Archive of Our Own ^beta

“How about a skull?”

Stede hems and haws. “Seems a little basic.”

“You could get a skull eating another skull, like my flag,” offers Black Pete.

“What about Badminton’s face with a sword through his eye.”

“Yes. ”

“Mm, no, bit too gory,” Stede says.

“A unicorn - like the Revenge.”

“Eh…”

“Ooh, what about a shark?”

“A lemon.”

“A lime!”

“A coconut.”

Ed scoffs - “You’re just naming fruits now.”

“A shark.”

“Frenchie already said shark!”

“A cannon.”

“A hammerhead shark.”

Wee John says, “Portrait of Blackbeard.” There’s some nodding around the circle for that one.

“An eye tattoo like Izzy but it’s a heart,” offers Lucius.

“Portrait of Blackbeard with a heart around it.”

“Portrait of Blackbeard under your eye?”

“Jesus christ,” Ed mutters, and Stede’s cheeks have gone beet red. 

He was beginning to regret this pirate lesson. Ed had asked him what he’d like to learn next and he’d casually mentioned pirate tattoos. He’d meant methods, he’d meant traditions, he had not meant to give him a tattoo. But Ed had been so excited, circles around the room excited, that after a little bit of hand wringing he’d agreed. After all, he reasoned to himself, a tattoo would make him look more legitimate. Almost all of his crew had tattoos.

Speaking of his crew, the moment they’d caught wiff that Stede had agreed to get a tattoo they had arranged themselves all around he and Edward in a tight circle on the deck, perched in the ropes like vultures, and have been keeping up a constant stream of truly wretched ideas ever since. 

“Jellyfish with swords for legs!”

“Tentacles,” Buttons corrects forcefully.

“Jellyfish with tentacles for legs!”

“Oh my god…”

“Okay, okay!” Ed stands up, finally reaching the breaking point. “Thank you very much for your absolutely horseshit opinions, fellas - I think the Gentleman Pirate can make his own decision here, hm?”

“We’re just helping,” mumbles the Swede.

It takes some shooing, some “I’ll keep them all in consideration, promise!” from Stede, but eventually they extract themselves from the circle of pirates, who disperse with just a little bit of grumbling. Maybe a lot of grumbling.

“Okay, listen, Stede,” Ed says as they close the door to the captain’s cabin. “Another rule of pirate tattoos is that pirates aren’t this picky.”

“It’s just so permanent,” Stede replies, exasperated, searching around the room for some source of inspiration.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just something random and cool.” They had of course discussed some of the tattoos that symbolize miles sailed, kills, that sort of thing, but had quickly come to the realization that Stede hadn’t earned any of those medals of honor just yet. “Come on then, what ideas have you got?”

“...What about ‘the Gentlemen Pirate’ in some lovely lettering?” Stede suggests, but Ed makes a face. “Do pirates do that, get their own names tattooed on themselves?”

“Eh…none of the ones I know.”

“Does seem a bit vain.”

“What’s some shit you like? A book? Ooh, a fancy jacket?”

“You think I should tattoo a jacket on my shoulder?”

Ed just shrugs at him, clearly not seeing the issue, and Stede feels his resolve slip another rung down the ladder. He flops down into a chair in frustration. What could he stand to have engraved into his skin in ink for the rest of his life?

Stede watches Ed gazing around the room, and catches the quirk of an eyebrow as the pirate’s eyes alight on something. “Could do a lighthouse?”

He perks up. “Hmm…a lighthouse. I like that. Seems fittingly symbolic.” He considers his lighthouse painting. “Is it too on the nose?”

“Maybe to you, not to anyone else. A stranger seeing that on your arm would think it’s proper cryptic.”

Stede grins.

“Right. Let’s do it. Like you said, can’t be too picky.” He stands up, a spring in his step all of a sudden - he’ll really be a respectable pirate now. “I’ll go tell Lucius we’ve decided.”

“Lucius?” Ed balks, “Lucius? What do you need Lucius for?”

“To…give the tattoo?” 

“I’ve done hundreds of tattoos! Go rip off Izzy’s shirt, half of that’s my handiwork.”

“Oh! Well, yes then - that’s great. That’s settled.”

Ed narrows his eyes at him. “You don’t trust me.”

“Nonsense! Of course I trust you, Ed, you just never made yourself out to be an artist.”

“What’s being an artist got to do with giving a tattoo?”

Stede grimaces a bit to himself. There was no going back now. What’s done is done. Ed’s feelings would be positively dashed if Stede didn’t let him do it, and the last thing he wants to do is dash Ed’s feelings.

