so naturally on Stede’s hand. He can’t help but notice which finger it is, too, the left ring finger.
“Oh. Um. Yes. We exchanged them a couple months ago,” Stede says haltingly, and Edward looks up at him in time to see him nod at Edward’s own hand where it rests on his thigh.
He raises it to look, finding another gold ring with a large turquoise stone, also on his left ring finger. He doesn’t recognize it, but it feels so comfortable and familiar that he hasn’t even noticed it yet – clearly he’s been wearing it for a long time. Edward lets out a small sigh, silently hoping it doesn’t sound as wistful as he feels.
It’s quiet for another moment before Stede moves, reaching to the coffee table between them and picking up a little piece of black fabric. “Here’s your cravat,” he says, and Edward looks up from the ring to see that the fabric is long and thin like a blindfold. “You wore this on the first day and just kept it, but I hardly mind. Black is more your color, after all. Though most colors look good on you, I must say. I’m extremely fond of seeing you in purple.”
Edward raises his eyebrows at that, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches Stede freeze with the cravat held awkwardly out in front of him, a blush crawling up his cheeks. “Do they, now?” Edward asks, his smile turning into a grin as Stede swats the cravat in his direction, though the fabric just barely brushes Edward’s shoulder.
“Yes, they do, if you must know,” he replies, and Edward hums. It’s nice, he thinks, to have someone who isn’t afraid of him, who’s able to joke around with him and accept teasing from him without acting like Edward will blow their heads off for the sin of having a bit of fun.
“Should I get dressed, then? Got anything purple for me to wear?” Edward asks, still half-joking, but actually wondering if Stede wouldn’t prefer it if he got some fucking clothes on. He’s been parading around the man’s quarters in nothing but a robe, after all.
(Though if they truly are in love – and he’s still not sure if he fully believes that part – he supposes Stede may actually like him like this. Edward doesn’t know how these things work; he’s never been in love before.)
“If you’d like to, darling, but you don’t have to,” Stede replies, and Edward immediately hears the faint clack of his teeth clicking together as he slams his mouth closed.
Edward glances over at him, finding Stede staring at the wall to his left, the pretty blush back and his teeth biting down on his lip. “Sorry,” Stede whispers. “It's a habit at this point, I suppose.”
Edward’s heart trembles again, but it hurts this time. Of course, Stede doesn’t want to call him sweet pet names. He’s still the dread pirate Blackbeard, still the terror of the high seas. Without his memories, he’s not the man Stede fell in love with. He’s not the one living this cushy life with this nice robe and who looks good in purple and who was able to sail away to China with the man he loves. He’s Blackbeard; he’s the Kraken. He doesn’t deserve nice things like this. He’s not anyone’s darling.
“Ed?” Stede says, loudly enough that it’s clear it isn’t the first time he’s said it. Edward blinks and finds that Stede has moved from behind the couch to kneel in front of Edward, and he’s even taken Edward’s hands in his, running his thumbs gently over the knuckles. How did he not even feel the touch? He looks back up to Stede’s eyes, confused, and watches as the man’s face relaxes into a relieved smile.
“There you are,” he whispers, squeezing Edward’s hands. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Edward just blinks at him some more, then imagines explaining all the thoughts that are still spinning around in his head and balks at the idea. He shakes his head.
“Okay, that’s alright,” Stede responds easily, standing up and tugging gently on Edward’s hands until Edward stands too. “Let's get you dressed, alright? You can try on some of your favorite clothes, see if they jog your memory.”
Edward follows Stede to another closet – apparently the first one is an auxiliary wardrobe, which is just so wonderfully unnecessary – their hands still loosely joined as they walk. “You can call me those things, you know,” Edward says quietly, watching their linked hands.
“What things?” Stede asks, distracted as he comes to a stop and uses his free hand to move some hangers around, clearly looking for something.
Edward shrugs. “Whatever you call me usually. Darling, or whatever.”
Stede pauses for a moment and glances back at Edward, a small smile tugging his lips up. “As you wish, love.”
Edward’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest. Fuck.
Stede picks out a deep purple linen shirt with more ruffles than Edward’s ever worn in his life, but it’s not nearly as frilly as some of the things he saw in the other closet. He also hands Edward a pair of simple black pants. They’re neither silk nor leather, which are the extent of the fabrics Edward can identify on sight, but they’re comfortable and soft when he pulls them on. They’re loose enough for him to move in but tight enough that he knows his legs and ass look fucking amazing without even looking in the mirror hanging on the wall nearby.
