Chapter Text
Ed had a bad feeling his beloved was avoiding him.
It all started a few weeks ago, when Stede was reading to the crew one evening. It was from a large collection of short stories they salvaged from one merchant’s ship they raided in attempt to grow the renewed library- Jewish and Greek fables, complete with colorful illustrations. Before each story, he made a huge deal of displaying them to the crew before even reading the title. It was rather adorable, seeing him gush along the plot and doing the voices.
"And this one teaches a very important lesson- never bite the hand that feeds you!" he mused after the third story, closing the book for a moment to examine the crew’s faces, leaving his thumb in as a bookmark. What a dork.
"That scorpion was a fucking cunt," Ed hummed in agreement, taking a wiff off his pipe.
"Yes, well," Stede coughed, hiding an amused smile. "The next fable should be even better!" he opened the book wide again, landing on another colorful painting. It was a lush vineyard with succulent purple grapes, and a fox from each side of its fence- one thick and one slender and slick.
"This fable is called-" Stede glanced at the title and stopped.
"...ah." he made a little face, something between pouting and disgust. “No, not that one, it’s not…” he muttered something under his breath, turning the book back to himself, looking at the writing with a deep gaze.
“But I love foxes!” the Swede mourned, shaking Wee John’s arm in anticipation. “Frenchie got his scorpion, din’t he?”
“Yeah!” the large man agreed. “If he gets the nasty little thing why can’t Sweed have the foxes?”
“Oi, don’t talk shit about scorpions you fucking-“
“No, no, no need to fight!” Stede hurried, hands fumbling with the pages and cover to present a different picture of a fox, lurking beneath a high-up crow with something in its beak.
“There are enough foxes in Esopus’s tales to last for days, weeks even!” he chuckled, starting to read quickly to prevent any fists from flying.
It wasn’t too unusual, loud surges of emotions were a standard thing during story time.
But later in the evening when Ed went to their bed, Stede was still holding the book.
“…go to sleep,” he smiled, slowly shaking off his coat. “I’ll join you in a bit. I, ah. Want to examine the paintings.”
Ed smiled. His lover and his quirks.
“Aight.” He leaned down sleepily to kiss his cheek and laid a rough hand on the one holding the book. “But don’t stay up reading too late again, k? It'll be cold without you.”
“Ok.”
As it turned out some time later, it was, in fact, not ok.
Ed didn’t think much of that evening afterwards. Days passed and all was well, reading and looting and whatnot.
After some time, they finished the book. Never got back to those grapes and foxes, but Edward figured it was just a bad bit. Stede often skipped certain tales for certain reasons- ‘it’s misinformed’, ‘it’s moralizing’, ‘the dog dies and Fang will cry’, stuff like that. He trusts his darling knows what’s good to be told.
Still, his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see the drawing again- all purple and orange, it was fancy ass art. He grew to like this sort of stuff.
He went over the library (now even more impressive), looking for the green and blue cover. Hardy thing with gold letters…
…strange. Ed looked the shelves up and down but couldn’t find it. Maybe he remembered the colors wrong? They were a bit disturbed in the dark hours of story time.
"Stede?” he called across the room. No answer.
“Stede!”
“Mm?” he heard a voice from the wall. Ah, that’s where he’s been hiding.
Ed tilted the little mannequin and walked into the auxiliary wardrove. Stede stood in the middle of it, casually swapping his fingers through the different fabrics.
“Yes, darling?”
“…What are you doing?” Edward raised an eyebrow, a grin lifting the sides of his mustache.
“Oh, you know.” Stede chuckled. “Just looking at the stuff, giving the old fabrics some love. Some of the few remains from my… mistakes.”
Ed blushed, feeling a bit ashamed. He couldn’t bring himself to throw the stuff away in his despaired fit. Yes, Stede was just… appreciating his stuff.
The sentimental basterd, he thought, and that brought a sly smile back to his face.
