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On the morning of their third day out from Barbados, Stede woke to hesitant tapping at the door of his cabin. He sat up, glancing blearily out the window at the pale dawn light shimmering across the surface of the waves. Ed was still asleep, a tangle of long limbs and curly hair beneath the covers, his face peaceful and still. Stede extricated himself from the bed, pulled a dressing gown over his night clothes, and cracked open the door to see Roach with a nervous expression on his face.
“Roach?” he asked. “Oh goodness, has something else gone missing?”
It’d been happening the past two days, ever since they set sail. At first, it was only small things. An apple turnover, plucked off the tray where Roach had set them to cool on the galley table. A few slices of sausage nicked from where they hung in Roach’s kitchen, cuts far too clean to be attributed to the small teeth of mice or rats. Then the thief got bolder, slicing bread off of fresh loaves, pulling a drumstick off a chicken as it roasted over the fire. Stede wouldn’t have been particularly concerned, if not for the effect on crew morale. He’d attempted to hold a full crew meeting last night, but Roach had brandished a cleaver and told everyone that anyone caught stealing from his kitchen would lose a finger if they were lucky, and an entire hand if they were unlucky.
“No,” Roach said, “Nothing’s missing.”
“Oh, god, did you chop off someone’s finger?” Stede asked.
“No!”
“Well then what is it?”
“I’ll just have to show you,” Roach said. “Come with me.”
Stede heard a stir behind him. He turned to see Ed sitting up, blinking slowly at him.
“Everything okay?” Ed asked.
“Yes darling, nothing to worry about,” Stede replied. “I’ll be right back.”
“‘Kay,” Ed said, and flopped back down onto the bed, appearing to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Stede felt a rush of affection. It’d been almost ten months since they’d found each other once more, and worked things out at long last. He didn’t know if he’d ever been this happy in his life.
“Are you coming?” Roach asked, breaking Stede out of his reverie. He realized that he’d just been gazing back at Ed with a vague, dreamy smile on his face.
“Yes!” he said, “Lead the way, Roach.”
Roach led him downstairs to the galley. He paused outside the door, and held a finger to his lips before pushing it open slowly and silently. He led Stede around into the kitchen area, creeping across the wooden floor as silently as a ghost. He stopped in the doorway and pointed underneath one of the counters.
Stede frowned. It took a minute for his brain to catch up to what he was seeing. Then he froze. Underneath the counter, sitting on top of a pile of neatly folded flour sacks, leaning up against a sack of onions, was a small figure, fast asleep. Her face was hidden by a mess of shiny brown hair, but Stede would have known her in an instant. He recognized the sharp elbows poking out from her pale green dress, the narrow set of her shoulders, and the calf-skin boots he’d given her on her eleventh birthday.
“Alma!?” he yelped, breaking the silence and startling Roach so much he banged his head on the side of the doorframe. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
The little figure stirred and raised a sleepy head. She smiled at Stede. “Hi Dad!” she said.
===
Ed woke to the sharp snap of sails being adjusted mid course and the rolling movement of a ship turning around. That wasn’t right, they were due to sail for at least a week more before hitting any good trade routes. He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of trousers, and stumbled onto deck without bothering to put on a shirt.
The crew looked just as tired as he felt, rubbing their eyes and hauling ropes in the thin grey light.
“Frenchie,” Ed said, grabbing his elbow as he walked past, “What’s up?”
“Uhhh,” Frenchie said, looking nervously at the rest of the crew. Ed rolled his eyes. For all the crew said they weren’t afraid of him, he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.
“Spit it out, man,” he said. “Why are we turning around?”
“You’ll have to talk to Captain,” Frenchie said.
“Okay,” Ed said. “Where is he?”
“Galley,” Frenchie said.
“Thanks.” Ed let go of Frenchie’s arm and headed for the lower decks.
“Wait!”
Ed paused, turning back towards Frenchie, who appeared to be having some sort of internal struggle.
Frenchie swallowed nervously. “Maybe, put on a shirt first?”
“Why?”
