Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

November 1^st: Snail

Stede is watching a snail when the man touches him and breaks time. That’s probably why it takes him so long to notice.

Behind him, he hears more than sees someone stumble on the zoo pathway. A hand lands on his arm, and a strange tingling sensation rushes through the point of contact, like a limb awakening to find that it’s on fire. Stede’s head jerks up.

A man is staring back at him.

The heated tingling lessens, but it’s still there, fizzing beneath his skin. It feels as if it’s flowing from his arm up into his chest. Stede vaguely wonders if this is the onset of a heart attack.

“Sorry, mate,” says the man, appearing as dazed as Stede feels.

“Do you… do you feel that?” Stede asks. Inexplicably, he glances back at the snail, as if he’ll find answers there. The snail doesn’t appear to have moved. This is unsurprising, given that it’s a snail.

The man looks relieved. “You feel it too?”

Stede follows the man’s eyes down to their point of contact, and suddenly the man snatches his hand back. Sound rushes back into the world. When had it become so quiet?

The man laughs uneasily. He’s really very attractive, Stede notes, objectively speaking – with long, grey-black hair and swirling patterns of tattoos all over his brown skin. He’s dressed mostly in leather.

“It was…” Stede hesitates. He’s not sure how to explain it without sounding like something out of an awful rom-com. It didn’t feel like an awful rom-com – it felt alien, a rush of power, nothing at all like sexual attraction.

“Maybe we should try it again?” The man is offering a hand out, eager, and Stede pulls back, causing the man to frown.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” he says, eyes beginning to search for an escape – maybe past the goat feed vendor?

“Something happened,” the man insists. “Didn’t you see?”

“See what?”

The man reaches his hand within centimeters of Stede’s wrist. “Let me?” he asks softly.

He really does have the most expressive eyes.

Stede sighs.

“All right,” he says, and offers his wrist up to the stranger.

Again, the heat fizzes through him, and his eyes close in some strange self-defense. “Look around,” says the man. So Stede does.

And everything has… stopped.

The goat feed vendor is frozen in the middle of a scoop. Two small children running across the pavement are suspended in mid-stride. Not a single person is moving. The only sounds are the quick, ragged breathing of Stede and the stranger, who hasn’t let go of him.

Then, in the distance, a ping: a single pellet of goat feed hits the bottom of the cup.

“It’s not stopped,” says the man. “It’s… slow.”

There’s nothing for it: Stede slides his arm until their hands fit together, lacing their fingers. “I think you may be right,” he says, “but let’s make sure.”

And he leads the man to the hummingbirds.

Their wings beat, but only once every several seconds. Stede and the man watch, hypnotized.

Then Stede lets go.

The wings speed up, and a woman beside Stede startles; he briefly contemplates that from her perspective, they must have appeared out of nowhere.

His brain gives up.

He returns to himself by pieces: he’s sitting on a bench, now, and someone (the stranger) is pressing a cold paper towel to his forehead. With the other hand, the stranger rubs his back on the outside of his coat.

“ – breaths, deep breaths, all right?” the man is saying.

“Slow,” Stede manages. “Everything…”

“I know. Wild, isn’t it?” The man’s eyebrows are raised, and he looks almost – excited? – beneath his obvious concern. “Are you all right?”

“I suppose I will be,” says Stede. He feels as if he’s floating. “I imagine I’m dreaming.”

“Not a dream.” The man thinks for a moment, then corrects himself: “Maybe I’m dreaming. Never had a dream like this before, though.”

“Excuse me,” Stede objects with a sniff, “I’m certain I would be the one dreaming, should one of us be having the dream.”

The man laughs. “Mate, from my point of view, who knows if you’re even real?”

“But…” Stede loses the thread, and the man quiets.

“I’m Ed, by the way,” he says. “Edward Teach.”

“Stede Bonnet,” Stede replies, reaching out automatically for a handshake before pulling back. “Best not,” he adds with a wince.

“Wait, let me try…” Ed’s eyes are big again.

Stede watches as he crosses the room and proceeds to trip (dramatically and fakely) into a woman standing there, resting his hand on her arm. He returns, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” he tells Stede. “It’s just you. It’s just us.”

“This is not how Slowvember was supposed to go,” Stede mutters.

Ed’s lips twitch. “Sorry, what?”

“I…” Stede sighs. “It was my daughter’s idea. Post-divorce. A month focused on self-care. On going… slow.”

“Slowvember,” Ed echoes with wonder. “Well, that can’t be a coincidence.”

“Precisely. Were you planning something similar?”

“I came up to the city on holiday,” Ed replies. “But the blasted Airbnb canceled on me last-minute. My flight home leaves in…” He glances down at his watch, then curses. “Look, I’ve got to go, but can you give me your number? I don’t think it’s a good idea to lose each other.”

In a daze, Stede enters his number into Ed’s mobile and returns his rushed goodbye. But Ed makes it only a dozen steps away before Stede’s heart seems to freeze.

It’s like the world is ending.

Stede’s head spins, and the ice in his heart sharpens until he cries out in pain. He looks up to find Ed mirroring him, clutching at his own chest. Their eyes lock in panic. Ed takes a step back towards him; the feeling lessens. Another step. Three more. Finally he returns to the bench and takes his seat beside Stede.

“Please don’t do that again,” Stede whispers.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Ed replies shakily.

They sit for a moment in silence.

“So,” says Ed finally. “We can’t leave each other?”

“I’ll put you up at my house for tonight,” Stede tells him. “I’ve a friend we can visit tomorrow.”

“An expert in this sort of thing?” asks Ed, but he doesn’t sound very confident.

“The closest I know,” Stede replies, knowing his tone is similar.

“Guess I’d better cancel my flight,” Ed mutters, and Stede looks over, and then they’re both smothering laughter until they can’t help it anymore, laughing out loud into the bright of day.

Stede can think of worse people to be stuck with.

November 2^nd: Porch Swing & Lemonade

Stede’s sofa is disgustingly opulent, and much too heavy to bring anywhere near his bedroom. In the end, still wincing at the freezing vortex that filled their chests when they moved too far apart, they agreed to share the bed.

That’s how Ed wakes up in the morning – on the far side of Stede Bonnet’s mattress, pushed up against the wall. He takes a moment to survey the sleeping man beside him.

He’s blond and pretty, and Ed would have been glad to share his bed under any other circumstance. Like this, though…

Ed doesn’t like being dependent on people. Chafes at it like a captive tiger. He’s surprised he hasn’t snapped at Stede over it, yet, but then, the man looked as lost as he did, yesterday. Maybe worse. Ed has always believed there are things in the universe beyond his reckoning. From their conversation yesterday on the car ride home, Ed knows that Stede gave up all those beliefs along with his childhood religion, settling into a pragmatic atheism.

Stede stirs beside him, and Ed is careful to keep out of his sleepy reach.

“Good morning,” he whispers finally, hoping to gently nudge himself into Stede’s consciousness before Stede wakes to find an intruder in his bed without remembering why.

Stede blinks at him. “Ah, yes,” he says, with a promising lack of panic. “Hello.”

“Sleep all right?”

Stede laughs helplessly. “Yes, I…” He doesn’t seem hysterical, but Ed keeps an eye out, just in case. “Perfectly fine, thank you. And you?”

“Was half-expecting to wake back up to reality,” Ed admits. “Didn’t, though.”

“No, I don’t suppose you did.” Stede sighs and sits up, swinging his legs out off the edge of the bed. “Well, then, no time to waste. Buttons takes visitors early.”

“Sorry, did you say ‘buttons’?”

Stede is putting on a pair of slippers that match his fine white pajamas. “The friend I mentioned. He’s the person I know with the most interest in, well… the mysterious. The… I won’t say occult…”

“Then don’t,” says Ed, alarmed, picturing some form of genocidal devil-worshipper.

“He’s harmless, really. I always thought him a bit… well, off, but then, given what we’re dealing with…”

“Re-evaluating rather a lot of things these days. Yeah, all right.” Ed stretches and scoots his way down to the foot of the bed, luxuriating in the feeling of borrowed black silk. “Let’s go see this mysterious man.”

Buttons’s house is covered in seagulls.

It makes sense for there to be a few, down here by the shore, but this is absolute chaos. It’s hard to even make out the color of the house past all the birds perched at various points upon it.

“Surprised we don’t have to watch our step,” Ed mutters, sending thanks to the universe for the distinct lack of bird droppings on the pavement.

“Ah, yes. Well. Buttons has them trained, according to him.” Stede climbs the three steps and rings the doorbell, Ed close behind him, reluctant to stray lest he bring back that terrible chill in their hearts. “No, he wouldn’t say trained. In his eyes, they’re more like… people, I suppose. Friends. Friends perfectly capable of politeness.”

A man answers the door with balding blond hair, a wild beard, and a strange gleam in his eye. “Ah, Stede. And who’s this, then?”

“Edward,” says Stede patiently. “I told you about him on the phone.”

“Aye, that ye did. All right, then. Let’s sit out on the porch, I’ll bring the lemonade.”

There’s a single chair and a wide, two-person swing, with a table in between. By unspoken agreement, Ed and Stede take the swing together. Buttons doesn’t comment as he returns, merely places the lemonade on the table and pours them cups.

Ed takes a sip. It’s unspeakably good.

Stede explains their plight in halting tones, and Buttons simply nods wisely. “I’ll have a word with Ashtar, then,” he says, and lets out a piercing whistle.

With a startle, Stede bumps into Ed, and their hands brush; briefly, the world slows into silence. They separate just as quickly. “What, just like that, you believe us?” asks Ed. “Don’t you want, I don’t know, a demonstration?”

“Wouldn’t mind seeing it,” says Buttons.

“Do you suppose…” Stede takes Ed’s hand, causing Buttons to freeze, and then reaches forward, taking Buttons’s hand as well. Nothing changes. “Hmm,” Stede says with a frown. “I thought perhaps he’d speed up with us. It really is just us, isn’t it?”

This pings something in Ed’s memory, and he feels a chill utterly unrelated to his proximity to Stede. Us.

“I want someone to be an us with,” he remembers telling Izzy drunkenly, not two evenings before. “Someone who’ll never ever leave me.”

It couldn’t possibly be related. Could it?

Directed by Stede, they switch places on the swing and let go of each other’s hands.

Buttons takes in the sudden place-switching and nods again. “I see, I see,” he says, and then a seagull lands on his head.

The seagull looks ancient and ragged, with a red scar marring where one eye used to be.

“Ashtar,” says Buttons reverently. “Tell me the tale of these two.”

Buttons seems to be listening for a long moment. Then he turns back to Ed and Stede.

“It’ll only last through November,” says Buttons. “After that, ye’ll be free. It’s an answer to your dearest wish, the both of ye.”

“My dearest –” Stede begins to splutter, as Ed shakes his head:

“Absolutely n –”

Buttons shrugs. “That’s what she tells me.”

Ed crosses his arms. “And we’re supposed to take the word of a seagull.”

Ashtar squawks.

“She says –” Buttons’s eyebrows come together for a moment, but swiftly soothe. “Stede, this has nothing to do with Nigel, and that wasn’t your fault.”

Stede stammers something out beside him, but it dies before it turns into words.

“And Ed? She knows what happened to your father. You used to tell people it was the Kraken, but she knows. Not your fault, either.”

Were Ed younger, he would have a knife in his boot to go for. Now, all he can do is shoot to his feet, on guard. “How in bloody hell do you know about –”

“Ed.” Stede’s hand lands on the bare skin just above Ed’s glove, and time slows around them. “Let’s leave it, yes?” He’s gone pale. “Maybe there’s something to this. I’ve never told anyone about Nigel. Certainly not Buttons.”

Another squawk.

Buttons is frozen in time.

Above him, the seagull nods her head and lets out a chirruping sound before taking flight.

Ed startles away from Stede, and when time begins again, Buttons does not seem troubled by Ashtar’s absence.

“Hope that helped,” he offers with a nod.

“Thank you!” Stede says, voice strained. “And thank you for the lemonade.”

“Done at the end of November,” says Ed, chugging the last of his drink and plunking the cup onto the table. “Got it. Thanks much.”

“So seagulls are immune?” Stede whispers as they start back to the car.

“At least one seagull,” Ed replies, grabbing for Stede’s hand again (it feels so natural now) and looking back at the house. All the seagulls freeze except one, staring back with one eye and cocking her head from side to side, watching them.

Ed lets go of Stede.

“Magic seagull,” he says. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“Ed?” asks Stede.

He’s gazing at Ed with soft eyes.

“We’ll get through this,” Stede continues. “It’s only one month.”

“I’m sorry for taking your Slowvember away,” Ed says quietly.

“Now,” Stede replies with a devious look in his eye, “who said anything about canceling Slowvember?”

November 3^rd: Lazy River

Stede already knows more about Ed than he knows about friends he’s had for years.

He knows the way his face relaxes when he sleeps; the way he takes his tea in the mornings (an absurd amount of sugar) and prefers a bit of chocolate before bed. He knows what Ed looks like panicking, and doubting, and serious, and laughing, and when he thinks his world is ending.

So far, he likes what he knows.

He doesn’t have a word for it – for the sudden attachment he’s trying so hard to shake. He’s never made a friend this quickly before. So when he wakes up and finds Ed tangled up in blankets, looking like a painting with the sunlight hitting his face just right, he clears his throat and turns away.

Ed stretches behind him. “So,” he says, as Stede curses himself for placing a mirror across the room – in it, he can see the peek of Ed’s stomach underneath the borrowed pajama top. It feels oddly private to witness, for reasons Stede can’t even begin to explain. “What was your plan for the start of Slowvember?”

“Well, that’s why I was at the zoo, actually,” answers Stede. “I do so love the animals there. Did you know that type of snail – Partula nodosa – it’s actually extinct in the wild? They exist only in captivity, these days. You see, they brought in a type of snail to eat another type of snail, except it ate the wrong snail, and –” Stede feels his hands making gestures, the first sign that he’s gone too far, let his excitement out of its careful containment. The first step in being too much. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sure I’m boring you.”

But Ed looks fascinated. “Not even a bit,” he says. “I think you’re fascinating.”

They just stare at each other for a moment.

“Snails,” Ed blurts. “Snails. Are… fascinating.”

“Right, yes,” says Stede, quick to accept the correction. “I’ll just…”

He steps out to make tea.

Only as he returns does he remember Ed’s question, about Slowvember. “Lazy river,” he replies, and Ed looks up.

“Hmm?” he asks, sipping at his tea, offering Stede a small smile as he registers the correct amount of sugar.

“I – there’s a water resort, about half an hour’s drive out of the city, and I always wanted to try the lazy river there. But the kids were always too excited by the slides, they said the river looked boring.” Stede already told Ed about the children, Alma and Louis, and outlined in very vague terms his divorce from their mother. “I thought I’d just go back now. Experience it for myself.”

“At a water resort? On your own?”

Stede blushes. “I know it sounds silly…”

“I love it,” says Ed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever gone anywhere like that on my own. I felt odd enough at the zoo, but I told myself I was just taking pictures of the whales for Iz.”

Stede quirks up a brow.

“Ah, my friend. Izzy. Don’t let it out that he likes whales. Or any animals at all.”

Stede laughs. “I suppose that can be arranged. Not that I’ll ever meet him, likely enough.”

“Yeah.” Ed goes quiet. Stede wonders if they’re thinking the same thing – about their inevitable separation, Ed living a continent away.

“Shall we?” asks Stede, offering a hand for absolutely no good reason. Ed takes it to lever himself out of bed.

“Absolutely,” Ed replies.

Ed’s suitcase is not apportioned for a month, but they have at least a week before they need to worry about laundry or shopping. (How does one launder leathers, anyway? Stede considers himself a connoisseur of clothing, and yet the question has never occurred to him.) Ed finds a ridiculous shirt, purple with large white flowers all over it, oversized and silly and absolutely lovely. He pairs it with khaki shorts and dark brown sandals.

Stede dresses up to his usual standards, because his clothes are going into a locker on their arrival anyway. During the whole drive, Ed and Stede are careful not to touch; the last thing they need is a car ahead of them slowing to a near-standstill. They arrive in one piece. They get changed and Stede hurries away to rent a pair of inner tubes, hoping to distract himself from the expanse of Ed’s chest, brown and lightly furred and perfect, new tattoos revealed for Stede to stare at and pretend he isn’t staring.

He tosses an inner tube to Ed, who is of course not far away at all. Ed catches it with a grin. Then he turns serious: “Hey.”

Stede looks up at him, waiting.

“Don’t let the river float you away from me.”

“I won’t,” Stede promises.

There are small protrusions on top of the inner tubes, and it’s easy to hook his fingers into one to keep Ed near him without touching. They push off from the concrete side and into the water, Stede relishing the cool feeling of it over his legs, his stomach. He relaxes into the embrace of the inner tube and lets his head loll back, gazing up at the sky.

Ed sighs beside him. “Can see why you wanted to do this,” he says. “I mean, this is the life, yeah?”

Stede smiles. “Precisely.” Then he can’t help himself – his head turns to Ed almost of its own accord, catching sight of closed eyes and a blissful smile. “Are you sure you want to do all these activities? Slowvember, I mean. I know this type of self-care isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I truly don’t mind if you’d rather stay at home. I’d stay with you.”

Ed cracks one eye open. “Anyone ever tell you you think too much?”

“Pardon?”

Ed laughs, both eyes opening now. The laugh is a deep rumble that seems to resonate in Stede’s own chest. “I’m happy to do it. I know we’re interrupting each other’s lives a bit, but work can do without me for a while, and I see no reason for you to cancel all your plans just because of… you know.” He waves a hand to encase the you know of their situation within one gesture. “I haven’t done anything like this in – you know, I couldn’t tell you how long. It’s…” He goes quiet. “It’s nice,” he says finally.

“I’m glad you think so,” says Stede, and then in one brave, mad moment offers his hand.

With no hesitation, Ed takes it.

The quiet is instant: no children squealing, no giggling, no screams. Just the sound of Ed’s feet kicking lightly through the water. It propels them forward through the suddenly-still ‘river’ until they bump into the inner tube of a frozen guest and rebound away.

“Oops,” says Ed, laughing again.

“It’s funny they say ‘frozen,’” says Stede.

“Hmm?” Ed turns his way, reaching out to take his other hand as well, though there’s no real reason to.

“It’s funny, we’d say these people are frozen, but stopping time, it feels so warm.” Stede nods down to indicate where they are connected, that fizzy heat still present, though easier to ignore with acclimation.

“Maybe being still is the cold part, and speeding up is the warm part,” Ed offers. “After all, we’re the ones not frozen, aren’t we?”

“That we are,” says Stede.

He tries not to think about how good the warmth feels, burning inside him like a cozy coal, filling up a part of him he hadn’t even known was cold and empty. He tries not to think about losing it in a month’s time.

He thinks about it all the way home.

November 4^th: Garden | Flower Crowns

The next day, Stede insists on working in the garden and then backtracks immediately: “If you’re amenable, that is, Ed, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“’S fine with me,” Ed offers easily.

“It’s awful that you’re stuck here with me,” says Stede finally, quiet. “I know it isn’t fair.”

“Hey.” Ed doesn’t like that look Stede gets, sometimes – like he’s doubting himself, like he’s bracing for ridicule. “You’re the one putting up a random stranger in your house.”

“You’re not random,” Stede protests, although Ed is.

“Still.”

It turns out that Stede has a huge garden – more like multiple gardens, placed all around the property. “I inherited the house,” he explains sheepishly.

Ed’s eyes are wide. “Fuckin’ amazing,” he says. “What are these?”

“Blackberries,” Stede replies. “Not in season. Over here, however…”

Stede leads him to a little grove with trees bearing an array of fruits – apples, pears, are those pomegranates?

Ed picks a pomegranate and raises it up, waiting for permission. At Stede’s nod, he digs in past the peel and roots out a few seeds, placing them on his tongue.

They taste like sweet autumn. He swallows them down and says, “Does that mean I have to stay here?”

Then he curses himself, sure it will make no sense, but of course Stede picks up on the reference. “I’m not quite Hades, I’m afraid,” he replies with a chuckle. “And I don’t think Persephone had so many tattoos.”

Somehow, it doesn’t sound like a criticism.

Stede has a little mat he lays out for his knees as he weeds the flowerbeds, and a spare one for Ed to sit on. Ed does, and leans sideways and plucks a few weeds of his own anyway, despite Stede’s insistence that he needn’t.

“I’d like to be of use,” Ed tells him.

“Slowvember isn’t about use.”

A comfortable silence, and then Stede speaks again:

“Do you think we should? Be of use?”

Ed blinks. “Hmm?”

“This – this power that we have. I feel as if we should be out doing some good with it. Watching for car crashes. Smacking down bullets with a table tennis paddle.”

Ed begins to laugh at the image, but quickly stops as he realizes Stede is serious. “Stede. No one can know about this.”

“But…”

“I’ve been worried enough about someone checking the security footage, at the zoo or at the water park. But I figure it’ll look like a glitch. Actually making an impact? We’d be found out in a heartbeat.”

“And would that be so bad?” Stede turns guileless hazel eyes upon him. “Perhaps someone clever or, or someone powerful could tell us the best way to use this while we still can. We only have a month.”

“We only have to survive a month before we’re safe,” Ed corrects. “The government can’t find out about this. They’d… they’d bloody dissect us. You might think you can trust them, but you can’t. There’s no one we can trust except ourselves.”

Stede takes a long moment to think it over. “I just feel so guilty. What if we hear about something that happens that we could have stopped? Already, people must be out there suffering terrible fates, and if we were there to intervene…”

“It wouldn’t make a difference,” says Ed firmly. “We’d never see the light of day again. And what if they did figure out how to do it? Do you really want government agencies with the power to sneak anywhere they want? It would be the start of a new arms race. The consequences would be… terrifying.”

“You’re right.” Stede sighs and offers him a small smile. “I suppose we’d best keep it to ourselves, yes?”

Ed covers Stede’s hand with his own. The rush of heat pours into him, and the birdsong stops. “If you see something happening, we’ll stop it. Of course we will. I just… I don’t think we should risk it unless we have to.”

Stede nods, once, twice. “I understand.”

He looks morose as he returns to the weeding. Ed wants more than anything to fix it. “May I – take some flowers?” he asks hesitantly.

Stede sweeps an arm out toward the beds, giving him blanket permission. Ed scoots sideways until he reaches the marigolds and begins to pull out the ones with the longest stems. They’re more yellow than orange, which is perfect for Ed’s purposes.

Next he finds a bed of blue aster, which Stede (with a curious expression) gives him permission to loot as well. Finally he returns, coming up behind Stede and balancing something carefully on his head.

Stede is gentle when he puts his fingers up to investigate the flower crown – which is lucky, because for all of Ed’s experience, it’s a fragile thing. Lifting it off slowly, Stede stares at it in awe.

“Ed, it’s – it’s gorgeous.”

Ed can practically feel himself blushing. “Nah.”

“Is this where you tell me you own a flower shop?”

“No, what I do is boring stuff. Marketing. This is just something I picked up when I was bored.” Which is most of the time, he thinks but doesn’t say. These few days have been the most alive he’s felt in years.

Stede reaches out to place the crown on Ed’s head. Then he sits back to survey him. “Gorgeous,” he says again.

Ed shakes his head; looks away. “Made it for you. The colors suit you.”

“Yes, you’re more of a purple, I would say,” Stede muses. “But all the same. Lovely.”

Surely Stede is talking about the crown and not about him, but Ed still feels in need of a distraction. He spots a bumblebee making its way over to a flower and offers Stede his hand.

Stede doesn’t question taking it, understanding their strange new unspoken language in a heartbeat. Time slows near a halt. Ed reaches out to gently stroke just behind the bumblebee’s head, in front of the wings. He turns to Stede with a grin.

“Here, try it. Knew they’d be soft.”

Stede obeys, then looks back at Ed with a delighted smile, squeezing his hand. “How stunning,” he says in his precise tones, and Ed could fall for him, it would be so easy.

