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Ed has to make a conscious effort not to scream.
It’s not that bad… except it is. Horrible, really. If he didn’t know that there was quite a bit stored in the captain’s quarters that Stede would miss in the event of an… accident, he’d set the whole damned room ablaze. Fuck it. That spider had been the size of his bloody palm, and it’d had the audacity to crawl into bed with him like it belonged there. It’d been in his hair, for fucks’ sake! He’d thought that they’d had an understanding—a truce of sorts. The abominable creature could have the whole damned corner of the room to itself; there were bookshelves galore, and plenty of little nooks and crannies for it to use to construct its webs. There was no reason that it needed to come over here, to Ed’s designated safe zone. There was no reason that it needed to crawl into his bed and into his hair and… An icy shiver chases down his spine, the memory of the sensation of eight fuzzy little legs scurrying across his scalp tempting him to shave his entire head.
The damned spider is still on the bed, lurking in the middle of the opulent mattress like it fucking belongs there. Like Ed hadn’t almost crushed it beneath the weight of his body in his haste to get the fuck away. Like that’s its new fucking home now. He’d kill the bug himself, except… if there’s one thing that’s worse than being in close proximity to a fucking abomination of nature, it’s killing one. See, spiders have this funny little aversion to being crushed beneath the toe of boots. Who would’ve thought? And the second they see that boot coming down on them with their dozens of freaky little eyes, they take off like motherfucking lightning. And watching them scurry away is…
Jesus, he can feel shit crawling on him again. He rakes his fingers through his hair just to make sure that there really isn’t anything there—
His fingers hit a knot and he damn-near yanks an entire fucking chunk of hair clean out of his scalp. Oh, that was fucking it—
Which is how Stede finds him, aiming his gun at their bed like it contained some unseen attacker—there’s an actual bullet hole in the mattress, extremely close to the spider (but not close enough, Ed thinks ruefully—the damn thing is mocking him, he knows it is). Stede looks between his boyfriend and the smoking hole in the mattress, seemingly oblivious to the spider’s existence—which is nothing short of a miracle, as far as Ed’s concerned. Once your senses have alerted you to the presence of a bug in your nearby vicinity, how is it possible for you to see anything but? Stede is looking on him with open concern, and while Ed wants to reassure Stede that he’s fine—a little shaken by the unwanted visitor in his bed, but fine… just bloody fine—that means taking his eyes off of the spider, and he no longer trusts it not to try and pull some shit when his back is turned. Not that he ever really trusted it in the first place, but… he trusts it substantially less now.
“Is… everything alright, my dear?” It’s… a rather idiotic question, all things considered. Stede thinks he knows his boyfriend well enough to say that shooting random holes into their bed is not a fuckery… and if it is, well… he’s been moved by an odd sort of inspiration.
“No, everything is most certainly not alright.” Ed brandishes his weapon with dramatic flair; the spider, unimpressed with the display, continues to remain stubbornly put. “Do you see this?” Stede seems to, at long last, notice the spider. “The lit—” He realizes, belatedly, that the spider is anything but little. “The fucker was in my hair. My hair.” He repeats, when Stede doesn’t seem to appreciate the severity of the situation.
“And so you decided… to shoot at it?” Stede posits, doing his damndest not to sound patronizing. And okay, Ed could admit that pulling the gun may’ve been a bit extreme. But really, what other long-range weapon options did he have? Stede would cry sacrilege if anything happened to one of his beloved books, and anything bigger and/or heavier risked causing damage to the ship if he missed.
And, uh… judging by how shit his aim had been so far, he’d say that his odds of actually managing to hit the damned spider were alarmingly low.
“I don’t see you offering an alternative solution, mate.” He holsters his weapon, just so Stede will cool it with the look. He doesn’t expect Stede to pull a tall, clear glass and a stiff bit of parchment out of the clear blue sky—“No.”
“Surely, it’ll be fine so long as I take it off of the Revenge.” Stede says. And while that technically made sense—if the spider was no longer aboard the ship, then it no longer posed a direct threat to his person—the spider had offended him personally. It’d climbed into his hair, and for that, it must die. “Besides, if I kill it in the bed, I’m practically guaranteeing that you’ll never sleep with me again—”
“I’m going to level with you, mate. I’m not sure I’m ever going to sleep again, period.” Ed says, completely serious.
“Oh, come now, Ed. It’s just a lit—” Stede, too, seems to have just realized just how large the abomination of nature is. “Oh, that is quite large, isn’t it?” Ed makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and Stede clears his throat dramatically. “Yes, right. Not helping.” He approaches the bed in a few quick, confident strides, before—how in the bloody hell did he manage that?
Ed’s fascination is quickly overcome by horror when it becomes clear that Stede is approaching him.
Stede is approaching him with a cup full of horrors. He plasters himself against the nearest wall, glaring daggers at the foul creature—
Stede’s bravery (however ill-advised it might be) does not go unnoticed, however. How the man can tolerate having that eight-legged monster so close to his skin is anyone’s guess—Ed already knew that his boyfriend was a bloody maniac, but after this little display, he was willing to go so far as to say the man wasn’t even human—but it made him a goddamned hero, as far as Ed was concerned, and such bravery deserved to be rewarded. Just as soon as he walked that horrid creature out the door, off of the ship, and out of their lives forever. Stede looks at him, a silent question in his eyes—he needs help with the door, but that would involve imposing himself directly in the horrid creature’s path… He’s quite content to stay over here, thank you very much. Stede just rolls his eyes, no real malice in the gesture as he figures out how to maneuver the doorhandle with nothing more than his elbows. A moment later, the door opens, and Stede disappears.
The knot that’d formed in Ed’s chest upon discovering the insect in his bed slowly starts to loosen… He looks around the room—specifically at the destruction he’s wrought on the bed—and thinks that it might be nice if he at least changes the sheets. Stede had started having the linens washed in lavender essential oil, which… sounded absolutely divine right now. Nice… and relaxing.
He’s just about finished changing the bed when Stede returns, looking all the more handsome now that he’s sans-creature. He offers Ed a winsome smile, and Ed presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before returning to tucking the corners of the sheet underneath the heavy mattress. There… with a brand new sheet, you can’t even tell there’s a bullet hole in the mattress.
Everything is as it should be.
But it seems that perfection can get even better, because Stede offers, “Why don’t I draw you a hot bath, love? A nice, long soak should help you to shrug off the last of that tension.” He places a gentle hand on Ed’s shoulder, easing them down from up by his ears.
Ed pretends to consider for a moment, before extending a counteroffer, “What if we bathed… together? Conserve water and all that.” The way he waggled his eyebrows had Stede giggling like a schoolboy—it was clear that conserving resources was the last thing on his mind, but Stede was game to pretend. Ed’s mood had brightened considerably, and he’d like for it to stay that way. No more bullet holes in the bed, thank you.
“…I quite like that plan.” Stede concurs, and they share another, painfully brief kiss before he says, “I’ll prepare the water, then.” He turns, and Ed’s heart leaps into his throat, because he catches a glimpse of something large and black, with far too many fucking legs, clinging to the back of Stede’s waistcoat. No. There’s no fucking way…
Ed screams.