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It would be rude to ask, is the thing.
Ed might not have the hang of this whole “etiquette” thing yet, he might be new to having friends, but he’s pretty sure staying in your own bed is a good rule of thumb in general. Or, in his particular case, staying on your couch. And trying not to think about the real mattress and soft fabric just a few feet away. A few feet away next to—
He’s never had trouble sleeping before; it’s a trick of the trade to be able to fall asleep anywhere, any time, because you never know when it’ll be safe to let your guard down again. Now he’s probably the safest he’s ever been. At the very least, he’s found somewhere he wants to stay for a while. And yet he finds himself lying awake every night, sometimes for hours. Across the room, he can tell when Stede falls asleep because his breathing gets deeper and slower and the sounds of rustling fabric become less frequent. Stede’s like a dog in that he likes to spin around a few times before he can settle down and get comfortable. Still, the life of a pirate is tiring, and it’s usually only a few minutes before Ed is alone with his thoughts, keeping time by the position of the moon and the metronome of Stede’s breaths.
Today was an unusual day for them. They ate a snake. Stede found an orange. Ed got chastised by a crew member and didn’t even cut him up about it. These things shouldn’t be noteworthy, but they are. Stede should be dead by now, and Edward should be long gone, but here they are, in the dark, each pretending not to know the other is awake. They’ve had some brandy. Probably too much. Ed feels a bit flushed, and his heartbeat is quick in his chest. Because of the brandy. It’s because he’s drunk, too, that his mind gets to counting the number of years it’s been since he shared a bed with someone. Considering how long it’s been since he had a proper bed, the counting takes a bit. All the while, he is electrically, viscerally aware of the fact that Stede is lying a few feet away in a bed big enough for two.
It’s so annoying to want something. Need is different. Water. Food. Rum. He has no problem asking for these things. But longing? Desire? Fucking embarrassing.
Ed tips his head to peer over the arm of the couch. He can just make out Stede’s face, pale in the moonlight. If Stede’s eyes are open, he’s gazing quietly up at the ceiling.
Ed shifts aimlessly and clears his throat, eyes never leaving Stede.
“Ed?” Stede stage-whispers a moment later. “You awake?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
Smooth.
“Me too.”
“Yeah, obviously.”
Silence washes over them again, but thanks to Stede, it doesn't last long.
“You know, I was thinking…”
Ed’s stomach does a mortifying little flip. That’ll be the brandy, too. Has to be.
“Is the couch… comfortable? For sleeping purposes?”
“Uh…” Ed forces a pause, practically beating nonchalance into his voice with a hammer. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“Only…”
Ed can’t see Stede’s face right now, but he can picture it, the furrow of his brow, the thoughtful frown pulling at his lips. God damn this man who has Blackbeard himself hanging on his every word.
“Now that we’re co-captains, I suppose we could… take turns in the bed?”
It’s nearly an invitation. Ed has accepted far less as an invitation in the past. In any other situation, he would already be in the bed, with Stede pinned under him, at his mercy. But this isn’t like any other situation. Stede isn’t like anyone else. Stede comes from a world of engraved invitations sent out months in advance. A practical, patient world. So Ed needs to be patient. He needs to be absolutely sure of what Stede wants from him.
“You mean, like, switch off every night?”
“Maybe. Seems like the thing to do.”
This man is going to drive him fucking insane.
“Although,” Stede adds, “might be hard to keep track.”
“Yeah, whose night is which. Yeah. Makes sense.”
“I suppose we could keep a log of it.”
It’s easier to believe that Stede is manipulating him, that he has a manual on how to press all of Ed’s buttons, than that he’s actually this genuine and innocent. He’s like nothing Ed’s ever seen before. Ed wants to study him under a microscope. He wants to eat him alive.
“Too bad, it’s a bit tight for two, otherwise—“
“Nah, it’s pretty big, though.” He’s impressed when the words don’t come out breathless. His heart feels like it’s expanding into his lungs.
“Do you think?”
“Well…” Ed blows out a breath. After all that, Stede is going to make him ask. “Only one way to find out.”
