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Saturday nights have always been busy at Ed’s Bar and Grill and Other Delicacies and Delights— and no, he will never forgive himself for signing off on the official name for this place while drunk— and tonight is no different.
Each seat at every table is filled and there’s hardly any room left out in the open space in front of the stage. There’s hardly any room left, period.
There’s a certain air in here tonight, a humble tingle underneath his skin. It could be the fluorescent violet lights that glow over the room, it could be the way the lights paint the bodies moving beneath it. It could be the fact that Ed is still slightly buzzed from the bourbon he had during his break, or it could be from the promise of sex later on.
Yeah, it’s probably that last one, Ed thinks as he watches Jack take another swig from his Heineken. He’s watching Ed out the corner of his eyes, lips upturned around the opening of his bottle as he taps the fingers of his free hand along the wood of the bar top— close to Ed’s hand, but not close enough.
Fuck, the things he’d give to simply up and leave right now. He could, technically speaking. Izzy is here, so the bar and grill would be fine. Plus, Ed owns the place, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.
But he owns the place and leaving for a booty call during the busiest night of the week is not something he could forgive himself for.
So, Ed waits. He tends to the bar and tries to not be distracted by Jack’s very presence. He’s failing, mostly.
Jack sets the bottle down and licks his lips, making that ridiculous mustache of his fold inward, and Jesus Christ, how is this man doing it for him?
That fucking mustache. The number of times Ed has thought of shaving it off while Jack slept is impressive. He’d deserve it anyway. After all, Jack is an ass— attractive, but a world-class ass.
He’s arrogant and obnoxious, almost as much as the rat above his upper lip. He’s loud and only moderately funny. Drinking and partying and being a prick make up his entire personality. It’s ridiculous, he’s ridiculous.
And yet, Ed keeps fucking him, because the sex? The sex is great.
And Jack is the only one who ever stays ‘til morning, so there’s that, he supposes.
Ed feels like laughing at himself. His standards have clearly taken a plunge over the years, and it’s so disturbingly sad to witness.
“What’s on your mind, Teach?” Jack questions, tilting his head sideways as if he knows. If only.
Ed shrugs and looks over at the stage where Frenchie is performing, just to give himself something to pay attention to that isn’t his alarmingly terrible taste in men.
“Oh, come on,” the brunette goads, “penny for your thoughts? Or whatever it is the people say?” Ed found that persistency attractive once upon a time. He doesn’t anymore.
“My thoughts are worth much more than a penny.”
Jack scrunches up his features in a way that screams I doubt that. Dick.
He parts his lips, a retort already on his tongue, and—
“I’m sorry, sir? Sir with the… rather voluminous beard?”
Ed averts his gaze to face the newcomer, sat two seats away from where Jack is sitting, and oh— If that isn’t one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen.
It must be his first time here, or at least, the first time he’s been here while Ed was also here. He would’ve remembered this man, otherwise.
He would’ve remembered those almond-colored eyes, and that distinguished nose, and those pouty lips, and that prince charming haircut. Ed knows he would’ve.
Ed’s staring now, which is a very weird thing to do. Especially when the person he’s staring at is staring right back at him, but he can’t exactly help it.
He almost feels trapped under the man’s gaze, but maybe trapped isn’t the right word, because trapped suggests that he wants to escape. He doesn’t.
“Uh… sir?” Prince Charming repeats, posh tone as weary as his eyes.
“Yes?” Ed breathes, just as Jack goes, “can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?”
Ed has half the mind to cuff Jack in the back of his head, and he would, but he’s in his place of work. That would be unprofessional.
“Yes, I can see that.” There’s an edge to Prince Charming’s tone, not threatening, perse, but present enough that Ed can tell he’s a fierce, fiery thing— something like a bonfire; beautiful to watch from afar, but dangerous if you come too close.
“But this is a bar and grill, and I am at the bar, and I want a drink. So, unless this lovely gentleman here is alright with me reaching over and simply taking what I want, I think asking for some service is only logical, don’t you think?”
Ed can practically feel the heat coming off Jack in waves. When Jack opens his mouth next, he already knows nothing good will come of it, so he lays a firm hand over the one Jack has rested on the bar and grips it warningly.
