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The rich purple fabric feels nearly blasphemous on Ed’s skin. It’s ridiculous, really. After all, he wanted this. He thought it would be a good idea to try - something he always wanted, deep down, something that he’d never actually admit out loud, but rather let Stede think it was his decision… But now that he’s wearing the finer clothes, plucked right out of Stede’s own auxiliary wardrobe, he realizes just how ridiculous the idea actually is.
We’re just not those kind of people .
His mother’s far-away voice echoes in his head, and he has to physically shake the memory away. It’s fine. He’ll just tell Stede that it’s a stupid idea, and that there’s better things that they could be doing, and that’ll be it. He won’t have to open up, won’t have to admit that he’ll just never fit into high society, and they’ll be done with it. Like it never happened.
(Like he never felt the soft silk on his wrists, the surprisingly scratchy trousers on his legs, the stretchy, elastic feeling of the socks over his weary feet. He’ll forget all about the literal and figurative weight of the rich garments and stick to stolen tunics and tattered old things. That’s what he’s used to, after all.)
So he steps out of the wardrobe to tell Stede as such, but as soon as he opens his mouth, the words die on his tongue. There, waiting for him in the cabin lounge with his legs crossed, sitting prim and proper in a fine new outfit himself, is Stede. Stede, who’s eyes light up as soon as they catch sight of him, and Ed pushes down the little flutter in his chest at the sight, but it still renders him speechless.
Nobody has ever looked at him like that.
Does Stede even realize what he’s doing?
It’s pathetic, really, the effect that the other man has on him.
“Ed,” Stede is ultimately the one to break the silence, his voice soft and kind, as it always is, “You look -”
“Ridiculous,” Ed supplies, his voice unintentionally giving him away. He can’t help the way that he wears his heart on his sleeve, not around Stede. He shakes his head, turning away, just slightly, “This was a bad idea, just forget -”
“Woah, woah,” Stede interrupts. In his peripheral, Ed watches as he stands and begins to quickly cross the room, “What are you talking about? It fits you perfectly.”
Ed takes a step back as Stede moves into his space, a bad habit, but a habit nonetheless. He never lets anyone get too close. “It’s not the fit, it’s -” he huffs out a frustrated breath, steeling himself. He’s supposed to be Blackbeard, the most feared pirate in the world. This shouldn’t be a big deal. “Putting lipstick on a pig doesn’t change the fact that it’s a pig, mate.”
Even the snarky comment makes Ed feel small. Even that, as guarded as it is, feels too vulnerable, too open.
Stede’s face falls in response, his step faltering as he stops just outside of Ed’s personal space. He cocks his head to the side slightly, as if trying to understand.
What’s not to get?
“Why do you say that?” Stede asks gently.
Ed simply shrugs in response, turning to face the mirror. He can’t help but scowl when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It just doesn’t look right.
We’re just not those kind of people.
As Stede had said, the outfit fits him fine. It’s not the clothes -
“It’s just… me,” Ed grumbles, deflating slightly. “I look like a kid playing dress-up, man. It doesn’t work. Let’s just forget it.”
He starts pulling at the surprisingly comfortable jacket, ready to shed it and go back to the way things are supposed to be, avoiding eye contact with Stede as he does so. He can’t look at the other man, because he can’t bear to see the kind look in his eyes. It’s just too much. All of this is too much.
However, he doesn’t miss the movement in the mirror when Stede takes just a few more steps forward to stand next to him, effectively breaking down yet another one of Ed’s invisible barriers without trying.
(And Ed doesn’t step away.)
Ed glances at the other man’s reflection and can’t help but compare it to his own. Stede wears fine clothing well. It looks right on him, and Ed supposes that’s because he’s been wearing it his whole life, but still.
(He’d look good in anything, really.)
Wordlessly, Stede reaches out, laying a gentle, steadying hand on his elbow. It stops Ed in his tracks, cuts his thoughts short, derails anything he was about to say.
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Stede insists, regarding him through their shared reflection. He hums, considering, and adds, “But, you are right in one aspect - it’s not just in dressing well. It’s the whole look. It’s in feeling confident.”
As Stede speaks, Ed can’t help but think back to all of the men he has plundered. All of the rich merchants thrown overboard, all of the noblemen pissing their pants at the sight of the terrifying Blackbeard. He thinks of their clean dress, their powdered wigs, the manner in which they carried themselves, up until the very end. He cringes at the thought, his hand absentmindedly reaching up to touch his own untamed hair.