But the most he can afford to care for him is this: he makes sure Stede is safely out of stinging range before he lets go.

November 5^th: Ice Skating

The next day, Stede wakes early and gets out of bed alone, leaving Ed behind to sleep. He’s hoping to reach the loo. But he only makes it halfway through the door before the cold strikes him in the heart, leaving him grasping at his chest, breathing ragged as he stumbles back toward the bed.

Ed has woken with a start, wincing.

“I’m sorry,” Stede babbles, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“’S all right,” says Ed, sitting up, wrapping one arm around him and encouraging him to sit on the bed beside him. “Need to go?”

It’s humiliating, using the toilet while Ed leans on the closed door from the outside, safely out of sight but still there. But they cannot get further from each other without harm. At least Ed has the grace to look a little embarrassed when it’s his turn.

They speak no more of it, going down for tea together. Stede feels a strange desire to take Ed’s hand, to feel the warmth course through him again. He thinks Ed might even allow it, at first. Until it became clear there was no purpose. And then…

Best not to risk it. He takes another sip of his tea and tries to focus on something else.

“What’s the plan for today?” asks Ed, wrapping his hands around the mug as if he, too, is seeking heat after the ice in their hearts.

Stede suddenly second-guesses himself. “I thought – but now…”

“Yeah?”

“Originally,” says Stede, “I was going to go ice skating. I doubt you’ll be interested, though.”

“Why?” Ed is suddenly on the defensive. “Bloke like me can’t like ice skating?”

“What? No! Ed. I meant because of that feeling when we separate. It’s cold for you, too, isn’t it? Like ice?”

Ed relaxes and ponders. “Yeah, but it goes away quick. I don’t mind it if you don’t. Besides, we’ll wrap up warm, won’t we?”

I’ll keep you warm, thinks Stede, picturing the heat when they touch, but the words sound like something suggestive. Ridiculous. “Yes, we will.”

Somehow, Ed didn’t bring a proper winter coat, so Stede finds himself opening the door to the auxiliary wardrobe, recessed into one wall of the library, behind a bookshelf. Ed stares.

“Fuck off,” he says, and Stede grins.

“You like it, then?”

“This is – is this a secret room?”

“It wasn’t always a wardrobe.” Stede tries to think back. “I’m not entirely sure what it used to be, when it was my grandfather’s. But it serves.”

Stede locates enough clothing to bundle Ed up suitably, then finds his own outfit, sharp with a waistcoat of light blue. He steps out doing up his white cuffs and sees Ed there in a plum-colored jumper from Stede, putting on a black winter coat, similarly borrowed. “Got to get you into the leathers one day, mate,” says Ed.

Stede just blinks at him. “I – you –”

Ed throws his head back and laughs. “C’mon, I’m doing your clothes, you should do mine. Not for ice skating, though. Think you’re right about the warmth for today.”

The drive to the rink goes smoothly, though traffic is severe, and Stede only briefly contemplates slowing time and taking parts of the journey in the emergency lane. Finally they arrive.

Ed trails closely behind Stede as he goes to rent the skates, and they sit on the same bench to lace them up.

“Is this a bad time to admit I’ve, er, never gone ice skating before?” asks Stede.

“Stede!” Ed looks incredulous.

“I’ve never had the time!”

“You were going to come out here all on your own?”

“Alma’s at track practice,” Stede protests weakly. “I thought I’d be able to… pick it up.” He levels a look at Ed. “I’m sure it can’t be that hard.”

Ed smirks. “Right. You’ll see.”

He does begin to see as he’s led up to a rink entrance and sets one foot on the ice – it nearly slides out from under him right away. He clutches to the rink side with one hand and Ed’s arm with the other. They’re so bundled up that there’s no chance of their skin touching and slowing time again.

Ed enters behind him, skating like he was born to do it, and gently prizes Stede’s death grip away from the wall. “Hold onto me,” Ed coaxes. “I won’t let you fall.”

“Edward, I can manage –”

As Ed pulls back, Stede’s arms go wild. Ed returns just in time to catch him. “Sure you can,” Ed says, smirking once more.

“Just – will you show me how to stop?”

His tone must be pitiful, for Ed relents and begins talking him through a few basic maneuvers. Eventually Stede gains enough talent to hold onto Ed’s arm and move in a vaguely circular direction, following the rink wall. It’s shaky and uncertain. He’s laughing breathlessly.

And then two familiar faces come into view.

“Lucius?” says Stede. “Pete, how lovely to see you!”

Pete and Lucius are skating like a couple, arm in arm, which makes sense because they are one.

“Ah, Ed –” Stede turns to Ed, who has gone wary. “This is Lucius, who works for me at the café, and his boyfriend Pete.”

“Sorry, boss,” says Lucius, looking unrepentant, “didn’t know you’d be on a date here.”

“It’s not – we’re not –” Suddenly Stede is sure he’s blushing to his ears. He takes in his position with Ed and realizes they, too, are in a couple-y configuration. “It’s not a date,” he manages.

“Sure.” Lucius winks.

“Lucius, how many times do I have to tell you that I am straight?” Stede hisses. Ed makes a strange noise beside him.

“Sorry, boss,” Lucius repeats, but this time he does look sorry. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You know how he is,” Pete puts in, presumably as a gesture of support.

“I do,” Stede admits on a sigh. “Go on, then. Enjoy your outing.”

“Oh, we are definitely on a date,” says Lucius, grinning.

Pete gives a little wave. “See you later.”

They skate away with a frankly infuriating amount of skill.

Beside him, Ed is looking anywhere but at Stede.

“Are you all right?” asks Stede. “I’m sorry that they assumed –”

“’S fine,” says Ed quickly. “Not a problem.”

Stede feels his blush recede, a bit. He wants to offer to slow down time with him, to escape into their private world away from judging eyes, but he’s noticed the security cameras and he doesn’t want to pressure Ed, who’s so clearly worried about being found out. Besides. After Lucius’s aspersions, Stede’s not sure he’ll feel up to holding Ed’s hand for quite some time.

But they have their own space, in the middle of the rink, an uncrowded area where Ed can show off a few loops and twists and one terrifying jump. Stede claps for him.

It’s not their own world. Not the way the slow-time is. But for today, it’s close enough.

Chapter Text

November 6^th: Lazy Sunday | (in Bed)

When Ed wakes this time, it’s to a familiar flow of heat along his fingers. He opens his eyes to find that his hand has found Stede’s arm in the night.

And it’s still the night, but Ed has never felt more well-rested. He yawns and pulls back, separating them, allowing time to flow again. Stede makes a noise of protest.

Stede, who is straight. Stede, who looked horrified by the mere thought of going on a date with Ed. Ed has tried to remember from the start that his burgeoning crush is pointless, but having it confirmed in such a blunt manner…

Well. There’s no reason to focus on the pain, not when he’s getting a perfectly good friendship out of the mix. If he plays his cards right, it might even last after he inevitably returns home, after November has ended.

Stede rolls towards him and slowly awakens. “Was that… were we…”

“It’s five-sixteen in the morning.”

“And how long has it been five-sixteen?”

Ed chuckles. “I think probably a long time.”

Stede sighs. “Not tired anymore, are you?”

“I think we just spent about ten hours sleeping in five hours’ time.”

“I’ll put on a film.”

Stede opens what Ed had assumed was a wardrobe to reveal a large flat-screen TV. Ed marvels.

They spend a good twenty minutes flipping through their options – Stede is evidently subscribed to every streaming service known to man. Ed mutters something about bloody rich people, and Stede laughs.

“I donated fifty percent of my inheritance and used thirty percent to start the café. The rest, I consider discretionary funds.”

“Fair enough.”

“Largely for wardrobe supplements,” Stede adds, which doesn’t surprise Ed in the slightest. Stede’s multiple wardrobes (including the one secret room) are filled with fancy fabrics, fine things unlike anything Ed has ever even touched.

He’s enjoying his borrowed black silk pajamas entirely too much, and seriously considering getting a set of his own when all this is over.

They settle on The Princess Bride, which Ed has seen approximately a million times, and Stede once or twice. It’s been long enough that Stede has forgotten most of what happens, gasping with each twist and turn, very occasionally brushing Ed’s elbow.

By the time the film ends, Stede has returned his head to his pillow and once more fallen fast asleep. Ed contemplates his options for a split second and very quickly decides to join him.

When they wake once more, it’s past noon.

“This is nice,” says Stede, stretching. “I almost don’t want to get up at all.”

“Why should we?” asks Ed suddenly.

Stede frowns. “We can hardly stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?” Ed turns to regard Stede fully, propping himself up on one arm. “It’s Slowvember, right? C’mon, put on another film. I’ll fetch us something to eat.”

“You can’t –”

“Right,” Ed says, cursing himself. How easy it is to forget why they’re there – that Ed is only still in Stede’s company because he literally can’t leave him. “Come with me, then. We’ll get lunch and bring it back up here.”

“Nothing with crumbs,” Stede warns primly.

“Perish the thought.”

In the end, they work up something like a charcuterie board, which Ed thinks is ridiculous and also absolutely charming. He loves how small the items are, little bite-sized meats and cheeses and grapes. Ed also insists on making popcorn.

“What?” he asks when Stede looks at him askance. “It’s a quintessential film experience! Anyway, I found it in your cupboard.”

Stede sighs. “Oh, very well. I suppose it won’t throw off the flavor journey too far.” Then he sends a wistful glance at a door across the kitchen. “If only it weren’t too early for wine…”

“Who says it’s too early?”

Stede’s expression turns scolding. “Now, really, Edward. You’ve already convinced me on one indulgence. Let’s allow the rest to lie for now, shall we?”

“Speaking of lying, shall we head to bed?”

Ed can’t help the dip of his voice into lower tones; he thinks he must be imagining the blush reaching the tips of Stede’s ears upon hearing it.

Next they put on Moulin Rouge, and then Shrek 2, and then some sort of cooking show. Ed feels ridiculously cozy, bundled up next to his new friend, nibbling idly on popcorn and grapes.

“I’m meant to pick up Alma and Louis tomorrow,” says Stede eventually, hesitant.

Ed puts down the bit of cheese on which he’d had designs. “All right,” he replies with caution, matching Stede’s sudden serious tone.

“Would it be strange if – do you think –” Stede looks up at Ed as if for help, hazel eyes wide and pleading for Ed to catch on.

Ed makes his best effort and does. “You think it’ll be strange if I meet your children.”

“Not as strange as if I go all November without seeing them.”

“Will your ex-wife be okay with that? Some random man around your kids?”

“You’re not random,” says Stede, the second time he’s echoed a similar sentiment. Ed doesn’t understand it. From Stede’s perspective, he’s pretty much the most random man in the world.

Ed shifts to face him fully. “It’s all right,” he says over the sound of a pastry disaster on the television. “Want me to hide behind a curtain?”

This startles a laugh out of Stede, and Ed feels a thrill of victory. “I suspect they would see right through our ruse.”

“Then what?”

“Then…” He eyes Ed. “You’ll be a friend of mine that’s come to town, I think. We’ll make up the guest room to be convincing. No need for them to know how recently we met.”

“And how did we meet?”

“At the zoo,” says Stede with humor.

Ed is so fond of this man. “Yes, but fictionally?”

“Why change it?” Stede thinks it over. “You’ve been in town before?”

“A few times – most recent was two years ago, I think. For a work thing.”

“Then let’s say we met then. At the zoo, by the snails. You were asking questions and I answered them.”

Ed grins. “And you gave me your number so I could have more snail facts?”

“Well,” Stede huffs, turning to face the wall.

Ed pokes him on the shoulder through his pajamas. “Hey,” he says. “I love snail facts.”

“It’s settled, then.”

Stede still won’t turn away from the wall. But he says it with a smile.

November 7^th: Slowracer

Stede is pacing nervously, and all Ed can do is watch him and try not to let him stray too far away.

“They’ll love you,” says Stede for the fourth time.

Why is that so important to you? Ed thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Instead he settles on, “It’s okay if they don’t.”

“They have enough cause to resent me without the sudden infliction of a stranger on our time together. No offense.”

“None taken, mate.” It looks like Stede has settled on pacing the living room for the time being; Ed sprawls out on the ridiculously luxurious sofa. It’s pale yellow and patterned with little leaves. Ed loves it on sight. “Even if they don’t like me, I don’t see why they’d take it out on you.”

“They have years’ worth of problems to ‘take out’ on me.”

Ed forms his most patient, listening face and waits to see if Stede will share.

After a moment, he sighs and does: “I never loved their mother. Not really. I thought I did, but to be honest… I don’t think I’ve ever really loved anyone. Not romantically, at least, of course I love the children, but… I didn’t care for Mary the way she deserved, and I know the children could tell. Do you want to know how I found out she was cheating on me?”

The revelation is abrupt, and Ed blinks under the weight of it. “…I guess, if you’re sharing.”

“My youngest, Louis, had to do a family tree for school. And he put Mary’s painting instructor in the ‘dad’ slot. When I asked him about it, he said, I thought Doug was my father.”

Ed’s eyes have never been wider. “You’re joking.”

“No, but it’s hard to tell if he was.” Stede wrinkled his nose. “I was just getting the café off the ground. Wasn’t around a lot, I know that. Evidently, Doug was picking up my place.”

“That’s awful, mate. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” says Stede honestly. “Mary found a better man.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

Stede seems pleased. “Well, a better man for her, then.”

Ed personally thinks that Mary is a fool. Surely there are things he doesn’t yet know about the man, but still – to have the wonder that is Stede and then cheat on him? With a painting instructor? If Ed ever had him –

Well. It’s no use dwelling on such thoughts of a man who is (despite all the fine fabric), evidently, straight.

At that moment the door chimes, and Stede turns to make one more whispered addition: “If you get Louis started on Speed Racer, he’ll never stop. Just – as a warning.”

Ed winks, and Stede replies with a very wide grin for someone who supposedly isn’t participating in any flirtation.

Then the door opens, and Ed’s attention goes somewhere else – to the two children walking in the door. Stede told him that Alma is just barely a teenager, and Louis is younger, but Ed isn’t sure by how much. He looks perhaps nine or ten.

Behind them stands a woman who smiles at Stede easily enough, and then – to Ed’s surprise – turns that smile on Ed without faltering a bit. “You must be Ed,” she says, reaching out a hand. “Stede told me about you on the phone.”

He shakes it. “Only the bad things, I assume.”

She laughs, but only enough to be polite. Nothing like the way Stede lights up from the inside over Ed’s poor attempts at humor. “I’m just glad he has someone to keep him company in this empty house. Even if it’s only for the month. Oh, I’m Mary, by the way. Louis and Alma’s mother.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he says. Alma’s gone over to hug her father, and after a moment Stede turns to embrace Louis as well.

“And how was your day?” he hears Stede asking.

“Really,” Mary adds quietly, placing a hand on Ed’s arm.

Ed nearly flinches by instinct, waiting for time to slow, but of course nothing like that happens. It’s only with Stede.

“I’m so grateful you’re spending time with him,” she continues. “I’ve been hoping he’d find someone.”

Ed laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know that he’s found me, exactly. I mean – he’s a good friend.” The last thing poor Stede needs is his ex-wife assuming they’re together, the way Lucius did.

“Of course he is.” Her smile doesn’t dim a bit as she goes over and consults with Stede about something.

“You’re Ed,” comes a voice from behind him, and it’s sudden enough to spook Ed before he turns around to see Alma standing there.

Louis is beside her, and chimes in: “Are you a pirate?”

“Of course he’s not a pirate, Louis,” says Alma, rolling her eyes at Ed as if in apology.

“But he’s got a leg thing. And loads of tattoos.”

Ed can’t help but adjust his knee brace self-consciously.

“Anyone can get loads of tattoos,” Alma insists.

Louis is frowning, now. “But it would be so cool if he was a pirate.”

“Pirates these days aren’t cool,” says Alma firmly. “They’re awful. Even in history, they were always sort of awful.”

There’s the sound of the front door shutting as Mary leaves, and then Stede makes his way over. “Are they being nice?” asks Stede, with a note of warning for the children if they’re not.

“Oh, I was just explaining to Louis here that I’m definitely a pirate.” Ed grins and puts his elbow on the back of the piano, lounging against it.

“Whoa.” Louis’s eyes widen.

Alma’s sigh is weary beyond her years.

“Here, let me show you,” says Ed. He pulls up a logo on his mobile and holds it out to Louis. “That’s the flag for my ship.”

Alma glances over it uncertainly. “But that’s the logo for Blackb –”

“Excellent!” Stede says, interrupting. “How absolutely – fearsome. Louis, can I take your backpack?”

“Oh! I have a present for you!” Louis goes into the kitchen to plop the backpack on the table and begins rummaging through it. Alma follows.

“Blackbeard’s?” asks Stede quietly, with raised eyebrows.

Ed shrugs one shoulder. “I told you I mostly do marketing these days.”

“Wait. You designed the logo for Blackbeard’s?”

“Actually –”

Louis returns, and Ed gives Stede his best I’ll tell you later look.

“It’s for Slowvember,” Louis announces.

Stede chuckles. “Ah, Alma told you all about Slowvember, did she?”

“It was my idea,” Alma pipes in.

“And a good idea it was,” Ed tells her. “I’ve been helping, you know. Making sure your dad relaxes when he’s supposed to.”

“He’s not very good at relaxing,” Alma confides. “That’s why I said he needed self-care time.”

“Well, it’s working marvels,” says Stede, smoothing down her hair. “Now, Louis, what’s for Slowvember?”

“I figured if Speed Racer did Slowvember, then he’d be Slow Racer.”

Louis hands over a few sheets of paper bundled together and folded in half, with a drawing on the cover under the word SLOWRACER. Ed peers over Stede’s shoulder as he flips through the hand-drawn art inside – a comic about a racer who goes so slow, he wins the next week’s race by crossing the finish line just after it starts. Ed laughs in what he thinks are all the right places, and Stede coos over the quality of the drawings, the shading and the colors. Louis is puffed up with pride.

From there, it’s easy.

Ed has a little more work to do to win Alma’s trust after the pirate fiasco, but he manages it by praising Slowvember until she lets down her guard, sharing a story about some school drama as if Ed is a part of the family.

The thought pains him – he hasn’t been part of a family since his mother died, and he’s not convinced he ever will be again. But if this is what Stede’s offering for the month, he’ll take it.

He watches the person Stede becomes around his children, the way Stede is as a father, patient and loving and kind and still heartbreakingly beautiful, and decides that he’ll take whatever he’s allowed to have.

November 8^th: Pick-Your-Own-Fruit Trip

“So, Blackbeard’s,” says Stede the next day as they’re driving to the orchard.

Ed is looking back with him with mischief. “Blackbeard’s,” he confirms, but doesn’t say more.

Stede can’t glance away from the road for too long, but he tries, he really does. “I didn’t know you were some bigshot designer. You know, you know all about the café, but I don’t know much about what you do for a living at all.”

Ed sighs. “Blackbeard’s is… mine.”

Stede considers this.

Blackbeard’s is a surf and motorbike shop chain with one location in Stede’s current town and another back home, where Stede grew up – where Ed lives now. He knows there are at least a few other locations in the world. It’s known for its edgy skull imagery and sailing paraphernalia in addition to the traditional surfboards and branded clothes. Alma loves it.

“What do you mean, yours?” Stede asks eventually.

“I mean, I’m… Blackbeard.” Ed spreads his hands.

Stede considers it more.

“Used to have…” Ed waves a hand in the direction of his beard, which is medium-length and the same salt-and-pepper as his hair. Stede can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to touch. Terribly rude of him. “Blacker beard,” Ed clarifies. “So it fit. Started the shop in my twenties… didn’t think it would take off the way it did. Nowadays I mostly work on the marketing. Izzy handles the rest. My C.O.O.”

“And you…” Stede tries to think of what his reaction could possibly be, and only one thing comes to mind. “You called me a rich person!”

“You are!” Ed laughs a bit, some of the tension diffusing from his frame. “Richer than I am, at this point. We’re barely floating, you know, and I’ve never taken that much of a salary. Some years we’re in the red.”

“I can’t believe you’re Blackbeard.” He takes a turn on the road and another thought occurs to him: “Alma is going to lose her mind. Can I tell her?”

Ed tries to look casual, but Stede knows that (for whatever reason) it’s important to him what the children think of him. “Yeah, s’ppose.”

“Is that why you’re in town, then? To check on the place?”

“Nah, mainly came on holiday. But… yeah. I feel like I’m never not working, you know? So of course I picked a town we have a shop in. Izzy and I figured I could get some work done while I’m here.”

“Holidays aren’t for work!” Stede protests. “Look at me, I haven’t gone into the café in a week. And Lucius says they’re managing just fine without me.”

“Oh, yeah? When did Lucius say that?” Ed raises a brow.

“…You’ve heard me call him twice a day, but that’s just being a good businessowner.”

Ed’s laugh is hearty, and Stede can’t help but turn to witness it. Causing Ed joy is quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes. “Not sure Lucius would agree with that, mate.”

Stede slumps a little against the side door as he pulls into the car park. Only once he’s turned the car off does he feel a light touch on his sleeve, an asking of permission. He flips his palm up and Ed trails his fingers down to it. Stede sucks in a breath.

The warmth consumes him, that steady stream from his palm to his heart, and he basks in it. Ed is watching him seriously. “I think we both need to relax more,” Ed says.

Stede could get addicted to Ed’s touch. For purely supernatural reasons, of course. Stede wonders what it is about this curse or this blessing that makes it feel so damned good. “I think you’re right,” he replies, half-breathless.

“Now.” Ed squeezes his hand once before letting go; time resumes outside the car. “Let’s pick some fruit, shall we?”

The orchard is absolutely beautiful with the sun shining overhead, highlighting the leaves that have not yet been lost to approaching winter. They have apples and pears, here, and Stede looks at Ed to make the decision of where to start.

“Pears,” Ed says with certainty. Then: “Pomegranates are better, though. This place has got nothing on your garden.”

“Nothing, perhaps, except volume.” Stede surveys the long rows of trees stretching away from them in three directions. Pears are to the right.

They walk for what feels like a long time, between the sun-dappled trees. The fresh air is delightful in Stede’s lungs.

His whole life, he’s struggled with anxiety. Now more than ever, he should be panicking – in the midst of this supernatural event, forced to share his home and his life with a stranger. But Ed doesn’t feel like a stranger. And Alma was right about the self-care activities. Put together, he almost feels normal for the first time in years.

When they reach the pear section, Ed is watching him closely. “You look like you’re doing some thinking,” he says.

“I ought to feel guilty about how much I’m enjoying this,” Stede answers, not bothering to think overmuch on his answer. Ed will understand.

Although at first, he doesn’t; quirks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows. “Guilty?”

“Because you’re trapped with me,” Stede tells him. “Because…” There’s no one else around. They keep finding these places, somehow – there own little worlds in the middle of the great big one. “Because I’m glad of the company, I suppose.”

“I’m glad to be your company,” Ed responds with a disarming grin. “Stede. Mate. Don’t feel guilty, all right?”

“Right.”

It must be obvious that Stede is unconvinced. He finds a small, rickety wooden ladder and places it below the tree, looking anywhere but at Ed. Finally, behind him, Ed mutters something.

“Hmm?” asks Stede, too polite to ignore it.

“I like it too,” Ed says, louder. “I like… being here. It’s nice. Not just the fruit,” he adds.

Stede turns to look at him. At some point he’s come closer, so that they are face-to-face.

“You,” Ed finishes. “Going these places… with you.”

They are so close now. There’s a hesitation there, a chasm in Stede’s stomach where something could occur, but he doesn’t for the life of him know what it is. Instead, he beams. “How nice of you to say, Edward.”

“Sorry if it’s too much.”

Sorry if I’m too much, Stede hears. “Nonsense.” He climbs the first step on the ladder, and Ed shuffles slightly away; Stede plucks a pear and returns to the ground, examining his prize. “I like being with you, too,” he says finally, softly, and why does something about it sound so deep? He’s merely enjoying the company of a friend.