“Final touch,” Stede says as Edward fiddles with the ruffles on his chest. When he looks up, Edward sees that he’s got the cravat from earlier in hand. “Would you like me to tie it for you?”
Edward nods, stepping forward and lifting his chin slightly so Stede can work around his beard. He does so easily, his hands slipping the cravat around Edward’s neck and starting to tie it like he does it every day. For all Edward knows, maybe he does.
(And isn’t it a new sensation, having someone so close to his neck, literally tying a knot around it, and not even worrying that they’ll hurt him. Edward knows that he shouldn’t allow this, that he shouldn’t be so certain this all hasn’t been some huge convoluted murder plot, but Stede’s hands haven’t been anything but gentle since Edward woke up.
Edward can’t remember the last time someone was this gentle with him. He never wants it to end.)
“Why do I wear it?” Edward whispers into the scant space between them. “If it’s always hidden by my beard.”
“I’m not sure,” Stede replies, seeming to finish up the knot but leaving his hands where they are, resting gently on Edward’s collarbones through the nice purple shirt. “I’ve never asked you. Perhaps because it reminds you of the day we met, or otherwise simply because you like it. There doesn’t have to be a reason behind everything you wear; you can choose to do and wear things just for fun, or because you want to.”
That sounds like something else Stede has probably told him before. Edward hums, looking down at himself as Stede steps back.
“We don’t need to see the crew today if you don’t want to,” Stede says, walking towards the door as Edward continues fiddling with the ruffles on his chest. “I’ll just step out and let them know we’ll be taking a self-care day.”
“A self-care day,” Edward mutters to himself as the door opens and closes, Stede presumably leaving. “Wild.” He looks around the room and sees his dagger on the floor near a wall, right where he dropped it. He considers picking it up – the belt Stede dressed him in has a holster on it, after all – but Edward hasn’t felt unsafe yet. It’s nice, actually, not constantly carrying weapons and worrying about being betrayed or attacked.
And maybe that isn’t smart, but he really can’t imagine Stede suddenly deciding to attack him, not with the fond way he’s been looking at him all morning.
By the time Stede returns, Edward is by the bookshelves, looking through the titles and running his fingers over the leather bindings. “Ah, would you like me to show you our favorites?” Stede asks, closing the door behind him. Edward nods, and they spend the next few hours looking through books, Stede describing how he reads stories to the crew every night and has even started teaching several of them how to read.
They also look through Stede’s journal, too, trying to jog Edward’s memory by going over the memories. It doesn’t work, but Edward enjoys it anyway, amazed at all the things they’ve done together.
At one point, there’s a knock on the door before a large, kind-looking man sticks his head in the door. “Brought you some lunch, Captains!” He announces, gently shouldering open the door when Stede gestures for him to enter.
“Thank you, Oluwande!” Stede says, sitting up from where he and Edward had been leaning together on the couch and moving some books out of the way so the man – Oluwande – can set the tray of food down on the coffee table.
He leaves once he’s free of his burden, but not without calling a goodbye over his shoulder. “Enjoy your self-care day, Ed!” The door closes behind him before Edward can even fully process what just happened, that a crew member just called him Ed, just greeted him like a friend.
“They refer to us as Captain, usually,” Stede explains, fussing with something on the tray. “But they all use our names, too. We’re not really pirates, at this point, so the crew is all just here because they want to be.
“Didn’t you say you gave up all your money and land?” Edward asks, suddenly confused. When Stede nods, he continues. “If we’re not pirates, and you’re not rich, then how do we live? Where does our money come from?”
“Ah,” Stede says, a grin tugging at his lips. “Now that’s quite the story. We collected the reward on our heads, you see.”
Edward raises his eyebrows. “And how did we do that?”
“Good old-fashioned fuckery, of course!” Stede laughs, then launches into the explanation. They eat as they talk, and even the simple food – a tray of cured meat, bread, and fresh fruit – is better than anything Edward’s eaten in a while.
They spend the rest of the day talking and laughing in equal measure, Stede showing Edward all the things he says are Edward’s favorites, and Edward silently thinks that Stede could be shoving smelly dead fish under his nose and he’d still be happy with it, so long as Stede doesn’t stop looking at him like that, like he’d do anything to see Edward smile.
By the time the sun sets, they’re already piled up in bed, dressed in silk pajamas and lying close together, Edward asking random questions as they come to mind and Stede just smiling at him, like he’d be happy to lie like this forever.
(Edward doesn’t remember the last time someone saw past Blackbeard and actually saw him, Edward Teach. He doesn’t know if Stede has ever looked at him and seen anything but Edward. It’s quite the thought.)
