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If Edward Teach wasn’t such a stupidly good friend, Izzy Hands would have fucking killed him by now.
He also would be killing him right now, probably just tackle the man and choke him out. Cathartic and simple.
But no, Ed is—gag—Izzy’s oldest and best friend (probably his only friend, but it’s not like Izzy wants more friends), so Izzy has to keep his hands to himself.
Doesn’t mean that Izzy isn’t actively considering just how long it would take for the man to die in his clutches when he sees Ed mooning over a man who looks like an HGTV host had a bastard child with a stereotypical gay hairdresser.
Izzy has seen the man in here a few times, usually looking unsure of himself and trying too hard to have fun, and somewhere deep inside his fossilized heart Izzy feels a little for the man, remembers the timidity and almost fear of being newly out (and clearly this man is recently out, anyone with a single braincell could see that) and still unsure of themselves.
Didn’t make him any less annoying to look at though. Ed prided himself on the fact that their bar attracted pretty much the entire queer community: gay, lesbian, trans, aro and ace, Two Spirit, nonbinary, anyone who subverted heteronormativity—they were attracted to and welcomed with open arms at Blackbeard’s Bar & Grill. And yeah, Izzy sometimes hated being welcoming, just for the sake of being welcoming, not because it was to queer people because whoever up there knew Izzy was queer as hell himself, it’s just that being welcoming means being nice, and nice isn’t one of Izzy’s specialties.
But whatever, anyway. This baby gay who looks pretty much like he stepped out of a Wes Anderson film (and Izzy has actually never seen a Wes Anderson film, but he’s seen enough trailers and screencaps that he knows enough) is currently being ogled by Ed and Izzy is about to vomit.
Because now:
“Izzy, Iz, I can’t just go over there and ask him out, are you looking at the man?”
Unfortunately, yes.
“He’s just—like—he’s too cute, I can’t even think of what I’d say to him right now I’d look like a fuckin’ idiot man do you want me to look like an idiot—“
Too late, Ed.
“So just, can you please go over there, tell him I’m interested, and maybe get him to come over here? I need more time to think of something cool to say.”
Izzy groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Edward, can’t I just get one of the boys to go over?”
Ed rolls his eyes. “No, Iz, because even though Fang and Ivan are teddy bears that dude will probably faint if they come up to him, and also it’s a busy night and I need them focused on customers.”
“But he is a customer, even if he looks like a twat.”
A groan from Ed. “Cool it, mate, he buys our most expensive drinks and he clearly needs a queer space to be himself in. And he might be my future husband. So shut up.”
Except it’s hard for Izzy to take Ed’s clearly threatening tone seriously when he keeps looking from Izzy to the blonde and blushing.
Izzy drops his head down. “And why are you sure you can’t approach him? You’ve never had a problem approaching guys before.”
“Because this guy is totally different!” Ed exclaims, gesturing wildly. “There’s something about him mate, I can’t quite figure it out yet, but it’s fucking fascinating and I can’t just pull the classic Teach charm.”
Internally, Ed is also admitting that he’s terrified to approach this human ray of sunshine because if the man rejects him, Ed would want to lock himself in his apartment for at least two business weeks.
“And how are you sure I won’t scare him off?”
Ed looks at Izzy for a moment and then busts out laughing. “You? Scare him off? Fuck, I’m sorry Iz, that’s fuckin’ hilarious.” He stifles giggles to himself as Izzy straightens himself up and throws back his shoulders.
“Fuck, fuck off, Ed, fuckin’ dick.”
But Ed claps him on the shoulder. “Aw, c’mon Iz, it’s just a bit of light ribbing. Take it easy! Just—okay, if you do this for me, I’ll give you all of my tips for a whole month, okay? And if you can convince him to actually come over here, I’ll add in the month after that.”
This gives Izzy pause. Ed gets a massive amount of tips when he works the bar, even though he’s the proprietor. Izzy isn’t strapped for cash either, but this certainly wouldn’t hurt.