The first friend he’s made in years. He must be out of practice.

“Care to try?” he asks, and Ed inexplicably grabs him by the wrist so that time slows. While Stede is still reeling from the heat, Ed leans forward and takes a bite of the fruit. The juice runs down his chin, into his beard, down Stede’s hand.

Stede squeaks.

Ed pulls back and looks away, wiping a hand across his mouth. “Delicious,” he declares it.

For no reason he can name, Stede looks away, too, as if he’s done something indecent in registering the slow trickle of the juice across Ed’s lips.

They finish it in bites, passing it between them, and Stede suddenly recalls a passage from some literature or other about mouths meeting through the flesh of a fruit, like the mouths of lovers. It’s a silly thought, when they’re straight, but he thinks the author might appreciate it all the same.

He tries to think of what he’s read about time slowing down, not just as a metaphor. Not much. One YA series a while back, and two blockbuster films that he only sat through for the children’s sake.

“If this ends with November, I should write a book,” says Stede suddenly.

Then he feels Ed’s eyes on him.

“No, I shouldn’t give away our secrets,” Stede corrects, sheepish. “I just thought it might make a nice premise. Change the characters, the time, the names. Make it historical. Make them fall in love.”

“You should do it,” says Ed, surprising him.

“You said if anyone found out, they would dissect us.”

Ed laughs. “And I stand by that. But if you do it the way you said – make it fiction – and if it’s really ended. I don’t think anyone would mistake it for real.”

“Then perhaps I will.”

“I’d like to read it,” Ed murmurs, and again he’s so close, why is he so close?

Instead of dwelling on it, Stede pulls away. “On to the apples!” he announces, and Ed follows him, laughing once more.

“Whatever you want, Stede. Whatever you want.”

November 9^th: Careful

Make them fall in love indeed.

Ed has a new goal, now, and it’s this: to be careful.

It’s harder than it sounds. Every time Stede laughs a certain way, Ed wants to sway forward, to stop time with their lips instead of their fingers –

Wants to hold his hand for no reason. Wants to put on his best flirtations, to court and to woo and to touch –

Wants any number of things he can’t have.

So when he wakes the next morning to that same beautiful stream of sunlight through Stede’s golden hair, he turns away. It’s difficult to fall back asleep, knowing that Stede is behind him, but he manages, only awakening once more when a sudden flare of heat registers on the back of his neck.

“Oh –”

Over the sound of Stede’s voice, Ed registers a presence behind him – it’s Stede, pushed up against his back, one leg captured between Ed’s own, a hand around Ed’s stomach, practically spooning him. In a hasty tangle, Stede separates from him.

“Oh, dear – I’m so sorry –”

“It’s all right, Stede, it’s fine –”

“I’ll just…”

Ed turns to find Stede hurrying away, one hand clutched across his… mouth?

Ed’s brain works backwards to that first flare of heat and comes to an astonishing conclusion: it was Stede’s lips, then, pressed against his neck, just at the top of his spine, like a sleeping kiss.

Through the warmth of the thought, something else occurs as Stede gets further away. A single icicle nudges at Ed’s heart. He barely lets out a noise of warning before Stede stops in the doorframe.

“I know, I know,” Stede says.

“Let me come with you,” Ed is quick to reply, swinging his legs out of bed before Stede can protest.

It’s awkward, sitting against the outside of the door while Stede carries on his morning routine, listening to the run of the shower and the sink, hearing an electric toothbrush whir. He busies himself on his mobile in case Stede opens the door suddenly.

He can’t get that press of lips out of his mind. He wishes he had been awake to register more than the supernatural heat of it – wishes he knew if it was soft or firm, if maybe Stede’s drowsy mouth had opened against him, a hint of tongue –

Ed shifts where he sits and tries desperately to think of something else. Anything else. It’s been more than a week since he’s had the chance to take himself in hand, and the denial of it is turning him pitiful. He’s long been in the habit of indulging nightly, if only to help himself sleep. Now, with Stede, there has been no opportunity and more than the usual temptation.

Careful, he thinks.

He’s mostly calmed himself by the time Stede opens the door, sharply dressed, hair well-styled. The damp heat from the shower follows in a rush.

Ed can’t linger long in his own shower, especially not for the reasons he wants to – extra time would raise suspicion, and Stede is practically leaning on the door, Ed’s quiet but maybe not that quiet…

Once he’s dressed, he picks up his beard trimmer and opens the door. Stede is sitting there patiently, hands folded, nothing to entertain him.

“Was wondering,” says Ed, “if we could swing by the shop sometime. Mine, I mean. Blackbeard’s. I know, I know, holiday, but – I do need to check on a few things before the end of the month. If that’s okay?”

Stede is already nodding. “Oh, what an excellent idea! I would love to see your shop, Ed.”

“It’s not mine.” Ed stows the beard trimmer and washes his hands. “I mean – it’s mine, but the manager, he’s mostly in charge of it.”

“So don’t blame you for anything that’s wrong,” says Stede in amusement, and Ed can’t pretend that isn’t what he meant, because it is.

Stede is close behind him now, and they’re looking at each other in the mirror as they speak.

“How about today?” Stede asks. “I’ve got nothing pressing to do.”

“Really?” Ed feels suddenly nervous at the idea of showing Stede his life’s work – especially a place he hasn’t visited in two years, though of course he reads weekly reports and stays up-to-date with the branch’s Slack. He’d be much more comfortable in his hometown, at the location he frequents, the one he thinks of as the most his own.

But Stede will likely never visit his hometown, once this November ends and they separate for good.

Ed tries not to think about it the whole way to Blackbeard’s. Luckily, Stede is chattering on about some road construction they’ve passed, and it’s easy for Ed to focus on him instead – on the minutiae of his local opinions, on the quirk of his mouth as he proposes some wild alternative.

He enters Blackbeard’s and is met by the unwelcome sight of Jack Calico.

“Ed!” Jack comes over and swings an arm around him, leaning in too close, a foul stench of beer emitting from somewhere underneath the hideous mustache. “Izzy said you might be stopping by.”

“Jack,” Ed replies. “I thought you weren’t working today.” He checked the schedule. Of course he checked the schedule. This was supposed to be Jack’s day off.

“Thought I’d stick around in case you showed up.” Jack winks. “Couldn’t forget my favorite businessman.”

“I’m not a –” Ed gives a huff of exasperation and cuts himself off. He hopes Stede doesn’t hear the barbs behind Jack’s words. For all Stede knows, they could just be old friends.

Stede is examining a display of fishing lures, testing the point of a sharp hook with the tip of his finger.

“Stede, be –” Ed begins.

“And who have you brought with you? Is this a way to introduce someone new to your ex-boyfriend?”

Stede turns around with a shocked expression, elbow bumping the display to the ground, lures and hooks scattering everywhere.

“– careful,” Ed finishes on a sigh. He goes over and stoops to pick them up.

“Hey, that’s what Fang is for,” says Jack, faux-kindly, and then snaps: “Fang! Get out here.” Then he walks over to Ed and stands obscenely close to where Ed is working on his knees. “Heh, this is familiar,” Jack laughs.

Through all of this, Stede hasn’t moved. “Ex,” he says finally. “Ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Ed replies, and now he’s getting rankled. “Is that a problem?”

“No! No, not at all!”

But for the first time, Stede is looking at him like he’s a stranger.

And Ed knows in that moment that for all his trying, he hasn’t been careful enough.

November 10: Bike Ride (Slow Roll)

They barely talked about it on the way home last night, and they haven’t talked about it this morning.

So you’re… Stede had begun on the car ride back.

Bisexual, yeah, said Ed.

And then, when they reached the bed, Ed had clearly tried:

Stede…

But Stede hadn’t wanted the conversation. To bed, then, I suppose, he’d said brightly, and that was the end of that.

Now, they’re up and dressed and eating breakfast together in the dining room, and Stede is slathering marmalade on a crumpet with determination.

For nine nights now, he’s slept in bed with a bisexual man. A beautiful one.

And it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t mind it, really. It’s just a bit of a paradigm shift, given the number of times over the past few days he’s thought about the two of them being straight. An oddly large number of times. Just a coincidence. It’s all one big coincidence.

Ed sighs. “I should have told you. I couldn’t figure out where to begin.”

“Told me what?” asks Stede, although he has an inkling.

“About Jack,” says Ed. “About…”

“Ed, your past is your past.” Stede doesn’t think about it too much – just places his hand over Ed’s, enjoying the soothing warmth, feeling the world slow to a halt around them. Ed’s eyes flick from his hand up to his face. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“About me, then. I should have told you about me.”

“And you definitely don’t owe me that.” Is that what Ed thinks of him? That he’d demand such a thing be disclosed? But then, Stede has made rather a mess of things by silence. “I mean it. I know it feels like – well.” Like we’ve known each other forever. “But we’re practically strangers. There’s no need to tell me everything about you.”

“So it doesn’t… you’re not… does it bother you?”

Stede squeezes his hand. “Ed, if I were that much of a bigot, I should like you to give me a kick somewhere very painful.”

This startles a laugh out of Ed, who seems to calm enough for Stede to release his hand and return to the task of the crumpet. “Ah, but then how would you survive our bicycle ride?”

Stede has now shown Ed Alma’s long text of Slowvember ideas, and Ed has his favorites of her ideas. “Is that all right for you? With…” Stede nods down to Ed’s knee.

Ed waves a hand in dismissal. “Not a problem. It’s not a bad day. Although you’re right, plain bike’s a bit more intense on the joint than a motorbike.”

“You ride.” It’s a statement, not a question; Stede has seen Blackbeard’s, and he’s seen Ed in leather, and he doesn’t know how he didn’t put it together before.

Ed laughs again at whatever look is on his face. “Back home, yeah. Couldn’t exactly fit it on the airplane. I could borrow Fang’s if you want me to take you around, though, I’m sure he’d let me.”

Stede considers it – don’t people who share a motorbike have to lean in very close to one another? His brain gets stuck on that point, and after a moment he thinks he knows why: they’d need to be very careful not to slow time.

“Not really Slowvember, though, is it?” Ed asks, picking up on Stede’s hesitation. “Going fast is half the point of a motorbike.”

“Let’s start with the bicycles and work our way up,” Stede suggests.

There’s a trail down by the shore, and Stede has an old extra bicycle that he’s been fixing up in his spare time. He gives his shinier, newer one to Ed and pokes a toe at the tire of the older one.

“You sure she’ll hold up?” Ed asks, and Stede nods.

“After all the work I’ve put in? Absolutely.”

They’re a third of the way down the trail, starting in the more downhill direction, when Ed winces. Stede catches it because he’d been looking back to make sure Ed was all right.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, slowing to let Ed catch up.

“Can we…” Ed clearly hates to bring it up. He grimaces.

“Want to go a bit slower?” Stede asks in understanding.

Ed is massaging the edges of his knee under the brace. “Just…”

“Slowvember, isn’t it? Alma would be proud.”

They take the rest at a more sedate pace. Ed discovers that the bike has a little bell and delights in ringing it, Stede watching and grinning and doing nothing to deter him.

It’s absolutely lovely out here, with the wind caressing their faces. When they reach the turnaround, Stede hesitates, waiting for a cue from Ed, but Ed is fine.

“Slowracer,” says Stede suddenly.

Ed glances up.

Stede can feel a grin spreading over his face. “Race me back, but… slowly. You win if you’re last, but you can’t stop.”

Ed cackles. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

“Is that a no?”

With a grand gesture toward the path, Ed says, “Mate, that is definitely a ‘yes.’”

It turns out that it’s very difficult to balance a bike while going slowly, and Ed has to throw his good leg out to the side several times to keep himself from tipping over, Stede doing the same. They’re giggling like schoolchildren. In the end, Ed manages to distract Stede by pointing out a moth and slowing even more as they reach their imagined ‘finish line,’ placing Stede first and, therefore, last.

Stede sighs as he turns on the car’s ignition. “It was my idea,” he pouts.

“And a grand idea it was.”

“You’d think I’d have managed to win, then.”

“Not your fault I have such a competitive nature.” Ed is grinning, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Stede can only stare. “What?”

Stede shakes himself. “…I’m very glad you’re here,” he tells Ed.

“Hmm?”

“Like… I mean, like we said. The circumstances are less than ideal, of course, but I’m glad…”

“Me too.”

“You don’t bother me. None of it does.” He holds out a hand for Ed, who takes it.

It isn’t any different, holding his hand and knowing he dates men. Well. It is, and it isn’t. Stede doesn’t assume anything about what Ed’s thinking or feeling, but somehow there’s a charge there, more like something Stede is just now noticing than anything new.

It’s that supernatural heat again, he’s sure of it. Nothing to worry about. “I’m sorry if I’m awkward,” Stede continues. “I’ve lived a rather sheltered life.”

“And I’ve come to break you out and into the world?”

“Something like that,” says Stede, and then, under his breath, as he lets go and puts the car in reverse: “Something very much like that indeed.”

Chapter Text

November 11^th: Farmer’s Market

The next day they’re back to normal, and Ed could almost weep with relief.

If anything, it’s better than ever, because Ed isn’t holding in that tension, that constant question of what can I mention, what can I say, that anticipation of each small-scale ‘coming out’ that he carries with him always. Stede knows, and he’s taken it well. Hasn’t even flinched at the bed-sharing. Keeps offering those small touches, those little time-stills, as if he needs them as much as Ed does.

Stede’s friend Oluwande has a booth at a local farmer’s market, selling cranberries. He seems surprised and pleased when he mentions it and Ed insists on going as soon as possible.

“What?” asks Ed. “I want to meet all your people. Besides, you came to Blackbeard’s.”

“You really should come to the café, if you want to meet my people.”

“No working.” Ed taps Stede on the nose and then wonders why on Earth he did that, but it makes Stede blink cutely, so he finds he can’t mind. “You’re meant to be on holiday from that place.”

Stede makes that little frowny face of his, and Ed relents.

“All right, maybe later in the month. But not today. Today – farmer’s market.”

He borrows some of Stede’s clothes again, even though he has a few outfits left in his suitcase – Stede seems to enjoy dressing him up. Ed doesn’t know what to make of that. He ends up in something light grey with ruffled sleeves and admires it in the mirror.

“It looks good on you,” says Stede from behind him, in a low voice. Ed can literally feel his breath on the back of his neck – the very spot where Stede’s lips had pressed once in his sleep.

Ed focuses on his own breath – in, and then out. He needs to be normal about this. “Thanks, mate,” he manages.

Stede claps him on the shoulder. “Of course! Now, shall we away?”

They away.

The drive is long enough for Ed to relax into the lull of tires on pavement, appreciating the sun-dappling of the trees as they whir by.

“Did you always plan to run a business?” asks Stede curiously.

“Nah. When I was little I wanted to be a sailor. Grew up a bit, wanted to be a tattoo artist. But that wasn’t good enough for my Da. Eventually we settled on a degree in business.”

“Has he been to Blackbeard’s, then? Does he like it?”

Ed shrugs, looking out the window. “Dunno. Depends on if he can see it from Hell.”

“Mmm,” says Stede, clearly an attempt at an understanding tone.

“What about you?” Ed asks, eager as always to get the subject away from his father. “Always want to run a café?”

“Oh, heavens no.” Stede laughs. “Do you know, I thought I would be a sailor too? Or – not a sailor. A pirate, in fact, when I was very young and thought they still existed the way they used to. When I gave up on the water, I wanted to run an antiques shop, or perhaps a bookshop. I took the job at the café to pass the time, but when the owner put it up for sale, I couldn’t help but buy it. The most impulsive decision of my life.”

“Sounds like it worked out. You could’ve turned it into a bookshop, couldn’t you, though?”

“You know,” says Stede, hushed, like a secret, “I rather did?”

“You what?”

“We have a small section that sells books, and I’ve gradually been expanding it. Lucius says it’s only a matter of time before it eats the rest of the café.”

Ed chuckles. “Why does that sound perfect for you?”

There’s a long, quiet moment, and then: “Fashion designer.”

Ed makes a small questioning noise.

“When I was old enough to know better than piracy – before I cared about running businesses. When I was just about to graduate, and deciding on my degree. I wanted to be a fashion designer. But my father… well. It sounds like you know the story.”

“I think you’d be a great fashion designer.”

“Really?” Stede glances away from the road for a moment, eyes wide. “You don’t think it’s…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Too… girly? Too absurd?”

Ed levels a look his way. “Stede, your outfits are amazing. I can only imagine how cool they’d be if you actually got to design the clothes.”

Another quiet moment. “It’s not that I think it’s girly,” Stede says softly. “It’s just… the boys at school, they would tease me. For picking flowers. For being… feminine, I suppose. I know exactly the way I come off. When they found my sketchbook, my designs, they tore them up and ground them in the mud.”

Ed’s fists clench. “Arseholes.”

“Yes, rather.” A delicate laugh. “I should have known you wouldn’t judge me, though. You’re very kind that way.”

Ed isn’t sure he’s ever been called kind before. Most people don’t bother looking past the leather and the beard for what’s underneath. “Stede, I…”

He doesn’t know what to say, so it’s lucky that at that moment they reach the farmer’s market.

They’re supposed to find Oluwande right away, but Stede evidently can’t help but stop and covet various jars of jam and honey. “Let me buy that for you,” says Ed as Stede lingers particularly long over a honey flavored with lavender.

“Nonsense,” Stede replies. “I could buy it myself, if I wanted to.”

“Let me do it anyway.”

“Well,” says Stede, looking pleased, and that’s that. Ed makes the purchase and carries it to the next stall, where Oluwande is waiting.

As it becomes clear that Stede will be talking to his friend for quite some time, Ed takes a seat on a nearby low brick wall to rest his knee. He’s just at the edge of his tether with Stede without going far enough to freeze their hearts.

Someone sits down beside him.

“If you break his heart, I’ll break your face,” they say.

Ed glances over. From the hat and from the dialogue, they match Stede’s description of Oluwande’s partner, Jim. As far as Jim knows, Ed is just a friend of Stede’s who’s in town for the month. Which isn’t entirely false. “I don’t think his heart’s up for grabs to be broken,” says Ed, trying to strike a joking mood.

“He’s mentioned you five separate times in the last ten minutes. Never heard him gush like that before.”

“He’s straight.”

“Mm-hmm.” Their tone is doubtful. “You can keep telling yourself that, the way that he does. But give me your number. If you break him, I need to be able to yell at you until you fix it.”

Without a word, Ed programs his number into Jim’s mobile and hands it back.

Jim heads back over to Stede and Oluwande, and Ed watches Stede, who is making over-the-top gestures as he recounts some story or other.

Soon, a text comes through:

Six.

Then another, twenty seconds later:

Seven.

Ed catches Jim’s eye and wonders in what capacity Stede could possibly be mentioning him so much. He levers himself up and walks over in time to catch the tail end of a discussion:

“Edward’s quite taken with pomegranates, you know. At least the ones from my garden. Do you know of a booth around here that – oh, hello, Ed.” Stede beams at the sight of him.

“Hey,” says Ed over the traitorous thumping of his heart. “Pomegranates sound great.”

“Excellent.”

As he leaves, another text comes through:

You’d better be smart about this.

Ed replies:

Always am.

Although it’s a lie.

And he follows Stede, on to the next booth, still holding his jar of honey.

November 12^th: Beach Day

Stede wakes from a dream already having forgotten it, carried only by its residue, a feeling of emptiness, of longing, of wanting. Of warmth. He realizes with a start that he is aroused.

This is not an issue he deals with frequently – in fact, he’s always had rather the opposite problem. He scrunches his eyes closed and tries to calm himself. The dream still lingers over him, just out of reach, and were he alone he might turn over and take advantage of the situation. But Ed is right there, their ankles crossed through their pajamas.

Time has not stilled – the touch is not with their skin – and yet Stede feels an odd flare of heat radiating from the point of contact anyway. Strange. He shifts and the slide of Ed’s foot down his calf is intoxicating.

It must be because of the state he’s in. He pulls away, feeling like the worst kind of creep, and continues his deep breathing until he calms and sleeps once more.

When he awakens next, the problem has subsided, the sun has dawned, and Ed is rifling through his suitcase.

“Have you decided what we’re doing today?” Stede asks, having shown Ed Alma’s list once more the night before.

“I thought… forecast looks nice.” Ed shrugs one shoulder. “Not too hot, not too cold. Maybe we could head down to the beach?”

Stede smiles. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

Now that he’s paying attention, he notices how much of Ed’s clothing carries the Blackbeard’s brand, including the light blue T-shirt he dons today over a pair of grey trousers. Stede gets dressed with Ed leaning on the other side of the closet door; he selects a breezy baby pink shirt with ruffles over tan shorts.

When he emerges, Ed’s eyes go to his legs. “What?” asks Stede, defensive.

“Nothing,” says Ed hastily.

“I thought… for a beach day…”

“It’s perfect,” says Ed, and then he reaches out gently to tap the side of Stede’s wrist, bringing a brief point of heat and a momentary slowing of time. “You look perfect.”

Stede supposes this is high praise from a man who should know, not being straight and all, and therefore in a position to judge the attractiveness of other men. Not for the first time, he wonders whether Ed has a partner back home, someone wondering where he’s gone. If so, Ed has deliberately avoided mentioning them. Ed and Stede have talked enough for Stede to know Ed has no living family and only a small circle of friends, most from work.

He resolves to find the right moment to ask and heads out to the car.

“I feel bad always making you drive, mate,” says Ed as he gets in.

Stede raises an eyebrow. “Is that a ploy to drive my car?”

Ed chokes on his next words, only recovering as he registers Stede’s laugh. “Bastard. You know it isn’t. Just… I dunno. Really gonna have to take you out on Fang’s motorbike sometime. Make up for all the driving you’ve had to do.”

“I don’t mind playing the chauffeur,” says Stede honestly.

Something happens beside him – a motion – Ed nearly places a hand over his own, before evidently remembering that they’re on the road. It’s strange, how quickly these casual touches have become part of the fabric of their burgeoning friendship. But Stede understands why. The heat of the slow-time is addictive, and it’s hard to stay away from it for long.

The beach isn’t terribly crowded, and Ed and Stede find a place to call their own, down within sight of the water. They lay out a large spread of blankets and Stede mounts a tall, wide umbrella, only to turn and find Ed laughing.

“What? It’s perfectly good for shade!”

“I know, I just… I love how you just had that in your car. Unreal, mate.” Ed’s eyes soften. “I like it.”

“Hmm.” Stede throws him a doubtful look but retrieves the cooler from the car.

The take off their shoes and bury their feet in the sand, sitting side-by-side, nearly touching but not quite. The seagulls cry overhead. It’s peaceful, here, something Stede has been missing.

“I brought a nice Riesling, if you’re interested,” says Stede, and Ed perks up, so he gets it out and pops out the cork.

Ed stares. “You brought a corkscrew?”

“Of course I did! I brought wine, didn’t I?”

“You’re so prepared,” Ed murmurs, staring at Stede, and Stede blushes under the attention.

Stede goes to take a sip and then pauses, saying, “I didn’t bring glasses.”

“Who says we need glasses?”

That’s all the permission Stede needs; he finishes the sip and passes the bottle over. Ed takes a long sip of his own.

They’re a third of the way through the bottle (Stede pacing himself, determined to sober up before the drive home) by the time Stede summons the courage to ask, “Have you anyone waiting for you at home?”

Ed glances over at him. “How d’you mean?”

“I mean…” Stede worries that he’s blushing again. “A partner, or some such person.”

“Oh. Nah. Got no one to miss me. Izzy, maybe, but that’s just because he has to run the company all alone.” Ed’s brows drew together, quizzical. “What made you think of that?”

“Just…” Stede waves a hand generally about in the air. “Just… I feel as if I’ve stolen you. From your real life.”

“Mate, my plan was to take a monthlong holiday anyway. You’ve just made it more interesting.”

“Should we be more worried about this, do you think?” Stede turns to the side, facing Ed, and props himself up on one elbow. “All the… the time stuff. The magic of it. We’re acting as if it’s normal, but…”

Ed shrugs. “Strange things happen all the time. This is just on the stranger end.”

