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Stede paused in his reading, placing his finger where he’d stopped. He was pretty sure he’d heard the garage door open, which meant Ed was home from his appointment.
Sure enough, he heard the door separating the garage and kitchen open and closed with a soft squeak - he’d have to remind Ed to oil the hinges - and the sound of keys being tossed on the counter. Heavy boots thunked as they were dropped by the door. A few seconds later, a cupboard door opened and he heard the sound of the faucet turn on and off.
“Ed?” he called from his place on the couch, “how’d it go?”
A long pause.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Stede.”
“Darling, it couldn’t have been that bad. It was an eye exam, not a colonoscopy.”
There was silence from the kitchen. Stede bookmarked the page and closed his book. “Just tell me. What did they say?”
A muffled “would’ve preferred a colonoscopy,” drifted in from the other room, followed by a deep sigh. “They said I need reading glasses,” Ed’s voice was subdued.
“Oh, darling, is that all? I thought you were going to tell me you had cataracts or needed eye surgery. Reading glasses aren’t exactly earth-shattering.”
“But I don’t want glasses,” Ed sounded like he was pouting.
Stede sat up on the couch, and placed his book on the end table. “Ed, they’re just glasses. Lots of people wear glasses. I wear glasses.”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Ed grumbled.
Oh. Ed was feeling insecure. “Why wouldn’t I understand, dear?” Stede asked, walking toward the kitchen.
“Because when you wear glasses, you look like a sexy professor. When I wear them, I just look… bad.”
“I’m sure that’s not…” Stede trailed off as he stepped into the kitchen. His mouth had gone dry, and his brain had morphed into the equivalent of a toy monkey banging cymbals. No, bad was most assuredly not a word he would use to describe Ed in glasses.
Ed was hunched over the kitchen island, looking miserable. He was wearing his favorite purple crop top and a pair of black jeans that looked like they were painted on; his hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and his new glasses - oh, god, the glasses - were perched on the bridge of his nose, the tortoiseshell frames accentuating his doe eyes, the final detail perfecting the work of art that was Edward Teach.
“See?” Ed said. “Bad.”
Oh, well, it wouldn’t do to have Ed looking so small and unsure of himself, not when he was the most beautiful man Stede had ever seen. He would just have to show Ed how wrong he was.
He strode across the kitchen and around the island, his gaze raking over Ed, until they were face to face.
“Mate, you’re starting to freak me out. Are you going to say anyth-mmfgh,” Ed was abruptly cut off as Stede grabbed his shirt with one hand, pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss, his other arm sliding over Ed’s shoulder, his hand cupping the nape of Ed’s neck. Stede tried to convey everything he felt for Ed with that one kiss: how attractive he found Ed, how safe and loved Ed made him feel, how much he loved and adored Ed.
Ed wrapped his arms around Stede and melted into the kiss. Stede held him tighter.
Eventually, they broke the kiss. Ed rested his forehead against Stede’s and let out a contented sigh. He pulled back just enough to look at Stede. “So… the glasses aren’t bad?”
“Darling,” Stede looked at him, eyes dark with desire, “if we’re not naked in the next thirty seconds, I think I’m going to combust.”
Ed’s eyes widened, “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen.” He picked Stede up in a fireman’s carry and made a beeline for their room, Stede hanging over his shoulder, laughing. As they reached their room, Stede said something that was muffled by Ed’s back.
“What was that, love?” Ed set him down.
“I said, ‘leave the glasses on.’”