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“Gonna fucking murder him,” Ed mutters, picking a stick out of his beard and flicking it into a bush. It’s definitely more aggression than the stick deserves, but then again, it should’ve thought about that before getting stuck in his fucking face.
“Gonna take his fucking whip and crack it on his fucking balls and watch him twitch on the ground and— and—,” Ed loses steam and pivots to more genaric fuming: “Fucking Jack . Ditching me in fucking nature .”
Ed stops stalking down the only fucking trail that he’s managed to find long enough to kick a rock with all the rage simmering in his leather-encased leg only for it to not move one goddamned inch.
“FUCK!” Ed shouts, hopping around and clutching his battered foot. Cursing god, and bugs, the sun and moonshine, and above all else, Jack fucking Rackham.
🌳🏕️🌳
Stede is having an absolutely lovely day. He’s decided to follow some of the longer, less trodden off-shoot trails over the past few days and is subsequently deep in the woods and largely being left to his own devices.
The ranger station out this far isn’t heavily frequented, but after the first night of camping, the comfort of a plush, if dusty, bed is a pleasant reprieve. And one of the previous occupants had even left a book!
It’s a riveting tale so Stede is thinking about leaving one of the five books he brought for himself in its stead, that way he might have new material for the 18.5 mile hike back to civilization he has planned for tomorrow.
(Stede is astutely ignoring the little voice in his head, which sounds remarkably like Lucius, who is berating him for packing five books into his very minimal backpack space instead of something more useful, like food or water or an extra blanket. Stede’s opinion on the matter is that if he’s not properly entertained in the evenings — when the flora and fauna can’t be enjoyed and the regrets of his many life choices haunt his quited mind — then having survived the trip will not be worth the agony of enduring it.)
All in all, Stede’s rather pleased with his decision regarding the books.
And the day on the whole.
He began the morning with a nice cup of tea made from a stash in the station, and then spent a fair bit of midday making notes on some trail markers in need of replacing. And now, as the sun is cresting into late afternoon, he’s observing the local beetle population (complete with a couple of crude sketches; he’s getting better!).
It’s peaceful. It’s nice.
And then a man hollers an emphatic fuck so loudly many of the dormant birds in the area take to the sky. Stede is so startled he drops his pencil in a little puddle of post-rain swill.
Stede frowns. He knows he’s obligated to go investigate (the fact that anyone is out here at all would be cause enough for that)… He just hopes no one is being murdered. Often, those sorts of things tend to happen in these less adored trails. And frankly Stede’s not quite sure what the etiquette is for engaging a murderer.
He suspects he’d simply cry.
On that depressing note, Stede goes to find the source.
🌳🏕️🌳
The source is a man.
He’s… well, he’s a very handsome man. Long, unruly hair — and facial hair. Big, dark eyes. Tattoos on every visible plane of skin. He’s holding a black leather jacket, exposing a plethora of those tattoos along his forearms and biceps — Stede is adamantly trying not to stare too obviously — and wearing black leather pants.
Handsome though he may be, it’s very, very clear he had not intended to spend any length of time in a forest, and given the appalling state of his otherwise lovely hair (it looks shiny and soft, but it’s also a bit of a tangled mess with no small amount of leaves adorning it), he’s probably also lost.
Stede has about a million questions regarding his presence and his attire and, well, all of it, but figures he’ll start with the most basic first:
“Hello,” he calls to the man. “Do you need help?”
The man, who had been glaring at a rock with a lethal sort of glint in his eyes, turns to Stede. Whatever source was fueling his rage seems to leave him in an exhale when he sees Stede.
“Thank fuck,” says the man. “Yes.”
Stede smiles.
“Am I on the right trail to get the hell out of here?”
Stede studies the man as closely as he dares. He can pretend it’s in scrutiny and in some sense, it is. But mostly he just wants more time to catalog every bit of this man’s presence. Finally, he brings himself to say: “Yes.” He gestures behind himself vaguely and adds: “Though I wouldn’t recommend continuing on tonight. The trailhead is nearly 19 miles, and it’ll be getting dark soon.”
The man studies Stede right back. Stede’s not sure exactly what it is the man is trying to discern — maybe the accuracy of the information, or whether or not Stede is an idiot — but he still feels himself preen just a little under the attention. When was the last time a man watched him with such undivided focus?
“Nineteen miles…” says the man. Stede nods.
Stede watches in fascination as the man’s expression travels from consideration, to rage, to indignation, to skepticism, before finally landing somewhere in the realm of panic.
Stede notes that he doesn’t appear to have any hiking gear. He’s wearing the aforementioned leather, which is not at all conducive to a comfortable hike, and chunky boots — also not appropriate for a long hike. Panic seems a reasonable reaction, all things considered.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Stede hedges… “how did you come to be out here? You don’t seem equipped for it at all.”
Ed eyes Stede.
“No offense, mate, but I’d rather not give that information to a cop.”
Stede glances down at his Khaki ensemble and feels his face scrunch.
“Ah, well I’m not the law enforcement type of ranger. I work more in the realm of sustainability,” says Stede. He laughs lightly to himself. “I imagine my colleagues would sooner die than give me access to a gun. Still, I am technically a government employee, so, fair point.”
The man looks less than amused.
Stede debates for a moment, though there’s not really much to debate. This man may have nefarious motives, but he is also clearly in need of assistance. If this is how Stede dies, murdered by a very attractive stranger, so be it. He finds himself saying: “If you’d like, you can spend the night in the ranger’s station with me and tomorrow you and I can hike to the trailhead together?”
It takes a couple of seconds, but the answer was kind of inevitable.
“Yeah, man, I’d really appreciate that.”
