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get beaten

Summary:

Ed has an unpleasant run in with some of Jack's old crew, who haven't gotten the memo about his new identity.

Notes:

short prequel to "stay soft" (read here https://archiveofourown.org/works/39503655) but you don't have to read one to understand the other, I don't think.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It’s not often two crews make competing claims to the same plunder, but it’s not unheard of. Been a long time since it’s been a problem for Ed though. For most of his time as captain, pirates and prey alike would see the flag and surrender, or else turn the other way and find their own damn quarry. With new names though and the old flag long gone, the old respect isn’t a given. And though the Revenge had clearly been the first to board and subdue the Italian pleasure craft they’re currently shifting goods from, they still find themselves facing down a leering crew who seem intent to make an easy thing difficult.

Or Ed does, at least. Stede and the rest of the crew had gone below deck to sort out the junk from the valuables, and left Ed to manage the hostages. They were an easy lot—the passengers were rich folks who backed down without a fight, the crew a bored gaggle of workers for hire, not paid enough to be arsed. And so Ed hung back on the deck, keeping the prisoners in line.

It’s sort of part of the new arrangement they’d worked out. New names, new identities, new everything. The Gentleman Pirate was supposed to be dead, after all, and Blackbeard was on the run from the British, not to mention burned a fair few bridges in the world of pirates too. They were Captain Edwards and Captain Jeffries now, to everyone but their own crew, and as Captain Jeffries, Ed liked taking a more leisurely approach to looting. Stede (who had picked up some pretty serious new skills during their time apart, Edward had to admit) takes the lead more often than not, letting him hang back, blend in.

And honestly, it’s really fucking nice. Not being anyone in particular. Just another crewmate taking orders and dragging loot around—even if he got to kiss the captain on the cheek while he was doing it. It’s fucking great.

Until it isn’t.

“Well well, this looks like fun. Mind if we join?”

The group staring him down is a grubby, rag-tag lot. Vultures, probably. Crap pirates too inept to carry out their own raids, who just pick the bones clean of whatever they can scavenge from other crews. The captain smacks tobacco in his cheek and grins at him.

Ed stands his ground. “A bit late to the party,” he says. “Ship’s spoken for. Piss off.”

He’s dealt with worse than this lot, but he really hopes he doesn’t have to today. He’s wearing a pair of Stede’s linen pants he’s really quite fond of. Would be a shame to ruin them.

Two beefy guys near the front go for their weapons when he says that. But the captain stops chewing suddenly, frowns and holds up a hand.

“Wait a goddamn second. I know you.”

Fuck.

“Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t Captain Blackbeard!”

“Dunno who you’re talking about, mate.”

“Bull shit, man, I know Blackbeard when I see him!”

The guy swaggers over and grabs Ed’s arm like they’re old friends. Ed jerks back, hand going to his knife. But now that he’s up close, he realizes, he does actually know this fucking guy. Jack’s old first mate, from ages ago. Don or Dave or something like that. Must have gotten the big job when they tossed Jack overboard.

“Ah, er, yeah,” Ed says. He straightens up, tries to stand a little taller, set his shoulders wider. Be a little more of the man this guy was expecting. “Yeah, good to see you mate, didn’t recognize you there.”

“Almost didn’t recognize you yourself! Look at ya, all dressed up like some kinda…I dunno, fancy man! Where’s the beard, cap?”

Ed clears his throat, scratches at his jaw, where a silver stubble is still growing in.

Stede had insisted on new looks to go with their new identities. Captain Edwards had a bit more of a traditional pirate vibe—Stede had stumbled across a long traveling coat and couldn’t be persuaded out of it. It had taken some real talking down to get him to give up on the eyepatch. Not that Ed was in any position to judge. Captain Jeffries, he had decided, wore light colors and fine fabrics whenever possible. Stede’s entire summer wardrobe had been given over to the cause. He hadn’t so much as touched a piece of leather since Stede came back, and he’s kept shaving every few weeks, trying to keep the old Salt-and-Pepperbeard at bay. But now the lack of it all makes him feel bare, exposed. Too light, too delicate.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m doing a kind of undercover thing. You know, waiting for some of the heat to die down from the Brits and all that. Go by Captain Jeffries these days.”

