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One more appointment and Ed could finally quit his job.
Accounting had seemed so cool when he was younger; making money while spending other people’s money had a bit of a ring to it. But he’d been working for Badminton and Badminton for fifteen years now and he was beyond done with last minute invoices and itemized receipts and snippy attitudes when he asked if they could just print out a google map so he could pay back mileage. Fuck all of them.
Opening up a restaurant had always been a bit of a pipe dream but the terrible job did pay well and he’d just managed to get a good deal on a food truck for what he had already named Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill and Other Delicacies and Delights (dream big, right?). He’d tried out a starter menu with Fang and the boys and they all said they’d liked it. Then he brought some food anonymously and left it in the breakroom and it was gone within a half hour which was more reassuring. (Fang and the boys were lovely but would have pretended to love anything he’d made. These assholes only ate what they actually wanted.)
Yes, things were coming along nicely and Ed was preparing for his imminent departure. Until his mother pointed one thing out in one of their weekly calls.
“Darling, are you sure you shouldn’t make a few appointments, use that good health insurance while you’ve got it?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he’d rolled his eyes, visions of Ben Hornigold’s angry face as he left his resignation letter in his inbox dancing in his head.
“A physical wouldn’t hurt,” she’d continued. “Have them take some blood. Oh! And the dentist. Check on that back right molar. You were always getting cavities as a boy, you know.”
“Fine,” Ed rolled his eyes, putting her on speaker and writing her suggestions down in his Notes. “Anything else, Your Highness?”
“Your prescription!” She’d stopped commenting on his little jokes years ago. “Do you have a current prescription? Or even enough contacts to get you through the next six months?”
He sent a glance towards his bathroom door.
“Yeah, okay, good point. I’ll get some appointments set up. Now, will you congratulate me already?”
And she had laughed and they’d talked and Ed promptly forgot to schedule the appointments for another week and a half.
It was easy enough to book the physical and the dentist. He’d logged on and said he’d take any physician at any time at any facility up to twenty miles away. It only took a week to get in to the doctor (and he’d not eaten breakfast so he could get his labs done at the same time) and a month to get into the dentist. (No cavities. Take that, Mom. He was getting an A in Teeth.)
It was the optometrist that was causing trouble. There was only one eye clinic within a feasible driving distance from him and they seemed to be booked solid for three months. Ed did not want to still be fielding calls from Gregory Wellington in three months if he could help it but, well, he did need more contacts and he knew that getting a proper eye exam meant he’d have a prescription for a few years, insurance against a lack of insurance. God bless America and all that crap.
So he made an appointment for much too far in the future but also clicked the button to be notified if there were any cancellations. Because he needed to get out of here yesterday.
Unfortunately, time passed slowly with no sign of reprieve, invoices and payment plans and ‘just checking the progress of project 2075B’, and Ed was beginning to think that he wouldn’t make it, frustration leading him to just chuck a stapler at Chauncey’s head and say ‘I’m out!’ when there was a little *ding* in his email.
New Appointment Time Available
Ed had never clicked a link so quickly in his life. There must have been a cancellation because now there was an 8:30 (ugh) appointment on Thursday with a Dr. Bonnet. He did the very quick mental math of waking up that early (8:30 really meant he had to be there at 8:15 which meant he had to wake up at 6:30 if he was going to shower and leave on time after morning bed phone scrolling) versus waiting the two more months for his original appointment.
With a quick silent apology for future 6:30 AM Ed, he clicked *schedule*.
6:30 was very early, shockingly, especially when, despite best of intentions, one stayed up til 1:30 watching Youtube essays about television shows one never watched but was somehow entirely engrossed in anyway. Ed turned off his alarm with a grumble, giving Queenie a quick pat as she rushed ahead of him to her food dish.
“Not even a morning cuddle for your poor, tired pop, huh?” Ed groused, rising out of bed and following his cat. “Greedy gus.”
“Mrrrrow!” Queenie replied from next to her dish.
“Yeah, yeah.” Ed bent over to pick it up and took it to the kitchen to grab the cat food. “And are you going to make me dinner when I get home?”