“There must have been a reason you walked in on me, though.”
"Ah. Yes. Have you seen the fables book?”
“Which one?” he smiled softly, eyes taring away from the cashmere section to look at his lover.
“The… fuck, what was it called?” he entirely forgot, between all the names of the different stories. “From Solomon to… Eesup?”
“Esopus,” Stede kindly corrected. “Why? I could read it to you later today. Maybe we could… do something after too,” he suggested, glancing back at the shimmering shirts. Marvelous.
“Ah, just wanted to look at the art. Never seen grapes drawn with real purple, you know?”
Stede’s fond smile dimmed a bit. “The art? Yes, it was… very pretty.” Then, another wide smile, with something close to embarrassment. “I, ah, think I misplaced it, though,” he said quickly, letting the sleeve in his hand drop as he went out of the closet. “Read the one about the Tristram to Olu. I’ll fetch it for you, yes? That room of his and Jim is… quiet a mess.”
And with that, he vanished, leaving Ed alone between the linens and velvets.
“…that… can’t be good.” He muttered to himself, glancing at his reflection in the mirror, who looked back at him with an identical helpless gaze.
And no, it couldn’t be good. Stede was a bit of a klutz at times, but he NEVER misplaces books. No, something fishy was up.
And he was determined to find out what it was. What was causing his love to be so stressed? His immediate suspicion fell on Izzy, but upon a closer examination the first ex-mate was acting uniformly splendid (which is to say, barking orders and insults at a legitimate amount). Well, can’t really blame Ed for checking, but it seemed Izzy was doing quite well since they got him that mad doctor from Barbados.
Not Iz, than. Good. No, wait, not good, because this meant he didn’t even have a lead on what the hell was going on.
Fucking hell.
What’s going on, then?
He followed Stede closely for the next few days. Problem is, nothing seemed wrong. His co-captain was working just fine- better and more than usually, in fact. Hoisting up the sails and rowing and swiping the deck until late at night. He read much and seemed cheerful and helped around the ship (in all parts except for the galley, presumably in fear of Roach’s methods).
Then why did Stede seem so… so anxious around him? What was going on?
Around the rest of the crew he seemed just fine, but with Ed… he was going to their bed late into the night and leaving by dawn. When he did lay in it when Ed was awake, he seemed to recoil from the touch, going to the other side of the bed or parting his body from his as they cuddled. Stede did not complain about a thing, never an ill word or suggestion from his mouth- but his body was telling enough. His face too- seldom smiling, always fallen and oh so tired.
He… did something to Stede. That evening with the unread foxes tale, he hurt his beloved. And now he was upset with him and distant and anxious.
…What the hell did he do?
That question bubbled in him, festering and souring like rotten wine. What happened that night? What did he do? Did he smoke too much? Ask for too many stories? Said something that could be read as an insult? He was never too good at social cues, something must’ve slipped.
Idiot. You hurt him, and now he’s ignoring you, and you deserve it-
No, no, chill. Chill out. Chill… the fuck out.
Whatever he might have done, he can fix it. Stede could forgive him throwing all his stuff out and marooning his crew and stabbing him once he confessed to his love again- he can forgive… whatever he did wrong. He just has to know what the hell it was.
He waited for the right time to ask. He waited, but no such time seemed to pop up- Stede was simply too busy DOING THINGS, rechecking the rope or organizing the balls or anything other than sitting down at close proximity to Ed without being nearly asleep. He waited, he’d swear to God, but apparently she had no mercy for him.
So, eventually, he just dropped the question.
“What did I do?”
“What?” Stede turned around, barrel of gunpowder still in his arms. God, he got strong.
“What did I do,” Ed repeated, stepping into the storage room and picking the barrel from his lover’s hands to set aside.
Stede twisted his face. “Yes, I… I heard you.” His expression soured, then lit up in an instant, as if shaking a thought. “What do you mean by that?”