Jack looks at him, and miraculously, stands down.
“I’ll be right back,” Ed promises with a final squeeze before walking over to the blonde.
This close, Ed can see the small mole the man has to the right of his nose, a slightly crooked nose. He can see the prominent dimples that indent the man’s cheeks every time his lips so much as twitch. He can see the worry lines across his forehead and the bags beneath his eyes. He can see that the man’s eyes aren’t dark, not like his own. Instead, they’re a warm brown, touched by honey.
His lips seem to be set into a permanent pout. Ed wants to change that.
“Sorry about that, mate,” he amends, “my friend isn’t usually that big of an ass.” It’s a lie, and Prince Charming gives him a look that says he knows that it is. Ed likes him already. “What can I get you?”
“A shot of the strongest whiskey you have, to start.”
To start tells Ed all he needs to know about the level of stress this man may be under right now, but it also implies that he’ll be here for a long while. He’ll eventually feel bad about being slightly thankful for the man’s misery. Eventually.
“Would you like me to open up a tab for you, then?”
Please say yes, please say yes.
“Yes.”
Yes!
Ed puts forth the most nonchalant face he can muster when he asks, “name?”
“Stede,” says the blonde, and it’s… not what Ed was expecting at all.
He didn’t know what to expect, but Stede wasn’t it. Maybe Robert, or Marcus, or… Phillip, but Stede? What kind of name is that, even? It’s like Steve’s ugly twin. What does it even mean?
Ed entertains the idea of asking as he goes through the process of opening up the tab.
It’s just a question. It’s a friendly, completely sensible question that shows employee interest in customers which is great for business! He can ask. He should ask.
In the end, he doesn’t ask. Ed fills up a shot glass with top-shelf whiskey and slides it over the mahogany surface. He watches Stede grab the glass and knock it back without hesitation.
And then, Stede starts coughing. And he doesn’t stop. He coughs until he’s red in the face and teary-eyed. He’s hacking up a fucking lung and Ed is stuck somewhere in between being worried and dying of laughter.
Stede’s near death experience subsides eventually, but he’s still clutching his chest like he’s ready for his heart to implode at any moment.
“Holy shit, that’s strong,” Stede wheezes.
“Are you alright?” Ed asks, and the corners of his lips tug upward when he does. He can’t help it. Now that he has no reason to worry, his amusement is clear as aday.
“Are you smiling?” The blonde questions, bewildered. “I nearly die in this bar, right before your eyes, after downing a drink you served, and you’re smiling?” But he’s smiling, too.
And then, he starts laughing. And he doesn’t stop. He laughs until he’s red in the face and teary-eyed, all over again. He’s breathless but Ed isn’t troubled by the idea of his possible demise. The man’s laughter is contagious, it takes nothing for Ed to laugh, too.
He laughs so hard he has to suck in big gulps of air every few seconds or he may pass out, and he doesn’t even know why because this situation isn’t that funny, but he can’t stop.
It’s strange. This is strange. He knows it’s strange because Lucius is looking up from that board he’s always carrying around and watching Ed skeptically from across the bar.
Well, Lucius can fuck right off with his judgmental gaze. If Ed wants to laugh like a lunatic with a man he met five minutes ago, he should be allowed to do that.
His stomach is beginning to cramp from it but he keeps laughing. His body doesn’t allow him to until Stede does. It’s only when the man’s laughter fades into faint chuckles that Ed is granted a reprieve.
“Oh, God. I haven’t laughed that hard in weeks,” says Stede, “thank you, you nut.”
Ed doesn’t know what he’s being thanked for, but it doesn’t stop the heat that spreads through his cheeks. It’s times like these, when he’s blushing like a kid with a crush, that he’s extra grateful for his beard.
He’s offered a distraction from his embarrassing display when Stede asks for another shot.
“Rough night?” Ed guesses as he slides it over.
Stede frowns. Ed takes that as a confirmation.
“Try rough week,” Stede corrects. “How’d you figure?”
“Only a man who’s been through the worst of the worst is so desperate to get drunk, he’s willing to go through that whole ordeal again.”