“Mrrrow?”
“Promises, promises.” He walked the dish back over to its spot and set it down before heading to the bathroom to hop in the shower.
Forty minutes later, showered, clothed, and slightly made up (someone was going to be looking right at his eyes today, he should dress them up a bit), Ed was on his way out the door. He tucked his wallet into his back pocket and grabbed his keys, pulling on his boots and grateful not to be wearing a button up shirt for once. Sure, this appointment would probably be over by the time he needed to be at the office, but this is what sick time was for. He was going to head over to a coffee shop afterwards, work on some of the food truck plans. If he had to be up, he might as well make a proper day of it.
He made great time on the highway, despite it being the middle of the morning rush. He supposed heading slightly out of town rather than into it was working in his favor but he was grateful considering google maps sent him to the wrong building the first time around. Weird to have two eye doctors across the road from one another. Luckily, he realized his mistake the minute he pulled into the wrong parking lot and after one more loop around the block, pulled into the right one.
With a groan and a quick stretch to wake himself up as he got out of the car, he headed inside.
His first thought was that he must be one of the first appointments for the day because the place was dead. There was a little glasses shop off to his left but it was still closed, a metal grate pulled down in front like this was a streetfront or something. There was a singular old lady sat in the waiting room, head down over her purse and most likely asleep.
“Hey, leather daddy. Checking in?”
Ed turned to find a kid in his twenties sitting at reception, giving him a cheeky little wave. He was dressed as one would expect of a receptionist, stripy shirt and a solid maroon cardigan, but there was an air of mischief that seemed to hover around him. Not to mention his truly ridiculous sideburns.
“Er, yeah. Ed Teach. I have an 8:30 appointment?”
“Mmm,” the boy looked down at his computer. “Got some photo id?”
Ed grabbed his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license, as well as his insurance card, and passed them over.
“Peeeeerfect,” the boy hummed, tapping at the computer. “Got you all set. You’re with, oh this is great, you’re with Doctor Bonnet.” With a grin that seemed to promise trouble, he pointed towards where the old woman slept. “Go ahead and take a seat and someone will call you back soon.”
Ed nodded and found a seat against the back wall, pulling out his phone to doom scroll a bit to pass the time. A few minutes later, the door next to him opened and a lean person wearing a large brown hat that couldn’t be standard for an optometrist stepped out.
“Agnes Wilkinson?”
With a start, the old woman across from him hopped to her feet and began making her way towards the person at the door.
“I’m Jim,” the be-hatted figure introduced themselves as she got closer. “I’ll be taking you to Dr. Boodhari’s room. If you’ll follow me.” Jim turned on a dime and disappeared back behind the door, the old woman stumbling forward after them to make it before the door closed.
Ed looked back down at his phone, pulling up his personal email and refreshing it to make sure he wasn’t missing anything important, as if he hadn’t just checked it ten minutes ago. Two emails popped up but one was telling him his horoscope had predicted this day (sure it had) and the other promised him a free fish bucket if he clicked a link (really, phishing scam? A fish bucket?). He sighed as he deleted them, bored and sleepy.
“Ed Teach?”
He’d missed the door opening but standing there was ….the receptionist?
Ed turned quickly and sure enough, reception was empty.
“Ummm,” he began but the guy just waved his hand.
“I’m Lucius and reception will be fine for ten minutes,” he assured him. “This is way more interesting. Now if you want to follow me to Dr. Bonnet’s room? It’s the third door on the left.”
Ed narrowed his eyes at the kid who just shrugged at him and turned, assuming Ed would follow him. Which he did.
“Cool, so go ahead and take a seat in the big, intimidating chair,” Lucius gestured towards the metal contraption to the right when they walked in. “I’m going to pull up your record on the computer for Stede.”
“Stede?” Ed was sure he must have heard that wrong.
“Dr. Bonnet,” Lucius affirmed. “And yes, like the horse. I guess spelled differently but whatever. He hates when I say that.”
“He hates when you say his name?” It was too early in the morning for this conversation.