But fuck, he’s not sure there’s enough money to make approaching that blonde worth it.
“You’re not fucking with me? This is on the level?”
Ed meets Izzy’s eyes directly, giving him a familiar look that Izzy knows is all business and truth.
“100%. All my tips, including from karaoke night. Whole month. Just do this one thing for me.”
And fuck, now Ed has his begging eyes on, the stupid syrupy ones that have been known to melt the hardest hearts. Izzy rolls his eyes.
“Fine. But I’m not going to enjoy it.”
Ed grins. “Never thought you would.” He gives Izzy a quick shove. “Now get out there, you’ve got a hottie to catch for me.”
—
Stede Bonnet is feeling a little in over his head.
Maybe a lot over his head. Either way, he’s certainly out of his depth, and he’s probably going to leave soon.
It’s not that Blackbeard’s is a bad place to hang out. It’s one of the only queer bars in the city, one that seems welcoming to anyone in the queer community, and Lucius had talked it up immensely (“…plus, the owner is a total zaddy, like drop dead gorgeous oh my god, Pete and I tried to get him to go with us but he said no and poor Pete was depressed for like a month…”) and really, it’s quite nice! The atmosphere is super cool, the drinks are delicious, the food excellent, and there were always fun events happening there.
But Stede was also hoping he could meet someone here, and that hasn’t been working out too well. He figures being just over half a year divorced and out of the closet is part of the problem, but Stede also wonders if it’s him.
He wasn’t really too eager to enter the dating pool to begin with, but Lucius (damn the boy and his insistence) was adamant Stede needed this for himself, even though Stede was perfectly happy being single, so while Stede does go to Blackbeard’s with friends, he also goes to look for romantic prospects.
And that’s another issue, because Stede is looking strictly for romance, and not anything beyond that, which has been a sticking point on a few of the dates he’s been on and with some of the guys he’s casually talked to and attempted to flirt with at the bar. Which has been…uncomfortable, to say the least. He knows asexuality is a bit of a fringe identity, but it’s not exactly rare either, and still no one he’s met so far has seemed fully on board with him being homoromantic and asexual.
It almost makes him wish he wasn’t ace. Almost, though, because he’s slowly getting more confident in that aspect of himself, and also, he’s extremely uncompromising in the fact that he is not nor does he anticipate that he will ever be interested in sex, though he is more than down for a good old make-out session and cosy cuddle.
Which he’s right to be! His therapist has hammered into him that he should not compromise his comfort and his true self for the comfort of others. And that means not forcing himself or letting himself be forced into situations that he is clearly not comfortable engaging in.
Still makes it a little annoying when trying to find a partner.
And so he keeps coming back to Blackbeard’s, because he really does feel comfortable here when he’s not focusing on finding a partner.
Stede wonders about the owner of the bar. Why did he name it Blackbeard’s? How did he cultivate such a diverse clientele? Is he really a ‘zaddy’ as Lucius says? What would he think of—
“Ahem.”
Stede is broken from his reverie by a short-ish leather-clad man beside him. He has a tiny X tattooed under one eye, a goatee, and looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here right now.
“Uh, can I help you?” Stede can’t help it, he sounds a little bitchy.
The man throws a quick look over his shoulder and sighs, shaking his head.
“Look…my…colleague, over—“ He’s clearly fighting with his words, and this doesn’t look promising at all, “okay, he said that you look like—fuck, I’m gonna vomit—‘a golden knight mixed with a DILF,’ his words, not mine, and just—“ the man throws up his hands. “Talk to him or don’t okay? I don’t fuckin’ care but he’s been talking about you all fucking night and I can’t fucking stand it. So. He’s over there.”
The gray-haired man jabs a thumb vaguely over his shoulder back toward the bar, looking anywhere else but at Stede.
