Chapter Text
CHRISTMAS EVE, 1988
Stede never loved Christmas. It always seemed to be all pageantry and showing off for the neighbors and buying your kids’ love and competing with other people for the last Cabbage Patch doll.
Growing up, his family’s house was completely bereft of the holiday warmth one saw in movies. He and Mary tried so hard to avoid the same feeling in their house raising Alma and Louis, but their coldness towards each other sealed their fate nonetheless. So it made sense that Mary and Doug had Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with the kids, and Stede was grateful to be – and even looking forward to – joining them in the afternoon.
It still didn’t make spending his first post-divorce Christmas alone feel great.
Stede had only moved into the city from the suburbs a little under a year ago, settling into a Chelsea flat with some difficulty. He’d come from Manhattan’s upper crust, but between boarding school and country homes and their very uptown address, living off 8th Avenue felt like a fresh adventure. And also sometimes quite the hassle. Lugging antiques to the fourth floor in a walk-up was not his idea of a good time.
But he was liking it more and more. He was finally starting to add some personal touches to his apartment – his home. He found a local grocery and some nearby restaurants to frequent. The only missing piece, he supposed, was settling on a local pub.
That’s how he found himself enjoying his second Amaretto Sour of the night at the The Drunk Tank, the kind of local dive that saw businessmen drinking French Martinis next to pensioners drinking Crown Royal yelling “WON’T SEE ANOTHER ONE!” at anyone who seemed like they might listen.
That and the loneliness, of course.
He drained the last of his cocktail as the bartender approached. “Another?” he asked. Stede knew he shouldn’t but fuck it, he didn’t have anywhere to be until noon tomorrow.
“Yes please,” he replied. “Thank you.”
“Careful,” a low voice rang out to his right. “Too many of those and you might become a little sour.”
Stede raised an eyebrow and turned to the speaker.
“Is that right?” he asked as he turned, but stopped as his gaze fell on the voice’s owner: a very handsome, very alone man in a black leather jacket sporting an impressive, dark beard, and mischievous eyes.
Stede took a moment to recover when his new companion, sitting two empty stools away, shifted his look from humor to kindness.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” he said, raising his glass towards Stede.
“Pardon?” Stede asked, surprised by the shift in tone and not expecting the comment.
The other man shook his head.
“Sorry, mate. It’s just … well we’re both here on our own, and it is 8pm on Christmas Eve, and I just figured you might want the company. Didn’t mean to disturb.”
Stede felt a smile spread across his face, and warmth spread across his chest.
“No, it’s no disturbance. I was just caught off-guard for a moment.” He raised his glass back towards the man, completing their shared “cheers” mime.
Stede grinned a bit wider as he made eye contact with his lonely compatriot, and stuck out his right hand to shake.
“I’m Stede,” he said.
The other man took his hand to shake back, and Stede noticed the slight squeeze he gave before letting go.
“I’m Ed. It’s nice to meet you … Stede, is it? That’s a hell of a name.”
“Yeah.” Stede replied. “Didn’t have much of a choice in that one, did I?”
Ed huffed a small laugh. “I suppose you didn’t.”
They both took a sip of their drinks as the conversation lulled, not uncomfortably, for a brief moment, while they let Frank Sinatra’s crooning on the jukebox wash over them.
“So what brings you to this illustrious establishment tonight of all nights?” asked Ed.
Stede smiled sadly. “Got divorced earlier this year. The kids are with their mom and her new boyfriend tonight. Both my parents have passed, and I don’t really have any other family. I’ve been eyeing this place since I moved back into the city a few months ago, figured tonight was a good night to check it out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Stede replied, taking another sip of his cocktail. “I mean thank you, but there’s no need. Mary and I are on good terms, and honestly it’s so much better this way. I’ll go have lunch with her and the kids tomorrow. We never … she wasn’t my type, in the end.”
He looked directly at Ed, silently begging him to understand. His nod told him that he did. Stede felt relief.
“And my parents … well, let’s suffice it to say that being here and alone instead of with them is something of a blessing.”
Rather than surprise or disdain, which Stede would have expected, Ed’s face registered only understanding, which Stede did not expect.
“Yeah,” Ed said simply, fingers clutching his beer bottle. “I really get that. My mom and I moved here when I was 15, after my dad died. To use your phrasing, suffice it to say that no one shed a tear.”
Stede nodded at that, and let the confession sit out there for a minute.
“Would you care to join me?” he asked, breaking the thick silence, and gesturing at the empty seat next to him.
Ed grinned a half smile. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
Ed stood up from his barstool, collected his sweating beer and his flimsy paper coaster, and walked down to the stool next to Stede. He repositioned himself on the new stool.
“Please continue your story, if you’d like,” Stede encouraged.
He watched Ed take in a breath. He watched Ed’s face open up.
“Well,” Ed continued, “we moved here and settled in and made a life for ourselves. We struggled to get by, but we did, and I had the pleasure of seeing my mother be happy for the first time.”
