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Ed keeps his promise: he teaches Stede how to be a bloodthirsty pirate. He’s an excellent teacher, it turns out, even if Stede isn’t the best student. (He cuts his finger on his sword more often than not, and Ed has told him on several occasions that looting does not involve replacing the items you steal.)
But he still learns, and eventually, he learns what it means to be Blackbeard–how to stab and be stabbed; how to read the sky to map a course and predict storms; how to intimidate enemies during a raid. It’s fascinating, this life of the infamous Blackbeard and his crew, and Stede can’t quite believe he’s become a part of it, even welcomed, like he was always meant to be by Ed’s side.
Stede keeps his end of the deal, too, and teaches Ed all about the aristocratic world he left behind. It’s strange, at first–Stede wasn’t particularly fond of his old life, and he is a bit hesitant to return–but these lessons become some of his favorites, because it’s during these lessons he begins to learn about Ed.
And Ed is just—
He’s beautiful. Brilliant. He’s still searching for that chaos of life, something with a heartbeat that he can hold on to, but he has an innate curiosity about the world that Stede can’t help but be charmed by.
It all started—as so many good things do—with a cup of tea.
Stede had poured two cups—one for each of them—and added what he thought was a perfectly appropriate amount of milk and sugar. It was the perfect cup Earl Grey, he thought, taking in the scent of orange and bergamot.
Ed took a sip and nearly gagged.
Stede raised his eyebrow. “It’s not poison, Ed.”
“Damn near close. What is this?”
“It’s just tea!”
A particularly expensive tea, he had thought indignantly.
“What? Fuck off.”
“I promise you, Ed.”
“Tea’s supposed to have sugar.”
“It does!”
Ed frowned at him. “How much?”
“One sp—”
Ed shook his head in disbelief. “No, man. Fuckin’—c’mere—”
And then Ed had made a show of adding a tiny bit more milk, adding and test-tasting sugar until he smacked his lips and was satisfied. “There it is. Milk and seven sugars, Stede. Seven.”
“Good lord, Ed.”
“It’s the only way. That’s fuckin’ perfect. Like when I was a kid. We didn’t have it often, but when we did…”
He trailed off, much like it did when they were discussing fine fabrics. It made Stede’s heart ache.
“Well, then,” Stede said, his previous irritation having faded, “Seven sugars it is.”
“And milk,” Ed said. “Don’t forget the milk.”
Stede considered this. “How much milk?”
“Just…I don’t know. A little. Like…a dollop.”
“A dollop?” Stede repeated, a slight frown on his lips. He was quite sure he had added a dollop. Perhaps a dollop only worked with the right amount of sugar.
“Yeah. A dollop. A dollop of milk and seven sugars.”
“Well, I suppose I ought to see what all the fuss is about,” Stede said pleasantly. He added more sugar and a bit more milk to his cup and took a sip.
Ed looked satisfied, but it was Stede’s turn to nearly gag. He politely said he’d stick with his current sugar-to-tea ratio, and Ed rolled his eyes, and they had continued breakfast and co-captaining for the day.
Stede still firmly believes it’s much too sweet, but there’s no convincing Ed otherwise. Ed, it seems, has quite the sweet tooth: he’s often in the kitchens, looking for marmalade or asking Roach to bake another cake (forty oranges, chocolate, vanilla with mountains of buttercream–it makes no difference. Ed wants to try it all). Stede wonders if sugar is another fine thing Ed thought he’d never have. And, well—
Stede rather likes making Ed’s tea.
He likes seeing Ed beam at the sight of the tiny porcelain teacup, and taking it carefully in his gloved hands. He likes how Ed always takes his first sip—he almost hesitates, as though he is afraid of spilling or burning his tongue, and then smacks his lips and says it’s perfect. He likes how it makes Ed happy.
So that’s how he continues to make Ed’s tea: with a dollop of milk and seven sugars.
He also continues to ignore the hammering of his heart every time Ed thanks him. It’s not like it means anything. He’s just…nervous around Ed, is all. He gets nervous around a lot of people. It has nothing to do with Ed’s handsome face or his laugh or the way he asks Stede about whatever book he’s reading. Nothing at all.
This morning, their tea comes with a full breakfast and another lesson in aristocracy.
“Dining is pageantry,” Stede explains. Ed listens intently as Stede goes over the silverware and each course.
“So…this is our first course?”
“Oh, heavens, no—we don’t have time for all that. I just thought we deserved a nice breakfast. Roach prepared a few things, and we have some of that marmalade in the kitchen if you’d like. More tea?”
