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The inn was quiet at night. A little eerie.
No, not eerie, Stede corrected himself. Peaceful.
He was finishing up his plate of rabbit and vegetables, thankfully not including a side of shit like the last time he'd eaten this particular dish. He took a lot more care with preparing food than Ed's unhinged friends Anne and Mary.
Ed. He watched him across the table in the flickering candlelight. His shoulders were relaxed, his bearded jaw soft as he chewed. A different man to the one he had left all those months ago.
He would never leave him again. That much was certain.
“You alright?” Ed had caught him looking, mistaking his aching love for concern. “Sorry, it's not much.” He pointed down to the remnants of meat that he had caught and killed himself. “I'm gonna get back into the fishing thing next week. I'll catch us an absolute feast next dinner, mate, I promise.”
Stede smiled, raising his glass of scotch. One of the few treats they had salvaged from the ship before settling into their new roles as innkeepers. “This is perfect. Delicious.”
Ed leaned forward, and clinked his glass against Stede's. Smiled back. Those big brown eyes that were usually so stormy now calm and serene. They seemed to see straight into Stede's soul.
He wasn't sure why, but the glimpse of a former life flashed into his mind. Sitting at the end of a long dinner table, alone. Mary icing him out and the kids following suit. None of them looking at him, none of them listening to him. Unwanted. Unloved.
And now here he was with a man who would literally slaughter armies of men just to get to him. A man who loved him so fiercely it knocked the breath from him.
He couldn't help it. His eyes began to water. Just slightly.
“Hey, what's wrong?” Ed asked gently, placing his glass down. “Are you having second thoughts? Because it's OK if you are. We can talk about it.”
Edward Teach. Willingly talking about his feelings. This was new. This was nice.
Stede shook his head. “No. No second thoughts. Not at all.”
“Then what's wrong?”
“I'm just happy, I guess,” he replied with a sigh. “You make me very happy, Ed.”
He wasn't foolish. He knew there was still pain beneath the surface, for both of them. They had seen and done terrible things. Suffered terrible losses. And yet somehow, that pain made these moments of contentment more necessary than ever. These were moments to cling to and keep for as long as humanly possible.
Ed reached across the table, and brushed his fingers against Stede's knuckles. His touch was warm. Healing.
“I found your letter,” he said. “Well, one of your letters.”
Stede eyes widened in surprise. “Really? When?”
“Right before I found you on the beach. It was lovely.” His fingers squeezed around Stede's. “It was the loveliest letter anyone ever wrote to me.”
“Well. I'm glad.” Stede was racking his brain, trying to remember what he had written. There were so many letters, so many words of love pouring out of him day after day, bottle after bottle, that the details were somewhat hazy now. “What did it say?”
“That we wrote our names on each other in permanent ink.”
Oh, goodness. That letter.
“Ah. I suppose I was attempting to be some kind of romantic bard with that sentiment.”
He wasn't sure why he was embarrassed. Ed wasn't making fun of him. Quite the opposite.
“No, it was nice to read it. Really nice. I wish I'd found the others.”
“I can write you more,” Stede answered quietly. “I'll happily write you a letter every day.”
“Yeah?”
“If you'd like that?”
“Mate. I'd love that.”
They looked at one another, hands still connected.
It was still going to take some getting used to. Being cared for in this way. Being loved.
“Right, I should clear up.” He stood and grabbed his plate, breaking the moment. Slightly overwhelmed. “You know, it's so strange having a proper kitchen again. I keep expecting Roach to pop out and threaten to chop my hand off for touching his produce. I sort of miss the casual violent threats in a way.”
He continued to twitter on endlessly as he washed up their plates, talking about his plans for decorating the inn. It needed colour. Flowers. A deep clean. Lots of fixing up. But if there was anything Stede Bonnet was good at, it was taking something plain and making it beautiful. He was thoroughly up for the challenge.
Ed didn't say too much. He simply let Stede talk. Happy to be in his company.