“Propriety?” Frenchie said.
“Oh fuck off,” Ed said. He headed straight for the lower decks. They were a ship full of blokes plus Jim, and Jim had never indicated they gave a flying fuck about seeing shirtless men, so he wasn’t going to muck about getting dressed when something weird was going on with Stede. The crew should be grateful he bothered with trousers.
He changed his mind the moment he stepped into the galley. “Ah fuck,” he said, then clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Hello!” said the little girl sitting at the galley table. “Are you Blackbeard? I’m Alma Bonnet, nice to meet you!” She looked very pleased with herself. Stede, sitting next to her, had the manic look of a man who had just sailed through one side of a hurricane and was waiting for the second half of it to hit him. His eyes were wide and his hair was ruffled in a way that only happened when he’d been pulling on it.
“Uh,” Ed said. He looked to Stede for help, but Stede buried his face in his arms on the tabletop.
Ed felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Frenchie, slightly out of breath and holding a bundle of cloth. He must have run to the captain’s cabin to grab a shirt as soon as Ed was out of sight.
“I’d say I told you so, but - “ Frenchie shrugged.
“You’re a lifesaver, mate,” Ed replied. He pulled the shirt over his head and, unsure of what else to do, walked over to the galley table.
“Hi Alma,” he said. “How about you call me Ed? That good?”
Alma scrunched up her nose, an expression that Ed had seen on Stede a million times. “But you are Blackbeard, though, right? Because I told my friends that my dad was sailing with Blackbeard and they didn’t believe me.”
A muffled groan came from behind Stede’s arms.
“I was Blackbeard,” Ed said. “But I retired.” He settled down onto the bench across from Alma. “The real question, Miss Bonnet, is how did you get on this ship?”
Alma smiled. Again, it was an expression that Ed had seen on Stede’s face many times, the sly smirk of someone who has tricked their way into getting exactly what they want. It was slightly unnerving to see it on the face of an eleven year old girl.
“I hid in a barrel,” she said, beaming. “Mum put together a wagon of stuff for Dad’s last visit, so I hid in one of the barrels and got carried aboard!”
“Clever,” Ed said. It was clever, but it was also stupidly dangerous. Alma was lucky the supplies from Barbados had been treated gently. Stede had visited his old home a few times now, and each time Mary sent him back loaded down with wine, fabric, and books. The crew treated them with far more care than usual cargo, which meant they were carried down to the hold, not unceremoniously rolled down a ramp. Alma seemed tough, but getting rolled around in a barrel was an efficient route towards a concussion or a broken wrist. Not that Ed had personal experience with that or anything.
“So,” he continued. “You’ve been the one sneaking food from Roach’s kitchen, I presume?”
Alma only looked guilty for half a second. “Well,” she said. “I had to wait until we were actually on the ocean to come out, or Dad would have just sent me back home. I brought some food but it didn’t last.”
“You brought cake,” Stede said, raising his head from his arms. “Cake and sweets.” He glanced at Ed. “How many days until we get back to Barbados, do you think?”
“Four maybe?” Ed did some mental math. “If Buttons has set us on the same course I would have chosen. Otherwise up to six.”
“Four days?” Stede ran a hand through his hair. “But it’s only been two since we left.”
Ed shrugged. Despite everything, he still couldn’t control the weather. “Wind’s against us this way.”
“Mary is going to kill me,” Stede said, slumping forward into his arms once more.
“Not like she hasn’t tried before,” Ed said.
Stede shot him a look, and Ed grimaced. Right. Probably shouldn’t mention Mary’s previous murder attempt in front of her and Stede’s actual child, who was currently staring at Ed with a serious expression on her face.
“What,” he said.
“I thought you would have a longer beard,” Alma said. “And glowing eyes, and a head made of smoke! That’s what all the stories say.”
“Well, stories aren’t always true, darling -” Stede began, shooting an apologetic glance at Ed.
Ed cut him off, leaning across the table towards Alma and speaking in a low whisper. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asked.
Alma leaned in as well, eyes shining. She nodded.