He pictures the worst drawing of a lighthouse he can and tries to imagine it on his arm every time he looks at himself in the mirror. For the rest of his life. He can picture it pretty clearly, he's seen Ed’s doodles - Ed! When he sees it, he’ll think of Ed. And then he remembers the night where they’d saved their lives with a lantern and a spyglass and some rum, and how that hadn’t been a good lighthouse. But they’d made it together.

He smiles at Ed and says, truly earnest, “I’d love for you to do it.”

-------

Yes, he cries the whole time, yes, he holds Lucius’s hand, but honestly?

The lighthouse turns out pretty good.

-------

“What’s next, Professor Bonnet?” Ed asks, draping himself over the ship’s wheel as Stede gazes out at an entirely empty ocean with his spyglass.

“Hmm?”

“What’s our next lesson? Your turn.”

Stede holds his tongue a moment lest the first answer that comes to mind slips out. He’d been holding out on teaching Ed one very important step of high society living…

Dancing. 

They’d learned every aspect of dining, of socializing, of dressing. Dance was an integral part of the wealthy aristocrat’s life and he knew it would have to come up eventually, as its absence would soon be glaringly obvious.

However he has a few reasons that he’s been withholding the suggestion. The reason he tells himself is that he’s not sure if Ed will enjoy it; it just doesn’t seem like the fearsome pirate captain’s thing. But in his heart he knows that Ed probably will enjoy it and even be good at it.

No, if he were to tell himself the truth, the thought of standing so close together, with hands on waists and hands in hands, is why he’s been avoiding dancing. The idea of all that prolonged physical contact made him feel a web of feelings that he was frankly not quite ready to untangle. And if he wasn’t ready to deal with something he gave it the old Stede Bonnet Special - he avoided it.

The thing was, Ed was full of endless Pirate-Skills to teach Stede. He had a list that seemed to go on for miles and was always bounding up to Stede with multiple options, “do you wanna do this or this? Maps or weather patterns today, mate? ” And that meant that Stede had to come up with reciprocal ideas for instructing Ed on the life of a wealthy socialite, which was not as easy as it sounded anymore. Turns out pirates needed a lot more practical skills than rich people.

There was one thing, though. One big gun left that he could pull out before dancing. Hopefully Ed would be interested.

“Well, I’d had the thought - and let me know what you think, I’d understand if this isn’t quite what you’re after - you can do a fair bit of reading.” A fair bit of reading was perhaps a generous turn of phrase, but Ed was incredibly intelligent and the last thing Stede wanted to do was demean that. “Perhaps I could teach you a bit more?”

Ed raises an eyebrow. “Oh - uh, yeah, why not.”

“It’s alright if it doesn’t sound fun, I’ve got some party games we could go over instead -” Of course Stede is secretly hoping Ed won’t take that bait. He hates party games.

Luckily - “No no…it’d be cool to learn how to read more. Maybe, I dunno, maybe some of that Shakestick guy you were going on about.”

“Shakespeare, yes - you liked that?” He smiles at Ed, and Ed gives a sheepish shrug. “We can do that. Sounds fantastic.”

--------

“Bit like a mutiny.”

“Almost exactly like a mutiny, well sussed. Except that Ceasar couldn’t just be left on an island or thrown overboard, he had to be killed, and it wouldn’t be without political repercussions.”

Ed loves when Stede is in teacher mode, he takes it very seriously. He adopts a certain confidence that Ed wonders if he’d had all the time in his previous life. That and he always has a little crease in between his eyebrows when he tries to get a point across. Not that Ed’s watching that closely.

“So, this is near the beginning,” Stede says, handing the open book to Ed. “Here are some lovely speeches from Cassius - let’s try them, hmm?”

“Alright,” Ed replies, not without enthusiasm. He’s honestly not sure how this reading lesson will go - he’s learnt enough over the years to help him read maps and charts, he recognizes plenty of maritime terms, but a hoity toity play about ancient history is slightly intimidating.

“Right then - give this a go just here. Cassius is trying to convince Brutus that he’s just as deserving of ruling as Caesar.”

Ed’s brow furrows. “ Men , know that one, brilliant… at … some … time … are …hmm, don’t know that one.”

“That’s alright - the way to conquer longer words is sounding them out, bit by bit, and then you’ll realize that it’s probably a word you do know.”

Stede starts by hanging over Ed’s shoulder, Ed sitting on the lounge and Stede just behind him, pointing over his shoulder and into the book. That puts his face infuriatingly close to Ed’s, and Stede’s breath keeps grazing against his ear, making it incredibly hard to read. And he’s really and truly trying.

“...that…we…are…uhh….”