“So, I was thinking maybe I could take the upstairs corner room to sleep in,” Stede carried on in his never-ending chatter. “And you could take the room opposite? It's the bigger of the two, slightly less cobwebs. I know how much you hate spiders and all.”
Ed blinked in confusion. “Wait, what?”
“Or we could switch, I don't mind,” Stede replied. “Whatever you want.”
“I want... you.”
Stede flushed. “Oh?”
“I want you, with me. In the same room.” He paused, hesitant. A little nervous. “Or... you know. Not, if you don't want that. Whatever, it's cool, man. I'm easygoing.”
Stede did want that. He wanted that more than anything.
“I just didn't want to scare you off like last time...” he explained. “I know everything has been moving so fast. Giving up ship life, being together like this... It's a big deal, Ed. We can go slowly.”
What he didn't say, what he couldn't say, was that the last time they had slept together, in fact, the first and only time they had slept together, Ed had called the moment a mistake and promptly disappeared. If that was what sex could do to them, then Stede was happy to stave off it for a while.
Even though he was consumed by thoughts of Ed's body pressing against his own. The memory of his beautiful long hair brushing against his bare shoulders. Inked skin and warm lips.
It wasn't that he didn't want this man. It was that his friendship, his presence, meant so much more than anything physical. If that's all Stede ever got, he would still die a happy man.
“Sure. OK.” Ed was standing close, but not too close, leaving a gap between them. “Whatever you want.”
Oh no. He thought this was a rejection. Stede could tell by the disappointed lilt in his voice.
“I mean, I know I'm not as experienced as you...” The words were flowing out before he could even stop and think about what they meant. “I'm sorry that the last time didn't quite live up to expectations. It was a weird night. My head was all over the place. I shouldn't have initiated such a thing, it was wrong. I never want to upset you like that again.”
“Wait, you think I was upset... at the sex?” Ed looked positively winded like Stede had just whacked him in the gut with a frying pan. “Mate, no. That's not...” He clenched his fist at the counter. “I didn't get scared off because of that. It was... it was beautiful.”
Beautiful. The word caught Stede off guard.
It had been beautiful for him too, even with darkness and trauma lapping at his heels all the way through. Ed had been his anchor. His safe space. He had never known that being intimate could feel like that.
“It wasn't a mistake?” he asked, those tears shining once again.
I wasn't a mistake?
“Oh, darling.” Ed took a step forward, running his fingers up and down Stede's elbow. The pet name slipping easily off his tongue. “No. Never a mistake.”
He leaned forward, his lips brushing against Stede's. Gentle. So gentle it made Stede want to cry.
“I'm not as experienced as you think, you know,” Ed whispered. “I was scared of disappointing you. Like, I know what you were expecting. The Great Blackbeard, lover extraordinaire. I wanted to live up to the hype, you know?”
“I was never expecting that,” Stede whispered back.
“I mean, I've fucked a lot of people in my time.”
Stede stilled, trying to ignore his rising jealousy. “Yes. Well.”
“Like, a lot of people.”
OK, where was he going with this? “Hmph...”
“But I've never... you know... I've never made love like that before. It's never felt like that with anyone else.”
Oh. Wow.
“Me neither.” Stede pulled him closer. “It was... nice.”
“Yeah. It was.”
Ed's hand brushed the side of his face, a sweet caress.
They had both seen so much horror, so much violence, but this... Whatever this was between them was soft and kind and tender.
Stede was never going to let it go. Not ever.
“So...” Ed breathed, his face inches from Stede's. “Shall we head to bed then? The upstairs corner room?”
“It's the bigger one, like I say,” Stede smiled. “No spiders.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Yes, the inn was quiet at night. Or at least it used to be.
Now it was full of sighs and squeaks. Laughter. Soft moans. Sweet nothings.
The sound of love blooming.
The sound of a future unfurling, one beautiful piece at a time.