There are only two men sitting at the bar, so it narrows Stede’s options, but both are surprising to him.
One is…okay, he might just be the most gorgeous man Stede has ever seen. Long, dark hair streaked with silver and rippling past his shoulders, a short-medium beard that also curls in beautiful silver-black strands. Dark purple tee and tight leather pants and combat boots, a gorgeous mosaic of tattoos on his arms and god, his eyes, Stede is sure he could gaze into them for months.
That man looks a little nervous, picking his fingernails distractedly and then looking up over to where Stede is sitting. With a shy smile on his face, he does a little half wave in Stede’s direction, and Stede throws a look over his shoulder. Several people are behind him, one of which is the recipient of the gorgeous man’s wave.
Because there is no way in hell that man is waving shyly at Stede. Absolutely zero. He’s thousands of miles outside of Stede’s league.
Unrealistic. Blocked.
And the other man is…ugh, this is a guy that Stede had trouble with a few days ago. Had struck up a perfectly friendly conversation with him, which Stede was more than willing to oblige because the man (Sam, Stede recalls with a frown) seemed nice enough and he was decent-looking as well.
But then, after the conversation had started flagging, Stede excused himself to go to the bathroom. Then Sam had followed him into the bathroom, and started kissing him, and Stede had enjoyed it for a moment, because it certainly was a new experience for him and there was something about potentially being caught that was thrilling, except when Sam started getting handsier and talking about getting Stede on his knees, which Stede promptly shut down, shoving Sam off of him but trying to politely explain that he wasn’t interested in any of that.
Well then Sam had called Stede a prude and immature and that he clearly didn’t know what he was missing, and that maybe if he wasn’t so uptight and bitchy he’d actually find someone, and at that point Stede had shoved him aside and stormed out of the bar.
And now Sam was just looking around, surveying the room, not really in Stede’s direction but maybe he wanted to apologize and couldn’t just throw back his shoulders and approach Stede himself. But Stede doesn’t want to talk to Sam, and he doesn’t even care for an apology. Sam was a dick and Stede had felt really shitty about himself after the encounter with Sam, requiring his therapist and his ex-wife Mary to squash down the inner aphobia that sometimes reared its ugly head and tell it to fuck right off.
But Sam fessing up also seemed unlikely.
Stede scoffs and turns back to the angry little man. “This is a joke, right?”
The man wipes a tired hand over his face and sighs again. “Christ, I really fuckin’ wish it were.”
“Hmm.” Stede takes a moment. Well, since the gorgeous man clearly couldn’t be into Stede, it had to be Sam, and even though Stede would not be talking to Sam, he could have this man send a message for him.
“So, you gonna talk to him or not?”
Stede takes a sip of his drink, then levels a bitchy glare at the man. “No. And in fact, I’d like you to tell him that he can go suck eggs in Hell, and to not take up my time anymore.”
The man raises his eyebrows, a little taken aback at Stede’s tone. “Really? That’s the way it’s gonna be?”
Stede takes another drink, pretty much draining his glass, and turns apathetic.
“Afraid so. Please do deliver my sentiments, and allow me to make my exit before this interaction makes me any more sick.” Shooting another venomous glare, Stede sets his glass down hard on his table and stalks out the door.
—
Izzy stands there for a minute, and while he would never use the word otherwise, the only word he can think of to describe what he feels is flabbergasted.
Ed walks up behind him, agape. “Dude, what the fuck did you say to him?”
—
The blonde doesn’t show up at Ed’s bar for about a week after that. This is a major disappointment to Ed, and even more of a disappointment to Izzy, because after Izzy had told him verbatim how the interaction went, it only makes Ed even more fascinated with the man, and he simply has to meet him.
Actually, Ed had thought for a moment that Izzy was fucking with him, but Ed had also been attentively clocking the blonde’s reactions throughout the whole interaction (though he had tried to be cool and casual about it, minus the totally stupid little wave he did, fuck, why was he so stupid with this man), and if the man’s actual lip-curl of disgust was anything to go by, Izzy was telling the truth.