“Ah yes, that’s a tricky one, let’s take it in two parts -” And then Stede is swishing around the lounge and sitting right next to Ed. He points at the word and is saying something about it, but Ed can’t seem to hear a thing as Stede’s thigh presses up against his. And then Stede’s shoulder is against his side as he leans in for a closer look at the page, and all this is very distracting. But perhaps the most distracting part is the way that Stede is talking to him. Anyone else teaching him to read would have made him feel like a child, but Stede makes him feel…well, smart.

“And of course, you’re familiar with underlings.”

“What, like, lackeys?”

“Yes! Precisely.” Stede smiles at him, “Aren’t those lovely lines? Why don’t you give them another go, now that we’ve done it once.”

“Men at some time are…masters…of their fates, the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in …ourselves, that we…are… underlings .” He tries to really take in the meaning of the words this time; that’s the whole point of reading, afterall. He’s sure he said a very similar thing to a young Izzy Hands as they were crouched below deck on their first assignment together, concocting a plan to rise above their stations. He cracks a fond smile. Maybe the play isn’t so hoity toity. 

“Reminds me of the way I used to talk when I was young.”

Stede raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?” and their reading lesson quietly ends, turning instead into a soft conversation reminiscing about younger, stupider days. Ed keeps the book open just in case, but it sits there on his lap, pages unturned. 

“I pictured you as more of a rascal - you were quite ambitious!”

“Oh, I was both mate, don’t you worry.”

Stede never moves, still pressed against Ed’s side as they chuckle.

-------

Stede’s tattoo heals well, and as soon as he’s safe to have it in the sun he carefully cuts the sleeves off one of his less loved shirts so that he can show it off. He’d tried to go shirtless at first, which Ed had found positively torturous, but he hadn’t even made it to the afternoon before he was burning to a crisp and Ed had had to give him an impromptu pirate lesson; don’t get sunburnt. 

They read more, Ed loves it. They slowly and painstakingly make their way through the first few acts of Julius Caesar, huddled up in Stede’s library on rainy afternoons and candle lit nights. He sips a glass of whiskey, Stede passionately explains what’s happening in the upcoming scene, they do funny voices as they go back over passages. One night he falls asleep in one of Stede’s chairs, book laying open on his lap, and wakes up to Stede in a robe handing him a biscuit with marmalade and smiling to rival the morning sun. “You read yourself to sleep, you silly thing!”

Ed tells Stede that the next thing he’ll teach him are shanties. It’s not just a lesson for Stede, either, the whole crew could stand to learn some proper shanties, right now Frenchie does all the heavy lifting.

Stede is thrilled, and arranges a whole shanty afternoon where they sing and sail and everyone gets a chance to lead. Ed tries to tell him that’s not quite how it always works, but watches fondly as it falls on deaf ears. Stede’s having fun, the crew’s having fun, and it’s really no matter if Stede takes Ed’s pirate lessons and bends them to his own will.

Truthfully, every lesson feels less and less like something Stede really needs to know and more and more like another reason to spend time with him, to see Stede smile at him and ask him questions. Just an excuse to bask in his enthusiasm for it all. He’s slowly beginning to acknowledge that he’s in very, very deep and there’s nothing he can do about it.

And if he admits this about himself, (which he finally does after sitting in the captain’s cabin stock still for ten minutes, surreptitiously listening to Stede croon a shanty in the bath), then he knows what he’ll request that Stede teach him next. 

--------

The Revenge has weighed anchor a few miles off the shore of little Port Verity , allowing a few members of the crew, namely Roach, to go on a supply run. Stede and Ed have gone ashore as well and mucked around a bit, but there wasn’t much to do and Blackbeard didn’t want unneeded attention, so they wound up waiting on the beach. Stede found the perfect spot - they could sit on the edge of the tide with their feet just in reach of the lapping water while still being mostly under the shade of a couple palm trees.

“Just what the doctor ordered,” Stede declares with satisfaction, wiggling his toes through the sand. 

Ed raises an eyebrow, “Doctor?”

“Metaphorical.”

“Mm. Obviously.”

They fall quiet for a moment and Stede watches Ed play with the sand, looking strangely thoughtful. Finally he turns back to Stede, “I’ve had a thought about what I’d like to learn next.”

“Have you? I suppose it’s my turn to teach again, isn’t it.”

Ed’s looking at him with those big dark eyes, eyebrows slightly raised, and right before he opens his mouth Stede knows what he’ll say; “I figure…I still don’t know how to dance.”

Dancing.

“Oh! Dancing!” Stede exclaims, feigning surprise. 

“Like, proper dancing, you know - for parties and shit.”