“He hates when I make the horse comparison. Apparently he had some sort of traumatic childhood horse event. I’d say who hasn’t but honestly, I feel like this is a rich person thing. So what are you here for?”
“Hmm?” Ed blinked. He’d only half been following.
“New prescription? Contact check? System didn’t log what kind of appointment you were here for for some reason.”
“Prescription,” Ed answered, slightly back on solid ground. “I’ll be ordering some contacts, too.”
“Oooo, and what do you think about glasses?” Lucius held his fingers out like he was framing Ed’s face. “Bet we could get you something real sexy.”
“Mmm, not sure,” Ed ignored the baiting. “I’ve got some frames at home. I’ll think about it.”
“Sure, sure,” Lucius waved him off. “Well, if you want to try some on, just let me know. I’d be happy to help.”
“How many jobs do you have?”
“As many as I feel like,” Lucius shrugged, standing up. “Well, you’re all set. Dr. Bonnet’ll be here in a minute. See you on the other side.”
“Yeah, bye.”
Lucius disappeared with a wink behind the door and Ed had a moment of wondering what he’d gotten himself into. ‘In and out,’ Ed thought to himself. ‘Get the prescription and you can quit. Eyes on the prize.’
He spent the next five minutes doing his best not to fall asleep, the dim lighting in the room not helping the situation. Maybe he should just go home and take a nap after this. Queenie would definitely approve.
A light knock on the door broke Ed out of his stupor. He looked up as the door swung open and a fucking human ray of sunshine walked in.
He was wearing a white coat (he’s a doctor, Ed’s brain supplied) over what looked to be a silk shirt and bright teal slacks. His shoes shone like he’d taken the time to shine them this morning and instead of pens in his coat pocket, he had a matching pocket square. He was absurd. And then he turned and smiled and god, Ed was done for.
“Hello!” the man chirped, walking over to the computer Lucius had vacated and oh my god, he was putting on tiny gold wire-framed glasses. Ed was going to combust. “I’m Dr. Bonnet and I’ll be conducting your eye exam today! Let me just see what my assistant has jotted down.”
He had a little frown of concentration as he read the screen and Ed didn’t know how he was going to get through this whole exam without asking this man to marry him.
“Well, looks like Lucius only did half of his job, per usual,” the man sighed. “But no matter! We can take care of the rest.” Stede pulled forward a little blue stool and sat down on it, his legs slightly spread to balance his weight. “Now, Mr. Teach–”
“You can call me Ed,” Ed blurted out before he even realized what he was saying.
“Lovely!” Stede responded, rewarding him with another smile. “Then you must call me Stede, of course. I know, I know, it’s a silly name–”
“I think it’s cool,” Ed spluttered again because apparently he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“You do?”
“Yeah,” Ed nodded, rubbing his suddenly sweaty hands up and down his jean-clad thighs. “Unique. It suits you.”
“Well!” Stede squeaked and were his cheeks getting a little pink? Ed had to be careful to guard against wishful thinking. “That’s very kind of you, Ed. I think your name suits you, too!”
“Had a nickname back in school,” Ed heard the words coming out of his mouth despite himself. “They used to call me Blackbeard.” He reached up to rub a hand against the light stubble of his cheek. “Guess it would be more Greybeard now.”
“That is quite the nickname!” Stede enthused, looking actually interested. “Were you on the football team?”
“Swimming, actually. It was originally kind of a dig cause, you know, beards aren’t super great for the whole aerodynamic thing. Turns out, though, I was just fast enough that it didn’t matter. Beat all those nerds hands down. I think the full thing was Blackbeard, Scourge of the Seven Seas but it was a bit of a mouthful.”
“That’s spectacular!” Ed was going to get neck strain from all the preening he was doing but Stede seemed honestly, genuinely impressed. Ed hadn’t talked about swimming in ages, something he’d sworn he’d outgrown after a car accident fucked up his knee and he’d lost the speed he used to have. The only swimming he did after that was hydrotherapy. It was nice to remember the good times for once. “Did you need glasses back then? Were things all blurry underwater?”
