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It had felt just a bit ridiculous to need a roommate at 47 years old, when Stede first responded to Ed’s post (almost a year ago to the day, now). It had also felt a little ridiculous to lose a wife, a home, perceived heterosexuality, and a considerable fortune at 47 years old. But honestly, Stede’s felt a little ridiculous his entire life, so perhaps this is always where he was headed.
So the situation is a bit unorthodox, but not such a bad place to be.
And Ed is, and always has been, absolutely lovely. He’s got a couple of quirks: his aesthetic tends towards a darker palette (Stede could not abide the blackout curtains in the shared living room when he initially moved in — Their first disagreement, though few and far between). Ed also insists on smoking indoors, which Stede is working on.
Most egregious, though, is that Ed has abhorrently loud sex. Frequently.
Stede doesn't want to begrudge his friend a good time, should do that at least one of them is being well loved, it’s just that their rooms are only separated by a wall, and Stede can hear every moan and sigh and expletive between the two men on the other side if he deigns to attempt sleep while Ed has guests. Stede’s taken to baking on nights Jack visits just to have something to do that’s not listening to the two of them go at it.
This is a bit of a double edged solution because Ed absolutely loves sweets and Stede is beginning to suspect that Ed’s developed a Pavlovian response where sex equals post-coidal cookies.
(Ed came out of his room one night after a visit from Jack with hair wild around his head and pants low on his hips and promptly frowned to find Stede reading on the couch and no cookies cooling on the stove top.)
Still, all of that being what it is, Stede’s no perfect roommate either (of the three bedrooms in the apartment, Stede is renting two — one solely for his wardrobe — and Stede had heard enough of Mary’s complaints in their divorce proceedings to know he snores quite aggressively and that his peculiarities regarding decor can be a bit … annoying.)
The pains of cohabitation are not so bad, all things considered.
And they’re coming up on one year, so Stede wants to do something nice.
🪴🛋️🪴
Stede’s burning a salmon when Ed gets home. It’s smoking up the whole damn apartment; a little puff floats past Ed’s head and out into the stairwell behind him.
Ed drops his bag by the entrance and goes to stop the inevitable fire.
“Hey mate,” Ed says, gliding behind Stede in the small kitchen and flicking the stove off.
“Hey!” Stede frowns, turning in the small space to glare lightly at Ed. “I was cooking.”
“Nah,” Ed tells him, “you might’ve been cooking about 5 minutes ago. Now you’re just charing an already-burned fish.” Ed chuckles and picks a spatula off the magnetized rack to the left of the stove and pokes at a crispy bit. It doesn't even separate, which is saying something. “What’s the occasion?” Stede deflates, sinking against the counter top and eyeing the dubious fish.
“As of tonight, we have been roommates a full year. I thought it might be nice to celebrate…”
Oh , thinks Ed. Stede’s always doing shit like this. Making him smile (with his incompetence, or some mad idea he has, or just the most buck wild take on something) and then turning around and saying something so fucking sincere Ed feels it like a firm shove to the chest.
Makes living with him fucking fun . Makes him easy to love, too.
“So it's our anniversary?” Ed grins, he’s saying it like it’s a joke, but he still feels pleasure twist up his guts. “Well, fuck, guess that means it needs to be nice.”
“Well I was trying ,” Stede pouts. Ed wants to laugh because Stede’s kind of bitchy and he’s kind of over the moon about that, but he also knows that laughing will set him off more. Instead, Ed pats Stede on the shoulder a couple times.
“How about this: I go downstairs and have Ivan make us three courses and you put out all the fancy spoons and knives I’ll never fucking understand,” says Ed, “and I pretend like you made it and we eat something that’s not going to put us both in the hospital.”
“I suppose I’m amenable,” Stede mutters.
“Amenable ,” Ed mouths back at him; they share a smile.
Ed’s giddy when he runs out the door down to Blackbeard’s on the ground floor.
“Ivan!” He yells, summoning the man from the kitchen. “Need you to make me a couple dinners to go, mate.”
“Date?” Asks Ivan, nodding. Ed grins.
“Something like that.”
🪴🛋️🪴
Jack and Ed are fighting. Stede’s not sure what about, exactly, only that it’s loud enough to reach the living room, which usually isn’t the case. Stede removes his glasses and makes to stand from his spot on the couch just as Ed’s door swings open. The force of it sends the door smashing into the adjacent wall. Stede would be surprised if there wasn’t damage.
“Get out of my fucking house!” Ed yells. Jack hops out with one shoe on and a shirt buttoned up improperly.
“Come on Eddy,” he’s saying. “Take a fucking joke. It’s funny . He’s funny. ” He gestures vaguely in Stede’s direction. Ah , thinks Stede , I’m being joked about. It’s a small comfort that at least Ed doesn't seem amused.
“Get out, man,” Ed says again. “We’re through.” The sneer on Jack’s face is nauseating.
“Yeah, we’ll see. Never been true before.” Jack leans against the door jam, cornering Ed. When Ed pushes back, Jack stumbles into the framed photo of Ed and his mom that’s been hanging in the hall across from Ed’s door since before Stede moved in. It’s a lovely thing; Ed’s about 20 in it, squeezing her around the shoulders in a tight hug. Stede finds himself looking at it often. Now, it tilts and crashes to the ground, a flurry of broken glass.
Ed seems lost as it falls. His expression breaks Stede’s heart.
“Fuck,” says Jack, though he looks on the verge of laughing, like this is all in good fun. “Sorry, gotta hang shit in better places.”