“Oh yes - an incredibly important facet of the aristocratic way. Well, I have to admit, I wasn’t quite sure if that was something you’d like to - but you’d like to learn how to dance?”

“If it’s you teaching me, then, yeah, think I would.”

Ed says that so straightforwardly that it catches Stede off guard, he’s sure he blushes from head to sand-covered-toe. “Well then - well then! I’d love to.” He sees the shine of excitement in Ed’s eyes and can’t help but feel excited himself. “I’d absolutely love to.”

“You think I’ll be able to learn?”

“Of course you will!” He exclaims, giving Ed a playful cuff on the shoulder. “Don’t be silly. You taught me how to sail through a thunderstorm, I think I can teach you how to dance.”

“What if I end up a better dancer than you?” Ed teases.

“You probably will!”

“And you won’t be jealous?”

“I’ll be incredibly jealous.”

Ed laughs. Suddenly a strong wave pushes in and they have to scramble up the beach a few feet, and then there’s the voice of Lucius calling out - “Captains! We’re ready if you’re ready!”

They trudge up the shore, carrying their boots in hand.

“This’ll be fun - it’s been a while since I’ve busted out the old dance moves!” Stede tells him as they make their way down the dock to their dinghy.

“Can’t wait to see ‘em.” Stede’s not sure if Ed’s being funny or not, but before he can suss it out Ed is offering a hand and helping him into the little boat.

“Well then, we’ll have our first lesson at sunset, if that sounds agreeable.” 

“Fantastic.”

—-------

‘Oh, a firefly!’ a younger Stede Bonnet thinks to himself, standing outside on the wrap around porch of the Governor's mansion. 

It’s a warm evening, and inside an opulent ball is just beginning to show signs of winding down. The foliage around the property is lush and green this time of year and the fireflies are slowly making their appearance on the lawn, one glowing spot, then three, then ten, winking in and out of the dark. He sips the flute of champagne he’s brought outside with him, counting the fireflies. Now this is what he called fun.

“Stede!” He suddenly hears from the door. Jogging up to him is Robert, the friend he had come to the party with. They’re both in their early twenties with families that run in the same circles, and while Robert had tolerated Stede as a child, they’ve become somewhat chummy as of late. Robert screeches to a stop beside him, green eyes wild and dark shiny hair all mussed. “Oh, Stede,” he exclaims breathlessly, beaming. “Guess what - I’m in love!”

Stede raises an eyebrow. “With Charlotte?”

“With Charlotte!”

“You’ve only just met Charlotte.”

“I know. We danced six songs together. It’s like we couldn’t look away from each other, and those eyes - oh, I could drown in them!”

This was not news to Stede, as he had been glancing over at the pair all evening. Stede himself had not danced six songs with anyone, rather he had danced each song with a different pleasant girl and had been very bored the whole time. He wished he might fall in love like Robert had, like everyone around him seemed to at one point or another.

“I’ve decided I am going to call on her tomorrow. She told me we could ride horses, and that she plays the violin - oh, she is a marvel. ”

“Congratulations,” Stede says wearily, trying his best to smile. Stede didn’t know Charlotte, had never met her nor talked to her, so why Robert’s words sent such a pang of jealousy through him he’d probably never know.

-------

“Now. You may find it’s a bit like the footwork involved in swordfighting, but instead of one person attacking and one person defending, one person leads and one person follows. The leader is the one that “steers” you might say.”

“The man?”

“Well, I suppose if you subscribe to traditional gender roles, the man is usually leading, but it doesn’t really matter. Truthfully, I was always jealous of the women who got to be spun about and do all sorts of fun things,” Stede admits. “But I thought for our first lesson I’d lead, if that’s agreeable - I think it will be easier to teach.”

Ed nods, a model student. They’re standing on the deck of the Revenge, it’s sunset as promised, and Ed secretly thinks he might puke. Stede seems a little bit nervous himself, which is normally par for the course but is strange for him as a teacher, and may be the thing throwing Ed off the most.

“Now remember what dining is?”

“Pageantry?”

“Yes - dancing is also pageantry, but with far more social ritual and expectation.” He goes on to detail all of the implications conveyed by the number of times you danced with someone, what balls you went too, how well you knew the dances, where you looked, how much you talked, and all of the see-and-be-seen rules he’d navigated through as a young bachelor.

Ed grimaces. “Good fucking Lord.”

“Indeed. I always found the social aspects incredibly stressful, but the act of dancing itself is quite the opposite. It’s really fun once you get the hang of it. And there’s no pressure here on the ship!”

“Right.”

“Right - so let’s start with the hand positions, and then we’ll work our way down to the feet.”