“Thanks, mate,” Ed says, holding out his teacup as Stede tops him off. Ed immediately reaches for the sugar, and Stede can’t help but grin. “Did you live like this every day? With the fuckin’ fancy snail forks and seven-course meals?”
Stede watches as Ed stirs sugar and milk into his tea, and his heart flutters. He remembers all the fine dinners, where he sat across from Mary, Alma, and Louis, trying desperately to understand and be understood and failing every single time. How Mary would speak to the children, but never to him.
He looks back up at Ed. Ed’s eyes are bright with wonder, his expression incredulous as he picks up a tiny fork. When he meets Stede’s gaze, his face softens and settles into that easy smile that Stede has come to love so much.
No, Stede thinks. He never lived like this.
“Not every day,” Stede replies simply. “This is much better.”
“This ship is better than where you used to be? Shit.”
Stede swallows and tries not to say something he’ll regret. He doesn’t know what he’d say, exactly, because he still doesn’t know what to make of all this fluttering and blushing, but he knows that he always says the wrong thing; that he can break moments and relationships as easily as he could smash a teacup.
He doesn’t want to break this.
“It is,” Stede finally says. It’s a simple answer—one that doesn’t fully encompass what he’s feeling—but it’s safe, and true, and Ed at least deserves that much.
“They must’ve been awful, then.”
“Ah, well,” Stede says with a shrug. He smiles. “I suppose I was just meant for a life of swashbuckling.” He nods at Ed’s empty plate, eager to change the subject. “I’m going to run back to the kitchens. Can I get you anything?”
“Something sweet. Can you grab the marmalade?”
“Right-o! More marmalade, coming right up.”
Stede stands and begins to head for kitchens, but he doesn’t make it far before Ed reaches for him. “Stede?”
Stede pauses. Ed stands, and grabs Stede’s hand. He pulls Stede towards him, and his gaze flickers across Stede’s face, and then—
And then, Ed is kissing him.
Ed’s kissing him, soft and slow, as though he wants to treat Stede with the utmost care. His heart pounds the same way it does when Ed thanks him for his tea. And–oh. Oh. There are those familiar nerves, lit on fire, and it makes him gasp, and he knows that this–this is not how he feels around anyone else.
Stede closes his eyes as Ed’s hands wrap around his shoulders. He wants to press closer, wants to sink into this sudden feeling of falling, wants—
It’s over as suddenly as it began. Ed stills, his lips brushing against Stede’s as he speaks. “I said I wanted something sweet,” he murmurs.
And it’s so wonderfully cliche, almost saccharine—but it is so perfectly Ed in its unexpectedness. There’s a soft earnestness to his words, and Stede melts. This is the Ed that no one sees. The Ed that he lets Stede see, bit by beautiful bit.
Stede blinks, breathing hard, and before his mind fully catches up, his lips are back on Ed’s. He tastes like marmalade and smells faintly of lavender. It’s from his soap, Stede realizes. The soap he insisted on Ed using, because Ed loves soft things like fine fabrics and sugar in his tea, and Stede knew he’d love something that smelled sweet, too.
Just when he thinks he is lingering a moment too long, potentially ruining what would have been the perfect kiss, Ed grabs Stede’s face between his hands. He hums in satisfaction, as though Stede is made of pure sugar, and his tongue teases Stede’s mouth open. Stede knows he’s clumsy, and a bit nervous, because–well, he doesn’t have much experience with kissing, let alone kissing someone he likes.
But Ed stays, somehow managing to get closer, guiding them into a steady rhythm. Stede feels Ed smile, feels his breath hitch, and he sighs. Ed is soft and sweet and gentle, and he feels like he is adored, maybe even loved. His heart is racing wildly as everything clicks into place. It was all leading up to this. He didn’t realize how much he wanted Ed until he gave in.
They press their foreheads together, laughing as they try and catch their breaths. “Fuck,” Ed mutters fondly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
“I think I have, too,” Stede admits.
“What took us so fuckin’ long?”
“I don’t know,” Stede says. “But we’re here now.”
Ed takes Stede’s hand, interlacing their fingers, and brings their hands close to his chest. Stede can feel Ed’s heart pounding, too, as fierce and relentless as an ocean wave. “Can we…can we stay here?”
Stede lifts his head and studies Ed’s face. He looks as beautiful as ever, his silver curls and brown eyes shining in the sunlight. He looks scared, as if he has gone too far, as if there is a universe in which Stede would say no.
“Darling,” Stede says, “There’s no place I’d rather be.”