Now Ed was the one to twist his face, trying to look at Stede, then at the floor, then settling for the wall behind him.
“You know.”
“I promise you, I don’t.” From the glimpse Edward catches, a look of concern spread across the blond’s face. “What’s going on, Ed?”
“I did something bad. I know I did.” He looked into his eyes at last, sighing. “I know I did. Just… tell me what? I’ll fix it. Whatever it is.” Anything.
“You… didn’t do a thing, darling.” Stede stepped towards him, cupping his face with his hand, and fuck it feels good, after weeks of him barely letting them touch-
“Don’t deny it,” he pulled away, shaking his head. “I know I did something. Could you just. Tell me what? Or why. Or-“
“Edward-“ Stede tries to protest, cutting through his love’s words. “I swear, you did nothing. On the contrary, I must have, if you feel like you did.“
“No- no, you’re- you’re perfect, fuck,” Ed says, stumbling on his words suddenly. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? “You did nothing wrong-“
“Well you certainly didn’t,” he went forward again, grabbing his waist this time, then regretting, going back to the face. “I must have.. Please. What did I… why do you feel this? Did I make you-?”
“Fuck, is this like those m-PAssive aggression things? Saying stuff and mean other things?” He knows it isn’t, Stede wasn’t like this, Stede wouldn’t be cruel to him. “Why do you deny it?” Ed resisted the urge to grab onto the wrists rubbing against his face, knowing it’ll reveal just how shaky his have grown.
“You didn’t hurt me. I swear, Ed, please believe me.” His eyes go large, swiping long curls from his face. “Please believe me.”
“…You’ve been avoiding me.” Edward finds himself sniffing. “The past… couple of weeks.”
Stede blinked, stopping dead in his tracks. “W…what?”
“Avoiding me,” he repeats again, frustrated. “You keep yourself so busy, working in god knows where on god knows what until the fucking sun runs out, and then you-“ he chokes a little, restraining himself, refusing to hurt him because of something HE has done, “-you come to our bed and you look so miserable. So… so tired.” Ed’s breath hitches, ashamed as if from a sin.
“You barely even… let me touch you.” He shut his eyes for a fleeting moment, leaning into his lover’s palms. Fuck.
“…I…” Stede’s face is frozen the way molten lava is, slow and petrified as he processes all that was just said to him. His hands slide ever so slightly from Ed’s face. “I’ve been… avoiding you?”
Edward sighs, taking Stede’s hands off his cheeks. “Yeah, man.” Again, Stede’s face is dimming and FUCK would he give every bone in his body away to make it stop.
“You look so sad when I’m around. So stressed, so- so fucking out of it, every time I’m around.” Stede shifts to sit on the barrel, stunned. Ed swallows his grief, and asks again.
“What did I do? Just… just a small thing, even that, did I upset you? I- smoking too much, I know you don’t like it when it’s in your face, or sleeping too late, or asking for that book-“
There’s a small twitch going though Stede’s face at the mention of it, making his eyes shut and fingers clasp onto his trousers.
“…The book? Was that the- I could have looked for it, I swear-“
“It’s not you,” Stede cuts him short, and it seems he’s having a hard time keeping a composure. “It… it’s not you. I swear. It’s…” he looked down, squishing his lips in as if to bite their inside. He breathes low and shallow, cupping his nose and mouth with two hands.
“…You don’t have to tell me,” Ed said, silent and worries and scared. “I just… want to make things better.”
Stede let out a dry chuckle, closer to the sound of a crying dog than to amusement. “You can’t. It’s…” another rolling chuckle. “My fault, truly.”
Ed lets out a gasp, eyes feeling full and wet. “Don’t say that!” he kneeled in front of him, laying his hands on Stede’s thighs. The fair man shivered, shoving them away.