It’s no trouble at first, they start slowly without any music at all, going over the basic steps a thousand times in a little circle. Then Stede calls Frenchie over to play for them, something Ed hadn’t even thought of.

Frenchie plays a calm country waltz. They dance at half time, and it’s…strange. It’s the same strangeness he felt sitting down to a beautifully laid table of China and flatware - like he could very quickly overstay his welcome. He envies the way Stede embraces new things so quickly.

And yet privately he thinks that so far he’s not doing too shabby. His feet are doing what he tells them to do and he’s following along with Stede pretty well. He’s actually feeling fairly good about himself until he hears Stede say, “Now Ed dear, you’ve been looking down at your feet the whole time. You’ve got to try your best to look at your partner.”

He looks up at Stede, eyes dancing with laughter at him, and his stomach drops an inch. “And how am I supposed to know what my feet are doing if I don’t look at them?”

“Do you look at your feet when you’re dueling? Besides, you’re still doing just fine and you’re not looking - Oh!”

Right as he says that Ed steps squarely on Stede’s foot. He blanches. “Shit! Sorry -”

Stede chuckles, “Don’t worry a bit,” and then he looks up and meets Ed’s eyes. “You’re perfect.”

Ed swallows. You’re perfect. Fucking hell. Never before in his life had someone given him so many kind and simple compliments, and Stede seems to mean them all. Whatever they’re learning he’s awash in ‘that’s it, lovely job, excellent, you’re doing wonderfully, look at you. You wear fine things well. You’re perfect.’ It gets to be too much for him sometimes, and he’ll feel his eyes start to sting if he thinks about the kindness that the rest of his life has been missing.

“Ed? Shall we continue?”

Shit. He’s been standing still as Frenchie’s played on behind them, and Stede is looking at him with his head cocked, half worried and half bemused.

“Yep! Yep, of course.”

“Good. Let’s speed it up just a bit now - your feet know what to do, try not to think of them so much…”

—---

Ed had danced with a partner before, but only once.

He’s 14 years old and creaking open the door to his and his mother’s cottage, finding it dark, his mother fussing over the fireplace. It’s the wee hours of the night and it looks like she’s just returned home not long before him.

“Ed! You’re home, good.”

“Can’t miss the gossip. Here.”

He holds a handful of folded notes, much less than he’d wanted to bring back, but his mother takes it with a grateful smile and kisses the top of his head. “Thank you Eddy.”

“Did you get to see them?” He asks eagerly, sitting down at the table in the middle of their home as his mother lights a candle.

She looks at him mischievously, “I snuck a peek.”

He leans forward on the edge of his chair. “What was it like?”

“Oh, it was beautiful. You’ve never seen so many different colors of dresses.”

“No I haven’t,” he agrees with a smile. “But you saw the dancing?”

“Yes. Here, come here,” she gestures, moving to the middle of the room and pulling him along. “I’ll see what I can remember.”

They dance as well as they can, his mother making up what she can’t remember, humming snippets of different songs and smiling.

He’d thought everything would be better when his dad was gone, but often it just seemed they’d traded old sadnesses for new ones. Tonight, though, his mother isn’t sad at all.

“Look at us! We’d have out danced them all, wouldn’t we Ed.”

“Danced them into the dust!”

His mother would only live about a year longer after that. They’d never had much time for more dancing, but even now Ed still remembered how the candle had flickered over her smile.

-------

“It’s no harder than following, really, especially now that you know the basic patterns for the footwork. You just have to be confident; you’re telling me where to go.”

“Not a problem mate.”

“Right. Slightly different hand position, let’s test your knowledge.”

It’s dance lesson number two and Ed has been both dreaming of and dreading it all day long. His stomach has been a sailor’s knot as he’s gone about his business charting courses, and anytime Izzy would talk at him he felt his eyes glaze over as fucking one two three one two three ran over and over through his brain. And the feeling of holding Stede’s hand, of holding Stede’s hand for like half an hour on end - jesus fucking christ.

Now they’re back standing on the deck of the ship with Frenchie criss-cross applesauce on the stairs, the sunset is a wispy light pink and purple, and it’s Ed’s turn to lead.

He puts a hand on Stede’s side and immediately feels the breath knocked from his lungs at the sensation of Stede’s hip under his splayed palm. It felt almost indecent, the light creamsicle of Stede’s waistcoat under his black leather glove and dirty fingernails. Like Stede was a fine and precious thing and he was a…well. Wait, was his hand too low - had Stede’s been higher yesterday? Was he making this awkward? But then Stede rests his remaining hand on Ed’s shoulder and good lord they’re close together, he could pull Stede flush against himself with just one tug of his waistcoat…

“You okay Ed?”

