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“Stede!” Ed giggled, pacing around the captains quarters, the brandy in his left hand sloshing around dangerously. “C’mon up, it’ll be fun!”
“Darling,” Stede chided from the couch, swaying a bit on the seat. “I haven’t taken formal dance lessons in years! I doubt I’ll be any good.” He, too, was sipping a brandy, but his glass was much fuller than Ed’s.
Ed stopped in front of Stede and wrinkled his face in confusion. “What the fuck does formal dance training have to do with it, love? We can just dance!”
Stede sighed, slowly coming around. “But there’s no music!”
Narrow, piercing eyes were upon him and it didn’t take much to change Stede’s alcohol-softened mind. Ed sauntered closer to him, stopping when their knees touched. “C’mon. Up you get. We’re going to dance and it’s going to be fun.”
“Well, you can’t really order someone to have fun, can you?,” Stede said, standing up and taking a sip of his brandy. There was a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Well, I just did. So there.” Ed drained the rest of his glass and set it down- a little more forcefully than it needed to be- on the table next to them. He put his hand on the small Stede’s back, pulling his husband flush against him. “Boom. Roasted.”
Stede’s cheeks flushed a bright red on top of the red from the alcohol. “Indeed, it seems I am ‘roasted’.” He stared at his husband and his heart swelled. Ed was beautifully disheveled; his jacket was off, his boots long forgotten. He’d drunkenly piled all of his hair on the top of his head and tied it haphazardly in a bun with a spare piece of ribbon he’d found god-knows-where. Strands of hair were falling out seemingly by the minute, but Ed couldn’t care less. And Stede thought it only made Ed look more attractive.
Contrastingly, Stede still looked fairly put together. The only article missing from todays ensemble was the jacket, which he had hastily removed upon entering his quarters hours ago. The vest and undershirt were easily washable from any brandy stains they might acquire through the night. The jacket was not.
“You’re so beautiful, I can hardly stand it,” Stede breathed out, copying what Ed had done with his alcohol and setting the empty glass on the table next to his. He winced as the last large gulp of brandy went down. “How in the world did I get so lucky.”
Ed beamed, using his free hand to grasp Stede’s hand, positioning them like people who are about to do a waltz. “I say you got lucky because you were so fascinating that I had to follow you for weeks just to get to know you. You’re lucky you had me on the hook before I even fuckin’ knew ya.”
Stede leaned in and kissed his cheek. “We’re lucky it all worked out,” he whispered tenderly.
Ed nodded, his eyes suddenly finding themself wet with happy tears. Oh, shit. He’d moved from silly drunk to sappy drunk. “Dance with me, husband. Come let me hold you.”
They started off just swaying, Stede’s hand on Ed’s shoulder, Ed’s hand on Stede’s waist. Stede nuzzled into Ed’s neck and pretty soon all silly pretense was washed away and nothing existed except Ed and Stede. Stede and Ed. Together.
After a period of of slow dancing and physical closeness, Ed broke the silence. “I just realized that I don’t know any sort of proper dance. I mean, I can flail my arms around and do whatever the music moves me to do, but I’ve never formally learned how to fancy-people dance.”
Stede smiled, lifting his head off his husbands shoulder. “Really? Not even a waltz?”
“Would it surprise you that Blackbeard, history’s most infamous pirate, actually had no formal dancing lessons?,” Ed said, his tone clearly tongue-in-cheek.
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t, would it.” Stede giggled. “Of course you wouldn’t know how to dance.”
Ed kissed Stede tenderly on the cheek. “I suppose we could just dance unrestricted, but I’m in the mood to learn some fancy shit. Could you teach me, then? Could you teach old Blackbeard how to fancy dance?”
Stede grinned, the glass of brandy he’d chugged beginning to settle in. “Fancy dance,” he repeated back to himself. “Of course, darling. Do you want something fast or slow? I do remember how to dance a couple different dances even though it’s been years since I’ve needed to use the skill.”
“Give me something easy.” Ed kissed Stede and let go of him to go top off their glasses.
Stede let out small, dejected noise at the loss of physical contact. This, however, was immediately remedied when he saw Ed pouring more alcohol. He smiled as Ed brought him a refreshed glass; he’d even poured more than Stede would have liked, but hey! It was a night they’d set aside to get drunk and spend time with each other. This is what is supposed to happen.
“I suppose a nice waltz would be simple enough,” Stede smiled, laying the charm on thick, and took a large swig as soon as Ed gave him the glass. He didn’t see Ed’s eyes widen, impressed, nor did he see Ed competitively take a large swig of his own. “You in the mood to learn how to waltz, darling?”
“Fuck, I’m in the mood for anything. Show me what you got.”