“It’s true!” he keeps on with that giggle, that empty smile on his face. “I brought it on myself when I… when I chose to dwell on it. And now, now-“ he pointed at Ed with two hands, gesturing at him like a loon pointing at the moon. “-Now YOU feel guilty! I- I knew. I knew it will-“ he can’t seem to talk anymore, burying his face in his palms again and shutting his eyes hard.
“W… you…” Ed is at a loss. What is… why..? he can’t even seem to figure out what to ask to understand it. Has no idea what… what to fucking understand, why his lighthouse’s heartbeats were loud enough to hear from so far away.
“What… what is going on?” Ed looked at him with pleading eyes, black shimmering with a prayer. “Stede. What is going on?”
For a few moments, Stede looks on the floor, hands laying limp across his abdomen. His face shifted between expressions like the tides, from sadness to anger to- was that disgust?
“It’s… crawling,” the fair man swallowed, gaze fixating on some nail in the floor. “T… too much.” The four words said so far seem to strain him like a whole mass. His fingers fidget with the end of his shirt, shuddering as they pass over the seams.
“It’s… not pretty.” He clenched them, face squinting. Ed wants to hold him, comfort him, but any movement towards his lover makes him flinch away as if made of fire.
“I’m not… not…” his breath falls short, leaving him with an empty mouth. He shook his head, grabbing his hair with a rustle.
“It’s all just… thick skin. It’s just in my head, I swear…”
Ed’s eyes widen as he blocks his mouth. “Did I insult you?” He knew it, he fucking knew it, the fool that he is, must have SAID something to hit a-
“NO!”
…nerve.
“No, no, you didn’t, I-“ he got up then nearly stumbled back, whole body going red with held in emotion. “I knew I’d fucking- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-“
“Stede-“ Edward is helpless against the outburst, trying to steady Stede only to be pushed back by the shuddering mess of a man. “Please, let me help, let me fix this-“
“YOU CAN’T FIX ME!” Stede shouts, then immediately goes quiet.
A minute passes. An hour, perhaps. Maybe a day.
“…Why…” Ed’s throat feels dry, scrapy, wrong. “Why won’t you let me near you?”
“…Go, Edward.” The words fell stiff out of Stede’s mouth. “Please. Before I…” his eyes shut.
“…please.
And Ed fights the urge to press on, to fight, to carve out whatever hurt his love and toss it into the sea.
Instead, he nods, clenching his fists in restraint and leaving his lighthouse to be. And as he does, he cannot miss the shudder of Stede’s chest, and the nauseous flutter in his own.
You’ve done it again, arsehole.
For the next few nights, Edward has resigned himself to sleep on the deck with the rest of the crew. He was devastated. Hurt, and confused, and devastated.
Great. Not only did you manage to somehow hurt Stede over a book, now he’s… he’s…
He didn’t actually have the right words to describe the state he left his love at. But, if to be truly honest, he hasn’t really seen him since that awful conversation. The man seemed to be entirely absent from the deck, and if to believe Buttons and Olivia, only sneaked out of his room late at night to grab something from the galley. A rather sharp shift from the nearly hyperactive sailor that’s been roaming around for weeks.
You made him ill. Ed twisted his lips, fumbling with some rope. You made him angry, then distant, then fucking ill-
“I wonder what’s with captain,” Roach said as he was meddling with one of the seemingly endless tasks Stede took upon himself in the past weeks, severing Ed’s line of thought.
“Anyone cared to check? He said something about having the grippe, but, I don’t know. Didn’t hear no coughs.”
“Might be cursed. Knew those fable books were cursed,” Frenchie muttered, not without genuine concern.
Edward felt the familiar guilty spark burn bright deep in his chest. Couldn’t even check on him. He’s mad, he’ll just be worst…
Man up. He shook himself out of the paralysis. This is your fault, and your problem, and your Stede. So go FIX IT.
“Was just about to.” He smiled, getting up. “Waited a bit. Didn’t want to catch the thing myself, then Lucius will have to captain.”