His distress must have been showing on his face. Fucking hell. “Yep! Great. Just…trying to remember the patterns. Not sure I, ah, remember them.”

“Don’t worry a bit - worst that can happen is you step on my foot again.”

And he does.

-------

They continue dancing lessons for the next few days, temporarily replacing their sword fighting drills with this new tete-a-tete. The sunset fading into moonlight makes for the perfect dancing backdrop, and as they relax into themselves the knot in Ed’s stomach starts to untie and turn into gentler, more excited butterflies.

Ed feels himself improving quite quickly, and always preens under Stede’s many compliments about his grace and musicality. He’s pulled back his hair a bit for this evening and tried to replicate the bun he’d sported before. Something about dancing made him want to polish up a bit - maybe it was the way that Stede always noticed and paid him a compliment.

Stede is the picture of elegance as Ed joins him, silhouetted against the setting sun and having donned his blue silk jacket. “Shall we have a minuette this evening?”

“We shall,” Ed replies, matching his haughtiness. Their encounter on the fancy ship had left a sour taste in Ed’s mouth when it came to actually aping the aristocracy, and yet on the Revenge with Stede it was different - the tongue in cheek way they adopted their lilting accents and rigid posture was absolutely joyful.

“Mister Teach,” Stede offers, extending a hand and signaling that he would lead first. They’d been switching off now, sometimes mid-song.

Ed takes his hand, inclining his head, and lets himself be led into the middle of the deck. “Mister Bonnet.”

Frenchie kicks up a lively song and they grin at each other in recognition. Stede had taught some tricky moves to this one, but Ed had been leading - now that he’s following he’ll get to do some of the spins and ‘fun bits’, as Stede referred to them.

“Your hair looks lovely, by the way.”

Ed smiles, “Thanks mate.”

They dance. They still called it a lesson, but they’re really just dancing together now. Two pirate captains twirling madly around the deck of their ship, prancing and bobbing up and down on the balls of their feet, grinning ear to ear as they maneuver around barrels and cannons. 

The sun sets a rich orange, the wind is warm and light and the bubbly laughter of a thrilled Stede Bonnet fills the deck of the Revenge. Ed feels almost lightheaded with giddiness - Stede had been right, dancing is fun, a luxury he’s never been afforded, and Stede’s golden confidence is intoxicating. This, this is the person he wants to be; Blackbeard in the mornings and the afternoons, and in the evening, Ed, the man that Stede Bonnet spins around the ship at sunset.

They dance to Frenchie’s first song, and then another, then a third, something grand and stately with straight backs and lifted chins. “Now imagine this song with some strings,” Stede gushes as Ed leads him, “violins ramping up and swelling as we spin around a big grande ballroom with thirty other couples - marvelous!”

In a flash and without any warning Ed dips Stede, holding him fast and looking down at him.

“I think I prefer this,” Ed admits with a wink, righting Stede again. 

They pick up where they left off, navigating effortlessly around the central mast. Stede grins as Ed spins him out and pulls him in closer, “Yes I think I do too.”

Lucius has come up from below deck and watched them for the past song, leaning on an elbow against the railing next to Frenchie. There are always a few crewmates watching, lounging about. Stede wishes they wouldn’t, but Ed doesn’t mind much. Let them bask in what a fantastic dancer he is. He barely notices them anyway. Yesterday Pete and Lucius had danced beside them for two songs and Ed hadn’t even known until they’d been laughing about it after.

Frenchie comes to the end of this song, and as he plays the final notes Stede is putting on his teacher hat. “Now as we learned yesterday, what is the proper way to end a dance?”

Ed bows and Stede does a delightful little half bow half curtsey in return, and gives a pleased nod. “Precisely, a bow or a courtesy, and -

“And perhaps a kiss on the hand,” Ed finishes, emphasizing the perhaps as Stede had yesterday.

“Right, particularly if you are courting and the like.”

If there’s a god in heaven they’ll let Ed say this casually - “Courting, right.”

“Well,” Stede exclaims, clapping his hands in front of his chest in that sweet, pleased little gesture he’s always doing. “That was absolutely smashing, your footwork has truly improved -”

“Frenchie,” Lucius croons loudly, interrupting. “Do you know that one about the girl and her lost husband - kinda slower, it goes like this?” He sings a few melancholy lines about a missing soldier and Frenchie nods in recognition.

“I do so happen to know that particular tune.”

“Oh god would you be a dear - one of my favorites, always gets me misty.”

“He’s not taking requests!” Stede snaps.