“Fab,” Stede smiles, offering a hand. “I’m Stede.”
“Ed,” says the man — Ed.
🌳🏕️🌳
The hike to the station is still a good mile. Stede takes it slow on purpose because he noticed pretty early on that Ed’s wearing a knee brace, and if they’re going to survive a full day’s hike tomorrow, it’d probably be best to aggravate that as little as possible.
Still, it's an agonizing mile.
Ed seems generally disinterested in nature, bordering on hostile towards it.
Stede tried to show him a native moth species and Ed looked at him like he’d grown a second head… which isn’t an entirely foreign reaction to Stede, but given it, he does refrain from initiating further discussion.
So they walk in slow, tense, silence.
It's difficult.
Despite the solitude of his chosen profession, Stede has never done well with silence. Especially the kind ladened with things left unsaid.
Thank god Ed eventually breaks it.
“Sorry,” he says. This does startle Stede, a bit. Of all the things Ed could have said, an apology didn't even make the list. “For being a dick. About the moth and the,” Ed gestures vaguely between them. “I appreciate your help. It's just been a shit day.”
Stede laughs softly.
“No need to apologize,” he tells Ed. “It was foolish of me to show you that moth anyway.”
Ed stops, Stede doesn't notice for a couple of steps, but finally the silence makes him turn around, confused.
Ed is looking at him. Closely. With very deep and very rich and very intense brown eyes.
“Why?” He asks. Stede feels himself warm with embarrassment.
“Anyone with eyes can see you’re not having a good time out here, Ed. What good would showing you a moth have done? In the face of that knowledge? And I did it anyway.”
“Fuck,” says Ed. Shaking his head. Stede isn’t sure what he’s meant to make of this. Ed lets out a long sigh and starts walking again. “Fuck, mate, point out the interesting shit if it’s something you like. Maybe by the time we get out of this place I’ll have learned something.”
Stede blinks as Ed walks past him, and then, unbidden, he feels himself smile.
“Okay.”
🌳🏕️🌳
They make it to the station just as the sun is setting. Stede ushers Ed in with a firm hand between his shoulders and an unnecessary ta-da!
“Make yourself comfortable,” Stede says. “I’ll make us some tea.”
Ed wanders around the small space. There’s not a lot to observe, it's one massive room, the kitchen is pushed up in one corner — a stove, a stack of logs used for the stove in a pile next to it, a bucket for rinsing, a cupboard containing two plates and two cups and two sets of pewter cutlery — the bed in another corner. A desk with a radio for contacting other stations, and off to the side Stede’s backpack. His garment bag is laid over the desk chair and that’s where Ed’s attention is.
“Are these fucking silk pajamas?” Ed sounds utterly bewildered as he lifts the offending clothing out of the bag for Stede to either confirm or deny. Stede blushes when Ed runs the material of the pants against the bare skin of his cheek.
“Er, yes!” Stede manages. And then for reasons he can pass off as altruistic but which are, in truth, totally selfish, he says: “you should wear them! To— uh— get out of that leather.”
“… really?”
“Of course!”
Ed smirks. An honest little smirk.
“I know the polite fucking thing to do is protest or something, but honestly mate, I really want to wear them.” And then right there in front of god and everyone ( Stede) Ed drops his pants. Well, ‘drops’ is a bit generous. They’re nearly painted to his calves and thighs so it's more of an enticing little shimmy that Stede has to forcibly turn himself away from.
The tea. The tea is a lovely distraction.
When he turns back, two mugs in hand, Ed is in the silky pants and nothing else.
“Fuuck,” he groans, flopping onto the bed. “This is real nice.”
“They look good on you.” Stede does not say that Ed seems made for fine things, but looking at him now: bare-chested in Stede’s sky blue PJs? Stede certainly thinks it. “Here.”
Ed lifts up on to his elbows enough to take the offered cup of tea. Stede is adamantly ignoring the pierced nipples.
“It’s wild that you brought silk out camping,” says Ed, pointedly, as he drinks. Stede feels a pang in his chest like shame.
“Yes, I have been told.”
“Kind of great though,” Ed says, winking. What the fuck is Stede to do with that?
“You think so?”
“Sure. At the very least, can’t argue anyone else has ever done it.”
Stede laughs.
“Begs the question though. Fancy guy like you with your pretty pajamas and your bag of hair product — yeah, man, I saw that, too — you just don't seem like the type of guy to spend his days walking around in the forest…”
“Ah,” Stede smiles, “so you're allowed to ask what I'm doing out here, but not the other way round?”
“Yeah,” Ed’s grin is wolffish. “You get it. So?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“Maybe.”
Stede sighs, stirring his tea a little and then blowing over the top of the lid.
“I am a man of creature comforts,” Stede confesses, “but I’m also a man of very specific interests and fascinations. If you must know—“
“I must.”
“I became a park ranger predominantly because I thought it would increase my chances of seeing a sasquatch…”
“You’re joking,” Ed eyes him skeptically. Stede smiles. He doesn't feel mocked, oddly. The way Ed’s looking at him, it almost feels fond.
“I’m not,” says Stede. “Grant it, disappointing my father and exposure to many a new insect did also factor.”
“Just not as much as Bigfoot.”
Stede shrugs.
“Are you going to reveal why you’re out here now?” Stede asks. It’s clearly the wrong move. Ed clams up immediately.
“Nah.”
🌳🏕️🌳
Stede lies beside Ed in the bed. It’s small enough that their shoulders brush while they’re both on their backs.
Stede burns where their bare skin meets.
“This is nice,” Ed whispers into the dark. So soft and so late, Stede half wonders if he imagined it.
He doesn't fall asleep for a long time, hoping Ed will say more.