“Yeah,” Ed laughed. “It was a bit of a pain. I was too worried about water getting in my goggles to wear contacts and prescription goggles were expensive back then so everything was a bit of a blur. The only good thing was that I was a blur to them too as I fucking shot past them.”
“You must have been a sight to see,” Stede agreed, a warm smile on his face. God, was it hot in here?
“Speaking of seeing,” Stede segued with a little smile that said he was immensely proud of how smooth it had been (and thus making it immediately not smooth), “it looks like you’re here for a new prescription?”
“That’s right,” Ed agreed. “Almost out of contacts and it’s been awhile since my last exam. Figured I’d come in, update, order more, all that.”
“Well, we can certainly take care of you! Er, that!” Stede looked down quickly, taking off his glasses with one hand while his other hand opened the drawer next to him. “Are you wearing contacts right now?”
Ed nodded.
“Excellent.” He pulled a contact case out of the open drawer and popped it on the counter. “If you want to just come over here and take them out for the exam, here’s a case and I’ll grab you some solution.” He stood up and opened a cabinet as Ed gingerly made his way over to the counter. The tiny bottle of solution Stede’d given him was the same as the kind he used at home, which wasn’t an amazing coincidence but it showed they were on the same wavelength, right?
God, he was reaching.
Stede had set the case and solution on the counter next to the sink, which also happened to be right next to where he sat on his little stool, typing a few things into the wall mounted computer. Before he took out his contacts, Ed used his position to scope out a few things. Firstly, there was no wedding ring on that hand which was a win for him and surely the loss of too many fine people out there. He couldn’t be sure he was gay, you could never be sure, but the pocket square? The silk shirt? The light blush when Ed complimented him? There was hope. Ed popped out his contacts in a second and made his way back to the ridiculous chair.
“All done?” Stede asked, looking up from the computer. “Wonderful. Now let me just go get the lights.”
Stede stood up, walking over to flip the light switch and switch on a projection of the stereotypical optometrist poster, giant E at the top and everything. On autopilot, Ed squinted trying to make out as far down the poster as he could.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Stede waggled his fingers and was that hot? That shouldn’t have been hot. “We haven’t started yet. First I need you to take this,” Stede handed him something that felt like a tiny plastic paddle and his hand automatically grasped it, “and hold it over your right eye.”
Ed did as instructed. His eyesight was immediately worse.
“Alright, now I want you to read to me the smallest line you can comfortably read.”
Ed squinted, trying to make out the farthest down he could, warring voices in his mind of knowing he was supposed to do this honestly so he got the correct prescription and a very primitive need to prove to Stede that he was the best see-r to ever see. The contradiction of a hot optometrist.
“F E L,” he started confidently. “...Oooooh…. P? Erm, N? And B! No! D!”
“Very good,” Stede complimented him. “And that was without squinting?”
Busted.
“Try your best not to squint this time, okay?” Stede’s voice was amused, like he totally understood that it was hard not to try and cheat on an eye exam. “Go ahead and move the paddle to your left eye and we’ll do the whole thing again.”
Ed followed directions, moving the paddle and taking a second as his eyes adjusted to the change.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
‘Don’t squint,’ Ed reminded himself.
He managed to restrain from squinting. This time, though, he found himself just remembering what he said before.
“F E L O P Z D!” He exclaimed triumphantly.
“Excellent,” Stede praised as he took the paddle from him. “And hopefully that was more sight than memorization.”
How did Stede see right through him?
“I’m good at my job, Ed,” Stede laughed.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“No,” Stede shook his head, walking over to start to maneuver that huge and uncomfortable chair mounted eye mask towards him. “And honestly, I’m not usually this perceptive this early in the morning. We must just be well attuned.”
Before Ed could turn to see what Stede’s face had looked like as he said that, he found the demented domino in front of his face.
“Now I’m going to show you a line with two different lenses,” Stede began the spiel Ed had heard a million times since he’d first gotten glasses as a kid. “You tell me which one looks clearer. Got it?”
“Lead on, Captain.”