Stede snorts, and it shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “It is I, the desperate man.” He lifts the glass in thanks and takes it with the same level of bravery he had the first one. Like it wasn’t ready to take his life the first time. God, this man is a lunatic. Ed likes that.
He doesn’t cough at all this time, merely clears his throat. It’s rather aggressive, but it’s progress.
“You’re growing,” Ed notes.
“Are you proud?”
“Like a mama bird watching their child spread their wings and fly.”
Stede smiles, and there are those dimples again. Ed should not feel weak at the knees from seeing a pair of dimples, and he should feel nothing at all from watching the way Stede runs the tip of his index finger along the rim of his shot glass, but he does. Jesus Christ, he does.
He needs to get a grip.
Ed clears his throat, just as aggressively as Stede had done moments ago. “So, what’s got you all… gloomy?”
Stede smirks. “You’ll have to pour me another shot if you want those details.”
Ed pours him another and wills himself to focus on anything other than the sight of the blonde’s Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. He isn’t too successful.
“Well? Care to share?” Ed asks, cocking his head slightly.
Stede eyes him like he’s trying to figure something out. “Are you usually this invested in the business of your customers?”
“Yes,” he says, which is completely untrue. Ed couldn’t give less of a shit about the things that go on in the lives of total strangers, but Stede is… different. He wants to know everything about this man, and then some.
“Mm,” Stede voices, “since you’ve been so nice these evening, I suppose I will share. I just finalized my divorce a few hours ago.”
Ed’s eyes shift on their own accord, dropping to Stede’s left ring finger where a band indentation is very much missing.
“We’ve been separated for three months,” Stede explains, clearly catching his gaze, “I figured there was no point in wearing my wedding ring around.”
“Wow. That’s…,” not what I was expecting, “sad.”
“It is,” he agrees, “it is quite sad. I mean, I really shouldn’t be sad at all, I saw this coming. Our marriage started from a business arrangement, what good could come of it?”
This gives Ed pause. He’s not sure Stede even meant to say that part, but he did say it, and now Ed can’t shake it.
“A business arrangement?”
“Yeah, our families work together so, you know.” Stede waves his hand in the air carelessly and it flops back down almost instantly like the weight is too much for him to carry.
Ed blinks. “No actually, I don’t know.”
“Our fathers had us marry,” Stede says before shrugging. He shrugs. Like that’s totally normal.
Ed takes a quick look around the area, just to be sure no one’s listening in on the conversation. He realizes that Jack’s fucked off to God knows where and that everyone else at the bar is focused on themselves. Good.
He leans forward, resting folded forearms on the bar top. It puts him a lot closer to the man, which is not good for his sanity right now, but it does make for a slightly more private conversation. “That’s a bit old-fashioned, don’t you think?”
“My father was an old-fashion kind of guy,” Stede tells him as he looks at his own nails like they’ve personally offended him.
Was. Hm. Ed wonders if Stede mourned the death of that man the way he’s mourning the end of his sham of a marriage.
Arranged marriage, recent divorcee, and a controlling father who is now dead, Ed lists off in his head. It’s funny how much deep shit one can learn about another in as little as two minutes, and in the three minutes that follow Ed learns that 1) Stede hates his job with a burning passion, 2) Stede is pretty sure his ex-wife was cheating on him before they even separated, and 3) Stede is filthy rich.
It isn’t until the fourth shot that the alcohol seems to start having a very obvious effect on Stede. Ed has to hand it to the man, he expected this to go south a lot quicker than it did.
He thought Stede was prone to oversharing before but as it turns out, that was hardly the tip of the iceberg.
“You know… we never even had good sex,” Stede recalls, almost longingly, as he slouches over the counter.
Ed nearly drops the glass he’s wiping. “I… uh…”
“I mean it’s not really like I have much to compare it to. I never actually slept with anyone before Mary.” Stede lets out a puff of air and frowns. “The first two times,” he slurs as he holds up two long fingers, “were so we could have kids. More fulfilling family obligation things. The third,” he lowers one of his fingers instead of raising a third, “was to see if we could have sex just for the fun of it. That was terrible. A terrible, terrible decision.”