“My head is made of smoke,” Ed said. “But only when I want it to be. Too much work otherwise, y’know? Gets soot stains on the ceiling, whole ship smells like a campfire, it’s a whole thing. So most of the time I’m just Ed.”
“I knew it,” Alma said, settling back onto the bench with an imperious little nod. “You’ll show me sometime, yes?”
“Maybe,” Ed said. “But you’ll have to do me a favor.”
Alma sighed and crossed her arms, like a fishmonger inspecting the day’s catch and finding it dreadfully overpriced. “What’ll it be?” she asked.
“Well, first you’ll have to be a good crewmember,” Ed said. “That means following your dad’s orders on the ship, because he’s the captain. And when we get you back to your mum, you’re going to need to apologize for running off without her knowing. She’s probably worried sick about you. Sound fair?”
Alma gazed at him for several seconds, dark eyes thoughtful. Then she uncrossed her arms, spat in her hand, and held it out to Ed. “Deal,” she said.
Ed smiled. He spat in his own hand, then gave Alma’s a shake. “Deal,” he said.
“Will you teach me how to swordfight?” Alma asked, wiping her hand on her skirts.
“Alma,” Stede said, voice sharp with disapproval. “This isn’t a game.”
“But I’m on the ship anyways!” Alma said, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I may as well be useful. I could um, hoist up the sails! Or man a cannon!”
“You are going to spend today working on an apology letter to your poor mother,” Stede said. “And until we get back to Barbados you are so grounded. You’ll stay in my cabin, working on your reading, your drawing, and your embroidery –”
“Stede,” Ed said. Alma was staring at the table miserably.
“What?” Stede said, voice clipping from irritated into waspish. He looked like he was at the end of his tether.
“Can we talk for a sec?” Ed said. “Outside?”
Stede let out an exasperated huff. He stood and stalked out into the hall. Ed followed him, and then pulled him all the way out onto the main deck. Ed hadn’t spent much time around kids, but he knew what they could be like. There was no way Alma wasn’t going to be listening at the door behind them.
“Well, what is it?” Stede said, voice sharp with annoyance. Then he flinched, as though hearing himself for the first time. “Oh God, Ed, I’m so sorry. Fuck.”
“It’s been a weird day,” Ed said, pulling him into a hug. Stede came stiffly, then melted against him, arms circling Ed’s waist, face smashing up against Ed’s neck and beard.
“I hate being like this,” Stede said. “I hate being mean, I don’t want to, it’s just –”
“Weird day,” Ed said, finishing Stede’s sentence for him.
“Yeah,” Stede said. They stood there a few minutes more, Stede hanging onto Ed like a life preserver in a storm. Jim walked by and gave them a curious look, Ed stared daggers at them until they walked away. Then Stede pulled away with an audible sniff and settled himself, running his hands down the front of his dressing gown until it laid smoothly against his chest. Ed resisted the urge to reach out and rumple it up again.
“Why are you so upset?” Ed asked, instead.
“Why am I upset?” Stede repeated, incredulous. “My daughter is out here in the middle of the ocean on a ship full of pirates and yes, they’re all sweet fellows but we could be attacked, we could be boarded, and Mary doesn’t know what the crew is like, as soon as we get back she is actually going to kill me, Ed, and honestly I wouldn’t blame her.” He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up at even odder angles than it already was. “Why is she here? Why does she want to be a pirate? How could she do something so dangerous, so- so stupid-” He made eye contact with Ed, who was grinning at him, and abruptly cut himself off.
“Well, she’s your daughter, love,” Ed said.
“God, she is, isn’t she?” Stede said. He looked towards the cabin apprehensively, tucking his lips between his teeth in a worried little frown. Then he started to cry.
“Shit, Stede, sorry,” Ed said. He dithered for a few seconds before pulling Stede into another hug, kissing his forehead and cheeks as though that might do something.
“It’s just,” Stede said, thickly, face pressed against Ed’s neck once more. “I spent a lot of time being very unhappy.”
“I know, love,” Ed said.