They take a long moment to stare out at the waves.

“We should think of cool stuff to do,” says Ed.

Stede frowns. He knew Ed didn’t really think Slowvember was cool.

But Ed seems to pick up on his thoughts. “Not that I haven’t had fun so far! But, I mean… with the power. The time thingy. We’ve only got ’til the end of the month, so we should think of things to do.”

Stede begins churning it over in his mind.

“While you think… I’m going in the water.”

“Ed…”

In seconds, Ed has stripped off his shirt and trousers to reveal swimming trunks underneath. He runs the small remaining distance to the ocean and wades in.

“Ed!” Stede cries after him. He stands and makes his way gingerly down to the waterline in bare feet, feeling the shock of it on his toes. “Aren’t you cold, you madman?”

Ed laughs and swims out until Stede feels the first pang of ice in his chest; Ed must feel it, too, for he turns around and comes back, rising from the ocean like an ancient sea god. Stede watches the water slide down through the hair of his chest, dripping down his strong calves, decorating his long eyelashes.

He stares a moment too long, and suddenly the dream comes back to him.

Ed was in it.

Ed, like this, dripping water from the shower, opening the door in just a towel and inviting Stede in from where he’d been leaning against it. Their hands had met, but the heat hadn’t felt like slowing time, rather like its own beast, a wild and desperate thing. Ed had led Stede into the shower and suddenly the towel was gone, and Stede’s own clothes with it, and the press of their bodies together was almost more than he could bear, and then Ed’s tongue had found his throat…

“You okay?” asks Ed now, and Stede blinks away the imagery, forcing himself to look down at the sand and not at Ed’s still-dripping form.

“Fine,” he croaks out. “Ah… perhaps we ought to head back, yes?”

Ed glances up at the setting sun and sighs. “Yeah. Suppose. You’ve got towels somewhere, haven’t you?”

What is he doing having disturbingly erotic dreams about the man who is quickly becoming his new best friend? He knows he can’t control his subconscious, but still…

He locates a towel and hands it over, the sight of Ed’s bare chest hitting him like a gut punch. Ed dries off his hair and Stede watches him, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe.

It’s just Ed, he tells himself. It’s just Ed.

But the image won’t leave his mind the whole way home.

November 13^th: SLOW (AKA, not SPEED. Bus Fast? Bus Explode)

When Ed checks his messages in the morning, he finds himself grinning, bouncing up and down on his toes as he waits for Stede to wake up. As soon as Stede opens his eyes, Ed tells him, “They’ve moved up filming!”

“Hmm?” asks Stede with an adorable sleepy stretch, hands high above his head.

“They’re making a film with a scene set at Blackbeard’s in town, and I thought I was going to miss it. But they’ve moved around the shooting schedule and it’s happening today! Something about a fire at their main location. If we go today, we can see it.”

He knows he’s making pleading eyes, and barely tries to stop. Stede chuckles. “Like film, do you?”

“Always thought I could make it as an actor.”

“And I’m sure you’d be a very dashing one,” says Stede, and then he glances away, something like a blush rising in his cheeks. Before Ed has time to wonder about it, Stede claps and sits up. “Well! Then, we’d best get a move on, haven’t we?”

It’s only in the car that Ed has a realization, turning his stomach: “Jack’s probably going to be there.”

Stede grimaces in sympathy. “That awful man? How terrible. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

“Don’t want to miss this,” Ed says, and Stede sighs.

“All right. Just – don’t let him get to you, all right?” He presses a hand briefly to Ed’s sleeve before concentrating on traffic once more.

The shop has been transformed, with one aisle massively widened for the camera equipment and one corner set up to be the main focus of the scene. Most of their third-party products have been removed or carefully placed with the logos facing away.

A college-aged guy introduces himself as Charlie. “This is my movie,” he says in an American accent. “It’s called Slow. It’s about a bus that has a bomb on it, and if it goes too fast the bomb will explode!”

“Er…” Stede pipes in. “Wasn’t there just a film about…”

“There’s a vision,” says a college-aged girl, clearly sarcastic.

“We’ve talked about this, Anne.” Charlie is smiling, but his teeth are gritted. “This is going to be the next big thing.”

“Couldn’t they just…” Stede hesitates. “If it’s going that slowly, couldn’t they just… get on the bus? And disarm it?”

Anne nods. “That’s what the movie’s about. But it takes them a while to figure out the whole thing with the bomb. And there’s all this character backstory…. like. A lot of character backstory.” She glares another dagger at Charlie, who crosses his arms.

“Hey, this scene is for your character.”

“Right.”

“I changed the costume for you.” He spreads his hands, looking up at Ed and Stede. “I changed the costume for her! Already compromising my vision…”

Anne scoffs. “She’s an archaeologist just coming from a dig site, there’s no reason she’d be in a bikini…”

“It would play well on screen, though.” Charlie glances back at Ed again. “Don’t you think?”

Ed is a little offended on Stede’s behalf, that he wasn’t included in a question about the attractiveness of a girl in a bikini. Then he feels guilty, knowing he made the same assumption during the first few days of their acquaintance. “Think I’m with Anne on this one, mate,” says Ed, and Anne gives a smile of victory.

Charlie rolls his eyes. “All right, let’s get to shooting, okay?”

Ed and Stede are allowed to stay, so long as they’re quiet. They’re ushered to a corner of the set, where Fang and Jack await.

“Hey, Eddie!” says Jack, reaching out to clap Ed on the shoulder. Ed swerves to avoid it and takes a moment to appreciate Stede’s absolute bitchface.

“Fang,” Ed says brightly, instead of addressing Jack. “How’s it going?”

“Izzy texted,” Fang tells him. “He still thinks they should be paying us to use the shop.”

“Nah.” Ed shakes his head. “It’s free publicity, isn’t it? They’ve got an establishing shot of our logo and everything.”

“‘Establishing shot?’” asks Stede, coming up behind him, sounding amused.

“That’s what it’s called!”

He turns, and Stede doesn’t seem judgmental. “I’m very glad you get to be here today, if you’re so into the industry,” Stede says.

“I just watch a lot of interviews,” Ed demurs.

“Still.”

Ed watches raptly as the filmmakers set up their equipment. When the boom mic first lifts into the air, he feels his face spread in a gleeful grin.

“Look,” snickers Jack. “Ed’s really got a hard-on for these losers.”

Ed feels the smile slip away from his face.

“You gonna quit it all for Hollywood?” Jack’s laugh is a bray, and Ed can’t for the life of him remember what he used to find attractive about the man. “If they’re looking for ridiculous beards, you’re a shoo-in.”

“Ed’s beard is lovely,” comes a voice beside him. It’s Stede, of course, staring Jack dead in the eyes.

“Ohh, he’s got you wrapped around his finger, hasn’t he?” Beneath the mirth in Jack’s expression is something nasty. “He seems cool, doesn’t he? All that leather. The problem is, then you get to know him.”

Ed has never seen Stede with a look so cold. “It’s been a privilege to get to know him.”

“I’m sure,” says Jack with a twist of his mouth. “I’m sure you’ve been getting to know him all night long.”

“Jack, that’s enough –” Ed starts.

“I have, actually,” says Stede, with a sunny smile. “We’ve had scintillating conversations past midnight.”

This strikes Jack, who takes a step back, surprised.

“It’s been a pleasure to share his bed,” adds Stede quietly, stepping in closer to Jack, “and I don’t know the circumstances under which you lost that privilege, but I do so pity you. To lose someone as wonderful as Edward Teach? You must regret it every waking moment of your life.”

The circumstances were Jack dumping Ed hard after one too many moments of softness, of not-cool-ness, of love for fine fabrics and a secret weakness for romantic dramas. So Ed can’t help but grin victoriously, smothering it with one hand, as Jack stammers for a reply.

“Quiet on set!” yells Charlie, ready to start filming, and only now does Stede meet Ed’s eyes. Jack goes away to sulk by the surfboard display.

Stede shuffles closer. “I hope I didn’t overstep,” he says. “I simply can’t stand that man.”

“You were perfect,” Ed tells him. He can’t help it; he reaches out and clasps a hand to Stede’s clothed shoulder, squeezing once before releasing him. “But you know, now he thinks we’re… that you and I are…”

Is that another blush, rising in Stede’s cheeks, clawing its way down this throat? “I don’t mind,” he says, ever so quiet. “It would… it really would be a privilege.”

“To share my bed? You already are,” Ed points out.

Stede is staring pointedly at their shoes. “Yes. You’re right.” Then his hazel eyes lift up, returning Ed’s gaze, warm and uncertain. “Ed… I…”

“I said quiet!” shouts Charlie, finally catching on to their whispering.

Ed returns his attention to the scene.

It would be a privilege.

If only Stede knew how much Ed felt the same.

November 14^th: Nursing a Boo Boo

The plan for the day was a hike, but Stede needed a new water bottle and Ed needed proper walking shoes, so they headed out to the shops.

They grew sidetracked by Stede’s favorite boutique, where Stede insists on plying Ed with new clothes, saying it’s “quintessential to the tourist experience.”

With Stede on the other side of the shop, Ed allows his eye to be caught by a plum-colored, sheer-ish blouse in the so-called ‘women’s’ section. He rifles to the back to see if they have a size large enough for him, and they do, but it’s idle curiosity. He quickly puts it back and turns to go in search of Stede.

But Stede is standing right there, holding a pair of charcoal-grey slacks. “Oh, these would go together perfectly,” he says with delight, reaching around Ed for the blouse, finding the perfect size on his first attempt. “Here, you must try them on.”

And so Ed is herded into a dressing room, where he quickly changes and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He fluffs his hair pointlessly. What does he think he’s going to do – impress Stede? Stede, who is straight?

(Stede, who said it would be a privilege?)

It’s not the sheerest thing he’s ever worn, but it’s absolutely possible to see his tattoos through the fabric of the shirt.

He opens the door and Stede drops what he’s holding.

Stede spends two or three full seconds gaping at him before he scrambles to pick up what he’s dropped. “Sorry, I…” He laughs unconvincingly. “You…”

“Too much?” asks Ed, suddenly self-conscious.

“Not at all.” Stede smiles, regaining his footing, arms draped with potential purchases once more. “You look absolutely lovely.”

Ed does not, as a rule, get embarrassed, but he feels heat rise to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he mutters, and disappears back into the dressing room to change into his original clothing.

It’s as they’re about to cross the street, hands full with everything they’ve bought, that they hear the scream.

On instinct, Ed grabs for Stede with his free hand, landing on his wrist. As a lucky side effect, time slows around them.

“There,” says Stede, nodding toward the road. A bus is frozen in the middle of barreling down on a small child. Stede looks up at Ed, pleading. “Ed, you said… if we needed to…”

“Of course,” Ed says, and he’s already pulling Stede by the hand toward the scene of the impending collision, shopping dropped on the pavement behind them.

Ever so carefully, Ed transfers his grip to Stede’s forearm and frees both of Stede’s hands to move the girl out of harm’s way. Once she is standing safely out of traffic, Ed begins to pull Stede back towards their original starting point –

But Stede trips on the road divider. And his hand flies out of Ed’s.

Time restarts around them.

Still expecting Stede in his grasp, Ed turns on the median to the sound of another scream, this one a bystander as the bus makes contact with Stede.

“Oh, God,” says Ed, mind out of his body, and he rushes to Stede’s side. Stede is lying sideways on the median, clutching one arm.

“Ouch,” Stede says, and Ed is flooded with relief – he can speak – followed by fear – is he hurt? “Are you all right?” he asks, feeling his tone turn frantic.

Around them, a crowd is beginning to gather. The bus door opens and the bus driver hurries out. “I didn’t see…”

“I’m just fine,” says Stede, standing bravely, trying and failing to conceal a wince. “Just landed on it wrong, I think.”

“You came out of nowhere,” the bus driver insists, and Stede’s eyes go to Ed, his face pale.

“We should get out of here,” he mutters, and Ed nods.

As they step away, the bus driver calls after them: “Hey! Should I call an ambulance?”

“Please don’t!” Stede shouts back. “I’m quite all right, nothing to worry about…”

It’s only due to Stede that they remember to scoop up their shopping on the way back to the car.

“Can you drive?” asks Ed.

“Angling to drive my car again?” asks Stede with a ghost of a smile, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Ed goes around to the passenger side and reluctantly climbs in. “I just mean – don’t hurt yourself more…”

“I only need one arm to drive,” Stede says. Then he catches sight of something in Ed’s face that makes his expression soften. “Ed, I’m sure I merely pulled something in my shoulder. I’ll be right as rain, you’ll see.”

“We should go to a doctor.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Ed nearly asks when, but decides that perhaps he doesn’t want to know.

Stede sighs. “I’m sorry, Ed. You were so careful about not being noticed.”

“We saved that girl, didn’t we?” Ed fiddles idly with the heating dial.

“But if there were cameras…” Stede’s eyes are large and worried. He’s still holding his shoulder at an awkward angle.

“Let’s get you home, lo –” Fuck. He almost said love. “Stede. Don’t worry about it.”

As soon as they get back, Ed insists on Stede locating a heating pad before lying down in bed. “I’m fine, really,” Stede insists, though he’s still a bit pale, still holding the arm delicately.

“You’re not.” Ed reaches out and runs a finger down his shoulder, and despite the heat of the slow-time, Stede flinches. “See? You need to let it heal. And if it doesn’t feel better tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor.”

“We wouldn’t be able to. They’d make you wait in the waiting room.”

“Then I’d be your husband,” says Ed firmly, and doesn’t let himself think about the implications.

Somehow, improbably, this brings a smile out of Stede. “You think they’d believe that?”

“You think they wouldn’t?”

“You’re much too cool for me. And not the way Jack said. The real way.”

Ed shakes his head. “Nah. Reckon you’re too good for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“”S true.”

“Shall we call it a draw?” asks Stede, offering his good hand for a shake, and Ed takes it. Warmth spreads through him. “Just good enough for each other,” says Stede quietly, contemplative.

Do you know what you sound like when you talk like that? Ed thinks. Do you know what it does to me?

But he doesn’t ask. He just stretches out beside Stede and puts something ridiculous on the television, basking in his company, knowing he’s near to halfway to having to leave him. Knowing, now, that he doesn’t want to go.

November 15^th: Hike | Choose the Easy Path

In the morning, Stede’s shoulder still twinges, but it feels much better than the night before. As he stretches, Ed rolls over to look at him with an expression that’s far more concerned than the situation warrants.

“I’m fine,” says Stede kindly.

“You got hit by a bus,” Ed replies, plaintive.

Stede shakes his head. “It barely clipped me. I landed wrong, that’s all.” Then he grows pensive. “I do hope the cameras didn’t pick anything up.”

“As long as we’re not pressing for an investigation, I doubt anyone’s going to check. And if they do, it really will just look like a glitch.” Ed’s eyes are dark and earnest.

Stede shivers under the stare. Ever since that dream, Ed has driven him to distraction. That shirt the day before had left little to imagination, somehow proving even more intriguing than the full shirtlessness at the beach. Stede wonders if he could get away with asking Ed to wear it on one of their adventures. Perhaps looking at him more like that would help clear up some of Stede’s confusion.

Or perhaps it would just make it worse.

He watches, now, as Ed blinks the sleep from his eyes, and feels a surge within himself. An urge to lean forward and make his dream come true. Hands on skin, lips on lips…

Is he…

Is he attracted to Ed?

A ridiculous thought. He’s never looked at a man once in his entire life. Has known, from the beginning, that such things weren’t allowed. He’s spent so much time defending himself from accusations (girly, flower-picking Bonnet must be gay) that he never stopped to think about…

Whether they were true.

Ed sits up and yawns. “So we’ll stay in today, yeah? Maybe order something in for food?”

Stede shakes his head and forces his mind back to the present. “I’d prefer to go on our hike. We already missed out on it yesterday.”

“Hiking?” Ed looks doubtful. “Mate, hiking can be difficult. And with your arm…”

“It’s not as if it’s a leg,” says Stede, meaning nothing by it, but Ed casts a glance down at his own knee. “I mean… I’m perfectly all right with it, if you are. That is…”

“Yeah, all right,” Ed says, taking pity. “If you really think you’ll be okay…”

Stede nods with his bravest expression.

Ed laughs. “All right, then. Let’s do it.”

Stede can feel himself smiling too brightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They sit there for a moment more, as Stede becomes increasingly aware that they’re in a bed. Together. But he doesn’t want to pull away. He’s not entirely sure what he wants.

Luckily, before he’s forced to make a decision, Ed stands and begins rifling through his suitcase. Stede goes to one of his wardrobes and follows suit.

Ed does not wear the diaphanous blouse from the day before, but he does wear a similarly plum-colored shirt, this one cropped in such a way that it offers the occasional glimpse of his stomach as he moves and turns. Stede wonders how rude it is to look, and looks anyway.

After one glance at Stede’s outfit, Ed bursts out laughing. “Tell me you’re not wearing that hat.”

“What?” Stede reaches up to his head, suddenly self-conscious, feeling his lips draw downwards. “It’s my explorer hat.”

Ed’s eyes go soft. “Hey,” he says. He steps into Stede’s personal space and brings his hands up to fix the hat more firmly on his head. “It’s perfect.”

This time, he lingers. Stede feels his own heartbeat thump more wildly in his chest. What would it be like, to simply reach out and kiss Ed? The scratch of the beard, those lips… would they be as soft as they look? Why is he thinking this?

They’ve been standing there for too long. Stede offers a small smile. “Shall we, then?”

“Sure,” says Ed, looking… not disappointed, exactly, but as if he’s been brought back to some reality. “Lead the way.”

Stede has done his research and located a trail with multiple options. He considers them as he starts the car. “Do you mind if we…” He hesitates.

“Mm?” asks Ed, rolling his head against the headrest until he’s facing Stede.

“I’ve never been hiking before. Perhaps we could…” Still, he doesn’t want to ask it. Finally he forces himself, in a small voice: “…choose the easy path?”

Ed is already nodding beside him, but he feels the need to go on, to justify. To prove that he isn’t just a coward, backing down from a challenge, although he always feels like one.

“It’s just… you were right, before – I’ve heard it can be more difficult than one might expect. And it’s not as if I do a lot of walking in my daily life. I’d rather not get in over my head if we –”

“Mate, it’s fine. I’m happy if you’re happy.”

Ed is smiling. Stede returns it. “Wonderful, then. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

They reach the trail and Stede takes out a backpack from the backseat of the car, turning to find mirth in Ed’s eyes.

“You’re bringing that?” Ed asks.

Stede surveys the backpack. It’s large and framed and of a lighter weight than it looks, specifically for this purpose. “I’ve had it for years. Never had the chance to use it.”

“What’s in it?”

“Water, snacks, a set of tools, matches, first-aid kit, a flare, bear spray, a compass, a map, spare socks, blankets in case we get cold…”

If Stede had to put a word to Ed’s expression, he might choose fond, before backtracking and doubting the assignation. But it does look that way. “Prepared, aren’t you? Isn’t it about three miles?”

“You only have your pockets,” Stede explains. Ed had declined his offer to buy a backpack the day before. “I wanted… just in case.”

“I’m carrying it on the way back, then. Or we can switch off.”

“Ed…”

“No arguments. You never know, we might get cold.” Ed winks.

“Or step in a puddle,” says Stede. “Or see a bear! All manner of things might occur.”

They don’t, of course. Stede doesn’t even open the backpack the whole way, only unclipping his water bottle from the side. Ed holds his own water bottle in his hand despite Stede’s repeated offers to clip it to the backpack as well.

At the end of the trail, they come to a clearing. The clouds are whispy and gorgeous above, and wildflowers stretch as far as the eye can see, even now.

“Hardy buggers, aren’t they?” asks Ed, referring to the flowers, and to the chill in the air around them.

Stede steps closer to Ed, allowing their arms to brush, slowing time around them. He feels Ed glance over in his periphery. But he doesn’t look away from the field. “They’ll survive a little while longer, I think,” he says.

“Through the end of November?”

“Through the end of November,” Stede agrees. He looks over at Ed at last. “And maybe beyond.”

There’s a long, companionable silence. The heat of the slow-time flows through them, from one heart to the other. At least, Stede assumes Ed feels it in his heart, the way Stede feels it in his own. They’ve never talked about it.

“You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?” Stede asks finally. “After you’ve gone.”

“Yeah,” says Ed, simple and easy. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“Excellent,” Stede replies, because he doesn’t think he could bear to lose Ed now – his new and dearest friend, never mind this other odd, burgeoning feeling within.

He’s sure he would survive it, Ed disappearing from his life. But he hopes he doesn’t have to. He has no idea how he would.

Chapter Text

November 16^th: Painting

After lunch the next day, Stede looks at his mobile and swears.

“What?” asks Ed from where he’s in the midst of rinsing dishes.

“I forgot,” says Stede miserably. “I… may have promised Mary I’d attend one of her painting classes.”

“Painting?” Ed’s eyebrows go up. “The instructor she cheated on you with?”

Stede glances away. “She had her reasons,” he mumbles.

Ed has his own opinions about Mary’s behavior – he can’t imagine what it would be like to have Stede and choose to lose him. But then, Stede had said he’d never truly loved Mary. It must have been its own special kind of hell, living with someone as amazing as Stede and knowing he didn’t love her. So close to having everything and yet so far. Ed swings wildly between censure and sympathy.

“Anyway, it’s meant to be tonight. I’ll cancel.”

“No, don’t cancel on my account.” Ed goes over to the table and sits down. Somehow automatically, Stede moves his hand so that their pinkies touch, generating the warmth of the slow-time. “You like it too,” says Ed without thinking, and then curses himself.

“Hmm?” Stede is still scrolling through his mobile.

“The… the slow-time. The – warmth. ’S nice, isn’t it? That’s why – I do it too, but… that’s why you, ahm…”

“Touch you?” Stede suggests, and Ed nods gratefully.

“Yeah.”

“November here is cold,” says Stede in precise tones, and he looks down at their hands like he’s considering pulling away, but in the end he doesn’t. “You said too. That means you like it just as much.”

Probably more, Ed thinks ruefully. He slides his hand further onto Stede’s, and Stede does not object.

Instead he looks up at Ed, like he’s thinking about something, and then says, “Do you feel it in your heart?”

Ed’s free hand goes to his own chest.

“The warmth, I mean,” Stede explains. “Like it’s…”

“Like it’s traveling from wherever we touch up into my chest. Yeah.”

“It’s rather nice,” says Stede, shy and dreamy. “I wonder why it feels this way.”

Ed remembers his wish to Izzy: I want someone to be an us with. He’s still not convinced it’s related to these supernatural occurrences, but the coincidence is strange. And Buttons had said, It’s an answer to your dearest wish. Is that really where it all comes from? And why Stede, besides the fact that he’s utterly perfect?

Ed shakes his head and tries to focus on the moment. “I haven’t got the slightest idea.” His grip tightens on Stede’s hand. “But, yeah. It’s nice.”

Again, Ed ends up borrowing some of Stede’s clothes – this time because he didn’t bring anything he’s willing to ruin with paint. Even Stede, with all his wardrobes, has trouble finding two outfits he’s willing to part with.

“I have two of this same shirt,” he says finally, “and the fit on this one is unflattering. I suppose they’ll have to do.” He pauses. “Are you sure you want to go? We can stay home.”

Ed doesn’t even blink at the description of Stede’s house as home. “I’m sure. I’ve dabbled in painting a bit, myself.”

“Oh, really?” Stede’s eyes go wide. “You never mentioned.”

“Mostly tattoo designs that I never got to make. I was one of the art kids, you know?”

“I’m sure you were very talented,” says Stede softly, and then: “And I’m sure you still are! I look forward to seeing it.”

Ed’s nervous the whole ride there, wondering if his rusty skills will live up to Stede’s expectations. But when he steps into the studio, the smell of paint rushes over him and brings him straight back to school. In primary he’d been a sensitive child, his emotions close to the surface, not yet knowing to hide his fondness for soft things. He’d made himself over in secondary, becoming a creature of leather and grit, but still he’d sneak into the art room over lunch break and create. His art teacher had written one of his recommendations for university.