Ed smiled sadly into his beer. “She passed away this summer. I wish so much that she’d had more time to enjoy this part of her life, but I guess I’m glad she got it at all. I just miss her, especially tonight,” he finished as he started picking at the edges of his beer label.
Stede may not have been able to totally understand, but he could be empathetic. “I’m so sorry, Ed,” he said, and placed a comforting hand on his forearm. He watched as Ed’s eyes shot over to his hand, and then up to look into his own. How Ed had made his eyes seem even bigger, Stede would never know.
“Thanks,” Ed replied with a wan smile, his fingers leaving this beer bottle to pat Stede’s briefly, and then linger there for a moment, as they both looked at each other with an understanding they hadn’t felt elsewhere.
The jukebox shifted abruptly from Sinatra to Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again,” and the spell of the moment was broken. Stede and Ed both shifted on their stools.
“So,” Stede said, hoping to pick the conversation back up, “what do you do, Ed?”
“I’m a designer by training, and I’ve been running my own shop for a while now.”
Stede’s eyebrows shot up. “Ed! That’s impressive!”
Ed rolled his eyes playfully. “Eh, I don’t know,” he said dismissively. “I’ve been thinking of packing it all in. I’ve been so focused on growing the business that I haven’t done actual creative work in a while, and I miss it.” He paused to look up at Stede. “You ever feel like you’re just treading water every day – surviving but never really thriving ?
Stede gasped. “Yes, Ed,” he replied, feeling breathless and understood and a little unsteady at how connected they seemed to be for two lonely men at a local pub on Christmas Eve. “I have felt that way nearly every day of my adult life.”
Ed nodded sadly, sympathetically. “I’ve always been pretty good at computer stuff, too. Got a friend out in California who says I can do both – designing on computers, something like that. Without anything keeping me here, I've been thinking of checking it out.” Ed shrugged. “Been thinking a new start might be good for me after the last year.”
Stede’s chest ached. He had no right to feel disappointed at the potential loss of this man whom he’d known for all of 30 minutes and had no real plan of ever seeing again, yet he felt it nonetheless. But the ache was also for Ed’s sadness, loneliness – he deserved the new start, and Stede wanted him to find himself on the right side of what life had to offer.
Abruptly, Stede turned back towards the bar and flagged down the bartender.
“Two glasses of your finest champagne, please!” he declared. When the bartender’s eyebrows shot up, he explained: “We’re toasting to new starts and new beginnings, and to the great things about to happen to my new friend Ed here.”
He heard the bartender grumble “Stupid new age bullshit” as he headed over to the drink cooler.
“Mate,” he heard Ed say. Stede turned to see a look that could only be described as awe on Ed’s face, and almost subconsciously, he swore to himself he’d do anything to see Ed make that face again. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t,” Stede said with a smile. “I want to. You deserve it.”
He watched Ed’s face melt into a mirroring smile as the bartender returned with the champagne bottle. Stede brought his Amaretto Sour to his lips so he could finish it before the next drink was poured.
The bartender said, “You sure about this? Because the finest champagne is $10 per glass.”
Stede choked on his drink and had to spit it back into his glass. He heard Ed howl with laughter, causing him to giggle a bit as well.
“OK, in that case, how about two glasses of your most mediocre champagne?” he asked with a cheeky smile. The bartender left with an eye roll to grab what was sure to be a bottle of Cold Duck while Ed laughed again.
Ed’s laughter caused Stede’s chest to fizz with something much stronger than the pale champagne being poured in front of them.
Once the grumpy bartender finished their pours, Stede and Ed lifted their coupe glasses to each other.
“To fresh starts,” said Ed.
“To finding yourself in your happiness,” said Stede.
They clinked their glasses, took their sips, and never broke eye contact.
The headiness of the bubbles and their banter lightened things considerably. Ed paid for both of their bar tabs, saying: “Got on a lucky one this week – came in eighteen to one. And you’ve kept me company all night, let me get this for you.” Stede happily obliged.
Before they knew it, Ed and Stede had spilled out into the cold New York night and were walking arm-in-arm up the street to find a bar open a little later. It should have been unsurprising that their next three stops were all closed, seeing that it was 11:15 pm on Christmas Eve, but they kept walking nonetheless.
They wandered under the open window of someone having a raucous party. Stede sang along loudly and off-key to “Wanna Dance with Somebody,” and Ed practically picked him up off the ground to twirl him around, ballroom style. “With that voice, I promise Broadway is waiting for you,” Ed said to him. Stede laughed sharply while swatting at his arm.
They walked past a statue in a nearby park, and Ed jumped up on the marble foundation, pretending to dance with it as well. As Stede marveled up at him, Ed looked back.
“Hey,” Ed said softly. “You know, you’re very handsome.”
Stede was completely taken aback by the sudden earnest comment. But the drinks and the specialness of the night injected him with a rare bravery.
“You’re pretty, yourself,” he replied and we watched Ed preen atop his marble throne.
“Queen of New York City,” he said breathlessly, meaning every word.