Still, Ed thinks he could work with this.
That is, if the blonde would actually show up.
Ed has worked the bar every night for a week, when usually he’s there 3-4 nights, and he simply tells his staff it’s because his next door neighbors have been practicing for a community orchestra concert coming up. He’s pretty sure they aren’t buying it, he knows it’s a weak excuse, but they know better than to say otherwise.
It’s Thursday night, which tends to be pretty busy for Blackbeard’s, when Ed finally sees him.
But Ed is slammed at the bar. Over a sink of glasses he’s finally getting the chance to wash, Ed looks up and finds the golden-haired man walk in, looking around a little nervously before heading to the bar, training an apathetic look on his face and ordering a drink from Jim. This is probably for the best, because Ed is still positive he’d forget his own name if the blonde tried to order from him.
Ed continues washing glasses and glancing over at the blonde, which really isn’t the best combination, because suddenly the blonde glances at Ed—just a moment, but Ed blushes and smiles tentatively—and then the blonde smiles back, which makes a pint glass slip out of Ed’s hands and onto the floor, shattering it.
“Fucking shit,” Ed hisses, and he immediately grabs a hand broom to sweep it up, muttering angrily to himself. “Fuckin’ nervy piece of shit…can’t hold a damn glass while he looks at you…look like a fuckin’ loser…”
And of course, when Ed finishes cleaning up, the blonde has his drink and is chatting with someone at one of the high-top tables.
Ed curses himself internally and goes back to washing dishes.
—
An hour or so later though, Ed is finally able to pull himself from the flurry of customers, dishes, refilling taps, and other bar duties to barge in on Izzy in the back office.
“Iz, I’ve got a major favor to ask you.”
Izzy looks up from his computer screen and crosses his arms. “What is it now?”
“It’s about the blonde.”
Scooting the keyboard forward, Izzy slams his head on the desk, then whips it back up. “Fucks’ sake Edward, not him again? I thought you were over that ponce.”
Ed huffs a laugh. “Never was, Iz, and now he’s back tonight, and I need you to talk to him again. Maybe, I dunno, try a better method that doesn’t make him storm out of the fuckin’ place, even though it was kinda cute how bitchy he was.” A dreamy look momentarily crosses Ed’s face and Izzy fake-gags.
“Fuck me, Ed, this is embarrassing. Can’t you let it go? The man clearly wasn’t interested.”
“Okay, but maybe that was because you went about it all wrong. Seriously, has anyone ever told you you’re kind of a shit wingman?”
“No, because everyone else I know is smart enough to not ask me to wingman for them, and they’re actually not so pansy they can’t ask someone out for themselves.”
Ed glowers. “Listen, I don’t ask for much from you mate—“
“That’s a fuckin’ lie—“
“—shut up, but you’d really be doing me a solid here. Just, get him to approach me. Tell him he dropped something at the bar and I’ve set it aside for him or whatever. Just fucking do it.”
Izzy rolls his eyes.
“And you’re sure you can’t just approach the man yourself?”
“No. I’m too busy at the bar, and I need more time to think of like, a cool pick-up line or something.”
“No one uses pick-up lines anymore.”
Ed huffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah they fuckin’ do! All the time!”
“God, you’re so—“ Izzy massages his temples, sure this conversation is going to give him a headache.
“Okay, you know what? I will go out there, and I will try and get that stupid floppy-haired git to approach you, only because if we continue this conversation and I see you moon over him one more time I’m driving my bike off a pier.”
Reluctantly, already regretting his decision, Izzy gets up and follows Ed out of the office, who is now grinning like a kid who just got told they can go biking in the neighborhood by themselves.
“Fuckin’—I could hug you man! This is great!”
Izzy is already starting to think about alternative methods of killing Ed.