“Right,” Ed could hear the smile in Stede’s voice. “One … or two?”
The one or two, three or four dance continued for a few more minutes, switching between his left and right eye. Again, he was doing his best not to squint but it was hard, his brain desperate to read the line of letters that didn’t even mean anything simply because they were there. It was easier to turn his brain off than normal, simply because he was tired, but the impulse was a constant presence in the back of his mind.
“Great.” Stede finally released him from his metal mask but didn’t turn the lights on, sliding a large metal contraption over and encouraging him to lean forward, hitting both the chin rest and forehead rest.
“I know it feels weird,” Stede empathized, “but it’s just for a moment while I look at the shape of your eyes. Can you look just past my ear for me?”
“No worries, mate,” Ed went to nod, remembered the position his head was currently in, and rolled his eyes. “Looking past your ear.”
And then Stede leaned forward and looked in his eyes.
It wasn’t like Ed had never done this before. He’d known this part was coming. But usually it was some crusty old geezer doing this or a polite mom or anyone other than maybe the hottest man Ed had ever seen. He did his best to look straight forward, focusing on a curl just past Stede’s ear that caught the backlight just so, shining like a tiny halo. Made sense; the man was an angel.
“And now look up?” His voice was so soft and Ed did his best to keep breathing normally as he looked up at the ceiling. What was wrong with him? Stede was just doing his job and here he was being a weirdo. He was going to have to have a serious talk with himself when this was over.
“And now down?” Ed looked down, eyes focused on the tips of Stede’s shiny shoes and where they sat, right in front of Ed’s ridiculous boots on the little metal step at the bottom of the chair. The contrast was clear. They were two extremely different people. Ed needed to get out of his head.
“Lovely,” Stede sighed, leaning back and shuffling the metal apparatus away. “And I love the slight eye shadow and liner, too. It really brings out your eyes.”
Ed looked up abruptly. What?
“Yeah?” God, did his voice sound as breathless to Stede as it did to him? “You do?”
“Of course,” Stede nodded. “You look lovely. And it’s more than just that. You have kind eyes.”
Ed looked into Stede’s eyes and found not a hint of irony, just a genuine affection and wasn’t that something? They just stared at each other a moment, Stede smiling and Ed’s heart hammering a mile a minute, before Stede seemed to recall where they were.
“Right-o!” He hummed, turning to the side and giving Ed (giving them both?) a chance to breathe. “Just a few more tests and then you’ll be all set. Just need to pull out the last of my ridiculous machines.”
Stede pulled another rolling table over and how had Ed not noticed all these tables before? One track mind, he guessed. This one had two machines, both with chin rests in front of them, and Ed eyed them warily.
“Which one’s the puffer, Bonnet?”
Stede laughed, an absolutely lovely sound.
“The one on the left, I’m afraid. Do you want to do it first or second?”
“Ah, let’s just get it over with then,” Ed sighed, preemptively leaning forward, reaching with his chin for the chin rest.
“That’s the Blackbeard I’ve heard tell about,” Stede’s voice was warm as he adjusted the forehead rest and Ed could feel himself blushing.
“Go on, then,” he huffed and Stede laughed again.
“Okay, open wide please.” The machine made a few worrying little adjustments, something off putting about those little mechanical sounds so close to his eye, and then pfft!
“Arrrgh!” Ed jumped back. “I fucking hate that thing.”
“I know. It’s the worst,” Stede commiserated. “Unfortunately, we’ve got to do the other eye, too.”
“You’re fucking diabolical,” Ed sighed, leaning forward again.
“So I’ve been told,” Stede agreed. “Are you ready?”
Just as Ed was about to say to get on with it, the machine went off again.
“A sneak attack?!” Ed yelped.
“Got it over with more quickly, didn’t it?” Stede sounded entirely too pleased with himself.
“Tell me you didn’t just do to me what you do for restless children.”
“Well then, I won’t tell you,” Stede said with a grin. “Now, just one more machine and you’re done. Ready to look at a hot air balloon for a weirdly long second?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Ed laughed, leaning forward as Stede slid over the last machine. “Balloon me.”