Ed has officially been rendered speechless. He feels like his brain has been stuffed with too much too fast and he has no idea how to react to any of it.
The one coherent thought at the forefront of his mind is how this Mary person managed to spend years married to Stede and not jump his bones every chance she got, but that probably wouldn’t be the most appropriate thing to say right now, so Ed doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything at all.
Instead, he pours himself a glass of water and chugs it down like it’ll shove the words he wants to say so far down his throat that they’ll never come out.
Stede sits up straight suddenly, slapping his hands down on the bar. “Oh, God,” he gasps with a start, “I’m basically a virgin, aren’t I?”
Ed sputters, and some (most) of the water that had been in his mouth lands in his beard. Thank God he decided to tie his hair up in a bun tonight.
“Stede,” Ed coughs, and it sounds pathetic.
“No, no, listen,” Stede says with some urgency, “the last time I had sex was… about eight years ago? And I read somewhere that every cell in our body is replaced every seven years, so technically… Mary had sex with my old body, which means this body is a virgin.” He gestures to his form with both hands, swaying them up and down in sharp motions.
“I don’t think that’s how it works, mate.”
“Oh yeah? And how would you know, Ed? Are you a scientist?” Stede questions with impossibly wide eyes. They look about ready to pop out of his head. “Well, are you?”
Ed snickers, “no, Stede, I am not a scientist.”
“Mmmhmmm,” he drawls, “that’s what I thought. Now, may I please have another drink Mr. Bartender, please?”
Ed rolls his eyes but pours him another shot anyway. He regrets it almost immediately when Stede wraps his knuckles against the wood right after downing it.
“I should go have sex!” He exclaims, and this does pull the attention of a few people. Ed waves them off as he fights the urge to not slap his hand over his face.
“Stede.”
“That’s what all the men in the movies do,” Stede tells him, “all the recently divorced men, they go out and have a bunch of sex. That’s what that guy in Stupid, Crazy, Love did.”
“It’s Crazy, Stupid, Love.”
“Pfft, technicalities,” he scoffs, “point is, I am a thirty-six and I am a virgin and I am recently divorced. I should go out and have abundant amounts of sex right now with anyone I can find. That’s what the movie men do.”
“I don’t think you’re in the best state to have sex with anyone right now, Stede.”
“I like the way you say my name.”
“St—” Wait. “What?”
“Do you find me attractive?”
“What?”
“No, like, theoretically speaking, and assuming you’re even into men, if I walked into a bar and you saw me, would you approach me?” Stede ponders, face showing no indication that he’s joking. “Would you come over and flirt?”
Ed wants to cry. He also wants lightning to strike him where he stands.
“I—”
“I kind of miss Mary.”
Ed never knew it was possible to get whiplash while standing completely still up until that very moment.
“Possible adultery aside, she’s a great person, great conversationalist,” Stede continues, completely oblivious to Ed’s sanity slipping away. “And she’s the only real relationship I’ve ever had, which is really sad. A part of me wishes we had worked out.”
This is the first time Stede has looked genuinely upset since he walked in here tonight. At first, he just looked tired. Now, he looks… heartbroken. It makes Ed ache inside.
“I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I don’t know… maybe if I had tried harder—”
“Hey,” Ed cuts in, “this isn’t your fault.” He doesn’t know where the sudden need to reassure this devastatingly beautiful man comes from, but it does. “Relationships are a two-way street, it requires both partners to put in the effort. And even if you had done something different, it may not have worked. Some people are just not meant to be.”
Stede smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes the way his previous ones had. “You believe that?”
“I do.”
“Does that mean that you believe some people are meant to be?”
And isn’t that one hell of a question. Truthfully, Ed has never thought of it— he’s never really had the chance to think of it. Lovers always came and went, and it got to a point where Ed began leaving before they could, so even if anything in his past could’ve been more, he never gave himself enough time to find out.
He knows that no one he’s ever been with has ever really… fit. He’s never formed some deep connection that just… made sense in the same way something as simple as breathing does. He’s never been with anyone and thought to himself, yeah, this could be it.
He thinks these are all things that should be present when two people are meant to be, but what would he know, really?