“I don’t want that for her,” Stede said.
“Of course,” Ed said. “You’re a good dad.”
“I’m really not,” Stede said.
“Stede,” Ed said, pushing Stede back so he could look in his eyes. They were swimming in tears. He looked red-faced and miserable. “Stede, I know bad dads. You aren’t one.”
“But I left,” Stede said. And Ed felt the sharp stab of guilt through his stomach, knew that the second time Stede had left his children, it had been for him. He pushed the feeling down. “She must hate me,” Stede continued.
Ed scoffed. “Stede, she hid in a fucking barrel for three days so that she could spend more time with you. I think, maybe, possibly, she did that because she likes you. Because you’re her dad and she wants to spend time with you.”
Stede stared at Ed for a few moments, then frowned. “Why are you so sensible?” he asked.
“I dunno,” Ed said. “Being pretty and brilliant just wasn’t enough for me, I guess. Thought I’d branch out.”
Stede chuckled, wetly, before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his face. “Any other words of wisdom for me then, oh brilliant and beautiful sage?”
“She’s on the boat already,” Ed said. “No changing that, not for the next couple of days at least. Why not have some fun?”
===
Stede drew the line at sword fighting and cannon firing and looked vaguely nauseous at the idea of Alma in the rigging, so after lunch Ed offered to teach her the basics of navigation. Stede sat nearby, reading a book, while Ed walked Alma through the basics of charting a course. She listened to him intently at first, began to waver as Ed got into details, and ended with an expression of polite disappointment.
“So it’s just maths?” she asked, when he was done.
“Pretty much,” Ed said. Her face fell even further. “But if you know it well enough, you can do all sorts of wild stuff. Pop up where no one expects you to, sneak up on someone in the middle of the ocean, disappear in the middle of the night. It’s not, you know, sitting in some stuffy room doing sums. It’s reading the wind, the waves, the smell of the ocean itself and figuring out what she’s going to do next. Every day you have to solve a different puzzle. That’s why it’s exciting.”
Alma looked unconvinced. “I can see why Dad likes this,” she said.
“Your dad?” Ed asked. Stede didn’t like this part of piracy at all. He was, in fact, pretty shit at it. Ed loved him to pieces, but the man could get lost at sea without even leaving port.
“Yeah,” Alma sighed, laying her head down on the table. “He’s a nerd, too.”
Ed heard a stifled laugh, and turned to see Stede grinning behind the pages of his book.
===
That night, after storytime, Stede carried a sleepy Alma to their cabin while Ed held the doors for him. Alma had wanted to sleep on the deck with the crew, but Stede’s promises of a blanket fort had persuaded her to stay in the cabin. Olu and Lucius had immediately warmed up to her, but the rest of the crew would benefit from a little break. Pete kept swearing in front of her before realizing what he’d done and apologizing with another long string of curses. Frenchie ran away from her every time she came near. Buttons had asked Ed where the “wee sea bairn” had come from, and it took ten whole minutes to convince him she was Stede’s daughter and that Stede, in fact, had an ex-wife and two children. So, they’d bribed her with a blanket fort to let the crew decompress for the night.
Ed pushed two of the sofas together, draped a blanket over them, and filled in the gaps with pillows. It wasn’t his best work, he thought, surveying it, but it would do. They bundled Alma into a nest of blankets, and Ed washed up while Stede tucked her into bed.
When Stede emerged from the fort, Ed was ready to head back out to the deck. It’d been awhile since he’d kipped with the crew, and he wasn’t looking forward to waking up with a crick in his neck. He’d gotten used to Stede’s soft bed.
“Where are you going?” Stede asked, perplexed.
“Oh, I just - “ Ed gestured to the blanket fort, which was making tiny snoring noises. “Me staying here – figured it might raise some questions?”
Stede looked from Ed to the blanket fort. He looked back to Ed.
“I think the pirate ship already raises a few questions, no?” he asked.
Ed couldn’t help but smile at him, standing there ruffled and tired-looking with an expression on his face that could only be described as mulish.