They finished up with the autorefractor and Stede wheeled the table away before standing up and flipping back on the lights.
“Geez, give a guy a warning,” Ed groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to let them adjust.
“Oh, sorry, Ed!” Stede looked genuinely apologetic as he plopped himself back down on the stool, pulling the wall mounted computer towards him. “I do this so many times a day, I automatically brace myself. I forget not everyone’s used to it.”
“Yeah, between you and ravers, I can’t think of anyone else used to switching lights on and off suddenly.”
“And I haven’t been to a rave in years.”
Ed looked at Stede who hadn’t even blinked as he delivered that information, typing numbers into the computer.
“Stede Bonnet, you have not been to a rave.”
Stede looked up, a mischievous grin playing at the side of his mouth.
“We all have a past, Edward.”
Ed needed to kiss this man yesterday.
“You’re all set,” Stede glanced at his notes on the computer. “This prescription should be good for a few years at least. If you need to order contacts, Lucius can help you. He’s the man–”
“Don’t worry,” Ed cut him off. “I’ve met Lucius.”
“Of course you have,” Stede sighed. “I apologize for anything he said to you. He likes to think he’s witty but sometimes he goes a bit far.”
“Oh, he was fine. Trust me, if that kid is the thing you have to apologize the most for here, you’re doing great. Boys will be boys and all that.”
“He’s 29,” Stede frowned. “But if you’re alright.”
“Perfectly fine, mate. Am I cool to put my contacts back in?”
Stede leaned back and frowned for a minute, as if forgetting where they were before shaking his head.
“Of course, of course. Sorry about that. I was miles away.”
“Must have been somewhere nice,” Ed smiled as he made to stand.
Unfortunately, Ed had forgotten his feet weren’t on the ground but on a tiny metal step a few inches above and as he went to step forward, his foot just kept going, throwing his balance off.
Fortunately, Stede was right there, jumping up and throwing his arms up underneath Ed’s to keep him from falling, and suddenly Ed was pressed up against him, chest to chest, faces just inches apart. This close, he could count every one of Stede’s eyelashes, each tiny freckle on his cheek.
“Very nice indeed,” Stede murmured, eyes darting from Ed’s eyes to his mouth and back.
Was he about to kiss his optometrist?
Cause he really wanted to kiss his optometrist.
“Hey Stede, I know he’s crazy hot but your 9:15’s—hello, what’s going on here?”
Ed was fairly sure nurses or receptionists or whatever the hell Lucius was weren’t supposed to just barge into a patient’s appointment and especially not at such sensitive times. As expected, Stede jolted backwards like he’d been hit by lightning, though Ed was pleased to see his entire face turning a fetching shade of pink.
“What happened to knocking, Lucius?” He growled and oooh, this was a fun new flavor. Ed could get into bitchy Stede in a big way.
“This is clearly more fun. Hello, Edward~” Lucius gave Ed another one of his cheeky little waves and Ed flipped him off, which seemed only to delight him more. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry to interrupt but Mrs. Metcalfe’s your next appointment and you know how she likes to wander if she’s left alone too long.”
“Oh god, I forgot she was coming in today.” Stede let out a bone-weary sigh. “Lucius, I will approve one Starbucks run if you get me a slice of that yummy lemon bread as a reward for seeing Mrs. Metcalfe.”
“Looked like you were about to be rewarded plenty but I’ll never say no to free coffee. See you in thirty!”
“Fifteen!”
“Twenty-five and that’s final.” Lucius had the audacity to wink. “Ed, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
And with that, he was gone and a slightly awkward silence filled the room.
“You probably wanted to put your contacts in,” Stede began.
“Right!” Ed agreed, walking over to where he’d left them on the counter. “So I guess Lucius won’t be helping me order those contacts then…”
“Oh fuck!” The crass word coming out of Stede’s fancy little lips made Ed almost start to chuckle as he popped his contacts in. “Edward, I am so sorry. I completely forgot.”
“No problem at all.” Ed put the now empty container back on the counter. “I was thinking I’d probably like to come again, anyway.”