Rather than remarking on Stede's “feeling confident” comment, he says with a scowl, “I’m not putting on one of those bloody wigs, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
The remark earns a smile from Stede, which in turn earns a little flip in Ed’s stomach. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” the other man insists. At that, he reaches up as well, his own hand stopping just shy of Ed’s hair.
“May I?”
And who would Ed be to tell him no?
So that’s how he ends up sitting on the cabin floor, situated between Stede’s spread legs, and -
Not like that.
He shakes the idea from his head.
That’s how Ed winds up sitting in front of Stede, his back to him as the other man combs through his hair with quite possibly the softest brush and the gentlest touch that Ed has ever felt. People don’t touch Ed like this - they don’t slowly detangle the matted knots at the base of his skill with careful fingers and a soft touch. Hell people don’t touch Ed, period. Unless they’re fighting or fucking, and it has been quite some time since he has been intimate with someone, if that’s what you’d call the emotionless romps that he has had in the past…
So yeah, Stede combing through his hair is quite possibly one of the most intimate things that Ed has done in a long time. In fact, he can’t think of a single person that he’d trust like this, with his head literally in their hands. And it’s remarkable still, that he trusts Stede with this. Stede, a man that Ed barely knows, yet has no qualms with him touching him like this.
At first, Ed ties to keep things purely clinical - Stede is just brushing his hair out as a favor, afterall, in an effort to help him fit the part - but before long, Ed is tipping his head back into the touch and closing his eyes as Stede uses his fingers to massage some earthy smelling oil into his hair. It’s the most relaxed he has felt in… well, forever, so he can’t help the way that he leans into Stede’s hands just slightly, touch starved and pliant.
When Stede speaks again, it’s almost enough to snap Ed out of his reverie, his eyes opening just slightly at the sound of his voice.
“Are you opposed to flowers?” Stede asks, his voice nearly as gentle as his hands.
“Flowers?” Ed repeats, the word sounding foreign in his mouth. He tilts his head back ever so slightly to glance up at Stede in response.
And the other man just - cradles his head, smiling softly down at him.
Ed isn’t an idiot, he knows what it means when just that little look lights a fire in his chest, but he’s choosing not to look that head-on right now. Nope, no thank you, burying that for later.
“In your hair,” Stede muses, his hands resuming their motion as he speaks, fingers combing absentmindedly through his hair. In response, Ed has to hold back a groan at the feeling of fingernails scraping against his scalp.
(Again, nobody touches Ed like this. Not this gently, not with such care. Sure, Izzy has helpd him comb knots out of his hair once or twice, but it was always methodical, like a job to get done. And lovers have pulled his hair in bed before, but -)
Ed derails that train of thought quickly, muttering, “Sure, whatever you want,” before he even thinks it through.
And fuck, Ed dosn’t think that Stede realizes just how much that means. Hell, he’s not even sure how much it means - that blind trust in someone, knowing that they wouldn’t intentionally do anything to harm you. Ed isn’t sure if that says more about him or about Stede, but he opts not to dwell on it too much.
Hell, with Stede’s fingers doing what they’re doing to his hair right now, he’d probably say yes to just about anything he asked.
“Great!” Stede exclaims chipperly, clapping a hand out of his shoulder and promptly shaking Ed out of his daze, “I’ll be right back!”
And Ed just… doesn’t move. While Stede rummages about in some drawer or another, searching for flowers, apparently, Ed takes a moment to come back to himself, to take inventory and ground his thoughts. It’s remarkable, really, how relaxed he feels, after just a few minutes of gentle touches, of someone combing carefully through his hair. Everything around him smells of lavender and (is that a hint of coconut?) oli. It’s quite possibly the most pampering Ed has ever had in his life, and he can’t help but wonder if this is just what it’s like for the wealthy. Is this something that they all experience, or is this just for him and Stede?
Before he has a chance to unpack that , though, Stede is returning to his seat and Ed is situated once more between his legs.
“How did you get so good at this?” Ed finds himself asking just a few moments later as Stede begins to gently gather his hair into a high bun on his head. He is genuinely curious, but talking also stops him from losing himself in Stede’s touch. “It’s not like you gentlemen have long hair…”
Stede hums quietly in thought as he begins to tie up Ed’s hair. “I ‘spose you’re ‘ight,” he mumbles around something (flowers, ribbon, Ed’s not entirely sure) in his mouth. When he speaks again, his voice is much more clear as he begins to pull the bun tight. “I suppose all of the times I did Alma’s hair are coming in handy…” This time, his voice sounds a little far away, though, not quite all there.