“I don’t know,” he responds honestly. “I really don’t know. I think that the best one could do is hope.”
“Hope,” Stede echos, “isn’t that a dangerous thing?”
“Yes, well—”
Wow. Stede is grinning.
“Oh, you fucker,” Ed whispers, “I can’t believe you just quoted Lana Del Rey in the middle of a deep conversation.”
“And I can’t believe you caught that.”
“I can’t believe you’ve even heard of her,” Ed retorts, “you seem like the kind of person to listen to nothing but Beethoven or some shit.”
It’s enough to make the blonde burst into fits of laughter, and same as before, Ed goes with him.
Their combined laughter is as loud as the drums that beat on stage, as bright as the blue lights shining above them, and as lively as the dozens of people around them.
It brings tears to their eyes, makes Stede wheeze, and makes Ed’s stomach ache, but that’s okay because Stede hasn’t laughed like this in weeks, and neither has Ed.
They get to have this.
—
Ed is eventually forced to cut Stede off.
As amusing as it was to listen to him completely butcher Umbrella by Rihanna as he sang alongside Frenchie for the band’s cover of the night, it was less amusing watching him stumble off the stage.
Ed had to help Stede back to his seat and despite the horrific booze breath, he had very little objections to the blonde draping an arm around his neck and leaning all of his weight into Ed’s hold. It was one of the highlights of the night, but still, there is such a thing as too drunk and that was Stede.
Stede was not too happy about Ed’s decision which he made blatantly clear, but he also denied Ed’s offer to get him a taxi home, so clearly he wasn’t that hurt.
All of this brings Ed to the current situation he is in right now, a situation that makes him wish Stede had taken his previous offer of a cab home.
“God,” Stede groans around a mouthful of burger, “this is the best thing I have ever tasted in all my days.”
“Glad you like it,” Ed mutters, voice strained as his fingers wrap around his biceps. He folds his arms over his chest a bit tighter like that will prevent him from thinking the many things he is currently thinking. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.
Ed likes to think he’s a pretty average guy. Sure, he has some pretty alarming kinks and a few fetishes that may raise a couple of brows, but what person living in this day and age doesn’t?
All in all, he thinks he’s quite normal, sexually speaking, but what he’s feeling right now from watching Stede is a burger is not. fucking. normal.
There is quite literally nothing appealing about this sight. Stede keeps talking with his mouth full, the ingredients keep slipping out of the bun, and there’s grease everywhere. Nothing about this scenario screams sexy and yet there’s an unreasonable level of jealousy brewing beneath Ed’s skin at the fact that he is not that burger in Stede’s hand. It’s fucking absurd. He doesn’t know what this situation is doing for him but—
A thin stream of juice spills out over the back of Stede’s fingers when he takes another bite into the burger, and Ed wants to lick it up and—
“My brother in Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?” He mutters under his breath.
“What?” Stede asks.
“Nothing,” Ed responds hastily, mustering up the best I-am-not-dying-to-kiss-you-right-now smile he can manage.
Stede eyes him skeptically for exactly four seconds before shrugging and taking another bite of his burger.
Ah, yes, Ed thinks, now I can obsess over you eating food in peace again.
—
As it turns out, Stede with a full stomach is just as talkative as drunk Stede. Though, in his defense, he still seems pretty drunk, too.
Stede talks more about his job and his business partner Chauncey and Ed’s never met the man a day in his life, but he knows without a doubt that he’d sock him in the gut if ever given the chance.
Stede opens up about his kids and how much it hurts that they clearly love their mother more, and it takes every bit of control Ed can muster to not take the short trip to Stede’s side of the bar to give the man a hug.
Stede goes into more detail about Mary, so much detail. He talks about her book club and how he can’t stand her painting instructor and her hatred of his very colorful wardrobe and their painfully non-existent sex life— seriously, Ed doesn’t understand how the man went that long without sex as a being who wants sex.
Stede even takes a break from reciting his life story to tell Ed he thinks he’d look lovely with his hair down, and Ed does not blush, okay? No matter what Lucius says, he does not blush at that comment. He’s nothing but the image of composure by the time Stede skips to the next subject like he wasn’t just flirting with Ed.
