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Ed is out for a swim.
His head bobs in and out of the waves, on the far edge of Stede’s field of vision. Stede loves watching him glide through the water, loves how effortless he makes it look, moving through the blue-green expanse of ocean that stretches in front of him.
He digs his toes into the sand, and leans back on his elbows. The sun is a still-warm, orange and pink glow above the horizon. They've got ten, maybe twenty minutes left until it dips below the waterline and disappears.
Stede feels more relaxed than he's ever felt in his entire life, watching Ed like this. Being with Ed like this. As if he’s on the most amazing, never-ending beach vacation he never even knew he wanted. Growing up on an island, beaches had never seemed particularly relaxing to Stede - mostly they’d seemed like a gateway to another life, to a world of adventure he was sure he’d thrive in if only he could just run away and escape without anyone noticing.
But these past two weeks since the crew sailed off have just been, well, easy. He’s fallen into a routine here, with Ed. Fixing up the cabin, fishing, reading, enjoying each other's company. They’re never out of each other’s sight for very long - Ed’s head dipping below the water now, on his daily swim, that’s about as close as it gets.
He’s even stopped worrying that Ed’s not going to surface from under the water, even when he swims so far out that Stede has to squint to keep track of him. He’s stopped waking up in the middle of the night to feel for an Ed-shaped space next to him, too, just to reassure himself that they’re both still really here. That Ed hasn’t run off seeking the next adventure, and neither has Stede, because, well, this is the adventure.
Stede had no idea it could be like this, peaceful and uncomplicated. For so long, the idea of reaching Ed at all had felt downright impossible, so many wasted words in bottles.
But this, here. The last rays of the sun shining down, rippling out over the water, still warming his cheeks, just barely, and Ed - beautiful and radiant, the way the water runs off his skin as he emerges from the water, shimmying down his back and nestling behind his ears, or between his shoulder blades, in the crook of his neck sometimes, just waiting there for Stede to catch them…
Stede suddenly feels cool water on his cheek. He looks up to find Ed leaning over him, hair dripping everywhere, his thin shirt clinging to his chest, as he plops down on the sand next to Stede. He's got that soft smile on his face, the one Stede's been seeing more and more lately, but somehow it still gives his heart a little jolt of surprise every time it’s directed at him. And when Ed nudges Stede’s shoulder, and gives him a long sideways glance, all smolder and eyelashes, Stede forgets to breathe for a moment.
Then Ed runs his fingers through his hair, as if he doesn’t know what that does to Stede, how downright sexy that little throwaway gesture is, before he leans over and places a soft kiss on Stede's cheek. Ed pauses for a second, before he kisses Stede again, this time on the lips, quick and warm before he flops back onto the sand.
He smells like salt and late afternoon sunshine, like lazy afternoons on the wooden porch of their cabin, like the beauty that sparkles behind his eyes in the moonlight, like being loved back.
Stede can't believe Ed is his, that he’s real, that they belong to each other.
"What was that for?" he asks Ed, mostly because he needs to say something, or he might just sit here beaming at Ed like an idiot for forever.
Ed leans back on his elbows in the sand, and looks up at Stede.
"This might sound weird, but…" Ed's lips twist up into a decidedly mischievous smile. "I don't actually need a reason to kiss you. I can just, like, do it. Whenever I want."
He frowns a little, as Stede resists the urge to laugh, or throw him down in the sand so that they can make desperate love to each other, or both at the same time maybe.
"Well,” Ed continues, “not whenever I want, obviously. Consent is important." His face crinkles up into that dangerous smile again. "Mostly I can do it whenever I want though."
"I think I’m okay with that," Stede says, and when Ed straightens up, their shoulders press together.
There's a damp patch on Stede’s shirt from where Ed's hair has escaped and plastered itself against him.
Stede thinks he’s never been more in love with this man next to him than he is in this precise moment, but he’s also aware that he’s had this exact thought about five hundred times today alone.
He sighs. They stare out at the ocean in silence for a moment. There’s a comfortable breeze that flutters through the trees behind them.
"I love watching you out there," Stede says after a moment. "It's relaxing. You're very graceful, you know."
“Maybe I’m just showing off since I know you’re watching.”
"Well, if you are, you won’t find me complaining. You always look so at ease. Like a fish, really."
Ed considers this, raises his chin, eyes on Stede, appraising. "What kind of fish?"
"Mm, something cool and fast,” Stede says. “A stingray, maybe?"
Ed narrows his eyes. "They're cool but they have those weird little holes in their faces that make them look like aliens."
"That’s true. You definitely don't look like an alien."