It’s the first time Ed has heard the name. He’s familiar with Mary - he learned about Stede’s estranged wife early on in his time on The Revenge - but Alma is new. “Alma?” Ed asks quietly, his brows furrowing.
Stede is quiet for a moment, and Ed briefly wonders if he crossed a line. Maybe he shouldn’t have -
“My daughter,” Stede answers at last, cutting his thoughts short, “Alma is my daughter.”
And Ed -
He doesn’t know what to say. He’s either a terrible listener, and Stede has mentioned his child - children? - before, or maybe he has been keeping that information buried deep. Judging by the tone of his voice, not pained, but definitely far-away, Ed assumes that it is the latter.
He turns slightly, shifting to look at Stede directly, rather than the upside down glances he has been shooting his way. Maybe Stede doesn’t want to go here, maybe talking about it makes him uncomfortable, but everything that has transpired today has taken Ed far out of his own comfort zone, so he supposes it’s only fair.
“Didn’t know you had a daughter, mate,” he says, trying to make his voice sound as gentle as possible. It’s clearly a sensitive subject, if the pained look on Stede’s face is any indication.
Stede offers a tight smile in response, and Ed can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head. There’s obviously a lot to unpack there. “And a son, Louis,” he replies, “Although I’m not entirely convinced that he’s mine.”
Stede huffs out a half laugh, but not because he genuinely thinks it’s a funny comment - Ed can tell he only does it because he thinks he should. Despite the way that he attempts to come off as blasé about the whole thing, Ed can see right through him. He’s good at reading people. He didn’t become the person he is today without such a skill.
Stede continues, voice low, “They’re better off without me, trust me. ”
Something sinks inside Ed’s chest at that admission. It’s possibly the most that Stede has opened up to him, the most vulnerable thing he has said to Ed thus far, and Ed opens his mouth to argue, to insist that he has a hard time believing that anyone would be better off without Stede. But before he has a chance to say as such, Stede is clapping him on the shoulder once more.
“I think we’re done!” he says, his voice returning to its previous chipper tone, and Ed can take the hint. Stede doesn’t want to have that conversation right now. Instead, he asks Ed, “Want to give yourself the once-over?”
Ed, now unsure of what to say, simply nods and stands from his spot on the floor. Wordlessly, he makes his way across the room to the mirror and is… actually pleasantly surprised at his reflection. His hair, tied neatly up on the back of his head, looks shiny and soft for the first time in… well, ever. He twists slightly to catch a glimpse at the small white flowers in his hair and can’t help but wonder if Stede was saving them for a special occasion. If so, he shouldn't have wasted them on someone like Blackbeard , but he doesn’t tell Stede that. There’s already enough doubt and self-resentment hanging in the air for the both of them.
So instead, Ed just admires his reflection in the mirror for a moment longer. While he has never hated the way he looks by any means, he certainly hasn’t looked like this before, and it’s a welcome, if not slightly surprising change.
And he looks… he’s actually starting to look the part. Everything except…
A movement in the corner of his eye draws Ed away from his own reflection when Stede appears next to him in the mirror. Wordlessly, he reaches up absentmindedly to touch his own beard.
“You’re right,” Stede says with a thoughtful hum, despite the fact that Ed hasn’t even said anything. Apparently, the man is a mind-reader now, too, which is slightly terrifying, considering Ed’s recent thoughts.
“What do you say we spruce up your beard a little, as well, hmm?” Stede asks, another smile spreading across his face.
Ed would be damned to say no to him now.
“Sure,” he replies with a shrug, apparently open to anything at this point, and that’s all it takes before Stede is dashing back into the wardrobe, excitedly calling, “I know just the thing!”
So Ed waits while Stede rummages through his closet, and although he eyes him questionably, he doesn’t say anything when the other man emerges with a handful of purple ribbon. He also decidedly doesn’t move away when Stede steps back into his space with the comfortability of someone who has known him much longer than a few short weeks, and he wonders if Stede just has no sense of self preservation, or if this is just how he is with everyone.
Stede does, however, seem to think better of himself once he begins to reach for Ed’s face, stopping short with a sort of unsure smile. “Do you mind?” he asks, that gentlemanly nature that Ed so clearly desires to learn kicking in once more. It’s charming, really.
Shit, wait -
Considering the fact that Stede has spent the better part of an hour with his hands buried in Ed’s hair, Ed nods affirmatively at the question. And then, just as gingerly as Stede had combed and ran his fingers through Ed’s hair, he reaches up, carefully touching his beard, as if it’s something precious. Or maybe that’s just how Stede does things.