“Well, in that case, I’m stealing one of your nighties,” he said. He wasn’t going to sleep in his skivvies with Stede’s kid in the room.
“Right,” Stede said. He bustled off to the auxiliary wardrobe.
Ed changed behind the curtain and rolled into bed while Stede worked his way through his nighttime routine. It involved a lot of different pots of cream and various delicious smelling oils – different ones for his hands and face and hair that had to be applied in a particular order. It was fucking delightful. Ed had spent many an evening watching and listening as Stede described what each one was for, but after the day’s early start he could feel sleep already creeping up on him.
When Stede slipped into bed, Ed woke up enough to wrap his arms around him and whisper in his ear.
“So, can’t go one night without me, is that it?” he asked.
Stede turned and kissed him, something he always did when he was trying to figure out how to say something and needed a few seconds. Ed didn’t mind. He breathed in the scent of him, sharp sandalwood underneath bright oranges and soft cedar, and waited.
“This is our home,” Stede said, at last. “I used to have a home where I lied all the time to everyone. The thought of going back to that, even just for a few days…”
“I get it,” Ed said. “It sucks.”
“Yeah,” Stede said.
Ed kissed him. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you too, Ed.”
===
On the second morning, Buttons offered to send Livy to Mary with a message that Alma was safe aboard the Revenge.
“You’ve been able to do that this whole time?” Stede asked, teacup stranded halfway between the saucer and his mouth.
“Aye,” Buttons replied.
They were having afternoon tea on deck while Wee John and Frenchie helped Alma make her own pirate flag. She’d gone for a blood red flag with a black heart centered over two crossed bones. It was, Frenchie had reluctantly admitted, “kinda badass.”
“How - how does Livy even know who Mary is?” Stede continued. “Or where to find her?”
“She has her ways.”
Stede looked at Ed, as though searching for confirmation that this was a pirate thing. Ed shrugged. It was not a pirate thing, but it sounded like a pretty typical Buttons thing.
They ended up writing a small note and attaching it to Livy’s leg with a piece of string. Stede wrote several versions that were entirely too long until Ed managed to convince him to stick to assuring Mary that Alma was safe and letting her know when they’d be back.
They watched as Buttons held a quiet conversation with Livy, tied the message to her leg, and sent her soaring off towards Barbados.
“There’s no way this works, right?” Stede asked Ed, in a whisper.
“I’d say no,” Ed replied. “But we both saw him hex Jack, yeah?”
“Fair,” Stede replied.
===
“Are you and my dad in love?” Alma asked, that afternoon.
“Uh,” Ed said. They were sitting on the stairs, a pile of rope between them as part of an impromptu lesson on knots. He hadn’t prepared for this. He’d figured if Alma had questions about the fact that her dad and Blackbeard shared a ship, a cabin, and a bed she would go to her dad about them. Not Blackbeard. “Yes,” he said.
“That’s good, I wouldn’t want him to be lonely now that Mum has Doug,” Alma said, fiddling with her bowline knot. “Will you get married, do you think?” She asked this in the same nonchalant tone you might use to ask what was for lunch that afternoon.
“Uh,” Ed said, again. Not for the first time, he considered what a formidable woman Mary Bonnet must be, if her direct and fearless daughter was anything to go by.
“Mum says she’ll never marry Doug,” Alma said, with a gusty sigh. “She says she’s gotten too accustomed to owning her own house. But I think they could at least have a wedding. I’d really like to be in a wedding.”
“Yeah?” Ed said.
“My friend Bridget was in the wedding party when her eldest sister got married, and she got to wear a new dress, and walk down the aisle holding flowers, and eat roast duck and blackcurrant trifle for dessert. She talks about it all the time.”
“That sounds nice,” Ed said. Of course rich people's weddings included fancy new outfits and special food. He’d seen a few matelotages, by dint of being on the same ship while they happened, and it was mostly a verbal agreement to share loot in front of the captain, with very little pageantry. He wondered if Stede would like a little pageantry.