"No… How about a shark?"
Stede shakes his head. "Sharks are all teeth. That's not you, you're…” Stede searches his mind for something sexier than a stingray or a shark… “A dolphin, maybe?"
Ed nods, and his eyes sparkle happily at Stede, like tiny fireworks.
"Yeah, dolphins are fuckin’ cool. I like that."
"I like you," Stede says, reaching for Ed's hand and giving it a quick squeeze. Ed squeezes back, and then covers their hands with the solid warmth of his palm. His big spidery tattoo was surprising at first, but it’s grown on Stede.
"I like watching the sunset with you," Ed says. "It feels, I dunno, more beautiful. Less final."
The red gold of the sun is dipping below the horizon, though the glow remains. It settles into the planes of Ed's face, into the crease between his eyes, and the curve of his chin.
"There's nothing final about it, really," Stede says. "Someone has to make room for the moon and the stars, right?"
"Yeah, suppose you’re right," Ed says, but he barely has a chance to get the words out before Stede is kissing him, his fingers splayed out across Ed's chest, Ed's heart thumping under his palm.
Ed leans into him easily, and Stede breathes him in, all those soft angles and warmth. There's sand in Ed's hair and he makes a tiny gasp of an oh against Stede’s lips when Stede's fingers find the base of his neck, and press lightly against the damp skin there.
It’s meant to be an intimate moment, maybe meant to lead to something more intimate, but suddenly Stede is just kind of overwhelmed, and he’s not quite sure why. His heart is pounding too hard in his chest; he’s not sure if there’s enough air. There’s a form taking shape, too, static and motionless. And a smell, dank and familiar and sour. He pulls away for a moment and just looks at Ed, and before he can push it away, an image floats to the front of his mind, and plants itself there, unmoving.
And just like that he's thinking about that coarse, dirty towel over Ed's face down below the decks and that awful hollow feeling in his chest when he really thought Ed wasn't coming back. That he’d screwed everything up, and that there was no time to fix it because Ed was gone, was-–
Ed is squeezing his palm hard. There's a firm press of fingers against his shoulder, too.
"Hey," Ed says softly, eyes focused on Stede’s face, looking concerned.
"Sorry," Stede says. He blinks, shaking his head. "I don't know what that was."
"Wanna talk about it?"
He's about to say no, brush past this like he has in the past - much better to skip to the part that’s more fun, where he doesn’t have to talk about having visions of dead (almost-dead) bodies while they’re making out, but Ed's eyes are so soft, so open. There was a time not so long ago when Stede wasn’t sure if he’d ever see that look again. He knows he shouldn’t take it for granted. He squeezes Ed's hand.
"I was thinking about that night, when you– When you almost died,” he says quietly. “I didn't mean to, it just happens sometimes."
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, it’s weird,” Stede says, frowning.
“It’s not weird,” Ed says, shaking his head. He pauses, meets Stede’s eyes. “I’m scared of losing you, too, you know?”
Stede lets out a long breath, because yeah, suddenly it’s pretty obvious - that’s what this is about. He hadn’t expected it to manifest itself so clearly, maybe, but… He guesses that’s how fear works sometimes. Especially when it comes to something so important as the life of the only person you’ve ever really loved, that you’ve abandoned the rest of the world for and are about to open up an impossible inn at the edge of an abandoned island with. When he thinks of it that way, it doesn’t seem weird at all.
“Yeah,” Stede says, relieved. “I guess that’s what it is.”
Ed squeezes his hand, offers him a small smile. “And we’re both here now. That’s good, right?”
“Yeah.” Stede smiles back.
"I'm really sorry you had to see me like that though," Ed says. "Back then, I mean."
"Me, too.”
Ed stares out at the ocean, and for once, Stede can't really read his expression. Then he sighs, and pulls his knees up to his chest for a moment, looking a bit like a very large child. He crosses his legs in front of him.
"So, you know how I said before that I was all in, that night at the dock?"
"Yeah," Stede says, feeling a dim pull of sadness creeping into the corners of his mind again. "Of course."
Ed squeezes his hand in reassurance, but Stede is panicking, just a little. There’s part of him that can’t stop being a little terrified that Ed's never really going to get over him leaving, that one day he’s just going to really let Stede have it, and that will be it, even if the more rational part of him knows they're okay, that they’ve moved past this - mostly, anyway.
"Well," Ed says, and to Stede's great relief he smiles. "I'm extra all in now. No more gravy basket, no more near death experiences, no more of any of that. I'm all in for this, right now, you. Us."
Stede just nods, and squeezes Ed's hand back.
