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It’s been six days since Stede came back.
It’s been six days that Ed’s felt better.
It’s been three days since Stede told him, I love everything about you, and two since they kissed under gentle moonlight, and about twelve hours since Ed accidentally let slip, I love pretty much everything about you, too, you know, and Stede had laughed and asked, well what don’t you like?, a nd Ed had smirked and said, you’re a little flakey, mate.
The days have been good. Ed’s been smiling, Stede’s been back, and he’s sorry, and he’s staying, and he’s so fucking lovely.
Good as it is, the past week has been one of the most intense Ed’s ever experienced. Seeing his past— that’s saying a lot. His nerves thrum when he has a moment to himself, too many thoughts in his head to even focus on one, too many thoughts to think. It’s like being dunked in ice water after running a fever, all encompassing, and good, and relieving, but still uncomfortable.
He’s not alone, he knows. Stede’s here, and fuck, just looking at him makes Ed feel so much better. The crew doesn’t hate him so much any more. They even let him take off his bell on day five, and thank fuck for that because it was starting to drive him a little bit insane. Izzy— well. Izzy’s Izzy. Looking at him makes guilt claw its way up Ed’s entire being, nausea coming with it, so maybe it’s good that they’re keeping a bit of a distance. It feels bad to indulge in the good of everything when he’s caused so much hurt, when he feels so much guilt. It feels bad to focus on all the heartache and the sadness when there’s so much newfound love in his life.
Ed can’t decide how to feel. Doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Feeling a little bit of everything. Stede’s good at this shit, Ed just has no words to explain it all. He’s not great at the whole asking for help thing.
Whatever. It’ll get figured out, he knows, It’s just— it’s a fucking lot.
He wants to cry. He wants to laugh. He wants to dive deep, deep into the ocean and tuck himself in like a little clam.
Since that’s just slightly impossible, he resigns himself to do the next best thing. Ed waits until he and Stede are in bed, until Stede’s sweetly tucked up beside him and snoring like a fucking foghorn, before he slips out quietly.
He grabs one of the throw blankets from the bed and one of the decorative pillows, and slips into the linen closet that Stede has restocked, filling his arms with all the comfy shit he needs to make his fort cozy and noise protectant.
Ed gets to work. He stacks the pillows up, does a little layering action at the top, even brings in some candles and pours himself a half glass of the red wine Stede snabbed from Anne and Mary’s. It’s a space that’s Ed’s . A place he has control.
Ed smiles. He settles down into the fort, wrapping his new nightclothes tight around himself. He ties his hair up away from his face, away from the fire, and closes his eyes.
He breathes. He just inhales, and exhales, and he doesn’t think about the past. The blood in his veins flows, and the beat of his heart beats, and he’s alive, he’s alive , he’s—
He’s fucking annoyed, now. Someone’s knocking on the floor outside his fort.
“Ay!” Ed yells.
“Knock knock?”
It’s Stede’s voice, hushed and quiet.
Ahh.
“Hi, Stede.”
“Can I come in?”
Ed thinks for a moment. “If ya’ want.”
There’s a shuffle of a noise before Stede’s pulling back one of the blanket-curtains, wiggling in. He’s got a duvet bundled in his arms and his sleeping mask pulled up on his forehead. Through the flickers of candlelight, Ed can see the blanket line’s on Stede’s face from his sleep. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Room for one more?” Stede asks.
“Obviously.” Ed responds before scooching over a bit, moving some blankets from his side in favour of his boy— his part— his Stede. “Sorry to wake you.”
Stede waves his hand, dismissive. “You didn’t.”
It’s a bit of a struggle for Stede to come in, but he does, making himself more than comfortable on Ed’s makeshift bed.
“Hi.” Stede whispers once he’s all settled, back to the opening of the fort and front to Ed.
“Hi.” Ed whispers back, taking Stede’s sleeping mask off of him, placing it to the side. “There. Comfy?”
“Mhmm.”
Ed closes his eyes again. He briefly worries about the candle, but then Stede’s tucking his head into Ed’s chest, and the worries flit away.
“So…” Stede starts.
“Are you gonna ask why I’m in the fort?”
“Was going to, yes.”
Ed shrugs best he can in his current position. “I dunno. Wanted to. Can do anything I want.”
