Chapter Text
Ed Teach stood in front of his closet, feeling his normally abundant self-assurance beginning to ebb as he considered his wardrobe.
Everything up to now had been so easy. Obvious, even. The summer farmers’ market had been a favorite haunt of his for a while, though he didn’t normally go every week. Living alone made cooking from scratch for just one person not worth it most of the time, so he tended to rely more than he should on pre-made staples from Trader Joe’s. But then came the fateful day when he saw that blond DILF at the market for the first time, and he couldn’t help noticing his well-defined biceps and those long legs that really deserved shorter shorts. Ed was instantly intrigued.
And when he saw the man the second time, his face absolutely lit up when he recognized Ed, as if they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in decades. That was it; Ed was a goner. It was that fast. Though they barely exchanged pleasantries before he was whisked away by his kids each time, there was something about his ready smile and childlike openness that called to Ed. His absolute innocence when he made that comment about the eggplants completely slayed him. Someone who looked like that but was also so absurdly and charmingly ingenuous? Forget it. Ed was hooked.
After that, Ed managed to catch him at that farm stand at nearly the exact same time every week. Parenthood must be quite the set of routines, he reflected, given how the man and his children appeared there like clockwork. Good thing, too, as there was only so long Ed could pretend to mull over which tomatoes to buy before it was obvious he was just loitering around and waiting for someone whose name he didn’t even know.
Ed’s work kept him around too many rich people—unfortunately—for him not to notice that this appealing stranger fell into that category. Ed easily clocked the expensive watch and shoes despite the omnipresent dad uniform of shorts and polo shirts. No wedding ring, Ed noted. What that meant, he couldn’t be sure. But even in the best case scenario, Ed knew he shouldn’t get mixed up with some wealthy guy—he didn’t belong in that world and never would. But this particular rich guy was so unpretentious and goofy and cute. And it was hard not to think they had some kind of connection, the way he honestly seemed to sparkle when Ed came around.
So Ed was torn. But once he saw the man he now knew was Stede Bonnet trapped in conversation with that snotty fucker Nigel Badminton, it was easy. Ed had perfected the art of eavesdropping unobtrusively, of blending in with the crowd despite his height when he wanted to do so, and he quickly picked up on the little social nightmare Stede was trapped in without the other two noticing. The casual cruelty of it. Ed hated seeing Stede’s light being dimmed.
Ed knew exactly what to do to rescue him; he was enough of a chameleon to make the fake boyfriend charade easy-peasy, puddin’ and fuckin’ pie. And, to be fair, his interest had been so piqued it wasn’t hard to pretend to be in a relationship with Stede.
But when Ed had hinted that their prior meetings hadn’t been chance encounters, Stede hadn’t responded. Did he really not get it? Or did he think Ed didn’t belong in his world? Ed sighed heavily as he reviewed the outfits in his closet. Nothing here would let him blend in. Maybe all of this was a huge mistake.
He picked up his phone and texted Stede:
This isn’t an ugly sweater party, is it?
Haha I wish it were. That’s too fun for these C-suite types
A jacket and tie?
No, not that fancy. I’m sure whatever you have will be fine
Easy for you to say, thought Ed. He was quite sure it wouldn’t be fine. He could easily have afforded the right kind of clothes for this godforsaken party, but it was bad enough coming into contact with the fancy britches crowd in his day-to-day working life; he had no desire to spend his free time with them. Growing up poor in rural Aotearoa as he had, he’d had enough experiences with people thinking they were better than he was to last several lifetimes. Ed wasn’t eager to add to the tally.
But. Seeing the relief and gratitude and maybe a little something more in Stede’s eyes when Ed had said he was his date made whatever he was in for worth it. He'd just dress to feel good and damn the consequences.
***
When Stede arrived to pick him up for dinner and Ed opened the door, Stede did a visible double take. “I know what you’re thinking,” Ed said, unconsciously bracing himself for whatever Stede was going to say.
It took Stede some time to reply. He seemed to be struggling to form words. “Um. Wow. You look stunning,” he squeaked out, finally.