He’s not sure how they get from point A to point B, but by the end of point B, he’s heard the tale of the first time Stede was forced to go hunting with his father, and God, Ed wants to hug him again. And cry. But mostly give him a hug.
The man is in desperate need of a hug and Ed could give him the best hug, he’s a great hugger. He thinks about it, only for a split second, but then Stede is telling him how well the purple of his shirt suits him and suddenly, Ed is fighting for his fucking life all over again.
Stede may be the bane of his existence, Ed realizes.
And possibly the best person he’s ever met, but that’s neither here, nor there.
All Ed knows is that he’s beginning to feel as scattered as Stede’s drunken train of thought, and he should probably cut the conversation short and go home with Jack like he intended to, but he doesn’t want to.
He doesn’t want to to the point where he drags Lucius behind the bar to tend to it instead so that Stede can have his undivided attention. (So, basically the same way he’s had it all night? Lucius had quipped. He should really fucking fire that guy.)
But, it’s a fair point. Ed wants to sit here and let this gorgeous man confuse the shit out of him. He’s clinging onto every word, greedy for every compliment and every bit of information Stede is willing to give, which is a lot, apparently.
Maybe he should feel bad about it. After all, he’s a stranger and Stede is drunk, but Stede wants to vent. He needs to vent, and Ed has found that he is more than happy to be the person Stede vents to.
So, he listens.
He listens and becomes attached to Stede’s odd sense of humor. He becomes hypnotized by the gleam in the blonde’s eyes when he talks about his obsession with pirates. He becomes enraptured with the endless number of random facts Stede knows for no other reason aside from genuine curiosity.
He’s put in a trance whenever Stede so much as snickers and he becomes flustered when their hands get too close to one another’s. He feels like a teenager all over again. He feels like he did right before his first kiss, right before his first time.
And a man he met mere hours ago probably shouldn’t be making him feel the way lovers he’s known for months and years haven’t been able to but, alas.
So, he listens. He listens, and he learns and doesn’t want to stop learning, and oh— Oh.
Yeah, he thinks, this could be it.
—
Ed is usually the first person out the door once it’s time to close, Jack hot on his heels.
Tonight… isn’t like that.
Customers flood out, group by group. Then, the band leaves after packing their instruments. One by one, Ed’s staff depart after completing their final tasks.
Jack lingers behind, expecting Ed to come with him as he always does but tonight isn’t like that.
Ed wishes Jack a good night, ignores his blatant annoyance, and goes back to talking to Stede. He may have just lost a fuck buddy but he’s Edward Teach, he can find another if he desires.
Izzy is the last to leave. He seems startled, confused, and slightly irritated (his default, really) by the scene in front of him but he says nothing at all and walks out the door.
It’s just them, after that. He and Stede.
It shouldn’t be him and Stede. There should be no one in here at all. Ed should be in his bed, knocked out after a good round of sex the same as he is every early Sunday morning, but tonight isn’t like that.
Tonight, he’s with Stede. It’s the longest he’s spent talking to someone he’s just met who he’s attracted to without either of them being naked, but there’s a first time for everything.
He isn’t itching for sex, either. Another first. He knows he’s attracted to Stede— Lord does he know it— and he’d have sex with the man in a heartbeat if he could, but this, what they’re doing now, it works too. In fact, it works better.
It’s odd. Ed hasn’t formed a connection like this in… well, ever. With Stede, there’s that comfortability like they’ve known one another their entire lives, but it’s paired with that excitement of being exposed to someone new.
It settles over his skin, but there isn’t that buzz of anticipation. He’s found what he was meant to find tonight in one Stede whatever-his-last-name-is-Ed-is-sure-it’s-beautiful, and he feels… centered.
Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to open up to Stede.
Ed isn’t a quiet person, not by a long shot. He talks— he enjoys talking and making people laugh and making people blush and the occasional making people feel better about their shitty lives and shitty tendencies. He can talk, maybe not as much as Stede, but he is definitely capable of it.
Still, if someone were to sit and think about anything meaningful he’s ever said to them about himself, they’d come up blank. He talks, but is sure to never give too much away— not when drunk, not when high, not to the therapist he started seeing a month ago, not even to those closest to him.