The bed is small, turns out. Small enough that Ed can feel Stede breathing. He hopes Stede can’t hear his heartbeat. He’d probably think he was dying. He might be dying. When Lucius had said, “And you like him,” Ed brushed it off. Of course he likes him. They’re friends. Stede is unique, he’s fascinating. He understands Ed. This is not news. Ed’s brain knows all of these things.
Ed’s brain is not currently at the helm.
Ed’s body, on the other hand, is three inches from Stede’s, close enough that they have to make an effort not to touch each other. The hairs on his arms are standing up like they’re trying to close the gap. They’re both staring at the ceiling, petrified, waiting for the other to move.
Stede’s leg shifts, and Ed just about jumps out of his skin. Now he’s starting to sweat. Jesus Christ, it has been a long time since he did this. Or at least since he cared.
“Are you alright?” Stede asks.
“Yeah. Fine. Why?”
“Thought I startled you just then.”
“Nope. Saw a… spider.”
“Oh.”
What the fuck. What the fuck. Is it weird that he’s lying so still? Should he do something? Should he do something?
Stede sits up a little to fluff his pillow, and from Ed’s vantage point, Stede towers above him. The moonlight catches the blond waves in his hair, turning them blue as the sea. Ed’s breath stutters in his chest.
“Well… good night,” Stede says.
Then he lies back down, facing away from Ed, and Ed feels like a candle just got snuffed out inside him.
“Night.”
Ed turns onto his other side so forcefully that he nearly falls off the bed. How the fuck is he supposed to sleep like this? What is Stede doing? Is he looking at him? He slams his eyes shut as all the blood in his body rises to his face. Surely it can’t just be him. Surely Stede should be commenting on the fact that Ed is practically smoldering in his bed right now. There’s more space between them now, but only about a foot, and Ed can feel every time Stede moves, like their spines are connected by the tautest string.
A few minutes after he decides he’s never going to sleep again, he senses movement behind him. He cracks one eye open. Stede has now flopped over onto his back, and Ed can feel his body heat tantalizingly close. If he rolled onto his back, his shoulder would land on Stede’s chest. Is it an invitation, or is Stede just reclaiming the space? The bed is rightfully his, after all.
Maybe, Ed thinks, a Kraken-shaped cloud moving in over his head, maybe Stede isn’t thinking about him at all. It’s possible that Stede really can’t feel the heat between them. Ed swallows a sudden lump in his throat at the thought. Has he been wrong the whole time? Was Lucius just messing with him?
“I suppose it… it is a bit small, isn’t it?”
Ed is cold suddenly. Magma cools into rock, and he lies there, limp. Hasn’t he learned by now not to ask for things? Not to want? We’re just not those kind of people.
“Shall I go, then?”
“I don’t mind.”
Ed starts to sit up, keeping his back to Stede. Had he actually thought the other man would want to share a bed with him? That the stupid scavenger hunt today had been about him? Fucking Lucius. Fucking liar. Fucking Stede Bonnet, playing with his heart like that.
“You don’t need to be polite about it, mate, it’s your bed, I’ll just—“
“Ed.”
There’s a hand at his waist, lightly grabbing the fabric of his dressing gown. Ed looks down at it in surprise, then turns to look at Stede.
“Stay.”
Now that’s an invitation. Fucking fancy gold, engraved, with letters so swirly you can’t even read them.
Ed lies down on his side again, this time facing Stede, and Stede’s face is determined.
“You’re my co-captain now,” he says, “and as such, you need to be well-rested. In a proper bed. Non-negotiable.”
“Alright, mate,” Ed says softly.
His eyes trace over the outline of Stede’s face in the moonlight, and his entire being aches to reach out and touch it. Instead, he fake yawns and stretches, making a big show out of it, and when he finally settles down and closes his eyes, maybe his hand is touching Stede’s shoulder. Maybe his knee is touching Stede’s leg. It’s not important, really. As far as contact goes, it shouldn’t be noteworthy. But it is. Because Stede doesn’t pull away. In fact, as he drifts off, breaths becoming deeper and slower, little movements ceasing, his face turns in Ed’s direction. When Ed opens his eyes briefly, he finds Stede within easy kissing distance. Such a flood of affection crests within him that he feels like he’s floating. The world stops. The ocean stops. Everything is still.
And maybe, before he allows himself to finally sleep, maybe he gives Stede a little kiss on the head. Who wouldn’t?