Ed did not mind the compliment whatsoever, but he was only too well aware the leather trousers he was wearing—while hot as fuck—were not what Stede had anticipated. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ there, Stede. I don’t really own ‘posh holiday party’ clothes. What do you have on?”
“Oh!” Stede unbuttoned his long camel-colored topcoat to show him; he was wearing simple but expensive-looking black trousers, topped off with a flowing silk button-down in a rich teal, with the top few buttons left unbuttoned. Ed found himself badly wanting to touch the shirt fabric, to feel how soft it must be. How warm it was from Stede’s body. Ed swallowed with difficulty.
“I like that shirt,” he said aloud.
“Oh, this new thing?” Stede shrugged, playing it off, his manner more than a little coy. “I couldn’t resist it. Felt like it had a pirate-y vibe.”
“Suits you.”
Stede smiled. “It might be more your color than mine, actually.” Stede paused and bit his lip, seemingly without realizing it. Ed noted, with some satisfaction, that Stede hadn’t stopped looking him up and down as they talked. “I’ve always wanted to wear leather trousers,” Stede added, speaking barely above a whisper. “Never was bold enough.”
Ed looked at Stede for a long moment, pondering. Then he said: “Wanna do something weird?”
***
Getting Stede to strip down for him was far more than Ed had dared hope for, particularly at the very beginning of a pretend date, but here they were, in their knickers in his bedroom, getting ready to pull on each other’s clothes. Wild.
He’d offered to change in the bathroom so Stede could have some privacy, but “that’s okay,” Stede had said, even though Ed could see his blush spread all the way down to his chest as he unbuttoned the teal silk shirt. “I mean, we’ve been dating for three whole months, after all.” Stede had made eye contact and giggled as he took off the shirt and handed it to Ed. Fuck. Those muscular shoulders. That broad chest, with its light sprinkling of wispy blond hair. If it was wrong to want to run his hands over all of it—to crave it, quite deeply—then Ed didn’t want to be right.
“True, mate. That’s good, since otherwise I should be letting you buy me dinner first.” Ed waggled his eyebrows at him, making Stede snicker. Ed pulled on the shirt. It was indeed warm and slippery-smooth and deeply luxurious.
Ed was already wearing Stede’s trousers with their knife-edge crease; he buttoned up the shirt while Stede donned Ed’s leather trousers and cozy grey cable-knit sweater. “You’re so slim,” Stede said, fussing with the waistband. “Why are your trousers falling off me?”
“Need more of an arse to hold them up,” Ed supplied with a grin.
Stede scrunched up his face at him. “Hey!”
“‘S alright. You don’t need an arse with legs like those.”
Stede batted his eyelashes at him. “Are you saying I have nice stems?”
That made Ed snort loudly. “Fuck me. Are you here from the ‘50s or something?”
“Maybe.”
That dimpled smile. Fucking hell. It put Ed in a bit of a trance for a moment before he shook himself out of it. “Here, I have an idea.” Ed went over to his bureau and rummaged in a drawer, eventually taking out some braces in bi pride colors. “These’ll hold ‘em up.”
“Oh my.” Stede’s eyes went wide. “That’ll be a look.”
“Hey, no one’ll see them under the sweater.”
“Fair enough.” Stede pulled his arms back out of the sweater sleeves while Ed clipped on the braces. “Maybe I need to get myself some rainbow ones,” Stede said, giggling again as the back of Ed’s hand brushed against him. Is he ticklish? Ed wondered. That would be fun to find out. It was so weirdly intimate, helping him dress like this. How he wanted to catch Stede around the waist and pull him close and say, “Fuck all this pretend shit, Hot Stuff. What say we make this a real date?”
Chances were, though, that Stede was only here to be rescued from the social awkwardness of attending a miserable party alone. So Ed simply watched as Stede pulled the braces onto his shoulders and stuck his arms back in the sweater. He adjusted the hem and ran his hands through his blond waves. “How do I look?” he asked, striking a pose, a hand on his hip.
Delicious. Extremely fuckable. “Almost as good as I do in your clothes,” Ed replied aloud.
Stede chuckled. “You haven’t even looked in the mirror. But you’re not wrong.” After gazing at Ed for a moment, his expression inscrutable, he added, “we’d better get going.”
“Let’s do it.”