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Stede sighs as he walks across the deck of the Revenge . It had been a long evening day, on top of a long day, on top of a long week. He begins unbuttoning his waistcoat before he’s even made it to the entrance to his cabin—a feat of exhaustion that does not go unnoticed by the few crew still on duty.
Oluwande is at the helm, Jim halfway up the rigging, and both pause to raise their brows in surprise at seeing their captain so indecorous. Wisely, they keep their shock to themselves, and Stede keeps his tired eyes on the prize.
He pushes the door to the great cabin open and shuts as quietly as he can. He leans against the cool surface for a moment, relishing the peace that just stepping over the threshold gave him. The cabin smells like lavender and eucalyptus, steam lingering in the air and telling him Ed succumbed to the tantalizing treat Stede had arranged for him after dinner.
Ed had been forced to limp from the deck after banging his knee on a barrel after the heel of his boot had given way. He was surly and embarrassed and no amount of platitudes had deterred him from wanting to be alone.
Stede understood—they’d been through enough, sat down and hashed out and shouted and communicated until they were blue in the face. They didn’t feel threatened by the prospect of their partner preferring to spend some time alone, not anymore, though the desire for solitude is certainly less often than some other pairings aboard the Revenge .
The cabin was quiet, and Stede barely resists the urge to clop down the hall like a horse with a sour disposition. He pauses halfway, teetering from foot to stockinged foot as he slips his shoes off in order to drag his exhausted feet.
He can see an empty chair in the dim light of the cabin. It’s dark enough that Stede can tell the fire hasn’t been lit, so Ed—or Lucius, more likely—must have gone around to light a few candles to give the space a soft glow.
Stede sets his shoes at the legs of the chair before peeling out of his coat and waistcoat. He tosses them onto the armchair without care and roughly scrubs the heel of his hands over his eyes. Listlessly turning toward the bed, ready to collapse onto the bunk next to Ed’s slumbering form for as long as he could manage.
He opens his eyes, expecting to find Ed dozing on his pillow, only to encounter the still-awake form of his love. His eyes are heavy and content, the cheek of his face smooshed into his palm as he props his head up blearily.
Grinning and half-asleep, Ed is curled up next to a tray of biscuits and a pot of tea. Ed pours them each a steaming cup. “Timed it just right,” he rasps.
“Perfectly,” Stede sighs, heart swelling painfully in his chest.
Ed stirs in a cube of lilac sugar and a splash of milk before handing Stede a delicate, powder blue cup. “There you are.”
Stede takes the cup from Ed’s hand and bridges the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a dream of a kiss. “Here I am,” he whispers. “At long last.”