Work Text:
Blackbeard was a fearsome pirate, the kind whose deeds were only relayed in hushed whispers laced with fear. His crew was ruthless, cruel, never taking prisoners and never giving mercy. Their flag was a symbol marking sailors for death, and at some point it became synonymous with seeing Blackbeard himself, rendering his own presence secondary to the fear it brought.
Honestly, without the adrenaline rush of watching fear and recognition flood a sailor’s face, what fun was there to be had? Perhaps it was this boredom that had led Blackbeard to spare Stede, the self-proclaimed Gentleman Pirate, and watch over him until he awoke.
At least, that was the lie he’d told Izzy.
When Stede had woken up completely unaware of who was sitting in front of him, Blackbeard was fascinated. When he’d let the pirate run his fingertips over the gilded spines of his many books and press his palms to the fine patterns woven into his silks, when he’d treated him not as Blackbeard but as Ed, those moments were foreign and exciting in a way Ed craved more of.
The feeling building in Ed’s core felt at last like something new to cure his boredom. He chased that feeling, spending time with the rest of the crew but ever only finding it with the captain of The Revenge. Something about being close to Stede made him want to spend more time with this silly, strange little man.
Then came music night.
Ed almost didn’t go, but Stede had convinced him to join. Ed’s crew was initially standoffish – after all, who intentionally shirks their nightly duties to have fun? – but once Fang dove into a (surprisingly) passionate rendition of a song best described as a cacophony of sounds, the rest of the crew followed suit.
In all fairness to Fang, only Frenchie performed anything resembling actual music. But, in all fairness to everyone, that didn’t matter to Ed. No, he wasn’t listening to the kind of singing that would make a dog howl or a baby cry, he didn’t say anything when Buttons silenced the crew to allow Karl the Seagull a chance for a solo, he didn’t even bat an eye when handed a drum himself.
All Ed could think about the entire night was Stede. Not because the captain was playing particularly well, nor because his enthusiasm didn’t quite cover up his lack of musical expertise. Stede really wasn’t doing anything exceptional at all. But Ed wasn’t quite sure why tearing his eyes away felt like such a chore.
Suddenly, the feeling in his core felt very heavy indeed.
~ ~ ~
Going to the “hoity toity” party, as Frenchie had dubbed it, was all Ed’s idea. He had almost taken it back, too shy to commit to the idea of being amongst the rich and privileged, but Stede had seemed so excited about giving him a makeover and had let him touch those gloriously soft linens and didn’t even make fun of him when he pressed them gently to his cheeks. At some point, somewhere along the lines, Ed had ended up in a chair, swathed in a purple suit made of the most beautiful fabric he’d ever seen, with one Stede Bonnet very carefully tying up his hair.
Stede stood behind him, happily chatting away about this and that. Ed relished in the feeling of Stede’s fingers running through his hair to pull it up onto the back of his head. Sure, his neck was incredibly exposed now, but he doubted Stede had even noticed. If Stede had, he was too caught up explaining his grudge against tureens to care.
“Hmmm.” Stede’s fingers paused, falling from Ed’s head. “This isn’t right.”
Ed ran through a million thoughts all at once: did Stede decide not to go after all? Was it because Ed couldn’t tell the escargot fork from the lobster fork? Was it because he didn’t even know what escargot was? Maybe he was wrong about Stede, and the captain had decided not to bring someone as lowly as Ed on board lest he risk the decline of his own social rank, and Ed would never get to go to a fancy party with fancy spoons and even fancier drapes and –
“I’ve got it!”
And with that, Stede was off, rummaging around for something. Still too afraid to let his guard down, Ed stayed seated, trying to casually peer over his shoulder as though he weren’t anxiously awaiting answers to the questions he was too afraid to ask.
When Stede finally came back, his hands were clasped tightly behind his back until he turned Ed’s head to face forward once again. He busied himself immediately with undoing the work he’d already done on Ed’s hair and redoing it in what felt like a completely different way. Stede’s chattering had stopped, giving way to complete concentration on…well, Ed wasn’t actually sure what. Stede was still playing with his hair, he could tell, but beyond that, it was a mystery.