And yet, he tells Stede… everything.
He doesn’t really remember how the conversation shifted to him, but once he starts talking, he can’t stop.
He tells Stede about how he grew up less fortunate than the white kids he went to school with, how it led to him constantly being tormented and harassed.
He tells Stede about being an only child, growing up in a broken home. He skips over the part about his father being abusive, but he tells Stede about everything else, including the many ways he nearly destroyed himself after his mother died.
He tells Stede about all his failed relationships, and then tells Stede that he simply stopped doing relationships after a while. He regrets it almost immediately, fearing that it would push the man away, but there’s no judgement in Stede’s eyes when Ed chances a glance at him.
So, he goes on.
He talks about using sex as a means of pleasure, a means of escape, a means of manipulation. He buried that last one so deep that the words stung his throat as he choked them out, but Stede lays a hand on his shoulder and the touch soothes the burn. So, he goes on.
He talks about breaking hearts so his never gets broken. He talks about the night he cried himself to sleep because he feared that he’d never be loved. He talks about his inability to let anyone in.
And Stede listens.
Ed talks about the good things, too.
He talks about all successes in life, and his passion for cooking, and his even greater (but secret) passion for baking, and his two pet dogs, and his absolute obsession with the show Shameless, and his motorcycle, him and Lucius’ sleepovers, and him and Izzy’s matching tramp stamps, and him and Frenchie’s overly competitive game nights.
Stede listens to that, too. He laughs when Ed tells a stupid joke, and his eyes soften around the edges when Ed is recalling memories that hurt, and he beams during the one time throughout the entire night that Ed shows any indication that he’s proud of himself and the person he’s becoming. It’s a sight he’ll remember forever, whether he ever sees Stede again or not.
“You know,” says Stede, the first words he’s spoken in a while, “I know all of these facts about your life, and yet, I’ve come to the realization that I still don’t know your name.”
Oh. Well, isn’t that something.
“Edward,” he says, “Edward Teach.”
Stede smiles.
“Nice to meet you, Edward Teach. My name’s Stede, Stede Bonnet.”
Ed scoffs, rolling his eyes at the dramatics of it all, but he can’t help the way his lips stretch. Stede had to have been a theatre kid in high school. Maybe they would’ve been friends.
Ed can’t picture any scenario where they wouldn’t have clicked the way they do now.
“Nice to meet you, Stede Bonnet.”
—
“...and we just fling the whips around and break the glass. And once, Jack was drunk and whipped the wrong way and that’s how I got this scar.”
Stede ducks his head so he can get a closer look at the exposed skin just beneath Ed’s collarbone. It’s intimate, their proximity. It makes him glad that the bar is now closed so no one else is here to witness, but it also makes kissing Stede far more tempting. God.
“Well that game doesn’t sound particularly fun,” Stede notes with raised brows, glancing off to the side with a frown on his face.
Ed shrugs as he adjusts his shirt back to its original position. “It was college, we were dumb.”
“Ah so, you’ve known this Jack character for quite some time, then?”
He hums his confirmation, twirling his bottle of beer in hand, watching the beverage move like a wave.
“Willingly?” Stede voices, puzzled.
“I’m sorry?”
“Like… you aren’t being held against your will or anything, you choose to be friends with this man?”
Ed arches a brow. “You’re quite the lippy one, aren’t you?”
“Just checking,” Stede says to him.
“Right,” he drawls, “well if you must know, the answer is yes. I am willingly friends with Jack. I was actually supposed to go home with him tonight.”
Stede makes a face at this, nose scrunched with his lips puckered. It’s adorable.
“Don’t be jealous,” Ed teases, nudging the blonde lightly.
“Why would I be jealous?” He muses, tilting his head almost challengingly. “You’re here with me, aren’t you?”
There’s this look in Stede’s eyes, something mildly mischievous but so incredibly fond it’s almost painful. Those brown eyes— there’s a warmth in them now under the dim yellow lighting that embraces them. Ed feels a tugging in his chest, the tugging of his heart like Stede is calling for it without uttering a word.