“Oh?” Stede looked up from where he’d been gathering his papers. “Did you need anything else?”
Courage, Teach.
“Well, I need to order some contacts, of course,” Ed ticked one finger down.
“Of course,” Stede nodded.
“And I was thinking of getting some new frames to go with my new prescription and I was wondering if maybe you could help me out with that. You seem like a pretty fashion forward guy.”
It was the right thing to say. Stede preened like no one had ever complimented him before. It made Ed want to say a million kind things to him, just to see that little confident smile.
“Oh, I could definitely help you with that! I’m pretty booked up but you could always come after my last appointment of the day. Oh, I’m already starting to think of some I’d love to have you try on. Everything will look good on you, of course, that’s how it always is with handsome people, but we’ll find something incredibly special.”
Stede didn’t even seem to have realized what he said, clearly going through a catalog of frames in his mind, but it was the last little push that Ed needed.
“And lastly, I was hoping to get your number.”
“Yes, I should be able to—come again?”
For the first time, Stede looked completely out of his depth, blinking back at Ed.
“I would like your number.”
“....why?”
Was he seriously asking this?
“So I can text you and talk to you and ask you out on dates and stuff.”
This still didn’t seem to be connecting for Stede.
“You’d want to do that?”
“Of course I would!” Ed couldn’t believe he had to spell this out. “First of all, you’re a fucking catch. Smart and good looking and funny and a fucking fashion plate. Checking every single box, man. And then secondly, I just like talking with you. For all the reasons stated above. And, I dunno, I just like you and I’d like to spend more time with you. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
Ed wasn’t sure Stede had taken a breath during Ed’s whole little speech but his shoulders had dropped into a more relaxed posture and he looked like he might cry but not in a bad way.
“I would love to spend more time with you, Ed.”
It took everything in Ed not to do a little fist pump.
“But I’m your optometrist. Isn’t there a rule against that?”
“Why would there be a rule against that?”
Stede shrugged.
“I don’t know, it just seems like the kind of thing that has a rule.”
“Well, regardless,” Ed laughed, “you’re not going to be my optometrist for much longer.”
“Ed,” Stede frowned, “I am not following this conversation at all.”
“I’m about to lose my health insurance,” Ed shrugged. “Which means no more optometrist, at least for a while. And who knows if you’d be in network with my new one.”
“Probably not. I’m very exclusive.”
“As you should be,” Ed nodded, reaching forward to grab one of Stede’s hands in both of his. “So either way, you should really give me your number and then let me take you out for some of that yummy lemon bread.”
Stede smiled as bright as the sun, looking down at their joined hands.
“I’d really like that.”
“Dr. Bonnet? What are you doing in the broom closet?”
Ed looked up to see a little old woman in a floral purple dress in the doorway, staring at the two of them like they were the odd ones out.
“Mrs. Metcalfe!” Stede jumped forward, putting an arm on her shoulder and gently turning her back out towards the hallway. “You’re just a little early. Why don’t we get you back to Exam Room 2 and get you settled?”
“Never seen a doctor’s office that operated like this before!” She huffed before starting her slow, shuffling journey two doors down.
“Sorry,” Stede sighed. “It seems I’m needed but here.” Stede reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe. “Feel free to text yourself so I have your number and then you can just leave it at reception on your way out.”
Now it was Ed’s turn to feel flabbergasted.
“Stede, I’m very keen on you but you just met me, mate. You’re really cool with this? With just walking off, leaving a total stranger with your phone, trusting I’ll drop it off on my way out?”
“Of course,” Stede shrugged, turning to make his way out the door.
“Why?”
Stede turned in the doorway, the hallway light giving him a slight shine around the edges.
“I told you. You have kind eyes.”
And then he was gone, hopping after a very confused little old lady and Ed had to deal with the sudden storm of emotions raging inside him.
People trusted him with numbers. They trusted him to do his work and make good food. His mates knew he was good for a laugh and likely to turn up to help if they called. His mom trusted him to call her, to check in, to write to his aunties for Christmas even though he hated the holiday. All these things, though, came from experience, from seeing Ed’s work and drive and feeling comfortable with it.