Dan looks him up and down, eyebrows raised. “Captain Jeffries, eh? And who’s the guy we saw up here earlier, bossing around your crew?”

 “That’d be my co-captain, S—er, Captain, uh…Edwards.”

“Co-captain? Wait, wait…” Dave barks a laugh. “So this is the guy Jack was going on about!”

That throws him for a loop. He’d assumed the British killed him in the process of capturing the Revenge, way back when. Apparently not. “Jack? He still kickin’ around then, eh?”

Dick spits over the rail. “Like a damn roach. At least he ain’t stupid enough to try taking the ship back. Anyway, said you were shacking up with some rich bloke. Didn’t believe it at first, but here it is! He took your name too,” the guy leers. “How sweet.”

It is. It really fucking is, actually. When Stede told him that was the name he’d been going by the whole time they’d been apart, he’d cried and kissed him senseless. But the way this guy says it, it sounds dirty. Humiliating. Sets something deep in Ed’s chest to a boil.

“Anyway,” Dirk goes on, relaxing and nodding to his boys, “looks like your guys got the crew under control, thanks for that. But we can take it from here.”

And that pisses him right off.

Who the fuck did this dickhead think he was talking to? No one in their right mind would talk to him that way as Blackbeard. Would’a shit themselves if he so much as looked in their direction. And now this nobody thinks he can give Ed orders.

“Actually,” Ed says, staring him down. “This is our raid. And you can kindly fuck off, or I’ll have to make you.”

The captain raises his eyebrows, looks to the guys at his left and right who leer, but don’t make a move.

“I got five of my guys here,” he says. “Your crew is off fucking around with Mr. Fancyfuck. Gonna take us all on then?”

Ed draws himself up to his full height, rests his hands on the butt of the pistol and the handle of the sword hanging at his hip. Without thinking, he sets his face into the practiced calm he used to wear when dealing with unruly crewmembers or potentially dangerous enemies (often one and the same). Before he realizes it, Ed is him again. All that anger and darkness, all that calloused, roughness taking over the surface of him.

“Only if you’re stupid enough to make me.”

And like a fucking candle blown out, the crew looks nervous now. They glance at each other uncertainly. Like they can see Blackbeard swimming to the surface as well as Ed can feel it.

“I’m still fucking Blackbeard, mate,” he says, voice low and deadly serious. “No matter what I’m fuckin’ wearing. And I’d advise you and your men to back the fuck down if you know what’s good for you.”

The captain is still eyeing him closely, eyes narrowed. He licks his lips, looks around at his jittery crew, then takes a step back.

“Yeah, alright, alright, sure man. No need to get all riled up.”

Just then, Ed can hear his own crew stomping up from below deck. They burst out onto the deck, then stop dead when they see the faceoff going down. Pete is the first one out, and he looks nervously between Ed and the unfamiliar crew.

“Captain, what’s—”

Ed ignores him, looks Captain Dickfuck dead in the eye.

“You’re gonna head back to your ship,” he says, “And you’re not gonna tell a fucking soul what you saw here, yeah? If I say Blackbeard’s dead, then he’s dead, and he’s gonna stay that way. And if I catch wind of anyone claiming otherwise, I promise you I will have something to fuckin’ say about it. Got that?”

The guy just nods, stumbles back a few more steps.

Ed leans back. “Very good. Ivan, Wee John?”

The two sidle out of the crowd, eyeing the interlopers suspiciously. “Yeah, Captain?”

“See these gentlemen off the ship, would you please?”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison, which makes him flinch too, for reasons he can’t quite put his finger on.

Notes:

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