Those moments of silence stretched into what felt like an eternity until Stede appeared in Ed’s face, kneeling down in front of him. His fingers reached up towards Ed’s beard, which he had so carefully combed out, and paused.
“May I?”
Damn that eager sparkle in his eyes. Ed nodded.
Stede’s fingers went to work at once, working in ribbons made of the same deep purple as Ed’s suit. Ed wondered if, when all was said and done, he might resemble one of those fancy poodles French people seemed to love. He’d seen them in storybooks as a child, with their curly hair so lovingly shaped, ribbons adorning their necks and ears. Secretly, Ed was jealous. He wanted to feel like one of those poodles, feel that sort of careful love.
When his eyes fell down to Stede, the grown man in front of him whose tongue was stuck out the side of his mouth ever so slightly and who was currently wearing one of those ridiculous white wigs rich people wore, his stomach did a somersault.
Stede moved back and brought up a small gilded mirror, the surface of which perfectly fit Ed’s face into its frame. In his beard were two delicately tied bows of purple ribbon, one on either side. The folds and creases were so neatly done, and Stede had made sure to tie them loosely enough that they weren’t pulling on his hair.
Slowly, Ed raised the mirror up towards his hair, equal parts curious and fearful of what he may find, considering how hard Stede was beaming.
At first, his head looked totally normal. He could see his forehead and his ears, which were usually covered by the heavy locks of grey and black hair that fell from his head in waves. But as he turned his head ever so slightly, Stede’s handiwork came into full view.
The back of his head was crowned with small, white flowers, placed ever so delicately around the bottom of his bun, the ends of his hair cascading out from the center of the circle. Not a petal was damaged, not a stem bent. He turned his head from side to side, unable to respond in any capacity or understand the way he began to feel.
For the first time in his life, as he looked back at Stede and processed what the captain had so excitedly done for him for no reason at all other than to do it, Ed felt quite like a French poodle.
~ ~ ~
It wasn’t often that Ed felt embarrassed. In fact, he was usually able to either swallow his pride (which happened very rarely) or threaten whoever saw to never tell another soul (which happened almost daily).
Right now, he wanted to fling himself overboard.
He couldn’t stop thinking about that night, that single, wonderful night, he had almost kissed Stede.
Almost.
The problem with it being almost was that it wasn’t did. Ed had been so close to him, incredibly enamored with the man who he’d just watched destroy the lives of a dozen French aristocrats and revel in their rapid descent into madness and self-destruction just because they’d made fun of Ed for not knowing his cutlery. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him. That night, he had almost felt bold enough to do it, to take a step forward and press their lips together and finally confirm to both himself and Stede what he was feeling.
But he couldn’t.
Stede had looked so beautiful, his face illuminated by the fire slowly swallowing the expensive drapes and leaping onto the wigs of the aristocrats, and he had looked even more beautiful when he’d smiled at Ed. But the moment that Ed couldn’t stop thinking about, the 20 seconds that he was convinced would never leave his brain, was when Stede, beautiful, silly Stede, had noticed his red handkerchief.
Ed never showed anyone that square of cloth. It was tattered around the edges, made of silk older than some of Stede’s crew. Usually, he kept it tucked safely away in his jacket, safe from peeping eyes and stray hands. That night, under the assumption he was alone, he’d brought it out, cradling it gently between his hands as he tried to untangle his thoughts. When Stede caught him holding it, Ed was afraid he would have to explain himself and feel an absolute fool. His nostalgia was non-transferrable; besides, how could his frayed, old piece of silk hold up to any of the beautiful fabrics Stede had in his possession?
But when Stede held Ed’s red handkerchief in his hands, he treated it like it was new. He had so carefully and so kindly folded it with such delicate fingers as though it were his own family heirloom. No one had ever shown him such kindness, and the mere fact of knowing that someone wanted to was enough to make his heart feel like it was about to explode. And on top of that, Stede had told him he “wore fine things well.” Ed, Blackbeard, the most fearsome pirate on the seas had been told that maybe, just maybe, he did look good in the very finery he’d been denied his whole life, that he’d envied seeing draped over the bodies of more fortunate folk.
So he took a step forward.