No one had trusted him just because he was him before.
He looked down at Stede’s phone, unlocked, prime for snooping. And yet, Stede trusted him and even though his mind was screaming at the temptation, Ed opened up the messaging app, typed in his number, and sent a quick text before making his way back out to the lobby. He left Stede’s phone with a quiet but kind blond man named Lars who promised he’d get it back to him and made his way back out to his car, suddenly full of inspiration.
If Stede liked him for only what he’d seen so far, how much more impressed would he be when he saw all the food truck plans?
Ed spent the next five hours at a coffee shop by his house, working on a financing proposal, drawing up a menu, playing around with different logo ideas. He’d been head down in his work for hours before he was pulled back by the *ding* of his text message alert.
Stede: You think you’re cute, hmm?
Ed smiled, swiping into the conversation.
Ed: Know I’m cute, thank you.
Ed: How’s Mrs. Metcalfe?
Stede: Home, thank god.
Stede: How was the rest of your day?
Ed glanced down at this laptop and various papers strewn about the table.
Ed: Actually still doing some work at the Starbucks off 10th.
Stede took slightly longer to respond this time.
Stede: Well, don’t let me keep you.
Ed: Not keeping me at all.
Ed: I’d actually love to talk through some things
Ed: Maybe treat you to that lemon loaf.
Ed: If you’re not too tired
He hoped he hadn't been too forward and was relieved to see Stede’s response.
Stede: I can be there in 20.
And then he was there, somehow even more handsome with the white coat off and replaced by a teal blazer that matched his slacks. He looked ridiculous, like he’d walked off a magazine photoshoot. Ed couldn’t believe his luck.
“Okay, I’m all ears,” Stede grinned as he sat down, lemon loaf in hand. “Tell me everything.”
Ed talked through all the plans for the truck, from the finances to the truck itself to his quitting his job and hiring staff and just everything that popped into his head. Stede turned out to know a little bit about all this, one of his friends running a cake-themed food cart at a local cart pod and he promised to get them in touch.
The conversation flowed and soon, they were closing down the shop and headed to a gastropub for dinner. Which they then also closed down, somehow unable to get enough of each other’s company. Eventually Stede did have to leave, appointments in the morning and all that, but not before a first kiss that Ed felt down to his toes and a promise to get dinner again the next night.
Ed quit his job three weeks later, handing in his resignation after “accidentally” deleting half the invoices out of the financial software system Nigel had forced them all to migrate to two years earlier. They were furious and they threatened to sue but Ed knew they never would; he had way too much dirt.
The food truck launch was a great success, all his friends and Stede’s coming out to support him. Roach had been a fount of information, thrilled to help Ed learn the ropes and even managed to finagle him a weekly slot at his cart pod. It was still going to take some time for him to build up a following and start to actually break even, but success was achievable, on the horizon even.
And Stede did help him pick out some new frames, although Ed kept telling him he wasn’t helpful at all, saying that every pair looked amazing on him and then having to kiss him about it. Ed finally settled on two pairs, a simple wire frame and a more elaborate thick black frame with purple highlights. Stede was a great fan of both.
There wasn’t good, affordable insurance for Ed’s new lifestyle, unfortunately and Stede lived in dread that Ed would burn himself or chop off a finger or fall down the two steps up into the truck or any number of other, ridiculous things. “I have money but not ‘stitch back on your finger with no insurance’ money!” was a constant refrain. “I can’t afford $600 a month and ingredients” was the common response.
It turned out, though, that Stede had excellent insurance, being a doctor himself and all. Only the best for his employees. And, well, it, of course, covered spouses.
While Ed would make jokes to their dying day that he only married Stede for his good insurance, the truth was they both felt a little thrill at getting to call the other their husband. At getting to come home to the other (and Queenie, who Stede had taken an immediate liking to.) At good morning kisses and lazy Sunday mornings and massages after a hard day of work. At just being together.
Though the insurance didn’t hurt, either.