Lucius, who sat in hearing distance, let out an irritated playful huff. “You’ll be lost without me. Go check on your boyfriend, will you?”
And Ed went to oblige. Heavy and ecstatic and nervous, he went to see the damage he’s done. He walked to the room, opening the door without hesitation.
“Stede-“
…the sight he saw was nothing like the one he expected. Neat piles of clothes laid across the whole place, floor to bed- handkerchiefs and trousers and coats and everything, organized by criteria that either did not exist or Ed didn’t get. The tables and bed were neat and remade. Are the god damn chandeliers clean?
And in the middle of all of it was his lover- in nothing but a tightly tied robe, laying face up and arms spread on the floor with a vacant look on his face.
“…Stede?”
“Huh?” the blond man rose, opening his eyes. No, wait, they were open. He was… staring at the ceiling? But he didn’t have too much time to ponder that part, as Stede smiled at him, fixing the blue cashmere around his waist.
“Ed! It’s so good to see you,” he said, fixing his hair.
“…What have you done with the place?” Edward was far too stunned to question anything else, let along what he came for, eyes moving back and forth from the fabrics to the man on the floor.
“Oh, figured I’ll do something useful while I’m ill.”
“You should rest if you have grippe.”
“Not grippe. Just a stubborn headache,” he said, then realized his stance, or lack thereof. “And, ah. Some fatigue. Tired myself out, so I. Just dropped for a while. Would you like to join me?”
…he would, god knows he would after all those weeks. With little to no resistance but the one he gets from his knee, Ed crumpled to the floor, selfish and longing, maintaining a safe distance from the ill man. And, looking closer, yes, he did look a little ill. Eyes spread a bit too wide and body nursing a faint tremor.
“Should I ask Roach to whip up something for you?”
“No, no,” Stede dismissed him, both quickly and softly. “I’m afraid I’m a bit… nauseous.” For a lack of a better word? Ed wondered, before realizing he’s getting poetic, and that was probably what lead to this mess in the first place.
Maybe I insulted the scorpion. No, no, he was a dick. Who stings a fucking frog?
“So that’s what you’ve been doing here all day? Tiding clothes and napping and staring?”
“And thinking,” Stede said, sighing. “Listen, I…”
Here it comes.
“I’m sorry I’ve been distant.”
…didn’t see that coming.
“Really. I was just… a bit hectic. Been… sick for a while, and I didn’t want to worry you, and everything got irritating.” With that, his face sours, and he looks to the floor, head turned down and lips pouting.
“And now I’m just... taking a few days off. Much needed ones. I shouldn’t have… taken it out on you. I… I’m sorry.”
Ed forcefully holds himself from pulling Stede close and hug him until neither of them can breathe.
“Nothing… nothing to apologize for, mate,” he eventually splutters out, astonished and confused and absolutely bedazzled by the strange confession. I didn’t… I didn’t do anything?
“mm,” the blond puffs, grabbing ed by the sleeve. His hand is so careful on the thick leather Ed nearly misses it.
“…Stay with me on the floor for a bit?” he pleaded. “I still need to… catch my breath.”
“…Yeah.”
Stede laid on the floor, guiding Edward’s head to rest on his chest. They’re… so close. He’s so close, and soft, and…
…It’s alright. You’re alright, you didn’t make him angry, nothing’s… nothing’s wrong. You had those stupid sick weeks too, he just. Needs to rest.
And surely enough, after just one more day (dedicated mostly to putting all the clothes in the room in their proper place) Stede was back on his feet, working joyfully with the crew with the same enthusiasm as before that wretched fight- but closer to Ed, cheerful and smiling on deck and in their bed every night.
And if god was kind, he could have indulged in it. Could have gotten used to this wonderful working routine with his love again, those long nights of staying awake until Stede pet him to sleep, those beautiful hands on him, this everything. It was… perfect.
But in this everything, it seemed as though that very same god knew something he didn’t.