Ed looks back up, ready to murder. Stede intervenes instead. The last thing he wants is for Ed to get in trouble. Jokes about him Stede can manage, but hurting Ed is frankly unacceptable.
“I think it’s time you leave,” Stede tells him, all the ice he can muster placed into the words.
“Fuck off, Steve. We’re just having a little domestic.”
Stede surprises even himself when he approaches Jack, grabs him by the front of his tacky shirt, and hauls him to the front door.
“Out.” He says, cold, and closes the door in Jack’s face.
🪴🛋️🪴
Stede and Ed are quiet as they clean up the remains of the frame. Luckily, the photo remains as beautiful as ever and Stede is able to place it in a different frame — one previously holding a picture of Stede and some colleagues at a work retreat. This is a much better purpose.
He places it back on the wall and centers it just so.
“There,” he whispers, not daring to speak too loudly into the tense silence around them. “Good as new.”
“Yeah,” says Ed. “Thanks.” He runs his fingers over the glass of the new frame reverently. Stede thinks that this is perhaps the most vulnerable he has ever seen Ed, and likely the saddest as well. Desperate to salvage this evening or at the very least, to make Ed smile, Stede clears his throat, and offers a suggestion.
“Would you like to do movie night with me?” He asks. “I was thinking if starting one, before…”
Ed turns to him. There’s something in his eyes — a fondness so deep Stede thinks it might be more intimate than either of them should admit to — and then he offers a small smile.
“Yeah, sounds like a good time.”
They make popcorn and start a movie and it feels nice. Feels like some semblance of what they know. Ed’s socked feet are over Stede’s thighs and he’s stealing popcorn and talking over the movie as is his way.
Stede loves this.
Stede loves Ed.
It’s… terrifying to realize.
🪴🛋️🪴
Ed’s not having sex with Jack anymore but he is still having sex.
After the fourth encounter, and with his newly realized feelings, Stede is desperate for a distraction of his own.
And thus: online dating.
🪴🛋️🪴
Stede has a fucking date.
Ed’s blood is boiling. Over a year living together and Stede’s never been on a fucking date.
And now they’re both free and Ed’s never been shy about his flirting, and Stede’s going out with someone else.
Ed’s fucking… he’s jealous.
Stede doesn’t owe him anything and they’ve never really talked about what it might be — between them. But he can’t help it. He’s been sulking around the apartment for the last hour, watching Stede flit between his room and his room-turned-closet looking for something nice to wear.
Ed’s been sitting on the couch simmering.
“Which bow tie do you think looks best with this waistcoat?” Stede appears in front of him in boxers and a silky blue button down with a waistcoat over it. Ed wants to eat him. Or his own fucking arm.
“I don’t know mate, either.” If he sounds clipped, that’s no one’s fucking business. Unfortunately for him, Stede notices.
“What’s wrong darling?”
Darling.
“Nothing,” Ed tries not to growl. He really does. Stede raises an eyebrow.
“Clearly that’s not true.”
“Doesn’t fucking matter, Stede. Just pick one. Don't want to keep your date waiting.”
He’s given it away. He knows he has because he’s looking at the ground and Stede’s calves are in his peripherals and they’ve just tensed.
“Are you upset about my date, Edward?”
Any answer he could give would be damning. But it turns out silence is damning most of all.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, Stede,” Ed says, he looks up into Stede’s eyes and feels desperate. “I don't know. Just don’t like the idea of you going out with some guy you don’t know. Going home with some guy you don’t know.”
It clicks. He sees it click in Stede’s eyes.
“You’re jealous,” says Stede. It’s not a question.
“I’m not jealous,” Ed lies. “I just know you. You don’t date. You’re going to get taken advantage of.”
“I’m not a child, Edward,” Stede says, his voice a little clipped. “And I find this all a bit rich, coming from you. I’ve spent a year listening to you have intercourse through our shared walls. Dragging Jack in here and now that he’s gone, other men.” Stede runs a hand through his hair and breathes deeply. “All of which is your prerogative and not my place to judge, but you don’t get to turn around and tell me how to date.” Stede’s shaking, Ed realized. He’s really fucked this up. “If you don’t want me you don’t get to be jealous other men might.”
“I do!” Ed jumps up. Desperate — to unfuck this up? To get closer? “I do want you! How have you not figured that out?”
Stede blinks.
“I—“ He starts, but Ed’s not done.
“I wasn’t even planning on staying in the apartment until I saw you were the guy renting it out. I asked you out the first fucking day, Stede. And you just— you rain checked me. And then never fucking brought it up again.”
Ed remembers. He remembers it every morning. Ed’s flirty take me to coffee sometime . Stede’s I’d love to. No follow up, no confirmed day, no mention of it ever again. And Ed’s seen Stede figure out more obtuse invitations so it’s got to be him right? No other explanation.
Stede seems to be trying to recall the moment.
“You didn't ask me out,” Stede sputters. “You would never. You’re — you. You’re Edward Teach,” Stede waves his hand vaguely around his face. “You’re gorgeous and successful and talented what could you possibly want from—“
Ed surges forward. Both hands cupping Stede cheeks so he can land a kiss on his lips. It’s bruising. Ed’s a good kisser, great even, but there’s no finesse to this one, just a desperation to show Stede all the shit he’s apparently never said right. He changes it to something chaste before pulling back entirely. Stede looks dazed but not unhappy.
“I want everything from you, Stede Bonnet,” Stede’s eyes are wide and if Ed has his way he’s never going to look anywhere but at them for the rest of his fucking life. “ Everything .”