“No no,” Frenchie insists calmly, already adjusting his frets, “that’s a great one, perfect for a little slow moonlight dance.”

A slow moonlight dance? “Sounds alright to me,” Ed quickly offers, holding out his hand to Stede.

Stede gives in right away. “Alright then. Give it a go.”

Frenchie starts playing an achingly sweet melody that tugs at the heart strings from the very first note. They start to dance slowly and simply, suspended in space by the tender music and the moonlight. It’s different from their other dances; this doesn’t feel like pageantry. It feels warm.

They turn tightly in a slow little circle, not leaving the pool of moonlight that’s formed near the railing just as it had on the night of that party. Frenchie’s voice is rich and gentle, his lyrics telling a simple story about a young girl from a poor family whose love goes off to war. They gaze at each other and don’t say a word and Stede’s eyes glitter and crinkle at the corners as he smiles at Ed.

Ed gives Stede a spin, graceful and languid, and for a moment they break eye contact. When they lock eyes again Stede breaks into a smile, like he’d missed him for the fleeting second they’d been apart. Ed pulls him back in and Stede gently puts his arm at Ed’s back, not on his shoulder, so that they’re pressed closer against each other.

Ed feels his throat start to tighten and his eyes start to burn, tears threatening to form from the overwhelm of just looking at Stede.

And then comes a perfect one-two punch as Frenchie reaches the part in the song where the young maiden is laying flowers on the soldiers grave and fuck, even though he’d know the soldier was gonna dies since the beginning the music is just so sad and Stede’s tearing up too and now they’re both starting to cry.

“Stupid music,” he mutters, willing the tears back in to his eyes.

“Are you crying?” Stede asks, incredulous and sweet.

“What? No - maybe,” he sniffles in protest, “fine, a little bit. Just…song got to me man.”

“Told you,” Lucius says wetly, and Ed looks over to see him dabbing his eyes.

“Besides,” Ed counters, turning back to Stede, “You’re crying way more than me!”

“Am not!” Stede protests, voice cracking, starting to laugh through the tears as they break hands for a moment to wipe their eyes. 

Ed laughs too, and Stede offers him a handkerchief which he gratefully takes. “Good Lord Frenchie, give a guy a warning. That stuff’s dangerous.”

Frenchie just smiles and shakes his head, the song not quite done yet.

Ed returns the handkerchief and they take hands again. He knows there’s only a verse or two left, but painful as it is he doesn’t want the song to end. It does, however, as all things do, have to end. Frenchie plays the final chord and their feet finally still. 

The music hangs in the air and Ed is sure he forgets to breathe. The end of the song. He hears Stede’s lesson in his head; perhaps a kiss on the hand, if…

Fuck it.

Ed doesn’t bow, he takes Stede’s hand in his, such a soft and precious thing, and brings it to his lips, pressing one small kiss, as gentle as he can manage, on the back of Stede’s hand.

He lowers it slowly, pained to let it go, and meets Stedes eyes as he straightens again, heart pounding.

“Was that right?”

Even in the moonlight Ed could see the blush on Stede’s cheeks - perhaps it was a bit too much - but then Stede answers with a soft, “Yes. Quite right.”

The air trembles in between them, neither breaking eye contact. Ed takes the smallest step forward, trying with all his heart to read answers to his fragile questions; does Stede want this the way Ed wants this? Could he be thinking the same thing? Can Ed step over the threshold, does he dare?

“Will you be wanting another song then, or? Only Roach has a game of cards going…”

The bubble pops.

Lucius groans, “Ugh Frenchie come on!”

“What?”

“You’re ruining the moment, ” Lucius reprimands through gritted teeth, as if there’s a chance Ed and Stede wouldn’t hear.

“ Ooooohhhhhhh - oops.”

“No Frenchie that’s quite alright,” Stede says, and he makes a little gesture that signals Frenchie dismissed. “Thank you, as always.”

Frenchie scurries off, Lucius rolls his eyes so violently you can hear it and gives them both a smile as he wanders off. “Night boys.” And then, a quieter mumble to himself, “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

They’re left standing across from each other in the silver moonlight, the deck of the Revenge peacefully silent. The only sound is the whisper of the waves.

They both take a breath in at the same time, open their mouths, and find no sound comes out.

“Well then,” Stede finally says. Because if nothing’s to be done then something needs to be said.

Ed swallows. “Well then.”

“Thank you for a lovely evening.” Stede’s voice is achingly soft. 

Ed takes that as his cue. He gives the smallest bow and smiles, “Goodnight Mister Bonnet.”

“...Goodnight Mister Teach.”