Now, it’s like going back in time. He finds an easel and begins to arrange the supplies he finds there.

“Daddy!” A blur comes flying into the room and only resolves itself to be Louis after his arms are around Stede. Stede laughs and catches him. “We’re doing a project on astronauts at school!”

Alma follows at a more sedate pace, offering Ed a smile, which Ed returns.

“Alma says being an astronaut is sort of like being a pirate,” Louis tells them, “because you’re on a ship and you get to explore cool places.”

“Didn’t we see a film like that once?” asks Stede, and Alma nods.

“It was…” She thinks. “Oh, it had those ships, like sailing ships, but in the stars.”

“Treasure Planet,” Ed offers, and Stede smiles widely.

“That’s the one,” he says. As he passes Ed on the way to his easel, he leans over and adds quietly: “I still think you’d make an excellent pirate.”

“Really?” Ed quirks up a brow at Stede as he takes his seat. “You think so?”

“The Blackbeard’s logo could be your flag! And… well.” Stede glances away, cheeks beginning to color once more. He blushes more easily than anyone Ed has ever met. “There is all the leather…”

Ed laughs heartily. “You could come with me. You’d be the most well-mannered pirate in the world.”

At that moment Doug enters the room and, with a nod at Stede, begins explaining the exercise. They’ll be pairing up and attempting to paint each other’s faces.

“I thought this was a beginner’s class,” says Stede.

Doug grins. “I like to start with this exercise, and then finish off with it again in four months’ time. You’ll be amazed at how far you’ve come.”

Still grumbling, Stede shifts his easel so that he’s seated across from Ed, as if it isn’t even a question they’re together. Ed rather enjoys the thought of that.

“I should paint you as a pirate,” says Stede.

Ed shrugs. “Good luck.”

“One less eye I have to master, if I give you an eyepatch.”

In the end, Stede manages a sort of blobby oval with some vague features inside. He’s mixed the colors near-perfectly, at least, though the painting itself leaves something to be desired.

Ed makes a quick sketch on the canvas first and gets about halfway through filling it with color before Doug calls time. He turns it to Stede for inspection, and Stede goes… speechless.

“That bad, mate?” asks Ed. He knows his own skill, and he knows it’s technically decent, but attempting to capture Stede’s Stedeness in two dimensions is a losing game.

Stede reaches out with one finger to brush the corner of the canvas, then withdraws. “It’s…” He looks up at Ed, and Ed would swear there are stars in his eyes. “It’s magnificent. Ed… you’ve made me look…”

Beautiful, thinks Ed, because that’s how Stede does look, but he’s not too sure about saying it. “True to life,” he settles on.

“Could I…” Stede hesitates.

“Yeah?” Ed is perhaps too eager, anticipating meeting some need.

“Could I, perhaps, keep it?”

Ed puts a protective arm over the canvas. “Not finished yet.”

“Once it is, I mean.”

Ed eyes the paints, then eyes the instructor, who is busy talking to someone else. “Sure. Just give me a sec.”

In the end, Doug allows them to stay half an hour past the end of class so that Ed can finish up the portrait, giving Stede time with Alma and Louis. Mary sees the portrait and seems pleased.

“You’re a real artist,” Ed tells her. “I’ve seen your stuff. It’s amazing.”

“What you drew here…” She taps the canvas in a safe spot. “You’ve seen Stede better than I ever have.” Her smile is complicated, but ultimately touching. “Better than I ever could.”

“Nah, I just paint what’s in front of me,” he says, but she shakes her head.

After a quick glance to make sure Stede is still distracted, she adds: “Be what he deserves, all right?”

And before he can think of a reply, she’s gone.

Be what he deserves.

He’s trying. He really is.

November 17^th: Baking Bread

The browser tabs on Stede’s mobile are worse than incriminating.

what do gay dreams mean

how to tell if you are gay

sexual orientation

what is sexual attraction

sexual attraction late in life

shirtless men

shirtless men tattoos

He exits hastily out of the app as Ed comes up behind him with designs on a croissant.

“You all right, mate?” asks Ed.

Stede considers asking him for advice – after all, he is a real live queer person, and Oluwande and Jim are off on holiday without answering their texts. He doesn’t want to approach Lucius or Pete and give Lucius the right of I told you so.

But then, in many ways, this problem is about Ed. Could Stede really ask him about being gay without revealing his deeper motivations?

He comes to realize Ed is staring, and thinks back to the question he hasn’t answered. “Right as rain,” he says. “Oh, that reminds me – I thought of one thing I want to do while time is slowed.”

“Oh?”

“Remember, you said to think of cool things to do…”

Ed takes a seat beside him, backwards, so that he can lean forward onto the back of the chair. “Yeah, I remember.”

“It’s hard to think of places that don’t have cameras, and after that day in the road I know it’s too much to take the risk. But – it’s meant to rain, tomorrow. And I was thinking – wouldn’t that be interesting? I’d like to go out into the storm, but we’d have to get a bit wet.”

“Dance in the rain?” asks Ed, amused.

“You don’t like it.”

“Didn’t say that.” Ed thinks for a long moment. “All right, let’s do it.”

“Really?”

“You’re right.” Ed takes another moment, and Stede imagines he is picturing it, being out in the slowed rain, drops suspended around them. “I like it. I’m the one who’s paranoid about cameras, so we can’t do hardly anything else.”

“And you’re right,” says Stede. “I don’t particularly wish to be dissected by the government, or to provide them with this ability. And what with me tripping the other day – well. I don’t think a resolution to be careful would be enough.”

Ed tips his head to the side. “What would you do? If you could?”

Stede thinks about it. “I’d sneak into somewhere grand, I suppose. Somewhere unbearably posh. A fancy concert, or a gala, somewhere I wouldn’t have a hope of getting in.”

“You’re not exactly poor.”

“No, but I’m not exactly high society either, Edward, I own a café,” he says wryly. “Anyway, that’s what I’d do. I expect it would also be possible to steal all manner of interesting things as well, but only somewhere no one would get in trouble. What about you?”

Ed raises an eyebrow mischievously. “I’d mess with people. Absolutely.”

“Mess with people?”

“You know. Switch their hats onto the wrong heads. Turn them around. Just really confuse the hell out of ’em.”

Stede laughs brightly, imagining it, and Ed joins him. “A real agent of chaos.”

“That’s m’name, yeah,” says Ed, stretching languidly and taking a bite of his croissant.

Stede watches his pajama top briefly ride up before settling back down, and the image of his stomach stays with him as he takes a too-quick sip of scalding tea.

“So,” Ed begins, “what’s on the agenda for today?”

“The bananas are just about overripe, I would say. I’m meant to bake bread.” Stede wrinkles up his nose, and Ed examines him.

“Stede. Have you ever made bread before?”

“No, but how hard can it be?”

Stede ends up with fourteen recipe tabs open on his laptop, despite having already settled on a recipe when he initially purchased the ingredients. Now he’s waffling, and Ed is imploring him to just pick one.

“But what if it’s the wrong one? See, this site has fewer advertisements, does that mean it’s more trustworthy?”

“What if I just show you?”

Stede blinks. “You… know how to make bread?”

“Banana bread, sure.” Ed sizes up the ingredients. “And then you’ve got yeast, so you were planning on proper homemade bread too, yeah? Could get a loaf of that out.”

“You know how to make bread,” Stede states.

“And I’m not even the one who owns a café.” Ed winks and rolls up his sleeves.

Stede has seen Ed wear short sleeves before – God, he’s seen the man shirtless – and still the sight makes his mouth go dry. How did he ever mistake this feeling for a feeling of friendship? That’s there too, of course, but over it and underneath it something deeper, something dangerous. Something Stede craves with the desperation of someone who’s lived in a drought their whole life and only just discovered an endless stream of the freshest water.

Ed talks him through the beginning – they prep the bread pans and begin with the yeast, leaving it to prove while they mix up the banana bread.

“So it’s alive?” Stede asks, peering into the yeast with fascination.

“Does your café make anything fresh?”

“Roach and the Swede switch off baking,” Stede tells him absently, not removing his gaze. “I’ve never had to watch them very closely… you said too much heat would kill it. It’s alive?”

Ed steps in much too close (and not close enough) to rinse his hands in the sink. “Yeah,” he says with mirth. “Everything’s got something alive in it – little bacteria, I dunno, but yeast is a proper living thing. I think it’s a fungus.”

“Wow,” says Stede. He’s heard about it vaguely, in passing, but never been face-to-face with it. He really ought to observe Roach and the Swede more – not because they need it, but for the enrichment.

Once it’s done, they mix in the rest of the ingredients and Ed insists they spend a full ten minutes kneading the dough.

“Is this really necessary?” Stede asks, but he’s fully invested in the flex of Ed’s forearms, in his gentle but firm touch.

Ed simply gives him a flat look.

“Only,” Stede continues, “I’m afraid I’m not doing it very well.”

Ed softens and comes up behind Stede to take a closer look at his dough. Stede, in some ridiculous impulse, does not move aside for him, and by some miracle the ploy works – Ed hooks his chin over Stede’s shoulder and snakes a hand around him to prod at the dough.

Stede’s brain turns to static.

“Feels good to me,” says Ed in his ear, low, and Stede nearly shivers. He could turn in an instant and –

And he has no idea if Ed would even want that. Ed, who is here through no choice of his own. Ed, who is brilliant and beautiful and perfect in every way. He deserves better than to be the experiment of the man he’s been forced to live with for a month. He deserves something real.

So Stede lets him slip away, and he only allows himself this one weakness: he takes Ed’s hand in his own for a few minutes of unproductive slow-time as they’re waiting for the bread to rise.

Ed seems happy to allow it, too.

November 18^th: Rainy Day

Ed asks Stede if he’s up for a ride on Fang’s motorbike, barely hoping, and receives the shock of his life when Stede says yes.

“Are you sure, mate?” Ed asks again.

Stede glances away and then glances back in a way that’s nearly coy, something he’s been doing rather a lot lately. Ed can’t begin to explain it. “I’m sure. I’ve never been on a motorbike, you know.”

So they drive to Fang’s house and Ed obtains the keys. He really lucked out on staff, Jack excluded; they’re the closest thing he has to friends (or were, until Stede), and anytime he needs a favor, they’re there. He likes to think he does enough in return to make it an equal exchange.

Ed climbs on the motorbike and revs it to life.

“Do you want me in front or behind?” asks Stede, which Ed finds interesting for any number of reasons.

“Behind,” he says when he’s able to speak without laughing. “That way you can hold onto me.”

“Of course.” There’s another of those glances, this time down to Ed’s chest and stomach and then away.

Ed wore leathers today, and he likes to think Fang’s black helmet complements them well. He made sure Stede put on long trousers and sleeves, and now he offers him the white helmet Fang keeps as a spare.

“Thank you,” says Stede as he clips the helmet in place. And then he’s climbing up behind Ed, arms encircling him.

They’ve made sure there’s no risk of their skin touching – an accidental slowing of time in the middle of a bike ride would be a disaster. But still, the gentle pressure of Stede’s arms proves even more pleasant than Ed imagined. “You’ve got to squeeze tighter than that,” Ed tells him. “You won’t break me. Don’t want you falling off.”

“No, I suppose not,” says Stede breathlessly – though they’re not even moving yet – as he tightens his grip.

Ed can’t help but lean back into it a little. He’s only human. Again he can feel Stede’s breath on the back of his neck, like an echo of that sleeping embrace. “Ready?” he asks to distract himself.

“Ready,” Stede replies.

Fang waves at them as they pull out onto the road, and then they’re off.

Stede’s grip immediately goes even tighter as they accelerate. As they surpass the speed limit, Ed lets off a bit and allows them to cruise. It’s a lovely road, winding gently along the shore in sight of the ocean, and Ed enjoys the view almost as much as he enjoys the feeling of Stede so close to him.

“Doing all right?” he calls over his shoulder, not sure if he’ll be heard.

“This is amazing!” Stede cries, and Ed laughs.

They’re meant to have another hour or two before the rain begins, but suddenly Ed feels the first sprinkle of it over his face. They’re much closer to Stede’s house than Fang’s now, so Ed takes the turn to Stede’s.

By the time they pull in, the rain has begun in earnest, and Ed’s leather jacket is the only thing preventing him from being soaked through. Stede was not so lucky. His cream shirt is wet and clinging, and Ed coughs and averts his gaze as they disembark.

“These aren’t your ‘dancing in the rain’ clothes, are they?” he asks as they scurry into the house.

Ed’s worried Stede will be annoyed by this turn of events, but he’s laughing as the door shuts behind them. “Not quite. And I can’t imagine that’s good for the leather.”

“Do you… want to check it out now?” Ed raises his eyebrows.

“Why not?” Stede sounds like he’s throwing caution to the wind, a tone that’s almost abrasively reckless. Ed grins his approval and follows him up to the bedroom to change.

It turns out that Stede’s ‘dancing in the rain’ clothes are a dark blue shirt with a polyester jacket and dark gray trousers. Ed changes into a less leathery outfit (jeans and his plum-colored crop top from their hiking day, which Stede was kind enough to launder) and follows him back out the door.

They stand on the threshold for a long moment, looking out at the pouring rain, before Stede offers out his hand. Ed takes it.

Time slows around them, and the water comes to a gentle halt in mid-air.

Stede takes a step forward, still holding onto Ed’s hand, and droplets begin to collect on his face and clothing. Ed follows. The water barely even feels wet, although the droplets turn more watery as they meet his skin, soaking into his clothing the way they’re supposed to. Stede turns to look at him and the drops are clinging to his eyelashes, to the curve of his lips. Ed could kiss him like this, he thinks. If Stede had any interest at all, he would, here in this moment that could easily be romantic, out in a storm that has stilled for them and only them.

Instead he pulls Stede into the beginning of a twirl, and Stede goes along with it, laughing. “I didn’t mean literal dancing, you know,” Stede says.

“Oh? Well, maybe I did.” Ed wiggles his eyebrows mischievously and finishes the twirl, then yanks Stede into him so that he turns in his arms and ends up pressed close. Maybe he didn’t think this one through. He casts Stede back out so that their arms outstretch, all the way at the end of their tether to each other.

Stede jumps. He uses his other hand to collect rain from midair, and Ed follows suit until they’re both running around like children, bouncing towards each other away, shouting and laughing and, yes, practically dancing.

Once they’ve made it across the yard, Ed turns around and says in a hushed voice: “Look.”

They’ve carved a space for themselves out of the rain, a wide area in which no droplets remain, where the air is clear and none have yet fallen to replace them. Ed holds onto Stede and they wait and watch as the droplets ever-so-slowly begin to fill in the blank area, from the top down.

“It’s beautiful,” says Stede in wonder.

Ed can’t decide whether to look at the rain or at Stede’s amazed expression, but either way, he thinks that it is indeed.

November 19^th: IKEA

“Divorce furniture?” asks Ed, raising an eyebrow.

He’s looking over Alma’s list of potential Slowvember activities. Stede, meanwhile, is still recovering from the day before, grateful now more than ever that he did not dream.

If he had dreamt, it would have been of Ed in the rain. He’s slowly gathering a fascination with Ed and water. How lovely he’d looked, all covered in raindrops, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Stede had considered reaching for him then, holding him even closer than they were holding their hands, but there were at least two problems with that. First, Stede had no idea whether Ed even liked him back – could even like him back. What if he reached out and was rejected? Could he bear the pain?

Second, Ed was his guest, and things would be unbearably awkward afterward at best if his growing feelings were not returned. At worst, Ed might even feel pressured, given their circumstances.

(The third fear, the secret fear, was all tangled up in the newness – in the idea that these feelings might not even be real, might not mean what he thought they meant, and that he’d touch Ed and find it to be not what he wanted at all. Ed deserved better than to be someone’s experiment.)

Stede waves away his concerns for the moment and comes to look over Ed’s shoulder at the list on his mobile. “Divorce furniture,” he confirms. “You’ll have noticed all the furniture in the house is rather old-fashioned. It was all my grandfather’s. What Mary and I bought during our marriage, she took with her and the children to their new place. Alma rather astutely pointed out that I’ve never picked out anything of my own. And it would be nice to replace some of the things that ended up with Mary – the bench in the entryway, for example. Or the table in the dining room.”

“Is that what that room is?” Ed asks, which is a fair question. They’ve been eating in the kitchen on a temporary folding table, ignoring the empty room that yawns cavernous beside it.

“I also need more bookshelves.”

“So those stacks on the floor in the library aren’t on purpose?” asks Ed with laughter in his voice.

“Hush, you,” says Stede, but gently.

So it is that they end up on the road to IKEA, Stede having promised Alma to text her photos of prospective furniture and potentially FaceTime her, if the need arises.

“Never been to an IKEA,” says Ed as they pull into the car park, and Stede gawks at him.

“Oh, but you must see! They have a little restaurant inside, and a massive warehouse at the end, and all sorts of bric-a-brac. You’ll love it.”

They enter past a setup of an example living room; Stede examines the bookshelves but deems them too short for his purposes. Then it’s up the escalator to the next floor.

Ed immediately hones in on a fake cactus in a pot shaped like an elephant, so Stede writes the number down in his little notebook to fetch when they reach the right area.

“I don’t need it,” says Ed.

“Needing things is not the point of IKEA,” Stede says firmly, and that’s the end of that.

Stede finds a nice piece for the entryway, along with a trellis for the back and a lovely set of blue chairs to pair with a dining table, if he can find one in a dark wood. Then they come to the cafeteria.

“Hungry?” asks Stede, though he has an inkling with the way Ed is eyeing the menu overhead.

Ed shrugs. “Could eat,” he answers, which is a ringing endorsement.

Stede insists Ed try some of the meatballs, and they both end up with a chicken parmesan, Stede adding on a slice of chocolate cake that he’s sure Ed will steal bites of. They find a table and take a seat.

“Let me know what you think,” says Stede as he cuts precisely into the chicken.

Ed places one of the meatballs in his mouth and makes a small happy noise as he swallows it down. Stede feels it like a shiver. “Excellent,” Ed tells him with a grin.

“I’m glad. You can buy them at the front, you know.”

“Of course you can,” Ed says fondly, and eats another.

Stede was right; Ed’s fork begins questing over his cake within minutes. Biting down a smile, Stede pushes his tray to allow Ed access.

“Mmm. Can you buy this, too?” asks Ed.

“I don’t think so. I’ll have to bring you some from the café, though, you simply must try Roach’s recipe.”

Ed tilts his head. “Is ‘Roach’ a nickname?”

“It’s not on his payroll, if that’s what you mean,” says Stede, taking his own bite of the cake, not caring overmuch about avoiding where Ed’s fork has been. “But he’s gone by it for years. Something about strength, I think. He’s very difficult to crush.”

“Good trait to have,” Ed mutters, and Stede privately agrees.

They nearly get lost a dozen times because Ed insists on backtracking into rooms they’ve already visited, but eventually they reach the vast white space near the end where the household knickknacks live. Stede finds Ed his elephant cactus and searches for a good set of cutlery.

“Not nearly comprehensive enough,” he mumbles to himself as he searches through the options, but of course Ed hears him.

“No snail fork,” Ed says cheekily, and Stede sighs, making it as dramatic as he can.

“How else am I to eat my escargot?”

Ed giggles, which has no business being as attractive as it is. This, more than anything, is what convinces Stede; it’s not just the traditional elements of Ed that attract him, but all of him. And oh, how he wants.

It gets worse when they reach the end and Ed loads the new dining room table (in a nice dark walnut shade) into the car, lifting it easily, muscles in his arms responding with a hard flex. Stede cannot stop staring.

The traditional elements are pretty nice, too.

“Get everything you need?” asks Ed as they pull away.

“For now,” Stede answers, thinking to himself: Not yet. Not just yet.

November 20^th: Slumber Party | Manicures

Louis is sleeping over at a friend’s house, and Alma takes the opportunity to request some one-on-one time with her father.

“You know my friend is in town,” says Stede, who has her (with her knowledge) on speakerphone. He’s sitting at the head of the new dining room table. Ed sits next to him, along one side.

“One-on-two time, then,” Alma says, sounding exasperated. “Come on. It’s been ages since I saw you without Louis. I don’t care if your Mister Cool is there too.”

Mister Cool, mouths Ed, and Stede’s lips twitch up into the beginning of a smile before twisting sideways, like he doesn’t quite know how to react to that. Ed doesn’t even begin to touch the your.

So Alma shows up at the door with her suitcase, and Stede lets her in, setting her up for a film night on the couch, making a bowl of popcorn.

“So you do eat popcorn,” says Ed triumphantly, and Stede fixes him with a flat look.

“I keep it for her.”

“Of course you do.” Ed smiles at him, which earns him a proper smile back, as if by accident. It warms Ed without a single touch.

If Alma notices that Ed follows Stede everywhere he goes during the preparation, she doesn’t say a word. Ed can’t exactly explain to her that it’s to keep the spikes of freezing ice out of their chests. Finally they settle on the couch and turn on Frozen II.

Alma sings along to Into the Unknown, hitting the notes perfectly, and when Stede tries to join in it becomes clear the talent is not from his side. She shoves him and forces him to stop. Stede laughs and crunches some popcorn.

Ed is helpless to the vision of Stede like this, as a father, perfectly relaxed and happy with his family. Somehow, Ed’s presence hasn’t broken the spell.

As soon as the film ends, Alma shoots up and runs out of the room, returning with a collection of nail varnish. “Which one should I do?” she asks Stede.

Stede considers them carefully, holding them up to her face one by one to check the coloring. “What outfit?”

“I’m keeping it all week. I’ll just match the outfits to the nails.”

“This yellow, then,” he says, decisive, holding up a pale shade.

She takes it without argument and begins to apply it.

“So you’re the color expert of the family,” Ed says. “Alma has good sense, listening to you.”

Stede examines him closely, as if searching for the joke. Finding none, he shrugs. “Anyone can learn. And it’s all subjective, anyway.”

“I’ve seen your wardrobe, mate. You’re doing things I’ve never seen before, and they’re all brilliant.”

This pleases Stede, who does another of those coy glances away. Ed wants to chase his gaze, to lift up his chin and kiss the smile from his mouth, something quick and small, like any couple would do. He imagines Alma wrinkling her nose but not meaning it.

Silly. He’s not a part of this family, and he never will be. Stede is straight, no matter how he looks at Ed sometimes. He’ll be lucky if they meet again at all, after this November.

He blinks a sudden mist from his eyes and occupies himself with rifling through the other bottles of varnish.

“Can I do yours?” asks Alma, and he turns to find her expression earnest. “Dad never lets me do his. He gets them done at this fancy place, and they only ever do clear.”

He glances between Alma and Stede. It’s been a while since he painted his nails – busy, he supposes, and he’d considered that lucky when he met Stede, concerned about his hypothetical reaction. Now that he knows him better, Ed doesn’t think Stede will mind. But it’s always a question.

“Pick my shade?” he asks, and it’s almost shy.

“Of course.” Stede gravitates towards one bottle immediately, but he keeps holding up more, as if second-guessing himself. Finally he points to the first bottle.

It’s a shade of lavender, one that will go well with the darker plum colors Ed tends to favor. “You think so?” asks Ed on a broad smile.

“I do.” Stede ducks his head as he passes the bottle to Alma.

Alma doesn’t hesitate as she places Ed’s hand flat on the table and begins to paint. It’s quick – she’s good at it – and soon Ed is waving his hands around in midair, waiting for the nails to dry.

Stede takes the opportunity to talk Alma into going to bed – it’s ten o’clock now, and on a school night. Ed follows and rests outside the door while Stede reads her a poem. Luckily, the room is small enough and the bed close enough to the door for them to separate this far without the ice encroaching on their hearts.

Afterwards, Ed trails after Stede as he opens a bottle of merlot, settling with him back on the living room sofa and pouring himself a glass before finally asking, “Poetry?”