“If you marry my dad, will you let me be the flower girl?” Alma said, wrenching Ed out of his thoughts.
“Uh, sure?” Ed said.
“Oh that’s brilliant!” Alma shouted, and launched herself at him. Ed wasn’t expecting her to move so quickly, and they ended up in an awkward hug, with her arms wrapped around his torso and his arms hovering above her back. “You’re my favorite second dad,” she said, voice quiet.
Stede chose that moment to walk around the corner. When he saw Alma hugging Ed and Ed’s eyes filled with tears, he looked distraught.
“Is everything okay?” he said, rushing towards them.
“Yup,” Ed said. “Yep, we’re just learning some knots, isn’t that right Alma?”
“Yeah! Dad, look at my bowline,” Alma exclaimed, unwrapping herself from Ed. She held it up for Stede’s inspection, and Stede oohed and aahed appreciatively, doing a great job of pretending he knew anything about sailor’s knots.
“Why don’t you go show Olu?” Stede said. Alma ran off, and he raised an eyebrow at Ed. “What was that about?” he asked.
“She said I was her favorite second dad,” Ed said, beaming. “Take that, Doug.”
Stede laughed. “It’s not a competition,” he said.
“It is when I’m winning,” Ed said.
“You don’t even know Doug.”
“Don’t have to,” Ed said. “All I need to know is that I’m doing better than him. What’s a flower girl?”
===
That afternoon, while Stede was reluctantly watching Jim show Alma the basics of knife throwing, Livy landed with a thump on the deck beside him. He stared at her. She stared at him for a moment, then stuck out her leg. It had a new slip of paper tied to it with a neat piece of twine. He undid the bow and pulled out the piece of paper, hands shaking.
Livy looked at him expectantly.
“Uh,” Stede said. “Thank you?”
She flew away. Stede watched her circle the mainmast and glide over to where Buttons was at the helm. Buttons pulled a piece of fish out of his shirt pocket and gave it to her.
“Okay,” Stede said. He unrolled the paper.
In Mary’s neat, unmistakable script, it read:
Thank GOD she’s with you. I’ll meet you at the docks that morning. Don’t be late or I will steal a ship and find you myself.Cheers, love, hugs, no kisses,
Mary.
PS - how does this bird know where I live
===
As the ship pulled up to the dock, Ed saw Mary Allamby-Bonnet for the first time. He’d avoided coming with Stede on his occasional visits to Barbados. He’d been curious about Stede’s kids, the ex-wife, the grand estate and fine trappings of a life Stede despised, but the idea of seeing Stede in that context, knowing that Stede had given it all up for a life with him? He wasn’t sure he could take it. So, he’d hidden behind the flimsy excuse that he might still be recognized, and had instead spent Stede’s visits to Barbados anxiously pacing around the deck of the Revenge, annoying the crew and feeling like a jealous idiot.
But this time there was no hiding. Mary stood at the end of the dock, a small, composed figure of sensible skirts and pinned up hair. She watched them through a brass telescope, and when Stede and Alma waved at her from the prow she raised a hand in response.
There was plenty to keep busy with as the ship eased up next to the dock under Buttons’ careful eye. Ed kept himself occupied until the anchor was lowered, the sails fastened, and the crew had lowered the gangplank. Then he watched the small reunion taking place on the dock below.
Stede escorted Alma down the gangplank, and Mary immediately enveloped her in a tight hug. Ed couldn’t catch the full conversation but Mary seemed more grateful to see Alma safe and sound than angry at her for running off. Although, Ed reflected, Mary had more experience than most with people running off on pirate ships. She was kind of a pro at this.
Stede caught Ed’s eye and waved him over. Reluctantly, he made his way down the gangplank and onto the dock, then stood awkwardly beside Stede as Mary listened to Alma’s rapid-fire retelling of the past few days.
“Mary,” Stede said, “This is, um, Ed.”
Mary’s gaze lifted. Her eyes raked over every inch of Ed: his boots, his hair, his tattoos, the knife on his belt. Ed wondered vaguely if he should have borrowed some of Stede’s clothes again, if this was too much, if Mary Allamby-Bonnet might rethink everything about her husband once she saw the company he kept.