“I am,” he responds, hating the way his voice cracks. The bane of his fucking existence, indeed.
A comfortable silence grows between them. Ed gulps down his beer, Stede sips at his water. It’s the first quiet moment that they’ve shared since they’ve met, and, unsurprisingly, it doesn’t last long.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Stede says, “you and Jack… do you love him?”
The answer is immediate. “God, no. He’s one of the most insufferable people I’ve ever met.”
“Then, why do you keep him around?”
Ed doesn’t know what look he has on his face when he turns to Stede, but it’s enough to make the blonde worry at his bottom lip with his teeth.
“Sorry if I’ve overstepped,” he amends, and he sounds so small. Ed hates it.
Stede is the kind of person whose presence fills up the entire room and it’s meant to be like that, Ed never wants it to be any other way, and he sure as shit never wants to be the reason for it being any other way.
“No, no, it’s fine,” he assures, “it’s a fair question, and honestly, I don’t really know. I guess things with him are just… simple. Easy. We know what we expect from one another and that that’s all it’ll ever be. Yes, he’s kind of awful, but I can be too. It sort of just… works.”
“We accept the love we think we deserve,” Stede whispers, and it doesn’t seem like he intended to say it out loud.
Ed knows the quote. Of course, he knows the fucking quote. His copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower is the most warnout book in his collection. He has that quote underlined, has ever since he was in high school.
“I guess we do.”
It’s silent again, but it isn’t as comfortable as the last time. There’s a certain tension in the air that makes Ed’s knees bounce.
“Well, I’ve only known you for a few hours,” Stede begins, “but I can tell that you deserve more than you think you do.”
And there’s that tugging feeling again. His heart beats so strong in his chest that he can feel it in on the inside of his wrist.
And… yeah.
This is it, he realizes— accepts, this is it.
That bond, that connection. This.
I hope you’re right.
“Thank you.”
I hope I’m deserving of you.
—
They’re laughing again, and thank God, no one is around to see this round.
What started as Ed sharing the tale on how he got a penis with wings tattooed on his arse as a dare ended up with Stede literally laughing so hard he fell off his chair, which led to Ed falling when he tried to help Stede back up.
Which leads them to where they are now: rolling around on the floor of the bar, nearly out of breath from how hard they’re laughing.
They must look like fools right now, but Ed doesn’t mind. He feels like a kid for the first time in his entire life, it’s liberating, and he doesn’t want to lose this feeling. He doesn’t want to lose anything about tonight. He doesn’t want to lose Stede.
It’s unfathomable, the way one person can storm into your life and change so much in one night. It doesn’t make any sense in the way that all of it makes sense.
How is it possible that Ed’s gone all his life without feeling seen and Stede fucking Bonnet swoops in and does in one night what no one has ever been able to accomplish?
How is it that he’s only just met this man, and yet he feels like he’s been missing him all his life?
Ed can’t call it love, because he doesn’t know what that feels like, but he thinks this is the closest he’s ever gotten to making that discovery.
“Go on a date with me.” The words escape his lips before he’s even thought them through— hell, before the thought was even fully formed in his head.
Stede literally looks like a deer caught in headlights, and it could be the cutest thing he’s ever seen if it wasn’t so nerve-wrecking given the situation. Ed thinks about taking it back, but what comes out is a very low, practically whimpered, “please?”
Stede’s eyes round at that, the alarmed expression melting off his face and settling into something more… him-like.
“Edward Teach,” Stede gasps with a hand over his chest. Dramatics, again. “Are you truly asking a recently divorced man out on a date?”
It sounds so bad when said like that that it nearly makes him wince, but he’s already put it out there. The worst that can come of it is rejection. He could get over that. It’s not like he’d die from rejection… right?
“I dunno, would that recently divorced man say yes?”
Stede hums, tapping the tip of his ringed index finger against his chin. “Hm. Well, it’s quite scandalous. Positively ballsy.” Ed snorts at this and it eases some of the tension that’s been building since he asked the question he’d been dying to all night. “I’d say… he probably would.”
“Yeah?”
He feels Stede’s foot knock against his own as the blonde levels him with a reassuring smile.
“Yeah.”