—
Stede is actually having a pretty good night. He’s a couple drinks in, so he has just a little buzz going, and he’s had a few nice conversations. The shaggy-haired bartender didn’t glare at him when he ordered today, which Stede is going to count as a plus, considering the first time he ordered from them he swore they flashed a knife in his direction while making his drink.
Then he saw that gorgeous silvery-haired man for a moment—and apparently he bartends here!—but when they made eye contact, or at least Stede thinks they made eye contact, he had dropped a glass and had to clean it up. Stede shrugged that off. It’s a busy night, glasses are bound to get broken, accidental or otherwise.
Stede mostly just people watches from his tiny table-top, casually sipping his drink, listening to music, and taking in the energy of the bar.
That is, until someone shoves past Stede and causes him to bump heavily into the table, teetering it dangerously before Stede catches it with one hand and rights it. His drink on the table isn’t so lucky, and it goes sliding off and crashing to the floor.
“Hey!” Stede turns his head and calls to the offender. “What the fu—“
It’s Sam. Bugger. Of course it would have to be Sam, because Stede’s luck had to run out at some point. Stede stops himself, but Sam just gives Stede a judgmental once-over and starts to walk off, ignoring the mess he caused.
But then the guy who was walking with Sam stalks up to Stede and gets nearly chest to chest with him. “Hey, is there a problem here, buddy?”
The man has a few inches on Stede, but he does his best bitchy glare up at the man. “Actually, there is. There’s plenty of room behind me, and yet your friend felt the need to shove into me and break my glass, not to mention he could’ve sent the table falling onto someone. Really fucking careless if you ask me.”
“Then get a new drink, bud. And don’t be a bitch about it.”
Stede’s face starts to get a little hot. “It’s not the drink I care about, but the fact your friend is careless and, based on past experience, a serial asshole who could learn a thing or two about respect and boundaries.”
“I’ll teach you about fuckin’ boundaries—“ the man shoves Stede roughly, and he stumbles back against another table, almost knocking it over.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Stede rushes forward and shoves the man back, though it’s not as strong a shove, and the man lunges for Stede but he ducks and bobs out of the way, kicking the man’s side and then backing up, but then Stede feels someone grab his bicep and yank him to the left. Stede stumbles and grabs the edge of a table top to steady himself, but he slips on the broken glass and down he goes, landing hard on his bum, though he had thrown out his hands at the last moment and also received a palmful of glass.
The wind is knocked out of him and the bar is fully muffled for a moment, but then he hears—
“Hey! Knock it the fuck off! Now!”
“Oi! Pendejo! You’re coming with me!”
“—I said out!” A body dressed in dark clothing shoves Stede’s attacker (about to go for him again) against the wall and Stede stares blankly at the figure, then turns his head to see the shaggy-haired bartender with Sam’s arms twisted painfully behind him and a knife to his neck.
“—Ivan! Fang! Get these fuckers out of here. Permanently.”
And then a pair of soft, concerned, garnet eyes meet his.
“Hey mate, let’s get you cleaned up in the back.” A cosy and smoky voice, like a wool blanket in the fall.
Stede starts to reach his left hand out but the moment he lifts it from the floor, the stinging pain kicks in and he hisses to himself.
“Yeah, let’s you back there stat.”
Still a bit dazed, Stede feels strong arms lift him under his shoulders and onto his feet, leading him to a back room.
—
By the time Stede is sat on an old crate in a back storage room, he’s pretty much back in focus. His ears aren’t muffled, his head is clearer, his brain isn’t fuzzy.
The man who led him back here excuses himself to get a first-aid kit, which gives Stede a chance to take a few deep breaths.
And then he comes back, and all that deep breathing was for nothing, because the air is sucked right back out of him.
It’s the gorgeous man he saw earlier that night and last week. The same silver-black hair, this time pulled up in a high ponytail, the same gorgeous eyes. Another pair of tight black jeans and a slightly cropped black tee and wow, beautiful tattoos up close, ones that Stede would love to study and memorize.