Then she beamed at him. “Of course!” she said, “The famous Ed. Stede’s told me so much about you. Of course, he neglected to mention that you were also Blackbeard–I had to figure that one out by reading the newspaper, Stede.” She glared at Stede, a smile playing around her lips. “Evelyn still teases me about it.”
“He’s not Blackbeard!” Alma said, piping up from Mary’s arms. “He’s retired! And he still needs to show me his head turning to smoke!”
Mary looked at Ed quizzically. Ed crouched down to see eye to eye with Alma. “Remember the terms of our deal?” he asked.
Alma scrunched up her face, then turned to face Mary once more.
“I’m very sorry for running off and not telling you and making you worry,” she said, in one long breath. “It was the wrong thing to do and I won’t do it again but I really wanted to see Dad’s ship and meet Blackbeard and learn to fight with a sword.”
Mary sighed and raised a long suffering look towards the heavens. “You are certainly your father’s daughter,” she said. “I love you so much, I’m so glad you’re safe, but Alma you are grounded for the next month, okay? Please tell me your father did not teach you sword fighting.”
“I most certainly did not,” Stede said. Ed raised an eyebrow at him. There hadn’t been sword fighting, but he had a feeling Mary wouldn’t have approved of Jim’s knife throwing lessons, either. Stede met his gaze and widened his eyes almost imperceptibly. Alright, Ed thought, hiding a grin. Apparently they weren’t telling Mary about that one.
“But Ed promised he’d show me how he turns his head to smoke and he hasn’t yet so I can’t go home yet, Mum,” Alma said.
Mary looked at Ed, expectantly, as though he might just turn into a column of smoke on the spot.
“It’s really something that works best at dusk,” he said. “Don’t suppose you’d like to, ah, stay for dinner?”
Mary beamed at him. “That would be lovely, Ed, thank you.”
===
“I can’t believe you used to do this for every raid,” Stede said, hands buried in Ed’s beard, his voice muffled around the hairpins he had stuck between his teeth. It was good he’d been growing the beard out again. It wasn’t nearly as long as it had been before, but it was long enough that Stede could pin a few cannon fuses in. Along with the ones in his hair, it would still be enough to wreathe his face in smoke and sparks.
“Needed something to stand out,” Ed explained. “Honestly it started as a stupid dare, but it was pretty fucking effective so I kept it up.”
Stede sighed. “Was it Jack who dared you?” he asked.
Ed laughed at the barely hidden jealousy on Stede’s face. “Maybe,” he said, “maybe not.”
“Okay, but how many times did you end up lighting your own hair on fire?”
“Only twice.”
“Only - “ Stede rolled his eyes at Ed’s barely contained glee. “You’re a lunatic,” he said.
“And you like it,” Ed replied. “But I am going to have Olu on hand with a bucket of water,” he said. “I do actually care about my face not being on fire.”
“I also care about your face not being on fire,” Stede said, pulling the pins out of his mouth to give Ed a careful peck on the lips. “It’s a good face.”
“Only good?” Ed asked.
“It’s my favorite face,” Stede said, smiling softly at him. He stepped back and looked Ed up and down. Ed had squeezed back into the leather trousers and jacket, smeared kohl around his eyes, and donned his old leather gloves. “I’d never push you out of retirement, Ed, but I must say I have missed these trousers on you.”
“Well, enjoy it while it lasts,” Ed said, chuckling at the way Stede’s eyes were trailing over him. “I got them on but I have no clue how I’m getting back out of them - you might have to cut them off of me.”
“Oh, that can be arranged,” Stede said. “Now, Blackbeard, are you ready?”
“Guess I am,” Ed said. “Never would have guessed that I would be back in all of this to impress a little girl.”
“Well,” Stede said thoughtfully, “It’s going to put you miles ahead of Doug, that’s for sure.”
He grinned at Ed, and Ed laughed, warm and happy. They stepped out through the doors on deck together.