Ed can feel him nod, a little. “That you can, my dear.”
“Yeah. I’m fuckin— I’m in control. Of everything. And I’m a grown fuckin’ man. I build awesome forts, don’t see why I can’t just chill out in one.”
“I’m— Look I’m not trying to judge you, I was just curious—“
“Nah, no I get it. Sorry. I get it. I just get—“ Ed screws up his face, even though Stede can’t see. “Everything’s just so fucking much, sometimes. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes.” Stede replies, simply. “Yes, I think I’m rather familiar with the feeling.”
“Mmph.” Ed agrees, before promptly turning his head down, resting his head on Stede’s. It’s quite a contort. Stede’s hair smells of vanilla.
“You know, Black Pete one told me that Blackbeard’s head is made of smoke.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I think that maybe he wasn’t too far off.”
That doesn’t make any fucking sense, Ed thinks.
“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Ed tells Stede.
Stede lets out a little chuckle. “Well, not real smoke, of course. The way I see it, you know, fire makes smoke. A lot of fire makes a lot of smoke. And you, well, let’s just say you have a lot of little fires all around you right now.”
“I’ll blow out the candle if it’s bothering you.”
“Not the candle! Ed. You are going through a lot, right now. You’ve done some things you’re not proud of. The crew is stressing you out, I can tell, and you know. Some people who were not here last week have recently come back.”
“You?”
“Yes. I feel as though I might be adding to your smoke. To all your thoughts, you know, all your stresses.”
“You don’t stress me out.” Ed whispers.
“What’s that?”
“I said you don’t stress me out. You’re the opposite of a fire. You’re like a— whateverthefuck puts a fire out. I’m not— I’m not upset about you. About things you’ve done, sure, yeah, absolutely. But not you.”
“Oh.” Stede says. “Well, then. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ed buries his face down a little deeper.
“What can I do?” Stede asks him. “Might I say, I think you’re doing a fine job at getting back along with the crew. They seem to like you a lot.”
You don’t know what it was like. Ed thinks. They can never really like me. Not like before.
“Thanks.” He says instead. “And just— I mean you do whatever you want. But this helps. I feel less stressed here.”
“Here meaning the fort?”
“Here— yeah, the fort. You, too, I guess.”
Stede does a little nuzzle.
Ed yawns.
“You go to sleep.” Stede tells him. “Long day, hmm? Might make you feel better.”
“Might.”
Ed doesn’t really want to sleep, though. He wants to listen to Stede talk. It makes him feel a little lighter.
A little less smokey.
“I’ll tell you a story?” Stede asks him, and Ed can only giggle, because of course that’s what Stede was thinking.
They’re on the same fucking page.
“Yeah.” Ed says. “Please.”
“Always.” Stede says. “Close your eyes, now. Get comfortable.”
Ed complies.
“Once, there was an anglerfish way down at the bottom of the ocean. So deep down that the anglerfish had never seen the moon. Until, one day, one of his other fish friends came up to him. And his fish friend had a light on his head, and the first fish said, wow! I’ve never seen that before.” Stede does a silly voice, for the fish. Ed wonders, absently, what a fish’s voice would actually sound like. “And the second fish said, I know right? It’s as bright as the moon. But the first anglerfish had never seen the moon, so he asked, what’s a moon?, and the second fish said, no matter. I’ll guide you instead.”
Ed’s lip is trembling. He sniffles, a bit, before saying, “That’s a nice story.”
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“Stede?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
He doesn’t have to say why.
“Always.”
“Stede?”
“Yes?”
“I think you’re my angel fish. With the little light thingy. You’re my moon.”
Stede retracts a bit to press a little kiss to the bolt of Ed’s jaw. “Oh, Edward.”
“Little fish. You’re my little fishy.”
Ed thinks of a mermaid, too, and finds himself laughing. Finds himself grateful. Focusing on one thing, one important thing, right in front of him.
His chest vibrates when Stede giggles. “That is— not very flattering.”
“What? Yeah it fuckin’ is. Fish are great.”
“Ed.”
“What?”
“Go to sleep.”
“Oh. Right. ‘Kay. Goodnight.”
“Good light, love.” Stede whispers.
Stede blows out the candle.
After a few moments, Ed can’t smell any smoke. Only vanilla.