He pulls an old wooden chair in front of Stede and sits on it, setting the first aid kit on his lap, knees bumping Stede’s.
“Right, we gotta take a look at those hands.”
Stede stares blankly at the man. Hands? What are those?
“Uh.”
The man raises his eyebrows and then jumps a bit. “Shit! I should ask! Do you think you got a concussion? I didn’t see your head hit anything but it was kind of a blur. Pretty sure I almost vaulted over the bar for you.” He blushes lightly and starts rummaging through the kit.
Stede turns a little red as well. “No, uh, I—I didn’t hit my head. Just fell rather hard on my ass and cut up my hands it seems.” He holds them palm up, and the man takes them gently to inspect them. Stede’s breath hitches as he feels the warmth and roughness of the man’s hands, gently holding his. A buzzing feeling starts to swirl in his stomach.
The man frowns. “Okay, it doesn’t look too bad. I’m not seeing any tiny chips of glass, and there are some bigger cuts here, but not enough to warrant stitches. But we’ll keep an eye on them.” He lets go of Stede’s hands to look through the kit some more, and Stede finds he instantly misses the touch, even if it did make his stomach whirl.
“Well that’s good! I quite like to be able to use my hands.”
The man looks up at him with a thoughtful smile. “Oh yeah?”
“Well of course! Driving, using my phone, reading, writing, all the usual everyday activities.”
“And what are your usual everyday activities? This is gonna hurt, hold on.” The man rips open a few alcohol wipes and holds Stede’s left hand. Again, the swirling in his stomach kicks back up.
“Oh, well I’m an—ah, fuck me!” Stede flinches as the man dabs his bloody palm.
“Sorry mate, gotta get it clean though. Just breathe through it. Distract yourself, I’ve got a lot to clean up. So what do you do?”
Stede takes a deep breath as the stinging dies down temporarily. “Well, I used to work at a—shit—an accounting firm for my father—fuuuck—“
“My sentiments exactly on fathers,” Ed mutters with a smile, and Stede huffs a laugh.
“There are some shit ones, aren’t there? Anyway, I finally left that, and now I own a small plant nursery. Really only been—okay, ow—doing that for ah, fuck, half a year. Series of big life changes, with the divorce, coming out, moving out, and all that. So my hands do get dirty a lot, but I love my—fuck, will this be done soon?—my plants and sending them to happy homes.”
He throws his head back and groans. “Guess I’ll definitely be wearing gardening gloves for the foreseeable future.”
The man grunts. “Well, could be worse. Could be like a—I dunno, a carpenter or something where you need dexterity, or something where you’re in contact with things that could infect the cuts. Ooh, or a dishwasher.”
Stede wrinkles his nose. “Incidentally, washing dishes was about my only good quality as a husband.” He laughs sardonically.
“Meh, give yourself credit where it’s due. You seem like you’d be a great husband. How long were you married, if you mind me asking?” He’s inspecting Stede’s hands more closely for potential glass.
Stede blushes a moment at the second remark. “Oh, about 12 years. Have two beautiful kids—Alma and Louis—and my wife Mary is a good woman, but we obviously weren’t fit to be married to each other. We’re much better friends actually.”
The man smiles up at him, warm and understanding, and Stede has to smile back. “Well then, you can’t have been so bad. And things are better now, right? So focus on that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say completely better, considering I just got into my first ever and hopefully only bar fight, but a handsome man is helping me out, so that’s certainly better.”
Stede freezes but the man just looks even more warmly at him, like the final rays of the setting sun, smile growing wider. “Huh. Guess that would be me then, yeah?”
“Uh—yes. It is.” A slight and very nervous smile ticks on Stede’s face.
The man grabs some gauze from is kit. “Well, I must say you’re nowhere near as bitchy as my friend was saying.”