“It’s a tradition.” He shrugs. “We did picture books and chapter books, too, when she was younger, but poetry is the only thing she wants now. Every month or so I go digging for more poems for her.”

Stede seems self-conscious again, so Ed offers him a smile. “That’s nice,” he says.

“Did…” Stede hesitates. “Did your mother ever read to you?”

Ed pauses for a long moment. Does he want to go back there, in his mind? With his words? But this is Stede. If ever there were anyone he wanted to tell the truth… “She told stories,” he says finally. “The Māori have plenty of stories of our own. My Da never much liked it, but then he didn’t pay enough attention to notice, most nights.” He looks down. “There wasn’t much about her to miss, but I miss that.”

Stede puts his hands over Ed’s, the warmth of the slow-time spreading through him. “I’m sorry,” Stede says.

“Like I said. Not much to miss.”

“And that’s what I’m sorry about.” Then, inexplicably, Stede cups Ed’s face, considering him closely.

Finally he retreats. Ed, stricken, watches him go.

They both take long sips from their glasses, after that, and once the glasses are drained, Stede places them in the sink. He leads the way up to bed, Ed following from necessity and from choice, all of it wrapped up in one.

“I’m glad it was you,” he hears himself say, tipsy and drowsy, as he slips off to sleep. “I’m glad I got stuck with you.”

And he may be imagining it, just another part of his dreams, but he would swear he hears Stede whisper: “Me too.”

Chapter Text

November 21^st: Journaling

In the morning, they drive Alma past the house of Louis’s friend, picking Louis up on the way to school.

Alma shows off her nails to her younger brother, who blinks blearily back at her before turning to Stede and asking loudly if they can stop for ice cream. (Stede turns him down kindly; the time and place for post-divorce bribery is not seven in the morning.) It takes him all the way from the front door to the car to notice that Ed is there.

“You brought the pirate!” Louis squeals, and Ed chuckles, bending down to help him climb into the car.

“That he did.”

“Did you sleep well?” Stede asks, adjusting the rearview mirror as he waits for everyone to be seated. Louis nods. It’s something of a miracle; for months after the divorce, he’d had difficulty falling asleep at all without Stede or Mary in the room, as if they would disappear on him. Therapy helped. Now he’s spending nights away as if it were nothing.

Stede feels a tear come to his eye just thinking about it, and he blinks it away. They’re going to grow up. That’s rather the point of them. Still, it makes him sad to imagine – sad and excited in equal parts, visions of graduations, of possible weddings and grandchildren, of careers and futures and lives. How grateful he is that Mary and he work so well as a team, that he doesn’t have to miss these moments.

They pull up to Louis’s school, and Louis squirms his way up onto the armrest, insisting on a hug from Stede before he goes. Stede manages it in a sideways fashion. Then Louis is out the door, glancing back a few times in a way that breaks Stede’s heart before finally making it into the building.

Alma’s school is only two blocks away, part of the same system; they drive there and she launches herself out of the car, Stede calling after her: “Wait! You forgot –”

She turns and comes back for her creative writing journal, a requirement in English class. “Have you been writing in yours?” she asks, tone stern, expression knowing.

“I…” Stede hesitates. “Ah…”

“It only works if we both do it.”

Her eyes are big and plaintive. He sighs. “I’ll catch up tonight. I’m sorry, darling, I’ve just been – distracted, I suppose.”

She glances over at Ed – ‘your Mister Cool’ – and, after a long moment, nods. “It’s okay. But you have to do it tonight.”

Then she’s off to make it to class before the first bell.

Ed moves to the passenger seat (Alma had relegated him to the back) and raises an eyebrow as Stede pulls away from the school.

“It’s – every day her teacher gives her these writing prompts, and she sends them to me. She makes fictional stories out of hers, but they’re not all fictional. Some of them are just for journaling. Part of our post-divorce agreement was for me to do them once a week.”

“And you’re behind.”

“I’ve been distracted,” he says, just as plaintive as Alma looked, and Ed raises both hands.

“Hey, sorry about that, mate.” But he’s smiling.

When they get back home, Stede fetches his journal from his study (Ed trailing along behind him, as always) and heads back to the living room, where they settle comfortably on either end of the sofa. Ed puts some sort of metalworking show on the television and begins idly browsing his mobile.

Stede digs his glasses out of a drawer in the side table and puts them on, checking his text thread with Alma for the previous week’s prompts. There are five to choose from, two of which he dismisses out of hand as too fantastical, one of which strikes him as boring (something about holiday plans), one of which addresses what he’ll do when he grows up (a bit late for that, he thinks, though it’s true that the divorce has given him a new lease on life), and the last of which he’ll have to settle for: Make a pro/con list for a decision you’re considering. Discuss the evidence for both sides.

He makes it through the K for Kissing Edward and then glances up, catching sight of Ed staring at him. “What?” he asks, as if Ed has seen right through him.

“You…” For once, Ed seems speechless. “Glasses.”

“Oh, yes.” Stede taps them self-consciously. “Only when I’m going to be doing rather a lot of reading, or writing. I don’t need them for short periods of time, but my close-up vision’s been worsening for a decade and I get headaches if I do too much without them. Are they… I know they must look a bit odd.”

“No! They…” Ed clears his throat. “They’re fine. You’re fine.”

He’s still staring.

Flushing under the gaze, Stede erases the K and sighs. It doesn’t feel quite right to agonize over that particular decision, especially when it isn’t his alone to make. He considers other possibilities.

This journal is entirely private – even Alma will never see it, they agreed to that from the start. It’s for him alone. So he writes down on the heading line:

Being gay

Then he crosses out the ‘being’ and writes:

Identifying as

Beneath it go the PROS and CONS headings. Then, he writes them as they come to him.

CON – is it even true?

PRO – honesty with self is a good thing

PRO – and if it’s true, I shouldn’t lie to everyone else, either

CON – bad if I’m just doing it because I think I owe it to other people

PRO – I might owe it to myself

CON – shouldn’t I have known earlier?

PRO – Jon Darren Andy Jameson Rafael

(All names of people – a childhood friend, a coworker, a regular shop clerk, a neighbor, a fellow parent at school – for whom he had unplaceable feelings that he’s now begun to admit could have been attraction.)

CON – what if it turns out I’m imagining it?

PRO – I could fall in love

CON – I could be wrong

PRO – I could be free

CON – I could be mad

PRO – Edward.

He stops and glances over at Ed, who has evidently been shooting him a look at the same moment, for he busies himself unsubtly with his mobile upon being caught. Stede bites down a grin. Is it possible…?

No. Silly to think it.

The prospect of writing up an analysis of his pro/con list feels daunting, so instead he scrolls further up through the text thread, looking to fill a prompt from an earlier week that he needs to make up for.

An acrostic poem is a poem where the first letter of each line spells a word, name, or phrase. Write an acrostic poem about a subject that matters to you.

His lip twitches up. He hasn’t written poetry in years. He places pencil to paper.

A life that felt so bleak before you came,

Like flowers all abloom in one small frame.

My love, my life, our hearts, they beat the same.

A cry that drew me, moth to precious flame.

Another:

Like ocean waves, you raise me from the bay

Out to the sea, where waters splash and play.

Unmoored from life, I saw in you a way

In time to make the life I have today.

Son of mine, and sunlight’s brightest ray.

He pauses for a long time. Writes six more letters down the side. Fills them in.

Eyes like stars, a captivating glow.

Dashing smile. Words. My feelings grow.

Warm embrace – a thing I should not know.

A hand on mine, the way we make time slow.

Raindrops on his skin, the way they flow

Distract me with this place I cannot go.

He puts the pencil down. Closes the notebook. Glances over at Ed.

That’s enough for today.

But tomorrow, he’s going to figure this out.

November 22^nd: Tortoiseshell

They’re in an antiques shop in town, and Ed is trying to get Stede in reading glasses out of his mind.

He really had no business being quite so handsome, Ed decides. And if Ed was staring yesterday, how can he be blamed? Beautiful Stede with his clever little glasses, sitting casually on the sofa like he wasn’t a revelation.

Now the reading glasses are nowhere in sight, Stede not needing them to notice with hawk-like gaze each time Ed lingers on a particular item, even when Ed thought he was around the corner.

“I’ll buy it for you,” says Stede about the third object so far, startling Ed by appearing suddenly at his elbow. “Sorry,” he adds, looking a little amused as he registers Ed’s surprise.

Ed looks down at the large hairclip he’s been turning over in his hands. It’s in a tortoiseshell pattern, a delicate thing he would never have considered in a past life, when he’d been too concerned with his tough appearance. Now, with Stede and his fine fabrics, he’s allowing his true taste to shine through. “Nah, it’s too expensive.”

How Stede sneaks it in with his other purchases despite Ed being right there, Ed will never know. But they make it home and settle on the sofa and Stede produces it with equal pride and embarrassment.

Ed gapes. “I told you, mate, you didn’t need to.”

“I’m sure I can find a use for it if you truly don’t want it,” Stede replies. “But I thought you ought to have it. It would suit you well, you know.”

Ed takes it and draws back a section of his hair, clipping it out of his face. There’s a large mirror in the back of the glassed-in shelving unit across the way, and he can just catch a glimpse of himself there. It does suit him, in a soft sort of way that nearly has him tearing up.

“I could braid it for you,” Stede says very softly, and then when Ed turns to him, he seems to panic. “I mean! Not that you can’t do your own hair. Or that you’d want me in yours. I just – because of Alma, see, I’ve some experience, and I know the texture is different but I thought it might be nice to – never mind. I’m sorry.”

Ed lets his face spread into a grin, because otherwise he’s not sure what it will do. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I don’t know,” says Stede, helpless, and Ed laughs.

“You really want to?” he asks, matching the earlier softness.

Stede looks away. “I wouldn’t mind it,” he tells the floor.

“I think I’d like you to,” says Ed, and then he worries he’s gone too far, but Stede only looks pleased and pats the seat beside him.

Ed arranges himself there, facing away from Stede, an oddly vulnerable position. If he were truly a pirate, he thinks, he would never allow it. Stede’s hands slide up the back of his neck and Ed wants to cry.

“Here,” Stede murmurs, undoing the clasp gently and setting it to the side. He takes a section of Ed’s hair and begins dividing it. He’s so careful, moving slowly, never pulling. Each incidental touch of Ed’s neck fills him with the heat of the slow-time, as well as a different sort of fire.

Stede’s mobile buzzes beside him, and he glances over at it and gives a sigh of disappointment.

“Bad news?” asks Ed, heart squeezing.

“No.” Stede resumes braiding. “Just… I’m expecting a text from Oluwande, eventually. But he’s so busy on holiday. I don’t think he’s checking his phone.”

“Ah.”

A very long pause, during which Ed considers the intimacy of their current position, and then: “Can I ask you something?”

It’s so quiet that Ed nearly misses it. He untangles the soft syllables and replies, “’Course.”

“It’s – you don’t have to answer. I just…”

“Stede.” Ed reaches back in an attempt to capture one of his hands and instead manages to pat him on the arm, which serves. “You can ask me anything.”

“How did you know? That you were – bisexual?”

Ed blinks. That he was not expecting, especially not when they’re this close, with Stede’s hands in his hair. Usually straight men try to ignore that facet of Ed as much as possible. “Uh…”

“Seriously, you don’t have to – you can forget it.” One of Stede’s fingers pets down the side of Ed’s neck before hastily returning to his hair.

“No, just – not something I’ve talked about much, I guess.” Ed considers. “Dunno there’s much to say. Fancied a bloke in secondary. Took a few books out from the library. Saw the definition, and it fit me. I like all sorts of genders.”

“As easy as that, hmm?” Stede has a tone Ed can’t quite place, but he hasn’t stopped braiding, which is something. From what Ed can tell, he’s finished braids on the left and right and is working on one in the middle, which he keeps letting go of and restarting, like he wants it to be perfect.

“Not easy.” Ed sighs. “The first time I dated a guy, I lost half my friend group. I was already trying to toughen up my image. I found the leather scene, which helped, although I only ever skirted the edges… don’t know that I ever really figured out where I belonged.” Except with you, he thinks. Somehow, madly, I fit right in here with you.

“There,” says Stede in an even stranger tone, clipping on the clasp and releasing Ed, who doesn’t necessarily want to be released. He admires himself in the mirror and brings a hand up to touch what he can’t see – Stede has formed three braids and twisted them together in a clever fashion, and Ed wonders if he could convince him to do it every morning, or at least until Ed learns this particular style. (As long as he could conceivably pretend to be a slow learner.)

And then he catches sight of Stede in the mirror and turns to face him, grabbing up his hands, because Stede’s eyes are filling with tears. “Hey, hey,” Ed says soothingly. “It’s all right. Are you all right?”

“I think I might be…”

A long moment passes during which Stede struggles for a word. Filling in from context, Ed offers up: “Bisexual?”

“Gay,” Stede manages with barely any sound. “I think I might be – yes. That.”

“Oh,” says Ed, because he’s caught so completely by surprise, and then he rallies: “Thank you for… you know. Trusting me, telling me, all that.” It’s almost on autopilot, after previous coming-outs he’s been honored to receive. In truth, he is reeling. The very foundation of his image of Stede has been rocked, set back to their early days of knowing each other, when he’d had hope of something more.

“That’s it?” Stede’s eyebrows are raised.

Ed shrugs, because that is not it, there are a whole bunch of questions Ed has been suppressing, first and foremost, Are you into me? Could you ever be? But he can’t ask them now. “Did you want a different reaction? I can try to provide.” He wiggles his eyebrows, hoping to introduce some levity into the situation.

It works; Stede laughs. “No, yours was fine. Just… I suppose I expected more… pushback.”

“Pushback?”

“Like…” Stede shakes his head. “You were married to a woman for fourteen years. Do you know how old you are? You’re just figuring this out now? That sort of thing.”

“I don’t think it’s ever too late.” Ed squeezes Stede’s hands, which he is somehow still holding. The warmth of it is perfect, traveling straight to his heart. “Stede, I’m really – I mean, it might not be my place, but if I can be proud of you, mate, I am. This stuff is tough. If you ever want any help… figuring it out more, I’m here for you.” Touch me, use me, see how you like it, I’ll be what you need… “To talk,” Ed amends hastily, although that wasn’t all he meant.

“I appreciate that.” Stede squeezes back, a smile finally returning to his face and staying there. “I really do.”

If, that night, Ed Googles how soon can you ask a new gay to kiss you, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

November 23^rd: Hot Tub

Stede wakes up the next morning to a series of texts from Oluwande:

Sorry I’ve been so busy.

To answer your question – I knew I wasn’t straight because of a boy I knew when I was thirteen. Thought I was in love. I think sometimes all it takes is that one special person.

Are you sure you don’t want to call and talk about this?

Hope you’re okay.

He fires off a quick response: Thank you. I’m doing all right. Have fun on holiday!

And then he sits and stares at the wall for far too long a time. Thinking: all it takes is that one special person.

Ed, too, had mentioned a particular person, a particular crush. Can it really be that simple? See Ed, want him, upend his entire sense of self, and ask for what he wants?

Stede glances back at Ed’s sleeping form and considers that it might be.

They while another day away working in the back garden, then pick up Alma from school and drive her to her next track meet. The season is winding down. She’s got multiple layers on as she begins the run, but Stede had no such foresight. He shivers before he can help it.

“Here,” whispers Ed beside him, passing over his leather jacket.

“You’ll freeze,” Stede tells him, taking in the navy blue shirt Ed’s wearing underneath, solid but not enough against the cold.

Ed gives a pointed look to Stede’s own attire – a flimsy white-and-flower-patterned shirt perhaps best described as a blouse. The fabric is so thin Stede feels as if he’s wearing nothing. “Not the way you will, mate. Just take it.”

Stede does, glowing a bit under the word mate (why does it sound, now, so much like an endearment?) and at the thought of wearing Ed’s jacket in public.

They meet Alma at the finish line, where she’s come in second, and Stede hugs her tight. Only as she pulls back does she register what she’s wearing. “Nice,” she says, and it’s on one of those half-sarcastic laughs where Stede honestly can’t tell whether she means it. But then she gives a thumbs-up to Ed (who returns it) and Stede realizes she was sincere.

Stede finds Doug and Mary in the crowd and hands her over – they’ll be the ones to take her home tonight. He turns back to Ed and finds him shivering.

“I told you,” says Stede, and oh, how he wants to hold him, to warm him with the strange heat of the slow-time, but there are too many cameras here and it’s too risky. He settles for handing the jacket back and ushering Ed to the car. “You’re going to catch your death –”

“Worried about me, mother hen?” asks Ed, stretching luxuriously against the passenger seat. His grin is lazy as he watches Stede start the car, fingers fumbling in the cold.

“And if I am?”

Ed tucks himself back against the window, looking cozy, huddling into the leather jacket like he can still feel Stede’s warmth inside it. “You’re worse off than me in that shirt.”

“You don’t like it.”

“Didn’t say that.” A long moment passes, enough for Stede to fret about Ed’s implications, before Ed adds: “Pass me that list, will you?”

Stede unlocks his mobile and hands it to Ed – text previews are disabled, so any sensitive replies from Oluwande should be shielded unless Ed actually goes into the text app. Stede trusts that he’ll stick to Notes, where his Slowvember list from Alma resides.

“Mmm, how about this one? Hot tub? Do you have a hot tub?”

“Of course I have a hot tub,” Stede says automatically, and then: “I mean…”

Ed cackles. “I said you were a rich person.”

“Oh, fine. Hot tub it is.”

It’s all well and good until Stede stands on one side of the bedroom door with Ed on the other, knocking hesitantly, knowing the sight that awaits him. Still, as Ed opens the door, it takes his breath away.

Ed’s swimming trunks are a bit less conservative than those from the beach, these ones a shade of dark grey, flirting with the halfway mark of his thigh. The tattoos across his chest grab Stede’s attention again, and he forces himself to glance away, sure he’s blushing.

He’s chosen the longest trunks he owns, yellow ones, and still he feels self-conscious as he leads Ed out to the hot tub. But then he’s slipping beneath the water and for a moment, the heat hits his muscles and nothing else matters. “Ah.”

His eyes have closed, but Ed makes some strange sort of noise and Stede opens them to find Ed staring back down at him.

“Are you coming in?” he asks cheerily, forcing himself to think about anything but their nearness, their lack of ordinary attire.

Ed shrugs and climbs in gracefully, sitting down around the corner from Stede, and for a moment their knees bump and the heat of the slow-time spikes through Stede, hotter even than the water around them –

And then Ed settles, and he’s too far away. Stede can’t help but move a bit closer under the guise of positioning his back in front of one of the more powerful jets.

“It’s a shame,” says Ed after a minute or so of relaxation.

“Hmm?” Stede barely cracks his eyes open.

“The jets.”

“What do you mean?”

And then Ed’s arm is moving to cover Stede’s, resting along the back of the hot tub, and Stede’s brain stops working. “See?” asks Ed.

“No.” Stede curls his hand up to take hold of Ed’s elbow. Ed is so close now, the slow-time heat coursing through them, Stede would only need to lean forward the smallest bit and he could –

“The jets,” says Ed. “They’ve stopped.”

It’s true; along with the rest of time, the jets have ceased their motion, but Stede can’t bring himself to mind. “I don’t care,” he says, and it comes out bold, though he only said it through lack of thinking.

“Oh, really?” The words are practically murmured. Ed’s thumb strokes over the exposed skin of his inner arm.

“Yes, I, ah…” Stede doesn’t think he could be blamed for losing his train of thought. “That is… the slow-time… it’s better, isn’t it?”

Ed grins and nudges Stede’s foot with his own. The heat sparks there, too. “You’re not wrong.”

As Ed’s foot retreats, Stede follows it, pressing their legs together.

“Stede?” asks Ed, glancing over at him quizzically.

The water is dripping from his hair, down across his broad chest, beading at his nipples. Stede is staring. He can’t help it. These moments keep coming up, of Ed and water.

“You all right?” Somehow, impossibly, Ed comes closer, and his face goes soft as he asks the question.

“I…” I’m not strong enough. But not strong enough to act, or not strong enough to resist? “I… Can I…”

“You can ask me anything, you know that.” Ed presses his forehead to Stede’s, one more point of slow-time heat, and Stede responds by tipping forward so that their noses touch, too, just barely.

“Not this,” he whispers.

“Anything.” Is it just him, or does Ed sound almost desperate?

“I want to know… I want…”

“What do you want? Come on, sweetheart,” says Ed. “Just tell me.”

“I want you,” Stede answers quietly. “I think. I know. I want…”

“Me?” Ed’s voice is a rumble, and Stede can feel the motion of it in his fingertips, in his soul.

“Yes,” he says, helpless.

Ed chuckles. “I’m right here.”

Stede huffs with exasperation, and Ed’s laughter evaporates.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Stede admits.

“I could kiss you,” says Ed offhandedly. “If you wanted.”

Stede’s eyes snap back to Ed’s from where they had wandered down his chest. There’s space between their faces again, but just barely. “Would you?”

“I told you, Stede. Just ask.”

“What if I’m wrong?” Stede doubts he’s making much sense right now, but he forces himself to keep speaking: “What if it’s not…”

“One way to find out, yeah?” Ed’s grin is audible in his voice, but it fades as he turns serious. “Hey. I said I’d help you. Is this what you want?”

“I don’t want to – to use you. If it’s just – just some experiment…”

Ed’s tone turns dark, and he cards one wet hand through Stede’s hair as he replies, “I would love to be used by you.”

Fuck. “Yes.”

“Hmm?”

“Yes,” says Stede. “Do it. Kiss –”

Ed does.

At first, any other sensation is imperceptible beneath the heat of the slow-time flowing from his lips into his heart. But slowly, other details make themselves known. The warmth of Ed’s mouth, the soft press of it, the way it fills Stede’s stomach up with little champagne bubbles. Ed’s hand in his hair turns into a gentle grip. Stede whines.

“Is that good?” asks Ed, breathless. “Is that –”

“Well, don’t stop,” says Stede, and it probably comes out bitchy, but he doesn’t care, because it makes Ed kiss him again, and again.

Only when Ed’s mouth opens against his own does Stede pull back.

“Wait…”

Ed’s grinning. “Too much?” he asks softly, placing their foreheads together once more.

“I don’t…” Stede trails off and cannot think of how to continue.

“We can take it slow,” Ed replies. “Tomorrow. Let me take you out somewhere, go on a proper date.”

Stede reels, his mind still filled up with the sensation of Ed’s kiss.

“Unless you don’t want that.” Ed is frowning, now, as he pulls back to regard Stede more fully. “You don’t have to – if you just want to… y’know. Touch me. I just thought, if anyone ever deserved a proper date…”

“It was you,” Stede whispers, and Ed just stares, uncomprehending. “You deserve a proper date.”

Something in Ed’s expression clears. “So you’ll let me?”

“Edward, I want nothing more.”

“Good,” says Ed fiercely, and his grip in Stede’s hair tightens as he leans in to kiss him again.

It’s gentle, and he doesn’t seem surprised when he pulls back to find Stede dizzy.

“Too much,” Ed says, not a question.

“It’s all so new…”

“Tomorrow, then,” Ed tells him, pulling him into an embrace. The heat from their touch becomes an inferno. “More tomorrow, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed for now.”

“Hmm. Not even a proper date first?” Stede asks wickedly.

Ed manages to swat him with a towel as they climb out from the hot tub, and in that instant Stede knows that everything’s going to be all right, despite all of his questions, his insecurities, and his remaining doubt.

He has Ed. And Ed will make sure of it.

November 24^th: Date Night

Ed packed exactly one formal outfit, and he’s nervously fiddling with the highest button on the shirt when Stede knocks on the door to signal that he’s ready.

Sighing, Ed leaves the button undone and opens the door.

Stede is a vision, of course, his suit baby pink, and Ed smooths down one side of the collar just because he can, because he needs to reach out, to touch, to do something.

“You look amazing,” Ed says.