-------

Stede walks slowly toward the captain's cabin, feet loathe to take him away from Edward. He can still feel the prickly-soft sensation of Ed’s lips on the back of his hand like a phantom, all the nerves on fire from one single, gentle brush. He can hear Ed’s footsteps moving in the other direction, heavy and measured.

He reaches his door and it feels like he’s moving underwater as he raises the hand Ed kissed to the nob. His fingers brush the metal and a long, long forgotten voice echoes in his memory - “those eyes, I could drown in them! Oh Stede, I’m in love!”

He stops.

Oh. Oh. Oh! What on earth is he doing walking back to his cabin?

He turns around and sees, on the other side of the deck, Ed turning around to look at him.

It’s as if a spell breaks as they stride toward each other as one, pulled back into the center of the deck. Ed runs the last few paces until they meet each other again and Ed takes Stede’s face in his hands.

“Stede -”

“Ed -”

 “You taught me about the kiss on the hand,” Ed says rapidly.

“Yes,” Stede answers, breathless.

“But what if you want to give your partner a real kiss,” he asks, eyes searching Stede’s face. “Is that acceptable?”

His heart thunders. “Not traditionally, but for your lesson… I’d like to make an exception.”

“Good. Me too.” 

And Ed kisses him.

He lets out a squeak and even though he’d had a moment to expect it he feels himself stiffen at the unfamiliar sensation, but then Ed‘s hand moves softly to the side of his face and it’s like something that’s been dislodged his whole life finally slots comfortably into place. 

They’re tentative at first, gentle and reverent. Ed tastes like salt and smoke and smells like musky old leather and the feeling of his beard against Stede’s face is foreign and euphoric - it’s just all so right he feels his whole body ringing with it. Ed puts a hand behind Stede’s head and Stede melts against him, hands moving to his hips and gripping the fabric of the edge of his jacket as their lips part for each other.

They’re a few feet away from the capstan in the middle of the deck and Ed slowly walks Stede backwards, mouths moving together as if they’ll never have enough of each other. Stede’s back presses against the wooden side of the capstan, and then suddenly Ed picks Stede up and lifts him up onto the capstan to sit and he can’t help but giggle at it all. Now Stede is a few inches taller than Ed and Ed’s head is tilted back, looking up at Stede as if he can’t possibly believe he’s real. Stede leans down and buries his hands in Ed’s hair, pulling him as close against him as possible, and when they come in for a kiss again they’re smiling against each other’s lips.

Ed runs his hands up Stede’s thighs and it sends a shiver through his whole body like he’s never felt before. Instinctively he hooks a leg around Ed’s back and he feels Ed’s hands tighten on his thighs at the sensation and my god - suddenly it’s all a bit overwhelming. 

Stede breaks away, breathing heavily, before he gets ahead of himself. He’s sure he’s flushed from head to toe, he thinks as he opens his eyes, and then the sight of Ed looking up at him, grinning from ear to ear, stars reflected in the dark brown of his eyes, knocks all the breath right out of him again.

“Wow, that was - that was - oh my goodness. Wow. That was something else -”

Ed raises an eyebrow. “Something good?”

Stede takes one of Ed’s hands from where it’s placed on his own knee, runs the pad of his thumb over Ed’s fingers, then presses a kiss to the knuckles. “Yes.”

Ed pulls him off of the capstan with more grace than if Stede were to get down himself, supporting Stede with an arm around his waist and keeping it there, holding Stede against him. His other hand tucks an errant curl that their kiss had dislodged back in its place behind Stede’s ear.

“Good.”

It suddenly occurs to Stede that he ought to be feeling a bit out of his depths right now. The prospect of kissing Ed had loomed so large in his mind for so long that he had never stopped to think about what might come after, assuming that said kiss was agreeable. But now he may very well get to kiss Ed again. And he might…

“I think I should say,” He starts, feeling a bit awkward but unable to be anything but perfectly honest with Ed. “Um, I’ve never actually…I’ve never been in love before. Actually.”

Ed’s eyebrows fly up into his hair. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking down at Stede with wonder. Then, gradually, a smile like a sunrise breaks over his face.  “You love me then?”

Stede smiles sheepishly. “Did I not say that already? Yes, yes I very much do.”

“Well,” Ed replies, “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Me too,” Ed murmurs, and kisses Stede again, quickly and deeply. 

“Guess what else.”

“What else?” Stede asks blissfully.

“I’ve never really been in love before either.”

“Well then,” Stede says softly, hands on Ed’s chest.  “We finally have something to learn together, don’t we?”

The moon has climbed high in the clear night sky, the breeze is warm and light, the sea is quiet. A perfect night for dancing, or falling in love.