Stede raises an eyebrow and pouts. “Nowhere near as—? Who’s your friend?”
“His name is Izzy. Short guy, gray hair, goatee, constantly looks like someone just stepped on his foot.”
Stede’s eyes widen. “You?! You’re the one who sent him to me????”
There was no way, absolutely no way that was true. This charming, beautiful man could clearly have anyone he wanted, but had wanted to talk to Stede?
What had been in my drink?
The man blushes as he wraps Stede’s hands in gauze, each brush of his fingers against the palm sending a tiny shock to Stede’s system.
“Yeah, that was me.”
Stede gapes. “I’m sorry, but this sounds like a joke. Why didn’t you just come over yourself?? I would have gladly talked to you.”
The man snorts, finishing up one hand and tying up the gauze. “Mate, have you seen yourself? You’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Clearly not into my type.” He refuses to make eye contact with Stede, focusing intently on his work.
Stede is having some trouble processing this. “Well, that’s rather presumptuous! You don’t even know me! And for goodness’ sake, I’m not sure why you’d be into me.”
“Who’s being presumptuous now? Can’t just assume stuff.”
“And yet you did.”
“And so did you.”
Stede laughs. “Yes, and I also told your friend to tell you to go suck eggs in hell, and here you are still talking to me. Did that not put you off at all?”
“Not at all. In fact, I was fascinated.”
And the way he says that, it goes straight to Stede’s heart. It wells up and makes his face flush and wow, he can hear the sincerity in the man’s voice and it’s a shock but also…it’s an offering. An offering to pursue this.
Which Stede really wants to do.
The man finishes Stede’s other hand and cuts and ties off the gauze, patting his palm gently. Before he can pull away though, Stede squeezes his hand and continues to hold it. He thinks he hears a small gasp from the man as he looks up, gleaming garnet eyes meeting Stede’s.
“Well, since our first almost-interactions were shit, let’s try this again. My name is Stede Bonnet. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m ah—I’m Edward. Teach. Edward Teach, born on a beach.” He giggles nervously and then groans at himself. “Fuck that was awful.”
Stede laughs softly, positively endeared by this man. “No, that was lovely! Very cute. Anything else you want to say to me, Edward?”
Ed levels an almost unbelieving look at Stede. “I—what else would I say?”
“What else would—well, what else do you ask a man for when you’re interested in him?”
Ed’s face seems to bluescreen. “…your number! I’d like your number, Stede.”
“Now that’s more like it.” Stede grins cheekily, and Ed rolls his eyes fondly.
“Can’t believe you’re making me work for this, mate.”
“Well, you wanted to flirt with me in the first place! I shouldn’t have to do the work!”
“But is it working?” A shy, inquisitive look, which Stede meets with a warm, glowing smile.
“Yes, it’s working very well.”
And then, and Stede has no idea if it’s because he’s still a little buzzed or he’s just so smitten with Ed already or god knows what else, but he lifts Ed’s hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it, keeping his eyes on Ed. His brain buzzes a little as he does the action, something he certainly would never have done to anyone else, but Ed makes him want to do it.
He sees Ed shiver and a mix of emotions run through his face, though they all seem positive, if not a little confused. A little shiver goes down Stede's spine as well, a little shocked at his own courage.
“Fuck. See, this is why I wanted to meet you. But also why I didn’t, because I knew my brain would scramble trying to flirt with you and I’d forget how to talk, and that’s literally what’s been happening.”
Stede lowers their hands, still intertwined, and brushes his thumb in short strokes over the back of Ed’s hand, having somewhat limited movement.
“On the contrary, I think you’ve been rather charming. Again, no idea how you’d be interested in someone like me, but I suppose I can’t complain.”
“Remember, no assuming, okay? And I have no idea how a guy as charming as you is still single and hanging around in a bar like this.”