“What’s your favorite…favorite color?” Edward asks, the question broken up by a yawn.
“Oh, it changes by the day,” Stede says. “Usually it’s a pale blue or turquoise, like the sea when the sun shines on it. You should go to sleep, love. We can talk more in the morning.” He leans forward to press a kiss to Edward’s forehead.
Edward closes his eyes under the touch, humming quietly. He reaches out with one hand, holding gently onto the first part of Stede he can reach – some part of his side, probably. He hears a small huff of fond laughter, then feels Stede’s arm wrap around his back, his other hand finding its way into Edward’s hair and stroking gently.
Edward falls asleep just like that, lulled under by the familiar rocking of the ship and the all-new, comforting sensation of Stede’s hand stroking through his hair.
Ed wakes up slowly. The first thing he’s aware of is soft sheets beneath him and a warm blanket over him, and the second is the ever-familiar rocking of the ship around him. The third thing he registers is a warm figure next to him, an arm slung over his waist.
That jerks him fully awake, his eyes flying open to take in the sight of Stede next to him, curled on his side facing Ed, his mouth open and eyes closed in sleep. Ed feels an entire ocean of emotions hit him all at once, relief and happiness and serenity and love on top of them all. He rolls over, inelegantly shoving Stede onto his back so Ed can straddle his hips. Stede blinks awake and lets out a startled oof at the motion, blinking blearily up at Ed.
“Good morning, darling,” he says bemusedly, a smile tugging at his lips and his voice still deep from sleep as his hands settle on Ed’s hips. “Your memories are back, then?”
Ed has no idea what that means, but he can’t even begin to care. “You’re here,” he whispers, lifting one hand to gently nudge a curl out of Stede’s face.
“So are you, it seems,” Stede begins, and Ed can’t help it anymore – he’s spent the last day longing for Stede, missing Stede, and now Stede is here, Ed is home. He leans down to capture Stede’s lips in a passionate kiss.
“I missed you so much,” Ed breathes against his mouth before kissing him again.
Stede hums in response, his hands running up and down Ed’s back, one of them landing in his hair and gripping it in just that way he knows Ed likes.
And here, kissing the love of his life in their bed, on their ship, after spending a whole day without any of it for the first time in almost a year, Ed finds himself overwhelmed with emotion. He breaks the kiss to instead bury his face into Stede’s neck and inhale the ever-familiar scent, lavender and roses and salt from the sea breeze.
“Hey, hey, Ed,” Stede whispers, his hands stroking gently over Ed’s back and hair. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Ed barely has time to wonder why Stede’s talking like he’s crying when he feels a tear slip off his face and onto Stede’s shoulder and realizes he is crying, lying there trembling in Stede’s arms. Once he realizes, he can’t seem to stop, either, the tears only increasing into sniffles and pants until he’s full-on sobbing into Stede’s shoulder.
“Hey, it’s alright, come on, do you want to roll over? This must be hurting your knee by now, right?” Stede encourages, still in that gentle, kind voice, and Ed just nods into his shirt, not trusting his own voice right now.
Stede rolls onto his side, taking Ed with him and helping him adjust so they’re in a similar position, but on their sides instead. Ed’s face is tucked into Stede’s chest, now, Stede’s chin resting on the crown of his head. “Shh, there now, let it out, it’s okay, I’m here,” Stede continues murmuring, his hands never stopping their soothing motions along Ed’s back and hair.
“I-I-“ Ed starts, having to breathe a few extra times before he can get the words out. “I didn’t lose my memories,” he whispers finally, his voice still shaking. He’s determined to get this out, though — it’s important to him that Stede knows what happened yesterday. Why it’s so important, Ed has no idea. It just is.
Stede stays quiet, still stroking Ed’s hair with one hand, the other a warm comfort on his lower back. “I think…this is fucking wild, Stede, but I think I time traveled. And you thought I lost my memories, but I must have switched places with the Ed from that time, just for a day.”
“When did you travel to, exactly?” Stede asks quietly.
“August 30th. Last year,” Ed replies in a shaking whisper, and he hears Stede gasp above him, clearly recognizing the date.
“We met on September 1st,” Stede replies, both of his hands still now.
“The 31st, actually,” Ed corrects, his voice a little stronger now. “You were out for most of the evening and the next morning.”
“Well, I was stabbed. And hanged. Sort of, anyway,” Stede replies, and Ed tenses at the reminder. Stede must notice immediately, because his hand resumes running through Ed’s hair. “Ed?” He prompts, when Edward doesn’t say anything.