And then Ed turns to him and leans in, pressing their foreheads together. His palm is feather-light against Stede's cheek, steadying them.
"Because the thing is, I understand it now," Ed is saying, his breath against Stede's lips, so close. "What I saw down there. I saw us."
"I don't ever want you to go back there," Stede says, closing his eyes, breathing him in, feeling Ed's damp hair against his neck where it keeps escaping from behind his ears. “No matter what you saw.”
"I don't plan to. You don't have to worry."
Stede just nods again, and then Ed tilts his head, and presses his lips to Stede's firmly.
"I promise, okay, love?"
A giddy warmth bubbles up in Stede's chest - it fills him up, edging out any remaining traces of shadowy fear, of gravy baskets, of stillness.
"I'm not worried," Stede says honestly, his nose brushing Ed's lightly, because how could he be worried about anything right now.
"I love you," he adds, because he can, because saying this has become easy, somehow, along with so many other things.
The sun has completely set now, the clouds have settled into a dark blue blanket of haze over the ocean. Stede stares out at the horizon, aware of Ed's silhouette right there next to him, shadows all around them. He turns Ed's hand over in his. Digs his toes into the quickly cooling sand.
Ed's shoulder is quickly cooling too, his shirt still damp from his swim. Stede realizes this when he leans his cheek against him for a moment. He moves a hair closer, pressing the line of his body next to Ed's, wishing he’d thought to bring a blanket.
"Should we head in?" Stede asks a second later, but Ed shakes his head.
"Wait," he says, staring out at the ocean, and Stede does, no questions asked, no hesitation.
His eyes follow Ed's gaze along the horizon, the clouds have spread out and flattened into thin blue-grey lines now.
Stede looks away from the ocean and studies Ed's face in the encroaching darkness, the curve of his neck, the arch of his cheekbones, the feathery shadow of his eyelashes. A familiar warmth starts to bubble up inside of him again right as Ed squeezes his hand and says, "There!"
Stede looks up, and out of nowhere the bright sparkle of a star has appeared, just above the horizon line.
"You were right," Ed says, nudging Stede's shoulder. "Making room for the stars," he says with a nod.
Stede's cheeks warm a little at this, at this tiny marvel - that someone, and not just someone, the most important person in his universe, every universe – has listened to him, has heard him.
His smile widens, buoyant, and in one quick movement he stands, pulling Ed up with him and into a tight hug, enjoying the yelp of surprise that escapes from Ed's lips when he squeezes them together a little tighter.
And then the words kind of just spill out of him, he can't help it, surrounded by so much of Ed, wet hair everywhere and his eyes so curious and inviting in the fading light.
"I'm so glad we found each other again, that you woke up," Stede says in a breathless rush. "And I'm so lucky that I get to sit here and watch you swim and watch the sunset with you and then wake up and have breakfast with you and just– exist, with you. I'm so glad you exist, Ed. And I can't wait for us to be innkeepers."
Ed laughs for a moment, and then he smiles, wide and so bright, and Stede thinks his whole life may have been leading up to this moment, to making Edward Teach smile like this. Like he actually knows what Stede means, knows how much he cares, how happy he is to be here with him, knows how much and how completely he’s loved.
"Well, I'm glad you exist, too," Ed tells him. "Wouldn't be here if you didn't."
"Same," Stede agrees. "Funny how that works."
They walk back up the beach, hand in hand - the light lingering just enough for Stede to make out the outline of the shack they now call home from behind the line of short trees. They've managed to patch most of the holes in the roof over the last couple of weeks but they still have a ways to go. The other day Stede nearly broke his ankle when one of the rotted-out side steps gave way - his foot just went right through! - and well, that was next on the list to fix. Tomorrow.
Tonight they'll roast the fish Ed caught this morning over the fire, share one of the bottles of rum they salvaged from the ship's stores. Maybe turn in early. A full night of sleep with exactly zero nightmares. Sounds perfect to Stede.
“Oh, and you just wait,” Ed is saying as they climb the small hill up to the cabin. “We’ll be the best innkeepers ever. It’s gonna be fucking fantastic. Five-stars all around. People will be begging to stay with us.”
Stede shows his complete agreement with this statement by pulling Ed into a kiss so deep that for a moment he loses all sense of where he is, of which end is up, because all of his senses are suddenly filled with nothing but Ed.
But then he opens his eyes again, and there’s the cabin, and the ocean, and the stars above them and Ed in his arms, warm fingers steadying his elbow when he stumbles a little in the sand, and he remembers - he’s home, they’re home.
They’re all in. They’ve made it.
***