Stede laughs, still holding Ed’s hand. “Well, quite a comment when this is your bar! But, well, I can’t say I’m appealing to most men, I’m certainly an odd duck, in more ways than one.” Stede looks past Ed, eyes a little clouded. “And well, I’ve been on a few dates, but it’s not really easy when I’m only interested in men in the romantic sense.”
Ed shifts a little in his seat, trying to get Stede to meet his eyes again. “So are you like—“
“I’m asexual, if that’s what you’re asking. And I’m proud about it, I really am! But it tends to be a dealbreaker when I’m pursuing romance and it’s hard enough for me to find people to date so this detail is just…”
“Frustrating? A hassle? Something you wish other guys would just get over and understand?”
Stede shoots a look at Ed. “Yes! Exactly! I just—I’m sorry if you feel differently, but—I don’t get what the fuss is about! I have absolutely no interest in sex and I really think I have the potential to find a fulfilling relationship without sex, but there are so many who don’t think so and honestly—I think it’s kind of stupid. There’s so much more to relationships than sexual intimacy! Why can’t people see that?”
A smile dawns on Ed’s face, incandescent and, to Stede’s surprise, relieved.
“Yes! Fucking—yes! This is what I’ve been trying to tell people!”
Stede’s jaw drops a bit. “You—are you ace too?”
There’s no way I could be that lucky.
“Sure am. Ed Teach, resident gay-ace of Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill and other Delicacies and Delights.”
Stede chuckles. “Incredible. You’re incredible.”
Ed blushes and ducks his head. “Awh. Not so sure about that.”
But Stede takes his other hand and gently turns Ed’s face to his.
“No. You are.” His voice lowers. “There’s…something about you, I don’t quite know what, but…I’d really like to find out. If you’d let me, that is.” He strokes a bandaged thumb across Ed’s jawline, and he leans into the touch.
“I—fuck, yes I’d fuckin’ let you. I’d let you do—well, almost anything, considering our preferences.” He laughs softly.
Stede laughs lightly too, turning his hand to caress Ed’s face with the back of it. “Well, I’d let you do most things within reason too.”
It’s an invitation, their faces a few inches apart.
“So—“ Ed’s eyes start to smolder, and it mirrors the smoldering embers in Stede’s chest that have been getting warmer through this whole interaction. “Would you—let me kiss you?” His voice lower and huskier, like that wool blanket Stede thought about earlier.
“Yes,” he breathes, “absolutely.”
Ed takes a free hand and trails it up Stede’s neck, along his jawline, and to the back of his head, gently holding his golden curls and letting Stede shiver a bit. He brings him closer bit by bit, eyes fluttering shut, and finally slots their mouths together. Stede shifts forward slightly, bumping their knees together, and he runs a hand up Ed’s chest, planting it on his collarbone. Ed scoots even closer, gently scrunching hair that is unbelievably soft and fluffy, hair he thinks he could spend hours stroking. Hair he might actually get to spend hours stroking, if this thing works out.
And fuck, he wants it to work out.
A tiny gasp escapes Stede and Ed swoons, feeling heady with what is ultimately a simple kiss but somehow also the best one of his life, and after another moment or two he pulls away slightly, their noses still touching.
“Alright?” He murmurs.
Stede gazes at him dreamily, all rosy-cheeked and starry-eyed.
“More than,” he breathes. “I’d let you do that a thousand times more if you wanted.”
A fond smile curls on Ed’s lips. “Is that a request?”
Stede hums thoughtfully, adorably, if Ed has anything to say about it. “That, and maybe a promise. Let me take you to dinner and I’ll let you kiss me as much as you want. And get to know me. And vice versa.”
Ed presses a light kiss to Stede’s nose, reveling in the presence and warmth of a man he’ll hopefully get to know much, much better, and seems to be even more delightful than he could have imagined him.
“You should know I’ve never broken a promise, blondie.”
“Then I look forward to you keeping this one.”
And keep that promise he did.