They passed by the Church of the Guardian Angel just as the bells rang out at midnight, signaling Christmas Day. As the melodic clanging rained down on them, they stood on the corner of 10th Avenue and W 21st Street and shared the kind of magical kiss one experiences only rarely in a lifetime, and only if they are very lucky.
Despite the freezing temperatures, Stede felt warmth spread from his chest to his stomach out to the tips of his fingers and toes.
Slowly, Ed pulled back, and they stood looking at each other, catching their breath, and holding each other more closely than Stede had ever been held before.
Ed seemed to slowly come back to himself, and looked over each shoulder. “Where the hell did we end up, anyway?” he said with a laugh.
Stede was still filled with the amaretto and the champagne and the affection he felt for this near-stranger.
“As a matter of fact, we’re only a few blocks from my flat,” he said with a smile.
Ed lifted a bemused eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” Stede whispered back.
“Not just a line to lure me in?” Ed joked.
“Well,” Stede replied. “If it were, how would I be doing with it?”
“I reckon pretty well,” Ed said.
“In that case, can I invite you up for a nightcap?”
“Yeah,” Ed said, grinning broadly. “You absolutely can.”
They covered the remaining two blocks quickly, and hoofed it up to Stede’s fourth floor apartment. Stede hung up their jackets, and poured them each a glass from his bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau, trying to show off for Ed just a little. He put both glasses on the coffee table, and then brought out a leftover cheese ball with some crackers and grapes, along with a handful of mismatched napkins.
Together, they sat on the couch with legs touching, drinking wine and nibbling on snacks and swapping stories and laughing and kissing and holding hands until they both fell asleep in a pile of limbs and knitwear.
CHRISTMAS DAY, 1988
******
Ed didn’t walk away from Stede’s apartment so much as he floated. For the first time in ages, years – maybe ever – he felt hopeful . The way he’d connected with Stede so quickly was unexpected, to say the least.
At first, Ed had thought he might enjoy a loneliness-chasing, no-strings-attached one night stand with the handsome stranger seated a few stools from him at the bar. But only a few minutes of conversation shifted his thinking: this guy was worth talking to.
The whole night felt like a series of whims. They acted together on instinct, letting the night take them wherever it would. When it took them to Stede’s apartment, Ed thought he might end up seeing his first plan through after all. But if he were really honest, he’d admit he enjoyed the relatively chaste night they’d shared more than the alternative.
It was intimate in a different way. It made Ed’s heart feel so full.
The cool, gray morning seemed to bring with it a dose of reality, and Ed knew it was unlikely he’d see Stede again. Stede had a whole life and a whole family here, whom he’d be up to see for lunch soon. Meanwhile Ed practically had one foot in an airport, bound for San Francisco.
He had no expectations – the night had been wonderful no matter what the future brought. But he allowed a small part of his heart to have hope.
That hope saw him root around some of Stede’s kitchen drawers to find a pen while Stede snored away on the couch. That hope had Ed writing down his number, with a note that said “Had a great night, hope to talk soon,” on one of the partially-used napkins next to the mostly-eaten cheese ball and empty glasses of wine.
He turned the corner to head down into the subway and skipped down the stairs. Maybe Stede would call tonight. Or tomorrow? Or soon. Maybe they could see each other a few more times before he left town.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
*******
The next morning, Stede woke up alone.
He sighed inwardly. He hadn’t expected Ed to stay, of course, but he’d hoped nonetheless.
It had been such a nice surprise, meeting Ed like that. He felt connected to him almost immediately. He’d shared so much with him, so quickly – and it had felt easy.
And then, it felt fun . That was the most fun he’d had in ages! It was nothing for him to open up and let Ed in, and even more exciting, to let all of himself out. That was new to him. That, he wanted to do again.
He hadn’t known what to expect when he invited Ed up to his apartment. He’d had a few … dalliances since his divorce, but nothing had been like this. What they had shared was so comfortable, so easy, that Stede wouldn’t have traded it for a spicier conclusion if asked.
But he would have been open to some spice in the future. So, he would admit to some disappointment that Ed had left that morning without waking him or saying goodbye. Of course, Ed owed him nothing – he had kids and a family and it sounded like Ed was moving across the country soon, anyway.
But still, Stede had hoped.
As Stede cleared the table from the night before, he tried to settle his mind on gratitude for the wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime night he had enjoyed. It would be a story for the future, and he’d carry the fullness he felt with him for a long time, he was sure.
Stede dumped the remaining snacks in the trash, along with the scattered napkins, which he balled up and used to wipe down the plates. After doing the dishes, he called Mary to confirm his arrival time, and went to get dressed.
Maybe he’d never see Ed again, but Ed had lit something inside of him that wouldn’t go away. It was as if his own, personal pilot light had been reignited.
*******
Stede returned to The Drunk Tank multiple times over the next year, looking to relive his previous encounter by bumping into Ed again. He went so much, he became one of the pub’s most recognizable regulars – their own personal Frasier, they joked.
But, indeed, he didn't see Ed again.