The next events transpired in what felt like a few minutes. Ed paid rapt attention to his husbands instructions, even tolerating a bit of “the history of the traditional waltz” here and there. He was used to the way his husband explained things and it was perfectly normal for Stede to throw in completely useless background here and there. Ed didn’t mind.
Soon, Ed was on his feet, his arms wrapped around Stede’s waist. “Ok, uhhhh,” his brain was swimming now, the alcohol he’d casually sipped while listening to Stede talk and watching him demonstrate finally catching up to him. “Fuck, mate I’m so sloshed,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to Stede’s.
Stede giggled in response. “No worries.” He’d sobered up slightly, not taking time to drink while he instructed. “Just follow my lead.”
“Okay,” Ed breathed, his words full of trust.
“First we step with my left, your right. That’s going to be count one of three, alright?”
Ed nodded, all of his energy and attention focused on this. Because he’d be damned if he let alcohol get in the way of a good time.
They side-stepped together. “Good!” Stede praised. “Now we do two smaller steps like I showed you earlier.”
Ed nodded again, demonstrating the concept. “Like that?”
Stede smiled. “Yes! Just like that. And then we move to the opposite side. The next big step we take is to my right a-“
“And my left. Got it. Then we do the two teeny steps afterward, on beats two and three, correct?”
“Precisely,” Stede beamed. “Ready?”
Ed grinned. “Let’s fuck it up.”
Stede hoped his husband meant ‘fuck it up’ in a good way, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He almost always used that term in the positive. He smiled. “Alright now. I’ll give one count of three and then we’ll be in it, ok?”
“On the count of three it is then.”
“Okay. One, two, three…” Stede started off at a slow but movable tempo and continued counting. They were only moving side to side, not in a circle or around the room like more experienced waltzers would, but Ed was really getting the hang of it.
“It’s just three fucking steps,” Ed laughed, relieved. “That’s it?”
“Yes, dear! That’s it!” Stede beamed with pride, his student confident in his understanding.
“Fuck,” he stumbled a bit. “Shit, this really was the perfect dance to learn while shitfaced.”
Stede’s face hurt from how much he’d been smiling. “I’m glad you think so, dear. Technically we’re supposed to be moving about the room, but I figured that with drinking it’d be a lot easier to stay relatively stationary.”
Ed nodded as they stopped moving. “Fuck, mate, that was wonderful. Thank you. Take a bow!”
Stede blushed. “Oh, dear, I hardly think that’s necessary-“
“No, you taught Blackbeard how to fucking waltz! It’s a big thing!” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he retrieved Stede’s forgotten half-empty glass from the side table. “Take a bow, my love.”
“Well, alright, if you insist,” Stede preened, as if he wasn’t fully willing to be wildly dramatic at the drop of a hat. Stede’s bow was just that, dramatic, complete with the small crossing of the ankles one only saw in plays. Ed whooped and applauded, his eyes shining as he handed his husband the drink.
Stede gave a small nod in thanks and took a sip. “Quite a successful night, I’d say.”
“I’d say so too,” Ed agreed, swirling around his own brandy, debating whether or not he wanted to take another swig. Eh, not now. Don’t want to be too fucked. He set it down on the table.
Stede saw this. “Wise,” he quipped shortly. “Don’t want you passing out on me.”
Ed nodded. “Yeah, mate.” He shook his head in thought. “Fuck. I’m just where I want to be.” He grinned at his husband and leaned in for a quick but passionate kiss.
Stede’s stomach contained both butterflies and alcohol which made a perfect combination when one was deeply and completely in love. “Is that referring to the amount of alcohol you’ve imbibed or to your present romantic situation?”
“Both,” Ed answered without a beats hesitation. “It’s both.”
Careful of Stede’s glass, Ed wrapped his arms around his husband and kissed him, this time longer but equal in passion.
Stede moaned into the kiss. After a while it dawned on him that it was unlikely for this kiss to go anywhere, considering the level of intoxication his husband was at. This wasn’t stopping it from getting heated, though. “Darling,” Stede pulled his lips away from Ed’s. “We can kiss all we like, but nothing more than that tonight, alright? I want to drink so I’m as drunk as you and we’re not going to worry about consent issues and the like, ok?”
Ed continued to be floored at his husbands respect and foresight. “Yeah,” he stuttered out. “Yeah, fine by me. ‘S long as I can keep kissing you.”
“Oh,” Stede nodded breathlessly, taking a large sip of brandy. “I plan on kissing you all night.”
They giggled and resumed, stumbling drunkenly to the couch. Stede crashed into Ed, a drop or two of brandy sloshing unnoticed onto the carpet below. One of Ed’s favorite things was making out with Stede like they were teenagers. And they were, in a way. This love was something they both had never experienced before.
And it was something they were never planning on experiencing again.