Looking back, of course, it was more of a stumble forward, full of jittery nerves and excitement. Just thinking about it, Ed could still feel that rush of adrenaline. But – and this is the part that Ed couldn’t stop thinking about – he didn’t say “thank you” or “you too” or even “Oh my god, that was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me and I want to wrap you up and keep you in my pocket forever and also I think I might love you.”
He said “Okay, night night” and walked away.
~ ~ ~
By the night of the fuckery, Stede had already seen Ed in more embarrassing situations than he wanted to admit, more than anyone else ever had. There was a level of trust he’d placed in his co-captain that he’d never really placed in anyone before. Even that level of trust, however, hadn’t been enough to tell Stede about his past.
Then, the fuckery came and, well, fucked it all up.
It was that stupid kraken that got him, brought back all of those fears he’d tried to bury, making them rise like bile, burning his throat. His heart pounded in his chest, eyes wide, legs trembling. Suddenly he was that small, scared boy again, waiting for the impact of his father’s open palm.
When he ran off, he hadn’t expected anyone to check on him, but Stede had. He had so quietly stepped into the bathroom and asked how Ed was doing, not to get him back on deck as soon as possible, not to uncover some deeply buried secret for blackmail, but to really understand what was wrong. It may have been a moment of weakness, but Ed had told him everything. Stede listened to it all.
The very next day, Ed prepared himself for Stede to treat him differently, to look upon him with the same cruel gaze as anyone else had. He deserved that kind of judgment. Men like him didn’t deserve the kindness of people like Stede. He knew his time on The Revenge may very well be done.
“Ed! Ed, come look at this! There’s a rainbow over here!”
It was the most beautifully Stede thing Stede could have said, and it made Ed’s heart flutter. This was how Stede would begin the day following Ed’s admission of patricide? With a rainbow? It felt too good to be true. No one had that kind of capacity for forgiveness, for kindness like that.
In the days following, Ed secretly waited for some other member of the crew to bring it up, to talk to him about that night, but no one had. Stede was his usual cheerful self; the crew were their usual endearingly bumbling selves. Had Stede really kept his secret? He was too afraid to believe it was true.
When the hours continued to pass as normal, Ed couldn’t help but look back on that night in the bathtub. It made his chest feel tight to remember how gently Stede had handled his emotions, just as he had so delicately folded his red handkerchief. Now, every time he passed Stede, his stomach felt like a ship stuck in a storm, tossing about on the rough waves. No, not like the violence of a storm. This was something he had never felt before, and now he was sure he knew what it was.
7 different times he had stopped Stede to talk. 3 times he had gone out of his way to pass his co-captain on deck; twice he had waited by the door to Stede’s quarters and tried to play it off as though he had casually walked down the hallway that only led to his room; once he had sat closer to Stede during dinner with the excuse that he wanted to try some of his food despite the two of them having the same meal.
The final time, he thought he had finally worked up the courage to say something.
He almost had.
But with his hands on Stede’s shoulders, Stede’s eyes trained on Ed’s face, that stupid, beautiful smile spread across his features, Ed found himself unable to admit the truth. It was either a blessing or a curse that he didn’t have a chance to, as Frenchie, Wee John, and Roach burst up onto the deck, singing some song about drunken sailors and snapping Ed out of his thoughts.
“You’ve, uhh, got something on your face.”
While Stede wiped his cheek, clarifying with Ed that the speck of something was gone (though it had never really been there in the first place), Ed wanted to fling himself into the sea.
~ ~ ~
Ed hated Stede.
(No, that wasn’t true.)
Ed hated the way Stede made him feel.
(Also a lie.)
The truth was that Ed loved Stede, but it took that boy, Lucius, to get him to realize that Stede might love him too. Though Stede’s adventure was far from exciting, and despite the bugs and heat and general lack of enjoyment he felt, Lucius had made him realize that Stede had planned it all for him.
When the boy had pulled Ed aside to chew him out for being a dick about Stede’s silly map, Ed had been a millisecond away from heading back to the ship. By the time Lucius’s speech was finished, Ed felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest.
His tune changed immediately.
Ed wanted nothing more than to figure out where Stede’s (totally fake) map would lead them. And when he and Lucius eventually led Stede to a random tree, he’d confirmed to Stede that pirates totally buried treasure under trees all the time.
