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Everything changes the moment Ed joins their crew, and Stede can’t believe his luck. Blackbeard! On his ship! Willing to teach him and, okay, he’d rather not stab Ed or get stabbed himself again, but he’s won a duel.
The pain in his gut is worth it to see Ed looking at him with amazement and wonder, along with the cheers from the rest of his crew.
Stede has never had a friend before, not one like Ed. He’s so easy to talk to, and Stede’s usual worries about saying or doing the wrong thing all fade away. It’s not that he stops saying or doing the wrong thing, but Ed just corrects him or laughs with him rather at him.
His chest warms whenever Ed laughs, his eyes crinkling at whatever Stede’s said or done. He wants Ed to smile all the time. From what he’s heard from Fang and Ivan, Ed hasn’t done a lot of smiling as Blackbeard. Stede’s determined to make him laugh more, because that’s what friends do.
And sometimes, he catches Ed looking at him when they’re sitting on deck or in Stede’s cabin in companionable silence, with his dark eyes impossibly soft, and there’s a flutter in Stede’s stomach. He’s glad Ed appreciates their friendship as much as Stede does. He can’t take it if their time together is meaningless to Ed.
Every day Stede wakes up delighted with a new day ahead of him that he gets to spend with Ed, and he’s so keen to start it he doesn’t even care he’s on deck in his nightgown and robe. It’s entirely inappropriate, not dressing for the day before heading out, but that would mean waiting longer to see that happy smile on Ed’s face when Stede brings him his tea, and that won’t do.
Friends don’t keep friends waiting for their morning tea.
*
“If we are to be co-captains,” Stede says, swirling the brandy in his glass, “it seems only fair that we share everything.”
“Like your wardrobe?” Ed asks, perking up.
“Oh, you can already wear anything in there, you know that,” Stede tells him, and Ed smiles, eyes crinkling, and Stede smiles back, happy Ed is happy. “No, I was thinking about the bed. I know you’ve been sleeping on the couch and that you insist it’s perfectly comfortable.”
“It is,” Ed insists.
Stede gives him a look. “My bed’s more comfortable, and you’re my co-captain now. It’s only right you get to sleep in it, too.”
Ed glances over at the bed, frowning. “You think so?”
“Of course!” Stede wants Ed to share it. They’re friends and co-captains. Doubt twists his guts. “Don’t you want to?”
“Oh, I want to,” Ed says, still eyeing the bed. “But it’s—we’ll be pretty close together.”
“That’s fine,” Stede replies, getting up. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Ed hums as he looks at him. “All right. Bed-sharing, sure. You want to start with that tonight?”
“Yes,” Stede replies, or else he wouldn’t have suggested it, would he? Happiness bubbles inside of him at the prospect of sharing his bed with Ed and seeing him first thing in the morning, or watching him sleep.
They finish their drinks and Stede gets ready for bed in the en-suite, putting on his nightgown before heading back. He pauses when he sees Ed standing by his bed, barefoot and shirtless in the moonlight and his hands on the buckles of his trousers.
Something in Stede’s guts twist at that sight, but not in a bad way. He’s not sure if it’s in a good way, either. There’s a mental image of Ed in his bed, bare skin everywhere, pressed against Stede and that—that does something else to his guts, something needy and unfamiliar.
“Would you like to borrow a nightgown?” Stede asks, feeling hot all over for some reason.
Ed pauses, looking up from his buckles. “Oh, can I? One of the frilly ones?”
“Yes!” Stede happily leads Ed to his wardrobe, glad he’s back on solid ground. Solid sea? Either way, he feels more certain now that he’s showing Ed his nightgowns and watching Ed run his fingers down the sleeves. “Which one would you like?”
Ed picks one, holding it against himself. It has some magnificent frills down the front. “This one.” He pulls it over his head, struggling with the sleeves a little. He grins at Stede as it falls down his body.
“Good choice. But you’re not supposed to wear trousers underneath,” Stede tells him.
“Right, yeah,” Ed replies, hands still running down his front. “This feels great. Starting to see why you wear it to bed.”
“They are very comfortable.” Stede heads for the bed, fussing with the sheets so Ed can get his trousers off and, and oh, there’s that weird hot need again.
It doesn’t take Ed long to join him, sliding in next to him while Stede is up against the wall. “Is that all right?” Ed asks. “I’d rather sleep on this side. Don’t like feeling trapped.”
“Whatever you prefer,” Stede assures him, smiling at him. “Blow out the candle, will you?” Ed does, and Stede tugs the curtains closed before lying down. As Ed already pointed out, they are close together. Their nightgowns are thin enough for Stede to feel the warmth and muscle of Ed’s body where it presses against his.
The hot, needy feeling in his guts doesn’t go anywhere.
Stede has fallen asleep within minutes ever since boarding the Revenge, while with Mary, it often took him an hour to nod off. He figured it might’ve been the relief, or the hard work, or the sea air. Maybe the rocking of the ship.
But tonight, he’s staring at the ceiling for an indeterminable time, with Ed’s breathing evening out next to him. Maybe he’s coming down with a fever? He’ll have to ask Roach in the morning. He hopes Ed hasn’t caught whatever he has.
He falls asleep, still worrying over Ed getting ill as well, but his dreams are pleasant. He wakes up feeling safe and warm and secure, remembering being held tenderly, and he wonders where that came from.
He blinks when he realises he’s still being held.
In his sleep, Ed has rolled over so his knee is resting across Stede’s thighs, one arm is slung around Stede’s chest, and his face is burrowed in Stede’s neck.
Stede can feel every exhale, warm breath dancing across his skin and, oh, he definitely has a fever.
Ed mutters something, still sound asleep, and his knee slips between Stede’s legs.
Pleasure shoots like lightning up Stede’s spine at the friction and pressure against his hard cock, and he whimpers.
This is not a fever.
This is desire.
He’s staring at the ceiling, heart racing in his chest at the realisation. He doesn’t dare move, his fingers curled tight in the sheets.
Until now, he figured he could handle anything his new life threw at him so long as Ed was by his side.
Anything, except handle sharing a bed with Edward Teach.