Ed sighs, nuzzling his nose further into Stede’s linen night shirt. “I spent a whole day there, following your ship. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if I should do things the exact same or change things, try to stop you from being hurt. I didn’t know if I even could change anything, or if my trying would just make everything worse. I-I was so scared I’d l-lost you, and that I’d have to g-go through everything again, or that I would look at you and you wouldn’t even know me, and-“
“Oh, Ed, shh, shh, love, it’s okay,” Stede says, adjusting his arms so he can squeeze Ed tightly against him, just like Ed always wants when he gets worked up like this. “Come on, breathe with me, there we go. In… and out, good job, darling.”
Ed takes another couple of deep breaths with Stede’s guidance, letting the last one out in a sigh. He doesn’t know what else to say, but Stede fills the silence once Edward has relaxed a bit.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he says. “That must have been terrifying, not knowing anything about your situation like that. I am so, so sorry, Ed.”
Ed shrugs as well as he can from within Stede’s arms. “Not your fault,” he mutters.
“Still,” Stede replies. “I hate that you were hurting all day, even if it wasn’t my fault.”
Ed sniffles and nods into Stede’s chest, feeling him resume his stroking, occasionally running his fingers through Ed’s hair. “Well, it certainly was interesting having your past self here, I suppose. We thought you’d just lost your memories, of course, so I spent a lot of the day catching him up on everything.”
“Mmm,” Ed hums to show he’s listening, his eyes closed as he wraps his arms more firmly around Stede’s waist. “I love you,” he murmurs when Stede pauses for a breath.
Stede barely misses a beat, pressing a kiss to the top of Ed’s head. “I love you too, Ed. We managed to get through most of the major parts, of course, and I introduced him to some of your favorite things. The robe, for one, and that lavender shampoo you like so much.”
Stede rambles for another minute or so, Ed keeping his eyes closed but not falling asleep, instead listening to Stede’s voice and letting himself relax. After a few minutes, however, Stede goes silent and freezes, tensing up in Ed’s grip.
Ed leans back to look up at him, his brow furrowed in concern. “What?” He asks.
“Just—I thought you’d lost your memories, so I was telling you—or, him, I suppose, everything that’s happened to us, but if he’s actually from the past, what if he changes things? What if he acts differently now that he knows these things?”
Ed bites his lip. It’s exactly what he was so afraid of doing yesterday — a year ago, fuck, whenever it was — except this time he isn’t even in control of it. He thinks back to a year ago, to the days immediately before he met Stede, trying to ignore the way the memories are changed now that he’s revisited them. “I think…” he begins, unsure how to explain his theory. “I think I forgot about it. Or thought it was a dream. Or it acted like a dream, I suppose, where I forgot it all once I woke up. I don’t think we need to be worried.”
“If you’re sure,” Stede says, hesitant.
“Won’t do us much good to worry about it now, will it?”
Stede actually laughs at that, leaning forward to press a kiss to Ed’s nose. “Right you are, my love.” They go quiet for a minute, Ed tucking his head back under Stede’s chin while Stede resumes stroking Ed’s hair. “Do you want to stay here for a while longer? I think the crew can handle themselves for a while if you need some time.”
Ed nods, smiling when he feels Stede press another kiss to the crown of his head before he continues talking about his and the past-Ed’s day yesterday. Ed, for his part, is content to listen to his love, holding him and being held in the home they’ve made together.
(Edward wakes up in his own quarters, alone in a small bed and wearing nothing but his usual leather pants. He furrows his brows, rolling onto his back and running his hands over his face. He had a nice dream – he knows from the sun spilling in through the window across the room that he won’t be able to get back to sleep at this point, but he wishes he could. It had been a really nice dream.
He tries to remember the details, but they slip from his mind like water through his fingers. Soft fabric, he thinks, and a lunch of fresh fruit. He wasn’t alone, either, but he tries to remember his companion’s face and nothing comes to him. He remembers a feeling, though, of being cared for, loved.
And isn’t that novel, Blackbeard being loved? A not-unfamiliar wave of longing surges through him, and Edward just lies there and feels it until it passes. Once it does, he sighs and sits up before getting ready for the day.
It really was a nice dream. But he’s Blackbeard, he doesn’t get things like soft fabrics and a person who cares about him like that. And he doesn’t need those things, anyway. He’s Blackbeard.
The next morning, Edward sits by Stede Bonnet’s bedside, a pipe in his hands and with Izzy at the door, bothering him about the Spanish.
When Stede wakes up, Edward makes a decision on a whim.
“I’m Ed,” he introduces himself.)