Instead of responding, Stede looks briefly panicked.

“Hey,” Ed soothes. “You all right?”

Stede stumbles backwards to sit on the bed. Ed follows him, brushing their wrists together, hoping to infuse him with the calming heat of the slow-time. “I’ve never…”

Ed nods. “Yeah. I know.”

“Any of it.” Stede looks up at Ed, pleading. “What if I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“Maybe a date was too fast,” Ed says. “Or a date out, at least. We could stay in. I bet my spaghetti sauce rivals theirs.”

This earns a small smile from Stede. “Ed, I really like you. But I’m terrified. I can’t stop thinking about what all this means… and where it’s going…”

“You’re steering the ship, sweetheart.” He throws in the endearment because Stede seemed to like it the day before. “It goes wherever you want to go.”

“I think…. I think it wants to go out on a date,” Stede says with quiet excitement.

“Well, then. There you go.”

They stand and head for the car, and only as they pull out onto the street does Stede speak again: “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date I didn’t feel… trapped in. By my parents, by society, by some expectation. There were very few before Mary, and… well, you know how things ended up with her.”

“Still can’t imagine cheating on you,” Ed mutters.

Stede appears to catch it, and looks the sort of pleased he looks when he knows he isn’t supposed to be. “We both had our faults. So, is this…”

“Hmm?” asks Ed, contemplating Stede’s hand on Stede’s thigh and feeling rather put out he can’t hold it without slowing time and endangering traffic.

“This. Is it… are you doing it as, as a favor? Because I’m very grateful…”

“Stede.” Ed levels him with a serious gaze, which Stede catches in moments between watching the road. “I like you. I really like you,” he repeats. “Think I have done since you looked back at me at the zoo. D’you know how disappointing it was when you said you were straight?”

“Really?” Stede glances at him and one side of his mouth quirks up in a disbelieving smile.

“Really,” Ed confirms. “Sunk all my hopes and dreams, that.”

“Oh, please.”

“I mean it.” Didn’t help, waking up with you wrapped around me… It’s probably not time for that last thought to be shared. “I want this. And you can change your mind, no problem. Anytime. But don’t think I’m just doing this as a favor.”

Stede finds a good parking spot right outside Vico’s Italian and smiles more fully, glancing down at the steering wheel in a way that’s almost shy. “Well.”

Ed orders a baked ziti while Stede gets something with shrimp, and then they’re sitting there sipping on clinking ice waters and it should be awkward, with anyone else it would be, but this is Stede. Ed feels as if they’ve known each other their whole lives, and yet there is always something new to say.

He ends up telling a story about the time two of his older sisters were mermaids in the school play, and Stede is laughing so hard he’s clutching his side by the time the food arrives. Ed dives in and tastes it with an appreciative noise, which earns him a look from Stede.

“What?” he asks, casually knocking his shoe against Stede’s under the table.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Stede says as he expertly spears a shrimp.

“Wasn’t.” And then, fairly: “Would have. But wasn’t.”

Stede glances furtively around as he chews the shrimp, perhaps checking to make sure no one else is within earshot. Most of the other diners are crowded in tables around the front door, and Ed and Stede have this back room all to themselves. “I didn’t even know it was possible to be this…” He trails off.

Ed quirks up an eyebrow. “What?”

Stede’s eyes go to the floor, and yes, the blush is back. “It’s embarrassing.”

“C’mon, mate, you can tell me anything.”

“You won’t laugh?”

“Is it funny?”

Stede shrugs. “Not really? I don’t know.”

“I’ll do my best.” Ed forms a little X over his heart.

“I’ve never been this attracted to anyone before. I didn’t know… I didn’t know it was supposed to be like this. That it could.”

Ed feels as if his entire year has been made – as if he could float away on sunshine and smug joy. “Oh, really?”

Stede takes a well-timed bite of his pasta to avoid a reply.

“Hey.” Ed bumps his shoe again. How he wants to hold his hand, but if they eat most of their meal in the slow-time, the waitstaff will see it miraculously disappear in an instant. “Look, I feel the same way about you. I mean… I knew it could be like this, mostly. The physical part of it. But…” How can he explain that the emotional part of his attraction has spread beyond his wildest dreams? “Trust me, I’m breaking records over here, too.”

Stede steals a glance at him and swallows the pasta down. “You mean it?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for me to start listing the things I want to do to you.”

Stede chokes for a moment just long enough that Ed starts to panic, but as he’s reaching out to pat Stede’s back, Stede takes a long sip of the water and recovers. “Good Lord, I suppose you’re right.”

“There’s no rush,” says Ed, although they’re staring down the barrel of December. “I’ll be right here when you’re ready. Until then… this is nice, isn’t it?”

“It is nice.” Stede smiles with his whole spirit and ducks his head down to take another bite.

Ed frets more than necessary over the lack of a clear place for a good-night kiss; neither of them is dropping the other off, and there’s no pause on the doorstep as they enter the house, nor when they enter the bedroom. Only when Stede reaches for the light does Ed gather the courage to say, “Y’know, usually I kiss my dates good night. Only if you –”

“Oh, thank God,” says Stede, and reaches for him.

Just like the day before, Stede tastes sweet in a way his meal does not fully explain. He moves clumsily but endearingly under Ed’s touch. This time his mouth falls open without prompting, and their tongues touch for a few impressively erotic seconds before Stede pulls back. “I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s all right, mate,” says Ed, holding him still to kiss him on the forehead. “Sweetheart. It’s all all right. It’s perfect.”

And as they go to sleep, sleeves brushing, in the same bed, somehow, it is.

November 25^th: Sailing

When Stede wakes up in the night, he’s holding one of Ed’s arms hostage.

They’ve been opting for long sleeves, reducing the chance of accidentally slowing time and throwing off their sleep schedules, so there is no supernatural heat flowing through him. Only the regular kind. He considers pulling away, and in fact begins to, but Ed makes a discontented murmur in his sleep and shifts closer.

Is there a need to move away anymore?

Stede places his chin on Ed’s shoulder and nudges one of his feet in between Ed’s calves, holding his arm tighter. Ed’s cheek comes to rest in his hair. Tingles racing through him that have nothing to do with the slowing of time, Stede goes back to sleep.

When he next awakens, the sun has risen, and Ed is regarding him like a fragile thing. Stede meets his eyes and offers him a soft smile.

“Hello,” he says quietly.

“Hello,” Ed replies, smiling back. One of his hands is absently rubbing Stede’s shoulder. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I have in a long time,” Stede admits. “And you?”

“The same,” Ed says. And then: “Oh, the time –”

“We’ve got plenty left, it’s just now nine.”

They’re meant to meet the boat owner at eleven, so they take a leisurely breakfast. Stede can’t help but keep glancing at Ed and then away again.

“Something on your mind?” asks Ed, amused.

“You know it’s you.”

Ed grins, lazy and captivating. “Oh, is it now?”

Stede stands to collect the dishes, and as he passes Ed, Ed grabs his hand and looks up at him. Stede stares back. The twin heats passing between them – the supernatural and the all-too-ordinary – are nearly overwhelming. With deliberation, Stede sets the dishes down and takes Ed’s face between his hands, leaving a long kiss on the top of his head. When he pulls back, Ed’s eyes are closed.

He leans in until their breaths mingle and whispers, “Okay?”

Ed opens his eyes. “Yeah,” he says roughly.

Stede moves forward, tentatively, and kisses him. He tastes of marmalade. “Does it – did it bother you? Last night?” Stede asks.

“What do you mean?” Ed swoops the dishes out from under him and leads him into the kitchen, still not letting go of his hand. Only once the water begins to run (at first, with excruciating slowness) do they part. “Last night was perfect.”

“I mean…” Stede can feel heat rising into his cheeks, and he concentrates his sight on the dishes. “That we only… that we only slept.”

Ed shoots him a roguish grin that for all his concentration he cannot help but look at. “I dunno. I remember a pretty good kiss in there, somewhere.”

“You know what I mean.”

Ed shrugs one shoulder and moves on to the next plate. “It’s your pace, mate. I’ve done it all before.”

“All?” Stede’s eyes have gone wide.

“Well, enough.” He turns off the tap and swivels to face Stede, expression serious and tender. “Stede. Sweetheart.” (That word is everything to Stede, now.) “I’m just here to help you figure things out. Doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

“You’re going home next week.”

“Then we’ll have some extraordinarily rousing conversation on the telephone. It’s all right.” Ed dries his hands and cups Stede’s face with them, dropping a brief kiss onto his lips. “I’m just happy with this.”

“So you don’t want anything more.”

Ed holds a finger up to Stede’s mouth. “Shhh. You’ve got no idea what I want. And trust me, I do.” This, in nearly a growl, making Stede’s knees go weak. “But I can wait, as long as it takes.”

Stede turns over the idea the whole way to the docks, where the boat owner stands waiting. His name is Jerry.

“Hi,” says Stede, forcing his mind away from Ed for the moment. “Ah, my name’s Stede Bonnet. We spoke on the phone?” And then Jerry’s eyes go to Ed. “And this is Ed, my… f-friend,” Stede manages.

“And you want to go out for a ride on the Queen Anne, then, do you?”

“Yes, that would be lovely,” says Stede, as if he’s being done a favor, when really he’s paying a fair amount of money for the privilege.

He can’t bear to look at Ed as they board. My friend? What exactly was he thinking? But what else are they? They’re not boyfriends or partners, he knows that for sure. What word is there for someone who has so quickly become such a part of you?

It flashes through his mind in an instant: Soulmate. He wants to take it back. He doesn’t dare to.

Is Ed his soulmate? Does he even believe in such things? Is that the word for this instantaneous connection, for this fondness, this need, this feeling that he’ll fall apart the moment Ed truly leaves him?

He trips over something at the end of the ramp, possibly his own feet, and Ed catches him by the arm. Stede looks up to find Ed there with a reassuring smile. He exhales deeply. Of course Ed isn’t cross with him for his description. They’re friends. They are.

Ed has said this is more than a favor, for him. Does that mean he’d be open to something more?

December approaches.

Stede puts it out of his mind as they pull out onto the water, instead settling into a seat by the bow and enjoying the light spray of seawater across his face as the boat cuts through the ocean. It’s all motorized, nothing as romantic as Stede’s favorite pirate literature, but Jerry is doing a marvelous job of operating the ship, leaving Stede and Ed all the time in the world to enjoy the view.

A weight settles beside him and Stede turns to find Ed there.

“Everything you dreamed?” asked Ed with a fetching little lilt to his voice.

“It’s beautiful,” Stede replies, widening an arm to indicate the sea around them. In the distance, other ships pass by, but none very near. “Do you suppose I should get one? I’ve enough inheritance left. Then we could come out to see the water whenever we wanted.” In an instant he wants to take back the we – Ed is going home – but Ed doesn’t seem to mind.

He just smiles. “Could be nice. Didn’t think you’d want one of these modern contraptions.”

“Then I’ll get one with proper sails. Learn how to operate it.”

“I can see you like that. Dashing across the waves, face to the sun. Shirt half-open,” adds Ed in a murmur, and Stede giggles.

“Why, your imagination, Mister Teach.”

Ed winks. “It’s a good one.”

By the time they return to shore, they’ve made fair headway through the snacks they brought with them, and Ed has an arm around Stede that Stede can’t quite bear to displace. Jerry doesn’t say a word about it as he waves them goodbye.

Date. Should Stede have called Ed his date?

Is there any chance Ed might want something more?

Perhaps it’s a subject he’ll raise in the morning. For now he simply enjoys the five separate ‘final’ good-night kisses of which they partake, and drifts off into a peaceful slumber, holding onto Ed once more.

Chapter Text

November 26^th: Crafts

Kissing Stede is as easy as breathing, now, and Ed doesn’t know how he ever went without it.

Doesn’t know how he’ll manage once December comes and he goes back home, an ocean away.

He gives Stede a brief peck upon awakening, and then tackles him for a proper session once they’ve brushed their teeth, and Stede is so game and pliant beneath him that it takes all of Ed’s self-control to pull back. Stede lets out a little whine.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Ed tells him.

They’re leaning up against the bedroom doorframe, and Stede drapes himself back across it in a clear attempt to look fetching. It works. “Am I?”

And then they’re kissing again, and Stede introduces a bit of grinding into the equation, which has Ed speechless and thoughtless until Stede finally squirms away, whispering:

“Sorry.”

Ed blinks. Regains his mind. “What for?”

“That I can’t… that I’m not… I want everything with you.”

Ed can feel the dopey grin that spreads over his own face at the thought, and finds he doesn’t mind. “We’ll get there.”

Stede mirrors his grin. “We will.”

With an awkward throat-clearing, he separates himself from Ed and shuts himself away to dress, Ed following suit on the other side of the door. He knows Mary will be by with the children at any moment. And indeed, just as he’s finished buttoning up his shirt, a knock sounds at the front door.

“Stede!” Ed calls, because he can’t go answer it, not alone. Not without the dreaded ice spiking into their chests.

Stede opens the door, and his shirt today is a pastel blue with his trademark ruffles. Ed reaches out to smooth one of the ruffles for no real reason but to touch. “Is that Mary?” Stede asks.

“Shall we find out?”

It is, of course; Louis bounces his way into the living room in rare form, while Alma follows more sedately behind, clutching a tote full of craft supplies.

“And you have clay here already?” Mary asks Stede.

Stede begins to nod as Ed turns to the children.

“What are we working on today?” he asks them.

“Turkeys and pirate ships!” says Louis. Ed becomes increasingly convinced he’s recently been given sugar.

“I’ve got a diorama due next week on The Odyssey,” says Alma. “The shoebox and the markers are here, I just need the clay.”

Ed goes with Stede to fetch the clay because he has to, and makes a show of being useful by carrying it. There must be several dozen sticks of it, all in different colors, some even glittery.

Alma chooses a truly disgusting shade of neon pink and begins working on a base layer. “Always use the bad colors for the insides,” Alma tells him. “Then you don’t use up the good ones until you get to the outside.”

“Very wise.” He meets Stede’s eyes over her head and finds that they’re both smiling.

Louis, meanwhile, has got something in his head from his United States friends – tracing one hand and using it to form the silhouette of a turkey. Stede patiently waits for him to hold the hand still and then draws the lines around it with careful accuracy. His concentration is endearing, like everything he does.

Alma moves to stretch out on the floor as she continues shaping her siren, and Ed sits down beside her, grabbing a spare piece of clay and rubbing into a ball between his palms.

Stede and Louis are dealing loudly with an explosion of glitter across the room, so there’s no way for them to hear when Alma says very quietly, “Do you like my dad?”

Ed stares at her. “Of course I do,” he says finally, faux-heartily. “Who wouldn’t?”

“I mean like-like. Like Mum likes Doug.”

“I… think that’s a question for your parents.”

“I know about gay people,” she says impatiently. “Mum and Dad are fine with that. I’m asking about you. You look at him the same way Doug looks at Mum and I want to know.”

With a sigh, Ed considers his options. We only just met – but their cover story involves having known each other for years. Not like that – but he can’t stand lying, especially to a child who will see right through him. “I suppose I do,” he tells her at last.

A smile steals over her face, although she’s quick to correct it. “Good,” she says. “He needs people.”

Ed looks over at Stede, who is now making loud explosion noises as he steers a paper pirate ship created by Louis. There’s a long moment of silence.

“There’s a girl at school,” says Alma finally. “Sophie.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I think… I think I like her like that.”

Ed’s heart goes warm. What has he done to earn Alma’s trust? “Cool. You going to tell her?”

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I wanna tell Dad, but I… I guess I’m scared, maybe? Even though I know he’ll be fine with it. Was it ever like that for you?”

Ed’s parents were never anywhere near fine with it, but he knows how intimidating it can be to come out, even to accepting friends. “Yeah, I reckon it was. I think you should tell him, though. Even if it’s scary. He’ll be good about it.”

They watch Stede for a moment more, two people united by their love for –

Their – their like for, their fondness for this silly, precious man. Love? Ed has no business thinking about love. They’ve known each other less than a month, never mind that they’ve been living in each other’s pockets. Love cannot possibly be the word to apply here.

“I know he will,” Alma tells him as she returns to her diorama.

She enlists Ed’s help rolling out the ropes that will tie Odysseus to the mast of the ship, and they all head to the kitchen to watch the clay pieces bake in the oven. Stede makes them a light lunch. They devour it on one of the new IKEA tables.

And Ed can’t help but feel something he hasn’t felt, perhaps, ever –

Part of a family.

Which is absurd. He isn’t a part of this family – they aren’t his, he has no claim to them. And yet he sits there, heart full of something that is very much like love, and wonders about the future.

He wonders long into the night, and the word love has never been closer to his tongue.

November 27^th: Massage

They’re working in the back garden again when Stede moves the shovel wrong and collapses in a pile of pain.

“Ouch,” he says, and in his periphery he sees Ed rushing over.

“What happened?” asks Ed, his hands hovering over Stede, like he wants to help but isn’t sure how.

Stede sits up and winces. Stretches, to the extent that he can, to test the injury. “Strained something in my shoulder, I think. Nothing to worry about! I’ll be right as rain.” He attempts to wield the shovel again, but it proves to be too much, and he switches hands, trying to dig out a stubborn weed with his right arm alone. It’s really a two-arm task.

He looks up from his efforts to find Ed still standing there, still concerned.

“I said I’m all right,” Stede tells him, softer. The effect is ruined by the pain as he turns – he can feel it cross his face.

“That’s it,” says Ed. “We’re going inside.”

“You needn’t fuss over me.”

“You’re hurting,” Ed replies. “I’ll do what I want. Now come on.”

Stede tries to help toss the rest of the tools back into the wheelbarrow, but it’s Ed who pushes it all back into the garden shed and closes the door. Above them, the clouds are heavy with threatened rain. Stede thinks about their day dancing in it not so long ago. Now, they could kiss under it.

He’s smiling at the thought as he enters the house and fetches a plug-in heating pack from a cupboard. Then he passes the freezer and spends a moment deliberating.

“You all right?” asks Ed.

“Ice or heat, do you suppose?”

“Ice,” says Ed immediately. “Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.”

Stede can’t help a little laugh at his promptness. “Deal with this a lot, do you?”

“You don’t run a surf-and-motorbike shop without seeing a few injuries. So, yeah. I know what to do. And we need to get you into bed.”

Something spikes in Stede at the wording and his first instinct is to push it down, but his second thought is, why? He knows Ed is waiting only for him. And Stede isn’t sure how much longer he’ll need. Ed’s presence already has him near to desperate, and the closing in of December only makes it worse. “All right,” he says finally. “Let’s get to bed, then.”

He doesn’t think he’s imagining the flash in Ed’s eyes as he says it.

Ed hands him an ice pack as they reach the bedroom, and Stede strips off his shirt to apply it. As they settle there in bed, Stede on his stomach with the ice pack over his shoulder, Ed hesitates. Runs a finger down Stede’s arm, introducing the heat of the slow-time.

“Suppose this isn’t ice,” Ed says.

“’S nice, though,” Stede answers dreamily.

“Yeah,” Ed tells him. “It is.” A long pause. Then: “I could… if you wanted…”

“Mm-hmm?” Stede shifts a little so he can turn and look up at Ed, who seems more than a bit distracted by something. With astonishment, Stede realizes that that ‘something’ may be his own lack of a shirt.

“Could give you a massage,” Ed says in a rush, so mumble-y that Stede takes a long second to parse it. “Or not. If you wanted.”

“That would –” He’s imagining it now, the slow-time heat settling into his bones, Ed’s hands on his shoulders, and oh, how he wants. “That would be lovely.”

Ed’s face brightens. “Yeah?”

He moves to straddle Stede’s thighs, which is just unfair, and places his hands on the sides of Stede’s neck. Sure enough, the supernatural warmth begins flowing straight from Ed’s hands to Stede’s heart. Across the room, a clock slows in its ticking.

Ed pushes his hands together and Stede melts.

He starts with Stede’s neck but turns quickly to the bottoms of his shoulder blades, moving around the injury before addressing it directly. As he moves his way up Stede’s shoulder blades, Stede can’t help but let out a ridiculous noise. To his credit, Ed only falters for a moment.

“Good?” he whispers, and Stede nods feverishly.

“Very,” he says. He can hear the crack in the middle of his voice.

Ed treats the area of the injury gently, placing both hands over it and rubbing slowly, softly. “Is that all right?” he asks. “I’m not hurting you?”

“You can do it harder,” says Stede, which isn’t even meant to be an innuendo until Ed chuckles.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?”

“Call me that and you can do whatever you like.” It comes out more sincere than sardonic, which wasn’t Stede’s intention, but it makes Ed lean forward as he continues to rub. He kisses Stede at the outmost point of his vertebra, then up higher, onto his neck, almost into his hair. Stede whimpers.

“More?” asks Ed on a dark laugh.

Stede turns over as carefully as he can and grabs at a surprised Ed, pulling him down on top of him. Their next kiss is harsh and demanding. Stede clings to Ed and tangles their legs together, moves one hand softly through his hair.

This time Ed is the one to make a noise.

“Good?” echoes Stede through his rapid breathing.

Ed nods, still looking rather shocked.

“I’ve changed my mind,” says Stede.

“About what?”

“I’m ready,” Stede tells him. And then, closer, against his lips: “Show me what comes next.”

They do not part for maybe half an hour, an eternity in their own private world before time starts around them once more.

When it does, it’s because Ed has rolled off the bed to fetch a towel from the bedside table. He’s grinning like a loon.

Stede is staring at the ceiling. “Wow,” he says as he regains his breath.

“There’s more where that came from,” Ed tells him. “That’s just the start.”

“Wow,” Stede says again. That may be his entire vocabulary at this point.

Ed throws the dirtied towel across the room (which Stede will think to mind later) and cuddles himself up against Stede, dropping a kiss to the hollow of this throat. “We doing okay?”

“We are doing more than okay,” Stede replies, leaning back to regard him fully, eyes wide.

Ed laughs. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Did…” Stede looks away for a moment, picking at a nonexistent thread in the sheets. “Did you?”

“Stede, you are everything I want.” His eyes soften as he looks back at Stede. “Yeah. I did.”

They throw off their sleep schedule, holding each other, bare skin to bare skin, for another three hours of rest.

It’s worth it.

November 28^th: Wine Tasting

Stede detains Ed in the morning for a repeat of the previous day’s performance, and Ed goes eagerly along.

He knew that Stede would be a vision, but he could never have predicted exactly how the new emotions would sit on him, the intimacy, the pride of a lover. By the time they’re supposed to be making breakfast, Ed cannot help but grab him by the doorframe and kiss him again, and again, despite all the kissing they’ve already managed this morning.

Stede is laughing as they part. Absolutely delighted. Ed wants to delight him like that every day for the rest of their lives. “Enjoying yourself?” Stede asks breathlessly.

“Literally never enjoyed myself more,” Ed replies with a wink, and takes his hand to lead him down and see about breakfast.

Stede insists on a very particular spread in order to ‘prepare their palates’ for the day’s wine tasting, and Ed, bemused and fond, allows it.

“Never been to a wine tasting before,” Ed reveals, halfway through the car journey there.

“Oh, but you’ll love it!” Stede grabs his arm through his sleeve and squeezes. “At least, I think so, from how I’ve seen you drink wine thus far. You do seem to have an appreciation for the finer things.”

Good thing I’ve got a rich boyfriend, he almost says, a joke (since they’re neither of them exactly poor), but he pulls it back just in time. They’re not boyfriends. Stede made that clear enough, introducing him as a friend to that ship captain. And Ed shouldn’t mind at all. This is all so new – is Stede even ready to jump into a relationship?

As much as Ed is coming to terms with the idea of being… in love (such scary words) with Stede, there’s no reason to think the feelings will ever be reciprocated. He should be content with what he has. It should be enough.

And it almost is, as they pull into the car park and Stede throws an excited glance over his shoulder. Ed laughs and follows. He’s wearing the same suit he wore to the Italian restaurant, which Stede sent off to be laundered; Stede is wearing a different suit, of course, of his many dozens, this one a pale lilac. The shirt is white with embroidered lavender flowers. It matches well with Ed’s ensemble, which is mostly black with deep plum accents.

