Work Text:
It's a quiet night with a calm sea, and that should be making Ed nervous. They're supposed to set out in the morning for a job but the wind has shown no indication of picking up any time soon, meaning they're probably fucked. He should at the very least be annoyed, but that's hard to do with Stede sleeping in his arms.
The evening leading up to this moment was rough. They decided to try something new--a little sexy roleplay with Ed playing the part of Blackbeard, who demanded to ravish the Gentleman Pirate. It was an idea they both had, separately, and tonight seemed like a good time to do it. There was a whole plan with rope and blindfolds and everything, which they both agreed to ahead of time, and a little wiggle room for each of them to improvise as they saw fit.
Except that, before any of the ropes even came out, Ed decided to kneel on Stede's chest, and Stede very quickly went pale, barely managing to croak out their codeword for "this is too much" (after a lengthy discussion, they had chosen "sugar").
Ed stopped immediately, of course, gathering Stede up in his arms and talking him down. Stede tried to apologize, but Ed was having none of it. "That's why we had the codeword, mate," he explained as Stede curled up against his chest.
A cup of tea (delivered discreetly by Roach) and a quarter-hour later, he was able to coax Stede off of the floor and into their bed. He'd started to change out of his leathers, getting as far as his weapons belt and jacket, but Stede asked him to come to bed in the smallest voice, and Ed simply couldn't say no. Stede had nodded off within a few minutes, and Ed had no choice but to just hold him while he did.
And so now they're here, Ed gazing with unfocused eyes out at the sea, Stede softly snoring in his arms. Ed should feel nervous, and annoyed, and probably vulnerable too, seeing as his weapons are on the other side of the room and his whole entire matelot is on top of him. But he knows Stede will leap into action if needed, even with his post-panic hangover, and so, as often happens with Stede, he feels the exact opposite: calm, safe, secure.
A rogue gust of wind blows across the surface of the water and straight into their open window, and that's enough to rouse Stede. He turns to face Ed, blinks a few times, and clears his throat.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," Ed says, shifting off to the side a bit, so they can see each other better.
"How long was I out?"
Ed glances at the moon. "About a half-hour."
Stede hums, starts fiddling with a loose thread on Ed's shirt. "I ruined it, didn't I?"
"Nah, this shirt's been falling apart for ages."
Stede gives him a look out of the corner of his eye. They both know he wasn't talking about the shirt.
Ed sighs. "You didn't ruin anything, love. You did exactly the thing you needed to do."
Stede readjusts his position. "Just reminded me of being hanged, you know?"
Ed nods and starts to gently rub Stede's back. "I can see that."
After a few seconds, Stede starts chuckling softly to himself.
"What?"
"You saved me that day, you know. The day we met."
Ed makes a dismissive sound. "All I did was tell somebody to find you. He took care of cutting you down."
"Well either way, I wouldn't be here if not for you. And I'm very grateful for that, and for this." Stede gestures vaguely at the two of them.
The warm weight of Stede against Ed's side is comforting in a way he can't quite remember being comforted before. Stede shifts again, slotting his shoulder under Ed's arm, and makes a happy, sleepy sound.
And then Ed looks out the window again, and there's another gust of wind, this one stronger and longer than the last. Perhaps they aren't fucked tomorrow after all.
"Me too, mate," he says, pulling Stede in for a kiss on the top of his head. "Me too."