Somehow, Ed realizes, nearly going cross eyed as he watches Stede work, this is more intimate than the other man running his fingers through his hair. They’re so close, now, that they’re practically sharing a breath - Ed can even smell Stede, even over the scent of the oil and the clean clothes. He smells of lavender and sandalwood and a slight hint of sea air. It’s… nice.
Stede is gentle, as always, his eyes concentrated on the task at hand as he braids the ribbon carefully through Ed’s beard, and as he does so, Ed takes the moment to really study the other man properly. It’s different, seeing him up close like this, having nowhere to look but at him, rather than stealing glances in an attempt to figure out just what he’s all about. Now, Ed watches as Stede’s tongue pokes out of his mouth just slightly, takes in the concentrated furrow of his brow, his steady hands.
Ed is astounded, to say the least.
In some ways, Stede is just as much of an enigma now as he was when Ed first encountered him, when he spent that entire first day snooping through the ship, waiting for him to come-to after his near death experience. Despite how candid and forthcoming Stede seems to be with him, there’s still something guarded about him, still a few layers that Ed hasn’t quite managed to pull back yet. His comment about his children - hell, the fact that he hadn’t even mentioned them until now - is very telling. There’s a lot to unpack there, and there’s still so much that Ed needs (wants) to learn about him.
And if he’s being truthful, it’s not just because he’s plotting to kill him and assume his identity. If he’s being honest with himself, Ed never actually plans on making good on that promise to Izzy. There’s no way. He could never -
Well, he could never be Stede, first off. Blackbeard becoming someone so kind and caring and thoughtful and gentle? No amount of training or pretending could do that. Stede is the antithesis of everything that Blackbeard is.
Maybe that’s why Edward is so drawn to him, why he has grown so fond of the man in front of him. He doesn’t see the ignorant twat that Izzy sees. He doesn’t see the incompetent captian that the crew sees. No, Ed sees a good man, someone who is truthful and compassionate and extremely hard-headed, someone who is worthy of -
He closes his eyes, willing the thought away just as Stede seems to finish his work. Without a word, the other man reaches even closer, placing his hands on either side of his face, fingers splaying out across his neck and -
Oh, that’s something.
Stede uses his leverage to tilt Ed’s head from side to side, admiring his work, blissfully unaware of the power that he holds between his hands, unaware of what it does to Ed. And Ed simply allows himself to be handled with care, arms relaxed at his sides, eyes focused on the way that Stede examines him, wondering if his emotions are written all over his face. He watches stede with curiosity, with intent and -
Attraction?
Is that what has been stirring in Ed’s chest this whole time?
For fuck’s sake, he can’t remember the last time he was this close to another man, or spent this long looking into another man’s soul unless they were fighting or fucking and -
Isn’t that a thought?
Before Ed has a chance to unpack that, Stede’s eyes are meeting his own, just briefly, blink and you miss it, before darting down to his handiwork, then to his lips and back up again.
Wait. Was he - ?
Ed can’t even finish asking himself that question before Stede smiles, stepping back just slightly, “Perfect,” he says, his voice coming out a bit breathless and warm, “You - ah - you look perfect. See for yourself.”
Stede gestures for Ed to look into the mirror one last time, but Ed lingers for a moment longer, eyes still trained on the man in front of him, attempting to sort through everything that just happened. Does Stede even realize what he’s doing? The effect that he has on Ed?
Those are questions for another day, Ed decides, as he eventually turns to face the mirror and -
Oh.
He - he actually looks… fantastic. Somehow he looks entirely unlike himself without giving up the things that make him him. Stede nailed it.
Stede, who is watching him in their reflection, a wide, proud smile spread across his face. He sounds like he already knows the answer when he asks, “What do you think?”
That’s a loaded question if Ed has ever heard one. What does he think? He thinks he’s gotten in way over his head with this. He thinks he should have left Stede to bleed out on that Spanish ship. He thinks he should remove himself from this perfect man’s life before he fucks it all up completely. He thinks he should move forward with his plan now and get it over with, or maybe he should throw Izzy overboard and pretend like he never made the plan in the first place.
He thinks he should just grab him and kiss him, just to see what it feels like, just to see what happens.
But Ed knows that’s not what Stede means. So instead, he turns around, grabbing him by the shoulders and proclaims, “I think you’re a fucking genius, mate.”
It’s all worth it for the way that Stede’s eyes light up.
And it’s then that Ed realizes he is completely and utterly
fucked.