The vineyard has a long outdoor bar at the eastern side, and upon spotting him, the woman behind the bar lights up.

“Stede!” she shouts out.

“Jackie,” he replies with a grin.

“Didn’t think you were gonna make it. Lucius says you’ve been off the radar.”

“Well.” Stede looks away with a bit of a blush. “I’ve been… er… busy, rather. But I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“You’d better not. And who’s this?” She turns to Ed, who braces himself for Stede’s answer.

“This is my date, Edward,” says Stede, laying a hand across Ed’s back, as easy as you please. “He’s got a fine palate. I think he’ll enjoy your wares well enough.”

Date. Ed is his date! He contains himself from jumping for joy but can’t help a wide smile that Jackie picks up on, quirking a brow at him. “Excited to be here,” he says to cover for it.

Jackie nods. “Mm-hmm. All right, then. We’ll start you with a young Riesling…”

She chatters to Stede a bit about the growth of the grapes, the health of their crop this year, but all of Ed’s attention is consumed by Stede as he picks up the glass by its stem and swirls the wine lightly around inside, holding it up to the light to observe the color. Then he breathes the scent of it in through his nose, eyes closed. When he opens them again, he’s smiling at Ed. “What do you think?” he murmurs.

Ed picks up the wine and gives it a sniff. “It’s good. Sort of, uh, perfume-y.”

“Precisely,” says Stede with a beam, and he takes a long sip. Ed follows suits. “I’m getting pear,” Stede says, turning back to Jackie.

Ed laughs under his breath, not loud enough for either of them to notice. He never thought he’d be with this type, but the thing is, Stede is so painfully unpretentious about it – so absolutely eager, jumping in with both feet, genuinely excited by the offerings before him. He acts the same through a Pinot Grigio and a Chardonnay, picking out notes and debating them with Jackie, never seeming to mind that Ed’s responses are much more vague. (“Kinda fruity?” and “It’s got sort of a spice” being his only contributions.) Indeed, Stede seems thrilled by Ed’s opinions, offering him a broad smile.

The thing is, Ed likes wine. He knows which varieties he prefers (mainly reds, Pinot Noir and Merlot) and sticks to them. But he can’t pick out notes of blackberries over a hint of oak and mushroom or what-have-you. He never thought he’d enjoy a wine tasting with this sort of company, but there’s something fun about listening in on a conversation way above his head.

When they reach the Merlot, Ed lets out a little mmm sound and immediately goes for another sip. Stede chuckles.

“We’ll take a bottle of that,” he tells Jackie.

“You don’t have to,” says Ed.

Stede leans in and drops a kiss on his cheek, perfectly casual. “But I’d like to.”

“I don’t know if I can accept…”

“Come now, darling, say yes. I should like to drink it with you tomorrow night. Really, it’s a selfish purchase.”

Ed reels under the darling. “Yeah, all right,” he manages. Stede waits until Jackie’s gone behind the bar to fetch a dessert wine and draws Ed into a proper kiss, lips on lips.

“There you are,” Stede murmurs against him. “Having fun?”

“We can date long-distance, can’t we?” asks Ed, entirely without meaning to.

Stede has released him, letting the heat of the slow-time dissipate, but he doesn’t seem perturbed. Still, Ed scrambles to elaborate:

“I mean. We can still, you know, talk, and – and eat together, and drink wine together, just not, y’know, together-together. Watch the same films. That sort of thing.”

Stede is quiet for a long moment, and Ed begins to worry, but then Stede speaks lowly, fiercely: “Of course we can.”

The dessert wine isn’t champagne, but Ed feels all filled up with bubbles just the same.

There’s plenty to think about, and plenty to worry about. He knows that. But he rides the joy of that moment all the way home, where more sweet kisses await him.

November 29^th: Café

Stede wakes up held and safe in Ed’s arms, feeling as if he’s never truly belonged anywhere else.

Perhaps sitting by Alma’s or Louis’s cradle should count, but Stede had been all filled up with fears about the sort of father he would turn out to be. Here, he has long blissful minutes of no such fears at all.

Of course, he’s still himself, and so inevitably the doubts begin to creep back in. How long will Ed want him? How will Ed want him? Surely Ed is accustomed to casual, but Stede has never had a casual relationship in his life. What is he supposed to do?

Beside him, Ed snuffles and shifts, their hands brushing together and taking them into the slow-time. It’s enough to wake up Ed, who smiles at him. “Good morning,” Ed says.

“Good morning,” Stede replies, weak under the power of that smile.

Ed presses a long kiss to the side of his head. “What’s on the agenda for today, then?”

Stede rolls towards him so that they’re facing each other directly. “I don’t suppose I can keep you in bed all day.”

“We already did that.”

“Yes, back when it wasn’t quite so much fun,” Stede points out, and Ed shrugs.

“What, you didn’t like film day? I found it very – hey!” His façade cracks and he laughs as Stede smacks him very lightly on the arm.

“Darling,” says Stede.

“Hmm?”

“Just – you.” Stede gestures to indicate all of Ed. “You’re…” Perfect.

“What?”

And why shouldn’t he say it? “You’re perfect.”

This earns a smile from Ed that’s almost shy – one Stede is certain most people don’t get to see. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Stede replies firmly.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Ed puts one finger under Stede’s chin and attempts to draw him in for a kiss, but Stede squirms away and gets to his feet.

“I have to brush my teeth!”

He’s near the end of their invisible, supernatural tether when Ed finally gets up and comes after him, laughing. “Of course you do.”

They brush their teeth beside each other (so this is why the master bath has two sinks – he and Mary never bothered), and it all feels so heart-meltingly domestic, and all Stede can think is how much he wants to keep Ed here. But it can’t be done.

Somewhere through his face cream routine, Stede remembers Ed’s question. “Ah, so, the agenda for today – I know what you said about ‘no work,’ but…”

Ed gives him a half-playful warning look.

Stede raises his hands. “I really would like you to see the café before you go! Please?”

Ed sighs and rolls his eyes with a grin. “Your pleading face is a weapon.”

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Yeah, all right. I wanna try some of these amazing scones.”

“Oh, you absolutely must, there’s some with ginger and there’s some with apricot and…”

It’s only as they pull into a parking space that Stede remembers to have a minor panic.

“You all right?” Ed asks, picking up on it as always.

“I’m going to have to come out to them,” he says.

“Eventually, maybe,” Ed muses, reaching out to place his hand over Stede’s, risking the slow-time in public within the safe space of the vehicle. “You’ve got all the time in the world.”

“I’m not introducing you as a friend,” Stede tells him.

“Then what?”

“My –” Stede pauses. “My… I don’t know! You think of something!”

“Why do I have to think of something?”

“Because you’re the one that’s done this before!”

Ed reaches for him, taking his face between two hands, and leans forward until their foreheads press together. “Stede. It’s all right. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What do they call it when…” Stede thinks about it. Thinks about Ed going back home, where there are plenty of other people to be something real to him. Thinks about Zoom dates and long late-night phone conversations, long swathes of misery and bitter loneliness cut through with times of sheer joy. Thinks about calling Ed his, even from halfway across the world.

Ed makes a gentle noise to prompt him.

“I just want you to be mine,” Stede confesses.

“Then I am.” Somehow, improbably, Ed’s face breaks into a smile. “That’s all I want, too.”

“What does that make you, then? My – my boyfriend? My partner?”

“Maybe even both,” says Ed with wide eyes, and Stede narrows his own, suspicious that he’s being mocked. But Ed’s smile is sincere, as is the excitement Stede feels uncoiling from somewhere behind his heart.

“Then let’s go,” Stede says, and imagining the walk in, he’s struck by one more thought: “Oh, no. Oh, Lucius is going to be insufferable.”

Ed’s face goes serious. “If you want me to talk to him…”

“No, no. I’ll handle it.”

“Stede, what he did wasn’t cool. And I know it wasn’t just the one time. Badgering someone about it like that…”

“It’s all right, really.” Stede turns to Ed and kisses him (his boyfriend!) just because he can. “I will handle it.”

They walk by Roach and Wee John first, and Stede introduces Ed without incident, and Ed quickly loses himself in a conversation about the proper consistency of madeleines. Then Stede turns and finds Lucius standing there with Pete, having dropped a dishtowel on the floor.

“Lucius,” says Stede brightly. “The office, if you will.”

Lucius settles himself down with a strange mix of glee and trepidation on his face. “First of all, boss, I just want to say, congratulations –”

“Do you know what made it so hard to admit that I was gay?”

It’s abrupt, and Lucius reacts that way, shutting his mouth and shaking his head.

“I’ve spent my entire life having people tell me that I must be,” Stede tells him. “Having to defend myself from a thousand little cuts, barbed words, downright accusations. It was hard enough to tell them I wasn’t gay. Harder still to tell them I wasn’t gay, but so what if I were? It’s not like it’s an insult. The hardest level of all is to explain that yes I like clothing, and flowers, and delicate things, but that doesn’t make me gay, even if, by the way, I in fact am.”

He doesn’t know if he’s rambling, and he’s never said gay this many times at once in his life. But he’s doing his best.

“I spent so long shutting out the voices that insisted on their stereotypes that I never let myself think about who I truly was. And it turns out that yes, Lucius, I am gay. For what it’s worth, I never lied to you. That handsome man out there wasn’t my date at the skating rink, even if he is now. And I know you had good intentions.” Stede’s voice softens. “But can’t you see how all the rumors only made things more difficult for me?”

Lucius has been staring at him with wider and wider eyes, and finally he nods. “Yeah, boss. I… can definitely see how that would be the case. I’m really sorry.”

“Good.” Stede picks up a pen and clicks it out, realizes he has nothing to do with it, clicks it back in, and sets it down with purpose.

“If I can just say…” Lucius begins.

Stede gestures for him to go on.

“It wasn’t the clothing, or the flowers, or anything,” says Lucius meekly. “I really did see you look at men in… in a way. In a snack-y sort of way. I wanted to help you. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Stede sighs. “I know.” His lips curve up a bit as he considers it. “Was I looking at men like that? Really?”

“Every time we pass the Calvin Klein advert downtown,” Lucius responds promptly, and Stede chuckles.

“There wasn’t a thought about it in my head. Not consciously, anyway.” He stands and claps Lucius on the shoulder. “Let’s get back to the others, shall we?”

“Are we okay?”

“We are, in fact, okay.”

And they are. They return to chat with the others, and Stede is so distracted by the coziness of this found second family that he doesn’t notice he’s leaning toward the hob until he leans on it.

“Ouch!” he cries as he jerks away.

In an instant, Ed is there, though he was practically across the counter a moment before. “Stede?”

He’s reaching for Stede, and Stede just barely manages to pull away from him in a way that doesn’t look like a rejection but that will keep him from inadvertently slowing time. “I’m fine.”

“You burned yourself.” Ed takes delicate hold of Stede’s sleeve, turning the arm over to look at the hand. “Cold water. Right away.” As they walk to the sink, he throws back at Roach: “And why is it on if there’s nothing on it?”

He spares no attention for Roach’s rushed apologies, only fussing over Stede’s hand and finally pressing a brief, risky kiss to it once it’s dry, sending a single rush of slow-time heat into Stede’s chest before it’s gone.

With Ed’s liquid-dark eyes on him, Stede thinks, God, I love him, and then,

God.

I love him.

When did that happen? How could that happen, with a man who’s leaving in two days? How could he let it happen? But it has, and there’s nothing he can do to calm the storm around his heart as he realizes.

As soon as he can, he makes an excuse to take out his mobile and text Oluwande:

I think I’m in love. Is that ridiculous?

Oluwande replies with a heart emoji, then with:

I’d say it’s about time. You deserve something good. We’re coming back next week – can I meet them?

Stede notes the ‘them’ and loves Oluwande, too, in his own way.

I hope you can meet him, he types back. I really hope you can.

November 30^th: Movie Night

Ed’s flight is leaving in the morning.

They spend more of the day gardening, Stede pruning back the blackberry bushes and only getting a few cuts for his trouble. Ed makes him take breaks to rest his shoulder, though Stede insists it’s feeling much better. Ed isn’t so sure. It’s the same side that his burnt hand is on, the same side that got hit with the bus, and overall it’s rather pitiful, everything he’s gone through this month.

Ed hopes that it’s a net positive.

And it seems that way, when Stede uses one of his breaks to drag him to the sofa and make use of some newfound skills. Ed kisses every spot on Stede’s skin that he can reach. Afterward, they run back out to finish their work before the forecasted rain.

The first few drops begin to hit, and Stede reaches out for Ed’s hand. Ed gives it.

The world slows around them, and it stays that way as they bring the wheelbarrow back to the shed, as they carve a path through the raindrops back into the house.

“Wait,” says Ed as they near the steps. “Dance with me?”

“We already – oh.”

Ed pulls him into a slow dance, gently suggesting Stede’s head down onto his shoulder, winding arms around him and keeping one hand on the back of his neck to ensure that time stays slow.

“No music,” Stede remarks, though he sounds content.

Ed summons up a melody from his mother and begins to hum it into his ear.

Halfway through, Ed realizes Stede is regarding him with tears in his eyes. “Shh,” says Ed, and kisses him. “None of that.”

“This is our last day,” Stede croaks.

“We’ll see each other again. I promise.” He guides Stede’s hips into a turn. Sways with him. “I’ll come back, love.”

It’s dangerous, the love – but in their dialect it doesn’t always mean I’m in love with you, so Ed isn’t giving away his entire heart, just pieces of it. He wonders if it would be less painful whole.

Stede finds a comfortable place in the crook of Ed’s neck to nestle his head and goes along with the swaying. Ed reaches the end of the melody and holds out the final note, a low one, for as long as he reasonably can.

“That was lovely,” says Stede. “You’re so lovely.”

They kiss again, and Ed’s hand slips from Stede’s neck to his collar by mistake, so that the moment their lips part the rain begins to fall again, drenching them in earnest. Stede laughs and takes his hand again to drag him inside.

One shared shower later, they’re sitting on the edge of the bed. They both speak at once.

“Perhaps if we –” begins Stede.

“I could make popcorn,” offers Ed, and then stops. “What was that?”

Stede giggles in a way that’s much too adorable to stand. “I was going to say, we could watch another film. Right here.”

It’s getting dark outside. Ed nods and leads the way to the popcorn.

When they get back, Stede begins flicking through streaming services and spending far too long debating the up- and downsides of various options. Finally Ed says, “Pick one at random.”

“At…” Stede looks scandalized, but then the thought seems to sink in and his lips twitch up in a half-smile. “Well, all right. It’s an adventurous month.”

It’s almost over, thinks Ed.

When Stede lets off the scrolling arrow and they open their eyes, it’s landed on Titanic, because of course it has.

“We can pick something else,” Stede suggests.

“Nah. We said we’d do it, so let’s do it, yeah?” Ed notes privately that the film is long – more time with Stede before they sleep away their final hours together.

One inconvenient factor is that they can’t hold hands while watching – the film slows to incoherency every time they do. But they brush in the popcorn bowl often enough to keep a frisson of heat playing through Ed’s chest.

As the end of the film closes in, Ed has to turn a bit away from Stede to muffle his sobs. This one always gets him. He wipes the tears away from his eyes and takes a fierce bite of popcorn as Rose whispers her final words to Jack in the sea.

The photographs by her bedside always get him, too. And then the last shot fades, and Stede’s voice speaks over the music: “Ed?”

It’s soft, and Ed turns to find that Stede has tears in his eyes, too, but not flowing down his entire face the way Ed does.

“Are you all right?” asks Stede.

Ed uses his sleeve to dab tears from his cheeks and nods. “Yeah. Fuck. Sorry. I just – they didn’t get a lot of time together, you know? And I always…”

Stede comes forward to take him in his arms, waiting patiently for more words.

“You wished for Slowvember,” Ed musters. “Time to take care of yourself, to relax. I wished for – for something else.”

“For what, darling?” Stede tips his face up and kisses him on the forehead.

“For someone to be an us with, I guess,” he says. “I dunno. I was really drunk. But I wanted someone who wouldn’t leave. And now I’m supposed to leave and I…” There’s a growing certainty within his chest, just underneath the heat of the slow-time, and it rises within him.

“We’ll see each other again,” Stede says, as Ed did before.

“All we have is this one life,” Ed whispers, and then, with all that rising certainty: “I’m not letting go of you, Stede.”

Stede laughs a little bit as he places his hand over Ed’s where it grips Stede’s sleeve. “You’re going to have to.”

“I’m serious. I want to move here. Overseas. Into the city.”

Stede blinks. “You… you do?”

Ed shrugs. “I’m bored to death at home, mate. I c’n do my job just as easy anywhere there’s a Blackbeard’s. Izzy’ll kill me but what does he know? Stede, I… I’m in love with you.”

Stede sucks in a breath.

“I know it’s soon,” Ed adds in a rush. “I know it’s kind of ridiculous. But –”

Stede kisses him, long and full, though it must taste of salt from all the tears. When he pulls back, he’s beaming.

“Is that… okay?” asks Ed tentatively.

“Edward, darling, it’s marvelous. I – I love you, too.”

With a blink, Ed states, flat, “You’ve known me for a month.”

Stede’s voice goes high-pitched. “You said it first!”

“You’re easy to fall in love with!”

“So are you!”

They stare at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter.

Stede leans in to kiss him again, and something’s different this time. It takes Ed a long moment to figure out what.

“Stede, what time is it?” he asks.

Stede moves sideways to check the clock on the wall. “Just after midnight.”

“I think…” Ed reaches out for Stede’s hand, which is just as warm as any human, although it still makes Ed’s stomach swoop like no other. Ed uses his free hand to exit out of the streaming service to the generic cable news, which immediately fills the room up with noise.

“It’s over,” says Stede in an odd voice. “The slow-time.”

“Yes,” Ed replies cautiously. He’s not sure how he feels about it. Mostly, a vast wave of relief – no more fear of getting caught through some new mishap; no more tiptoeing around their touches. But a part of him will miss the slow-time. It was fun while it lasted, and it tied him to Stede in a way the universe itself couldn’t deny.

He’s not sure how Stede is feeling, either, until Stede smiles. “I can touch you in public.”

“Now, don’t go getting too many ideas.”

This earns another giggle from Stede, who leans forward for a kiss, one Ed happily gives him. Then he stops and pulls back. “Ed…”

“Hmm?” Ed’s sure he’s wearing some sort of dopey expression, and he can’t bring himself to care.

“You realize you’re practically living with me already, right? You know you could just…”

Ed reaches up to cup Stede’s face. “I wanna do this right. That means a… a courting phase, and everything. New city, new life… I’ve got to get myself established first. Make sure you still want me when we’re not living on top of each other,” he adds, half-joking.

“I will always want you,” says Stede fiercely.

Ed gives him a soft smile. “Then there’s nothing to worry about. It’ll happen at its own pace.”

“All right,” Stede tells him on a sigh. “I suppose I can stand to wait a little bit longer to live with you again. So long as we see each other most days,” he says, stern, and Ed nods.

“Every day I can manage, love.”

“Good.” Stede leans back against the headboard, seeming self-satisfied. Then he glances over at Ed. “About the flat, though… a whole year on a lease… well, it seems a little excessive, is all.”

“Mm. And what would you like me to do about that?”

“Can you get a month-to-month?”

He can, and he does. He’s sure he’ll make it at least six months on his own.

He lasts for three.

Chapter Text

Epilogue: November 2024

Stede rushes into the entryway, checking his bowtie one more time in the mirror. “Are we sure about this?”

“I don’t know,” says Mary with a wicked grin. “Are we?”

“Oh, hush, you. I meant the bowtie.”

“You can’t change it now,” Alma tells him. “I’m going out in sixty seconds and you’re after me.”

“Okay. Okay. Oh, God. Okay. We can do this.”

“Deep breaths, Stede,” Mary tells him, running her hand up and down his back. “You’ve got this.”

“I hope so. Oh, Louis, don’t forget the –”

As Alma exits the door with her handkerchief full of flower petals, Louis turns and holds up the pillow with the rings.

“Oh, wonderful. Good boy. Off you go, then.” Stede gives himself a nervous smile in the mirror. Raises his eyebrows and bares his teeth.

“You’re going to be great,” Mary tells him.

“So you don’t think I’ll trip or forget my lines or faint in the aisle or –”

“None of that,” says Mary. “And I’m sure Ed will find a way to marry you even if you’re unconscious.”

Stede laughs, and a little of the tension fades from his shoulders. “You’re right. Of course you are.”

“Now. Shall we?” She offers her arm.

Having your ex-wife give you away at your wedding is not perhaps the most traditional move, but post-divorce Stede is far from a traditionalist. He exits the house into the garden and begins his walk down the aisle, Mary beside him, and takes a moment to look over all the faces watching – especially the groomspeople at the front, Jim and Oluwande, Lucius and Pete, Fang and even a reluctant Izzy.

And then his eyes fall on Ed, and nothing else matters.

They’d coordinated the basics of their suits – Stede is in a white suit with a lavender shirt, Ed in a lavender suit with a white shirt. Alma’s been going back and forth between them to handle the details. So Stede has never seen the finished product, has never seen Ed in this finest of fabrics with flowers woven through his beard, flowers he’s sure he recognizes from the garden.

“Hello,” says Ed quietly as Stede draws near, reaching over to take his hands.

“Hi,” says Stede, utterly lost in his eyes.

Ivan has to clear his throat to get their attention. “We are gathered here today…” he begins.

As Ivan continues his speech before the vows, Stede reflects on everything that’s brought them to today. What part of the universe was it that heard their wishes, his silent yearning for his perfect person, and decided to deliver? How did it make sure Ed would trip, that day in the zoo, and bring their flesh together for them to discover its effect? There are a million ways they could have passed each other by, were it not for the ice in their hearts that kept them bound together.

He’d wondered, that first November the next year, if their supernatural power would return. But it hadn’t. That chapter of their life was over and done, and if he’s honest, he can’t wait to move on to the next one.

He repeats the vows and accepts a ring on his finger, perfectly carved with tiny images (a raincloud, a sailboat, a honeybee), and waits to hear the next words:

“You may now kiss the groom.”

Ivan could be talking to either one of them, but it doesn’t matter; they lean forward in tandem and reach out for one another, and when they meet, it’s electric.

It even feels like the world slows down, for the barest of moments. But it doesn’t. It goes on.

They go on with it.

Lucius’s toast at the reception is perfect, striking all the right notes and gently teasing Stede without ever being hurtful. Izzy gives a surprisingly heartfelt speech about pasts and new beginnings.

Later that night, as they’re dancing under the stars, Stede whispers to Ed: “Do you miss it? Dancing in the rain?”

Ed chuckles. “We danced in the rain last week,” he says, because they did.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” His eyes dart around, and he adds, even quieter: “Our little secret.”

“Don’t call it that, mate, you’re making it sound like I’m pregnant.”

Stede taps him gently on the nose. “You know.”

“I do,” Ed relents. He scrunches his face up, considering the night sky. “You know, I don’t think I do. Miss it, I mean.”

“Really? Why not?”

“It was so much stress. Worrying about being caught. I mean, yeah, it was special, we knew that. But I think the whole point was to bring us together. And now that we’re together… who needs it? Just being with you is plenty special enough.”

“Awww, darling.” Stede can feels his face going soft, and he leans in for another kiss, ignoring Pete’s sad attempt at a wolf whistle.

When Ed pulls back, it’s with a secret smile, the one meant just for him. “You’re everything to me, Stede. Just… absolutely everything.”

“And you are everything to me. You and the children… I never pictured a family like this, but it’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Stede holds him tightly, then, and buries his face in his neck to whisper in his ear: “I think we got here exactly in time.”

“Do you know what?” Ed holds him in return, closer and closer, until it feels they are of one flesh, one heart, and the heat pulsing through Stede is more warming than the slow-time ever was. “I think we did, too.”