Jim and Oluwande had stumbled across them, confusion painted across their features as Stede excitedly tossed shovelfuls of dirt to the side. Ed explained that they were just letting Stede dig in the hopes that he would “get it out of his system,” but deep down he wanted so badly for Stede to actually find treasure of some sort, to see his beaming smile once he hit the top of an old wooden chest.
Instead, Stede found a petrified orange.
Though Ed had tried to console him, Stede didn’t need it in the end. That orange was enough to keep him going. As soon as they got back to the ship, Stede had told every member of the crew, both separately and before storytime that evening, about his “treasure” as he referred to it. Ed tried to be near him every time he did just to see the way Stede’s eyes lit up and his features morphed into excitement. Plus, if anyone even considered not sharing in that enthusiasm, Ed was right behind him to encourage them (with a threatening glance, of course).
Ed had waited for Stede to say something first, hoping that their adventure would be the catalyst for a confession. But he didn’t. So Ed didn’t either.
Neither said anything the next day.
Or the next.
Or the next, or the next, or the next, or even the 3 others after that, not that Ed was counting.
Every day, Ed almost said something, but the farther they got from that day, the more he worried that it had all been in his head.
Ed was terrified he’d lost his only chance.
~ ~ ~
“Oh, c’mon, Ed,” Stede laughed. “You’re exaggerating.”
“No, mate, swear it’s all true.”
Stede propped himself up on one arm to look at Ed’s face. “You really liked the flowers that much? And the silly hair bows?”
Ed nodded in the affirmative. “Made me feel pretty.”
Stede laid his head back on his partner’s chest, Ed’s arm wrapped around him. They had perched themselves on the edge of the deck, legs threaded through the railings to drape over the side of the ship. The sunset cast shadows over their features, illuminating their matching grey hair in beautiful orange and pink hues.
“You old sap.” Ed could hear the smile in Stede’s voice. He ran his fingers through Stede’s curls as he so loved to, listening to the sound of waves lapping up on the side of the ship. The crew was preoccupied with setting up an impromptu music night to celebrate another successful fuckery, so he and Stede had a few precious moments of peace and quiet before the chaos began.
Telling Stede those stories from so long ago felt silly given all they’d experienced together since then, but Stede loved to hear them, and Ed loved to indulge him.
These days, their adventures were fewer and farther between, but Ed never felt bored. How could he when there was always something new to discover about the love of his life? Ed had found out that Stede secretly kept a stash of rubber duckies on hand for his baths. He also learned that Stede snored lightly in his sleep, preferred chartreuse to plain old green, and cried when he saw a dead gull floating on the water. But he also knew about how Stede secretly sewed Ed’s clothing when it tore, loved his crew like they were his own family, and granted every person the kind of kindness rarely seen in their line of work (though it didn’t always work out well in his favor).
Stede knew more about Ed than any other person ever had, but that never swayed his opinion of Ed. Even now, as they stared out at the sea, Ed wasn’t afraid of what Stede thought of him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ed saw Lucius’s head pop up above the edge of the deck. He made eye contact with the boy (who, granted, was very much no longer a boy), nodding slightly before Lucius quietly disappeared once again. Though he could have stayed lying on deck together forever, he knew Stede was looking forward to music night with the same enthusiasm he always had. So, with a sigh, Ed leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Stede’s head.
“Is it time?” Stede asked excitedly, craning his neck to look up at Ed.
“Yep.”
“Are you ready?”
“Nope,” Ed responded, met with a laugh from Stede.
The two men carefully untangled their bodies, not quite as young and spry as they used to be. Stede offered his hand to help Ed up, careful to support the side his bad knee was on. Stede dusted his trousers off, despite having no dust on them in the first place. It was a beautifully Stede thing to do. Before he could walk away, Ed wrapped his hand around Stede’s, pulling him into a tight hug.
No matter how long they’d been together, Ed was always struck by the love he saw in Stede’s eyes. It was a kind of affection he thought he didn’t deserve, a kind of love he thought he could never feel. But now it was real, tangible, in the corners of Stede’s smile and the crinkles by his eyes.
“I just…” Ed began, heart fluttering in his chest as he looked at Stede. “I love you. Or whatever. So.”
Stede’s expression melted into contentment.
“I love you too.”